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goldsbitch · 2 days

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the last time I pick you up

Moving blues hits hard. Y/N and Lando are finally letting go of her old apartment, which brings out strong emotions, that you need to burn out somehow.

warning: smut, no protection

It's been long time coming - finally moving together after countless times of flipping a coin to determine which apartment you and Lando would spend your free hours and sometimes even days.

His place was spacious and the location was obviously the biggest asset. But god, was it close to an empty wasteland. True "lad's" apartment, up to a point you were surprised he had a bed (without a bed frame, of course...). Your place was a true home - decorations, pillows, candles and full stacked skincare. Even though it lacked in size and the plumbing was more than questionable, it had a soul and you'd poured loved into your rented apartment over the time you'd spend there.

However, it was becoming clear that your relationship stable and secure enough to get rid of one side of the logistics equation that was dating a racing driver.

So, moving it was. They say moving is one of the most stressful mundane experience in one's life and you couldn't agree more. You were stripped of the usual duties, because Lando insisted about him paying for premium movers and you didn't object for more than 30 seconds.

But the sentimental "last visit" is something you can't pay someone to do for you. The walk through the memory lane was all up to you.

After few hours you were almost done sorting things out into two piles, one would join you in Lando's apartment, the other one was being left behind for someone else to get over to a charity shop.

When Lando finally came to pick you up, he found you sitting on the floor, knee deep in the cocktail of conflicting emotions.

"Baby? You here?" he called before entering the living room. You looked up at him, weak tears rolling in you eyes, unable to speak at first.

Lando stopped when he saw you, surprised at finding you sitting on the floor like that and then immediately went to sit sit next to you and hug you.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, half concerned, half confused.

You tried to surpress the wet drops in your eyes. This was stupid anyway, right? After few moments of Lando's confused look and his hand on your cheek, you finally looked back at him.

"This is the last time you pick me up here," you said in a low tone and it was like you took the lid of your memories.

The first night he spent here, the first one you talked through, unable to stop the conversation, the many nights he fucked you senselessly and hours spent cuddling under the bedsheets.

The way how this apartment provided you a safe space in the first weeks when you dated, hidden safely from the harsh judgy look the public imposed on you so cruelly at the beginning.

You got to know him here. Waited impatiently many times for his key to finally click in the front door, his tired post-race face, often still holding marks from his helmet, because he would jump on the plane the first thing, just get back to you for few hours. You remember how you laughed, when he insisted on installing his weird neck exercise device, because it meant he could spend more time with you. He tried to teach you how to assist him, and then laughed at you, because you were just so naturally bad at this stuff.

You recall the one afternoon when you came back from a meeting and found him sitting in your bathtub, which was filled up with slowly melting ice-cubes. His argument was, that he needed a post work out ice bath and there was nothing like that around where you lived. This time it was you who laughed, when you saw how much ice he had to buy. Lando was a cheeky guy, so once he got out of the ice bath, he chased you around your apartment, naked, with the intention to snuggle you into his cold, icy embrace.

Lando was taken back by the glassy look in your stoic face. "I know. But, if you look at it from a different perspective, this is the last time I pick you up. From now on, we'll be meeting at our home." He spoke slowly, perhaps to make his words more impactful.

You smiled, knowing well enough that was the best part of it. Still, the melancholy lingered in stronger way then you'd have ever expected.

"No more of that weird lady upstairs who always gave me angry looks after I fucked you hard," he tried to lighten up the mood, which worked and you let out a snort laugh while wiping small tears from your cheeks.

"Yeah, I am definitely not going to miss that," you said, yet still there was a sense of leaving a part of your life behind, a part that you would adorn for the rest of your life. The only hope you had that you and Lando would be able to continue on making priceless memories anywhere the two of you were.

"Y/N, I think it's time to finish sorting the stuff out and grab something to eat. We can go that favorite café of yours," he suggested after few moments of silence.

You took a deep breath. "Yes, I'd love that," you turned to him and gave a light peck on his lips. Lando immediately turned that into a deep french kiss, which took you by surprise a little. He was never a words person and you could finally feel from the way how he kissed you so eagerly, that he was also emotional about this move.

"You're the love of my life," you said the signature sentence you two developed naturally, instead of saying a simple I love you.

"And you're mine," he responded with the signature assurance that followed that sentence.

The two of you slowly arrived to the point where most of the stuff was sorted, decisions were made and it was time to say goodbye.

A shock of sudden anxiety ran through you. "Lando. I still don't have the necklace." He knew well enough which one you were talking about. It was the first one he ever gave you and one that you held so dearly that it made him proud. But still, in his eyes it was just an object. One that you misplaced and could not find for weeks now.

"It's probably at my apartment anyway," he said, trying to let you go of it. He already had a replacement ordered anyway.

"Let me just check under the bed. Haven't looked there yet," you said and strolled over to the now stripped bed. He watched you, as you bent over in your cute summer dress that casually showed the curve of your ass as you searched under the bed. There was something so primal for him about seeing you like that.

"Y/N, you know this is a very dangerous move from your part, right?" he said, leaning over the door frame and enjoying the view.

"Come on, Lando," you laughed, as you desperately kept looking for the necklace, with no luck whatsoever. "This is serious."

"Oh, I never said anything different," he smirked, letting his thoughts run into one place and one place only.

"Omg, Lando!" you screamed, in a very different tone, alerting him immediately.

"What?" he asked, tuning into your worry. You got up with a horrified face, as if you'd just seen a ghost. Unable to speak, you just stared at him.

"What?" he repeated, less seriously this time. Knowing you, it must have been nothing.

"Oh my god, I am going to get in so much trouble with the landlord!"

He looked at you sheepily. "Do I have to look there myself or are you going to tell me?"

You closed your eyes. "The floor is like severely damaged. We're talking like, deep marks. Under all of the corners of the bed."

It took him a second to get the dots connected before his eyes went wide and the smarted smug appeared on his face. "Really?" he said proudly. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. He sneaked around you and took a quick look under the nearest bed corned.

"Ohoo, nice!," he laughed, even more proud than before. "This is from us, right?"

His smugness was a little contagious, you had to admit it. "Of course, who else Lando. In fact, that's your damage, so you're paying for it!"

He choked, taking few steps towards you. "Oh am I?"

You bit your lip, as he closed of your exit with his right arm, putting on the door frame and pushing you towards it. "Yes, you are...It's from you moving the bed."

The mood changed really quickly. You knew the look in his face well enough. He was shooting arrows, making your heartbeat faster, breath shorter and mind suddenly focused on one thing and one thing only. Having him, all the way in, wrapped around and inside of you. He pulled your chin up with his thumb and subconsciously mirror your lip biting. At this point, you were completely pushed to the door frame, his torso pulling into your. "Well, if I'm already paying for damages, I think I deserve to make it count, one last time," he said and moved his hand over to your chest, causing you to let out a breath out. He knew well enough what kind of an effect he had on you. Few moments of painfully arousing eye contact and you finally put your hands behind his neck and kissed him again. With the energy only young adults have, he twisted his tongue with yours, bit your lip gently and in the meantime picked you up and moved you the short distance over to the bed. Your thoughts were all wrapped up around how great his body felt, how his intoxicated smell completely clouded your mind and how you'll get to have him on this old bed of yours for one last time.

He didn't even bother taking your dress off, he just pushed it up and started working you up with his fingers. This high he gave you was a familiar ground at this point. And most possibly your absolutely most favorite place on this planet. While sharing messy kisses and loosing yourself in the growing pleasure, you went to unbuckle his belt and stroke him slowly. He didn't wait long before he pulled back to take his shorts off and you finally had full access. You stroked him few times, before he pinned your arms above your head. "My bills, my playground," he said and his hands began to roam your body all the way down to the hem of your dress. He didn't even bother taking your underwear off, just pushed it to the side and slid into you, like he had hundreds times before. Flashes of the countless encounters you've had on this bed flashed like a film in your mind. You loved this man. He was the ultimate drug for you. Intoxicating above levels you could have ever imagined. If there ever was a home, if was right there - with him inside you. He pushed slowly few times before finally slamming into you full speed, full force, knowing well enough it was what you craved anyway. Hot breath was only cut with the symphony your soft moans and sounds the squeaky bed made. Lando held your legs pressed up to your stomach, while you hugged your chest, making your tits pushed up for him to kiss occasionally. You reached your high twice before he released himself onto your dress and collapsed next to you. Short of breath, the two of you still kissed. "Sorry for the dress," he said apologetically and you had to laugh a little. For this feeling you'd stain anything you ever owned.

"I know you have a thing for leaving traces behind, baby," you replied, being guilty of using this little kink of his to your advantage many times in the past.

He bit his lip and brushed his nose agains yours. "Guilty as charged."

Your breath was slowly coming back to a regular tempo. "I should get changed before we go," you said, intent on leaving soon.

His hand locked you in as he traced lined on your hips. "Let's stay just a little. I'm going to miss the way how we made this bed squeaky over time," he said, making you smile and blush.

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sikecure · 19 hours

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Hearts in Harmony (part 2) - Paige Bueckers

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: Paige, the star of the basketball team, finds herself drawn to a shy girl at a party.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, read at your own risk.

word count: 1.037

obs: english isn't my first language.

— part 1 ღ

Still at the party, Paige and Y/n were completely immersed in each other. Amidst laughter and conversation, their moments together were interspersed with passionate kisses and tender hugs.

Amidst the soft and sweet kisses, the passion between Paige and Y/n began to intensify, their bodies warming with desire. Between sighs and looks full of longing, Paige asked, "Want to go back to my place?"

Y/n felt her heart race at Paige's suggestion, her own desire reflected in her bright eyes. With a mischievous smile, she agreed.

Together, they left the party, eager to explore the fire they felt in a more intimate setting. The journey to Paige's house passed quickly, each step filled with mutual desire.

When they finally arrived, they locked the door behind them, immersed in the tense silence of the desire they shared.

With a gentle and shy smile on her lips, Paige gently wrapped her arms around Y/n's waist, feeling the warmth of her body close to hers. "Let me take care of you, princess," Paige whispered in Y/n's ear, her warm breath sending shivers down the shorter girl's spine, her cheeks flushing intensely at the athlete's words.

With a shy smile, Y/n met Paige's gaze and murmured, "Yes, please."

With a mischievous smile, Paige gently pulled Y/n closer and enveloped her in a sloppy kiss, full of passion and desire.

Paige blindly walked to the bed, still kissing you, the athlete pulling away from your lips made Y/n whine for lack of contact. "Hold on, darling, I'll give you what you want," Paige whispered, sitting at the edge of the bed and pulling you onto her lap, you smiled and pressed your lips to Paige's again.

During that kiss, the world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the love and connection they shared. Nothing else mattered beyond that magical moment, where they were united by strong mutual desire.

The clothes were taken off urgently, reflecting the desire that consumed them. Paige kissed down Y/n's neck, her skilled hands exploring every curve of her body with tenderness and desire. She alternated between gently caressing and firmly squeezing, eliciting shivers of pleasure from Y/n's sensitive skin.

With a low and involuntary moan escaping her lips, Y/n surrendered completely when Paige delicately laid her on the bed, taking her right breast in her mouth. "Fuck..." you moaned, unable to contain your excitement.

"What do you want, princess? Talk to me," demanded Paige, her voice full of authority and desire, showing her determination to satisfy Y/n's desires.

Surprised by Paige's intensity, Y/n rolled her eyes, wondering how the athlete could exert so much control with just her words.

"Answer when I talk to you," Paige whispered, her hand sliding up to Y/n's neck, exerting a gentle but firm pressure.

Without hesitation, Y/n surrendered to the truth of her desires. "I want you to fuck me," at that moment there was no shame, just Y/n's desire to be consumed by Paige.

Paige smiled satisfied to notice how much you were surrendered to her. In that moment of intimacy and desire, Paige dedicated herself to exploring every inch of Y/n's skin with soft and burning kisses, leaving a trail of warmth wherever she went. Her lips found the baby pink fabric that Y/n still wore, enhancing her beauty delicately and provocatively. “You're so hot,” Paige whispered, her hoarse voice laden with desire for you.

Y/n's response was immediate, her hands finding Paige's hair wanting the girl to come closer to where she needed to be touched. “Oh, someone is needy. You're so wet princess,” Paige says with desire and licks the girl's intimacy still covered by her panties. You moan and tremble with anticipation, "Please baby," you whisper totally surrendered to pleasure.

Paige moves her panties to the side and sucks her intimacy, now with nothing to cover it. Y/n could say she almost reached her limit with just that touch. The athlete swirls her tongue around her clit, pushing two fingers into her wet entrance. You moan shamelessly, not caring if you were being loud or not, “One more,” you ask and Paige adds another finger to your entrance.

With Y/n moaning in pleasure, Paige firmly held her hips on the bed, intensifying the thrusts and bringing her to the brink of orgasm. Each movement was an explosion of sensations, making Y/n scream in pleasure as her inner walls contracted in response to Paige's stimuli.

"Fuck! Fuck... Fuck...", Y/n screamed in ecstasy, her words echoing through the room as she surrendered to overwhelming pleasure. You squeeze your eyes tightly, tears of pleasure streaming down, showing the intensity of the shared moment.

Paige didn't slow down, pumping her fingers into Y/n's entrance with force and skill, while alternating between gently sucking and biting her clit, bringing her to the brink of absolute pleasure.

"P, I'm gonna come," Y/n announced, her voice filled with desire and anticipation.

"Come for me, darling." Paige pulls away from the mouth to whisper before sucking her clit strongly, leading you to a overwhelming orgasm.

Your body trembled, Paige delicately held Y/n's thighs to keep her stable as she sucked her moisture, her fingers still slowly penetrating until you gently push her away because you were sensitive.

Paige smiled satisfied with her shiny and wet mouth. She leaned back, sitting on Y/n's hips, and admired her panting face, with flushed cheeks and small drops of sweat on her forehead. Marks of dry tears adorned her cheeks, showing the deep emotion they had shared.

"God, you're perfect," Paige whispered, leaving soft kisses on Y/n's neck. The touch was delicate, conveying all the love and admiration she felt for her, even though they had only met a few hours ago.

Y/n sighed contentedly, wrapping Paige in a warm hug, still immersed in the ecstasy of the moment.

At that moment, words were not necessary. The two knew that each touch in the room was more than a caress; it was a promise of pleasure and mutual surrender, a commitment to devote themselves completely to each other.

my requests are open sooo hit me up!

thank you for reading all the way through.🤍

#paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #lesbians #wlw smut #smut

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pathologicalreid · 2 days

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Hiii I was wondering if you could write a part 2 or a sequel to the fic your wrote a little ago called next of kin. I loved it so much 😊😊😊 thank u!!! <333

stepping up | S.R.

after taking custody of your younger sister, spencer steps up in his role as caretaker

part one

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: previous murder of parents, emphasis on not having a dad, maya is bffs with jack hotchner, spencer is an empath, not proofread word count: 1.58k a/n: for a while i wasn't giving my requests summary's but now im getting back into that because i realize I Got Too Silly. thank you for requesting! i love you!

You jumped as your younger sister slammed the door to the garage shut behind you. Keeping her purple backpack slung over her shoulders, she trudged up the stairs and retreated into her bedroom. The six-year-old was either unaware or uncaring of the way you immediately followed her path to the stairs.

In your periphery, you saw Spencer peek his head over the back of the couch, making quick note of your troubled expression before he snapped his book shut and joined you. Hesitating, you looked up the stairs at the landing, the dim light of her lamp left a pinkish glow at the bottom of her door, but there was no noise coming from Maya’s bedroom.

“She didn’t say anything the whole way home,” you murmured thoughtfully, placing a hand on your chin. You’d thought she’d be happy when you picked her up as a surprise – you and Spencer had just gotten back from a case a few hours ago. Your cousin – who usually took care of Maya when you were away – had offered to pick her up from school, but you hadn’t seen her in three days and needed to see her.

Gently, Spencer placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you up the stairs with him trailing close behind. With the two of you standing outside the door, you placed your hand on the brass doorknob and let your hand sit there, listening closely as you registered the small whimpers emanating from inside your sister’s room.

Unable to tolerate it, you wiggled at the door just to find that she had locked it from the inside, “Maya,” you said, consciously keeping your voice soft. “I know that you probably want to be left alone right now, but we need to know that you’re alright,” holding your breath, you waited, hoping that she’d open the door on her own and you wouldn’t have to go hunting for the key.

You were afraid that she was being bullied, she transferred to a new school in the middle of the year and was frequently absent in the beginning, but they didn’t make a guidebook on how to ease a child into a new school following the death of both of her parents. Luckily, Maya was placed in the same classroom as Jack Hotchner, so you knew she’d always have at least one friend around.

Just as Spencer was asking you if you wanted him to go get the room key, the lock clicked and the door slowly opened, revealing your younger sister. Her backpack had been discarded on the floor and her face was bright red, she had been crying.

Shooting yourself in the foot, you hesitated. You just stared down at your sister while she lowered her eyes, watching the floor. Despite the fact that you and Spencer had more than willingly taken her in, Maya was still an orphan. She was a six-year-old whose most prized possession was a stuffed bunny named Thumper, but she was an orphan, nonetheless.

Next to you, Spencer knelt down to the floor, meeting Maya at her height. Tentatively, he reached up and took one of her hands in his much bigger one, “What’s wrong, Bambi?”

Your chest ached at the nickname he had bestowed upon her, keeping your eyes focused on the both of them as Maya retreated back into her room, yanking her hand out of Spencer’s and tossing herself onto her canopy-covered bed. Sharing a concerned look, both you and Spencer made your way into the room.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you sat at the desk across from her bed, and Spencer sat on the flower rug that she kept in front of her dresser. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you got the chance, Maya blurted, “I don’t have a dad!”

Eyes widening, you seemingly choked on air as your eyes darted from where your sister was now sitting up on the bed to where Spencer stayed still, looking equally as startled as you. Jumping up from the bed, she dramatically dropped to her knees in front of her backpack, unzipping the largest pocket before producing a green folder and thrusting a paper in Spencer’s direction.

Smoothly, Spencer accepted the paper from your sister, turning it right side up in his hands before skimming the print. You wheeled the desk chair over in his direction, eyes flickering over the flyer as you realized what it was for. The school held an annual daddy-daughter dance for Valentine’s Day, and your sister had been handed a flyer.

Once you had gotten through the holiday season, you convinced yourself that you could get yourself and Maya through anything – evidently enough, that had been a mistake. This, this made you angry. The administration knew exactly what your sister had been through, and the fact that they still chose to hold this event.

Her biggest worry should be what theme she wanted her seventh birthday party to be, not being left out of a school event because she didn’t have a parent to go with. You checked the time on her Hello Kitty alarm clock, knowing that the school administration would still be around until the end of the workday, you made a mental note to call them and file a complaint.

Concerned with your next steps, you hadn’t even noticed that Spencer had shuffled across the floor, using his fingertips to wipe tears from her face as she looked up at him with big eyes – Bambi. “I could go with you,” Spencer offered, cupping her small cheeks in his hands as he knelt in front of her.

Frowning, Maya shook her head rapidly, “You are not my dad,” she insisted, stepping back and away from Spencer, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, closing herself off.

Your boyfriend nodded in acknowledgment, this had led to a lot of confusion, as Spencer didn’t want to take over the role of father in Spencer’s life, so Maya frequently introduced him to people as her brother. There were a lot of lengthy explanations as to who he actually was. “No,” he responded simply, “I’m not, and I don’t have any intention of trying to be your dad. You already have a dad, right?”

Stepping back toward Spencer, Maya nodded, “Yes, but he’s gone.” Her arms dropped back to her sides, and your chest ached at the euphemism.

“Did you know that I didn’t have my dad around when I was growing up either?” Spencer asked, speaking tenderly to your sister as he tried to navigate this situation. You stayed completely still, trying not to move lest you interrupt the negotiation process.

Maya’s eyes widened in surprise, “Really?” Her small voice came out in a whisper like the information that she and Spencer were sharing was a secret, Maya called whispering adult talk, because that was how you and Spencer always spoke about work.

Reaching up and gingerly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, Spencer nodded almost indeterminately, “Mhm, not the same way that your dad’s gone, but I know what it’s like to not be able do all of the fun dad things. If you’re alright with it, we can go together to the dance.”

“You don’t have to,” Maya whispered timidly, the standoffishness she had displayed earlier completely replaced with nerves.

Your boyfriend nodded, “I know, but I would be honored if you would let me,” he said, taking both of her hands in his. “We don’t have to go at all, but I want to make sure you know that you never have to be nervous about asking me for things.”

She pondered this for a moment before giving a sly smile, “Can I wear a pretty dress?”

“We’ll get you a new one,” Spencer assured her, looking over at you as you sighed, holding a hand over your chest while tears pricked at your eyes. “Does that mean you’ll let me take you to the Valentine’s Day dance?”

Jumping up and down excitedly, Maya beamed and threw her arms around Spencer who, in kind, hugged her tightly, rubbing a hand up and down her back, “I get to go to the dance, and I have no homework! This is the best day ever!”

Laughing lightly behind your hand, you grinned at your sister who was, after all, only six years old. “Your sister and I don’t have to work until tomorrow, do you want to do something?” Spencer offered, reaching out his hand and pulling you over to the two of them, allowing Maya to tackle you to the ground in a bear hug.

“Can we go to the park?” She asked, looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You nodded, “Absolutely we can, and we could go out for dinner after too if you want,” you offered, looking over at Spencer as he grabbed the dance flyer and pinned it to a corkboard in your sister’s room.

She gasped in surprise, even though the two of you rarely told her no – one of the dangers of raising an orphan. “Can Jack come?”

Laughing lightly, you quickly realized that your trip to the park was going to become a BAU family affair while you rose to your feet, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans, “If his dad says yes, then we can take Jack with us.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #written by margot #margot's requests

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fragileheartbeats · 2 days

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

♡ ⭒ㅤ𓈒 ベビードール ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ㅤ྄

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐻 𝑆 𝑅 𝑀 𝑒 𝑛 𝑥 𝐹 𝑒 𝑚 𝑅 𝑒 𝑎 𝑑 𝑒 𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

♡ㅤ𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝅄ㅤೀ

— 𝘋𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘯𝘨, 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘈𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰, 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 <3

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! I got this idea after seeing some cute arts of them as baby dolls like Pinocchio and honestly that was so cute and I just had to write something about it. Also you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆 | 丹恒 ─ 𓇼 . ♡𝆬

You gently braided his long, silky hair, carefully weaving in tiny flowers to adorn his cute horns. He sat beside you, his eyes fixed on the floor, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "You look beautiful," you said, admiring your handiwork. He stiffened slightly, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I-I-I'm not beautiful," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. You chuckled softly, reaching out to gently pat his head. "Oh, but you are. You're the most adorable creature I've ever laid eyes on." He shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting with his fingers. "Y-you really think so?" "Of course!" You exclaimed, unable to contain your affection for him. "You're precious, and so so adorable." He glanced up at you, his eyes wide with surprise and a hint of something else I couldn't quite place. "Th-thank you," he murmured shyly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You smiled back, feeling your heart swell with warmth. "You're welcome, my little darling."

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 | 星期日 ─ 𔒌 . ♡𝆬

You were sitting on the sofa with your doll, his soft, silky gray hair cascading over his shoulders and his golden eyes twinkling with warmth. His cute wings fluttered slightly as he spoke, his angelic voice filling the room with a soothing melody. "I read a lovely story today," he said, the tiny wings on his head twitching with excitement. He gently held your hand, his touch warm and comforting. "It was about an angel who fell in love with a human." "Oh? That sounds interesting," you replied, smiling as you gently stroked his delicate wings. "Tell me more about it." He shifted closer, his small body practically vibrating with excitement. "The angel was very dignified and benevolent, just like all angels are supposed to be. But he couldn't help falling for a human who was kind and beautiful." You listened intently, your heart swelling with affection for this little creature who always tried to help you and make you happy. He continued, his voice filled with wonder and a happiness. "The angel admired her from afar, always wanting to be near her, to protect her. And even though he was an angel, he felt very much like a human when he was with her." As he spoke, you couldn't help but notice the way his golden eyes sparkled, the way his small hands clung to yours just a bit tighter. "You know," he said shyly, "the woman in the story was described as beautiful. And... I think you look just like her." You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Oh, do I now?" He nodded earnestly, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. "Yes, you do. You're beautiful, just like the woman in the story." Touched by his sincerity, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Thank you, my little angel. You're very sweet." His wings fluttered happily, and he let out a soft, contented sigh. "I'm glad you think so." You continued to gently pamper his wings, feeling their soft feathers beneath your fingers. "You know, I think the angel in the story was very lucky to find someone so wonderful to love." He looked up at you, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I think so too," he whispered, his voice filled with happiness.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 | 砂金 ─ 𓐐𓎩 . ♡𝆬

As you sat on the floor of your cozy living room, your doll with his hat perched atop his head bounced excitedly in front of you. He was full of energy, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he eagerly shuffled the deck of cards for your game. "Alright, little darling, ready to play some cards?" you asked with a smile, reaching out to ruffle his soft hair. He nodded eagerly, his tiny hands practically vibrating with excitement. "Yep! I'm gonna win all the candy!" he declared, determination shining in his eyes. You chuckled at his enthusiasm, knowing full well that he had a knack for winning every game he played. But you were happy to indulge him, enjoying the playful competition between the two of you. Sure enough, as the game progressed, he seemed to have luck on his side, winning hand after hand with a gleeful grin on his face. Each time he triumphed, he would let out a delighted squeal, his joy infectious. Finally, when the game was over, he proudly gathered up his winnings – a colorful array of candy that he had won fair and square. With a triumphant whoop, he rushed over to you, his arms laden with sweets. "Look what I got, look what I got!" he exclaimed, plopping down on your lap and nestling his head against your chest like a contented kitten. You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his hair as he eagerly tore open the wrappers and began to devour his prize. Between bites, he began to chatter excitedly, his words tumbling out in a rush as he shared his dreams and aspirations with you. "I wanna see the world with you, and try all sorts of fun stuff together!" he exclaimed between mouthfuls of candy. "We can go on adventures and play games and eat lots and lots of candy! And no matter where we go, I'll always stay by your side." You smiled at his enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through your heart at his infectious excitement. "That sounds like a wonderful plan, little darling." As he continued to talk, his words slowly growing quieter as sleep began to tug at his eyelids, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the adorable little doll nestled in your arms.

"I...I love you," he managed to whisper, his voice barely audible.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, whispering softly, "I love you too, little one. I'll never leave you." With a contented sigh, he snuggled closer to you, his breathing growing steady and even as he drifted off to sleep. You held him close, rocking him gently as you listened to the soft sound of his breathing, feeling grateful for the precious moments you shared together.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎 | 真理医生 ─ 𓇢𓆸 . ♡𝆬

As you were chopping vegetables, your hand slipped, and you accidentally cut yourself. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, and you quickly grabbed a paper towel to stop the bleeding. Hearing the noise, he looked up from his book, his frown deepening when he saw you holding your hand. "What did you do now, you idiot?" he snapped, hopping down from his chair and marching over to you. You winced but couldn't help but smile at his reaction. "I cut myself," you admitted, showing him the small, bleeding wound. He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Of course you did. You really are stupid sometimes." Despite his harsh words, he gently took your hand and led you to the sink. He carefully washed the cut, his tiny hands surprisingly gentle and precise. He grumbled the entire time, but there was a softness in his touch that belied his words. After cleaning the wound, he fetched a bandage from the first aid kit. "Hold still," he ordered, his cheeks slightly pink as he concentrated on wrapping the bandage around your finger. His little frown was adorable, and you couldn't help but find his concern endearing. Once he was done, he let go of your hand and stepped back, crossing his arms and glaring at you. "There. Try not to be so careless next time." You chuckled, touched by his care despite his prickly demeanor. "Thank you," you said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. His eyes widened, and his face turned a deep shade of red. "W-what are you doing? Idiot!" he stuttered, his usual cold exterior crumbling in the face of his embarrassment. He turned on his heel and bolted out of the kitchen, his little legs carrying him quickly to his room. You couldn't help but laugh, watching him go.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 | 刃 ─ 𖤣𖥧 . ♡𝆬

As you cried softly, you didn't notice him coming down from his room, his stomach probably leading him in search of food. He stood there for a moment, watching you with his big, expressive eyes. Then, breaking the silence, he spoke in his soft, almost whisper-like voice. "Why are you crying?" You jumped, startled by his unexpected presence. "Oh! You scared me," you said, quickly wiping your tears away and trying to compose yourself. He ignored your response and came to sit beside you on the couch, his cat plushie nestled under one arm and his sword balanced on his lap. His eyes, filled with concern, searched your face. "Why are you crying?" he repeated, his tone more insistent. You sighed, knowing you couldn't hide your feelings from him. "I just had a really bad day," you admitted, your voice trembling. He looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly and tentatively, he reached out and caressed your head with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Everything will be okay," he said quietly. His touch shocked you—it was the first time he had ever initiated contact. You blinked, tears still pooling in your eyes, but now for a different reason. His small hand, though a bit awkward, was incredibly comforting. "Thank you," you whispered, the warmth of his touch soothing your troubled heart. He nodded, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink, though his face remained mostly stoic. "Don't cry anymore," he said, his voice a little firmer, though there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. You couldn't help but smile through your tears. "I'll try," you promised. He nodded again and then, much to your surprise, settled closer to you, his cat plushie pressed between the two of you. He didn't say anything more, but his presence was enough to lift your spirits.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

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theodorenmyth · 2 days

Note

Remember to always drink water, rest your fingers and body! 💗💗

Okay so angst to fluff and this can be seen as either platonic or romantic. OKAY, so mattheo and reader are like always seen together and people back off from reader because of how close reader is to mattheo. The thing is reader is completely oblivious to the rumors about our dear riddle brother. Reader always followed mattheo like a small puppy which always made mattheo smile as he’s so unbothered by them. But let’s say 2 days has passed and reader is no where in sight and it raises alarms in mattheo’s head. Mattheo is literally freaking out in his mind as he thinks reader is avoiding him and probably heard the rumors up front. It’s to the point he is about to completely snap only to see reader in his dorm confused like a true lost puppy. Turns out reader went to their home town cause they missed “real” food.

-🧚🏾‍♀️

Lost and Found

Pairings : Mattheo Riddle x GN! Reader Summary : Mattheo Riddle and you are inseparable, causing whispers to follow your every move. But when you disappear unexpectedly, Mattheo's mind spirals into a frenzy of worry, fearing the worst. Little does he know, your absence is simply a quest for familiar flavors from home. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 700+

You'd never noticed the way people whispered as you walked by Mattheo Riddle's side. To you, he was simply your closest friend, someone you felt comfortable around, someone who always made you smile. But to others, the sight of you two together sparked rumors and raised eyebrows.

You followed Mattheo like a shadow, your steps mirroring his effortlessly. He would chuckle at your antics, finding solace in your unwavering presence. But then, suddenly, you were gone.

Two days passed like a blur for Mattheo. Anxiety clawed at his mind, twisting his thoughts into a tangled mess. Where were you? Why hadn't you shown up? Did you hear the rumors and decide to distance yourself from him?

His heart pounded with each passing second, panic settling in the pit of his stomach like a heavy weight. He couldn't focus on anything else, his thoughts consumed by the fear of losing you.

Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Mattheo set out to find you. He searched every corner of Hogwarts, his steps frantic as he called out your name, hoping for a response that never came.

His mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. Had something happened to you? Was it his fault for not realizing sooner?

Just as he was on the brink of losing hope, he stumbled upon your dormitory. Relief flooded through him at the sight of your familiar surroundings, but confusion still lingered in his mind.

Pushing open the door, he found you sitting on your bed, looking utterly bewildered. Your eyes widened in surprise, jumping back slightly as you took in his disheveled appearance, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Holy shit, you fucking scared me. What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice tinged with confusion.

He couldn't help but let out a shaky laugh, the tension draining from his body as he sank down beside you.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your brows furrowed in concern, and you reached out to grasp his hand in yours. "Why? What's wrong?"

Mattheo couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze, the weight of his worries still pressing down on him. "I thought…I thought you were avoiding me because of the rumors," he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you let out a soft laugh, the sound like music to his ears. "Rumors? What rumors?"

He blinked in confusion, unable to comprehend your obliviousness to the whispers that surrounded you both. "You mean…you haven't heard?"

You shook your head, a puzzled expression crossing your features. "No, I've been away for a few days. I went back home to visit my family and, well, to get some real food. Hogwarts cuisine can only satisfy me for so long."

Relief washed over Mattheo like a tidal wave, his worries evaporating into thin air. He couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh, the sound echoing through the room.

"You had me worried sick," he admitted, his voice laced with a mixture of relief and affection.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand gently. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry. I just needed a break from all the chaos."

Mattheo nodded understandingly, his heart swelling with gratitude for your presence. "Well, next time, let me know before you disappear like that. I don't think I can handle another scare like this."

You chuckled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "I promise, I'll keep you updated from now on. After all, what are friends for?"

A soft chuckle escaped Mattheo's lips, the tension melting from his shoulders as he enveloped you in a warm embrace. "You foolish creature," he murmured against your hair, his voice thick with affection.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you realized that rumors were nothing more than whispers in the wind. What mattered was the bond that bound you together, unbreakable and true.

As the evening sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, Mattheo realized that sometimes, the most precious things in life were right in front of you all along. And he vowed to never take your friendship for granted again.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening catching up, sharing stories and laughter as if nothing had ever changed. And as Mattheo watched you smile and heard the sound of your laughter, he knew that no matter what challenges may come their way, as long as he had you by his side, he could face anything.

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spider-stark · 18 hours

Text

SPARRING PARTNER

Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin!Reader

Summary - You and Aegon have hardly spoken since sharing a particularly sensual moment a month ago. Now he thinks he stands a chance at beating you in a sparring match.

Warnings - targcest (lightly implied that reader is Daemon's daughter), vague hints regarding smut, blood, horny/stupid aegon & reader, ! MINORS DNI !

Word Count - 2.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Care for a partner?”

Aegon’s gruff voice had come as a surprise, knocking you from a state of concentration as you swung for one of the training dummies.

Your body jolts. You fumble, then miss your mark by a fraction of an inch. The tip of your blade grazes against the dummies wooden neck, rather than slicing its head clean off.

Gritting your teeth, blood thrums in your ears as you whirl around to face your cousin. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to sneak up on an armed woman?”

He’s standing within an arm’s length of you—much too close, considering you had been swinging a sword around. One wrong move, and it could’ve been his head that you had taken off.

In spite of this, Aegon appears utterly at ease. Standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrugs at you, a lopsided smirk pulling at his lips. “I prefer for my women to be dangerous.”

“I’m the furthest thing from one of your women.”

“Really?” He cocks a brow, that stupid smirk growing wider. “Must I jog your memory, then? Remind you of Aemond’s name-day celebrations when-”

You cut him off with a narrow-eyed glare, raising your blade in a feigned-threat. The tip is poised at his navel when you hiss, “Enough.”

Obedient as always, Aegon’s mouth snaps shut at your command. His mouth remains curved, though, silently taunting you. Memories from last month flash through your mind—the two of you, drunk and stumbling away from the Banquet Hall, hands roaming freely along each other's bodies.

A mistake.

That’s all it was: an ignorant, drunken, mistake.

Still, you feel your cheeks heating at the thought of that night. You huff, sliding your sword back into the leather-sheath strapped around your hips. “I’m not one of your women,” you huff, though you’re not so sure the reminder is meant for him. “You have a type, Aegon—and that type consists wholly of whores.”

You had nothing against the whores, of course. Many of the ladies working on the Street of Silk were fine women—if anything, you felt bad that they had to deal with him.

At least they get paid for it, though. You deal with his flirtations free of charge.

“Well,” Aegon drones, his lilac eyes dipping further south. Sweat soaks through your tunic, making it cling to your skin in a way that accentuates the curve of your waist. “Not wholly of whores.”

Your expression falls flat. “How flattering.”

With that, you spin on your heel, fully intending on continuing your training on the other side of the yard. You make it less than a full step before his fingers snag on your wrist, whirling you back around.

Your free hand finds the hilt of your sword, a warning flashing in your eyes. Worry flashes across his face, though it’s mostly shrouded by arrogance.

“You never answered my question,” his voice carries a subtle wobble, hardly noticeable. You catch it, though, unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin. “Would you like a partner?”

“A sparring partner?”

The question is phrased like an insult—and, maybe, you had meant it that way. Your focus hones in on the hand still wrapped around your wrist. His smooth, uncalloused, princelike hands. When was the last time he had even held a sword?

A puzzled frown accentuates the pout of his bottom lip. When he speaks, his voice is so unusually tentative that his response sounds more like a question than an answer. “Yes?”

You try holding in a laugh—and fail miserably. Aegon’s confusion gives way to annoyance, embarrassment tinging his pale cheeks red.

“What’s so funny?”

Several biting remarks instantly come to mind, each a bit more insulting than the last. You hold your tongue. Surely he doesn’t actually believe himself capable of sparring with you, right? When it comes to swordfighting, you’re leagues above him. It wouldn’t even be close to a fair match.

“Nothing,” you respond quickly, tight-lipped as you hold back another laugh. “But you know what? Sure—I could use some decent competition.”

Aegon’s chest puffs slightly, confidence soaring.

You nip that in the bud, “Mind fetching your brother for me?”

He deflates at the mention of his brother, shoulders slumping forward as he scoffs. “You truly believe Aemond to be better than me?”

“Without question.”

Aemond was a bit of a twat—but he was undeniably skilled at swordplay.

“Do you forget that Aemond and I were trained by the same knight?” Aegon asks, brows raised. “I’m just as skilled with a blade as my brother. If not more.”

Another laughable statement that has you biting your cheek, trying not to insult him any more than you already had.

It was true that, same as Aemond, Aegon had been trained by Ser Criston, a knight of the Kingsguard, when he was a boy. But if the softness of his palms was any indicator, then he hadn’t done a good job at keeping up with that training.

“Doubtful.” Sighing, you then gesture to his clothes, “Besides, you’re not even dressed for a fight, Aegon. You can’t move in that!”

Glancing down at himself, he observes his tight-fitted emerald tunic, slim trousers, and shiny black boots. Fashionable—but terrible for a fight.

“I assure you that I can move just fine,” he huffs, weakly defending himself. Bringing a hand to his hip, he slides a dagger from a small black sheath. “I’ll prove it!”

You stare at the weapon, unblinking. Incredulity lines each syllable as you ask, “You plan to fight me with that?”

It was, admittedly, a very pretty dagger.

No expense had been spared in its creation. The pommel was forged of shimmering gold, rounded and delicately crafted to emulate the appearance of glistening dragon scales. Dark shagreen wrapped the hilt, and the blade itself was made of steel so dark it appeared onyx, its tip curved ever-so-slightly, making it ideal for carving through flesh.

Pretty, but still just a dagger. A weapon designed for close-range attacks would do him little good against a sword.

“It’s a weapon, is it not?” If Aegon’s at all embarrassed by your teasing, he doesn’t show it. His jaw flexes, lilac eyes boring into you. “Fight me.”

“This is foolish-” you start.

“Fight me,” Aegon growls, cutting you off. He takes a step closer. Your spine turns to a steel rod, chin held high as his stare narrows on you. “Unless you’re too afraid to lose,” he purrs.

Your blood simmers.

He’s goading you. You know that—and take the bait anyway.

“Fine,” you answer bluntly.

Rolling your shoulders, you take your stance a few paces back from him. Feet apart and hands raised defensively, you don’t even bother with drawing your weapon—making his brow raise.

“What about your sword?” He asks, eyeing the sheath at your waist.

“Don’t need it.”

Cocky—but true, nonetheless. If you were to spar with a weapon, then you would probably have him disarmed in seconds. Doing it this way, unarmed, you at least stand a chance of getting a good workout before your inevitable victory.

“Let’s go.” Curling your fingers, you beckon him closer, a taunt in your voice, “Give it your best shot, Aeg.”

A shiver crawls up his spine, thinking back to Aemond’s name-day, the last time you had called him that. The two of you had been so impatient that you hadn’t made it further than an empty broom closet; his teeth grazing against your neck, and his name oozing from your tongue like honey.

His hand tightens around the hilt, remembering how it felt to be gripping your bare waist, instead. Remembering, too, how it felt as his touch drifted lower and lower, his fingers hooking along the waistband of your smallclothes just as a maid pushed the door open and started screaming.

You hadn’t called him Aeg since that night—since you rushed to fix your gown and darted out the door, leaving him to deal with the maid. To hear it again now—after a month of dreaming of it—was pure bliss, as well as a confirmation that, perhaps, you don’t regret that night as much as you wish you did.

Voice low, he asks, “Ready?”

You almost smile. Aegon had been trained by the Kingsguard, taught to spar with honor, to wait until your opponent was ready to strike.

But you were trained by the Rogue Prince. Taught to say fuck honor—strike first, ask questions never.

A split second and you’re lunging forwards, making a move for his dominant side.

Aegon’s eyes go wide—then his guard snaps up, forcing him to focus.

Caught off guard, his movements are desperate and sloppy as he stumbles backwards, evading your strike.

Your fingertips brush the sleeve of his tunic. If he’d moved a second later, you would have caught him by the wrist. A second later, and you would have already won.

“Sneaky,” he chastises.

You open your mouth to respond, only for the words to be cut off by a yelp. He takes you by surprise, barreling straight for you. Steel glimmers as the onyx blade sweeps towards you, slicing through the air much faster than you would’ve thought.

There’s no time to dodge the strike—not without the risk of tripping over your own feet. You lift your forearm, aiming to block rather than dodge. Aegon notices this—a heartbeat too late—and purposefully slows his own blow.

You hiss as cold steel grazes against your skin. Crimson trickles towards your elbow, minuscule compared to what it could have been. If Aegon hadn’t hindered his own strike, the blade could have very well cut-through to pure-ivory bone.

Anger sparks in his eyes. “You could’ve dodged that,” he pants.

Taking several small steps backwards, you grin at him through gritted teeth. “And you could’ve struck harder.”

Aegon’s stare narrows and, instantly, that spark flares to an all-consuming wildfire. Lilac flames lick at his irises, the heat of them nipping at your skin, sweat beading along your brow.

He moves first.

Slicing from the left, you duck to the right. His counter is swift, aiming for your bicep. But he’s too hesitant—giving you just enough time to twist your body out of the way.

His movements are as fast and relentless as they are unsustainable. Aegon’s chest heaves, evidence of his fraying endurance. You bide your time, weaving and dodging his blade's curved tip. Letting him push you back and back and back, focusing on evading rather than striking.

Swinging low, his blade cuts through the front of your tunic, hardly a fucking centimeter from tearing into your sternum. A bit panicked, you snap your arm up. It rams into the side of his dominant wrist, striking a particularly sensitive nerve.

He hisses. Takes a step back to regroup.

Never loses his grip, though, knuckles turning white around the hilt.

“Impressive,” you bite out, feeling your own temper flare.

Taking advantage of the small window, you move towards him. Swept towards his ankle with your leg, hoping to knock him off balance but—

—He predicts your movement, jumping back only to immediately press forward again. Every movement is aggressive; not calculated or precise, but still swift and near inescapable.

You block and block, stumbling back and back. Your footwork turns sloppy, your focus hazy. Then, suddenly, your back is slamming into rough stone. Blade poised at your chest, Aegon grins even as he fights to catch his breath.

You curse at yourself, realization settling into your bones.

You counted on him being a poor swordsman—on being out of practice and out of shape. Waiting for his stamina to deplete, knowing that when it did, you could easily overpower him.

You hadn’t considered that maybe he’d had a strategy of his own, though.

Aegon had tricked you. Overexerted himself on purpose. Moved faster and faster, ensuring that you were focusing on him and not your surroundings, allowing him to back you into a godsdamned corner.

Your temper flares. Instincts kick in.

Your hand thrusts upwards, aiming for the chain dangling around his neck. His freehand shoots up at the same time, catching your fingers just as they wrap around the thick metal. He doesn’t move your hand away, letting the warmth of your touch linger against the column of his throat.

You had planned to choke him, and Aegon knows this. And yet neither fear nor worry clouds his gaze. His lilac eyes remain bright, glittering with intrigue, of all things.

A low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, which is only mere inches from your own. “If you were this desperate to touch me,” Aegon purrs, the sweetness of arbor red permeating your senses as his breath fans across your cheek, “then you should’ve just asked.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grind out.

Aegon leans closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as your foreheads touch. Your heartbeat stutters, then quickens. He loosens his grip on your fingers, not caring that you could easily attack him again. As he brushes a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear, you’re fairly certain that, at this moment, Aegon has no cares at all.

“You were wrong,” he whispers.

The world around you begins to fade, your vision hollowing until all that remains is him. You just stare at him—wide-eyed and confused, utterly ensnared.

“Earlier,” Aegon continues. “You said that you were the furthest thing from my type of woman. But you were wrong–” his touch drifts from your hairline, traveling along your jaw in a soft caress, “–you’re the only type of woman that I want.”

A serrated breath escape escapes you as Aegon pushes himself against you, further caging you against the stone. Close enough that, with each breath, his plush lips brush against yours. Close enough that you can feel his hardening length buried against your thigh.

“Every night,” his voice drops to a whimper now. “I’ve thought of you every night since then. Dreamed of you, even.”

You bite your tongue, scared that if you don’t, you might say something stupid—might tell him that you dreamt of him, too. Of the warmth of his touch, fingertips burning against your skin as they dipped lower lower lower.

Weakness wins out, a strangled moan slipping from parted lips, “Aeg-”

“Have you thought of me?” Aegon asks, brows furrowing into an unbearably innocent expression. You squirm against him, your back arching off the stone, hips desperately searching for friction. He clicks his tongue. “Words, dove. Use them.”

Gods—how you hate yourself for this. For how easy it is for him to toy with you. For how much you enjoy it.

You rasp, “Yes-”

In response, a satisfied hum. “Good.”

For a moment, somehow both brief and eternal, you wait for him to close that gap between you. Wait to feel his lips crash against yours, to taste the sweetness of his tongue. To have his touch once again strike a match within your soul, leaving you to burn in the ecstasy of his embrace.

And then, suddenly, you feel it—

—the tip of his fucking dagger pressed against the underside of your jaw, a single bead of warmth trickling down the column of your throat.

Lip curling into a snarl, you glare at Aegon.

He looks all too pleased with himself, smirking as he asks, “Now am I better than Aemond?”

You don’t answer him—not with words, at least. But he can see the response simmering in your eyes; a certainty that excited him far more than it scared him.

You were going to kill him.

a/n - honestly just wanted to practice writing a short little fight scene with this! originally this was going to be about aemond, but my love for aegon won out as it always does.

as always, like's comments and reblogs are appreciated! and if any of you want to talk about all things aegon or hotd/asoiaf, my asks/dms are open (please none of my irl friends like hotd i'm begging)

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defectivehero · 2 days

Note

Hello, I would love to see more of your snarky millionaire villain and "not wanting to owe anyone money" hero. Please,,,, it was immaculate,,,, I beg I love it so much. It was such a wonderful read. I wish to see more of them 🥺 ty <333

here's part one of this story. and ahh ty! now, onto part two:

Life after the villain's... generosity... is strange. The hero finds that they're no longer so stressed about paying rent or having enough groceries. They're well-fed and well-rested, for the first time in several months (years). The hero doesn't know how to feel about it all: they're frustrated, wary, exhausted, angry, ashamed. They have never been comfortable with accepting assistance, and the enormous sum of money forced onto them by the villain is an assistance they're entirely unable to refuse (literally). They remember how futile their attempts at resistance felt, as the villain firmly steered them down the sidewalk and forced them to walk in their bank and cash in the check. It was humiliating. They felt their eyes stinging with unshed tears, but they hid their guilt and remorse until they were alone behind the walls of their apartment. Those feelings don't leave them, even as time passes and the memory of that night blurs around the edges.

“You’re a strange one." The hero is torn from their thoughts and they instinctively bristle at the sudden, unexplained voice. When their gaze catches on the villain lurking in the corner of the room, they relax a little. And once they realize that they've relaxed, they scold themself for thinking their enemy's presence could be anything but unnerving.

“…Thanks?” The hero eventually remembers to reply. It seems that the villain has broken into their apartment just to speak to them. Either they have something important to discuss, or their enemy has too much time on their hands. The hero suspects the latter.

“Wasn’t a compliment,” the villain says. The hero rolls their eyes as their enemy continues. “Most people wouldn't need to be blackmailed into accepting a rather large sum of money."

Ah, this again. The hero was foolish to think their enemy would ever let them forget their... arrangement. “I’m not like most people,” they decide to say, after struggling to come up with a response for a few moments.

“Fair enough,” the villain sighs, as if that was a foregone conclusion.

“If I’m being honest,” the hero continues, their mouth moving before their mind can stop it, “Your, ah, gift…" The absolutely outrageous sum of money, the hero thinks, "...gave me some much needed vacation time.” Indeed it did. They enjoyed a few vacation days last week, which was quite the rarity. Not to mention the sudden stability and security they were awarded.

“Really?” The villain asks, crossing their arms over their chest and raising an eyebrow at them. They look frighteningly at ease, despite the indisputable fact that they're standing in a space that isn't theirs.

“Yes,” the hero answers. “I took a day off work for the first time last week.” That statement slips out before they can stop it. Immediately, they feel the villain's gaze focus on them intently.

“The first time?” The villain asks, a strange expression on their face. It looks to be a mix of disbelief and indignation. They cross their arms over their chest. “You’re joking.” They're performing a strange balancing act between boredom and interest. One moment, the villain is listening with rapt attention; the next, they're looking around the room as if they'd rather be literally anywhere else in the world.

Meanwhile, the hero suddenly knows they’ve committed a grave mistake. They remain silent, knowing any further explanation will only make things worse. The villain studies them for a long moment, and even as they continue speaking, it's clear that this conversation will occur again at a later date.

“I’m surprised you didn’t donate the money,” the villain hums, a smile working its way onto their face. The hero nearly sighs in relief at the change in subject.

“I think we both know I tried,” the hero huffs, not realizing their enemy's remark is a trap until it's too late. They engineered that verbal trap just to applaud their own ego.

“Ah, yes,” the villain smirks, their lips parting to reveal sharp teeth. “I blacklisted all of the prominent charities in the area. Rather ingenious of me, I have to admit.” They hold up their hand and look at their nails, before flipping it around to pick at something under their nail.

“There’s so much you could be doing with that kind of time and money,” the hero says with a shake of their head, resisting the urge to bury their head in their hands. They've done far too much agonizing about this for their own good. At some point, they're forced to accept the reality of the situation. Besides, the more attention they devote to the villain's strange and selfish philanthropy, the less energy they have for the more important things.

“But alas,” the villain sighs dramatically, wrapping an arm around their shoulder. The hero stiffens and pushes them off. “What has the world done for me?” They muse.

The hero has had too many circular conversations on the same topic to fall for the bait once more. They know they cannot change their enemy’s mindset, no matter how hard they try. They settle for throwing their hands in the air to indicate their helplessness. The villain seems surprised at their evident agreeableness, as they raise their brows before mimicking the gesture.

"What can we do?" The villain shrugs. "We're mere chess pieces in a far broader battle between good and evil." That's a gross oversimplification, but it still holds some degree of truth. Despite the fact that their enemy's question is clearly rhetorical, the hero's mind latches onto it and tries to pick it apart. What can they do, if they are a mere tool for someone else's use?

"We can hope we're not meant to be sacrifices," the hero eventually responds.

"Touché," the villain acquiesces. A slight smile rises on their face as they take in the space around them, evaluating the hero's apartment design with a critical eye. Eventually, they take a deep breath and announce their departure. "Well, while I'd love nothing more than to stay here and pester you, I'm afraid I've worn out my welcome."

"You were never welcome in the first place," the hero mutters darkly. The hero never invited their enemy over, after all.

Unfortunately, their remark only serves to amuse their enemy. "Now you're getting it," the villain grins, flashing them a mocking thumbs-up before promptly turning down the hall and disappearing from sight. The hero stares at the empty space they occupied for several seconds before finally submitting to the urge to bury their head in their hands in disbelief and irritation.

lol these two are great

tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello

click here if you’d like to be on/off the tag list!

#defectivehero #hero x villain #heroes and villains #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #hero and villain #creative writing

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reiden · 3 days

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talking nonsense | h.iwaizumi

You and Iwaizumi discuss his most recent piercing. And he's a little bit in love with you.

cw: 18+, gn!reader, suggestive, pining

— ✦

You keep your hands pressed firmly against the paper, coated in some kind of unknown substance Iwaizumi is not artsy enough to identify. It covers your hands and the shade of pink you've decided to paint your nails for the week, appearing in splotches up your wrist and ending midway on your forearms. Somehow, none of it gets on the sweater you're wearing.

His sweater — the one he purposefully left behind for you, not that you know. In your eyes, Iwaizumi is just a bit forgetful and if his clothes are in your home then it's fair game to be worn by you. Finders, borrowers; he wouldn't mind if you chose to keep it, though. His clothes always look better on you than they do on him.

You bounce a bit, putting extra pressure onto the paper beneath your palms. Your shorts ride up the expanse of your thigh, creasing and bunching by your hip, and the heat that licks up Iwaizumi's spine has him just barely biting back a curse. He's not just here to admire — though he finds himself doing so regardless when it comes to you — he's here for an opinion.

"You don't think it's too much?" he asks, tilting his head to the side so you can see clearer. The simple silver hoop hanging from his ear. You groan and he clicks his tongue.

He watches you lean back, letting go of your paper mâché creation to lean against the foot of your emerald green couch (bought at a yard sale by you; picked up and moved in by Iwaizumi). "For the last time Haji, if I really thought it was too much I would have told you already." Your lips quirk to the side as you huff out a laugh, "Plus, it's one earring — hardly anything to scoff at."

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes, "What? You want me to get all tatted up? Piercings everywhere?" He says it sarcastically; you pick up on it but you're tilting your head to the side as though you're seriously considering it. Your gaze warms his cheeks and leaves his mouth feeling dry.

"I think you'd suit a tattoo or two," you hum, turning back to your project. You bring your hand up and make a half-hearted attempt at scratching your cheek, smearing some of the paste against your skin. "Another earring — a helix this time." You bend forward, getting closer to your creation with scrutiny in your eyes. Iwaizumi tries not to let his gaze linger, all but whipping his head to the side to stop himself from tracing the dip of your spine under your (his) sweater.

He fails, unable to turn away completely. Some rational part of him reminds him that you're his best friend — one of the few people he's managed to get really close to in this new environment and new university — but he eyes you through his peripheral anyway. Your shorts ride up further. Iwaizumi digs his nails into his palms and shifts around in his seat.

And then, you're looking up suddenly, meeting his stare with an intensity that leaves him feeling glued to the chair he's sitting on. He laughs, wedges some humour into his words, "Think we should slow down." You're smiling, plump lips — soft lips, he's sure of it — parting to just a sliver of your teeth.

"Just think about it," you say, pausing your poking and prodding at your project. "I can think of some other piercings you could rock." It's a quick mumble, followed by the split-second drop of your eyes past the tense line of his jaw, past his shoulders, past his hips. What you're insinuating is not lost on him, but it does take him by surprise.

Iwaizumi draws in a sharp breath. You refocus your attention on your project.

"In case you ever wanted any recommendations," you tack on, words just a touch above a whisper.

He can't figure you out. Or perhaps, he has and the realisation hasn't quite dawned on him yet. It will — when he's gone back to his own apartment and he's sitting on his own couch, he'll finally put two and two together. Iwaizumi hopes that by then, he'll have worked up the courage to do something about it.

In all honesty, it's taking every bit of restraint left in him to keep himself planted on this chair, far from you and those damn shorts and his damn sweater. He wants to tell you he loves you, and then maybe fuck you right into that emerald green couch he helped you haul into your apartment a few months ago. Instead, he says, "You seem like you've given this a lot of thought."

"Obviously," you answer without a shred of hesitation. "I'm always thinking about you, Hajime."

There is one thing Iwaizumi Hajime can be certain of and it's that you will absolutely be the death of him.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader #haikyuu x reader #wr.iting

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bicheetopuff · 19 hours

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I don’t think y’all understand how crazy this is. Well, I know you do but I like yapping and I need to type things out to completely understand for myself what’s going on.

Katsuki pushed Izuku away their entire childhood after Izuku was diagnosed quirkless. Before that, it felt like he wanted Izuku to push himself in more things. In his own weird little way, he believed in him. Katsuki was good at everything and he was self aware about that so the reason he always singled out Deku to try out the things he was trying and comparing their furture quirks was because he always wanted Izuku as his rival. He saw something in Izuku that he couldn’t find in himself which at that age deemed him “worthy” of competing with him.

When Izuku was confirmed to not have a quirk and everyone was telling Katsuki that his quirk was amazing, he felt like Izuku wasn’t worthy of competing against him anymore and was offended that Izuku didn’t understand that. He legitimately thought that Izuku was trying to stoop Katsuki “down to his level” because he didn’t understand that Izuku just wanted to be around him and be friends with him. He wasn’t trying to sign up for his life long rivalship that Katsuki had made up in his head that his four year old self established he had already won.

Even then, Katsuki still believed in Izuku. In the TUMs where Katsuki is trying to chase down Nine but Izuku finds him first. He’s not surprised. He’s angry that he didn’t have the same skill that Izuku did in that department. Or when Izuku was talking about applying to UA, Katsuki didn’t laugh it off. He wanted Izuku to not apply at all because he knew there was a chance he could actually get in. Or when Izuku actually did get in, Katsuki wasn’t surprised, he was just wondering how. He has never not had faith in Izuku.

And now, after he established that Izuku never meant ill will towards him and realized that he was just being a jerk towards him for no reason, he started to view him as a proper rival again. Izuku is the only person in his life that has been able to push him to become his best self. He grew so much as a person. But, Izuku’s influence and just his care for him in general landed him wounded on several occasions now. He almost died. Yet he’s unable to think of himself first anymore like he used to.

He went to Izuku’s hospital room and cried like a baby because of Izuku losing his quirk. Because he lost that rival that wanted and needed for so long. He lost his second chance to compete with him after losing so much time. He feels like the person he cares about most just lost his dream because he wasn’t there to help. He blames himself for Izuku’s misfortune yet couldn’t care less about his own.

And from Izuku’s POV, he just experienced a heavy loss for not being able to save Shigaraki (yet/in the way he wanted to). He lost his quirk which made his dream come true even if it was only for a short time. He’s quirkless again yet the first person who came to check on him was the very person that used to give him hell for not having a quirk. The guy he chased after his whole childhood because he wanted to be like him and be his friend. And that guy that always used to push him away pours his heart out and tells him, “I wanted to play this game of cat and mouse with you for the rest of our lives,” and he can’t be anything other than shocked and reassuring at the admission.

This scene single handedly began the healing process for both of their inner child’s. Katsuki feels comfortable to show his emotions and admit to wanting a rival and Izuku finally gets to see just how badly Katsuki wants him around.

But, Izuku still hasn’t even truly acknowledged Katsuki’s apology. And even in this chapter, all he said were things to make Katsuki feel better. He hasn’t explained how he feels about anything yet.

I want Katsuki to tell Izuku that even if he’s quirkless, he still wants to be by his side. And I want Izuku to tell Katsuki that he forgives him for everything he’s done. I NEED THEM TO TALK!

HORI PLEASE LET DEKU TALK ABOUT HIS EMOTIONS NOT EVEN JUST ABOUT KATSUKI BUT ABOUT EVERYTHING. I NEED TO KNOW WHATS GOING ON IN IZUKUS HEAD. LET THEM HAVE A REAL CONVERSATION THAT ISNT UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF BEING CRITICALLY INJURED. I BEG!!!

#bakudeku #bnha #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #rambling #puff speaks #I can’t do this #like I’m kinda bummed how the wars ending was a little rushed #but at the same time this new setup has so much promise #HORI PLS #LET THEM SPEAK #MAKE THEM KISS #WHEN I SAID ID TATTOO IT IF YOU MADE THEM CANON I MEANT IT

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nhlclover · 3 hours

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 | 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈

summary: adam and you struggle to keep your relationship a secret from nick, your overprotective brother, until an incident ultimately forces the truth into the open.

warnings: blankenburg!sister, couple instances of swearing

word count: 1.37k

Adam felt a knot of tension in his stomach as he glanced at Nick, who was laughing with their teammates over a game of darts. Beside him, you looked radiant, your laughter mixing with the upbeat music and chatter. The neon lighting of the bar accentuated every smile that graced your lips. Your presence seemed to dim the outside world for Adam, his attention completely focused on your infectious energy.

It was your infectious energy that first drew Adam to you. When Nick first introduced his sister to his newest teammate, you took effect on Adam instantaneously. You seemed to captivate everyone in the room, but it was Adam who was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the warmth and brightness you brought to life.

You found yourself equally pulled in by Adam’s charming personality, not being able to pull your eyes off his ever-present smile. You were well aware of the barbaric ‘no dating my sister rule’ that Nick would tell his teammates about. You found the rule to be ridiculous as you’d always said you would never fall for one of his teammates, but that was before you met Adam. Any precaution went out the window as you found yourself falling head over heels for him.

As you got close to Adam, the pair of you decided to keep your relationship a secret until the right moment presented itself. It was easy in theory, but in practice, it became a burden to both of you as you worked tirelessly to ensure that Nick wouldn’t find out until you were ready.

The secret of their relationship was a constant weight on Adam’s shoulders, one he desperately wished he could cast off, but the fear of Nick’s reaction kept it hidden. Adam respected Nick, but this rule felt suffocating now that you and him were together. The irony of the situation gnawed at him—he had been drawn to her from the moment they met, her charm and wit irresistible. Keeping their relationship hidden was a necessary evil, but each passing day made it more unbearable.

Tonight was supposed to be a fun night out. Michigan was on spring break, allowing Luca to come to Ohio and visit his younger brother. Adam was excited to introduce the two of you, hoping that you would get along even without knowing that you were his girlfriend. However, Luca, ever the charmer, was getting along with you a little too well. Adam watched as Luca chatted with you, noting the way his brother’s eyes lingered a bit too long on your smile.

He could see where this was heading, and he didn’t like it. Luca’s flirtatious nature was something he was all too familiar with, but seeing it directed at you stirred something protective and primal within him. You seemed oblivious to Luca’s flirting, but Adam’s protective instincts were on high alert. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew Luca wasn’t trying to overstep — he didn’t know about your relationship, after all. But seeing another man flirt with you sent a burning ache of jealousy through Adam’s veins.

Adam watched as Luca said something to you that caused another laugh to come out, and finally, he couldn’t bear it any longer. He stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “Hey, can I steal her for a dance?” he asked, not waiting for a reply as he took your hand.

You looked surprised but followed him to the dance floor. “Adam, what’s going on?” you asked, concern in her eyes.

He didn’t answer immediately, pulling you into him, his hands resting dangerously low on your waist. He made sure to stop right on the edge of the dance floor where Luca could still see them.

“I just needed to be close to you,” he murmured, leaning in. “I can’t stand seeing him flirt with you.”

You blinked, confusion flickering across your face. “Luca? He’s just being friendly.”

Adam shook his head. “No, he’s flirting. And I need you to know that you’re mine.”

Without thinking, Adam dipped his head down, connecting your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. You loved the way his hungry lips met yours, the way he pulled your hips into his. But common sense took over you as you pulled back, eyes wide. You knew your brother was somewhere nearby and could only imagine what his reaction would be if he saw his teammate kissing his sister.

Your eyes looked around in hopes that Nick didn’t see, but his eyes had been on you since Adam pulled you to dance. He had already made his way to the two of you, his jaw wire tight. You stepped out of Adam’s grip and in front of him, acting as a barrier between him and Nick.

“Nick, it’s not what you think—” you began, but Nick’s eyes were locked onto Adam.

“What the hell is going on?” Nick’s voice was low, dangerous.

Adam stood his ground, though his heart was racing. “Nick, I can explain.”

Nick’s glare didn’t waver. “Explain what? That you’re breaking the one rule I set? That you’re sneaking around with my sister?”

“Nick can you just—”

Nick didn’t even look down at you, his furious gaze still locked on Adam. “Y/n, stay out of this,”

You scoffed, opening your mouth to speak, but Adam beat you to it. “Nick, you’re overreacting man.”

“I’m overreacting?” Nick scoffed. “You’re the one macking on my sister and flaunting it in front of me. Fuck you, dude.”

“Enough!” you finally said, your eyes blazing as you looked between Adam and Nick. “Both of you, outside, right now.”

You headed towards the exit, several patrons eyes now on the group of you after having caused a scene. Reluctantly, they followed you outside to the front of the bar.

“Nick,” you began, looking at your older brother whose temper had yet to settle. “I’m your sister, not your fucking property. I’m my own person. I can make my own decisions and date whoever I choose. You don’t get to dictate that. I love Adam, and you need to respect that.”

Nick opened his mouth to argue, but you held up a hand to stop him. “And you,” you turned to Adam, your expression softening but still stern. “You don’t need to act like a caveman to prove a point. I’m committed to you, Adam. I would never flirt with your own brother or anyone else.”

Adam looked at her, guilt washing over him. “I’m sorry, y/n. I just… I couldn’t stand seeing him flirt with you.”

“I get that,” you say, sighing. “But you need to trust me and trust that if people try to flirt with me, I will tell them that my boyfriend will beat them up.”

Adam couldn’t help but let a small smile appear on his lips at hearing you call him your boyfriend in front of Nick, your relationship no longer a skeleton in the closet for him.

Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry too. I just… I didn’t expect this.”

“We didn’t mean to hurt you. We just… we couldn’t help it,” you said.

“I just…Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick asks, his expression soft.

Adam took a deep breath. “Because we were afraid of how you’d react. You made it clear that you didn’t want something like this to happen. But I love her, Nick. I love her, and I’m not going to hide that anymore.”

Nick stared at Adam, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is… a lot to take in.”

“We didn’t want to keep it from you forever. We just wanted to find the right time,” you tell your brother.

Nick nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours. “Alright. But if you ever hurt her, Adam, I swear—”

Adam nodded earnestly. “I won’t. I promise.”

Nick looked between the two of you, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Okay. But you’re buying the next round.”

A relieved smile spread across your face as you hugged your brother, and Adam exhaled, the weight on his shoulders finally lifting.

#adam fantilli #adam fantilli x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #columbus blue jackets #nick blankenburg #luca fantilli

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dazedandconfused-15 · 3 days

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Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1

@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!

______________________________________________________________

It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.

After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.

“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.

“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”

You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.

“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.

A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.

“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.

You instantly feel relieved.

“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”

“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”

“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.

Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making you feel strange. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park.

“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”

His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."

“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.

“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.

“Good.”

When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back.

Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.

You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.

"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.”

His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne.

The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red.

"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.

Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”

You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.

“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.

Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”

“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.”

He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from.

You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.

“Those guys?”

“Yes.”

Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”

You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."

“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.”

You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…”

“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes.

“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?”

Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.

“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”

You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.

“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?”

Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California.

‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.

"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. “Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”

“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.

“Shit. That sucks.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Do you still have your record player?”

“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”

As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.

“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home.

Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart."

His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.

“But why?”

“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver.

“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively.

“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently.

There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.

“Guess so,” he mutters.

For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent?

Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”

He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.

“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"

Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you.

“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.”

The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.

“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul.

Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."

You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard.

“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?”

“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”

“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”

Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”

“Yeah.”

Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.

“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.

“I mean…” "I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”

The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.

“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you.

Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.

“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”

Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.

“Wanna give it a shot?”

You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up.

“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”

You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”

He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”

His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”

You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.

“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face.

“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”

Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”

You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.

“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”

A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”

“So nada, huh?”

One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.

“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.”

You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.

You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.

“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”

Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.”

You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x oc #dacre montgomery #stranger things smut #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x you #dacryphilia #slow burn #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #eddie munson #billy hargrove x y/n

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sakuraharuno156 · 2 days

Text

Canonical difference between Sasuke and Naruto in terms of their canon parings - a rant

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DISCLAIMER:

1. There are two caveats that I'll provide at the end with explanations behind them.

2. It will be in parts because i want to provide manga as proof, and Tumblr has a limit of pictures I can add.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now to the point

Who is the most important person in life for Naruto and Sasuke?

Let's start with Naruto, because for anyone who has read the series, it's obvious.

For Naruto it's SASUKE.

No doubt. Comparing importance of Sasuke and importance of Hinata in Naruto's mind is laughable. Saying that Hinata is more important - is straight up delusional.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Naruto, after a thought that someone can try to k*ll Sasuke, even tho he knows Sasuke is stronger than most of the universe:

Devastated. Hyperventilating. Unable to breathe.

Naruto, after thinking he destroyed the WHOLE VILLAGE, every villager, including Hinata:

Sad, sure, not sad enough to check on her, even tho he was in sage mode so he could feel she was literally dying.

Naruto, after seeing Hinata nearly die to the point she had to be hospitalized and felt the effects of it months after:

I'll fight you Neji.

(I'll also like to remind everyone that Naruto did jump at Neji, but not because of Hinata but because he called her a "loser" and said that every looser would stay a loser, which Naruto took personally. Even that whole fight means to Naruto not revenge for Hinata, but a revenge for saying that loser will lose. Read the manga.)

Naruto, after Kabuto just mentioned Sasuke's name:

Sasuke went there on his own will, but just the thought of losing him was too much for Naruto.

Naruto, thinking Hinata died protecting him. The only person that has ever said she loves him, to the person who wants love the most - dead:

Naruto - surprised, terrified even, but not bat shit crazy. He needed Pain to talk shit and say about love causing hatred. Pain had to continue the whole "everyone is gonna die" narrative for Naruto to explode. He can become Kurama in seconds, but he needed Pain to continue - to explode.

And then he didn't even check on her.

Naruto, thinking Sasuke died for him. Without the whole "I love you" stuff. Just a friend protecting him:

Well...

(A reminder, it was when the seal was very strong. Naruto wasn't using so much of Kuramas chakra, so it was WAAAY harder for him to go into Kuramas mode.)

Then Naruto checking on Sasuke (when he was certain that Sasuke died) and crying out of happiness when Sasuke turns out alive

And last but not least, Naruto ready to die with Sasuke. Saying it eith smile on his face. No mention of Hinata even tho it was right after her love confession:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can ship NaruHina, but saying that Naruto would chose Hinata over Sasuke is a different level of delusional. The whole plot of the series is that Naruto would do anything for Sasuke. He would k*ll for Sasuke and die for Sasuke.

Sasuke is the most important person in Narutos life. Anyone who says differently has NEVER read the manga or just uses wishful thinking instead 🤷‍♀️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I would even go further and say that the moment when Naruto was telling Minato about finding love that is not exactly like Kushina - he was talking about Sasuke. But it's not per se canon so I'm gonna keep it out 🤷‍♀️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two caveats:

1. They would obviously put their children first - above anyone. So children are beside the point.

2. We are going to base it on canon material only. Anything that wasn't written by Kishimoto is irrelevant. So no, we are not taking novels or movies. It would be too long and it's not canon 🤷‍♀️

#don't be delulu #anti naruhina #pro sasunarusasu #sasunaru #narusasu #naruto #sasuke #naruto shipuden #naruto ships #anti studio pierrot #anti hinata hyuga

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wisteriaiswriting · 3 days

Note

I see you have requests open, I'd like to request a Carmilla x male! reader angst turned comfort.

Dating her for a few months and having an argument with her (something small) but due to stress and worry of the extermination due soon it escalates quickly and the reader ends up leaving their place ending up alone on extermination day. They discover Clara & Odetta caught outside during extermination and save their lives (with Carmilla absent for some reason) but the reader gets badly injured in the process, initially refusing their help to stay away from Carmilla.

ℝ𝕖𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕠𝕞𝕖

Words: 671

“I told you to stop moving everything,” Cementing her words by snatching the item held in your hand, placing it back where it was originally. “It’ll just waste time if we need to leave.”

“It’s one thing, how much does it really matter?”

“When they come down, every second counts…”

Honestly, you both knew she was right, but with how close the day was you were both stressed to the ends of hell.

“I guess so…”

“I guess? You almost ruin the plan that could save our lives and that's all you have to say, I guess?”

“If I’m truely that destructive I’ll leave,” Pausing your sentence to turn around and start walking off, “Don’t want to get you killed.”

You didn’t feel bothered to grab any of your belongings before leaving, not that she would let you after that arguement.

***

Lucifer, it’s been days since you’ve been Carmilla. Much more since the girls have shown their faces, but with the extermination happening in a few minutes it’s understandable. The price on her head is large enough, surely Clara and Odette have a fair price as well. You probably have one too, not that you’ll ever know what it actually is.

Pulled out of your thoughts by something golden shining from above, forcing yourself to turn away and not be blinded. When it had died down you looked back, only to be face to face with a mask heading straight towards you. Within seconds you’ve been shoved to the ground, losing your breath.

Something silver and shiny flashed in your sight before being slammed down, just missing your arm. Able to push the angel away quickly and harshly enough to the point they lose their grip on the weapon, allowing you to grab it. Which they didn’t seem aware of.

Trying to charge you again just for them to not get close, the end of the spear lodging itself into their chest. Their movements slowed before coming to a stop, pulling the spear up and out to continue on. Not before a yell caught your attention, turning to find two demons rushing away from a group of Angels.

Quickly noticing who they were, Clara and Odette. So you sprinted into action, taking the angels by surprise. Managing to take two down without any hassle, but the final three couldn’t miss you.

One slashed at your arm, connecting with the flesh. With their harsh movements it was able to slice through everything, unable to stop as the other two approached. Still keeping a tight grip on the stolen spear, allowing you to get in a few slashes and jabs of your own.

This was able to keep them at bay until the girls got back up on their feet, helping you scare them off. Hopefully away for good but likely to attack another unlucky sinner. Allowing you to collapse in peace, or as close as possible with the girls next to you.

Said girls were trying to pull you up and into somewhere safe, not in the open. As the minutes passed, they’ve given up on trying to physically move you. Instead turning to talking, slowly convincing you to get up and move so they could help you.

Not Carmilla, not anyone else. They will.

Which was your breaking point, slowly hauling yourself onto your feet. Both girls stood close in case you needed their help, guiding you through the city. Seemingly zoning out as when you regained your thoughts you stood infront of somewhere you rather not be at.

Carmilla’s house.

You left almost a week ago, and you didn’t feel ready to return. But you made a promise to the girls, they held your hand and shoulder as you entered. Luckily Carmilla wasn’t home right now so they spent that time caring for you. Stopping your bleeding and stabilising you.

The comfortable and familial aura stopped when you heard the front door slam shut. You know you need to confront and talk to her about this, but not right now.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel carmilla #hazbin hotel carmilla x reader #carmilla x reader #carmilla x male reader #wisteria♥

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icycoldninja · 3 days

Note

Here’s something hilarious 😆

Can I please request headcanons for Dante and Vergil thinking they’re dating the same girl but it turns out they’re dating identical twins?

Oh no, disaster incoming lol

Dante + Vergil x Twin Readers headcannons

-Dante and Vergil both started seeing these really hot girls at the same time, for which they were glad. They both bragged to each other about how sexy their girlfriends were, when Vergil noticed one day that the girl Dante was describing having dated sounded oddly like the girl he was dating.

-Quite suspicious, Vergil began questioning Dante and asking very specific questions about his girlfriend's appearance, making Dante very concerned. Just what the heck was his deal?

-Both brothers go home wary of each other, doubts and misunderstandings already beginning to form in each other's minds.

-The next day, Dante decides to take his girl on a date at the exact same time Vergil decides to pop in for a visit, and possibly more interrogating. As he rounded the curb, he saw Dante and a girl that looked suspiciously like his girlfriend.

-Jealousy overcoming him, the devil hunter shrunk back against the wall and began to follow the two, now sure his girlfriend was cheating on him with his brother.

-Unfortunately, Dante and the girl entered a very crowded shop, making it impossible for Vergil to continue following them. He was quite upset and debated calling you to confront you, when to his surprise, you called him first.

-When he picked up, he was shocked to hear what sounded like water running, meaning you were in the shower. But how could that be? He just saw you!

-He then decided he must be seeing things and that Dante's girlfriend must just have a similar hairstyle and similar clothing as yours, and he was jumping to conclusions. Shaking his head, he went over to your house, where sure enough, you'd just gotten out of the shower. We shall not discuss what happened next.

-Dante, meanwhile, noticed his girlfriend was always busy on her phone and never let him peek over her shoulder. Highly sus behavior right there. He would have downright asked, but what if she was cheating? She'd know he was onto her and delete all the evidence. No, he'd do this the sneaky way.

-He spied on his girlfriend for a while, but nothing too incriminating happened. She just messed around on her phone for a while, turned it off, got up to do stuff, then came back, rinse and repeat.

-The whole day passed and nothing happened, so Dante was forced to let it go for now. His girlfriend left for her home, and that was that.

-Both brothers were very disturbed and were unable to sleep. Of course, because of sibling rivalry, neither Vergil nor Dante thought to contact each other--they were sure they could handle all this on their own.

-The next day, Vergil's girlfriend left early in the afternoon and refused to tell him where she was going. Dante's girl did the same. Both Sparda twins, now even more concerned, followed their girlfriends out to a small cafe, unaware they were about to run into each other.

-The boys got to the cafe before the girls and ran into each other at the entrance. Now throughly pissed, each believed the other had seduced his girlfriend and was now waiting for her at the cafe.

-"What the hell, Verg?! You're stealing my girl?!"

"What foolishness are you rambling about now, Dante? It is you who has stolen my soon-to-be wife."

"What?! Did you have a stroke no one told me about?! I'd never try to take your girlfriend away from you!"

"You wouldn't?"

"No! Come on man, you know I'm better than that."

"And I am far superior to you and all who associate with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I would not interfere with your relationship as there is no need to."

"Oh."

-After that lame exchange, the twins turned around only to find another set of twins staring back at then. The tension and shock in the air was palpable. Before them were two girls, dressed exactly alike, same nose, same hair, same eyes, same everything.

-Dante immediately started jumping around laughing while Vergil froze and turned into a statue from the waist down. This whole thing was a massive misunderstanding, he realizes now. No one was being unfaithful--the bros were dating twin sisters!

-The girls explained they were setting this up to surprise the two with their twin sister-ness, which worked way better than they ever expected. Many pictures were taken, and at the end of the day, neither of the brothers could tell who was who.

-Let the confusing twin games begin! Though Dante and Vergil can't trick others since they act so differently, you girls can trick them no problem.

-One time you switched places when they weren't looking and when they came back, they ended up walking off with each other's girlfriend.

-Vergil was very upset about this, but Dante found it hysterical.

-Don't worry, eventually, the Spardas will find a way to distinguish you two, be it through your mannerisms or another way.

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haikyuulovercompany · 2 days

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"The Study of You" / Bokuto Kotaro x Reader

Ending up being the person assigned to help the star of the volleyball team better his grades seemed to be a matter of luck, but that's how you ended up sitting right across Bokuto Kotaro. Now, after he had decided you are the sole reason his grades are the best they have ever been, he had kept you around without knowing your heart feels bigger every time he's around. It gets so big at times, that your feelings for him have begun to demand to be released. Maybe... well, maybe it's time you come clean.

Original Request

Genre: Romance / Pure fluff.

Warnings: None.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You watched Bokuto as he was carefully reading. The papers on his hands had a clean calligraphy full of colors encircling or underlining certain parts of it as to highlight the most important information. He was so focused in his lecture, he was oblivious of the pair of eyes nestled on him, unable to look any other way.

It was impossible not to look at the last months of your life in review. Without knowing what was truly to come, between study sessions, little talks at the hallways, and volleyball matches, you had put yourself in a complicated situation. It all began when you had accepted to be the tutor of Bokuto Kotaro—volleyball star of the Fukurodani Academy. He had approached you with his notebook hanging casually on his hand as soon as class was done. You had seen Bokuto talking to your professor before class started and had noticed the older man discreetly pointing at you more than once during their brief conversation, causing cold sweats down your neck every single time he did. You had guessed he had pointed Bokuto towards you for a reason, and he hadn’t waited to let you know why he was now standing right before you. Bokuto had gone into a small ramble about how his grades needed to improve if he didn’t want to have trouble with the volleyball team. While this was happening, you remained silent, sitting still in your place. You didn’t have it in you to add to the conversation, and even if you did, you wouldn’t find a space to do so given how fast he was going.

Everyone knew Bokuto was not only the captain of their successful volleyball team, but he was the ACE of said team and one of the best players in the prefecture. For him, the sport wasn’t just a club but his whole career and future after high school. For him, every training and every match was a step towards where he wanted to go in life. You were aware of this information because you had been assisting every Fukurodani match even prior to enlisting as a student. One of your closest friends from middle school happened to have an older brother who attended the academy and happened to be a regular on the volleyball team. Your friend had asked you only once to join her to see her brother play, and from that moment on, you would always tag along with her.

It was around the time you and your friend had joined Fukurodani together that you had learned the name of Bokuto Kotaro and all about his potential and goals. And then it had taken just a week for you to put a face to the name as your teacher role call and he made himself be known in its unique and energetic manner.

You had happened to be in the same class as him through your three years in high school but you had never talked. He was too much of an extrovert for you to date to come close. Even when you sustained a friendship with almost everyone in your class, his fired-up character never made it easy for your shy nature to approach him. Just looking at him made you feel overwhelmed. So, while you might probably be a stranger to him for most of your school years together, you were very aware of who he was.

You weren’t the most brilliant student, but your name was always found among the best grades of your year. With this, you weren’t that surprised to find Bokuto standing in front of your desk with that confident smile of his and unusual yellow eyes glowing at you. You had always found him imposing when he was on the court, and you were realizing having his undivided attention was equally intimidating.

After his small rant about the conundrum he was between his grades and the volleyball team, he had mindlessly grabbed one of the chairs belonging to another classmate, and dragged it so he could sit in front of you. Classes were over and the students were slowly making their way out of the room, leaving the place empty for the two of you. Your hands were clamping on your lap.

“Mister Abe said you have tutored a couple of people and you could help with mine, too,” he continued explaining. You were able to guess where it was going. He wasn’t there to just take pictures of your notes like many would usually do. You indeed had helped a couple of her classmates to better their grades. You could be shy, but you had never said no to lending a helping hand. “So, do you think you can help me for the next exams?”

Your heart was hammering on your chest as a nice smell of soap and something fresh came from him. You have never imagined the day would come where you would need to spend time one-on-one with the captain of the volleyball team.

“Yes, of course. I can help,” you said softly, feeling your cheeks growing warm. His presence was strong and demanded to be felt.

“Hey! Great! Let me get your phone number then.”

That was how it had all started.

The first study sessions were awkward. You didn’t know where to begin and he followed everything you did like a hungry puppy which made you nervous and amused at the same time. As you got used to him, it became strangely satisfactory to have him all for yourself. You had watched and clapped for him many games, so having the roles reverse was feeling a bit too good.

Thankfully, he was a fast learner and as soon as he started to understand, he contributed to the conversation, which helped your shyness to calm down. Inadvertently, you had become comfortable around him. As his back relaxed on his chair and he threw an arm over the rest of his chair, you could tell he felt the same way about you.

The exams came around and so your sessions with him came to an end. Bokuto had stopped by your desk showing you his good grades and thanking you for getting him through. You smiled at him, but your chest had tensed up with what could only be disappointment. You realized then your interest in Bokuto, that little twinge that drew your eyes to him, had evolved into something more—an infatuation.

You could feel the air escaping your lips in a soft sigh every time you caught him in the hallways or entering the classroom. And to worsen your situation, your dynamic with him had changed. You were no longer strangers. At first, he would say hi to you in the hallways—it was a very casual and fleeting gesture that stole your breath away anyway. You didn’t dare to make longer conversation, afraid of being too obvious and afraid of attracting too much attention.

Then, all on its own, the hello’s turned into small chats that would eventually lead to them walking to class together. Bokuto was so incredibly friendly, it was impossible for you not to fall into his spell. On the downside, there was no excuse for you to spend more time with him outside of those short walks to be with him. Like you stated: he was friendly, so if there was something Bokuto had, it was friends all around him at all times. You would need to do something drastic to be able to spend the quality time you desired so much. You just didn’t have it in you, so you just took what you could and remained silent.

Lucky for you, it was only three months later when the midterms rolled around and soon Bokuto was in front of you right after class asking for your help yet again. That time around, you weren’t as nervous as before. You were happy you would go back to spend part of your evenings with him, sitting close together as you went through your notes and that fresh smell that you couldn’t pinpoint but lingered on you for the rest of the day. You missed being under the spotlight of his piercing eyes. And there you were now, completely enthralled in how his brows knit slightly down and his lips puckered as he focused on what was on the paper.

Suddenly, Bokuto slammed the papers on the table. You were violently pulled out of your contemplative state and were forced to look away with your cheeks burning like wildfire. You had been shamelessly staring at him. It was a miracle you hadn’t been caught red-handed.

“I’m ready for tomorrow!” Bokuto claimed as confident as he ever succeeded in being. He turned to you and raised his hands with the thumb up. “That exam is going to be cake on a plate.”

You smiled, face still warm and hands hidden between your legs so as to not show their shakiness. “Yes, it’s going to be really easy.”

He stood up and extended his hand to you—offering it for you to take it. “Let’s get something to eat. It’s on me.”

You oddly looked at him. It was the first time Bokuto had invited you anywhere. You would hang out at school all the time, but after you were done with the studying sessions, he would give a big yawn and then leave home to rest. It had never crossed your mind that you were permitted to be together after school.

“C’mon,” he insisted with his hand still stretched towards you. You grabbed his hand softly—hesitant—and in return, he wrapped your hand strongly, bringing you up to your feet with one pull. You blinked fast, not expecting that at all.

You didn’t know where you were going. You were left to follow Bokuto as he talked and talked, explaining everything about the team they would play against next week at the qualifiers. He turned to you then with that confident smile of his. “You’ll be there, obviously,” he stated.

“I will,” you simply said. You had never been one to talk too much, but that was enough for him to nod satisfied and keep rambling without noticing how hard you were squeezing your hands behind your back.

The next week, you were loyal to your word. You went inside the gymnasium ready to see Fukurodani play, and as soon as you stepped in, you realized how much everything had changed. Before, it was exciting to see the matches for the simple matter that you have gained a liking for the sport through those years accompanying your friend. Now, you personally knew someone in the team, someone you were rooting for. You had seen Bokuto on the court countless times since your first year in high school, but had never really been there because of him—till then. Now he had your undivided attention to him. You were able to pick up on his mood depending on his expressions, a knowledge you had acquired through your study sessions with him. Your entire body had buzzed through the game watching him play. You had been so high on your own emotions, you swore it wasn’t going to be good for your health in the long run.

After Fukurodani closed the match with another win under their belt, you left the bleachers with your limbs tingling and your heart still in your throat for all the cheering you had done. The match was all you and your friends were talking about. Fukurodani was set to play another game that day since they had passed to the next round, and with a little time in your hands, you all decided to look for something to drink since your tire throats really needed it, but before that, one of your friends had exclaimed she needed to use the restrooms before you all headed outside and your other friend had decided to join her. This, leaving you alone in the hall.

As you waited for them, you contemplated texting Bokuto a congratulations for winning their first game of the day. You tapped your foot on the floor, thinking if maybe it was better to use it as an excuse to approach him. Before you could make up your mind, your friends came out from the restroom and you quickly closed your phone and pushed it inside your pocket.

You gave a couple steps towards the exit when your name was called. The three of you turned around, finding Bokuto standing a couple meters from you.

“You’re here!” he said with his hands on his hips, looking nothing else than victorious.

“Hello, Bokuto,” you said, heading to him and doing your best not to stutter. It shouldn’t be permitted for him to walk around still in his volleyball uniform.

“We did great, didn’t we?” he stated more than asking.

Your two friends nodded in silence. You felt like laughing. It was good to know you weren’t the only one getting all shy around the guy.

“Yeah, you were great out there,” you said. It was out of her character for you to be so confident, but somehow the words left your mouth with not much trouble. Maybe it was the need to show off to your friends how close you had become with Bokuto, or maybe it was your reckless heart taking control.

Your statement only caused Bokuto to get even more excited about his win and the next match. Sadly for you, he was taken away then by Akaashi who bowed at the three of you and kept directing Bokuto back to their group. You couldn’t help the sparks popping off under your skin. You could feel it in your chest, around your arms, all over your head. You felt… special. Bokuto had located you among the crowd and had gone straight to you. It had been a fleeting moment, but the intention was there. Intention changed everything, and you wouldn’t deny yourself indulging into the delusion of it.

Yet, this luxury was equally short lived. Your flight among the clouds was ended by the quizzical looks of your friends and all the questions that they threw at you. For the sake of keeping your interest in Bokuto a secret, you had avoided mentioning him to your friends. You had never expected he would approach you so bluntly during the tournament, but now that it had happened, you scolded yourself from not seeing it coming.

You shrugged at your friends, playing the interaction as meaningless–as if it hadn’t been like lightning striking down on you. “Do you remember I was tutoring a guy from my class?” you said to your friends. “Well, it is him.”

Your friends complained to you in unison, exclaiming how tutoring Bokuto was not just ‘a random classmate’ and you were unfair for keeping that little detail out. You did your best to wave them off, insisting that his identity didn’t change anything, even when you knew it did change everything. The guy was pretty popular after all.

That’s when another aspect of your relationship with him changed. Since then, Bokuto would look for you after the matches. Sometimes he would go to where you were. Other times, he would just smile at you from where he was and you would lift both your hands with the thumbs up to let him know he had done great. People always surrounded him, so you preferred to stay back.

You had tricked yourself into believing you were attending all the volleyball games because it was like routine by then, but deep inside you knew it had become exciting to see him play. Your feelings had been promoted from a silly infatuation to something stronger, and there was no use in lying to yourself. It was an inescapable situation. You understood this as his expectant eyes danced around the crowd till they landed on you. To have the attention of someone like him could captivate anyone. Going to the games was your new favorite excuse to have him looking at you.

With the preliminaries done and Fukurodani qualifying to go to nationals, you went back to the study sessions with Bokuto. You were surprised his discipline extended to the academic side as well. His grades had been great since he had bega studying with you, so why stop? It worked and he needed it to keep working. Or se he had said.

That’s why you were now sitting at a diner with your mind a bit fuzzy because of the school day and those extra hours you had stayed with him, and Bokuto across from you. You were up in your head, swimming in your feelings like you tended to do for the past six months. As you two ate dinner at a small, homely cafeteria, you wondered if that was how it felt to go out on a date with him. He was slightly frowning as he stared at his menu trying to decide what he wanted. You felt your stomach clench at the thought. You had been trying to confess to him for the past month and the words had always refused to escape your mouth. And like always, your mouth was feeling dry at the prospect of speaking the truth. You had decided you would do it after dinner. If he rejected you, then you could run away to cry your heart out in peace. You were done studying for the final exams, so your late hang-outs were done and with the winter break starting a week from them, you wouldn’t be seeing him

For the entirety of your dinner with Bokuto, he had run on his usual monologues. You would intervene here and there, but you had let him lead the night. You were too busy in your head trying to agree with yourself on how you were going to confess. This didn’t make time stop. Soon your dishes were served, you ate, you talked about what you were doing for the winter break, finished your sodas and paid the bill. In the blink of an eye you were back on the street amid the early, cold night. Time was up.

Bokuto’s long sight as he stretched his arms upwards and his back cracked told you he was ready to head home, but you were speechless.

“Well, see ya’ tomorrow!” Bokuto said as energetically as usual.

You held your breath. You only had to tell him to wait a second, that you needed to tell him something else, and then just let him know. It was all you needed to do—to speak the right words. But you remained silent and he started to head off, the lump on your throat felt worse.

For the last month you had been living in a torturous cycle. You would get too nervous to tell him about your feelings, and after you failed, you would feel pathetic for not being able to tell him. Today just seemed to be another horrible day where you miserably lost an excellent opportunity.

You loved the feeling of walking beside him whether it was on the school halls or on the street, you loved watching the fluctuation in his face every time he jumped from one mood to the other with ease. You loved to hear him talk about his day or to complain when he thought he had given a lackluster performance when most probably he had done great. You wanted more. You didn’t want to depend on study sessions or volleyball games to have time with him.

Out of nowhere, you evoked the courage to sprint away from your house and to where Bokuto had gone. You shouted his name hoping he would hear you and stop but he was nowhere to be seen. You ran for a good five minutes until you finally saw his silhouette. How fast did he walk?, you asked to yourself.

“Bokuto!” you called again. This time he did hear you and turned around surprised to see you running with such urgency.

“____, is everything okay? Did something happen?” he asked, worried.

You stopped in front of him panting like crazy. “I need…” you started saying, but shut your mouth immediately. There it was… your asphyxiating heartbeat . “I mean, I… I, what I mean is…”

You stared at the floor, incapable to keep staring at his eyes. You were still on time to run back to your house and lock yourself in your bedroom hoping you two could pretend she had never sprinted several blocks for nothing. “I wanted to, to, to…” you cursed in your mind. You shut your eyes tight, feeling a couple of tears at the corners. You hadn’t even been rejected, but the emotions were so strong and real, it was all too much.

“You’re scaring me,” Bokuto said, even more worried now. His strong voice had grown softer. It was so different from what it always was, he sounded like another person.

“I only needed to tell you…” you managed to complete a whole sentence. You took a deep breath. That was it. You had to do it. “I only needed to tell you that I have feelings for you, Bokuto. I don’t know how you feel but I need you to know that I like you,” you blurted.

Instantly, it was like you were lighter and heavier at the same time. You were out of breath and your hands were sweaty and shaky. The only thing you heard was silence and so the tears were now threatening to fall. You didn’t want to lift your gaze and risk catching the troubled expression on his face as he searched for the nicest way to turn you down.

“I like you a lot, actually,” he said. Simple and clean. No stuttering nor embarrassment.

Your head snapped in shock. One tear managed to fall across your cheek as there was nothing holding them back. “What? How?” you muttered. You had been so sure he wouldn’t feel the same, you didn’t even bother to ponder that maybe… he did.

He pouted, displeased with your answer. “What do you mean how?” he said, crossing his arms. “I think I was being obvious.” He was now looking away from you. He seemed to be as flustered as you were.

“Obvious?” You were trying to process his words, still in awe.

“I mean, the teacher told me to pick between you and other two, but I don’t know, you were always cute to me, so I wanted to see what you were like,” he explained and sighed loudly. “I thought I was doing a good job being obvious.”

“No, I… I thought I was getting the wrong idea,” you whispered. Your pulse had slowed down and was now beating in a more-less steady rhythm. All those times he made space to come to you after his matches, all those times he approached you on the hallways and pulled you to walk together with him to class, all those times you felt special thinking it was only in your head… it wasn’t. It was always Bokuto trying to make a move on you.

He faced you again with a smile back on his face. “We should go out, then” he started saying. The pink on your cheeks become more intense being visible even in the dark of the night. “Are you free this Friday?”

“I am,” you said.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeated in a whisper.

The two of you stood there without a clue to what to do next. Bokuto let out a short laugh and bent down to deposit a kiss on your head. “Goodnight, see you tomorrow” he said and started to walk home again.

“Text me when you arrive home!” you dared to shout. Your good humor had not only come back, but you were head-over-hills.

He raised a hand to let her know he had heard you. “I will!”

You watched him go for a second and then turned around and started to run to your house. You could walk, but the adrenaline in your body demanded an outlet. You didn’t care what happened next. You liked him and he liked you back.

And best of all… you had a date on Friday with him. It just couldn’t get any better than that.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kotaro bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader

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morphodae · 3 days

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Herman Greenhill | Headcanons

Including: general & relationship (x reader)

cw: none (but... they are a bit short since I accidentally deleted the original post and was unable to recover my original draft. Apologies <3)

Read more P4 headcanons here: 🪻x ,🦉 x , 🌹x

General:

Passionate, loud, and sometimes impetuous, Herman is a young man who holds himself and others to very high standards. Much of this was formed in his childhood and upbringing.

When he attends Weston College for the first time he’s shocked at the variation of personalities in his classes and on campus. Particularly: the eccentrics of Violet Wolf House sure do give him the utter shock of his life.

In time, he learns to be a bit more accepting of different personalities and beliefs; he only hopes that everyone is able to be the best that they can possibly be.

From the English nobility, Herman was raised to be proper, do daily lessons, and learn about etiquette, language, history, and arithmetic – much like any other well-off boy in England. Still, as a boy, he was known to prefer being outside in short-sleeves even in colder weather. Despite so many reprimands, Herman continued to pursue a favorite pastime that quickly turned into a passionate hobby and thus, his parents ceased to scold him for his rambunctious ways as a child.

Herman has a special connection with his mother since the two are rather alike in personality. Whereas his father is strict and helped Herman with his interest in sports and physical activities, his mother is headstrong and hot-tempered; never allowing her son to stray from his ideals or those he sets for others.

After his time at Weston, he finds himself drawn to a side hobby of cultivating small plants. He starts off small — as he’s no green thumb by any means — and finds subtle enjoyment in nurturing something from his own hands. He nearly sheds a tear when his very first tomato plant (despite it being tiny and only producing one) grows to its fullness.

He's quite fond of dogs; particularly, any of the hunting dog breeds. But, his favorite is easily the Golden Retriever for its loyalty, kindness, but of course... because it's cute, sweet, and fluffy lol. In a more modern au, Herman's favorite dog variates between the Golden and the Bernese Mountain Dog (since the latter wasn't introduced to America and the UK until about 1936).

Relationship:

Out of the Four Prefects, Herman is the easiest to get to know and court. Much like the other three of his friend group, he’s quite transparent in how he clearly pines after you. He might try to put on a façade, a stoic persona, and brush off his strong crush, but it’s painfully obvious to those around him.

It doesn’t take long for this gentleman to properly ask if you’d like to court him and, to his surprise, you agree and reciprocate his feelings.

He’s calm, proper, and collected on the outside, but on the inside he’s clicking his shoes and celebrating lol.

Even with his confidence in motivating others around him and himself, he’s (to no surprise) lost in the realm of romance. For all he knows, he has a very, very proper view of Victorian courtship and will do just that when you and he begin dating.

Herman is not a fan of public displays of affection. He prefers displays of affection with just you and him, but even during those rare times, he’s awkward and formal. If he ever feels like he’s made you uncomfortable in any way, he’s apologizing profusely. He will even do this if it’s a minor accident such as accidentally brushing your hand. He views you highly and it might take some patience to assuage him into relaxing a bit.

Herman cherishes all those close to him in his life, and you’re no different in that regard. However, you are different in the fact that he is noticeably softer and quieter around you. He’s had maybe 1-3 crushes in his entire life but never has he dated. He is the type that dates to marry, so be prepared for a very dedicated man.

Not one to shy away from fairness, Herman does his hardest to be diplomatic and thoughtful towards you. He will listen to what you have to say and remember seemingly benign details about you. He will hand you a gift that he specially picked with slightly shaking hands, blossoming vermillion cheeks, and eye contact that seems drawn to that oh-so-interesting wallpaper across the room. He’s too nervous to meet your face in those moments but, god above, he’s trying. It goes back to dissuading his fears about his lack of experience and awkwardness, but, for the most part, his efforts to make you happy are always from a heartfelt place.

Overall, Herman is a massive green flag who wants nothing more than to make you happy. Confident and more open-minded as a young man due to his experiences with Weston College and eventually Sphere Music Hall, he sees you nearly as his equal — despite the rough patches (of awkwardness and sometimes miscommunication).

He sees a bright future with you and will fight for that future even harder than his physical challenges he has put himself through. His heart is yours and if he has to repent, has to do ridiculous things to see you as a permanent fixture in his life, he’d walk through hell and back over and over; if only to see something as benign as your beaming smile.

Herman Greenhill may not feel he deserves it with all that happened at Weston, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make the most of his salvation with you by his side.

#x reader #herman greenhill x reader #herman greenhill #herman x reader #greenhill x reader #anime x reader #black butler x reader #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji headcanons #anime x reader headcanons #black butler prefect four

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