#I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT

[omegaversereloaded]

Here with an update about Marah's campaign!

PROOF OF VETTING AND SHARING BY 90-GHOST, A TRUSTED AND BELOVED VETTER ! Her old URL was @/helpfamily

First of all, I want to thank all of you for helping her reach her $50K goal! Mwah mwah mwah kissing your foreheads & whatnot

I have kept in contact with Marah these past few weeks: she is still hungry and terrified, but our support for her makes her feel hopeful! There has been an update to her campaign and goal - please read below:

From the first post I made:

Marah @freepaleatine95 needs our help: She is a computer science student in Gaza who, like many others, has lost many loved ones and suffered greatly this past year. She has reached out to me to make a post in her stead to raise support. You can read about her situation here.

When I made the last post 17 days ago, Marah had raised $35,763. Since then, we've gotten above her initial goal!!! Thank you so much for giving and sharing, she is grateful for you all, and I am too~

$53,460 raised of $70,000 goal

Every amount sent her way counts. Please donate as little as $1 towards her campaign! If you cannot donate directly to her campaign, please send an amount below and I will donate for you!

I don't use this for anything else so I know that any amount sent here will be for her campaign. Thank you for reading!

[bloggerspam]

And here it is, the epilogue! We skip back a little bit in this one, for some yummy deleted scenes. Thank you @phantomfen and @haleswallows for your lovely support, this couldn't have happened without ya'll! And thank you @ashrayus for the art that inspired it all. I hope I did you proud!

===

Cass observes BruceBatdad from her vantage point two rooftops away.

She hears StephSpoiler join her soon after, TimRobin following just seconds later.

BruceBatdad is not alone.

A woman and a boy stand before him, and Cass would be a fool to not remember that face, to not know who they are.

Even from so far away, it is hard to forget the woman who gave her candy once, all those years ago.

It is hard to forget her words then too.

I have a son, Talia Al-Ghul had said then, but I'm afraid he does not like sweets, will you throw them away for me?

Cass hears TimRobin and StephSpoiler bicker quietly behind her, lets BabsOracle's soothing voice demanding explanations wash over her in harmony.

JayHood's low timbre joins the cacophony, DickieWing's excited chatter echoing in the comms as he makes his way over. It is Sunday, that Sunday, brunch Sunday, so he is in Gotham tonight.

Bludhaven must be lonely.

She squints. BabsOracle starts to hiss, TimRobin and StephSpoiler tumbling over each other now.

DamianBabyBrother stands at attention, but his gaze is on them.

She waves. He does not wave back. That is okay.

DickieWing cartwheels onto their roof, gives Cass a pat on the head before wrangling the other two.

Cass observes their new baby brother, but does not get much. He is well trained. It does not matter, there will be time to learn.

"Show of hands," BabsOracle's voice is strict, commanding. They all freeze, trained in a better way, "New family member."

Immediately, all hands go up. TimRobin hesitates. It is okay. There will be time.

Cass smiles, watches DickieWing whoop, leading the race back to the Cave.

Cass waves again, but knows not to wait this time, twirling her way through her siblings.

She intends to win the race back home.

===

Alfred contemplates his newest ward as he wipes his hands.

The little one wants to know if there are any tasks assigned to him, which is new and refreshing.

This is, of course, sarcasm.

Master Jason refused to accept food without some kind of chore to exchange.

Miss Cass still shadows him occasionally, on alert for anything Alfred should need.

Even Master Duke is in the habit of asking Alfred if he can help anywhere.

Alfred had indulged them, of course, once in a while. Help them feel at ease.

The problem now is that Master Damian is not actually asking for tasks.

He is asking for information.

That is what intrigues him.

Master Damian stands quietly at attention, patiently, as Alfred considers the best way to navigate this.

"Well," Alfred lifts an eyebrow, "It isn't entirely necessary, Master Damian."

"I must earn my keep," the young master insists, "Blood son or not, I do not plan to waste away here."

Alfred hums. "Then I suppose it would depend on where your skills lie, Master Damian."

"I was trained in survival," Master Damian replies with nary a pause, "I can cook, and do basic cleaning." He tilts his head, reminding Alfred of a Young Master Bruce. "Admittedly, I am unsure of my skill level with no-one to compare to, as it was not necessary to my training."

Alfred lets that ruminate. He could have the young master help with dishes first, chat as he cooks for the family. It would be nice to have someone in residence to help with cooking again. Master Jason still avoids the Manor quiet often, after all.

"It is at least edible," Master Damian must mistake his silence as refusal, "And I learn quick."

"Yes," Alfred reassures the boy, "I am aware. Let's have you start with dishes, shall we?"

Master Damian's lip quirks to the side, small and so very familiar, and rolls up his sleeves.

Yes, this will do. Alfred smiles back, turning around to work on tonight's dinner.

Now, how much to reveal?

===

Steph watches the newest baby Wayne scrutinize Dick's somersault with the kind of concentration of a life and death threat.

It's impressive and at once entirely so sad that Damian executes a perfect somersault two tries later.

Once to get the feel. Twice to adjust.

Genius? Or training?

Steph doesn't really want to know.

It's the 16th item on the list that Damian has excelled at within the first five tries. Steph wants so badly for this little baby to let loose. He's been here for a couple months and he still thinks his stay is temporary.

As if Bruce would let his babiest bat go back to that asshole Ra's.

Talia might be cool, Steph doesn't know. Damian sure loves her, just from the scant sentences he's said about her. But sometimes love just…isn't enough.

Damian does a perfect one handed handstand, twirling around just like Dick did and stepping delicate down, and eyeing the tightrope Duke and Steph had set up for him to try. There's a unicycle somewhere in the gym, they just have to find it.

"Does this spark joy?" Damian tilts his head, from where he's perfectly balanced on the stupid unicycle and looking way too smug about it.

"It does not." He finally answers, dismounting with boring aplomb.

The next hobby is skateboarding—Tim shows Damian how to do an ollie, once the kid has the hang of standing on the board.

It is a special kind of delight to watch a trained-from-basically-birth assassin eat shit on a skateboard.

A pencil is tossed unerringly at her forehead whilst she loses breath laughing, and you know what?

It's totally worth it, especially when it devolves quickly into an office supply version of a food fight between the five of them.

They try new hobbies, and each time, Steph asks "Does it spark joy?"

And each time Damian considers, before he answers very seriously, "It does not."

Steph's gotta admit, the sincerity is what does it for her.

By the end of it, Steph loses the bet, but it doesnt matter.

Babybat'll fit in fine.

===

Duke comes down to breakfast and immediately realizes something is wrong.

Damian has been in the Manor for a while now, and it's been routine for Duke to see him making breakfast with Alfred every Tuesday and Wednesday.

Today is Friday, and Damian is at the stove, alone.

"Hey, little dude." Duke cautiously greets, "Where's Alfie?"

"Pennyworth went to fetch more eggs." Damian doesn't turn around, but he answers, and that's all Duke can really ask for. "Someone had used it up last night, without permission."

Duke whistles. "Enough of them to warrant an emergency shopping trip?" Alfie usually keeps a burden's amount of eggs in the fridge always stocked up.

"Brown and Grayson," Damian carefully says, smirking over his shoulder and obviously trying not to laugh, "decided they wanted pancakes."

"Oh my god." Duke laughs, already seeing disaster and trying to keep it all in to ask his question, "What—what did they do?"

"Apparently," Damian drags out, "They thought that eggs and flour was enough to make the batter."

Damian comes to the table, placing a perfect plate of sunny side up eggs, bacon, and hash in front of Duke.

"Needless to say, they made almost two kilos of pasta instead." He places the second plate at the head of the table. "They tried to fry some of it anyway, and ruined two pans before they realized that perhaps, maybe, pancake batter should look a little more…liquid."

By the time Damian has his own plate sitting across from Duke, he can't breathe from how hard he's laughing.

Bruce walks in, and they no doubt paint a peculiar picture: Damian, smirking and daintily eating his eggs. And Duke, curled over the table and trying to recover and succeeding at a snail's pace.

"Good morning Father." Damian primly greets.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Bruce's voice is confused, but amiable. He carefully picks his way to his spot and compliments Damian on breakfast, who nods in satisfaction.

"Duke, are you alright son?" Bruce asks, when Duke can finally straighten up take one deep breath.

"He'll be fine, Father." Damian waves his fork, "On an unrelated note, would you perhaps be opposed to pasta for lunch?"

Duke fucking loses it.

===

"Well?" Damian sits himself down delicately, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, expectantly.

They're down in the Cave, sitting across from each other at the round table in the main area, side by side.

Tim rolls his eyes, fine. No pleasantries then. "Are you considering joining the family business?"

Damian tilts his head, puppy-like, not that he'll ever say that to his face. "Which one?"

And that's a fair point. "Either. Any."

Damian purses his lips, in the same exact way Bruce does, thinking. "I am undecided. Why?"

"I was thinking that it was time for me to start making moves to…" Tim wants to be delicate here, considering the history Damian has, "…well, move on."

"Be more clear, Drake." And wow, the way Damian furrows his brow in annoyance is identical to Jason, "Use your words."

Tim huffs. "Robin, Demon Brat." Tim enunciates his words, trying not to smile at the way Damian perks up. "I want to retire."

Damian eyes him mistrustfully, darting from Tim's coffee cup, to his tablet, even to the BatComputer where Tim has a DNA sample running. "…I highly doubt that."

"UGH," Tim groans, "I want to rebrand, so I'm giving you the Robin domino or whatever."

"The Robin mantle must be earned," Damian puffs up like an irate Pomeranian, making Tim laugh for more reasons than one.

"I already retired once." Tim informs him, "Steph was Robin for a hot minute, making her own suit from a Halloween costume."

"She what." Damian's voice is dangerous, but Tim flaps a hand. He can blow steam as much as he wants, he's the baby of the family and despite it all Tim's 87% sure Damian wouldn't hurt a fly.

…Maybe a solid 66%. He'll have to run the numbers.

"She gave it up to be Spoiler real quick," Tim continues, "And then some shit happened, and though he wasn't officially a Robin, Duke was part of the We Are Robin movement."

Damian fumes in silence, which shouldn't be funny, but is.

"In other words, Demon Brat," Tim smirks, "Lots of people have been Robin. And if you don't take it now, well…who's to say someone else won't just…make their own costume?"

Tim waits out Damian's breathing exercises, patient and frankly, uncaring. He fiddles on his tablet, sips at his coffee, considers new vigilante names. With Dick now acting as Nightwing, the transition to Young Justice won't be as confusing even if he did join up as Robin, but Tim would rather not.

Just thinking about the mistaken identity issues with Dick's romantic history is already giving him nightmares. Slim as the chances are, with their builds being so different, but Tim just doesn't want to take that chance.

"Fine." Damian finally says, "I concede. When will training start?"

Tim scoffs. "You're League trained, so you'll just be shadowing for protocol. There's a manual somewhere that Bruce made, but we mostly treat it as a guideline. The Batkids have their own that they update, and you already have access to that on your tablet." Tim gives him a look. "Tell me you need access."

Damian wisely stays silent. Tim remembers that the League isn't really attuned to the intricacies of hacking and coding, but Damian has had no trouble snooping through the system from what Tim has seen. He wonders if the League just got upgraded since Cass got trained, or if Damian is self taught. It doesn't matter.

"Right. Well, Dick said he'll take you on a mission whenever your schedule is open, and you can shadow me on my current patrol, move around. You won't be able to patrol on your own for a while but—"

"What will be your new name?" Damian interrupts, eyebrow raised. Curious.

"Oh—uh. I haven't thought about it." Tim stutters. He didn't expect Damian to ask—

"Liar." Damian accuses, squinting at him.

Tim sighs. "I dunno, Red Robin?"

"That's a terrible name." Damian's nose scrunches. "A stupid name, even."

"Wha—it is not!" Tim slams his tablet down. Damian's eyes suddenly go wide, horror dripping through his tone.

"Drake—tell me you did not simply combine Red Hood and Robin."

Tim stays absolutely fucking silent, grabbing his coffee to keep his mouth occupied.

"Drake, I implore you to be better than this." Damian slaps a hand over his face, which is rude.

"Hey! That is—that is just uncalled for—" Tim pulls his cup down, almost spilling it. He swears, but Damian pays no heed to him.

"I knew you were a fan of Todd's Robin, but this cannot go on. Did you expect me to graduate and become Green Robin?"

"No! That's stupid, there's not such thing as a green robin—"

"There's no such thing as a red robin either! Unless you wish to be named after a subpar restaurant." Damian throws his hands up.

"You've never even been to a Red Robin!" Tim sputters, and tries to get a handle on the situation.

He fails.

"You have at least sixteen unique aliases with full on back stories that you successfully keep track of and disguise yourself into, and you cannot do any better than Red Robin?" Damian says, loudly, over his protests and effectively silencing him,

Tim opens his mouth, closes it. Shuts his eyes. Grumbles. "Well I'd like to see you come up with a better name…"

"Cardinal." Damian gets up, stalking towards the secret entrance, clearly done with this conversation. "I cannot fathom how little sense you have. Ridiculous."

And well. Tim hates to say it, but Cardinal is much better than Red Robin.

Gods damn it.

===

"I will name her Batcow." Dick refuses to coo. Damian is covered in blood and wielding a sword, this is not cute behavior!

How did this happen? This was their first mission. It was supposed to be easy. Tomorrow, Tim was going to take him out on patrols. The weekend after that, Jaybird was going to take him paintballing. Steph and Duke were going to teach him how to prank people harmlessly. This was supposed to be nice, easy Robin bonding!

"That's nice, baby bird." Dick tries to placate, "We can shuffle her with the other cows to their new home—"

"Nightwing," Damian's voice brokers no argument, "I have claimed her."

Dick has to wonder if he was as much of a menace when he was this age. He wasn't, surely. Sure, he got Ace in an unconventional way, but Ace was practically made for hero-ing.

Not to mention Ace was a dog.

"It's great that you want a pet," Dick tries again, "But how about we start with a dog first? Maybe a cat?"

Damian thinks on that a bit, before nodding. Dick sighs a great sigh of relief.

"I would like one of each." Wait. What? No. Nononono—

Cackling echoes in the comms, the hysterics of Steph and Jaybird loud and guffawing in his ear.

"Stop laughing and help me." Dick hisses into the comms as Damian starts flicks the blood of his sword.

"I used to put him in, in air jail." Jaybird says through gulps of air, "Y'know, pick him up wh-hen he was acting n-naughty."

"That isn't exactly applicable here, Hood!" Dick grits through his teeth, causing Steph to shriek in high pitched laughter.

"We will have to take the jet," Damian interrupts, "Batcow will not fit on our motorcycles."

"No, Robin—we, uhm. We don't have room for a cow at home—" Dick wants to tear his hair out. He's too young for this, surely.

Heedless of his words, Damian starts to gently lead the cow towards him, raising a single eyebrow.

"Okay, well. We do have room, but that doesn't mean—"

"Nightwing. Robin." Dick has never been more glad to hear Bruce's voice, "Leave the cow with the proper authorities and report back to the Cave."

"Father," Damian's voice suddenly changes, "I would like to take Batcow home."

"…Robin," Bruce starts, but is summarily interrupted.

"Father, you have missed twelve of my birthdays." Damian's voice goes wobbly, despite Dick physically seeing that his face is stone cold, "And I have not once received a gift."

There's a long silence, and Dick slumps. What the fuck do you even say to that?

"…The jet will pick you up in 3 minutes."

"And the dog and cat?" Damian's voice is smug.

Dick sighs. "I'll take you to the shelter tomorrow."

The comms peak, from the sheer volume of Jay and Steph's mocking laughter.

===

Bruce enters his study with a tablet in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. 

It's been a long day.

He’s tired, preoccupied with thoughts of Damian starting school soon. The rest of his children seem to be causing some kind of trouble trying to celebrate it in their own way, and it's giving Bruce a minor headache about it.

Talia's continuous demands of pictures and actual reports is both heartwarming and excessive, but Bruce can hardly blame her.

His eyes should be scanning through the documents that Lucius sent over this morning and is still awaiting approval for. 

What his eyes catch on instead is a new addition to his Gray Ghost shelf. 

It’s an action figure of the eponymous hero, one in almost pristine condition. A first edition. 

Inside the cloche with the Gray Ghost gun is a miniature version resting just beside it. The RC car also has a miniature version perched next to its front wheel. Between the trilby and the goggles lay two hands and a miniature case of the first DVD release.

He tilts his head, feeling his eyebrow raise and a smile crawl up as he picks up the action figure to inspect it. It looks old, but clean. Not quite used, but not sitting on a shelf either—there’s little knicks here or there. Perhaps found in a garage sale somewhere? It’s not even his birthday—still, the gift warms his heart as anything involving his children does.

Now, which one of his kids did this, he wonders?

No matter, he’ll find out soon enough. His children are terrible at keeping secrets, and he isn't Batman for nothing.

He places the figure gently back down in its place, and settles in for the long haul.

===

Talia sits, straight backed with her legs crossed in a highly uncomfortable chair.

Next to her, her Beloved looks lovely in his turtle neck and slacks, comfy, even.

She looks around the room, noting the whiteboard and assortment of small desks behind them,

There are motivation posters, and informational ones with equations listed upon them.

Talia refrains from scoffing, but really, what is the point of putting the answer up on the wall? How will they learn if they have such a crutch?

"Now," The portly man sitting across from them behind a large desk coughs to clear their throat, "Damian has shown high intelligence, his grades are top of the class and he has shown such high promise that the other teachers and I have discussed whether or not it would be beneficial for him to move up grades."

"I believe the principal and I already had this conversation, Mr. Porter." Bruce smiles, but it isn't the nice one, "Dami has always been a smart boy, but he was home-schooled, and we were more concerned about his socialization."

"Ah, yes. Well. The girls in the class seem to find him charming, albeit stoic. He is gentlemanly for his age, and doesn't really participate in…" Mr. Porter coughs once more.

Talia rolls her eyes. "In idle immaturity?"

"Well, yes. It's just—well," Mr. Porter tugs at his collar, "It's just boys being boys really."

"Has he made any friends? Of either gender?" Bruce asks, giving Talia a warning look. She shrugs, putting on her best innocent smile.

"Oh! Yes, one boy, Colin Wikes." Mr. Porter takes out a handkerchief to wipe his brow, "They seem to get along, in their own quiet way."

"That's lovely!" Talia's voice goes high, fake. Bruce winces, but she ignores him, "So his grades are up, he's made a friend, and overall he's popular with the ladies!"

"W-well, yes, but the other boys—"

"Now, now. Bruce is a lady-killer himself, and he managed to figure out male friendships eventually!" Talia simpers,"He had such a close friendship with Harvey Dent after all, before that whole...fiasco."

Bruce sighs, but again, Talia ignores him. "Now, I hear that my son has a talent in art? I see that none of them are hung up—"

This is very important business after all.

No-one can stop her from achieving her mission.

===

Jason opens his door carefully, quietly.

His traps have been disabled and reset, and Jason can only think of two people who would do that.

Both of them came from the League, and both of them don't take kindly to being startled.

He drops his work bag, the one for his mechanic's job, down in the entrance way. He takes of his heavy boots and treads silently through the apartment to find out which sibling came to visit.

He's greeted by Damian, asleep on his couch with an open and currently in danger of falling copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Jason quickly tiptoes over, grabs the book before it can fall to the ground, grabbing the kid's bookmark—a pressed flower that Cass made for him—and placing it to the side.

The fact that the kid hasn't woken up is testament to their time in the League.

Jason's been getting bits and pieces back, ever since he got shot and saw double vision of Damian and a younger version of the kid administering first aid to him.

Talk about shock therapy.

It's not all that pleasant, the memories.

He remembers the grueling training, the pain and anguish and fear of not remembering. Not knowing who he was, knowing Robin was important, not knowing what to do.

But not all of them are bad.

He remembers forcing Damian to brush his teeth for longer than 2 minutes, remembers tucking the tyke in with the bear, even the figure.

He remembers various missions, where he would pick up Damian and carry him to the nearest food stand to make him try an assortment of street foods with a series of flailing movements. Remembers the feeling of accomplishment and pride whenever the little guy would express it was adequate, because that was as good as a 5 star rating.

He remembers carrying him, hastily packed duffle bag and all, and thinking Gotham, Gotham is the safest place to be but not knowing why.

Mostly he remembers watching Damian sleep, peacefully, like he is now.

Because it's novel, then and now, how Damian trusts him enough to do it.

He sits himself down for a moment, always a little woozy when memories come surfacing up, breathing deep and leaning back. It's getting easier to remember, and Leslie had said it would stop eventually, so he weathers it out.

A second later, something warm thumps into his lap.

Damian has his head there, hands fisted like kitten's paws, curling up like a little ball.

Jason sees double, triple, memories and memories of watching this boy sleep and feeling honored and responsible and attached to him.

Brothers in arms, Talia had said, back when he wasn't quite himself, but wasn't Damian's Robin anymore either. You have a brother—

Jason had cut her off then, yelling that no replacement could ever be his brother.

He had eaten his words then, and he's eating them now too.

He lays a hand on Damian's back, rubs up and down his tiny shoulder blades, the way Bruce did when he was first adopted.

Brothers indeed.

He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, to breathe in the peace.

He falls asleep like that, dreaming of teddy bears and robins, and deadly, deadly assassins.

some jasons and damians thats been piling up :]

(and tim and alfred the cat)

[rmadridcore]

Boyfriend Headcanons

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Word Count: 1K

Author's note: Another request, thank you anon! Enjoyyy 🫂🩷

He’s not joking when he says it was love at first sight.

That boy saw you and you knocked the wind out of him. Like, every single cheesy love song suddenly made sense to him. Not that he’s complaining.

“Babe, I saw you, and I was done for.” And he means it. Really means it.

Jude is a serious simp. Like, on another level. No shame though.

He is the sweetest, most thoughtful boyfriend in the world.

He is the type of boyfriend to leave little notes in random places, like in your bag or on the mirror.

“Missed you already” or “You’re my favorite part of the day” in his messy handwriting.

He has your favorite snacks on hand 24/7, tucking them in your bag when you’re not looking. He gets so excited picturing you reaching in later and lighting up.

He’s the biggest tease in the world, not letting a day pass without some good natured ribbing.

Everyone knows he’s extremely competitive. You would think that he would be a gentleman and let you win when you two play games but no. He lost? Oh, he’s pouting until you bribe him with kisses all over his face.

Jude is low-key so overprotective. He keeps you close in a crowd, hand firmly laced with yours.

Also, Jude 100% knows the sidewalk rule. He always makes sure you walk outside of the sidewalk.

He’s the type of boyfriend to show that he cares for you in the smallest ways.

Always peeling the straw for you, sliding the salt over in case you need it during dinner, adjusting your scarf if it’s chilly.

By the way, you only bring your wallet for decoration when you’re out with him. He’s got you covered, period.

He’s the most supportive boyfriend ever. Whatever you’re passionate about, he’s right there. Cheering you on, sending encouraging texts before a big day, asking hundred questions about it.

He’s also the definition of impulsive gift-giver.

You remind him the color of that sweater? He’s already bought it. Found a mug with a cheesy pun you’d love? Done. “Can never have too much,” he says with a smirk.

He’s absolutely obsessed with the bond you have with his family. His parents adore you and he couldn’t be happier about that but, but, truth be told, he finds the fact that you and Jobe are always ganging up on him very annoying.

He’s an actual cuddle monster. Literally. If you’re with him and he doesn’t have his arms wrapped around you, what is he doing?

He swears his arms were “made to hold you,” but he also loves resting his head on your chest, loving when you play with his hair. The little spoon sometimes is his spot.

He says he loves to cook but that is the biggest lie known to a man. He just loves being in the kitchen while you’re cooking. He’ll sing into the spatula, mess with the ingredients, and kiss your neck until you end up doing most of the work.

“Just here for moral support,” he’ll say, grinning while you roll your eyes.

Subtle PDA is his specialty. He doesn’t go overbroad, but he’ll lace his fingers with yours in public, place his hand on your lower back, squeeze your thigh and lean in just close enough to let everyone know you’re his.

Good morning texts, guaranteed. Whether it’s his sleepy face selfie from bed, a quick snap from training, or a random shot of something that reminds him of you, he makes sure you start your day with a smile.

He asks the most random questions at the most random moments. You could be lounging on the couch with him and he’d be like “If animals could talk, which one you reckon would be the rudest?” Or, “Who do you think would win in a dance off, me or my coach?”

You both have tons of inside jokes. Sometimes it takes a one look or a one word and you’re both cracking up uncontrollably.

He is actually obsessed with snapping candid shots of you. Whether you’re laughing with friends, squinting at the menu, or lost in thought, he loves capturing you in your most natural moments.

Jude has this adorable habit of kissing your forehead at the most random times. If you’re talking excitedly about something, he’ll suddenly lean over, press a kiss to your forehead, and say, “I love how passionate you get about this.”

When he does it in public, he’ll pull you close with a slight smirk, like he’s silently telling everyone around just how much he adores you.

He’s memorized exactly how you like your coffee and surprises you with it just the way you like when you’re feeling lazy in the morning.

If you’re still in bed, he’ll bring it to you, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder to wake you.

Sometimes, he’ll try to make cute designs in the foam but laugh when they look more like blobs.

He’ll randomly offer you a piggyback ride, even if you’re just walking a short distance. He claims it’s because he’s “keeping you safe” but really just loves carrying you around.

If you’ve had a long day, he’ll give you a piggyback ride all the way to bed, tucking you in with a soft kiss on your forehead and a cheeky, “Lucky I’m here, huh?”

When he’s away, he leaves you cute, funny voice notes throughout the day. They range from “Hey, miss you” to “Guess what I saw today?”

Sometimes, he tries to make up a song about you, laughing through it because he’s making up random lyrics that don’t rhyme.

Whenever you have a small problem, like a squeaky door, a broken lamp, or your favorite necklace clasp breaking, Jude takes it as his personal mission to fix it, even if he doesn’t know how.

He’s ridiculously proud when he finally fixes something and says he’s “earning boyfriend points.”

Jude often talks about the future with you in it. He’ll casually say things like, “When we have a place together…” or “Our future kids would be the cutest,” and then he’ll get adorably shy, rubbing the back of his neck, realizing what he just said.

In conclusion, Jude Bellingham is a huge boyfriend material.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[passengerprincessblog]

“Close Distance” ~ Lewis Hamilton short

Fluff ⭐️

Summary: In this short, Lewis Hamilton returns home after a long absence to his girlfriend, Y/N, only to realize that material gifts can’t replace his presence.

WC: 700

The city lights of Monaco cast a soft, faint glow through the penthouse window, just enough to illuminate the living room where I sat, surrounded by a mess of textbooks, my laptop, and my half-finished notes. I’d been up for hours, the world beyond my screen blurring, but the weight of the deadline looming over my head kept me from resting. Journalism was my dream, and now that I was pursuing a master’s, I couldn’t afford to slip up, especially not with Lewis paying for my tuition and supporting me in ways I couldn’t repay.

But, lately, he was a world away. Another race, another city, always somewhere that wasn’t here. I’d learned to accept it, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting.

When I finally dozed off, the warmth of familiar hands brushing my hair back and a soft kiss to my forehead pulled me gently awake. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was—Lewis, his face hovering over mine, a soft smile playing at his lips. He looked tired, but happy, like he’d been waiting for this moment all month.

“Lewis?” I whispered, blinking in surprise. “I thought you’d be gone for a few more days…”

He chuckled, and the sound made me melt instantly. “I couldn’t wait that long. I missed you too much.” He reached behind him, revealing a familiar small box, the sleek black and gold hinting at something extravagant even before he opened it.

Inside was a delicate Cartier bracelet and matching earrings, glinting in the dim light. I knew the routine well—this wasn’t his first gift after being away, and I knew how much he loved to spoil me. I managed a smile, letting him slip the bracelet onto my wrist.

“Thank you, Lewis,” I murmured, admiring the jewelry and trying to match his enthusiasm, but I could tell he noticed my hesitation.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—disappointment, maybe. “You don’t like it?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, a trace of uncertainty there.

“No, no, it’s beautiful,” I insisted, meeting his gaze. “I love it. It’s just…”

But before I could finish, he stepped back, his brows knitting together in concern. “Lately, it feels like you don’t,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “Every time I bring you something, you just… don’t seem as happy as you used to be.”

The sincerity in his voice made my heart ache. I could tell he was hurt, confused, maybe even doubting whether he’d done something wrong.

“Lewis,” I began, reaching out to him, “it’s not the gifts. They’re beautiful, really, but… they don’t make up for you not being here.”

His shoulders slumped, and I could see him processing my words, trying to understand. “I just wanted to make you feel special,” he said, his voice quiet. “I thought, maybe if I could give you things, spoil you a bit, it would help… make up for the times I can’t be here.”

I stepped closer to him, gently wrapping my arms around his waist. “Lewis, you do make me feel special. But it’s not the things you buy, it’s… it’s you. It’s when you’re here, just like this, when you hold me and I don’t have to worry about you being halfway across the world. That’s what I miss.”

He let out a slow breath, as if the tension was finally melting away. “I didn’t realize it was like that,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought the gifts would make you happy, that they’d remind you I’m still here, even when I’m away. But maybe… I was just trying to fill the gap in the wrong way.”

I rested my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my cheek. “You don’t have to try so hard. I don’t need more things, Lew. I just need you.”

He tightened his arms around me, his hands running soothingly over my back. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. No more trying to buy your love when all you need is me.”

I laughed softly, and he tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes held that same warmth, but now there was a new resolve in them, a promise. “This winter break, you’re coming with me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Wherever I go, you’re coming too. I don’t care if school says otherwise, we’ll make it work.”

I smiled, the heaviness in my chest lifting as I held onto him, feeling the familiar warmth I’d missed so much. “I’d love that,” I whispered, finally letting go of all the doubt and distance that had settled between us.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, I felt like everything was finally right again. He was here, and that was all I needed.

—————————————-

Lmk if you want more! Liking and following let’s me know you want more writings! 💜

[espinosaurusrexex]

A degree? Who needs that anyway?

Boyfriend!Bucky x Female!Reader

summary: Bucky noticed you were exhausted during this time of the semester. Being the supportive golden retriever boyfriend he was, he just wanted to make you feel better. Unfortunately, his efforts only showed him how stressed you really were. So he vowed to support you through it all.

a/n: I have finally finished all my work and am back in business, baby! I'm so excited to spend the cozy season writing and posting again. Thank you for being so patient and supporting. I am so unbelievably grateful for this community. This is for all the academic girlies struggling through exam season like I do...

word count: 1.9k

warnings: feelings stress and not being enough, perfectionsim (and the pressure that comes with it), projecting self worth onto academic achievements, Bucky being adorable and supportive (perfect boyfriend alert!), just a whole lotta fluff 

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ✧*･ﾟ

You were stressed. Bucky knew it. Everyone was walking on eggshells around you, if - ever - you allowed yourself to step out of the apartment to see your friends or work your part-time job. He'd never seen you like this. You were a social butterfly, the total opposite of him with the ability to recharge when you were around the people you loved most. But for a month or so you'd been living the hermit life. And Bucky did not like it one bit. 

It gave him an uneasy feeling, a squeeze to his heart, a hatred for anything that could potentially set you off. Because it was there - the potential. He was just waiting for it. For the shoe to drop, for you to break. For him to go on a rampage against all things bothering you. 

He knew you were strong and stubborn, and that you hated to ask people for help. But there was only so much a person could endure. Hell, Bucky knew too well himself. Because he was the same. He hated asking for help - he hated accepting that he was bad at something. But this...  just broke his heart. 

He tried to take you out, to get you to eat with him - anything to get you back to your normal routines. But not even when he mentioned your favorite pastime activity did he get an enthusiastic smile out of you. That’s when he knew something was seriously wrong. Well, not something. He knew it was University. You’d complained about your professors at the beginning of the semester to him, how they were too ambitious for their own good and required a mountain of weekly readings not even that guy from Transformers could manage. Now... towards the end of the term, he saw how that ambition bled into your papers and final exams. 

And Bucky? Well, he didn’t know how to act around you. It seemed like a silly selfish problem but normally you would be the one seeking contact and physical touch. He enjoyed it every time but he was just not good at initiating it himself. You’d seemed to shut him out completely. Working yourself away on your desk only to fall asleep on it and have Bucky carry you to bed. He hated seeing you like this. 

He knew it wasn’t a permanent state - it couldn’t be. Because even though he considered you the strongest person he knew, there had to be a point at which even you broke. 

And then, one day, it just happened. Without warning. Bucky hadn’t wanted to be right, so he had just ignored the thought of your breaking beneath all the pressure completely. And that was why he did not have as much as a hunch when you were talking over breakfast and the dam broke.

You had been up since well before Bucky had finally convinced you to eat with him. He’d even gone to your favorite bakery this morning to get the little pudding pastries you loved so much. And when he came back, he silently pulled your chair back and dropped you at the dining table. Everything seemed pretty good for a while. And then, out of nowhere, while Bucky was telling you about his trip to the Bakery, you had just started crying - hard.

Bucky had never seen so many tears. Not even when the wives of his fellow soldiers stood at the peer waving his comrades goodbye with white handkerchiefs. He shook the memory away. He thought the amount of tears quite impossible with the neglect of drinking water he had witnessed over the past week but they just kept coming. And Bucky wanted to hold you but something told him it wouldn't help one bit. 

You were sobbing into your hands drawing in shaky breaths as you hid your face from him and everything inside him began to scream. Scream at him for sitting there frozen like an idiot and screaming at all the professors who deserved nothing more than a good punch in their oh so intelligent faces. 

"It's just all too much. I’m so exhausted, Bucky.” A trembling breath that was muffled by your hands pressing into your mouth. Bucky was raging, but he let you continue. “And I hate that... I hate that I let this consume so much of my time and ...me. I hate that I let it affect me so much when I’m at the point at which I don't even know if it's worth it anymore.”

Bucky drew in a sharp breath at that statement. You had been working so hard, dedicated so much time and effort to work toward a goal he wanted you to achieve as much as you wanted to initially. To hear you doubt yourself broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew you were capable of it, but something told him not to say that just now. It was then you finally lifted your face and let your reddened eyes search for his. His fingers itched to touch your face. Why didn’t he do so?

“And it doesn’t help that everyone believes in me you know?” He nodded, though he didn’t quite understand. “I love each of my friends but every person that tells me they believe in me and how they don’t even doubt I’ll make it adds more pressure on top of the standard I set for myself.”

This was it. This was the moment he needed to touch you. Bucky rose from his chair and knelt down beside yours. His warm hand reached up toward your face and you immediately fell into his embrace. Your forehead pressed into his muscular shoulder, your arms reached around him and his entire body felt tingly as relief flooded through it. 

"I am so scared I'm going to fail.” You exhaled into his shirt as his hand gently stroked your back. He wanted to tell you how failing wasn’t bad. How much he would love you regardless and how stupid a dumb degree was anyway. He wanted to kiss you and whisper against your skin how you could excel at everything you tried by simply being yourself because, for Bucky, you were the epitome of perfection. 

But he didn’t do any of it. Because he also knew how important this was for you. Even if you were questioning if anything was worth it at this point - it definitely wasn’t in his eyes if it meant seeing you so crushed by something as trivial as a file on your computer - Bucky knew he’d help you walk through a hurricane if that was what you needed from him. Hell, he’d gladly do so if it would bring your beautiful smile back to your face. This degree felt really close to what he imagined walking through a hurricane to be like right about now. And he thought that he would never want one himself if this was what you had to go through in order to get it. Besides, who needed a degree anyway? Back in his day, you weren’t more special for it. Being a soldier did the job just fine... then again, that was probably worse than the hurricane thing. Focus Bucky. 

Bucky pulled back and kissed your tears off your face and then he pressed one more kiss to your salty lips for good measure. Yes, he’d do anything for you - degree or not.

“What can I do to help you, love? I hate seeing you like this.” He froze for a second in fear of adding more pressure by expressing his sadness. And surely, you just started crying harder as your face fell forward again. Oh no, Bucky thought. 

“I-“ you hick-uped, “I don’t know.” Seriously where did you get all that water from? “I love you so much. And I appreciate you so much and I know you want to comfort me but if we were to cuddle for an hour I would just stress myself out about the time I could spend studying - even if all I wanna do is cuddle you.” The stream didn’t stop when you cried harder. “And I hate that!”

Bucky nodded frustrated. "I love you too.” And then he cradled your head with his metal hand.

For a good minute, you just stayed like this. Bucky pressed you deeper into his chest until your sobs slowly died down and your stuffy breathing became steadier. He kissed your hair just to stroke over it again and then kiss it once more. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he did something that relaxed you a little. And even though you had just cried a river in your kitchen, you were so much calmer than before. 

You sniffled adorably when you looked up at him after some time. “Just know I know how difficult I am right now. I cannot wait for this to be over. It’s just... I don’t even know how to take care of myself right now, I can’t possibly know how to include you in this as well.” A final tear fell and Bucky was fast to wipe it away. “But I am so glad you’re here.”

“Okay, I understand.” He answered and hugged you again, vowing to initiate daily cuddle/relief breaks from here on out. There wasn’t much he could do, he knew that and hated it too. If he could, he would write your papers for you, but Bucky was convinced he was not nearly smart enough for that, so anything else had to make do. He’d keep the apartment clean so you had a good atmosphere to learn, he’d make sure you slept and ate on time, and he’d supply all the love you deserved regardless of exam season. “And you just know that I will be here for you, patiently waiting until you have the capacity to include me again.” He pushed your hair from your forehead and kissed you sweetly. “I will support you in everything you do...” Another kiss, this one, you reciprocated. “Always.” And another long, warm lasting kiss to seal his promise. “If you promise me one thing... one thing only,” he whispered.

“What is it?” You whispered back. 

“Promise to let me take care of you. I know you would spend 25 hours in a day studying if it were possible, but you can't keep it up like this.” He nodded. “Let me make sure you have the headspace for all your studying. Don’t deny my bringing you food, or dragging you to bed. And collect at least three kisses and one hug every day for emotional support,” he smiled faintly, a cheeky glimmer in his eyes that shone in yours as well. 

“Okay, I promise.”

Bucky kissed you again, pressing your body against his with gentle strength. His heart began to beat faster when he felt your nails rake down his shoulders. 

From then on Bucky would come up to you and hug you for a couple seconds, calling it ‘quick recharge’. He would hold you when you cried - but only when you cried because you needed to spend your dedicated hours of studying- holding you was for later.  And then he would remind you to drink enough water after watching your tears soak into his shirt. But what he looked forward to the most, were the evenings when you would cuddle into his side in bed and let him lull you to sleep. He felt accomplished as he watched you relax outside the study schedule you set up with him, being able to fully be present when you ate together or went to bed. There were still rough times, but Bucky was there to hold you regardless, smiling at the fact that his touch could calm you down and that it would be over soon - and then he’d spend entire days making up for everything that fell short because of that viscous degree.

please take care of yourself, just like Bucky would during an exhausting time like this 💛

Wanna be added to the taglist?

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[fungateshortcakes]

Sleepy birthday morning

It's november 10th, you know what that means- it's my birthday!! Yay! Another year without an oiled up Logan covered in rose petals on my bed as a present😔 so i need to compromise with a short drabble fic.

Pairing: Logan howlett x fem!reader

Wordcount: 794

Warnings: english is not my first language, suggestive themes, implied sex, but other than that just fluff, cuteness and coziness <3

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sunlight seeped through the curtains of your shared bedroom. It was a quiet, lazy morning in the mansion on a weekend day, so no one was awake at this hour. Except your lover, Logan. His beautiful hazel-green eyes fluttered open, his long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he woke up.

A soft, sleepy smile crept onto his lips as he watched your relaxed form sleep in his arms. His chest was pressed against your back, one naked muscular arm draped over your waist. Logan softly breathed against your neck, the tip of his nose tickling your nape, but you didn't stir.

His gaze fell to the bedside table and he saw the date- it was your birthday. Ever so softly, his lips slid over your shoulder, his hand coming up to rest on your naked upper arm and smoothing over the soft skin there. His gentle kisses and nibbles slowly brought you back to reality and you woke up in his warm embrace.

You stirred and yawned, stretching your tired limps before turning over to face him, the face you had been waking up to every morning for six years. And you never grew tired of it ever.

He looked so soft and comfortable, so warm and cuddly it made your heart swell. "Mornin, beautiful" he muttered to you in that raspy voice he got every morning after sleep. That voice that made your core throb. "Good morning" you mumbled sleepily and maybe even a bit grumpy from just being woken up.

Logan supported his head by leaning it on his fist, looking down at you with a crooked smile and a slight raised brow. But he didn't say anything, just watched you. You didn't know what his expression meant, so you frowned, but not without a smile. "What?" you giggled softly. Logan sighed, his strong hand rubbing up and down your exposed sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Without a word, he leaned forward to kiss your lips. It was slow and gentle, so loving that it made your heart soar out of your throat. "It's your birthday, pretty girl" he mumbled against the plush curve of your lips before pulling back. You giggled "I know" you whispered, dazed from the fact that you loved this man so much. "Happy birthday, sugar" he grinned back, peppering your face in sweet kisses. Hearing you laugh under his ministrations made his chest feel tight with joy.

He planted the biggest kiss on your lips, removing himself with a loud "mmmmhwua!"

Smiling brightly, you snuggled up into his broad, warm and inviting chest, his pecks soft and squishy under your cheek. "Thank you, baby" you muttered, kissing right over his heart.

"I hope you know that I won't let you leave this bed today" Logan smirked against your hairline, earning a chuckle fron you. "And why is that?" you asked back, knowing where this was going. "Well, I gotta give you my present, don't I?" he purred, pressing your lips together in a tounge-heavy kiss. "What present would that be?" you smiled innocently while chewing on his bottom lip. Logan chuckled. "A few...many rounds of some great birthday sex" he growled softly, that smirk still present on his face as he flipped you over on your back.

You enjoyed the heated kisses, the way his hands hungrily roamed your body, eager to make you feel out of this world. "Every time we have sex it's great" you chuckled breathlessly as his fingers dipped lower. "I have to make my princess feel good every day. But it should be even better on her birthday" he mumbled against your flush skin, still warm from sleep.

You stopped him in his tracks. "I can't wait, though I'd rather cuddle with you right now. But tonight you will have me all to yourself, I promise" you whispered, scratching his sideburns as if he was a cat. At least he purred and leaned into your hand like one.

Logan wasn't someone to ignore your wishes and as long as he could touch and feel and love you in any shape or form, he was happy. "Alright" he muttered and went back to his spot beside you, snuggling into you, kissing and biting you softly, your limbs tangled with his as you cuddled in a sleepy haze until you were called to breakfast from beast.

Even in moments like these, even when he was just kissing you and rubbing his cheek against yours like a needy cat, heating your body with his soft and warm one, you felt so special. Logan made you feel special with the most mundane and simple things. He was everything you ever wanted and everything you ever needed to love your life and yourself.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sprry this is so short. I wasn't originally planing on writing this, that's why it isn't so long. Hope you liked it anyways and happy birthay to all who share their birthday with me <333

[jothb]

I love cats so much, let me share a few of my favourite pics

Hi everyone! I've got a small request of you. Rabah's dad's condition has worsened a lot and he is now in the hospital. They need 230 USD for medical exams and x rays

if anyone would be able to donate, please do so, and if you can donate an amount ≥ 50 USD, please reach out to me so I can give you the organizers paypal; donations that large can be sent on paypal for less fees

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-monis-and-family-escape-gaza-for-urgent-treatment

Look at this one too. Every time I see Siamese cats I think of this fact

Here's a few more

If you have even a few dollars you could spare it could make a huge difference for Monises family. Every little bit helps, no matter how small. Thank you!

[pictopye]

Update! Firstly, thank you all for the hearts and reblogs on my initial roughs. I greatly appreciate the support and care; it's given me quite the boost to my confidence on getting out there and sharing and creating more within the fallout community. So thank you again for the warm reception! I've been keeping myself busy with art - worked on some spreads for a zine about Sonoran bean trees, painted some miniatures, got a good rough sketch/layout of a new piece of fan art that I might use as a masters study (soon to be posted), and did another draft/refinition on this Hancock piece! Next comes either colors or biting the bullet and tackling a background.

PS: I understand how hard it can be right now to not fall into anxiety, overthinking, doomerism, or overworking/overreaching yourself. So as one friend to another - Please make sure you take the time to take care of yourselves, and your loved ones. Make sure you take time to enjoy the little things in your daily life, and if you can get something to eat and drink if you haven't had much - please do. Thank you all for checking in, and I'll talk to y'all later!

I did these little FO4 doodles on a scrap of paper back in Oct. But with everything Oct threw at me it really put the kibosh on having time for just having some fun. So I finally got around to fleshing it out a little further today. With Hancock as soon as I had that cheesy grin I knew the direction I wanted to take with him; and will likely do a full render since I'm quite happy with the rough barring a few tweaks/changes here and there. Ham and Nick were just sprinkles of additional fun. Also I seriously cannot get @haileythesato's wonderful fan animation, 'Out of Context Nick Valentine' with it's "synth toaster" line outta my head - it lives there rent free now, and I'm honestly 100% OK with that. :P

Hence my swap out to a very 'brave little toaster' Nick.

[choccy-milky]

Im here to confess that my brain has a genuine reaction each time I see a drawing of Sebastian with anything black around his wrist. Idk why but I love it when he has a watch or when he’s wearing those black bracelet things

LMAOO SAME ANON...idk why this is, but it just is😩 (i blame rodrick heffley)

@writingsoftarnishedsilver aw THANK YOUU!! im glad you like my art and that you've joined the collective brainrot here on tumblr BAHAH🥰 ik theres been some hubbub lately but the fandom is rly nice and welcoming i promise!!🙏i hope u have a good time here and dont feel intimidated or scared or anything!🥹💖

@kaviary-blog THANK YOU MY SWEETIE DARLING😭💖💖ILL KEEP BEING UR BUDDY AS LONG AS I BREATHE😤u couldnt get rid of me if u wanted to.... but ty again for the positivity and support this was so sweet and i am sending all of that energy back at u!!🫵🫵🫵🫵💖💖💖

@fulminare-within-her-soul aw THANK YOUUU that means so much especially coming from another writer!!🥹💖 AND YES OF COURSE CLORA WOULD LOVE TO AND ID BE HONOURED!!! nobody has to ask permission to draw clora EVER. im fr, yall could seriously draw her doing ANYTHING and id be like... hell yea, thats my girl, look at her😎👍 bahaha THANK YOU AGAIN AND YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL NIGHT/DAY AS WELL💖💖💖

THANK YOU ALL IM GLAD U LIKE MY ART!!🥹😭💖 @dariliondar-blog the program i use is clip studio paint and the brush i use (for lineart) is a clumsy pen from the assets store! ive been using this pen since the very beginning/for all of my lineart, i just love it idk, its easy to control and i like the texture, tho it can be a bit rough/messy. though another lineart pen i started dabbling with recently that i really like is bulky g-pen, i used it for my 9 page comic and really like it!! for colouring though i use different brushes literally EVERY time bc im so inconsistent/indecisive 😭so i cant help you there im sorry BAHAH 🙏

[wolverigrl]

Baby Bump and Tears

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I cried. But I think it’s good to end things when they are at their highest peak. Thank you for your support and love for this fanfiction! <3

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, emotional, it's the last part

Enjoy! xoxo

Previous Part

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

As I curl up on the couch beside Hugh, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace and joy that’s almost too much to hold. Our world has shifted, filled with love, excitement, and anticipation.

This baby… our baby.

Just thinking it makes my heart swell. I reach down, almost reflexively, to rest my hand on my belly, feeling a little thrill. It’s so small now, barely even there, but it’s ours. I glance up at Hugh, who’s watching me with that warm, gentle look, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, right now.

His hand comes to rest on my knee, warm and steady, and I let out a soft breath, leaning into him, my head against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to my temple, the gentle touch calming and grounding. “You ready?” he asks, his voice soft, almost reverent.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes, and it fills me with so much love I feel like I might burst!

I nod, my throat suddenly tight with emotion as I press play on the first video.

The screen lights up with the familiar sight of Chris’s living room, filled with laughter and warmth. Just seeing my best friend's face instantly makes me smile.

We’ve been close for years, a bond that feels like family, like having an older brother who’s always been there, looking out for me. Sharing this news with him had been something I’d dreamed of, and now, watching it all over again, it feels even more special. I sometimes find it strange that we had a fling together many years ago, but I'm incredibly thankful that it didn't ruin our friendship.

On the screen, Chris and his siblings, Scott, Shana and Carly, are packed onto the couch. The energy is buzzing, with Hugh holding up the phone, trying to wrangle everyone into a “photo.” I can feel the anticipation from that day all over again, the little tremor of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside me. I remember exchanging a glance with Hugh, both of us barely holding back laughter. It felt like we were sharing a precious secret, and we couldn’t wait to let everyone in on it.

“Alright, everyone, say cheese!” my voice comes through the phone, high-pitched and almost breathless with excitement.

Chris leans in close, throwing an arm around me, and his siblings follow suit, all grinning, not knowing what’s about to happen.

“Cheeeeeese!” he says, hamming it up with a goofy grin, and I remember feeling a surge of love and gratitude for him.

For all of them.

And then, just as everyone settles into the “photo”, Hugh blurts it out, his voice full of pride and excitement:

“Y/n’s pregnant!”

The room falls silent for a heartbeat, and then—chaos.

Chris’s face goes blank with shock, his eyes widening as he processes the words, and then, as if a light switches on, his expression shifts to pure joy. He lets out this loud, ecstatic laugh, one that I can feel deep in my bones, and he practically tackles me in a bear hug, squeezing so tight I can barely breathe.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” he exclaims, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, his own shining with disbelief and excitement. “Seriously? This- this is incredible!” He grips my shoulders, his voice softening as he looks at me, his face full of something so pure and real it nearly brings me to tears. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom! I just know it!”

I nod, laughing and crying all at once, the happiness so big it feels like it’s radiating out of me.

“Yes, Chris! It’s real!” I say, my voice catching on the last word, and he wraps me in another hug, his arms around me like a promise that he’ll always be there, always a part of this family.

The rest of his siblings are cheering, reaching out to hug both me and Hugh, their joy spilling over, and I feel surrounded by love, a warmth that makes me feel so incredibly lucky. I catch Hugh’s eye over the happy chaos, and he’s watching me with this quiet awe, his face soft as he sees me embraced by my friends.

As the clip ends, I wipe a tear from my cheek, unable to stop smiling. I turn to Hugh, my voice barely a whisper, full of all the love and gratitude I feel.

“He's the best. He loves us, Hugh. Loves this baby already. I can’t believe we have friends who care this much..”

Hugh’s arm tightens around me, and he brushes his lips over my temple, his own eyes glistening. “You’re right. We’re so lucky to have him… all of them. And I’m so lucky to have you.” His voice drops, filled with a soft intensity that makes my heart race.

“I love you. You’re my everything, and this—us, this family—it’s my whole world.”

I look up at him, our faces close, and he kisses me, slow and deep, his hand resting on my cheek. In that moment, it’s like the whole world fades away, and there’s only us, together, ready to step into this new chapter.

When we pull back, I swipe to the next clip. I can feel my heart starting to pound again, this time with an almost nervous excitement, as I see the screen light up with the faces of Hugh’s family. His mom is sitting beside him on her cozy couch, with Oscar and Ava snuggled up next to me, their expressions already bright with anticipation. Just seeing their faces on the screen makes me feel this deep, comforting warmth.

They’ve embraced me from the start, made me feel like I truly belong, and sharing this news with them had felt like a sacred moment.

In the video, Hugh lifts the phone, settling us all into the frame. I remember holding his hand, feeling its warmth, and taking a deep breath, steadying myself.

“Okay, everyone, say cheese!” he says, grinning as he raises the camera.

“Cheeeese!” everyone says, laughing, leaning in closer to one another. I glance at Hugh, feeling that bubbling excitement again, and he gives me a small nod, encouraging me to go ahead.

“I'm pregnant!” I say, my voice carrying just enough that everyone hears, and then I hold my breath, watching their faces.

Hugh’s mom’s reaction is instant.

Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening with surprise, and then they fill with tears as she lets out a soft, happy laugh. “Oh, darling!” she says, her voice trembling with joy as she reaches over to embrace me. “Sweetheart, that’s… that’s wonderful!” Her voice is filled with so much warmth and love that I feel myself tearing up all over again, and I hug her tightly, feeling truly, deeply welcomed.

Oscar is smiling, trying to keep his composure, but I can see the pride in his eyes as he looks at Hugh. He reaches out to hug him tightly. “Congrats, Dad! I’m really happy for you too!” he says with a steady voice which is filled with unspoken love.

And then Ava practically launches herself into my arms, her face shining with excitement. “I’m gonna be a big sister!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck and holding me so tight I feel her heart pounding against mine.

“Yes, you are, Ava!” I laugh, hugging her back just as tightly, feeling this overwhelming sense of love and connection. This is our family, and they’re already embracing this baby as one of their own.

I blink back the tears that are gathering in my eyes in the present, wiping them away again as Hugh reaches out to hold my hand. “They were so happy..” I murmur, my voice trembling with emotion. “They really, truly love us..”

He squeezes my hand, his voice soft but steady as he says, “Of course they do, baby. You’re their family. And this baby will be so loved.” He pauses, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

“Just like you.”

The last clip is the one I’ve been holding onto, the one that feels the most personal, the most precious. It’s the video of my mom and my stepdad, Brian, whom I’ve always called “Dad”. He’s been there for me through everything, a constant, steady presence. I knew this news would mean everything to him, and to my mom, but there was something about calling him “Granddad” that felt so special and so right.

I tap play, and there we are, gathered around their kitchen table, just as we’d done so many times.

The comforting smell of my mom’s cooking, the warmth of their home, it all floods back to me. Hugh and I had been sitting across from them, exchanging little glances, both of us barely holding back our excitement.

“Alright, let’s get a picture together!” I say, lifting the camera as if it’s just another ordinary family snapshot.

They lean in, smiling, unsuspecting, and I feel my heart pound as I look at them, so full of love and warmth. Finally, I say it, my voice soft but clear: “We’re having a baby.”

For a second, they’re silent.

My mom’s hand goes to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she looks from me to Hugh, and then she lets out a small, joyful laugh, her face lighting up. “Oh, my baby… this is… this is everything!” She leans forward, pulling me into her arms, her voice trembling as she whispers, “I’m so happy for you!”

I sink into my mom’s embrace, feeling her arms around me, warm and steady, like they’ve always been.

She holds me tight, not letting go, and I can hear the emotion in her breathing, the little tremble that says more than words could ever say. She finally pulls back to look at me, her hands cupping my face, her eyes shining with the same love she’s given me all my life.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice so full of pride and tenderness that it makes my chest ache. “You’re going to be an incredible mother. I knew it the first day you held your baby cousin! You have so much love to give. And Hugh…” She glances at him, her smile soft and full of approval. “Thank you. I see how you look at her—you’ve always looked at her like she’s the most important thing in the world.”

Hugh reaches over, taking my mom’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, his own eyes misty.

“Thank you, Barb, really. I don’t even have words..” he says quietly. “I promise I’ll love her and this baby with everything I have.”

And then, Brian just stares at me, his face unreadable at first, and then, like the emotions are too big to contain, he lets out a breathy laugh and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms and kissing my forehead.

“Oh, my little girl..” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. I can feel him trembling slightly, a side of him I rarely see. “I can’t believe it… I couldn’t be prouder, sweetheart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and now you’re bringing another beautiful soul into this world.” He leans back, blinking a few times as he fights back tears. I let out a shaky laugh and look at him lovingly. “You're gonna be a grandpa and you will be just as good as you are as a father.”

His tears broke like a dam and he began to chuckle. Brian pulled my mom and Hugh into our arms.

I see my dad looking over at Hugh with a warmth that’s unmistakable. “Thank you, Hugh. You are a good man.”

In the present, watching this clip play out, I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face again. I feel Hugh’s arm wrap around me even tighter, holding me close as I quietly wipe my cheeks, laughing softly at my own emotions.

“He’s… he’s been my dad my whole life, and seeing him like that, it just makes everything feel so real. They’re all going to be such incredible grandparents!”

Hugh’s hand moves to cradle my cheek, turning me gently so I’m looking right at him. “You’re everything to them, y/n. And to me. They’re so proud of you… and I’m proud of you too. I can’t wait to see you as a mother. I know you’re gonna be amazing.”

I can barely speak, my heart so full that words feel inadequate. I reach up to touch his face, my fingers grazing his beard as I take in every detail, the warmth in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips, the depth of love there that’s just for me.

“I’m so happy and thankful you’re by my side, Hugh. I don’t think I could do this with anyone else.”

We both lean in, and our lips meet in a slow, tender kiss, one that says all the things we don’t need to say out loud—the love, the promises, the future we’re building together. As we pull back, he rests his forehead against mine, a soft smile on his face.

“You, me, Oscar, Ava and this little one.” he murmurs, resting a hand gently on my stomach. “Our family. I’m so ready for this.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath, letting myself savor this feeling. It’s overwhelming but beautiful, and I know that as long as I have Hugh, our family and friends by our side, everything will be okay. It’s all more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Finally, I close the video app, locking my phone and setting it aside, then turn to Hugh again, feeling like I’m holding my whole heart in my hands as I look at him.

“We’re so blessed..” I whisper, the words spilling out in a soft, heartfelt murmur. “I don’t know how we got so lucky, but I’m so, so grateful.”

He pulls me into his arms, holding me as if he’ll never let go.

Our life, our love, this baby—it’s all a gift, one I’ll cherish with everything I have.

In this moment, I know that our future is going to be beautiful. And I’m ready for every single step.

---

Later that evening, with Hugh’s arms still wrapped around me, I glance at my phone and the idea hits me. The clips—each precious moment of joy, shock, and laughter from our family and friends. I can already imagine how special it would be to share this journey with everyone who has supported us. “What if we… posted it?” I ask, looking up at Hugh with a little smile.

He chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “You think the world’s ready for it?”

“Only one way to find out!” I say, excitement bubbling in my chest.

“We’ll show them how fun this journey has been from the very beginning. Plus, you know they’d find out anyway.”

With a grin, I start piecing together the clips, feeling a wave of happiness wash over me with each reaction we captured. Chris’s delighted laughter, Hugh’s mom’s joyful tears, and my own parent’s emotional embrace—they all blend into a beautiful, joyful montage that feels like a celebration of everything we’re about to embark on. I add some soft music and finish it with a little clip of me and Hugh laughing in our living room, the camera turning to show his hand resting protectively on my belly. I feel a soft, fluttery nervousness in my chest as I write the caption:

>>y/n instagram: When you’ve got the best family and friends to help you share the biggest news of your life… Baby Jackman is already so loved💕 Get ready, world—this little one’s going to have the coolest, funniest aunts, uncles, and grandparents around!😎❤️<<

Hugh chuckles as I hit post, and almost instantly, the notifications start flooding in. Friends, fans, and family—everyone’s reaction lights up my screen, and each new comment makes me smile even wider.

Right at the top of the comments, I spot Ryan's unmistakable reply:

>>vancityreynolds: Finally, someone to keep Hugh in line. Congrats on creating a future little Wolverine… or at least a very hairy child.<<

Hugh bursts into laughter beside me, shaking his head. “Of course he’d say that!”

I scroll down, spotting even more replies:

>>chrisevans: Counting down the days until I’m officially the cool uncle. So, so happy for you both!!!❤️<<

>>zendaya: I can already tell this kid’s going to have the best sense of humor. Congrats, you two!😍<<

>>therock: Hugh, let me know when the little one’s ready for some ‘Baby’s First Workout’ tip🤪 Much love to you both!❤️<<

>>blakelively: Congrats babes! Let me know if you need tips on handling an overexcited Ryan😂❤️<<

Fan comments start rolling in too, filling up with heart emojis, funny congratulations, and even more excitement about “Baby Jackman.”

And as the comments keep pouring in, I can’t stop smiling. Here we are, surrounded by love, joy, and humor from the people closest to us—and even from a few who like to tease us along the way.

This is everything I could have dreamed of and more..

.

.

.

The End.

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[jhdyuiee]

treasure trove

𓇼 pairing: husband!johnny x fem!reader

𓇼 tags/warnings: fluff, smut!, unprotected sex, tit job, fingering, multiple positions/orgasms, oral (m receiving), tit/breast play, sucking/marking/biting, kissing/making out, dirty talk, breeding kink, cursing, name calling (good girl) & pet names (wife, babe), sex by the beach :0, rough johnny

𓇼 w.c: 2k

𓇼 a.n: hehe, i told ya'll i'd be back very soon and with my first ever johnny fic no less, hehe. anyhow this is the last release of the week, please stay tuned next weekend for my next releases! thank you for your continuous love and support, i truly appreciate it & i love ya'll just so much! until next week, jiji out 🤍

Maldives. 

Nothing beats the ocean side view. The water so clear, so exquisite. You looked out the window of the restaurant you and your husband were dining in for the night. Today marked a day until your honeymoon was over. You were a bit sad, not wanting this to end, not wanting to leave just yet.

You watched as the sun slowly set, illuminating the beautiful ocean. You were always fond of the ocean, it was the center of all your good moments in life. You teared your gaze from the beautiful ocean to the man in front of you.

Your husband: Johnny Suh.

“I’m starting to think you’re on this honeymoon with the ocean rather than with me,” Johnny says as he swirls the wine in his cup.

You couldn’t help but smile at his commentary. “Jealous of the ocean, Suh?” you teased.

“You’re a Suh too now you know,” he answered, taking the cup of wine to his lips. His face scrunches up when he gets a taste. He sets the glass down, using that hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

“Did I ever tell you how magnificent you look tonight?” your husband speaks, a slight blush adorning your cheeks.

“Yes, yes you have… in fact it's all you’ve said to be tonight,” you told your husband who just looked at you like a love struck fool. He was your fool, head over heels for you. In Johnny’s world he always thanked the lord above for letting him meet someone like you.

“Well, what can I say, my wife is simply just the most radiant woman in the whole world!” he says a bit louder, loud enough for other guests to hear.

You slightly shout his name as you see the few guests turn around to your table. Johnny just laughs, bringing your entwined hands to his lips where he kissed it so lovingly.

“I love you,” he mutters, instantly melting your heart.

“I love you too,” you tell him as you then bring his hand to your lips so you could do the same thing.

And so your dinner with Johnny continued, laughter and smiles radiating from your table. Everyone in that restaurant could feel the love surrounding you two– the newly wedded couple. Once it was time to go, Johnny made sure to take your hand–holding it real tight–and walk you to his car. You noticed there was no one else there except you two, Johnny noticed this too. And Johnny for one was someone who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to do something… revolting.

His hands quickly find their way to your waist, holding you as he slams his mouth onto yours. You could taste remnants of his wine from him, intoxicating yourself. You didn’t mean the wine, but Johnny himself, the man was like an addicting drug, something you couldn’t help but intoxicate yourself with.

You find yourself trapped, being eaten alive almost. His tongue fights against yours, dominance overriding Johnny. His hands lingered on your ass, groping it which caused you to moan into his mouth. He lightly smacks one of your cheeks before soothing it. You could feel your panties begin to wetten, yourself begin to heat up.

He parts from the heated kiss first, instead going to kiss your cheek, jaw, before settling on your neck. He uses one hand to brush away any hairs, leaving your neck in full exposure to him. He nips on your skin before sucking on it. You grab onto his brown locks, holding him as he tries marking you. You were sure you were going to be left in a body full of marks by the time ya’ll leave tomorrow. Well, not that you were complaining.

Once Johnny felt satisfied he parts from your neck, meeting you at eye level. And just as he was about to devour you again, you two hear a woman’s laughter in the distance. You two freeze, instantly sobering up. However you didn’t fail to notice the remnants of lust in Johnny's eyes.

“Just wait until we get into the villa,” he whispers into your ear before taking your hand to guide you to the passenger seat. As you take your seat and he begins to drive off, your mind wanders to all the indecencies that are about to unravel.

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

You two couldn’t make it past the front door before he had you two undressing. You were left in nothing, naked as he sucked on your tits. “How are you so perfect,” he groans against your breast, kissing his way to the other one where he proceeds to suck on your nipple before marking you up. You gripped onto his hair, watching as he loved on your body.

When he’s had enough he brings his lips to yours, pecking them before saying, “why don’t you take care of me now, I’ve been hard ever since the restaurant.” Johnny guides your hand to his hardened member that was still confined by his boxers. You shyly smiled before dropping onto your knees where you then proceed to take them off. His cock springs out, leaking with pre already and the tip looking red.

You licked your lips before inching towards his cock. You dart your tongue out before swirling it around his tip, licking up his pre. You groaned at the sour taste, only focusing on his tip. Johnny looks down at you with an urge to just shove himself down your throat, but he wanted you to do it yourself. He watched as your cute tongue licked his tip before licking his slit. He curses and closes his eyes at the pleasuring sensation.

You looked up, finding your husband in pure ecstasy from just some licking. You felt it was right to now kick things up a notch, so you spit on his cock. You used one of your hands to spread the spit around him, making sure to wet him well. When you felt it was wet enough you begin. 

Johnny opens his eyes again when he feels his cock slide in between something soft, something he knew all too well: your tits.

“Fuck,” Johnny curses as he watches you try to fuck his cock in between your tits. Eventually opting to help you out by thrusting himself in between them, watching as you take his tip inside your mouth.

He knew he wasn't going to last, feeling himself nearing his release. You too could feel it in the way he twitched in between you. So being the caring wife that you are, you helped him out a bit by squeezing your tits a bit tighter and taking him in your mouth more deeper.

Johnny gripped your head, holding it as he came. His warm seeds erupting inside your mouth before you swallowed them. You lick him clean one last time before getting back up. Johnny immediately kisses you, tasting himself on you. You feel as his fingers go to your dripping cunt, he moans at the amount of juice overflowing you right now. He continues, sliding them in between your pussy lips. He barely gets to your entrance before you part from the kiss to say: “Pl-Please Johnny, in-inside… inside me pl-please.”

He groans, “anything for you my wife,” he says, unable to resist your pleas.

He flips your two around, your back against the wall. He takes one of your legs into his hand, holding it as he uses his other hand to bring his cock to your dripping entrance. You watched intently, watched as you swallowed him right up. Your hands fly to his shoulders, holding him as you feel his girth spread your gummy walls apart. He was snug inside you, fitting into you just right.

“So fucking tight, feels so good,” Johnny moans against your ear before kissing it. You mutter a sultry, yes, back to him.

Johnny starts thrusting, in and out, you watched with watery eyes. The pleasure so massive as you feel his cock reach up to your cervix, kissing your womb so nicely. You chant out his name when he continues pumping his length into you ruthlessly. You could feel yourself being fucked into oblivion already. You tightened yourself even more around him. “Fuck, already gonna cum babe?” Johnny asks.

“Mmmm,” you say, unable to cohort a simple sentence. Your fingers scratched Johnny’s back as he continued pounding you against the wall.

Johnny watches you in pleasure, watching the way your tits bounced in front of him. It was a sight he couldn't pass up on. Johnny wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking on the poor thing as you grew closer to your release.

Too lost in the overstimulation from his cock and mouth, you failed to notice his fingers which grazed your clit. It wasn’t until you felt them rub your clit that you felt your eyes widened. Involuntary moans erupted from you as he continued playing with your clit.

“I’m… I’m cumming,” you moaned, as you gushed around his cock. Johnny too moans, loving the way you felt as you came around his cock. He continues his thrusting, overstimulating you into mini orgasms until he finally cums. You still couldn’t get used to how much he would cum, how’d he’d fill you up with such warmth.

However, just when you thought it was over, it wasn’t. Unlike the other nights, tonight Johnny was in a desperation of more. He carried you further inside the villa, rushing to the bedroom. He plops you on the bed, feeling it dip as he climbs on as well. Johnny opens your legs, watching as your and his orgasm mixed together and dripped out of you.

“Say, my dear wife, what if we have a child,” Johnny blurts out.

You didn’t know what to say, was this the cause of his sex driven state or was he genuine? Well, whatever the case, you didn’t mind. You were always talking about how much you wanted a child and were always ready to have one if the time ever arose.

“Do it, get me pregnant tonight my dear husband,” you whispered, pecking his lips. you were testing him, a test Johnny wasn’t going to play by tonight. He backs up a bit, spreading your legs wider before positioning his cock in between your folds. He rubs himself in between them, gathering the remnants of his leaking cum only to push them back inside.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, “I could feel you so deep.”

Johnny smirks, watching your face twist in pleasure, watching as your eyes glistened with tears. He pistoned his thrust, hips slapping against your ass. He continues his ruthless thrust in and out of your cunt as the squelching sounds echoed in the room. He was wrecking your cunt, trying to make sure he was the only one that could ever leave you satisfied for all your life.

“Keep squeezing me babe and you’ll milk me in no time,” he groans, feeling as you squeezed him. “Good girl, just like that,” he then says as he rubs your clit once more.

“I’m go-gonna cum,” you moaned, tongue lolling out, “Cum wi-with me!”

His thrusting falters, going irregular until he finally cums inside you for a second time tonight. Yet he wasn’t done, he still had a promise to uphold. The promise to make sure you left this trip pregnant with his child, our child. And so he fucks his cum into you deeper, not stopping until he’s sure he’s made you pregnant. 

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

Once everything seemed all perfect to him, Johnny takes his cock out of your stuffed pussy. Remnants of his animalistic side, subduing and being replaced by a gentle and cuddly husband. Johnny engulfed you into his body, his warmth, as he whispered sweet-nothings into your ear. 

Then everything fell silent, the ocean waves sounding in the distance lulling you to sleep. You peacefully slept in Johnny’s arms, resting after a long day and night. In the midst of you sleep you felt a hand graze your stomach, and a loving whisper in your ear.

“I promise to protect you both, my treasures.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 10

final a.n: have a great weekend! stay safe! & creds to the person who created the dividers, i lost their tumblr page so i couldn't tag them ahhh

[marahkatoa2000]

Save our life,please!! 🙏🏻🍉🥺

Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR

Hello, I am Marah from Gaza, I am 23 years old, studying at Al-Azhar University.

I am writing these words after deep thought, as the urgent need to save me and my family is beyond my ability to bear.

I would like to add that I am studying law, and I aspired to become a valuable lawyer in my country.

I wished my days would be better and that I would not live in war deprived of my most basic rights.

But the war came and destroyed all our dreams and ambitions.

We had a supermarket and my brother worked in it and our life was very happy, but it was completely destroyed and now we have no source of income.

Also, my mother suffers from an enlarged thyroid gland and diabetes. Because of what we are going through, we cannot provide any treatment; her condition is getting worse.

Also, my father had a stroke because he heard about the loss of our relatives and he also lost our home. He worked all his life to build his life home. We suffer from diseases and lack of clean water.

We are living death.

Please help me protect and help my brother, my family and my cat to bring life and hope back to them. Every donation, even if it's just $5, can make a difference. It means so much to us and our child. Please reshape their lives with love and safety, and help build new hope in them.

The difference in helping me save my family.

I feel so sad and embarrassed to ask for help, but I have no other options left. I know this is a difficult request, but I also know that there is still humanity and conscience and I believe in miracles.

Your support during this very difficult time will give us hope in the midst of devastation and despair.

If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to ask me!

My sincere regards and thank you.

‏https://gofund.me/0d8da7f1

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@sar-soor @appsa @oopollo-blog @fireyfobbitmedicine @el-shab-hussein

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@mobydyke @genderfluidgothwitch

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with-the-wild-hunt@morallyrainyday@taviamoth @olovelymoon @jannahswaiting@el-shab-hussein @longlivepalestina @beesofink @curiOuscreature @orchidvioletindigo @sunclownsblog@selamat-linting @girlinafairytale @ragingbullmode@theneutral-zone @thevalaxy @fairuzfan @opencommunion @gorillawithautism@seafoamwoman

@emathyst9@three-croissants @iznabl @nabulsi @sar-soor @appsa @akajustmerry

[flowerandblood]

Aemond is her biggest supporter for now and I love it! Thank you so much for reading ☺️

The Price of Pride (22/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: trauma, pregnancy-related conditions, some type of suicide attempt, dark visions, the angst, nightmares ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Rȳbās." Her father said. "Repeat."

She saw his face clearly – his narrow eyes, his short white hair combed back, his expression full of boredom and fatigue, which, however, she was not the reason for.

"Ribās." She mumbled, wiggling her short legs as she sat on his lap, looking at the large book in which were written a multitude of words in a language she had never seen before.

Her father sighed.

"No." He said, readjusting her on his lap, feeling her begin to slide downwards. "Rȳbās. Again."

"Ribās." She repeated after him, confident that this time she had said the word correctly.

"Who gave him permission to be with her? To cross the threshold of my fortress without my permission?" She heard her mother's enraged voice behind the wall.

Her father sighed heavily, closed the book and threw it carelessly on the table. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, placing her on the floor; she caught his hand, refusing to let him go.

"Ribās. Ribās. Ribās." She repeated, following him, hoping it would stop him.

"Stay in the chamber." He commanded, so she let him go with eyes full of tears and turned back, bursting into sobs.

He had only just arrived, and was about to disappear again.

She hoped he would return and waited for him, lying covered in thick furs in her bed, however, eventually her eyes began to grow heavy and she fell into a deep slumber.

She thought she felt in her sleep as someone touched her head, someone's lips placed a warm kiss on her forehead, the smell of her father filled her lungs.

When she found out the next day that he had returned to Dragonstone, she burst out crying.

"You should be grateful to me, not wailing. I'm tired of your perpetual weeping. Perhaps you would rather he took you with him? Targaryens have many strange customs. Fathers lie in bed with their daughters, for example." Said her mother, busy eating the roast of a deer she herself had hunted the day before.

She closed her mouth at her words, quivering all over, staring blankly into her plate.

She was awakened by an unpleasant feeling – a spasm in her stomach and a sensation as if she were suffocating. She raised herself up on the sheets in the darkness, unconsciously reaching for the dish standing next to the bed. She only had time to lean over it when she vomited, panting loudly and coughing.

She shuddered all over, terrified, when she felt movement behind her, someone's hand touching her shoulder.

"Haedar. Again?"

In response, she vomited again, louder this time: her stomach squeezed tightly, and she closed her eyelids, trying to survive it.

The silhouette of her father beneath the water, his white hair, his hand stretched towards her, her arrow thrust into his neck, his heavy armour pulling him down – when she grasped him, she had the impression that something had flashed across his face.

A mixture of regret, shame, pleading, as if he wanted to convey to her in that moment everything he hadn't told her over the years. Her heart squeezed at the thought that she saw tenderness in that gaze: that he recognised her as his child, and perhaps he always had.

Perhaps she had never truly understood why he had fled then until now.

And then he let her go.

She burst out crying and shook her head, leaning forward, breathing heavily through her mouth, overwhelmed by this vision, this memory, by the fact that she had been mistaken.

She didn't see her husband's death in her dreams, but her father's.

She felt his face pressed into her neck, his warm, moist lips placing soft, light kisses on her skin to comfort her, his broad hand stroking her arm.

"I'm here. I'm here." He repeated.

She wanted him to do something that would make her shout at him, take it out on him, hate him: she wanted him to say that it meant nothing, that she was being dramatic, that it was a simple, ordinary, feminine weakness that she needed to stand up to. This was what she had expected from him: this was how he always reacted to his own failings, being a harsh and unfair judge in his own case.

He, however, was quiet and calm, full of an understanding from which she felt a discomfort in her stomach.

She was sure that it was a mask and that it would eventually break: that her many days of silence and hysteria would eventually drive him mad, that, tired of her constant despair and the fact that she did not even look at him when he spoke to her, would make him finally descend into the dungeons and find relief in the arms of the beautiful Witch of Harrenhal.

Some part of her wanted him to do it: she wanted him to give her a reason to run far away from him, to abandon him and everything that came with him.

"The Maester has arrived in the fortress. I have ordered him to examine you tomorrow. It worries me that this keeps happening every night." He whispered, snuggling into her back at last, embracing her with his arms around her waist.

His hands did not reach her breasts – he did not try to take her or kiss her on the lips. He held her close and stroked her but did nothing more, as if he knew she would push him away.

She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing what that meant.

That he would find out.

She did not, however, have the strength to object.

"Your wife is expecting your child, Your Grace." Said Maester the next day after he had examined her body closely.

She saw her cousin twitch, his face, previously passive and calm, tense in shock, his eye open wide. He looked at her after a moment, in his gaze the question she had long known she would hear from his lips.

"Leave us." He said.

Her heart pounded like mad in terror as the Maester left the chamber – she played with the soft fur that covered her body clad only in her nightgown, wondering why she was afraid.

She had felt nothing but pain for days, so this sudden new emotion was shocking to her.

He's going to kill me, she thought.

"How long have you known?" He asked.

The tone of his voice was not aggressive, but she heard a hint of irritation in it.

She swallowed hard, feeling that she was having trouble concentrating, finding the right words.

How long had she known?

"The witch told me I was carrying your son, but I didn't confirm it." She muttered.

"But you had a premonition, didn't you?" He continued, a note of pain and regret in his voice.

She merely nodded her head.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you wouldn't take me with you."

Her husband let out a loud breath and turned away, pacing around the room as if trying to calm himself, overcome by many extreme emotions at once.

"How could you hide this from me?"

"You didn't ask."

He turned abruptly towards her and stopped, his lips pressed into a thin line with rage.

"It's my fault, then?" He hissed, clearly losing his temper.

She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to her hands.

"That's not what I said. It's just that if you had asked me, I wouldn't have lied to you. But then you'd be dead and I'd be left fatherless and husbandless." She said dispassionately.

Her cousin looked out of the window – she could see out of the corner of her eye that his chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths.

"You made a fool of me." He said.

She did not answer him.

If he thought so, that was his concern.

She didn't have the strength to think about it.

She shuddered when he suddenly moved from his place and simply left, closing the door behind him with a loud slam of old wood.

She swallowed silently as she felt the heavy tears one by one begin to run down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

She knew it would happen sooner or later, and she was relieved to finally have it behind her. A crack, a rift between them, something that made him pull away from her – she figured he'd been looking for an excuse for this for a long time, and now he'd found the perfect one.

She lay back on the bedding and hugged her face to the pillow, staying in that position until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

When she opened her eyes, there was darkness all around her – she recognised in the shapes she saw before her her chamber in Harrenhal. Her bed was cold – a strange feeling of disappointment ran down her spine when she turned behind herself and saw that he was not lying next to her.

That he hadn't forgiven her.

Maybe he was her now, she thought.

She felt an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach, from which she felt the urge to vomit again – she restrained herself and stood up, heading barefoot towards the door.

The stone Harrenhal was cold and dark – she was surprised that there were no torches burning in the corridors and no guards all around.

In fact, it seemed to her that the fortress was deserted.

She blinked, intrigued, noticing the warm light of the fire in the distance, coming from behind the door of her husband's chamber – some strange kind of relief spread through her heart at the thought that he had not abandoned her. Her quiet footsteps echoing around her, the dripping of water in the distance and the sound of the wind accompanied her on this short journey, but the closer she got to the room, the louder other sounds came from it.

His panting.

She would recognise it was him anywhere – she had heard it too many times – that distinctive heavy way of breathing, interrupted by grunts and low groans of pleasure. As she pushed gently on the door, just enough to see anything, she saw his body bare from the waist down, his nails digging into Alys' buttocks so hard they created bruises.

His thrusts were aggressive, brutal, deep, fast, devoid of tenderness or even desire.

Her green eyes found her in the darkness, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile, from which she felt that sickening feeling in her stomach again.

She stepped back and vomited – one time, then another – her hand found the wall to prop herself up, to escape, to get out, to disappear, whatever that meant.

She hated him.

She hated her.

She wished she had stayed with her father.

She was unable to find her way back to her chamber – instead, narrow, dark corridors led her outside, to a godswood, surrounded by a ruined stone wall. A red, contorted, tear-streaked face looked straight at her, as if it understood her. Her gaze fled to the side – to the space between the stone bricks which was empty, looking like a gateway to a black abyss.

She moved in that direction, thinking that this was what she wanted.

She knew he would betray her.

She knew it from the very beginning, and yet she believed him anyway.

After all, she had begged him not to take her as his wife only to humiliate her later.

But his pride, as always, was more important.

Perhaps their bastard child will rule Harrenhal, but my child will not become his tool, she thought, climbing higher on the remains of the wall that once stood there – looking down into nothingness, she felt terror – her heart pounded like mad, doubt flashed through her mind.

I don't want to die.

Why are they forcing me to do this?

My husband, my father, my mother.

Wasn't I worth being loved truly?

Didn't I deserve to be chosen by someone?

"Hāedar! Come back here!" She heard a voice behind her and blinked – when she looked around, she saw that she was not standing in a godswood, but on what must once have been a tower, standing at the very edge of it. The height from which she was looking down frightened and petrified her, her body began to tremble all over – there was nothing around her that she could grasp.

"Hāedar, turn to me and give me your hand." She heard his voice behind her again, this time pleading and breaking, as if he realised what was about to happen.

"I saw you. You and her." She muttered.

She heard his silence, his heavy breath full of consternation.

"What?" He asked.

"If I had known you would betray me so quickly, I would never have married you." She howled, feeling tear after tear begin to run down her face.

The wind around her was searing her body to the core, her legs scarred from the sharp stones.

Why hadn't she felt this before?

"You enraged me and I set off for a ride on Vhagar's back to cool off. Sheepstealer wailed from afar, so I returned." He explained, and she swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat run down her back as she heard a loud screech in the distance, and then her dragon flew over her head, clearly terrified of what she was about to do.

How could she not have heard him before?

The chaos in her head made her involuntarily turn and look at him over her shoulder, wanting to compare what she saw with his silhouette, his face, his expression, anything that would betray him.

He had his hands raised at the level of his chest, his right arm extending more towards her than his left, as if he wanted to grab her but was afraid to make a move – his healthy eye was open wide in terror, the other was covered by a black eye patch, on his body a long leather riding coat and gloves.

How was he able to change so quickly?

She felt her breath become laboured – she shook her head, taking an involuntary step backwards, towards the precipice.

"You are deceiving me. I know what I saw." She mouthed, and he drew in deep breath as she wobbled and squealed, struggling to catch her balance – he grabbed her by her nightgown and pulled her to him hard, so that she hit his chest with all his strength.

She wanted to push him away, but he wouldn't let her.

And then she felt it.

He didn't smell of intimacy, spend and feminine moisture.

He smelled of dragon and sweat.

He fell to his knees and she fell with him – his arms embraced her tightly, pressing her into his body, his face sinking into her hair.

"– gods – oh, good gods –" He wailed in trembling voice.

It was the first time she had seen him in such a state – he curled up like a small child, and she involuntarily embraced him.

"– I didn't betray you – ever – it's this place – these people – they are cursed – I can feel it in my veins –" He choked out with difficulty, breathing hard, shaking all over as she did.

She closed her eyes, feeling a strange kind of relief.

He wasn't here.

"So who did I see?" She whispered.

"I don't know."

Her husband wanted her to show him the way she had reached this place, but everything looked different. She couldn't recognise a single corner – the corridors were no longer cramped and dark, but spacious, full of lit, bright torches.

How could she have not noticed them?

She swallowed hard when she finally spotted the door she had opened then – it seemed to her that there were only a few steps from it to her chamber.

"We are in the other part of the keep. You may have seen a guard with some servant girl. It happens, hāedar. You are in mourning, in addition you are carrying a child inside you. You are overtired." He said, stroking her back.

For some reason, his calm voice, his understanding, the fact that he wasn't mocking her, comforted her.

She nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I want to sleep in your chamber tonight."

Indeed, when they arrived, she realised that their quarters were right next to each other and she didn't have to travel such a long distance from one door to the other – when she stepped inside, she also remembered that the furniture of his chamber was quite different from what she had seen.

It was as if someone had made her lose focus for a moment, hoping to let that cruel dream lead her.

"That witch. She said that if I wasn't here, you would have taken her the very first night. That you would have begotten a bastard child." She said dispassionately, walking around his room, running her fingers over the top of the table.

Her husband snorted.

"Of course. All that's left for bastards is to give birth to other bastards and hope that the rich father shares his golden coins with them." He grunted, tossing wood into the hearth, thoughtful.

"It must be tempting. The fact that every woman wants your child inside her, and you can have her." She stated.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"And what of it? Aegon begat bastards with half of the whores of King's Landing. If he had been by his wife's side instead of drinking when Daemon's men came to kill his child, perhaps Jaehaerys would still be alive. He blamed me in front of everyone, as if I was his father, because he couldn't look at his own reflection." He said with a disgust that sent a shiver along her spine.

"If you had married Floris. Would you have remained faithful to her?" She asked calmly, without irony or mockery.

Her cousin sighed, still crouching in front of the fire, lowering his gaze to his fingers.

"I would do everything in my power to keep her and my children safe."

"But you would have had lovers." She concluded.

She saw him shrug his shoulders.

"And you? If they forced you to marry some young lord. Would you have had lovers? Would you refuse me?" He asked with a kind of resentment from which she felt a sting in her heart.

She lowered her gaze, realising she didn't know the answer to that question.

"I wouldn't want to humiliate him. I guess I would try to stay away from you to avoid tempting fate." She whispered.

Her husband grinned.

"Big words. My mother used those too for many years." He hummed with mockery. "Either we want someone or we don't. I never wanted Floris. But I began to desire you very quickly."

"You didn't know what would happen to me then." She mumbled.

She heard with surprise that he laughed at her words.

"And what has happened to you, wife? You weep, you despair, you are silent? You have lost your father. Shall I require you to smile, to speak to me, though I myself, after I returned from Storm's End, sat locked in my chamber for weeks? I didn't want to see anyone, hear anyone. My grandfather showered me with advice I didn't ask him for. He called me a fool, as if he thought I didn't understand what I had done, how much I had destroyed. I wanted revenge on Luke, I wanted him to finally pay me for all of his doings, but did I want to kill him? I've been asking myself that question ever since. It occurs to me that when I realised I didn't, Vhagar's maw crushed him and his dragon. She felt my hatred, my bitterness, and devoured him against my orders, as if she knew I was lying." He said, staring into the flames, immersed in his thoughts and memories.

She stared at him in disbelief, silent, surprised that he had brought up the subject of his own free will – they had never discussed it, and she dared not ask, afraid of how he would react to it.

She didn't care if he wanted to kill him or not.

Time could not be turned back.

Nevertheless, the fact that he was using his experience to understand her made her feel a familiar warmth in her heart for the first time in days.

When he looked at her she swallowed quietly, as if caught off guard.

"Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you." He whispered.

She pressed her lips together, feeling tears under her eyes for some reason – they were not tears of sadness and grief, however, as they had been in recent days, but of emotion, of a sense of understanding, of knowing that he really intended to comfort her.

She wasn't ready to return to their intimacy, to this sudden act that was consuming her whole – something about the thought of it frightened her, the feeling that she would burst into sobs or change her mind in the process, leaving him with nothing but frustration.

"I'd like to lay my head on your thighs. I wish you would embrace me and stroke my hair." She mumbled in shame, for some reason feeling that what she said was pitiful.

However, she saw in his gaze that he understood her and that something in that thought pained him.

Was this what he was looking for in a brothel?

Was this what he needed from that woman?

He stood up slowly, pulling off his gloves and coat, placing them on the table top. He approached her, extending his hand to her – she took hold of it and allowed him to guide her towards his bed.

He sat down on it in a half-lying position, pulling his boots off his feet first. He unfastened his tunic and slipped it off his shoulders, laying it over his thighs so as to create something soft for her to lay her head on.

"Come here." He hummed.

She climbed obediently onto the bed and lay with her back to him, so that her spine snuggled into his lower abdomen and her cheek laid against the smooth leather material. He spread his legs so that her whole body fit between them – in some subconscious reflex she pulled her knees up to her chin, feeling safer in this position. She closed her eyes as his broad, warm hand combed through her hair in a gentle motion, repeating the movement again and again.

"Sleep. I'm by your side." He whispered, his other hand covering her with warm fur. She felt him lean in, his full, moist lips placing a kiss on her temple, his arm embracing her entire figure, locking her in a secure grasp.

All she could feel was his closeness, his calm breath on her face, his fingers playing with her dark curls, his gentle lips pressing against the skin of her face again and again.

"You are my only friend." She whispered involuntarily – when she heard herself say those words she felt a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

He was the only one she could speak to honestly.

Only he understood her.

Only he fought for her.

Only he believed in her.

Only he cared for her.

And although she loved him as a husband, a brother, a lover, he, another man made of flesh and blood, exactly like her, was the one she loved the most.

She was at the worst, most difficult time of his life, and he was there for her, patient and tender, full of an understanding she had not expected from him.

The cruel, cold man she had seen for the first time that day, locked in the dungeon, had shown himself ready for such deeds, such words, such sacrifices.

She felt his arm press her tighter against his body, his face sinking into her neck.

"And you are mine."

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Samba's Death by Cheese Class Notes 11/09/2024

So generally when we get these classes, Samba shares BTS info. This is what I could write down when I wasn't making the Mac.

Pic Source: Samba's Instagram of his dish

Questions:

What was the longest scene to film?

First episode of Stede going down the steps talking about "mentally devastated". They were spending a lot of time riffing and figuring out the characters. They asked everyone to make something up-- Roach said: "First you skin them alive"- each Swede - "First you keep it in side, and then you go home, and then you take it out on your loved ones"

In S2 = The torture scene took the longest to film. Samson and Roach had those clamps on their head the whole time (multiple days of shooting and it sucked) Rhys pulled his shoulder being tied to the mast. Vico and Madeline were nauseous from laying with their feet up in the air for so long. Con and Kristian were tied together, and Samba was saying how con came up to Kristians knee (affectionately)"

What was the story behind the first run of Stede being glammed up by the crew and the sexual tension (before calypsos birthday was written).

Wee John was gonna glam up Stede, add eye shadow, give him a makeover - pierced earring, wear a low cut shirt, and then Blackbeard would notice him-- but then they all decided that it would be better that Blackbeard and Stede bond over this scene of Stede coming into his pirate captainness (or the trauma from it)

More BTS:

The cast hadn't worked together before (except like Rhys and Taika, David Fane and Taika, and Sampson and Joel)

Apparently Samson almost killed them when he threw a sword up in the air. They decided after that the guys wouldn't be doing any major battle scenes or stunts. "You can do yardies that's as far as you go"

They didn't get to learn too much ship work, besides belaying, that's why it always looks like people are just like mopping or hammering in the background. Samba, Kristian, and Nathan wanted to practice throwing rope in the water to save people, Kristian threw it like Hodor, Nathan threw it "GAY" (and he has a video-- but didn't say anything about sharing it)

Talked about making the dish in New Zealand for Rhys and the cast:

He did a lot of impressions of Con, and said "Oh Con, didn't see you there" Looking at the floor "This is delicious, how much cheese is in this?" - Con "Hey! Stop kicking me!" - Samba" "15 Cups"- Samba "15 cups!?" - Con, and then Samba said he just had to pick Con up and calm him down. "Ok put him in the corner!" - Samba (All of this said affectionately)

Mermaid Jizz

People asked about Mermaid Jizz in chat, and the ASL Interpreter was being very good at interpreting things (Berto is the man!)

Funnily enough, apparently this wasn't the raunchiest chat, Felicia Day had people talking about lightning bolts coming out of their Anus, and Berto said something like "nothing can top Jewel" We need this story Berto. Please.

Silly Pronunciations:

Co-Land-Err, and Pap-Ree-cah

Dirty Jokes While Talking about the dish:

"You want it to be nice and sticky like Lucius' Sheets"

"Nice and coated, like blackbeard on calypsos birthday, and the inn happening right now"

"Gentle and easy, like the gentleman pirate"

"Moist, Lucius' favorite word"

Love being sent to all of us:

We need to band together and support each other. Thank you for supporting the LA food bank, it means a lot to Samba personally.

Love Conquers all Cast and Fans are Bonded for eternity "You and I we are like Lucius and Black Pete. Nothing can keep us apart-- or not, never mind that's too sticky".

Love to everyone, he is not leaving twitter because actors HAVE to have multiple socials-- but he'll look into if he can hop onto BlueSky

If you attended the class and shared your results, please tag Samba Schutte and Momentus on the socials!

If you all remember anything I missed please let me know or reblog with it please! I was trying to write everything down while making this monstrosity lol.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 11

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Summary: The Deciever has a question for his Sweet One.

Tags: fluff. Like FLUFF. He may be deranged but he's got a soft spot. Also, told you I was gonna make the Annatar bow angsty.

Notes: the fic is out of order now because I have a lot going on and ITS MY FIC OK OK. Not having to have everything in order has given me so much inspo that within the next 24 hours there could be 2 more parts and 2 other things too soo. I love you all. Thank you for your support. My dms and inbox are always open, also if you wanna give me like a lil tip it would be appreciated.

Halbrand leaned against the archway to the library and watched you as you read through the scrolls and histories. It's how you'd spent your days since coming to Eregion. He worked on the elven rings, and you were here, reading. It was endearing to him that you sought knowledge in such a way. Proof that he had made the right choice in you.

There had to be three. Just as there had to be three rings.

Him with his power and darkness.

Galadriel with her wisdom and light.

You with your goodness and warmth to balance them out.

Three.

Though, he only desired you. Only loved you. You were what he was doing all this for. He had to create a lasting peace. He had to make Middle Earth safe and perfect. He had to overcome this pesky issue of your mortality. He could not allow you to live in a broken world. He would not allow you to come to harm, and, selfishly, perhaps, he could not let you die. The rings were for you. His ambitions and goals revolved around you.

All for you.

At least, that is what he made himself believe. If he was truly honest, he had different motives as well. Motives of power and control. Motives that would have driven him down this path if you'd never met. His deception was so great that he was able to hide that away. He was able to believe the ends justified the means. And if you were what was at the end, there was no depravity he could not justify.

Watching you now, you were breathtaking with your eyes focused and strands of hair falling in your face. You'd taken full advantage of the beautiful wardrobe and styles of the elves. Intricate, delicate strands of silver were braided through your hair. You wore a dress of light blue with more silver, and the delicate chains only served to accentuate your curves. He had thought you were beautiful in the Numenorian garb, but now you looked stunning. Breathtaking. He'd seen the most beautiful of the elves, the Silmarils, the light of creation. Yet you were greater than them all.

“I know you're there,” you spoke, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips, but your eyes never moved from the page.

“And yet you stare only at your books. My heart can not help but break.” He teased. “I will not be shamed for staring at the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

He smirked at your blush, approaching you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. He noticed that the back half of your hair was pulled up and tied into a bow. He chuckled softly and rested his chin on your shoulder. “What do you read now?”

“A tale of a human and elf falling in love,” you relaxed into his embrace.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, up to your cheek before turning your head so he could capture your lips in a soft kiss. “Last week, it was the fall of elven cities. This week, it's romance. You never cease to amaze me.”

“You are easily amazed, then.”

“Do not doubt yourself, sweet one.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, turning you around in his arms and lifting you to sit on the edge of the table. “I am in awe of you always, but recently, I'm in awe of these things you do with your hair. A bow?” He teased softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Do you not like it,” The way you looked up at him, seeking his approval, it mirrored the expression you wore when you were on your knees begging for him. His fingers tightened on your hips, restraining from taking you on the table.

“I do. It suits you.” He smiles softly, his eyes softening as he sees your bright smile.

“Perhaps you could grow your hair, and I can do it to you. I've seen elves of all kind wear it,” there was an excitement to your voice as you spoke.

He chuckled, “Perhaps one day, if we are parted, I will wear it as a reminder of you when my heart yearns for you.”

“You jest.”

“I do no such thing. You have plenty of things to remember me by,” his fingers traveled down to the intricate necklace of copper he'd made for you at the forge in Numenor. You always wore it. “I shall have the hair bow.”

You frowned, and his thumb traced the downward turn of your lips, his head tilted in a silent question. “Perhaps if I were to have more coin, I could get you something. Perhaps…”

Your words were muffled as he pressed a kiss to your lips. His hands held your face as he deepened it. It was only when he felt his body react that he pulled away. His nose brushed yours. “You have given me more than enough.”

You smiled up at him, face flushed and lips swollen. His thumb gently caressed your cheeks.

“I don't intend to ever be parted from you,” he whispered softly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I mean it.”

He pulled away, searching his pockets for a moment before pulling out a ring. It had a silver band and a small blue gem at the center. He knew it was more than a simple band. He knew of the power he placed in it. The materials he snuck from the forge to add to it. It would need to be perfected in time to come, but for now, it would do what he needed it to. It would increase your lifespan, heal your wounds faster, and It created a connection with him, wherever you were.

It also served as a symbol. That you were his. That his feelings for you were real. His intentions were true.

He looked at it for a moment before looking at you. “ In elven culture, it's customary to give your betrothed a silver ring that you wear until marriage. At that time, they were traded for gold bands. I added a bit more. A gem as blue as the waters that brought us together.”

You gasped softly, looking at the ring and then to him.

“It's the custom of your people to ask the family but you have none. The family who warded you is gone as well. I have no one to ask for your hand but you. As such, I felt that I should give you the same proposal in which I would have given your father.”

He stood up straight, one hand on your chin directing you to look at him. “You fill me with a warmth I've never known. I no longer know who I am if not with you. I was lost and astray, without hope or purpose. It was as if the gods themselves put you on my path. You are a beacon of hope, your smile my purpose. There is nothing I would not do for you, no trial I would not face. I love you. I adore you. I have never thought of children until I met you, and now I know I want to make you a mother. I want to make you my wife.”

He brushed away a tear that had fallen from your eyes, “I give you the choice, I would never force anything upon you. Do you want that? Do you want me?” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Fuck, I'm so nervous I can't talk. Just tell me, yes or no? Will you marry me?”

You laughed, nodding your head. He slid the ring onto your finger before lifting you and twirling you around. As he set you down, you looked at the ring on your finger.

“I never thought I'd be betrothed. I never thought I'd choose who I could marry.” You smiled up at him, and it filled him with joy unimaginable.

“I never thought I'd give a woman a romantic speech or truly want to settle down.” He rested his forehead against yours once more. “I'm a changed man thanks to you. Near unrecognizable to that drifter on the raft.”

“That is true. You will be a king soon.” You gasped suddenly as a realization dawned on you. “ I'm going to be a queen. Me? A queen” you laughed softly at the thought.

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That is true. As soon as my business here is done, we can return to the southlands and be wed, and you can meet all your subjects.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I'm not sure I like the thought of having subjects.”

“Of course you don't, “ he rolled his eyes but didn't stop smiling. “Why don't we go back to our chambers, and I can show you how devoted of a subject I am?”

Your cheeks turned red, and you buried your face in his neck. He placed a kiss on your head, “I'll kneel and worship my queen.”

“Halbrand,” you spoke, pulling back and giving him a look.

“I'll fill you with my warmth.”

"Stop it!” You smacked his arm,causing him to laugh deeply and wrap his arms around you for a tight hug.