#THE LITTLE HAMMER TURNED INTO A SCOOP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

p0orbaby · 2 months ago

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Spend the Night with You, Spend My Life with You

summary: sex, snow and three little words

warnings: SMUT 18+, strap use

a/n: these two are so hopeless it hurts

word count: 3.5k

part 1

The edge of the kitchen island bites into your stomach as Alexia pushes you forward, her hands gripping your hips with a steady, deliberate pressure. You splay your fingers across the cool marble, desperate for purchase, but the smooth surface offers nothing to hold on to. When her hips snap forward, the shock of it ripples through your entire body, a gasp catching in your throat.

Your hand shoots out instinctively, grasping for anything to ground you. It lands on the hammered copper bowl at the edge of the counter. The movement sends it spinning off balance, and a dozen oranges tumble onto the floor, rolling in lazy, chaotic arcs. The bowl clatters noisily, a sound that echoes off the tiled walls. Neither of you reacts. You’re too far gone.

Alexia leans into you from behind, her chest pressing against your back as her hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, her touch both reverent and possessive. The weight of her against you is grounding, her skin hot where it meets yours. Her lips find the nape of your neck, and she bites—hard enough to sting, hard enough to make you gasp again.

You feel her breath against your ear, hot and ragged. “You’re perfect,” she murmurs, the words almost swallowed by the sounds of your own shallow breathing.

Your head falls forward, your forehead brushing the cold marble. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the weight of her hands on your hips, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“Alexia,” you breathe, her name tumbling out of you unbidden, as if it’s the only word you’ve ever known.

Her answer comes in the way her hips press harder against yours, the rhythm she’s set becoming a language all its own. There’s nothing else, nothing outside the space you’ve carved out together. The world could be ending, and it wouldn’t matter.

Her movements are sure, deliberate, her hands sliding from your hips to your stomach, then lower, fingers brushing over the heat of your skin. You shudder beneath her, your legs threatening to give out, but she holds you steady, her strength a reminder of the control she wields effortlessly.

“Look at me,” she commands, her voice low but firm, cutting through the haze that clouds your thoughts.

You lift your head, craning your neck to meet her gaze over your shoulder. Her eyes are dark, endless, and they pin you in place more effectively than any touch ever could. There’s something in her expression—a tenderness that feels at odds with the raw, almost brutal edge of what’s happening—and it makes your chest tighten.

“I love you,” she says, and the simplicity of it leaves you breathless.

It’s the first time she’s said it, the first time either of you has dared to name this thing between you. And even though you’d already come to terms with your feelings in the quiet of your own mind, hearing it out loud is like a punch to the gut.

You turn your head back, pressing your cheek against the cool surface of the counter, unable to face her for more than a moment. But her hands are insistent, guiding you upright, pulling you back against her chest. One arm wraps around your waist, holding you close, while her free hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet her eyes again.

“Say it,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.

You hesitate, the words lodged in your throat, but the way her eyes soften—hopeful and unrelenting—undoes you completely.

“I love you,” you admit, the words breaking on a gasp as her hand slides lower, her touch erasing any lingering doubts.

The air between you shifts, heavy with something unspoken but deeply understood. Her mouth finds yours, the kiss urgent and messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling as if she’s trying to devour the words you’ve just given her.

Your legs shake, and she senses it, so she pulls out and scoops you up with an ease that borders on arrogance. Your thighs lock around her waist instinctively, the movement both desperate and defiant, and your arms loop around her neck like you might otherwise drift away. She doesn’t falter, doesn’t pause. She carries you as if you weigh nothing, as if your feverish kisses and clumsy, grasping hands don’t threaten to frustrate her with every step.

You’re not sure where she’s taking you; there’s no plan, only the friction of her fingertips digging into the backs of your thighs and the insistent pressure of her mouth on yours. You lose yourself in the motion, in the heat of her skin beneath her shirt—a cotton button-down you vaguely recall unbuttoning in a fit of impatience. It’s pale blue, maybe linen, and creases easily, but somehow, on her, even its rumpled state looks deliberate. The kind of effortless chic that you hate to admit you envy.

The bedroom is the goal, you think, until it isn’t. Until the two of you crash onto the rug in front of the fireplace. A soft furnishing you remember buying on a whim—hand-woven by a fourth-generation family in the Atlas Mountains, the kind of purchase that implies you’re a person with taste, with distinction. It’s soft in some places, coarse in others, but all you can focus on is the way Alexia’s body moves against yours, her breath hot against your neck, her hands mapping out territory she already owns.

“God, you’re perfect,” she murmurs, her voice rough, a little breathless, and it’s absurd how much the words undo you. You feel her lips against your collarbone, then lower, her tongue tracing a line along the curve of your breast before she takes your nipple into her mouth. Your back arches, your breath catching, and you’re distantly aware of the way your legs tighten around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

The fire is building, frantic and all-consuming, and you’re helpless to stop it. Not that you want to. Not when her hands are on you, coaxing, demanding, grounding you in a way nothing else ever has. You lose yourself in her touch, her voice, her everything.

Time becomes a blur after that. The weight of her body, the press of her hands, the sound of her voice—low and rough and threading its way through the space between you—it’s all-consuming. You don’t remember when you stopped thinking, when you let go of the need to control the situation, or her, or yourself. But it’s somewhere between her mouth finding yours again and the sheer mess of your limbs tangling together, her strength pinning you exactly where she wants you.

When it’s over, when the storm of her finally settles into something quieter, her head resting against your shoulder and her breath warm against your neck, you remember.

“We’re late,” you announce, your voice cutting through the silence with all the grace of a car alarm.

Alexia doesn’t move at first, her body still draped lazily over you, hot breath tickling the damp skin of your neck. “What?” she hums, not lifting her head.

“Skiing” you say, as though it’s obvious. “The booking. The gear hire. The… everything.” You gesture vaguely toward the coffee table, where your itinerary sits, printed and highlighted and unnecessarily laminated.

She looks up then, and for a moment she just stares at you, blinking, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. Then, to your utter dismay, she starts laughing. It’s not a small laugh, either. It’s full-bodied, rich, and entirely at your expense.

“You’re joking,” she says between breaths, though it’s clear she knows you’re not.

“I’m not,” you insist, pushing her off you, though the movement feels like betrayal—like cutting the power to a film just as the climax hits. “The lift tickets were pre-booked. There’s a window. A strict window that were going to miss”

“And whose fault is it that?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yours,” you reply, deadpan. “You’re the one who decided to… well, distract me”

Alexia laughs again, a soft sound that’s warm and infectious and entirely too easy to forgive. “Distract you? That’s rich, coming from the person who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves”

“Don’t deflect,” you say, sitting up to make a point this is in fact very serious. “Do you know how much coordination it took to set this up? The calls? The emails? The back-and-forth with their useless website that doesn’t recognise international postcodes? And the ski instructor alone was a nightmare to book. He’s apparently some kind of legend—teaches everyone from A-listers to politicians to royalty. His name’s Pierre, which is almost too on the nose, but I digress. The point is, he’s probably been standing there for twenty minutes now, wondering if we’ve been mauled by wolves”

She grins, shaking her head, and there’s something infuriatingly fond about the way she looks at you. “You’re very dramatic”

“No, I’m being organised,” you counter, scrambling to your feet and reaching for your discarded shirt. “This was your idea, remember? ‘Let’s try skiing,’ you said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ you said”

“It will be fun,” she says, still seated on the floor, her hair dishevelled, her shirt hanging off one shoulder. She looks maddeningly good like this, like she belongs in some high-end editorial spread titled Après Passion.

“Not if we miss the slot,” you mutter, pulling your shirt over your head and avoiding her gaze. “Do you know what happens if you’re late? They give your spot away. To people on a wait list”

She doesn’t move immediately, instead she sits there on your hand-woven rug watching you with an expression that’s equal parts fond and exasperated. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re like this,” she says, her voice teasing.

“Like what?”

“Frantic. Bossy. Pretending you don’t care when you obviously do”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “Just get dressed. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can go back to not caring”

The beginner slope—charmingly nicknamed “Bunny Hill”—is far steeper than Alexia had anticipated. She stands rigidly at the edge, her boots clipped into rental skis that are alarmingly bright, the sort of neon green you associate with aggressive cycling brands or obnoxious trainers. You wonder if they’re intentionally loud, designed to help instructors spot the inevitable bodies sprawled across the snow.

Beside her, you’re dressed in a Moncler ski suit so pristine it practically sparkles in the sunlight. The stitching is quilted in perfect geometric diamonds, and the fur-lined hood is deliberately oversized, framing your face like the edges of a Vogue cover shoot. Your skis are top-tier: Fischer RC4 World Cups, chosen partly for their reputation and partly because the matte black matches your poles. You’ve already waxed them twice this season, though they probably didn’t need it. Your goggles, Oakleys with custom polarised lenses, sit snugly over your face, and you’re already warm, thanks to the base layer that cost more than the deposit on your first flat.

Alexia is, as always, frustratingly nonchalant. Her goggles, brand-new Oakleys you’d insisted on buying for her, sit slightly crooked on her face, the strap twisted in a way that makes your fingers itch to adjust them. The matching jacket, a sleek, insulated Patagonia shell in a shade of deep red that complements her complexion, fits perfectly—though she wears it like it’s just another hoodie tossed on before training. The trousers, Arcteryx, are so crisp they almost crackle, the tags having been snipped off mere hours ago. She looks every bit the part of a seasoned skier, though her posture suggests she’s waiting for the whole ordeal to be over so she can sit by the fire with a hot drink.

She shifts awkwardly, her poles dragging in the snow. “This is steeper than I thought”

You glance at the slope. It’s a nursery hill. Literal children are whizzing past with confidence, some barely old enough to tie their own shoelaces. A mother is halfway down, calling encouragement to a toddler in a lime-green snowsuit who is spinning in place, his skis forming an accidental snow angel.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, perhaps too casually, because she turns to look at you, her eyes narrowed.

“I’m not used to this,” she says, gesturing vaguely at the expanse of white in front of her. “You didn’t mention it would feel so… exposed”

You shrug. “You’ll pick it up quickly. You’re an athlete”

“Exactly, I don’t want to break my leg before the season starts”

Her caution surprises you. This is Alexia Putellas, who spends most of her life hurling herself into situations where bones break as casually as fingernails. But now, faced with the prospect of skiing, she’s hesitant, almost timid. It’s endearing, if not mildly irritating.

Pierre, your instructor for the day, is waiting at the bottom of the hill. His presence alone feels like an Arian tourism advertisement: flaxen hair, sharp cheekbones, and a jawline you could slice cheese on. His ski suit is a garish shade of blue, the logo of a the resort emblazoned across his chest. He waves at you both, teeth so white they practically refract the sun.

“Everyone is going to laugh at me,” Alexia mutters, her grip tightening on her poles.

“Maybe, but Pierre doesn’t count,” you say, ignoring the way she winces at the name. “He’s Swiss. They’re born on skis.”

She takes a deep breath and adjusts her goggles, the anti-fog coating catching the light. “Alright. I can do this”

She can’t do this, you quickly learn.

The moment she pushes off, it’s clear she’s underestimated the logistics. Her knees are too stiff, her weight too far back, and the skis seem to have a mind of their own. She picks up speed alarmingly quickly, her arms flailing in an almost cartoonish attempt at balance. You watch in horror as she veers toward the edge of the slope, narrowly missing a child who stares after her with wide-eyed bewilderment.

“Bend your knees!” you shout, though it’s futile.

Somehow, she manages to slow herself down enough to come to an abrupt, awkward halt halfway down the hill. She’s breathing heavily, her face flushed—not from exertion but from what you suspect is a mix of terror and mortification.

“What was that?” she calls up to you, her voice high-pitched.

“You were leaning back,” you reply, sliding toward her with an ease you know she finds infuriating. “Your centre of gravity was off”

“No shit,” she mutters, bending over to adjust her boots.

When you reach her, you make a show of stopping gracefully, your skis forming a perfect parallel line. You stand over her like an insufferable authority figure, which, let’s be honest, you are.

“Look,” you say, your tone breezy. “It’s all about weight distribution. Shift forward. Use your knees to absorb the movement. It’s physics”

She looks up at you, incredulous. “Are you seriously quoting physics to me right now?”

“Would you prefer I quote Pythagoras?”

“I’d prefer you stop being smug”

You grin. “I’m not being smug. I’m being helpful”

She scowls, but there’s no real venom in it.

Eventually, she makes it to the bottom, though not without incident. She topples twice, once taking out a marker pole and once nearly colliding with Sven, who watches the whole debacle with the stoicism of someone who’s seen far worse.

“I’m retiring,” Alexia declares when she finally comes to a stop, her skis splayed at an awkward angle.

“You’re fine,” you say, brushing snow off her jacket.

“I’m not fine. My pride is in pieces”

“Pride heals faster than a broken leg,” Pierre says, his tone unhelpfully chipper.

The lodge, when you finally retreat to it, is a welcome reprieve, a perfect cliché of alpine charm. The interior is all dark wood and exposed beams, the kind that might be reclaimed or might just be faux-rustic, it’s hard to tell. Roaring fireplaces anchor every corner, their stone mantels adorned with garlands of holly and pine cones sprayed with artificial snow. The air is thick with the scent of mulled wine, damp wool, and wood smoke, mingling in a way that makes the space feel both comforting and mildly suffocating.

Alexia slumps into a seat near the fireplace, tugging off her goggles with the dramatic sigh of someone who’s just endured a life-altering trauma. She drops them onto the table, where they skid across the varnished surface before coming to rest against a cast iron candleholder.

“I hate this,” she announces, slouching low in her chair like a moody teenager who’s just been told to tidy their room.

“You don’t hate this,” you say, sliding into the seat opposite her and unzipping your jacket with far less fanfare. “You hate not being good at it”

She glares at you, her jaw tightening in that way it always does when you’ve hit the mark. It’s the same glare she gives referees when a call doesn’t go her way, and it’s just as ineffective now as it is then.

“Admit it,” you press, unable to resist poking the bear. “You’re annoyed because skiing isn’t something you can dominate after five minutes of practice”

“I’m annoyed because skiing is stupid,” she retorts, though the defensive edge in her voice gives her away. “Who even decided sliding down a mountain with sticks strapped to your feet was a good idea?”

“Norwegians, probably,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Blame them”

She grumbles something in Spanish, too low for you to catch, but the sharpness of her tone tells you it’s probably an insult aimed at both the Norwegians and you.

Before you can tease her further, a server appears with hot chocolates. They’re obscene—decadent monstrosities served in oversized ceramic mugs. Each one is piled high with whipped cream, dusted with cocoa powder, and garnished with sugar-dusted gingerbread stars precariously balanced on the rim. A stray marshmallow floats in the froth, its edges beginning to dissolve.

Alexia stares at hers like it’s personally offended her.

“What?” she demands when you burst into laughter.

“Nothing,” you say, though your smirk gives you away entirely. “It’s just… not very you, is it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Nothing,” you repeat, though you can’t stop yourself from glancing pointedly at the gingerbread star perched on her mug like it’s auditioning for next year's John Lewis Christmas advert.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” she mutters, picking up a marshmallow and lobbing it at you without warning.

It hits your sleeve, leaving a faint, sticky smudge of melted sugar on your Moncler jacket. You look down at it, then back at her, your expression perfectly deadpan.

“Childish,” you say, flicking the marshmallow back at her.

She dodges it with the expected reflexes of someone who captains her national team, though the movement is so exaggerated it draws the attention of the couple at the next table. You give them an apologetic smile, but Alexia just grabs her spoon and scoops an alarming amount of whipped cream off her hot chocolate.

“Don’t you dare,�� you warn, raising a hand in mock surrender.

Her smirk is pure mischief as she leans forward, balancing the spoon precariously. “You started it”

“And best believe me, I’ll finish it too,” you say, though your tone lacks conviction.

She takes this as permission and flings the whipped cream in your direction. It lands squarely on your shoulder, and the entire room seems to pause as you stare at the mess now streaking your ski suit.

“You're five,” you say flatly, reaching for a napkin.

“You deserved it,” she replies, utterly unrepentant, leaning back in her chair with a victorious grin that makes your stomach flip in a way you’re starting to find annoyingly familiar.

You shake your head, suppressing a smile as you wipe the sticky smudge off your sleeve. The lodge hums around you—soft chatter, the occasional clink of glasses, the crackle of the fire—and yet it feels like the world has narrowed to just this table, just her.

She’s still grinning when you glance back up, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. It’s infuriating. And addictive.

“You’re a pain,” you mutter, more to yourself than to her, but she hears it anyway.

“Yet, you still love me,” she quips, her tone light, teasing, but there’s something in her eyes—something unguarded and fleeting, like a glimpse of light through a crack in the curtains.

It makes your chest ache, but not in a way that hurts. It’s the kind of ache you feel when you’re exactly where you’re meant to be, when everything finally clicks into place.

You shrug, trying to play it cool even as your pulse stumbles over itself. “Maybe I do”

Her grin softens, just slightly, and for a second, it feels like the world pauses. The fire crackles, the snow falls softly outside, and all the noise of the lodge blurs into background static.

Then she picks up her mug, takes an exaggerated sip of her hot chocolate, and smirks. “Lucky me”

Lucky her indeed.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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keferon · 3 months ago

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TexAid continues to rot my brain I hope you don't mind I had an idea for Shockwave. Warning for mentioned super unethical experimentation.

====

Vortex didn’t remember the first day his dad had brought him to work. He’d been too young, young enough to have stars in his eyes about giant robots and a desire to be tested by the cool machines his dad worked on, according to what he’d been told. The standard idiot child.

Of course that had been where him being standard had ended.

But that meant he had grown up at the facility, that he knew it better than almost anyone else and knew everyone in it. Which was why he was currently keeping his cockpit shut tight even as First Aid kept hammering the button to open it.

Shockwave, the only pilot to ever make it to retirement was on the other side of his one way red glass visor staring like he could see through it. Maybe he could. Once upon a time he had been kind. Once upon a time he had actual eyes instead of the bionic yellow glow that shrunk and grew as he focused it.

His mech had had a fatal accident, one that should have killed him too. But Shockwave hadn’t been lucky enough to die, instead he had been a test subject, to see if machine and human could get just a little closer to being one.

Vortex had never liked any of his pilots enough to care but looking at Shockwave made him mentally promise First Aid that he would never let him live if he got heavily wounded in a fight. If Vortex was dying he’d take the other man with him as a mercy. Better that than this, having everything he was scooped out.

One metal hand came up to tap on his glass, like he was knocking on the door of a house. “Vortex let me meet him, I want to see why this one is special.”

First Aid stopped trying to open the visor and slunk back behind the pilot seat and if Vortex could relax he would have at having him less exposed. Vortex wondered if he should chew First Aid up a little? Make him less special? But it was too late.

The only consolation was that his reputation as a pilot killer protected First Aid, made him too valuable to let him be dragged down into Shockwave’s lab for tests that weren’t a guaranteed success.

Shockwave continued, “Wouldn’t you like to have a body again? The first mech to human full-translation. You're an ideal candidate for obvious reasons.” But of course that wasn’t what he really wanted. No Shockwave’s real project was human to mech translation, more than what had been done to him, on a grander scale than replacing most of a human with a machine. Shockwave was large, but he was still person sized.

Vortex had been smart enough to keep his existence at rumors and Shockwave couldn’t prove he was in here. He was trying to use First Aid to lure him out.

He felt First Aid’s hands tighten on the back of the seat, as if he was ready to fight being pulled away from it. But Vortex kept his cockpit closed and after a long time Shockwave sighed and turned away. “Well perhaps once you get bored of him, just leave him in usable pieces.”

Vortex watched him jump off the gangway and heard the sound of metal hitting the ground below him before easy footsteps. For a moment he was jealous of what Shockwave had, but not at that price. Even after he was gone it took a long moment before Vortex let his cockpit open. It took longer for First Aid to leave it.

OH DAMN…

YOU KNOW WHAT. As much as I love Senator Shockwave. The Idea of him being that creepy fucking scientist really fits here oh my god

Previous Next

#tf mecha universe #ALSO VORTEX BEING PROTECTIVE OVER FIRST AID #YS PLEASE #WONDERFUL FJFNNFJFMVNV

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hayhenna · 22 days ago

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"Falling Apart"

Life on the Oro Jackson was never dull, but today was especially ridiculous.

“ACHOO!”

With a violent sneeze, Buggy’s left arm detached and flopped onto the deck.

“Ah, crap—wait, no!”

Before Buggy could react, his right leg gave out, his torso slid sideways, and his head rolled clean off his shoulders, landing with a dull thud at Shanks’ feet. His limbs were now scattered around him like a poorly assembled action figure.

Shanks stared down, holding back a laugh. "Well, that’s new."

Buggy’s floating hand weakly flipped him off.

"I swear to Roger, if you laugh, I’ll—ACHOO!" His nose popped off this time.

Shanks finally lost it, doubling over with laughter. “Buggy, you’re literally falling apart.”

“No shit, genius,” Buggy groaned. His detached arms twitched, but no matter how hard he tried, they wouldn’t reconnect properly. His powers were too weak from the fever. “Ugh, I can’t even put myself back together! This sucks.”

Shanks bent down, scooping up Buggy’s head and holding it in his hands. Buggy’s cheeks were flushed—not from embarrassment (yet) but from the fever burning him up.

“Alright, come on. Let’s get you to bed before we lose more pieces of you,” Shanks said.

Buggy let out a tired grumble. “No way. I don’t need your help.”

Shanks gave him a pointed look. "Buggy. You are literally disassembled on the floor."

"…Fine."

Getting Buggy to the infirmary was an adventure on its own.

Shanks had to carry Buggy’s head under his arm while gathering his limbs one by one, all while dodging the amused looks of the crew. At one point, he nearly tripped on Buggy’s knee rolling across the deck.

“Oi, Shanks,” one of the crew members called. “That’s some puzzle you got there.”

“Shut it!” Buggy’s head snapped, but it just made him cough.

By the time they reached the infirmary, Buggy was too exhausted to complain anymore. Shanks pieced him back together the best he could—some parts still refused to attach properly, leaving Buggy’s hand backward and his foot twitching randomly.

“Looks like you’re gonna be a little crooked for a while,” Shanks teased.

Buggy shot him a tired glare but didn’t have the energy to argue. He just sank into the bed, exhaling heavily.

Shanks sat beside him, watching as Buggy’s usual fiery attitude dimmed under his exhaustion. For the first time, Buggy looked… peaceful.

“You’re being quiet,” Shanks said, folding his arms. “That’s kinda weird.”

Buggy huffed weakly. “Too tired to yell at you, dumbass.”

Silence stretched between them, comfortable but unfamiliar. Then, Buggy muttered something so low that Shanks almost missed it.

“…I’m glad it’s you.”

Shanks blinked. “Huh?”

Buggy turned his feverish gaze toward him trying to reach his hand. "If someone had to take care of me… I’d rather it be you."

Shanks’ heart skipped a beat.

Buggy’s usual sharp, taunting expression was softer now, his long eyelashes casting shadows against his flushed cheeks. His pale skin was tinged pink, the fever making his chest rise and fall faster than usual, each breath shaky. A bead of sweat slipped down from beneath his headband, trailing along his temple before disappearing into his messy blue hair.

Shanks swallowed. He had seen Buggy angry, smug, cackling like a madman—but this? This was new. And it made his pulse hammer in his ears.

“W-Where is this coming from?” Shanks asked, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.

Buggy sighed, half-laughing. “Remember that time I tried to storm off during a fight, but my legs went the other way, and you had to chase them down?”

Shanks grinned, forcing himself to focus. “Oh yeah. That was hilarious.”

Buggy rolled his eyes but smirked a little. “Yeah, well… you always pick up my pieces, huh?”

Shanks’ throat went dry. There was something about the way Buggy said it—so casual, but so genuine.

Before he could figure out what to say, Buggy leaned in slightly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Shanks’ brain completely short-circuited.

“…!!!”

Buggy smirked at his reaction. "Ha. You’re blushing."

Shanks, still flustered, grumbled, “You definitely aren’t sick enough if you’re still teasing me.”

Buggy chuckled, but his eyelids were drooping now, exhaustion finally winning. As he drifted off, Shanks watched over him, his own hand brushing over where Buggy had kissed him.

…Yeah. This wasn’t so bad.

----

End ♥️🩵

#buggy the clown #shuggy #one piece #shanks x buggy #red haired shanks #buggy one piece #shanks #buggy #one shot

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liliacamethyst · 1 year ago

Text

Sneak Peak Part V - Web of Eternal Dawn

“Drop the child, Miguel.” the figure warns.

With an unimpressed raise of his brow, Miguel retorts, “Go home, Miles.”

Gabriel, now more settled, looks up at Miguel with adoring eyes, already halfway back to sleep. But Miles’ persistent voice booms through the little room. "Miguel, step the fuck back from the baby, and let's settle this outside. NOW."

"Kid, this isn't a fight you wanna fight," Miguel warns, gently lowering the now sleeping Gabriel back into his crib.

But just as the situation seems to have reached a tense standoff, the door bursts open, revealing you, fully clad in your spider-suit, ready to fight, fury painted on every feature. Flashbacks of the past, filled with anger, pain, and fear, cloud your vision upon seeing Miguel bending over your son.

"Sunny, I can explain—" Miguel starts, but your reaction is swift. With a well-aimed web, you pin him to the nearby wall, rendering him immobile. Miles, clearly taken aback by your rapid response, stammers, “He... uh... was trying to... take Gabriel again. I saw it?”

Miguel's eyes, though pinned, glitter dangerously. “Cut the crap, kid.”

You had heard enough, and you fired webs at his mouth, silencing him. Standing tall, you demand, “What the hell is going on?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, an overpowering nausea threatening to bring you to your knees. Not again, you beg internally, this can't be happening again. The biting sensation of deja vu feels like a punch to the gut.

As if reading your panic, Miles lifts his hands in a placating gesture, but your focus narrows solely on your sleeping baby, peacefully oblivious to the tension in the room. Swiftly, you cross the distance to his crib, gently scooping him up, trying your hardest not to stir him. Every instinct screams at you to get away, to protect your child from the unpredictable scene.

You barely register Miles' words of apology or his attempt to follow, reacting instinctively by sending a web in his direction, narrowly missing him and instead encasing Miguel against the wall. With him momentarily restrained, you leave the room.

Miguel, however, almost effortlessly shrugs off the sticky restraints, ripping the webbing from his face. He's pissed, furious even, seething at the situation. Anger boils at the goddamn circumstances, but above all, his ire is directed at this noisy kid. Damn, Miles, can't he just go bother someone else? This isn't his fucking business. It's his mess to fix, his responsibility, and he needs to make things right. Why does Miles have to complicate things even more?

With a tension thick enough to cut, Miguel turns to Miles, "What do you want, kid?"

Miles, glares defiantly, his voice dripping with loathing. "You, gone. Either in some forsaken universe or dead."

Miguel sighs, running a hand down his face, his weariness evident. "Fine, do whatever you wish. Kill me, banish me, torture me. Whatever your little heart desires. Let me first make sure that they are safe. I won't fight you, Miles.”

Miles pauses, disbelief flashing across his face. "You serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Miguel retorts, his gaze piercing.

Miles takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "You're a monster, Miguel. Maybe not a murderer, but still a monster."

"I know what I am." Miguel admits, his voice breaking ever so slightly and without looking back leaving Miles speechless.

Miguel hesitated at the window, on the precipice of leaving. But something - be it fate, spider-sense, or sheer reckless longing - pulled him back. He silently treaded through the apartment, drawn to a soft melodic voice.

There, in the dim room, you stood. Without your mask, vulnerability framed your features, eyes closed, a cascade of hair down your shoulder.

You swayed gently, singing a lullaby, with little Gabriel secure in your embrace, his breathing even and deep. This sight, so full of love and tenderness, tore through Miguel. It was a clear representation of everything he yearned for, of the life that slipped through his fingers, so vivid he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

His heart ached, thinking of the life they could've shared, of waking up to this exact scene every day, of being a part of this little family. The regret was suffocating him in its weight.

You sensed him before you heard him, before you smelled his perfume, warm and woody with a hint of something spicy. He smelled like the shower gel he uses when you both took long showers, the walks you used to take in the woods on Earth 99, discussing plans for the HQ, but you just enjoyed holding his hand. He also smelled like your pillows after he disappeared in the morning, a scent tinged with abandonment. He smelled like a thousand things you couldn’t place, but foremost, he smelled like one thing, and you just hated that thought. Home.

You finally broke the silence, your voice soft and wearied. "What are you doing here, Miguel?"

He swallowed, voice raw. "I needed to see if you were okay."

A sad smile played on your lips. "You're too late for that."

Ahhhh, you guys are amazing! Please share your thoughts, and don't hesitate to suggest how you'd like the story to end – I might just include it! Let's turn this into a group project. I was close to giving up on the story, feeling not good enough. I love writing and creating, but anxiety often gets the best of me. Your kind messages, (which yes, I read and cherish every single one) have helped immensely. I'm so grateful and want to return all the positivity back to you. Wish I could hug each of you! ☀️

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avocado-writing · 1 year ago

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Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn crush confessing to him while obviously waiting for rejection?

absolutely my love, here you go!

Astarion

Is not surprised you’re confessing (he knew how you felt it wasnt subtle lol), but is surprised that you seem so defeated about it

sort of annoys him? Upsets him? Of course he’s going to feel the same way, how can you think so little of yourself? He’s of the opinion that you’re wonderful. it’s so easy to fall for you.

but then he hesitates: he knows how easy it is to think poorly of oneself. He can’t judge you too harshly.

takes your hand, tells you that you’re lovely, and invites you out for coffee the next day. just the two of you. his heart skips a beat when you light up.

Gale

admires how courageous you are. can see you’re shaking as you admit your feelings.

”why do you think I wouldn’t feel the same way? you are one of the most spectacular people I’ve ever met. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’d be lucky to have you.”

smiles when he sees how you start to grin, puts his hands on your waist and brings you in for a kiss.

if you’re a magic user dancing lights erupt from you because you’re so overwhelmed ✨

Wyll

Oh, sweet Wyll. Gobsmacked that you think he’d turn you down.

takes your hand and guides you somewhere where the two of you can be alone.

when you have your privacy he asks if he can kiss you.

you feel heat rise in your cheeks but nod, and he gives you the most astounding first kiss you’ve ever had lol

then he takes you out for dinner and holds your hand across the table the whole meal

(when you’re together properly he makes jokes the whole camp was asking “wyll they won’t they” about the two of you and you groan lmfao)

Halsin

another one who takes you to a private place to talk.

brushes your hair out of face and then cups your cheek in the same gesture, begins to wax poetic about how perfect the oak father made you and how you are without fault.

has echoed your feelings for a long time now and is glad you made the first move which takes a lot of the weight off your chest

he scoops you up in his big arms and swings you around until all the worry is gone and you’re laughing 💕

Dammon

his heart hammers in his chest when you tell him. he’s only a blacksmith!!!! he doesn’t know how to handle this!!

I imagine you confess to him while he’s working at his forge so that not all of his attention is on you, it’s better to soften the blow when he says he doesn’t feel the same.

puts his tools down, takes off his gloves, and holds your hands. tells you he’s admired you for a long while and is glad you feel the same.

you squeak when he kisses you but his soft touch keeps your grounded ❤️

Rolan

is offended how nervous you are (you don’t find him THAT intimidating do you?! He’s been trying to be nice because he likes you!) - and also a bit annoyed because he’s been working up the courage to confess for ages but you got there first

”Good, I like you too >:(“ “you do?” “Yes >:(“ “then why do you seem so grumpy about it?” “I’m not grumpy! >:( >:( >:(“

you kiss him on the cheek and he’s so flustered he loses control of the spell he was transcribing and magic missiles his office window to pieces lol

Zevlor

this is a battle of the least self-confident lol. you’re like “I don’t think you like me” and he replies “my dear you have so many better options than me”

so it turns 180, with you convincing him that you do like him and listing all his merits!

eventually youre at a stalemate. and then you just kiss each other, trepidatious at first and then getting more passionate as you relax 💕

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callme-holly · 3 months ago

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Hello!

So I came across your post about The Outsiders requests and if you are still taking them I have one! And if you don't really like the sound of this or don't feel comfortable writing this that's more than okay!

But, if you are comfortable with it..

I was thinking a Darry x Reader where the reader is drunk and Darry brings her to his place and takes care of her. Stuff like where she is in one of his shirts that is way to big on her, and like if the other boys are being to loud he will get very defensive and tell them to quiet down since the reader is hungover. Just little things like that in it.

Thank you!! <3

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 [𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧 : i kind of really love this

The whole room spun as Darry set you carefully down onto the couch, your mind reeling, feeling sluggish and heavy with fatigue. It’s not like you’d meant to get drunk; it had just sort of happened; one drink turned into two, and then another, until you were a stumbling, giggling mess.

It hadn't taken long, however, for the novelty to wear off, the initial pleasant buzz dissipating and leaving you feeling nauseated and tired, your eyelids growing heavy with each passing second. If it weren't for the fact that Darry was currently holding onto your shoulder in an attempt to support you, you probably would have passed out right there on the couch without so much as a second thought. He was trying his best not to look worried, but, even in your inebriated state, you could see the way he kept biting at the edge of his lip, the slight furrow of his brow giving him away entirely.

It’s not like you were the only drunk person in the room; the other boys were far worse off than you. Two-Bit and Steve were practically tripping over themselves, and Dallas had dragged himself off home, refusing to accept the help offered. Soda hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol, yet he was still bouncing around, laughing loudly, and to anyone who didn’t know him personally, they would think he was just as wasted as everyone else.

A sharp sting of pain tore through you, hammering at your skull as Steve let out a particularly shrill cackle that seemed to reverberate through the room, causing you to wince. You closed your eyes and let your head thud back against the cushions, trying desperately to focus on anything but the dull throbbing behind your eyes.

“Hey, darlin',” Darry's voice sounded soft, barely above a whisper, as you felt his cool hand gently press against your forehead, smoothing down the hair that fell in loose waves over your face. “What’d you say we go run you a nice bath, hm? Might help with that hangover.”

You don’t have the energy to fight him on the offer; in fact, a warm bath sounds almost heavenly right about now. The room spins again as you nod numbly, limp in Darry’s arms, as he scoops you up and carries you slowly towards the bathroom, the voices and shouts of the other boys becoming more and more distant until they’re nothing but a muffled hum behind the closed door.

Your mind swims, and you struggle to stay awake, blinking your eyes rapidly to clear them before they start drooping shut. Darry is still speaking, though you can’t seem to make out what he’s saying, his voice sounding too quiet for you to be able to pick apart the words. He spends a few moments fussing over the water, making sure it's not too hot, before turning back to you, carefully removing your clothes, and setting them aside to be washed later. His movements are gentle and slow, and you lean against him, relying heavily on him to keep you upright, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, cradling you close to him, his chest pressed against yours as he holds you close, guiding you to the tub with the same care as someone who is handling a small child. He lowers you gingerly into the water, fingers carding through your hair as you sink into the warmth, letting the heat consume you entirely, your eyes finally fluttering shut and a contented hum leaving your lips.

You feel weightless, completely relaxed, your body drained of everything except for the sweet, blissful sensation of Darry’s hands running through your hair and over your shoulders.

“Better?” He murmurs, his thumb stroking softly across your skin, drawing a hum of affirmation from you.

“Better,” you answer, your own voice slurred with exhaustion. “Much better.”

Darry smiles faintly at you, kissing the top of your head in a way that could only be described as tender. He washes you slowly, massaging shampoo into your scalp with practiced hands and scrubbing down your body with careful deliberation. Every once in a while, one of his hands leaves your side to stroke lightly across your cheek or to brush away a stray lock of hair sticking to your face.

You don’t remember when he started talking to you, mumbling under his breath about how he’d told you to go easy on the drink, nor do you know when he’d started to drain the soapy water surrounding you, leaving you cold and shivering. Your eyes are still half-lidded, your mind hazy, your body heavy with sleep. But Darry keeps murmuring to you, brushing kisses across your cheeks and jawline, your forehead, your temple. His voice is soothing, low, and rich with a hint of something you can’t place, that southern drawl coming out as thick as honey.

A towel is draped loosely over your shoulders as Darry guides you out of the tub, making quick work of drying you off and sitting you down on the edge of the closed toilet seat. He kneels down in front of you then, his large, calloused hand resting on your knees, flashing you a small smile.

“Do me a favour and wait here. I’ll go get you something to change into, alright?”

You can only nod in response; any other answer would be deemed unacceptable, and you’d be made to wait here regardless.

You watch as he disappears into the hall, thecacophonyy of shouts and laughter reaching your ears the second the door opens, only to be muffled just as fast as it swings shut with a barely audible click, leaving you alone. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to force away the heaviness clinging to your limbs, the fuzzy feeling beginning to creep into your head, and the headache pounding behind your eyes.

You don’t know how long you’re sitting like that, trying your hardest not to give in to sleep, but after a while, Darry steps back into the bathroom, a glass of water in one hand and a pile of clean clothes in the other. You blink blearily at him, watching as he kneels before you once more, setting the clothes aside and bringing the glass to your lips.

“Take a few sips for me, sweetheart. It’ll help the headache.” You comply, accepting small sips until your stomach decides it's had enough and you're forced to pull back, a slightly disgruntled expression on your face. Darry doesn’t force the issue, simply removing the towel and dressing you in nothing but his shirt and boxers, both items hanging off your frame loosely, the fabric soothing against your skin.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re burying your face into his chest with a quiet whine, pressing yourself firmly against him, your arms clutching his waist like a lifeline, as if you're afraid he'll leave if you ever let go of him.

Darry chuckles softly in amusement, rubbing your back reassuringly, his chin resting atop your head.

“I think we should get you in bed,” he whispers, his voice rumbling deep within his chest, sending a shudder down your spine. “I'll get the boys to quiet down, and then I'll come join you, yeah?”

“Okay,” you murmur, nuzzling closer to him, closing your eyes. You feel his arms tighten around you, holding you close, enveloping you in warmth as he presses a gentle kiss into your hair.

You want to ask him not to go, to keep hold of you and never let you go, but you also know it won't be long before he's beside you once more, pulling you tightly into his embrace and promising he will never, ever, let anything happen to you. And you trust him more than anything in the world.

#the outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis headcanons #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #steve randle x reader #johnny cade x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #soda curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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The wait way universe. The one where they get married.

Ohh god it is perfect.

Please say you will write more of this?

I am begging you.

Need more of the baby.

And all the group together having fun family nights.

Another baby maybe? ;)

Aunts and uncles fighting to hold the baby.

Bucky and the reader being told the baby moved the hammer and thor really presenting him with a mini hammer?

Also I love love love love love uncle Tony’s nickname for the baby. Mini terminator love it.

Happy squealing baby is so cute.

I just love it. So much.

I will beg for more. I will. I love it. I love your writing. I love how you write the characters.

Oh god I would kill to see protective avengers. Maybe someone takes the reader and the baby, oh and even more so the reader is pregnant. :0 dun dun dun…. Protective angry Bucky, Steve, Tony,Sam ,Nat, Wanda, Bruce etc

OKAY YES. I'm here for PROTECTIVE AVENGERS OVER ALL THE BABY BUCKIES AND HIS ANGEL. You can read this piece as a stand alone. I added the links for other parts if you want to read it but you don't have to. We're all here for what happens when you mess with Bucky's family.

Wait, what?

Wait, what? 2

I do (again) Wait, what? 3

Wait, what? More Babies?

Competitive God Fathers

You smiled to yourself, carefully adding the last piece of tape to Bucky's gift, tying a perfect bow around the wrapped box before hiding it in the closet. Bucky was due to come back soon and while you missed him like crazy, his absence made it easier for you to get his surprise together. Over the last few weeks, you'd felt more tired than usual along with feeling tender and crampy. One trip to the pharmacy, a pregnancy test and a positive result later, you'd bought a custom onesie with Baby Barnes Jr #4 printed on the front.

You hoped Bucky would enjoy the surprise you were growing in your belly, especially considering how often he kept insisting he wanted just one more, adding to your growing family with Steve Jr who had just turned 5 and your 3 year old twins Samantha and Nathaniel. You hid the present under the bed before going to the playroom to tuck your littles ones into bed, the three of them unusually quiet compared to their usual mischief.

"C'mon munchkins" You smiled at the sight before you with Stevie sprawled on a large bean bag, his brother and sister on tucked on either side, their big brother reading to them while they intently looked at the pictures. "Bed time for you babies"

"Will daddy be home soon?" Samantha asked with a pout, a complete daddy's girl just like you, tucking her face into your neck as you scooped her up along with Nathaniel while Steve followed promptly behind.

"Of course bub, he'll be here first thing in the morning" You assured her, kissing her forehead before tucking her into bed followed by the other little one. "Good night loves" You turned off the lights before going back to your room where you knew Stevie was waiting with his favorite book, ready for a bedtime story. It was a special bonding time you always made sure to have with him, not wanting you first baby boy to feel like he was no longer one of your favorites after the twins were born.

"What did you pick tonight baby" You got under the covers, fluffing the pillows and propping them up while Stevie snuggled up beside you, plopping a book about science onto your lap. You chuckled at the nerdy side he'd gotten from his dad, reading through scientific discoveries that were made in the last century and theories that were still being tested. He listened with wide eyes until they grew heavy, eventually falling asleep on your lap, not having the slightest clue you'd carried him to bed and tucked him in with a kiss to his cheek. "Sleep tight my sweet boy"

You slipped back under the covers, grabbing a book for yourself while occasionally running your hands over your belly, soaking in the quiet night before the team arrived after their latest mission.

It wasn't often that the compound was empty; few missions required all hands on deck but this was one of them. You'd received a message from FRIDAY informing you the jet would be landing in a few hours and that no medical assistance would be required because no one had sustained major injures. It was the sole reason you were able to relax so easily, happy waiting for your husbands arrival so you could tell him the good news.

You settled comfortably under the covers until a faint sound from the common room pulled you from your book again. FRIDAY would have alerted you if the jet was approaching and you would've definitely heard the sound of the engine approaching anyway.

But was still eerily quiet.

Then you heard something again.

You were sure it was nothing but you pressed the button under the bedside table that locked and secured the rooms of the little ones just to be safe. Tony had added additional security for their rooms in case of emergencies, with 4 different operating systems working at once. Absolutely nothing would happen to his godchildren under his roof.

It was probably nothing.

Still.

You grabbed the knife you kept hidden behind the headboard, tucking in under the waistband of you sleep shorts before making your way down, reprimanding yourself for being paranoid over what was probably just sounds of the plumbing and vents creaking in the middle of the night.

The halls were clear, easing some of your nerves as you continued to the common room where you heard the sound. The hairs on your neck stood up when you saw the glow of the kitchen light turned on, grabbing your knife, only to find one of the new agents sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on a coffee.

"Annabeth?" Your brows were knitted together, discreetly slipping the knife away, wondering how she'd gotten into the main floor of the compound when it was restricted to others after a certain time.

"Hey y/n" She gave you a sleepy smile while you watched her warily, "Couldn't sleep. Hope you don't mind, just wanted to grab a mug before heading back to trainee wing"

"Yeah, its fine" You spoke slowly, something still not sitting right with you though you didn't show it.

"How come you're still up, waiting for Sergeant Barnes?" There was something sinister in the sweetness of her voice, cocking her head while you hummed in response, stomach churning. "You're both so cute together you know. It's nice to see how his life has come together after all he's been through as the asset"

"Excuse me?" Your eyes grew wide, heart hammering against your chest, it was rare for anyone to refer to Bucky as the asset. Most referred to him as the winter soldier, even soldat, only those deep in Hdyra had called him-

"We want our asset back" She whispered, cracking a smirk and nodding to someone behind you. Before you could turn around, a large form grasped your body, slamming a hand over your mouth muffling your screams. You didn't have any time to react, feeling a pinch to your neck and slipping into darkness immediately after.

Bucky stretched with a sleepy yawn as the jet began its descent, already waiting at the doors and ready to hop out and see his wife and babies. He smiled at the thought of them all safely tucked into bed, sleeping soundly while you probably tried to stay up with a book. He always found you dozed off, book loosely falling from your hand, still propped up against the bed every time you waited for him. Didn't matter not how many times he told you to just go to bed. You always stayed up till you saw he was safe and sound.

Sam helped Bucky put away his equipment so he could get to you faster, everyone smiling watching the soldier dash off, running to his family.

"It's nice to see him like this" Nat nodded, trudging with the rest as they entered the compound, nothing amiss while they went to the conference room.

"He deserves it" Steve smiled, happy his best friend finally had what he'd always dreamt of. A wife. Kids. A safe home for them.

Bucky made his way over to see his little ones first, stopping in front of the heavily decorated door, covered with Captain America and Iron Man posters, courtesy of the two Godfathers competing for #1. Bucky smiled, turning the knob, only to find it locked shut, which was odd considering the only way to lock the door was if the security system had been activated.

He shook his head, frowning as he made his way to your shared bedroom instead, figuring it was a glitch or mistake. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach seeing the door open ajar, with the lamp turned on, your book set aside but you were nowhere to be seen.

"Baby?" Bucky called out, struggling to keep his panic at bay when the bathroom was empty, as was the closet. "Sweetheart?"

He called down the hall way a little louder before jogging to the kitchen but there had been no sign of you there when he'd entered. He started to move quicker, running back to disable to security system, breathing a sigh of relief to find all three little ones still sleeping soundly. He softly shut the door before immediately going to the conference room.

"Y/n, has anyone seen her?" He hoped to see you sitting with the others but he was filled with dread when the others shook their head in confusion. "She's-she's not in her room. I've checked everywhere, the security system was activated for the kids' room, she wouldn't leave the compound around this hour, somethings wrong"

No one asked questions, immediately jumping into action; Tony starts to comb through security from the time they left while Nat double checks every floor and room, just to be safe. Steve and Sam help Bucky look over your bedroom for any signs of a struggle. He ran his hand along the areas they'd hidden weapons, his stomach dropping when he felt the empty space behind the headboard.

"She took the knife" Bucky swallowed thickly while Sam and Steve shared concerned glances.

"Look, she's strong Buck, whatever it is, we'll find her" Steve insisted while Bucky continued to look, checking under the bed where he'd kept a pistol, nothing out of the ordinary except-

He frowned, seeing a little gift bag hidden underneath, newly packed with a gold bow placed on top. He picked it up, brows knitted together as he pulled away the tissue paper, feeling soft material tucked at the bottom of the bag. He took it out, heart splitting into two at the words written on the little onesie,

"Fuck!" A broken sob pulled Sam and Steve from their search, finding Bucky slumped by the edge of the bed.

"Buck?" they shared concerned glances seeing him holding something small in his hands, clutching it tightly to his chest.

"She's-she's pregnant" Bucky whispered, tears welling in his eyes holding the tiny jumpsuit in his hands, his heart couldn't take it-

"Barnes, we have something!" Tony's voice echoed through the coms, the three men running back to the conference room where Tony had pulled the footage from you in the kitchen. Bucky watched in silence, jaw clenched seeing the new agent use a stolen keycard to sneak into the compound with a Hydra agent, the two of them quietly waiting for you to come down.

He had to keep from smashing the TV, watching the man grab you from behind, injecting you with something before carelessly carrying you off like ragdoll, his heart aching, wishing he'd gotten home sooner. All voices around him drowned out to a faint buzz, the sounds of Tony and Steve giving out commands all muffled as if they were underwater.

"We have the coordinates locked, everyone down down to the jet, remember your positions.

It was like a switch was flipped.

"Cap and I clear the entry ways, Nat, Clint, follow behind, Sam, surveillance from the top. Barnes, you just have to get y/n"

The former young husband and father who sat with tears streaming down his cheeks was replaced with a man who knew no remorse. No guilt. No sense of right or wrong.

"Barnes"

Steve knew of this man well.

"Barnes?"

The one they called the Winter Soldier.

"Baby" Bucky whispered, scooping his sleepy eldest son in his arms before striding over to the twins bed, tucking them in together. "Daddy's gotta go another mission but we'll be back soon, alright?"

Steve could sense something was wrong, the strain in his fathers voice making him worry.

"Again?" He asked while Samantha and Nathaniel stirred slightly, trying to tuck themselves into their daddy's warmth. "Where's mama?" He asked with a tiny whisper having heard the commotion outside of the room, his hearing enhancing more and more each day. Bucky swallowed thickly while Steve stepped into the room to check on his best friend, his heart breaking over the three little ones clinging onto him.

"We're going to get her, promise bub" Buck kissed their heads, grabbing their favorite stuffies to cuddle with.

"Let me see my favorite little soldiers" Steve strode over, giving them a brave smile. "We'll be back before you know it"

"Will mama be okay?" Nathanial whispered, grabbing onto Steve's wrist before he could leave, tears streaming down his little chubby cheek.

"Of course" Steve reassured him, kissing his forehead and tucking him back into bed, "We'll never let anything happen to your mama"

That was a promise.

"Oh fuck" Clint snorted to himself watching the black mask that had been locked away for good slip over Bucky's face, his usual leather jacket replaced with a thick black tactical vest, straps running across his chest.

"They're fucked, aren't they" Sam whispered to Tony as he put his suit on, the glancing over to the stone cold brunette who sat in silence, finger resting on the trigger. Like he doesn't actually need us"

"We're really just going for moral support, also no one hurts our y/n" Tony whispered back. The teams full focus was getting you back along with keeping your babies safe; Pepper had come to look after the littles ones till you were found safe and sound. While the team was fully ready to take apart anyone that tried to hurt you. It was more that evident Bucky wouldn't have a problem taking hydra apart by himself but they wouldn't let him go alone.

Bucky didn't speak a word as soon as the jet hit the ground hitting his targets from 100's of feet away, each bullet landing right between their eyes.

"...Did you know he could do that?" Sam called from the coms, watching agents drop while he flew across the top of the base. Tony blasted the front of the doors while Steve cleared the hall way, throwing his shield, knocking down three men that guarded the wing.

"Looks like she's down in the cells" Sam called, looking at where the heat signals were coming from. Bucky made his way down the sterile hallway, red lights suddenly flashing above when a woman charged towards him.

"Welcome back soldat" Annabeth sauntered, blocking the doors to where you were being held with a satisfied smirk on her face. "We knew you'd come back. We missed you-

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with this" Nat smirked, stepping in front of Bucky and grabbing Annabeth by her hair, dragging her off to a corner before throwing a punch to her jaw.

Bucky continued, slamming the lab doors open, his eyes landing onto your tied up form, strapped onto the very same chair he'd been tied to every time he'd been wiped. He didn't give anyone a second to think, killing those closest to him while the others tried to escape.

"You wanted me back, didn't you" Bucky's voice was a low growl as he stepped over the bodies he shot down before running to save you. "Well, I'm back"

The ones that ran off didn't get too far, making it out of the lab, only to be met with a very angry Steve and Tony.

"You don't hurt my fucking bestfriend" Steve gritted, slamming the agent to the floor before grabbing another and throwing him to Tony.

"You are not taking away my turn at being a God father" Sam grabbed another that tried to hide behind the rubble, swooped up to the ceiling, dangling to agent in the air for a while before letting him drop. Bucky was by your side in an instant, cutting off the straps that bound your arms together.

"Baby?" Bucky scooped you up in his arms, cradling your body to his chest, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "You okay sweetheart?"

"Bucky!" You cried out, clinging onto him, trembling while he kissed you before protectively covering your face from the bloody trail he left behind him. "You're here"

"M'taking you home baby, c'mon" Bucky whispered against your hair, carrying you tucked against him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, breathing in his scent. "I got you babygirl, it's okay"

"I was so scared" Bucky held onto you tightly on the ride back, he had never felt relief like this, his heart finally calming down. "M'so sorry sweet girl"

"S'not your fault baby" you whispered back, smiling when you felt a kiss to the back of your head.

"Glad you're okay sweetheart" Steve gave you a squeeze before leaving you and Bucky to have your privacy again, staying near the front with the rest of the team, watching over Annabeth, who had been captured for questioning. Once you'd reached the compound, you were greeted with proper hugs and kisses from the others, hearing the pitter patter of little feel seconds later.

"MAMAA" Your babies ran to you, climbing up your leg until they were all properly snuggled against you, refusing to let go until they were sure you were perfectly safe.

"Daddy and your aunts and uncles rescued me, see? I'm all okay" You reassured them while they looked at you intently, checking over you the same way you did whenever they had a fall. Once they were satisfied that you were okay, they let their daddy take you away to get cleaned up while it was Tony's turn to read them a bedtime story even if it was nearing morning.

"Right where you belong" Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist after you'd both showered, foregoing clothes as you climbed into bed, snuggled over the covers. He spooned you from behind, the feel of his warm bare skin comforting you.

"I love you so much angel" He pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, eyes brightening when he remembered the little present he'd found earlier. His hand slipped down to softly brush over your tummy. "Both of you" He playfully whispered, smiling at your soft gasp as you wiggled to turn around and face him, growing bashfully shy when he pulled the tiny jumpsuit he'd kept on his pillow.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me mama?"

"Think you're ready for a 4th?" You giggled, burying your face into his chest while he grinned, peppering your face with kisses till you squealed.

"M'ready for a 5th and 6th if you'd let me angel" Bucky smirked, playfully nipping your jaw before shuffling down to rest his head on your tummy, kissing your soft skin while you carded your fingers through his hair. "but I can't wait to meet this little one first"

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newtonsheffield · 3 months ago

Note

I'm looking forward to seeing Kate and Anthony and all sorts of new parenting roles.. for example how do we deal with Neddy getting a little cold from school? Or maybe just a small boo boo while running at the park?

Or maybe the school asking for parents to volunteer as chaperones for their next trip to the zoo? I can see Neddy volunteering his Anthony for a zoo trip!

How adept is Anthony at preparing Neddy's lunch boxes? After school snacks?

SO MANY POSSIBILITIES!!

Oh imagine the guilt Anthony feels the first time Neddy gets hurt on his watch. Anthony picks Neddy up from Kate’s before dinner now and they let Sophie go home early. On these days Anthony likes to take Neddy to the park on the way there and they run around and fly kites and all sorts of things. Anthony just loves spending time with his son. He loves hearing Neddy giggle as he runs after the football and he loves the excitement on his face when he tells Kate what they did as they walk to the restaurant. He loves this time.

“Kick a big one Daddy!” Neddy called out as Anthony positioned the ball. “I can get it.”

“Alright, are you ready buddy?”

“Yeah!”

Anthony laughed as he kicked the ball and Neddy cheered sprinting after it but the laughter died in his throat as he watched Neddy’s ankle buckle under him and his son let out a sharp

“Ow!”

He sprinted forward, his heart hammering as Neddy wailed.

“Daddy! It hurts!”

His hearts in his throat as he looks down at his son, clutching his ankle. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m so sorry.”

He can hardly breathe as he scoops Neddy up, panic in his chest as they arrived at A&E, fumbling for his phone while he filled out the paperwork, Neddy sniffling against his chest.

“Hey, are you guys near by?”

Anthony’s heart sank in his chest even more at the sound of Kate’s voice. She trusted him. She trusted him to look after Neddy and he hadn’t done it. “Kate, I’m sorry.”

He could hear the concern in her voice, “What happened?!”

“We were just playing football and he twisted his ankle. We’re at A&E. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m on my way.”

They’re waiting for the X-rays back by the time Kate sweeps into A&E, pulling back the curtain around the bed where Neddy’s propped up with a carton of juice, holding Anthony’s hand whose fighting back tears.

“Amma!”

“Neddy, are you okay Baby?”

“My foot hurts.” He said as Kate kissed his face, breathing a sigh of relief. “But I have juice! And the lady said she was bringing me cake.”

Kate smiled turning to Anthony. “Broken ankle?”

His voice felt strained, “They don’t know yet. They think probably just a sprain. I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful. I’m sorry, I can do better-”

Kate’s hand was firm on his arm, “Anthony, it’s fine. He was running and he hurt his ankle. I’m not upset with you. This wasn’t your fault. It could have happened when I had him and would you blame me?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing.” She turned back to Neddy, “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Yeah!” Neddy squeaked, “He did such a big kick! It was cool!”

“See.” She squeezed his arm again, “He’s fine. You’re cool.”

#surprise neddy au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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buckysgrace · 7 months ago

Text

Yellow Daises

Steve Harrington x fem!reader lil blurb CW: Blowjobs, some spitting

Steve’s picnic date falls through.

He had tried so hard. His frustration was high, his nerves shot as each thing slowly but surely fell apart.

The chocolate strawberries he’d spent so long on had sweated away; the chocolate melting into soup and leaving the berries soggy. The top piece of bread to your sandwich had blown off with the wind, then a cricket had jumped onto the main part of it. You had laughed and squealed about it, but he could feel his confidence failing.

The breaking point had been the bag of chips that just wouldn’t open, until they did. Covering both of you and the blanket with chips and crumbs as the bag crumpled lazily on his tight grip.

“Fuck,” He spit out in frustration, trying to figure out why he was being punished for this dare going so wrong. His first one in a long time and he had fucked it up, “I’m sorry.”

“Steve, it’s okay,” You said with a laugh, “It’s not your fault. Is the blanket clean?” You asked as you drifted your fingers across the plaid design. He sighed.

“Yeah,” He mumbled in defeat as he shrugged his shoulders, “I got it yesterday.” He admitted, but left out the part where he had taken a long time to wash, dry and iron it. It was silly.

You shrugged your shoulders as you reached for a chip near your knee, plopping it into your mouth and chewing it with a loud crunch. He watched you in fascination.

“Do you have any spoons?” You questioned next as you turned to face him, “Or a straw?” You hummed as you looked at the bowl that held his soupy strawberries.

“You don’t have to eat that,” He replied as he gently took the container from your hands, “I’m sorry this royally sucks.”

“I didn’t agree to date you for the incredible food,” You grinned as you looked at him, “Although, you do have some talent scooping those cones.”

“It’s all in the wrist.” He smiled back, feeling a little bit better as he twisted his hands around for extra effect. You laughed at his motions, making his stomach flutter at the sound. It was the prettiest thing he'd ever heard.

You scooted a little closer to him, your legs sliding over his as a playful grin lingered on your lips. You drifted your fingers across the hem of his shirt, leaving his heart hammering roughly inside of his chest as you tugged on it. He could feel his blood rushing down his body, leaving him gulping hard at the awkward position he was in now.

"I really appreciate you doing all of this," You added softly, fingers moving to his belt as he continued to struggle to breathe. You were so close to his cock that he could feel himself beginning to ache, shivering underneath your touch, "S'nice." You added sweetly, biting down on your bottom lip as his belt fell loose.

"You don't have to," He replied quickly, tongue flicking out for a second as he watched you shift between his legs. You flattened yourself out, laying on your stomach before you stalled at the zipper of his jeans, "Unless you really want to." He added a second later, face flushed at the way your hand brushed over his growing bulge.

"I really do," You teased, smiling sweetly as you lightly kicked your feet in the air, "As a thank you for all your hard work." You nodded your head, laughing softly as you freed his hard cock from the restraints of his pants.

He exhaled harshly, watching the way your eyes gleamed with lust as you savored the look of him. You wiggled a little closer to him, fingers lightly brushing against the girth of his cock while you delivered a fat kiss against the tip of his dick.

He hissed at the contact, cock throbbing underneath your soft touch as you continued to press gentle kisses along his leaking tip. Your eyes latched to him, staring intensely as you began to roll your tongue out across his pink skin.

"Fuck," He exhaled harshly, stomach fluttering in pleasure as he fell back to his elbows. You wrapped a hand around his girth, giving his base a soft squeeze before you curved your motions along the length of his dick, "Feels really good." He spit out, a whimper falling free as you repeated the motions.

"You look so pretty, Stevie," You whispered softly, licking away his precum as he jerked his hips forward to meet the way your hand fell to his base again, "Wanna make you feel good." You added, making his eyes flutter again as your warm words settled over him.

His mind felt hazy as you rolled your tongue across his tip once again, your saliva drooling down the length of his cock as he throbbed in your hands. Your breath was a little cool as you slid the head of his cock past your lips, forcing your jaw to relax as you slowly slid him into your mouth.

His fingertips twitched against the blanket, his body trembling underneath you as one of your palms fell flat against his hip. You held him in place, squeezing his balls with your other hand as his cock slid deeper inside of your mouth.

You could only stuff about half of his dick inside of your mouth before you were gagging, eyebrows furrowing together and eye lashes fluttering as you blinked away tears. Drool pooled from the corner of your lips, coating his cock in your spit as you messily dragged your hand up and down in the same rhythm as your mouth.

He pressed his hips up, his heavy cock hitting the back of your throat as you began to gag all over again. You moaned along his dick, sounds muffled as he admired the way your lips stretched around his thick girth.

He hissed at the feeling of your tongue dragging along his throbbing skin, soothing the growing ache as you began to move your mouth faster along the curve of his cock.

"Oh God," He groaned from deep within his chest, moans rushing from his tongue as he felt the burning pleasure growing through his body. He huffed, his hips moving without his command as you tried to press down on his body once again, "Fuck, fuck!" He cursed, feeling the awe rush over him.

You squeezed at his balls, rubbing the drool across his skin as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat with each thrust. He felt his lips part further, his eyes shut as his head fell back as the feeling of you swallowing around his cock sent him over the edge.

His ass left the blanket as he pressed himself deep inside of your mouth, sending you gagging even harder as you tightly gripped a hold of his hips. You held onto him as the waves of pleasure crashed inside of him, snapping as his came down your throat.

The sun was hot against his skin as he fell back into the blanket in a huff, his arm resting over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel his heart racing, his pulse vibrating against his bones as you slowly pulled away.

He could feel the mess of saliva and cum on his cock before he saw just a quick glimpse of it, his mind still hazy as you slowly crawled over his body.

He moved his hands to your hips, brown eyes wide as he stared up at the way you blocked out the sun from his eyes. He licked his bottom lip, knitting his eyebrows together as you slowly pressed his lips apart.

And then you spit. A thick mixture of drool and cum landing on his teeth and tongue as he stared in disbelief. He felt like he should recoil, but all he felt was a sense of electricity thrumming through his body.

You watched, tilting your head expectantly before he pressed his lips together and swallowed roughly. It tasted odd, but the satisfied smirk on your lips was enough to make him want to do it again and again.

"Good boy." You cooed as you rubbed at his cheek, making his skin warm underneath your touch. He was hooked.

#steve harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x Y/N #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x female!reader #Steve harrington blurb #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader smut

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thyras · 17 days ago

Text

→ of great blessings

PAIRING → annatar | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 8.5k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → visions, pregnancy, lots of angst, dad!sauron

SUMMARY → your visions and premonitions since wearing nenya have never been wrong, and what you see now frightens you to your core.

AUTHORS NOTE → alright this chapter has been the bane of my exsistance and i am washing my hands of it. writers block took over so much for this that i kinda will not be surprised if y'all don't like this chapter. i'm drained after this one. we are going to start steam rolling to the end now. the timeline is gonna shift a little as pregnancy for elves take for fucking ever, so yeah.

masterlist // series playlist // mood board

The warmth of the sun kissed your cheeks as the soft bristles of pale purple blossoms trailed across your skin. A youthful giggle filled the air, mingling with the golden light. Your eyes turned toward the toddling infant as she struggled through her first steps among the blossoms. Her red hair gleamed in the sun’s glow, a striking inheritance from her father.

“There you go,” Mairon encouraged, pride lacing his voice. “Just a few more, sweetheart.”

Your gaze finally landed on your husband, his arms stretched wide, ready to catch her should she stumble. His eyes sparkled with a fatherly love that warmed your heart. You leaned back on your hands as the infant tumbled into her father’s arms, a fit of giggles bubbling from her lips as he scooped her up and pressed a gentle kiss to her small head.

Watching him with her sent a warm, steady thrum through your chest, a love so deep it left you breathless. This was all you had ever wanted to give him—the peace and harmony he had spent a lifetime searching for, the same solace he had once found in you in those elder days. Yet, there had always been something missing, a fragment of your fëar left unhealed, a wound time alone could not mend. It had always been your desire to share in this great joy, as was the way of all Elves—a love that endured beyond the confines of time, woven into the very fabric of Arda.

You had longed to be like Thingol and Melian, bound in a love so profound that it transcended the ages. To love as one, to bring forth a fëa as pure and radiant as Lúthien herself—a child who was a reflection of both your souls, a harmony of light and strength. And now, as you watched your husband cradle your daughter, her laughter ringing like the sweetest song, you knew that dream had finally come to life.

But something twisted deep within you, and suddenly, your eyes burned with unshed tears as the scene before you shifted. The sunlit meadow and the laughter of your child faded into darkness, replaced by the acrid scent of smoke and the searing heat of fire. The riverbank lay scorched and marred by the devastation of war, its once-tranquil waters reflecting only ruin.

Behind you, Eregion burned—just as Laureandor had, long ago. Panic seized your chest, your heart hammering as your frantic gaze swept through the chaos, desperate to find the fiery hair of your daughter.

And then you saw her.

Hand in hand with her father.

His golden hair gleamed like molten gold amidst the flames, his striking presence unchanged—except for the smile that curved his lips. A smile not of warmth, but of something darker. Something cruel. His icy eyes, once filled with love, now glowed with a devilish light as he looked down upon the fragile, childlike frame beside him.

Your breath hitched. The world around you trembled.

No.

Your body jolted upright, the sudden movement nearly sending Annatar tumbling from the bed. Your breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, each sharp intake searing your lungs. The dream clung to you like smoke, vivid and raw, its horror so tangible that you struggled to separate illusion from reality. It had felt so real—too real—so consuming that for a fleeting moment, you weren’t sure if you had truly escaped it.

“Mori?” His voice was laced with concern.

You turned to him, your wide eyes locking onto his face. Fear curled in your chest, rising like a tide, for in his gaze—those piercing blue eyes, that familiar smile—you saw the echoes of your nightmare. A cruel reflection of what could be.

Everything you had dreaded.

The pain of a child born into his shadows.

The inevitable weight of his past, now intertwined with yours.

As the haze of the dream slowly receded, his eyes—no longer filled with the malice of that nightmare—softened with quiet concern. The piercing chill you had seen within the dreamscape had vanished, replaced by the worried tenderness you had come to know so well.

Gently, he reached out, brushing a few strands of damp hair from your sweat-slicked brow before his fingers trailed down to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, grounding, an anchor pulling you back from the lingering edges of fear. You exhaled shakily, leaning into his palm, finding solace in the familiar heat of his skin, the scent of him—real and unwavering.

A small, fragile smile ghosted your lips as you closed your eyes.

“It was only a dream,” you whispered against his palm, as much to reassure yourself as to ease the worry in his gaze.

Annatar's brow furrowed, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your cheek. "What did you see?" he asked softly, his voice laced with quiet concern, yet tinged with something else—something unreadable.

You hesitated, the weight of your dream still pressing upon your chest. How could you put into words the beauty you had witnessed, only to watch it twist into something dark and terrible? How could you explain the unbearable fear that had gripped you when you saw him, standing amidst the flames, leading your child away?

"I…" Your voice barely rose above a whisper. "I saw us. And… a child."

His hand stilled against your skin, his sharp blue eyes flickering with emotion—too fleeting, too complex for you to decipher.

"A child?" he echoed, his tone carefully measured.

You nodded, swallowing hard. "She was beautiful, Mairon," you murmured, your voice trembling. "She had your fiery hair and green eyes. We were on the riverbank, surrounded by sage blossoms. You were teaching her to walk, and she was laughing…"

For a brief moment, the warmth of the dream returned, the golden light, the sound of her laughter—but it was fleeting. The memory of what followed crashed over you like a wave, drowning it in fire and shadow.

Annatar’s fingers tightened slightly against your cheek, his gaze searching yours.

"But?" he pressed gently, sensing the fracture in your voice.

You inhaled shakily, trying to steady yourself, but the words still came out fractured. "But then… everything changed. The meadow was burning. Eregion was in ruins. And you—" You stopped, the image of him in the flames seared into your mind. "You were different. Your eyes were cold… cruel. You were leading her away into the fire."

A heavy silence settled between you, thick with unspoken fears.

Annatar’s hand dropped from your face, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, laden with unspoken fears and painful truths. Annatar’s hand slipped away from your face, his expression unreadable, carefully composed as he processed your words. Yet you saw it—the flicker of something beneath his guarded exterior.

You watched him, your heart aching at the distance that seemed to widen with each passing moment. The warmth of his touch had already begun to fade, replaced by a cold uncertainty that settled deep in your chest.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “It was just a dream, Mori. Nothing more.”

But you heard the strain beneath the calm, saw the tension in the rigid line of his shoulders. This wasn’t just about a nightmare—it was about something deeper. The unspoken fears that had lingered between you since the beginning. The shadows neither of you dared name.

"Was it?" you whispered, the words fragile, hesitant. "Or was it a glimpse of what could be?"

His eyes snapped to yours, something sharp and unguarded flashing through them—pain? Anger? Fear? For the briefest of moments, his mask slipped, revealing a piece of his carefully shrouded thoughts.

Annatar’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the smooth expanse of his skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, carefully controlled—but the tension within it was unmistakable.

"You doubt me still."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, weighted with something raw—hurt, resignation, the quiet ache of an old wound reopened.

Your heart clenched at the distance in his tone, the way he withdrew not in body, but in spirit. Desperate to bridge the widening space between you, you reached for him, your fingers brushing tentatively against his arm.

“No, Mairon," you murmured, your voice soft, pleading. "I don’t doubt you. I doubt…” You faltered, struggling to give shape to the gnawing fear in your heart. How could you explain the unease that lurked in the edges of your love? The whisper of doubt that no matter how fiercely he fought against it, no matter how much he tried to change, the darkness within him might one day rise again—might consume you both?

Annatar’s eyes—brilliant, piercing—locked onto yours, holding you there, unraveling you. His hand hovered for a moment before settling over yours, his grip firm but not unkind.

"You doubt what?" he pressed, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. His gaze burned, searching you for something—an answer, a reassurance, a truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Because you knew that whatever you said next would change everything.

You took a deep, steadying breath, knowing that your next words could shift something irrevocably between you. The weight of centuries—of love, pain, betrayal, and forgiveness—hung thick in the air, pressing down on your chest.

"I don’t doubt you, Mairon," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of your heart. "I doubt… the darkness that still lingers within you. The part of you that you’ve fought so hard to control, to change."

Annatar’s expression remained carefully composed, but you caught it—the flicker of something in his eyes, brief yet unmistakable. Pain.

His grip on your hand tightened, so slightly it might have gone unnoticed, but you felt it. A silent plea. A warning.

"I know you’ve changed," you continued, your voice steadier now, gaining strength. "I’ve seen it, felt it. The love you show me, the tenderness… it’s real. I don’t question that. But I also know the darkness hasn’t disappeared. It’s still there, buried deep, waiting."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, to speak the fear that had haunted you since the dream.

"And I fear…"

The words trembled on your lips, but you could not stop now.

"I fear that one day, it will call to you again. And I fear that when it does… you will answer."

A heavy silence settled between you, deeper than before. Annatar did not move, did not speak, yet something in the air shifted, charged with an emotion you could not yet name.

And for the first time, you did not know what he would say.

Annatar’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence between you stretching wide, a chasm neither of you dared to cross. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and measured, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.

“You’re right,” he admitted, the words falling heavy between you. “The darkness is still there. It will always be a part of me, just as the light is a part of you.”

He paused, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “But you’re wrong if you think I would ever willingly choose that darkness over you. Over us.”

His hand tightened around yours, almost painfully so. “Do you think I don’t fear the same things?” he asked, a rare, desperate edge creeping into his voice. “That I don’t lie awake at night, terrified that I might one day lose control and hurt you? That I might become the monster I once was?”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. The carefully constructed walls he had built, even with you, seemed to crack, revealing the turmoil that lay beneath.

“But I fight it,” he continued, his voice fierce now. “Every day, every moment, I fight against that darkness. For you. For us. For the life we’re building together.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, moved by the passion, the pain in his words. You reached up with your free hand, cupping his cheek, your fingers brushing against skin that had known both cruelty and tenderness.

“I know you do,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And I see that struggle, Mairon. I do. But the dream…”

“Was just a dream,” he interrupted, though his tone was gentler now. “A manifestation of your fears.”

But you knew it was not.

You had seen too much, felt too much. In the time since you had been chosen to bear Nenya, visions had come to you—fragments of what was to come, glimpses of futures that others could not see. And every one of them, in its own way, had come true.

And now, here he was.

He had persuaded Celebrimbor to forge the Rings, using your gentle guidance to shape their purpose. He had earned the trust of the people of Eregion, weaving himself seamlessly into their world. And now, he stood before you, offering what he knew you most desired.

A future. A child. A life beyond war and shadow.

But at what cost?

Your fingers trembled against his skin, your heart caught between love and doubt, between the man you cherished and the darkness you feared.

And deep within, you knew—this was not just a dream. It was a warning.

You took a slow, steady breath, steeling yourself for what you needed to say.

“Mairon,” you murmured, voice gentle but unwavering. “I know you believe it was just a dream. But… it wasn’t. Not entirely.”

His brow furrowed, concern flickering through his features, shadowed by something deeper—an unease he did not yet understand.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the weight of your words pressing heavily upon you. How could you explain? How could you make him see what you had seen? The visions that had plagued you since you accepted Nenya, the fleeting glimpses of futures unfurling at the edges of your consciousness—both breathtaking and terrible?

"Since I began wearing Nenya," you said slowly, carefully choosing each word, "I’ve had… visions. Fragments of what is to come. And in their own way, every single one of them has come to pass."

Annatar stilled.

For the first time in this conversation, you saw something shift in his eyes—not just surprise, but something colder. Sharper. A flicker of wariness, of understanding.

You knew what he was thinking.

If your visions had always been true, then what you had seen in your dream—the fire, the ruin, the cruelty in his gaze—was more than fear. It was prophecy.

And that, more than anything, was what unsettled him.

He held your gaze, his expression unreadable. But you could feel it—the quiet storm brewing behind his eyes, the unspoken thoughts racing through his mind.

“And what is it you saw?” he asked at last, his voice deceptively calm.

You swallowed hard, but you would not falter.

“I saw you,” you whispered. “I saw our child.”

You inhaled shakily, forcing yourself to continue.

"And I saw fire. I saw Eregion burning. And you..." Your voice wavered, but you pushed forward. "You were leading her away. And you weren’t the man sitting before me now. You weren’t the man I love."

The silence between you grew heavier, denser, as if the very air had thickened with the weight of what had been spoken.

Annatar did not move. Did not speak.

And you feared, deep down, that in this moment, your vision was already beginning to come true.

Annatar’s expression hardened, his eyes turning cold and distant. A wall rose between you, thick and impenetrable, the warmth in his gaze vanishing like embers smothered by ash.

For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between you, vast and unyielding. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and measured, but the tension thrumming beneath it was impossible to miss.

“So this is what you truly think of me,” he said, his words sharp, each syllable cutting deep. “After everything we’ve been through, after all I’ve done to change, you still see me as a monster waiting to emerge.”

Your heart clenched at the pain woven into his anger.

“No, Mairon, that’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” he cut you off, his eyes flashing like cold steel. “You’ve just told me you’ve seen a future where I betray you, where I lead our child into darkness. How am I supposed to interpret that?”

Desperation surged through you as you reached for him, but he pulled away, rising swiftly from the bed. The loss of his warmth was instant, leaving you cold, bereft.

“Mairon, please,” you pleaded, your voice cracking beneath the weight of your emotions. “I’m not saying this is what will happen. I’m saying it’s a possibility we need to be aware of.”

He turned to face you, his jaw taut, his expression a careful mask of control—but you could see the fury and the hurt roiling beneath the surface.

“A possibility?” he scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. “One that you seem all too ready to believe in.”

You flinched, as if struck. His words, so sharp, so heavy with pain, tore into you.

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, the ache in your chest unbearable. “I love you, Mairon. I believe in you. But I can’t ignore what I’ve seen.”

Annatar’s gaze darkened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And what would you have me do?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Abandon our plans? Our future? Everything we’ve worked for?”

You shook your head, tears burning at the edges of your vision. “No, of course not. I just… I need you to understand. To be aware of the danger.”

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped him, devoid of anything but frustration. “Aware?” he repeated bitterly. “Mori, I am always aware. Every moment of every day, I fight against the darkness within me. For you. For us. And yet, it seems it will never be enough.”

His words shattered something inside you.

You rose from the bed, closing the distance between you once more. This time, when you reached for him, he did not pull away. But he remained rigid beneath your touch, his body taut with unspoken emotion.

“Mairon, please,” you whispered, your voice thick with sorrow. “I’m not asking you to abandon our future. I’m asking you to be cautious. To be vigilant. To remember what truly matters.”

His eyes bore into yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths.

“And what is truly important, Mori?” he asked, his voice low, intense. “Tell me.”

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself, reaching for the truth that lay at the heart of everything.

“Us,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your chest. “Our love. The life we’re building together. The life that was torn from us. That’s what matters most.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, only searching your face as if trying to decipher something hidden within you.

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the tension in his body eased.

And for the first time since your dream, you felt a sliver of hope.

As if your vision had been nothing more than the manifestation of your own fears—born from the weight of what he was trying to accomplish here, from the precarious balance he walked between light and shadow.

Annatar’s eyes softened, the sharp edges of his anger beginning to crumble. Slowly, he reached up, his hand covering yours where it rested against his cheek.

“Us,” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word, testing its weight. “Our love.”

You nodded, feeling the first stirrings of hope pierce through the fear that had settled so deeply in your chest.

“Yes,” you whispered. “That’s what matters most. That’s what we need to protect, above all else.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze searching yours with a depth that sent a shiver down your spine. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, tinged with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“Do you truly believe I would ever willingly choose darkness over you?” he asked. “Over the life we’re building?”

Your breath hitched.

He had before.

He had chosen to run from you rather than face the curse at your side, rather than fight for you, for himself. He had believed, then, that his only choice was to protect you by abandoning you. And if that choice had been easy for him once—what would stop him now?

You hesitated, the weight of history pressing heavily between you. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer you weren’t sure you could give.

“I want to believe you wouldn’t,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But, Mairon… you’ve chosen darkness before. You ran from me, from us, when the curse first took hold.”

Pain flickered across his features, old wounds laid bare in the space between you.

“That was different,” he argued, but the fire had faded from his voice. “I was trying to protect you then.”

You shook your head, your hand slipping from his cheek to press against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“And in doing so, you nearly destroyed us both,” you reminded him gently. “Your intentions may have been good, but the outcome…”

You trailed off, overwhelmed by the memories of those dark years. The weight of his absence. The devastation of believing he had chosen power over love. The aching, unrelenting certainty that he had abandoned you because he had feared himself more than he had loved you.

Annatar’s expression softened further, sorrow and regret etching deep lines around his eyes. He covered your hand with his own, his fingers twining between yours, grounding you.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, rough with something raw. “I made the wrong choice then. But I’ve learned from that mistake, Mori. I won’t repeat it.”

You wanted to believe him.

Oh, how desperately you wanted to believe that the love you shared, the bond you had fought so hard to rebuild, would be enough to keep the darkness at bay. But the vision lingered, a shadow curling at the edges of your mind, whispering that love alone had never been enough to save him before.

“I want to believe that,” you murmured, the tremor in your voice betraying the doubt you couldn’t silence. “But the future I saw…”

“Is not set in stone,” he interrupted firmly, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, his touch warm and grounding.

His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, as if he could soothe away your fears with touch alone.

“We shape our own fates, Mori,” he murmured. “No vision—no prophecy—can take that from us.”

It came as no surprise when the first stirrings of new life graced you just days after your vision. The power of the ring upon your finger had known—had always known—that you would be granted what you desired most.

But it did not quell the fear.

A fear born of that very ring.

There were days you longed to slip it from your finger, to cast it aside and free yourself from the weight of its premonitions. To unshackle yourself from the knowledge of what was to come. Other days, you wished to turn a blind eye, to live out your immortal life in blissful ignorance—unburdened by foresight, untouched by the shadows of possibility.

And yet, deep within, you understood the truth. Futures could change. Paths, ever winding, could shift toward another destination.

But Morgoth’s curse remained.

It kept the ring upon your hand, bound you to its whispers, to the knowledge you could not unlearn. And despite everything, despite the fear curling like smoke in your chest, the need to be in his arms—to be enveloped in his aura—surpassed it all.

You trusted him, of course you did.

But doubt had crept in, insidious and unrelenting.

He could reassure you a thousand times, but you knew him. Truly knew him. And just as surely, you knew what this darker version of him was capable of.

Your fingers ghosted across the fabric of your gown as you sat at the table in Celebrimbor’s study. Excitement stirred within you, a quiet thrill at the thought of the new life you would grow, shape, and mold in your image. Yet beneath that joy lurked the deeper, unspoken truth—you knew what they could inherit. And you knew what that would mean to him.

Turning slightly, your gaze drifted down into the forge below, where Celebrimbor and Annatar stood, engrossed in pleasant conversation with Durin as they handed over the newly fashioned rings. The soft glow of the dwindling fire illuminated their forms, flickering off Annatar’s golden hair as he gestured fluidly, speaking in that smooth, measured cadence that had once soothed you beyond words.

Your thoughts drifted, lingering upon your husband.

Would they inherit this form’s features—the golden radiance of Annatar? Or, by some chance, would they be marked by Mairon’s truer essence?

You hoped for the latter.

Fiery red hair as bright as the sun itself and soft sea foam green eyes that would shine like emeralds in certain lights. Would they have those delicate, reddish freckles across the bridge of their nose?

But in truth, you did not know. How could you?

You understood little of how Maiar conception worked, nor did you care to unravel its mysteries.

All that mattered was this—you were finally having what you had dreamed of for Ages.

Your nurturing nature finally felt satisfied—whole—as your fingers idly traced the silken fabric of your gown. You would raise them in the light, in the beauty of all living things, ensuring they would never feel the touch of shadow.

"Everything okay, my lady?"

Celebrimbor’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Immediately, your hands slipped away from your stomach as you looked up to meet his gaze. His brow was raised, curiosity flickering behind his eyes.

"Yes," you answered quickly, offering a small, reassuring smile. "How do they like the rings?"

Celebrimbor stepped closer, settling into the chair across from you.

"They are satisfied with them," he replied, his tone measured, thoughtful. "They will let us know if any problems arise."

You nodded, a small smile touching your lips as you glanced down at the papers spread before you.

A beat of silence passed.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Celebrimbor’s voice softened, his perceptive gaze studying you carefully. "You look pale."

"I am fine."

It was a lie, but a necessary one.

Celebrimbor seemed satisfied with the answer, though the weight of his questioning gaze lingered, unwilling to fully retreat.

You seized the opportunity to shift the conversation. "What was this I heard about a gift?" you asked, picking up your quill and turning your attention back to the designs before you.

Celebrimbor’s expression softened into a smile. "I wish to gift the Dwarves with something—to honor the great friendship we have built."

You glanced up at him again. "What do you have in mind?"

He exhaled, thoughtful, but before answering, his gaze flickered over you once more.

"I have ideas," he admitted, but then his tone shifted, firm yet kind. "But after all this hard work, Thilwen, I think you should rest. I'll handle this myself with the other smiths, and you—" he gestured toward you, his brows knitting slightly, "you take a break for a few days. You look like you need it."

"I can—"

Celebrimbor held up a hand, stopping you before you could argue further.

"Please," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Do it for me. You have worked night and day since we began forging the rings, and I will not have you running yourself into the ground on my account."

You exhaled softly, offering him a half-smile. Before you could say more, he reached across the table, his fingers curling around yours with quiet reassurance. His thumb brushed absently over the top of your hand—a small, familiar gesture of comfort.

"I will finish up here today," you conceded, squeezing his hand lightly, "and then I will do as you ask."

Celebrimbor smiled, warmth flickering in his eyes as he gave your hand a final, reassuring squeeze.

"Good," he said. "Besides, I know Erynwen has been upset that you haven’t had time for her."

You giggled, already picturing the little girl’s excitement. She was probably chomping at the bit to spend an afternoon at the riverbank, eager to hear more of your husband's stories. You had been so consumed with your work that, in the past few weeks, she had been the furthest thing from your mind.

And that thought—more than anything else—made you realize just how much you truly needed the rest.

Erynwen sat beside you amidst the soft grasses and blooming flowers, both of you gazing up at the vast expanse of blue sky. Wisps of white clouds drifted lazily across it, shifting and reshaping as they danced upon the wind.

Every so often, Erynwen would point out a pattern—a creature, a ship, a story waiting to be told. Her wondrous imagination had always captivated you, a gift as pure as the light itself. You had only ever wished to nurture it, to encourage her to see the world with the same boundless wonder she so effortlessly carried.

Erynwen’s small hand slipped into yours, her fingers warm and trusting as she turned to face you, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Thilwen," she began, her voice soft but eager, "will you tell me another story about him?"

A smile touched your lips, warmth blooming in your chest at her request. Erynwen had become enamored with the stories of your husband, her young mind filled with visions of the great smith who had captured your heart so long ago.

Since opening this part of your life—since allowing yourself to speak of him more openly—it had become second nature to share his story, to weave the tale of who he was now.

It felt only right.

To tell of his light.

"Of course," you replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "What would you like to hear about today?"

Erynwen's brow furrowed in thought, her lips pursing as she pondered the question. A long moment passed before her expression brightened, her grin spreading wide as excitement sparked in her gaze.

"Tell me about when you first met him," she said, bouncing slightly where she sat. "What was he like when you first saw him?"

A wistful smile tugged at your lips as your mind drifted back to that golden day so long ago. The memory was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday—the warmth of the sun on your skin, the sweet scent of of the forest carried on the breeze, and that first glimpse of him, standing tall and radiant against that tree.

"He was unlike anyone I had ever seen," you began, your voice soft with reminiscence. "His hair was like molten copper, shimmering in the sunlight. And his eyes... they were the most vibrant shade of green, like the first tender leaves of spring."

Erynwen’s eyes widened, her imagination already painting the image in her mind. "Was he handsome?"

You laughed softly, giving her hand a playful squeeze. "Oh yes, very handsome. But it was more than that. There was something about him—a presence, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within. It was as if he carried the very essence of creation, a spark of the divine."

Erynwen sighed dreamily, resting her chin in her free hand. "That sounds so romantic."

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest at her innocent wonder. If only life could remain so simple, so untouched by the shadows that inevitably crept in.

"In many ways, it was," you agreed, your thumb absently brushing over the back of her small hand. "I had never felt the need to bind myself to another, but something deep in my fëa told me that his song matched mine in ways no other could."

You paused, the memory wrapping around you like the embrace of a long-lost friend. That time had been simpler, effortless. To love Mairon had been to love divinity itself, and back then, he had been just that.

A wider smile touched your lips as his words echoed in your mind—the image of him standing before you, a book clutched tightly to his chest, lingering just for a few more stolen moments in your presence.

Then, Erynwen’s voice pulled you back to the present.

"You love him still? Even though you are with Lord Annatar now?"

Your breath caught slightly as her icy-blue eyes searched yours, unblinking and filled with childlike curiosity. She did not know. She could not know.

Your fingers moved to gently cup her cheek, and you offered her a reassuring smile.

"I do. More than anything." You paused, your thumb brushing tenderly across her soft skin. "But in a way, Lord Annatar reminds me of him."

You would never tell Erynwen the truth—that he and Annatar were one and the same. It was a secret you could never risk sharing. For if the darkness that still clung to him ever returned, you would not let it taint her innocent image of him.

Silence stretched between you for a moment, the distant hum of nature filling the space. Then, her voice came again, softer this time—uncertain, vulnerable.

"Are we going to stop reading once you have your baby?"

Her fingers tightened slightly around yours, and when you looked at her, you saw something fragile in her expression—a fear she had not voiced before.

Surprise flickered across your face. Surely, no one had a clue yet. But then again, Erynwen’s curiosity surpassed all others. She had always known more than she let on.

Your heart softened at her innocent question, and you wrapped an arm around her small shoulders, pulling her close against your side. She nestled into you, her head resting against your chest as you stroked her silky hair.

"Of course not, dear one," you assured her, your voice gentle but firm. "Having a baby will change some things, but it will never change how much I care for you. Our reading time is special, and that won’t go away just because I become a mother."

Erynwen looked up at you, her icy blue eyes wide and hopeful. "Promise?"

You smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I promise. You are like a daughter to me, Erynwen. And that bond is unbreakable, no matter what changes life may bring."

Relief washed over her delicate features, and she hugged you tightly, her small arms wrapping around you. You held her close, your heart swelling with love for this precious child who had become such an integral part of your life.

As you sat there, embracing Erynwen amidst the swaying grasses and wildflowers, a gentle breeze caressed your skin, carrying with it the faint scent of the blossoms. The moment felt suspended in time, a brief respite from the worries that had plagued you since your vision. Here, with Erynwen's innocent trust and unwavering affection, the shadows felt distant, less threatening.

But even as you savored this peaceful interlude, you knew it could not last forever. The weight of your secret, of the life growing within you, pressed against your consciousness. You would have to tell Annatar soon—and you knew that conversation would not be easy. Though he had reassured you after your vision, promising that your love would be enough to keep the darkness at bay, the fear still lingered. How would he react to the news that your dream was already becoming reality?

As if sensing your unease, Erynwen hugged you tighter, her small hands fisting in the fabric of your dress. You focused on the warmth of her embrace, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, allowing her presence to ground you in the moment.

You knew you could not hide from the truth forever. But for now, in this peaceful glade with Erynwen in your arms, you let yourself believe that everything would be all right. That the love you shared with Annatar, the life you were building together, would be strong enough to weather any storm.

You closed your eyes, resting your cheek against the top of Erynwen's head as you held her close. The gentle breeze continued to whisper through the grass, carrying with it the distant chirping of birdsong. For a few precious moments, you allowed yourself to simply be present in the tranquility of the scene, your fears and uncertainties temporarily held at bay by the warmth of Erynwen's embrace and the serenity of the meadow around you.

After a time, Erynwen stirred, lifting her head to gaze up at you with those perceptive icy-blue eyes. "Thilwen," she began softly, her voice tinged with a wisdom beyond her years, "it's okay to be afraid sometimes. My aunt says that's how we know something really matters to us."

A lump formed in your throat at her words as you blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, moved by Erynwen's innocent yet profound wisdom. You gently cupped her cheek, offering a watery smile. "Your aunt is a wise woman," you murmured.

Erynwen beamed up at you, leaning into your touch. "I just want you to be happy, Thilwen. You and the baby. And Lord Annatar too."

Your heart clenched at the mention of your husband. If only it were that simple—to ensure happiness for all of you. But life was rarely so straightforward, especially when it came to Annatar and the complex tapestry of your shared history.

"I want that too, little one," you said softly. "More than anything."

Erynwen studied your face for a moment, her young features etched with a thoughtfulness beyond her years. "Sometimes the things we want most are the scariest to reach for," she said quietly. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

Her words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with a truth you had long known but struggled to embrace. How many times had you allowed fear to hold you back, to keep you from fully surrendering to the love you shared with Annatar? Even now, with the miracle of new life growing inside you, doubt still shadowed the edges of your joy.

You drew in a deep breath, letting Erynwen's wisdom settle over you like a balm. "You're right," you murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Fear is a heavy burden to carry.”

Erynwen's face lit up with a radiant smile. "Yes,”

You couldn't help but return her smile, marveling at the purity and wisdom of her young heart.

Erynwen nodded sagely, her expression so earnest it made your heart swell. She settled back against you, resting her head on your chest once more as you both gazed out over the sun-dappled riverbank. For a while, you simply sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the gentle whisper of the breeze and the distant trilling of birdsong.

As you held Erynwen close, her words of wisdom echoing in your mind, a sense of calm determination settled over you. Love had always been the most powerful force of all, and it was time you trusted in the strength of the bond you shared with Annatar. The fear of what the future may hold had haunted you for too long, casting shadows over the joy and wonder of the new life growing within you. But no more.

You would not let the ghosts of possible futures rob you of the happiness of the present. Annatar deserved to know the truth, to share in this miracle with you. And together, fortified by your love, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead. United as one, just as you had always been meant to be.

You stood on the balcony, gazing out over the starlit expanse beyond Eregion. The crisp night air was a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside. The gathering had grown overwhelming—too many eyes, too many whispers. They all thought they were discreet, but you could feel their curiosity, their speculation.

You had not yet found the strength to tell him the truth, and in your avoidance, you had begun evading his presence altogether. Even in the same halls, you had ensured that your paths did not cross, retreating into your work or your chambers whenever he entered a room. Not even allowing him to lie with you anymore.

But he noticed.

Of course, he did.

And yet, he did not push.

For all his persistence in other matters, he had given you space. He had honored your silence, though you knew it was not without effort. He remained close, always lingering just at the edge of your awareness, watching, waiting—never pressing, but never straying far.

So it was no surprise when you felt his presence behind you now.

"Needing some air?" he asked softly as he stepped beside you, his voice gentle, careful.

You turned to him, forcing a pleasant smile, though you did not answer his question.

His icy gaze studied you in the dim light, flickering with something unreadable. "Mori," he breathed, his concern slipping through the carefully controlled cadence of his voice. "Is it something I said that night—"

You shook your head immediately, cutting him off before he could finish.

"No," you said quickly, but the way his face twisted in suspicion told you he did not believe you.

He knew. He always knew.

He could sense when you were hiding something, could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing between you. And now, as he studied you, his icy eyes darkened with quiet resolve.

You knew he would not let this go. Not this time.

Not until you told him the truth.

Annatar stepped closer, his hand rising to gently cup your cheek. His touch was warm, familiar—a tether in the storm of your thoughts. For a moment, you leaned into it, craving the comfort only he could provide. But then, the fear came rushing back—cold and sharp, curling around your heart like an iron vice.

You pulled away.

"Mori, please," he murmured, his voice low, tinged with something rare—desperation. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. The words were there, lodged in your throat, desperate to be spoken. But how could you tell him? How could you burden him with this knowledge, with this responsibility, when the shadows of your vision still lingered at the edges of your mind?

And yet—when you met his gaze, saw the love and concern shining in those icy depths, you knew.

He deserved to know.

He had the right to share in this moment, to experience the joy and wonder of this new life growing within you. This was not just yours to carry.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you reached for his hand, your fingers twining with his.

"Mairon," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "There's something I need to tell you."

His fingers tightened around yours, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

"Whatever it is, divine, I'm here. Always."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your heart swelling at the depth of his devotion. Drawing strength from his touch, from the unwavering love in his gaze, you found the courage to speak the words that would change everything.

"I'm with child," you whispered, the words hanging between you, heavy with meaning.

For a long moment, Annatar was silent. His expression was unreadable, though you felt the slight tightening of his fingers around yours, heard the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath.

Then, slowly—as if realization was unfurling within him in waves—his eyes widened. Shock. Wonder. And something deeper—fear, perhaps—flickered across his features.

His free hand drifted toward your stomach, hovering just above the fabric of your gown, not quite touching.

"You're certain?" he breathed, his voice barely audible above the distant hum of the gathering inside.

You nodded, a watery smile touching your lips despite the anxiety still curling in your chest. "Yes. I've felt the stirrings of new life for a few weeks now."

Annatar exhaled slowly, his eyes closing briefly as he absorbed the magnitude of your revelation. When he opened them again, they shone with something raw, something unguarded. Love. Awe. And the barest flicker of uncertainty.

"A child," he murmured, almost to himself, as if testing the weight of the words on his tongue.

His hand finally settled over your stomach, his touch gentle, reverent. You placed your own hand over his, your heart fluttering at the intimate contact. For a moment, everything else faded away—the distant chatter of the gathering, the cool night breeze, even the fear that had plagued you for weeks.

There was only this.

The warmth of his touch. The love shining in his eyes. The miracle of new life blossoming within you.

Without another word, Annatar pulled you into his embrace, his arms encircling you, his face burying into the crook of your neck. You could feel it—the rapid, uneven rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, betraying the depth of his emotion.

He held you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

"Mori," he whispered, his voice thick with feeling. "This is… I never thought—"

He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

You understood.

The idea of creating life, bringing a child into the world—one who was part of both of you—was overwhelming in its magnitude. It was a responsibility, a blessing, and a vulnerability all at once.

Gently, Annatar pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. His eyes searched yours, filled with a tenderness so deep it made your breath catch.

"Mori," he breathed again, his hands trembling slightly as they held you.

His gaze, filled with wonder and reverence, washed away the last remnants of your fear.

This was right. This was how it was meant to be.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was at once tender and consuming, fierce and full of devotion. He poured everything into it—his love, his devotion, the quiet awe that radiated from him in waves.

And you melted into him, your hands slipping into his golden hair, holding him close. For this moment, there was no past, no future. Only now. Only him.

When you finally parted, breathless and flushed, Annatar rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he whispered fervently. "Both of you. More than anything in this world or beyond."

Tears of joy trickled down your cheeks as you smiled up at him, your heart so full it felt fit to burst.

"And we love you, Mairon. Always and forever."

A quiet chuckle left him—almost disbelieving—before he slowly knelt before you.

His hands settled over your still-flat stomach, awe flickering in his gaze.

"Don’t worry," he murmured, sensing your hesitation. "We will appear as if we are merely speaking."

You glanced toward the gathering beyond the balcony, ensuring no one was watching, before looking back down at him.

Reverently, almost as if in silent worship, Annatar caressed your stomach, his hands warm against you. "My sweet child," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with tenderness. "You will be as radiant as your mother, and I will love you with all my being, just as I do with her."

Your heart swelled at the sight before you—this powerful being, the one whom others feared, kneeling in devotion before the life you had created together.

Your fingers combed through his golden hair, marveling at the strength of your bond, the depth of this love.

Slowly, Annatar pressed a gentle kiss just below your navel before rising to his feet.

He gathered you into his arms again, holding you as though you were the most precious treasure in all of Arda.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You nestled closer, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"No, my love," you murmured, "thank you—for giving us what I have always desired for us to share in."

Annatar tightened his hold around you, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his love chase away the last remnants of fear.

The future was uncertain. But in this moment, you knew—together, you would face whatever came.

For a long while, you simply stood there, entwined in each other’s embrace, the world beyond fading into insignificance.

Until—

A quiet throat cleared behind you.

You both turned just as Celebrimbor stepped into view.

Before the illusion fell away, you and Annatar slowly, reluctantly, separated.

“I hope I am not interrupting,” Celebrimbor said quietly, his voice careful, measured.

You shook your head, gathering the folds of your gown as you took a step away from Annatar, placing distance between you before the illusion of normalcy could break.

"No, not at all," you replied smoothly, forcing a composed smile. "I was just about to rejoin the gathering."

You stepped past Celebrimbor, pausing only briefly before glancing back at your husband.

Annatar stood where you had left him, his golden gaze steady upon you. A small, knowing smile graced his lips—a silent promise, an unspoken bond only the two of you shared.

And in his eyes, that glint of something more.

The love you now bore together, for the tiny life growing within you.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, a quiet joy that only he could truly understand.

With the slightest inclination of his head, Annatar acknowledged you—not as the godly being he was, but as a man who loved you, who had just learned he would soon love another.

And with that, you turned back toward the gathering, slipping once more into the world that did not yet know the truth of the miracle that now lived within you.

#sauron x reader #sauron #annatar x reader #annatar #trop fic #rings of power fic

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archangeldyke-all · 7 months ago

Note

ok hear me out. reader baked 🍃 infused brownies or whatever & forgot to tell sevika they’re infused, so one morning sev eats a few and is belligerently high for the rest of the day. like, she cant do any work because she’s so fucked up…reader comes home to sevika stoned as hell & realizes what she’s done💀 lolol

LMAOOOOOOO gonna make this ceo sev because i miss her i feel like we haven't heard from her in a while

men and minors dni

you've been out of the office all day.

about once a month, sevika and the leads of each department will assemble a list for you-- things that they need or need to get done that have no in-office solution. usually it's small things. new mouse pads, fertilizer for the plants around the office, coffee filters and snacks for the break room: stuff like that.

then, you just spend the day shopping and doing little errands.

which is what you're doing right now. you just got the wheels on jimena's office chair tightened-- she'd been rolling all over her cubicle these past few week-- and now you're on your way to grab a quick lunch before you head to the grocery store and stock up on the office's favorite snacks.

your phone rings as you pull out of the parking lot. you quickly answer, putting it on speaker.

"hello?"

"hey it's raphael." raphael says over the phone. they sound... worried. you've never heard raphael worried before.

"what's up?"

"uh..." they trail off. "how long 'til you get back to the office?" they ask.

"two or three hours, why?" you ask.

"sevika's..." they trail off. your stomach sinks, and you pull over and park your car.

"sevika's what? is she okay?" you ask, your heart hammering in your chest.

"she's fine! she's fine, don't worry." raphael assures. "she's just... i dunno."

"you don't know?" you ask. "is she sick? or...?"

"here, lemme just put her on the phone for you." raphael says.

there's some shuffling, and then sevika's voice. "baby?" she sounds fine. a little sleepy. your panic subsides, but your confusion picks back up. you check your mirrors then pull a u-turn, heading back to the office.

"hi honey, what's goin' on?" you ask.

sevika bursts into giggles, and despite your confusion and worry, a small smile breaks out on your lips at the sound. "i'm good!" she laughs. "i dunno why raph's all worried but 'm allllll good baby." she laughs.

you snort, shaking your head. "put 'em back on the phone for me, love."

"mmmm... no." she giggles. "i wanna talk to you."

you burst into laughter. "sev, i'm almost back at the office!" you giggle. "give raph their phone back baby, and then i'll call you on yours 'til i'm there."

sevika huffs, but then there's some shuffling, and raphael's voice comes back on.

"hey."

"did she go out for lunch?" you ask.

"no, she was here the whole day." they say.

"alright, just give her some water. i'll be back in five minutes."

you have a sneaking suspicion you know what's happening, but you can't be sure until you get there.

ten minutes later, you wheel jimena her fixed chair, then run toward sevika's office.

you slip in, and she snaps awake from where she's sprawled across the couch.

her eyes are pink and barely open, her smile is unfaltering, and she jumps out of the couch to scoop you up into a big hug, burying her face in your throat and inhaling deeply. you burst into laughter.

"hi, sev." you greet.

she hums. "babyyy."

"how're you feelin' love?" you ask. sevika bursts into another round of giggles.

"so fuckin' good. i dunno wha's happenin' to me, but i love it." she laughs.

you giggle, still a little concerned for your clearly out of it girlfriend, but your suspicion grows stronger by the second.

"what did you have to eat today?" you ask.

sevika's tries her very best to not look guilty, but in her current state you can read her like a book. "y'know. some chips. handful of trail mix. shared a burrito with seamus for lunch." she shrugs.

"and?" you ask.

sevika's eyes dart away from yours and she ducks her head. "one of those brownies you made last night."

"those were off limits, sev!" you cackle, all your suspicions confirmed. "how many did you have?"

"i dunno! just one!" she lies. you glare at her and she groans. "okay, like three." she mumbles.

you burst into laughter and pull your wife in for a hug. she hums happily, easily forgetting the trouble she's in now that she's wrapped in your warm arms.

"sev, baby, those were pot brownies silco's birthday party this weekend!" you inform her.

sevika bursts into laughter. "oh, shit!" she exclaims.

you laugh along with her. "they didn't taste off to you?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"i was focused on the all chocolate, babe, i wasn't really worried about much else."

well, you did doubled the chocolate chips in the brownies to cover the funky taste, you suppose this is what you get.

sevika starts pressing kisses up your neck, and you giggle, pulling her back by her half pony. "let's get you home before brownie number three kicks in, huh?" you ask.

she giggles. "will you eat a brownie and get high with me?" she asks.

you shrug, knowing that sevika will likely fall asleep in the car ride home. "sure babe." you say, dragging her out of the office.

she falls asleep the second you guys get home. you fill up a big water bottle for her, leaving it and a big bag of chips on her bedside table if she wakes up with cottonmouth and munchies.

you kiss her forehead then sneak out of the bedroom to call raphael.

"is she okay?" they ask as a greeting.

you burst into laughter. "she accidentally ate some pot brownies for breakfast." you explain.

raphael bursts into laughter. "that explains so much." they giggle. "she basically stole half of seamus' burrito at lunch today, staring at it with these big eyes, drooling and licking her lips while he ate. when he offered half to her-- she didn't even let him finish he sentence before snatching half out of his hand and running back to her office! i've never seen her so giggly before!" raph continues to cackle.

you shake your head fondly, and make a mental note to buy seamus lunch on monday.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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vigolicious · 4 months ago

Text

helaena targaryen x g!p sister reader with a little bit of alicent x g!p reader at the end

warning: targincest.

y/n pov:

i woke up because of the sunlight shining at my face, and i felt a body cuddling closer to my body. I opened my eyes and i saw helaena, pressing her face in my neck, her hair slighty messy but nonetheless she looks beautiful. Her body is covered in my sheets and she's on top of me, but i felt that my cock is inside her, then i thrust upwards gently then pull my cock out of her sweet pussy.

i got up, making sure not to wake her up then laid her on her back, then i positioned my face between her legs, sniffs her pussy, opened it to see the pink color and saw my seed leaking out of her flower. I fingered her with my index finger then scooped up my seed then tasted it, opened my mouth then dragged my tounge at her clit to tease her while fingering her, then i put my tounge in her pussy to taste our combined seeds. I felt my cock getting hard so i tongue fucking her then positioned my tip at her entrance.

I spit a little bit of saliva at my tip to lubricate it then played her clit with my tip, i then kissed her to wake her up, she kissed back while moaning and letting her hands roam at my silver locks, we stopped kissing because of air then she looked at me while biting her bottom lip, i put my thumb in her mouth to stop her from bruising her lip then i kissed her forehead, and pushed my tip inside her. She gasped then kissed me, i kissed her back then i pulled and push all my cock in her once then fuck her slow and hard, like hammering her pussy with all my might.

She is full on crying and moaning because of the pleasure and i kissed her to conceal her cries because every one is awake now. I was so busy fucking her that i didn't know that someone is entering my room, that someone is our mother, queen alicent hightower. I was busy giving helaena her climax when i heard a scream behind me, i turned around then i saw my mother standing there gaping at the sight, i was gonna stop but when i looked at helaena, her face being half asleep and filled with pleasure, i continued to fuck her, "AHH sister don't stop im cumming!" She moaned while i was still looking at our mother, she was looking at our conjoined sexes then i looked at helaena then i kissed her forehead. I felt a dip beside us, i looked and mother is sitting besides us watching then helaena whimpered and she cummed.

When she is done climaxing she looked at mother and cried " mother " while motioning for mother to come closer, mother approached and hugged her while helaena is naked and my cock is inside her, i pulled my cock out and is standing tall and proud while facing them. "Helaena are you ok?" Mother cooed to helaena, "i'm ok mother just tired" helaena groggily said then fell asleep. Mother turn to me angrily "what have you done to my girl?" She shouted, "just making her mine" i said, then mother came close to slap me but she was slow i caught both her hands then gently pushed her against the wall with her front facing me, mother is tiny compared to me, she is looking at me abit fear in her eyes, holding her hands above her head with one hand the other is holding her face, my cock is standing proud and is red because i haven't cummed yet.

I pushed my tip in her dressed covered pussy slowly grinding it, she gasped looking at me her mouth gaping at me, i smirked then put my thumb in her mouth, "suck mother" mother is proccesing what to do. "Be a good girl and suck it" i said gently demanding her, she procceds to suck my thumb, my other hand holding her arms now in her waist while her arms are wrapped in my neck, she is sucking my thumb for a while in i pulled it away, then pushed her dress skirt upwards and put my cock between her tighs, i then thrushed at her thighs gently, mother gasp my hands on her face now, "you're such a good girl mother" i cooed then proceed to kissed her at her lips gently i pushed tip at her covered pussy hole, she moaned while we were kissing with tounge, pistoned away at her thighs when i felt my self cumming i pulled away then masturbated in front of her then cummed, my hand is full of my seed, i put my seed-filled hand in front of her, "swallow my seed" she swallowed it then cleaned my finger with her toungue "good girl" i said then kissed her.

The someone is knocking at my door, the queen fixed her attire, i just crawled in my bed to cuddle my helaena putting the blanket above our shoulders to conceal what we are doing then closed my eyes to sleep, "my queen, the kingis waiting for you at his chambers" a kingsguard said then i fell asleep.

A/n: been a while, maybe i'll write alicent in the future.

#g!p reader #helaena targaryen x g!p reader #alicent hightower x g!p reader #hotd x reader

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gorgenia77 · 2 months ago

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Real Man. Pt 2

Part 2 is finally here!! I was thinking of maybe turning this into a series, maybe? Potentially? 🙈

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Summary: After your asshole boyfriend stands you up on a really important night, you find yourself tangled up with none other than your best friend, Seth Rollins.

Warnings: (18+) SMUT! penetration, oral f-receiving, cheating (sorta), desperation, pining.

Pairing: Seth Rollins x f/reader - Best friend.

—————————————♡︎———————————

The sounds of a clock ticking echoed on the wall. The small hand tickling. Every. Single. Second.

That wasn’t what your mind was fixated on though. Oh no. The only sounds that could grace your ears like a sweet melody, was the sound of his ragged breath against your neck. The way he was so close to you, like he needed your air to breathe, to survive.

A sweet hum or an inhale after, every. Single. Touch.

Seth’s hand gently cradled your skull as he threaded his fingers into the back of your head as you pushed against him, lips engulfed in a needy kiss, both your bodies trembling with pure desperation to feel each other.

Any thoughts of your asshole boyfriend we’re gone.

The sounds of soft whines left your lips as you pushed your waist against his now tight black pants, his back already flat against his apartment wall.

As his lips left yours to catch his breath, his pulse raising as he felt a hammering in his chest. As he pulled his lips from yours, he caught your eyes, your pupils draw to each others. As you looked up at him, breathy and silent, he brought his thumb to your bottom lip, gently tugging it as you savoured the feeling.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was soft, like he’d had an epiphany, staring down at you in awe.

You gently took his thumb into your mouth, not daring to break eye contact. The soft wet feeling around his thumb and the way your eyelashes batted made him nearly stop breathing altogether.

Without a warning, he scooped you up in his big arms, making you gasp a little before a small smile pulled at your puffy lips. He carried you bridal style, opening the door to his bedroom and gently laying you down on the bed. He stood over you, feeling his chest tightened at how pretty you looked. Still in your party dress and your hair now a little messy.

Your eyes stayed on him, looking down at you. Standing before you, he seemed like your saviour. A guarded angel stood at the foot of the bed. After a second, you gently patted the fabric of the duvet next to you wanting him close.

Slowly he made his way to the bed, sitting down next to your head. He gently stroked your hair from your face, his movements gentle. The feeling made your heart warm, but you wanted, no. Needed him closer.

You sat up so you were now at his level, taking ahold of his jaw as you connected your lips again. As he kissed you back, your body felt more desperate, kissing him harder as you pushed your way on to his lap.

When Seth slowed his movements and moved back, making your brows furrow, the feeling of the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

“What? What’s wrong?” Your voice needy and soft as you asked, slightly disappointment.

Seth bit his lip looking at you, internally debating with himself “You’re upset, and you’ve had a few drinks I just don’t want to-“

You shook your head as he spoke, the need for his touch maximised, the mere thought of him depriving you of what you desperately craved made your heart race. “No, Seth. Please.”

The way he looked at you, it was hypnotic. He hadn’t even realised his hands were placed on your thighs, gently rubbing his thumbs against the soft skin.

After a second of silence you stared into his eyes, determined “I swear I’m barely even tipsy. And- I just want you. Please.”

Seth nearly fainted there and then, his own desire driving him mad. Hearing the words of his best friend plead for him, sat in front of him looking so beautiful. Biting his lip he nodded his head. “Promise?”

Kissing on his jaw you nodded and hummed, loosening his tie, making him groan in return. He felt intoxicated as your lips touched his skin, as he could feel your body under the fabric of your dress. The head rush he felt as you played with his tie. He couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing the back of your thighs, he laid you down, himself above you. He threw his tie off as his hands when to your dress, slightly hesitant.

However as soon as he heard the words “Fuck. Need you.” slip through your lips, all doubt was removed. You sat up helping him remove your dress, leaving you in your lace panties and matching bra. His mind nearly exploded there and then. He had always know you were beautiful, that was obvious. But how you looked now, it was otherworldly to him. Bordering on angelic.

As you laid out in front of him, he moved down so his lips connected to your lips, his tongue flicking against yours, then your collarbones, then in between your breast. He hummed as he looked up at you “So fucking pretty.” Meanwhile his hands reached everywhere, holding onto you as if you’d disappear.

He watched the way your body would react, every hum, every goosebump, every reaction made him feel crazy. As he got to your stomach, his lips stopped right above the lace trim of your panties. The only thing your brain could comprehend was the sight of him. His clean dark beard, his desire driven dark eyes, the way he looked up at you so tenderly.

The feelings of his firm hands on either side of your waist made you shiver as both his thumbs gently ran over the lace. Admiring the pretty fabric as his thumb padded over it, eventually meeting your hip bone.

“He’s such an idiot. How could he ever blow you off? Give up the opportunity to receive your beauty.” He shook his head as spoke lowly, placing a kiss on top of the fabric.

His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them open. With his head now between your thighs he spoke up to you

“You need a real man baby. Someone who can make you feel good.”

Seth’s deep tone made you whine, feeling your panties becoming more soaked. Yet when he removed them, slowly dragging them down your thighs, you felt yourself panic.

If you were honest, your boyfriend didn’t go down on you. It wasn’t really some he’d do. When he had done it on the occasion, it just felt, odd. So when you saw Seth’s face so close, your stomach hurt slightly.

He caught your eye, seeing your nervousness. “Hey, are you okay?” The concern in his eyes made your heart beat quicker.

You stumbled over your words, feeling pretty embarrassed as you sat up to talk to him better “I. I just. I don’t normally do this.”

Seth’s brows furrowed for a minute in confusion “Like, sex?”

You shook your head, the heat on your cheeks rising. “No, like. You know.” You said shyly, making him smirk slightly.

Even in an such an intimate moment between you two, he still had to remind you he was your annoying best friend. He knew what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it, trying to hide his own smirk. “No I don’t. You’ll have to explain sweetheart.”

Gazing at the bed, your cheeks now littered with a rosy blush, you sighed. Despite how weird this felt, you couldn’t help but let out a grin. “Like be eaten. Like-“

He couldn’t help but grin at your shyness. He’d know you for so long, and he could never not find you adorable. Seth nodded his head, catching you avoiding eye contact.

“Hey, look at me. (Y,n)”

As you made eye contact sheepishly with a small grin, he spoke seriously despite the amusement on both of your faces. “Do you want me to? Because if you don’t, I won’t.”

You didn’t really know. It never felt good before, but everything about Seth felt good right now. The trust in his eyes and the aching from between your thighs soon promoted your response. “No, I do. I just, don’t really know what to do.”

He smiled and spoke sincerely, his perfect tooth gap on show. “You just relax and let me make you feel good. This isn’t something you do?”

You shrugged “well, not really. It just felt weird when he use to do it, so.”

Ah there it was. Now it made sense to Seth. It was your boyfriend who hadn’t made you feel good, which only spurred him on to make sure you felt pure euphoria. An encouragement to make sure you’d fantasise about this moment for years and years.

“I’m not surprised it didn’t feel good with him. He can’t listen to what you need, take care of you. Not the way I can.”

You felt your stomach tighten at his words, the hint of jealousy fuelling your making you want to squeeze your thighs together.

As his face came close to your core, he asked you again “Are you sure want me to?”

The sight of him between your thighs had your mind made up instantly. “yes. I swear.”

Practically groaning at your words, he placed a soft kiss to your clit as his finger collected your wetness. He started slow, his large hands placed firmly on the insides of your thighs, holding them in place like a starved man. Soon his tongue was everywhere, making your head spin. The sensation was other worldly. He lapped at your drenched folds, making you gasped as his fingers carefully curled into you, making you whine out loud.

He whispered praises as your back arched. The feeling of his lips sucking you and his fingertips reaching that spot inside you became too much.

A smirk played on his lips as he felt you clench around his fingers, hearing you moan, a sign you were close. “You feel that baby? You feel how good a real man can make you feel?” He mumbled, tone full of pride as his tongue went straight back to your aching cunt.

It wasn’t long until you became a whimpering mess, your head going light as he talked you through your orgasm.

You couldn’t even speak. Seth took a second to admire the mess he’d created, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sat up to look at you. There was no stopping the satisfied look on his face as he saw you catching your breath, feeling like he’d just won a prize. “You okay?”

Nodding your head and leaning up on your forearms you looked at him, in slightly disbelief. “How are you so good at that?” a small grin on your face.

With his body still in between your thighs, he moved closer so his hands were pressed to the sides of your body, he gently nipped the spot on your neck below your ear as he answered “Because I know what you need.” His tone was low and sultry, making your eyes roll slightly.

Just then he placed the two fingers that had been inside you, to the thumping space on your neck below your jaw. Your intense pulse could be felt on his fingers, making him grab your own. As he placed your fingers to your neck, he spoke again.

“You feel that baby? I know you, I know what you like. I know how to please you.”

Suddenly any lingering shyness was gone, without a thought about it you pushed him down into his back before climbing on top of him. His hands immediately found your thighs, letting out a small chuckle at your sudden braveness.

Someone listening to you. Knowing what you needed. It was divine. But that someone being Seth was even more beautiful. Seth being so fixated on making you feel good, it made your stomach burn. His desire to do his best for you, in every manner. It hurt your head how you’d been so careless to not recognise the deep emotional connection you had outside of friendship.

“You look so good in this suit” you said, undoing the buttons left on his shirt, pulling it off eagerly to reveal his strong toned torso.

“You picked it.”

His voice was laced with amusement, feeling warm at the memory of you going with him to pick out his suit weeks before. You dragged him to get a new one, even though shopping was not his ideal Saturday.

“Exactly.” You smirked, moving down to reach for his belt, making his once cocky grin shift to a low groan as your palm brushed him under his now tight pants.

As you got his pants down to his knees, the sight of him laying before you in nothing but his underwear made made you bit your lip in restraint. He was so handsome, the way his muscular thighs sat, the dark hair around his navel, how his strong jaw laced with clean hair pointed to the sky as his head fell back in pleasure.

As you kissed around his thighs, his breathing hitched, becoming more rapid. As you pulled his boxers down, you couldn’t help but notice his length. Shamefully you’d wondered how big your best friend was, and now your exact thought were confirmed.

Seth sat up, reaching in his bedside table for a condom, tearing the wrapper with his teeth as he slide it on his length before looking at you. “(Y,n), are you sure you want this? Like really.”

Biting your lip and nodding, you spoke. Despite how hot he looked, the gentleness in his eyes made your body grow even hotter. “Yes Seth. I swear.”

To assure him, you connected your lips once again, this kiss becoming messy. Your lips practically devouring each other, the feeling of him practically consuming you. It made you feel dizzy.

With that, you’d ended up sliding down onto him, chest to chest. His hands guiding your hips, switching from your waist to your lower back, moving you forwards and backwards. The soft sounds of his grunts graced your ear as your held the back of his head desperately. The feeling of him and his tip reaching that space inside you made you cry and see stars.

—————————————♡︎————————————-

The room was quiet. Nothing but a small lamp illuminating the room as the feeling of him brushing your hair aside made you feel even more sleepy. He held your body against his. Despite sharing an incredible night with you, part of him worried if you didn’t feel to the same extent he did. He wondered if this was simply just a revenge hook up to you. Was this just a moment of lust for you? He tried to reassure himself he was paranoid but the thought made his chest feel heavy. The way he felt about you drove him crazy. Now he knew you wanted him in the bedroom, he wondered about outside it.

Your eyes flickered as he held you against him, speaking quietly. “You feeling okay?” He continued to brush your hair with his fingertips as you nodded and let out a tired “mhm”

You moved further into his arm, your eyes closed in serenity as you exhaled. Seth knew you got affection when you were tired.

Seth made small conversation but you weren’t the most responsive. His scent, his hold on you making you fall into a sleep. Seth’s nervousness got the best of him as he continued to talk.

“I guess I just mean. Like, what does this mean to you? Because I know how I feel.”

The question was left with nothing but silence.

After a second he spoke again. “you mean a lot to me.”

Again, silence.

Letting out a deep breath he said more urgently, this thoughts making his head thump. “(y,n)?”

It wasn’t until he looked down at your face to see you weren’t ignoring him, you’d just fallen asleep he felt himself relax. Shaking his head with a small smile he exhaled, letting his nervousness go as he saw your sleeping face.

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Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed <3 As this blog is fairly knew I’m not too sure about a tag list but if it’s something you want please don’t hesitate to let me know!! Same with requests ❤️

#seth rollins #wwe fanfiction #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins smut #wwe raw #wwe imagine #roman reigns fanfiction

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