#i know why it wanted rose. because this was his desire. to change the world. and boy oh boy does it change | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bradshawsbaby · 1 year ago

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Change of Plans

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are supposed to be getting ready to attend the Navy Ball, but after being gone on a mission for three months, your husband has other plans.

Word Count: 4.8k

Author’s Note: Happy International Bob Floyd Fucks Month! Thanks for hosting, @attapullman!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), allusions to sex, innuendos, and fluff because I'm physically incapable of not writing fluff.

All the make-up in the world wasn’t going to hide this hickey.

Groaning in frustration, you rose from the stool at your vanity and leaned in closer to the mirror, dabbing delicately at the sensitive, bruised skin at the base of your throat, right along your collarbone. It felt as though you had already applied half your tube of concealer, and still the purplish mark was glaring back at you, mocking you with its prominence.

It was hopeless.

Maybe you could swap out the necklace you had been planning to wear tonight with a larger one from your jewelry box? Oh, but the one you had already chosen paired so perfectly with your dress. Would anyone believe you if you said you had walked into a kitchen cabinet? Highly unlikely.

“Damn you, Robert Floyd,” you muttered under your breath, futilely smudging another round of concealer on your skin with your beauty blender.

You certainly hadn’t been complaining when your husband had given you the love bites the night before, too swept up in pleasure and your desire for him to have had the forethought to consider the impact his mouth was going to have on your attire for tonight’s big event.

Bob had returned only two days earlier from a three-month mission—the longest he’d been gone since your wedding—and he had been absolutely insatiable since coming home. Not to say that the two of you didn’t enjoy a very healthy and robust sex life, but these past two days had been something else. You’d seen a side of your sweet, mild-mannered husband that thrilled you in its passionate desperation. Just yesterday, he’d held you as a very willing captive in bed all day long, his lips and tongue tracing every curve and contour of your body, his mouth memorizing the taste of your skin.

Hence, the hickies.

At least the rest of them were scattered across your body in places no one else would find. It was just this pesky one on your neck.

Sighing softly, you took a small step backward and turned your head from side to side, surveying the work you’d done from different angles. From a distance, maybe people would think it was a birthmark? Or maybe if you wore your hair down, instead of swept back in the updo you currently had it pinned in, it would serve as a shield.

Or maybe you would just have to walk into the United States Navy Ball letting everyone know that Lieutenant Robert Floyd, the shy, meek WSO that so many people underestimated on a daily basis, enjoyed marking up his wife’s neck.

The Dagger Squad’s return had coincided with the Navy’s birthday, which meant that they had barely been home a couple days and already they were having to don their dress blues for the blowout birthday bash. Bob normally enjoyed attending the ball, but this time, he’d been looking for any excuse to get out of it.

“I just want to stay here with you,” he’d mumbled against your lips just that morning. “You’re the only one I want to be with right now.”

Maybe the hickies hadn’t been as innocuous as you thought. Maybe they had been a calculated attack on your husband’s part to convince you to pull the plug on your evening plans. The thought made you shake your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Just then, you heard Bob’s voice reverberating through your small bungalow, the sound of his footsteps growing closer as he approached the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, do you know where I put my cuff—”

His voice trailed off as soon as he entered the room, which made you glance over your shoulder to discern the reason why.

He was half dressed, clad in his blue dress pants and a crisp white button down shirt, sans the missing cufflinks. But he no longer seemed concerned about that as he stood staring at you, his blue eyes blown wide behind his glasses. He was drinking in the sight of you like a parched man in the desert.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out, his voice almost reverent.

“What?” you giggled softly, feeling your cheeks grow warm under the intensity of his gaze.

Bob just continued to stare, wordlessly appreciating you as his eyes raked you over from head to toe.

You turned back to your vanity mirror to figure out what it was that he found so mesmerizing. You’d been so fixated on hiding that hickey that you hadn’t even paid much attention to what the rest of you looked like.

Your hair and make-up were already done, the blush and lipstick you had chosen doing much to accentuate your features. You hadn’t wanted to get anything on your gown, so you were dressed only in your sheer silk stockings and the little chocolate-colored silk slip that you were going to be wearing underneath your dress. You had to admit that you did look quite good. And Bob always did love you in silk.

“Don’t get any ideas, Lieutenant,” you teased, batting your eyelashes over your shoulder as you leaned in closer to the mirror and carefully wiped at a small smudge of lipstick in the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, honey, do we have to go tonight?” Bob groaned, stepping further into the room and walking right up behind you, his eyes meeting yours in the vanity mirror as he rested his hands on your hips.

“Yes, we do,” you laughed, privately reveling in the feel of his large, warm hands pressed against you. “We told all our friends we would be there, and all your bosses are going to be there, too.”

“They know who I am,” he argued, ducking his head and pressing soft, languid kisses to your shoulder. “I think we’re well past the need for making good impressions.” His lips transferred from one shoulder to the other, leaving a trail of searing kisses in his wake.

“But it’s the Navy’s birthday,” you countered, trying not to waver in your resolve. “You love the Navy.” Your breath caught slightly at the end of that last sentence, but you were hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I love you more,” Bob murmured, his lips now moving towards your neck. “Besides,” he whispered against your ear, lightly nipping at your earlobe, “the Navy’s had almost 250 birthdays. It won’t mind if I miss one party.”

“What about my dress?” you sighed softly, letting your head loll back against his shoulder as his hands began roaming over your stomach and thighs, his kisses against your neck and shoulders becoming more insistent.

“You can save it for next year,” he chuckled lightly, his broad chest rumbling against your back. “As beautiful as I’m sure you’d look in it, I think you look even more beautiful out of it,” he added in a low voice, his massive hands sliding up your body until they were gently cupping your breasts.

“Bob,” you moaned out softly, trying to scold him even as your eyes fluttered closed from how good his touch felt. “We shouldn’t. We’re going to be late.”

Your husband didn’t respond with words this time, just hummed faintly against your skin while he nibbled gently along your jaw, the veins in his hands standing out against his fair skin as he began kneading and massaging your breasts through the thin material of your slip. You’d always loved his hands—after his beautiful eyes and his kind smile, they were one of your favorite features on him.

“You’re not playing fair,” you giggled breathily, your toes curling and an all too familiar heat pooling between your legs as his hands continued to caress your body, one remaining on your breast while the other glided down along your side, tenderly stroking your stockinged thigh.

“I need you, sweetheart,” he whispered, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of your perfume. It was his favorite. You always sent him with a bottle of it when he left on a mission or deployment so that he could spray it on his pillow and be reminded of you. When he arrived home two days ago after being gone for three whole months, the bottle was empty. “I missed you so much. Please.”

“Oh, Bobby,” you exhaled, reaching behind you and raking your fingers through his hair, mussing his neatly combed locks. “How could I ever say no to you?”

With that greenlight, Bob swiftly turned you in his arms so that you were facing him, your back to your vanity mirror as he crushed you against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his lips crashing against yours in a heated embrace.

Moaning delightedly into his mouth, you wrapped your arms around him, caressing the nape of his neck with your manicured fingers as his hands slid down your back until they were cupping your butt, pulling you even closer to him.

You felt the loss of him when he pulled back, your lips desperately chasing his even as he lifted those big hands of his to cradle your face, one thumb brushing across your bottom lip as he smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“What happened to us being late?” he joked, kissing the tip of your nose and then peppering your cheeks and jaw with tiny, barely-there kisses.

“My husband can be very persuasive,” you grinned, fisting your hands in the front of his dress shirt and turning your face upward, willing his lips to return to yours.

Bob chuckled at that, tenderly brushing a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. Just getting to hold you in my arms again. I never want to let you go,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, just enough to send tingles racing up and down your spine, but not enough to satisfy the ache gnawing at you, deep inside. “Sit down,” he told you quietly, indicating your long-forgotten vanity stool with a short nod of his head.

Swollen lips still desperate for more of his kisses, you pouted slightly, but did as he said, slowly lowering yourself down onto the stool and staring up at your husband, wondering what was on his mind.

But then suddenly your tall, strong, handsome husband was sinking to his knees in front of you and all questions and coherent thoughts flew out of your mind.

“Honey,” he groaned out in a husky voice, burying his face in your lap and littering the tops of your thighs with hot, hungry kisses, his arms coming up to encircle your waist. “I love you. I love you so much,” he murmured, nudging the hem of your slip up slowly with his nose.

“I love you, too, Bobby,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the naked adoration you felt in every little thing he did and said.

Head still resting in your lap, Bob’s arms slowly began to slide back down your body, his fingertips tracing a hot trail down your legs. He loved when you wore silk stockings, his hands running back and forth over the thin, sheer material with a sense of awe. Shifting back slightly, he pushed your slip up so that your stockinged thighs were more fully exposed to him. He gazed at them for a minute or two, as if just wanting to admire their beauty, and then bent his head down, planting one kiss after another on each thigh, all in a neat row. His movements were slow, unhurried, purposeful. He was taking his time worshiping your body and he wanted you to know it.

After several minutes of kissing your thighs, Bob turned his attention to your knees, pressing soft kisses to the insides of each of them. And as his lips danced across your skin, his hands slid up and down the backs of your calves, gently massaging as he went.

“Bobby,” you breathed out, your fingers continuing to run through his hair as you bit your bottom lip, your back arching as you felt your nipples harden and desire pool and pulse between your legs.

“Have I told you lately how much I love these thighs?” he asked, his eyebrows rising as his glance turned upward towards your face, his mouth still skimming the insides of your knees, slowly moving higher. “I could happily spend the rest of my life between these thighs,” he sighed, lightly biting down on the supple flesh.

“Bobby!” you giggled, feeling your skin grow warm from his praise and from how turned on it was making you.

He evidently didn’t want the hickey that you still hadn’t managed to conceal to feel lonely, because he suddenly began a passionate assault on your upper thighs, kissing and sucking and biting until you could see the small red marks appearing, even through your stockings.

Letting out a low moan of arousal, you found yourself tugging on his hair, pulling his head up and dragging his mouth towards yours. Bob happily obliged, his strong arms wrapping securely around your body as he kissed you with a newly unlocked fervor. His long, calloused fingers found purchase in your hair and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care that it would completely ruin the updo you’d spent an hour styling. Your vision had tunneled to only him. He was the only thing that mattered right now.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, panting and desperately running your hands over each other’s bodies, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of your lipstick smudged all over your husband’s face.

“I don’t know if it’s your color,” you teased, wiping your hand across his mouth and chin with an amused twinkle in your eye.

Bob laughed in response, but his blue eyes grew darker with want as he gazed at you, your skin flushed and hot to the touch, your own eyes wide and dark with desire, the lipstick practically rubbed clean off your lips.

“Oh, Bob,” you whimpered quietly, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his neck. Two could play at the game he was playing. You peppered kisses up and down the column of his throat, what was left of your lipstick leaving a trail of seduction in your wake. As you moved down towards his collarbone, you realized you had even left a smudge of red on the collar of his crisp white uniform shirt.

Bob’s breathing was growing heavier, more strained, and as you pressed your body closer to his, you could feel how hard he was for you. But it wasn’t until you began sucking softly on the pulse point just beneath his jaw that a tortured groan burst forth from his lips, his grip on your body tightening as he lifted you from the vanity stool and carried you over to the bed, carefully laying you down so that your head was resting against the pillows.

His glasses were slightly askew, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the tent in the front of his uniform pants standing at attention as he gazed down at you with open and unabashed adoration.

You found yourself squeezing your legs together in anticipation as you stared back, your breath catching in your throat when he climbed on top of you, his nose nudging yours as he pressed your foreheads together, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Those were the longest three months of my life,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from both arousal and emotion.

“I know,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek with gentle fingertips. It had been torture waking up to an empty bed every day these past few months. “But it’s over now. We’re together again. I’m right here.”

Bob nodded, tracing the outline of your face as if trying to convince himself that it was true. “You’re right here,” he repeated, dropping a soft, sweet kiss on your lips. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “And I need you so badly.”

Without further preamble, he began kissing his way down your body, paying particular attention to the spot you’d spent the better part of twenty minutes trying to mask earlier. It seemed you would just have to rock the hickey at this point—well, that or invest in a lot of turtlenecks.

You giggled softly as he kissed down your stomach, his light pecks tickling you even through your slip. But the laughter died in your throat the second he began pushing the chocolate-brown fabric up around your waist, his skilled fingers dipping inside the waistband of your stockings and ever so slowly dragging them down your legs.

Moaning softly, you tucked your chin and lowered your gaze to watch his every movement, noting the way he was careful with everything he did, making sure not to tear the fragile silk as he slid it off you, letting the light material flutter to the bedroom floor as he then focused his attention on the small scrap of material still hiding you from him, the brown silk that matched your slip.

He was careful, calculated in his every movement. He was taking his time with you. He was finally home, finally back where he belonged, and he wasn’t going to take a second of it for granted.

“Bobby,” you gasped softly, your back arching slightly as he began kissing his way up your leg, starting at your ankle. He repeated the same process on your other leg, tormenting you with his languorous movements. You could feel yourself growing soaked with need, burying your manicured fingers in his hair and tugging slightly to signify your impatience.

Bob chuckled lowly against your skin in response, the feel of it causing goosebumps to rise on your legs. His teeth scraped lightly along your inner thigh, and then he was soothing it with gentle kisses. His fingers began ghosting along the waistband of your silk underwear, the dark wet patch at your center only growing as you felt him so close to where you needed him.

“You’re so wet for me,” Bob breathed out, his breath warm against your core as his eyes widened behind his BCGs. You found it endearing, the way he said it. He always said it as if it was the most shocking discovery in the world. As if, even after all this time, he still couldn’t believe that he got you this aroused.

“Yes,” you nodded, reaching down to lightly touch his cheek. “You always get me like this. I need you, Bob.”

Your words lit a fire inside him and all at once he was pressing his face against your clothed core, breathing in your scent and allowing his tongue to gently tease you. You could feel him smiling against you when you let out a gasp of surprise, your hips bucking slightly at the feel of his mouth on you.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your hip as he firmly hooked his fingers inside the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs, tossing them so that they joined your abandoned stockings on the floor.

“Love you, love you,” you moaned as he pushed your legs open wider, settling himself comfortably on his stomach and getting to work.

Your husband’s tongue was a wondrous thing. The sweetest words dripped off it like honey, words that made you feel cherished and loved and known. It was a tongue that could take your breath away when he kissed you with it, those honeyed words still fresh in his mouth as he sought to communicate everything he couldn’t say with words alone. And it was a tongue that could make you fall apart and turn into a whimpering, writhing mess when he put it to use between your legs.

And right now, he was putting it to use.

“Bob! Oh, Bobby!” you cried out, drawing your knees up slightly as he licked a few firm stripes from your entrance up to that tiny bundle of nerves that he knew like the back of his hand. When you felt his hands come to rest on your hips, pressing them down into the mattress, you draped your hands over them, clinging to his fingers like an anchor.

He knew just what to do to get you going, just what to do to turn you on and make you feel like your body was singing. Half the time, you were convinced that he knew your body even better than you yourself did.

Right now, he was lazily tracing figure eights against you with his tongue, a warm-up for the intense pleasure that you knew was soon to follow. You continued to moan and whimper in pleasure, knowing that your husband loved it when he could hear how much you were enjoying yourself. Wanting to encourage him further, you removed one of your hands from his and pressed it against the back of his head, carding your fingers through his soft locks.

You were about to let out a noise of protest when he pulled back slightly, but it was quickly replaced with a sigh of gratification when he used the calloused pads of his fingers to spread you open, gathering your slick on his fingers and spreading it up and down. You could hear him sucking it into his mouth, a pleased hum rumbling from inside his chest, which only pushed you closer to the edge. This man was going to make you come and he had hardly even done anything yet.

“Taste so good, honey,” he mumbled against you, his midwestern drawl coming out thicker, which made you smile. That always happened when he was turned on.

Clearly he was starting to grow as impatient as you were because he dove back in, warm-ups forgotten, and wrapped his lips directly around your clit, sucking with all his might. When you cried out and arched up off the bed, he ran a soothing hand down your thigh, squeezing your flesh to keep you grounded. His glasses slid forward as he pressed his mouth more tightly to you, kissing and sucking and licking like his life depended on it.

You were completely incoherent at that point, reaching out to grip the bedsheets in white-knuckled fists as your husband brought you closer and closer to the brink of an orgasm. When he slipped two fingers inside you and began curling them gently, your mind went completely blank and you found yourself incapable of uttering any word other than his name.

It fell from your lips in an endless litany, your hips grinding against his mouth and your fingers digging sharply into his scalp. He didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, your actions seemed to spur him on further, his fingers increasing their pace as his lips and tongue continued their joint attack on your most sensitive parts.

From the way he was gasping and moaning against you, you knew that he was turned on, too. That was another thing you found so incredibly endearing and so unbelievably sexy about your husband—he loved going down on you. There had been times when he had gotten off from that alone. And he was unapologetic about it.

“Just love the way you taste, sweetheart,” he often told you, a sheepish smile on his face as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I love making you feel that good.”

Glancing downward, trying so hard to catch your breath, you realized that Bob was grinding his hips against the bed as he continued to devour you, and it nearly made you climax right then and there.

Between his ruined shirt and his soon to be ruined pants, you were going to have to get his dress blues to the dry cleaner ASAP.

“B-Bobby, baby, I’m close,” you keened, your eyes squeezing shut as the sensations of pleasure washed over you and coursed through your veins. “So close.”

Bob didn’t reply, just doubled down on his efforts, slipping a third finger inside you and circling your core with his tongue, not relenting until he felt your thighs begin to shake in that telltale way he recognized so well.

The white hot coil that had been tightening deep inside you was nearly at its breaking point, your cries of pleasure turning into breathy pants as you felt yourself teetering right on the edge, hardly able to breathe as your legs tensed up, trapping your husband between your thighs, just like he’d wanted. Both of your hands found purchase in his hair, your legs draped over his shoulders and your body bucking upward off the bed.

With a loud sob of his name, your orgasm exploded around you, stars dancing in your vision and your entire body trembling as the aftershocks coursed through you.

Bob held onto you tightly through it all, gently removing his mouth and his fingers as you became too sensitive, whimpering softly.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he whispered soothingly, collapsing beside you and taking you into his arms. “I’m right here,” he cooed, pressing gentle, tender kisses to your cheek, his fogged-up glasses bumping against your temple.

“Oh, Bobby,” you sighed happily, curling up against his chest and letting him hold you.

The two of you laid there like that for several minutes, lost in the haze of the afterglow. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Then suddenly Bob was shifting slightly, moving to get out of bed, which had you clinging to him.

“Don’t get up,” you begged, kissing along his jawline. “Let’s just stay in bed.”

Bob chuckled quietly, adjusting his glasses. “What about the Navy Ball that you were so adamant about getting to?”

“I changed my mind,” you grinned, running your fingers over the buttons on his shirt. “Besides,” you added with a wink, “you ruined my hair.”

He laughed loudly at that, pulling you towards him and dropping a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” he promised you, giving you a few more quick pecks before climbing out of bed.

Sighing softly, you rolled onto your back and twirled a lock of hair that had come loose around your finger. You weren’t sure where your husband was going, but you realized he must have left his phone in another room when you suddenly heard his voice coming from the direction of the living room.

“Hey, Phoenix,” you heard him saying. Even from the bedroom, you could hear the blush in his voice, could imagine him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. It made you smile. “Change of plans. We’re not going to be able to make it tonight.”

There was silence for a moment, and you could imagine his frontseater teasingly giving him hell for ditching when the rest of the squad was being forced to attend after just getting back home. You laughed softly.

“Yeah, tell everyone I’m sorry,” he replied, his voice getting closer. You sat up slightly when you heard Bob tell Phoenix that he thought you were coming down with something.

It was quiet again as Phoenix must have been saying something, and then Bob was back in the room, standing beside the bed and grinning down at you. “Yeah, I think she’s got a fever or something. She’s just burning up,” he said, winking at you.

Giggling softly, you picked up a pillow and whacked him in the leg with it.

“I’ll tell her. Thanks, Phoenix. Have fun tonight,” Bob told her before hanging up with a chuckle. “Phoenix says she hopes you feel better.”

“Robert Floyd!” you laughed, whacking him again. This time, however, he caught the pillow in both hands and used it to pull you closer to him.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I needed to find a quick excuse,” he grinned, kissing you softly. Pulling back, he took the pillow from you and dropped it onto the bed, crawling back in beside you. “Besides, I really do think you’re burning up,” he teased, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Oh, yeah, I do think I’m coming down with something for sure. I feel hot all over,” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I guess you’ll just have to stay in bed all night,” Bob mused, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “As your husband, I think it’s only right that I stay, too, to take care of you.”

“Mmm, yes, I think that sounds like a very wise plan indeed,” you nodded sagely. “But, you know, you might as well get comfortable and take off all these clothes,” you went on, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Excellent point, sweetheart,” he replied, the two of you finally dissolving into a fit of laughter as you helped him strip out of his uniform and throw it to the floor, joining the pile with your previously discarded clothing.

The two of you spent all of that evening, and most of the following morning, in bed. It was just what the doctor ordered.

And when Phoenix texted you the following afternoon to see how you were doing, you were pleased to tell her that you were feeling much better.

#international bob floyd fucks month #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman

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slippinmickeys · 19 days ago

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Keva sent me a Funfetti prompt on Bluesky, which was fun because it was just a picture. Of...you'll see.

A February day like the world cracked open, crystalline and pure. There was snow in the air, there was frost on the glass.

“Gonna need to replace those windows,” said Mulder into his pillow, though Scully couldn’t help but admire the paisley hoar, the delicate whorl of paper thin crystals. “Item 161 on the Shit The House Needs List.”

“You’re the one who begged to buy this house, Mulder,” she reminded him, rolling toward him and shoving her feet under the warm meat of his legs. From beside the bed, the baby monitor hissed quietly.

“You agreed to it.”

“The price was right.”

“I paid for it.”

“It’s only redeeming quality,” she said jauntily, rolling closer to him and pushing the cold tip of her nose into his neck. “And now you get to pay for its upkeep.”

The first eleven months of William’s life had been a slow merging of their individual ones, until the night of Mulder’s fortieth birthday when he wondered aloud why he was still paying for his apartment when he hadn’t set foot in it in months. Upon blowing out the candles on his Snoball, he declared the desire to buy them all a house.

She pressed a kiss into his skin. “It’s hideous,” she murmured into him.

“It’s got good bones.”

“It’s got zero curb appeal.”

“There are cathedrals everywhere for those with the eyes to see,” Mulder said, then rolled over quickly, pinning Scully beneath him in one slick move.

She looked up at him with surprise. With interest.

“I won’t sit idly by while you lay there and burgle my warmth,” he said, a sly grin creeping up one cheek.

“I was once told that the best way to regenerate body heat was to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with somebody else who is already naked.”

Mulder smiled. “Sleeping bags aren’t necessary Scully, I intend to get lucky,” he said, lowering his mouth to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She felt the flick of his tongue.

And then from the baby monitor, the dulcet tones of “Dada! Dada!”

They both groaned, and Mulder thunked his head into Scully’s shoulder.

“Well…” she said, giving his back a conciliatory rub. “Maybe tonight.”

Mulder lifted his head.

“Here me out,” he said. “I think we have time.” He thrust himself almost experimentally against her once.

Scully considered for a moment, turned her head so she could better hear the smaller noises William was making over the baby monitor when:

“DadadadaDADADA!”

Mulder fell to Scully’s side in defeat.

“I’ll keep the bed warm for you,” she said, checking to make sure she didn’t need to change into a different pajama top for easier nursing.

Mulder made a whining sound.

“Why do I have to go when it’s you he wants?”

“He’s not calling for me,” Scully said innocently. He was one hundred percent correct. The boy would be thrilled to see his father walk into his nursery, but the second Scully came into view, he would attempt to tip himself out of his father’s arms with all the strength he could muster until he found himself in his mother’s.

“‘Dada’ is the only word he can say.”

“A fact I recall you bragging about to anyone within earshot for the better part of the last week.”

“Scully…” he whined.

“To the victor go the spoils,” she said, and shimmied herself further under the covers.

Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Mulder rose from the bed and quickly donned sweats and a tee shirt, shuffling out of their bedroom in a leather pair of slippers ‘William’ had gotten him for Christmas.

“Good morning!” Scully heard him say good-naturedly over the monitor before she leaned over and switched it off, smiling to herself.

A few minutes later Mulder came shuffling back in carrying their son, who squealed happily upon seeing his mother.

“Good morning, William!” she said with a happy smile.

As they approached her side of the bed, Mulder grinned.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom,” he said, then turned to look importantly at their son. “Want to give her her present?”

“Da!” the baby babbled, and leaned out of Mulder’s arms and into Scully’s.

Scully sat him on her lap briefly, and in the hand that had been tucked into Mulder’s side appeared a small red and yellow plushie that went directly into his mouth.

“My goodness!” Scully exclaimed happily. “What’s this?”

Mulder flopped into the bed next to them and propped himself up on an elbow.

William took the opportunity to tilt himself forward and reach for Scully’s top.

“Breakfast first, huh?” she said, and adjusted both baby and herself so the boy could nurse.

He waved the plushie about as he latched, and Scully finally got a good look at it.

“Wait,” she said. “Mulder is that a…” She turned to look at him and he grinned.

The plushie was a bee. Slightly anthropomorphized with an adorable chubby face, smile, and antenna, holding a heart that said “BEE MINE” in looping cursive.

“You’re kidding.” She turned to Mulder, who chuckled. “Where’d you two find this?”

“The grocery store,” he answered airily.

“My Valentine’s Day gift is from the grocery store?” Mock outrage.

“Your birthday is in nine days and I’ve got a mortgage to pay,” Mulder breezed. “Besides, he really liked it.”

“That much is apparent,” Scully said, looking down at her son who was happily suckling, his hand wrapped around the bee in a death grip.

“You like it?”

“It’s charming,” she answered. “And as inside jokes go, it’s very…you.”

Mulder leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek and then one to the side of William’s head. “I think of it less as an inside joke and more a message of devotion.”

She quirked a look at him.

“I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Scully,” he said simply, then rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving her in a state of rather stunned emotional tumult.

She sat in silence for a moment, her equilibrium shaken. Mulder chose that moment to bring her back to herself.

“Oh,” he said, reappearing in the doorway with a toothbrush sticking half out of his mouth. “Be careful. I think it’s got a lot of drool on the one antenna.”

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #prompt #funfetti #picture prompts are actually really fun #send more #open to all prompts

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demodraws0606 · 5 months ago

Text

DRDT CHARACTER THEME PLAYLIST - My Personal Interpretation

Warning : This playlist was deleted by DRDTdev and thus this is mostly meant to be something fun, and also because people have posted a lot of interpretations that I don't agree with (and I've always wanted to make my own).

So a while back DRDTdev made a playlist that they've now deleted, however I've seen a lot of people making their own posts about who fits which song. However since I'm not "like the other girlsTM", i had mixed feelings on how certain songs were assigned.

Some songs will be exactly the same as some other posts, mainly because they make the most sense to me but I do have some interesting shifts here and there that I will try to explain.

However I want to get the obvious ones out of the way first

UNDEAD ENEMY : David Chiem

I think this one is the most obvious song in the playlist. The song talks about a person who has put on a mask and is miserable trying to addear to the expectations of that mask. There is a lot of pent up frustration and anger in those lyrics which also is very fitting for David.

There is also the hints of something more behind those feelings of hatred, despite how much he's learned to hate the world there's still a sliver of him that still wants genuine companionship.

YESMAN : Nico Hakobyan

This song already fits Nico purely from the introvert lines. I'm joking, that's not just why I considering Yesman to be Nico's song. This song fits really well with Nico's frustration with being a pushover (or you could say a Yesman) and just how society has always treated them poorly.

The song itself is about being forced to do something, like a boring job, and despite how much hatred you feel you still keep on trying to keep your head low and do what your told. I think all of that really fits Nico's arc and what we know of them so far. Someone who constantly is pushed down by other and has been taught that they need to accept it.

SHUNRAN : Arei Nageishi

This song could also fit Ace as another aggressive person who just wants companionship but I personally think this song fits Arei way better especially with the beginning line ("I won't pay attention to small fry" has a lot of Arei vibes).

This song fits Arei's desire to want love and the contradiction that comes with her aggressive personality. She feels that it's unfair how life punished her which fits a lot with the line "They say that praying to be loved is a sin" as she was constantly denied that love. The lines as well about your personality slipping and crying reminds me of Arei's breakdown.

Hi-Fi Evolution Theory : Veronika Grebenshchikova

This song is very vague but despite that it is 100 pourcent a Veronika song.

I don't fully know what the song means in itself but the lyrics really fit Veronika's issues with boredom and her enjoyement of the killing game. There's a lot of lines about laughing and wanting to be entertained which just goes with her really well with her character.

Cartoons : Rose Lacroix

Ok, I think I lied when I said Undead Enemy was the most obvious song, THIS is the most obvious song. I don't think there's much analysis to be done to convince anyone that this is would Rose's theme.

This song reflects well Rose's depression and pain surrounding her talent and just how her life turned out in general. It kinda has that dissociative numbness in the lyrics that just fits her really well.

Sing Along : Teruko Tawaki

This song really fits Teruko extremely well especially her abandonnement issues. The song itself sounds aggressive but it oozes of longing and sadness.

A lot of the lyrics fit her feelings of being betrayed by Xander and Min, people she's gotten close to in a short time but immediatly ended up betraying her. It also fits her feeling towards her brother who ended up leaving her as well.

Now let's take a break and tackle the Instrumental songs !! This is where things start to change from other posts so get ready.

Spitfire (05 Version) : J Rosales

This one just fits J's vibes quite well. It's aggressive but also isn't too serious or intimidating, it just sounds like something J would listen in the car.

It also just has this...manly energy (?) or punk-ish energy that J has, it fits her rejecting the traditional feminity her mom tried to force on her.

Main Theme, Diamond is Unbreakable : Xander Matthews

This song is literally Xander vibes and you can fight me on that, it has a very dramatic and grandiose sound (especially when the piano comes in) that just fits how Xander holds himself (as you can see with that pose).

It's the exact type of theme I would expect from someone being the Ultimate Rebel. There's also more actively aggressive parts that I think also fit Xander, as we see he's got a short tamper when his ideologies are challanged and he also just is surprisingly quick to resort to violence.

desk rotation by RQ laji-2: Charles Cuevas

You can fight me again because you cannot tell this Bill Nye intro ass track doesn't fit Charles. Again it's hard to argue considering assigning instrumental tracks is really just based on vibes however this song really has a huge science show feel to it.

I could imagine hearing it while Charles is doing chemistry stuff or theorizing during the class trial.

Now let's go back to the lyrical songs, and this is where things start to go a bit crazy and I might need to justify myself a bit more.

asymptotic : Min Jeung

I know Charles is considered the resident nerd guy but you cannot NOT give the song about math puns to Min.

I think this song works really well for Min's relationship with Teruko. It especially reminds me of what Teruko says to Min before she gets excecuted that they "should've never gotten attached to one another".

This song is about a romantic relationship that could never happen, which I think represents Min's own feelings towards Teruko. About how they could've been closer but now they'll always be drifting apart.

How Min in a way sacrificed her life for Teruko but again she'll always be "out of reach". A relationship that could never happen under the killing game's circumstances.

RUNAWAY : Levi Fontana

I think this song especially with what Levi revealed to us latest episode REALLY fits him.

A song about a person who is repeteadly failling to try and "become better". The lines about "searching" and "tripping" goes in line with Levi's behavior in chapter 2. He's awkwardly trying to reach an ideal of the person he's supposed to be. He wants to be a "good person" but from the day he was born he was completely denied that ideal (aka "Dreams of who i want to be I'm seeing every empty page")

But there is a silver lining to all of this, the lyrics work with the moral of Levi's character. He doesn't need to run away from who he truly is, that what he considers an obstruction to his goal is simply just a part of himself he should accept. He doesn't need to "run away".

tip toes : Hu Jing

This song already just screams Hu purely from the line "I'm reaching for something more than this feeling of being important". She's a person who wants to protect others, be someone who others can rely on but in part it's very much driven by her own ego.

The lyrics are slightly vague but the parts about her "future" I feel like really gives vibes about how she used to be someone who had givne up on her own life but now is determined to persue it no matter what.

I didn't put this lyric in but "Take this ghost of me with the tide to die" again really feels like it references Hu's past and how she's ashamed of it. The song's lyrics give me a lot of feelings of regret but also determination which I think encapsulate Hu's character well.

Polygonal : Ace Markey

I've never seen people consider this one for Ace which is really surprising but also not because this song is very vague. Despite that, I do think this song 100 pourcent fits Ace purely because of some lines that really fit neatly with Ace's character.

The repeated mentions of how anyone would want to be loved/have someone to laugh with, it reminds me a lot of how Ace reacted to Levi saying he didn't care if he died. Ace desperately someone to give a shit about him, he'd rather take pity than nothing at all but he's also a self sabotager who drives anyone who gets close away from him.

"Your increasing honesty, I hate that about you" Honestly really feels like it's Ace saying that to Levi ? I wouldn't know fully how to explain it but it just really gives that vibe.

The song also seems to go on about a person's suffering about how their life is "full of failures" which again goes unfortunatly with Ace who seems to just have lived a pretty miserable life. Having only one person he could call a friend, being forced into an Ultimate Talent that both ruined his body and mental health .

Drawing Pins : Arturo Giles

Ok this one is probably the most farfetched pick, i'd say ? Considering, however, how little we know about Arturo I feel like this song has a lot of room to fit his characters and certain lines already do in multiple ways.

The parts about not being able to fit in, both makes me think of how he's kind of just, openly mocked within the group. However it also really makes me think about Arturo's family, him wanting to distance himself from them and his apparent disdain from them as well.

"Tell me what you did it for" "Cause I can't figure it out" I honestly think those parts really fit well with Arturo's sister committing suicide. He doesn't know why she did it something like that and he refuses to see it as his fault, it haunts him, he can't figure out why she did it because he can't fathom the idea that in reality it truly was because of him.

The "what do i have to do to be loved by you" parts I think are where things get a bit weird. My thought process would be Arturo's feelings towards "pretty people", him becoming obsessed with J because of her mother really makes me think that he's looking out for some kind of validation in a way.

Good grief : Eden Tobisa

I'm sorry this song is not fucking Whit, it's Eden, y'all can suck it /lh

This song really just fits way to well for me with Eden's feelings about Arei (weither she's the culprit or not even if I don't think she is anymore). The entire of the trial of chapter 2, Eden is struggling with the fact that she lost Arei and what could have been. This song really makes me think about how she tells David that she "knows she's dead and that she's never coming back". The slight upbeat-ness of the song really fits as well with Eden's attempt to try and stay cheerful despite how sad she feels.

I think Arei's death will be a very big sticking point in Eden's character.

Also the time motif with "Every minute and every hour" just fits way too good for it to be ignored.

In terms of other lyrics, I agree some of them fit Whit a bit but there are certain things that click way too well with Eden (and also none of the other songs fit Eden at all). I mean Eden's secret quote literally is "You can't go back no matter how hard you try" so clearly her character is heavily tied with grief as well.

"If you want to be a party animal, you have to learn to live in the jungle...." Really feels to me like Eden having to learn to be stronger and stop blaming herself ? It really just sounds like advice that would be given to someone like Eden who wants to be upbeat and confident but just simply is too prone to be insecure.

"Get drunk, call me a fool. Put me in my place" Again those lyrics really just feel like they fit Arei and Eden's relationship. Arei calling Eden a "fool" and "putting her in her place", it just ends up really matching perfectly in my opinion.

Mistaken Belief of Love : Whit Young

AHAH ! You have fallen into my trap of this post actually being secretly propaganda about how "Mistaken Belief of Love" really fits what's hinted about Whit's character so far !!!

Yeah, no, this song really does not make sense with anyone else other than Whit ? Both the lyrics and vibes do not match with anyone. The song's whole thing is about "love" and Whit's a fucking matchmaker, thematically it just fits like a puzzle piece. Not only that but Whit's whole thing (that actually hasn't rlly appeared in the series itself all that often) is that he seems to not be able to find love himself and is doomed to be single. It reinforces this idea that, yeah Whit's song would be about love in some way or another (I talk about love in general, this song is not a love song despite what you'd think)

It also works really well with Whit's secret quote being "We often idolize the dead" meaning Whit probably saw his mother as someone she wasn't. Perhaps she was abusive or neglectful, or she hid something from him that truly shows that she may not have cared about him at all.

There are also lines that just fit Whit really well like the "deception, boasting, saying "I openly laughed at it"", just really gives giant Whit vibes for me ? Same with the mention of "peekaboo" since we know Whit kinda holds on to childish things like that (his socks, the fact he uses fruity shampoo for kids).

Anyways, this was mostly for fun and also because I desperatly to make my own list because I had some Hot Takes Tm.

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hariet436 · 4 months ago

Text

As Belle, you have always known you would leave the palace. Even if clause 99 hadn’t existed, the princes are out of reach for you. The gap between the world that you and them live in was just too great to ever bridge.

That’s why you decided to outright deny having any feelings for them. You were being cruel. You told them that those moments you two spent together meant nothing to you, and that you two can never be anything. Oh, what a good actress you were not tearing up while uttering those cruel words in the most convincing way.

After a heated exchange of painful words and expressions, you were left alone in the room. As soon as the prince leaves, tears fell from your eyes. You didn’t try to stop it though. There was no sob, neither did you expression change. You just stood lifelessly there, letting the tears out as the hot liquid burnt on your cheeks and dripped to the floor. Yet the most unexpected thing happens - you hear the doorknob being turned!

1. Leon Dompteur

- he felt like he said something he shouldn’t have to you. With a small grunt, he opens the door with the intention of apologizing and asking to end things on a peaceful note.

- If parting ways is truly what you want, he had no choice but to respect that wish. Yet, he was his with the sight of you crying. Your eyes are so empty, so painful. In a rush, he strode urgently to you and wrapped his arms tightly around you, making you gasp.

- “W-why are you still here, Leon…!?”

- “If I hadn’t entered the room again, would you have continued to suffer alone like this? I should have known you were clearly lying earlier…”

- You two were going to have a much more honest conversation with each other. It was unclear what the future holds, but at least now that Leon know how you truly felt, he will never let go so easily of his beloved Belle.

2. Licht Klein

- Licht was hurt badly by your words. Was he really that unworthy of your time? Are you just that cold-hearted? Was the warmth he felt from you all a lie? He needed an answer. With that in mind, he re-entered the room, hoping you were still there.

- He froze upon seeing you silently crying with your eyes closed, your expression blank and empty, unlike he has ever seen before. Suddenly, everything clicked and there was a glimmer of hope in his ruby red eyes.

- “I knew it…” Licht mumbled quietly. You opened your eyes upon hearing the words being uttered, and was flustered when you see Licht there. You turned away out of shame, knowing you just said the cruelest things.

- Licht didn’t want to lose anyone he love anymore. With resolved steps, he made his way to you and embraced your body.

- “Please…if you act like this, both of us will be in pain. At least…I want to know what your heart desires the most.”

- The conversation wasn’t easy, but it was needed to figure out a solution that was optimal for both parties.

3. Yves Kloss

- Yves stomped into the kitchen, wanting to bake anything at all to vent his frustration. He was sure there was something between him and Belle, so he thought she would agree to his proposal that she stays in the palace. His mind races with embarrassment and a bit of anger. Was he the clueless one again?

- After half an hour, he finished making some rose pastries. The first person that pops up in his mind at that point wasn’t any of his brother, but Belle. Maybe he can make up for the argument earlier if he just give her the pastries made by the Yves Kloss!

- The first sight that greeted him was of Belle crying, her face behind her hands, scrambling to hide her puffy eyes. Yves panics and rushes inside the room.

- “W-wait, Belle, were you crying because of something I said…? I-I’m sorry! H-have some pastries…!” Yves tried to sooth her and patted her back. Feeling the warmth of this clumsy yet adorable gesture, you wiped your tears away.

- “No, it’s not your fault, Yves, please…”

- “Then what is it? Please tell me, Belle! I-I don’t want you to cry in solitude like I used to…”

- That afternoon, Belle and Yves had a heartfelt conversation. You have decided you won’t lie about your reverence for him anymore.

4. Jin Grandet

- unlike his brothers, Jin was sensitive to a woman’s feelings. He can pick up the signs that you were lying. But he can’t understand why - was she afraid of something? Maybe it was their difference in status…their worlds. Maybe parting ways was the best way for both of them.

- However, Jin’s heart was telling him otherwise. It was the love of his life! He should at least fight for it - or else he would feel continue to feel hollow - unable to express himself to anyone.

- With a determined mind, Jin opens the door only to witness Belle quietly sobbing, her pearly tears falling down the sides of her cheeks. She looks…solemn and sorrowful. No, if parting ways was just going to make them both like this for a lifetime, then he’d rather weather all of the court politics only to have Belle by his side.

- “Why weren’t you just honest from the start…” Jin sighs. He takes your hand and takes you out of the room. “Let’s go, Belle. We shall have a date together and you’ll change your mind about me!”

#ikemen prince fanfiction #leon dompteur #licht klein #yves kloss #jin grandet #ikepri #ikemen prince

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blanc-ci · 4 months ago

Note

The mirror!spirk prompt you asked:

Not exactly a prompt, but considering the mirror world, would Spock and Kirk be able to completely trust each other (probably not)? The earth shattering loyality might still be there, but how can they be sure they wont be backstabed

Does this keep the thrill? Does this break their heart a little? Do they even let themselves acnowledge this in an emotional way and not a purely tactical one? I´ve seen a lot of interpretations about it, so i´d love to see yours!

Ohhhhh okay I’m gonna ramble, rose tinted glasses ON

For one, if you asked them they’d definitely say something like;

“trust Spock? No, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him- which isn’t very far.”

“The Captain is an opportunist, if he deemed my termination sufficiently justified then I doubt he would hesitate. The fact that he has yet to do so simply means that he finds more value in me being kept alive.”

BUT on a deeper level, I think Kirk trusts him far more than he’d ever admit, especially to himself. With the constant tension of everyone on his crew looking to assassinate him, the Empire breathing down his neck, and the eternal outlook of war- war that he is in charge of waging and strategizing for. Means that Spock, with that (seemingly) 2D way of thinking, having a logic that Kirk can grasp and understand and know that he has no desire to usurp him, is probably like his rock in the storm. He can tease/provoke/play with Spock, because he knows the only risk is being teased back, not being murdered. It makes the thrill of interacting with each other so much stronger- there’s no tip toeing, no double meaning.

It’s doubtful Spock understands that though. I don’t think he realizes how much he means to Kirk. He’d never think the captain would value him the same way he does. But reciprocation doesn’t matter, Spock is still determined to always look out for him, support him. Which he readily proves within the episode! Yes, he cites his own personal logic, but he still thinks to warn Kirk ahead of time that he’s been given orders to kill- and he’d been trying to advise him every step of the way.

Even said to his face how he was happy to see Kirk alive and that “I should regret your death”! (Before covering his ass with the “why”)

If you take away the threats and aggression that tint everything the mirror versions say, then;

you have mirror!Spock who is terrified of the consequences of his captain’s decisions and wants more than anything to see him live. Who just wants to help him, save him. Dogging his every step to try and understand what’s going on. It’s so obviously worrying Spock. What could’ve changed? Why won’t he talk? Could it be that his captain has finally decided to discard him?

And mirror!Kirk trapped in the other universe, who is stunned and distraught (in his way) that the one man he thought he knew, his confidant, someone who would always be a ‘safe bet’- suddenly betrays him like this? He can’t rationalize it. He doesn’t understand why he would do such a thing. Why did he change so much? Was it all a lie? Was he just like everyone else? Did he really only want power?

I think they got the rug pulled out from under them in that episode, both plagued with “did I truly know him so little?” And then subsequently wondering why they thought they knew each other at all. When had they become so comfortable? When did they start relying on each other like that?

The realization either dooms them, pulls them apart in the most violent way possible. Or smashes them together in a way that feels equally catastrophic, so frightening but just so right.

#I’ll try to draw something about it #kicking my feet #also sorry if it made little sense #mirror spirk #star trek #spirk #spock #james t kirk #mirror mirror #mirrorverse

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netherfeildren · 2 years ago

Text

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .Epilogue

Series Masterlist

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Here we find ourselves again at the end of another story, and I just need to say a quick thing to you all who have been so incredibly kind and supportive and lovely to me throughout this. It has always been difficult for me to talk about myself and the things I feel, and a large part of why I began this writing thing was that I’ve felt for a while now that my life was stagnant and myself without growth or change, and I didn’t really know how to fix it, but I knew that I wanted to do something or say something, and writing fan fiction may seem like a frivolous sort of avenue to achieve those things, but what you all have given me, and the warmth and support you all have welcomed me with, cannot be compared to anything else I’ve experienced thus. Quite simply, you all have been so fucking nice to me, and you can’t know what it means to me or how grateful I am for it. So really that’s all I want to say which is a million times thank you, and I appreciate you all so much, and I hope I can continue to write for you for a long time to come.

Artwork is Cloud Nine by Amy Beager (2021)

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

.Epilogue

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.

Joan Didion, The White Album

I had a dream recently: we’re in my grandmother’s house, and I don’t know what it means, but we’re together. You’ll never be able to know my parents, and even though my grandmother passed years ago, you get to meet her here – she was always kind to me, here in this place where only I make the rules. She cooks us a meal, we say grace, and she tells you how happy she is that we've found each other. At night, tucked away into her guest bedroom together, you don’t fit in her little shower, head knocking against the spout because you’re too tall. Too big for this world. We huddle into the little double bed together in the dark afterwards, lace edged pillows scratchy and smelling faintly of moths and roses, and we laugh and press together tightly and whisper into each other’s ears.

I don't know what it means, but I know we’re together. My mother never told me to be what I wanted, but I did so anyway. I chose to live. Now I am here with you.

“I have something for you,” he says one late summer evening. The two of you are sitting on the back porch, watching Sarah run around with the new puppy he’d brought home for her earlier in the week. The air, warm and muggy, the sound of cicadas sounding like the symphony of summertime. It is a small, velvet lined black box, and when you open it, a spool of thread lies within.

Faithlessness is escaped like this: “The first time I got married, it was out of necessity, obligation, a wish for something good or right. It seemed like the right step, the right thing to do, but I think you and I– we know what we are to each other. We have always known – even when we could not yet say it. This is a conscious act, us loving one another, an act of will – out of desire or necessity, even, or perhaps – a necessity for each other – but still, we are an act of will together.”

He takes the spool then, and makes a loop of the thread around your ring finger – then ties a little knot around you. Now you are caught.

“I thought I always had to stick by my decisions until the end, but change is only natural, it’s the intent behind your decisions, I think, that’s what really counts. We’ve learned much about intent together, haven’t we? And you and I, we have always been us – from the very first moment. There was a thread that connected us.” And you cannot speak, for there are tears streaming down your face and flooding your throat, battling with your very heart that’s lodged there too, but you nod anyway.

He pulls his hand back and lets the spool unravel, when he uncurls his fingers a diamond ring slides down the thread and onto your waiting hand.

“You and I – we’re connected,” he says. “Every day we become more entwined. And I want us to stay like this for the rest of our lives. Every day more and more. Will you marry me?” And it is not so much a question, but a promise.

“Yes,” you tell him. Of course you will be his wife. “Of course, I will.” He kisses you.

You wake one lazy Sunday morning, months and months of happiness later, your head anchored over his heart. Warm and soft and surrounded by him, you open your eyes to take in the sight of your hand laying over his heart, the gleam of your engagement ring sparkling in the sun. You stretch your legs and listen to the creak in your knee, and when you shift to turn your face up to him, he’s already looking down at you.

“My love, it’s almost noon,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your eyelid.

Your eyes are so heavy, your head drowsy, “‘M so sleepy, dunno why…” You burrow further back into his chest, yawning.

“No?” he nuzzles the crown of your head, hand creeping around to cup your breast and gently drag his thumb back and forth across your nipple

“I had a dream we had a baby,” you mumble, voice full of sleep.

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” you say through another yawn.

“Hmm…” He shifts up on his elbow over you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, another over the curve of your ear. You roll into him, hiding your face under his jaw and breathing in his smell, sleep and musk and Joel. “What was it like?” he asks softly, dragging his hand down the length of your spine. “Tell me.”

“It was perfect. She was perfect.”

“She?”

You hum, “Little baby girl…”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then the tolling of the bell: “Your period’s three weeks late, sweet girl,” he whispers into your ear, shares the secret with you, nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His palm sweeps over your belly, and you freeze at his words, thinking back, trying to count days, finally snapping truly awake.

“What? Why– why didn’t you say anything?”

A deep sound hums in his chest as his hand sneaks over your hip to clutch a handful of your ass, and then to cup between your legs, pressing his growing erection into the apex of your thighs.“Thought you’d want to come to it on your own.” He kisses the tip of your breast over your soft, lace camisole.

You don’t cry anymore, or, well, at least not as often as you once did. A constant well of tears ready to spill over at any moment. No longer a weeper, in a long line of weepers. There’s just too much happiness for that now.

But you cry now, at this, you can’t help yourself. The feeling of this, the idea of the two of you coming together to make your own little person, a sibling for Sarah, it’s a call for happiness of the highest order, like nothing else that’s ever come before it. He holds you in his arms, kisses you deep and wet, and as he licks into your mouth, you feel his own tears slide along your cheeks, intertwine with your own.

He finds the two of you singing and dancing to Shania Twain in the family room, Sarah’s own special, revised version, one afternoon. Bumping hips, and then clutching hands to spin Sarah away from your body, and then twirl her back in, squeezing her tight in your arms, picking her up to spin around with her yourself as the two of you sing at each other.

His daughter catches him spying over your shoulder, “Daddy, come dance with us!” and you turn, gracing him with the sight of your gorgeous smile, as he comes over to wrap his arms around the two of you, relieving you of her weight. He anchors a hand to the small of your back to steady you, feeling the small swell of your belly press into his pelvis. Let me let you in on a secret, Shania sings.

“You wanna hear it?” you tease. How to treat a woman right.

“Don’t I know already?”

You sway in his arms and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head, Sarah’s little palm is on his cheek, tugging at his beard, spin us, Daddy, spin us!

“Yeah, baby, you do. Like no one else.” He kisses you, and the three of you spin together, around and around. You’ll see love is gonna play its part.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #Joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller/you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic

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superkooku · 6 months ago

Note

I see it as a personal theory but it saddens me that Maomao's parents didn't really love eachother but instead wanted something to gain from it, both resulting terribly for them.

In worse it had an impact on their own child, with her not really being showing emotions, especially viewing love in a negative light. Not to blame her growing up in a environment where women are mere objects for men to desire.

That's a sad but interesting take. And honestly, it's pretty realist too considering Maomao's life isn't a fairytale. Though I see it in a different way. A different taste of tragedy.

(rant incoming)

To me, Lakan and Fengxian made some form of bond, at least friends with benefits.

We see Lakan's POV. Him literally crying and going towards Fengxian even if she's sick proves that he loved her. She's the only one (with Maomao) whose face he can see, her playing partner in go and shogi (they share hobbies, which is a great way to create bonds imo).

We see him running in the rain, begging to see her, his desperation when he sees the letters and the fingers. It's pretty clear to me he loves her.

It's more ambiguous on Fengxian's side, as we don't get her inner monologue, but she seems to have missed him too. Though their reunion is shown through rose-tinted glasses, as she never recovered from syphilis in reality. Just Lakan's imagination.

So I'd have less trouble believing she didn't fully love him but I think he's pretty much smitten (I'll watch the series again soon, to refresh my memories).

They're also a parallel to the couple from episode 4, the concubine who faked her (mental) illness to go with the man she loved, trapped in a world where she'd only be a pretty object.

Though I agree with the fact that both had something to gain, especially in the beginning, and as the feelings changed, none of them were able to communicate correctly.

Fengxian was known to be a very proud woman after all. And Lakan likes strategy and twisted games. So they're both terrible at communication and then he's sent in foreign land and she's pregnant. It's too late.

I completely agree about what you said on Maomao, though. The environment she grew up in, especially before Luomen picked her up, was terrible for a child.

She ended up very reserved, taking any emotional display as putting too much attention on herself, something detrimental.

Because of her upbringing, she refuses to be sold by the madam because she knows what to expect. She still has nightmares of her mother cutting her fingers, puts fake freckles to seem uglier. She knows how dirty men can be, she saw lust, STDs, assassination attempts, poverty.

What an awful childhood.

And I COMPLETELY understand why someone like Jinshi makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't like the attention and just wants to live quietly with her passion as an apothecary. And he's clingy as hell, like in that honey scene.

I firmly believe that if he learns to leave her alone, she'll warm up to him faster, because she won't associate him with lecherous men anymore.

It's fortunate Maomao had Luomen as a positive father figure and Meimei/Pairin/Joka as "motherly sisters". She wasn't alone in this terrible world.

#the apothecary diaries is such a powerful series in a silly costume #feminism done right : women live through issues but aren't little babies #and lots of things are left ambiguous like the relationship between Lakan and Fengxian #which contributes to the charm. everyone can put their own interpretation #the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #maomao #lakan #fengxian #jinshi #i felt compelled to write an essay. thanks for the ask btw 😊#ask #not a reblog

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sanctuary1988 · 6 months ago

Text

| Interlude | pt. 2

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: fluff, love, heavy makeout session O.O, implied smut, nudity, confession, my boy is a gentleman so HE ASKS FOR CONSENT!!!, kissing, battling of emotions, TENSION!, typical period misogyny (flower is said to be pure in the ways of carnal desires), flower is described to be shorter than Gwi, declarations, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.2k words

A/N: I don't know why but I struggled to write this part so much! In the end I went with what I felt comfortable and with what I figured fit the story better. 🙈 lmao. ❤️❤️❤️

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. We are having a little of a recap right where we left this two lovebirds hehe, Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

His lips smashed with yours. The intensity of the kiss took your breath away. His lips moved against yours with desperate urgency. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours while you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him back.

You responded in kind, your hands fisting at his robes with equal fervour as you danced to the symphony of your hearts combined. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of raw, unbridled passion.

Gwi’s hand tightened on your neck, not in a painful way but with a possessive intensity that made your pulse quicken and warmth to pool in your lower abdomen. The taste of him was addicting and you craved for something you didn’t know you needed up until this moment.

A soft whimper left your throat the second he broke the kiss, your lips were left tingling with the sensation of your passion. His eyes looked down at you as you both panted softly into each other’s mouths.

“Love me. Love with me.”

You craned up your head, feeling such an overwhelming need that you knew only he could fulfil.

“I love for you, my petal.”

You moaned as he kissed you again, a sound that was foreign to you but felt completely natural as you melted against him. Your hands cradled his face as he pressed you to him with a palm on your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He bent down, picking you up in his arms, you gasped at the change of position and looked into his eyes as you swore they tinted crimson for a second.

Gwi kissed you again, softer this time as he began to walk to your room. His arms beneath you tightened ever so slightly when your hands held onto his robes. Gwi carried you with an ease that made you feel weightless, his steps measured and purposeful as he guided you both through the dimly lit corridors. The candles flickered, casting long shadows on the stone walls, but you barely noticed, your senses completely consumed by the man holding you so tightly against him.

Every part of you was acutely aware of him—his strength, his warmth, the way his heartbeat echoed in time with your own. His lips brushed against your temple in tender kisses, a sharp contrast to the intensity of his desires moments ago. Almost as if he was trying to convey the depth of his emotions without words.

Your bedroom welcomed you both with the flickers of the candles and the petals from the tree that fell slowly like snowflakes.

Gwi lay you down on the soft bedding, his big hand cradling your head as he hovered over you, his lips pressing against yours in a delicate connection of love. One of his hands travelled down your body, your breath hitched in your throat as you craved for something you didn’t know could be owned.

“Please.”

Your mumbled words against his lips made him open his eyes as he looked down at you. His dark gaze bore into your own and there was a moment of hesitation that crossed his eyes.

“Are you even aware of what you are asking, petal?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words echoed in your ears, the weight of his question pressing down on you. Gwi’s gaze was intense, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitation.

You kept silent, not fully understanding the undertone of his words. You were innocent in the ways of carnal acts and for the first time, it frightened you to think that you had no idea, no concept at all of what the act of love was.

“You are asking to be mine.”

His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb running over your bottom lip. Your pulse quickened to the point where you feared he could hear it.

“I am yours.”

His eyes softened at the innocence in your words. At the lust that swarmed in your (e/c) eyes that contradicted the inexperience of your body.

“You don’t know how much I have wanted you like this… all to myself.”

Your lips parted ever so softly as you blinked up at him. Gwi watched you with a certain melancholy as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheek and his other hand played with a strand of your hair between his fingers.

“I’ve waited for you to ask it on your own, to never force you to anything but I cannot restrain myself anymore so I must ask you myself.”

His voice was dark, deep with an intensity you had never heard before. You looked at him as his eyes lowered to your lips once more not knowing that another kiss from those lips of yours would shatter what little control he had left with him.

“Ask me what?”

His eyes met yours once more and you saw all the emotions swarming in his dark eyes, all the love, the longing, the lust, the desire. It was all laid out bare for you to see and treasure. Gwi smiled softly, a subtle gesture but it softened his features even more making him look like an angel of darkness.

“You are everything to me, (y/n). Everything. And I want to show you how much you mean to me. Let me make love to you. Let me kiss you and own you forever so that I am yours in every lifetime.”

Butterflies swirled in your stomach at his beautiful words. Your heart tightened with the treasure of his poetry

“I love you as well. But I-I have never… I’ve never been loved this way.”

One of your hands cradled his cheek, gazing into his dark eyes, those starless galaxies you were drowning in. Your whispered words pulled at his heartstrings, almost as if you feared you would shatter the moment if you were to speak freely.

“That’s why I am asking for your permission. It will always be your choice. Today and every other time. It's always your choice, flower.”

Gwi had always protected you and cared for you but as he spoke those words to you, you felt so safe and cherished in his presence you couldn’t help but kiss him. Passionately, wholeheartedly, desperately. His scent filled your senses and it made you dizzy as his tongue explored your mouth and danced with yours in a soft waltz where the rhythm came from the heart.

But the moment you raised your hands to wrap them around his neck and pull him closer, he broke the kiss. His eyes held yours as your chest rose with the sharp intakes of air you tried to force into your lungs. Your cheeks were flushed, your hands gripped at his robes by the nape of his neck as you panted softly.

“You have to say it, my flower. I will not do anything until I have your voiced consent. I can’t do this with you without hearing you saying yes.”

You swallowed, never breaking eye contact as you smiled. Feeling safe, loved and cared for under his intense gaze.

“Yes. I want you to love me. I want to be yours.”

He leaned down, his nose touched yours ever so delicately.

“I’ll be gentle.”

Gwi pecked your lips and you sighed against him. His tongue lapped at your mouth to give him access and you did, opening your mouth and letting his tongue tangle with yours in that harmonious dance of passionate melodies.

The hand that cradled your cheek travelled down your body, hid long pale fingers working quickly to unfasten the silky goreum of your hanbok. You didn’t resist, allowing him to undress you as you surrendered yourself under him. His lips travelled from your lips to your jaw before they began kissing down the column of your neck. You gasped, fingers tangling in his black locks as he sucked on a particularly sensitive part beneath your ear.

Your scent was intoxicating and his eyes turned crimson with desire. He could hear how fast your heart was hammering against your chest, how you were panting softly in his ear and the feeling of your soft skin under his lips made him want to succumb to his darkest desires.

“My love…”

The way your voice sounded, so vulnerable, so full of want. Stirred something within him. He managed to get control of his most primal urges as his palm touched your now bare stomach. The touch made you whimper, his big calloused hand caressed you as if you were a doll made of glass.

Gwi kissed you again, your eyes closed and you felt his hands leave your body. You gasped when you heard the sound of fabric being torn and you broke the kiss just to see he had ripped the skirts of your dress, exposing you more and more for his eyes only.

“I… I want to see you too.”

Gwi's eyes, now tinted with a deep shade of crimson that looked like the reflection of the candles, locked onto yours as your timid words hung in the air. The intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming, but you held it, feeling a surge of boldness despite your vulnerability. The raw desire reflected in his eyes made your breath catch, but beneath that, you could also see something else—something tender, almost reverent.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he slowly loosened his hold on the fabric of your dress, allowing it to fall away completely. His fingers, once again gentle, traced the line of your jaw before moving to the ties of his own robes. With deliberate, almost ritualistic care, he began to undo them, his eyes never leaving yours as he revealed himself to you.

Piece by piece, the barriers between you were stripped away until he stood before you, bared and vulnerable in a way that mirrored your own exposure. The flickering light in the room cast shadows across his pale skin, highlighting the strength of his form—the sinewy muscles, the sharp angles that made him both intimidating and breathtakingly beautiful.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they traced the contours of his chest, marvelling at the warmth beneath your touch. The connection between you deepened with every second, the air around you charged with a heady mixture of anticipation and longing.

Gwi's breath hitched as your hands explored him, his body responding to your touch with a shudder that sent a thrill through you. The power of the moment—the power you held over him—was intoxicating, but it was also humbling. He was laying himself bare before you, not just physically but emotionally as well, and the weight of that trust settled in your chest.

“You are so beautiful.”

You whispered, your voice trembling with awe. Your words seemed to strike a chord deep within him, his gaze softening as he leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more tender, a wordless declaration of everything he felt for you.

As his lips moved against yours, his hands resumed their exploration of your body, this time with a gentleness that belied the fierce passion simmering beneath the surface. His touch was reverent, as if he was memorising every curve, every dip, every inch of you with his hands and lips.

The night was soft, illuminated only by candlelight that reflected the dance of intimacy you tangled yourself in. Gwi kissed you, held you, claimed you. Your sighs filled the room, his soft praises on your ear made you tingle with warmth, he relinquished in your chants of pleasure as he gave you all of himself, taking everything from you and promising you the moon so that you could have it within your hands.

He kissed you with a burning desire he had never felt. He loved you like he had never loved before. The vampire became human for a night, his heart beating for his beautiful flower in his grey garden.

“I love you.”

You had smiled when he said it. The sight of you under him, loved by him, held by him in such a delicate way made his dead heart stir with so much want, so much need to have you, claim you and protect you for eternity.

“I love you more.”

He kissed you, his lips mingling with yours in a soft waltz of love. You kissed him back, smiling as his love cradled your heart in soft white petals of innocence and purity.

“That cannot be, petal. I love you now and I’ll love you through centuries of time.”

You didn’t know what he meant with those words so you kissed him again. Not knowing his promise would keep him alive when storms would arrive during his neverending days. Because you belonged to him in a deeper way. He was more than your lord, more than your protector. He owned your heart. You belonged by his side and Gwi had willingly let himself be owned by the beautiful petal that fell from a death tree and was now his to protect and care for as long as he lived.

“You are mine forever, my sweet flower. Mine.”

Sept/01/2024

A/N: Thoughts? O.O

My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

#sanctuary1988 #lee soo hyuk #kdrama #kdrama series #the scholar who walks the night #gwi #kactor #gwi x reader fluff #gwi x reader #gwi x reader angst #scholar who walks the night #lee soo hyuk characters #vampire #korean drama #korean actor #les pétals d'amour #vampire gwi

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storiesofmyhead · 5 months ago

Text

Gojo Satoru

Summary: Gojo Satoru x Sukuna's immortal sister, Yume.

Warnings: Sad, fluff, death

In a world where curses and jujutsu sorcery intertwined with the fabric of existence, power often meant everything. Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, had always lived at the pinnacle of this power, unmatched and unrivaled. However, there was one story that even he had never heard, a tale hidden deep within the annals of history, buried by time and forgotten by all except the few who dared remember. It was the story of Sukuna’s immortal sister.

Her name was Yume, and she had been a legend long before Sukuna's reign of terror. Unlike her brother, who was feared for his unmatched cruelty and strength, Yume was known for her grace, wisdom, and the terrifying power she held within. Her immortality wasn’t a gift but a curse, one bestowed upon her by the gods themselves as punishment for defying the natural order. She was ageless, bound to wander the world forever, watching as empires rose and fell, as the world changed, while she remained the same.

Yume had no desire for power, no craving for dominance like her brother. She sought peace, a way to end her eternal suffering, but she found none. Her presence was enough to twist reality, to make curses stronger, to bend the rules of life and death. This made her a target, a coveted prize for those who sought to use her for their own ends. But Yume was elusive, vanishing into the shadows of time, always a step ahead of those who pursued her.

It was in one of these fleeting moments, during the dawn of a new era of sorcery, that she encountered Gojo Satoru.

Gojo had always been curious about the legends that surrounded Sukuna. The more he learned about the King of Curses, the more intrigued he became by the stories of Sukuna’s sister. Most dismissed her as a myth, a ghost of the past, but Gojo knew better than to underestimate the power of legend. He could feel the weight of her existence in the world, a presence that defied the logic of sorcery.

His search for her led him to the ruins of an ancient temple, hidden deep within a forest that seemed to exist outside of time. The air was thick with an unnatural energy, a sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Gojo pushed forward, his six eyes piercing through the veils of reality, until he reached the heart of the temple.

There, standing amidst the crumbling remains of what was once a grand sanctuary, was Yume. Her presence was ethereal, almost otherworldly, with long, flowing hair that seemed to shimmer with the light of a thousand stars. Her eyes, deep and endless, held a sorrow that had been etched into her soul over centuries.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, her voice soft, yet it carried the weight of her immortality.

Gojo smiled, his trademark arrogance showing. “I’ve been told I’m one of a kind.”

Yume regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and weariness. “Why do you seek me, Gojo Satoru? Do you not know that those who find me often regret it?”

“I’m not like most people,” Gojo replied, stepping closer. “I’m here because I want to know the truth. I want to know who you really are, why you’ve been hidden away for so long.”

Yume’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she seemed almost human. “The truth… it’s a heavy burden, one that has crushed many before you. Are you sure you wish to carry it?”

Gojo’s expression grew serious. “I’ve carried heavier burdens.”

Yume sighed, a sound filled with centuries of pain. “Very well. I will tell you my story.”

And so, under the twilight sky, Yume began to unravel the tale of her cursed existence. She spoke of her brother, Sukuna, and the horrors he had unleashed upon the world. She told Gojo of her own power, a force that could rival even Sukuna’s, but one that she refused to use for fear of becoming like him. She explained how she had been hunted by sorcerers, how they had tried to use her immortality to achieve their own twisted goals, and how she had fled from them, seeking only to live in peace.

Gojo listened intently, his usual bravado tempered by the gravity of her words. He realized that Yume was not just a figure from legend, but a living being who had suffered more than anyone could imagine.

“What do you want?” Gojo asked quietly when she finished.

“I want to be free,” Yume replied, her voice trembling slightly. “I want to break this curse and finally find peace.”

Gojo nodded slowly. “I can help you.”

Yume looked at him, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time in centuries. “How?”

“I’ll protect you,” Gojo said firmly. “We’ll find a way to break the curse together. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Yume was silent for a long moment, her gaze searching Gojo’s face for any hint of deception. But all she saw was sincerity, a determination that matched her own. For the first time in her endless life, she felt the possibility of hope.

“Thank you, Gojo Satoru,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

As the days turned into weeks, Gojo and Yume traveled together, seeking answers in ancient texts and forgotten places. Their bond grew stronger, a connection forged not just through their shared quest, but through an understanding of each other’s loneliness and pain. Gojo, who had always been alone at the top, found in Yume a kindred spirit, someone who understood the burden of power and the desire for freedom.

Yume, in turn, found solace in Gojo’s presence. His strength and confidence gave her hope, and his unwavering support made her believe that perhaps, just perhaps, she could escape her fate.

Their journey was fraught with danger. Curses and sorcerers alike sought to stop them, fearing the power they could unleash if they succeeded. But together, Gojo and Yume were unstoppable. They fought side by side, their powers complementing each other in a dance of light and darkness.

In the end, it was not some grand battle that brought them to their goal, but a quiet moment of realization. The curse that bound Yume was not one that could be broken by force, but by acceptance. She had to embrace her past, forgive herself for her perceived sins, and let go of the fear that had held her for so long.

And she did. With Gojo by her side, Yume confronted her past, faced her brother’s legacy, and chose to forgive herself. In that moment, the curse shattered, and for the first time in centuries, Yume felt the weight of her immortality lift from her shoulders.

She was free.

But freedom came at a cost. As the curse broke, Yume’s immortality faded, and she began to age, the centuries catching up with her in an instant. Gojo held her as she grew weaker, his heart breaking as he realized what was happening.

“Yume…” he whispered, tears filling his eyes.

“It’s alright,” she replied, her voice weak but filled with peace. “I’m finally free, Satoru. Thank you.”

And with that, Yume closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips, and took her last breath in Gojo’s arms.

Gojo stayed with her until the end, his heart heavy with grief but also with a sense of fulfillment. He had done what he set out to do. He had given her the peace she so desperately sought.

As he buried Yume in the forest where they first met, Gojo made a silent vow to remember her, to keep her story alive so that she would never be forgotten. He knew that she would always hold a special place in his heart, a reminder that even the strongest among them needed someone to lean on.

And so, Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, walked away from the forest, his heart a little heavier, but his resolve stronger than ever. He had lost a companion, a friend, and perhaps something more, but he had gained a deeper understanding of the world, of life, and of the importance of connection.

Yume’s story might have been over, but Gojo’s was far from it. And as long as he lived, her memory would continue to guide him, a beacon of hope and strength in a world filled with darkness.

~~~

Yuji Itadori lay on the ground, his body still, but inside, something had shifted. Sukuna, the King of Curses, had taken over again, but this time, something was different—something beyond anyone’s understanding.

Gojo Satoru stood a short distance away, his sharp gaze focused on Yuji’s form. He could feel the shift, the subtle yet undeniable presence of something more. It wasn’t just Sukuna; something else had returned, something he had thought he would never see again.

Yuji’s body began to stir, and as it did, a familiar energy started to emanate from it—a presence that Gojo knew all too well. His heart skipped a beat, a mixture of disbelief and hope surging through him. It couldn’t be… could it?

Slowly, Yuji’s body lifted off the ground, and when his eyes opened, they weren’t just Sukuna’s crimson eyes of malice. They were also Yume’s deep, sorrowful eyes. The combination was eerie, a blend of Sukuna’s twisted grin and Yume’s serene grace.

“Satoru…” The voice that came from Yuji’s lips was a blend of Sukuna’s cruel tone and Yume’s gentle warmth.

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat. It was her. Somehow, Yume had returned, but she wasn’t alone. She was sharing a vessel with her brother, trapped once again in a situation she had never asked for.

“Yume?” Gojo’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual confident demeanor cracking under the weight of the impossible situation.

“Yes,” Yume replied, her voice gentle and conflicted. “I’m back… but not as I was. Sukuna’s presence brought me back.”

A twisted chuckle escaped Sukuna’s lips—no, Yuji’s lips, but it was unmistakably Sukuna’s. “Surprised, Gojo? Seems my dear sister just couldn’t stay dead. What a family reunion.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he closed the distance between them. His hand gently cupped Yuji’s—no, Yume’s—cheek, and for a moment, the dark presence of Sukuna faded into the background, leaving only Yume’s soft expression.

“I thought I lost you,” Gojo said, his voice betraying the emotions he usually kept buried. “But you’re here… and I’m not letting you go again.”

Yume’s eyes glistened with tears, a stark contrast to the malevolent smirk that Sukuna’s influence forced onto her lips. “I don’t know how long I can stay like this,” she whispered. “He’s too strong… but for now, I’m here.”

Gojo’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He could feel Sukuna lurking, waiting for an opportunity to seize control again, but he wouldn’t allow it. Not this time. Not when Yume was back in his life, even if it was under these dire circumstances.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Gojo declared, his voice filled with a mix of determination and affection. “I won’t let him take you away again.”

Sukuna’s laughter echoed in their minds, but Yume’s soft smile, though forced, was enough to push the dark energy back for now. “I’ll stay with you, Satoru,” she said, her voice laced with both resolve and fear.

From that moment on, Gojo rarely left Yume’s—Yuji’s—side. The others at Jujutsu High noticed the change in him, the way his carefree attitude had shifted into something more serious, more protective. They saw how he stayed close to Yuji, how his gaze softened whenever Yume’s presence emerged, even if it was fleeting.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo’s protective nature only intensified. He shielded Yume from every danger, never allowing her to be alone, always keeping Sukuna’s influence at bay. He fought with a ferocity that none of his students had ever seen before, a determination born not just from his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer but from his deep, unspoken feelings for Yume.

Yume, for her part, was torn. She wanted to stay with Gojo, to find solace in his presence, but she knew that Sukuna’s power was too strong. She feared what he might do, how he might use her against those she cared about. Yet, whenever Gojo was near, she felt safe, even if it was just for a moment.

“Satoru,” she said one evening as they sat together in a quiet corner of the school. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow over them. “You can’t keep doing this… you can’t protect me forever.”

“I can and I will,” Gojo replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll find a way to free you from him. I won’t let him win.”

Yume looked at him, her heart aching. She wanted to believe him, to trust that he could somehow save her, but the reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. “What if you can’t? What if he takes over completely?”

Gojo’s eyes, usually so full of mischief, were serious, determined. “Then I’ll fight him. I’ll fight him until there’s nothing left of him. I’ve faced worse odds before, Yume. I won’t lose you again.”

Yume’s tears fell freely now, her emotions too overwhelming to contain. She leaned into Gojo, letting herself be held by him, even as she felt Sukuna’s presence lurking in the background, waiting for his chance to strike.

But for now, in this moment, she was with Gojo. And for both of them, that was enough.

As the night wore on, Gojo held Yume close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, that Sukuna wouldn’t give up easily, but he didn’t care. As long as Yume was by his side, he would fight with everything he had.

He would protect her, no matter the cost.

And somewhere deep within Yuji’s mind, Sukuna watched with a twisted grin, biding his time, knowing that the game was far from over. But even he couldn’t deny the strength of the bond between Gojo and Yume. It was a bond that would make the coming battle all the more interesting.

For now, though, Sukuna would wait, watching and learning. Because even the King of Curses knew that in this game of power and love, there were still pieces left to move, and the outcome was anything but certain.

~~~

The days at Jujutsu High grew increasingly tense as Gojo Satoru continued his relentless quest to separate Yume from Sukuna’s grasp. Yume's presence within Yuji's body was fleeting and fragile, a flickering light overshadowed by Sukuna's dark energy. But Gojo refused to give up, his mind working tirelessly to find a way to bring Yume back fully—to give her the life she deserved, separate from her brother’s malevolent influence.

Gojo’s research led him deep into ancient texts, forgotten rituals, and the rarest of cursed techniques. He spent sleepless nights poring over scrolls and consulting with the few sorcerers who possessed the knowledge he sought. The idea of bringing Yume back to her original body, buried in the forest where they had first met, was a thought that never left his mind. But such a feat required immense power and precision, and even Gojo knew the risks were high.

Yet, the thought of Yume’s smile, of her being free from Sukuna’s shadow, was enough to push him forward. He would do anything to see her truly alive again.

One evening, after another exhausting day of battles and teaching, Gojo felt a surge of determination. He had gathered everything he needed—the right incantations, the precise location of her body, and the immense amount of cursed energy required to make it all happen. There was no more time to waste. Yume had been trapped for too long.

“Yume,” Gojo whispered as he approached Yuji, who was resting in his dorm room. The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm light on Yuji’s face. Gojo could sense her presence, faint but there, overshadowing Sukuna’s ever-watchful eye.

Yuji’s eyes opened, and for a moment, Yume’s gentle gaze met Gojo’s. “Satoru…” Her voice was soft, filled with both hope and fear. “What are you planning?”

Gojo’s expression was serious, but his eyes held a tenderness that was reserved only for her. “I’ve found a way to bring you back, Yume. To give you your own body again.”

Yume’s breath caught in her throat. The thought of being free, of no longer being bound to Sukuna, was something she had longed for but never truly believed possible. “Is it… really possible?”

Gojo nodded, his confidence unwavering. “It won’t be easy, and it’s risky, but I believe it can work. I just need you to trust me.”

Yume hesitated, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She had always trusted Gojo, but the fear of the unknown, of what could go wrong, gnawed at her. Yet, as she looked into his eyes, filled with determination and love, she knew she had to take this chance. “I trust you, Satoru,” she whispered.

Gojo smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Good. Then let’s do this.”

That night, under the cover of darkness, Gojo led Yuji—led Yume—to the forest where her body was buried. The forest was quiet, the air thick with anticipation. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal light over the ancient trees, and the atmosphere crackled with energy.

Gojo had prepared the area meticulously. He had drawn intricate symbols around the grave, using a mixture of his own cursed energy and the knowledge he had gleaned from the ancient texts. Everything was in place. Now, it was up to him to make it work.

As they stood by the grave, Gojo turned to Yume. “This might feel strange, but I need you to focus. I need you to hold on to who you are, to your essence. Don’t let Sukuna interfere.”

Yume nodded, her resolve strengthening. She could feel Sukuna stirring, his dark presence attempting to push her back, but she fought against it, holding on to Gojo’s words.

Gojo began the ritual, his voice steady as he chanted the ancient incantations. The ground beneath them started to tremble, and the symbols around the grave glowed with a soft, otherworldly light. Gojo’s cursed energy surged, wrapping around Yuji’s body, pulling at the essence of Yume within.

For a moment, it seemed as though nothing was happening. But then, Yume’s presence began to shift. Slowly, her spirit separated from Yuji’s body, drawn towards the grave where her original body lay. Sukuna’s influence roared, trying to pull her back, but Gojo’s energy pushed him away, creating a barrier that he couldn’t penetrate.

As Yume’s spirit moved towards her body, the ground split open, revealing her resting place. The sight of her body, preserved by some ancient magic, was both beautiful and heartbreaking. She looked just as she had before—young, serene, untouched by time.

Gojo’s energy enveloped her, guiding her spirit back to her body. There was a moment of tension, a final struggle as Sukuna tried to regain control, but Gojo’s power was too strong. With a final surge of energy, Yume’s spirit fully entered her body, and the connection was made.

The light around the grave intensified, and then, in an instant, it faded, leaving only the soft glow of the moonlight. For a moment, everything was still. Gojo held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

Then, slowly, Yume’s body began to move. Her chest rose and fell with the first breath she had taken in centuries. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the same deep, soulful gaze that Gojo had missed so much.

“Satoru…” Yume’s voice was soft, but it was her own, free from Sukuna’s influence.

Gojo dropped to his knees beside her, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and disbelief. He gently took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, the realness of her presence. “Yume… you’re really here.”

Yume sat up slowly, her movements tentative as she adjusted to being in her own body again. She looked at Gojo, a smile spreading across her face, and without thinking, she threw her arms around him, holding him close. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

Gojo wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear again. “I told you I wouldn’t let him win,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion he rarely showed.

For a long time, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the moment that neither of them had believed possible. Yume was back, truly back, and Gojo couldn’t have been happier. She was young again, just as she had been before she died, and the sight of her brought a warmth to Gojo’s heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

But even as they embraced, Gojo’s protective instincts remained on high alert. He had Yume back, but he knew that the world they lived in was dangerous, filled with enemies who would seek to harm her, to use her once more. He wouldn’t let that happen. From this moment on, Gojo vowed to keep Yume safe, no matter what.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Gojo said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Yume smiled, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had done the impossible to bring her back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And so, with Yume now by his side in her own body, Gojo Satoru prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they would navigate the dangers of their world, their bond stronger than ever. And no matter what came their way, Gojo knew one thing for certain—he would protect Yume with everything he had, for as long as they both lived.

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#jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto

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fragolar · 8 months ago

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A new promise || Geralt Of Rivia - The Witcher

Hello to everyone, new and old! As you may have noticed, I'm a slow and lazy writer. I write for fun and to keep my mind busy rather than wasting time on social media. To those who enjoy my light-hearted stories, thank you! You keep me smiling all day long. Previous part. Summary: Lexa challenged Geralt's belief in destiny, expressing frustration over her lack of freedom. Geralt explained his quest to find Ciri as his purpose. The result of their diversities but similarities results in an explosion of emotions.

Warning: Strong language and depiction of carnal desires, nothing too explicit.

The next day brought little change. The Princess was awake early for her usual morning walk in the garden, while the Witcher meditated under the gentle sunlight.

A bench was nearby, yet Geralt preferred to sit on the green grass, where, if the botanists saw him, they would try to behead him. Lexa found his provocation rather amusing.

Geralt didn’t seem to care about royal statuses, and frankly, neither did Lexa. The thing is, she couldn’t show it. She had an etiquette to follow.

“Your eyes are more piercing than the sun,” Geralt’s low, raspy voice finally spoke after she had been seated on the bench for half an hour, her elbow on the edge of the armrest, staring at him.

“You were meditating. I didn’t want to disturb.”

“I doubt that.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, amused. “Must I ask for consent to observe my guest’s unique behaviors?”

His eyes slowly opened, revealing that yellow color they held, golden under the sunlight. They were beautiful, Lexa thought.

“I’m not plucking your roses—”

“But you’re crushing my grass with your—”

“Your etiquette, Princess.” Geralt smirked at her, putting her back in her place as she huffed, less joyfully now. “I admire your dedication to get a reaction from me, to anger me, but I’m a man of great patience. It will take more than that to break me.”

Lexa’s eyes diverted. The Witcher was smart. He had caught on to her little teasing to make him snap and give her a reason to lock him behind bars. For a reason she wasn’t aware of herself, she enjoyed his company. Which could be explained because she usually didn’t have visitors, so now that she did—

“You could just ask me to prolong my stay instead of trying to trick me like a child. But I’d have to decline the generous offer. Not because I don’t appreciate your hospitality but because I am searching for her,” Geralt reminded her.

“Do you have at least a path to follow?” Silence. It was clear Geralt was navigating blindly. Lexa tore her eyes from him, straightening her body on the bench and crossing her legs under her dress. Her eyes looked ahead at the gardens.

Full of life and color, yet they felt like mere decorations. All these years she felt like nature was her home; now it felt like an illusion of control. She was trapped inside her own castle by her father, who had denied her permission to be free. She despised him.

“It’s not that easy,” Geralt finally spoke back. “But it’s what my destiny is.”

“Destiny this, destiny that. Fuck that.” Lexa suddenly said, mad, making Geralt open his eyes to look at her, confused. However, he was met by her back. “You can decide your own path because of your actions. Nothing happens for a reason. We give it reason. If there’s a reason behind everything, why the fuck are there so many wars, so much injustice?”

Geralt sighed, considering her words. “You’re not wrong,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen my share of horrors, and I know that destiny can be a convenient excuse for the chaos in the world.” He paused, his voice softening. “But I’ve also seen things I can’t explain. People whose lives have crossed mine in ways that feel… fated. Ciri is one of them. I can’t ignore that. Maybe destiny is just a word we use to make sense of the chaos. Or maybe it’s real, and we’re all just trying to navigate it the best we can. But in the end, I have to find her. For my sake as much as hers.”

He studied her for a moment, searching for a response. “We give things meaning because we have to. It’s what keeps us going. And right now, finding Ciri is what gives my life meaning.”

“Take me with you.” Lexa turned around to look at him, her determination showing through her expression. Once again, Geralt was slightly surprised by her reactions.

“The road I walk upon is not an easy—”

“The road you walk upon is better than being a Princess with no crown or kingdom to rule.” She stood up from the bench, hovering over him as he was still on his knees. “A better road than me being a mere ghost presence in a place where I’m no one. What? You’re scared I can’t stand up for myself?”

Geralt grunted softly as he stood up and looked down at her, standing much taller and much closer to her as well. “I’m not scared, and I know you can stand up for yourself, but you can’t wield a sword. A sharp tongue is not enough to keep you alive day and night in the woods. If you think it’s so easy to survive in the wild, I question why you haven’t escaped already if staying inside these four walls because your father said so is so unbearable.”

Lexa wanted to slap him, her hands trembling with anger as she stood up against him. He had gotten so close she could feel his breath on her face, his voice growling, angrier at her. Complex emotions overwhelmed her, not knowing how to handle them properly.

“You’re stepping on the roses, Lexa,” Geralt’s rough voice grounded her, making her frown and look down at her feet. She had stepped on the grass and flowers, her rage having clouded her.

“And you’re—” Her head raised to look at him, to try and be spiteful towards him, to insult him.

“Lexa, I’m not that gentle—”

“Well maybe I don’t want you to be—”

Geralt’s lips crashed against hers, making her moan in frustration as she kissed him back. She felt her body burn with desire, with a need to be satiated. Something she had never experienced despite all of her lovers, women or men. And the way his roughness consumed her, she wondered if she’d ever be able to kiss another after this. She wanted more, whining against his lips as her hands went to grab his shirt, but he pulled away from her, a heavy breath making his chest rise and fall rapidly, just like hers. Lexa frowned at the rejection, looking into his eyes for an answer.

Geralt’s intense gaze met Lexa’s as he took a step back, trying to regain his composure. His breath was still heavy, and he could see the confusion and frustration in her eyes. He knew he had crossed a line, but there was something about her that made it impossible to resist.

“You make everything so frustrating…” Her tone calmed down, steadier compared to her angered state. “Teach me then, teach me how to survive out there.”

“Lexa—“

“Geralt, please…” She brushed her nose against his, her heart stammering. Lexa was out of her mind. Maybe he wanted to fuck her, maybe she could use her body to convince him to—

“Lexa, I kissed you because you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Oh. Her stomach dropped.

“I need you to sit down and ponder what you desire truthfully. My path is a dark one. I kill monsters and men worse than monsters. I won’t be able to defend you if you’re danger. Here you’re safe, isolated, but safe.”

“Not from myself.”

Geralt’s eyes turned to look at her, a sympathetic expression on his face formed before he cursed lowly under his breath. “Shit.” He shook his head and then back at her. “We’re leaving at dawn.”

“What?! Really?” Lexa’s eyes widened enthusiastically before she grinned. She couldn’t hold her excitement and threw herself in Geralt’s arms, clinging her body against his. Feeling an immense warmth wrap around her, his strong arms around her waist.

“Lex—“ Geralt’s balance was compromised as he tried to step back but the spot of ground was softer, making him lose and fall down with Lexa in top. He grunted from the impact and his eyes slowly opened to a pair of green eyes full with playfulness. She was excited, happy. “Lesson number one: don’t get so excited, your attention lowers.”

#fanfic #geralt fanfic #geralt z rivii #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher geralt #henry cavill #henry cavil x reader #original character #series #geralt of rivia x reader

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your-ne1ghbor · 9 months ago

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Magnifico's "Wish Stealing form" design/some Character Dump (Disney Wish)

Oh boy ya'll in a BIG BIG Story beat plus some more information on Amaya and Magnifico in my rewrite:

The Kingdom of Roses and Thorns

Oh yeah...this is another long post and Ik @oh-shtars @chillwildwave @signed-sapphire @annymation @uva124 @rascalentertainments is gonna love this idea

For starters...

I Had this nightmare of Magnifico because of this form and now you all will see it too :3

There were also other posts that inspired this design too, so I'll link them here:

Anyways, this post is mainly an MAJIOR STORY IDEA DUMP for my sweet sweet emo Maggy- erm Magnifico (he is glaring at me guys send help please)

Soooo....

I had this terrifying idea for TKoRaT Maggy, even before I had this nightmare of him, where he legit becomes somewhat something like this, but with more vine core when he is taking the wishes/"monster in my closet" wrong vibes.

More like this for the idea I'm going for:

This is one of the ideas I had for Maggy when he is taking the wishes. This is might not be final in my final version of Maggy, hell, I might change that particular design to be Amaya's form when she takes the wishes too, since hers is more smoke which is more or not on par with her character in my rewrite/redesign. It might end up being more of Maggy's thing with Amaya helping him get into this state of transformation to take the wishes since I'd imagine it more of a whole process, but it could also just be something they both do together.

Some more design details I added was his scars from when his kingdom was attacked and almost everyone died because he showed mercy to the attackers. He doesn't really have them in his main design, probably because he covers them up with Amaya's potions or the wishes could have some form healing abilities? Idk I'm still firguring out the magic system of my story or that I just keep forgetting to put those scars in his design so awesome???💀

In my post here, I said that they don't hold ceremonies that has them granting/taking the wishes like they did in the movie. This is mainly because I wanted to do a little something original and gives me the oppertunity to take in the horror aspects of the story (because I love scaring children(not in a bad way, but to show them that there are these kinds of people in the world yk?)). This is why I am intentionally making Maggy and Amaya horrifying in their own way because well...good people can become the bad guys if pushed in the right direction. Especially in what they do to other people. Mainly inspired from Hunchback and Prince of Egypt, with subtle, but TERRIFYING pieces.

BUT, They do have a ceremony, but it is not related to the wishes, it is just there to give them some sympathetic traits to Maggy and Amaya (after all they've been through, I just feel bad, they literally wanted to good things and the world just beat them with a 90 foot pole).

This one I tried making Maggy more jagged. Although it seems like he is a different character here, thats mainly my fault since I really tried to figure out what he would say to Star Boy in this "idea" scene but my brain blanked out and couldn't think of anything so wahoo

Star Boy in this scene doesn't even know he has a desire, he just didn't think stars can form desires (ofc Maggy and Amaya is going to manipulate the hell out of him and Asha :3)

ALSO

This is also the main reason I split Star Boy's powers between what Amaya and Maggy does.

Maggy has only 1 shape-shifting form, and it is only done to steal the wishes. He can't shape shift into anything else, but it is why when he steals star's powers, he becomes more of a terrifying shapeshifter.

Amaya creates dangerous potions, and more or not lurks in the darkness in some way like a cat to bring them to their doom. Although it would make more sense if Maggy has the creation part of Star's powers, I gave it to Amaya since it works for her too, and keeps the power system balanced in some way. If I do give Amaya the ability to also shapeshift into a monster from my dreams, I could also say the same thing can work in reverse too, I just personally think the creation part of her character conflicts with Asha's ability to create/draw magic.

Power wise for this design...

This form also gives Maggy the ability to see people's desires that HE could take. He can't really take them until they are 17-18 years old and older (ruh oh, 2 of our main protagonists fall under that age gap). Plus, he cant take them from children since they are young and dont understand these kinds of things.

This form also falls under the MAIN conflict of why the hell is everyone miserable when they turn around 17/18 years old? Oh yeahhh this is going to fall under how he steals the wishes, but I'm not going to say anything here yet because I really want it to be a surprise.

Nothing that he does is not without reason. He blames the stars for not granting his wish (there is a reason why they didn't), and for not stepping in when a star, or Aster (NOT STAR BOY) went "rouge" (not Aster's fault btw, they didn't have a choice). So, this presented him with this ideology (that I personally believe Amaya first started thinking this way, out of pain and wanting to blame someone for what happened a century ago) that in order for people to not wish on stars, is for them to never wish/dream again. The story in my version is the aftermath of this. Still figuring out THE MAJIOR STORY BEATS, but this falls under Star Boy as well.

Star Boy represents the thing Magnifico hates the most. Plus, Maggy has more of a personal beef with the stars so of course he is going to make sure Star Boy dies, becauseeee he didn't do it last time, so second times the charm, am I right? (OR MAYBE THE THIRD WHO KNOWS, LETTING THE STORY WORK ITSELF OUT ;3)

ORIGINALLY, this was going to be Amaya's thing, but as I said, this might end up being mainly Maggy's thing, or it is something they both do, since they share the same goal, but here is the designs I was going to show for that:

Anywaysssss, ya'll can ask me questions regarding to this design if ya'll want to! I'll gladly answer them! I also will accept suggestions for the design/abilities for this "wish stealing..." thing. I might come up with a better name for this form later. Soo have a happy weekend as your neighbor watches some marvel movies as I work on my projects for my classes.

explodes

Edit: Okay my imagination took my to the most tragic part of his character then randomly imagined star boy getting stabbed by this guy and said "now you feel the pain I felt when everyone died" and star boy, in the worst condition says "almost everyone" then gets a another stab from him💀