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robo-writing · 23 hours

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I saw your requests were open, so I have to ask for… pain 😔

Can I request a Logan x afab!reader HCs or full fic about how reader is getting older and he kinda isn’t yk? Like going from when they first met, to readers deathbed, and how he has to live without them for the rest of his life 🫶🫶

Also take care of yourself DRINK WATER 🥰

Oh yeah, it’s angst time.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone Synopsis: You live a long life, but not as long as Logan's. Warnings: 3.2k words of gut-wrenching angst, mentions of blood, grieving someone after they're gone Author's note: Hope you're happy anon, I cried five times writing this <3

He had first met you in your twenties—twenty-three, to be exact.

Young, bright eyed, naive. You were kind, where he was not. You were hopeful, where he was jaded and angry at the world. He loved your innocence, how you always saw the best in others—suppose that’s what made you such a good counselor to the children. You listened—really, truly listened—made anyone that walked through your office doors feel welcomed.

Maybe that’s why he found his way to you. When the nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep and the voices wouldn’t let him think, he shuffled to your bedroom door without a goal in sight, bare feet padding against the polished floors. His knuckles meet your door, seconds passing by before he asks himself why the hell he’s even here in the first place.

Before he could walk away he heard your feet shuffling, followed by the click of your doorknob.

He felt guilty for waking you up, eyes red and face puffy, but you didn’t even question why he was at your door, just rubbed your eyes and opened the door wider for him to walk in.

It was silent at first. You offered him some water, passed him a blanket, and just sat there. You never pressured him to speak, and he didn’t feel compelled to. Maybe five minutes later he said something and you just nodded in his direction, encouraging him to continue.

For the first time in a long time, he talked. And you listened.

It became a ritual between the two of you, staying up late at night just to chat. It wasn’t always about his past, sometimes he just needed to let it all out, and you were the perfect outlet. He felt like you didn’t judge him, and that’s all he ever needed.

Eventually he wanted to hear you too—he preferred it that way. Talking about lesson plans and movies, little things that seem mundane but made him feel less like a patient and more like a friend. You were a welcome distraction, and an added bonus was that you were really cute when you were talking.

He was the one who made the first move. He remembers every detail, from your pajama shorts to the over-worn tank top sliding off your shoulder, your eyes bright as you went on about a new baking recipe you wanted to try. Sat on your bed, looking so relaxed he couldn’t help but stare and marvel at your beauty.

“Logan?” You ask, waving your hand in his face. “Hello? Earth to Wolverine?”

The moment you called out his name he was already making his way to your bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight, and you let out a soft noise of surprise before he plants his lips against yours.

Yours are soft compared to him—everything about you screams softness, innocence and purity, and he’s not sure if a man like him even has the right to be next to you, much less kiss you. He’s certain his soul is filthy, tainted—a layer of black that’s sure to muck up your own if he keeps this up. He knows this deep in his heart, but greedy man that he is, he keeps his lips locked to yours.

Once, and then never again. He can’t be with a girl like you, and he knows it.

You hold him by the neck and pull him back when he tries to leave your embrace. Maybe it’s pity, he thinks, the way your hands tug him by the shirt and cling onto the fabric. Maybe you’re only entertaining him, stringing him along just to laugh in his face, mock him into ever thinking he had a chance. If you are, he doesn't care, because at least now he’s got a taste of what he could never have.

The two of you finally separate, a silk-thread of spit connecting the both of you, looking at each other with a mixture of shock and confusion. What happens after this? How does he return to what you had before—how can he, when he now knows your chapstick tastes like cherries?

He makes a move to leave, but against all odds your hand is still clinging onto his shirt. In that moment he knew he was the luckiest man alive because you begged him to stay in that cute voice of yours, begged him not to leave when his hands made their way up the front of your shirt—begged him for more when his lips wandered lower.

By your thirties you already had a shiny ring on your finger, one that he can say he proudly put on your finger. A gold band adorned by diamonds, it shines in the orange light of the sun, staring at you from its red-velvet housing.

It’s the first time the X-Men see him cry, tears running down his face when you run into his arms screaming yes, yes, over and over as he holds you in his arms, sunset illuminating your features. He always thinks of you as beauty personified, but watching you admire the diamond-studded band with awe—the one thing that signifies you as his—he can’t help but look at you like icarus does to the sun.

The wedding was small—neither of you minded. Hank was the ringbearer, and Charles walked you down the aisle, and when your vows were said and done the priest could barely finish the ceremony before Logan lunged forward and kissed you, dipping you at the altar accompanied with a cheer from the people you consider your family.

Scott has the video saved on his phone. He pretends it pisses him off, but he had Jean send him a copy later. Sometimes he watches it when he thinks you’re asleep, but little does he know you are very much awake.

In your fourties’ you have a house together, somewhere upstate where no one can bother you. A cozy wooden home where it’s just you and him, relaxing by the fireplace and watching tv every day. When he’s not helping the X-Men he works at a local lumber yard, the highlight of his day being when he comes to work, grabbing his equipment from the truck.

His co-workers jeer at him every time, call him whipped like butter, but they wouldn’t understand what he feels. He certainly doesn’t seem to care, especially when it’s your kiss pressed to his cheek.

He can safely say his life is perfect. It’s domestic, it’s everything Logan ever dreamed of, everything he thought he could never have—and it’s all thanks to you. He wakes up every morning grateful to you for giving him the greatest gift he could ever receive: serenity.

Between the fairytale ending and his rose-colored glasses, he doesn’t notice it, not until you’re in your fifties and he’s—he’s not.

You’re aging, and he’s staying the same.

You still love each other and he’d never, ever, think about leaving you, but the realization sticks with him. He thinks about it late at night while you sleep next to him, pressed against his side. Your scent, your touch, he memorizes it all because he doesn’t know when he won’t be able to feel it again.

In your heart you know it too, but you don’t say anything—you don’t want to scare him away. He’s only just begun to get used to normalcy, and you don’t want to take that away from him. You don’t want to watch him fall into the honeyed trap of isolation again, return to that shell of a man you only just helped him shed.

So when you’re watching tv together, he makes sure to cradle you to his chest extra tight. When you’re sitting by the fireplace, heat radiating off your skin, he makes sure to memorize the way the fire illuminates your face. When you’re whispering his name after a night of love-making he etches the sound deep into his synapses, memorizing each syllable.

No matter what, he’ll remember you.

By your sixties you’re faced with an awful truth, one neither of you want to admit but your smile lines and crows feet stand contrast to his barely aging face. You get stares when you mention he’s your husband, some curious, some judging. You were called a cougar once by a shopper, finger pointed accusatory while Logan told her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.

He was there to reassure you then, but he can’t be there all the time. You don’t tell him that this wasn’t the first time you were accused of being a predator, and you don’t plan on doing so.

Maybe this counts as acceptance, faced with the truth in the worst kind of way, but at least the both of you can say it out loud now—

You’re going to die, and he’s going to outlive you. It’s just a fact, but it still makes the both of you terrified.

Your seventies are rocky—you want to enjoy the time you have left, but Logan wants to make sure you’re safe. In his eyes you know he has only love for you, but you can see the fear in them too, how he coddles you every day. Your bones are starting to ache, you’re getting slower. Where you used to go on hikes with him you now choose to stay home, your stamina not like what it used to be. He thinks you don’t notice how he watches you carefully around the house, how he’s so eager to help you. You’re flattered, but also annoyed—it’s a short-lived train of thought when you look at him.

He still looks at you like he did when you first kissed.

He still loves you, and you still love him. For now, that’s all you need.

He finds you on the floor in your eighties—eighty-three, to be exact.

The moment he sees your resting form behind the counter he sprints into the kitchen. There’s broken glass, a trail of blood running from your temple, and you’re completely out of it, eyes closed shut. He calls your name, shakes you, but nothing. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heart beating but he can feel how weak it is under his clammy hands, the soft thump nowhere near as strong as it should be.

He doesn’t know what to do—he’s long since been familiar with blood but this time it’s you, and he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what to do.

The ambulance arrives, longer than usual because you live far away from the city. Maybe if they’d gotten there faster they would have been able to do an infusion. Maybe if the phone wasn’t so far you’d be able to call 9-1-1 before you passed out. Maybe if he was at home he would’ve been able to see the early signs—

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He looks at the clock on the bedside wall: 7:38 pm.

It’s well into the night, five hours have passed since you were admitted, and an hour since you died.

He’s been staring at your body for who knows how long. The doctor pronounced you dead, said you had a heart attack and hit your head on the way down. An accident.

A fucking accident.

“Sir, was she related to you?” The young nurse asks, contemplating whether or not she should even speak. Wordlessly, he nods.

“I understand you’re grieving,” she continues, standing at his side. Her words are full of empathy, none of which he needs but lets her speak anyway. “I saw on your hospital logs you share the same name, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a loved one.”

He nods again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old was she?”

“…eighty-three.” He answers. “Her birthday was in a month.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is,” He says, reaching out to touch her hand. It’s cold to the touch, a cruel reminder. “It sure is.”

You would’ve been eighty-four now.

He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same without you. It’s lifeless, empty—all the love you poured into the decor now just an awful reminder of what he lost. He thinks about tearing it all down sometimes but he knows you’d probably kick his ass if he so much as touched your crystal vases.

Your side of the bedroom is untouched, he moved all his stuff to the separate one the week after you died. It hurts to sleep there knowing you’re gone, but sometimes he’ll sit by the nightstand, a drink in hand and stare at the empty spot where you would be. Sometimes if he stares hard enough, he can see you through tear-rimmed eyes, hear your laughter through the dull buzz of the alcohol.

He misses you. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he opens your closet. It’s an indulgence, a moment of weakness—he promised he wouldn’t touch your stuff and here he is, rummaging about.

Coats, dresses, shirts, all memories flooding back to him as he moves past them. The black dress you wore on your first date, the sundress you wore for your anniversary—

When his fingers brush against the lace, his heart lurches. He doesn’t need to see it to know, but he tugs anyway, revealing your wedding dress hidden deep inside. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.

He takes the gown between reverent hands, as if the fabric would fall apart, disintegrate if he was anything but cautious with it. It still smells like you.

He finds the box labeled “wedding” next to it, and without hesitation pulls it from its corner. Wedding invites, flowers, old videos, everything that you could have taken as a memory, you had it. You even kept the cake toppers.

What surprises him though, is a notebook. It’s tiny, leather bound and slightly worn, every page a new entry. He flips to the first page and his heart nearly stops.

Dear Logan,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

His eyes widened. When did you write this? The small book suddenly feels like lead in his hands, it’s a struggle to pull his eyes back to the ink-stained pages, but he does so anyway.

I hope I managed to give this to you before I pass. I wish I could explain to you how much I love you, and how much I worry about you. You’re a stubborn asshole, could never see the good in yourself but I did—I still do. I’ve known you for thirty years now so I’m willing to bet you’re probably reading this drunk, blaming yourself for my death.

He doesn’t know when he started crying but your words make him laugh through the pain, wiping the palm of his hand against his cheek. He used to say you were secretly a telepath, always able to read his mind. Seems it’s a talent that extends beyond the grave.

Anyway, rambling aside, I wanted to give you something to remember me by. You’re going to live longer than I am, we both know that: but maybe my memory can live along with you.

His hands are shaking, fingers stumbling through the next page with bated breath.

Entry one, not sure how I should start…I’ll figure it out later. Your beard grew out a little so I offered to help you shave…

I think I did a shit job but you didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you were trying to save my feelings? I don't know which one. In any case remember to take care of yourself, I might be gone but like hell if I’m gonna let you let yourself go!

Attached with a paperclip is a photo of the two of you in the bathroom, you smushing his face while he stares at the camera annoyed, or at least it seems. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

He remembers that day. You were cuddling him and complained his beard was scratchy. He let you sit on his lap while you gave him a trim, you said your lines were crooked but he didn’t give a shit—he had you all to himself, and that’s all he needed.

A small huff of laughter escapes him, even in the afterlife you’re still bossing him around. He flips to the next page—

Entry two, don’t isolate yourself! I know you Logan, that lone wolf shit doesn’t work and you know it too! When’s the last time you talked to the other X-Men, huh?

Your words rattle in his head, feelings of guilt blooming. They call occasionally, but he never picks up. Charles is the only one he ever gave the time of day and even then the mention of your passing is a sore subject. One time Scott showed up at his house, helped him clean up a bit before leaving; he never said thank you.

His eyes flick to the phone on his nightstand before continuing to read.

Entry three, don’t starve yourself! I left a couple of my recipes in the last pages, just in case you missed my cooking…

Entry four, I have a secret album of us on my phone. The password is…

Entry five, stop being so hard on yourself…

Entry after entry, all stories with advice for when you’re gone. Clean up after himself, don’t try to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, remember to find a hobby…every single page, accompanied by a description of what you did that day. Went hiking, went on a dinner date, stayed at home and watched tv—almost an entire year's worth of reminiscing in the form of a tiny brown journal.

By the time he got to the last one the sun had begun to rise. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

The big three-six-five, happy anniversary! It’s been a year since I started this project and I think I should end it here, so I’ll end it with the best advice I can give you.

Logan, you need to move on.

I know it hurts, but I’m gone, and you can’t spend your life chasing after a woman who isn’t here anymore. You deserve more in life than to grieve. I love you more than anything in the world, which is why I’m telling you it’s okay to move on.

I’ll always be with you, so don’t think that you need to feel guilty. I know you love me, and I love you.

I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

He re-reads your words. Once, twice, even three times before they really sink in. I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

At that moment it all comes crashing down on him. Your death, the funeral, the pain and longing, the grief—all of it. Everything he’d ever tried to push aside by drinking, culminating into this single release of emotion.

He cries. A full-bodied, pathetic display, he sobbed while holding your last memory to his chest until he was red in the face, until his lungs burned. He sobbed until he had no more tears to give, then sobbed some more.

Even in death, you were still listening.

#Robo writes #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine angst #hope this was sad enough for you anon #graphics by strangergraphics!

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mindless-existence1 · 3 days

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Sub Gojo is a Virgin and you take his card

Summery: When you and Gojo start dating he's definitely acts all experienced, newsflash he's not. So when it comes to your first time he's a bit apprehensive. But eventually you get to rock his world.

REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND! REQUESTS OPEN FOR FLUFF AND KINKTOBER AS WELL.

Authors note: This was run to write but took so long istg. This is a reader who has a dick but that's the only thing relating to gender or physical appearance. Enjoy!

For a while now your boyfriend Gojo has been acting....strange. He's always been cocky, calling himself "the honored one" and acting like he owns the world. Even when it comes to dating he seems to be the most experienced in the feild. He sure acts like it.

But a few weeks ago to were making out during movie night- a semi regular occurrence -and you thought 'finally a good time to get steamy with your mega super hot boyfriend which you love dearly'.

But when you attempted to take it further he immediately stopped you. Gojo's infinity went up, which it's never up around you, this caused your hand to be pushed away from him and you stopped having contact entirely. He seemed flush and almost embarrassed by the hand that was moving higher up his thigh.

Gojo quickly rushed out a mumbled excuse about wanting to watch the movie. It took him a minute to take down the infinity so the two of you could cuddle again. What was weird is that you could tell the boner he had was hurting, it was straining against the fabric of his pants as he failed to hide it.

But you didn't wish to push as to not make him uncomfortable. If Gojo didn't want to take the next step then you guys weren't going to take the next step. But it has been weeks since then and you've be together for a while and yet...nothing. What surprises you the most is how he's gone this long without sex.

Before you started dating he seemed to be with a new girl every night and now nothing. You know Gojo isn't cheating on you so how has he been able to hold himself back, and why?

That takes you to now, the two of you were cuddling on his bed just doing your own things on your phones. You couldn't pay attention to whatever you were looking at though. "Hey Satoru, can I ask a question?" You ask turning slightly so you were facing him.

"Well you just did but I'll let you ask another one." He chuckles as you roll your eyes. Gojo puts down his phone and props himself onto his elbow. Despite feeling self continous out of your mind you decide to ask your question straight up.

"Why haven't we had sex yet? Is it something I did or what?" You start to ramble slightly, suddenly everything comes pouring out. After a few second Gojo leans forward and catching you in a kiss the effectively shuts you up.

"You could have just asked nicely you know? Didn't think you were this desperate." He teases you again but this time his voice wavers and he seems unsure of himself, very un-Gojo like. "Well whenever I tried to start something you pushed away." Your basically pouting against his lips now.

"I- well um" Gojo stutters out some nonsense and turns his head away slightly in embarrassment. "I just thought maybe you didn't want to." Gojo's excuse is weak at best and he knows it. You notice his weird behavior but can tell something is going on.

"Well how about now, I want to. Do you?" Your questions makes him fumble but he nods his head. You put a hand on his cheek and lean in to kiss him, Gojo responds but can't match your pace.

When you move to sit on Gojo lap he outs his hands on your waist. After a minute of making out you slowly kiss his cheek and move down towards his neck. "Y-, Y/n wait." You keep kissing the same spot on his neck that you know makes him squirm.

Humming out a response you stop your attack on his neck so he can talk. "I- ummm I've never..... you know." Gojo makes a motion with his hands that almost makes you chuckle, but you feel this isn't a joking situation.

It does take you by surprise tho, what does he mean he hasn't done anything? The Statoru Gojo, the honored one, the one who brags about how much a ladies man he is, who has girls fawning over him day and night, is a virgin? He must have taken your silence as a bad sign by the way he lightly pushed at your shoulders.

"I get it if you don't want to anymore." He rushes out, before he pushes you away you bite down onto his neck. Gojo whines and his arms go slack on your shoulders. "It's ok baby, that just means I get to take carre of you tonight."

He feels your hot breath on his skin and flinches slightly, "Yes- fuck please." Gojo's begging falters in embarrassment but makes your core twist. Your pants start to get tightens and you make a move to slip your hands under his shirt.

Before you can get underneath the fabric an invisible force pushes you away. Although his infinity isn't as big as normal it is still covering Gojo in a way that keeps you from touching him. It takes you by suprise but by the way he reacted he seems suprised to.

"Fuck- please I can't control it I'm sorry-" Gojo babbles out nonsense as the infinity wavers, cutting in and out. "Oh but Satoru I can't make you feel good if you keep this up." You purr near his ear. He chokes on a moan and rambles out more apologies.

"Common pretty boy, don't you want me to make you feel good?" The nickname causes him to falter which results in the infinity falling down as well. The second you know it's off you quickly lean in locking Gojo in a kiss.

He whines in it when he feels your hands rubbing up on his torso. Gojo's breathing gets shaky, he fumbles to taking his shirt off. You chuckle, "It's ok Satoru, just calm down. Let yourself enjoy it." He weakly nods his head.

Gojo's pale chest is flushed a deep red, with a swift moment you brush your hands over his perk nipples. He whimpers at the foreign feeling, "How do you want to do this baby?" You voice is smooth like honey, you're kissing up and down his toned chest.

"I- I want you to" Gojo fumbles to get the words out, embarrassment evident in his words. "Common pretty boy just use your words." Your tone makes him grip the back of your shirt.

He mumbles something under his breath you cant hear. "Use. Your. Words." You voice is sterner than before and it makes Gojo gulp. "Fuck me," after a heavy breath "please."

His desperate voice makes your dick get harder. When you starts to pull at Gojo's pants he lifts his hips to help you. Under your breath you say 'there you go.' “Someones excited” You smile, tracing the bulge through his boxers. “All for me?” You tease into his ear, slowly moving your hands to palm him.

Gojo let's out a deep moan at the feeling. “Hurry up.” He whines, bucking his hips up into his hands. You pull at his boxers, bringing them down past his knees and let him kick them off.

You look down to where Gojo is trying to close his legs but can't with you between them. “So pretty but you gotta keep your legs open baby.” You tell him while puts hands on his knees and keeping them open.

"Sorry.” He whines at being so exposed and keeps his dead down cast. His hands are desperately holding onto you. One griping your shoulder, the other tangled in the hair at your neck.

Gojo vaguely registers the sound of a lube bottle opening but doesn't process it till he feels your slick hand on him. He gasps in suprise but it quickly turns into a wavering moan.

After a minute of prep you line yourself up to thrust into him. "I'll go slow, promise." He nods his head in understanding. You slowly slide in, careful to not hurt him.

"Fuck- so full." Gojo mumbles out more curses while leaning his head down onto your shoulder. He grips your shoulders when you fully thrust in. He arches his back at the feels and you can see the tears bubbling up in his closed eyes.

"Doing so good for me." He whimpers at the praise. You slowly start to thrust your hips faster as Gojo starts to to get used to the feeling. One hand grips his waist and the other starts to pump his length.

He can feel the pleasure bubbling inside him, his legs shake from where they are wrapped around your waist. Gojo can tell he looks pathetic but he can't bring himself to care when you are treating him so well.

Somehow you must know he's about to come from the way you smile and lean in to bite at his flushed neck. After another minute of pleasure he can tell you are getting close to and starts babbling incoherently.

"It's ok, promise. Just let go." He whimpers with a tight grip on your forarm. "Fuck, fuck, fuck I can't. S-so good." A high pitched whine tears through his throat. Your hips thrusts faster into him to match the pase of you hand on him.

The sheet beneath you gets pulled and crumpled from how hard Gojo is gripping it. For a split second you think it might tear, the worry is thrown out the window from how pretty he looks like this.

Tears run from his bright eyes and down his flushed face. There's a light coat of sweat that covers his torso and shaking legs. The moans pouring from his lips are sinful music to your ears. "Cumming- I'm, I'm cumming." He mumbled between gasps of air.

"Good boy just let it go. I've got you." With a final thrust of your hips and hand he comes with a choked off moan. Following suit after him you still your hips, just barley moving your hands to help him through the after shocks.

Your panting breath and Gojo's quiet whimpers are all that can't be heard in the room. You slowly set down the wobbly legs you were holding moments before.

When Gojo doesn't talk you start to worry, "Satoru? You ok?" He nods, moving a hand to his chest where just a minute earlier he came all over. "I feel gross though, aren't you supposed to give me princess treatment after this?"

Although his voice is horse and shaky you can hear the joke in it. You chuckle and shake your head. "Of course only the best treatment for you princess." You joke back giving him a kiss on the cheek with a smile.

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aemondapologistfrfr · 2 days

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Book Club - Pt2

modern!aemond x fem!reader

Part 1

Summary: Aemond allows you to break down some of his walls the more time you both spend together. He’s reluctant to let you dote on him and he thinks you’re too good to be real.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, oral(m), p in v, unprotected, publicish

Authors Note: i just love him so much 🗣️ & surprise i made it a little emo 🖤 🙂

Word Count: 4.7k

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I open my eyes to an empty bed in a room that’s not mine. I stretch and groan at the tenderness between my thighs as I look around the room for Aemond. I slip on one of his shirts and make my way out of his room. When I enter the hall my nose is flooded with the smell of breakfast and I make my way to the kitchen. I watch him from the doorway and let my eyes scan over his toned back, groaning at the sweatpants low on his hips. I start to walk up to him with a smile on my face.

“Go back to bed.” he hums without turning around.

“Then come back to bed with me.” I pout and he chuckles.

“I will when breakfast is done.” he turns and looks at me with a raised brow. His eye scans over my body before it locks to my eyes.

“Hm?” I tilt my head walking over to him with a soft smile as his hands go to my waist and pull me closer. His fingers grip my waist before he turns me around.

“Go back to bed.” he scoots me down the hall and I sigh walking back to his room. I sprawl out on his bed and look around to occupy my time. I look through his nightstand and smile when I see the books. I pull out a book and lay back and start to read.

“Are you comfortable?” Aemond hums walking in with a tray.

“Very.” I set the book down next to me and watch him come over to the side table.

“I was supposed to wake you up with breakfast.” he places the tray on the table.

“I can pretend to be asleep.” I look up at him with a smile. “Go out to the hall.” I wave him off and scoot under the covers.

“I’m already in here with the food.” he tries to hide the smile on his face. I shut my eyes and bury more into the blankets. I hear him sigh and feel him get into the bed next to me. When I feel the warmth of his body I turn and curl into him. He runs his fingers up my arms and I shiver holding him closer. “Wake up, Y/n.” his voice soft and I blink up to him.

“Good morning.” I smile as he shakes his head.

“I made you breakfast.” he hums biting his lip.

“Mm, did you?” I look up at him placing my hand on his chest and dragging it lower.

“Actual breakfast.” his hand grabs my wrist as he looks at me with a blown pupil. He pulls me up with him and reaches across to bring the tray to us. “Let me know what you think.” he waits for me to take a bite and when I do I sigh.

“Gods, Aemond.” I hum taking another bite. “Why aren’t you a chef?” I look up and see his red cheeks. “Look at you.” I coo pinching his cheeks. His eye gets wide as I softly brush against the scar on his face and his hand goes to my wrist.

“You shouldn’t ruin your hand with such an ugly part of me.” he hums, pulling the hand near his scar away and kissing it.

“You’re beautiful.” I scrunch my brows and his eye snaps to mine.

“I’m not.” he shakes his head with furrowed brows.

“You are.” I nod. “You have such beautiful hair.” I hum threading my fingers through it. “A beautiful blue eye.” I swipe my thumb underneath it. “A beautiful voice and thoughts that I would be content to listen to for the rest of time.” he watches me as I ghost my fingers over his lips. “A beautiful-“

“Stop.” his voice strained as he looks at me with a teary eye.

“Aem,” I frown and scoot closer to him, discarding the tray of food.

“I’m sorry.” he shakes his head clearing his throat. I watch him as he blinks away his tears.

“What’s wrong?” I keep my voice soft.

“I’m waiting for you to realize you don’t like me.” he mumbles.

“I think I like you too much.” he looks to me at my words.

“You could do better.” I sigh at his words and cup his face once more so he has to look at me. I place a soft kiss on his lips and he lets out the softest whine. I kiss up his jaw and place featherlight kisses over his eye and make my way up to his forehead.

“Can I take this off?” I look at him as my fingers rest against his eye patch.

“You’ll leave if you do.” his voice broken.

“I won’t.” I look at him and he nods. I slowly remove it and he watches me intently. I place soft kisses at the top of the scar and his hands grip my waist. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Aemond.” I whisper as I continue to kiss down his scar.

“Y/n.” my name falls from his lips as I pull back and admire him fully. He pulls me into his lap and hugs me tightly. He clings to me and I brush my fingers through his hair as he buries his head into my neck. “I’m sorry I ruined breakfast. It’s probably cold now.” he mumbles against my skin.

“Shh,” I hold him tighter and he seems to relax into my arms. “Let’s just lay back down.” he lifts his head up and looks to me with a watery eye again.

“You don’t have to stay.” he furrows his brows.

“Do you want me to leave?” I smooth his hair back.

“No.” he shakes his head.

“Then let’s lay back down.” I kiss him softly and we get back under the covers and I pull him against my chest and he relaxes into me.

“Thank you.” he breathes out.

“For what?” I hum holding him tighter.

“For staying.” his words barely audible as he wraps his arms around me pulling me even closer.

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Y/n: Bring your favorite book to the store so I can read it. I’ll give you mine too.

Aem: Or you can just bring it when you come over for dinner later?

Y/n: I’m coming over for dinner later? 🫣

Aem: I would like you to.

Y/n: What time?

Aem: Tell me when to pick you up.

Y/n: Pick me up in like an hour.

Aem: I’ll see you then.

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I shuffle through the aisles trying to locate my favorite book. I smile when I spot it and pull it from the shelf. I walk around collecting little bookmarks and other things to give him along with the book. When I finally make my way back up front I spot him sitting in the chairs by the windows.

“How are you?” I smile stopping at his side.

“What’s all this?” he grabs the things ready to spill from my arms.

“For you.” he looks up to me confused.

“Why?” he looks to the things in his lap.

“So you can have nice things when you read my book. Look at how cute this book mark is.” I grab it from the pile and he smiles watching me show him.

“This is very cute. Thank you.” he hums with a smile on his lips.

“Let me get you a bag.” I turn and make my way to the counter. I rummage around and throw more miscellaneous things in there along with the book and when I turn he’s standing above me.

“What is all this now?” his eye widens as he takes in the bag.

“Bookshelf decorations and other things I think you would like.” he exhales deeply and nods with a smile.

“You will be in charge of decorating.” he sets the rest of the things I handed him in the bag.

“We can do it together.” I put my hands on my hips looking up to him.

“Yes, of course.” he chuckles grabbing the bag from my hand. “Come, let me make you dinner.” his hand slides around my arm and down to my hand.

ᓚᘏᗢ

“That was spectacular as usual.” I smile up at him as we finish the dishes. “Ready to decorate and trade books?” I grab his hand and start to tug him out of the kitchen. He stops us to grab the bag of items and brings it with us. I empty the bag out onto the couch and start to hand him things.

“Where do you want me to put this?” he looks at the small figurine in his palm.

“Wherever you think it’ll look best.” I hum taking a couple things and starting on the shelf next to me. We spend the next couple of minutes placing small trinkets around his shelf’s and I turn to him. “What do you think?”

“I like it.” he looks around. “Reminds me of you.” he smiles at me and a blush rises up my neck. “Let me get my book.” he brushes past me and pulls a book down. We switch books once we sit on the couch and I smile at his choice.

“Tell me why this is your favorite.” I look at the back of the book before looking up to him waiting for him to talk. He explains it thoroughly without giving anything away and I nod, listening. “I’m excited to read this.” I beam.

“Tell me about yours.” he turns to me with a soft expression and listens as I start to discuss the main idea. His eye never leaves mine as I talk and I finish hoping he likes the book. “Do you want to start reading now?” he tilts his head, skimming his fingers over the book in his lap.

“Yeah, I would like that.” I nod my head, dragging my eyes up to his.

“Tea?” he starts to get up and I grab his hand.

“Let me make it. You always cook for us.” I rise and try to keep him sitting.

“Making tea for you is not a burden.” he cups my cheek as he towers above me.

“What if I just want to do something for you?” my voice soft as I look up at him.

“You do enough for me.” I chuckle at his words.

“Like eat the food you make me? Or maybe talking nonstop for thirty minutes about a book?” he brings his other hand up to my other cheek.

“By giving me a chance. Reading with me. Talking to me. Listening to me. Complimenting me. You simply existing is enough for me.” my breath catches at his words.

“Aem,” my voice soft and he dips down and places a kiss on my lips. He pulls back and I look up to him through my lashes. “Let me make you some tea.” I reach up and cup his cheeks pulling him into another soft kiss. I turn and walk to the kitchen and I hear him walking behind me. “You could’ve started reading.” I chuckle filling his kettle.

“And miss a moment with you?” I turn to him as I let the water heat. I shake my head with a smile before pulling two mugs down. I rummage through his different teas and pull out some honey and sugar. Once I’m done I turn and offer him his cup.

“Thank you.” he hums, sipping on it. He brings us back to his library and we begin to read and slowly curl up with one another allowing each other to enjoy our books.

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I walk around the shop for the last hour waiting for any last minute customers. I work on cleaning the sitting areas and tidying up the drink stations. I make my way to the front when I hear the bell.

“Hi, welcome in.” I greet them coming out of the aisle setting my cleaning supplies down.

“Hi.” Aemond smiles and I look him over. He looks divine in his black suit and I watch him as he slowly walks over to me. My breathing deepens as he steps closer and I tilt my head up to him. “How are you?” his hands wrap around my waist pulling me against him.

“Good.” I nod my head, biting my lip. I press myself closer to him as I smell his cologne. “How was work?” I ask, searching his eye.

“Not good to be honest.” his nostrils flare. “When does the shop close?” I glance over at the clock.

“Now.” his hands drop from my waist.

“Go lock the doors.” I quickly nod and lock the doors and he’s pulling me against him the next moment.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” I look up at him through my lashes. He glances at my lips and I smirk. I pull him down an aisle away from the windows and sink to my knees before him.

“You don’t have to.” his voice like gravel as I unbuckle his belt.

“I want to.” I pop the button and pull the zipper down and have him freed. He sighs above me as I swirl my tongue around his tip.

“Gods,” he pushes my hair back to watch me. I trail my tongue along the sides and he groans. I press wet kisses along his hardening length and slowly start to sink my mouth around the tip. As I suck him into my mouth his fingers dig into my hair. I start to bob my head and he lets out soft curses. I get lost in his noises and look up to him confused as he pulls me off of him. “I need to fuck you.” I nod quickly and he’s pulling me up.

“There’s a breakr-“ I gasp as he bends me over a desk.

“This works for me.” he purrs in my ear as he bends over me. “Does this work for you?” he chuckles as I writhe beneath him while he lifts my dress up.

“Aemond,” I plead, turning my head to look at him and he pushes my legs apart.

“Hm?” he presses his fingers against my panties. “Sucking me off got you this wet?” he chuckles, pulling them aside and sliding his fingers through my wetness.

“Please,” I whine as he dips his fingers into me. He pumps them pulling moans from me before he removes them. “Aemond, please,” I arch my back and my breath catches as he slams into me. The desk groans against the wood floors at his pace. I claw into the desk as he presses me against it.

“Such a good girl for letting me use you.” he grunts and I whimper at his words. His fingers dig into my hips and with every thrust I’m gasping beneath him. One of his hands leaves my hips and lands onto my ass. I clench around him crying out and he chuckles landing his other hand on my other cheek.

“Aemond,” I whine pressing back into him. His pace quickens and he slides a hand around me. His fingers circle my bud once and I burst around him and his fingers dig into my side. His hips stutter and he fills me, collapsing on top of me.

“Thank you.” he kisses the side of my head before pulling out and situating himself. He pulls my panties back to the side and pulls my dress down. He lifts me off of the table and I look up to him still trying to catch my breath.

“Are you feeling better?” my words still lulled with pleasure.

“I am.” he hums, kissing my forehead. “Can I make you dinner?” he smiles.

“I would love that.” my face lights up at his words.

ᓚᘏᗢ

“Do you want to talk about your day?” I hum from across the table.

“Working with my siblings can be insufferable at times.” he sighs looking at his plate. “Tell me about your day instead.” he looks up to me with tired eyes.

“I had a few new customers today. I got to read some more of your book, which I’m enjoying.” his face softens at my words.

“I’m glad you’re liking it.” he turns his attention back to his plate.

“Is there anything else I can do? You still seem so stressed.” I frown at him and he shakes his head. “Are you sure?” I reach across the table for his hand and he looks up to me. I get up and take my empty plate with me and go to grab his.

“What’re you doing?” he turns and looks up at me.

“The dishes.” I smile and grab his plate placing it on top of mine.

“You will not do the dishes alone.” he shakes his head standing.

“I will.” I look up at him defiantly. “Go read and I’ll come in with tea shortly.” I nod him down the hall.

“I will not have you wait on me in my own home.” he refuses to move.

“Let me do this for you. Go relax.” he looks down to me with scrunched brows and I sigh, setting the plates down. I cup his face bringing his lips down to mine. I press mine against his softly before I kiss up his jaw. “Aemond let me just wash these dishes. You deserve to be taken care of too.” I press a kiss against his neck and he sighs pulling me against him.

“Okay.” he nods his head and I watch him walk down the hall to his library. I walk to the kitchen satisfied and begin to boil the water for the tea while I clean up. After the dishes are dried I finish up making our tea and make my way to him. When I turn the corner I see him sprawled across the couch with my favorite book in his hands and his hair spilling over the armrest.

“I have tea for you.” I set his cup on the table in front of him as I card my fingers through his hair. He sighs leaning into my touch and I kneel down and continue the movements.

“Absolutely not.” he grabs my wrist. “You will not cater to me anymore tonight.” I sigh as he turns and pulls me up.

“I will if I want to.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You’ve barely let me ‘cater’ to you as is..” I trail off sinking into the couch next to him.

“You shouldn’t have to.” his voice soft as he turns to me.

“You had a bad day.” my voice borderline whiny. “Is it so bad for me to wrap my lips around you until you come?” his eye darkens at my words. “Or do the dishes? Or even just brush my fingers through your perfect hair?” I pout looking at him. “Do you wanna use me again?” my voice is soft as he pulls me closer.

“You’re so perfect.” he places his lips against mine. “I don’t get it.” he pulls me on top of him, discarding my book next to his tea. “Why are you so nice to me?” he buries his head in my neck, holding me tightly against him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I run my fingers through his hair and his arms tighten around me. “You are so kind and sweet. So smart and thoughtful. I think you’re perfect.” I hum scraping my nails against his scalp.

“You must be the only person who can see that.” he mumbles against me. “Will you just stay over? To cuddle?” he pulls back and searches my face.

“Of course.” I nod with a soft smile. He brings us to his room immediately and stops to help me take off my clothes. His fingers dance across my skin but never linger too long. His touch is warm but innocent as he removes my layers. I offer him the same heated touches and I unbutton his shirt and slide it down his arms. He steps out of his pants and pushes back the covers for us. We crawl into bed and he curls against me.

“Thank you.” he hums as I hold him against me.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Y/n: I got you something 🤭

Aem: What is it?

Y/n: A surprise. I can give it to you tonight when we discuss our books?

Aem: I’m still picking you up at seven?

Y/n: Yes, please.

Aem: I’ll see you then.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

I smile to myself as I place the last piece of tape on the wrapping paper. I wait by the door and lock it behind me as I see Aemond walking up. The ride to his house is quick as we talk about our days. We walk up to the front door hand in hand. I’m excited to give him his gift and I’m chewing on the inside of my cheek waiting for the right time.

“Why are you so antsy?” Aemond chuckles pulling me inside.

“I want to give you your gift so badly. I hate waiting.” I beam up at him pulling my purse off my arm. I grab the gift out and hand it to him. He looks at me with flushed cheeks and offers me a shy smile.

“I didn’t get you anything.” he says, holding it in his hands.

“I know. I just really wanted to get this for you.” I nod waiting for him to open it. “Please, Aem.” I look up to him and he nibbles his lip as he slowly starts to pull at the seams of the tape. He reads the title and looks over the book before his eye snaps to mine.

“Is this a-“

“First edition.” I nod looking at it in his hands. “Isn’t it so beautiful? It’ll look perfect on your shelves. Before you say it’s too much, it wa-“ he silences me with his lips. I sigh holding him closer as I smile against him. “Do you like it?” I mumble against his lips.

“You got me a first edition of my favorite book.” he shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing.” his eye searches my face.

“I’m so glad you like it.” I relax at his happiness.

“I can’t believe you did this.” he presses his lips against mine again and I melt into him. “Thank you.” he murmurs before kissing me again. He pulls back and looks down to me.

“You’re very welcome.” I reach up and cup his cheek. He leans into my touch and turns his neck to place soft kisses on my hand. He intertwines our hands and leads me down to his library. He places his new book on the table in front of us and turns to me.

“Your favorite book was so much different than I was expecting.” his words laced with surprise. “I didn’t expect you to hand me a classic.” I fold my legs and fully turn to him.

“The imagery, the detail, it just encapsulates the decadence of the period.” I hum. He talks about what his favorite parts were and I listen as he starts to go off on a tangent.

“What did you think of mine?” he grabs his book from the table.

“I can see why it’s your favorite.” his cheeks tint at my words. “It’s so thoughtful and brings up a lot of insights to the information it introduces to us.” I talk about his book for some time while he admires his book in his lap. “Let’s display it on your shelf.” a smile spreads across my face as I pull him up.

“You do it. You’re better with displays.” he hands me the book. I walk to the shelf where his original book was and start to shift things to make room. I place the book facing outward and push the books back against it. I stand back and look at it. I turn to see what Aemond thinks and his lips are on mine before I can even speak.

He pulls back as we breathe deeply and he tugs me to his room. “Can I?” his fingers skim along the hem of my dress and I nod. His hands cup my breasts once the piece of fabric is discarded. He kneads into them and I squeeze my thighs when he pinches my nipples.

“Aem,” I cry out breathlessly.

“These are perfect.” he dips down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I hold him against me as he flicks his tongue against my hardened bud as I whimper above him. His fingers slide between my thighs and I groan as his long finger presses into my heat. His mouth moves to my other nipple as he continues to tease me over my panties. I gasp pushing my chest into his face as he nibbles against my chest. I start to pull at his shirt wanting to touch his skin and he pulls back with a blown pupil.

“Look at you.” he towers above me, licking his lips.

“Take this off.” I whine pushing his shirt up. He makes quick work of his clothes and leads us back over to the bed. He sits up against the headboard and pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him, grinding myself down onto his length and he groans, wrapping his arms around me. I press my lips against his as he slowly moves my hips across him. He lifts my hips up and I feel him press against my core. “Aemond,” I mewl as my toes curl while I sink down on him. “Let me see you.” I plead as my fingers slide along his eyepatch. I start to rock my hips and he groans nodding his head.

“If you wish.” he looks up to me slightly worried. I slip off his eyepatch and clench around him at the sight.

“Gods you’re so handsome.” I sigh before attaching my lips to his. I slowly start to bounce against him and he whines into my mouth. His hands slide from my hips up to my breasts as he leans back and watches me. He pinches my nipples and I cry out pushing myself forward on his chest. I roll my hips and his hands fly to my waist. I continue to hump against him while resting my head on his shoulder. “Aem, I’m gunna,” my voice is cut off by a gasp as he starts to swirl around my bud.

“I know, I can feel it.” he purrs as he jerks his hips up. His arm wraps around my waist holding my still as he hammers up into me while still circling my bud

“Yes, like that.” I sob pulsing around him. “Aem,” I dig my nails into his shoulder as he keeps up his pace. He slows our movements down, swallowing my sounds as I tremble around him. He flips us staying inside and whimpers spill from my lips as he rolls his hips into mine slowly. I lock my ankles around his back holding him against me as he pushes into me roughly.

“You’re perfect.” he grabs my wrists and holds them above my head with one of his hands. His other hand is still buried between us allowing his fingers to swirl against my sensitive bud. I arch up into him as I come undone again. He stills inside of me before filling me with his warmth while I cling to him. He slides out and pulls me against his chest as we try to calm our breathing.

“I want to do that again.” I sigh resting my head on his chest.

“You’re insatiable.” he chuckles, kissing the top of my head.

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masterlist 🔌

idgaf i’m making another part bc i’m in love with my little almond joy

book club honorary tags: @anukulee @aeryqueen

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty

#modern aemond #modern aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #x reader #x reader fic #x reader smut #hotd smut

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 day

Text

Friendcation (m) | myg | pregnancy special

you and Yoongi try to get pregnant, but it doesn’t go as planned, as the road isn’t easy. But he’s your rock, and he’ll stand with you through thick and thin 💜

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi, married!au, pregnancy!au → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 7.5k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mentions of blood because of SPOILER a miscarriage (there’s blood but know more detail than that), angst, anxiety/fear for the future and for a miscarriage again, pregnancy, raging hormones, drinking sorrows away, getting angry without course, yelling without course, OC is being rather destructive in this one but Yoongi is very sweet, understanding and supportive 👏 → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (is this really a surprise? But please don’t be stupid irl, though they aren’t stupid here ‘cuz they’re actively trying for a baby); oral (female and male receiving), doggystyle over a table 😝, spanks, creampie, cockwarming, kisses (yes that is a warning because it’s sugary sweet 😘), multiple orgasms → Author’s note: hiya all you lovely people! I’m back at it again with another extra for friendcation and let me tell you, even though this is very angsty, I loved writing it a lot. I drew from my own experience (miscarriages), but I didn’t want to go into too much detail, so it’s very light. But it does affect OC and her mood, like she almost gets depressed over it 😢 But Yoongi is there to pick her up and support her, so don’t worry! It’s a sweet one, and of course it has a happy ending, because you know what’s gonna happen in the winter special that I wrote a long time ago! I hope you love it as much as I did! This one was honestly so fast for me to write, like a few hours! It’s so much easier for me when I write from my own personal experience. And if you’ve ever had a miscarriage, I want to give you a hug, and please know that you’re not alone, okay? 🫂 (author’s note2: I wrote this story in the beginning of August 2024) → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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“There are two lines!” you cry out, bursting into the living room with a pregnancy test clutched in your trembling hand. You twirl it in the air like a magic wand, watching the realization spread across your husband’s face, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of joy and wonder. He moves toward you, a smile breaking across his lips, and in one swift motion, he wraps you in his arms, pulling you close as he plants a tender kiss on your cheek.

“Are you really pregnant?” he murmurs, his voice soft yet trembling with excitement and a touch of fear. You hear the uncertainty beneath his joy, the way hope and anxiety dance together in his words. You’ve both dreamed of this moment, talked about it late into the night, imagining the tiny life you would create together. Ever since your honeymoon, where every whispered wish was laced with the hope of creating a new life, this has been your shared dream. And now, it’s real. The weight of it hits you all at once, and tears well up in your eyes, spilling over as the emotions of the moment overwhelm you.

He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. “I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin.

Neither can you. The joy is too immense to contain, so you schedule a doctor’s appointment, needing to hear it confirmed, to know for certain that your dream is taking root inside you. Yoongi is right there beside you, holding your hand as the doctor measures your HCG levels via a blood test and tells you the news you’ve been waiting for—you’re pregnant, and not just newly so. Eight weeks have already passed, and suddenly, the idea of this tiny life feels even more real.

Giddy with excitement, the two of you start to dream out loud, envisioning a life that needs more space to grow. The apartment where you built your love, small and cozy as it is, now feels too cramped for the family you want to become. You’ve always talked about raising your children just outside the city, where the air is cleaner, and the pace of life slower, where a bigger house awaits with room enough for your growing dreams. Yoongi smiles at the thought of a garage, where he can create and tinker, a space of his own.

You start house hunting in the suburbs surrounding Seoul, imagining nurseries painted in soft pastels, browsing baby clothes with tiny sleeves, and laughing over the choices. Each step feels like a dream in the making, a life slowly unfolding before you, full of promise and possibility.

But today has been long, and your body is weary. The excitement has worn you down, and as you return home, you kick off your shoes with a sigh, feeling the ache in your swollen feet. You glance around, hoping to hear the familiar sounds of your husband’s return, but the apartment is quiet. You open the fridge and pull out a cold bottle of water, hoping it will soothe your frayed nerves. The stress of your marketing job clings to you like a shadow, and all you want is a moment to unwind, to let go of the day’s tension.

As you set the bottle down on the counter, a sudden, sharp pain radiates through your stomach. Your hand instinctively flies to your belly, and you double over, gasping as the pain intensifies. It’s not normal, you think, panic rising in your chest. Something is wrong.

When you look down at the floor, a wave of horror crashes over you.

Blood.

Dark, vivid, and far too much of it. It’s pooling beneath you, seeping through your clothes, and it’s only then that you fully realize how soaked you are.

Terror grips you, squeezing your chest, making it hard to breathe. Tears well up in your eyes, your breath comes in ragged gasps as panic begins to set in. This can’t be happening—this much blood, it’s not normal, not now, not when you’re carrying life inside you. A flood of thoughts races through your mind: is the baby inside you still safe? Or is this the cruel end to a dream that had only just begun?

You need Yoongi—his steady presence, his strong arms, his comforting words—but he’s not here.

With trembling hands, you fumble for your phone, digging it out of your skirt pocket, and desperately pull up your husband’s contact. The phone barely rings before the door to your apartment creaks open, and there he is, stepping inside. Relief mixes with fear as he rushes to you, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in the scene—the blood, your trembling form, the tears streaming down your face.

Without a word, he’s at your side, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. His fingers, rough from years of work, trace gentle, soothing circles on your back, trying to calm the storm inside you.

“What happened?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady, but you can hear the tremor beneath his words, the fear that he’s trying so hard to mask. His breath comes quicker, and though he tries to be strong for you, you can see the terror in his eyes, mirroring your own.

“Out of nowhere, the pain started,” you sob, clutching at your stomach, “and then the bleeding... so much blood.” Your voice breaks as the pain flares again, sharp and unforgiving.

Yoongi pulls you to your feet, his grip firm but tender, “We need to get you to the doctor’s. Now.” His words are clipped, urgent, but his touch is all comfort as he guides you out of the apartment, into the elevator, and finally into the car. The drive is shrouded in a thick, suffocating silence, broken only by your muffled sobs. The fear that’s lodged in your throat is too heavy to put into words, and deep down, you’re terrified of what you might say if you tried.

At the doctor’s office, the cold gel on your stomach is a jarring contrast to the heat of your fear. The ultrasound screen flickers to life, and there it is—a heartbeat, strong and steady. Relief washes over you like a cool breeze, but it’s tinged with uncertainty. You dare not hope too much, not yet.

Yoongi’s voice cuts through the silence, steady but laced with anxiety, “Why is she bleeding so much?” His eyes search the doctor’s face for reassurance, for something solid to hold onto.

The doctor hesitates, their gaze softening as they meet your wide, tear-streaked eyes. “It’s not uncommon to bleed in the early stages of pregnancy,” they explain gently. “Everything could be okay, but…” they pause, and the weight of that single word hangs heavy in the air, “it might be a miscarriage in progress. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do except wait and see what happens.” The apology in their voice is almost unbearable, as if they’re sorry for delivering such uncertain news.

And so you wait, the days stretching out like an endless horizon. The bleeding continues, each drop a reminder of the life that hangs in the balance. Yoongi never leaves your side, holding you close through the long, silent nights. You curl into a ball on the bed, grief pulling you into its dark embrace, and you weep for what you fear you’ve lost, though no one has told you for certain. You cry yourself to sleep most nights, haunted by the thought that the heartbeat you saw was the last flicker of hope, slowly fading away.

You feel like a hollow shell, a prisoner within your own skin, drifting through the motions of life, performing tasks you know you should care about but no longer do. The days blur together in a monotony of routines—going to work, waking up, all the things that once held meaning now feel like burdens. The joy that once colored your world has faded to gray. Yet, Yoongi remains by your side, unwavering in his support, whispering words of comfort, promising that everything will be okay. But when the doctor confirms your worst fears, telling you that the life you carried is no longer, you don’t even cry.

It’s as if your tears have run dry, drained by days of sorrow, leaving you numb and empty. Yoongi pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, trying to shield you from the storm that rages inside. You feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, and you cling to it like a lifeline.

Back home, you slip off your shoes and head straight for the alcohol cabinet. The house is quiet, the air heavy with the weight of your grief. You reach for a bottle of red wine, the one you’ve been saving for a special occasion. With a shaky hand, you uncork it and pour the crimson liquid into a glass, filling it almost to the brim. You glance at your husband, managing a weak smile. “Do you want one?”

“It’s the middle of the day on a Saturday,” he says softly, concern lacing his voice. But you just shrug, raising the glass to your lips as if it could wash away the pain. “But I don’t mind drinking with you,” he adds, grabbing a glass for himself and pouring some wine. After all, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?

He settles beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around you, and you lean into him, seeking the comfort of his warmth. The past few days have been a blur of tears and aching silence, and as you take a sip of the wine, the familiar burn in your throat offers a momentary escape. You know it’s not a solution, but today, you allow yourself this indulgence. Tomorrow will be different, you tell yourself. Tomorrow is a new day.

Yoongi doesn’t say much; he simply kisses the top of your head, holding you close as you both drink in the quiet of the day. There’s a solace in his presence, in the way his arms encircle you, making you feel safe even as the world crumbles around you. The wine, the warmth of his body, the soft hum of his voice as he sings you a lullaby—it’s all a balm to your wounded soul.

Before long, sleep overtakes you, and you drift off with your head resting on his lap, his fingers gently combing through your hair. When you wake, your head throbs with a dull ache, and your eyes feel dry and gritty. You rub them, groaning softly as you stretch. Yoongi isn’t beside you, but on the table, you find a glass of water and a couple of painkillers waiting for you. The small gesture makes your heart swell with love.

As you swallow the pills, Yoongi emerges from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water clinging to his skin. His voice, still thick with sleep, wraps around you like a warm blanket. “How are you feeling, babe?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I have a slight headache, but I’m okay,” you reply, pouting playfully as you try to tame your unruly hair. “Thank you for indulging me,” you add, feeling a surge of gratitude for the way he understands you, even in your darkest moments.

He crosses the room, sitting beside you on the couch, his presence a steady anchor in the turbulent sea of your emotions. “I’ll always be by your side, babe, you know that,” he says, his voice soft but filled with unwavering conviction.

You nod, your heart swelling with a love so deep it almost hurts. Because you do know. And you love him all the more for it.

He disappears into the bedroom to get dressed, and when he returns, he sits beside you again, his hand finding yours, his touch grounding you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitate, fidgeting with your fingers, feeling the weight of the words that hover on your lips. But you know that talking might help, that sharing the burden might make it easier to bear. So you take a deep breath and let the words spill out.

“I want to try to get pregnant again,” you confess, the hurt still fresh, but beneath it, a flicker of hope. Despite the pain, despite everything, you still want that baby. You still believe in the dream that once filled you with so much joy.

Yoongi looks at you, his eyes soft with understanding. He nods, his grip on your hand tightening just a little. “Okay,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “Let’s try again then.”

And in that moment, you know that no matter what comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

And so you try, again and again, in every possible way, in so many positions that it borders on the absurd. The weeks blur into months, yet each time you face the stark emptiness of a negative pregnancy test, hope crumbles a little more. You feel bombed, discouraged, like a balloon slowly deflating, the air of optimism leaking out with each failed attempt. You never imagined it would be this hard to conceive, and the disappointment weighs heavy on your heart.

Doubt creeps in like a shadow, wrapping its cold fingers around your thoughts. You begin to wonder if there’s something wrong with your body, some hidden flaw that’s keeping you from the one thing you want most. Why isn’t it happening? And yet, beneath the yearning, there’s a trembling fear—fear of what will happen when you finally see those two lines again. Fear of reliving the pain of another loss.

“Maybe we should see a doctor,” Yoongi suggests one quiet afternoon as you both pick at your food, the silence between you thick with unspoken worries. “Maybe I should get my sperm checked,” he muses, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and determination.

You nod, though deep down you doubt that he’s the problem. It feels like the fault lies with you, that your body is betraying you. Isn’t there something about a woman’s fertility dipping after thirty? You vaguely recall reading that somewhere, and it haunts you now. But Yoongi’s right—there’s no harm in getting checked. Perhaps it will give you some answers, or at least a direction.

A few days later, you walk into your doctor’s office with leaden feet and little hope, convinced that age has already set its limits on your dreams. The tests are done, the waiting begins, and you brace yourself for the worst. But when the results come back, they reveal that everything is fine—your fertility is normal, Yoongi’s sperm is in excellent shape. So why isn’t it happening? The question echoes in your mind, relentless and cruel.

Frustration gnaws at you, its claws sinking deeper with each passing day. You find yourself snapping at your colleagues, the tension spilling over in ways you can’t control. Apologies tumble from your lips almost as often as the sharp words that precede them. At home, you manage to hold your temper, but you fear it’s only a matter of time before even Yoongi becomes a target, despite his unwavering support.

Making love, once a source of joy and connection, now feels hollow, reduced to a mechanical routine. The passion that once ignited between you has dimmed, replaced by a clinical determination to conceive. You know Yoongi feels it too; he’s always been attuned to your moods.

“I’m not fucking you when you’re not in the mood,” he says one night, his voice low but firm.

You scoff, anger flaring as you rise from the bed. “Just fuck me so I can get pregnant.”

“No,” he replies, his tone unyielding. “Not when your heart’s not in it.”

With that, he stands up, naked and resolute, pulling his clothes back on as you lie there, seething and tearful, frustration coursing through you like a fever. The anger isn’t just at him; it’s at yourself, at your body, at the unfairness of it all. You hear him in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes a stark contrast to the silence that fills the bedroom. You pull yourself together, dressing slowly, avoiding the mirror because you know you won’t like what you see—a woman who feels trapped in a body that won’t cooperate, stuck between desire and despair.

But Yoongi isn’t wrong. Pushing yourself when your heart isn’t in it won’t help, you know that. You just can’t help the desperation that drives you to this point. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bedroom and find him in the kitchen. Without a word, you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice thick with regret. “I’ll do better.”

He hugs you back, strong and warm, and in that embrace, you find a flicker of comfort. You kiss, a promise unspoken between you, and you feel a surge of gratitude for the man who stands beside you through all the heartbreak and frustration. Whatever comes next, you know you’re in this together.

You immerse yourself in research, scouring every corner of the internet for vitamins, supplements, and rituals that might tip the odds in your favor. Each new discovery feels like a lifeline, something to cling to in the relentless tide of hope and disappointment. But one day, after yet another fruitless search, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you—a weariness that reaches deep into your bones. You close your laptop with a heavy sigh and turn to Yoongi, the words slipping from your lips before you can second-guess them.

“I don’t think I want to have kids anymore,” you say, your voice eerily calm, as if stating a simple fact. But inside, you feel as cold and distant as the words sound. Yoongi’s head snaps toward you so quickly that you can almost hear the air shift. His eyes search your face, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in your resolve.

“We can just keep trying,” he replies, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of desperation, as though he’s pleading with you—because he is. You know how deeply he longs for babies, for a family built on the love you share.

But the weight of it all crushes you, and the tears you’ve held back for so long finally threaten to spill over. “I don’t think I can,” you whisper, your voice breaking as a sob catches in your throat. The exhaustion, the fear, the endless cycle of hope and heartbreak—it’s too much.

Yoongi pulls you into his arms, his embrace warm and reassuring. He pats your back, murmuring that it’s okay, that everything will be fine, even as he holds you a little tighter, as if trying to shield you from the pain. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and you see the sincerity in them—the way he’s willing to let go of his own dreams for your sake.

“We don’t have to have kids if you don’t want to anymore,” he says, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering, making sure you know he means it. It’s not just a comfort; it’s a promise.

You swallow hard, the enormity of the decision weighing on you. Could you keep trying? Maybe. But fear coils around your heart, tightening with each passing thought. The future feels uncertain, and that terrifies you.

“Maybe,” you begin, searching for the right words, “we could still try, but not focus on it so much. I don’t think it’s healthy for me to be this obsessed.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips as relief softens his features. “Maybe we should rekindle our love,” he suggests gently. “Sex shouldn’t feel like a chore, and I hate that it does for you,” he adds, a pout forming on his lips as he looks at you with concern. “How can I make it better for you?”

You take a moment to ponder his question, reflecting on the love you share, the bond that has always been strong, even in the face of adversity. You realize that it’s not about what’s missing, but about what’s been neglected—the time, the attention, the simple joys of being together. Your hectic schedules have stolen moments that should have been yours, and now you feel the distance.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” you ask, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

His chuckle is like music, sweet and comforting, warming you from the inside out. “Always,” he replies, intertwining his fingers with yours, his touch a silent vow of affection.

In the weeks that follow, you carve out more time for each other, stepping back from the rush of work to simply be together. You surprise him at his garage, sharing takeout in his cluttered office, laughing over greasy fries and soda. You catch late-night movies, stroll through the mall hand-in-hand, visit little cafes tucked away in the corners of the city. You do all the things you’ve missed, the simple, everyday joys that once made your love effortless, and already you feel lighter, happier.

Amidst this rekindling of your love, you stumble upon the perfect house just outside of Seoul. It’s spacious, with a large living room that echoes with the laughter of future children you haven’t given up on just yet. The garden sprawls wide, with enough space for dreams to grow, and the garage—oh, the garage is exactly what Yoongi has always wanted, a place to tinker and create. When you step inside for the first time, you feel it in your bones—this is home. It speaks to you, calls to something deep within you, and you see the same recognition in Yoongi’s eyes.

The decision to buy the house is easy, almost instinctual, as if you’ve always known this was where you were meant to be. You celebrate with friends, toasting to the new chapter that’s about to begin, and their joy mirrors your own. The move won’t happen until summer, giving you a few precious months to pack up your life and prepare for the future. And for the first time in a long while, that future doesn’t feel so daunting—it feels full of possibilities.

It’s March, and winter still clings to the world with frosty fingers, the cold seeping through the cracks of the early morning. Yoongi holds you extra close as you stroll along the river, the chill in the air making you grateful for the wool scarf he wrapped around your neck with such tender care. Your hand finds refuge in the deep pocket of his coat, where your fingers intertwine, sharing warmth with each squeeze and caress.

As you walk, you take in the quiet beauty of the morning. Couples sit huddled on benches, whispering secrets, some stealing kisses as if the cold gives them courage. Children chase each other across the dewy grass, their laughter like wind chimes in the crisp air. You savor these moments, these tranquil walks before the world wakes up fully and the weather softens into spring.

Yoongi tugs you toward a small coffee shop nestled by the river, and soon you’re cradling steaming cups of hot cocoa. The rich scent of chocolate wraps around you like a comforting blanket as you settle into a cozy corner. Across the table, Yoongi’s fingers dance playfully over yours, each brush sending electric jolts through your body. His touch warms you from the inside out, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, though you try to hide it.

Suddenly, he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’ve got something on your face,” he teases, pointing at your mouth.

You fumble to wipe it away, but before you can, Yoongi leans over the table, closing the distance between you. His lips capture yours in a soft kiss, his tongue slipping out to clean the smudge of cocoa from your mouth. The simple act is intimate, thrilling, and utterly unexpected.

“Yoongi, we’re in public,” you stammer, your voice a mix of scolding and breathless surprise. The audacity of his gesture stirs a warmth between your legs, a desire that flickers to life like a spark catching flame.

“When has that ever bothered me?” he retorts with a mischievous grin, his boldness both shocking and endearing.

You stare at him, baffled by his audacity, but also deeply drawn to it. With a playful smile, you grab his hand, pulling him up from his chair. “Let’s get home before you get us kicked out.”

Laughter bubbles between you as you walk hand in hand, the cold forgotten in the heat of the moment. By the time you step into the elevator, the tension has built to a fever pitch, and you find yourself unable to wait any longer. You pounce on him, surprising Yoongi with the fiery need in your kiss, your lips capturing his in a fierce embrace.

“I want you, Yoon,” you whisper breathlessly, your lips brushing against his ear as you tighten your arms around his neck. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

His giggle is low and throaty, the sound reverberating through you as his back meets the steel of the elevator wall. “Hmmm, you’d like that, huh?”

“Yes,” you pant, your breath hot against his skin. You lick your lips, eyes dark with desire. “You can decide how you want it. My birthday present to you.”

He chuckles, kissing you softly, tenderly, as he murmurs, “But you already gave me a scotch, a new toolbox, and a house,” a kiss for each gift, each one lingering longer than the last. “You don’t need to give me more.”

“And sex shouldn’t really be a gift,” he adds, his lips quirking into a smile, but you nod, already knowing this.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I want you inside me,” you counter with a wink, giving your own ass a playful slap.

A low grunt escapes him, arousal thickening his voice as he grabs you, pinning you against the wall, his lips tracing a searing path down your neck. You moan softly, your body arching toward him, your pussy throbbing with need.

When the elevator doors slide open, he pulls you out, his grip firm as he leads you to your apartment door. He fumbles briefly with the key, urgency in every motion, and the moment the door clicks shut behind you, the world outside ceases to exist.

Shoes are discarded in a hurry, and in the blink of an eye, Yoongi has you in the kitchen, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter. He spreads your legs, his eyes dark and hungry as he takes in the sight of you. Already, you’re so wet, aching for him, and you can see the primal desire mirrored in his gaze.

He kneels before you, lifting the hem of your dress with a mischievous glint in his eye. “There’s a wet patch on your panties, babe,” he murmurs, a chuckle rumbling from his chest as his gaze darkens with desire.

“Well, I want you badly,” you breathe, your legs parting in invitation, your body aching for his touch.

Without hesitation, he hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric of your panties and slides them down your legs, letting them pool on the floor. His lips find your slick pussy, his tongue a sinful instrument of pleasure as it dances over your folds. He laps at you with fervor, his nose grazing your sensitive clit as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of you. You moan, the sound almost foreign to your own ears, lost as you are in the ecstasy he’s drawing from you. It doesn’t take long before you’re unraveling, your release shuddering through you as you come apart on his tongue.

He pulls back, his lips glistening with your essence, and he licks them slowly, savoring the taste of you. “You’re so hot,” he breathes, his voice thick with need.

You hum in response, wanting to tell him how irresistible he is, but before you can, he’s grabbing your hips, pulling you down from the counter and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he growls against your mouth, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively. “I want to fill you up, to lose myself in your pussy.”

When you pull away, his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with lust. “I want to take care of you first,” you whisper, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I want to suck you off.”

“You don’t have to. I just need to be inside you,” he argues, his hands already unzipping his pants, freeing his hard, aching cock.

“No,” you insist, your voice soft but firm. “It’s your birthday, and I want to give you everything you desire.” You help him discard his pants and boxers, and as soon as he’s free of the fabric, you wrap your hand around his dick, feeling him twitch in your grasp. He groans, a needy sound that makes your own desire flare even hotter.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” you say, your voice sultry and full of intent. You drop to your knees before him, looking up with wide, pleading eyes. “Please.”

He hesitates, but only for a moment. You always have this power over him, making him bend to your will with just a word, a look. So when you take him into your warm, wet mouth, he sees stars. You hold his gaze, your eyes locked on his as you slowly, sensually, begin to pleasure him. He thinks you look like a vixen, so full of confidence and allure, and sometimes he can’t quite believe that you’re his, that you belong to him in every way.

For a while, he lets you lead, your lips and tongue working him over with skillful precision. But soon, his need for control takes over, his hands tangling in your hair as he starts to guide your movements, thrusting gently at first, then deeper, harder. He knows you can take it, even when your eyes flutter closed and your breath hitches. He knows you love it as much as he does. The sounds you make, the soft, wet noises of your mouth on him, fill the kitchen, and he moans your name, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

He can feel himself getting close, that familiar tightening in his core, and it takes everything in him to pull back, to stop before he loses himself entirely. When he does, a string of saliva still connects you, a testament to the raw, unfiltered passion between you.

“Was it too much?” he asks, his voice rough with desire, his thumb brushing against your flushed cheek.

You shake your head, wiping the drool from your lips. “No,” you assure him, your voice breathless but steady. “If it was, I would have said something.”

“Good,” he rasps, pulling you to your feet, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. “Because now I need to fuck you. On the table.”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a playful glint in your gaze. “The dining table?”

He grins, wicked and full of promise. “Yes, the dining table.”

He nods, and you do as he says, feeling his presence close behind you, a silent promise of what’s to come. The air thickens with anticipation as you remain in your dress, a symbol of your desire lingering between the layers of fabric. When he turns you around to face the table and gently presses you down onto its cool surface, you know exactly what he wants, and the thought alone sends a shiver down your spine. God, you love it when he takes you from behind.

He hikes up your dress, exposing you to the cool air, and his hands find your ass, groping and squeezing with a possessive reverence. “So pretty,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with need.

You feel the heat of his cock teasing against your entrance, the anticipation almost unbearable. His hands spread your cheeks, and then you feel the head of his cock pressing into your slick pussy. Slowly, he pushes in, the stretch more intense in this position, but you welcome it, your body humming with pleasure as he fills you completely.

He grunts, a deep, primal sound that reverberates through you as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. “Yoongi—please, move,” you pant, your hands gripping the edge of the table, seeking leverage as he begins to thrust into you.

“Fuck,” you moan, your voice breaking as he picks up the pace, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that feels both punishing and divine.

His hands roam over your backside, caressing, gripping, pulling you closer with every thrust. “Ah, fuck. You always feel so fucking good around me,” he groans, his voice dripping with raw desire as he speaks your name.

“I love having your cock in me. Fuck me faster, please,” you plead, your voice breathless, every nerve in your body alight with want.

The table shifts beneath you, scraping against the floor with each thrust, but the sound is lost in the symphony of your pleasure. Soon, this place won’t be yours to worry about, but right now, it’s all that grounds you as he drives into you, hitting that perfect spot inside that makes your vision blur with bliss.

“Fuck! Right there!” you scream, your mind emptying of everything but him, your husband, the man you love so fiercely.

“So fucking tight,” he moans, his fingers digging into your hips with a grip that promises to leave marks, tangible reminders of this moment.

“Yoon—, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, your breath ragged, sweat beading on your forehead as the heat between you builds to a crescendo.

He rams into you harder, just like you wanted, and you shatter around him, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your vision goes white, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your body sags against the table, barely able to support itself.

“Fuck,” he curses, and then his hand comes down on your ass, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the room. You clench around him reflexively, another wave of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck,” he curses again, another slap, another burst of sensation, and you cry out, your body quivering under his relentless assault.

“Yoongi!” you scream, teetering on the edge of another climax, “I think—”

But the words are stolen from you as he continues to pound into you, the force of his thrusts driving the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, lost in a sea of sensation.

“Fucking shit. I’m so close,” he pants, his hand soothing over your ass before delivering another stinging slap, and your second orgasm melds into a third, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. You cry out in pleasure, your voice raw as your world narrows to the feel of him inside you, the only anchor in the storm of your release.

His thrusts grow erratic, less controlled, until finally, he stills, his cock buried deep as he spills into you, the warmth of his release filling you up. A sigh escapes your lips, your body utterly spent, your mind adrift in the aftermath.

He collapses over you, his weight a comforting pressure as he keeps himself inside you, his hands caressing your body with gentle affection. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin. “I love you so much.”

You chuckle softly, the warmth of your love for him blooming in your chest. “You aren’t too bad yourself,” you tease, feeling his softened cock slide out of you as you turn to face him. “And I love you so much too.”

He smiles, tender and full of adoration, before capturing your lips in a kiss that speaks of gratitude and deep, unwavering love. “Thank you for this lovely birthday,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips.

You smile back, letting him take your hand and lead you to the bathroom, where he gently cleans you up, his touch as tender as his heart. Later, you fall asleep nestled in his arms, the world outside forgotten, lost in the cocoon of your shared warmth.

You stare at the test in your trembling hands, the seconds ticking away with agonizing slowness. Three minutes—those eternal, cursed minutes—dragging you back to that moment in the forest when the thought of pregnancy filled you with dread. But now, everything is different. Now you want it, crave it with every fiber of your being, yet fear still lingers like a shadow in your heart, whispering what-ifs.

Your phone vibrates, breaking the silence, signaling that the time is up. You take a deep breath, steel yourself, and then you look.

Two lines.

Your heart skips a beat, and you blink, hardly believing it.

Two lines.

You rush to show Yoongi, his eyes lighting up with pure joy as he sees the result. He’s elated, grinning like a child, and his happiness is contagious. You’re happy too, truly, but beneath the surface, that familiar fear curls, a silent specter reminding you of the past, of the heartbreak you’ve been through before. What if it happens again?

But the weeks pass, and you pack your life into boxes, preparing for the move as summer blooms. Now, four months pregnant, you find yourself with Yoongi wrapped around your little finger. He’s doting, tender, doing everything for you as if you were made of glass—cooking your meals, helping you dress, even braiding your hair with surprising care. He indulges your every craving, runs to the store for cake and candy at odd hours, holds your hair when the nausea takes over. His protectiveness borders on overbearing, but you can’t bring yourself to mind. It’s endearing, really, and you feel a warmth in your chest that’s as sweet as the candy he brings you.

On moving day, Yoongi insists you don’t lift a finger, so you supervise, directing your friends on where to place each box in your new home. It still feels surreal—this beautiful house is yours, truly yours. You rest your hand on your growing belly, not yet feeling the strong kicks you’re longing for, though you’ve sensed some faint fluttering. Perhaps it’s just gas, but still, the anticipation is almost unbearable.

After a day of grocery shopping, stocking the fridge and freezer with essentials, you find yourself craving ice cream late at night—the one with Oreo bits swirled through it. The craving grips you suddenly, fiercely, and you know there’s no ignoring it. You need that ice cream.

“Yoongi?” you call out, drawing his name in that sweet, almost sing-song voice he knows all too well.

He chuckles, already predicting your request from the way you’ve drawn out his name. Your cravings have become a nightly ritual, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he loves it—loves you more than words can express.

“Yeah?” he answers, laughter in his voice, as you hesitate, almost shy to ask for something else after all the shopping you did today.

“I’m craving ice cream…” you murmur, unsure how he’ll react, knowing full well you’d already stocked the freezer just hours ago.

He sighs, but it’s a soft, amused sound. “The one with Oreo bits, right?”

Your eyes fill with love and gratitude, tears pricking at the corners. “Thank you!” you whisper, your heart swelling as he’s already up, grabbing his keys without a second thought.

You watch him go, overwhelmed with love for this man who would move mountains just to see you smile. When he returns, ice cream in hand, you greet him with a kiss, diving into the tub with abandon. Fifteen minutes later, the tub is empty, and you glance at him with a sheepish smile, wondering if he’ll have to make another trip. That’s when he decides to always buy extra, stashing it away in the freezer, ready for your next craving.

He’s your snack patrol, your guardian of midnight desires, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy, to keep that radiant smile on your face. After all, you’re carrying his tiny miracle inside you, and for him, indulging your every whim is the least he can do.

One evening, you stumble through the door after a long, grueling day at work, exhaustion clinging to you like a heavy shroud. All you want is to collapse into the soft embrace of your bed, to let the day melt away into dreams. But hunger gnaws at you, demanding attention, so you drag yourself to the kitchen, hoping to find Yoongi bustling around, preparing dinner as usual. Yet, the air is absent of the familiar, comforting aromas that typically greet you, and instead, you find Yoongi lounging on the couch, engrossed in a book.

“Didn’t you make dinner?” you snap, frustration bubbling up before you can contain it, the weariness in your bones making your temper short.

He glances up, confused, his lips parting to speak, but you cut him off, the anger spilling over.

“You dick! You know I expect you to make dinner when I get home late,” you huff, the irritation morphing into something sharper, more biting. But before the anger can fully take root, it unravels into sobs, the tears pouring out uncontrollably, as if your exhaustion has found a new outlet. You’re crying so hard that you scare yourself, and Yoongi, too, who tosses his book aside and rushes to your side, wrapping you in his arms, his touch gentle and soothing.

“There’s leftovers, remember?” he whispers softly, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back, his voice steady and calm, grounding you in the moment.

And just like that, clarity washes over you. He’s right. Of course, he’s right. The realization of your misplaced anger makes you feel foolish, small. Lately, you’ve been snapping at him over the smallest things, calling him names in moments of frustration, but he always meets your outbursts with a patient smile, never holding your forgetfulness or emotional swings against you. He’s a gem, a steady rock in the midst of your storm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, and he returns it with such tenderness that you know, deep down, everything is going to be okay.

The months in your new home pass like pages turning in a cherished book, each one filled with milestones and memories. You’ve hosted a housewarming, celebrated your baby shower, and now, winter has settled in once more, December’s chill creeping through the air. Maternity leave is just around the corner, and you can’t wait to have the time to focus entirely on Yoongi and the tiny miracle growing inside you.

“I’m so fucking tired, Yoon,” you sigh, sinking into a chair, every breath feeling like an effort, exhaustion etched into every part of you.

“It’s okay, take a break. I’ll finish up the painting. Why don’t you go change clothes?” he suggests with a reassuring smile, but the frustration within you bubbles up again, spilling over before you can stop it.

“I look so ugly,” you cry, tears welling up as you take in your reflection, emotions surging in a wave. “I’m so fat, and my stomach feels like it’s dragging me down. I’m swollen everywhere, and I just look so ugly.” Your voice breaks, the tears falling freely, and Yoongi drops his paintbrush immediately, rushing to comfort you.

“You’re not ugly, babe,” he says softly, wiping away your tears with his paint-stained fingers, his eyes full of love and sincerity. “Those extra pounds just make you even sexier,” he adds with a playful smile, kissing the tip of your nose. “Please don’t speak ill of your body. I love you, and I love everything about your body.”

You sniffle, his words washing over you like a balm, soothing the insecurities that have taken root in your mind. You know he’s right, and you decide to believe him, because why else would he stick around through all your emotional ups and downs? “Thank you, Yoon. I love everything about you too.”

The nursery is ready, painted in a soft shade of lilac, filled with carefully chosen furniture. You’ve both decided that your baby girl will sleep in your room at first, so the nursery remains more symbolic than functional for now. But it’s been a labor of love, preparing for this new chapter in your lives.

As you gaze out the window, watching the snow pile up on the street, a sense of quiet anticipation fills you. Soon, so very soon, you’ll meet your miracle baby, and the thought sends a warmth spreading through you, cutting through the cold of the winter night.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow

*if this fucking taglist doesn't work... I don't know what to do with myself. Hopefully you'll find it even though tumblr will probably be a bitch and not let it work...

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I hope it wasn’t too angsty 🥹 This was largely inspired by the song ‘Pregnant’ by Phlake. You should really give it a listen, it’s very explicit and cute, lol 😝 Please let me know what you think in a reblog, comment or ask. And if you’ve ever had a miscarriage— here’s an extra hug for you 🫂

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latin5mamii · 3 days

Text

competition

warnings: cuteness (my heart literally melt)

genre:fluff; kylianxfem!reader

summary: Kylian can't stand kitten videos anymore, so what's better than actually gifting you one?

author's note: I’m really going to miss seeing our little croissant play for the next three weeks! It’s just so sad and i want to cry. Every time I watch him on the pitch, I find myself literally ADMIRING him , and honestly, it’s starting to worry me about my mental health...

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

You’ve been dreaming about adopting a kitten for what feels like forever—weeks of obsessively sending Kylian video after video of fluffy kittens, each with the same unspoken message: “I need one.”

He’s honestly not sure how this kitten craze of yours even started. Maybe it was that time you found a kitty on the street and immediately dropped to your knees, practically begging him to take it home with you. He still remembers the way your face fell when you found out the kitten already had an owner. Ever since then, you’ve been on a mission.

It’s gotten kind of relentless. At first, Kylian thought it was cute, how every few hours you’d send him another kitten clip with heart eyes and a not-so-subtle, “Look at this one! Isn’t it adorable?” But now, it’s reached a point where every time his phone dings, he knows it’s another video of a kitten doing something cute, followed by your predictable "I want one so bad."

The man can only take so much.

And for Kylian, saying no to you is basically impossible. He could ignore the hints for a while, but the way you light up whenever the topic of kittens comes up? Yeah, there’s no way he’s letting this one slide much longer.

“Amour,” Kylian’s deep, playful voice echoes through your temporary apartment as he closes the door behind him. You barely glance up from your phone, lost in yet another kitten video that you’ll definitely be sending him in a few minutes.

But his tone catches your attention. There’s something different in it—something secretive.

“Amour,” he repeats, this time a bit more mischievous. “I have a surprise for you.”

That’s all it takes. Your heart skips a beat, and you scramble to your feet, tossing your phone onto the couch without a second thought. You rush down the hallway toward him, excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Kylian, what is it? What’s going on?” you ask breathlessly, practically bouncing on your toes. You’re not great with surprises, mainly because your curiosity knows no bounds, and Kylian knows that all too well.

He grins, clearly enjoying your impatience. “Patience, chérie,” he teases, holding his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes first.”

You let out an exaggerated groan but obey, squeezing your eyes shut. “You know I hate this, right?”

He chuckles, and you can hear him moving closer. “I know. But you’ll love this.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re going to explode from anticipation. Then, just as you’re about to cheat and peek, you hear it—a tiny, delicate meow.

Your eyes snap open before Kylian can even tell you to, and your breath catches in your throat. In his arms, nestled against his chest, is the most adorable, tiny kitten you’ve ever seen. Its fur is a mix of cream and gray, and its big, round blue eyes blink up at you with curiosity.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth as you stare in disbelief.

Kylian laughs softly, clearly proud of himself as he watches your reaction. “I couldn’t handle the constant kitten videos anymore,” he teases, shifting the tiny bundle of fur in his arms so you can get a better look. “So I figured I’d just… bring you one.”

You’re speechless, your hands trembling as you reach out to take the kitten from him. It’s so small, so delicate, and it lets out the tiniest purr as soon as it’s nestled in your arms, pressing its little head against your chest.

“I love you,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure whether you’re saying it to Kylian or the kitten. Maybe both.

“I know,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But do you love me more than the kitten?”

You giggle, shaking your head as you hold the kitten closer. “Well, the kitten is pretty cute. You’ve got some competition now.”

He feigns offense, raising an eyebrow as if wounded, but the act doesn’t last long. Watching you tenderly cradle the tiny kitten in your lap, gently stroking its soft fur, his heart can’t help but melt.“So… have you thought of a name yet? Or are you just going to call it ‘kitten’ forever?”

You look down at the tiny fluff ball in your lap. A name? You hadn’t even gotten that far in your daydreams.

“Hm, I don’t know… I kind of like ‘kitten,’” you joke, earning a groan from Kylian. “No, seriously! Look at this face. It’s like pure kitten energy.”

“Amour, we are not calling it ‘kitten,’” Kylian says, though he can’t help but smile.

You tap your chin playfully, as if deep in thought, then look up at Kylian with a soft smile. “I think I need to really take my time with this,” you say, your tone serious but with a hint of teasing. “It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to rush it.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re telling me we need to schedule a whole naming ceremony for this kitten?”

“Obviously,” you reply with a grin, gently stroking the kitten’s fur. “It’s an important choice. I’ll need some time… and maybe a little inspiration.”

Kylian leans in, his voice playful. “Oh? And how do you plan on finding this inspiration, chérie?”

You tilt your head and flash him a warm smile. “By cuddling with my two favorite babies,” you say softly, looking between him and the kitten. “That should give me all the inspiration I need.”

Kylian’s expression softens instantly, his eyes sparkling as he leans in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Your two babies, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning into him as you settle against his chest. “My big baby and my little baby. Both equally important.”As you lean into Kylian’s embrace, you watch the tiny kitten stir slightly before making its way to his stomach. With a delicate hop, it settles right on top of him, curling into a tiny ball, its soft purring almost harmonizing with the rise and fall of Kylian’s breathing.

You can’t help but smile, feeling your heart practically melt at the sight. There’s something about seeing Kylian, this towering, athletic man, with such a delicate creature nestled on his chest that makes the moment even sweeter.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “Look at her.”

Kylian glances down at the little fluff ball, a small chuckle escaping him. “She’s already making herself at home,” he says softly, his fingers lightly grazing the kitten’s fur. “Can’t say I blame her, though. I’m pretty comfortable, right?”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

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trippinsorrows · 3 days

Text

through your eyes + au 2

authors: well....this is happening. don't ask. we're just going with it. gotta read part one before consuming this.

don't know who's interested, so only tagging the people i know have read and would be okay with a tag!

taglist: @sayyestoheav3nn @fearlesschimera @annfg8 @zoeyybellex3 @cyberdejos2

Solana never expected to see Roman Reigns again. Not in person, at least. That up close, especially.

It was a one off. A fluke. An anomaly. Her happenstance literal run-in with quite literally the most dangerous man in their world was just one of those things she'd never forget but nothing beyond that.

She could never forget his intense gaze on her, the heat that shot through her body when he touched her, his arm holding her, protecting her almost from a man who clearly doesn't understand boundaries.

But, while she tried her best to put the weekend's unexpected happening behind her, life, or maybe fate, had another plan in motion. One she could have never expected or seen coming.

She's sorting through one of the few remaining boxes that still needs to be tagged and put out for sale when a throat clears behind her.

Putting down the iPad, Solana stands up, wiping her hands on her shorts and loads up her typical, usual smile. Turning around, she readies to greet the probable customer but falters a bit, taken back by his appearance.

Wild, red hair that's surely seen better days. Tall with an almost lanky build, he wears one of the friendliest grins she's ever seen on a person, let alone a man.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "How can I help you?"

Again, he clears his throat, pulling out a wrinkled little piece of paper that seems to have writing scribbled on it. "Yes, I'm looking for a Sol---Solana?"

She laughs at his pronunciation but proceeds to confirm her identity. "I'm Solana."

He makes a sound, slapping his hand against his forehead. "Of course, my apologies!" She giggles. His demeanor is so amenable. "Umm, yes, if you could, umm, come with me?"

At that, Solana's smile drops. "I'm sorry?"

He leans over a bit, and she naturally moves back a little. "I'm sorry." His cheeks are heating with redness. "I'm here on behalf of the Tribal Chief."

Solana goes still. "Roman?" He nods. "He's---he's here?"

When Solana mentioned Roman coming to see her, something she still can't figure out where it came from, she wasn't actually expecting him to follow through on that.

And yet....

The man continues to explain, "he would come in, but....you know."

Yes, she does know. Roman Reigns coming into her little, quaint bookstore would certainly attract an audience and attention, the last two things she wants, that she's ever wanted.

Solana nods.

She should reject it. Should try to find some excuse as to why she can't. Why she's busy. But, she's also not dumb enough to say no to this man.

You don't just say no to Roman Reigns. You can, but it's bound to not end up well. And Solana would rather not find herself on his bad side.

Pushing back her anxiety, she finds herself agreeing. "Of course." Hooking her fingers through the hoops of her denim shorts, she asks, "w-where is he?"

The man whose name she realizes she still doesn't know motions with his arm. "Ladies first."

He really does have a gentless about him that doesn't seem to make sense considering who he works for.

Solana silently and wordlessly follows him out the emergency exit in the back of the store, ignoring the fact that that's probably how he got inside in the first place, which makes little to no sense to her. How did he get by without the security system going off? But, for her own sanity, she doesn't push it too much.

This is Roman.

He gets what he wants.

And speaking of, Solana finds her stomach knotting a bit when she's outside in the alleyway behind the strip. There's three black SUV's with tinted windows lined up, but he's standing by the one in the middle. Leaning against the middle door, his arms are crossed over each other, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes she secretly wishes she could see.

Moving closer, Solana has to take in once again the magnanimity of him. Roman is such a big man, his presence alone something that's both overwhelming and strangely satisfying.

But, when she gets her wish, and he lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head, she finds that feeling in her stomach intensifying. He's raking those beautiful eyes over her entire body, from the top of her head to the sole of her feet.

And Solana is suddenly wishing she'd maybe put on a little makeup or done something more sophisticated with her hair. Not that that seems to stop this man from looking like he'd take her in the back of this alley if he could.

Before she can say anything, the man with the wild red hair is speaking again, his voice suddenly riddled with anxiety.

She gets it.

"Ms. Solana, as you requested, sir." He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and just when Solana expects him to walk away, leaving her along with the one man she probably shouldn't be left alone with, he continues to talk, offering an unexpected save. "And might I say, my Tribal Chief, she is absolutely beautiful. I mean, if I wasn't already married—" At the same time Solana looks at this strange man confused, Roman's gaze is borderline murderous. "But I am m-married, happily so, might I add. And I would never betray my Tribal Chief—"

"Sami."

"Yes, My Tribal Chief?"

"Leave." It's spoken to the man, but Roman's intense gaze is back on her. "Now."

Sami.....it fits.

"Of course," Sami clears his throat and scrambles away, getting in the SUV that's farthest from them without bothering as so much as a goodbye.

Once alone, she finds herself admitting in that same small voice, "I-I didn't think you'd actually come."

He chuckles, and it's such a beautiful sound. "I'm a man of my word, Solana." He flicks his eyes to her mouth. "I said I would see you again, didn't I?"

He did. She just wasn't counting on it.

Swallowing, Solana toys with the string of her top, unintentionally dragging Roman's attention to her cleavage that's showing more than usual. Of course. "How did you find—"

"That was easy. If I want something, I get it." She should know this, know that this man could probably have her social security number at this point if he wanted. "What are you doing tonight?"

Oh.

This is escalating. Quickly. So quickly. She should pump the breaks, should find someway to dead this now. But, she instead finds herself answering him, "n-nothing. Why?"

"You are now." Roman kicks off the SUV and instead moves toward her. Instead of backing away like she did with Sami, Solana stands still, only silently and internally panicking when he snakes his arm behind her and jerks her toward him, into him, into his body. Solid as steel. He's so big. Naturally, her hand moves to his chest, something Roman notices and smirks at. This man. "I'm fighting tonight. I want you there."

It takes her a second to think about what he's referring to, and then it hits her. WarGames is tonight. It's one of the few main events he still participates in. She hasn't attended an event in years. It's never been her setting, but instead of finding a way to tell him this, she's still limited to one to two word response.

"O-oh."

His smirk deepens as he brings his hand to her chin, thumb glossing over her skin. "I'll send a car to pick you up."

Picking up on something, she asks, partially concerned, partially flattered almost. "You-you know where I live?"

Roman's eyes continue to study her face, and she's never felt so under pressure. Like this is a test of some sort that she has no idea if she's passing or not. "I know a lot about you, Solana Miller, but there's still more I want to know." Oh my god. "Wear red."

Just how much does he know? Had he looked her up? Done research on her? Why? What would be the reason? What's so interesting about her that not only has he gone out of his way to gather information on her, but beyond that, is now seeking more info.

It just....it doesn't make sense.

Eyes shutting a bit from the overwhelming nature of this all, she finds herself asking in a breathy voice, "w-why?"

And as if she wasn't already an apprehensive mess, Solana's knees nearly give out from under her when he dips his mouth near her ear. "I like seeing you in my color." She exhales shakily and nervously, as he ghosts his lips over the shell of her ear. "Though I'd rather see you in nothing, but we'll work up to that."

That's not exactly what she was asking about, but regardless, it takes the pure will of God for her to not pass out when he finally pulls away, the lack of his touch on her body something she notices almost immediately.

Roman lifts his hand and snaps, not even a full minute later, one of his men emerging from the passenger side of the SUV to open the car door for him. "I'll see you tonight, Solana."

He can clearly see the reaction he's evoking from her and obviously finds great enjoyment in absolutely toying with her sanity. It's something that leads to her asking, "How-how do you know I'll be there?"

She never accepted. Never agreed. Never mind the fact that she's already thinking about what she owns red that could work for the event....

Roman gives her a curious look followed by another chuckle that she finds so much more attractive than she should. He answers so easily and confidently before climbing in the truck, door being shut for him,

"Because you're just as intrigued by me as I am by you."

#roman reigns fanfic #ltye things #roman reigns x black!oc

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hoesluvjude · 1 day

Text

In Your Arms

Word count:1k

Genre:fluff

Summary:Y/n comforting jude because his injured

Author's note:I know he is not injured anymore but I wrote a long time ago 😭I just didn't post it

Masterlist

Jude sat on the edge of the couch, his lower right leg propped up on a stack of pillows, a heavy bandage wrapped tightly around his calf. The pain was dull now, more of a persistent ache than the sharp stab he had felt during training earlier that day, but it still throbbed with every small movement. He stared at his leg in frustration, a deep sigh escaping him as the reality of his injury began to sink in.

He hated this. He hated the feeling of being sidelined, of watching his teammates carry on without him. Football was everything to him—it was his passion, his career, his life. And now, because of one wrong step, he was stuck here on the couch, unable to move without a limp, unable to train, and worst of all, unsure of how long it would take to heal.

his jaw clenched in frustration. He had been pushing himself hard in training, maybe too hard. He knew that. But he always gave everything, always pushed himself to the limit. It was just his nature. And now, he was paying the price for it.

The sound of soft footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Y/n entering the living room, her face full of concern as she approached him. She had been in the kitchen, making tea, but he could tell by the way she was looking at him that she had been worried ever since he came home from training.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly, setting the cup of tea on the table beside him before sitting down next to him on the couch. Her hand reached for his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jude exhaled slowly, trying to shake off his frustration. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the tension in his voice made it clear he was anything but. “It’s just... annoying.”

Y/n’s eyes softened as she shifted closer to him, her fingers tracing gentle circles on the back of his hand. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re going to heal. It’s just going to take some time.”

Jude knew she was right, but the words didn’t do much to ease the irritation gnawing at him. He wasn’t used to being helpless, to sitting around doing nothing while everyone else kept moving forward. Football had always been his escape, his outlet. And now, without it, he felt like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He glanced over at Y/n, her comforting presence helping to ground him. She was always there for him, always knew what to say, even when he was in the worst of moods. And right now, more than anything, he just wanted her close.

Without thinking, Jude reached out and pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of her skin, letting it calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Y/n seemed a little surprised at first by how clingy he was being—he wasn’t usually this physically needy—but she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him in return, holding him just as tightly. She shifted on the couch so that she was sitting right beside him, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Jude mumbled against her neck, his voice muffled by the way he was pressed against her. “I’m being grumpy.”

Y/n chuckled softly, her fingers never stopping their gentle movement through his hair. “You’re not grumpy. You’re hurt, and you’re allowed to feel frustrated. But you don’t have to apologize for it.”

He sighed again, his body sinking deeper into her embrace. Her words were kind, as they always were, but it didn’t take away the gnawing irritation that came with being injured. Still, having her close helped. It always did.

For a long while, neither of them said anything. Jude just held her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his head resting on her chest as he listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her presence was like a balm to his restless mind, soothing the frustration that had been building inside him since the injury.

Y/n ran her fingers along his back in slow, comforting strokes, her voice soft when she finally spoke. “You know,” she murmured, “you don’t always have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to be upset.”

Jude closed his eyes, her words sinking in. She knew him better than anyone. She knew that he had a tendency to bottle things up, to try and push through without acknowledging how he was really feeling. And she was right. He didn’t always have to be the strong one. Not with her.

“I just hate this,” he admitted quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate not being able to do anything. I hate sitting here, feeling useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Y/n said firmly, pulling back slightly so she could look at him. Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “You’re hurt, Jude. That doesn’t make you useless. It just means you need time to heal.”

Jude met her gaze, the sincerity in her eyes making it hard to argue. He knew she was right, but it was hard to let go of the frustration that had been building inside him since the injury. Football was more than just a job to him—it was his identity, his purpose. And being forced to step back from it, even temporarily, made him feel like he was losing a part of himself.

But as he looked at Y/n, her eyes filled with nothing but love and understanding, he realized that maybe it was okay to lean on her, to let her be strong for him this time. He didn’t always have to carry everything on his own.

“I just want to hold you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Can we just... stay like this for a while?”

Y/n’s expression softened, and she nodded, her fingers gently brushing through his hair once more. “Of course,” she murmured. “We can stay like this as long as you want.”

Jude tightened his arms around her, pulling her even closer. He buried his face in her shoulder, the warmth of her body against his soothing the ache in his leg and the tension in his chest. For the first time since the injury, he felt like he could breathe a little easier.

The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the evening outside and the steady beat of Y/n’s heart beneath his ear. Jude closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the comfort of her embrace. The world outside, with all its noise and pressure, faded away, and all that mattered in this moment was the feeling of her arms around him.

It wasn’t often that Jude let himself be vulnerable like this, but with Y/n, it felt safe. She had seen him at his highest and his lowest, and she loved him all the same. And right now, when he felt frustrated and out of control, her presence was the only thing that brought him any sense of peace.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her skin, the words coming out softer than he had intended, but full of sincerity. He didn’t say it as often as he probably should, but in moments like this, he needed her to know.

Y/n’s arms tightened around him, her lips brushing lightly against his forehead. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth. “And I’m here. Always.”

Jude let out a slow breath, the weight on his chest lifting just a little bit more. He didn’t know how long it would take for his leg to heal, or when he’d be able to get back to the pitch, but he knew one thing for sure—no matter what, Y/N would be by his side.

And in this moment, that was enough.

As the minutes stretched into hours, they stayed like that—Jude wrapped around Y/n,her comforting presence easing the frustration that had been gnawing at him. For now, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let her take care of him, to hold onto her as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And in a way, she was.

#jude bellingham

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karlachismylife · 3 days

Text

I Need My Love To Be Here

Once again I couldn't help but do the second-most voted choice too. Why am I making my own life so much harder?

CW: fem!reader, reader and Price are married and have a daughter, long-distance relationship, my music taste projected once again, the tiniest bit of suggestive teasing, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from The Beatles' "Here, There and Everywhere")

Dealing with an energized six-year old refusing to go to bed was a battle alright, especially when your trusted partner with his commanding presence and a true Captain's voice wasn't there to help. You couldn't blame your little one for behaving herself better when John was around: isn't a natural law that the one parent that's often away and always comes back with gifts is the favourite one? It's not daddy who's forcing you to eat healthy food every day and go to sleep when you want another batch of cartoons.

It's the strict, stern-looking mum with her hands on her hips as she scolds you gently for throwing a fit over putting your toys back like promised.

Still, you'd want a little more appreciation and cooperation from Princess Price, sulking in her frog pjs - everything was frog since recently, you even got daddy a froggy hat for when he comes back from deployment.

He was away for a long time. Not somewhere dangerous, he told you as he called and texted regilarly, but he was constantly held back by one or the other thing that just couldn't be resolved without Captain's expertise.

That's what made his new phone call just the sweeter, since the first words you heard after closing priness's door hastly and moving to the living room, were:

"Guess who's coming home tomorrow, darling."

A relieved, longing sigh escaped you as you leaned onto the couch and stared at the ceiling with a dreamy smile.

"Good. Someone here needs a reminder how to listen to what she's being told."

"Is princess being a bad girl?" John's hearty chuckle warmed you even through the phone. You bit your lip, trying to save your own face from splitting in two with the horribly wide smile - same was gracing Price's face for sure, you could hear it, his plump cheeks all big and round, almost hiding his happily narrowed eyes.

"Not necessarily bad. But we have attitide and no respect for mummy's authority. Maybe I should start calling myself Captain too, just for her to listen to me."

"I'm afraid, impersonating an officer is illegal, love," he huffed and chuckled again, gruff, big, bear-hugging sound. A pause. "Are you being a bad girl?"

You pressed your phone closer you your ear as a warm tingling flooded your cheeks and held your breath.

"I'd like to report I'm being perfectly good, sir," if only you could see the way his kind eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of wherever he was, sitting on a chair with knees wide apart, one hand holding the famous cigar.

"That's good to hear. I have a little something for you. A reward for being so good for me and waiting while I'm in this shithole."

"The only reward I need is you back home, John," you weren't even being coy, just honest. It was so long since you last felt his rough palms slide over your sides and lock together as he pulled you into a tight hug from behind, pressing ticklish kisses into your nape.

"I know, sweetpea. Consider this an apology gift then, for taking so long," he didn't let you argue a single word, clearly set on having you accept whatever he prepared, as if him being alive, well and home wasn't enough. "Got us tickets to that McCartney concert, love. For all three of us. Gotta start teaching our princess what good music is."

You gasped, jumping in your seat - your heart did a little flip, cheeks burning now, butterflies that never went away even after years of marriage flocking to your lungs.

"But it's so close, how did you even- oh, I just wanna kiss all hells out of you, John!" His laughter dripped through the phone like spicy honey, sweetening already increbibly sweet deal.

"Oh, I can tell, love. Hope you feel the same way tomorrow."

"Why is tomorrow so far away?" You allowed yourself to be just as sulky and pouty as your little one snoring softly in the other room. Of course you could wait another day, you've waited for months already. But now every minute felt like a whole month itself.

"That's so you can get enough sleep before I make you forget about it for several nights."

#juju's love is illegal celebration #call of duty #cod #oneshot #fluff #cod fluff #price cod #price x reader #captain john price

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ldysmfrst · 3 days

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American Mate (14) - Does it Always End in Ruin? (TEASER)

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 14 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 10,980

Work count for Story: 107,440

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work because I almost died in August of 2024.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, Alphas fronting, a scenting session with hints of a panic attack, comfort, possessiveness, angst, and mentions of giving aphrodisiac-laced chocolates to Jungkook without his knowledge. There are also nightmares containing mentions of past trauma, violence, abuse, and threats of death.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

You can scent me in the car.

You… can… scent… me… in… the… car…

It’s not like he is gonna do anything untoward– right?

Your body flushes with thoughts of the many ways the scenting session could go “wrong,” like pinning you in the corner against the door and backseat, ravishing your neck in a way that ensures you have a mark that anyone can see.

Following the hyper-focused Prime Alpha of Bangtan Pack to allow him to scent you in a car like you both were some horny teenagers with no control makes the walk through the Gala a blur.

With how firmly Namjoon holds your hand and guides you with determination, you aren’t the only one feeling it, right?

But what would the rest of the pack think?

Your mind was going from things that were not safe for work while simultaneously trying to throw on the breaks.

You were too much in your head battling away the thoughts you shouldn’t be having for a mated man, much less a mated man at a public event with other hybrids that you were 100000000% could smell just what you were thinking of.

MATED MAN!

Your mind is yelling at you, coming through like a spotty radio, while your body is thrumming with the charged atmosphere that now encapsulates the two of you.

You could be making this up and reading into things too much. You did that in high school, which is why you started shying away from skinship. Who wouldn’t after getting humiliated day in and day out about being an attention-seeking fat whore in the cafeteria with no help from the staff?

Whatever, back to the issue at hand. He has mates waiting for him to come home. You should excuse yourself to the bathroom and call one of them.

Jin would be a good phone call, and he is the oldest.

Then there is Yoongi, who is almost powerful enough to be the Prime himself.

Taehyung is supposed to be helping right now; maybe he… he can… Agh! What teleport to the Gala and leave with Namjoon instead of you?

No, you already let Jimin’s Alpha scent you at your packhouse. Jin, Yoongi, and Jungkook intentionally scented you, with permission, in your current bedroom, which means Namjoon should be able to scent you in a car.

They all have said they want skinship, and you said you would be willing to try. Now get it together, woman!

Besides, you told Hoseok that everyone deserves a second chance. This is Namjoon’s second chance. You have never turned away someone in need before, and clearly, whatever Lee Min Ho did triggered Alpha Joon to come out, and he needs the scenting session to calm down.

You were their Playmate, which meant supporting the emotional needs of your assigned hybrid(s) was also part of your job.

The next thing you feel is Namjoon letting go of your hand, which brings you out of your internal argument as he drapes your cape over your shoulders. You watch him as he secures the closure and fusses with it to make sure it is lying correctly.

You are searching for anything to tell you exactly where he is with any of this. You notice the rigid set of his jaw, which hasn’t relaxed since you saw him at the start of the dance with Min Ho. His breaths are almost a perfect count of seven in and seven out, which means he is doing that for a reason.

When he looks at you again, those forest green eyes are dark and piercing. It’s like time freezes; unlike his even breaths, yours seems to be caught. You can see so many emotions moving behind those eyes, but they are flashing so fast, and you don’t know him well enough to tell what they are before they are gone.

“Prime Alpha, sir, ma’am, your car is here,” says Jen. Startling you like she came out of thin air. Smiling at Jen and moving towards the car, you hear Namjoon speak with her in hushed tones.

Now that you can breathe again, you take some cleansing breaths before you climb into the car and buckle up. Scenting is simple. It doesn’t have to be extravagant.

You are in a car, for god’s sake.

As a paid member of my Patreon, you can read the whole chapter now with the early release benefits!

Permanent Tag List - OPEN

@bethanysnow @braveangel777 @danielle143 @elliegrace1999 @skyys-universe @reallysparklychaos @stylishhwa @paramedicnerd004 @afangirl91

Series Taglist - Closed

@nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @staytinyville @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop @m00njinnie @drenix004 @singukieee @avadakadabra93 @dazzlingjade @sehun096rainbow @sunshinecallie @seoullove96 @tired7o7 @channiespup @cryingpages @kittycatkrissa @captain-joongz @roseidol @hecateslittlewitchling @ayoo-bangtan @someshinesomedont @cerulean1riz @butterfliesinthenightsky @kayways @elliegrace1999

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rootedinrevisions · 2 days

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Breaking an Already Broken Heart

SUMMARY: Struggling with a failing marriage and reeling from Tyler’s betrayal, she confronts him at a bar after learning he had been secretly involved with a mutual friend for years. Already heartbroken from her own relationship problems, the revelation shatters her further. Despite her anger and hurt, she finds herself leaning on Tyler, who, despite being the source of her pain, is also her best friend and the only one who can hold her together.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I said I was going to take a few days away from writing, and I do still plan on taking a lot of time the next four days for my mental health so I can't guarantee when or if there will be any more stuff coming until next week. But writing is almost therapeutic to me so I decided to see if it would help. I couldn't sleep, so I wrote this last night at about 3am, and I wanted to share it.

WARNINGS: Angst. Like the kind that hits you right in the chest and gut.

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The bar was one of those unassuming places—the kind of spot where the lights were low, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and spilled beer, and the music was just loud enough to drown out the noise in her head. It was familiar, too familiar. She and Tyler had spent more nights here than she could count, back when things were simple—back when she didn’t know about him and their mutual friend.

Now, it felt different. The weight of the truth sat heavily in her chest as she nursed her drink, trying to push back the sting of betrayal that clawed at her throat. Tyler was beside her, quiet. His presence, usually calming, only added to the turmoil inside her.

He knew she was upset, knew the revelation had rocked her. But Tyler was never one to push. He just waited, like always, his hand resting lightly on the back of her chair, a silent promise that he was still there, still her best friend, despite everything.

She took another sip, the alcohol burning its way down her throat, but it did nothing to dull the ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was quieter than she intended, the hurt slipping through despite her efforts to keep it hidden. She didn’t look at him, couldn’t bring herself to.

Tyler shifted in his seat, and she felt his eyes on her. His fingers brushed the small of her back, a touch so familiar, but now it felt different—like a reminder of all the things unsaid between them. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He admitted, his voice low.

She let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Well, congrats. You did.”

The weight of her words hung between them. Tyler’s hand remained on her chair, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on the wood, a habit she hadn’t noticed before. His silence frustrated her, but she wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. There wasn’t an apology in the world that would fix this, not when the hurt went so deep.

“I know I messed up,” he said finally, his voice thick with regret. “And I’m sorry. But…” He sighed, shaking his head like he was trying to gather the right words. “I didn’t know it would affect you like this.”

She blinked at him, her frustration rising. “How could it not? You’ve been sleeping with her for years, Tyler. And I’ve been here—your friend, your… whatever we were. I thought I knew you. I thought…” Her voice faltered, breaking as the pain surged forward. “I thought I mattered.”

Tyler’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, without a word, he reached for her drink and set it aside, replacing it with a glass of water. “Drink this,” he said softly.

The weight of everything crashed down on you the second Tyler placed the glass of water in front of her. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the years of lies that had unraveled in one night, breaking the fragile trust between them. It was the fact that she was already shattered—cracks from her marriage splintering her heart long before the mutual friend threw the truth about her and Tyler into the mix.

She stared at the water, feeling the tears build at the corners of her eyes. Her marriage was hanging by a thread, and she’d spent so long pretending it was salvageable, clinging to the hope that maybe things could still work. But deep down, she knew it was over. Every fight, every cold shoulder from her husband, every too-friendly message between him and "just a friend" had left her feeling small and discarded.

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not,” he said, still calm, still steady. “But you’ll feel like shit if you keep drinking on an empty stomach.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but she drank the water anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked out for her, and she hated how much she needed it now. She was angry–angry at him, angry at the situation, angry at herself for still wanting him to be the one who held her together when she felt like she was falling apart.

She had come to Tyler tonight because she needed her best friend—the one person who always made her feel like she wasn’t unraveling at the seams. But now, he had made it worse. He had broken a heart that was already broken.

The silence between the two felt heavier now, suffocating almost. Tyler hadn’t said a word since his confession, but he didn’t have to. She could feel his guilt in the way his hand stayed at the back of her chair, tentative, like he was scared she might pull away completely if he pushed too hard.

“I didn’t need this,” she said, finally breaking the silence, her voice shaking as she struggled to hold back the tears. “Tyler, I’m already dealing with my marriage falling apart. I’m barely holding myself together, and now this? You’ve been lying to me, too.”

He flinched at her words but stayed quiet, his gaze heavy with remorse. She knew he wasn’t one to offer excuses, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She was unraveling, and the one person she thought she could count on had yanked another thread loose.

“I don’t even know what hurts more,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The fact that my husband might be cheating on me, or that you—you, of all people—have been sleeping with her behind my back for four years. I don’t even care that you slept with her. I haven’t cared about who you sleep with in years. But you hiding it from me? For this long? It feels like a joke. A really cruel joke.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. If she did, she knew the tears would spill over, and wasn’t ready for that. Not here. Not in front of him.

Tyler shifted beside her, his hand resting more firmly against her back, grounding her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you. I swear I didn’t.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, you did. And the timing couldn’t be worse.” She took a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. “You have no idea how tired I am, Tyler. How exhausted I am from pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

“I know you’re hurting,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry I added to it. If I could take it back, I would.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “The worst part is, you were the one person I thought would always be there when everything else fell apart. I didn’t expect to lose you too.”

For a moment, the two of them just sat there, the weight of everything unsaid settling between them. His fingers brushed the small of her back again, and this time, the touch felt like an apology. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

"You don't have to lose me too. I still want to be here for you. If you'll let me."

Without thinking, she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, the need for comfort winning over her anger.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to fix anything anymore.”

Tyler’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. “You don’t have to fix it all,” he said softly. “Not right now.”

She sat like that for a while, the silence stretching between them, but this time it felt different. Less tense, more familiar, like the years of friendship were still there, holding them together despite the cracks.

When her favorite song came on, Tyler shifted beside her, pulling away just enough to catch her eye. “Dance with me,” he said, offering his hand like he had countless times before.

She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, unsure whether to accept, but something inside her caved. Maybe it was the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of her anger, or maybe it was the familiarity of his presence, but she let him pull her to her feet.

The music was slow, and before she knew it, his hands were on her waist, and her head was resting against his chest. She hated how safe it felt, how his arms around her made her feel like maybe, for just a second, everything wasn’t falling apart.

As they swayed together, she closed her eyes and let herself speak. “I should hate you, Tyler.”

“I know,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

“But I can’t,” she confessed, the words barely a whisper.

“I know,” he repeated, his grip tightening around her just a little, like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces of her together.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’m so hurt,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I can’t lose you. Not now. I need you, Tyler. You’re the only one who can keep me from falling apart.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her against him as if he could somehow shield her from everything breaking down around her.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I’ve always got you.”

And for the rest of the song, he held her close, like he was trying to be the one constant in a life that felt like it was slipping out of control. For now, it was enough. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not forever, but for this moment, she let herself lean on him, letting the pain and confusion blur into the background as his arms wrapped around her.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst

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jobean12-blog · 5 hours

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Anything For You

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: You want to do something with Javi but you're not sure he'd be into it...

Author's Note: This was supposed to be about pumpkin picking and going to the farm. I wrote this Joel story about pumpking picking and thought it would be fun to do it with Javi...but he had other plans so this is what happened...I do mention it but it's not the focus LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty, soft and sweet, smut, fingering, oral (f rec), Javi is a warning bc duh

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The answer to the light knock at his door is a simple, “no.”

Another knock.

“Steve,” he grumbles, without looking up from his papers.

“This one isn’t a no,” Steve replies with a smile in his voice.

Javi’s eyebrows raise and he leans back in his chair behind the desk. At the conceding silence the door opens and reveals Steve.

“You’re not a yes,” Javi mutters.

You slip around Steve and saunter into the office.

“No, he isn’t,” you say sweetly. “But I am.”

Javi couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips even if he wanted to.

“Angel,” he says softly.

He quickly shoots Steve a look that says, ‘get the fuck out,’ before his dark eyes drink you in. With a pat to his thigh, he calls you over.

Steve shuts the door with a light chuckle and shake of his head.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit on Javi’s lap.

He slides one hand up your thigh, squeezing gently while the other smooths along the curve of your spine to grab the back of your neck. His thumb brushes along the nape before his fingers tighten and he drags you down to his lips.

“Hi,” he says after kissing you. “To what do I owe the pleasure angel?”

“I just came by to see you. I missed you.”

He chuckles and lightly runs his fingertips down between your breasts to the hem of your dress. With his eyes locked on yours he slowly pushes the material higher, exposing more and more of your bare skin.

Your breath hitches and your legs instinctively move apart. When his fingers brush the silk between your legs his smile falters and pushes out his bottom lip.

“You’re wearing panties. That’s no fun.”

“And you’re very observant,” you shoot back as you try to keep your voice steady.

“So, does this mean I don’t get to bend you over my desk today?”

You throw him a matching pout and his eyes drop to your mouth, tracking the movement.

“I never said you couldn’t do that. I just have a question first.”

“So, you didn’t just come by to say hi?” he teases, his fingers still working their magic against your quickly dampening panties.

Ignorning his playfulness for the moment you try to stay focused.

“You have to stop that before I ask.”

“Stop what angel?”

“Javi?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t concentrate.”

“You’re doing just fine.”

“But…”

He lightens his touch, still teasing but relenting enough to let some of your haze lift. You try to shift in his lap but his grip on your waist tightens and he holds you firmly in place.

Clearing your throat you say, “I want you to take me pumpkin picking.”

His movements stop and it makes you break out into a smile. He removes his hand from under your skirt and taps the top of his desk.

You slide off his thigh and sit on the cool wood, spreading your legs so he can slide his chair between them.

“You want to go to a farm? And pick pumpkins?”

You nod, “mm hm…and maybe apples? And bake things with them.”

“Ok,” he says as his flattened palms slide up your thighs. “We can do that.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it. Of course I’ll take you pumpkin picking.”

At your stunned silence, his lips twitch with a lopsided smirk.

“What?” he asks as he rubs small circles with his thumb on your inner thighs.

“I guess I thought it would take more convincing.”

With a tug he shifts you closer to the edge of his desk and pushes your skirt up over your hips.

“Right now, I’d do just about anything you asked if it’ll get me between these gorgeous legs faster.”

“Javi.”

You want his name to come out with some force but instead it breathy and desperate.

“Put your legs over my shoulders angel.”

You do as he says, exhaling a shaky breath when his hands run up your legs and back down again, before slowly peeling off you panties. You squirm on top of the desk, and he stops you with a firm hand to your lower stomach.

“Stay still,” he breathes between your legs.

“Please,” you gasp.

He places a soft kiss to the delicate skin right at the place where your hip meets your thigh. “Please what…give you what you really came here for?”

Your lips part but only a low, pleading sound comes out as he noses your pussy, pressing, before kissing it softly.

“Or should I punish you for thinking I wouldn’t take you pumpkin picking.”

‘Both please,’ you think, but instead, find your sassiness and reply with, “put your mouth on me Javi. Now.”

You feel his smile before he licks you with a long, firm drag of his tongue. You arch off the desk and push onto his face, and he opens his mouth, sucking, and nibbling before he pushes two fingers inside you.

Your head falls back, and he slows his movements. “Eyes on me angel,” he growls.

Pushing up onto your elbow, you run your other hand into his hair and gently guide him with a roll of your hips. He groans again and you tug harder on his hair, the dizzy feeling growing until you’re shaking with the blissful spasms that move through your body.

Your legs shake and threaten to close around his head, but he holds you open, pumping his fingers and dragging out your pleasure until you’re gasping and struggling to sit up.

He looks up, his hair a mess from your hands and his lips wet and swollen. A shaky breath slides past your lips, and you watch as he stands, hovering over you and placing his arms on either side of your body.

“Do you need more reminding that I’d do anything you ask?”

“Javi,” you whisper, grabbing his face and pulling his lips down to yours, kissing them, kissing down his throat, your tongue gliding over his skin that tastes of sweat.

He takes you in his arms and lifts you up to a sitting position.

“Do you know which farm you want to go to?” he asks in between kisses.

“Mm hm,” you hum as your hands tug on the buttons of his shirt and you start to pull it free of his pants.

Your nails scratch over his skin and stop at his belt, working the buckle open so that it hangs loosely at the sides.

“You’re going to bake me things so when I come home I have something to eat after you.”

The sound of his zipper moving down makes you bite your bottom lip.

“Are we still talking about the apples and pumpkins?” you ask demurely. “Or do you have some housewife fantasy you want me to fulfill.”

He gives you a wicked smile.

“I wouldn’t have any problem with coming home to you in nothing but an apron and an apple pie in the oven angel,” he croons.

Your answer is the slide of your hand into his pants and a tight grip that makes him hiss out your name.

“I want that reminder Javi,” you purr. “Remind me you’re mine and you’d do anything I ask.”

The warm sun beats down on your face and you squint as you glance at Javi, seated next you, his sunglasses perched on his nose, his dark hair falling over his forehead, and his expression relaxed. His long arm is draped over your shoulders, and you’re tucked comfortably against his side as the tractor wobbles and shakes over every uneven patch of earth.

“This isn’t so bad right?” you ask him, pressing your palm to his stomach.

“Nothing bad about it angel,” he replies softly as he stretches his legs out in front of him and tugs you closer.

A large bag of apples and a stack of pumpkins awaits you at the end of the tractor ride and there’s definitely a freshly baked pie in Javi’s future.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena x you #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x y/n #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #narcos #javier pena smut

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 17 hours

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season 4 episode 12 thoughts

didn’t watch an episode last night because i was sad. and by consulting the people, i knew that this episode would ALSO be sad. but now in my infinite wisdom, i realize: how better to distract yourself from your own sorrow than to watch some fictional characters writhe in their own grief? which brings us here.

“a headless corpse walks out of a hospital morgue” well that actually just sounds silly. i know it’s not gonna end up being silly, and i’m sure my heart will be on the floor, but you have to admit, it sounds silly.

author’s note: the episode about the dude with no head is now the second episode EVER to make me cry. and editing these notes is gonna SUCK SO BAD😭😭😭I WAS WRONG ABOUT DROWNING MY SORROWS IN FICTIONAL WOES. I HAVE NO INFINITE WISDOM. ONLY TEARS.

let us begin below. join me. hold me. comfort me.

ambulance time :3 we see a guy named leonard, who i presume will be the star of the episode given its title. he tells michele driving the vehicle that this guy having a heart attack is “up to his ass in alligators”, and idk what that means, but it doesn’t sound good

oh a needle. mmmm no no. NO. no. <- girl who cannot look at the screen

NO! no. crash. oh god, that’s my worst fear. EMS lady michele who made the mistake of looking behind her while driving is now covered in blood. i assume that we will see leonard's head soon.

(little did i know!!! little did i know. i have a fear even deeper than causing a car accident that decapitates someone)

ah, yes. the head is not attached to anything. michele, covered in blood, is leaving after leonard is dropped off in the morgue.

the guy in the morgue is trying to stream casual by chappell roan (obviously) but he hears some thumping in the distance. leonard has escaped! without his head!

oh god, he killed morgue guy. you see, i thought we were going to get an episode where the mystery was how the headless man got around and lived his daily life, not that the headless guy was also going to be a murderer. i thought we were gonna get scenes of his headless body using sign language to communicate and question how he’s gonna eat in a semi-comical fashion. but now. now he’s evil. sigh.

and leonard is naked. do they put you in the morgue naked??? i always assumed there’d be a little bit of dignity…

SCULLY TIME!!! i can feel all pain in my body evaporating. she is looking in the little morgue case he escaped from. there are a lot of bloody footprints. and mulder is here, too!

it’s funny how i sit down to watch the scully and mulder show and then when i see them on screen i think “oh boy, it’s scully and mulder time :D”

good news! the morgue guy who was certainly streaming chappell is NOT actually dead. he was just knocked out. and had all his clothes taken, which is unfortunate.

scully is gagged at the idea mulder thinks a headless body escaped from the morgue, and me too girl, but i feel you should be used to it by now. we probably both should be, actually.

she thinks it’s some sort of coverup for body snatching! oh, compelling. even mulder seems to nod along. god, wouldn’t it be funny if they just had a normal case once? please. i beg.

they’re looking at security camera footage from the night it all went down, and see the clothes that were stolen from morgue guy being worn by someone. scully thinks maybe the thief got scared and dipped, which led to this wonderful exchange: “where could he hide an adult body where it wouldn’t be found?” “i’ll show you” <- YEAHHHH I LOVE WHEN SHE SAYS WEIRD AND UNSETTLING STUFF

time to check the medical waste. are you telling me surgical byproduct gets turned into roads??? i don’t think i can handle that information, so i’m going to simply not fact check it. but she would never lie to me.

mulder looks freaked tf out as he hands the flashlight to her to inspect the waste LMAOOO

“mulder i think i’m gonna need your help, your arms are longer” (cut to visible distress on his face) LMAOOOOO

he’s groaning as they rummage through bags of human stuff, but they find leonard’s head!! noticeably, NOT the rest of him

they are going to split up, and mulder will go to leonard’s house while scully looks at his head. and she makes a pointed correction that he is no longer living. damn.

his head weighs 10.9 pounds! the head looks a little… wow, i was gonna say it looked fuzzy, but now we get a closeup and it’s actually very convincing. no rigor mortis or clouded eyes, which is inconsistent with the time of death. and she’s gonna go to brain town when he opens his eyes!!

well, bodies do that sometimes. and he’s opening his mouth. and closing it. so uh. what’s that all about?

something or someone is running as mulder enters leonard’s house. he finds a bathtub full of blood, which is not promising. and blood out the window.

bro stuck his fingers in the blood and sniffed it….. OH! it’s not blood. it’s iodine. okay. that’s less freaky.

scully says it seems the head has been effected by radiation that is preventing any sort of scanning, and also that she hasn’t cut into the head yet, even though she knows it’s just extra energy stored in the cells that made him blink, but still! aww mulder be NICE TO HER!

“maybe he was home” "leonard betts." “yeah” “without his head.” “yeah :)” LMAO

OMG his headless ass was IN the iodine!!!

WAIT.... HE HAS A NEW HEAD??????

wait… he was a really good EMT… and his head somehow grew back… is he one of those aliens that can heal people???

(author's note: it was a really good guess on my part, but i think he was some sort of new freak not previously established in canon)

he could diagnose illness very well… but he kept his distance from his coworkers. hmmmm. and he never got sick. hmmmm. or injured. HMMMM. michele is suspicious.

they’re gonna mummify his head. sort of. and mulder is smiling at scully over his own stupid joke, and i want to punch his stupid face (affectionate).

man. i do not care for this slicing of heads process.

oh no!! leonard was like, entirely made of cancer. was he absorbing the cancer of his patients… is that a thing you can do….?

he should have died a looooong time ago. or maybe the process of slicing distorted the findings?

michele is pulling into the hospital as she deals with another case, but she hears someone say “up to your ass in alligators” over the radio… and she recognizes leonard’s voice! he’s making another correct ID on what is wrong with a patient!!!!!!!

the agents are off to one of the professors at a maryland university that mulder keeps on call at all times, who is going to look at the head slice. oh…. this guy does aura photography. okay, so not super promising.

she’s like yeah yeah yeah i know about eastern medicine but WHAT does it have to do with this. i respect her knowledge and her focus.

it looks like the aura photography captured some shoulders? that i guess mulder thinks proves leonard is still alive somehow?

“are we happy with the results?” <- something about the way he said this made them sound so married. i'd be happy to live in that brief moment forever.

scully looks pissed off into another dimension at this whole process LMAO

mulder wants to know if there is a good kind of cancer that is actually regeneration…. and the iodine helps regeneration! which has been used in labs for creatures whose limbs regrow, i guess

“there isn’t a creature on earth that can regrow its head” “worms. you cut a worm in half, you get two” <- and that’s why you’re the FBI’s most unwanted, because you advocate for worm murder 😭😭

“mulder, they’re worms” <- LMAOOOOOOOOO STOP i saw that line out of context once

scully gets a phone call! and it turns out leonard had an alter ego named albert- whose fingerprints match his? but albert has a living relative. visit time?

yes, it is visit time. oh! the picture his mom has on the table is the same as the picture we saw earlier of leonard when he was featured in the newspaper!

they try to tell his mom that “her son” died recently, but she says he died 6 years ago!! well, that is confusing.

michele is also on the case, looking for whoever it was who she heard on the radio earlier using that distinct phrase and accurately diagnosing people. the others pointing him out to her refer to him as “the new guy”.

and it is leonard! michele is chasing him…. he hugs her and reassures her that it’s okay. at first it's touching, and i realize too late that he is going to kill her, which he does while apologizing. then he lays her down???? but he gets caught!!

he is running and running…. but he gets tackled by the cops and handcuffed. with a very conspicuous head bruise.

OH MY GOD he PULLED HIS THUMB OUT OF THE HANDCUFF BLEUGHHHHHHHHH all the cops return to is some blood and a finger 😭😭😭

no no bad…. body horror… bad…. not for junis, who are weak and frail…

michele was given a lethal dose of something that occurs naturally, so it usually misses detection. and leonard was ID’d as the attacker!!! oh i just know everyone at that hospital is SO confused

mulder and scully are fighting over evolutionary theories…. while holding umbrellas in the snow… sigh. so beautiful.

GAG! the trunk of leonard's car is filled with cancerous tumors. that scully can name as she sees them. a massive flex of her knowledge.

OH. maybe he eats cancer. well. this is a bold theory, mulder, and what a lovely time for you to propose it, as i am just thinking of how lovely they look in the snow, and how they should go ice skating and other such winter activities. sure. the guy eats tumors.

and the car leonard was driving traces back to the mom!!! so they go to her place with a warrant. scully confronts her, saying they know she’s lying about her son being dead, and he killed someone, so lying to protect him isn’t gonna get her anywhere except JAIL.

mulder finds iodine while she recounts a tale of her son being beaten up as a kid. and she says god means for leonard to stay even if people don’t understand. crazy thing to say about a guy who just killed someone.

leonard is at a bar watching someone smoke and looking at him hungrily. while his baby thumb pulsates and regrows. NASTY! nasty.

he’s getting up after the cigarette dude and following him outside like he’s hunting some prey. he says that “you’ve got something i need” and whips out a tiny knife. uh oh.

back at mom’s house, they find a storage locker receipt. off to track it down.

oh. leonard was straight up eating that dude inside the storage locker. see, i don’t care for that. and also he is screaming while this happens and also his body is pulsating and oh my god. OH MY GOD HE JUST GREW A NEW HEAD???? out of his mouth. whyyyyyy

at the storage unit, the agents find blood flowing from beneath the door, and then the dead cigarette guy. but leonard comes out in a car at them!

i like how mulder grabbed scully to keep her safe... it was very nice.

leonard is speeding off. and they shoot at him, which causes the car to go up in flames. damn. good shots, those two.

so the cigarette guy had his lung removed, but now leonard seems to be burnt to a crisp. BUT! when they dig up the guy under the pseudonym who had allegedly died 6 years ago, he looks also very dead!!

so he just keeps dying and coming back? i ask myself.

no! mulder thinks that the car crashes- both times- were decoys, and that “leonard” is still at large. scully does not seem pleased by this.

and back at his mom’s house, she’s washing him in iodine, saying they “found your friend”. she says the FBI aren’t going to leave him alone…. you know what you have to do…. WHAT TF DOES THAT MEAN???

the agents are watching her house. but then an ambulance rolls up, saying that an old woman has had massive blood loss. did he eat his mom?? how would anyone know?? is this a trap???

scully finds his mom, who has a surgical cut…. and they’re taking her to the hospital… scully is helping her out…. she is so kind

but as they take leonard's mom out, scully notices IODINE ON HER HEAD! is he waiting on top of the ambulance? she tells mulder to get over here RIGHT NOW.

and leonard grabs her!!!! and says she has something he needs. NO!!!!! no that means…… no.

she’s beating the hell out of him though which is a major slay. she defibrillates him. queen.

it seems he really died. for now.

mulder’s telling her she should be proud, but she just wants to go home. that's what she says: "i want to go home". oh my goooooooood. oh my gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood.

wait it’s still going. she’s coughing. NO, SHE’S COUGHING BLOOD?????!

no it’s her nose. oh my god. the end.

FUCK YOU ALL I HATE EVERYTHING (punches wall) (punches table) (punches everything in an arm’s reach) (keeps punching until i collapse into a ball of sobs)

well. for most of this, distracting myself with fictional character’s problems worked. but now i’m just sad about my own life AND scully’s.

okay. i won’t lie. you want me to tell the truth? fine. i’ll tell you. i’d never lie to you...

i knew about the scully cancer arc.

there. i said it. i know, i know, i too wanted everything to come as a surprise. but in all honesty, i’m glad i knew about it, because if i didn’t i’d probs be straight up ugly crying right now.

yes, i saw it in a gif set a while ago- not this part, but from a later episode- and i find myself still deeply saddened despite knowing it was going to happen. i think it’s just so awful that cancer is a thing that happens, and even knowing that scully isn’t real doesn’t it make it less of a reality for other people, and that breaks my heart. of course i want my fave fictional girl to be okay- and this was foreshadowed after the abduction arc anyway- but cancer…. god, it’s just horrific. i think we all know someone who has it and have had to see what they endure. and it’s so genuinely and horrifically fucked up. luckily i can look at this leonard guy and be like damn, wouldn’t it be fucked up if a guy grew a new head? and i can rest knowing that it shall never happen to anybody alive, but this? like. you just don’t know. it could happen to anyone.

and that really scares me, i think. more than anything else. so at least we learned about my deep set fear together? glad we had that bonding experience.

gooood. i’m gonna cry. okay yes, check it write it down- the tears are in my eyeballs. you can’t see it, but it is happening. yes, and now they are leaving my eyeballs and going down my cheeks. okay so. that’s fine i guess.

fuck me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this episode was fine, other than that, i guess? i mean i laughed a bit but then i laughn’t. the laughter was cancelled. his face when he was digging around in the body part jumble was really funny, i love when he is squeamish. and i liked him laughing at his own joke and how beautiful they looked in the snow. the idea of this as a monster was kinda interesting and very disturbing in practicality- body horror is always gonna get me- but leonard himself wasn't super compelling. you can't really be that good of a healthcare worker if you're in it just to eat people. his mom was more interesting to me, but also she was annoying because how tf are you gonna sit there and say your baby boy eats people because he is so special?

scully, why do they do this to you……….. i need to save you from chris carter myself…….

s4 loyalists: you scare me, because how can you endure this willingly? bro, i love angst too... but this is just straight up masochism 😭

#ice skating NOW.#no time for ice skating... everyone is sad :(#good to be back........ but at what cost?#juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

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lyrefromthesea · 3 months

Text

Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap

author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestive words and actions

Tengen:

"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.

"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.

"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.

"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.

"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.

"come on, you know you love it!"

Obanai:

he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.

"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.

"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.

"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.

"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.

"don't tease me, [name].."

Rengoku:

"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.

"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.

"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."

Sanemi:

"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.

"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.

"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.

"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.

"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.

"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.

Giyuu:

"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.

"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.

he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.

you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.

"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.

"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.

Muichiro:

"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.

"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.

"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.

"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.

he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.

"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.

his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.

Gyomei:

"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.

"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.

"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.

"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.

"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature

#kny #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #obanai iguro #obanai x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #muichiro tokito #kny muichiro #gyomei himejima #gyomei x reader

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saphronethaleph · 3 months

Text

Soresu Negotiations

“Get help,” Palpatine said. “You’re no match for him. He’s a Sith Lord.”

Obi-Wan turned to look at the Chancellor. “...yes?” he said. “But he’s also something else – something I’m surprised you’ve forgotten.”

“What?” Palpatine asked.

“A politician,” Obi-Wan replied, turning back to Dooku.

Anakin groaned, then sat down.

“Here we go,” he said.

Palpatine blinked, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan.

“...what do you mean, Anakin?” he asked.

“This happens sometimes,” Anakin replied. “How do you think he got his nickname?”

“Count,” Obi-Wan said, at about the same time. “It’s occurred to me that I never actually found out what the Confederacy wants.”

“Isn’t it a little late for this?” Dooku asked. “We have been at war for several years.”

“True,” Obi-Wan conceded, readily. “The war having started on Geonosis, because of tracing back your clone army which we… appear to have appropriated, mostly because you did it in our name. But that’s how the war started – not your objectives.”

Dooku was silent for a moment.

“I assume some semblance of a point will be emerging,” he said, eventually. “If you could be so kind as to provide it?”

“Wars begin for all sorts of reasons,” Obi-Wan replied. “But how they end… they end because a mutual settlement has been reached. And it’s occurred to me that I don’t know what you’d want out of a victory.”

He spread his hand, the one not holding the – unlit – saber. “It’s not the conquest of the Republic, I can tell that much. If the CIS annexed the Republic, what you’d have would still be the Republic, just under a different name… it’s not the Republic without the corruption that’s been causing it problems, because most of the corruption in the Republic was – was – the big industrial concerns like the Techno Union, Commerce Guild, Trade Federation. But you seem to have taken all of those off our hands, and they provide essentially your entire military so I don’t think anyone else could honestly believe that either.”

“I wouldn’t expect a Jedi to understand,” Dooku replied. “The Confederacy’s member systems have concerns relating to over-centralization.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment.

“...no they don’t,” he said.

“I hardly think you can have earned your reputation as a negotiator, Kenobi, if you are so willing to be insulting,” Dooku said, archly.

“That’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan replied. “I mean… yes, now the Republic has an army, though really it’s actually the Jedi’s army and we’re simply letting them borrow it, but four years ago the Galactic Republic was proverbially incapable of doing anything. It took emergency powers for the Chancellor to get the Republic to authorize having any kind of military whatsoever – and the only one available was the one you ordered. That’s not over-centralization.”

He drummed his fingers on his ‘saber. “And I note that I overheard Nute Gunray insisting on the head of Senator Amidala – literally, in those words – as his price for signing a treaty. But I still haven’t heard an actual answer. What does the Galaxy look like if the Confederacy wins?”

Dooku frowned, and after about three seconds Obi-Wan glanced at the Chancellor.

“Didn’t you discuss this at any point, your excellency?” he asked. “Count Dooku doesn’t seem to have thought about this.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he repeated. “Shouldn’t you be fighting him?”

“It’s called diplomacy, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan replied, before returning his attention to Dooku. “Grandmaster, are you seriously telling me that you never thought about what you would do if you won?”

Anakin checked his comlink, for the time, then the ship trembled slightly.

“Artoo?” he asked. “Can you tell those ships outside to stop shooting at us and give us a wide berth? This could take hours and I don’t want to find out if my name’s literal.”

“Hours?” Palpatine repeated.

“He’s rolling,” Anakin replied, rolling his eyes. “Like I say, I’m used to this.”

He rummaged in a pocket of his robes, taking out a miniature toolkit, and began disassembling his lightsaber. “I’m pretty sure I can retune these crystals to give two stable configurations which it’ll snap between, that should give me a length toggle instead of a single adjustable length…”

“Are you taking your lightsaber apart?” Palpatine hissed. “What if you need to fight?”

“It’s okay, Chancellor, I’ll get about five minutes’ warning if the negotiations are going downhill,” Anakin replied. “That should be time to put it back together again…”

Palpatine looked up to Obi-Wan, who – sure enough – was still going.

“...of course, a separate but related issue is what it’s going to be like afterwards,” Obi-Wan said. “In principle the Republic and the Jedi Order could probably accept the existence of Sith so long as we actually knew who they were and they weren’t trying to destroy us. It’s the fact that the first Sith we met in a thousand years tried to run Anakin over and cut Qui-Gon’s head off as an opening move that’s soured us towards them a bit… but are you really going to be content as someone whose whole job is to die for Sidious?”

Dooku stared at Obi-Wan, baffled, then glanced at Palpatine and Anakin.

“What do you mean?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to Obi-Wan.

“Sidious is your Master, we know that much,” Obi-Wan replied. “Partly because you told me yourself. But has he ever put himself in danger? Or has it all been you dealing with Jedi like myself and my apprentice? Putting yourself out there, in danger, while you do exactly what he says?”

He smiled slightly. “A Jedi would accept that, but you’re a Sith – you’ve said so yourself. Sith are self-interested. What do you think your new master is getting out of the situation? Because if you don’t know, it’s got to be something and it’s probably something he doesn’t want to tell you.”

“My master is quite willing to put himself in danger,” Dooku said, then clamped his lips shut at a frantic mouthed shut up from Palpatine.

“Real or feigned?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do you think he wouldn’t manipulate you? He’s been doing it to everyone else – you’ve said it.”

Dooku’s brow furrowed.

“But we’re getting off topic,” Obi-Wan said, turning to look at Palpatine. “Chancellor, what about this as a starting point? Your emergency powers were granted to resolve the crisis, and I’m sure you want to abandon them as soon as possible… so why not take away the whole reason why the individual systems in the Confederacy had problems with the Republic to begin with? Freely allow the departure of any system which wishes to do so, under the emergency powers legislation; enact a progressive tax, one which hits the Core worlds harder owing to their greater ability to pay, to sustain a carrier based navy able to hunt pirates more effectively than conduct occupations or orbital bombardment, and have the navy established on a sector-federal two-level model?”

Palpatine stared at Obi-Wan for at least ten seconds.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he said, yet again.

“Oh, shut up,” Dooku replied. “You’re a Sith Lord and I don’t see you doing anything constructive.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Palpatine.

“...you know,” he began. “I’m quite sure you’d need to note that on your financial disclosure forms, your Excellency.”

He turned sideways, so he could see both Dooku and Palpatine at the same time. “What was the point of this whole abduction, anyway?”

“As it happens, I was supposed to kill you,” Dooku said. “It’s the only way to turn Anakin to the Dark Side, if you’re out of the way.”

“Huh?” Anakin asked. “Is something up? I’ve almost got the crystals realigned.”

“This plan looked a lot better this morning,” Palpatine muttered.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #palpatine #obi wan kenobi #count dooku

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silkythewriter · 8 months

Text

Vox and alastor with an undeserving to be in hell reader!

Warnings!:non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!;I THINK TUMBLER ACTUALLY HATES ME (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)(｡•́︿•̀｡)it keeps not letting me edit my drafts, it’s happened like 3 times already this week alone!,…BUT ANYWAY I LOVE THIS IDEA I REALLY HOPE YOY ENJOY!!!!♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Summary!: alastor and Vox x reader WHOs I. Hell for a minor sin/crime

❤️Written by silkythewriter do not steal or repost any other platform please! <3❤️

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

“Each time I find myself

Flat on my face

I pick myself up and get back in the race!”

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

When you first admitted what you did that counted as a “sin” he was flabbergasted! He thought they must’ve made a mistake. All be it one that was in favor since he got to be damned with you. But still!

Out of every monster known to man kind one who’ve committed acts that are despicable. You, one who can barely hurt a damn fly get sent with them?

At first he thought you were genuinely just joking. And he actually laughed! Like audible chuckled before waiting for the actual reason, which never came, and he soon realized you were being serious!

He always questioned why you use to refuse to kill, or at least scare people into respect. But then you explained how you refused to be like the rest of the sinners.

He utterly dumb founded you made it this far without spilling a bit of blood, at least for survival!

He becomes more overprotective as if he wasn’t before, good luck with that!

Cause now he knows your rules, he knows you won’t budge. Nothing would get you to change your mind. So he made sure to keep eyes on you 24/7, you may be nice, but the other sinners in this damned place definitely aren’t. And he knows that from experience

Would neither confirm or deny he put a small tracker in an item you carry every where.

This man has enemy’s as you’ve seen, demons, overlords, rival company’s, it’s a headache an a half for him. Not that he hates protecting you and your values! No never!, but the nerve of the people who think they even have a chance to lay a hand on you.

Gives you the lastest phone from his series, and yes he will text you and blow up ur phone up if he can see you through cameras around the city.

Even if you put it on silent he wouldn’t put behind himself to over load it and just show up on your phone screen.

Sometimes he’s just so confused how you can be so nice, or at worst passive to those who are poking at you. He thinks your a saint, even if you aren’t, an maybe you have a short temper still the way you hold yourself form blowing up is astonishing!

Sometimes he jokes about how if you were to go to Charlie you would be redeemed in a day. And at night sometimes he thinks about it and it scares him to know there’s a possibility for you to go where he will probably never be able to follow you too

He loves you to the depths and the crooks of hell, and he’ll be damned again if he lets anyone hurt you. He sees you as a small soft light in the red cover world, and he will do anything before anyone can put out that light.

He makes sure to keep a good distance between you and Val, a BIG distance.

He’s always on the edge about people around you, how can’t he? He can’t trust all these “disgusting and repulsive” sinners in hell around you. The thought alone cringes him out and stresses him.

He knows to some degree he isn’t exactly better then them sin wise, but he makes sure to do his best for you while infornt of you, he cares about his image, and wouldn’t be afraid to scare someone into discipline. BUT he will tone it down, just for you ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He has you under wraps, from the public eye in this case. As much as he’s one to show off his earnings, he loves you a little to much and knows well people will use you as a advantage. He loves to show off but you something just for him behind close doors for now before he can work something out

NOW if the public were to already know, he show off by showing how untouchable you were, demons knew better to approach you seeing as how fast he is to get rid of those stupid enough to try something.

Overall he respects your morals of not wanting to stoop as low as other sinners. But it dose make him more protective of you, your like a rare gem. There’s only a handful of people like you, and even then the numbers decrees daily, so he dose his most to make sure you safe and happy <3

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!🎙️✨Alastor✨🎙️!

Like Vix he humors it at first! Playing around with it before Laughing with his usual staticky voice as he stared at you with his unnerving smile. You guys quite literally stared at each other for a hot minute waiting for the other to say something.

It took you clearing your throat for him to realize you weren’t just trying to get a chuckle outta him.

And for the first time since you met him you caught a hint of confusion, making you explain that it was genuinely what you did.

He quite literally burst out laughing, you, someone who probably did something everyone did once is in this horrid place stuck with the horrid monsters ever! Just for that single act alone.

He will admit he found it a bit amusing how you refused to kill or lay a hand on anyone. Refusing to stoop to other people’s levels. Now that for him is pure gold of entreatment! He’s seen people like you, say the same exact thing then crumble when backed I to a Corner.

But for the first time, for all the decades he’s been damned here, he’s seen you stick to what you’ve stated. You were very much quite a spectacle!

Now finding new amusement, he decided to protect you, cause someone like you were sure to be a one time experience. Aside from loving you of course

Now with your name being accosted with him alone is a shield in if its self. Barely any one approached you, aside from those playing with their afterlives of course.

If you ever feel a looming shadow or presence it’s most likely one of his shadows. Like Vox he is gonna have his eyes on you almost always

Although he loves you he will play around to get a reaction out of you. All for the fun of it!, he knows you cringe when he talks about his cannibalism tendencies he just loves seeing your cute little face scrunch up!

Even though with all of that he is a gentleman and will make sure no one is to bother you.

He’s quite impressed you made it this far without getting killed, I mean of course you have him but if you arrived to hell and didn’t met him immediately he’d be quite impressed and surprised one you both do meet

He indulges himself in the horrible aspects of hell, with no remorse or shame what so ever either. So although he dose respect your wishes he won’t stop or calm down his tendencies.. （；へ：）but on the bright side he’ll make sure your far away or he goes off to other part of the city and do whatever he wishes. But your likely to see on the news either way… (￣▽￣💧

He dose enjoy the more civil and nice talks he has with you though! He finds it nice to take a break from all the crude talk on the street from other sinners and have a nice conversation!

Great listener let me tell you, he’ll happily sit there as you explain your day away! He honestly enjoys hearing you genuinely happy!, although his a chatter box himself but he enjoys listening to you more then anyone or anything else!

Watches you be nice to the most repulsive, and rude demon like it’s nothing. Even when disrespected you find a way to calm down the situation and nicely at that. Of course the demon doesn’t live long once their out of your sight, but still! He’s pleasantly surprised.

He finds it rather weird that your nice just for the sake of being nice but still it’s definitely a nice refresher from all the horrible people down in hell!

You catch his eye rather quickly with how you stick out from others (in a good way! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ) and his eyes end up on you, you mainly have all his attention almost always if he isn’t off doing something!, your his light just live Vox he’ll make sure you’ll shine bright as ever and won’t go out.

Not everyone can catch it but in some rare moments he’ll be seen just staring at you as you happily talk away to Charlie. And for the smallest second you can see his unnerving smile turn into a soft smirk, eyes only on you and his mind filled with only you. This happens on the regular, it’s just he’s quick to cover up so no one sees!

Overall he loves you, even with some differences between your views he’ll still do his best to make you comfortable. Aside from teasing you here and there! But other then that he’ll protect you, your one of kind. And he loves having things no one else can.

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

AHHHH HELLOOOOO OH GORSH I MADE IT JUST IN TIME THIS TOOK SO LOBG TO DO CAUSE I KEPT HAVING TO DELETE AND REWRITE ON A NEW DRAFT AUGHHH I HOPE TUMBLR FIXES THIS BUG, BUT ANYWAY TYSM FOR REQUESTING PLEASE COME AGAIN!!!\(^ヮ^)/’

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