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readsaboutreid · 14 days

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Periods Suck

this is inspired by lenaleechi on instagram's comic about hating periods as well as the gif above because it gives me mad baby fever so i guess this is season 4 softdom!spencer x gn!afab!bau!reader plus a blink and you'll miss it buffy the vampire slayer reference

content warning: breeding kink and period sex [i'm too stoned to think of any others but if you think of them please add them (kindly) in the replies and i'll add them in later :)]

this is smut, minors dni pls and thank you

"...fuck this, fuck everything and everyone, I am done, I quit," I ramble as I open the door to my apartment and kick off my dress shoes that were painfully squeezing my toes, just adding to my frustration. This case had been particularly mild compared to others but I couldn't help but be in a mood due to the littlest things done by the (admittedly innocent) local police officers. I was so relieved to finally go home and get to sleep in my own bed and curl up with a heating pad and my boyfriend with a Doctor Who marathon.

"Deep breaths, (y/n)," I hear from behind me in a soft, soothing tone as gentle hands come down to rub my shoulders from behind. I know he’s well aware what’s causing me to be in such a shitty mood. His pattern recognition skills are off the chart and while he never outright said anything to me about it he'd always be prepared with hot water bottles and chocolate when this time of the month rolled around. I turn around and bury my face into his chest with a sigh.

"I hate periods, Spencer. They suck," I whine with a sigh, my voice muffled by the knit fabric of his cardigan.

"I know, love," he sighs above me, resting his cheek on my forehead and wrapping his arms around me, "I'm sorry there's not more I could do to help."

"You're helping already," I sigh again, but this time out of contentment as we sway side to side in the entry way. "I wish there was a way I could just, like, stop having them," I mutter, my face returning to the soft fibers that I had come to find so comforting over the years.

Spencer's voice is muffled against my hair as he mutters, "That may be something I can assist you with." I don't even need to see his face to imagine the grin spread across it. Lately, he had been subtly expressing his desire for children, but after JJ gave birth to Henry, his hints have become more pressing. And technically, it was all because of me.

The night was a blur of celebration and drinks, as Emily and Garcia joined me in raising our glasses to toast the occasion. But as we were caught up in the joy of the moment, I couldn't help but let slip that after seeing the pure happiness on Spencer's face at the sight of his godchild a spark ignited within me, igniting a fierce case of baby fever that threatened to consume me entirely. Garcia, the horrible traitor that she is, had messaged a video of my confession to Spencer before I had even finished talking and before I knew it, my phone was buzzing with pictures from Spencer himself - tiny onesies and miniature sneakers - accompanied by words like, ‘just imagine a little genius of our own running around our home in this.’

Without changing his stance, he starts off on one of his typical Spencer Reid rants. "Did you know that scientific research has indicated that orgasms can alleviate menstrual cramps? It's due to the release of endorphins and muscular contractions which help relax the uterine lining," he explains with a slight hint of arousal in his tone, "not only does it address your discomfort, but it also takes care of your other request at the same time."

"We could start trying now, if you want," he suggests with a playful tone, though the subtle hint of desire in his voice sends a jolt of anticipation down my spine and settles between my thighs, igniting a fervent ache. Oh. Oh.

I finally turn my head to meet his gaze, and I am met with intense desire radiating from his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and he licks his lips before gently tracing a finger along my cheek and following up with a soft, "what do you think?"

I interrupt him by pulling his face towards mine, and our lips meet in a soft kiss. Suddenly, I'm pushed against the wall with the command to "jump," and my legs automatically wrap around Spencer as he lifts me up by my ass. Our lips met in a hungry yet tender kiss.

Our breaths come in ragged gasps as he pulls away to meet my gaze, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. I eagerly nod, my heart racing and anticipation building. Our lips collide once more, the heat between us intensifying as we lose ourselves in each other's embrace. The world fades into the background as our bodies meld together, consumed by desire. He sets me down and guides me to our bedroom by the hand, giggling slightly with excitement. I know he wants kids and we have discussed having them together in the future but the giddiness of the grown ass man in front of me ends up drawing a giggle from my own throat as well.

As we enter the bedroom, he stoops down to give me a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom. He grabs an old black towel I use for dyeing my hair and returns, laying it down on the bed and patting it lightly. He sends me sweet smile full of adoration as he whispers, "after you, my love."

I stumble towards the light switch and turn it off before making my way over to the bed. I take off my top and lay down, the darkness giving me a sense of privacy. Suddenly, I hear a soft sound from Spencer as he walks away. The lights flick back on, and he quickly closes the distance between us with just two steps. Before I can even cover myself up in the glare of the harsh light, he's already crawling on top of me.

"You're so gorgeous," he beams at me again before leaning in to kiss me gently, lowering his hips to rest between my legs as they wrap back around his hips instinctively as he begin peppering kisses all over my face and drawing endless laughs from my mouth, "I'm," kiss, "so," kiss, "lucky," kiss, "to," kiss, "have," kiss, "you."

He moves back, his lips leaving a trail of fire as they kiss and caress my skin. My jaw trembles under the soft brush of his lips, before he slowly trails kisses down to my throat. I can't help but let out a moan as his lips touch the sensitive skin there. His body presses against mine, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing against my hypersensitive center. Every move, every touch, sends electric shivers through my body, igniting a primal desire within me.

My body aches with desire as I struggle to catch my breath. "Please remove your clothing now," I manage to say between deep, passionate kisses. Spencer eagerly strips down and helps me out of my own clothes before settling back between my legs. His arousal presses against the wetness between my thighs, adding to the intense heat building inside me.

"I've been craving this all week, sweetness," he mutters against my neck as he sucks feverishly at the skin, leaving love bites in his wake. "Craving you and your beautiful body." I have no idea how he managed to get me from wildly upset to wildly horny in such a short time, but instead of questioning it, I just let out a moan as I grind my hips against him, begging for his cock to enter me. He continues to tease me by rubbing the tip against my wet slit.

“P-please, Spence,” I whimper, unable to form a coherent sentence through the haze of lust I had become quickly lost within.

Spencer's eyes flicker with desire as he holds himself over me, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of my head. "Say it again," he growls, rubbing his erection against my aching center.

"P-please," I beg, my voice shaking with need.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

"As you wish," he murmurs before slowly sliding inside me. I gasp at the intense pleasure that washes over me, causing my body to arch off the bed and my nails to dig into his back. He begins to move in slow, deep thrusts, filling me completely and igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume every inch of my being.

As our bodies meld together in a blazing inferno, time itself seems to cease to exist. Every touch of Spencer's fingers sends shivers of ecstasy coursing through me, while each caress of his lips against mine ignites a fire within. Our movements are fluid and perfect, each one bringing us closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. I am consumed by an overwhelming sensation, my senses heightened to their limits as our passion reaches an almost unbearable intensity. It feels as though this moment could stretch on for eternity, and I never want it to end. In this single moment, there is nothing else but the all-consuming desire between us, and I give myself completely to it.

My heart pounds against my ribs as Spencer's gaze locks onto mine, his eyes filled with the same ferocity and desire that burns within me. He gives me a wicked grin, and I can feel my resolve crumble as the insatiable hunger consumes me. "You want to have my baby?" he gasps, and all I can respond with is a loud, whorish moan, entirely unable to form any words as his hips start to move ever so slightly faster.

He surges forward, his body fusing with mine in a wild, primal dance. Our movements become more frenzied, our bodies slamming together with the force of a thousand thunderstorms. My breath comes in short gasps as Spencer's relentless thrusts coax an orgasm out of me. My muscles tense, my hips bucking against him, seeking the sweet release from the intense pleasure building up inside of me.

Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word sends me higher and higher, my body arching and bucking beneath him in a frenzy of ecstasy.

Spencer's eyes are locked onto mine as he continues to drive into me, his gaze burning with an intensity that matches the fire inside us both. His hands grip my hips tightly, never losing rhythm as he thrusts into me and coaxes that sweet release from me. My body trembles and shakes with each surge, and I can feel the orgasm building, growing stronger and more intense with each passing second.

A low, guttural moan escapes from Spencer's lips as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming harder and faster. I can feel him growing more desperate, and I know that he's close to his own release.

The pleasurable ache between my legs intensifies, and I know that I'm about to reach that peak. I let out a helpless whimper as the pleasure was threatening to overtake me, and I feel as though I'm being pulled into a vortex of ecstasy. Time seems to stand still, and I'm lost in the moment, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

The bed creaks and groans with our passionate lovemaking, the sound echoing in my ears as I reach for the pinnacle of pleasure. Spencer's eyes are locked onto mine, and I see the same intensity in them that I feel in my own being. We're one, united in our desire for each other, and nothing else matters in this world.

His thrusts become harder and faster, the tip of his erection brushing against the most sensitive part of me with every stroke. The pleasure is overwhelming, and I can feel the orgasm building within me, growing stronger with each passing second. I cling to Spencer, my nails digging into his back as I beg him to take me over the edge.

“Gonna fill you up,(Y/N),” Spencer moans, “everyone will know who you belong to once you’re — oh fuck — carrying my fucking baby inside you.” His words send me falling over the edge and I can feel myself slipping away, my mind consumed by the intense pleasure reaching it's peak as my hips buck wildly.

Time seems to stand still as we reach the pinnacle of pleasure together. Our bodies move in perfect sync, every thrust, every caress, every whispered word fueling the fire that burns within us. The pleasure is all-consuming, coursing through my veins and reaching every cell in my body. I let out a series of orgasmic moans bordering on screams and Spencer smiles down at me wickedly, his eyes never leaving mine as his thrusts become harder and more disjointed as his own orgasm looms on the horizon. His moans grow louder and louder as the feeling of slight overstimulation makes me clench even tighter around his throbbing cock as he reaches his breaking point.

"Please, Spencer," I whisper, "make me yours, sir. P-please, please put a baby in me!"

Finally, with one last deep thrust, Spencer moans loudly and shudders above me, his body rigid as he loses himself in the pleasure of a release he had been building up to for what felt like an eternity. As Spencer's body shudders above mine, I can feel the warmth of his release filling me up, an earth-shattering feeling that takes my breath away. We lay there for a moment, our bodies still joined together, basking in the afterglow of our passion. Finally, with a contented sigh, Spencer pulls out of me and collapses onto the bed beside me.

I snap back to reality, my mind reeling from the intensity of our lovemaking. I can feel the stickiness between my legs, a reminder of the incredible moment we just shared. The room is still, the only sounds being our heavy breathing and the rhythmic beating of our hearts. I reach over to grab the bedside table, searching for a tissue to clean myself up.

"Spencer?" I say softly, my voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" he replies, still out of breath.

I flash him a saucy grin, "I think we'll have to make sure we keep trying this before my next period so I won't have to suffer through another one, for a while." I joked, while playfully poking his chest.

He chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, "I think that's a great idea, my love." I couldn't help but giggle at his response, feeling a burst of warmth spread through my body.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminalminds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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lonelycowgirls · 9 months

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Tongue-Tied

I'm ovulating and I'll give no other explanation.

Thank you for your time.

Warnings: smut | harry in barcelona Word Count: 1.9k

Angel: You better get your man, Stell

Angel: Sent 1 image

Looking to the side at her phone as she washed the dishes and cooking utensils she’d used to make up her breakfast, Stella’s brow furrowed, her belly flipping wondering what he’d done now. He was three shows off completing Love on Tour and the gravity of tour being over was starting to hit home for both of them, especially Harry. The result; him growing more and more uninhibited on stage.

She swatted gently at Delilah who was perched on the only clean tea towel in the house - she really needed to catch up on some laundry - and dried her hands on it once the cat had slinked off, heading for the cat flap at the back door. She unlocked her phone and leaned back against the sink to open the text thread she shared with her work friend.

The image wasn’t actually an image, but a GIF. A moving image of her partner playing guitar, her eyes widening as she watched him lean down to enact the motion of playing the strings with his tongue. She watched it repeat on a loop a few times and chuckled dryly to herself. This man was becoming unhinged.

Stella: Now where have I seen that action before…?🤔 Angel: Oooooh get it girl!!!👏🏾👏🏾

Stella laughed to herself again and opened up her TikTok. Her For You page often had a lot of Harry on it, because that was the content she found herself liking and sharing. Whether it be a sweet fan interaction she would share with Anne or a video of Harry tripping or stumbling she would have a giggle over with Gemma and Dolly.

As she scrolled, her feed was jam-packed with content surrounding Harry at his Barcelona date. This wasn’t uncommon, as it was obviously the most recent concert. But the focus was a little abnormal. Emphasis on the ab... People were going feral over Harry’s body and she couldn’t help but smirk to herself. He did look damn good. She often complimented him on his newly buffed-up physique, but she didn’t want to stroke his ego too much. That got enough stroking every time he galloped on stage.

This was maybe a little different though. She thought to herself - she’d probably not seen him look or act this sexy since the first One Direction stadium tour. Back when Harry’s hair was the longest it ever got to and he made it everyone’s problem.

She tapped on the Clock app on her phone to check the World Clock for the time in Barcelona. It was just gone 9am in London, making it around 10am where he was. She wasn’t sure if he’d still be sleeping or training or out sightseeing, but she tapped on the FaceTime icon anyway.

Walking through to the living room as her phone dialled his, she glanced out of the window and rolled her eyes at the rain pelting the glass. It was so unfair how he got to be in the sunshine while she was practically engulfed in a typhoon. Bloody England. She glanced down at her phone again when the little chime alerted her that he had answered and connected.

His face filled the screen, a glowing orb of yellow sunlight behind him surrounded by blue sky. His bare shoulders and the trim of a parasol peaking into the frame indicated that he was by the pool or on the beach. Bastard.

“Oh my God, look at that weather.” Stella groaned, collapsing back on the sofa with a flop. He chuckled and moved his sunglasses to sit on top of his head.

“Good morning to you too.” He replied, resting back against the sun lounger and squinting at the screen. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face so early?”

“Oh, nothing much, just getting digitally assaulted with pictures and videos of you whoring yourself out for thousands of people. The usual.” Harry laughed as she rolled her eyes at him.

“What do you mean?” He questioned loudly around a smirk.

“You know, I haven’t seen that tongue move like that in a while.” She mumbled, now displaying her own smirk.

“Oh,” Harry chuckled, this time running a hand down his face as he remembered his actions and finally registered what she was talking about. “God, I dunno what comes over me.” He said smiling, dimples on full display and cheeks slightly tinted in a blush.

“Well, I hope it comes over you again when we go to Italy next week…” She said softly, almost certain he wasn’t alone - he never was. He smirked and lifted an arm to rest over his head on the lounger. She could see the muscle in his biceps move under his skin with the motion, the tattoos rippling and causing her to drop her head back against the sofa. She really wished he was there, now.

“Yeah? Would you like that, Stell?” She nodded and he sighed, folding his lips into his mouth and furrowing his brow. He eyed her neck as her head leaned back against the back of the sofa and watched her long lashes blink over her hooded eyes. He couldn’t wait to have her in his favourite place, her tanned skin smooth under his palms, couldn’t wait to feel her pulse under his fingers as he wrapped them around her throat. “Want me to do the same on your little clit?”

Her lids closed as she inhaled and smiled with a nod, teeth digging into her bottom lip. Suddenly, her expression changed to one of pain as she raised from her position on the sofa. “Shit, H I need to go get ready.”

“For what?”

“I’m meeting your sister for yoga in like half an hour.”

“Ah great, I needed someone to say something to help me get rid of this tent in my trunks. Mentioning my sister always does the trick.” He said sarcastically with a thumbs up to the camera.

“Aw, you got a stiffy for me? Let’s see.” Harry rolled his eyes and brought the camera down to his shorts. Barely there but noticeable if pointed out, a slight bump was peaking up from his black Nike swimming trunks. He swiftly brought the camera back up to his face, Stella beamed at him on the other side. “I’ve still got it.” She said with a wink.

“Always have, always will.” He said sincerely and she bristled, feeling a warmth spread through her at the look in his kind eyes. “Come on Stell, let me help you before you go.”

“Help me what?” She said, a brow arched knowingly, she knew what he was up to.

“You know what. Let me give you a good one, so I know you’re thinking of me when you’re in your downward dog.” She snorted, looking away and then looking back at him.

“Alright fine, but you need to put your AirPods on or something.” She conditioned, not wanting Brad or Mitch or anyone who may be around him to hear her through the phone.

“Don’t worry, I’m on a patch of free beds, behind some palm trees. There’s hardly anyone here and Brad’s in the pool.” She nodded and waited for his instructions. “Take your bottoms off, baby.”

She dutifully did as he said, sliding her pyjama shorts off so that she was bare, perching a leg up on the coffee table so that she was open to herself.

“Give your fingers a lick, three of them.” She bit her lip and nodded again, making sure to angle her phone at her face as she sunk further into the cushions of the sofa. She brought her fingers up to lick a long stripe up the surface of them, not waiting for him to tell her what to do next and bringing them to start rubbing circles into her clit. She sighed at the feeling of her fingers getting wetter and wetter with the way she was already so turned on.

“Eager aren’t we?” Harry smirked, wanting to rut his hips into the air but restraining himself. “A girl who always knows what she wants.” Stella’s brows knitted in the middle as a ripple of pleasure coursed through her. “Keep rubbing that pretty clit, baby, that’s it. Is it all swollen?” She nodded, an audible moan quietly escaping her. “For me?”

“Yes, Harry. Watching you lick that guitar… fuckin’ hell.” She sighed, shaking her head, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah? Did that do it for you, baby?” She nodded and moaned as her lips folded into her mouth. Picking up the pace of the circular motions on her clit. “Want my tongue working on you like that?” She nodded, swearing and looking down at where her hips had begun to swirl along with her fingers, complimenting her wrist's motions. Harry had to see. “Show me, Stell.” He said, low and gruff.

She brought the camera down, angling it so her full body was in view, her vest ridden up to just below her boobs, her naked bottom half bucking and twisting in the air. Harry nearly doubled over.

“Fuck me. You’re everything.” He groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes tight. Trying to control his hips and body’s reaction to her stunning image. “Keep going, baby, good girl. Can’t wait to have you in my bed again. Gonna lock us in our villa and make you scream.”

Stella’s moans became louder and louder as she chased her high. “Yeah, that’s it, get yourself there, Stell, come on.” She panted and groaned as she brought the three fingers he’d suggested into her slick hole, pumping just right, getting closer and closer. “You’re fucking beautiful, my God, wish I was fucking there.” Arching up, Harry’s view was almost non-existent as she writhed, the phone in her hand no longer her priority. “I’ll be on my knees for you, soon as I walk through the door.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” She gasped, her fingers now rubbing ruthlessly across her clit, toes curling and stretching.

“Give it up, Stell.” With that, the phone was dropped. Stella’s fingers dug into the softness of the sofa as she squealed and panted, writhing, her other hand not relenting on her pussy. Harry waited patiently, still giving her appreciative comments of how good she was, how gorgeous she was, how he loved her so much. Her hips finally found their place again on the edge of the sofa as she collapsed back down to Earth. Catching her breath, she picked up her phone again to see him smiling softly at her, only before laughing at her red cheeks and messed up hair. “Enjoy that, babe?”

She giggled back, blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. The familiar feeling of a post-orgasm making her glow from within. “Mhm, feeling good, baby.” She breathed, completely blissed out. She wanted to kiss him so bad, almost ready to climb through the phone to get to him. “Oh, shit.” Stella laughed slightly, Harry’s brow furrowed at the change of pace. “Gem’s just text me. She’s just left. I’ve gotta go, Gorgeous. Love you.”

“Alright, Stell,” Harry said, sitting up in his lounger, placing a foot on either side of the bed in a straddle. His full chest and upper body now visible, making her belly flip once more. “Good job I came in my shorts, knew you wouldn’t wanna return the favour.” He shook his head, playfully tutting in disappointment.

“Aw, you poor thing.” Stella pouted, before giggling and raising from the sofa, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. “Have a good time cleaning up!” She joked, before hanging up and trotting up the stairs. Her phone pinged almost instantaneously.

Harry: Glad I could be of service ��

Stella: Don’t worry, I’ll show you my downward dog later 😉

~~~

That was fun.

Nel xo

P.s. you can read the rest of the pieces from this universe here.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fic rec #harry styles love on tour #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #btaa #starry <3 #harry styles concept #harry styles gif #harry styles barcelona

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holy-puckslibrary · 1 month

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just a lil firefighter!sid fluff for y'all :)

gif from @ehghtysevenarchive + per this ask and others

Surely, the chief of Canada's oldest fire department has more important things to do on a crisp morning, the last one preceding a fresh week, than this. He most definitely does. And, yes, Chief Crosby is known for his pragmatic approach to, well, everything.

But neither carries weight here—not when she calls.

Leaky faucet, dead car battery, unreachable spider... It doesn't matter. One ring, and he's rushing home. He can't pin-point when the pattern began, likely sometime shortly between the day you moved into town and his first off-day, but it's a routine he's come to enjoy despite the extra strain on both his schedule and his body; Sidney never thought sharing a property line could be so tedious or time-consuming.

He knows he shouldn't enjoy the distraction as much as he does. You aren't together, Sidney doesn't ever allow his imagination wander that far, but he can't help it. He can't help but help. He rarely turns down anyone in need, which has done wonders for his reputation within the community, but with you... With you, it's different, and embarrassingly so.

He doesn't have the words to explain it. Not that he needs to, it's written plainly across his face.

There's a reason you're regular fixtures in the town's gossip column.

When he arrives on scene—not ten minutes after his F-Series crawled down the gravel drive—Sidney shakes his head and laughs. Collecting his cell and his radio, he slips out of the truck, watching as you fret like a mother hen.

Still in your slippers, you're stood at the base of a decently-sized red spruce wedged between his yard and yours, your crumpled face angled up into the yellow-green needles. You're the very picture of worry, wringing your trembling hands and muttering to yourself.

A stray kitten caught in a tree, that's what's got you in a such a state.

"Well, this is a new one," he bellows in lieu of a greeting, slamming the door shut as his boots hit the ground.

Briefly, your glassy eyes dart in his direction. You're midway through your customary apology when he arrives at your side and quiets you, just as he always does.

"They're more than capable of holding down the fort for however long it takes to rescue our new friend, okay?"

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Sidney huffs, and he dares to take you by the shoulders. And, externally, he ignores the way you shiver under his palms. "If I didn't think it was safe for me to step out for a couple of minutes, I wouldn't. You believe me, right?"

You nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

"Good. Now, how 'bout you keep an ear on this," Sidney sets the clunky satellite radio in your hand, "—and I'll grab the ladder from the shed?"

He doesn't really need your help monitoring the channel, but he knows you'll feel better if you feel like you're doing something. Like him, you find comfort in your utility.

In less than a minute, Sidney re-emerges, rounding the corner with a ladder in hand. You're in the same spot, now fidgeting with the radio, anxiously dumping it from one palm to the other and back again. He follows your gaze to line up the simple equipment necessary for the rescue operation.

Sidney's heart swells as you quietly step forward to spot him.

Lucky for everyone, the ball of orange fur is on the branch nearest to the ground. Sidney needs only to step up onto the first wrung to safetly coax the frightened creature into his waiting hands, he's back on the ground not long after.

He gives the kitten a gentle parting scratch under the chin, then transfers the purring fluff to you. The soft bundle takes to you immediately, nuzzling into your chest like that's where it wanted to be all along.

"I think he likes you," Sidney observes with a cheek-numbing grin.

Your lips are tipped up at the end and there's fan of happiness rooting itself around your eyes. Your mouth opens to reply, but before the words come—

"Well, would you look at this?"

Across the quiet street and a few houses to the left sits an audience of two. Both of which are now cooing as loudly as two ladies in their sixties can manage. Coffee cups in one hand and their cellphones propped up in the other, they fawn over the two of you as if it's live theater.

Sidney curses their sons, who he'd completed the explorer program with as teens, for enabling this technological torture.

"Smile, you two! Oh, Denise is just going to eat this up," one of them, a spitfire in a 4'11 frame by the name of Mrs. Bouchard, exclaims to her co-conspirator, Ms. Johnston.

Then, to no one's surprise and Sid's chagrin, they giddily type out their respective messages to the local paper's equally-nosy editor-in-chief.

"Looks like we're front-page news again," you hum bashfully.

The tabby mewls in your arms. You curl into the little bundle of fur, lips landing between its delicate ears.

Sid studies you in his periphery as he slips in and out of heady contemplation, ultimately deciding he doesn't mind as much as he once did. "That we are..."

—

eek! wait, why do i luv them already 🥹

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE!

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extraordinari1y-ordinary-writer · 4 months

Note

Hi, I just came across your blog and really liked your work 💕

if I may request ( ofc if you don't like the idea feel free to just ignore this), ( with smut or hinting at possible smut, only if you're comfortable 👍)

- reader is sitting at a bar, and some creepy guy tries to hit on her, and she catches a glimpse of Bucky and walks over trying to pretend that Bucky was a friend just to get the creepy guy to leave her alone, when Bucky was already eyeing her and the creepy guy from the start , after the creepy guy finally gives up and reader thanks him and wants to go home Bucky convinces her to stay with him?? ( with prompt #11 )

- Have a nice day!! 💕

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Bucky helps reader from a creep at the bar.

Content Warning: Creepy guy; a hint of smut; protective!Bucky; fluff; anything else I failed to mention.

Word Count: 778

Note: Was this requested? Yes! Is this any good? I will leave it up to you guys. I'd like to thank @midorissi for the fic! I hope you like it. I'll come back here and there to make some edits where it's necessary. Any gifs or pictures I use are not mine.

Prompt #11 can be found here.

Gentle reminder that I am always open for feedback! 💕

Minors be cautious (16+)

It was supposed to be a fun night out. You'd go to the bar, drink, and enjoy the evening. But that's not how it turned out. You had maybe half an hour of fun before he turned up—the creep. He glommed onto you fairly quickly and was persistent. You tried turning him down in all the ways you knew how, but it didn't make a difference. He took your refusal as a challenge. You needed convincing, to be won over by any means necessary.

His desperate attempts at flirting became more aggressive. He was getting a little too close to you. His eyes were roaming your body, and his hands were getting a little too comfortable on you.

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, your eyes flickered across the bar, hoping the bartender at least would notice your discomfort. But he was laughing with another customer. You were on the verge of either giving up or making a scene when you met the gaze of a man a few seats down. You'd never felt more relieved in your life.

Blue eyes looked at you in concern, body tensing as if he were about to get up. He paused when your eyes met. You took full advantage of the moment and pulled yourself away from your creep, hurrying to where the other man sat.

"Hey, I've been waiting forever for you," you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his shoulders. One of his went to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You relaxed in the safety of his embrace.

"Sorry I was late," he spoke. His voice nearly made you melt. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

You pulled away slightly and gave him a thankful smile. He gave a smaller smile in return. And for that split second of comfort, you could see him better. Stubble on his jaw and eyes bluer than you imagine. His hair was short and dark, his body sturdy. Even sitting down, it was easy to see how he towered over you.

"What the hell, dude!" That all too familiar voice sent shivers up your spine. You peered over your shoulder. The creep looked genuinely upset—offended, even—at you and this other man. "I was talkin' to her first," he barked.

You let out a surprised noise when the man you embraced stood up. He gently pushed you behind him, making himself a barrier between you and the creep. You don't know exactly what he did to make the creep back off, but when you saw the grimace and the hands go up, you watched in amazement as he walked off.

When your savior turned to face you, you beamed up at him. "Thank you," you exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh my God, I can't thank you enough!"

He chuckled against you, arms wrapping around you again. "Don't mention it," he said. "I'm happy you're okay."

You leaned back to look at him. You gave your name, the smile never leaving your face.

"Bucky," he replied.

. . .

You and Bucky talked for the remainder of the night. He was mischievously funny and sweet, throwing in the occasional compliment to see you get flustered. You were quick to notice how different Bucky was from the creep. Where he could be mischievous in his flirtations, he was also respectful. He was mindful of what made you comfortable and never intruded in your space.

So when he invited you to his place, you accepted. And when he invited you to his bedroom, you were more than happy to oblige. But in the post-sex haze, you assumed that once you caught your breath and cleaned yourself up, you'd have to leave.

But Bucky surprised you again. He had climbed out of bed and used a wet cloth to clean between your thighs. He was so gentle.

"Stay here tonight," he said softly.

"Are you sure?" you stammered. "I-I don't want to impose—"

"You're not." Bucky tossed the cloth somewhere in the room, giving you a soft smile. He laid next to you and kissed you. "I make a mean breakfast," he mumbled into the kiss. "And I'd like to see you again. If that's okay."

You sighed contentedly into the kiss. "I'd love that."

Masterlist

Taglist: @staria9100 @radcollectivesoul @cuddlefishextrodinaire @ramielll @lelialynn @whiminiferous @gracescor3 @identity2212 @winterslove1917 @hailycheyenne @dp-marvel94 @queerponcho @mystrawberrynigt

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe x reader #sebastian stan #fanfiction #request

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yeollie-plz · 11 months

Note

hello i love your writing. Could you do one where pedro annoconces that you and him are having a baby at like an interview and even bella is surprised .

I Wasn't Supposed To Say That!

Pedro Pascal x Pregnant! F! Reader

Synopsis: Pedro lets it slip that you are pregnant, shocking the world and Bella!

Genre: Fluff!!!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, reader insert, mentions of doctors appointments

Gif credits to owners!

A cute little blurb for you guys!

You found out you were pregnant during the promotions for The Last Of Us. You and Pedro had been trying for a baby for a few months now so when you saw those two lines, you were overjoyed. You told Pedro later that night when he returned home.

You had wanted to sort of surprise him so you had gotten a gift bag and put a few baby items inside. It wasn't the most elaborate plan, but it did its job. You had even found a Grogu onesie at the store, laughing at how perfect it was.

When Pedro opened the bag his confusion turned to excitement almost immediately when he saw the items. He hopped up from his chair and picked you up, spinning you around. Thanking you, he set you back onto the floor, it was then that you noticed the tears falling down his cheeks. You chuckled at him and wiped them away.

The first few months of your pregnancy went smoothly, although Pedro couldn't make it to all of your appointments, he made an effort to make it to most of them. You didn't blame him, you knew he had to work. You two had also decided to keep it a secret for a while. Both of you didn't want any unnecessary stress on the baby. You only told your families, Pedro hadn't even told Bella yet.

Today was one of those days that he couldn't make it, so you made sure to record the sonogram and send him pictures. He was currently at a photoshoot with Bella, as well as doing a few interviews. You sent a few pictures of the scan to Pedro, he sent a cute reply back, and you went about your day.

Later, you received a call from Pedro, before you could even say "Hi", he was confessing.

"I let it slip!"

You laughed, confused, "You let what slip?"

"I let the baby news slip, in my interview."

You laughed again, this time louder. When you couldn't stop laughing, he finally spoke again.

"What? Why are you laughing so hard?" He was disgruntled by your response and his actions, but you could hear a faint smile in his words.

You finally clamed down your laughing to reply, "I knew you'd accidentally let it out eventually."

Pedro started to argue, only to give up quickly and sigh. "I knew I would too."

This time you giggled at his response.

"I'm still sorry though, baby." He apologized.

"It's fine, it just means you are so excited to start a family that you can't hold it back. It's endearing, really."

Suddenly a voice came from somewhere on the other side of the line.

You heard Pedro respond to the voice, confirming it was you on the phone. All of a sudden Bella's voice was heard.

"Congratulations Y/N! I'm so happy for you two!"

"Thank you, Bella!" You replied, a huge smile now adorning your lips.

"I was so shocked to hear the news! I almost fell out of my chair!" Bella continued.

"That's true they almost did!" Pedro confirmed.

"Well I'm glad you didn't actually fall!" Bella laughed at this.

"Anyways! We gotta go back to set. I'll talk to later mi amor." Before Pedro could hang up the phone you heard Bella shout one last time.

"I'm meeting that baby when it comes out!"

"No question!" You replied, before hearing the call ended sound.

A few months later when the interview came out, you and Pedro sat down to watch it. He protested at first saying he didn't want to be embarrassed for a second time, but you insisted.

(The interview I'm referencing for anyone interested.)

As the intro played, you smiled to yourself. You loved seeing Pedro working, he was so happy. Seeing him and Bella goofing off was so heart warming.

Then the first question was asked.

"The last thing I texted?" Bella read off. They give their answer and then it was Pedro's turn.

And flat out, no hesitation he answers, "I replied to Y/N's sonogram pictures." Bella's head snaps towards him, mouth wide open in shock. He hasn't realized what he's said for a full 10 seconds, before meeting Bella's eyes with the same amount of shock.

"I wasn't supposed to say that." He says under his breath.

"Y/N's pregnant?" Bella questions.

"I wasn't supposed to say that.", is all Pedro can say again.

Then the interview moves on like he didn't just drop the biggest bombshell ever. Incredulously you look over at him. Pedro is looking in the opposite direction, covering his mouth with his hand. Ignoring your eyes that now bore into him.

"The first question!" You finally say.

"Mhm." He replies still avoiding the eye contact.

"I thought you'd at least last until the third one! But the first question?"

He finally looks at you, fear in his eyes.

He shouts out a quick "I'm sorry" before launching himself off the couch and running away.

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, you come back here right now!"

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #bella ramsey

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wonipeun · 10 months

Text

ㅤ ༉‧₊˚ how would enhypen members text you as your boyfriends ?

pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!reader | genre: fluff, as always! warnings: none! | wordcount: 1.2k words

✶﹒author's note: i'm back, yayyy!!! long time no see huhu,,, i've recently been thinking of writing some headcanons of how enhypen would text when dating, so here it is!! hope you enjoy it!! (*˘︶˘*)♡ there is some kind of glitch with the small font? there are random letters that are bigger, sorry about that, i have tried to fix it like 10 times and it keeps popping up smh. hope it's not too much trouble!!!!

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이희승 · lee heeseung ‧₊˚

oh my god heeseung is so in love it's embarassing.

i can literally see him sending flirty texts like "thinking about me?" with the stupidest grin on his mouth, and when you reply with a "yes" he'll start kicking his feet on the bed.

i dont really see him using pet names over text, probably he has you on his contacts as "y/n" and some cute emoji that reminds him of you.

"can i call you?" is probably the text he sends you the most.

heeseung prefers calling over texting, but he's shy about facetiming, especially when you have just started dating.

although he's a bit blunt over text, on calls he's a very veryyyy sweet boyfriend. his smitten voice gives away his love for you completely!!! (>᎑<๑)/♡ even when he tries to keep that "cool guy" image, he just can't do that with you-

"i've missed you" "you did?" "mhm"

oh he is blushing hard!!!!

and so are you!!

you both giggling and all- thisissocuteimsobbing.

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박종성 · park jongseong ೀ

he's so well spoken???

he sends you a looong text every morning to remember you everything you have to remember, wish you a good day and say i love you, ofc.

"good morning y/n, have you slept well? remember you have a dentist appointment at 5 o'clock today. i love you 💗"

"good morning my love, sorry for leaving so early today! your breakfast is on the fridge, hope you enjoy it! have a nice day, see you tonight. i love you 💕"

no because park jongseong is the epitome of husband material.

randomly sends you selcas to let you know where he is and what he is doing. and sends another message right after. like "bowling 🎳" or something (pls- 😭).

"have fun!!"

no. wrong answer.

send him your photo. match his energy.

that's the only correct answer.

"*insert your photo here* cooking dinner👩🏻‍🍳"

the moment he sees the photo he's smiling right away! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

"new wallpaper, hehe~" "NO JAY STOP NOT THAT ONE"

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심재윤 · sim jaeyun ˖ ࣪ ⭑

jake is clingy even over text it's amazing actually

uses a lot of emojis, but he's starting to use ":))" and "ㅠㅠ" recently as well!

"jake" "i miss youuu" "wru??"

the average waiting time for jake to respond to you is about 2.058 seconds, i.e., the time it takes for the phone to unlock and open your chat.

"omw!!!!" "i'll be there in 5 mins!" "i miss you too my love <333" "wait for me!!"

will always, always make sure to show you how much he cares about you, whether in person or over text. that's why he sends several messages a day, although sometimes he has to hold back to avoid being a burden,,,, (pls tell him he's not he just loves you sm).

the most effective way to make jake happy? send him selcas!! at any time! it will take him a few seconds to answer so he can calm his heartbeat and type correctly, but his answer will always make you flustered!! ૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ '⸝⸝ ₎ა

"wow" "woah" "baby omg you're beautiful" "how can you be so pretty?" "and mine" "i'm so luckyyyy" "i love you i love you i love you"

he's the cutest i just cannot handle this

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박성훈 · park sunghoon ⊹ ࣪

sunghoon gives me the same vibes as heeseung

but hoon is,,, cuter???

he sends you cute gifs and think is hilarious 😭

"y/n look at this"

probably a picture of a hedgehog wearing a santa claus hat but he's laughing so hard laying literally next to you.

so you can't help but start laughing as well.

he turns around and looks at you with his pretty sparkly eyes and lovely smile.

"it's funny, isn't it?"

tell him it's funny!! he loves to make you laugh <;33

sunghoon is not that expressive when texting, so you can consider his adorable gifs as his virtual displays of affection!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

doesn't want to tell you but he has you on his contacts as "my beautiful girlfriend" or something like that because this man is very much in love.

he tries to be discreet and not look too desperate, but when you both are apart for several days he sends more messages than usual…

"y/n" "i just had lunch" "did you?" "i did" "good" "i miss you" "but not to much" "just a little bit" "i miss you too..?"

he has no idea how to express affection by text please bear with him.

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김선우 · kim sunoo ౨ৎㅤ۫ ㅤ֪

you already know what's coming-

kim sunoo is INTENSE

"my baby y/nieeeeeee💗" "i missed you so much today😢" "shall we have lunch together????" "todays interview has been cancelled!" "i want to see you and kiss you and hug you💕💕💕" "right now😤" "so be ready!!!!"

texts cutely!! and uses a lot of emojis too, mostly pink hearts!!

your photo library is full of his selcas…

although it is true that he takes a lot of pictures for engene and posts them on twitter and weverse, he always saves the best one for you ૮꒰っ˃̵///˂̵c꒱ა

give him compliments!!

"you look so cuteeeeee<;3"

GIGGLES

"i do??" "really???" "but y/nnnn" "if you're saying i'm cute" "being you the cutest one on this world" "then i must be really really cute"

lowkey flirting as he confesses his undying love for you.

ㅤ

양정원 · yang jungwon ׅ ࣪ ✧

if jungwon is so active on weverse when talking with engenes, just think of the amount of messages you will receive from him in a single day.

wants and needs to tell you anything that happens in his life!!!

"y/n i've just tried this new restaurant" "everything is soooo good!!" "should we order from there next time??" "i want you to try it"

he really wants to involve you in every aspect of his life!! ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

loves loves loves facetiming before going to sleep!

my condolences to sunghoon, ni-ki and sunoo who will have to listen to your late-night love calls (they're kinda jealous because you both sound so in love ߹ᯅ߹)

sends lots of pictures of things he thinks are pretty or remind him of you.

"look this little kitten i just came across!!" "is so cute!!" "it looks just like you, so i thought of you right away" "like me??" "of course!!!!!!!!" "look at the eyes" "it looks like you!" "...right?" "maybe i just miss you"

he does.

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にしむらりき · nishimura riki ♡ ֺ ׅ

he just loves to make fun of you even over text

"y/n" "why do you send me all this texts?" "you really miss me that much???"

he misses you more please keep texting him

has you in his contacts as "girlfriend" and you always ask him to change it because is so unaffectionate, but he loves it because it reminds him he can call you his girlfriend????!!!

"girlfriend has text you" yeah he's so proud of that

sends you 984569 tiktoks and gets upset if you don't reply to all of them individually. also doesn't like it when you react to his messages with a heart instead of sending it as a text!!!! >:(

"if you love me show it properly!!!" "IS ALSO A HEART" "IT'S NOT THE SAME"

sends you funny pictures of you late at night because that's when he checks his pictures of you and always ends up laughing so hard that the members have to scold him.

"nishimura riki" "delete that rn" "NEVERRRRRRRR"

instead you send him nice pictures of him on your dates but he always says he looks bad smh (っ- ‸ - ς)

"what. the hell. is that." "i look ugly" "wdym???" "you look cute" "really?" "yeah" "alright you can keep that one"

maybe he just wants your compliments... 🤭

ㅤ

taglist! (open): @love-4-keum @tyunni @lovr4lix

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goldsbitch · 4 months

Text

That second flight

part 4 to That one Christmas flight

summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.

warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.

Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.

The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.

He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.

Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.

"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.

"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."

He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.

"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"

"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."

"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"

From now on, there was no way back.

The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.

It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.

"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.

"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."

"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."

Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.

"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.

"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."

Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.

"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.

Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."

"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"

Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.

"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."

"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."

Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."

She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.

He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.

Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.

She walked and sat opposite to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.

"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."

"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."

Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.

"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.

"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."

"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."

It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.

"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"

They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.

"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.

Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.

"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?

"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."

"Creep."

"You love it."

And she did.

He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.

"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.

"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.

"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.

"Hello, you must be Dario?"

This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.

He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.

When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."

They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.

"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.

"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"

"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."

"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.

Once Darion brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.

"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."

"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.

Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."

They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."

"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."

"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."

"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."

"Jesus, why!"

"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."

There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.

They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euro for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.

part 5

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1 @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother

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blooming-violets · 9 days

Note

Nicest Thing Peter x Reader for 11. In joy? I really like that fic. I reblogged it on my old account. I feel like thats an underrated fic of yours (maybe bc it came out in 2022? Idk). Would love to see what happened to them!

It's still one my favs because it is just so...me?? Like if I had to chose anything that represented my personality perfectly, it would be Nicest Thing. Just a depressed, sad bitch who loves angst and Peter Parker and enjoys Kate Nash. I feel like I need another Kate Nash song for this "sequel" fic. I'll base it off her song Trash because these two are trash for each other.

You can read this as a separate, on its own Peter x Reader thing if you'd like or you can read it as a future piece to Nicest Thing.

Warnings: Smoking a joint and getting stoned

If porn bots can over take all the tags then I better not get flagged for these gifs.

Peter looked at her through blazed out, squinting eyes. A haze of smoke filled their bathroom as they passed the joint back and forth between them. They were seated in the unfilled tub, fully clothed, and facing each other. She had made him take the spot next to the faucet under the claims that sitting over the drain made her feel “icky” like she might get sucked in. He didn’t mind. Even if their leaky faucet kept dripping cold water over his shoulder.

“Do you remember the Rugrats episode when Tommy and Chuckie are afraid of getting sucked down the bathtub drain because Angelica tells them a story of some other baby who died that way?” He asked, handing her off the joint.

She placed it between her lips and he watched with a slow blinking, admiration for her. He loved her. She had been with him through everything. He owed his entire life to her. Without her in his life, he would no longer be here. She was everything important in the world.

She smiled, remembering, and let out the most beautiful laugh. She always got extra giggly when they smoked. It was one of his favorite sounds.

“Don’t they fill the drain with play-doh and shit? It’s a weird reddish, pink color. Why do I remember that specific color so much?” She replied, mystified.

Peter chuckled, “Because old school Rugrats was filled with some crazy ass imagery. It sticks in your mind.”

“Yeah but I remember thinking that I specifically wanted to eat that color...like maybe it would taste nice…like the imaginary food from Hook.” She passed it back to him, letting the smoke exhale in a little, circular puffs from between her lips.

“Do you want to get into a pretend food fight with me and see if anything appears?” He grinned.

Her red rimmed eyes squinted back at him as she laughed, “With the way these munchies have been hitting me the past few minutes, I think it might actually happen. I could imagine food hard enough to make it show up.”

His mind started to wander as a hungry smile spread across his face, imagining all the food he could eat, and he spoke with a dreamy whisper, “Pizza bagels.”

“What?”

“Let’s make pizza bagels. ‘M hungry. Starvin’. Gonna die if I don’t get some food in me.”

Her eyes glowed with excitement at the idea, “Pizza bagels. Yes, you’re a genius!”

“I know,” he giggled, it bubbled out of him without any self control. It wasn’t the weed that did it. It was her. He felt free when he was with her. He flicked out the joint against the ashtray balancing on the edge of the tub. “I really am. Smartest man alive, probably.”

She snorted, “Okay, I wouldn’t go that far. Get your ego in check, Parker, before I have to slap some sense back into you.”

He beamed at her, his love consumed him, feeling it outshine every other emotion rattling around inside of him. She was beautiful. Stunning. Picture perfect. He wanted to hang her up on his wall like an expensive piece of art so he could admire every day of his life.

Her shoulders shrunk up to her ears under the intensity of his gaze.

“Stop that,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me with those eyes or I’ll kick you. I’ve got a perfect aim for your crotch in this position.”

Peter shook his head, “Nope, sorry, I refuse. I can’t help it. You look…perfect. The nicest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“You’re stoned.”

“Yes. Doesn’t change the fact that your lips look very enticing.” He winked at her and tried to scoot forward to get a taste.

Her socked foot landed against his chest, pushing him back in place, “I thought we were making pizza bagels, not kissing. Weren’t you just starving a minute ago?”

“Starving for you, maybe.”

“Peter!” She let out a loud laugh, keeping him at bay with her outstretched leg.

He was so in love. Completely enamored. Whipped. Head over heels. Trash for her. Whatever he wanted to call it. He belonged to her so wholly. His bleeding heart was in her hand for the rest of his life. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again.

“If you don’t let me kiss you right this very second, I am going to turn this shower on.” His hand reached over his shoulder to grip onto the shower knob with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

She gave a sharp inhale, “You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyebrows raised, taking on that challenge, “Oh really?”

She knew she fucked up the second before the shower burst to life. From his position in the tub, it shot over his head to spray directly into her face. She shrieked and fell back, sliding down the sloped edge of the tub until she was nearly on her back.

It was all the opportunity he needed to pounce. He leapt on top of her to the sound of her laughter and blocked the shower stream from her face with his back. His arms wrapped protectively around her head as he laid over her. Water pooled around them, warming their bodies, and soaking through their clothes.

They didn’t feel it.

All he could feel was the devoted love burning a hole in his chest where his heart used to be.

She giggled up at him, blinking water droplets from her eyes, and whispered, “You’re an ass.”

He laughed in response and crashed his lips over hers, mumbling against them, “You love me.”

She sighed in content. Her arms snaked around his neck to draw him closer, melting happily into his kiss.

“I do.”

#i will take every opportunity to stick this man in a tub or shower #andrew garfield #tasm #tasm x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm fic #tasm peter fic #tasm peter parker fic

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lavendertales · 1 year

Note

love your content sm!!! I've seen people request different heights but I'd THOROUGHLY enjoy joel/frankie/javi/dinxplus size reader if you're comfortable. it doesn't need to be one of those "reader hates their body and the man tells her she's pretty even though she's fat" but maybe just details of wide hips, bigger belly, thick thighs. I personally think joel, javi, and frankie would be all over a curvy girl...

HELL YES! I wholeheartedly agree with you, Joel/Javi/Frankie/even Din would be all up on that... but I'll try to paint a more vivid picture with Joel, just for funsies. I've had an idea for another Joel fic so this request comes in at just the right time😌

Mine || Joel Miller x plus size!f!reader**

summary: calling Joel Miller mine awakens something in him that turns out to be in both your favor.

word count: 1.5k

WARNINGS: established relationship; possessive!Joel, unprotected piv, cunnilingus, a dash of dirty talk, creampie.

A/N: Comments/reblogs are always very much appreciated! 💕

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

gif: @manny-jacinto

When you first arrived to Jackson, you wouldn’t have thought things would turn out this way. Hell, this wasn’t even on the list of things you planned for yourself.

It began slow and simple, with lingering glares, followed by tentative touches over the arm and back, and then, desire was born. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but as time went by, there was no denying it.

Joel couldn’t get enough of you.

It surprised you a little, you couldn’t lie; you knew you didn’t fit the beauty standard, but to hell with those. Living in an apocalyptic world meant living from day to day, sometimes even moment to moment, so why worry about such ridiculous things like body image? Joel definitely didn’t care about that. Quite the opposite: he seemed to be far too immersed in the ways he could hold your body close to his. This could be either snuggling up to you at night when he couldn’t sleep, letting you be the big spoon, or causing you to shiver and moan his name on a broken loop when he made love to you and caused your orgasm to rip through your body.

You’ve developed the habit of addressing him by several pet names as your relationship developed—sweetheart, baby, honey, whatever rolled down your tongue in key moments. However, one slipped past your sharp tongue before you could think it through when you saw some woman at the bar trying to put her moves on Joel.

Mine.

You were never the jealous type, not to this degree, but when you marched to Joel’s side with a cocky smile and grabbed hold of his arm, telling the woman “I’m sorry, this one’s spoken for. He’s mine”, you were surprised by your own reaction.

It woke something in Joel, too.

The whole way home he stared at you, sizing you up and down, his heart thrumming in his ears. Mine. You called him yours. You were jealous and territorial, and something clicked inside of him.

Once the door closed behind you two and you could finally breathe into the chilly air, Joel stared suggestively at you, his hands on your hips, teasingly tugging at the hem of your shirt.

God, how he loved the way you felt under his touch. Soft in all of his favorite places, flesh spilling from in between his fingers when he kneaded it harshly, the smacking, wet noises when he buried himself to the hilt inside you and your skin turned red.

Fuck, it always gets him so hard just thinking about it.

“Before you ask, yes, that was me being jealous or… whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

“Why?”

You were half amused and half shook that he would feel the need to ask such a ridiculous question.

“What do you mean ‘why’? That woman was all over you,” you replied. “She was ready to give you a lap dance if you stared at her for an extra five seconds.”

Joel scoffed, sneaking a hand underneath your shirt and rubbing your back and your soft belly. He could instantly see the flush of your cheeks, the auburn reaction to a mere touch, and his breaths nearly stammer in his throat.

“Why would you be jealous?” he asked in the most ridiculously calm tone. “I’m yours. You said so.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and already feeling a burning craving when his hands move to the front of your shirt to unbutton it.

“I did,” you admitted, gulping.

“Say it again.”

You flashed a faint smile as you remained topless before him and Joel’s mouth peppered kisses on your neck. “You’re mine.”

Joel hummed somewhere in the crook of your neck. He glued your flushed body closer to his, and you felt the outline of his cock poking against you. His lips found yours not long after, all the while his hands massaging your breasts, tweaking your nipples till they pebbled under his touch. Your hands roamed all over his broad shoulders and muscly back as you grew needier and more impatient.

You knew Joel could well be rough and harsh, and you expected him to bend you over and take whatever he wanted from you, but you’re once again surprised when he instructed you to remove the rest of your clothes and get on the bed. You did as you were bid, breathlessly staring at the rushed way Joel disposed of his own clothes and parted your legs, kissing his way up your thighs.

He had a bit of an oral fixation, as you liked to tease him sometimes. He spent a whole lot of time kissing and biting your thighs, and of course, he could’ve spent hours buried in between your legs, making you fall apart in his mouth over and over till you cried in overstimulation. He loved your full thighs, the way they felt when you crossed them around his waist. He loved your hips and your belly, the way the skin there bounced when he fucked you rough and fast from the front, and the way it jiggled when he held onto you from the back. You were ethereal, a gorgeous woman plump in all the perfect places.

Joel licked a wet stripe between your folds, earning the first moan from your side. He grabbed ahold of your thighs, keeping them in place, and began to eat you out like a man absolutely famished.

“Joel—fuck… oh my—“

You tugged on his hair once his tongue darted in and out of you, and you began to squirm. Joel hummed in your pussy, maybe even muttered something, but there was only so much you could focus on. And you didn’t even get the chance to warn him when you felt that familiar, much-needed burn in your stomach. You simply came on his tongue, soaking his mustache and beard, the sight causing you to blush as Joel came up for air.

He grinned in utter delight, bending over to kiss you roughly, giving you a taste of yourself.

“Joel,” you could barely breathe out. “Please—“

“Hm? D’you need me to fuck you?”

“Yes, please.”

He couldn’t deny you, or his own craving. He knew he probably wouldn’t last long, but fuck, he desperately needed to feel you, to watch mesmerized the way your tits bounce along with his thrusts.

Hand curled around his cock, Joel guided himself to your soaked entrance, entering you in one swift thrust. He started fucking into you without any time for adjustments, his hands secure on your sides. He was holding onto your hips so harshly you believed there’d be some bruises there tomorrow, but you couldn’t care less about that.

You felt him deeply, big and thick and borderline desperate, just the way you liked him.

“You like it this way, darlin’?” he teased, leaning down to bite your earlobe.

“Fuck, yes—“

“You like takin’—all of me in your—pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“Yes—“

Pleasure and pain alike prickled your skin, blossoming into a deep ache inside of you, but damn if it wasn’t blissful.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous—“Joel grunted. “Say it, again—say it—“

You knew what he wanted to hear. You couldn’t believe that a possessive pronoun could get him this hot and bothered, but if it did, you were all for it.

“Mine—you’re mine, Joel M-Miller—“

“That’s right, that’s—fuckin’ right—yours—”

“Mine, no one else’s—“

“Mhm—all yours, darling—you take me so fucking good, look at you—fuckin’ soaking me—“

He was pushing his cock so far deep inside you that it downright felt as if he pressed a button, that little button that made you see stars, and you instantly knew it wasn’t gonna be much longer.

“You gonna come for me, hm?” he smiled above you, delirious with ecstasy at this point. “Gonna soak my cock, hm?”

“Yes, yes—“

“You get so tight—when you come, shit—lemme feel it, darling, c’mon—“

You couldn’t handle it, all the sweet talk mixed with his filthy words. You felt tears in the corners of your eyes, stealing blurry glances at the fast way his cock was vanishing inside your cunt.

“Touch yourself,” Joel commanded, and your hand bolted in between your legs, frantically rubbing your clit. “Atta girl, there you g-go—“

His own orgasm hit much harder than he expected; suddenly you were rubbing circles around your clit while Joel stroked himself to completion partially inside you and all over your soaked folds and plush belly, painting the messiest canvas you’ve ever seen. When you do come, it’s blinding and ecstatic, and you moan a series of cuss words and his name. Always his name when he brings you to completion.

And now, the word mine as well.

Joel pecked your lips, smiling before adding, “You’re mine too. Don’t you forget that.”

You smiled back at him. “Never.”

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deliciousangelfestival · 14 days

Text

The Lady - 6

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 ,-

I'd really appreciate it if anyone who likes this series could leave a comment or reblog with a GIF.

Could you let me know what your thoughts are? Reblogs and comments are the main things that keep me posting new stories. ❤️❤️❤️

You shot a glare at Bucky, who only chuckled in response.

Linking his arm with yours, Bucky suggested, "Let's go meet them together."

Rosie was taken aback when she spotted Bucky.

"I woke up today and still don't see the other half, Princess," Bucky quipped.

Maintaining her composure, Rosie replied, "You're too impatient. My assistant just delivered it to your club."

"Ooh, then I hope you like the service," Bucky retorted with a smirk.

"Impeccable," Rosie replied smoothly, before turning her gaze to you. She tilted her head slightly and added, "I always sensed that you're an adventurous person. I admire your work. I felt comfortable when I found out you're part of this."

You hadn't expected such a compliment from her. While you had met Rosie a few times before, you always felt a sense of superiority from her.

Surrounded by Eddie and Freddie, you never felt out of place. But when Rosie, with her royal blood as a princess, joined the group, the dynamic shifted, and the boys seemed to adopt a more regal demeanor.

Despite your ability to keep up with them, there were times during the summer when you preferred to retreat to Rupert's empty mansion.

You leaned in closer to Rosie and whispered, "Why did you do it?"

Rosie leaned in, her voice barely audible as she replied, "That man doesn't fit to be the future King. It wasn't me who wants him dead. I only lent a hand."

As Rosie spoke, you realized that the relationships within the royal family were even more intricate than you had imagined.

"Some people like your work," Rosie continued. "And I think you will get another client."

Bucky puffed out his chest proudly upon hearing this, nudging your shoulder. "You hear that? Encore."

However, you didn't share Bucky's excitement. While the client may have admired your work, you couldn't find any pride in the situation.

Excusing yourself, you stated, "I need to see my mom and Charlotte."

Once you were at a distance, you pulled out your phone and dialed the family lawyer, Cedric. "Cedric, we need to meet."

#########

Back at the Evergreen Estate.

Cedric informed you, "The debt you have to pay is 3 million." You requested him to find out everything about the debt, unwilling to rely solely on Bucky, as you suspected he wasn't giving you the complete picture.

Lighting a cigar, you took a few puffs in silence as Cedric continued. "The first 4 million already got paid with the building that Bucky used as his club."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That place used to be Rupert's?" Bucky's mention of Rupert profiting suddenly made sense.

Cedric confirmed with a nod. "With 5 jobs done with Barnes, you have completed 2. That means only 3 are left."

Leaning back in your leather chair, you tapped your fingers thoughtfully. "I don't want to finish the rest. I'll just give him the money. But I also don't want to use the money from savings."

Understanding your dilemma, Cedric pondered briefly before suggesting, "Selling the assets will take a while since the deadline to pay the debts is near. What about selling an artwork?"

His suggestion lightened your burden slightly. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, you inquired, "What artwork does Rupert have?"

Cedric's response was impressive. "One of a kind. One original artworks by DaVinci, Monet, and Van Gogh. One painting is worth more than 1 million pounds."

You nodded in agreement. "Good. Sell those. But will the transaction be quick?"

Confidently, Cedric nodded. "I know some people."

"Then, get all you need. You can have 10% from each artwork," you decided, showing trust in his abilities.

Cedric hesitated, "Your Grace, are you sure you want to let go of the paintings?"

You shrugged, unaffected. "I do explosions for a living, Cedric. I don't have the sentiment to admire a painting."

With a bow of his head, Cedric accepted your decision and left.

As you watched him depart, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. At least tonight, you could block any calls from Bucky.

##########

For two days, you relished in the tranquility of the countryside, finally having the chance to appreciate the simple joys of life. Breakfast with tea, a luxury you never had time for in your military days, now became a cherished routine as the head of the household.

But your peace was shattered when your mother, Susan, entered with a gloomy expression. “I saw some paintings taken down from the wall. Do you know the reason why, my dear?”

You remained focused on your newspaper, not bothering to look up. “I sold them.”

Susan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Why would you do that? Those masterpieces have adorned this house for years.”

Without lifting your gaze, you replied curtly, “So you’re more concerned about the paintings than paying off our debt?”

A heavy silence filled the room.

Flipping the newspaper page, you continued, “I’m the head of this household now, and I have full rights to do as I please, Mother. I refuse to be burdened by debts while you stand idly by.”

You added, a hint of frustration in your tone, “It’s better to sell the paintings than to risk losing the house, don’t you think?”

Susan gasped, taken aback by your audacity. She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room.

The tension lingered in the air, but you remained resolute in your decision, knowing it was necessary for your family's survival.

While the butler of the house remained stoic, devoid of any emotion like you, he asked, “Do you want a cup of coffee, Your Grace?”

You replied, “Yes, please. That would be great.”

The bitterness of the coffee offered a temporary escape from the turmoil caused by your childish mother.

But it seemed the universe had other plans, denying you the chance to find peace. You heard a familiar voice, the harbinger of your nightmares. “Make it two, please.”

Bucky entered with his usual high energy, greeting, “Good morning.”

Without awaiting your permission, he took a seat beside you. “So, last night someone came to my club and brought a briefcase with 3 million pounds inside. It's to pay off Rupert’s debt.”

You took a sip of the coffee. “Yes, that means our association has ended.”

Bucky's expression softened. “First of all, thank you for settling the debt on time. But it pains me to lose a friend.”

You retorted, “Find another one.”

Bucky sighed. “Don't want to. You're one of a kind.”

You acknowledged his compliment but remained firm. “I appreciate your words, but I have no desire to utilize my expertise in such a manner again.”

Bucky nodded understandingly. “Alright, I understand. But I don't want our friendship to end. And we're also business partners.”

He raised his coffee cup, proposing a toast. “To our new beginning.”

You pushed aside your coffee cup, the porcelain clinking against the saucer, echoing the heavy tension in the room. Every visit from Bucky seemed to herald trouble, and today was no exception. "Every time you come here, you bring bad news."

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an underlying tension in his posture, a sense of unease that matched your own. "Not this time," he insisted, but his words did little to assuage the growing apprehension in the air.

"Hmm." Your response was clipped, your mind already racing with dread-filled possibilities.

'Ring.' It was Eddie.

The sudden intrusion of the ringing phone shattered the fragile calm, jolting you and Bucky out of your uneasy silence. You answered, your hand trembling ever so slightly. "Hello?"

"I've got bad news."

The words from Eddie on the other end of the line felt like a confirmation of your worst fears. The room seemed to constrict around you, the air growing heavy with tension.

"What is it?" Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the anxiety that clenched at your chest.

"Charles. He got into a problem with the wrong people."

Your heart sank. The implications of Eddie's words hit you like a physical blow, sending a shiver of fear down your spine.

"How bad is it?" You struggled to maintain composure, but the panic threatened to overwhelm you.

"He's tangled up with a cocaine syndicate."

"Oh no." The words escaped your lips in a hushed whisper, laden with fear and dread.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

#the gentlemen 2024 #eddie horniman x you #eddie horniman #theo james x you #theo james #mob!bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #mob!au

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heartsoji · 1 year

Text

treating his wounds

suna, kenma, and akaashi x reader (separate)

summary: you were not leaving his so-called "minor wound" untreated

warnings: post time skip

a/n: first fic ! yayyyy enjoy hehe

s. rintaro

GIF by chososleftboot

it was an ordinary tuesday like any other. the air in the apartment you and suna share is peaceful and quiet, save for the sound of your knife hitting a cutting board as you prepare dinner.

you hear the door creaking open.

"i'm back," suna says in a monotone voice.

"welcome back!" you happily greet him. "how was practice?"

"tiring. atsumu hit me with a chair." he says in the same voice , pointing to medium-sized scrape on his calf.

you gasp. "are you ok? how bad's the pain?" you ask, your voice laced with concern.

"i'm fine." he answers, beginning to head towards the couch.

"nuh uh. sit down on the couch. i'll be right back."

"where are you going?" he asks.

"gonna treat your scrape." you reply, heading to the closet.

"no no bunny, i'm fine." (I HC THAT HE CALLS U A RLY AFFECTIONATE NAME) "come back."

"nuh uh uhhhh. if you don't treat it, it might become infected." you walk over with a first aid kit and a cup of water. "sit down."

he sighs in defeat, (not that he put up much of a fight lol) plopping his bum down on the soft cushions. he slightly rotated his leg so that it'd be easier for you to treat it.

you begin to treat the scrape as gently as possible, gently cleaning and pressing. (to stop the bleeding.)

after rinsing with water, you apply some alcohol to a pad and then to his scrape.

"ow. ow. ow. it stings." he says slowly, his voice as deadpan as ever.

"did i ask?" you tease.

"you just asked."

"huh?"

"you just asked if you asked, therefore you asked." he answers, his face showing no sign of a soul living in there.

"i- what? never mind." you continue to treat the scrape, ignoring his past complaint.

suna looks down at you as you gingerly treat his scrape. thinking about how much you care about him and how careful you are not to be too rough reminds him of just how much he loves you. he truly is lucky. as he gazes down at your concentrated, sweet face, he can't help a small smile from forming.

"..and done!" you smile, giving the bandage a little pat and a kiss.

"thanks bunny," he says, dropping a small peck on your forehead.

"of course!" you answer. "why'd atsumu hit you with a chair, though?"

"osamu came to drop off some onigiris. atsumu told him to get out. osamu took onigiris with him. the two started fighting. i started taking pictures. i got too close. i got hit by a chair when atsumu wound up for a hard hit. it scraped me. the end." suna answered, his voice as deadpan as ever.

"oh love that for you." you answer. "come on, now help me out with dinner."

"you want my help?" suna questions, a little bit shocked.

"right. the incident." you decide to make dinner by yourself.

k. kenma

GIF by ash-is-poly

"ken, you almost done streaming?" you question, poking your head into his gaming room.

"almost." he answers, his slender fingers rapidly clicking on his keyboard.

is that y/n?

Y/NNNNN

hi y/n! how r u ?

"chat says hi." kenma tells you.

you walk up to him and look at what the chat was saying.

"hehe hi!" you give a little wave.

you glance over at your boyfriend to see a small bruise on his forehead forming.

you gasp. "what happened to your forehead?" you question, obviously very concerned.

"nothing. don't worry about it."

HAHAHAHA

HE BANGED IT ON THE TABLE

HE RAGED AND BRUISED IT

LMAOOO

HE COULDNT CLEAR LEVEL 69

RIP

"ken." you say, towering over him with your hands on your hips. (he was sitting.)

he gulps. "what?"

"how many times do i need to remind you that you come to me for these types of things?? how much does it hurt?" you nag.

"i didn't get you because it wasn't worth your concern." he replies, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"but it is! you have a bruise on your FACE! that's not a big deal?"

"it's not." he answers, his voice monotone.

you sigh. "be right back."

2 minutes later, you return with a glass of orange juice, an ice pack, and an elastic bandage to keep the ice pack secure.

"i told you that i was fine." kenma mumbles.

"nope!" you stick your tongue out. "besides, i can use this as an excuse to stare at your cute little face."

kenma's face turned pink, and his chat went wild.

ooo feeling flirty, y/n?

WAIT THATS ACTUALLY RLY SWEET THO

HIS REACTION IS SO CUTE I CANT

screenshotting that and putting it as my lock screen

kenma just turned three colors in the span of three seconds lmao

you grin at the comments and carefully begin securing the ice pack to his forehead, checking with him if it was too tight along the way. you secured the ice pack and also put a little bow on the back of his head, just for fun.

"thanks, y/n." he says, his face still slightly flushed. (i hc this man blushes easily and it lasts forever FIGHT ME on this)

"you're welcome." you smile.

you stay for the rest of his stream on his lap, and the two of you were a trending topic on twitter for the next day.

a. keiji

GIF by katsukes

"i'll get started on dinner, love." akaashi says as he stands up.

"i'll help!" you say, jumping up from your position on the couch.

he smiles. "thanks, love."

the two of you both enjoy cooking, so making dinner is a fun little activity the two of you do together. (technically you're supposed to alternate who makes dinner, but the two of you always do it together lmao) you always have fun figuring out what to make and then making it. it's almost like a fun little game (you two dorks lol)

you put on a pot of olive oil to boil (for olive oil poaching bc ugs like trying different things) and you both start on the prep work. you begin to filet the fish, and keiji gets to work on cutting the vegetables. the two of you prep the food and chat simultaneously.

part way through, you hear him sharply inhale. you look across the counter to see that he cut himself while julienning the carrots.

you gasp. "oh no! does it hurt a lot? how deep is the cut?" you ask, running to take a closer look.

he grabs a paper towel and soaks up the blood on his finger. "i'm fine, let's get back to work." he says, not wanting to ruin the fun.

"no. you should treat it." you insist.

and with that, you walked away to go get the supplies to do so.

you quickly came back with a small tube of antibacterial ointment. some gauze, and a small bandaid.

"love, i told you that i'm fi-"

you cut him off by yanking him by the arm to the sink to wash the cut.

"you can't leave it untreated. that's not good, keiji."

after you finished cleaning it, you pressed some gauze to his finger to stop the bleeding.

"love, i can do it my-"

"no."

"seriously, it's fi-"

"no."

"love-"

"keiji, you're always so good to me. so i want to be good to you too, ok? i love you so so much and i don't like seeing you in pain."

he sighed in defeat. you were just too cute, and he could never resist you for long.

"ok. thanks, love." he said, pressing a couple gentle kisses to your cheek.

you blushed slightly. "no problem."

you took off the gauze and gently dabbed a bit of the ointment onto the cut before wrapping a bandaid around it.

"alright, i'll finish dinner. go ahead and sit down." you said as you resumed filleting the fish.

"are you sure? i don't-" he began to protest.

"i don't want any bacteria in the cut. just sit down and we'll talk." you insisted.

he gave in to you two times today, and those certainly wouldn't be the last time that he did. something about you made him weak at the knees, and he has never and probably will never be able to resist your charm.

#suna x reader #kenma x reader #akaashi x reader #suna fluff #kenma fluff #akaashi fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x y/n #y/n #haikyuu suna #hq kenma #hq akaashi #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

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morallyinept · 5 months

Text

Feast On This - A Max Phillips GIFLET

Uh, Jett, what the heck is a GIFLET?

Just a short 500 words or less drabble, based on inspiration that I got from a GIF. Simples.

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 500

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶 "Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

GIFLET MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

This GIFLET was inspired by the below GIF 👇🏻 and was an ASK request from @thatcultbabe-99 - Hope you like it, lovely! 🖤

The phone won’t stop buzzing, and Max sighs with an agitated growl.

“Leave it,” you whine, pulling on his tie pleadingly.

But he gently slips the silk of it out from your fingers, and you watch him reach for the phone on the coffee table.

Your phone.

Your phone, which currently has sixteen unread messages, and several missed calls from over the last few hours. All from the same determined number.

Max shakes his head, swipes over the caller ID and holds it to his ear.

“Hey champ… What? Oh no, no. She can’t come to the phone right now.” Max winks at you. “Why? Oh, because I currently have her naked and riding on my thigh.”

Smiling at Max, you continue to rock gently across the material of his pants, leaving a stickly slick as you grind.

You can feel his other hand on your back, nails gently digging in to keep you steady.

“Oh, you should see her, man. It’s fucking pretty as a picture.”

He keeps talking as you build, nodding encouragingly at you with those animated eyes. You rock a little faster, feeling it bloom.

“See, I don’t know why you felt the need to stick your limp dick inside another girl. I mean, dude. This pussy here is fucking magical.”

Max swipes his fingers down to your cunt and sucks them with a squeaky pop loud enough for your soon-to-be ex to hear down the line. “Mmm… delicious.”

You can hear the ranty voice cut in and Max rolls his eyes, imitating chatter with his hand opening and closing like a duck’s beak at you.

Losing the feeling slightly, you stand up and spy the sticky patch glistening on his pants back at you.

Watching you carefully, Max lies back into the couch cushions, his hand slipping into his pocket, giving his rock solid cock a squeeze as he listens to the ranting drone on in his ear.

He growls again.

“Listen, you little shit. I’m going to fuck your girl. She’ll like it. She’ll beg me for more and I'll give it to her. Any way she wants. Then, I’m going to turn your girl and watch, probably jacking off, as she rips your head off your neck and drinks from it like a chalice, 'kay?”

Max hangs up the phone and tosses it behind him; it disappears down the back of the sofa.

He stares at you, hungry. Hard.

“Come here and sit that tasty pussy on my face.” He beckons, still laying back on the couch, and loosens his tie.

You smirk as you crawl up to him, kneeling over his face.

“Was he mad?” You groan, as he swipes his tongue inside your folds, lapping gently at your clit.

“Hopping.” He replies, into your centre; a face full of you as he pulls you by the hips to fully sit on him.

“Mmm… good.” You reply, fingering through his hair, as the cocky vampire starts to feast on you.

🖤

#max phillips #max phillips bloodsucking bastards #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #max phillips smut #max phillips x you #max phillips x f!reader #jett's writing #jett's giflets

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loslentesdepedrito · 4 months

Text

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Seven

Javi gif by: @skyshipper Jack gif by: @javier-pena My Masterlist

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six

Word count: 9.2k+

Chapter summary: It's time for Ángel's surgery and the transplant preparation. Following the procedure, Jack visits his son, providing some closure regarding your marriage.

A/N: This chapter concludes the final installment of the series and stands as my penultimate post on this blog. Next week, hopefully, I'll be sharing one more post—a Din piece—officially wrapping up this blog. I intend to maintain my writing for another two weeks before ultimately closing my account. Thank you to everyone who has supported me!

Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles. Also, Jack's texts are in bold.

CW: angst is back again, but a happy ending is guaranteed, some science, mentions of surgery, chemotherapy, and stem cell transplant, Jack cannot use an iPhone, Javi and Jack tension, jealousy, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease.

Your conversation with Jack three hours ago left you drained and exhausted, and now you're perched on the chair in the corner of your son's hospital room. You're engrossed in watching Ángel and Javi talk about an upcoming soccer game and the probability of their favorite team winning the match when your phone vibrates underneath your thigh. With a subtle shift, you reach for it and once it’s in your hand, you flip it over. Your phone is illuminated with a family picture of you with your husband and son in the background and there’s a message on your Notification Center.

Jack Daniels: HI. TEXTING YOU FROM MY NEW PHONE.

Another vibration follows, prompting a second message.

Jack Daniels: WHY DID THE TEXT SEND IN UPPERCASE?

The sequence of messages from Jack continues, each notification accompanied by a vibration.

Jack Daniels: HOW DO I TURN THIS OFF?

Jack Daniels: HELP me. Wait, I figured it out. Sorry.

You haven’t clicked on the messages to take you to the chat. Instead, you hold and press, sending him a brief response:

Hi, Jack.

He doesn’t send anything back, and you turn off your phone. As soon as the screen is black, it lights up again.

Jack Daniels: I went to the store and picked up a new phone.

A second later, an image comes through.

You hover over the message once more, and it’s a front selfie Jack took. Well, it’s not quite a full-face selfie. It only captures just beneath his eyes, and his eyes and face are not looking directly at the camera, so you guess he was looking down trying to take a picture of something else.

You’re proven correct when a second picture comes through. This time it’s a box of an iPhone.

There’s a bubble on your text chain, and this time you fully click, opening the message thread with Jack.

Sorry, I don’t know how this phone works. I just didn’t want my phone to fail, and you didn’t have a way to contact me, so I got a new one. Did I miss anything?

You reply back with:

Ángel is already ready to go, we’re just waiting for a room to open up in the OR. Could take hours, though.

How did he take the news?

Very well, actually. Saying he’s excited to go home is an understatement. He sensed that we were worried about his surgery and he kind of gave us a lecture on how important it is to listen to doctors and gave us a small list of the benefits of chemo ports. When we asked him how he knew about the port, he said, and I quote, "some light reading."

Jack doesn’t take long to reply:

Smart boy. He definitely got that from you.

A smile graces your lips at his message, but you decide to shift the conversation:

We never talked about it, but do you want us to tell Ángel that you’re his donor?

Your nerves are on edge, and waiting for Jack’s response heightens your anxiety. Glancing up from your phone, you see Ángel still in deep conversation with Javi. Your phone vibrates again, and you look down at Jack’s response:

No. I don’t want him to want a relationship with me because of the donation. If he wants a relationship with me, I want it to be because he truly wants it, not because he feels any obligation.

You exhale, relieved, and reply:

Okay, we won’t tell him.

Thank you.

A text bubble appears:

How do I send the accent on his name?

Suppressing a laugh, your fingers glide over the keyboard:

Press the letter A for a good two seconds, and a whole lot of options should appear. Click on the third one.

It doesn’t take Jack very long to send a single:

He follows with:

Be honest, does it sound a bit funny when I pronounce his name?

You weigh your options, lie or be honest. You decide to go with the latter:

A little bit.

I remember when you used to make fun of my accent…

Liar. I didn’t make fun of you.

I miss that...

Oh, God, not again.

You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.

“Hi, I’m Will. I’m with patient transport services, and I’m here to take Ángel down to the OR,” he says.

“Come in,” you invite.

Javi stands up and retrieves your thick to-go bag from underneath the sofa. It's filled with water bottles, a variety of snacks, sweaters, sweatpants, and a few changes of clothes—because, as Javi says, uno nunca sabe (one never knows).

Will walks over to Ángel and looks at his hospital bracelet. He takes out a phone with a bulky blue case and scans the ID barcode. Will asks to no one in particular, “Can you please confirm his full name and date of birth.”

Javi does that for you.

Will nods and types something onto the phone. After a moment, he looks at Ángel, “Hey, little man, how are you doing?”

Ángel smiles, “I’m good, sir. I'm just waiting to get my chemo port. After that, I can get chemo and then a transplant so I can go home.”

Will chuckles, “That's a great plan, buddy. We’ll get you down to the OR, and they’ll take good care of you so you can go home soon. Ready to go to the sixth floor?”

Ángel nods enthusiastically, his eyes filled with trust.

“Great,” Will says, glancing at you and Javi. “If you guys are ready, we can head downstairs.”

Javi, lifting the heavy bag over his shoulder, nods in agreement. He glances at Ángel, a mix of tenderness and concern in his eyes, and then turns to Will.

“He’ll be under anesthesia, right?” Javi asks, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.

Will offers a reassuring smile, “Yes, sir. That's what his chart says.”

Javi nods, visibly swallowing some of his worry. “Okay, let’s get him down there.” He moves to help his son get up from the bed. Will positions the wheelchair closer to Ángel's bed, and together, they carefully lower Ángel onto the wheelchair. You reach for one of the blankets—a gift from your father-in-law—and drape it over Ángel. Will takes the IV wire and secures it on the designated hook at the back of the wheelchair.

"Are we all set?" Will asks.

"Yes," you affirm, and then Will wheels Ángel toward the door. Javi, anticipating the need, beats them to the exit, opens the door, and holds it wide open to let them pass. Stepping into the corridor, Javi instinctively reaches for your hands, intertwining fingers not just for your comfort but for his own solace as well. Together, you trail behind your son as Will expertly steers Ángel's wheelchair through the hallway.

Descending from the tenth floor via the patient elevators, you and Javi follow Will, who scans his badge to usher you through the double doors into the pre-op room.

Guiding Ángel to the left side of the room, Will selects a quiet corner and draws back a side of the arctic blue diamond-print curtains, revealing an unoccupied bed. Positioning the wheelchair beside the bed, he assists Ángel in transitioning onto the soft mattress.

"Alright, good luck, buddy. You'll do great in there," Will encourages, raising a fist. Ángel meets it with his own, and as their fists connect, they both playfully mimic the sound of an explosion.

"Thanks, sir," Ángel replies, his voice carrying gratitude. Then, in a quiet and unsure tone, he adds, "I'll see you after?"

Will's smile is reassuring. "Absolutely. I'll be the one taking you back up."

With that, Will takes a step back, giving Ángel some space. He turns to you and your husband, saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña, Mrs. Peña. Someone should be with you shortly."

"Thanks for everything, Will," you say, watching as Will, with a warm smile, exits and closes the curtain, providing you with some privacy with your son.

With only one chair in the room, Javi insists you take a seat, not wanting you on your feet.

"¿Y tú? (what about you?)" you ask, concern etched in your voice and face. Maybe it's because you went so long without a partner prioritizing you, or because in the time your son has been in the hospital, Javier has really taken care of almost everything. Sometimes you can't help but feel guilty that he always puts your comfort above his own.

"Me paro (I’ll stand)," Javi shrugs his shoulders as if it's the most obvious choice in the world.

"Papi, you can sit here," Ángel offers, patting the mattress.

"Está bien (it's okay), mijo, I can stand for a while," he smiles, loving that his son is always considerate.

"Baja ese bolso (put down that bag), at least," you plead with him.

"I'm good, someone should be here soon," Javi reassures.

"Pero, Javi- (but, Javi-)" You're interrupted when you hear a woman asking if she can come in.

He smirks and whispers, "Ves (see)." Dropping his cocky look, Javi opens the curtain to let the woman in.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Gaddi. I'll be Angel's anesthesiologist. Can I please get a full name and a birthday?"

Your son happily responds to the doctor's requests while she verifies the information on the computer.

"Great, thank you, sweetheart. Mom or Dad, I'll need your signature on the consent forms. If one of you will please follow me," she says.

"I'll go," Javi says, and to your relief, he finally drops the bag from his shoulder.

"It's just straight this way," the anesthesiologist says, motioning past the curtain where the nurse station is in the middle of the big room.

Javier nods and follows the doctor. "Ya vengo mis amores (I’ll be back my loves)," he says with a big smile before closing the curtain.

Once on the other side of the curtain, where you and his son can't see him, he exhales a shaky breath. The fear is there, gnawing at him, although he doesn't want to show it. He wishes he could share it with you, as he normally would, but you're pregnant. The stress is already too much, and he doesn't want it to affect the baby. That thought terrifies him, and he can't risk it. Through the course of your marriage, he's come to understand that sometimes, marriage isn't a perfect fifty-fifty. There are moments when one partner has to carry more, and right now, he knows it's one of those moments. He must bear the fear and shoulder some of yours. While he wants to share these worries with you, a deep-seated commitment to putting family first holds him back. His protective nature takes precedence, always prioritizing his family.

Javier raises his head back up and quickly turns around to follow the doctor, who is waiting for him.

Once he catches up to her, she tells him the forms are for consent of treatment. The doctor reads the online document, informing Javi about the procedure, the benefits, and the risks it entails.

Dr. Gaddi must have seen the look on Javier's face after she listed the risks and the way he nearly crumbled when she said "or death" because she stopped and turned to him.

"But... everything will be okay, right? He’s in good hands?” Javi asks, his voice cracking as if he's on the verge of tears; even speaking those words makes his throat ache, causing a noticeable strain in his voice.

"Sir, I can't make any promises. Every surgery does come with risks, but my team and I have successfully done this procedure multiple times.”

Javi tries his best to remind himself that everyone in the OR is experienced and has done this procedure before.

"Where do I sign?" he manages to ask, his voice slowly regaining its composure.

While Javi is with Ángel's anesthesiologist, a nurse, and another doctor come in to check on Ángel. He had only managed a short nap, so now, as he rests, you take out your phone and send a text to Jack.

Hey. We're in the Pre-op area. There's a room in the OR now, and I've met his doctors. As soon as the anesthesiologist comes back, they'll take him.

Jack replies instantly as if he's been sitting by, waiting for his phone to ring:

Thank you for letting me know.

He sends a follow-up:

His surgery is only supposed to take an hour, right?

That's what the doctors said. I'm sure he won't be in there for too long.

As Javi, Dr. Gaddi, and a nurse approach, you text Jack:

The anesthesiologist will be here soon. I'll send you any updates I get, and I'm going to send you Javi's contact info just in case.

After adding Javi's phone number and hitting send, your husband and the surgical team arrive.

Dr. Gaddi approaches, “Hi, Mom, everything is ready on our end to take the patient to the OR."

“Okay,” you say, rising to your feet. The staff gathers around the bed and begins to move it. Ángel stirs at the movement, calling for you and Javi before opening his eyes.

Javi quickly rushes to your side, closer to your son, and reassures him, "It's okay."

"Oh, am I going to surgery?" Ángel asks.

"Yes, you are, Angel," the nurse responds as he releases the brakes on the left side.

"Oh, okay, yay," Ángel smiles.

The nurse chuckles at his excitement, "You know, not many kids are excited for surgery."

"I'm excited because chemo ports look more comfortable than the IV. It gets in my way when I do, like, anything," Ángel explains with a huff.

"Well, I've heard from other patients that they prefer the port, so hopefully you will too," says Dr. Gaddi as she stands to the side, waiting to wheel Ángel out of the room.

She turns to you and your husband, saying, "You guys can follow us until that red line, and then you'll be taken to the waiting room."

You start feeling more anxious, and Javier senses it. He begins to rub your lower back, his warm hand moving up and down, offering comfort.

"Okay, ready," says the nurse.

With the curtain open, they go through first, and you and Javi are right next to your son’s bed.

You're so hyper-focused on your son that you don't realize you've made it right before the line that you can't cross.

"Love you, Mommy, love you, Daddy," Ángel says, reaching out for your hand.

You take his little hand in yours, and Javi covers both of your hands with his.

"Te amamos más, mi niño (we love you more)," Javi tells him in a soft voice. Everyone can hear the love pouring out of his words.

Ángel knows this and doesn't try to contradict his dad because he knows it would be in vain. Instead, he simply says, "Nos vemos en un ratito (We’ll see each other in a little bit)."

"Okay, mijo," you say, fighting back tears.

The doors open, and Ángel is wheeled in. You think the tears are coming, but when you hear the light sound of your son's laughter, you're able to compose yourself.

"Would you like to be taken to the waiting room now?" a non-surgical nurse asks.

Thirty minutes pass, and you and Javier are seated in the waiting room, the only occupants at the moment. Purple chairs surround you, and you're on a blue seat cushion against the wall, your attention fixed on the TV opposite. It's a modest 35-inch screen designed to keep you informed about the ongoing surgery. Your son's name is displayed in green, and the message changes from ‘Surgery in progress: Incision and Pocket Creation’ to ‘Surgery in progress: Port Implantation.’

"They're placing the port-disk-chamber thingy inside the incision they made on his chest," Javi says matter-of-factly, pointing at the text.

You turn your head toward him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "'Port-disk-chamber thingy'—is that what the doctor said, Jav?"

He bursts out laughing, placing his right hand over his chest, realizing he was mimicking the tone doctors use when imparting information: authoritative. "Casi me cago del miedo (I almost shitted myself from fear) when the doctor told me step by step what they would do, so I don't remember exactly what he said," he chuckles.

Javier's laugh is contagious, and you can't help but laugh too. Your laughter fuels his, and vice versa. The only thing that interrupts your laughter is when you feel the baby kick.

"Ay, me pateó (oh, he kicked me)," you exclaim happily.

Javi instantly stops laughing too and shifts his hand to rest on your bump. As soon as you feel the weight of his hand on your stomach, your son responds with another kick, right where Javi's palm is placed.

A boyish look crosses your husband's face. He always loves feeling the baby kick, reminiscent of the first time he felt his first son kick.

"¿Hola, mijo, ya te despertaste? (Hi, my boy, have you woken up yet?)" he hums softly.

In response, the baby kicks again.

"He loves your voice so much. I swear he only kicks so you could talk to him. A mi no me quiere, nomas le gusta que le cantes y le leas (He doesn’t love me, he just likes it when you sing and read to him),” you huff out in fake annoyance.

"That's not true. The second-born is always the momma's boy. So the baby loves you the most," Javi says.

"And the youngest loves daddy the most, so no," you refute.

"He won't be the youngest for long," he grins suggestively.

You gasp, “ya me embarazaste, sinverguenza! (You already impregnated me!)"

"But if it was scientifically possible..."

"Shut up," you playfully scold him.

With Javi's hand still over your stomach, your son kicks again, this time much lighter.

"He's upset you told me to shut up," his gaze shifts from looking at you to your stomach as if he could see the baby, and he lowers his voice, “¿verdad, mijo? Dile a tu mami que no sea mala conmigo (right, mijo? Tell your mom to stop being mean to me).”

He looks back up at you, "te acuerdas cuando Ángel hizo eso por primera vez? (Do you remember when Ángel did that for the first time?).”

“Jesus Christ, he scared me, and he made you cry,” you laugh, a smile on your face remembering.

"Oh shit! I forgot to update Jack," you realize and scramble to get your phone. As you start typing to let him know what's going on in the OR, you tell Javi, "By the way, I gave him your phone number."

Javier lets out an unenthusiastic and dry, "Yay."

“Mira (look),” he says while you’re still typing. You look up to where Javi is pointing, and the TV changes to Surgery in progress: Catheter Insertion.

You wince, "They're in his vein now."

"The catheter is the tube that delivers the medicine to his body, right?"

"Yeah," you mumble, typing the next update to Jack.

Javi reaches for one of your hands and rubs soothing circles, “Deja de pensar en eso. Él está bien con ellos (stop thinking about it. He’s safe with them).”

He removes his hand and turns his body to the to-go bag. Javi reaches for the zipper and undoes it. He digs in the back, and you see him pull something out. "Do you need a blanket?" he asks, with a large fuzzy blue blanket in his hand and his soft brown eyes looking at you tenderly. Before you can reply, he places it in your lap and goes back to the bag. Javi fights a little and finally tugs a pillow out of the bag, "a pillow?" he asks with the same puppy eyes.

“I- thank you," you accept both items. You put the pillow behind you so you won't rest your back against the hard and cold wall. You take the blue blanket from your lap and extend it to drape it over the both of you.

"¿Tienes hambre? (are you hungry?)" Javi asks adjusting the blanket.

"Sí"

He goes back to the bag and pulls out some snacks: Goldfish, Chips Ahoy, granola bars, fruit snacks, dry plantain chips, and a pack of assorted nuts.

"Sorry, I don't have any actual food," he looks at what he's offered you and feels guilty at the limited options. Javi gets up quickly, "I can go get you real food. Are you craving anything?"

"Hey," you wrap your fingers around his wrist and grip somewhat tightly. You look up at him and push him to sit back down. "No. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay. I'll stay," he says softly, kissing where your hair and forehead meet.

A knock reverberates in the room, and a nurse comes in. "Hi," she says, closing the door to come closer to you. "Everything went well. There were no complications. They're ready to transfer Ángel to the Post-op room if you guys would like to follow me."

Both of you look relieved at the news, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"Thank you," you tell her, and Javi can't get any words out. His eyes are watering, and he tries his best to not let them fall.

He starts hurriedly putting away the snacks, just keeping the bag of nuts, while you fold the blanket back up into the neat roll Javi had it in. After the snacks, blanket, and pillow are in the bag again, Javi helps you get up. You send Jack a quick text informing him that everything went well, and you're on your way to see Ángel. Javi puts the bag over his shoulder, and you both follow the nurse to go see your son.

Next morning - Day 1 of Chemo:

Hey, Jack. Ángel is awake and doing well. He asked about having visitors and hoped you would come see him. We explained that it's not possible right now. He understood but wanted to call. Would you like to FaceTime?

That's great. What’s FaceTime?

It's a video call.

Yes. How do I do that?

Instead of texting him back, you initiate a FaceTime call and hand the phone off to Ángel when it starts to ring.

As soon as Jack accepts the call and his face takes over your screen, Ángel's little face lights up. "Mr. Jack!"

Jack's face mirrors Ángel's: a smile so wide, eyes so soft looking at his son.

"I just started chemotherapy," Ángel blurts out just before Jack greets him.

Jack's heart glows watching his son's face. "How are ya feeling?"

"Mmm... I feel okay. Oh! I got the surgery last night, and look at my chemo port." Your son takes one hand off your phone and pulls his hospital gown just enough to show Jack his port. "Look! You can see the bump of the port under my skin. Eww, it looks gross. It's so cool."

Jack laughs, and that makes Ángel move the phone back to his face.

"Does it hurt?" Jack asks.

"Nope. It was a little bit like... sore when I woke up, but it doesn’t hurt now. I had chemo in the morning, and it pinched for a second, but it's wayyy better than the IV."

"It's not a pain to use the restroom, huh?"

"It's easier and faster to go now," his brows pinch in the middle, "I almost peed myself once 'cus I had to wait for the wires to detangle from the bed." Ángel trails off, tilts his head to the side, and squints. "What do you have behind you? Is that a needle?"

Jack turns his head behind to see what his son saw. He had picked up the prescription he needed to be Ángel's donor from the pharmacy the previous night. Jack opened the box out of curiosity and took out a needle to look at, but then he got caught up texting you in the morning and forgot to put the small vial and needle back in the pharmacy bag.

"Umm... yeah?" Jack says uncertainly, not knowing how to explain it to his son. He doesn't want him to know that he's his donor, at least not yet. "That is some medicine I have to take in two days," Jack says, trying to keep it vague.

When the words come out of Jack's mouth, Ángel's eyes show pure concern, "Oh, are you sick?"

"No, buddy," Jack blurts out immediately, "I'm not sick. I'm just takin' them for... to... Just takin' them to stay healthy. They're like vitamins."

"Maybe I should take some so I could be healthy. What's the name of the medicine?"

Jack's heart drops at his son's words. His mind starts spinning, but he takes a deep breath. He'll be healthy soon, he tries to remind himself. "You can't take this one, buddy. It's for adults."

"Oh," he sounds disappointed, but his voice goes back to normal, "Well, that's okay. I can't take vitamins on chemo either way. I think. Vitamins can affect chemo because of cancer cells, but I don't have any so I don't know. I can ask later. How are the horses?"

Donation Day - Day 7 of Chemo:

Jack sat comfortably in a green chair, his right hand extended over a pillow, squeezing a small blue ball as his blood cycled through the machine. Two hours had passed since he settled into the chair. He arrived at the hospital early in the morning with the last dose of his five-day filgrastim prescription, and for the first time, someone other than him administered the injection. Throughout the morning, he had been texting you, checking in on his son, and, though he wouldn't admit it, checking in on you. Of course, he cared about his son and wanted to know every detail of what he was going through, but this had been the only line of communication he had with you for years, and he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while you were willing to entertain his conversations. From you, he learned that Ángel's last day of chemo had gone smoothly.

Jack's head spun when he heard a knock against the door. His heart thumped wildly in his chest at the thought of seeing you. When the door opened, a wave of disappointment washed over him. It wasn't you who set foot in the room; it was fucking Javier.

Jack instantly tenses and clears his throat as Javier walks over to him.

"Hi."

Javi crosses his hands over his thick biceps, "How's the donation coming along?"

"It's goin' well. They think in 30 minutes we'll have enough for Ángel," Jack fills Javi in.

"H-how are umm... how are you feeling?" Javi gets the words out, although with much effort. He sounds physically pained asking a simple question to Jack.

"You sound very concerned for my well-being," Jack quips sarcastically.

Not really, Javi wants to say. Instead, he tells Jack, "I’m trying really hard to not hate you.”

It doesn't faze Jack one bit. "Same."

"So just don't do anything to piss me off. More like don't do anything else to piss me off even more," Javi lowers his voice more, "She's my wife; she tells me things. Don't you ever dare call her ‘baby’ again. You're lucky she's not that uncomfortable with ‘sugar’, but if she ever shows one ounce of discomfort, you will stop."

"She never minded all those names before," Jack challenges, glaring at Javi."

Javi smirks, wearing a shit-eating grin as he nonchalantly shrugs. "Yeah, she never did lots of things before me."

Jack is furious. All he sees is red, and just as he begins to rise from his chair to get up, the nurse walks in.

"Oh! A visitor," she exclaims.

"Hello," Javi greets the redheaded nurse in blue scrubs with ducks all over them.

Seeing the nurse enter, Jack comes to his senses and sits back down. Subconsciously, he squeezes the ball so tight in his hands that his knuckles turn white.

"Mr. Daniels, are you okay?" the nurse questions with concern. All she sees is her patient gripping the ball so tightly that his nails are about to rupture through the material. She moves to him and checks his arm to see if there are any signs the needle is causing pain.

Jack's glare tears from Javi and shifts to the nurse. "I'm okay, thank you for checkin’ in on me," he tells her and moves his hand to signal for the nurse to release his arm. "Nothin’ hurts," he smiles up at her.

The nurse understands and checks the progress of the donation. While looking at the machine, she decides to make small talk with her patient and his visitor. "Are you Mr. Daniels' brother?" She turns to ask Javi innocently.

"No," Jack's words drip with disgust.

Javi smiles at how fast Jack denies the nurse's initial thought and says "Not related," under his breath, mumbling, "Thank God."

The nurse doesn't seem to pick up on their animosity and comments, "You two look alike, what a coincidence. Best friends then?"

"No, nothing like that. My wife and I know him, and he's giving our son a gift," Javi says 'our' while looking at Jack.

Suddenly, Ángel crosses their minds, and they both feel some shame for their earlier behavior. They know they can't go on still hating each other because it'll eventually turn into a fight. They just don't know how to set aside their differences.

"I'll call the doctor to get her thoughts, but it looks like we have what we need for the donation," the nurse says, taking note of the blood volume. "In a few hours, one lucky little boy will receive the cells, and he’ll be one step closer to being healthy."

After Jack was hooked up to the machine for two and a half hours, the staff deemed the collection enough and sent the blood bag to the lab to confirm that Jack’s procedure had collected enough stem cells. Four hours later, it was confirmed that there were the desired amount of stem cells, and the team took the cells to Ángel’s room. Due to your son being immunocompromised, he isn't allowed to have visitors other than legal guardians. So, you and Javi update Jack on the transplant.

Day 11 post-transplant:

Remember how I told you he started grafting on the tenth day?

Yes! How his body was accepting the stem cells, and the cells were growing and making new cells.

Mhm. Well, if everything keeps going at the speed it’s been going, Ángel gets to go home in four days!!

Oh, wow! It’s just day 11 after the transplant, and the doctors estimated it wouldn't happen until closer to day 25! Can I go see him then? I know I was cleared to go five days ago, but because I wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t go. My fever’s still here, but I’ll continue to monitor myself.

Sure! You need to be cleared of a fever for 24 hours and have absolutely NO symptoms.

You have my word, sugar.

Day 14 post-transplant:

You're packing all of Ángel's belongings to take home. It's been 14 days since your son's transplant, and he's cleared to go home. You don't know who's happier— you, your husband, or your son. But that doesn't really matter; all that matters is that your family is together. Just as you're collecting your son's toys and getting them ready to shove into the white personal belongings bag, someone knocks on the door. Javi stops placing Ángel's books into a box and hurriedly opens the door. He was expecting the doctor to come in with discharge papers, but it was Jack waiting on the other side.

"Oh, right, you said you'd stop by," Javi remembered.

When you saw Jack standing there not quite stepping inside the room with a red gift bag, you gasped. "Sorry, we forgot you were going to stop by." You turned your neck and saw Ángel reading the book Jack had gifted him, One Hundred Fun Facts About Horses.

"Come in," you usher Jack in. "Mijo," you call, and Ángel looks up from the book he's got his nose buried in.

"Mr. Jack!" Ángel's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He pats a spot in his bed as he tells Jack to sit down next to him. "I want to show you something," Ángel puts the book aside and lowers his shirt to show Jack that the port is gone. "They took my port out!"

Jack almost reaches out and touches his son's scar but settles for examining it with his eyes. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. I'm just excited to go to my house. Did my mom tell you I'm leaving the hospital today?"

"Yeah," Jack chuckles, "she mentioned it. And here I brought you this," he lifts the gift bag onto the bed.

Ángel tears it open and begins to pull the items out. The first gift he reaches is a book, Her Right Foot. "Oh, my God!"

You see the title and direct your question to Jack, "He's wanted that book for a while, how did you know?"

"Really?" Jack's smiling ear to ear. "I just went to the bookstore and thought he'd like that one." His heart feels like it could rip right through his chest because he feels like he knows his son. Jack had browsed many children's books and read the synopsis of every last book. The one he had purchased was the one he felt his son would love, the book his son is currently holding, and Jack was right.

The little boy takes out the next item, which is a box. "A Lego set!" Ángel flips the black box to the front, and he sees that this particular set is one of horses. The horse in the center looked similar to Andor, one of Jack's horses his son loved the most. "Is this an Andalusian?" Ángel looks to Jack, his eyes sparkling."

Jack nods his head, "It is, buddy. It's like a mini Andor."

Ángel seems pleased with Jack's answer and moves on to the last gift. It was another box, but this one was a shoebox. The little boy lifted the top off, and he was met with boots—dark brown leather boots with beautiful and intricate stitching all throughout.

“Is that a longhorn?” Ángel points at the center of the boots. He doesn’t wait for an answer before speaking again, “My grandpa has longhorns on his ranch. Do you have them on your ranch, Mr. Daniels?”

"I don’t have any longhorns, but umm... I have the same boots," Jack looks down at the floor like he’s suddenly interested in the simple pattern of the hospital floor. He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but when his son's sweet voice reached his ears, Jack looked up.

"You do?" Ángel was beaming, a smile brighter than the sun. He leaps to move sideways so his legs would hang from the bed. He took his left boot and put it on his baby blue non-slip sock-clothed feet and did the same for the right boot. When both boots are on, he pinches the tip to feel where his toes are. Ángel drops to the floor and begins to walk, showing all three of you his new footwear.

"How did you get his shoe size?" You're amazed at how they seem to fit perfectly.

"I asked him," Jack nods his head towards your husband, who is smiling broadly, showing his perfect teeth. Javi squats down to Ángel's level and presses his fingers on his son's boot toe box to feel if they're pinching Ángel's feet. "Perfect fit," Javi smiles up at his son, dimple on display, still on the floor.

Once Javi's hands are removed from Ángel's boots, he runs to Jack, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jack," he says, jumping up and down. Ángel runs back to Javi, who is now standing up straight, "¡Papi, quiero una foto! (Daddy, I want a picture!)" Javi complies and takes out his phone from his back pocket.

You turn to Jack, and your voice falls to a whisper, "We're hosting a dinner in a few nights to celebrate Ángel coming home, and we'd love it if you'd join us."

Jack's head reels at the prospect of seeing you and Ángel in a few days, but beneath that excitement, there is fear, "Is your family going to be there?" he asks.

"Yes, and Javi's too."

"It's your family I'm worried about," he confesses, looking into your eyes.

You take in the way his face pales slightly, his eyes widen, and his eyebrows shoot near his hairline. "No. You're more than worried; you look genuinely scared, but you'll be fine."

"'Course I'll be there, Sugar," he says, looking at his son laughing while Javi takes his pictures. If Ángel was a happy and giddy boy before the transplant, Jack now sees how his innocence is amplified now that he's healthy, and Jack can't wait to see more of his son's childhood joy outside the hospital.

"Hey, can I talk with you alone before you leave?" Jack asks you, hoping you'll agree.

"Um, yeah, we can go outside," you agree, noting his urgent tone.

"Javi, Ángel, I'll be back soon. I'm just going to walk Jack out," you say, moving to the door with Jack on your heels.

"Okay, we'll keep packing, amor," Javi tells you, brushing his hand with yours. You lean into your husband for a while until Ángel and Jack say their goodbyes, promising they'll see each other at the dinner.

You and Jack exit the room, and you take him to a little corner further down the hall.

"What did you want to discuss?" you ask resting your back on the wall with brown and cream diamond wallpaper.

Jack's nervous to tell you what he wants: a father-and-son relationship with Ángel. You two never went into detail on how you would tell Ángel the truth about Jack and he's terrified of asking you for something this big so soon after a big weight of stress has been lifted off you.

"Jack?"

"Sorry," he clears his throat, "I wanted to talk to you about telling Ángel that I'm his dad- biological."

"Oh," you sound surprised. "Yeah. We didn't really discuss that, did we? I haven't thought about it in so long, I'm sorry. Maybe we can get some pointers from Ángels counselor?" You suggest. "Javi and I thought about making an appointment with a child therapist because of this entire hospital stay. We were hoping to get your opinion on that actually."

It's Jack's turn to be surprised. "I think that's wonderful, Sugar. Thank you for including me in the decision."

"Of course. I think it would be great if we could get the counselor's opinion on how to best handle the situation. And we too can figure out how this new dynamic would work. For example, medical decisions moving forward. We'll tell Ángel about you and I have no doubt he'll want to have the relationship you want to have with him. We can talk more about the appointment in a few days. We haven't set an exact date for the dinner but it will probably be this upcoming Sunday."

"I'll clear out my entire schedule," Jack says sincerely

"We'll have food for you that won't send you into a choking fit," you tease.

Jack covers his eyes with his hands, "God, 'M so sorry."

You laugh at his embarrassment, "No, it's okay. I understand the food we serve can take some getting used to." You continue to tell him about the plans for the dinner that is slowly turning into a party and he just stares at you while you keep talking he gets lost in the moment. He thinks about your laugh and the consideration you still have for him and suddenly Jack blurts out, “I love you."

The smile you had vanishes.

“Jack,” you warn dangerously. “We were doing so good, Jack.” You don't want to—can't see him now, so you close your eyes. The words only needed to be said once for them to threaten tears to spill. "How dare you say those words to me now?” You hiss, your tone now angry but more than anything, filled with frustration and pain. You thought you could handle seeing him, so you open your eyes. "What do you expect me to do with that? I won’t leave Javi if that’s what you’re hoping for.

"S-" Jack opens his mouth, but you cut him off immediately. "No, Jack, let me speak."

"Once, those three words would have made me the happiest person in the world, but now? They’re only causing pain,” you pause, exhaling a shaky breath. “You humiliated me, Jack. Time and time again. Even if I didn’t have Javi, I wouldn’t go back to you.” You sound defeated, your voice carrying the pain of past wounds, and it crushes you to keep thinking about the past.

“I did love you, through everything,” Jack whispers, his eyes searching yours. They are watery and dazed.

“I think…” you run your tongue over your lips and then purse them, “I think you loved me in your own way. But that’s not how I wanted to be loved. During our engagement, and more so during our marriage, I never really felt loved by you. Can you blame me for that if I can count with my fingers the amount of 'I love yous' you gave me?” Your words are like shards of glass, cutting through the air with the sharpness of your pain.

“When you did show me your love, I was so happy, Jack. So happy that I thought, hoped, you would give me more love, so I stayed with you. I longed for the morning you woke up and things would be different, better. Because that’s exactly what happened. You woke up after the night of our engagement, and you were a completely different person, and I couldn't comprehend what I did wrong. I was willing to stay with you forever for the odd chance one day you would feel for me how I felt for you.”

“And I stayed because I always hoped you would go back to your old self. Sometimes there were indications that you were going to become the old Jack. Well, I don’t know if I fooled myself, but sometimes I thought you were happy. Like right before I told you I was pregnant, you had this smile on your face….” Your voice trembles with the weight of those memories.

“Other times I genuinely thought you hated me, and then I thought that’s not possible. ‘Why would he ask me to marry him if he couldn’t stand me?’”

“Did you always think that?” He sounds sad, a quiet plea for understanding. But your heart, scarred by the past, struggles to find solace in his remorseful gaze.

“Yeah. When… when we were together, it was rare you would look at me in my face. The majority of times you had me face down. How do you think that made me feel? You made me feel used and disposable.”

“I wanted to be loved by you," you continue, your tone a mix of vulnerability and strength, "and you always made me feel like I was the other woman. Then I decided I should stop trying and let you go.”

“What changed?” Jack's question hangs in the air. Everything you’ve revealed up to this point has felt like glass shards embedded in his heart. He knows you still have a lot left to say, and it will continue to hurt him, but he owes it to you to hear everything you went through.

“I was at a park one day after you didn’t come home," you recall, emotion tinging your words. "I came across this older man, and he showed me pictures of his family. When he talked about his wife…” you pause, emotion catching up with you. “It was beautiful. And I realized that would never be you. You wouldn’t talk about me that way. Since that day, I took off my rose-colored lenses and thought everything through."

"I thought about your behavior but also about mine. I hated who I was because it sounds ridiculous, but I was jealous of someone who wasn't here anymore. And I swear I never wanted to replace her or erase her from your life, I just wanted you to love me too. I loved you so much; I would've settled for half the love you had for Allison, but you couldn't even give me that. I never told you you couldn't love or mourn Allison. She was your wife, I get that... but I was your wife too, and knowing you would never love me like you did her was slowly killing me.”

"I thought about one night, which I don't know if you remember," you confess, the vulnerability in your voice palpable. "But one night on her birthday, you got extremely drunk, and you kept slurring your words. I couldn't understand half of what you were saying, but I heard loud and clear when you yelled at me that you didn’t choose to stop loving her; you were forced to. And you said that you would’ve never looked at me otherwise. That you wish she came back and I disappeared… That we s- switched places,” you confess, exposing the scars engraved into your heart, and the pain of that night that is still etched in your memory—a wound that refused to fully heal. You were surprised that you weren't sobbing, because the night he told you those words, you felt your world had ended.

Jack was appalled, his face reflecting the shock and guilt that surged through him as he listened to your words. The heaviness of the past, the pain inflicted, all rushed back to him as a floodgate of memories suddenly opened, each carrying the weight of its own hurt.

"I always felt I was the third person in our marriage. You made me feel things I hated, and maybe even worse, I became someone I didn't recognize. After that day in the park, I was going to ask you for a divorce because I didn't want to be the person you settled for… then I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to give us one last try, and well, you remember what happened after I told you the news,” you say, the bitterness of the past lingering in your words.

"You kept hurting me, and you're smart, Jack. Did you not think I would leave you?"

Jack exhales, the reminder of his own mistakes heavy on him. "I think I couldn’t let ya go, so a part of me hoped you would leave me if I treated you horribly. Every day I fought with myself to treat you like you deserve, but I wasn’t strong enough to open up to you."

The silence lingers, and Jack takes the opportunity to share a piece of his truth. "The night after I proposed, I had a dream about Allison. She told me I was replacing her, and I dunno, instead of working out through my issues, I took it out on ya.”

“Over a dream? You... you let our relationship go to waste because of a dream,” you say, a mix of disbelief and frustration in your voice. You want to be angry at him because such a trivial thing ruined the chance of happiness, but then you put yourself in his shoes. "Oh, Jack," you add, this time with a tone of understanding and sadness.

“Have you been to therapy?” you ask him, your tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah…” Jack admits with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Can I be honest?” you tilt your head, your fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.

He nods.

“I don’t think it helped.”

Jack smiles, a sheepish expression on his face, “If we’re being honest, I went in for two sessions and never saw my shrink again.”

“Well, your therapist probably knew what they were doing,” you playfully scold, but then your voice softens, "Please see a therapist so Ángel can get to know the best version of you. When I knew that Jack, he was amazing, and that's the man I want my son to know."

A sad smile greets Jack's face, "Yes, Sugar."

There's another thing you've always been curious to know but never had the stomach to ask, and this seems to be your window. "Can I ask, did you, um, did you ever sleep with someone else while we were married?"

"God no," the words tumble out of his mouth.

"Well, that's something, I guess," you say, a sense of relief evident in your voice.

"I'm really sorry about everything, sweetheart. I can't believe I ever hurt you. I just miss you so much. I’ve never regretted anything in my life as much as I do not telling you I loved you when we had a chance," Jack confesses, the weight of regret heavy in his words.

"It’s okay, Jack. I’m not your wife anymore, but we had some good times. Sometimes love doesn’t work out how we thought,” you tell Jack, your gaze turning when you hear footsteps that are familiar to you.

And Jack would forever kick himself for driving you away and not accepting your love. The only piece of solace is that Ángel will have a happy and full life, and you finally got the love you deserved and dreamed of.

Javi starts calling your name, and you answer him so he can walk over to where you are. Once Javi comes into view, he tells you that Ángel’s been discharged and that they're ready to go home.

Jack looks at you once more, his gaze lingering, as if trying to capture every detail to hold onto. He sees the love in your eyes for your husband, a love he once had the chance to cherish but let slip away. It hurts, but at the mention of his son, it gives him the slightest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he has learned from his mistakes, and he'll find a way to be a part of your lives, even if it's not in the way he once dreamed. The love of his life and his son are happy and healthy, and that will have to be enough for him.

"Bye, Jack. I'll let you know what time we're having the dinner," you say, while Javi wraps his arms around you—a protective gesture that Jack once held the privilege of doing, but did so sparingly.

"Take care," Javi tells Jack over his shoulder, his voice firm but not unkind. He then leads you to Ángel's room, leaving Jack standing alone in the corridor, grappling with the ache of what could have been.

You both start heading down the hallway, and Javi pauses halfway. His eyes search yours, concern written all over his features.

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," you lean into him and smile. "Jack and I were talking about when we were married," you begin, and Javi tenses involuntarily.

"Hey, no, you don’t have anything to worry about," you reassure him, cupping his face with both of your hands. "Our talk was more about what went wrong, and the bottom line was that I‘m okay with the fact that he wasn’t the one for me."

Javi takes a deep breath, visibly trying to control the surge of emotions within him. "It’s just- me cae mal ese - (I don’t like that-)” You can't help but chuckle lightly at your husband's choice of words.

"As stupid as it sounds, I wanted to make it work when we were married. I saw it in his eyes, I felt it in his words and actions; he didn’t love me, and I couldn’t stay in a marriage like that. I wanted a life with him... It didn't work out, and it's okay. Everything I dreamed of having, I found it with you. I'm the happiest I've ever been at your side. You’re the love of my life and I love being your wife, don't ever doubt that, okay?" Since the beginning of your relationship, you always repeated your love to Javier, not because he was insecure, but because you knew how it felt to be second place, second best, a consolation prize, and you never wanted Javier to think that you settled for him after Jack.

"Say it again," Javi requests, a genuine smile softening his features as he looks down at you.

"What?"

“That you’re my wife," Jack wants you to repeat the words that make his heart flutter.

“I’m your wife," you say.

Javi, still reveling in the warmth of the words, spins his finger in a playful circle, silently requesting you to say the words again.

“I’m your wife," you repeat, the pride evident in your tone. You take Javi's hand and begin walking to your son’s room.

"Again," Javi insists, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m your wife.”

“Otra vez," he requests, this time in Spanish.

You comply, “Soy tu esposa," you tell him and drag him further down the hall to your son's room.

When Javi playfully asks you to say it once more, this time it's you who stops. “Por dios, Javi, ¿en cuántos lenguajes quieres que te lo diga? (My God, Javi, how many languages do you want me to say it in?)” you feign annoyance.

He shrugs, answering with a mischievous grin, “En todos (in all of them).”

Amused, you grab him by the collar of his blue button-down shirt and bring him to a level where you can whisper into his ear, “Ay, Jav, apenas y hablas español (Oh, Jav, you barely speak Spanish).” You kiss his cheek and pull back, leaving him slightly offended but oddly proud. He had hoped for a different outcome when he saw you pull him down; the glint in your eyes made him believe you were going to kiss him on the lips. But, to his dismay, you chose to tease him instead.

"Take it back!" he demands as you stand right outside the door.

“Si lo dices en español (if you say it in Spanish),” you tease with a grin. Javier contemplates for a moment, and in the brief silence, Ángel's laughter and Dr. Navarro's voice echo from inside the room.

"Please?" Javi implores, wanting to savor one more of those heart-skipping phrases before joining his son. Unable to resist his pleading eyes any longer and mindful of the precious moments with Ángel, you relent.

“I’m your wife.”

END

Extended Note: The end! Thank you, everyone, for your kindness throughout the series. I truly appreciate every interaction 🥹.

As for my departure, I'm unsure whether I should deactivate my account or just private my writing. There's one post I received only positive comments on, especially from people with SPD who found it relatable. Apparently, there's a shortage of such stories, so I'm conflicted. Hopefully, I'll have a definitive decision next week.

I'm planning to post the Din story next Thursday; it's just one part, a sex pollen with Virgin!Din, titled 'Paleta.' I'm a fan of El Alfa, and I recently discovered that a song in his new album was sampled from the one I used for the Din story. It got me thinking about what I had written, and I wanted to share it with y’all before I bow out.

Thank you for reading 🫶🏽!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories

75 notes · View notes

theraggedygirl11 · 20 days

Text

Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud

Bojan's POV

Kris' POV: AO3 - Tumblr

SUMMARY: In a world where Heaven and Hell exist, angels and demons are constantly fighting and killing one another. What if a demon easily dominated by his emotions falls in love with a stoic and cold angel trained to kill demons?

PAIRING: Bojan Cvjetićanin/Kris Guštin

WARNINGS: swearing, blood, implied violence, hurt/comfort, implied suicide, emotional rollercoaster, enemies to lovers, hint of jance in the background

WORDS COUNT: 5.094

LINK: AO3

NOTES: Hello! Welcome to my first ever BoKris fic. It all started from this post by @arctixout and that damn tag (for reference: #stoic angel!kris and demon!bojan who's slave to his emotions and then they somehow fall in love wait who said that). And what could I do? It was too juicy to not write something out of it! So here we are.

Besides, as you can see from the title, I used Bluza (Youtube video and lyrics+translation) as my inspiration (and background music while writing), and this songs plays a role in the plot too 👀 yeah, I know we all think this is a BoJere song, but in this fic it's a BoKris fic, you'll understand why

Also, thanks to my beta @anxious-witch!

Last but not the least, I did this aestethic/moodboard trying to match @arctixout gifs

“You should talk to him.”

“Why? He's a demon. He's impure, a damned soul.”

“And you love him.”

“Angels can't love. He started corrupting me.”

“Angels can love and they must love. It's not corruption.”

“How can you tell it's not his corruption, Jan?!”

“Because I fell in love with a demon too. And I accepted it. Go to him, speak to him. He’s singing for you.”

When humans think about demons, the mental image they have is that of a terrifying creature, maybe with huge bat wings, a tail with an arrowhead at the end, claws, horns, red skin, maybe even hooves instead of feet.

Well, we do have a tail, and wings, and claws, but nothing alike of what you see in those pictures, and not every demon has them. We own a human form, just like everyone on this planet, that we use to roam among mortals. We have feelings, desires, hobbies, friends and families. Our only drawback is being born a demon from demon parents. We are guardians in Hell, we just watch over the damned souls who doomed themselves to suffering.

Heaven knows this, angels too, but they deliberately chose to not see this, to hate us, and they kill us with no hesitation when they find us on Earth. They think we are impure beings that don’t deserve to live.

And this is what led me, a demon, to meet the most beautiful creature ever seen on every plane of existence. I fell in love with an angel, I don’t even know his name, but I will discover it.

He almost killed me, I was terrified for my life, but he stopped when our eyes met, the sharp point of his dagger barely touched my throat. Something exploded in my chest, my heart was beating so fast. I've never felt something similar to what I felt at that moment.

And since that night I find myself staring at the sky so often, during both daytime and nighttime. Am I a hopeless romantic that waits for his angel to come and get him? Oh yeah, you can bet on it. And I'll wait for him to appear for eternity, if necessary.

* * *

“Bojan, come on!” Shouts Nace, one of my dearest demon friends. “We are late!”

I turn my eyes in his direction. I was staring at the sky, again. As always, no signs of my angel. He will appear, I’m sure of it, but this is not that day. I sigh, then reach Nace and Jure.

“Still looking for that feathered ass?” Jure asks.

“I…yes. I’d like to meet him again.”

“It’s better if you forget him, he will try to kill you again the next time he sees you,” says Jure while looking me in the eyes.

“He’s different. I’m sure of it. He didn’t kill me.”

“No, but he was about to,” replies Nace. “You know better than us that those winged assholes can’t be reasoned with.”

I lower my eyes, aware of the truth behind Nace’s words. We lost so many of our demon friends because of angels. But maybe…maybe he’s not like the other angels. I saw something in his eyes, something different, this sparkle.

With this thought in mind, I followed Nace and Jure to our destination: there’s a concert of a human band we all like, so we decided to go. We enjoy music so much, we also joke about forming a band together and tour together on Earth, among mortals, but that would put too much attention on us. It’s too dangerous. But at least we can enjoy concerts and gigs!

I’m dancing, taken away by the rhythm of the songs, when my gaze meets familiar eyes in the crowd, two amazing blue-green seas. I completely stop, and so does he. The music and every other sound disappears along with the people around me.

We stare at each other for moments that seem to last decades, blue into brown, light into darkness, Heaven into Hell, a perfect but forbidden combination, something that should never exist.

This magic spell breaks when I feel a hand on my shoulder and immediately after a tight grip. I turn and see Nace on my side, who is harshly staring at my angel. Jure appears on my other side.

I turn again towards my angel and I see two other people near him, one of them with dark and long messy hair and a beard, the other one with shorter hair but well combed and a trimmed beard. They are definitely angels. And they know we are demons.

The guy with messy hair steps in our direction, but my angel stops him, raising his hand and using it as a barrier. The dark-haired angel steps back and quickly glances at his friend. No one says a word.

“Bojči, let’s go,” Jure whispers into my ear, then grabs my arm and pulls me away.

I keep looking at my angel until I can no longer see him in the crowd.

In the next weeks Nace and Jure forbid me to go to the surface, but I sneak out. Every other demon could tell that my self-preservation instinct got fried because I want to talk to that angel, at all costs.

I keep looking at the sky, searching for him. Waiting for him to show up. And every single time nothing happens. But I’m stubborn, I won’t give up.

Tonight the sky is clear, stars are shining bright, and there's a small crescent moon. I'm lying on a patch of grass in the middle of nowhere, around me only trees and mountains.

Suddenly a shadow partially covers the sky above me.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

I startle and stand up immediately, recoiling scared. When I recognise the person in front of me, I wide my eyes and open my mouth in surprise.

“Angel,” I whisper.

It’s dark, but I can sense his piercing blue eyes on me. He’s tall, taller than Jure and Nace too. His cheekbones are prominent, I can for sure cut myself while stroking them. Maybe I’m a masochist, but I want to touch them and feel them under my hands and bleed for him. He’s standing straight, rigid like a soldier, or maybe a general, I can’t tell his celestial rank.

“I repeat, since you seem to not understand my words, what are you doing here all alone?”

Shivers run down my whole body, his voice is…ok, this might sound cheeky, but yes, his voice sounds angelic, a slow caress of a lover on my back down to my waist.

“I was looking for you.”

“For me?” He’s surprised.

“Yes, for you. I wanted to talk to you, angel.”

Now he’s confused. Well, not every day a demon comes looking for an angel. I go closer to him, moving slowly.

“I’m not armed,” I show him my hands. “You can check on me. This is not a trap.”

His eyes follow every single movement I do, even more carefully when I’m in front of him. I stare at his face, stunned by his beauty. I lift a hand to touch it, but I stop mid-air. No, I can’t touch him, my dirty hands can only ruin his perfection.

“Why do you want to talk to me, exactly?”

“I…I want to know you, angel.”

“I beg your pardon, you want to know…me?”

“Yes,” I nod. “You are amazingly beautiful, angel,” I let slip this comment, without realising.

I notice a weird red-ish colour on his face. Did I just make him blush? I chuckle, he replies with a shy smile. Oh, he’s so wonderful! That smile almost made me melt on the spot.

“Would you like to…I don’t know, come grab a coffee or anything else to drink?”

Who said that angels and demons can’t get along well? They must have never met an angel, then.

My angel, whose name is Kris, is a pleasant company. Well, he’s still a little bit rigid, but since that night when we had a couple of drinks together in a bar he became much more open and relaxed and he smiles so much now! Oh, I adore his smile. And his laugh too!

We started going out together here and there, but every time it happens, my heart almost explodes out of joy. I can’t wait to see him again and again and again. Jure and Nace are worried for me, but I feel safe around Kris. He’s not like the other angels.

Our “dates” are pretty diverse. Sometimes we just hang out in some park or in the middle of wild places; once we sat on a cliff for hours, we talked and we observed the environment, at least Kris, I was too busy looking at him with heart eyes. Some other time we choose a city and we explore it, we can just appear anywhere in the world, a perk of being supernatural creatures!

This night though is special. Tonight I will confess my feelings to Kris. By now we have been seeing each other for some months and I’m completely sure about my love for him. Yes, I, a demon, fell in love with an angel, I’m not afraid of saying it, I want to shout it from the top of a building.

I’m putting on some makeup. I’m in front of the mirror in the bathroom of a small apartment I rented for when I’m roaming around on Earth. Jure and Nace are with me in the room, they are still worried for me.

“Are you sure of what you are about to do?” Nace asks.

“Yes, never been so sure in my long demonic life,” I reply.

“But he’s an angel, Bojči,” Jure whispers. “He’s dangerous. What if he’s playing with you?”

“He’s not, Jurček. I see how he looks at me, he…I think he’s in love with me too,” I glance at him through the mirror.

“Angels are sly creatures, you can’t trust them,” Jure adds.

“They say the same stuff about us, you know?”

I smile at my reflection. That black eyeshadow with glitter is perfect for me, my eyes are shining. “I love him, I’m going to tell him this. Tonight will be a special night, nothing can change this.”

We hear the sound of wings in the living room. He’s here.

I almost run in the room, a huge smile appears on my lips when I see him. He’s wearing beige trousers, a shirt with light colours and floral designs and a silver jacket. He’s from Heaven, no one can be mistaken. And his clothes collide with mine: I’m wearing black trousers and a black t-shirt, when we’ll go out I planned to wear a bright red leather jacket. He’s the good boy, I’m the bully, the bad boy.

“You are stunning, ljubavi .”

“You…too, Bojan.”

I notice his eyes passing over me. I turn and I see Jure and Nace.

“Oh, yeah, these are my dearest friends. This is Jure,” and I point to the blonde demon. “And this is Nace,” I move my hand towards the tattooed demon. “They are safe, they won’t hurt you. I ask you to do the same.”

“...fine,” he grants. His eyes turn back to me. I notice hesitation in him.“You put on makeup.”

“Yes, just for you. Do you like it?”

“You…look good.”

I grab his hand. “I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes and follow me.”

I practically pull Kris to the bathroom, where I make him sit on the edge of the bathtub.

“What are you trying to do, little demon?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” I reply while I take the palette I bought the other day. I start putting makeup on his face, I chose a wonderful golden eyeshadow for him. I admire my work.

“You are otherworldly, ljubavi . Open your eyes.”

Kris opens his eyes and looks in the mirror. I observe his reaction: I can read astonishment in his face.

“Gold is your colour. It suits you perfectly.”

“I-It does,” he whispers.

I smile and kiss him on the cheek. “We can go, then. I have other surprises for you, my angel.”

Our first stop is at a wonderful restaurant where we had already eaten so many times because it’s Kris’ favourite. I let him order whatever he wants and then pay for the whole dinner. We talk about many topics, but Kris is weirdly more silent than usual.

“Is everything ok, ljubavi ?”

“Yeah, sure, don't worry. I…had a rough day in Heaven, that's all.”

I smile fondly at him, then gently grab his hand and slowly stroke its back.

“Now it's time for you to relax, then. Enjoy this night out.”

Our eyes lock. I see him relaxing a bit, the shadow of whatever happened retreating.

Once dinner is finished, we take a long walk into the city centre. It's almost summer, the temperatures are pleasant, so many other humans are around. We blend in, looking like a proper couple, even because we are holding hands.

When we arrive at our final destination of the night, I bring Kris to the top of a building, so we can be alone and closer to the sky, his home.

“Why did you bring me here?” Kris asks.

I shake one hand in the air, around us many candles appear and some slow music starts spreading, embracing us. I turn towards my angel and offer him my hand.

“Would you like to dance with me, Kris?”

He looks at me, confused, but then takes it. I lay my other hand on his waist and smile at him. We start dancing, slowly. My angel is a bit embarrassed, but he tries to follow my lead.

“Just let the music flow over you. Hear it inside of you and allow it to take control over your body,” I whisper to him with a tender voice.

A few seconds later Kris is more relaxed and we are dancing more fluidly, following the rhythm and the melody. I can’t stop smiling while I look at my angel. He’s so beautiful, so ethereal, so perfect. I can see stars reflecting into his eyes, an entire galaxy in which I could lose myself, bewitched by its beauty.

We keep dancing along with the music, but the more we dance, the more I see a shadow coming back in Kris’ eyes, until he leaves my hands and takes two steps back.

“We can’t go on doing this, Bojan.”

“Why not? I don’t understand.”

“Because we can’t! You are a demon, and I’m an angel. We are not supposed to…mingle.”

“We are not mingling, ljubavi . This is a romantic date between two creatures who have feelings for each other.”

I grab the angel's hands and look him in the eyes.

“Kris, I'm not the monster Heaven teaches you to despise. You saw me, you got to know me.”

“You are still a demon, Bojan, no matter how you behave or what you do.”

“And so? What does it change between us?”

“I'm a freaking angel! We are supposed to fight each other, not…doing this, dancing alone like two teenagers in love!”

“Only because we are not human teenagers? Because we come from two different places? Because others tell us that we should hate each other?” I clutch his hands between mine. “You know me,” I repeat. It’s the truth, we have been seeing each other for some months now. I bring one of his hands on my chest, right over my heart. “This heart is yours, ljubavi , and no one else’s.”

“Bojan, this is wrong .”

“Kris, I love you. What's wrong with that?” I feel my heart sink into my chest. “You…don't love me?”

“No, Bojan. I don’t love you. Let’s stop pretending.”

My heart stops beating in that exact moment and I feel my head spin. The ground under my feet is crumbling. I’m falling even if I’m right in front of Kris, my angel. I struggle breathing.

“I-I’m not pretending.”

“Don’t lie, Bojan. You are a demon, all demons do is lie. You know who and what I am, you saw weakness in me because I didn’t kill you that day. You are corrupting me because you want me to lose my wings!”

“I know you are an angel and nothing else! I-I don't want you to lose your wings!” There’s panic in my voice, and maybe it’s showing on my face too. “I’m not lying!”

“You want to bring me to the path of perdition! You want me to fall, just like Lucifer.”

I let Kris' hands go and recoil, stuttering. My heart is clenched, it can’t beat.

“I-I’m not, Kris. I-I don’t want to-”

“Stop lying!” He shouts and his eyes begin shining out of celestial power. “You are a filthy demon. You don’t change, you just want to destroy us.”

I recoil again, scared, I even fall on the ground. I stand up then turn and run away as fast as I can. Tears sting my eyes violently, they want to come out and a few seconds later they manage to do so. My makeup is for sure ruined and dripping down my face.

I feel like an idiot. I hoped that Kris would be different, but what was I thinking? He's an angel, those creatures are heartless killers when it comes to demons like me. Their hatred for us is blind, almost innate. I just got another proof.

Nace and Jure were right. Angels and demons are not meant to be together. Then why did I, a demon, fall in love with an angel? If we are supposed to be mortal enemies, then why was I destined to lose my reason for a celestial creature that would slaughter me just because I am what I am? Just why? Will I ever get an answer?

I’ve been locked in my room in a building in Hell for…who knows how much time. I don’t want to see anyone, neither Nace nor Jure. I keep crying, stopping the tears coming out of my eyes is difficult, or dare I say even impossible. My heart is shattered.

Why are demons born with such intense feelings? Why can’t we control them like angels do? Or are we cursed to be dominated by our emotions exactly because angels don’t have them?They teach us that the universe needs balance, so if angels can’t feel, someone else must feel double the time.

I wrap my body with my arms, trying to look smaller. My tail is out, wrapped around my leg. It’s a pathetic endeavour to not feel so alone and abandoned.

I wince when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes and see Nace sitting by my side. He’s visibly worried.

“Bojči, what happened?”

I sob. “Y-you were right about him. He-he’s a heartless angel, just like anyone else of them,” I stutter, my voice is trembling.

Nace lays on my bed, facing me, then pulls me over to hug me. I plant my face against his chest. I feel his hand running up and down my back.

“Not every angel is heartless.”

“He is, Nace!” I shout, utter despair in my voice. “He is! I showed him my love and he accused me of trying to corrupt him! I-I gave him my whole heart and he laughed at me, he stabbed it with his ice dagger and killed me-” I stop. I can still hear his words in my mind. “H-He called me a filthy demon, Nace. After all I did for him and showed him, I-I’m still a filthy demon to him.”

My friend says nothing, he just stays there and cuddles me, attempting to make me feel a little bit better.

And since that day I kind of started feeling better. Well, it’s more of a euphemism. Let’s say that I was barely surviving. I came back to my chores as a demon, but now I don’t smile anymore, or very little. I’m quiet. I prefer to stay alone than in the middle of a crowd. With me I have a small notebook in which I write my thoughts, ideas, feelings, and also lyrics. I can’t be a singer in the human world, but no one can stop me from writing what I feel, what I experience.

This is how I wrote a song about my angel and how I fell in love with him. It has a stupid name too. I can write good songs, but I’m not able to name them. I will find a better one, one day. Hopefully.

“What are you writing in that notebook?” Asks Jure while sitting next to me.

We are in the human world, more precisely in a park. We needed some fresh air and some sunlight.

“It’s nothing…” I answer.

Jure leans forward to read. “Is this about him?”

I nod. There’s no one else in my mind. I don’t like his presence, he’s haunting me, my mind is working against me.

“It’s really intense,” Jure whispers. “Do you really love him?”

I nod again. “I know I’m a stupid demon. I should move on, forget him, but I can’t. He doesn’t love me back, he said it,” I sigh. “I’m just hoping to forget him as soon as possible. Maybe writing this stuff will help me process this stupid feeling.”

“Love isn’t stupid!”

“My love is absolutely stupid. An angel, Jurček! I’m a freaking demon and I fell in love with an angel.”

“You are not the first one.”

“Yeah, and how many of them survived? Are they here to tell their love story? No, Jurček, because angels killed them. I’m lucky I’m still alive.”

Jure pushes me with his shoulder. “Don’t lose hope, Bojči. There’s always time to change.”

I look at him. I don’t believe his words. Months have passed since my last moment with my angel, his shiny eyes are still impressed in my mind. He was about to kill me that night.

No, he won’t change. Kris is an angel, full stop. He’s born to despise demons like me. I just need to accept that, but it will take time.

Is this despair that is guiding my actions? Possibly. Will I regret my decisions? Almost certainly. But if I can’t be with my angel, then I’d rather be dead, maybe slaughtered by him directly. That would be pretty ironic, wouldn’t it? A demon executed by the angel he’s fallen in love with. There’s poetry behind all of this. Maybe demons will use me as an example to the younglings to warn them to not fall in love with angels if they want to live.

I tried to forget him, move on, but every time I close my eyes, I see him. He's haunting me. And with him also the lyrics of the song I wrote for him.

I’m in the middle of an abandoned industrial area. I prepared an amplifier with a microphone and a computer. I recorded some music for my song and I will perform it for the first (and last) time here, hoping that my angel is listening to me and will come to…I don’t know, to do anything. I’m ready for whatever he will decide to do to me. Included death.

I test the volume and the music. Everything sounds good, so I play the music and I start singing, looking directly at the sky.

“ Stolicu primakni, ruku mi dotakni, noćas ti si moja muza, ja u ritmu tvoga bluza ću da plešem bez prestanka .”

Nothing. The sky is blue, there’s not a single cloud, not a single sign of feathered wings. I continue singing.

“ Soba nam je mala. Ja ko pijana budala, a ni čaše nisam popio. Ja mislim da sam se zaljubio u tebe. Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud. Za tebe, kao u pesmama i filmovima ljubavnim, staviću zvuk .”

Still nothing. But I won’t lose hope, I will keep singing for him. He will show up, eventually. I just need a sign, Kris, please, I’m begging you.

“ Samo se okreni, baci pogled prema meni. Preći će tišina sama kilometre među nama dok jednom srce otkuca .”

Now it’s again time for the refrain. Some tears started running down my face, but I continue singing, I must, even if he won’t appear. I need to take these feelings out of my heart or it will explode. Maybe it will be my heart to kill me and not my angel.

I see something in the sky, then the clear sound of wings hits me. I lower my eyes and I find Kris right in front of me. I see his three pairs of wings. A seraph, I should have guessed. Of course, I fell in love with one of the most powerful angels in the sky. When I do something, it’s always something big or I’m not happy with the result.

I kneel in front of him. Now I’ll sing the last part of my song.

“ Ne palite još svetla, još samo jedan tren da se nagledam lepote te. Ne palite još svetla. Ne prizivajte dan. Spasite me, smislite neki plan. Ako svane sunce, ostaću sam .”

The music stops. I’m looking at my angel, finally here for me. I’m breathing deeply, my heart is racing in my chest. My hand that’s holding the microphone is shaking. I’m afraid of what might happen, but at the same time I’m relieved.

“You came,” I whisper.

“You called.”

Silence falls again between us. Kris slowly approaches, his facial expression is cold, hiding every emotion. I have pure angelic power in front of me, a deadly machine trained to kill my kind, and I’m looking at him in adoration.

“You know I should kill you right now because you are on Earth and not in Hell, right?”

“Then do it. I won’t fight, I won’t run away. If I can’t be with you, I’d rather be dead.”

Kris averts his eyes and presses his lips together, then talks.

“You are an idiot, Bojan.”

“Yeah, I know, ljubavi . Love made me lose my mind in a way I didn’t think possible.”

“You said that in the song.”

I chuckle. “Maybe it’s just one of the many flaws that make us demons so imperfect in front of you angels. I was so unlucky to fall in love with you, but I don’t consider myself unlucky. I had the best moments of my life with you, I don’t want to change this for anything else in this world, not even a place in Heaven, if this means that I will lose my ability to love so strongly.”

I let the microphone fall on the ground and grab Kris’ sword, he has it in his hand, then I lay his sharp point right on my heart.

“You are here for this, no? Killing another impure soul that doesn’t follow the rules.”

Kris looks at me, finally. I smile, those eyes are so cold and so beautiful at the same time.

“Don’t make me do this, Bojan.”

“It’s ok, ljubavi . It’s ok. It’s…it’s your nature, you have been trained to do this your whole life.”

My voice trembles with emotions. Tears keep running down my face. No, I realise I’m not ready to die. I want to live, to be with him, but I know I can’t. It’s not allowed.

I feel the point of his sword pressed against my chest. In a few seconds it will reach my heart, and it will stop beating. I close my eyes.

But nothing happens. I’m still here, alive, breathing. I hear a metal sound against the ground, then two hands cup my face and I feel warm and soft lips pressed on mine.I open wide my eyes. Kris is kneeling on the ground in front of me and he’s kissing me.

I close my eyes again. I kiss him back, desperate to feel him, to make him feel my love through that act. I gently grab his wrists.

When we interrupt the kiss, I touch Kris’ forehead with mine. I keep my eyes closed, trying to process what just happened.

“Please, let it be real,” I whisper, without even realising it. “Please, please, let it be real.”

Kris chuckles. “It’s real, Bojan.”

I open my eyes and part a bit from him, just to look him in the eyes. “Real-real kind of way or…real-I’m-in-some-sort-of-Heaven-for-demons-because-I’m-dead kind of way?” I ask.

My angel gently strokes my cheeks, then leans forward to kiss me again.

“This kind of way, my little demon,” he whispers against my lips. I shiver thanks to that lovely nickname. I hate being called little because it reminds me of my lack of height, but I’d let Kris call me whatever he wants, just to hear his voice again and again.

“I’m your little demon, then?”

Kris nods while looking me in the eyes. He caresses my lower lip with his thumb. His touch is so gentle, shivers run down my spine again.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Your song. I had feelings for you, they developed pretty early, but I…wasn’t acknowledging their existence because I never had the chance to fall in love with someone.”

I jump on Kris to hug him, sending us both falling to the ground, so I end up on top of him. I burst out laughing.

“Well, now you have someone right here.”

My tail appears behind me and shakes in the air, showing my happiness. I kiss him on the cheek, then giggle when I see him blushing. A couple of tears run down my face, but this time they are out of pure and simple joy.

* * *

I've been a demon my whole life. I grew up fearing angels, but nothing could have prepared me for what fate had planned for me. I fell in love with Kris, an angel, a seraph. Our relationship began with the worst scenario possible, with him trying to kill me. And yeah, I might be dumb, because I fell in love with him in that moment, but now we are happy together. And I wouldn’t change a thing about us.

Heaven and Hell finally united thanks to the love between an angel and a demon.

#bojan's pov #bokris #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #annies writes #my writing #joker out #joker out fanfic #baš ja koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud #love's the death of peace of mind

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