#as for the prompt i really love how peaceful and soft it feels

[chaithetics]

Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f (afab) plus size reader Prompt: Smutty fic w/afab bi plus size reader & Matt Murdock. The smuttier the better! Word count: 4.2K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smutty-smut-smut! I think this is the smuttiest thing I've ever written. Language warning, I think! No physical description other than reader being plus size. One reference to reader being bi. Established relationship. Not proof or beta read. I A/N: I'm so excited to share the 2nd Fics for Palestine fic (you can learn more at that link)!!! A massive thank you to @thatesqcrush for donating to PAL Humanity! I really appreciate it, and hope you enjoy it! I hope everyone else enjoys this Matt fic! I did write half of this loopy on pain meds and fuelled by sleep deprivation so be kind lol! I've had a pretty cursed week. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚 Gif by @cellophaine

The city that never sleeps at night, is still humming with life. That’s all out of focus as you’re sprawled out in bed, enjoying the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows of Hell’s Kitchen, it’s lulled you in and out of sleep throughout the evening. That and the body of the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Matt and you had spent the afternoon inside, making love, cuddling up on the sofa watching some television and listening to the audio description voiceovers. After an early dinner of takeaways that had been delivered to the apartment’s doorstep and possibly another orgasm or two, Matt had then left for a patrol. 

The rest of your evening had passed pretty quickly with mindless activities and chores and now you were in bed. Dozing in and out of sleep, you’re well aware that your sleep wouldn’t be unbroken until you had the warmth pressed against you that only Matt’s body could provide. There was something about how it felt to have his strong arms around you to be his little spoon and how he’d press kisses against your neck and shoulders as he’d start to enter and then later on leave sleep. 

It wasn’t long after your next yawn and long blink that you heard the telltale signs of Matt’s body quietly but still audibly entering the apartment. It was impressive, he was a fox of a man but he also moved in such a fox-like manner, it was sneaky, elegant, and careful, you’re sure that to those against him, it felt sly and quick too. 

You blink a few more times before you see his figure come into the bedroom, he’s walking fine, which kind of surprises you, his senses are spectacular but he was never gifted with super healing or anything, he had to suffer and bear the pain just like everyone else. You immediately smile as you see him come in. He quickly strips off of his vigilante gear and shoves it away and then walks to the bed. 

He crawls on the bed until he’s close to you, he plants a kiss on your plump upper arm and then starts to trace his fingers along it, trying to feel any freckles or moles that he maybe has missed a previous night and is yet to commit to his memory. It’s something that might’ve made you feel a tad insecure years ago, once upon a time but now, you just take it for the peaceful moment of love that it is. “How was it? You don’t look like a wounded warrior tonight.” You tilt your head slightly to look at him, you can’t help the feeling of contentment as you move a hand of yours to run through the soft and now sweaty hair on his head. 

“Quiet. Barely petty even.” He says as he moves so he’s leaning more on top of you, resting his chin on your chest. You hum in response, it’s a bit surprising but you’re not complaining, he’s home earlier which is perfect. It might be hard to believe but sometimes there are even quiet nights in New York, somehow. “You didn’t have any gentlemen or lovely ladies come over to take my place and keep the bed warm while I was gone, did you?” He asks playfully as his fingers feel the soft material of your nightgown as his hand runs along your full hips. 

“No, not tonight.” You reply with a small chuckle as you look at his handsome face, taking in how each feature of his looks in the dim light. 

“That’s good because I missed you.” He says in that voice that immediately makes your cheeks heat up and you can’t help but feel every filthy thought you’ve ever had about him floating around in your head at this moment. 

“Is that so?” You ask in a whisper, you try to keep your voice even but it cracks with a bit of need and you know he hears it. He would’ve sensed it by now. “Of course.” Matt lets out a small breathless chuckle his expression morphing into a wider grin as he runs his hand down to your thick thighs, caressing gently with the midnight whispers of what’s to come. You watch his handsome face, taking in the expression, how there’s a playfulness in the quirk of his lips but there is also concentration etched into his brows and highlighted by the dim, evening light. Your eyes drop to watch his hand as you feel his rough, calloused hands gently push the hem of your nightgown up to more of your stomach. You don’t even realise you’re holding your breath until his fingers feel your now bare upper thighs and he squeezes them, you let out a short breath and quickly inhale again. Matt was absolutely in love with you and your body, he worshipped you, exactly as he should. You were a bit surprised that after the day you’d both had and then him coming back from a patrol he was already ready to go but as your cheeks heated up, he could be completely insatiable at times but you didn’t have a single complaint. “May I, darling?” He asks. “Yes, now…” You whisper with a smile to match his growing one. “Good, I need you…” He lets out a small groan as he moves so he’s now hovering over you as he spreads out your thighs and gets between them. He runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your plush thighs. Matt brings his head down and leaves a trail of warm kisses inching up your thighs, you inhale and let out a little moan as you feel his hot breath on you and his soft, warm lips. You move your hand to touch the top of his head and run your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as his kisses trail up higher and higher, getting closer to your core. He moves a hand up to lightly squeeze the beautiful love handles you have, he’s been enchanted by you from the very first beat of your heart that he could hear. He’s obsessed and his senses could just drown in you, he will happily shut out the rest of the world and all the responsibilities, codes of ethics and Catholic guilt that haunt him just to be fully focused on and overwhelmed by you. His hand that isn’t squeezing you moves up to get closer to your sweet hole. “You’re so perfect… So beautiful…” He says in a husky voice between the thigh kisses he’s showering you with. Matt’s fingers tease around your folds, more on the furthest parts of your vulva he can feel your arousal, he can smell it. He’s barely touched you but you’re already so needy and ready for him, he grins like the devil he is and his fingers edge closer to your core, he expertly teases his fingers through your slick folds. When he feels your juices and just how turned on you are, a deep groan leaves his mouth and you see his hips instinctively press into the mattress for a moment. You let out a gasp, it never takes him long to get you slick like this, just a few words and that infamous cocky grin that’s a frequent fixture on his face in the bedroom. You run your hands through his hair a bit more urgently now while he keeps teasing you with his digits, his fingers becoming coated in your juices. “Already soaking wet…” Matt teases in the sexiest tone you’ve ever heard, you let out a barely audible and desperate whimper, just needing more. You need more of him, as you watch Matt lift his hand away for a moment to bring it closer to his face. You watch him with heavy-lidded eyes as he licks it up, at first it’s slow and then he sucks the taste of you off his fingers more quickly and he moans. 

“You always taste so good, sweetest thing in the world…” He says as he then moves his hand back down and fingers now circle your sweet hole, teasing you and you let out a whine as you just want to swallow him up now. “You taste so good, and you’re just so wet, baby… That pussy is just begging to be licked…” He groans, a neediness in his voice that’s just as equal to the need burning inside of you. “Please, Matt…” You whine out, your nails scratching his scalp a little bit more roughly. You need him, every muscle in your body is craving to feel his sensual touch, each inch of your skin needs to feel his body and you just need to be filled by him. 

He quickly pushes his index finger in and you moan out. He closes his eyes as he slides it in and out, enjoying how your velvety walls swallow him, focusing on the other-worldly feeling of your body and the sweet musical moans each thrust of his fingers pulls out of you. You’re his soft and sexy instrument, singing out the most melodic tune. You moan out and tug his short hair as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out, he lets out a groan as he feels more and more of your juices. He slips another finger in, you’re that wet it slides in so easily and he groans at the feeling of how you just swallow that finger up and you moan yourself at the the fuller feeling it gives your hole. He can’t help it, he was right in his earlier statement, your body is just begging him to dive right in for a taste, he can’t resist it anymore, so he continues to pump his fingers in and out, pressing them in deeper and moving them at a faster pace as he brings his face closer to your core. Matt trails his tongue along the edge of your core, lightly running it along your folds as he moves his thumb to circle your sensitive little bud that is just begging for his attention. 

His tongue glides amongst your folds and he moans against you as his fingers keep pumping and his thumb circles more lazily against your bundle of nerves. He moans against you and the simple vibrations of that make your body shake slightly and you moan out as your breathing becomes more shallow from the pleasure. “You make me feel so good Matt.” You whine out as you buck your hips up to meet his mouth and fingers more. That simple movement drives him more wild and he pumps his fingers more intensely making you moan. He starts to move his tongue more through you and eagerly laps up between your folds, his tongue brushing against your clit. He’s savouring the sweetness of your pussy like he’s a man that’s been absolutely starved, that he hasn’t eaten in forever and he’s never had a meal as decadent as this, that he’s never even dreamed of something so delicious and perfect even though his face had been buried between your thighs only hours ago, not weeks, months or years like you might imagine with how eager he was. 

Matt licks your clit, circling it with the biggest need to pleasure you, he needs to devour this divine feast in front of him. He groans as he thinks about how he’d happily spend the rest of his life in this exact position, pleasuring you exactly like this. He needs to make you come, he’s feeling himself becoming harder and harder the more he thinks about making you come and feeling it on his tongue, his face, and being able to taste it. The feeling of Matt’s fingers curling inside you more makes you groan and your eyes widen as he sucks on your bundle of nerves and then hums, his mouth constantly going between lapping you up, licking and sucking on your clit. You’re getting closer and closer, you pull on his hair more and whine out loudly, you can feel the start of that incredible high kicking in. “I’m so close- I’m gonna-I’m gonna come Matty…” You frantically cry out as your eyes squeeze shut and your back arches as you tug on his hair, making you groan, he keeps licking and circling your clit and thrusting his thick fingers into you as you become undone and cry out as you release directly onto his fingers and tongue. You shake slightly as you come down from that high, your body overcome by pleasure and your sensitive spots becoming even more sensitive from release. Matt’s fingers move at a more gentle pace that pulls out another soft moan from you as you take some deep breaths. Matt licks you up, taking in each drop of your juices that he can just so he can treasure them on his tongue, let the flavour become a permanent memory for his mouth. One might think he’s licking you clean and while it’s a bit overstimulating his tongue is gentle, he isn’t done with you yet. He needs more of his sweet treat first before he can even think of moving on to having another part of him buried deep inside of you. He needs to make you come again first. You moan, and keep your eyes closed as all you can do is try to focus on your breathing, something you’re only able to do for four seconds, at the most. And you’re immediately back to only being able to focus on the feeling of his tongue working you through it. How it just makes you more aroused and wetter, you can’t help but think about how wet is mouth and chin must be, how they’ll glisten with your juices when he does pull away. “Matt…” You whisper and moan as you tug his hair lightly. “Come on baby.” He whispers against you before slowly licking through your folds again, the hand that isn’t slowly fingering you, moves up to your round stomach to caress it lovingly, almost reassuringly. “Just give me one more, please?” He asks as your cheeks heat up at that and you let out a little chuckle between moans. “It’s not going to take long for that.” You groan out as you feel his tongue apply more pressure to your hypersensitive bud. 

“I know.” He whispers cockily against your clit which makes you shiver. Of course, he knew. What didn’t he know, he was a sexy human lie detector, one conveniently buried between your legs right now. 

You’re feeling a bit overstimulated at the strokes of his tongue, but it also feels incredible as he keeps swirling his tongue, circling and sucking on your clit. He sucks a bit harder like his life depends on it as he applies more pressure with his mouth and also presses his fingers a bit deeper into your hole. You’re soaking him but he can’t help but moan against your core at the feeling of your needy, overstimulated bud and how your slick walls keep swallowing his digits up with each movement he makes. 

Matt sucks a bit more hungrily as he can tell from your heartbeat and breathing that he’s brought you right back to the cliff again and you’re not even moments away from being pushed over into another release. God, he loves working you up like this and you love it too. One hand is tugging on his hair, becoming rougher with each calculated lick of his and your other is up to the other side of the pillow, tightly holding it, digging your nails in as you moan and feel that feeling of an orgasm building up again in your core. Your hips buck more into his face as you moan and your back arches as you whine out, your eyes roll back as the warm waves of that sweet release overcome you. Any and all tension in your body leaves as his tongue laps you up through your release. He was so obsessed with the taste of you, it was so much better than any cheap beer that Josie’s could serve on a hot night, sweeter than any honey that’s melted on his tongue. 

His hand gently caresses your hip, tracing along an imaginary map as he licks you through the high and cleans you up with his mouth. He groans and comes up, leaving his second home for a moment. 

“You taste and feel so good, I need to feel you more, I need to be buried in you.” Matt pants out as he moves up so that his hips are closer to yours and his face is hovering just inches against you. His voice is needy and low, if you were standing up and not already lying down on the bed you would’ve melted into a puddle. “Mm… Let me feel you deep inside, fill me up, Matty.” You whine out quietly as you run a hand lazily through his hair and place the other on the back of his shoulder. “My fingers weren’t enough were they?” He asks as he moves each of your legs to wrap around the back of his waist. “No..” You whine out as you look at him with heavy lids, running your fingers through his soft hair. “Mm, say my fingers weren’t enough.” He whispers and your cheeks heat up. “Your fingers weren’t enough Matty, didn’t make me feel full enough baby.” You moan out as you feel him press in. He groans at the feeling, he slides in slowly but easily with your two recent orgasms and just how soaked you are. He takes a shaky breath as his eyes close and he feels your body adjust to his entry and how your walls swallow, tighten and clench around his member. 

“Mmm…” You moan out as your head falls back further into the pillow, Matt groans and starts to slowly move his hips against you which draws out a chorus of groans and moans from both of you. He caresses your plump thighs while moving and goes on a journey of kisses starting with your full cheeks to your soft jaw and along your sensitive neck, he groans and smirks at the way you moan when he gives those spots attention. His kisses are soft and sensual as he caresses and wraps his arms around you while he rocks in and out. “So perfect for me every time, you know that right? So perfect, and you swallow me up, and your body… I don’t need anything else.” He says and you feel his breath and each word tickle against your collarbone as he thrusts in and out. Your cheeks heat up and you groan as he thrusts in deeper and you feel yourself clenching around him, swallowing him up more with each perfect movement he makes. You love him, you love how he feels, how he makes you feel, you love who he is as a person and you love his body. Matt’s body presses closer against yours, flushing your bodies together, chest to chest, his forehead leaning against yours as he rocks in, his arms wrapping around, pressing your head closer ever so lovingly. He always loves this cuddling position, that makes your bodies feel even more like one. He moves deeper into you, enjoying this as he presses a soft kiss against your lips but he can’t help it. Your body is too goddamn perfect. Every bit of self-restraint leaves his body at the way that your perfect pussy keeps clenching around his thick member, he wanted to make this last, to fully bask in it, but when you clench around him like that, tug on his hair and moan like that he can’t help it. Who could? He groans hungrily and starts to move his hips quicker, the pace becoming deeper and more intense with each movement and he groans at the feelings. God, you feel incredible. He’s never felt so good with someone like he does with you, he knows it sounds silly but he’s convinced that your bodies were sculpted to perfectly fit together. There’s no other explanation. He groans and his eyes close as he pants thinking about it, he can hear your heart rate increasing at the change of pace. You’re so perfect. You whine out at the new depth and pace, tugging on his hair as you bite your lip. Your fingers dance across his back as you scratch it with each deep thrust of his that pulls a moan out of you. He has you feeling completely full and you can’t help but gasp out at the loss with each time his hips come back. 

“You always feel perfect, you squeeze me just right…oh…” He groans and bites his lip, his arms wrapped around you move slightly so that he can cradle your head more and caress your forehead as he pounds into you. His groans are deep and just show you how much pleasure he’s in. You whine out and claw his back more, you’re sure that in the morning when you shower with him, there will be faint red lines on his back from your hands. The thought about that turns you on more as you keep scratching and moaning. You were flooding him as he kept moving deeper and deeper, each snap of his hips pulled more moans from you and he was groaning and when you clenched around him he’d sometimes let out a little hiss. 

It felt so good, too good, it shouldn’t be possible for two bodies to be able to bring each other this much pleasure. Yet there you both were in the bed you shared doing it anyway. Matt’s body kept moving at a quick pace, he was fumbling any form of control he had over making this last, his hips were quick but now he was thrusting into you more deeply and frantically as your room became filled with the noises of your bodies meeting and all your moans. 

Matt needed to chase his high now, he was too close and he knew it was going to happen in mere seconds, not minutes. He keeps driving his hips into you as he cuddles against you, you’re tugging on his hair and moaning against his neck, sucking on it when you’re not too overwhelmed to cry out. You keep tugging against his hair and moaning, you can’t read his body as well as he can read yours for obvious reasons but you know he’s getting closer, his breathing is shallow and his hips are moving intensely and starting to sputter. Matt groans loudly and kisses you hotly, pushing his tongue in and dancing with yours as he groans and swallows up your respective moans as his hips keep frantically moving to thrust in and out of your sweet, sweet hole until he gives his last groan against your mouth and releases, deep inside of you. He’s so loud and his eyes snap shot as he’s overcome with the feeling of that release. The warmth of his come floods you and he keeps his lips pressed against you softly as his body stills and after a moment, he pulls his lips away. Matt caresses your forehead as he pants, pressing a gentle kiss there. “So perfect.” He whispers before pressing another. You pant out and kiss his jaw. Nobody made love like Matt did, nobody could ever fill you the way he did and take you to absolute pleasure like that. He was perfect and you press kisses against his jaw in between your pants as your heart still races. He’s still inside of you. Jesus Christ, he’s still inside of you. You groan at that thought and then Matt presses a long and gentle kiss to your lips, his lips are so warm and soft. You smile as you look up at him, there’s some sweat on his brow and in his soft hair and your cheeks heat up as you can see some of your juices still glistening on his mouth and chin. 

He’s smiling widely as well, it’s not a devilish grin but rather a happy, content smile. He loves you, words aren’t needed. He pulls out after a moment and then lays back and pulls you carefully into his arms to rest your head against his chin and he closes his eyes. “You’re sweeter than honey.” He whispers as his hand gently caresses your cheek. 

“I guess that’s lucky for me.” You breathlessly whisper while trying to catch your breath. 

“No darling, I’m the lucky one.” He says as he pants and presses a warm kiss to the side of your head. You smile and that and you both let out a small chuckle as you cuddle more into his warm body. You might’ve not had a taste of him tonight like he did of you but he’s equally sweet as honey you think.

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 286

Adjective: Calm

Noun: Waves

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Calm: not showing or feeling nervousness, anger, or other strong emotions; (of a place) peaceful, especially in contrast to recent violent activity; (of the weather) pleasantly free from wind; (of the sea) not disturbed by large waves

Waves: a long body of water curling into an arched form and breaking on the shore; a ridge of water between two depressions in open water; a shape seen as comparable to a breaking wave; an effect resembling a moving wave produced by successive sections of the crowd in a stadium standing up, raising their arms, lowering them, and sitting down again; (literary) the sea; a sudden occurrence of or increase in a specified phenomenon, feeling, or emotion; a gesture or signal made by moving one's hand to and fro; a slightly curling lock of hair; a tendency to curl in a person's hair; (physics) a periodic disturbance of the particles of a substance which may be propagated without net movement of the particles, such as in the passage of undulating motion, heat, or sound; a single curve in the course of a wave; a variation of an electromagnetic field in the propagation of light or other radiation through a medium or vacuum

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[sacharinee]

pairing: bf!peter x reader

synopsis: peter likes having you close to him. all the time

wc: 630 ish

a/n: surprise! another one oops. im rlly bored can u tell? cuddling prompt with peter. reader is a cheeky and annoying lil shit. one office reference. i saw a tiktok about this a long time ago and thought this would be a cute idea to write about. also does anyone know how cuddling works tho?? if ur laying on ur side, do u just lay on top of the arm ur crushing on? under a pillow? idk lol. anyways i hope u like :D

there's an ache settling in your right side that wakes you up from your sweet slumber. your head lays atop peter’s soft chest, his steady heartbeat against your ears. it was what lulled you to sleep in the first place. but with peter’s body practically being your own personal heater, the warm air filling the room, and the prominent soreness resting on your side, you began to feel uncomfortable.

“pete,” you whisper.

peter is entirely unfazed. his hold on you is strong. his face is towards you, mouth slightly ajar, letting out the softest of snores and drool out the corner of his mouth. although you love your cuddles with peter, you think he could actually suffocate you in your sleep. the boy loved to sleep, especially on top of you.

your limbs are tangled together. your left leg slung around his waist, arms around his torso, while his buff arms embrace your shoulders protectively.

ever so slightly, you begin to move your leg, retreating it back to your side as you push against his body and establish a more comfortable position. you snuggle further into peter as sleep wins you over once again.

it only lasts for a second when you wake from your boyfriend’s murmurs, he seems to talk in his sleep when he whispers your name. he huffs loudly and smacks his lips a couple of times with his brows furrowed. you feel his warm hand reach for the back of your knee to bring it over his crotch.

a confused look paints your face as you gaze up toward him. he’s asleep as dead. did he really just do that? you almost laugh out loud. his quirky behavior never fails to amuse you and has your stomach going in flips. he just wants you close to him. :(

but you think you’re funny, so you test out that theory one more time, this time blatantly stripping your leg away from him.

this gets a reaction out of peter. he seems to wake when he gusts an impatient breath, “no” and grabs your knee again, forcefully holding it against him.

in disbelief, you’re unable to contain your burst of laughter as you hold yourself up with one arm and stare at him wide-eyed, “what is wrong with you?”

“ph’shhh” peter knits his brows together, his eyes shut tight with a cute pout, as he blindly brings a hand to your face and gently shoves your head back against your pillow.

“peter-” “shut up.” he feels you lick the palm of his hand, “yuck,” but he doesn’t care to move it away from you. it’s only when you swat his hand away and settle back down against him to give him peace of mind. only for a moment, though. you have fun annoying peter, almost like a hobby. he’s halfway asleep when he feels you aggressively snatch your leg away from his hold.

“y/n!” peter groans, “stop it.” this time, your boyfriend pushes you on top of him, your entire body weight lays over his while he keeps a tight grasp on you, making sure to keep your leg over his waist and your head upon his chest.

his irritation riles you up, and you’re giggling through it all.

peter’s not having it though, not at all. he heaves another deep breath through his mouth, with the same grumpy look on his face, “why are you the way you are?”

you gasp, “me?!” “yes, you.”

not done yet, you flick his forehead, “you know, you’re so annoying sometimes, pete.”

he scoffs, “oh yea?”

“yea. a total pain in the-”

peter shoves his hand against your face and into his chest one last time, “ass.”

you decided you’ve had your fun but you’re too delighted to go back to sleep. too delighted to know that the boy you love and cherish always wants to be impossibly close to you all the time, conscious or not.

[pierregazly]

i've got you ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x best friend!reader

warnings: angsty, arthur leclerc is the villain, oscar is in love w/ the reader but wont ever admit it, no hea [963 words]

request: 💗 can i request oscar with prompt 6? please and thank you!! 😽[6. "I've got you."]

A violent sob ripped itself from your body, your hand clutching the phone in front of you, the incriminating photo in plain view as you tried to process what was so prevalent on the screen.

It had been so obvious that things were falling apart in your relationship, they had been for months. Date nights were cancelled, anniversaries forgotten, but you never thought he would lower himself to this. Never thought you’d be getting that ‘I think this is your boyfriend?’ text. 

But here you were, trying to contain the feelings flowing through you, the anger, the sadness, the heartbreak.

He had told you it was a small trip with his brothers, it was offseason for everyone, the only time they really had to relax. The lie was staring right at you, Arthur’s hands gripping the ass of an unnamed brunette, his lips connected with hers. There was no denying that it was him, the video that followed showing the two of them pulling away from each other, an intoxicated smirk on the lips of your long-term boyfriend.

You didn’t know how to react. Didn’t know if it was worth sending the proof to him, whether you should call him and ask him outright or act like it was all fake. The emotions were running through you so aggressively, you hadn’t even had the chance to properly think through everything.

How could he do this? Why did he think this was okay? How can he tell you he loves you, and then do this? Were you not good enough for him?

The variety of thoughts continued to cipher through your mind. Your body was begging your brain to stop, begging it to give you a moment to get a grip on reality, begging it to allow you a moment to think clearly.

You barely heard the repetitive knock on the door, the noises mixing in with the unrelenting thumping noises clouding your ears.

Oscar had a key to the apartment, always had. He always claimed it was a ‘safety measure’ and he needed to have one in case anything happened, or in case he ever had to get you into your apartment after a night out.

Most of the time it was used because you weren’t answering a message quick enough, and he wanted to spend time with you. 

He had been messaging you since this morning, offering to bring you pastries from your favourite bakery, asking if you wanted to get lunch, had asked more than once if everything was alright. It wasn’t until he saw the pictures, his brain taking a moment to catch up with his eyes when he realized why you weren’t answering him.

You had been friends for years, longer than any of your other friendships, had known him almost double the amount of time you knew Arthur. He had tried more than once to explain how disastrous dating the Monegasque could end up, but his attempts were futile. You were too stubborn to listen to him, too enamoured to believe that Arthur could be anything except lovely.

There was barely a thought in his mind before he was making his way to your apartment, aggressively knocking on the door; practically begging to be let in. He knew you were in there, could hear the soft sounds of you crying through the door, his heart breaking with every vicious sob he heard through the wood.

It didn’t take him long to find his key, pushing open the door with a bated breath, unsure as to the scene he was about to walk into.

You didn’t even acknowledge his presence, your body having begun the process of curling in on itself, trying to savour any sense of peace it could gather. Oscar felt his stomach drop when he finally made eye contact with you, the puffiness of them so obvious, the tears still clouding your vision.

“Oh, love. C’mere, I’ve got you.”

A small whimper left your lips as he sat down on the couch next to you, gently tugging your body into his. Your hand clutched onto his shirt, the tears still falling from your eyes instantly soaking the material when you pressed your head to his shoulder. 

“Why’d he do this to me, Osc? Was I not good enough for him? What did I do to deserve this?”

Every other word punctuated with a cry or a sniffle prompted a small grimace onto his features. The pit in his stomach grew worse and worse with every word that fell from your mouth, his own heart breaking again as he tried to console you.

“You’re more than good enough for him, I’ve been saying for years you’re too good for him. You didn’t deserve this, at all. He’s a piece of shit,” he said.

His hands continued to rub up and down your exposed arms, your tears subsiding as you melted into his comfort. The grogginess was still prevalent in your head, your eyes puffy, your brain still trying to get a grasp of what was going on; but all you could focus on was the calluses on Oscar’s fingers catching on your skin, the heave of his chest as he cuddled you closer.

He was always the first person there for you, even without having to pick up the phone and ask him to be. For him, you always came first, above racing, above his friends; he would drop everything he was doing and run to you if you asked. He would never admit that, though, ever.

“I wish it was you all those years ago, Osc. You would’ve never done this to me,” you said.

Oscar felt his own heart splitting in two. You were right, he wished it was him all those years ago, too. 

i did NOT know where to go with this one!!!! so angsty and sadness it is!!!!! sorry!!!!

[freyito]

"ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ" ⨟ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴡ/ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ

i know i was like just hornyposting and all buuuut i've had such a rough couple of days and everythings really building up. figure i'd sit down and write out my favorite "prompt". hurt/comfort... without the hurt, i guess. too hurt to write the hurt :P. essentially what the boys would do when your feeling down and ask to stay with em, of course. is this what im calling the boys now? yes. its MY fic and MY comfort, i get to choose the silly little name for my boyfriends.

cw: gn reader, angsty undertone, comfort, just fluff, bonus characters!, not proofread

⎯ Liu Kang

You do not even need to speak. Liu Kang can see it. You are hurt, near breaking. You trail behind him all day, head down. You actively seek his touch, small things, reaching for his hand, brushing your fingers against his bicep. You are afraid to say it, and yet, he knows.

That night, before he leaves your room to attend to his duties as Earthrealm's protector, you finally speak up. Those three simple words, so quiet, so soft. He does not hesitate to turn around. He is logical, he likes to think, but you pull him in. Within moments, he is in bed with you, his arms wrapped around you firmly. He presses his forehead against your cheek, and whispers,

"I will not leave you, my dear, I am here. Forevermore."

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han knows you almost better than the back of his hand. However, he prefers to let you wallow in peace. He is afraid of pushing past your boundaries, and as such, he is far more distant. Yet, he worries. He worries with his whole heart. However, he cannot let it show. So he is as cold as ever, in front of the Lin Kuei. Strong, vigilant, unyielding.

Tonight, he does not let you go. He misses you so, and you have no need to tell him what you need. It is tender. He pulls you on top of him, holding you close by the waist. And yet, you still speak. And he listens. His gaze softens, tremendously. He looks as if he may be on the verge of tears. His voice steady, as he speaks, yet his face betrays his tone,

"There is no possibility of leaving you, no, not even in death."

⎯ Kuai Liang

Kuai does not know what ails you- but he must. He must know. You have done well to shy away from him, but he is hot on your trail. He knows that hollow look, devoid of emotion, too afraid to show any. Because if you show one, you show all. He does not smother you, no, but he does question you.

The questions stop at night. It is quiet. He is afraid of pushing you further. So Kuai Liang leaves you alone in the bed, with one last kiss on your forehead. Yet, he stands in the doorway. He waits. You speak. And he listens. All you say is one word. He retreats back in bed with you, pushing you closer to his neck. He runs his hands through your hair, calming you down. To still your beating heart. And he speaks with conviction,

"I am here, as long as you need, forever, if you so wish, my love."

⎯ Johnny Cage

Perhaps, Johnny is too much for you recently. And that's okay! He knows his limits. Yet, he finds himself seeking you out. He misses your warmth, your smile, you. He knows that he can be loud, that he can be a lot. And he's always given you space. Yet that look you hold, it is miserable. And he knows exactly what you feel. He follows you around, as if a lost dog, the entire day. He wants you to have space, but he wants you to say those words.

And you do, that night. Finally, those words escape your lips. Just what Johnny wanted to hear. He's got you wrapped up in the blankets, pulling you up into his chest. His hand rests on the back of your head, gently rubbing his thumb into your hair. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and whispers, gently, almost out of character,

"It's alright, sweetheart, I'm not leaving, not tonight, not tomorrow, not anytime."

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

You cannot hide that sinking pain within your heart, Kenshi can hear the melancholy dripping within your words. He can hear it in your breath, your actions. How your footsteps drag, how slow you walk. He can see it, too, do not be fooled. You stay close, unnecessarily close, you look up at him with such heavy eyes, you stay quiet. He knows. He is waiting for you to act on it, to act on the voice he hears at the very edge of his mind. He is a telepath, you must remember.

And so, when you speak your mind finally, he is all too eager to make sure you know he won't leave. He pulls you up onto his chest, his heartbeat even, soft, and regular. The moment is tender, and he lets your words hang in the air. Silence covers you two like a blanket, comforting. And finally, as he runs his hand down your sides, squeezing your waist gently, he speaks,

"Do not be afraid to tell me what you want, my heart. I will stay close, I will stay."

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao does not need words to stay by you. Night and day. He is glued to your side, trying to cheer you up with his charm. He does not give you enough room to sulk. He's dragging you along with him, even if it's something as simple as watching him train. To keep you at ease, to put a smile on your face. He is making sure everything he does has that effect.

Yet, you still ask him to stay when night comes. He does not deny it, and he pushes himself closer. As if you were not in his arms already. But he makes sure you know he heard you, he squeezes you, and lets out a soft sigh. There is nothing that will take him away from you, and you must know,

"I won't. Nope, not even tomorrow. I'm here as long as you want me here."

⎯ Raiden

You cannot keep Raiden away from you. The minute your expression is somber, he is following close behind you. He does not ask, or interrogate you. But he follows. He is on the lookout for any sort of thing that could have stolen his light from him. What has gotten to you, what dares rip the spark of his life from you? He does not know how to ask you, he is afraid that perhaps it is him.

But it is not. Your hand pulls him back to you by his wrist as you speak. And he obliges. He does not know what has made you feel this way, but he does know, that maybe even this one night will be enough to bring your smile back. He will stay here, as long as you need, as long as he needs. And he makes it known,

"Oh, my light, nothing can keep me away from you."

⎯ Zeffeero

Zeffeero is on you the minute your face so much as drops. Perhaps he is a stubborn lover, too prideful to admit that he cares deeply for you. But he cannot handle loosing your presence, his sunshine. He wants your attention, but does not say so outright. He will do that little thing with the water manipulation and the shapes to amuse you... without you asking. And when that does not bring the smile back to your face, he does not know what else to do.

His heart near stops when you tell him to stay that night. He feels so stupid to have skipped over that part. But he accepts. He tries to show restraint, however he is by you within a matter of seconds. He places a kiss on your jaw, before hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap around you, keeping you close. Just as he wanted to the entire day, and he finally speaks,

"Do not scare me so, my dear. I want to keep you safe, and I'll stay until you no longer want me by your side."

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Your distance is noticeable. However, Tomas does not act upon it. He believes that you need the space you have put between you and him and everyone else. So he does not question it. However, there is a void where you once were. His world fills with the same emptiness and sorrow you felt at your absence. He cannot help but seek you out in the final hours of the dawn. He is afraid, once more. He does not want to pressure you, so he turns his back to you.

You surprise him with your words, he near spins on his heels, a wide and beautiful grin gracing his face. He makes no effort to hide this. His happiness, his light has asked him to stay, and he would be a fool to deny them such a request. He practically throws himself back onto the bed, and wraps his big arms around you. He presses his forehead against yours, and holds your gaze. He speaks, quietly, softly, and you can even hear his smile in his voice,

"I am here for you, Drahoušek. I always will be. Do not be afraid to come to me."

⎯ Baraka

Oh, how Baraka feared this day would come. You have turned your back to him, the air around you rife with despair. He is not afraid that you suddenly dislike him. He is afraid of loosing your positivity. One of the very few things he has held onto because of his affliction. You make him forget all that is bad within this world, within him. And now, there is an absence. He does not know what to do.

But that night, you guide him. Through his own sulking, your words pull him away. Yes. He will gladly stay. If that is what you want. If that is what it takes. He keeps his distance, still. He will always be afraid of his infection spreading. But he sleeps in the same room. And just before you drift off into sleep, you hear him,

"I cannot lose you. Please, tell me when, and I will be there."

⎯ Geras

Geras has reason to believe the reason you have pulled away from him is because of his absence. Because of him. Human emotions are a strange thing, they are intricate, even more so than the dozens of timelines he has watched over. Oh so suddenly, you are turned away from him, too caught up within your own thoughts to voice what has been troubling you. Perhaps it is the fact that he does not have nearly enough time for you. That is the answer he settles on.

Before he can leave you that night, your pleas make him stop. They make him understand, even for a second. He was so sure you were asleep. And yet, you are awake, asking him to stay. He is unsure what to do. But, he must give his love what they want. What they deserve. So, he leans in, and places a gentle kiss on your cheek. His words follow soon after,

"I will always be here, my duty is important, but so are you. Know this, I am always watching over you."

⎯ Syzoth

You've ran off. And Syztoh does not know what to do with himself. He paces, he fidgets, he waits. He must see you again. But you were so hurt beforehand, and he does not know why. You have withdrawn into yourself, without a word. And Syzoth does not know how to comfort you. He knows you are feeling down, horrible even. Yet, he feels as if he has ran you off. His insecurities well up within his mind as he waits. And waits.

And the time comes where you ask him, you reach for him. Your voice quivers. Oh my, how could he have let this happen. He pulls you in, almost bringing you down to the ground. He wraps himself around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His nerves calm, in that moment. Muffled, he speaks, his words true and clear, if not a little shaky,

"I waited, my love, and I will stay. I will always be here. Every moment, every moment you need me."

⎯ Havik

Havik is apprehensive. He does not quite understand what to do in this situation. With you, his lover, in front of him, a mess, voice hoarse, your emotions addle your mind. He looks at you dumbfounded. He reaches for you, but his hand does not meet your shoulder. Now, you feel as if you are miles away from him. Space. That is what he understands, now.

But, the space he has given you is broken that night. You find him in bed, intertwining his fingers with yours. His scarred flesh does not scare you, as much would believe. His eyes are warm, peaceful for once. The words are on the tip of your tongue, yet you do not need to speak. Havik answers, regardless,

"Finally. Do not run from me like that again, I do not mean to leave you alone."

⎯ Shao Kahn

To return home, where you are not waiting for Shao in the kitchen, it is a nightmare. The worst is the first thing that runs through his mind. You are lost, perhaps. Taken. But he finds you, safe and well. Back to him, on the edge of the bed. He does not speak, but he lets his presence be known. He lays down on the bed, facing you, and simply watches.

Until it is time for you to speak, you look at him with such sad eyes. He is there. You do not have to ask, for you know the answer. But you ask, anyways. Shao simply reaches a hand out to you, and pulls you back in bed gently. Tonight, he can. Maybe not tomorrow morning, but tonight, he can. And he will,

"I will always stay by your side. I am here to keep you safe, do not forget it."

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung pampers you, right out of the gate. He hates to see you like this, so sullen, so quiet. It is his goal to pull you out of this feeling. Even if it hurts his wallet. And yet, it seems his plan falls short. He is disheartened, to say the least. Perhaps he might sulk, as well. But he doesn't, or he tries not to, anyways. He simply follows you around, now. Trying to lift your spirits.

And that only comes when night falls, nestled underneath the covers. Shang Tsung is still close. Extremely close. Yet, you can't help but ask, regardless. And he listens. He chuckles softly, and pulls you in for a quick peck on the lips. For a moment, he stares into your eyes, rolling your words over in his mind. His tone is sly, but his words are, for once, kind,

"There you are, my darling. Of course I'll stay. Who would I be if I didn't? I'll stay forever, if I must."

⎯ Reiko

Reiko wants to be soft with you, and yet, he can't find a way through to you in this moment. He does not understand why you've withdrawn from him. Why you are so somber. He decides that it is space you need, not him. So, he gives you exactly what he believes. Yet, he still keeps an eye on you. He wants to make sure you are safe, regardless. Even as you sulk.

You find him once more at the end of the day, laying in bed. The idea of him, of Reiko, relaxing, seems so odd. Yet, he is lounging. He is waiting. So you speak, and all he can do is look at you. He gestures towards the bed, and you do so. Laying down, he holds you close. Properly. His arms wrapped around the small of your back, your forehead against his chin. And he speaks, finally,

"If I am to say no, then I would rather be decapitated by General Shao himself. Do not ever hesitate to ask, you know I will."

⎯ Erron Black

Outlawin' and Gunslingin' is a hard trade. What's even harder is making sure you are happy. And now, you are pulling yourself away from Erron. This mood you're in... he's going to get you to snap out of it, dammit. And he tries. He tries real damn hard. He flaunts off his skills, just how quick and precise he can fan the hammer, maybe take down some poor bird from the sky. Yet, you still look at him, devoid of emotion.

Erron has all but given up until you find him in the bed that night. Somehow, you look more of a mess then before. And he just can't forgive himself for it. Yet, you still ask. He's dumbfounded, really. He doesn't know what to say. But, his body knows what to do. Absentmindedly, he pulls you into the bed by your hand. He keeps you close, yet still leaves distance between your bodies. His hand finds your cheek and caresses it with his thumb. Finally, he's found his words, and so he speaks, for you,

"Ya ain't gotta worry about me leavin', pumpkin. I'll stay riiiiiiight here, long as ya need."

⎯ Takeda Takahashi

You're quiet. You're so damn quiet and it's almost irritating for Takeda. He can't get to you, he can't break through this heavy, melancholy air around you. He's following you around, regardless. He's going to find out why you're acting like this, and if it's because of someone, he won't mind sweating a little. But it isn't. It isn't cause of anyone, it isn't cause of him. It's cause of you. And now, he truly doesn't know what to do. So he backs off.

Until you find him once more, seeking his attention. His touch. His comfort. Takeda doesn't deny this, as you slink into bed, behind him. You tap him on the shoulder gently, and he turns his head back to you. Before he can speak, you ask. The lightbulb goes off in Takeda's head, and suddenly, he feels horrible. You didn't need him following you around like a bodyguard all day, nor did you need the bombardment of questions. You simply needed him. So, he responds,

"Don't scare me like that, dammit. Of course I'll stay, but just... yeah, yeah. I'll stay."

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[writtnbyhan]

NFWMB.

PAIRING: bang chan x female!reader

TAGS: protective chan, idol!chan, non-idol!reader, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 1945

PROMPT: person a gets into a heated argument with someone. person b starts threatening them, so person a picks up person b and carries/drags them out of the room before anyone gets hurt.

warnings: what the prompt says, lol — arguments (not between chan and reader). very very minor violence (arm grabbed), bruising, swearing. Let me know if I missed a warning.

author's note: well, baby's first post. I really hope someone likes this ? my goal is to participate in nanowrimo in my own way so expect weekly posts from yours truly. I was nervous about what to write about bc of it being my first post but I needed to write something or I'd never do it. starting with chan feels right, though I wish I can get to write more fluff soon 😭 this was fun tho! I really like protective and possessive chan<3

You didn’t intend for him to hear. Mostly, because you thought you could handle things on your own, but also because you knew it would somehow end up like this.

You have been visiting the building where the boys work for as long as you remember being in their lives. It’s not your fault, given that they spend almost every waking moment there, working. And the one whose time was taken the most by it happened to be your boyfriend. It was a Saturday and he was working, which wasn’t uncommon, but it also wasn’t healthy. You let it slide sometimes, when you knew time was pressing on him and he needed to be there, for his own peace of mind. But everything was ready for the comeback, there was absolutely no reason for him to spend his weekend locked up in that so-familiar room.

So, you did the only logical thing: went there to drag him out, knowing only you where capable of doing so. No amount of puppy eyes from his kids could do what you could with just asking — you were his girlfriend, after all, it was expected that he’d have a soft spot for you.

You felt the problems creeping on you as soon as you stepped foot in the building. There were new people there, new workers. You hated when new staff started working, because they were still too nosy, and because they would ask too many question, some of which you wouldn’t be able to answer without one of the boys by your side to prove your credibility. It was okay, though, you could only imagine how many girls could go to the front desk and claim what was your truth — “I’m looking for my boyfriend”.

Luckily, the girl at the front desk, Sun Hee, already knew you. She only smiled at you when she saw you enter the building, and her tired smile should’ve been warning enough. You walked to her with a matching smile of your own, she knew you were there to pick up a overworking boyfriend, but you still needed to sign your name in the records.

“hi, lovely! what’s got you tired today?” you asked, curiosity so strong you couldn’t help asking.

“new staff’s first weekend. sometimes I wonder how they got hired in the first place”, she answers truthfully, sighing. She sends you a look you know it’s a warning — beware, idiots walking around feeling entitled!

You sigh, too. That’s going to be troublesome, especially today.

“hope I don’t get to met them today, at least until I find Chan. The boys didn’t warn me, or I would have brought one of them with me”

She showed a sympathetic smile, nodding.

“Prince charming is on studio 3, same as always”, she rolls her eyes playfully.

It says something about your overachieving boyfriend that not only the staff knows where he is all the time, but also that you have almost made friends with said staff. God, you needed to convince him to spend less time working.

After thaking Sun Hee and promising to chat more later, you walked to the elevator, setting to find Chan. You could amost picture him — black hoodie, black beanie hiding his messy curls, and headphones in. You smiled at the image in your head, a much too familiar one, one you loved so much.

Smile still present in your face, you stepped out of the elevator on the corresponding floor, checking different doors that had lights on. You were here to pick up Chan, yes, but you didn’t rule out finding Hyunjin or Felix overworking themselves too. The blondes were quick to follow their leader to the building any day, claiming they always “needed” the extra practice. Jeongin would be just as annoying as they were to you, if it wasn’t for his baby status, which meant everyone took a little more care of him (Minho more than anyone, checking that the boy didn’t overwork himself regularly).

Of course, checking every room as if you didn’t know where you were going to may have looked suspicious, you will give the man that. You were glad he was doing his job, just — well, maybe you were at the wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe he was.

“Excuse me, miss, who are you and where are you going?” He was at least 30 cm taller than you, and he was almost as buff as Changbin. You weren’t intimidated at first, you knew your presence had been cleared for, you had a right to be there, and you had got through the entrance desk, so he must know you were allowed there, right? Maybe he was just trying to help.

“Oh, hi! I’m Y/N. I’m looking for my boyfriend and checking to see if one of his friends is here as well”, you explained.

He stepped closer, almost invading your personal space. You took two steps back.

“Who are you looking for?”, he was eyeing you as if you were suspicious, a threat even. You, who was dressed in a skirt and probably looked like a mouse next to him.

“My boyfriend”, you repeated, “Christopher Bang Chan. He is in one of those studio rooms”, you added matter-of-factly.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to escort you outside. You shouldn’t be here.” The man said, loudly, like he wanted to be heard. Ah, you thought, he is one of the new ones. It was common, you have seen it happen one too many times — new staff is always trying to prove themselves as good.

You smiled, though you were a little intimidated now. After all, you were alone in a hallway with the man who kept getting closer.

“Why is that? I am allowed here”, you tried to keep calm.

“Look, I don’t know how you passed the front desk, but fans should not be inside the building!”, the man yelled at you, his arm reaching out until he could take you by the wrist, his hold tight enough to bruise.

“Hey! You’re hurting me, stop it. Let me go!” You started struggling, trying to force your arm out of the man’s hold.

“Stop fighting or I’ll call security”, he threatened. You were about to tell him to do so, you’d wait by him until security came there and showed the man that your info was in the system and you were, actually, allowed there. You didn’t get a chance, though, for your boyfriend’s voice reached your ears as soon as the man stopped talking.

“You let her go or I’ll call security myself”, Chan’s voice showed his anger, and as he got closer you saw the determined look in his eyes that made you worry a little. You didn’t doubt Chan was capable of hitting the man if he didn’t let you go right now.

The man, apparently, didn’t notice that, for he did not let go of your wrist.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll have her removed from the building immediately, I don’t know how she got inside.” He was tugging at your wrist, to which you kept quiet. If you expressed how much it hurt, the situation could escalate more than you wanted it to.

“She got inside because she’s allowed to. Now, I said: let her go.” Chan’s voice was ice cold, almost spitting the words at the man’s face. Finally, your arm was free, and you rushed to take your own wrist so as to cover the red marks, evidence of the strong hold the man had on you.

“Why doesn’t she have a pass, then?”

“She doesn’t need one because she’s not a guest. Did you even care to ask about that or check the system? You know, that type of irresponsible behaviour could get you fired — you can’t just go around the building threatening and grabbing people by force!” Chan’s voice got louder near the end.

“It’s okay”, you quipped, putting a hand in Chan’s chest as an attempt to calm him down. He was protective, you knew as much, but he was also a lovely person who you knew didn’t want to get anyone fired. Still, you knew he’d do something like that for you if you asked for it.

That was a wrong move, apparently, because it meant letting him see the marks on your arm.

“what the fuck?” his words were whispered, but it was obvious the anger that came with them. “Man, what is wrong with you? You should have checked before bruising her arm like that! What gives you the right to decide who is and isn’t allowed here?! That’s the front desk’s job, if she’s on the fucking third floor, then I think it’s fucking obvious she passed security. I need your name for I will have to file a complaint about this, grabbing someone like this is violent and no excuse of security can make it right because you are not supposed to even touch here — if you think she is not allowed here, you call security, you do not bruise my girlfriend’s arm.”

Chan’s voice is loud, and he is so close to the man you could tell it is some kind of threat, or maybe show of strenght. The man’s jaw was tense, as if he was ready to argue with the idol himself. You looked around the hallway, not knowing what to do or how to stop this. The man that had grabbed your arm clearly felt too entitled for his own good, and you worried that he might try to turn things physical.

Lucky for you, he didn’t even get a chance to answer before you heard a door open and close quickly, someone rushing out of one of the practice rooms.

You think you have never been happier of seeing the freckles in Felix’s face.

“Chan, everything okay?” sunshine boy asked, putting his arm around you as soon as he was close enough. His voice seemed to get Chan out of whatever state he was in, for he took a few steps back, still not breaking eye contact with the other man.

“Yeah, this dude just grabbed y/n’s arm and bruised her wrist because it’s apparently his first week here and he already feels too entitled.”

Felix looks at you, looking for something in your eyes, before getting closer to his friend.

“Okay, let’s go grab our things and go home to see if she needs to put some ice on her wrist”. He doesn’t let Chan answer before taking his hand with his smaller one, intertwining his fingers and almost dragging him out of there. You’re quick behind them, taking Chan’s other hand to give him some peace of mind.

Felix looks back at you and you smile in thanks. You know your boyfriend is way too protective, but a situation like this had never happened before. It’s good to know he’d do anything to defend you, but you still didn’t want him to get in a physical fight in his workplace.

“Don’t you dare think this gets any of you out of the hook for working on one of your free days, boys.” You reprimand them, hands still intertwined while entering the studio. Chan’s calmer now, his cheeks blushed with what you guess is something akin to embarrassement; you know he doesn’t like getting like this, but sometimes his emotions overpower him. You kiss his cheek, deciding to not comment on the subject until he does so himself. After all, you achieved what you came here to do — collect whichever stray kid had wandered their way to work on a weekend and get them home.

[halfvalid]

Hey! Since your requests are open, may I request opla!Zoro x reader (established relationship) where the reader has a lot of self doubt (not only in their looks, but their abilities and their place in the crew) since it’s, unfortunately, been shoved done their throat by pretty much eveyone they knew, even their parents, that they would never be good enough? Maybe Zoro figures out that they have sort of been spiralling lately and they have a talk about the readers past and the problems they’re facing and he comforts them? Maybe it ends sort of spicy or turns out full on spicy, if you’re comfortable with that!

daybreak

ABOUT

alternate title: some fluffy established relationship hurt/comfort to save my soul

rating: teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (short; sorry!)

description: zoro notices you've been seeming off recently, and you confide in him your insecure feelings of self-worth. he comforts you.

tags: strawhat!reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of ‘y/n’, soft zoro, ridiculously stupidly absolutely horrifyingly fluffy. 

author’s note: thank you so much for the very lovely request! i hope i did your prompt justice; i ended up not writing any spice at the end (just slightly suggestive) since i didn't think it fit the story but i hope you like it anyway ^^

it feels slightly ooc, but i also wrote it in the span of two hours at 1:00 am so can you really blame me. 

It was morning on the Going Merry, and you were cleaning up the wreckage that had been scattered along the deck in your last battle. The crew had gone up against some other pirates; it’d been late at night, and the attack had come suddenly, what you’d thought would be a peaceful docking turning combative quickly. 

You barely remembered the fight. One moment, the warning bell had sounded, and the next Zoro was rolling out of bed beside you, grabbing his swords and darting out of your bedroom before you could even register what was happening. The fight had gone in the Straw Hats’ favor, thankfully; Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji had fended off most of the threat, and you were back on the open sea, safe from enemies for at least a little while now. 

You let out a sigh as you swept shattered glass into a dustpan, shaking out the collected trash into a nearby empty barrel. None of the men usually bothered to start cleaning up—typical—so you’d pulled yourself out of bed as early as possible to get the ship looking a little more like normal. 

Zoro had left some corpses on the deck for you to deal with, and you’d had to toss them overboard, a grimace tugging at your lips as blood stained the white of your blouse. No matter. You’d finished sweeping, at least; all you had left to do was mop, right as everyone else was waking up. 

You filled a bucket with warm water and soap, and were just grabbing the mop from the closet when you heard footsteps. You glanced up, surprised to see Zoro heading towards you, one hand grasped loosely around his sword handle as always. “You’re up early,” he said, casual as ever. “Woke up and you were gone.” 

“Figured I should get a head start on cleaning,” you answered quickly, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you dunked the mop into the bucket. His brows creased as he watched you start mopping, pushing the handle along the deck to wipe it clear of bloodstains. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Zoro asked, after a few seconds of delayed silence. You shrugged, dunking your mop again before going for another few swipes. “We can help clean too, you know.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” you protested. You moved past him, trying very hard not to meet his eyes—but Zoro didn’t let you pass, one hand going out to grab the mop rod and stopping you in your tracks. “What?” 

“What do you mean, least you could do?” Zoro asked blankly. 

“I mean—” you shrugged, muscles limp like your entire body was sagging you down. “You and the others were the ones to deal with the pirates, so I figured I could at least—”

Zoro still looked confused, brows pulled together, forehead taut with a frown. “I distinctly recall you throwing a pirate twice your size overboard. Unless I was imagining things.” 

You sighed. “Not what I meant.” You tried to push past Zoro again, but he didn’t let you, hand still tightly grasped around your mop handle. 

“Okay, what did you mean, then?” 

“Nothing. Will you just let me finish cleaning so there aren't blood stains all over Luffy’s ship?” You sighed again, even as you attempted to keep the sound inside—but you couldn’t help it. It was like there was an anchor stuck inside of you, pulling everything from your feelings to your body down, the weight of gravity tugging at your features. 

“Luffy’s ship?” 

You shrugged. “The Straw Hats’ ship. Whatever.” 

“Our ship,” Zoro said. There was a certain twinge of something in his words; still blankness, but laced with a dawning realization that you weren’t sure you liked. “You’re upset.” 

“Nope.” This time you really did manage to get free of Zoro’s grasp, yanking your mop out of his grip and starting back on cleaning the deck. The acrid smell of iron hit your nose as you scrubbed the dried blood off—you’d have to go back in later with a sponge to get all the cracks and crevices, but for now this would be okay. 

Zoro followed you, unceasing with his interrogation. “Yes, you are. I know when you’re upset, and you’re upset. What happened.” It was more of a statement than a question—Zoro didn’t often doubt himself, really, which was one of the many things that’d helped make you stumble into falling for him. “Was it about last night? You know the cook's just making fun when he keeps a counter, right? It doesn’t matter if he brought two or five more men down than you.” 

“It’s not about that,” you insisted. 

“So you admit you are upset.” 

You groaned, finally turning to look Zoro in the eye. He’d stopped walking, the dawning sun glinting hazey gold onto his skin in the early hour. There was still an overcast of blue from the night in the sky, and it made the heavens look ethereal, watery and glittering. 

“Come on,” he urged. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s really nothing you need to be concerned about,” you attempted, but your voice was weak now. Zoro stepped closer to you, gently pulling the mop out of your hands. Your fingers let go easily. “It’s silly.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “Out with it.” 

“I don’t know, I just—” your fingers clenched, like your hand was trying to find something to do now that Zoro had rid you of your mop. “Comparatively I just don’t do much. So I want to help out as much as possible.” 

“Who said you don’t do much?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” Zoro said. He let the mop fall to the ground, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Who said you don’t do much?”

“I mean, nobody. It’s just true.” You shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Zoro was looking at you—all attentive, like he was trying to strip you raw with his eyes, uncover whatever secrets might be hiding in the pores of your skin and the gaps of your teeth. “Luffy’s the captain, we wouldn’t be able to do anything without Nami, you and Sanji are the fighters, and Usopp’s everyone’s favorite. I’m just kind of… filler?” 

The more you spoke, the worse your words got, your tone turning more desperate as the sentences fumbled out of your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows raised higher as you went on, and you flushed, red prickling all over your skin. 

“First of all,” he started, “Usopp is not my favorite. That’d be you. And—where are you getting this from?” 

You shook your head, trying to backtrack. “Nothing. Nowhere. It’s not that import—”

“Yes, it is, and we’re talking about it.” Zoro pulled a nearby barrel by the side of the ship, plopping himself down atop it and gesturing for you to sit. You didn’t, but you did move over to the railing, hands curling around the painted wood. “Speak.” 

“I have nothing to say,” you tried. Zoro just shot you an unimpressed look, and you squirmed. “Fine. I don’t know. I joined last, so I just figured… you were all kind of already set without me, right?” 

Zoro shook his head. “We’re a crew,” he said, voice strong but somehow still gentle. “You’re part of us for a reason. What, this entire time did you think you were—expendable?” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “No.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Last night—I only got, like what, two guys? And you reacted way faster to the situation than I did,” you started, words flailing around on your tongue as they rushed out. It was indelicate, for certain, and you yourself couldn’t make sense of most of the words—but once you started, you couldn’t stop, even as they slurred together. “I was still getting out of bed and grabbing my weapon when you’d already dealt with half the enemy crew.” 

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” Zoro said with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair. I’ve been training since I was eight. It’s different.” 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, trying not to let your frustration get the best of you. “I can't help it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.” You loosened your grip on the ship railing, staring out at the golden clouds hovering over the sky.  “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Zoro answered. He didn’t say anything after that—giving you a space to talk, you supposed, in case you wanted to. But his hand did reach up to press against yours, pinky brushing against your finger as he held onto the railing beside you. 

“I guess I just always had these standards back at the village,” you managed out eventually. Your island had always been one of the more traditional places in the East Blue, and there were plenty rules and guidelines abound. One of the many reasons you’d left the place in favor for Luffy and the Going Merry, really. “So I just… always want to do more. It’s not that bad.” 

“Right.” Zoro’s pinky looped around your finger, now, holding it close in a soft kiss of the hands. You sighed. 

“My parents were kind of rough on me, I guess,” you tried, sneaking a glance over at Zoro’s face to see if it satiated his curiosity at all. His expression remained as steel as ever, so you just continued. “They wanted me to be the best I could. But their standards were too high, even when I was little.” You found yourself rubbing circles into the back of Zoro’s hand with your finger, more so to comfort yourself than for any other reason. “Just normal stuff, like being upset about my school grades or my combat training levels being too low. Nothing that terrible.” 

“But…?” Zoro asked, tilting his head up to look at you. You smiled, but the action didn’t reach your eyes—it was all mouth and jaw, cheeks lifting but eyes glinting with the same glazed stare. 

“It just affected me a lot, I suppose,” you answered. “Always trying to get better. Never satisfied. And I guess now—I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.” 

“For?” Zoro asked. His voice was low, soft, all hollow and empty inside. There was a tinge of roughness lacing it, like he’d forgotten to clear his throat, and the scratch of his vocal chords had surfaced up along with the words. 

“Myself. My parents. Luffy. You.” Your lips tightened into a line. Vaguely, you could feel the warm pinpricks of tears starting at your waterline, and you tried to will them back, letting out a little laugh. “Everyone, I guess.” 

Zoro’s hand had come to hold yours fully, fingers woven in between yours, thumb pressed firmly against the joint of your thumb. Somehow, that one motion managed to force the last of the words out of you—all wet and soft, eyes glued fiercely to the horizon in fear of seeing what was etched on Zoro’s face. 

“We do arranged marriages back at home,” you started, trying very hard to keep your voice from trembling. it worked only marginally—there was a tiny quaver in your tone, but it was soft, not noticeable unless you were really listening hard. “And my mom used to tell me I’d die alone. Because I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or anything enough for any of the boys there.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. It was quiet; barely a whisper. You tried for a wry smile. 

“I like helping, though. I don’t mind cleaning up or whatever. It makes me feel more useful.” You tried to tug your hand out of Zoro’s grip, but his fingers tightened, keeping you in place. A nervous laugh escaped your throat. “And I know I’m part of the crew and all of this is just silly. So it’s really fine—”

Zoro tugged your intertwined hands to his chest, causing you to stumble and glance down at him in surprise. His expression was nearly unreadable. It’d darkened, and there was a contemplative gaze in his eyes, lips parted with invisible words perched on his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, and your stomach dropped, the nervousness that had gathered inside during the conversation tightening up into a hall. “Don’t say it’s okay or that it’s not important. If it’s making you upset, then it matters.” 

“I guess,” you tried, and Zoro’s gaze lifted to fix you with a glare. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I just…” Zoro shook his head. “Look, whatever your parents used to tell you, whatever you have ingrained in your head—it’s not true. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more, but… you don’t have to do it. You’re enough already.” 

Your gaze softened, lips falling open to say something, but Zoro wasn’t finished yet. “You shouldn’t come out here and force yourself to clean up just to make up for your—waste of space, or something. You’re not a servant. And you’re not wasting up any space. I think everyone would agree that you’re a very important and vital part of the crew.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered. Zoro’s hand was warm around yours, and you felt the threatening droplets of tears start to rise up at your waterline, ready to fall at any moment now. Zoro just nodded. 

“You’re a great fighter, and way smarter than what you give yourself credit for,” he said firmly. He raised your hand to his mouth, then, leaning over to press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “And the boys on your island have to be blind, because you’re pretty enough. You’re more than pretty enough.”

He whispered the last words, all soft and sacred on his tongue. “You’re beautiful.” 

That was enough to drive your tears over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the flow as the warm sensation of liquid streaking down your cheeks began. Droplets caught in the crevice of your lips, and at the hinge of your jaw—Zoro brought a hand up to wipe them away. “Are you okay?” he whispered. 

“Yeah, I just, um.” You shook your head, sniffing. “Thank you. That… helped. I think.” 

Zoro bummed out his response. “Of course,” he said easily. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to cheer you up.” He kissed your knuckles again. “And you can talk to any of us. I’m not really the best at this, but everyone else…” he shrugged. 

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him. Zoro nodded, tugging you down until you finally took a seat on a crate beside him. “I think it’s just been worse lately.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re better than the waiter,” Zoro said. You just laughed. 

“I think you’re biased, but thank you,” you said. “Here, I, um, I promise I’ll let you know if I’m feeling down, I guess. If you don’t mind.” 

“Definitely don’t mind,” Zoro answered. This time he placed a gentle kiss on your neck, somewhere at the bottom near the back. “Leave the mopping for someone else. You’ve already done a lot.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Zoro kissed the rest of the way up the back of your neck. He placed a final one right below your earlobe. With that, Zoro stood up, sweeping one arm under your legs and hoisting you up. You cracked open an eye to regard him with a blank look. “What are you doing?” 

“Bringing you back to my room,” Zoro answered. “You didn’t get much sleep tonight. And I doubt anyone wants to watch me kissing you on the main deck anyway.” 

That was fair enough reasoning, so you didn’t complain, letting him carry you all the way to his cabin and gently lay you down onto his bed. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your lips—you could still taste the saltwater from your tears from before. “Want me to stay?” Zoro asked. 

“You don’t have to,” you said automatically, and Zoro raised both his eyebrows. You let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Please stay.” 

“All you had to say,” Zoro said, shedding himself of his shoes and swords before leaning over the bed to watch you. He didn’t slip under the covers or anything, just propped an arm up on the mattress, kneeling beside the bed. There was tender silence for a few moments before Zoro spoke again. 

“I love you,” he said abruptly, voice rough but somehow still soft. Your heart beat too fast in your chest, ribcage squeezing in on the organ and making it skip. His hand slid along the mattress to find yours, and you took the offer, fingers clasping around his palm. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back. Zoe leaned over, then, the hand not intertwined with yours tilting your jaw over just so to allow him better access to your mouth. He kissed you full-on, tender but firm, mouth working against yours in a way that unraveled you entirely. Your grip on his hand tightened as he deepened the kiss, a soft sound emitting from low in your throat. Finally you broke apart, heaving for breath, exhales mixing together midair. An exchange of souls, you’d heard once, somewhere. 

“Come on,” you murmured, tugging Zoro closer to the bed so he got the hint. He slipped beside you onto it, turning your head again to meet you in another kiss. His hand drifted down to your waist, holding you securely in place.  

“I don’t think anyone should need us for a few more hours, right?” Zoro asked, and you laughed. He swallowed up the sounds with his mouth, tongue licking languidly into you as he rubbed delicate circles into the skin of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again. 

You let him siphon the soul out of your lungs, knowing you were getting his right back. 

© halfvalid 2023

[etherealyoungk]

new beginnings - jeon wonwoo

summary: in which a certain someone starts getting extra clingy to you, leading you to find out you're pregnant.

pairing: husband!wonwoo x fem!reader

themes: established relationship, terms of endearment, pregnancy, fluffy, comfort

warnings: reader is pregnant, mentions of nausea, throwing up, anxiety, vague mentions of intimate relations, cats

wordcount: 2.1 k

a/n: just a random idea i had and thought might be cute

you come home a bit later than usual, the smell of something delicious wafting in the air, welcoming you as you step inside your cozy home. you walk in and spot wonwoo in the kitchen, busy stirring something in a pot as you discard your bag on the couch, spotting oreo, wonwoo's cat curled up on the other end in a peaceful slumber.

you slowly make your way towards wonwoo. "hey", you say, as you stand next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "hi love", he responds immediatily as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as you nod. "long day?", he asks, taking in your tired expression as you nod your head.

"you're home early", you point out, as you hook your arm around his, watching him stir the pot of soup carefully so that the ingredients wouldn't stick to the bottom and burn.

"yeah, i wanted to surprise you", he says, looking at you. you smile at his words and he smiles back at you. you let go of his arm and busy yourself with setting up the table. you and wonwoo had sweet love story and were now living a happy married life, and you couldn't ask for anyone else to spend it with. wonwoo was just your person and you were his.

but wonwoo's cat on the other hand was another story. you could say that she didn't really have a thing for you. oreo had never bonded with you, and you were only allowed to give her the occasional pet before she'd walk off, uninterested in you. orea never got cuddly with you like she did with wonwoo. you were bummed at first but you decided that maybe she'd grow into you later it. but it looked like you were just going to be a side character to her.

wonwoo asks you about your day as you both eat, but he's also acutely aware of how little food you've served yourself and how you've barely touched the soup he made. "not hungry?", he prompts after a while. "i am, i'm just a little tired", you tell, feeling a bit bad because wonwoo had made your favorite soup and you barely felt like eating it. you force yourself to have at least a few spoonfuls of the spoon and finish up your rice.

it's two am and you wake up feeling nauseous so you sit up, hoping that would ease the feeling but it didn't. it was like wonwoo was so in tune with you that he could always tell when you're awake and you heard him stir beside you. "are you okay love?", he asks, his voice laced with sleep.

"just a little nauseous", you tell softly, feeling umcomfortable.

"should i make you some peppermint tea?", he asks, now sitting up beside you. he doesn't wait for your answer as he heads to the kitchen to make it for you regardless. he comes up and places the steaming mug of peppermint tea on your bedside table, as he sits down next to you. his hand finds yours as he laces his fingers in your hand, looking at you, worried. after a few sips of the tea, you feel slightly better and you're now cuddled in wonwoo's arms as you lay your head on his chest, his hands holding you safe from the world.

you feel the bed dip again as oreo, wonwoo's cat jumps on the bed, walking towards you both. you look at her, ready for her to go towards wonwoo but instead, she comes up to you and settles next to you. "baby are you seeing this", you tell, shocked. "looks like she's finally warming up to you", he jokes and it was like oreo understood and she meows as she looks at you before curling up beside you.

you fall asleep only to wake up an hour late as you rush into the bathroom and throw up, feeling horrible and absolutely terrible. you feel wonwoo's hand on your back a few moments later as he rubs it gently to help you. he then helps you up and you clean yourself up before he helps you back in bed.

that whole week, you battle with nausea, throwing up either in the morning or night, and feeling tired and fatigued all of a sudden. you try to brush it off, blaming it on the stress or just the flu, but wonwoo insists on going to the doctor to figure out what is going on.

you take a sick leave the next day and you're sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone when oreo comes up to you again, sitting on your stomach, giving you a little meow as she closes her eyes and goes into her meditation. you smile, feeling like you were being blessed by her presence lately. she'd started to get cuddly with you the past week and you were surprised but happy because otherwise you were going to think she was going to hate you forever.

you're aimlessly scrolling through your phone when you come across a video of a cat sitting on a lady, much like how oreo was sitting on you and as the video goes on, the lady explains how she found out she was pregnant because her cat started to get extra cuddly with her. your brain pauses and you glance at oreo, who's in a peaceful slumber on your stomach. you quickly open google, typing in if cats can tell if a person is pregnant and you gulp as you read articles and information that shows up and things slowly start adding up in your mind. this would explain all the nausea, the weird mood swings you've been having and the fatigue you've been experiencing the past two weeks. oh my god.

you gently move oreo off you, apologising to her as you grab a coat and slip on your shoes, heading to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. you buy two to give yourself the benefit of the doubt and now you're in your bathroom as you wait for the results of pregnancy tests. you stand a few steps back, nervous to see the results.

sure, you and wonwoo had talked about having kids of your own and it was something you both did want. you both had also taken care and been careful whenever you were intimate with each other. but now as you stand in the bathroom all alone, a feeling of dread engulfs you and pools in your stomach. you move towards the countertop and look at yourself in the mirror. it was going to be okay you thought ou close your eyes and take a deep breath and you finally find the courage to look down at the pregnancy tests laid out in front of you. you blink down as you see two lines on them bioth and let out a shaky breath as you try to ground yourself.

you didn't tell wonwoo that evening, still trying to take everything in but mostly because you didn't know how to. you were unsure and scared. but when he comes home tonight, you can't seem to hold onto this secret anymore as it seems to be eating you alive. when he comes home later that evening, you're quick to greet him as he shrugs off his blazer, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. you give him a kiss as you ask him about his day. he walks into the bedroom to change and you follow him. "what's going on in that pretty little mind of yours", he asks as he loosens his tie and takes off his watch. "how do you know something is going on?", you ask. "because you only follow me around when you have something you want to get off your chest", he tells, coming towards you. you find it sweet that he's picked up on his piece of information and observed, he knew you too well.

"okay fine, i do have something to tell you", you say finally as you move closer to wonwoo. you look up at him and he patiently waits for you to speak. but as you're looking at him and trying to find the right words and how to get them out, you find yourself getting overwhelmed with emotion all of a sudden and you're tearing up. your gaze flickers to the side of the room and down before you look back up but wonwoo is keen to pick up on his.

"what's wrong sweetheart?", he asks as you try with all your might to hold the tears in, trying to blink back your tears, but you can't and they flow down your cheeks and before you know it you're crying. wonwoo pulls you into his arms, his hand running up and down your back softly in an attempt to soothe you. "did something happen?", he asks, worried as his gaze softens.

you sniffle as you look at him, still in his arms. "no- i-i- don't know why i'm crying god i feel like an idiot", you tell as wonwoo cups your face, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb. "you're not", he assures you and he holds your gaze as he looks at you sweetly, not forcing you to say anything.

he gently moves you to the bedside and sits you down looking at you deeply, a hit of worry laced in his gaze. you'd been off this entire week and he was worried.

"are you okay?", he asks again, gently as he looks at you, his hand intertwined in yours.

"i-im pregnant", you finally tell softly and in the quiet room it was like your words echoed in the air. wonwoo blinks at you and you can see the wave of emotion he goes through.

"i took a pregnancy test, two in fact and they both came back positive", you add, looking at wonwoo to see his reaction.

"you're pregnant", he repeats like he was testing how the words would sound on his lips. "we're pregnant", he says again and you nod.

"i'm pregnant", you tell, tearing up again. "we're pregnant", you say again.

you find yourself tearing up again and wonwoo cups your cheek. "but what if i'm not ready, i'm scared", you add softly and wonwoo is quick to embrace you in another hug.

"i think, no i know that you're going to be a great mother love", he tells. "and remember, you're not alone in this, i'm right here and i'll be here with you every step of the way", he adds as he hugs you tighter.

you pull away, looking at him and you smile. "i love you", you say. " i love you more", he says, making you smile.

"i can't believe we're going to be parents", he says in a soft excitement as he kisses your forehead.

"you know, oreo was the first one to know", you say and he furrows his brows in confusion.

"what do you mean?", he asks, his hands resting on waist. "that's why she's been so clingy and cuddly to me these last two weeks. she knew i was pregnant, cats can sense it", you explain and his interest is piqued by this piece of information. "should we make a bet on if oreo's going to befriend our kid or not", he says and you snort, chuckling at his suggestion. god how you loved him and his silly antics. "i'm gonna bet she will befriend him, she already has technically", you add before leaning in wonwoo's chest again.

-bonus scene-

you're laying on the couch, now six months along your pregnancy and your bump is growing healthily. wonwoo's been so sweet and supportive throughout it all, from helping you when you were puking your guts out from morning sickness to getting you all your pregnancy cravings even if they were weird.

you hear the door open, wonwoo walking in with takeaway from your favourite cafe because you were craving a red velvet cake. he triumphantly lifts the bag as he walks in, putting it down on the table as he sees oreo perched on your belly.

"i think out kid is going to be a cat lover", wonwoo says. "imagine if they're not", you add as wonwoo hands you the cake box and you take it, the sweet smell already filling the air. you take a bit and sigh, content and offer wonwoo a bite.

just then you feel the baby kick and oreo looks alert, wondering where the little movement came from as she looks around and looks at you with a questioning look. "baby, did you see that?", you ask. the baby kicks again and oreo looks around again and glances at your belly before meowing at you and you chuckle. "aww she felt the kick", you tell. wonwoo smiles as he looks at you, his heart overflowing with love as he thinks about how lucky he is and how grateful he is

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[poisonedbycoffee]

𓈒 ݁ ₊ thinking about! early morning with bi-han. (prompt)

It's one of his favorite things: waking up next to you, especially earlier than he needs to. You're still asleep, so vulnerable, so close to him than ever. Your peaceful breaths, the soft rise and fall of your chest. He can't help but watch you, touch you.

His fingers on your skin, running through your messy hair, brushing your face, touching your lips with his thumb, so careful and soft, as if you were a crystal vase that would break if he push a little bit harder.

"Hey," Whisper of your morning voice. Your eye remains half-open for a moment before you wrap yourself ever more deeper in the blanket, hoping to prolong awakening.

"Hey," Bi-Han takes his hand away. "You spoke in your sleep."

"Really? And what did I say?"

"How much you love me and can't live without me."

You open your eyes, unable to hold back a smile. "Liar." He smiles, too, and you move closer, pressing your face into his chest.

"I know what I heard."

When you accidentally fall back asleep, too entangled in his warmth and feeling comfortable, he gently kisses you on the forehead, and gets up to get ready to be a Grandmaster again.

[writingsbychlo]

false confessions | azriel

summary; you overhear azriel say something, and try to cooperate. word count; 4595 notes; based on this ask, that I got a little carried away with!

"I love her, I really do." Az sighed, your heart swelling a little as you listened from where you were perched within the library, Nesta at your side. When you'd heard the men come in, you'd been intent on going to see your mate, but they'd been talking, Cassian had been deep into a story about him and Nesta, and your friend had been adamant about hearing it out. So, you'd let her grab your wrist, sneaking the two of you deeper into the library, hiding away between the shelves where even Azriel's shadows had not bothered to slip away and investigate. 

"But?" Rhysand prompted, your heart skipping a beat in your chest at the pause that followed, the silence seeming to drag on. 

"But... she's so clingy sometimes." Azriel exhaled the words on a breath, and Cassian snickered a little in response. "I just- sometimes I want my peace and quiet, and it just feels like whenever we're together, she's right on top of me at home, we never just.. do our own thing."

Your stomach twisted, and Nesta's fingers tightened around your wrist as she was still gripping it. All playfulness was gone, though. She let go a second later, straightening up and brushing down her skirts primly, pausing only when you grasped her in response, shaking your head. You knew that your friend would defend you to the ends of the earth if you asked, but you didn't want her to. This wasn't her problem, or anyone else's, it was yours. 

You were spinning, mind feeling like it was going a million miles an hour, the way it felt to fly home with Azriel when drunk after a night at Rita’s, while your stomach twisted the way it did the morning after said nights out. You weren’t sure where this problem had come from, up until now, you’d always thought Azriel liked the affectionate side of you, the part that just couldn't get enough of him. Clearly, that was not the case.

Your eyes tracked the movements of Azriel's shadows as they slithered out further, lazily, but inching ever closer to you and Nesta's position. Slowly, in an attempt not to get caught at all, you snuck backwards, taking her with you. Manoeuvring through the stacks, you stayed hidden, the two of you slipping out through the back exit and unseen, and in silence. 

Only once their voices had entirely faded and you were slowing your pace between the twists and turns of the corridors did Nesta finally let a loud and obscene curse slip from her lips. "I'm gonna' kick ten tons of shit out of them all."

"No." The word was icy on your tongue, and her head snapped to you, You gave a soft wince in apology. "I'm not mad at him."

"What? Why not?" 

"Because.. he's right. I am clingy, I just thought he liked that. I thought he liked when we were together, I never sensed anything otherwise down the bond, perhaps he's just good at hiding it. But, you heard him, he doesn't like it, so it's down to me to stop." You shrugged, but it didn't stop the stinging in your throat, and you slammed up walls at your end of the bond, hoping the hurt beginning to build hadn't yet leaked across to reach him. 

"What I heard," Nesta muttered, ice on her own voice as her arms crossed angrily over her chest, "was my mate chuckling his smug little ass off at the comment. Jerk. He can sleep in another bed tonight." She was equally as angry, on your behalf, and you grinned a little at the affection she displayed for you. 

"You don't have to do that."

"It's for me. He doesn't get to gossip about things like this behind my back. I wonder how many things I have done that irritate him that he's never told me, simply choosing to whine about it to those other bats." She hissed the word out like an insult, and you couldn't find fault in her logic. "I'd bet Feyre would agree."

"Would agree with what?" You both jumped, rather violently, approaching the dinner hall where said sister was sitting comfortably, a sketchbook and some charcoals out in front of herself, brows raised. Nesta didn't hesitate, stalking across the room and offering her daemati sister her hand. Brushing off charcoal on her skirt, she took it gently, gasping a second later after replaying the memory. "Those... those jerks!”

“That’s what I said!” Nesta burst, hands on her hips, and only the soft cooing of her nephew was enough to replace the scowl she wore with a slight smile. Your attention remained fixed on Feyre as she processed the covert conversation you’d secretly witnessed.

“No wonder Rhys locked me out, I didn't think much of it, boy talk, but this kind of boy talk?" She frowned, offering a sympathetic look your way, and the solidarity of your friends made you feel that much better. You rubbed your temples, swallowing again thickly, the weight of it all beginning to bring you down a little. "Fey, can you just take me home?"

"Of course, Nesta will watch Nyx for a moment, right?" His auntie was already leaning over his bassinet, tapping the tip of his nose teasingly as the baby babbled happily in return. With a hand in hers, Feyre took you home, a warm hug and a chastising word about their behaviour, her parting gift, before leaving you alone in the house belonging to you and your mate. 

The house was quiet when you were alone, the middle of the day meaning you would be alone for quite a while yet, leaving you plenty of time to decide on your course of action. You glanced around, somehow feeling out of place within your own home. It all felt.. different, somehow.

Were you mad? No, only sad, and so retaliation didn't seem fair. 

Sure, you were upset he'd talk to his friends about it rather than simply tell you, but Azriel had always struggled with 'talking about it', and had never wanted to hurt you. Emotionally inept at times, perhaps this was simply his way of trying to protect your feelings. A conversation you were never supposed to hear, a hurt you were never supposed to feel, because your mate was simply putting up with it to let you feel better. 

You couldn’t have that. This relationship wasn’t supposed to be about secret sacrifices, it was supposed to be about trust and love and mutual respect. You’d sworn it when finding out you were mates, and sworn it again at the ceremony, and you tried to hold it up every day. Azriel wanted to spare your feelings, and now, you’d spare his, too.

It was hours before he returned, and you’d found yourself slipping back into your regular routine, making everything feel normal again by sticking to what you knew. You were unloading ingredients, cooking a comfort meal for yourself, when your mate returned home.

You first caught the tell-tale sign of feet hitting the ground outside from the sky, then steps got closer and closer up the pathway, before finally, the door opening and closing.

By the time you heard him taking off his boots and hanging up his coat, you'd found it within yourself to muster a reasonably convincing smile, and shake away any lingering thoughts about it. You are doing this for Azriel, to make him happy, to love him the way he’d loved you for years, without ever telling you. Your body twitched, aching to move to him like you always did, to greet him at the door with a kiss, with a hug, with something, and you firmly rooted your feet to the ground. After a pause, clearly anticipating what you now realised was an unwanted overload of affection, Azriel left the entry, stepping through the large open-arc into the kitchen. 

"Hello, my love.." You only smiled, ignoring the curious tone in his voice, brushing your hands down the front of your apron. "What have you been up to today?"

"I saw Nesta." 

"Oh?" He paused by your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek, and you tipped your face to the side receiving it, but made no move for more the way you usually would. 

"She gave me a couple of new books, and said she’d return the other ones." You only hoped he simply hadn't noticed that the book pile on the coffee table had not, in fact, changed at all. He didn't glance over, and you moved away, to the food laid out ready to be prepared for dinner. 

"Are you alright, my love? You don't seem quite like yourself, tonight.”

You redirected your glance to the vegetables, only nodding in response, and taking a deep breath to force another smile. "I'm just fine, don't worry, just a little tired today."

He lingered for a second, before nodding himself, offering a smile in return, and a flush of reassuring love down the bond. You let it in, letting it warm you from the inside out. So, this is what he wanted, he had noticed and was already responding better. It was both relieving and painful. He rolled up his sleeves, taking another step closer to you. "What are we making? What can I do to help?"

"Not a thing, I've got it here, don't worry." His head shot up, brows furrowing once again, and your hand almost reached out, wishing to smooth that spot between on his face that had wrinkled with the frown. He noticed this time, the slight raise of your hand before you lowered it. 

"But, I thought you liked it when we cooked together? You said you like how I can tell you about my day, while we make dinner." It's true, you had said that, but that was just another one of the events you'd forced upon him, wasn't it? Another act where he wanted to do his own thing, but was instead beholden to your wishes.

"I do, but we don't have to cook together every night. I'm fine here, I was just in my thoughts, is all. You could tell me about your day while we eat?” A flash of hurt travelled across his face, as though you were rejecting him, and so it was your turn to send a pulse of love down the bond to him. He tugged in response, pulling a smile from you, a real one, the way it always did when he did that. 

With a kiss placed on your forehead, he left in silence a moment later. Not long after, his footsteps were on the stairs, bath filling in the bathroom, and you let out a sigh at his absence. 

He returned in time for dinner, one of his shadows had been left behind, not-so-subtly lingering near the chopping boards to monitor you, and so you'd been careful about making sure to seem positively chipper until he returned. He helped carry everything through to the table, commenting gently under his breath about how good it all looked, and you thanked him as you poured wine, letting him serve food for you both onto your respective plates. 

Taking opposite seats, the lull lasted not a full second, before Azriel was diving right into a spirited recap of his day:

"Rhysand and Cassian are in the doghouse." You almost slipped with your wine glass as you took a nerve-soothing sip, and Azriel was smirking as he chopped his chicken up, lifting a piece on his fork to his lips, awaiting your response. 

"Oh? And why is that?" You followed suit, hoping your tone didn't give it away, already knowing exactly why they were upset. All three of you had felt a little betrayed by their conversation behind your backs. 

"Not a clue. All I know is that after we finished our discussion, Nesta and Feyre wanted nothing to do with either. Rhys was all 'Feyre, darling, I was thinking we could catch dinner on the Sidra tonight, I made a reservation'," Azriel mocked his best friend's voice, and genuine laughter spilt from you, his eyes glittering a little and the bond between you humming once again. "And then Feyre said 'I was thinking I'd rather spend the evening with anyone else, right now, actually'. He was speechless. As were Cass and I." 

He was so excited to share the gossip, like it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened, and the thought that perhaps this wouldn't be so hard crossed your mind. The same Azriel, the same you, just with less.. togetherness. Less touching. Perhaps, it would even make the times together and the touches even more special than you'd always thought they were. "And Cassian?"

"Even worse. He was in the midst of laughing at Rhys' shocked face when Nesta all but removed his balls in front of us." He took a swig of his wine, and you placed a piece of chicken into your mouth, excited to hear just how she'd unleashed that anger she'd been holding when you'd last seen her. "She said, 'oh, laugh it up, bat boy. See how much you're laughing when you're laying in bed alone tonight, nothing but your right hand to keep you company'."

That made your jaw drop, Azriel's deep laughter permeating the air at your reaction, and you felt proud of your friend, even if you did feel a little bad for Cassian. That's what they get for complaining behind their mates' backs instead of being honest. 

"So, Feyre then proceeded to thank Rhysand for the reservation, take both Nyx and Nesta and winnow away without another word. Presumably to said reservation for a lovely sisterly dinner." Az shrugged, turning back to his food, and you sipped at your wine. Good for them. "When I left, Rhys and Cass were grumbling at the dinner table, trying to work out what they'd done wrong."

That sent a pang of pain shooting back through your chest, but you quickly suppressed it, beginning to tell him all about your own day, and your suddenly-made plans to go shopping instead of sitting at home with him all day tomorrow. He didn't object, only encouraged you. 

After dinner, with plates cleared away and wine glasses refilled, you'd both moved to the living room, a quiet night planned as he settled onto the couch, book in hand, opening his action-packed thriller to the page he'd left off at as you stoked the fire idly, stocking a few more logs on. 

When there was nothing more you could do to it, you stood, brushing down your skirts and leaving the room, not missing the trail of his eyes after you, or the sweep of one of his shadows, trying to curl around your ankle as you hurried through the house and up the stairs. You had planned to simply settle into bed, let your mind spin and wander, but with his watchful little trick giving you it's full-attention, you were forced to move through your preparations for bed, and follow its lead when it wrapped itself around your wrist, tugging you back downstairs. 

When you returned, Azriel's glass was empty, book still open, but his gaze was on the doorway as you walked through it. "Where'd you go?"

"I thought I'd prepare for bed before reading tonight, seeing as I'm so tired, that way I can get in bed as soon as the need arises." Your hands locked in front of yourself, and dipped his head in a gesture toward your book pile. 

"Will you sit with me and read for a while, then?"

"Of course." What were you supposed to do, say no? You were giving him space, but when he asked you to stay, who were you to deny it? Picking up the book from the top of the pile, you settled down into the large armchair on one side of the table, perpendicular to the couch Azriel sat on. As you opened your book, his snapped shut, and he let out a rough sigh. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reading." You teased, waving your book at him, but he was not in such a playful mood, it seemed. 

"I see that. Why are you doing it over there?"

You faltered. What now? Confess to hearing him, or continue to spare his feelings the way he had been sparing yours for years. The choice seemed clear. "Sitting closer to the fire, so I don't get cold."

"You never get cold, because you sit with me. You sit here, and if you get cold, I wrap a wing around you, and you get that cute little blush on your face and make one of those jokes about Illyrians being built warmer for those 'damn cold mountains'. So, why are you sitting over there?"

Busted. You worried your lower lip, trying to decide exactly what to say, but he beat you to it, his face crumpling a little as realisation washed over him. 

"You heard us in the library." It wasn't a question, no, it was a statement. A fact, he knew it. Your mate was far too intelligent and deductive for his own good, sometimes. He put down his book, crossing the room in a flash, and removing yours from your hold too. He slipped down to one knee before you, grasping your hands in his, and he gaped for a few moments, no words coming. "I didn't mean it," was what he settled on. 

"'Course you did, Az. It's okay." You squeezed his hands lightly, and he gripped back firmer, like you might pull away from him if he didn't hold on. "I was a little upset to know you'd rather tell your friends than simply tell me if something I was doing was bothering you, but you're allowed to be bothered by things."

"No, I didn't mean it, my love. Please, don't take it to heart." There was a pleading under his voice, like he thought this might drive a wedge between you both, and you pried one hand free to sit comfortingly over his cheek. His head tipped into the touch. 

"Az, it's okay, really. Not everything is always going to be perfect between us, but in future, if I do something you don't like, just tell me, okay?"

"No, no, no.." He was panicking now, so much so that the fear was beginning to ripple down the bond, you couldn't just hear it in his voice but feel it ricocheting through your own chest. Cold, like shards of ice. "Everything is perfect, and that is the problem. Rhys was complaining about all the changes with Nyx. About how he loves his son so much, but lately, Feyre hasn't even wanted to touch him, and she's had such mood swings because of the sleepless nights, he's frazzled. One minute she's coming onto him, the next she's snapping at him because he didn't kiss her just right. Cassian was complaining because Nesta is so fiercely independent and he loves it, but when all that overprotective side of him kicks in and she snaps at him for going full-Cass-mode on her, he hates it. He wishes sometimes she'd just let him clean her wounds and treat her gently."

You didn't know quite what to say, confusion filling you, and he pressed on, pushed a little closer, never letting your gaze slip from his, holding you captive with it.

"Then they were looking at me, like I was supposed to say something, anything. Like, they'd been vulnerable about things they couldn't tell their mates without feeling embarrassed, as though it was my turn. I couldn't think of anything, because, baby, everything is perfect. All I wanted to say was, 'can't relate, Rhysand; maybe one day but not today. Can't relate Cassian; my girl protects me as much as I protect her, we fuss over each other'. I didn't want to upset them, and I realised what they wanted was clingy, the kind of clingy we have, the kind of clingy I love. So, I tried to tell them it wasn't all it seemed, so they'd feel better."

His thumbs soothed over your knuckles, the only sounds between you being the popping of the fire and the ticking of the large clock, until you sighed. He leaned down, kissing the hand still clutched in his own, before twisting to press a kiss to the palm on his cheek before you could retract it. 

"It damn near broke my heart when you didn't greet me at the door tonight. It's my favourite part of getting up in the morning, knowing that when I come home, you'll come flying into my arms, and show me so much love, a kind of love I never thought I'd have. But you didn't, you said you were fine, though. I worried you were mad at me, too. You didn't want to cook together, I hated that, because I like being part of the things you like. You didn't kiss me, you haven't kissed me all night, I miss it. I miss it so much. You didn't hold my hand at dinner, and now you won't sit with me. I'm worried, my love. I'm scared, you have to believe me."

He raised his free hand, sitting it tenderly over your jaw, just like you did for him, swiping his thumb delicately back and forth across your cheekbone. It was an act you adored so much, something he knew brought you peace and comfort, and at this moment, it was doing just that. You could feel the fear in his words as it echoed in your chest, the desperation as he waited for your response. Lifting the hand from his cheek, his gaze tracked the movement, watching your hand hover for a split second over his head. He didn't let the half-second become a full one. He took your hand, lacing it into his hair where it had been headed, your fingernails scratching over his scalp in the soothing way he loved so much. 

"Always touch me. Never hesitate. I don't care if we're at dinner or on a battlefield, but your touch, your attention, your love is everything. Never stop." His eyes fluttered closed in bliss, but he was still tense. "Just say you forgive me."

"I do not, because there's nothing to forgive." His breath hitched at the beginning of your sentence, eyes snapping open wide, and you leaned forward to rest your forehead on his. "Next time, come up with something that's not going to hurt my feelings, even if I shouldn't be eavesdropping."

He smirked at that, nose brushing yours and he laughed breathily. "Next time, I'm just going to take the teasing and let them know how utterly fucking hard in love I am."

"Well, that works too." You smiled, before he was sitting up more, raising from his one knee and pressing his hands underneath your body. "What are you doing?"

"Moving you so we can sit together."

"I'll just come to the couch-"

"Won't be close enough, now." He muttered, scooping you up enough to settle into the wing-designed chair, and situating you sideways across his lap as your eyes rolled. He left a soft bite to your covered shoulder in response. "Don't roll your eyes at me, you had me freaking out. I thought you weren't going to forgive me. I thought you weren't going to.. to be the you that I love, anymore.."

"Yes, well, that's over now." You leaned in, kissing the tip of his nose for emphasis, but uncertain eyes found yours again.

"You mean it?"

"I do." You pressed another kiss to his jaw, fingernails moving back to rake through the thick black hair on the top of his head.

"You'll greet me at the door tomorrow with a kiss?" Mm-hm. "You'll let me cook with you?" Your lips moved up to his cheek, nuzzling there sweetly as you left little pecks across his skin, mm-hm. "You'll hold my hand at the table, and play footsie, and you'll curl up on the couch with me after?" Mm-hm, your kisses reached the corner of his mouth, and you felt it twitch into a smile underneath your lips. "You'll cuddle with me in bed tonight?"

"And every other night, for the rest of our lives." 

Something akin to adoration raced through your chest, filling every part of you. Despite his pink-tinged cheeks, Azriel was confident in his requests, hazel eyes shining as he looked at you. "And you'll kiss me, you'll hold me, every time you want to. Promise me, you'll never hide your affection from me, promise me you'll show me your love for as long as you feel it for me?"

"As long as you promise the same to me." He nodded, vehemently, sealing the deal with an urgent kiss, and you felt a tingling mark forming on the back of your neck, alongside the mating bond you'd made together so many years ago. Another promise formed, to be held forever. 

His lips worked against your own, fingers slipping from where they sat on your cheek to smooth up, no longer running his fingers gently along your jaw but tracing soft tips over the patch on your neck. His lips became a smile in the kiss, teasing and sweet, a breathy sound slipping from you as he nipped at your lower. 

“We should go upstairs.” He whispered, and your arms looped around his neck, prepared for the movement that was so come as he began to shuffle toward the edge of the seat. Raising with you in his arms, he walked a path he was familiar with, your lips beginning to trace his cheekbone the way his thumb had yours moments prior, when a sudden thought crossed your mind. You gasped, sitting up stock straight and Azriel paused at the base of the stairs, brows raising, half-lidded eyes attempting to focus at your reaction. “What is it, my love?”

“We.. we have to go and tell Nesta and Feyre we worked things out.” Azriel stared for a moment, before a blinding grin was splitting across his face. It was more than a smile, it was amused and cheeky and youthful in a way he rarely showed, only in moments like this where the two of you were truly alone, when he let himself be vulnerable. A deep chuckle followed, before he was moving again, climbing the stairs with you in his arms, smile becoming a smirk. 

“So you’re the reason my brothers are in such trouble, huh?” He leaned down, nipping at the shell of your ear as he backed his way into your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind himself. Dropping you down onto the bed, enough to be able to crawl toward you as you backed up into the pillows, he didn’t let up with the wicked stare. “Let it be, we can tell them tomorrow. Consider tonight a punishment for complaining.”

“Were you not technically part of that conversation, Az? Should you not also be punished?” Your words held no threat, and he knew it too, because he only dipped his head down once he was supporting himself above you. His lips dragged over your skin, up from your chin to the shell of your ear, only to whisper;

“Oh, I think I've been punished enough for tonight. I can come up with some much more fun things for us to do..”

[nerdytyrantphantom]

shattered but not lonely (joel miller x f!reader)

This is my 2nd request! Hope you love it, anon 💖

request: hey!! could you do joel x reader (maybe smut) where joel gets super protective over the reader after saving them from a dangerous situation?❤️❤️ word count: 3.9k rating: 18+ explicit warning: SMUT. reader was kidnapped by raiders and joel rescues her and they have sweet, sensual reunion sex after she heals. soft!joel, pet names ("sweetheart" "baby"), light mentions of captivity, oral (f receiving), reader gets super fucking wet, joel is very into it, p in v sex (be smart etc.) a/n: my goal with this piece was to write the filthiest yet equally loving/romantic smut possible :o) i hope you like it! also, to the anon who made this request - i have a second (less fluffy) interpretation of this prompt i plan to post in the near future :) p.s. title is from the song "my favorite book" by stars

“Joel?” you whispered. If the figure in the doorway wasn’t who you thought it was, you prayed for a quick death. 

But as the man’s silhouette approached, your breathing steadied; it was him. Despite your blurred vision from two swollen black eyes, your brain recognized the fragments that formed Joel Miller’s unmistakable presence: the broad shoulders, firm gait, and weight of his rifle slung over his shoulder. A hot wave of tears rose at the realization that Joel had found you. You were going to be okay.

Upon reaching your side, Joel sank to his knees. His battered hands carefully cupped your wet cheeks as his bloodshot eyes desperately searched yours. You’d never seen this Joel before – a Joel who was scared, whose vulnerability was laid bare – and your heart wrenched with pain at the tears threatening to spill from his own eyes. 

“Sweetheart,” he choked, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to cry. His bottom lip quivered as his thumb gently brushed your cheek, as if he was checking to make sure that you were real, that it was really you beneath the bruises and the bloodshed. His voice cracked with sorrow, guilt seeping through every word: “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

The iron fist that wrapped around your heart squeezed knowing that Joel blamed himself. It was in his nature to take on the weight of the world and responsibility for those he loved and you were no exception. You knew Joel and understood the depths to which he would punish himself for not protecting you. In reality, there was nothing he could’ve done. But in Joel’s tormented mind, such reasoning held no solace.

You struggled for the right words to take away his burden. “It’s okay,” you assured, your hands tenderly covering his that still cradled your face. “I’m okay. I promise.” Joel saw through your forced smile, but knew there was nothing he could say. “Let’s just go home.”

Silently, Joel cradled you in his arms, holding you close against his chest. As he carried you, he felt the weight of your body relax, surrendering to the comfort and safety he provided. Your head rested against him, your breaths becoming steady and peaceful as sleep claimed you. 

Time blurred as the days passed. Hazy memories floated in and out of your consciousness — glimpses of Joel spoon-feeding you, of tenderly replacing bandages, and the featherlight touch of his lips pressing kisses to your forehead. 

Finally, one night as twilight painted the sky in shades of purple, you stirred awake. As if on cue, Joel entered the room with a glass of water. His boots scuffed the hardwood floor as he approached and set the glass down on the bedside table. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Then leaning forward, his lips pecked your temple.

"Hey there,” he whispered. “How are you feeling?" 

You took hold of his hand, bringing it to your lips, pressing a tender kiss to each  knuckle. "Better," you whispered, as though the two of you were sharing a secret. Your lips trailed up his hand, skimming along the inside of his wrist until you found yourself pulling him closer, causing Joel to lose his balance slightly as he leaned in to embrace you. 

You nuzzled into his neck, seeking the comfort that only he could provide. "Missed you," you murmured, your words vibrating against his skin, as you breathed in the familiar scent that defined him.

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you tightly against him. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he promised, his fingers stroking your hair. "Never gonna change that." In that moment, time stood still as you both immersed yourselves in the simple joy of being together again. The outside world faded away – the QZ, raiders, the infected – and all that mattered was the warmth of your bodies and shared breaths and sighs between you.

As your lips brushed against Joel's ear, you confessed with a hint of playfulness: "I think I need a shower." 

Joel's arms gave you one final squeeze before releasing their hold. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes still filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, as if he still couldn't quite believe if you were real. You gave him a small smile. "I'm here," you reassured him. “I’m okay.”

As you stood from the bed, a mask of determination veiled the pain that still raked through your body. Joel stood beside you, a silent pillar of support, guiding you with gentle hands to maintain your stability as you found your renewed sense of balance. Together, you made your way into the bathroom.

Joel reached out and turned on the shower, the sound of running water filling the space, creating a soothing backdrop to the moment. He stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance as you prepared to cleanse away the remnants of your ordeal. With quiet care, he helped you disrobe, removing each piece of clothing with a delicate touch. 

As you lifted your arms for Joel to remove your shirt, you couldn’t hide the whimper that escaped your lips, a sharp burst of pain radiating throughout your spine, as he tugged the garment over your head. You tried to quickly conceal the pain, but Joel saw through your facade – he knew you better than anyone.

To your relief, he didn’t scold you for moving into normalcy too fast or decide that the shower was a bad idea; instead, he held his hand under the stream of water, adjusting the temperature to ensure it was just right. 

Then, you watched as he slowly shed his own clothes, standing before you naked and vulnerable, mirroring your own state of undress. He held your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, as you both stepped into the warm fall of the cascading water.

Under the torrent of the shower, steam billowed, welcoming you in a cloud of wet warmth. With practiced hands, Joel lathered shampoo in his palms, his fingers working their way through your hair, massaging and cleansing with a confident yet gentle touch. You observed him in silence, captivated by the sight of his muscles flexing with each movement, displaying strength tempered with tenderness. The white suds built up, creating a frothy veil over your hair, as Joel carefully lifted your locks into the stream of water, rinsing away the traces of the past.

Gently, Joel turned you around so that your back was to him, his hands lathered in soap. With the utmost care, he began to massage your shoulders and trace a path down your arms, his touch both soothing and deliberate. He lifted your arms slightly, ensuring no part of your body was left untouched, as his hands moved down your back, tracing gentle circles and washing away the remnants of your captivity. Leaning forward, resting his chin on your shoulder, he guided his hands over your stomach and breasts, the suds gliding down your body, renewing your skin. 

The moment held a sensual undercurrent, but it was devoid of pressure or expectation. This act of washing was an expression of pure love, a quiet gesture of nurturing your body back to health. Yet, even in this gentle intimacy, feeling Joel's body against yours, his hands caressing every inch and crevice of your body, a dizziness washed over you. A sense of lightheadedness and longing swirled within you, the desire to melt into his touch and be swept away.

After the shower, Joel wrapped you in a soft towel, cocooning you in its warmth. He then tenderly placed a second towel over your head, gently drying your hair, revealing your face with a renewed glow and cleansed complexion. As his eyes took in the sight of you, a mixture of relief and adoration danced in their depths, forming the first soft smile you had witnessed since your return. He leaned his forehead against yours, creating a sacred space between you.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered, his voice carrying a blend of tenderness and desperation. His commitment to taking care of you was unwavering, his desire to meet your every need palpable. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to provide solace and support, to be the anchor that would guide you through the storm.

Hugging your towel against you, you burrowed into Joel, a silent request for him to hold you that didn’t require words for him to understand. As he wrapped you in his embrace, you spoke into his bare chest, voice muffled: “You. Just need you, Joel.”

"I'm right here, baby," he murmured, his touch a comforting presence against your back. Your body stirred with a different kind of ache as you gazed up at him, a longing that transcended the physical. His soft, pillowy lips beckoned to be kissed, the scruff on his face tempting your touch. You could spend a lifetime tracing the lines and contours of his face, exploring every inch of him with a blind devotion.

Locked in his gaze, Joel understood the unspoken desires that flickered within you. Like a language only the two of you shared, he deciphered the quickening of your heartbeat, the subtle lick of your lips, and the faint furrow of your brow that betrayed both frustration and longing. He blinked, a silent affirmation that he felt it too, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

"Come on," Joel beckoned, his voice laced with a mixture of invitation and anticipation. You observed as he skillfully arranged the pillows against the headboard. He draped the towel that had once enveloped your damp hair onto the mattress, purposefully positioning it where your body would inevitably find its place. You then climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself with your back nestled against the plush pillows, your abdomen resting upon the soft towel, and the second towel still wrapped around your shoulders, offering warmth and security. 

From this vantage point, your gaze fixated upon Joel, who stood at the foot of the bed, an arresting sight that never failed to steal your breath away.

No matter how many times your eyes met his, the effect remained unchanged—an overwhelming wave of captivation that surged through your veins. This moment was no exception. His hair, still damp from the shower, was slicked back, save for a single rebellious curl that dared to escape its confines. His flushed chest glistened under the subtle glow of amber light, adorned with droplets of water that cascaded over his skin. The only barrier between you and his complete vulnerability was the white towel that draped enticingly around his waist. Its snug embrace accentuated the contours of his hips, hinting at the sculpted muscles that lay beneath the fabric, while the mere suggestion of movement threatened to loosen its grip.

A tremor of anticipation coursed through you as Joel's eyes roamed over your form, mirroring the same intensity with which you had studied his. A slow, deliberate stroke of his jaw accompanied the journey of his gaze, traveling up your legs, lingering over the heat of your core, trailing across the curves of your breasts, until finally, his eyes connected with your own. His thumb traced a path over his bottom lip, an unspoken question hovering between you.

"Will you let me take care of you, baby?" he asked, a confident plea that resonated with sincerity. He closed the distance, taking a purposeful step toward the bed, his touch grazing over the delicate skin of your foot, tracing invisible patterns.

A lump formed in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as you nodded, your eyes conveying an unspoken affirmation. "Always," you managed to whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air, sealing the unbreakable bond that bound you two together.

You bit back a moan as the towel wrapped around Joel’s waist teasingly fell lower, the outline of his half-hard cock rising beneath the white cotton. He then crawled up the bed between your legs until he was able to nuzzle his nose into the soft skin behind your ear. 

“That’s all I ever want,” he murmured, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. He planted a small kiss onto your skin, humming with pleasure as he grazed your neck. “To hold you,” he continued, moving down to kiss the constellation of freckles that spanned over your shoulder, “to kiss you.” 

As he continued his onslaught of kisses and pecks, you felt the heat rising within you. Finally, as though Joel could sense your desperation, he brought his lips to yours. He softly worked over them – the soft, wet sounds filling the air – before delicately swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. As you opened your mouth and permitted his entry, his warm taste filled your senses, igniting a carnal desire that only Joel could fuel. You moaned hungrily into the kiss and raised your arms to wrap around Joel’s chest to pull him closer, but then groaned as another shock of pain rippled throughout you. 

“Shhhhh, baby,” Joel cooed, resting his forehead against your own. He fought back an amused smile as he lovingly stroked your cheek and pecked at the corner of your lips. “Can’t have you hurtin’ yourself on me, sweet girl.”

Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. You felt like your body was betraying you from what your mind – and your hormones – severely desired. 

“Just lean back and relax,” Joel coaxed, returning to the spot where your neck met your shoulder. He planted more kisses, featherlight, as he continued, “Just let me take care of my girl.”

Closing your eyes, you forced yourself to relax under Joel’s direction. As you sank into the pillows, you concentrated on the touch of Joel’s mouth moving further down your body. “That’s it,” he murmured as your breathing steadied. “That’s my girl.” 

Your heartbeat quickened as Joel’s hands gently pushed away the towel you had slung over your shoulders, revealing your bare chest. With great care, Joel cupped your breasts, massaging the plush skin soothingly beneath his fingertips, while his thumbs lazily circled each nipple. As they became erect under his touch, he popped one into his mouth, suckling the sensitive skin between his teeth. 

“Oh, Joel,” you whispered, your voice both a warning and a plea. He knew what you liked. He knew exactly how to give you what you wanted. And right now was one of those moments, when he suspended the passing of time and acted as though his life’s sole purpose was purely to worship and please you. 

His tongue continued to swipe over your nipple before releasing it with a pop and moving to the next one. When you looked down, butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him; he looked so content with his long eyelashes covering his shut eyes, his nose slightly squashed against your breasts, and his lips wrapped around your nipple like he could stay that way pacified forever. 

As you melted further into the pillows, Joel’s kisses moved down your belly. “My sweet girl,” he murmured – more to himself than to you – as he reached the pubic hair covering your mound. He pushed himself lower onto the bed and arranged himself so that he was neatly between your legs, before carefully lifting your thighs over his shoulders. As you settled into the position, arousal pummeled into your core at the touch of Joel secure between your legs and your bare feet grazing the muscles of his back. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Joel repeated, his voice just a muffled murmur as he continued to plant kisses over your thick curls of hair. He turned his head to skim the tip of his nose over the inside of your leg, before dipping himself into the deepest crevice of your thigh, where he dragged his tongue along the crack. “My baby,” he whispered. 

Joel hadn’t even touched you where it counted yet, and already, your core was dripping. Hearing Joel’s whispers of sweet nothings, tickled by his hot breath ghosting your skin, smelling the soap and shampoo mingle with the scent that was pure Joel, and feeling his plush pillows hug you from behind – it was all building so fast to be too much for you to take. Without a second thought, you spread your legs further, exposing the slick web of arousal between your legs to Joel.

He groaned with ravenous desperation, the sound only turning you on further. He squeezed the dough of your thighs over his shoulders as he buried his nose between your folds, the sticky spread of you smearing onto his face. Your breath hitched as you felt him deeply inhale your scent, before dragging his tongue along your folds. “Give you anything you want,” he mumbled, gently gliding his tongue up and down your slit. His tongue worked lavishly against you, slowly, with deliberate movements that were in no rush. As you felt his tongue dip into every curve and crevice of your core, your fingers found their way weaving through his hair. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, wanting to buck your hips into him further but knowing your pain wouldn’t let you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with pleasure.

Joel shushed you as he continued to lick, his scruff tickling your skin and the sensation electrifying you more. “Sweet, sweet girl,” he continued, a groan pouring from his throat as he licked up a stripe of slick that oozed from inside you. With someone else, you may have been embarrassed or ashamed by how wet you got. But Joel treated it like a gift, like he’d discovered a secret that was all his, and he never failed to express how much he enjoyed it.

For what felt like hours, he stayed like that, his fingers gently massaging the dough of your thighs while his mouth sucked and slurped every part of your core. As perspiration formed on your forehead and your cheeks began to flush, you squirmed with want under Joel’s touch. But like always, he understood.

“You ready to cum, sweetheart?” he asked, looking up at you from between your legs. Despite what he was doing, his brown eyes looked so innocent. As you eagerly nodded your head, Joel pecked up your folds tenderly until he reached your clit. “Okay, baby,” he said soothingly. “You can cum whenever you want.” And with that, he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your stomach churned at the sensation of his tongue toying with your clit like it were candy, his soft strokes perfectly brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with kitten licks.

“Joel,” you cried, cradling his head in your hands. You felt white hot flames licking you from the inside out as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap. Heat rose into your chest and your cheeks as you fell deeper into the pillows, the cushions swallowing you whole. 

Your hips rose just an inch, and though it hurt, the pleasure far outweighed the pain. At this perfect angle, Joel continued to swipe his tongue against your clit until all at once you were seeing fireworks bursting behind your eyes, a wave of euphoria rippling throughout your body. You cried his name as tears streamed down your cheeks.

As the aftershock continued to radiate throughout your body while you tried to catch your breath, Joel crawled up so that he could face you again. His dark eyes were blown out, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your slick. You whimpered as you watched him greedily lick his lips.

“Thank you,” you choked, wiping the tears that streaked your face. Joel kissed your face and hummed with content. “Still want you, though,” you sniffled, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed in a mix of pain and arousal. “Are you sure, baby?” he asked, breath hitching, as your hips rose to grind against his. His towel had since fallen off and now you could feel it, his hard length begging to be buried inside of you.

You nodded confidently. “I’m positive,” you assured him, nosing into his neck. You nibbled his skin, the perfect button you could press to get what you wanted that would drive Joel crazy and whispered, “Please. Want you to fill me up.”

Joel groaned at your words; there was no way he could argue with you, and he didn’t want to. He fisted his cock in his hands and guided the tip along your folds. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he commented, his eyes staring straight into yours.

You stroked his cheek and nodded, licking your lips. “All for you,” you promised him, studying every scar and scratch that etched his face. 

You watched as his jaw fell slack as he pushed himself in, his entire cock filling you up with ease. You moaned instantly. Joel was accustomed to the way you’d mewl for him to fill you completely. He knew how much you loved his cock – the length, the girth, the way it filled you to the hilt – and he could read it on your face every time he had the chance to enter you. As his pubic hair came to brush against your clit, his cock completely sucked inside you, he murmured into your ear: “That’s it, sweetheart. S’all yours.”

As your moans grew louder, Joel pistoned himself deeper, maintaining a steady pace that wasn’t too fast or too slow, but just enough to savor the sensation inch-by-inch. Your nails dug into Joel’s forearms, too weak to wrap around his back, as you clung to him with desperation. “Joel,” you whimpered, not knowing what to do with yourself underneath them. The pleasure was building quicker than you had anticipated. “Joel, I–” you started to say, before sinking your teeth into his arm. You clenched tightly around him as he continued to thrust inside you. 

“Can you cum again for me, baby?” Joel whispered sweetly, holding your chin in his hand to make you look at him. His eyes searched your red cheeks, furrowed brows, and watery eyes. As you desperately nodded your head, Joel’s lips frowned. “Yeah?” he asked, stroking your chin, unable to resist just a second of teasing. 

But before any frustration could build inside of you, Joel’s hand was between your bodies and his thumb was drawing circles against your clit. “It’s okay, baby,” he encouraged, his own words struggling to come out of his mouth as his jaw became slack watching the pleasure wash over you. As your face contorted in pleasure, the coil in your belly threatening to snap for a second time, fresh tears began to roll down your face. Joel shushed you and kissed them away. “It’s okay, baby, it’s all for you,” he said, his words gradually coming out through gritted teeth as he fucked you deeper. “All yours, baby, every part of me.”

All at once you broke, crying out as a second seismic wave of pleasure erupted in your core and rippled throughout your body. As you gushed around Joel’s cock, his pubic hair drenched and the wet squelch penetrating the room, you felt his movements grow sloppy as he burrowed into your neck. Then he was emptying himself inside you, his warm cum seeping out of your aching hole. 

He allowed himself to collapse beside you, careful not to hurt you, his sweat-slicked chest panting. His hand skimmed your chest, cupping your breast, while his face nuzzled into the other one. “My baby,” he murmured, kissing over your areola. He nuzzled into you more. “Never gonna let you go again.”

[chaithetics]

Where to Put My Hands

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader Prompt: Reader having a fixation on him and his hands and him doing something about it. Word count: 1.4K (I tried to keep it concise lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff/comfort, smut. Reader doesn't have any other physical descriptions other than being plus size. Not proof/ beta read. A/N: I'm so excited to share our first Fics for Palestine! (Learn more at that post) Our kind donator has wished to remain anon but a massive thanks to them! I hope you all enjoy this Monkey Man fic!!! Let's keep rising Dev hive! Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚

Kid and you were lying down, he was a man of few words, even in tender moments. But you weren’t bothered, you’re holding one of his hands with both of yours, running your fingers over him. Every side of his hands and then up his forearm, exploring every inch of skin. With each day of your relationship, you’d been able to warm up a part of him that had been shut off for so long. 

He looked at you as you focused on his hands, your favourite body part of his. While you’d melted him, his hands and everything they could do had continued to melt you (in their special way) more and more each day as well. His brown eyes were warm as he took in all of you, how your eyes were fixed on his hands, the gentle touch of your hands, how the sweet smile you wear makes your full cheeks look, how your soft arms looked in the evening light. His beautiful personification of peace. 

“Is it weird that I just want to be seen by you?” His voice is quiet, it often is, and there’s a vulnerable look on his face, his eyes searching for reassurance. There’s something so warm and comforting about being in this relationship but it’s an extremely new and vulnerable feeling for him. 

“Not at all.” You whisper as you rub his wrist gently with your forefinger and thumb. “I see you.” you respond as your gaze turns to him and you smile. 

He smiles at that, clearly feeling comforted in the unexplored waters he’s swimming deeper and deeper into each day. Kid moves and presses a soft kiss to your lips, slowly deepening it as he moves his hand out of yours so he can cup your full cheeks. 

You’d initially relaxed easily into the kiss and were content with it, that was until he’d moved his hand. It was pretty rude considering it had been a strong fixation of yours lately, something he knew. “Hey,” you whispered, “I wasn’t done playing with your hands.” You whisper in a voice that sounds almost annoyed, he tries to distract you with another deeper kiss. 

“Really?” His voice has a slightly playful tinge. “Do my hands belong to you now, jaan?” 

“Yes. It’s in the relationship rules.”

“Well I better put them to good use, I suppose…” He leaned back and then sat on his ankles as he looked at you. “Because I don’t know where to put my hands...” He teases you but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. Oh, how those big brown orbs mesmerise and melt you. 

Kid uses his knee to spread your legs out and then moves so he’s kneeling between them. He caresses your soft jawline for a moment, his fingers gently holding your chin for a moment as his free hand starts to run along your thick thighs. You breathe in a sharp inhale as you look at him, you know what’s going to happen but each cell in your body is buzzing with anticipation still. 

You watch him with bated breath as he runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his eyes are looking at his hands as he explores this intimate area of you. His hand that had gently been holding your chin let go, letting his fingers fall, travelling over your chest, where he gave your left breast a squeeze that made you gasp and bite your lip. 

His hands then glide along the smooth, softness of your round stomach he runs his fingers along where stretch marks and moles are and he takes a soft breath in as he looks up at you. He moves his hand over to palm you above your underwear, you let out a small whine and your head falls back. His left hand massages the plump flesh of your thigh as he continues to palm and move his hand along above your underwear, teasingly.

“Please…. Please…” You beg in desperation as your hips thrust up to try and meet his hand. To be buried against it, in desperate need of more friction and pressure. A need only he can satisfy.

He can hear the neediness in your voice, he can feel it radiating off of you, and he can feel it against his hand. He quickly pulls your underwear down, lifting one of your legs slightly so it’s off and just hanging around the other one. He moves his hands closer to your needy hole, dancing around your inner thighs for a moment. You breathe in shakily as the feeling almost tickles. 

You watch him as he palms you once again, his other hand is now gripping your round hips, starting to run his fingers around your vulva, slowly along your folds to tease you, watching your reaction. Amazed at the power he has over your body, his ability to please you with just his hands. His fingers were touching every part of you but your hole that wanted to swallow him, or your clitoris. 

Kid can see the need in your eyes, how you're looking at him letting out soft moans and gasps as he teases you. 

“Look at you, good girl… such a good girl…” He whispers in that voice that makes you let out a small whine as he rubs your bundle of nerves in a circular motion with his thumb. 

He continues and then slips a finger into your hole, it’s barely in, just a teasing taste as he watches you. Drinking in your reaction, the way your back arches and then comes back down as your hips thrust up to try and swallow more of him, to feel him deeper inside of you. Kid obliges and quickly moves his finger in deeper which pulls the sweetest moan out of you that makes him smile. 

You let out a chorus of moans growing louder as you feel him move his finger deeper and deeper as he moves it back and forth, it’s at this point that he inserts another finger which makes you whine and close your eyes. It’s an incredible sight to him as he watches this. He moves his fingers at the most perfect rhythm that he knows will bring you closer. 

He moves a hand to squeeze your breast again, to run it along your nipple as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. You’re whining as it’s building up deliciously, in an overwhelming way. He brings his hand back down and he starts to give your clitoris more attention again, just as it deserves. He rubs your clitoris faster, applying a little more pressure which makes you cry out. “Does that feel good? Do my hands feel good? Is this what you wanted, what you were thinking about before?” He asks as he keeps going faster and building to that rhythm that he knows is going to make you release. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine out as you nod frantically, you have one hand gripping his shoulder as he keeps moving. All you can think of is his touch and you know you’re on the edge, he’s bringing you there and you’re whining louder. “Go on, be a good girl…” He says as he keeps this current pace of pumping, he’d slipped a third finger in and he’s now giving equal attention to both your sweet spot of nerves and your vagina equal attention. He’s urging you to release, he knows your close. You nod and whine out as you know you’re almost there. He continues and it feels perfect, your back starts to arch as you feel your eyes roll back as you claw his shoulder and come. You come hard and it’s perfect, equally what you knew his hands would give you. Exactly what you’d been fantasising about as you’d held his hands earlier. 

You let out a deep breath, Kid gives you some time to recover from that release but he spends the rest of the night praising you as he gives you exactly what you wanted. Showing you just how he can use his hands and how good they feel.

[nebbyy]

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

[lunargrapejuice]

hi!! :) for the character + prompt, can I request: gojo and

[Suddenly feels around the bed to search for the other’s hand / body when they’re sleeping]

i love him so so so much and i must take every chance i get to tell him fhsehfk🩷

suddenly feels around the bed to search for the other’s hand / body when they’re sleeping | satoru gojo x reader with no pronouns used

if there's one thing you know for certain it’s that satoru gojo is the most beautiful person you have ever seen.

and you’d claim it to be completely unbiased in that fact except there was nothing impartial about you when it comes to him, the other half of your very soul. but still.. no matter how many times you see him, you can’t fathom anything or anyone more heart stirring or handsome and right now, in the early morning light that begins to pour into your bedroom, casting rays of soft yellow light on his pale skin and across his snowy hair, was no exception.

it wasn’t usual that you woke not in his arms and in a mess of tangled limbs. perhaps that’s what brought you to wake so early in the morning in the first place but you were also thankful for it because it gave you a chance to see him like this, adorably sleepy and peaceful, without worry or anything on his plate. at least for the moment. 

right now, he’s just satoru. your ‘toru. your beloved. your best friend. your everything. 

his brows begin to knit, pretty pink lips turning downwards in a small pout that does something funny to your heart. you want to kiss it away, maybe even feel bold enough to try to fluster him by touching them with the pads of your fingers in a teasing and gentle caress but you’re not ready for this moment to end. not ready for the day to start where you’ll inevitably be apart.

for now you’ll settle for your fingers soothing over his brow as the tips of his hair tickles your skin before falling back into place. his expression relaxes under your touch and to comfort him further, you whisper words of love towards him, hoping they make it to his dreams and he feels the truth of them even there.

maybe he really did, you think with warmth in your cheeks when his hand starts to move around the bed in search of you. his brows draw close again when he doesn’t find what he’s look for where you would normally be tucked into his chest but he doesn’t have to go much further until you’re feeling the heat of his fingers through your thin nightshirt, his shirt, and he’s captured you in his hold by your waist, pulling you across the bed with unbridled strength until you’re back where you should be.

you fit perfectly against him, the tangle of your legs falling back into place like it’s where you were always meant to be and the feeling of his lips on your forehead, that linger there in his sleepy state, makes your entire being hum with warmth and love and devotion.

melting against his toned chest, you feel his steady heartbeat under your lips as you whisper into his skin, “i love you ‘toru.”

♡♡♡♡♡

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[howyouloveyourdragon]

Hi there, I absolutely adore you and love your writing and I'm excited that you're writing for jace now.

If it's okay, could I please request the prompts sleepy - number 44.

Have an amazing morning, afternoon, evening 💖💖

hi there! thank you so much, you have no idea how sweet you are for sending such a polite ask, and for your prompt “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” by thelonelyempath!

i definitely put you up high on my priority list for being so kind lol your message made my day

i also just really enjoyed writing this, it got me back into my groove.

have an amazing morning, afternoon, evening yourself and here you go, please let me know if you enjoy it! <3

No Rest For The Dragons

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x reader Setting: During The Dance of The Dragons Summary: All is quiet but no sense of peace can be caught between your fingertips, not even at night and so it is difficult to find sleep. Not until you win the war and crown your prince victorious...Your betrothed, Jacaerys, seems to have other priorities. Warnings: Brief talk of war dividers by: saradika wordcount: 1,412 

A yawn tumbled past your lips with ease and a quiet whine quickly followed. Jacaerys Velaryon had never found anything more sweet in his entire existence but he wouldn’t tell you that…not yet at least. His eyes flickered over your sleepy face, the squished cheeks and rumbled hair. It made his heart throb, a desperation took hold to tighten his chest and squeeze. Slowly, he tucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down. He could barely contain himself from cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss to those lips. His sleeping beauty…his beautiful briar…he would need to bring you a rose soon just for the sake of it because he never did think there was a world in which you were not his Aurora. Some universe in which he didn’t long for you. The backs of his fingers carefully caressed your face. The skin was so soft–practically begging for him to lay upon his gentle pecks of devotion–and yet he restrained himself. You may be his betrothed but you are not yet his wife. He must recall that, if he is to keep your honour…A grunt peeked through his teeth at the thought. The thought that anybody could see you as anything less than a guide of honour and duty as you fought at his side, on his very dragon with a bow and arrow within your hands. A quiver danced along the prince’s bones. He may think you to be beautiful in any state but he would gladly gift upon you anything you so much as dreamed or desired if you were to allow that to be his final sight. His last. The sight of you upon Vermax and casting down the enemy. 

A smile flittered his lips as you stirred and stretched in his lap. “No, no go back to sleep.” He cooed, brushing back your hair and placing a wet flannel at your forehead. You were in your gentlest state this eve. You fended off his hand like a weak squirrel to reluctant avail. “Rest my love. You must rest.” The whine escapes the seam of your mouth before you can escape it. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” You practically taunt with your eyelids finally parting to peer up at him. As much as he wants to scoff and argue, he cannot help but smile down at the soft albeit exhausted face. Amusement laces his face but he lets his brow pinch. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to allow that.” You send a pointed look his way. “You would deny your wife?” “You would deny your prince?” He counters with playfulness and yet something excites him about the way ‘wife’ leaves your lips. How smoothly it goes…It only reminds him of how long he has deprived himself of kissing them. Of feeling the sweet flutter of lightning that would passes over your skin. His hand would dance throughout your hair, he was sure of it, sure that one the day of your wedding, he would summon all the strength he had been willing himself to retain and finally let go. He would deny himself for centuries if it meant you would let him bind himself to you for eternity–if you would let him vow until his throat dried up. If they were not to be his final words, he would repeat them until they were destined. He would be yours, he was sure of it. He does not say this of course as you sigh with a pointed stare. 

It was the determination in your gaze that he adored above all. That very crinkle in your brow that arose whenever anybody were to question you. His throat bobs as he recalls how his hand would slide along to the small of your back–support from the true prince and heir of the iron throne–delighting as you took the lead. Happy to await your debates cease as you charged your mouth at any who claimed your position unfit. None of these men knew the battlefield as you did. None of these men had studied the art so intensively for this very moment. None of these men would protect him like you did, he was sure of it. And certainly none of them had helped teach him the ways of battle so that he could protect his own hide should something go askew. Now as he watches you, he lets his eyes wander along the small scars upon both your hands at such teachings. Your childhood together had been an entertaining ordeal; scars of book pages, scars of dragon mishaps, scars of blades…He wouldn’t trade those tiny indents for the world. He would not even trade for the oncoming victory of his mother’s crown. He would not. 

Instead, Jacaerys’ breath hitches but he does not complain at your defiance. He welcomes it. “My darling, you must rest if you are so determined to fight beside me.” His words are teasing but the plummet of hardness cannot be unheard. He had always been serious. “I cannot allow myself the sight of injury should you–” His throat bobs but you hardly change your mind. “It could cause injury to you should I not properly plan our route.” The retort jumps from your tongue and he can tell this has been boiling for some time now, that the bubbles were ever-present. You’ve been locking this inside your mind for too long now. Far too long. His curled fingers glide down your cheek before stopping at your chin. He lifts it as delicately as he would a broken leaf and gazes sweetly into your eyes. “You can do this well rested. We have time.” “But what if–” “We have time.” He reassures you with the confidence of his ancestor, King Jaehaerys The Wise. Your shoulders slump reluctantly. You should trust him, you know you should–you are so very tired but the night is still relatively young and the troupes must still be waiting outside for you. Jace catches as your eyes track the opening of the tent and he is quick to soften you. “I told them we would resume our meetings tomorrow. You will not miss a thing, my sweet. I swear it to you.” His gentle kiss presses to your temple–one of the few acceptable places he can express such affections. When he pulls himself back, he lingers. Tentative, he waits. His eyes flicker to yours with unabashed uncertainty. “But first you must swear to me that you will rest.” Heat floods your cheeks but you have never shied away from eye contact before and you refuse to do it now. His eyes close and his breath fans over your lips. “Swear it to me.” He repeats through the air of a whisper. “I swear it.” You utter just as quietly, curling your palm around his hand and pressing a long, warm kiss to the knuckles. Jacaerys would be lying if he said that it was not a relief. He could not remember the last night you slept in where you did not awaken suddenly and draft a new strategy. That you did not recall a new route. One that needed your immediate and unrestrained attention. 

And so as the night calls out for you, your soon-husband’s arms slip around you and one loops beneath your legs until he can haul you against him. His breath stutters as he inhales the scent of your hair. His lashes flutter against one another and he takes a few steady steps through the tent. Loving each other had taken its time. It had taken screaming arguments, jealousy, rekindling…but it had also taken laughter and warmth and kindness. Kindness that neither of you thought to be deserved. It had taken the darkest eves and the most golden mornings. He settles you on the plush mattress this night, and brushes back the uncomfortable strands of hair that cling to your skin. Your neck, your face, even the petals of your lips. He cannot blame them for craving your closeness. He hesitates as you close your eyes and your back squirms into place. For only one moment more, he lets himself take in a portrait of your rest. Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, Son of Rhaenyra and future King of the Seven Kingdoms accepts that he craves for nothing but your warmth. He intends to keep you as safe as this every eve, every nightfall. 

One sleepless night after the next, he shall be your rest.