#honey the sweeter the sun

[spacesquidlings]

Hold Me, Carry Me Slowly; My Sunlight

Description: With the warmth of the afterglow fading, Tav manages to coax Astarion into a bath, to show him all the ways she loves him and to hold him close until the water grows cold.

Warnings: Suggestive content, implied sex, mentions of blood, mentions of other bodily fluids

Notes: Hello!!! This is my very first attempt at writing Astarion. Saw him once, fell in love, went insane, now i'm writing fic about him and I cannot stop. I want to just squish his cheeks and tell him how lovely he is. This is set post-everything that happens in game, and he's unascended

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Heavy curtains drawn across the windows stifled any hope of light sneaking in between the threads. It did not even bleed through the leaden fabric, staining the room in a strange glow the way wispy, gossamer curtains often did. But she did not need the curtains drawn to know that night had descended. The hazy burn of dusk across the sky had long since faded, a chill hanging in the air that bit at her bare skin that could only belong to the fathomless night.

Pulling blankets tighter around herself did little to stave off the sting of the air, siphoning away the last of the heat from her skin. And nestling closer to the body beside her was not the improvement she’d been looking for, the press of her skin against his bringing discomfort from everything that had spilled onto her skin into stark awareness.

There was blood; her blood, dried and caked on the inside of her thighs and her throat from where she’d let his fangs sink into her flesh. There was sweat of course, still drying on her skin, making her feel itchy, like a second, ill-fitting skin had been plastered across her. And she could feel where his release leaked out of her, where it had been smeared on the inside of her thighs, where it was congealing on the sheets beneath her.

So not only was she cold, but she felt very gross. And very much in need of a bath.

But she was wrapped up in her lover’s arms, and he seemed intent on holding her close, his soft breaths ghosting across her collarbone.

“Astarion,” she whispered, running a hand through his hair. It was softer than silk, and still cool to the touch despite how she had run her fingers through it, twisted them into his curls at every chance she got. He sighed against her, his lashes fluttering as he shifted.

“Astarion.” She slid her hand down to the nape of his neck, playing with the wispy baby hairs that curled there. “I know you’re awake.”

“So what if I am?” His response was muffled, rumbling through her bones from where he pressed his face against her bare chest.

She traced her finger over the curve of his ear, biting the inside of her cheek as he shivered. “I want to take a bath.”

His only response was a groan, clutching her tighter.

“I feel sticky.”

“I’m far too comfortable to move, love.”

She huffed, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I’m covered in dried blood! And other things.”

Now he did lift his head, his crimson eyes bright in the shadows of the room. She caught the glimmer of his teeth as he smiled, his canines looking especially deadly in the dark. “You could know I could help if there’s something you’d like inside of you.”

A few hours ago his words might have made her blush, might have made her flustered enough to try and look away before he inevitably caught her to tease her some more. But his voice was heavy with sleep, his words more of a quiet murmur than anything seductive. It just sounded a little silly, and she snorted, a smile spreading across her lips.

“You could help by letting me go and letting me bathe.”

Now he was the one huffing, shifting until they were eye-to-eye, his arms never leaving her sides. “And why would I want to do that when I’m so comfortable right here?”

“Because you love me?” She cupped his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks just the tiniest bit. He was always giving her odd looks when she did it, squishing his face or showering his head in kisses or hugging him as tight as she dared. But even if one brow was arched in question, he always smiled softly, his eyes warm with contentment. As if perhaps he liked the sudden onslaught of affection, even if it seemed a little strange.

He chuckled, idly stroking her side. “I do love you. More than anything.”

She leaned closer, until their noses practically bumped together. “So you’ll come bathe with me?”

His brows rose, one arm releasing her as he trailed his hand up her arm. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?”

She didn’t bother to respond with words this time, simply whining, putting on her best pout and hoping it would be enough to sway him.

A snort. “Nice try, darling. But I like having you here in my arms.”

Not nice enough, clearly. She whined again, louder this time, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Please, my love?” She went so far as to whimper, peeking up at him through her lashes, fingers still toying with his hair. “Please? You could come with me and then it would be so much nicer.”

He hummed, smirking as she wiggled closer, ignoring the stickiness between her thighs and the dull ache radiating through her nerves.

“Please?”

His eyes closed, and she knew she had won before he even started to sigh. But he did sigh, long and dramatic and very drawn out.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, fixing a glare on her that was entirely undercut by the smile still playing at his lips. “If you must. But you had better make sure to use those new oils I bought us. I don’t want to be smelling like cheap bar soap you found at a farmer’s market.”

“That’s not fair! It had smelled so pretty when I’d bought it.” She frowned, ducking her head. “I don’t know what happened that made it so plain.”

He tucked her hair back behind her ear, slowly dragging his knuckles down the side of her neck, his eyes softening. “It was probably enchanted to smell that way until it had been purchased. Or perhaps they simply tricked you and only the display one was perfumed.” He smirked. “Which is why you need me to help select the best perfumes and soaps.”

Rolling her eyes, she nuzzled her nose against his neck. “What would I do without you, my love?”

“You would be lost.”

“And I’d smell bad.” She smiled as he laughed, warmth blooming like a new flower in the spring.

“Thank goodness you do have me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And you’ll have me forever.”

If not for the chill in the air and the discomfort clinging to her skin, she probably could have stayed there for an eternity. He’d teased her mercilessly for how much she’d loved to curl up in his arms, but he’d always seemed just as keen to cuddle with her, his arms fitting perfectly around her, his breath tangling in her hair or tickling her neck, his hands stroking her sides or her back.

But she was cold, and she was uncomfortable, and as perfect as his arms and his body were, she felt desperate enough to peel her skin off if she did not bathe soon.

It was with a pathetic whine that she coaxed him from the bed, hands clasping his as she dragged him from the bedroom. He grumbled wordlessly, even as he let himself get tugged into the bathroom, eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the darkness.

She could hardly see in the dark, and it was only with Astarion’s help that she was able to light the candles that lined the counter in the bathroom, illuminating everything in a soft glow.

It was an effort to keep her eyes averted, to pretend like she didn’t think he looked beautiful, the edges of his body blurred by the candlelight, his face softened by the golden glow. He looked a little like his namesake, like a star given form, blessing her with his light.

Although if she told him that she would certainly never hear the end of it. Even now she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she filled the tub, tracking the steam as it curled towards the ceiling and melted out of sight.

“My love.” She felt his hand at her hip, soft as a whisper. She knew this game, knew he wanted her to turn around, to focus her attention on him. She could hear it in the lilt of his voice, the laughter she could hear in it though neither of them had made a joke. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“What do you mean?” She was careful to avoid meeting his gaze, gently brushing her hand over his. “I’m getting the bath ready. Alone, might I add.”

“Well, I’m here for moral support. And you’re doing such a good job I’d hate to get in your way.”

Against her better judgement she turned to glare at him over her shoulder. It earned her a bout of warm laughter that seeped into her veins like sun-warmed honey, heat blossoming in her belly. It was immediately followed by his hands taking her face, his lips stretching into a wide smile, the knife-sharp points of his canines glinting in the candlelight.

“That’s better.” He tipped his head to the side, his eyes softening. “I was worried you had grown tired of looking at me.”

She covered his hands with hers. “I’ll never grow tired of you for as long as I live.”

Lines appeared on his forehead as his brows drew together. So she stood on her toes, gently pressing her lips to each line until they were smoothed away and she could feel his smile against her skin. His hands slid away from her face, but she kept her fingers tangled with his, not wanting to let go just yet.

“My love…” He trailed off, humming as he lowered his head, the coolness of his teeth scraping over her skin making her shiver. “Wasn’t there something else you were doing?”

“You distracted me.” His answering laughter tickled her neck as he hovered above the marks leftover from where he had bitten her.

“You were preparing a bath, I believe?”

She took hold of his face this time as she rocked back on her heels, pulling his head back just enough to meet his eyes, to see the mischief shining in them. “You know, I think this is the exact opposite of getting in my way.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He was awfully good at feigning innocence; his eyes were wide and sorrowful, a small pout pulling at his lips. Had she not known him she would have fallen for it entirely, believing him utterly innocent of any wrong-doing.

But she did know him, and she knew exactly how not innocent he could be.

She clicked her tongue. “Nice try. Maybe I’ll just bathe on my own.”

She spun around quickly, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing as he began to whine, trying to get her attention all over again.”

“My love.”

She went searching for his precious oils, finding them lined up in the corner of the small cabinet above the counter. They seemed to shimmer as she held them up to the light, as she uncorked them to smell them each and make sure she was grabbing the right ones. He was so particular about such things and she wanted to make sure she got it right.

“My darling.” His voice pitched up, cracking a bit as she began adding the oils to the bath. “I thought you wanted me to come with you!”

Much as she wanted to pretend she had a strong resolve, it crumbled to dust with just the slightest of provocation from him. How she was supposed to ignore his desperate whining, even when she knew it was a trap, was beyond her. So when he reached for her hand, drawing her closer, she didn’t resist, instead letting herself be gathered against his chest, his smug smirk illuminated in the glow of the candles.

“Well? Do you truly still plan to leave me and bathe all on your own?” One of his hands slipped down her side, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of his featherlight touch. “I could be of help, you know. I’ve become quite intimate with your body, I’m sure I could help in some way.”

She frowned. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

His answering laughter was bright, like summertime sunshine was bathing them in its golden light. It made her smile, giggles bubbling up in her throat as he laughed, pale cheeks flushing with just a hint of colour, the same pink that promised the coming dawn and the warmth that would follow.

His expression was soft again as his laughter passed, as he waited for her own bout of giggles to melt away, that soft colour still clinging to his skin. It took her a moment to identify the look in his eyes, the gentleness with which he held her gaze, with how he rested his hands at her sides. And when the realization hit her, she felt like her breath was stolen away, yanked from her lungs with a gasp.

He looked happy. He looked so genuinely happy that her eyes began to burn, her heart aching from how it pressed against the cage of her ribs.

Lines appeared on his brow once more, the corners of his lips turning down. “What’s wrong? My darling, why are you crying?”

She shook her head, wiping her eyes quickly. “I’m not.”

“Just because I can’t go out into the sun doesn’t mean I’m blind, you know.” He huffed, mouth curling into a half-smile, something like sadness hanging at the edges. “Have I done something wrong?”

She sniffed, shaking her head furiously. “No! No, not at all. I just have something caught in my eye, that’s all.”

Nothing in his expression said he believed her, but he didn’t push the issue. “Well then, should we get in before the water gets cold?” He leaned close, his voice dipping to a sultry tenor. “Or is there something else you would rather do?”

She didn’t even have to respond before he was laughing again, grinning broadly as he drew back. “My darling, you make this far too easy. Your face is all flushed and I’ve hardly done a thing.”

He’d actually done quite a lot of things today, but her tongue was suddenly too heavy to properly articulate anything sharp and witty she could say in response. And she didn’t have anything sharp and witty to say in response either, a pleasant fog settling over her mind as fatigue tugged at her.

Instead she just climbed into the tub, sinking as far beneath the water as she could, only her nose and eyes still above water as he followed behind, still looking far too pleased with himself.

He reached for the little shelf of bottles that lined the wall next to the tub, the soft light of the flickering candles casting a golden glow around the room. If she hadn’t known him she would have thought he was an angel with how the light gilded his features, twined with the strands of his hair and made it glow. Even that infuriating, devilish smile looked soft in the light, still clinging to his lips as he tilted one of the bottles up to the light.

Her eyes were burning again, her chest aching, too small for her heart, for all of the emotion tearing it apart at the seams. Had there ever been such a beautiful smile? Had there ever been such a precious person ever before?

No, she was certain that there had not been.

He was watching her, and she realized it with a start, her breath catching as she met his eyes.

“What’s the matter, pet? You look like you’ve had a spell cast over you.”

She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood, although the fuzzy feeling around her mind and the warmth in her chest did not dissipate against the sharp pain. She had drunk no wine and yet she felt a little drunk all the same, a little like she was hovering just beyond her body, her edges blurry, everything warm.

He moved closer, taking her hand. “What’s on your mind?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, like a fish gasping for breath on dry land. She really could not say, not unless she wanted to be teased mercilessly, caught gawking at him like a child with a crush.

“Well?” He tipped his head to the side, reminding her of a predator.

Her voice would not come to her, and so she decided that she would express how she felt in a different way, her heart wishing terribly to be able to keep his heart warm, to keep that smile bright on his lips, to keep his eyes soft but never sorrowful again.

“What are you doing?” He blinked at her as she plucked the small bottle of shampoo from his hand, the sensual countenance falling away.

“Let me help you clean up,” she said, rolling the bottle between her palms. “I can wash your hair for you.”

He continued to blink, his brow creasing. Her heart constricted, fear sluicing through her veins, making her fear she had overstepped, that this was something unwanted. She’d already coaxed him from sleep, perhaps she was pushing against his boundaries.

“Only if you want to,” she amended. “If you’re comfortable with it. I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

When he tipped his head to the side it was less predatory this time, reminding her more of the curious head tilt small animals often did when you were speaking to them with a cadence they liked. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you, darling?”

She muttered under her breath about how much of a menace he was, even as she squeezed out the shampoo into her palm. He was smirking, watching her intently.

“You have to turn around,” she instructed, earning nothing but a rebellious smirk. 

“Now why would I do that when it means I can’t see your adorable face?” He twirled a hand in the air, gesturing to her face. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the pretty flush on your cheeks.”

She tried spinning him around, water sloshing over the lip of the tub. “Turn around! How else am I supposed to wash your hair?!”

“Just like this, darling.” He cupped her face, water sluicing down his arms, falling back into the tub with a quiet plinking.

“I feel like you’re trying to embarrass me.”

He clicked his tongue. “I would never dare.”

“I think you would dare.” She couldn’t bring herself to push his arms away, deciding she would have to yield. “I think you would just to see me squirm.”

“Well…” Unable to come up with an appropriate excuse, he merely shrugged. “I like that colour on your cheeks.”

“I didn’t realize you were an artist,” she deadpanned, lathering the shampoo between her palms. “And that you had such a nuanced appreciation of colours.”

“Only when it comes to you, love.”

She sighed, no clever rejoinder coming to mind. She liked getting the last word in, but Astarion so rarely gave her such an opportunity. He always had something else to say, something sharp and clever if not something that would make her blush so fiercely she thought she would burst into flame.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But you have to lower your head for me.”

He had no smart comment for that, instead quietly acquiescing, ducking his head enough so that she could run her fingers through his hair, dragging the shampoo through the silken strands.

She hummed, smiling as the gentle, moonlit ivory waves were smushed beneath the shampoo. She might have gathered it all up into a point, making him look a little silly while he trusted her to wash his hair. But he was always trying to make himself look perfect, and she didn’t mind when he looked less than perfect, when he looked silly or disheveled. He didn’t have to pretend with her, and she didn’t want him to.

“You’re doing something ridiculous to my hair, aren’t you?” He seemed to read her thoughts, peeking up at her from beneath his ivory lashes.

“Nooo.” She shook her head, massaging his scalp. “I would never dare.”

“So you are.”

She huffed, pouting as she ran her fingers down the back of his scalp, pressing gently against the back of his neck, making sure to catch the soft baby hairs that curled there.

“I trust it won’t look like that forever?” The corners of his lips quirked up, his voice dipping to a dangerous octave. “Right?”

She didn’t respond, fixing her gaze elsewhere, trying to ignore the way his eyes bored into her skin.

Another click of his tongue. She nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt his hand on her face, the pad of his thumb running across her bottom lip. “Why are you pouting? I thought this is what you wanted.”

“And I thought you were too tired to tease me like this.”

He tapped his thumb against her lip in time with her heartbeat. “I never said that.”

“I kind of assumed.”

“My love, I’m never too tired to tease you.” His hand fell back into the water with a quiet splash. “But please continue.”

“I’m just about done with your hair,” she admitted, dunking her hands into the water. “You’ll have to lean forward more or tilt your head back so I can rinse it.”

He straightened, shifting awkwardly so he could tip his head back, the sharp points of his ears grazing the surface of the water, sending out little ripples.

She scooted to the side, careful to keep the water from spilling into his eyes as she began scooping it up and pouring handfuls of water into his hair. “You know this would have been easier if you’d just turned around.”

He splashed her, rolling his eyes. “I have my reasons.”

“Would you care to divulge them?” She splashed him right back, not bothering to show the same care this time as water and suds sluiced over his face.

He sputtered, wiping his eyes. “Well not anymore, you wicked thing.”

“I think I’m quite nice.”

He flicked water at her as he sat up. “You’re not being particularly nice right now.”

She splashed him again, harder this time. Water rolled over the lip of the tub like ocean waves, puddling across the floor. “I am SO nice! I’m the nicest! I let you pick out the shampoos and soaps we use! I let you pick out the curtains! I let you be the little spoon!”

The more reasons she was, theoretically, “nice,” the more she laughed. Small giggles at first, bubbling into a laughter that gripped her lungs, shook her body until she was snorting with every breath. Her hands trembled as she tried to cover her face in a vain effort to staunch the flow, but it was of no avail. She felt like a fool, she felt dizzy, almost drunk although she’d had no alcohol.

Astarion snorted alongside her, eyes crinkling in bemusement. “I can let you be the little spoon if you want, my love. I had no idea you were sacrificing so much for my comfort.” Another snort, another flick of the water, sending her into another fit of hysterics. His lips stretched wide, a crescent moon smile that made her heart glow. “I didn’t realize falling asleep in my arms was something of such importance. Although I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Backing up until her back hit the edge of the tub, she covered her face, shoulder shuddering with laughter. “It’s not even that funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

“I’m not sure either.” He moved closer, just enough to find her hand and run his thumb across her knuckles. “But I like the sound.”

“I was snorting!”

“But they were such cute snorts.” He was tracing the lines of her palm now, watching her with such warmth in his eyes she thought she would melt into the water and turn to suds and foam.

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

His bottom lip popped out; an adorable, impossible to resist pout that could make her to cave to almost anything he asked. To stay in bed for a little while longer, to buy him that pretty shirt they’d seen at a night market, to wear the glittering circlet he had mysteriously procured because it matched one that he owned.

“Don’t you trust me?” His eyes were wide as a doe’s, his voice soft as feather down. She was lost to him already, to that sorrowful, beseeching look. Lost to that quiet, almost whiny tone.

She knew she was being played, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

It was with gritted teeth that she managed a quiet. “I trust you.”

His expression morphed almost immediately, his eyes bright once more, his teeth bared from the brightness of his smile. “Marvelous! I’m glad we’re in agreement that you’re adorable.”

“You’re awful.”

He kissed the back of her hand, his laughter rumbling into her bones. “And I’m all yours, my darling.”

Gentle warmth spread from her heart, beating steadily, spurred on by the sudden sweetness of his words. Her arms grew warm next, her belly, her fingertips, everything tingling as if she were caught in a warm haze. He was all hers, he was hers to love and care for and cherish. To hold close when they slept, to share the quiet moments with, to share the loud moments with too. Of course. There would always be loud moments with him, the unexpected always rearing its head as they searched for a cure for him, a way for him to stand free in the sunlight.

“You are,” she agreed. He was hers, and he had given his heart to her willingly. It had been his choice, and she would make sure to treasure it, to treasure him, for as long as she drew breath. And as long as her heart beat, it beat for him. “And I’m yours.”

A strange look came upon his face then, something between sadness and elation, something she could not name. It was gone far too quickly for her to dissect it, his lips brushing against her hand once more before he drew away, a smile plastered on his face once more.

“You most certainly are, my darling.” He gave her hand one final squeeze before letting it go, twirling a hand through the air as he gestured to his hair. “Now about whatever you’ve done here.”

“Will you turn around now?” Whatever had snagged her attention briefly flitted away. Suds were streaking down the sides of his face, his hair half matted, pure ivory with the shampoo still caked into his scalp.

It was only with a long, petulant sigh that he turned around, laying back so his head was nearly in her lap so she could finish rinsing his hair.

“Now was that so hard?” She teased, supporting his head with one hand while she used the other to pour palmfuls of water onto his hair.

“It was torturous. I couldn’t see you for a whole minute.”

“Oh please.” She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comb out the rest of the shampoo. “You’re such a baby.”

His brow furrowed. “I am not! I’ll have you know I’m over two hundred years old-”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she cut him off. “Yes yes, you’re an over two hundred year old vampire, you’re terrifying and powerful and someone to be feared. But you’re still a baby.”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth opening as if to retort.

“And you’re my baby,” she finished, cutting him off once again.

She swore colour flared in his cheeks, at the tips of his ears. He looked away quickly, whatever sharp comment he’d been about to make dying before it made it to his lips. “I suppose it’s acceptable when you say it like that.”

Curling forward she brushed her lips to his brow, listening as he sighed. 

He started to lift his head as she drew away, chasing after her in search of another kiss, but she gently coaxed him back down, cradling the back of his head once more. “Just relax, love.”

At first he did not relax, his eyes flickering to her face and along the shadowed ceiling of the room. But after a while she felt as he settled himself more comfortably against her. His upper back was cushioned atop her legs, his head cradled in her palm, just above her thighs, his legs drawn up so his knees cut through the water like mountains on the other side of an ocean.

“Let me know if anything is uncomfortable, okay?” She ran her hand around the sides of his ears, making sure she caught the last of the suds, making sure to rinse his hair fully so that when it dried it would be fluffy and soft just as it always was. She combed her fingers across his scalp, massaging gently, smiling as he gave a quiet hum of assent. The lines in his brow were smoothed away, his face softened in the light. He looked peaceful, serene as she rinsed the last of the shampoo away.

She could have told him to move then, that she was done and he had to sit up, but she found she did not want to, could not bring herself to be pried from this position. His weight against her was a comfort, the tranquil look on his face a balm to her heart, his even breaths lulling her into her own state of peace.

He looked calm, he looked happy, and she was loath to end the moment, for that gentle stillness to melt into the suds and bathwater.

So instead she reached for his preferred soaps, lathering it between her palms and running her hands over his shoulders, massaging the soap into his skin.

He shifted, a brow arching. “What are you doing now, my love?”

“Cleaning you up,” she said, pausing as worry flitted through her mind. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

His eyes opened, and where she had expected accusation she saw only the softness that accompanied a flower just beginning to bloom, petals not yet the brilliant crimson of blood. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s nice.” He sighed, eyes falling closed once more. “And I trust you.”

She was thankful to be sitting, because she was certain her legs would have given out on her from hearing such words from his lips.

She carried on, moving her hands over his arms and hands, sliding them back up to wash his chest, his torso. Eventually she did have to ask him to sit up, water sluicing down his back as she fetched a cloth to wash his back, careful to ensure her touch was light as she ran it over the lines of his scar. Her stomach still roiled when she saw it, remembering the sharp pain in his voice when he’d told her of its history, and when she remembered the scarlet light that he had been bathed in, that had set the scar aglow.

She bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood, forcing herself back into the present. That was behind them, it was behind him, and he would never have to fear his old vampire master agait. There was no more ritual, no more control, no more sacrifice. The scars would never glow again, they would never be anything more than scars. Fading reminders of a shadowed life and misery she would do everything she could to make sure he never felt ever again.

Suds spilled down his back, and she brought cupped hands of water to the nape of his neck, letting the water spill down his back as she began wiping up the suds. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable at all, okay?” She scooped up more water and watched as it spilled down his back, washing away the last of the suds.

He gave a quiet hum of assent, seeming content to let her do as she wished for the moment. He was turned away from her, but she imagined the peaceful expression that must have been on his face. The dreamy smile, the pale pink of his cheeks, the same expression he often had when he first awoke, serene and blissful like he were caught in a beautiful dream.”

“I love you.” She murmured the words as she brought her lips to the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”

The quietness of the moment should have concerned her, but she’d written it off as him still being sleepy as she continued. She alternated between washing him up and scattering stray kisses along his skin. His shoulders, his sides, his arms. She made sure to catch all the little crooks of his body, fingers tangling together with his for half a heartbeat as she trailed soap and suds over his arms again before she rinsed him off.

“Alright.” She’d only just dunked the cloth back into the sudsy water, eying the lineup of pretty, colourful bottles along the shelf next to the tub, trying to figure out which ones were his favourites. They were unlabelled, but she knew what scents he liked best. “Don’t tell me which one is your favourite, okay? I think I know.”

She rested her cheek against his shoulder as she reached for the closest one, the one she was pretty sure smelled of bergamot. It was only then, as her fingers closed around the little bottle, did she notice the slight tremble of his shoulders, the soft sniffling sound that was quickly drowned out by the splash of water.

She drew back at once, the bottle slipping from her fingers and plunging into the water. For such a dramatic moment, as her breath caught in her lungs, she would have thought it would have made a louder sound as it crashed from her hand. But no, the bottle made little more than a quiet plink as it slipped beneath the surface of the water, the silence hanging in the air heavy, deafening in comparison.

“Astarion?” Her heart constricted, her lungs shuddering as they tried and failed to draw in breath. She hesitated before settling her hands on his shoulders, not knowing what else to do. “My love? Is something the matter?”

A beat. It was little more than half a moment but it could have been a century for how the time stretched between her question and his response.

“Nothing, darling.” His voice was much softer than usual, so soft she would have missed the tremor in it had she not been so close, had she not felt as it vibrated through him, resonating between them in the place where she had laid her palms.

“It’s not nothing.” She wanted to see his face, wanted to see what he was hiding. But when she leaned forward he turned his head away, nothing but his damp curls filling her sight.

“Astarion.” She settled one hand on his arm, the other brushing his hair back from his ear. “My love, why won’t you look at me?”

He cleared his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the side of his face. “It’s nothing. I think there’s some soap in my eye.”

“Let me see,” she insisted, reaching for his face. She cupped the cheek furthest from her, gently drawing his face towards her. “If there’s soap in your eye let me help get it out.”

He did not put up any resistance, although when he finally faced her fully he did not meet her eyes. Instead he just stared down into the water, his hands awkwardly clenched together in his lap. Red rimmed his eyes, his cheeks a splotchy red that spoke of tears, not the gentle flush of contentment or love. His face was wet, although that was most certainly from the bath as much as it was from his quiet tears.

Her hand slipped from his cheek along the curve of his neck, pausing only to rest on his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall as he took slow, measured breaths. “Oh my love, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

His hand covered hers, an empty smile shuddering at the edges of his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. I just got something stuck in my eye, probably from being distracted by your hands.” His voice dropped an octave, was sweet as syrup, warm as the buzz of alcohol when she’d drank too much wine. “I was thinking about all of the other things they could do.”

The smile at his lips grew wider, the sharp points of his canines peaking out. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, but they fell just as quickly, no smile in them.

“Is it me?” Her voice trembled as she spoke, drawing her hand from him and pressing it against her own chest. She slid backwards, worry an oily creature squeezing her belly until she thought she might retch. “Have I done something wrong? Something to hurt you?”

Ruby eyes flared wide, the water moving like ocean waves, spilling over the lip of the tub as he closed the small amount of distance between them. He cupped her face with such tenderness she thought she would be the one to cry now.

His voice was a dry rasp, his brow lined. “You have done nothing wrong, I swear. I promise, you are…” His eyes softened. “You are perfect.”

Some of the tightness in her belly eased. She wanted to reach out to him, but she held back, still fearing that perhaps her touch had been too much. Perhaps she had pushed him beyond the bounds of his comfort. She sounded small, like a child, when she finally asked “then what’s wrong? Why will you not tell me what’s wrong?”

A long sigh fell from his lips, his hands finding hers in the water, fingers threading together. He seemed to hesitate, his eyes scanning her face for a long moment, his brow drawn. 

“It’s not that something is wrong…” He tipped his head to the side, a humourless laugh ringing hollowly in the air.

She chewed on the corner of her lip, unsure whether to press him for details or to give him space to speak. Maybe he just needed to think through what he was going to say.

The corner of his lip twitched. “Don’t bite your lip like that, my sweet. I can smell the blood from here.”

She froze, frowning. “I haven’t even bit it that hard-” The coppery taste of blood spread across her tongue and she frowned even more, watching as his smile grew wider. “Hey! Don’t change the subject.”

“I can’t help it when all I can think about is sinking my teeth into your lips.”

He seemed quite proud of that line, and she wasted no time in splashing his face, washing it away. He sputtered, wiping his face, his smug little grin replaced by a pout.

“My eyes are up here,” she motioned to her face, earning the return of a small smirk. “Astarion, please. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but if there’s something I did wrong, or something I could do to help.”

It was another beat before he responded, his eyes creasing at the corners. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love. And I’m not upset, I promise.”

She elected to remain quiet this time, fluttering her fingers along the surface of the water as opposed to worrying her bottom lip with her teeth lest she distract him yet again.

The tenor of his voice softened, warm and low, reaching into her mind and easing away the last of her anxieties. “It’s quite the opposite, actually. It’s just…” He trailed off, holding her gaze steady as he searched for the right words. When finally they came to him, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, soft as feather down, as morning sunshine in the air. “You were being so gentle. You weren’t trying to seduce me, or manipulate me. You just…”

Again he trailed off. He reached for the hand still skimming across the top of the water, holding it tight. “I didn’t want to say anything because it felt absurd to be crying over such a thing. I know you love me. And yet.” He shrugged. “I was overwhelmed. I felt so loved.”

His words hung, suspended in the air between them like spider’s silk. Delicate and gauzy, shimmering with the silver of moonlight as it was spun. She wasn’t thinking as she reached out to him, as she crawled into his lap with her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the wet curls.

“My love,” she breathed. She could not find her voice, her words little more than a flutter of gossamer wings, butterflies caught in a storm, a lone songbird taking flight in morning mists. Her heart was aching, her ribs cracking, splintering beneath it, the power of her voice stolen as the feeling drowned her veins.

His brows lifted, confusion and yearning twined together in his eyes. “Yes?”

“I love you.” It was all she could think of to say, the only words that would form in her mind for the longest of times. She ought to be better with her words, but in this moment, her fingers wrinkled and the water tepid, there was nothing else. “I love you entirely.”

“And I love you, darling,” he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I love you.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, saying the words over and over again like a prayer. “I love you. I adore you. My chest aches from how much I love you.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as she passed her lips over his, as she scattered kisses across his cheeks and brow and the sharp tips of his ears. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“I want you to feel loved everyday, always.” A kiss to the side of his neck, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I love you, I’ll always love you.”

His arms came around her sides, hands resting on her back. “My love…”

She couldn’t stop now, smiling as his eyes flicked skyward in an eye-roll. “I love you!”

He held her tighter, drawing her in closer. “I love you too.”

“I love you with all my heart.” A brush of her lips against the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows, the hollow of his throat. His hands tightened, fingers pressing into her skin. “I’ll find a way to live forever so I can love you forever.”

A garbled sound escaped from his lips and she froze, her grip loosening in his hair. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping it until she loosed her hold, her hands aching.

“No,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. “No, don’t stop.”

Silver pooled in the corners of his eyes when she pulled away, lines tracking down his cheeks and gathering at the edges of his jaw. Little droplets tumbled silently down, little ripples spreading across the surface of the water.

“Are you sure?”

A small nod, one hand sliding up her back, resting at the nape of her neck. “I am sure. Don’t stop.” He offered her a small smile, even as tears streaked down his face. “Please?”

She brushed the tears away with the pads of her thumbs, cupping his face as she brought her lips to his again. She grinned as he sighed, his lips parting against hers. It was so incredibly gentle, so tender and soft that she almost burst into tears too, feeling like she might melt into a puddle and be washed away with the soap and the suds.

“I love you,” she murmured as she broke away, breathless even as she drew breath. Shadows clung to the walls, stretched out from the corners and puddled along the floor, the flickering candlelight never quite reaching fully into the cracks and corners of the room. Yet for all that shadow everything seemed to burn bright, everything awash in technicolour. It was like an artist had come in and painted over a sketch done in grey, bringing it to life with colours she could not even name, made of crushed gemstones and sunlight and sugar.

Another sob bubbled to the surface, but it was chased by a soft laugh. The hand at her neck twisted into her hair, his free hand stroking her side gently, reverently. He looked away from her, lips pressed into a thin line as if he were embarrassed from the sound.

“You’re safe, you know,” she promised, stroking his cheek. “It’s okay to cry.”

He snorted, chuckling softly as he slowly looked back at her. “For being told I’m loved?”

She brushed away another tear. “Yes, exactly.”

He looked incredulous. “Really.” It wasn’t a question so much as a comment, one brow quirking up. “You don’t mind?”

“I’m just glad you trust me.” She traced the line of his jaw. “That you feel safe with me.”

He looked on the verge of saying something smart, so she kissed him quickly, fighting against her smile as he let out a choked sound, all that remained of whatever his snarky little comment would have been.

“That was unfair,” he whined, trying and failing to glower at her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kissed the corner of one eye, then the other, the shudder that wracked through him echoing in the hollows of her bones. “I just love you, I couldn’t help it.”

He chuckled again, running his fingers through her hair now. “Well if you’re that determined to shower me with affection, I suppose I shouldn’t stop you.”

She frowned. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want you to stop.”

“Even if it makes you cry?”

His pale brows rose higher, the corner of his lip twitching. “Only if you promise to kiss them away.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling as close as she could to the coolness of his body. Tepid water sloshed around her hips, but she did not care, did not even notice as the bath grew colder. It could have been made of ice and snow and still she would have felt nothing but the warmth of her heart, burning as hot as a star set to explode and spread fire and stardust through her veins. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, feel it beat in time with her own, a harmony only they could create.

“I promise,” she murmured, lips against the curve of his jaw, trailing kisses up his face, tasting salt on her tongue.

“Then I definitely don’t want you to stop.”

She could have said something smart then. About how he was ridiculous, how he was being awfully needy and demanding. But in truth she didn’t have it in her to say something sharp, to come up with some witty rejoinder. Any smart comments she made were like training swords to the sharp-edged daggers he could create with only his tongue anyways. But more than that, she just didn’t want to. Why would she cut through the delicate gossamer of this moment? Why would she tear apart the diaphanous veil that clung to them?

All she wanted to do most days was hold him to her chest and press her face into his hair as she breathed in the rosemary and bergamot that he was so fond of. She wanted to cup his cheeks and kiss his face until he blushed, until he laughed, until he was so full of love he would never doubt his worth again. To run her hands down his back, to tangle her fingers in his hair and comb them through his curls, to soothe him so he felt safe as he slept. 

She was not about to pass up an opportunity to do exactly that, and she was not about to tease him when she was nearly fracturing from the effort it took to keep everything she felt contained in her veins and her bones.

She had been struck dumb with love, but she had never been happier, never been so glad to sit in a cold bath with wrinkled fingers. There were not even any words to describe it, so she repeated the same words over and over. That she loved him, oh how she loved him, her precious Astarion.

Eventually his tears began to slow, his quiet sobs no longer echoing through the room. She didn’t pull away, at least not right away, wanting to stay tangled with him for just a little while longer. She murmured one more “I love you,” pressed one more kiss to the corner of his lips, before she pulled away.

Astarion’s eyes were filled with stars when she found them, the smile on his lips adoring. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She brushed a damp curl behind his ear. “But you’re not crying any longer.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stop, darling.” He sighed, mischief in his eyes once more. “And just when I was enjoying it, too.”

She splashed water at him, snickering as he shouted. “Come on! The water is getting cold!”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, their chests pressing together, holding her fast. “I’m not the one who started kissing me, darling.”

“I was trying to make you feel loved,” she whined, wiggling in his grasp but finding she was unable to escape.

“And you very much succeeded.” He spoke languidly, drawing out each word slowly, the sharp points of his teeth catching the buttery light. “I’ve never felt so loved before, in all my long, depraved existence.”

She looped her arms around his neck once more, running her fingers through his hair. “Well I’m very glad for that.”

He inclined his head, an approving smile on his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I want to let go of you just yet.”

“Astarion,” she hissed. “I wanted to take a bath.”

He was all wickedness now, tilting his head back, holding her fast with his eyes as much as with his arms. “And I wanted to stay curled up in my lover’s arms.”

A shiver ran down her spine, her body momentarily out of her control as she shook. She pressed closer against her better judgement, searching for the scraps of warmth his body offered.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, reminding her of a lazy cat from the way he watched her with half-lidded eyes. “So doesn’t this seem like an answer to what we both want?”

“We’re not exactly doing any bathing.” She shivered again, gooseflesh rushing across her arms.

The way he smirked made it seem like he had won a prize, all satisfaction and smug delight. “It looks to me like you’d be better off staying in my arms, darling. If you don’t, you might catch a chill.”

Frowning, she planned to push away from him and crawl out of the bath, but she was shivering again, harder this time, her teeth clacking together. For all the warmth stored within the cage of her ribs, beating endlessly in time with his heart, clearly it was not enough to keep the chills away when she was waist-deep in a cold bath.

Astarion grimaced, taking note of the gooseflesh prickling her skin, the way her teeth clattered together, the unending shivers she could not seem to control. He pried one hand from his hair, inspecting her palm, before sighing dramatically. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking away at the line of candles, watching as wax pooled at their bases.

A click of his tongue drew her attention back, although she wished she had not looked back as she was met with a look of reproach, his mouth a thin line, the corners of his eyes creased as they narrowed.

It was so bizarre, so utterly absurd to see such an expression on his face, when usually there was mirth or mischief or plain wickedness, that she couldn’t help but giggle.

He cocked his head to the side, the gesture of a predator having cornered its prey. “I’m not really sure what you find so funny,” he said leaning close. “But please, do enlighten me.”

“Nothing!” She shook her head quickly as she squeaked out her response. “There’s nothing that’s funny.”

“Hmm,” was his only response, although he looked like he didn’t believe her for even a second.

She tried to draw her hand away, to press it safely to her chest, but he held it tightly, his eyes boring into hers for a long, long while.

“I’m only a little cold,” she said, finally conceding. “I hardly noticed it.”

He sighed, loosening his hold. “Well I think it probably is a good idea to get out of the bath.”

She was not afforded a moment to consider his words as he stood, capturing her in his arms as he stepped from the tub.

“Hey! I haven’t washed up yet.” She wriggled in his arms, trying to get free.

“Relax.” He smirked, setting her down. “You’re not bathing in freezing water.”

“It wasn’t freezing.” She pretended she didn’t see the way his eyes flicked to the goosebumps still crawling across her arms and her legs now, too. Or the way she shivered again.

He sighed. “It’s a good thing I don’t love you for your intelligence.”

“Excuse me?!”

His hands hovered on either side of her face, his nose bumping against hers as he kissed her lightly. “I adore you, my dear.”

She glared at him as he drew back. “That is not what you said.”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, moving away to begin draining the bath. “I adore you, and I will always love you, no matter what silly things you say.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re not implying I’m dumb.”

He held a hand to his chest, looking stricken. “On my honour! I would never say such a thing.”

She considered turning around and stomping back to bed. But there had been a reason she had wanted to bathe, beyond lavishing Astarion in love, and she still itched to wash her body of the sweat and blood and other things that still clung to her.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling.” He looked on the verge of pouting again, reaching for her hands. “You’ll have some cuddles again in just a few minutes.”

“What are you plotting?”

“Don’t look so suspicious, I’m only drawing you a new bath.” He huffed, making a grand show of refilling the tub with steaming water.

Warmth like a newly kindled fire bloomed in her chest, velvet softness wrapping itself around her heart. It was a small gesture, and yet it set her alight, made her feel as though she were glowing a little from gratefulness, from the love that had her in its thrall.

Still, she had to argue, curious why he would do such a thing when he’d only wanted to stay snug in bed in the first place. “I can do it, it’s okay. I know you’d only wanted to remain in bed.”

Another click of his tongue as he reached for some of his oils, sniffing them delicately before sprinkling them across the water. “I never said that.”

She groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Oh yes, I know.” He set the bottles to the side, offering her his hand, a teasing smile on his lips. “It’s allowed me to get away with much in the past. I’m hoping it will let me get away with much more in our future.”

She took his hand, letting him draw her back into the now steaming water. The heat of the bath seeped into her bones, relaxing her muscles as she sank into the fragrant water, tipping her head back so her hair streamed out behind her.

“How’s that?” Astarion asked, settling into the tub once more. He drew her legs into his lap, running his hands over them beneath the surface of the water. “Better, right?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you’re right, it is much better.”

He flicked water her way, smug. “Now where were we?”

“Well I think I was almost done washing you,” she said, her memory hazy. Most of what she remembered was kissing his face, the desire to do so once more like a creature curling in the spaces between her cells, coiled tight, willing to wrap herself in his arms once more if he bid her to.

“That’s right,” he breathed. Something softened in his gaze, his countenance turning gentle, almost reverent. “But you’ve made me feel so loved. I’d like to do the same for you.”

A flush creeped across her face, reaching down her neck and across her chest as he took her hand. “You don’t have, I didn’t do it because I wanted you to reciprocate. I just-”

He kissed her hand, cutting her off, and for a moment he could have been an angel, the soft light gilding his features, his ivory hair glowing like moonlight.

“I know,” he murmured against her skin, eyes opening to find hers. “But I’d like to do it all the same. If you’ll allow me.”

There was nothing hidden in his voice, no double meaning to his words. Nor was his smile sly, or his eyes sharp as daggers. Nothing but earnestness lay in his countenance, a determined sincerity that had her caving at once. 

How could ever say no to such a display? Even now that his enslavement was behind him and his sire long dead, he was still guarded. Less so with her, but guarded all the same. It would take many years to coax him fully from his habits, from his attempts to shield himself and his true emotions. But he was not shielding himself now, he was not hiding anything. So how could she ever say no when his heart had unfurled like a flower in bloom, unveiling how he truly felt?

She leaned forward to cup his cheek with her free hand, unable to pry herself away from touching him gently, from stroking his face with light fingers. “Nothing would make me happier, love.”

He leaned into her touch, a sigh feathering across her skin as his eyes closed. “Are you sure there is nothing that has ever made you happier?”

“Astarion.”

He lifted both hands, palms out in surrender. His eyes fluttered open, his lashes tickling the tips of her fingers. “I was only teasing, love. Although.” His voice turned smooth as warmed butter. “I hope that everything I do makes you happy.”

“You make me happiest,” she breathed.

He sighed again, one hand circling around her wrist, his shoulders sagging. He looked like he was on the verge of melting, of falling apart and slumping into her arms. But he straightened, pressing a kiss to her palm before pulling away. “Then let me show you how much I love you.”

True to his word he did his best to wash her in kind, and the feeling of the warm water and the soap and his scattered kisses were so heavenly she nearly cried, too. They stayed together until the water grew cold once more, and then they wrapped themselves in soft towels, water puddling beneath their feet as they returned to their bedroom, as they perched on the bed while she carefully toweled off his hair, biting back a grin at how it stood up at funny angles.

And when water no longer beaded on their skin they curled up in bed once more, tangled together beneath the layers of blankets. Astarion’s head was pillowed against her chest, and she idly ran her fingers through his still-damp curls, listening to the even tempo of his breaths, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest.

“I love you,” she murmured into his hair, stifling a yawn as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.

He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, a sleepy response that she felt in her bones more than heard quivering in the air. It made her smile, her arms tightening around him as she tried to hold him closer. She was happy, happier than she’d ever thought was possible, and she would do her best to make sure he was happy every day too, until the end of her days.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

Your Peter Parker picnic oneshot. You literally wrote that and I felt as though I was reading an example of what perfect scene imagery is supposed to sound like. I’m not kidding you, that is an example of perfect writing my professors would have used. You absolutely are not bland in the slightest. Do not ever say that Rae Rae. You are an incredibly talented writer and I look to you for inspiration. 🥹💘

Oh my darling J! Thank you so, SO much. I loved that one, I wanted it to feel dreamy and sun-drenched, but romantic and hot. I hope it achieved those things. It's one of those ones that I felt like our boy Peter Parker would just be so boyfriendable and I had to get it out. Thank you for your kind words, for your support. I'm never sure if these things are landing, so this feels very special.

I think this was also the origin of the "cola eyes" description??

Tell me something from my writing that's stuck with you

[littlebabywille]

simon at the castle simon at the castle simon at the castle

[verdant-avidya]

"Now what kind of crimes are we getting up to tonight."

[louebel]

— [ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 . . . 𝟐 .ᐟ ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sanji, zoro, mihawk, buggy × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: not proofread and rushed,, it's not as wholesome as the first and more calm + horny my bad, lowercase, gets a bit explicit with sanji and buggy at the end... i am deeply sorry not. rest is sfw, fluff, and... fluff. usage of "baby, sweetness, honey, good boy" (and... others? i forgot) in all of them except zoro's, lots of caresses and kisses! these are rather short,, anddd dripping divider by @ benkeibear :) 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you couldn't help but share the sudden warmth you felt with them, resulting in... a lot of kisses! ... and more. part one is here!! though idk should i repost it? since it's in my archived blog— eh idk maybe not.

— 𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈, wc. 699

"sanji... honey..."

a very pleasant smell engulfed the kitchen. sweet and homely, a dish that piqued your appetite. seagulls could be heard outside the sunny, the sun rising slowly to greet all those who continued their lives.

and then there were you two, already awake. sanji always got up earlier, and so you did too, wanting to keep him company at such early hours. you could still hear sanji's wails and the rivers of tears plopping onto the wood at your kind gestures, and you swore you saw the sunny sweatdrop that day. (you were definitely not imagining things...)

"hmm? yes, love?"

his voice was your greatest weakness. freshly awake, groggy with sleep... if only you could both rest right now — what you'd do to feel him tend to your scalp, brushing his treasured fingers upon you, perhaps humming a tune in your ears. you remembered his words: "because my love for you is so profound, i can't contain it" and now, every time he murmurs, you melt a little more, thinking of what he said. of course, not all the time, sometimes he just does it.

sadly, however, you couldn't go back to sleep. he had to cook, and he was going to treat you with the most delicious, mouthwatering breakfast ever, but you'd still be disappointed since what you wanted was... something else. you were so spoiled...

"i think i could get something else for breakfast... it's fine, right?"

now, you know sanji despised wasting food. it wouldn't really be a problem considering luffy, but... why didn't you say anything?

he glanced at you from his shoulder, a bit perplexed. he felt his heart flutter as you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your face on his tender nape.

"sweetness?"

"... those are definitely sweet," you pointed at the pancakes, already smiling, "but i think you're sweeter."

it was only morning, damnit. and yet here he was, already blushing, cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink. a small chuckle rumbled from his chest, the cook lowering the heat as the first batch was ready, before turning to you and pressing a tender kiss upon your forehead.

"you do, love?"

"mhm. and, you know, i'd really like if you gave me some of your love right now. i think that's the most sweet... 'm thinking about just sitting here and kissing you all over while telling you "i love you, i love you, i love you" ," you brought his hand to your chest, smiling at how his visible eye softened. "feels really warm right here, just thinking 'bout it..." you were so wonderful that sanji might just die on the spot.

"oh, love... you can't just say those things so early..."

"hmm? and why not?"

"... m—might faint."

fainting in your arms didn't sound so bad though, he thought dreamily.

"ppff... if you faint, i won't shower you with kisses."

"i won't faint."

you giggled at his suddenly determined tone. tenderly brushing your lips around the side of his neck, you nudged his jaw, sliding your hands under his shirt, feeling him tense beneath your skimming fingers. his flesh felt firmer to the touch, lineaments of his abdomen and torso defined with each part you mapped.

"hmm... i love you so much, sanji. really love you, hon."

"... a—ah, getting handsy, aren't you?"

you loved how he got so flustered with just a couple of touches. he shuddered as you placed your hand on the crook of his neck, pulse quickening beneath your thumb. he was rather sensitive, there, too...

"you— you know, i, hnngh, think you're the sweetest..." he whimpered, his slender fingers finding your tantalizing ones.

"hmmm? is that so, honey?"

"y—yes — ohh... love..."

you were gliding dangerously lower...

"mmm... you're so hard, sanji." oh... "i think you should relax a bit before cooking..." oh my... "it's so early... you need proper rest." ba-dump.

"... i—i do, don't i? heh... hehe..."

"yeah, you do. come on... i'll show you just how sweet i am. will give you all my love. you want that, baby?"

"oh, ooh please... goodness, don't—don't hold back, mon ange..."

"mhm... good boy. relax..."

and soft moans soon filled the piquant kitchen — followed by smooches, wet sounds, and declarations of love from both ends.

you truly were the sweetest in his eyes.

— 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐀 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎, wc. 388

"zoro... your face looks pretty kissable today."

sometimes, zoro had no idea what went through your head. you've both been sitting on the deck, zoro against the mast and you lying your head on his lap. he was going to take a nap but it seemed you were feeling chatty, so he decided to entertain you for a little while before he dozed off.

he had no idea what you were thinking, but he liked it.

"does it?" he mumbled, gazing down at you to see you shift in his lap, eyebrow raising as you got up and cuddled to his side, chin on his shoulder. he tilted his head slightly, seeing your pupils dilating at the sight of him; already quite big as the sun was setting. he smirked, though the expression on your face only made his heart beat faster.

you looked completely smitten.

"yep. very."

"hmm..."

smooch. smooch. smooch.

"oi..."

and he probably did, too, in his own way. he couldn't see it, but you did. how he relaxed, how he so softly sighed. you smiled, realizing just how much he laid himself bare to you. it wasn't the same trust he shared with luffy, no. it was something more intimate. something... sweeter. and with each osculate to his neck and jaw, zoro loosened just a bit further, his consciousness slowly slipping away.

"hm. thought you said my face." yet, he still taunted you, with that stupid smug grin on his lips. you rolled your eyes, continuing to pamper him with love.

"shut up. mm..."

smooch.

"love you, zoro. so much."

you slowly pushed him down on the floor, the swordsman tensing a little before following your silent command. you lay on his body, his arms splayed on the wood, eye closed as you kissed his eyelid, brow, and nose. a reddish hue colored his cheeks, chuckling as your tiny, adoring pecks tickled his skin.

so lovely.

" 'that so..?"

"yeah."

your eyes mitigated further, noting the corners of his mouth curve up more. you were lucky...

"mhh... y'know, i think you look pretty kissable today, too."

he'll rearrange his naps, just for you. with a kiss to your lips, he sealed the unspoken "i love you" with his tender actions — his heart all yours.

and he'd care for your own... like one of his swords.

— 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊, wc. 338

perona was speechless. she knew, she knew. she knew that you were dracule's lover...

"miiiiihaaawk... will you look at me?"

but what she witnessed was as surprising as the first time you told her that.

you grinned at the sighing warlord, shutting his book as you've been pestering him for minutes. arms wrapped around him, kisses to his neck — he wasn't a man easily swayed, even by you. the armchair leaned back as he finally eased, your form against his soft.

"... do you have nothing to do?" he huffed, rather tired of your games. interrupting him was almost sin; perona had no idea how you lived. were these the privileges of being dracule mihawk's partner? he treated you so differently... how could you even fall for someone as brooding as him? every time she did something nice, like give him pastries or clean the castle as she had nothing to do, he'd ignore her completely. (though he appreciated it.)

"i do. i'm loving you." yet here he was, letting you speak and do as you wished with a faint smile on his face. he looked like a big cat.

"something other than that."

"hmm... no. i wanna love you right now."

the longer she watched from her little corner, the more her mind crumbled.

"... you're impossible."

"but you love me too. like how i love you. i love you a lot."

you were so... mushy. something that did not connect to mihawk at all — unless you were around. his actions conveyed what he felt, even if they were scarce at the moment.

"you..."

"like, a looot. you know? a lot. i really do."

but... no words would topple from his mouth, perona was sure of that.

"i reciprocate." incredibly sure.

"c'mon, say it." there was no way.

"... i love you too."

"there you go. good boy."

he could only sigh at your antics — though inside he felt as warm as a star. after that, perona left her hiding spot and dragged her jaw that sat on the floor.

— 𝐁𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍, wc. 426

buggy was not happy.

he was not happy you gave him a kiss, in front of his whole crew, completely unbothered as you pretty much established he was yours. he did not like it. at all.

"just..! what do you think you're doing?! kissing me out of nowhere? they have no idea we're together! what if someone took a photo!—"

"did i tell you?"

"—tell me what?"

you chuckled while he blinked. it was always funny how simple it was to make him stop; one word and he'd immediately listen to you. it was as if his own temporarily had no weight, just to hear your own thoughts, only to slander them later or actually agree with them.

most of the time, he ended up stuttering. you loved how much he hated you teasing him; it became your favorite pastime.

"you look incredibly cute." your grin always meant trouble.

"my nose looks redder than usual??"

your chuckle the last sound he heard,

"no. you, look, cute. cute. adorable. precious." and your words forever his downfall.

you could see his cheeks gaining color, a pretty rouge that matched his lipstick and nose, mirth decorating your face at the view. he was just so, so so cute. but when he snorted and flailed his hands around with parts of his body floating at the use of his devil fruit... that's when he got even cuter.

"y—you say that all the time!" he squeaked and pointed at you, stomping closer to you to somehow look "threatening". in reality, he was just a cub. you kept on smiling, looking at him with an adoring gaze that managed to make his poor heart stop — your affection a treat he relished.

"i mean it." plus, when your voice had that adoring tone... he could do nothing but take what you said. maybe he was just making a big deal out of things...

"w—well! of course you mean it, hahaha! i'm... buggy the... aah..."

his eyes almost popped out of his sockets as you got closer to him; wrapping your arms around his waist, teeth nibbling his neck. a tiny, soft moan that made you shudder left buggy's lips, already trembling.

oh...

"... mm... love you so much, baby. 'm sure they don't mind the kiss... come here."

he could barely get a word in, before his squeals and whimpers reached even those outside, as all of his skin got caressed by your lips. soon, he was screaming "i love you too!" and your stunt was the last thing he thought about.

[itsswritten]

finally.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, Nessian (platonic) x reader, fluff

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Pregnancy reveal, mentions of infertility/struggles falling pregnant, symptoms of pregnancy.

Summary: After years of trying and learning to let go, you are finally gifted your beautiful baby miracle miracles.

Wings Universe

“Gods you really are looking radiant today, Flower!” Elodie beamed, nudging you gently with her shoulder. 

The sun was bright among the wild blossoms, sunlight filtering down to touch your skin with a feverish kiss. The season was slowly shifting from Spring to Summer. Plants were growing larger, petals spreading wider, the pollen in the air stronger. There was a buzz among the land of the Night Court, as nature geared itself for this transformation. You had felt the change in temperature, noticed how the rays licked your skin. Leaving yourself and your friends glowing, sunkissed, glimmering from working in the meadows all day. 

But radiant? That was not the word you would use.

Elodie’s compliment had your brows furrowing gently, bringing your dirt covered hand to wipe the bead of sweat that threatened to roll down your cheek. You weren’t sure how to take the compliment. It described the opposite of everything you were feeling.

Perhaps bloated, and sluggish was more accurate. Out of sorts? You couldn’t quite figure out why, there had been no changes to your routine. Yet everything about you felt, well, just different.

Even Azriel had noticed some subtle changes. Ever the Spymaster noticed everything, especially about his precious mate. Or so he thought. He had mentioned the other day that your scent was sweeter than usual. The typical tones of vanilla and honey were weaved in with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite decipher. Azriel had taken it upon himself to touch every inch of your skin to uncover what, only to come to no answer. 

That had been a long night. A night of caresses and grazes. Not that you were complaining.

Glancing down at your fingers spread within the cool damp soil of the meadows, they flexed under the sponginess of the dirt. You could feel the vitality pulse beneath your fingertips before pulling them out. Glancing upon the skin that hadn’t been touched by dirt yet. Radiant? Perhaps. You always had a glow to you, all fairies did. That unexplainable aura that lit up any room. But maybe just maybe, you had been shining a little brighter. 

Maybe.

Casting a fertilising charm within the ground had been today’s task. Along with your usual working group you had headed to the meadows and woodlands on the outskirts of the Night Court. This particular part of your job, the more physical aspect, was one you usually relished in. The ache of your muscles and bones at the end of a hard day of graft, usually, gave you some kind of instant gratification. But fatigue was plaguing you.

You had been sleeping more than usual. Being a Fairy meant you were always rose with that hot shining beacon in the sky, but there had been numerous mornings recently where Azriel had to coax you from your slumber. The sunshine no longer acting as your alarm. Azriel would rouse you with whispered compliments and gentle kisses. Sometimes, his shadows would stir you too, brushing your skin with their cooling touch.

There had even been times when Azriel had let you sleep in. Never a working day of course. Gods be damned, Azriel knew better than that. A day missed at the meadow was the end of the world. Or at least your world. Azriel learnt in the early years of friendship that you took your duty very seriously. So on the days where he knew you had nowhere to be– nowhere other than his arms. He let you sleep.

“Honestly y/n you have this glow about you…” Elodie continued, turning fully to you now her own hands pulling out of the soil. She gently brushed them down her honey coloured dress, her apron picking up the soil as she wiped them. The sun cast a gentle glow across her deep skin, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. A curiosity you wanted to question but before you could, the call for lunch was bellowed across the meadow. 

Food wrapped in little gingham cloths were passed round, a parcel finding its way to your lap. You were starving you realised, as your tummy made a small groaning noise. Hastily you unravelled the packed lunch, the sweet recognisable scent filling the air around you, a smile spreading on your plump lips at today’s choice.

Cake and jam. Your favourite.

The little parcel was packed with nuts, berries, and veggies. But your sweet tooth had your fingers itching to pick up the sponge cake. Licking your lips gently, you brought the sweet slice, covered in a slab of strawberry jam to your lips. Taking a bite of your favourite sweet treat. 

Only it wasn’t sweet.

Instantly you gagged.

The chewed up cake quickly came rolling out of your mouth as you discreetly caught it in your hand.

“Is the food off?” Elodie hushed quietly, turning to you as she inspected your lunch. 

Your group always took turns bringing in food for the day. And you truly couldn’t knock your friends baking. Perhaps a little stereotypical, but fairies were very domestic. Not only great with plants and gardening, but also sewing, crafting, and of course baking. Gus in particular, whose cake you had just spat out was probably the best baker of all the Hollow. 

Shaking your head quickly, you secretly hid the chewed up cake underneath your berries. Your tongue swilling the metallic taste the cake had filled your mouth with. You couldn’t bear Gus finding out you’d spat out his food. The poor male would be heartbroken. 

“No, no it isn’t. It’s fine I promise. I don’t know what came over me,” you hurried out a whisper. “I’ve been feeling a little off recently. Maybe I’m under the weather.”

Placing her lunch to the side, your friend looked at you with her deep warm eyes, concerned etched into her brows as she gently pressed the back of her hand on your forehead.

Chewing your lip you let your friend examine you. “You don’t have a temperature…” she muttered, more to herself than to you as she began to fuss.

Leaning closer then, her hands clasped around your cheeks. Her grip was slightly firm as your lips were squished into a pout. She didn’t notice though, not as her eyes began to quickly flicker over every line and curve of your face. Her meticulous scrutiny not letting up. A glimmer of something winked across her face, catching her off guard if only for a second before her brows furrowed.

Then she began to sniff you.

“El, what are you doing?” You asked, tone annoyed and bashful, as you swatted her looming face away lightly. She was naturally quite a tactile fairy, but even this was a bit much for her. 

Elodie had sat back now, her eyes widening. It was as though you could see in her eyes the pieces falling into place, but for a puzzle you weren't aware of.

“Thank the Mother,” she whispered, her lips stretching to a smile, before she clasped your hand pulling you away from the group.

“El?” You were annoyed now. Your fingers were flexing at your sides, as she had pulled you into a field filled with tulips. The pink and orange hues swayed gently in the breeze, as an uneasiness began to roll over you. 

“It all makes sense now. How you were so emotional when you saw those baby hedgehogs the other day–”

Shaking your head, you lifted your hands in confusion. You didn’t understand.

“Your scent, your glow…your wings!”

There was an uncomfortable rising feeling under your skin at the signs your friend began to mention, the symptoms you knew all too well that were rolling off her tongue. You knew them so well because for a period of time you had analysed every part of yourself hoping to see these aspects, only to not ever see a glimmer.

It couldn’t be?

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you squinted to take a hard look at your wings. Furling the iridescent membranes closer to you, as you examined the very appendages your friend was peering so intently at.

There was nothing really different…except maybe there was. You squinted harder.

The tips. 

They’d turned a darker pink.

Your heart was in your throat, an audible gasp leaving your lips as you turned to get a closer look. Spinning in a circle, round and round. Only to find the exact thing Elodie had noticed.

“Wait, Elodie. No, it can’t be?” your lip quivered as realisation began to sink in.

You and Azriel had decided two years ago that you wanted to expand your family. Especially seeing your loved ones with their own growing families. Feyre and Rhys had Nyx and Selene. And of course, Nesta and Cassian recently had their little Athena.

Over the years you had tried everything, taking tonics, eating certain foods, you had even scheduled a very meticulous conceiving plan. But nothing worked. There had been numerous appointments with Madja, and even the healers and midwives of the Hollow. But everything you did was futile. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fall pregnant.

There was a period of time your mind tore you apart. Speculating and obsessively analysing the possibilities of why you couldn’t conceive. That perhaps it was you and Azriel that weren’t compatible. Biologically. That the Mother had made a mistake with you. That maybe things would have been different if you were Illyrian, not ‘lesser’ fae. That your own body was not strong enough to nurture his offspring. Defective somehow.

That duration of your life had been hard, and even harder to move on from. But with time, and endless love and support from your mate you eventually let go of that dream.

But now, that slither of hope was growing brighter than the summer sun beaming down on you.

Eloide, your longest friend. Had her hands clasped around yours. Her own eyes filled with a watery brim, mirroring your own.

She nodded with a smile.

You were pregnant.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel stood darkly behind his High Lord who was seated casually at the head of the meeting. Azriel was positioned on the left, Cassian on the right. The perfect guards to the Night Court. The large obsidian table stretched across the room. High Lords littered down the long ornate slab, all wearing the colours of their respective court. A few of Rhys’ closest alliances had joined for this gathering, discussing borders and peace treaties.

The meeting had begun in the morning, and by the stacks of documents officials were passing round it didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.

Azriel was focused, stood clad in his Illyrian leathers, blue syphons gleaming as the muscles in his jaw flexed. Despite this being an era of peace, with so many High Lord’s and emissaires in the room he was on high alert. His shadows gently grazed along the floor of the room as Azriel stayed attuned to the room's conversation.

One of his shadows seemed restless though, vibrating slightly behind his wing before curling up to his ear. Revealing nothing but nervous energy. 

With a subtle jolt, Azriels wings unfurled slightly as he felt a small ripple down the bond. It was skittish and nervous, unease seeping from you down the thread.

Cassian gave Azriel a sideways glance, an unspoken question if everything was okay. But Azriel only stood straighter for his answer, reclaiming his composure as he sent a gentle vibration down the warm glowing bond.

Is everything okay, my love?

You were quite a passionate soul, an empath. Oftentimes, involuntarily, Azriel would feel all types of emotion spill down the bond. It was one of the reasons he loved you, a quality he found endearing. How open to love you were, how you felt the sorrow and joy of others wholeheartedly. But this uneasiness left him unsettled.

Azriel was only met with silence on your end. Spurring him to send another ripple. His shadows started to become more restless, spreading and striking behind his wings subtly, as if displaying the uneasiness of their master or perhaps they were twitching out of eagerness for something else– for someone else.

Azriel was usually quite a composed male, cool and collected was the blueprint of his facade. Yet, when it came to you and your welfare, any patience went quickly out the window.

He was about to send one of his shadowy tendrils to look for you, to check you were okay in the meadows. Also on the verge of sending another question down the bond. Only for the large oak doors to swing open with a force that flushed the room with a gust of wind.

You.

It was you, his beautiful shining mate. 

A very beautiful dishevelled mate, however.

You were flushed, cheeks hot and rosy as you stumbled into the large meeting room. Your lovely pink dress was covered in soil, the lacy strap hanging off your shoulder. The flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning were hanging limp only by a few strands. Pink hues of light flickered across the room, as it became obvious to everyone your beautiful wings were unfurled behind you.

There had been no stopping you once you’d got your confirmation, you had flown urgently to River House. Storming through the hallways with a haste one wouldn’t usually associated with such a delicate fairy.

But you needed him. You needed your mate.

You needed Azriel, and no meeting, no court officials or High Lords were going to stop you.

Your eyes instantly found those hazel beacons, eyes locked in on your handsome shadow of a lover. If you weren’t so encaptured by him, you may have noticed the panicked scrape of Rhys’ chair as he stood in concern, or how Cassian left his post towards you. Hand twitching by his sword, ready to strike at any recognition of the danger that must have caused this display by you.

If you’d been listening you might have noticed how the room had fallen quickly into a silence, all heads snapping to you. Momentarily, eyes glazing over the iridescent lights that were now reflecting off your wings.

A very rare sight.

“What a beauty…” someone purred, although you didn’t hear them.

Azriel was beside you in mere seconds, his shadows consuming you protectively moving you slightly into the pocket realm. The tendrils coiled on the corners of your vision so you could only see Azriel, who tenderly had a hand pressed against your jaw, thumb gently grazing the dirt spread on your face. His other arm protectively wrapped around you pulling you close.

Something must have happened Azriel concluded. Fear seeped into his mind as he began to imagine the worst.

Your energy, the vulnerable look in your eyes and tousled appearance had Azriel reeling. Itching to figure out what had caused this. Had a danger broken into the court? Had his shadows missed something? Were you hurt?

“My love, what is it? What’s wrong?” there was an urgency in his tone.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. Azriel was confused. You were in a state of disarray, but he could feel nothing of the sort through the bond. Instead there was an overwhelming feeling of joy and love rippling through.

“There is nothing wrong, love…finally everything is right,” you cried through your smile.

These were not Azriel’s choice of words, but later on when Cassian and Rhys relayed the scenario to the rest of the family they said you looked a little mad. Deranged even. Your tangled appearance and abrupt entrance was unlike anything they’d seen from you.

Azriel was quick to move you from here, his shadows engulfing you both as they transported you to a small lounge in the house. He wanted you away from prying eyes, and needed to check you were safe. That you weren’t hurt. His hands were still cupped around your face as he began to inspect you carefully. His eyes analysing your expression, shadows circling around your ankles to check for anything that might explain your distress– no it wasn’t distress, it wasn’t madness, it was joy.

“Breathe my little butterfly, what’s got you so worked up that you barged into a High Lord’s meeting?” Azriel cooed, his expression softening as he recognised the vulnerability in your eyes. Large scarred hands lightly brushed your unrurly hair, his fingers delicately bringing the dress strap back over your shoulder as he tried to soothe you with his touch.

“Everything is finally right Azriel,'' you whispered, repeating the words from earlier. For a moment Azriel couldn’t understand. The disarray, the vulnerability, the uneasiness. How could everything finally be right?

But then he felt it, the rippling down the bond. That unconditional love again, joy, delight…but also relief. Relief that something had finally happened. Something you had both been waiting, praying and dreaming of.

The Shadowsinger tilted his head, his hands dropping from your face, not daring to breathe the words himself as the emotions he felt began to paint a vivid picture.

“I’m pregnant.”

In that moment Azriel crashed down onto his knees, an overwhelming sensation consuming him as he digested the truth you spoke. It was as if at that moment, everything slowly slotted into place. The clues he hadn’t even known were clues sung to him. Your scent, your temperament and emotions, your wings. Everything he had acknowledged subconsciously, had been tucked away in his mind because he couldn’t phantom the possibility– the possibility of being wrong. Getting your hopes up.

His hands softly came to your hips, drawing you closer as he rested his forehead against your stomach.

“We’re having a baby?” Azriel’s voice broke, the words barely audible.

“Babies.” You whispered back.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian had been pacing back and forth outside the lounge for well over an hour now. He’d desperately called down the bond to Nesta, who had arrived in a hurry with their little Athena in her arms. His reaction may have been slightly over dramatic. But Cassian assured her that if Nesta had seen the state you’d run into the meeting room earlier, she would be behaving the same way.

Nesta didn’t really believe him, her mate had a way of being quite theatrical in situations.

There had been no danger, Azriel had spoken into Rhys mind and it had been passed onto Cassian. So Cassian spent the time speculating on what could have brought such an uncharacteristically reaction from you. He’d seen you when things didn’t go the plan in the meadows and assumed something at work must have gone array.

Nesta sat lazily in a chair outside the lounge, book in hand. Every now and then, glancing up at her mate who was wearing a mark in the stone floor from his pacing. Cassian held his little baby while he patrolled outside the room, whispering theories on what possibly could have happened to Auntie y/n.

“I don’t know Thena…maybe the ladybirds lost their spots again?” He mused, recalling a previous drama you had shared with him once, that had sent you a little haywire last year.

“All spots are accounted for,” your voice sang. Cassian hadn’t even noticed you and Azriel had stepped out of the room.

“Sorry brother I didn’t know you were waiting for us” Azriel smiled softly, giving his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cassian’s expression softened, as Nesta came to his side. Her arm looping around his free side while she kissed her little babe on the head. “Is everything okay though?” Cassian asked, concern still lingering.

“More than okay,” you beamed, tears quickly filling your eyes again.

Cassian and Nesta glanced between you both. Their expressions desperately trying to figure out what was happening. The penny dropped for Nesta first. Her own lips pulled into a genuine smile.

“Thank the Mother” she grinned, stepping forward to embrace you tightly.

The tears were spilling then, as you hugged your friend back. Little sobs racking through your body. You thought you’d cried it all out in Azriel’s arms, that there were no more tears left to give. But now, in the embrace of your friends– your family. Reality sunk in much deeper.

It only took Cassian a few moments and a glance at Azriel’s overjoyed but emotional expression to understand what was happening.

“Truly brother?” He beamed. Azriel nodded, a small tear running down his face as Cassian bear-hugged his friend, making sure Athena wasn’t squished between the giant Illyrians. 

It didn’t take long for Cassian to start shouting it from the rooftops, bellowing down the halls of River house that two baby Shadowsingers were on their way. And of course, naturally, the day turned into a celebration, a gathering with your loved ones to toast your beautiful miracle babies. 

Later that night, after Rhys and Cassian had drowned themselves in whiskey with a competition of who would be the favourite uncle.

Azriel joined you in bed, you were propped up by plush pillows against the large headboard, night dress adorned as you gazed down at your tummy. Your hands resting lightly on your stomach.

“Finally” you whispered, as Azriel laid beside you, his own hand covering both of yours as he nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent.

He breathed deeply against your throat, relief and joy rippling through every inch of his skin, “Finally.”

a/n: Here is is!!! So sorry this took so long, I've been so busy with lots of interviews and prepping, which has eaten into a lot of my energy recently. But I hope this was worth the wait! I think the next scene that was voted for was the truth or dare/drinking games which would be set pre bond snapping/in the friendship era! So I'll try write that next unless there's something else first you'd like? Anyway I love writing about these two, their my little fluff couple <3 - Lottie x

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[honeyedmiller]

Dawn’s First Light | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

warnings: jackson!joel, super fucking soft!Joel, sickeningly sweet fluff, joel is philosophical for .2 seconds in this, smut (f oral receiving, unprotected piv), praise, a whole lotta softness, sweet pet names, no use of y/n.

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: joel tells you he loves you for the first time.

a/n: i literally whipped this up so quick after i reblogged the post that had a quote from jean-paul sartre’s no exit. hope you enjoy.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Soft. 

Soft was the first thing you felt as you woke up, then, rough. 

Coarse hairs dragged across the velvety skin of your thighs. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you squinted, your pupils slowly welcoming the winter morning sun shining through the curtains of your shared bedroom. 

A hot tongue licked at your skin, up up up until it met your already sopping core. You gasped softly, relishing in the feeling of your boyfriend waking you up in the most delicious way possible. 

Early on in your relationship, you both agreed that getting awoken in such a way would be no problem whatsoever. 

Joel was meticulous with his tongue, the strong muscle taking its time as he worked it through your folds and into your entrance, then back up to circle your clit. His plush lips latched onto your swollen bud, and you cried out his name in pleasure. 

You moved the comforter down that he was buried under until you uncovered his head, nestled perfectly between your thighs as he lapped away at your slick core. You bit your lip as you stared down at him, blunt nails digging into the soft of your flesh as he took his time with you. 

Every sense in your body was heightened, spine tingling as you felt the slow pull of an impending orgasm. Joel’s eyes flicked open, gaze trailing up your bare body until his eyes locked onto your face. 

Your jaw was slack, pupils blown wide and eyebrows threaded together. He offered a small smirk as he kept working you, loving the way you writhed underneath his expert tongue. 

Your hand slid down to intertwine your fingers with his soft locks of thick, graying hair. He moaned into you as you pushed his face closer to your aching, pulsing core, grinding your hips up to match the rhythm of his tongue. 

He releases one of your thighs and moves his fingers up, detaching his mouth from you as he slides his thick digits through your glistening folds. 

“Mornin’ baby,” He breaths, a smirk stretched onto his slick-coated lips. You moan softly as he easily slides a finger into you, burying it down to the first knuckle. “Taste so goddamn good, darlin’. Sweeter ‘n honey.” He’s nearly breathless and his words are slurred with sleep. He kisses your thigh and slowly adds a second finger into you. 

“Joel,” You’re a whimpering mess, and he fucking loves it. 

“Tell me what y’want, baby. Tell me n’ I’ll give it to you.” 

“You,” You gasp, grinding your hips into his hand desperately. “I want you.” 

“I’m yours.” He whispers, leaning down again to suckle on your pulsating clit, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a delectable pace. He curls his fingers up, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you squelching and moaning and fucking crying. You were a mess under him, trying so hard to catch your breath as that warmth that bloomed within you shot up your spine. 

Reality crashed down around you as your orgasm washed over your entire being, hips stuttering from his tongue cleaning up everything you gave him. 

“So perfect.” He says, kissing your thighs before trailing his slick lips up your body, licking your sternum before placing chaste kisses on both of your breasts. 

You tug on his hair gently as he flicks his tongue over your skin, wrapping his mouth around your nipple for a few seconds before moving to the other. He releases you from his mouth before he kisses your neck, biting down on your pulse point ever so slightly before kissing your jaw, your forehead, your nose, and finally—your lips. 

“My sweet girl,” He breathes, forehead resting against yours. “Did you sleep well?” He asks, cradling your cheek in his large hand. You nod and smile up at him, bringing him down for another kiss. 

“I did. What a nice way to wake up, too.” You giggle, and he smiles before kissing your nose. 

“My favorite way to wake you up, besides the multiple kisses.” 

Joel Miller normally wasn’t a soft man. It’s you who made him this way, just for you. It’s you who only got to see this loving, caring side of him. 

You, who’d charmed him with your wit and sense of humor and your pure tenderness. He had come into Jackson only a few weeks after your arrival, so you both navigated this life—this safe, luxurious bite at the cherry—together. 

He’d easily taken a liking to you. It started off with sitting with each other in the mess hall for meals, then he’d walk you to work when he could, and then it turned into him confessing his feelings for you after he’d had a tough patrol one spring day. 

From then on, the two of you seemed nearly inseparable. Jackson was a safe grounding—a haven—for many, if not all residents here. 

Joel was yours. 

Joel’s lips on your forehead drew your attention back to him, and you offered a soft grin as your nails trailed down his thick torso. You reached the tuft hair above his cock, hard and leaking pre come. Your lips curled into a saccharine smile, giving his silky flesh a few tugs before swiping your thumb over his slit. You brought your thumb into your mouth and sucked on it, humming at the salty taste of Joel. 

“Need you, baby.” His voice is strained, and you move your hand back down to slide his heavy cock through your folds to coat him with your slick. 

“I’m yours.” You repeat his words, and he kisses your forehead once more as he pushes into you. He sits up, hands grabbing your hips. He circles his thumbs into your warm skin, pushing and pulling himself in and out of you at a languid pace. 

You grasp onto his thick thighs, always needing to be touching him in some way. 

“Feel so goddamn good, baby. My sweet girl. Takin’ me so well, honey—shit. That’s it.” Joel murmurs his words, eyebrows pinching together as you rut your hips up to meet his every thrust. The friction of his coarse hair at the base of his cock on your clit is otherworldly, eyes rolling back at the sensation of pure bliss. 

Joel’s pace picked up, maneuvering himself so he was hovering over you. He gripped onto your ankles and tossed them over his shoulders, gripping onto your flesh for dear life. He kissed the inside of your lower calf, grunting and puffing air as he moved his hips expertly. 

“Joel, fuckfuckfuck, please don’t stop.” You cry as he pistons into you at that perfect angle—the one that has you seeing the whole goddamn galaxy. 

“My perfect girl. You’re so beautiful. So, so beautiful. I—fuck,” Joel groans, moving a thumb down to swipe over your sensitive clit, making you gasp loudly. 

The sensation is almost too much, but it’s a welcoming devastation of bliss that ripples through you when that heat shoots through your body once more. 

“Can feel you—shit, yeah—I can feel you sweetheart. Let go. I got you.” Joel’s desperate voice reverberates off of the bedroom walls, trying his damndest to hold off on his own release until you come first. 

Just as he’d thought, it wasn’t far off at all. You cried his name repeatedly as the euphoric feeling overtook your body. 

JoelJoelJoel. 

Everything about him was all-consuming as you convulsed around his cock. A string of curses spilled out around his clenched teeth and through his lips, pulling out of you as thick spurts of his come landed on your stomach. 

He puffed air into your leg, kissing it one more time before looking down at you. Gorgeous: fucked out, glossy eyes and a smile that could end wars. 

He knew. Right then, he knew. 

He loves you. 

He has to tell you. 

He gently set your shaky legs down onto the bed, getting up to retrieve a wet washcloth to clean you up. Once the warm washcloth was carelessly tossed onto the floor somewhere, he climbed back into bed with you and slung his arm around you so you could cuddle into him. He carefully pulled the comforter up again, covering your bodies. 

Your hand played with the fingers of his hand that was slung over your shoulder, an unforgettable serenity wrapped around the two of you in that moment. 

“Much more likely you’ll hurt me,” Joel starts, voice gruff, “Still what does it matter? If I’ve got to suffer—” He pauses, bringing your free hand up to his lips to lay a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “It may as well be at your hands, your pretty hands.” 

“Sartre.” You say softly. He nods. 

“I love you. I love you so much that it fucking hurts. I—I couldn’t imagine living this life without you, anymore. You’re my person.” His voice is a whisper. 

Your eyes fill with tears, and you look up at him. He has a hopeful look in his eyes, and you saw that familiar thing flash within them. You never knew what that thing was, until now. 

Love. 

This man loved you. 

Just as you loved him. 

“I love you too, Joel. There’s no one else on this damned planet that I’d rather be with than you.” 

He kisses you tenderly, and you pull away with a whisper to your lips. 

“There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours.” You quote to him, rubbing your nose against his gently. 

“Sartre.” He says. You nod. 

You kiss him once more, dawn’s first light now a shining beacon of pure hope… and love. 

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @punkshort ; @undrthelights ; @pascalpvnk ; @joelsgreys ; @amanitacowboy ; @pamasaur ; @bastardmandennis ; @tinygarbage ; @javierpena-inatacvest ; @mrsmando

(if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know!)

[sakkiichi]

CASTLES CRUMBLING.

Memories of you are both cathartic and painful when he visits your grave.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Xiao, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Lyney, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: angst.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

Autumn. The time of year that brought warm memories to the wandering samurai despite its chilly winds.

Shades of scarlet coated Inazuma’s grassy plains, like a rain constituted by droplets of dawn light when the maple leaves swayed to the ground.

And amidst this scene, you.

You, who danced to the tune of the foliage floating in the breeze; you, who snuggled his red scarf closer around your neck when he wrapped it around you, taking in his sweet cinnamon-like scent; you, whose hand used to fit perfectly in his, as you ran your thumb over the scarred skin under his bandages.

Kazuha finds himself staring at those now. He remembers all too well how you used to wrap them around his hand. Your lips brushed over every indentation in his burnt skin, overwriting storms with sunlight and blue skies.

“All healed now.” You sing-sang, the tenderness of your kiss over the wrapped scars.

It feels empty now, his grasp, still searching for you every morning, but you’re out of reach.

Even now, as the wandering poet’s head rests against you, he can’t quite feel your touch.

“Hello, my dove.” He begins, fingers brushing over the dendrobiums surrounding you. Moondust lashes kiss his cheeks when the sunsets in his stare cloud over, the image of your smiling face behind his lids. “It’s already autumn, remember how you called it our season, my angel?” He softly says, turning his head slightly, so that his forehead partially leans on you. “The leaves are turning red already, I’ve picked some for you.” Kazuha utters, as he gently threads them around the stone.

Hard. Cold. So unlike the warmth you radiated. He sighs, opening his eyes, tender hearths to warm your paralyzed heart.

“I’ve been writing too…” Dampness pools around his lashes. “Haikus, poems, because I know you love them, hummingbird…” The samurai’s voice cracks, vision blurry, as he traces the letters of the name he used to breathe in between kisses.

Your name. The only one that will forever echo through his sweetest dreams, double edged now.

Droplets of molten moonlight slide down Kazuha’s cheeks, colliding with the earth separating you from the world.

“We will meet again, my dove.” He vows, kneeling on the grass, moist by his tears. “In some corner of the next life. I promise, love.”

As he stands up, retracing his steps, the wind picks up.

Kazuha clutches his red scarf closer to him.

Your scent still lingers.

✧ XIAO

Spring had never felt so cold.

The sun over Liyue’s mountains is too dull; the glaze lilies appear closed off; the days feel too long.

The conqueror of demons makes his way through Guili Plains, his steps slow, as if that would keep away a cruel reality that’s set in stone.

He’s coming to meet you, and yet he’s never felt so far away from you.

In the few steps that separate the yaksha from you, an infinity of memories and bittersweet dreams seem to wash over him. They mingle with the scent of morning dew over qingxins bloomed anew.

Qingxin. What he used to call you.

“Xiaooo!” You cooed, a smile sweeter than the treat you offered him alight on your lips. “Dessert’s ready, love.” You called, offering him the plate of delicious almond tofu.

It was always his favorite, especially the one made by you.

His cheeks took on a tint not unlike the lipstick marks you left on him when you felt like teasing him, peppering his face with your honeyed kisses. You always used to chuckle at the sight.

“Qingxin…” his voice quivered, in awe, gaze of gold widened, sparkly. “There is no need for you to go through this trouble for me…”

“Nonsense!” You cut him off, hands cradling his cheeks. “I love making your favorite food for you, baby.”

Now he brings one of his own scarred hands to his face.

It’s so cold in comparison to your comforting warmth.

Yet even colder is the grey hue of the heavy stone that comes into view: the one marking the spot where you were laid to rest for good.

Slowly, resigned to the inevitability of reality, the vigilant yaksha reaches you.

Even though he knows he will no longer have you.

Xiao’s whole form trembles when he leaves the handmade butterfly over your gravestone. Its petal wings are all crooked, his grip vice-like in his anguish.

Now the flower-made insect will never fly again. A crystal bubble, lit up on his darkest nights, inside which dreams warm and sweet were recounted, as long as the adeptus stayed in your embrace; now shattered, only sharp fragments left to pierce his heart.

“I’m sorry…” is all the demon conqueror can manage as greeting, the moment he sits before you, head hung low.

The karma he bears had never crushed him this badly.

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Winter squalls leave nothing but ashes behind.

The layers of snow have started melting, decrepit twigs following, the aftermath of a furious gale, death in its wake.

The wanderer seems to verse in the bony hands of it often, after all. This life, this world… they only ever took from him, shattered mirrors as the only remains of promises to never come.

He rests the back of his head on the frigid stone. He doesn’t care about the last remains of snow seeping into his very crafted bones.

Scaramouche’s hand closes into a fist, dirt and melted ice on his skin.

“They took you away too…” The puppet breathes, inexistent puffs of his words sifting against the blackened skies in the cold. His indigo gaze is clouded over, despite stars littering every corner of the midnight above.

A lie.

Make believe. Like thinking he could be happy for once.

Turning around, Scaramouche presses his forehead against what’s left to symbolize you.

“Why?” He asks, teeth gritted, to stop the helpless quiver of his lip. “Why you too?”

The softness of your human embrace takes ahold of his memories, as you both lay beneath the endless firmament above.

“Have you ever wished upon a star, Kuni?” You asked, your warm fingers combing through the distant nights contained in his shiny locks.

“Pft, are you serious?” He used to retort, the mirrored galaxies of his stare coming into view as his eyelids opened.

“Very.” You stated, without stopping your movements, eyes never leaving the starfields above.

“Why?” He asked, focused on your profile, as if a part of him knew how ephemeral instants like this would become, committing to memory the only constellation that lit up his hollow heart.

“Because it’s nice, to hope, to believe in things… wouldn’t you agree?” You smiled down at him, tender hands cradling the coolness of his jawline.

“Huh, if you say so…”

“You know I’m right!” You chuckled, poking his cheek playfully, his nose scrunching up in feigned annoyance.

“Ugh, whatever.”

“Make a wish?” Your fingers found his in the night breeze, entwining together, the warmth of a small sun just for him.

“Fine…” He sighed, closing his eyes, lashes of concealed dreams leaning on his perfect cheekbones.

“I wished for forever with you.” He croaks out now.

An almost god brought to his knees by the treacherous fate written in devious stars.

His vision blurs, headed skyward, the universe above, a multitude of molten wildfires to him, raining down in flammable rain, his own tears the match to ignite them.

The failed god weeps. Winter burns.

✧ LYNEY

“You never know what can happen in the blink of an eye.”

Those were the words the magician once uttered, as your eyes lit up in wonder. He believes to recall it was a summer night, when his dusky gaze set on you for the first time.

Beaming and shining with excitement, you marveled at his sleight of hand, as the lumidouce bell on the performer’s hand vanished, only for its petals to have tinted in rosy shades of rainbow when the bloom next appeared in your hair.

If anyone had told Lyney, in that moment, that you’d end up putting his heart under spell, he wouldn’t have quite believed it.

But thinking back on it now, the time spent next to you certainly feels like mere seconds.

A peculiar figure sporting a top hat makes his way towards Fontaine’s graveyard.

His steps are monotone, the usual cheshire-like grin on his visage is nowhere to be seen, and in his hands, flowers abound.

Lumidouce bells.

The color of goodbyes, separations.

And the summer nights under which he used to kiss you.

“Please, Lyney! I want to see another one!” You begged, hands clasped together, eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.

Your lover hums, his gaze, the backdrop against which the sunsets in your stare sparkled.

“Well, mon coeur,” the magician leaned forward, “I’ll have to charge you for it this time, you know.”

You pouted, marcotte colored lips irresistibly sweet, a bite of sugary peach in the heat of an early midsummer’s night.

“Close your eyes, my rose.” Lyney breathed, in the little dusk-lit millimeters separating you two.

“Okay.”

Warmth flooded around him the instant his lips enveloped yours, akin to fairy lights in the coziness of a familiar room, fiery arrows that linked two hearts. Your lover’s hands cupped your jawline, spells written in the caress of his gloved touch over your skin.

A new breed of magic, with the sun dipping behind the nation of hydro’s mountains to give the lovers privacy.

When he next opens his eyes, the allure has faded.

No trace of you remains, save for the emptiness and cold beside him.

And the only nightmare he can’t undo; your tombstone all too palpable, too real.

“You really never know how everything can change in the blink of an eye, huh?” Lyney utters, his voice raw, hoarse.

Despite the lumidouce bells’ petals shifting from dusk to dawn the moment he lays them to rest over you, the magician feels like he’s shooting arrows made of shadows; there’s no fiery beacon to light up this night.

The curtain closes when he steps away, rainbow roses bleeding and lonely in his wake.

The sun has set.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Off-key birdsong and steely skies.

Those are Fontaine’s Chief Justice’s companions today.

Alone, he sits next to the ghost of someone he used to adore.

Someone he still loves.

Crystalline amethyst eyes scan the horizon. Even the seas seem turbulent today, relentless waves colliding against jutting rocks, as if by persistence alone they could cut through them.

The wailing ocean mirrors Neuvillette’s actions; as if by staring in the distance, he could somehow conjure you up back into the world, on forgotten dreams and pieces of flashbacks alone.

“It looks like it will rain soon, my dearest.” He softly says, the words lost in the monsoon overcasting the heavens.

Naturally, no answer follows, except for the agonized cry of a fallen sparrow.

The Iudex of Fontaine sighs. An upheaval in the blowing mistral combs through his hair, the sensation unlocking the pages of a diary once rose-colored, now only scattered petals over a lake that’s gone still for good.

“Isn’t the weather so nice lately, Neuvi?” You chirped, knees folded over the azure flowerbeds. Your hands were carded through your lover’s long locks, silver seafoam running almost hypnotizingly between your fingers.

Sunbeams glittered all around you when his eyes opened up to you, enigmas from the depths being laid bare for you alone.

“It is, darling…” He trailed off, one of his hands touching the side of your face, eliciting giggles from you.

Pink dusted over the pallor of his cheeks whenever you did that.

If only all days could be sunny, if only he could have kept the symphony of your laugh forever playing…

The sea’s surface turns charcoal, undulating with the low whistling of uprising gales.

Dark spots start appearing over the stone where your name’s been eternally put to sleep.

Beneath the blindfold, Justice mourns.

It’s raining again.

[spacesquidlings]

Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind

Summary: With his lover bedridden after a battle gone awry, Astarion finds himself acting as her nurse, comforting her as best as he can, giving in to many of her whims. And despite all his theatrics, there is no one she wants by her side more than him.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Warnings/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, mostly comfort, fluff, some suggestive mentions, mild description of acid-based/burning wound, references to pain (nothing graphic)

Taglist<3: @spacebarbarianweird

********************************************************

The sharp smell of medicinal herbs burned in her nose, wafting over her as the pillows beneath her head and neck were readjusted once more. Pain followed fast on its heels, a phantom compared to what she’d felt earlier, before she’d blacked out entirely.

“How’s that, darling?” Astarion’s nimble fingers prodded at the pillows, fluffing them as best as he could without disturbing her. He drew her from her memories, from the blinding pain that had sent her into unconsciousness.

She whined, wrinkling her nose as another wave of smell hit her, the ointments smeared across her wounds seeping through the bandages wrapped around them. It burned as she breathed it in, daggers piercing the inside of her nose and scratching at the back of her throat. Pain radiated up her side and she shifted, nearly gagging as the smell grew stronger.

“Hurts,” was all she could manage, her voice cracking from the effort.

He huffed, crossing his arms and stepping back to examine his work. “I think that’s the best you’re going to get, my love. As much as I wish to, I cannot turn the bed into clouds.”

“Thank you for trying,” she murmured, barely stifling a groan as she shifted. 

She kept trying to find a comfortable position and yet she could find none. No matter how she lay she could not take the pressure off of all her wounds, and the pure frustration of it all made her eyes burn, angry tears pooling in the creases of her eyes. It painted the world in quicksilver and moonbeams, and yet she could find no comfort in the facsimile of the calm of the night.

“Don’t cry, please.” Astarion’s voice quivered, his brow drawing together. Somehow his skin grew paler, blanching at the sight of her tears. “Please, darling. You’re scaring me.”

She sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away, hissing in pain as her body grew taut, muscles and skin tight from the burns she’d sustained. Her bottom lip quivered, a sob caught in her throat, too weak to even wail.

“Oh my darling,” Astarion cooed, voice soft as feather-down. His hands hovered above her, as if hesitant to touch her. “You’re going to be okay.”

She whimpered. Was she? Was she truly going to be okay? She wanted to reach for him, but useless as she was, she could not even raise her hands to wipe her face, let alone hold him.

She watched as he seemed to come to some sort of resolution, his fingers delicately lowering to brush the tears from her eyes. Her vision cleared for the barest of moments before more tears trekked down her cheeks, the salt stinging where it seeped into her bandages.

“You’re going to get through this.” He brushed back loose strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, caught in the ointment smeared on her skin. “You’re strong, my love. You were strong enough to survive such powerful magic. You’ll survive this.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Although she’d survived the initial attack, she didn’t know if she was going to make it through the after-effects.

She hadn’t been thinking when it had all happened, shoving a child out of the way of their assailant, only to be swathed in burning pain. There had been no thoughts of putting up a shield, of casting a spell to push the attacker back. There had only been the thread of panic that had burst in her mind, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

When it had first washed over her she’d thought it fire, but then it had become worse. So terribly worse.

She’d learned, once she’d awoke, covered in the stinking ointment and bandaged, that it had been acid. A horrible homemade concoction that had very nearly killed her from its potency.

But she could not find it in herself to regret it, not really. She had managed to survive, but that child would not have. And her stepping in the way of the attack had been enough of a distraction for Astarion to make a killing blow.

Although she doubted she would make it through the consequences of her actions. Namely the reeking ointment and the near-unbearable pain.

As if reading her thoughts, Astarion clicked his tongue. “Don’t be so dramatic. You can survive anything, darling. Even a little homemade potion.”

She huffed, looking away. It hurt to speak, and yet she couldn’t help herself as she snapped back at him. “It’s a lot more than a homemade potion.”

“Well, it was homemade. He was a master artificer and wizard. I don’t think he bought it from a market.”

Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would staunch the flow of tears. “It hurts so much, Astarion.”

When he responded his voice was quieter, softer. “I know, darling.”

“I feel like I’m being burned alive.”

He didn’t answer this time, not at first. Silence descended, heavy, uncomfortable as her bandages.

It was more unbearable than the lingering sting of the acid, and she opened her eyes, the world limned in silver once more, searching for her beloved in the little room.

His eyes were wide, the crimson of his irises stark against the pallor of his skin. She could see the shimmering silver caught in the alabaster of his lashes, the gold of the firelight catching in his own tears.

“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke fiercely, each word as strong as a blow as he clenched his jaw. She wouldn’t have heard the quiver in his voice if she didn’t know him so well, didn’t know when he was trying to keep something hidden. “You’re going to get through this, and then we’re going on a long vacation.”

Her heart twisted, clenched in the grip of sorrow. “Astarion. My love, I’m so sorry, I-”

He shook his head, his hand delicately cupping her cheek. His own tears streaked down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away. “Don’t apologise. Just get through this, got it?”

“Okay. Okay, I will.” Her heart squeezed all the tighter, aching, struggling to beat. 

She tried to reach up, tried to hold his face, but she’d hardly raised her hand more than an inch before a ripple of pain made her gasp, fingers trembling like the branches of a sapling in a storm.

Astarion chuckled, lowering his head until the tips of her fingers brushed against his cheek. “Is this what you were hoping for, darling?”

“Thank you.” Her bottom lip was quivering again, her heart in her throat. Sadness was a vice that held her tight, nameless, all-consuming, drowning out even the smell of the ointment. She hurt so much, and she had hurt him. In her callousness she had hurt her most beloved and she didn’t know how to fix it, how to make him smile.

With a sigh Astarion lifted his head. His lips twitched, one brow arching. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just… I…” She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t figure out how to say it.

She felt like she was crumpling, formless and weak.

He shushed her gently, brushing the pads of his fingers against her cheeks. “Hush. It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.” Another twitch of his lips. “Wait to thank me until after I’ve changed your bandages.”

Shuddering, she looked away, feeling worse than helpless. “I look horrible, don’t I?”

“No you don’t.” A pause, his eyes searching hers. “It doesn’t look good, but you could never look horrible.”

An entire new wave of misery washed over her, and she wished she could still be unconscious, unaware of this pain and the knowledge that she looked horrible.

“Be honest,” she sniffed. “I look like something from a child’s nightmare.”

“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes. “Now you really are being dramatic.”

She whimpered, scowling as best as she could.

Sighing, Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, toying with the blankets, readjusting them over and over. Even so, his eyes never left hers, earnest and bright. “You’re hurt. You don’t look horrible, you look like someone who’s injured. You look like someone who needs to be taken care of until you’re better.”

Fangs flashing in the light, he gave her a half-moon smile. “And luckily for you, you’ve been blessed with someone as devoted as me, who will be here until you’re all better. Even though you’re being very vain.”

She frowned. “If I could throw a pillow at you, I would.”

“Well thank the gods you don’t have the strength right now.”

He leaned closer, fixing her pillows again. “Beneath all those bandages is the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” He paused, smirking. “Well, second most beautiful. After me of course.”

“Oh of course.”

“You’re no child’s nightmare, darling.” The corners of his lips hiked higher. “In fact, I’d wager you’re a child’s hero now.”

She snorted. “Oh, I’m so sure.”

He poked her shoulder gently, beaming. “I am. I bet that kid’s already off telling all her friends.”

“She’s probably forgotten by now.”

“Oh no.” he gave a theatrical shake of his head. “No, certainly not. Rumour has probably spread that there’s a new hero on the sword coast.”

The corners of her lips tipped up, tugged by laughter bubbling in her throat. “Oh please.”

“The blade of frontiers had better move over,” he continued, mischief twinkling in his eyes like entire galaxies of stars. “There’s a new hero protecting Faerûn now.”

She giggled, shaking her head as best as she could. “I’m no hero! Besides, what would I even be called?”

Astarion tapped his cheek, eyes skyward as he hummed thoughtfully. “Now that’s a good question.”

“See? You can’t be a hero without a cool name.”

“How about ‘protector of the most beautiful vampire spawn?’ Or ‘the prettiest saviour of children from acid?’” He brushed the back of his index finger over her brow, smirking a little too broadly. His fangs flashed before disappearing again as he spoke, mischief in his words. “Or, and I think this one is the best, ‘the fool of faerûn.’”

She gaped at him, mouth falling open.

“You know, since you ran into an acid attack.” He shrugged. “You got the kid out of the way, but you didn’t get yourself out of the way in time.”

She wrinkled her nose as she answered, equal parts annoyed and amused. “You are so lucky, Astarion.”

“To have you by my side?” He stroked her hair, smirking. He knew perfectly well that was not what she was referring to. “I most certainly am lucky, darling.”

“You’re lucky I can barely raise my arms, or else you’d have a pillow in your face.”

“Yes well, you did kind of deserve that.” He tapped the top of her head, his expression growing more serious. “You had me terrified. I thought I’d lost you.”

His words were sobering, and she no longer felt the glimmer of mirth she had before. She sank into the pillows, dropping her gaze. “Astarion, I-”

“It’s already happened.” He cut her off before she could finish her apology, his brows drawing low as he continued. “I want you to focus on healing, on getting better. That’s the only apology I’m willing to accept.”

She swallowed, finding his gaze. “Okay.”

“And just as I said, once you are better, we’re going on vacation.”

It was so mundane, to talk of going on a vacation. A trip meant for relaxation, for having fun, where the highest stakes were finding delicious new food in an unfamiliar place. The sudden segue felt like something out of a dream, surreal when compared to her most recent memory, the wall of blackness in her mind after the rush of burning pain.

A giggle bubbled from her lips, earning a bemused look from Astarion. “What’s so funny? You think me incapable of a vacation?”

“No, that’s not it at all.” In fact it was all too easy to imagine him lounging around all day, the picture of indolence as he languidly sauntered down unfamiliar streets, as he stretched out on some sumptuous bed in a rented room.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense, darling.” He laid on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She giggled again, feeling ridiculous. “It’s nothing, really. It just feels strange to be talking of going on vacation, especially when I’m here covered in this gross ointment.”

He clicked his tongue. “That ‘gross ointment’ is going to help speed along your recovery.” He sniffed, nose wrinkling. “Although it is not exactly a pleasant smell.”

“I want a bath,” she whined. “I want to feel clean and smell pretty.”

“Once you are well enough, my love.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “I will give you the most luxurious bath you can dream of.”

Sighing, she imagined it in her mind. Warm water and flower petals and bath oils perfuming the air, helping her feel alive once again. “Do you think you could do that when we go on vacation, too?”

A chuckle, a darkening of his eyes. “There is plenty I plan to do, once you’re better.”

“Including a bath?” She ignored the somersault of her belly, the heat suddenly blooming at the apex of her thighs. Now really was not the time, not when she could barely stand the blankets that were draped over her.

“Yes,” he drawled. “The most splendid of baths every day for you, my dear.”

She relaxed as best she could against the pillows, daydreaming once more of such a thing. Of feeling the warm heat of the water seeping into her bones, of fingers massaging her scalp, trailing lovingly down her back.

“We can do whatever you wish,” he murmured, his gaze softening. “So long as you get better. You have to promise me you’ll get better.”

“I promise. I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Astarion sighed, toying with her hair. Just the sight of him was stronger than any balm or medicine. The slight curve of his lips as he smiled, relief stitching itself into his expression, more a comfort than any sleeping potion.

He was still speaking, not that she heard even a word of it. Her mind couldn’t keep itself steady, flitting like hummingbird wings as the pain ebbed and flowed through her. Astarion had to pinch her cheek once, twice, before she could focus her thoughts, like trying to coax the ocean through the eye of a needle.

“Have I lost you, darling?” He chuckled, smoothing his hand over the sting where he’d pinched her. “I would have thought you would listen raptly as I spoke.”

She managed a roll of her eyes, knowing he was doing little more than teasing her. Distracting her, perhaps, to take the edge off of the unrelenting burn of her body.

“Forgive me, my love,” she rasped, batting her lashes as swiftly as she could in the moment. “It’s just hard to focus, even on your limitless charm.”

His brows knit together, lips pursing. She caught a flash in his eyes, worry quickly masked before she could begin to pick at it.

“You should rest, darling,” he murmured. “You’ll feel a little better once you wake.”

Astarion made to stand, the bed shifting as his weight vanished, and a ripple of pain went through her side, her chest. Not only her body screaming from the movement, little more than a jostle and yet enough to irritate the weeping wounds beneath her bandages, but her heart screaming too. Pain lancing in her chest, her heartbeat turning to the quiver of a loosed bowstring.

What would she do without him? How could she stand the anger of the poison that had flayed her skin? How could she try to brave the darkness of her unconsciousness? All without him?

A whimper fled from her lips, drawing Astarion’s gaze. The lines in his brow only deepened, and he sank back into the bed. A question hung on his lips, his hands reaching towards her, hovering, hesitancy making his face look wan.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”

The anxiety in his face fell away, like the last of a stone wall crumbling to ruin. Relief, and no small amount of mischief, remained, shining like light through stained glass, refracting rainbows across the ceiling and walls.

“I’m honoured that you want me close, love, but I’m not going far.” There was laughter in his voice, making it lilt like the opening of a song. “I’ll be back in less than a moment.”

With a swiftness that sometimes scared her, Astarion moved across the room, the sound of glass clicking as he sorted through little bottles and vials on their dresser. There were perfumes, lotions, oils, a pretty pink nail polish he’d presented to her only a few days before the attack.

She wanted to ask what he was doing, but in another moment he was back, wiggling a bottle no thicker than her pinky, filled with an oily-looking, iridescent liquid.

“To help you sleep,” he said before she could ask. “It’s supposed to numb some of the pain so you can rest.”

She tried to sit up, only to cry out as a thousand daggers stabbed at her, as her skin drew taut beneath her bandages. She collapsed back, wincing at the red stains blooming on some of her bandages.

“Darling, I fear that is the exact opposite of trying to get better.” Astarion tsked softly, sliding one hand behind her head, flicking the cap of the bottle open with the other.

“I was going to take the medicine.” She had to draw in lungfuls of air to push past the stabbing throb across her body, steadying the sudden surge of nausea in her belly.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. The arch of his brow and the quirk of his mouth made it seem like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and it made her want to pout.

“You’re so impatient,” he chided, bringing the bottle to her lips. “Obviously I was going to help you with it. The more you move the harder it is for you to heal.”

She could say nothing as she drank the potion, fighting not to gag as the oily substance slid down her throat. It tasted bitter, and it coated the inside of her mouth like grease.

Setting the empty bottle to the side, Astarion grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He patted her head, not yet done teasing her. “Imagine how much easier it would have been if you’d just waited for me the first time.”

“Are you saying you’ll take care of me? You’re going to nurse me back to health?”

He chuckled. “Of course, darling. I’m terribly keen to play as your doctor.”

“Oh Astarion, don’t tease me so much,” she whined. “I can hardly think of a clever response right now.”

“I don’t mind.” He tapped the tip of her nose, unscathed from the attack. “That pretty blush of yours is all I need.”

“Astarion.”

He lifted his hands quickly, palms out in surrender. “Alright, alright, that’s enough for now. I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Panic seized her and she gasped. “My love, wait. Wait!”

She reached her arms out as far as she could, making a grabbing motion with her hands. Astarion’s brows rose, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Oh? And what’s this?”

Whining, she stretched her arms out a little further. “I want you.”

“So needy.” His tone was chiding, but his smile only grew. “Do you need me to continue comforting you, darling?”

“Astarion, please.” She couldn’t spar with him now, and so she was at the mercy of his teasing. She pushed out her bottom lip, pouting as best she could, giving him her biggest doe eyes. “I need you.”

“And how do you need me?”

If she could have ground her teeth she would have. But as it stood she could not, so she settled for a wrinkle of her nose, her cheeks burning from the heat he’d coaxed into them. He was smiling far too broadly, his eyes full of mirth.

With a sigh she said, “I need you to stay with me. I need you to hold me, my beloved. Please.”

“Oh my.” She could see the faintest touch of colour in his cheeks, like the first hint of the blushing dawn in the dove-grey of the morning sky. “Well how could I ever say no to such a request?”

Happiness softened the edges of her ire as Astarion tugged at the blankets, carefully slipping into the bed beside her. She sank to the side, his body beckoning her close, wincing only barely as he pressed against her side. He draped an arm loosely over her stomach, no heavier than another blanket, and yet she felt safer because of it, warmer than any blanket could make her feel.

“How is this?” He murmured softly against her ear, his breath tangling in her unbound hair. “Better?”

“This is very nice,” she said, just as quietly. “Thank you, my love.”

“Do you think you can sleep?” His voice wobbled, revealing the fear that had been hiding beneath his joking tone. “It will help with your healing.”

“But I only just got comfy,” she whined, not caring how pitiful she sounded.

A snort, cool fingers brushing back her hair. His breath gathered against her skin as he lowered his head, sighing. “That is so you can sleep, darling.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“If I’m distracting you, it may be better if I go-”

“No!” It would have been a shriek if she’d been able to shriek right now. As it was it sounded like a garbled rasp, and Astarion had to press his face to her neck to muffle his laughter.

“Don’t go. Please love, I want you to stay.” She didn’t feel right without him close, felt like she was on the verge of dying. She wanted to cling to him, to hold fast, finding comfort in the acid of his comments and the bergamot clinging to his skin.

“I’ll stay.” He laid a gentle kiss to her neck, a stark difference to the teasing laughter from only seconds ago. “See? I have no plan to move.”

“Really?”

“Why would I, when such a beautiful, needy little thing is in my arms.”

She turned her head away so he could not see the crimson staining her cheeks. She had no response, no clever rejoinder. She was terribly needy for his closeness, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“You really must rest, though,” he continued, pressing another kiss to her throat. “How else will you get better so we can take a vacation?”

“You seem very set on the idea of this vacation,” she mused. Already she could feel the medicine working, the pain beginning to ebb, dulling breath by breath. “What do you even want to do?”

“What don’t I want to do, darling?” He sighed, stroking her hair. “I want to lounge and sleep in late. And perhaps we can visit a spa; we both need it after this.”

“A spa sounds nice.” She imagined it, sleeping the morning away, skilled hands massaging the knots from her back and arms, floral-scented serums and creams and oils pressed to her face, bringing her skin to life.

“And shopping,” he continued, just as lost in his daydreams as she. “So much shopping. We must refresh our wardrobes, darling. It’s all very…” She could picture the wrinkle of his nose without even looking at him. “Last season. We must be ahead of all the rest.”

“I’ll put my trust in you, then,” she murmured. “I’m sure you know what is best.”

She wouldn’t mind some new gowns, if she were honest. She would need something to make her feel pretty again after she was healed.

Astarion hummed, combing fingers through her hair. “Have you fallen asleep already?”

“No,” she answered, not feeling tired in the least. Now that the pain was fading she felt wide awake, energized.

“Well you should,” he admonished. “It will certainly put me at ease knowing you’re resting.”

“But I’m not tired, my love.”

He sighed, undoubtedly rolling his eyes. “What can I do to help?”

She hummed, wracking her mind for something that could help, that would lull her into the gentle darkness of unconsciousness.

Before she had met him, she would sometimes fall asleep to the faint sounds of music beyond her windows, or she would hum her favourite melodies until she could not hum them any longer.

“Could you…” She licked her lips, twisting as far away from his gaze as she could as a new wave of heat washed over her. “Could you sing for me?”

The silence that fell from her question stretched long, and she feared he would laugh, or tell her that no he could not. But then, soft as a caress, Astarion asked “you wish for me to sing?”

She swallowed, her flushing cheeks be damned. She wanted to meet his gaze as she again made her shameless request, a small comfort that had helped her in the years before she’d met him.

“Will you please sing for me?” He was close enough now for her to take his free hand, even as tremors still quivered through hers. “Please, my love? It really would help me sleep.”

For a moment he searched her gaze, his expression serious. Soft light gilded his features, twinning in the strands of his hair, painting the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. His eyes seemed to glow, and she had the strangest feeling that she was being observed by a deity, a powerful, celestial being not of this world.

Her heart ached, and she held his hand tighter, reminding herself that he was not an ethereal being of light and dreams. He was real, he was here with her, he was not going anywhere.

Astarion’s eyes flicked down, to their intertwined hands, seeming to come to some sort of resolution.

“You are so terribly lucky I find you so wonderful,” he sighed, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t sing for just anyone, you know.”

She gingerly brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I think I would hate it if you did. I want you to sing for only me.”

His eyes opened, his expression tender despite how he had bemoaned such a task. “Any requests, my dear?”

“A lullaby, please.” She held fast to his hand, clutching it as surely as a child clutched a beloved doll. “Any lullaby, whatever your favourites are.”

He mulled it over, stroking her hair absently. “Alright, I have a few in mind.”

His voice quivered at first, uncertainty staining his voice. The words tremulous, quiet, yet as he continued, seeming to realize this was not an elaborate ruse to tease him, he grew louder, more confident. The faintest touch of colour stained his cheeks, but it could have been the burning red of the sky at sunset for how it ignited warmth in her own heart.

At first she felt nothing, energy still buzzing like static along her nerves and sizzling in her veins. But the wispy tendrils of fatigue slowly crept over her, Astarion’s words coming in and out of focus, blurring together. She was certain he was switching to Elven every now and again, the songs he was singing old, excavated from a corner of his memory draped in cobwebs and dust.

She yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. It became harder to keep them open, and eventually she just gave in, sighing in response to Astarion’s teasing laughter as his fingertips skipped across her brow.

“Are you asleep yet?”

“Not yet,” she grumbled, scrunching her nose.

“I guess I have no choice, but to keep going.”

She hummed in approval, earning another quiet huff of laughter before he continued, beginning a new song she did not recognize.

She wouldn’t have said he was the very best, and although she didn’t recognize every song he chose, she could tell some of it was off-key, the notes too sharp or flat. But she didn’t care, finding comfort in the off-tune lilt of his voice. It was a melody just for her, carrying her like white-capped waves towards sleep.

Her fingers found their way to his shirt, twisting into the cream coloured fabric, snagging on the ties that held it closed. She could not move enough to tuck herself beneath his chin the way she liked best, but she could hold onto him like this at least. She could anchor herself, no longer lost to the pain of her wounds.

Astarion’s voice blurred, words melting into each other until she could not recognize a single one, her mind muddled as a turbid river. All her thoughts turned to nonsense, but for one, shining bright as a star, holding fast in the cloudiness of her mind.

That she would get better. That she had to get better. She couldn’t let him sing her lullabies for nothing. She had to make up for the worry she was causing him.

She might have said the thoughts aloud, she really wasn’t sure. Her body was growing fuzzy, the world around her melting in and out of focus.

What she was sure of was that Astarion paused for the briefest of moments, brought his lips to her brow. He murmured against her skin, that he was holding her to that promise. That he would need her to get better so she could help him come up with a name for her new heroic persona while on their languid holiday.

She wanted to promise that she would, if only because she loved him so much she couldn’t bear upsetting him. But Astarion started singing again, and his voice suddenly sounded very, very far away, like an echo behind glass.

And then she was gone, lost to sleep, one step closer to healing, just as she had promised.

[altoid404]

“The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun.”

[littlebabywille]

we get to see them happy again

[verdant-avidya]

i would like to share my gay playlists-

[bongwaterbunny]

i did NOT expect my last halsin post to blow up- i mean seriously i was just horny and posted some thoughts but THANK YOU???

anyways. heres my humble offering in hopes to appease the gods (@strawzumie and @im-eating-rn)!!

cw: facesitting, pussydrunk halsin, fem!tav, d/s dynamic, overstimulation, lmk if i missed any lol ive been foaming at the mouth over this little thought

halsin has ALWAYS been a service dom. like he doesnt even THINK about cumming until you've already finished all over his fingers or his tongue, maybe even multiple times! he just loves the sweet little noise you make when you're overstimulated. he loves the squeals and whines that leave your lips, how you mutter his name under your breath? nothing sounds better to him.

"keep singing like that and you'll make the birds jealous, my heart" but how can he expect you to be quiet when he wont even let you hide your face?? insisting he needs to see that look in your eye when you cum AGAIN, swatting your quivering hands away when you tug a pillow up to your mouth, the man is so mean sometimes! cant he see how flustered you are?

god he loves the taste of you too. he's perfectly happy to eat you out until the sun comes out again, until you're crying so loudly that the entire camp can hear just how beautiful you sound with his lips flush against your cunt, nose nudging your puffy little clit every time you squirm!

and when i say facesitting i mean faceSITTING. you barely even have the chance to hear his throaty chuckle when you hover over his face until his hands snake around your thighs, pushing you down with such force youre worried that he cant breathe! i mean, the way his eyes glaze over and you can notice them cross doesnt really help soothe your worries either, but its not like you can get out of his tight grip, can you?

"so sweet.. heavens above, you're sweeter than honey" he mumbles against your throbbing core, his words muffled and the way his lips move only serve to send tremors of pleasure shooting up your spine. his tongue is practically scooping your wetness into his waiting mouth as it gushes out of you! and god, the way you whimper and grind your hips forward once you finally get over your fear of smothering him? you just earned yourself two more orgasms right there on his face! good luck getting his head out from between your thighs tonight <3

[bruisedboys]

sejanus plinth x fem!reader | sejanus is a helpless romantic, you’re totally shy under his affections, but he just can’t help himself!

implied shy!reader, coryo being a menace but in a playful way, sejanus being a tease, kissing, so much fluff!!!!

Coriolanus watches you and Sejanus with a look of mild disgust on his face.

“Ugh,” he says. “They’re gross.”

Lucy Gray laughs, up to her knees in the long, soft grass.

“Don’t be mean, Coriolanus,” she chides, digging her elbow into his ribs. “I think they’re cute.”

“Cute?” Coriolanus huffs, incredulous. “He looks like he’s about to eat her.”

Truth be told, Sejanus does look a bit like he wants to eat you. In the most romantic way possible, of course. You’re both sitting on the pier over the lake, and he’s got you in his lap, your knees caged on either side of his hips, his face so close to yours you’re almost kissing. He thumbs at your collarbone, fingers curled over your bare shoulder, hands warm on your sunkissed skin, gazing at you like you’ve been threaded with pure gold. The lake sloshes softly beneath you.

You peek over Sejanus’ shoulder, buzzing with fondness. “They’re looking at us.”

“Who?” Sejanus asks, distracted by the way you shudder under his touch. He thinks it’s sickeningly cute, how shy you are. “Coryo, huh? Don’t worry, honey. He’s just jealous.”

Honey? Heat creeps up your neck at an alarming rate. Any more of this and you’ll melt in a lovesick puddle. The pet name plays in your head over and over like a broken record. Honey, honey, honey.

“Jealous?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t seem to think straight when he’s got you this close. His hands on your skin, his thighs firm under yours. You glance over his shoulder again, self conscious.

“Mhm.” Sejanus brings a hand to your jaw and tilts your head in his direction with two fingers, forcing your gaze away from your friends. “‘Cause you’re so pretty,” he explains, voice like melted sugar. “And I’ve got you all to myself.”

You fear you’ll go up in flames. You hide your burning face by dropping it to his shoulder, shy and so so in love with him. Sejanus laughs softly, soaked through in fondness, and rubs your back with a big warm hand. Your spaghetti strap top means his palm graces a slice of exposed skin at the top of your back, and pleasured goosebumps erupt in his wake.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” He murmurs, his mouth ghosting your ear, so close he’s almost kissing it. He sweeps his hand up your back and then down again. “C’mon, come back out. I want to look at you.”

He pulls back slightly and gets a hand under your chin to encourage you up. You’re putty in his hands, surprising yourself at how quickly you oblige, how quick you are to do what he wants. He waits patiently for you to meet his gaze and once you do, you find your own feelings of overbearing fondness reflected back at you. His pretty eyes are pools of love, the honey sun painting them the colour of browned butter. You like him so much you could suffocate in it.

Sejanus grins at you, cheeks dimpling. He tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly. His hand lingers at your throat.

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless and much too eager but you can’t bring yourself to care. “You don’t have to ask, Sej.”

Sejanus hums before capturing your mouth in a swift kiss. You breathe him in and curl your hand around his neck, breathing in his scent of pine and firewood, something sweeter, like caramel. Your fingers brush over the short hair at the nape of his neck. He’s told you he used to have curly hair, and as much as you like imagining him with his curls, you like his buzzed hair just as much. He’s so handsome he doesn’t need curls, anyway.

Sejanus brings his hand to your waist and tugs you closer, desperate and greedy but never rough. You go happily, kissing him back with as much earnest as you can manage, pushing up onto your knees in your desperation to be closer still. You get lost, forget where you are, like you tend to do when you’re with Sejanus.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus is fake gagging into the grass.

“You agree that’s a bit excessive, right?” He asks Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray just rolls her eyes. “You’re dramatic. They’re in love.”

Coryo scoffs. “Couldn’t they be in love somewhere else?”

Lucy Gray watches as you pull away from Sejanus and start giggling like a lovesick fool, while he tries to coax you back into another kiss.

No, she thinks. Not gonna happen.

[whalesforhands]

giving gojo satoru too many kisses

There’s a certain charm to turning the tables on the great Gojo Satoru.

Without his sunglasses, there’s no denying just how beautiful his eyes were, their brilliance rivaling the radiance of a supernova explosion, a luminosity like no other.

“And of course,” Your hands hold a stellar gaze in your palms when you pull away from a peck to his kiss-riddled lips. “You’re the sweetest husband ever.”

It’s also in these moments that you realize how human he is, so soft and tender and sleepy as you press kiss after kiss onto his face, your overwhelming affection the culprit of the pink on his cheeks that remind you of a sunrise’s afterglow, his demeanor now something quiet, serene and tranquil as he gives himself to you.

It reminds you of how the sun and moon can be so intertwined, like an event horizon line teetering between the opposing two.

“Mwah!” You absolutely want to imprint the shape of your lips onto his face forever as you pull away, making it a point to exaggerate the sound of your kisses as you keep overriding his thoughts with your sweet smooches all over his face.

Just because he deserves every kiss he gets.

“Hngh…” His eyes are squeezed shut, his lips struggling to keep themselves from stuttering when he talks so that he can take every ounce of your affection in entirety, his hands on your waist starting tremble as he fights against his cuteness aggression.

“Honey…! You’re gonna kill me…!” His complaint dies on his lips when he feels you land your kisses onto his lips once more, his satisfaction being sated.

He’s chasing after your sugary-sweet lips with every kiss you press to his lips, needy hands going up to press against the back of your head in hopes of melting your bodies and moulding your lips together until the next galaxies rise and fall.

“You’re so pretty, Satoru.” Your giggles feel like they could illuminate his very sky, your words akin to a candied sweet upon his tongue.

And it makes him want to swallow you whole.

“Prettier than Suguru?” His lashes flutter open as your thumb lovingly rubs a tender circle onto his cheek, your touch so soft that it makes him want to wish for a gravity that pulls your hearts together until they collide.

So you take this moment to tease.

“Mmm…” A kiss to his nose that makes him laugh just a little bit sweeter, his heart just a little more at ease. Makes him swear that the love in his heart was going to travel faster than the speed of light when it came to you.

“Nope!”

“Meanie!”

So, he decides that an infinity with you sounds like it would be just enough for him.

masterlist

[olee]

Contigo | Enzo Vogrincic

(Spanglish)

The city of Madrid was enveloped in a quiet stillness as the sun began to rise on a Sunday morning. You had been in a relationship with Enzo for nearly a year now, but lately, his busy schedule of conferences and interviews had left you feeling disconnected and unmotivated. Sensing the need to break out of this monotony, you decided to embark on a solo adventure and take the metro to El Rastro, a bustling open-air market that had always piqued your curiosity. With a sense of anticipation, you stepped onto the train and began your journey to the vibrant market, hoping to find some inspiration in the lively atmosphere.

Upon checking your WhatsApp, you saw a message from Enzo that greeted you with "Buenos días". You replied with a smiley face, and he responded by asking, "estás bn?". In response, you expressed your longing by typing "nada, te extraño".

After exploring the famous open-air market, El Rastro, you made your way back to your apartment for a well-deserved rest. You decided to take a long nap to recharge your energy and prepare for the rest of your day.

At 11 pm, when you were just about to call it a day, you heard a sudden knock on your apartment door. Curiosity piqued, you made your way to the door and peered through the peephole to see who it was. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Enzo, your boyfriend, standing outside with a bucket overflowing with beautiful roses. You couldn't resist the urge to open the door immediately and bask in the sight of his charming smile and the sweet fragrance of the roses.

He embraces your entire being, lifting you up against the wall. His lips caress your nose, then move to your soft lips, then to your delicate neck, and finally back to your lips once more. You feel his touch all over your body, sending shivers down your spine.

~

You find yourself sitting on the couch of your apartment with Enzo. After exchanging some kisses, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and places soft kisses on your cheeks. As you gaze into his beautiful honey-colored eyes, you suggest taking a stroll through the lively streets of Madrid to breathe in some fresh air. Enzo readily agrees, and you both set out to explore the vibrant city together.

As you walk hand-in-hand through the enchanting streets of Madrid, the city's vibrant energy surrounds you. Enzo breaks the serene atmosphere with a gentle inquiry: "¿Está todo bien?" You respond with a sigh, your emotions spilling out. "Es que... llevo meses sin verte y lo único que hago es trabajar, comer, y dormir. No es que tenga amistades; es que... a veces siento que te necesito, y odio sentir eso."

Unexpectedly, Enzo opens up, revealing his own struggles. "Sabes… me he estado sintiendo igual. Vos entendés que todo ha sido complicado. Mill(ch)ones de entrevistas y ahora con un nuevo papel—” Your curiosity peaks, and you interrupt, “Espera… ¿cómo que un nuevo papel? Joder Enzo, pero, ¿por qué no me lo has dicho? Joderrr… Felicidades!”

In a burst of pride for his upcoming film, you embrace Enzo tightly and shower him with kisses under the warm glow of a streetlamp in a romantic corner of Madrid. As he reciprocates the affection, he gazes intensely into your eyes. You playfully kiss the tip of his nose and delicately trace your fingers over his eyebrows, savoring the moment. Softly, you express your pride, whispering words of admiration, and seal the sentiment with another tender kiss.

Enzo, caught in the embrace of your pride and affection, responds with a tender smile. The soft glow of the streetlamp accentuates the warmth in his eyes as he holds you close. In a voice filled with love and gratitude, he whispers, "Gracias, mi amor. Having you by my side makes every achievement sweeter." As he gazes into your eyes, a silent understanding and a shared passion for each other's successes deepen the romantic connection between you two.