#atope💪

[mysteriesmuse]

You’re hiding in your Hiding Place — Bakugou Katsuki’s bicep 💪

In your later years at UA, Bakugou Katsuki ends up with an —unusual reputation within class A. He’s got a notoriously famous mean streak, but in 1-A he’s also got a reputation for having a strangely nutty tough-love aura about him — which makes him a decently good person to come run to when things go wrong. Naturally, not anyone’s top pick or anything, but a good one for when you need cry your heart out, or something. And, Bakugou usually knows, which is why he’s not all too surprised when you plow into his midsection in the middle of the hall. He’s headed upstairs from a later dinner because of his internship when he sees you. You’re coming straight from the dormitory showers, a chrous of familiar caterwauling floating out from the boys side. That’s why he took his showers in the morning, if he could help it, because at least Iida didn’t attempt to sing. You look soft and malleable stepping out from the bathroom. An old tye-dye shirt boasting participation of some kind of annual charity run and a pair of sweatpants on. The cuff at you ankles revealing your — now, slightly pink house slippers due to a washing mishap that happened last week in the dorms with a certain Shitty-Hair’ed guy and his red-themed hero costume. Your arms and face are dewy with what he presumes is that moisturizer that all you girls like to lather up in daily — and your hair is still on the verge of wet and stringy, but also frizzy and fuck, you look so very tired and soft right now. Katsuki pauses, red eyes squinting at your face; your nose is pink and your face is dewy, but those aren’t fingerprints left in the wake of moisturizer — it’s old tears that’s streaked over it. He huffs from his nose, nostrils flaring before he takes his hands out of his pockets and flexes his fingers at you where they hang by the side of his hips. And it’s then that he sees your shoulders slacken slightly before you’re suddenly pressed up against his front. All causal and warm — pressed as far into his abdomen as you can get, and he can feel your boobs smush against his chest because you’re very clearly not wearing a bra — and also because he’s earned a reputation for being a decent fucking human and for being nonchalant about that stuff. Bakugou is one of three guys in the dorm you guys deem trustworthy and reasonable enough to do that with. (The other two being Shouji and Todoroki.) And thus, he’s been grappled into many squishy-boob hugs by all you shitty girls. And your cheek is pressed against the hard plain of muscle that is his chest and your arms are wrapped around him — just under his shoulder blades in an action that lifts him and pulls Bakugou in towards you just a little bit. Your fingertips pressing into the muscle on his back and he hopes you don’t feel the way his heart is lub-dubbing inside his chest at the action. And suddenly Bakugou pulls you closer to him. A bicep circling protectively beside your chin, as a big palm comes to rest atop your damp hair. His other arm squeezing around your mid-section like a python and it’s a good thing too because as soon as he puts his arms around you Bakugou can feel that strength seeping from you and it feels like he’s holding you together. And that’s when the sniffles start.

“I’m so pathetic,” you whine. “As soon as you put your arms around me I felt my knees buckle.” And you’re pressed so close Bakugou can feel the way your lips move to form the words right against his chest. And instead of Bakugou saying anything mildly helpful in this situation his says, “I have that effect.” With a slight shrug that brings the top of your head pressing against his jaw, which might just be him engulfing and cradling you completely, but who knows? And Bakugou has no fucking idea why he said that. Or how he managed to say something so flirtatiously cringy with such calm, but all you do is attempt to shake your head against his hold and mumble, “yeah, that makes sense. I’ve seen the other girls around school.” Which you punctuate with a snort, an arm moving from his back to swipe at your face. Bakugou has no idea where this is going — except for you to start “hilariously deflecting” from whatever problem is at hand. “There’s this one girl,” you start with a breath, “she’s always hanging around the hallway between classes. She’s definitely trying to catch you at your locker, but she always just ends up next to mine and Momo’s — saying something random before running off. She’s definitely into you.” You look up at him, still completely weak in his hold and Bakugou scrunches his nose at you. An action that you find looks unnatural and awkward on the sharp features of his face. You frown, hoarsely laughing, “Stop that.” About his facial expression. Bakugou can’t imagine any girls wanting to be with him. Surely he’s a terrible catch at a boyfriend.

He face curls into a snarling scoff, “Nope. Can’t see it. You must be imaging things.” He declares forcefully pressing your head back into the cocoon of him. He settles his head back on top of yours and you’re now squirming like a damn worm. And you find some strength as you manage to peek your face out and blink at him with furrowed brows. And maybe it’s cause you’re in a vulnerable state with a good friend and maybe it’s because you’ve been harboring a little bit of a recent crush on the boy, but you blurt out, “You’re a catch. You know that, right?” And again his stupidly handsome face scrunches into that weird shape again before his red eyes are staring into yours. The hand on your back clutches at your shirt fabric before he says, “You really think that? You’re not just fucking with me?” You snort, wiping a few more stray tears from an entirely different problem than the internal one that the blonde is currently having. “Yeah I really think that, Bakugou.” And there’s a little quip on the side of his mouth that might count as a Bakugou smile, but it’s gone before you can tease him about it. The explosive murder god boy being unsure about his status as attractive is entirely too precious and far too laughable a situation — which is probably why your aggressively smooshed back into his chest and why he starts waddling side to side. For some damn reason the gently rocking from foot-to-foot placebo affects you into crying it all out. Some remnant of being a baby you suppose, but it’s still annoying how Bakugou’s managed to peg it on you so easily. And you’re damn right Bakugou’s doing it on purpose because you very clearly have a problem of your own or you wouldn’t be clutching onto him for dear life like you are right now. And despite this revelation that Kirishima may be right in the fact that’s he’s attractive he’s still whirling at the thought that you think he’s a catch. Because you’re the only girl he’d probably ever want thinking that — but Bakugou tucks that piece of knowledge into the back of his brain when Momo comes out of the showers next. A giant frilly nightgown on as she scampers over — talking and whispering to you gently from within your little hiddie-hole formed by his curled bicep and forearm. And he just huffs, and continues to cocoon you in his embrace rocking back and forth like a damn rocking-chair as you rattle off whatever’s been on your mind.

What’s on his mind is for another day . . .

#mysteriesmusing #katsuki bakugou #mha fanfiction #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugou katsuki #bakugou headcanons

[candyk0rn]

Comforting your tears-BG3

If they found you crying

Ugh I know my old friends are sick of this prompt because I’ve probably done it one hundred times..but can you blame me??

Before reading: gn reader, Angst (if you squint) with comfort, Astarion x reader, Gale x reader, Halsin x reader (separate)

Astarion:

Astarion has shed his fair share of tears in his prolonged life

Not recently, of course (Unless this takes place after a certain quest line…)

And he’s used to seeing others cry, wether they be his conquests when they realize his actual intentions,

Wether he sees a lost child in the night sobbing for his mother,

Wether it be a sad woman mourning a loss in the darkened graveyard

But he’s never seen you cry, and he’s never craved that sight either

He’s not sure why you were crying, and he doesn’t take time to ask you that

Because if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what to do

He has never once had to comfort another’s tears, and if he ever has, there was always an ulterior motive

But here you were, trying to suck back floods of tears before him

And all he could do was stand still, a small furrow in his brow

In all honesty, he waits for you to do something first

To reach for him, to say his name, anything

Even just telling him to go away would be enough, because it would give him the slightest bit of direction

If you shove him away, without hesitation he shall flee

But if you move the slightest bit, he rushes to your side

His hand twitch as they hold you, not knowing if this is truly what you need to feel better

But perhaps, these hands which have killed many,

Can also comfort.

Gale:

Similar to Astarion, he’s not quite sure what the best remedy for a broken heart is

But he is a lot less clueless

When he sees you, he wishes so badly to take all of your pain and inflict it onto himself

He’d rather die than see you like this again

He thinks back to his youth, how his mother would confer him when he would cry or become upset

He also thinks ‘How would I want to be comforted?” Only to be bombarded with thoughts of Tara purring sleepily in his lap

So that wasn’t gonna work

He silently takes you in his arms, rubbing loving circles into your back

He kisses your temple, whispering ‘What’s wrong?’ Into your ear

If you shake your head or don’t respond, he’s not going to push you for any more information

If you begin to tell him, he listens diligently, not interrupting you

He rocks you back and forth, hoping he’s helping you in some way

My bro is trying his best 💪

Halsin:

Halsin is easier than the other two because omg he’d be the best at comforting you

Like Gale, he would just scoop you up in his arms and shower you with affection

He’s also a very smooth talker

You need him to distract you? He already has a story to tell you

You need him to whisper loving nothings into your ear? He’s gonna make it his life goal to make your cheeks grow red

He takes your hand in his, placing it atop of his chest, allowing you to feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing

This is something he does often, waiting for you to follow suit

Times like these are precious to him, because it shows him that you feel able to be vulnerable around him

In his eyes, vulnerability is so beautiful, even if it leaves your face tear stained and red

He presses his lips to your temple, lingering for a long moment

He wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while

Thanks for reading!!

#x reader #fanfic #fyp #candyk0rn #baldurs gate fanfic #Baldurs Gate 3 #baldurs gate headcanons #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate halsin #astarion x reader #bg3 gale #Gale x reader #Halsin x reader #bg3 #tav #x y/n #x tav

[muchlovekatia]

✧ ˚ · . 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 —

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔹

theo nott x reader

synopsis:

face masks with theo 😻😻

warnings!:

none 💪💪

the tip of your tongue rested concentratedly on your upper lip, thin strands of hair falling into your eyes and brushing against your temples. theo’s hands claimed their place on your hips, lightly pinning you to his lap atop your bed, and the smell of aloe vera and chemicals loitered between you.

"it's cold," your boyfriend commentated, watching you reach the spatula-like applicator into the can of black goo and scoop up some more, looking back up at him and reaching your other hand up to hold his hair back from his forehead. his eyes shifted with your every movement as you ran it across his face.

"shhh," you near-whispered, smoothing out the mask. "you can't talk until it's time to take it off."

theo’s full lips twisted into a slight frown, then pulled back into a line when you ran the goo over his chin. he shifted underneath you, causing a disturbance in your grip, and you were just about to rattle off a sharp scold when he spoke.

"this better make me look like you," were his words. amusement, along with a laugh, hit your chest, coming out as just an exhale of air as you straightened your shoulders and examined his bright face. "like me? what do you mean, like me?"

"like a pretty princess who's never been told no." a smile spread across his lips and you pursed your own, scolding him with your eyes. the look he gave you was one of pure delight, gathering your own mind with it. the proof of your building laughter almost showed itself on your cheeks, but you made yourself examine the deterring dried goo.

"well, i command you to stop smiling. you're cracking the face mask," you accused, expecting him to correct himself. he only grinned further. narrowing your eyes, you dropped your occupied hands onto your thighs and watched his expression contort.

"see? i can't say no. now i have to stop smiling, or i'll be sent to the guillotine, won't i?" theo fluttered his lashes, tilting his head to the side. you held back a smile, raising your eyebrows and mimicking the small gesture.

"and you don't want that, huh?"

"you wouldn't do it anyways. you love me too much." finally, a smile prevailed, traveling over your lips. you backed your head inwards, trying to stop it, but you, frankly, had a horrible poker face. "aha, i told you!" theo leaned forward, a triumphant look spread across his face. you dodged his lips, shaking your head.

"you're gonna get the mask all over me!" you squeaked, your full hands rising between you and hovering in the air. you didn't want to cause a mess with the can open and the dirtied applicator, but your boyfriend didn't seem to care. his mouth found yours, icy concoction smearing onto your own. you squealed, trying to lean away, but failed beneath his grip. "theo—!"

when he leaned back, he was grinning widely and wildly. "can't behead me if you're in love with me," he singsonged, and you were still laughing slightly.

"all those compliments really got to your head, huh?" came your response, pushing the applicator into the can and reaching your fingers up to your face, scooping the mask off your chin. you examined your hand, but theo’s lips, again on yours, made your attention avert away once again.

“we should really plan a coronation date.”

.

rah rah rah rah rah rah

im on a flight for 7 hours help 😞

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theonottsmut #theo nott rec #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore #katiasworks

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 10[*]

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Well, buckle up I guess

Warnings: Plot™️, I know clocks are canon but it still feels weird to do this, starting heavy 💪

Word Count: 6,012

-Part 9- -Part 11-

He sighs.

It’s not like she can help the way she is. Not like she can help the fact that whenever she tries to make things better it simply creates more work for him to do. By receding into her room, he has to pay more attention to when she appears, becoming extra vigilant in the moments she steps outside.

He shouldn’t be so harsh. Sometimes fatigue clouds his judgement, enough so it becomes apparent to even himself sleep is a necessary luxury. Still, they’re harmless behaviours really. Small habits that with the right guidance will enable her to flourish again.

A broken bone that needs to be left to set, to be good as new.

6:57 p.m.

Azriel massages his temples, the beginning aches of a headache making themselves apparent. Eases in a breath, counts, and releases. It seems a night of rest is unavoidable, but there’s so much to be done. He could perhaps rearrange breakfast…but that would collide nastily with training. Maybe moving lunch to three instead? But then that would impact the start time of going though the towering stack of reports, which would in turn result in him working later anyway.

Thick brows narrow as he prowls silently down the hallway of the River House, deciding to leave for some peace and quiet. It’s not an idea he’s keen on, but if he dips out of practice with Cassian atop the House of Wind tomorrow…that would work. Frustration simmers in his knuckles, tightening the trapezius. He doesn’t like the idea of skipping over valuable training time with the priestesses. They’re forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. The least he can do is respect their resolve by attending.

He’s so caught up in thoughts of schedule and routine he only realises she’s in the River House, on the same floor, when she’s a single corridor away. Another thing he needs to keep an eye on. Swiftly reorganises his thoughts, rotating and recalling the information his shadows have provided over the recent days and hours. The scraps of speculations Mor had offered from a single outing. If he remembers correctly, she will have just gotten back from her trip with Mor now. So why is she here? She should be back up at the House by now, retreating to her room away from everyone else.

Still, he rounds the corner in time to see her click a door closed—her sister’s. His curiosity piques, shadows already recollecting the news they’ve catalogued for the female with soft, cocoa eyes. Gloves still adorn her hands, but it does nothing to conceal their tremor.

Attention narrows in on her, darkness skittering back into the corners of the hallway, hiding between his wings as he approaches. Her lips are chapped and tight, features strained as her gloved hand rests for a moment atop the handle. Appearing in her own world—eyes glazed and vacant. Her jaw is wound tighter than usual, tight enough he can hear the grinding of enamel, like bone and porcelain powdered against rock. Brows draw together at the notice of her waxen complexion, skin gleaming faintly with peaky dew.

Blank eyes flick up to meet his own, and he steps forward. Her hand stiffens on the handle, posture turning rigid. Scent taking on a tang he’s far too familiar with from nights spent with his blade. He comes to a stop, keeping his distance from her taut form.

Azriel’s first thoughts are she must be pushing too hard with her magic. Honestly, he hadn’t anticipated her to be so resolved in mastering her power independently. Neither had he anticipated her making a lick of progress. At least not through measures that a sensible mentor would allow.

He should never have yielded to her look of despair. She’d be safer if he had simply insisted on doing things correctly. A foolish mistake on his part, and now she might be going down the wrong path. “Are you okay?” He asks, splitting his weight equally between each foot, resting in his place. Watches the roll of her throat, shifting in place, away from Elain’s door. Had there been an argument?

She nods her head, trying to straighten her spine as she sometimes does when pulling herself together. The effect is nullified by the was she hangs her head, never quite succeeding in meeting his eye for extended periods. He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Leaving something like that unchecked… Well, he should have known better.

“I’m—” She clears her throat, and tries again. “Good. I’m fine.” Nods to herself, eyeing the floorboards with bland eyes. He waits quietly, allowing the silence to coax her into unravelling. She shifts again, stepping away from Elain’s door, her gaze flitting about the corridor. Flicks to the stairs behind him, leading down to the exit—likely wanting to return to her haven up in the House by now.

Eyes regain a little focus, pupils contracting as a nervous smile quirks her mouth, nodding to the door as she makes for the stairs. “We were just speaking,” she elaborates, moving away hastily. “Catching up.”

Azriel watches, noting the briskness of her steps. It’s unusual for her to be so keen to leave his presence. What had happened?

“Wait,” he says, turning as she makes to move past him, peering at the floor, marking her steps. She pauses, gloved hand resting on the carved and polished banister. He steps forward, morbidly intrigued by the glaze in her eyes, as if made of glass. “You aren’t well,” he states. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeat blandly, “just tired.”

Something bad then, if she’s not willing to even discuss whatever exchange happened with Elain.

Shadows loiter at the threshold, waiting to hear for any sounds that might offer hints, like the soft breath of cries, or the gentle splash of muffled tears. Nothing.

She turns again, descending the stairs, sweeping down the case quietly as she makes a bee-line for the door, vanishing out into the dark, leaving him perplexed and curious. A dangerous combination for the Spymaster.

She’d looked shaken up, so he should make sure things are okay.

It’s been a long while since he last had a one-on-one conversation with the soft-eyed female.

Azriel turns in the hallway, moving back the way she’d come.

8:36 a.m.

“We should talk.”

His words pull you from the world of bliss that had been graciously clouding your mind. Peer down at him from where you’re straddling his lap, pale sheets crumpled, clothes strewn about from being swiftly discarded. “About what?”

Thick, dark brows narrow over piercing golden eyes, full lips twisting down in the corners. Your own features shift to match his, “now, Bas?”

He sighs, large, warm hands splaying across the bruised skin of your hips. “I know, I know, I suck at timing. No need to tell me.” Almost immediately the edges of your lips lift up, a smile tugging at your mouth, vanquishing the momentary surge of annoyance. Fingers lightly press into the softness of his chest, spine losing its rigidity, relaxing your weight back onto him. Feeling slightly dizzy as pleasure sinks into your bones.

“Fine,” you mutter, playfully, “what is it?”

Bas shifts beneath you, thumbs soothing your skin, your back arching as you attempt to still the swirl of your hips. “Two things, actually,” he clarifies reaching higher, a reassuring pressure over your ribcage, rubbing to your waist. Peek down at him, raising a brow, “I wondered why you weren’t giving me a hard time tonight,” —shake your head, smiling slightly— “I should have known.”

He offers a tight smile and your own slips away. “Now you’re worrying me,” you murmur quietly, fingers curling. “What is it?” Golden eyes meet your own, concern shining in their depths, “you’ve been off recently. And I’m worried. So, it’s fine to be emotionally intimate too… Yeah?”

You blink, lips parting in surprise. “I’ve been…off?” Brow furrows in confusion, “what do you mean by that? Am I doing something wrong?” It’s an earnest question, yet it resonates a little deeper than you had expected. Thankfully he doesn’t pick up on the inner conflict. “It’s not that,” he reassures, hands stroking slowly, lightly. “But you’ve worn the same dress the last three times I’ve seen you.”

Internally, you cringe, making to pull away. “Do I smell?” You ask, wincing, bringing your arms to your chest. A slight smile tugs at his lips then, “no.” Relax a little, hands twining as he brings them back to his torso. “But…you taking care of yourself up there?” Sigh, shoulders losing their tension, lips resting into a quirked position.

“I’m fine, Bas. I like it up there, where it’s quiet, and—”

“No.” He interjects gently, hand slipping from yours, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Lightly cups your jaw, thumb skimming across the skin. “I mean up there.”

Spine stiffens, fingers freezing. Breath pauses. “Everything’s fine,” you murmur, watching him. He gives a look that urges you to stop lying, squeezing your hands. “Talk to me,” he says in response. “Something’s up. I can tell.”

“Bas—”

“Don’t even try,” he murmurs, golden eyes shimmering as he peers up at you. “I know what that feels like,” he whispers, hand raising to skim your breast, thumb brushing atop your heart. “I know change is difficult.”

“Bas, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eyes lock, staring at one another.

His hand falls away.

Muscle loosens.

Licks his lips, gaze flitting elsewhere. “I was lonely too, when the attack happened.” Spine softens, brows tightening. Wait silently for him to continue. Licks his lips again, returning to watch you. “Ma… It was hard on both of us, losing pa. Y’know one day he was there, then the next it’s just us.” His throat rolls, eyes glazing as he looks into the middle distance. “We had our own ways of dealing with it—the loss. Mother knows I can’t talk about healthy coping mechanisms, I practically fucked anything that would let me. Probably drank more than I should have, too.”

The attack.

You and your sisters hadn’t yet come here, still mortally human and wonderfully unaware. Well, you and Elain, anyway. Even now, there were still signs of the aftermath. Traces of grief that had yet to be healed.

He shakes his head slowly, limbs turning stiff. “It got… I know what it’s like.” Golden eyes latch to your own. “So talk to me. Don’t keep that—…stuff, to yourself.” Shake your head, breaking the connection, pulling away. “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop prying.” Shake off the heaviness, easing a breath. “What else did you want to talk about?”

His expression is indiscernible, brows dipped, lips tugged down, eyes swirling with molten gold. Shifts beneath you, your hands pressing to his chest to steady yourself as he raises into a sitting position. Moving to be eye-to-eye, hands spanning your waist, gently keeping you still. Fingers brush the concealed muscle of his shoulders, linking at his back, hips winding in gentle encouragement.

A rough-skinned palm settles on the nape of your neck, sliding and gripping your hair lightly. Thumb oscillates over your waist. Calling up loneliness from the pit of your chest. Lips brush your mouth, the slightest caress of hot skin that feels like heated silk and tastes like spices and thyme. He looks like he’s about to try again, but decides against it, instead pulling you forward.

Only you’re taken to the crook of his shoulder, palm cupping the back of your head. His free arm snakes up your back, cradling you to his chest. Keeping you close by. At first you’re stiff, unsure how to react, muscle locks as his skin presses hot to your own, smooth and soft. Warm hands soothe along your spine, gently skimming across the expanse, tracing the knuckles of bone. Fingers draw light patterns atop, oscillating and sketching with reassuring steadiness.

He makes no move to kiss you, just holding you still, the thick locs of his hair scratching softly against the nape of your neck. His arm spans across the back of your waist, hand flattening against your side, thumbing over the skin, soothing you to melt.

Your bones begin to feel heavy in your body, sinking low as you hesitantly raise your arms to lock over his sturdy shoulders, tentatively shuffling to rest your cheek against him. Inhale slowly, deeply, taking in his scent—like rosemary and myrrh. He settles across your skin, and you sink deeper, emotion thawing as you melt into his arms, so tender and soft. Healing and welcoming.

Wet drops splash atop his shoulders, dripping onto dark skin as arms pull a little tighter, squeezing as lips tremble. Spine shudders, soft breaths stuttering as tears trickle down your cheeks, wetting strands of hair as fingers grip closer. Full lips graze your temple, and you feel those small cracks that had emerged during your argument with Feyre begin to spiderweb out, restraint fracturing just a little more.

Lower lip wobbles, and you curl around him tighter, body shuddering with quiet sobs as he holds you. Dry hands wrap into fists, nails biting the flesh of your arms as you fall into him, wanting to be washed away.

To peacefully melt to a place far from memory.

Slowly fade into absence.

2:43 p.m.

The iron-cast ring weighs on your palm, the glittering blue jewel of its swollen abdomen gazing up at you like silver moonlight dripping to dark, gleaming midnight. Polished and sharp like armour and blade.

“Do you like it?” Mor asks from your side, peering over your shoulder. You’d heard her footsteps that time, but shake your head absently, putting the ring back where it belongs. “It’s a lovely piece of jewellery,” you hedge, not wanting to talk badly when the shopkeepers are around. Spiders are still a little too close to home—insects at all, really.

She hums quietly, attention skimming to a piece beside it: a silver band fashioned to the stalk of a flower, the petals looking like stretched out droplets of warm citrine. Mor examines it for a moment, then holds it out for you to look at, which you do. “What about this one?” Fingers mindlessly come up to fumble with the glass pendant at your neck, steadily becoming a habit. “It’s very pretty,” you answer, hoping it suffices. Mor hums again, seemingly getting the hint, returning it to sit on the counter.

“You liked the dress, didn’t you?” She asks, quietly. Brows dip together as you turn in her direction, cascading golden hair loosely tied back. “I mean you wanted it. Not just because I was pushing you to get something.” A beat of quiet passes, and you examine her expression: the edges of plush and pillowy lips lengthened by slight worry lines, brow marginally dipped in the centre. Minute shifts in features that would have gone undetected by human eyes.

Throat rolls as you look away, but nod. “I did like it,” you mumble, fumbling your words, “do like it. Thank you.”

“Have you worn it yet?” She asks. Dread ices your skin, eyes flitting to honey warm irises. “I— No…” you manage honestly. Look away, scanning the jewels, that blue spider again catching your attention. “It’s a special dress,” you murmur, “I was waiting for a special occasion.”

More quiet beats between you, background chatter buzzing through your mind. But then she nods, accepting your answer. “It looks nice on you,” she replies, picking up a necklace this time—a thin chain of gold that shimmers beneath the daylight streaming in from the windows. Dip your head in silent thanks.

Peer out into the streets, watching fae pass by, enjoying their lives. Spots of colour splashing along as they go about their day. Eyes mark a small shop across the road, stools holding little trinkets like cups and pottery spilling out onto the cobbles, ceramics gleaming beneath the lowering sun. Plants sway in the crisp breeze outside, the nippy winds of early autumn already setting in.

Ease in a steady breath—there’s less than a week left until you’re due to complete your side of the agreement, and only small bits and pieces of progress to show. Not enough to avoid bringing it up to the rest of them.

Glance at Mor from the corner of your eye, watching through your peripherals as she holds up a necklace to herself, peering into a mirror. How would she react if you told her right now? She’d probably smile and tell you that’s great. Maybe ask you to show her or give a demonstration. The breath releases, knowing that question will crop up eventually. Seeking results when you have none to provide.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” She asks breaking you out of your wondering. Blink, pulling yourself back down, having forgotten about the extra supper they’d decided to fit in. Shake your head, turning your attention back to the jewellery stand, then flitting out to the shop. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” you reply quietly, “so I don’t think so.”

“Sure?” She says absently, already having moved onto the next stand. “The food’s really great—pork that practically comes part on your tongue. And the jam that goes with it is absolutely mouth-watering,” she dreams, smiling faintly as her fingers scrunch with anticipation. Your nose wrinkles for a split-second before you shut off the reaction, offering a bland smile, “how lovely.”

“You must try it at some point,” she gushes, turning to you now, accessories forgotten. “It’s one of my favourite places in Velaris. All the dishes they serve are,” —her hand flexes, as if trying to grasp onto something, eyes briefly shutting in bliss— “amazing.”

You smile again. “I’m sure.”

Warm-honey eyes narrow on you, examining the set of your expression. “You liked the soup,” she says, “what else do you like?” Throat rolls and you shift on your feet, fumbling. “Mash?” Mor nods slowly, remaining silent; in doing so forcing you to speak, too awkward to allow it to continue. “With thyme… Beans are nice, too?” She continues her bout of silence, quietly watching you. “The rice and…sauce. That’s been nice. Very nice.”

Her brows squish together, tension coiling in your stomach and shoulders. Lick your lips. “The—…” You pause, not knowing the name of the food. “The doughy balls? With…mushroom? in the middle? With—”

Eyes pop open. “You don’t eat meat.”

“I eat meat,” you say, hurriedly, but she’s in her own world.

“That’s why Az—” Her hand smacks up onto her forehead and you internally cringe—was the coddling that noticeable? To everyone but you?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks, a mix of shock and exasperation lining her tone as she stares at you. Throat rolls and you turn away from her, picking up the silver band with the citrine-coloured flower. “I can eat meat just fine,” you mutter quietly, “it’s not as though there was anything else.”

“There was the soup,” she argues, still facing you, “you could have asked me to pass it to you—I even had some for myself.”

“No, I mean—” —eyes lock, her brows risen in confusion, not accusation. You sigh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything…” Her neatly groomed brows dip, head tilting ever so slightly. “No, what were you going to say?” She asks, voice quietening. Glance at her sidelong, fiddling with the ring in your hand, sliding it on and off your gloved little finger—far too large for it to possibly get stuck on. Lick your lips, spinning the band as you fidget. “I just mean, it’s basically all we ate back then,” you mumble, peering at your feet with forced interest. “Just brings back some bad memories, is all. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

She sighs softly, and guilt tightens your stomach, putting the now-warm ring down, listening to it clink on the glass. “You don’t like meat,” she states. It’s not a question.

“I can eat it,” you counter quietly, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve seen how much the others enjoy it. “But you wouldn’t choose it,” she returns, keeping her body open as she faces you. Shift on your feet, “I… No.”

Mor nods, hair glinting like freshly spun straw beneath a summer day. “Then we can eat somewhere else. Or order different dishes,” she reasons smoothly, “I’ll just mention it to the others since none of us even knew. Well, I suppose Az—”

“Please don’t,” you interrupt, cringing internally. “It’s fine. Meat’s good for you and I shouldn’t be so picky anyway. It’s annoying.”

“To who?” She asks, making you glance at her. “Who does it annoy?” She repeats, seemingly earnestly. “It’s silly to switch restaurants just because of…because of something so small. I can eat when I get back, anyway. It’s fine.”

She looks appalled.

“Mor, please don’t say anything,” you repeat quietly, meeting her eyes, a pained look unknowingly on your features. “I’m fine with how things are. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her brow narrows, eyes flicking around the shop, taking in the other customers. “None of us would mind,” she says quietly. “You wouldn’t be causing a problem. We’ll just order more dishes without meat. We don’t have to change places if nobody wants to.”

But you shake your head adamantly. “I can eat when I get home. Please don’t change what you order just because—”

“Why don’t you deserve to eat food you like?” She asks sharply, voice remaining quiet but harsh. Blink at the tone, stiffening briefly before tension uncoils from your muscles. “It’s not like that,” you reply, turning from the display, slowly stepping toward the door. Mor follows beside you, appearing to have lost interest in the surrounding trinkets.

“No?” She asks, glancing at you through her peripherals. “What’s it like, then?”

You pause in the street, feet halting their movement as the question registers. She halts at your side, slowing to a stop, attention turned to you. “Mor, I don’t know how I could possibly put into words…” A heavy sigh escapes from you, shoulders sloping, exhaustion lining your eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.” Spine straightens, continuing heavily across the street to the shop with the little carvings and pieces of glazed pottery.

She follows quietly as you wander toward the stalls, inspecting the bits and bobs on display. Watches you quietly, taking in the ankle-length dress, clunky boots, thick cardigan and scarf. The vomit-yellow gloves. She should at least find another pair with a lighter colour for you. “You know,” she begins softly, a hint of a smile in her tone, “for someone so reserved, I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”

Fingers freeze for a moment, reaching out toward a small carving of a woman holding some drooping daisies. Breath catches, before you manage to resume motion, picking up the small figurine. “Sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t mean to be.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she murmurs. “You’re strong willed. It’ll serve you well.”

But you shake your head in denial. “Feyre’s strong willed. So is Nesta.”

“Do you think Elain is?” Mor asks, holding up a glazed mug she clearly has no interest in. Your brow dips, peering at her, not having anticipated the change of direction. “Why are you asking?”

“She’s been quiet, no?”

Turn your attention back to the woman in your hand, flipping her over to peer at the lines of her dress—swaying in a breeze. I wonder why… You think sardonically. Instead a hum lulls from your mouth, non-committal and vague. Mor nods her head, again picking up those minute hints you’re unaware you’re even capable of dropping.

“That’s a nice carving,” she says brightly, redirecting the conversation without a hitch, smooth fluidity long ago mastered. “Your father was a carpenter, wasn’t he?” She asks softly. “Would you like it?”

Gloved fingers rub the concealed skin of your other hand, knuckles itching for reprieve. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have declined the offer— it looks well carved. Not that you have an eye for such things. This time, however, you can make an exception. “That would be nice,” you answer quietly, “thank you.”

Swallow down the apology that had been slowly making it’s way up from your stomach.

She smiles then, and you look away.

She’s far too bright.

6:49 p.m.

You excuse yourself as soon as you step inside, heading up the stairs and along the hallway before returning to the House of Wind. Walk quietly along the floorboards, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Reach the door you’re looking for, landing a series of knocks to the hardwood. “Elain?” You call, listening for a reply. She answers, letting you to come in, voice soft but terse.

The door swings open on oiled hinges, and you step inside, hearing it snick shut at your back. Eyes instantly locate your sister, sat in a large armchair facing the lit fireplace. Curtains are drawn, blocking out what little light remained in the sky, room set aglow with the golden-orange of flame. Cocoa melts to something soft and spicy as she peers into it, and you wonder if she’s perhaps missing Lucien.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly, noting how she seems kind of distant. You can’t help but be reminded of those initial months, the transitional stages of your lives where the world was turned upside down. How she’d shut down almost entirely, rarely speaking. Rarer still to get anything coherent, like she was trapped in a dream state. “I just…I wanted to see you,” you murmur, moving toward her.

Haunted eyes flick up to meet you, blank as they take you in with ghostly smoothness. She blinks and it’s gone, gesturing to a seat opposite from her, closer to the fire but angled for prime conversation. A smile lifts the edges of her mouth, etched with strain, chest stretching as you take in her fatigue.

Sigh heavily, settling into the plush armchair, remaining straight-backed as you put the paper bag at your feet, careful with the little carving. Wait for a beat to pass before looking to her, cocoa already reattached to the fire. “Elain,” you call quietly, gaining her attention. In the light of the flame the circles beneath her eyes are more pronounced, shadow flickering across the heavy crescents. Worry takes root in your gut—it seems to be taking more of a tole on her than you’d thought.

“You went out with Mor today didn’t you?” Elain asks, voice soft and faint, as if coming out of a daze. A shy smile curves your lips, nodding. “How was it?” She asks distantly, gently curled hair hanging in rich ringlets, tight and silky as they spill down the lilac night gown she likes. Throat rolls, turning your attention to the fire. Will this ever be an easy subject between the two of you? Between any of you?

Eyes flit down to the bag, pulling it up into your lap for comfort. “It was good,” you manage softly, nodding. “It was…nice. To be outside. Around someone, for a little.” Elain nods, a bland smile on her face, though you don’t doubt its sincerity. “I—…Mor’s nice,” you add, fumbling your words as you try to direct the flow of the conversation toward what you’re trying to get at. But you’ve never been good at reading the room, and it’s showing.

“You should…I mean, it would be nice for you to come along sometime…” you suggest, trailing off as fingers wring together in your lap, playing with the paper handle of the bag. “We could…I don’t know…” Shift in the chair as you try to think of something. “I’m sure there are some shops for gardening, or somewhere to sample pastries? You’re trying out pastries at the moment, aren’t you?” Eyes flit to your sister, the smile gone from her lips, lids heavy as she soaks in the heat of the fire. Letting it drink her in.

She’s quiet, and it’s obvious something’s off. Or is she just tired? She’d told you she’d been sleeping badly recently, has it not yet gotten better? Run your attention over her supple form, smooth skin over tight knuckles, the lilac of the fabric complimenting her drained complexion, dark circles beneath her eyes making the rich coca of her irises deeper, swirling with thought. They flick to you suddenly, shadow being cast across her delicate features as she turns, as if about to speak.

You look down into your lap abruptly, staring at the little carving. “I miss dad,” you blurt out quietly, the words being hauled up your throat, spat out into the air.

Elain stiffens in your peripherals, and your lips press together tight. Heart heavies, shoulders no longer being held taut as you begin to drown into the cushion. “I know…” you begin quietly, thoughts eddying away once you try to grasp for them. Just stare at the maiden holding the drooping daisies. “I was thinking about him,” you say quietly, managing to keep your voice somewhat even. “Earlier, when I was out with Mor,” you clarify, reaching into the bag.

Push the paper apart, reaching for the female figurine. Fingers brush the smooth wood of the carved figure, the pads able to sense the very grain with heightened nerve endings. She’s hewn from a darker material, deep brown and riddled with smooth and polished knots, creating a labyrinthine twist of swirling lines and wrinkles. It was probably once a beautiful piece of trunk, carried from a forest to a carpenters shop, whittled away until the figure emerged.

“I want to speak with you.”

You look up, hand stilling, fingers grasping the carving. Maybe…you’ve learned in the past it’s better to let someone else lead the conversation. Yours don’t seem to go anywhere unless the other is interested in a continuation.

“Okay,” you murmur, releasing the statue, pulling free as you return the bag to your feet, set aside so you can deliver her your full attention. “What is it?”

Elain blinks slowly, and hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“Elain?” You encourage, no more than a whisper.

For a long moment she won’t speak, just watching intently, as if she can see through you and is examining the sub-atomic structure of your soul, down to the bits and bobs between. Stiffen as cocoa bores into you, looking far older than should be possible as the flame flickers dully in muted brown. Throat rolls, trying to maintain the connection, letting her know you’re there. She’s been around for you; it’s the least you can do.

The contact breaks, her lids closing briefly, gaze returning to quietly observe the fire. Taking in its motion—how the heat wells, practically rolling from the hearth to the rugged floorboards. “There’s been something…” Elegant brows dip almost imperceptibly, the edges of her delicate mouth quivering, lips parted on a syllable. Close again, as if the words won’t suffice for what she’s trying to say. The fire almost seems to match her, growing more intense as she stares into it, shadows darkening as they writhe across the walls, like the wings of a great creature.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmurs absently.

Worry sparks across your chest but you say nothing, allowing her to articulate her thoughts at the pace she wishes.

Cocoa returns to you, the colour of conkers—you can picture them sitting cozily among the branches of a dense forest, perfectly in place. “I need you to be calm,” she says firmly. “Can you do that for me?” Brow narrows in confusion, attention fading form your body as it’s directed to your older sister, posture lithe but firm. Sitting with the preternatural stillness of the fae, and something more… Something beyond what even…

You nod—as if your voice might break whatever she’s fallen into. Might cause a change in mind, your chance to comfort her lost. She stares for a moment longer, quiet and observing. An unwelcome itch builds beneath your knuckles, but you push it away, attention solely on your older sister. Her pupils seem to be the wrong size, as if you’re something far off in the distance that she’s struggling to focus on. Her posture relaxes, silently settling into the depth of her armchair, as if it might hold her together.

“Sleep has been difficult as of late,” she murmurs, eyes locked to yours and you find yourself unable to look away. She keeps herself still; poised; refined. Even in the undress of her lilac night robe, she’s collected, but there’s something off tonight. You nod in understanding—sleeping can be difficult. Especially after the war.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” The question pulls from your lips before it’s fully formed in your mind. A faint smile sharpens her mouth—hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Cocoa blinks, and the sharpness has faded, settling into the familiar gentle curve that makes Elain herself. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replies quietly, though her voice is strained. Eyes again run over you, weighing. Again you keep still, enduring the assessment.

Tongue peeks out to wet her lips, shadows flickering across her face as she shifts in her seat. “I’ve been trying some different tonics,” she admits quietly. “Chamomile, root ginger, valerian…they work fine, and I end up falling asleep swiftly.”

A dull wave of relief washes through your system, like a cool balm to desiccated skin. “I’m glad, ‘Lain,” you say softly, happy she’s found a remedy. But Elain shakes her head solemnly, shadows growing darker, weighing beneath her eyes. “It’s not…I’m not struggling with sleep,” she whispers, as if the walls are sitting in on the conversation. Eyes flit about, and your brows narrow. She’s being shifty. “Maybe we should have this conversation in your room,” she murmurs to herself, fingers massaging her temples.

“Elain…” you interject quietly, worry lacing your tone, “are you okay?” Eyes flick to you, heavy with gravity. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You press gently. Could she have been sold another kind of herb? “You don’t seem fine…” She waves her hand dismissively, as if physically able to bat the thought away. She exhales heavily, staring again into the fire. Deep into the flames, like she can see to the other side.

“Chamomile, valerian, send me to sleep fine. It’s just not—” She cuts off, searching for the word. “They don’t send me deep enough,” she murmurs, a slight tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?” You ask, shifting toward her in your seat. Eyes snap to you with the movement, brows curving in a look of…

Fear.

You pull back, comprehending. Lean forward, on the verge of standing to cross the room to be at her side again. Like you were for those initial months. “Elain, what’s wrong?” You repeat, anxious to assuage her anxiety however you can.

“They’re back,” she whispers hoarsely. Fingers tremble in her lap, lightly gripping the lilac of her skirts to calm herself. “It’s the same thing again and again,” she manages, staring at you from across the hearth. “I see you at the edge of a forest with the wolves, traveling with the fox, ending with the…” She shakes her head. Steadying her breathing. Calming her nerves.

“There’s a flash of light—light like starfall, except it itches. Itches and burns. And then he’s down, and bleeding, and—”

“Elain, slow down,” you interrupt, standing from your seat as you hurry to her side, fingers linking with her own to soothe the trembles. Crouch before her, clasping her hands in you own gloved ones. “I don’t understand,” you say, staring up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Cocoa drains, dark and haunted.

“They’re back,” she whispers. “The visions.”

General taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

cbmthy taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad @historygeekqueen @erin-m-harmon

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #Azriel acotar #a court of silver flames

[quitesins]

Katsuki Catching you on the Sims

Masterlist

Tags: Sfw, suggestive, fem!reader, friends to lovers, short drabble, no edit just vibes

“Is…is that us?” The voice startles you and you immediately go to cover your screen, embarrassment hitting you like a truck.

“What- no- Kats’ what-” You scramble out the words, snapping your head to the side.

“Oh it fucking is, isn’t it?” You can hear the smirk, Katsuki shoving you lightly to the side and taking seat. “Go on, show me.”

You shake your head harshly, still clutching the laptop, not making any moves to close the game.

“Nah, I wanna see.” Katsuki can be stubborn and you know you aren’t going to get out of this one.

“Fine…” You whisper out, reluctantly slipping your hands down and finding the mouse pad.

God, it’s embarrassing.

You can’t even try to hide the resemblance between the character of your game and the man beside you. His name is in bright capital letters, admitting your lies for you.

“Huh, it really is me.” Katsuki muses, eyeing his Sims counterpart. “Got my skull shirt and all.”

The sim in question walks around the screen, throughout a large but homely house. The two of you watch it for a moment, when suddenly a notification pops up. Oh no.

“This sim is feeling…” Katsuki starts to read, and you wish for the ground to swallow you. “Flirty?”

You don’t even want to look at the screen anymore, but Katsuki does, following along the character as the camera pans. Soon another sim is in view. One that’s evidently you. And before you can even attempt to pause the game, divert the character away or even throw the laptop off you, there goes Katsuki’s sim, pulling yours into a kiss. A grand, dramatic, and undeniably salacious kiss.

Not a word is said. All you can hear is your own heart beating tremendously. You wonder if he can hear it. Then, abruptly and loud, Katsuki laughs.

A genuine- from the belly- laugh. He doesn’t stop, even when you shake him in protest, whining that he’s being a prick. There’s tears in his eyes, his head is tilted back and his hands rest on yours as they jab at him lightly. If you weren’t so flustered you’d probably appreciate the rare display of unrestrained joy.

“Shut the fuck up! Katsuki!” The laptop is pushed off you by now, and you’re practically atop of the man, shaking him to stop.

His laughter starts to taper but with a chuckle still in his voice, he says. “You’re an idiot, y’know that?”

Katsuki doesn’t give you a moment to take in the words, already pulling you to him, clutching your face in his hands and kissing you.

One grand, dramatic, and undeniably salacious kiss.

It surprises you for a second, but then you melt, almost asking for more. You’re on his lap, by your own movements and his. Nothing on your mind but the feeling of his lips against yours.

When the two of you finally pull apart, you can see how he blushes, how his chest falls and rises. Just like you- he’s in his own fluster.

“Could’ve just asked.” He breathes, the two of you calming. “I’d give you anything from that shitty game.”

The hint of jealousy makes you giggle, resting your head on his shoulder. “Even the multi-billion dollar house I designed?”

You can tell he rolls his eyes, but his voice is soft and full of love.

“Yeah, even the fuckin’ world.”

-

“Holy fuck [Name], do we have kids in this shit?”

“KATSUKI!! STOP LOOKING!!!”

I’m currently trying to re-download sims because the last I played was when I was 16 and I miss it! Bout to make my whole genshin team and start a fight club 💪

Edit: this is getting loads of reblog comment thingies and I really want to say thank u!!! But IDK HOW TO REPLY??? THIS APP IS SO HARD TO USE???!??

#fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki imagine #bakugou drabble #drabble #bakugou fluff #mha fanfic #quite shorts #quitesins bkg

[shirefantasies]

I got my glasses back and they're all fixed 💪

i wanted to request the characters(especially Elrond) reaction to their partner that's very cuddly? Like after anything stressful happens their partner/the reader immediately goes to them and just needs hugs and kisses to calm down

Yay 👓 here we go!

LoTR Characters’ Reaction to You Wanting Cuddles When Stressed

Aragorn

✧ He discovers this after you get wounded. Tending to you, he carries you to your bedroll, only for your arms to wrap around him the moment he tries to lay you down. “Stay,” you tell him, “please.”

✧ You were hurt. He obliges, half-sitting, half-laying at your side and running a soothing hand down your arm as he tells you to rest.

✧ It becomes common as time goes on. One time when you were overworked he stopped you right in your tracks with a kiss, one hand taking yours to keep you completely and thoroughly occupied.

✧ Usually he spots you laying down and joins you at your side, smiling in surprise every time when you cling to him, but always returning the embrace in the end.

✧ Traces the curves of your cheeks as you look into his eyes, your own glistening with unshed tears he silently vows to fight.

Legolas

✧ Very gentle with his physical affection, so when you first approach him he just lays an arm softly over your shoulders.

✧ Takes both your hands in his when you look up at him with dismay in your eyes, his own gaze back questioning, tender.

✧ Some days you spill it, some days you just nod, either way it is Legolas’s cue to craft the little nest he always makes for you and sit with you in it.

✧ Smiles when your hands reach up, making grabbing gestures, and pulls you by them into his chest and lays down all in one swift motion.

✧ Soon your body is completely caged by his limbs, but complain you will not beneath the loose capture of his warmth.

Boromir

✧ His expression hardens, darkens even when he sees you so upset, but it fades away the moment you shake your head and reach out to him.

✧ Kissing the crown of your head, he pulls you into the warmth of his own body, a hand sliding to caress your hair.

✧ Sits down with you in his arms, lowering you such as to let your legs wrap around him, his hands still cradling you.

✧ Eventually they wander down, rubbing up and down your legs as he connects your lips.

✧ In the end, his hands find their home on either side of your waist, keeping you firmly in place as he asks what the matter is and if you are feeling any better now.

Gimli

✧ The one who proudly jokes that you can’t keep your hands off him 😌

✧ But in all seriousness, Gimli is such a hype man when you're stressed that he doesn't just hold you, he tells you how gorgeous you are and that you're the best and you can do anything, you needn't worry. ...And if you can't do it, he'll protect you!

✧ Goes soft as anything when you hold him from behind, his hands reaching up to lay atop yours or maybe even try to pull you even closer by them.

✧ Threatens to destroy whoever upset you like he isn’t holding your hands and kissing all over your face as he speaks.

✧ Cheers you up with the proud smirk he makes at any passersby alone, the look on his face telling everyone that Gimli has the best job ever. It reminds you without words that you are never a burden.

Frodo

✧ He can tell and he sort of ends up doing it on his own. You start to sit up when your eyes fall upon him, but with a hand he urges you back down, rubbing your back soothingly.

✧ He tilts your head up gently, though, one hand beneath your chin so he can look into your eyes.

✧ You ask for a kiss and of course it is granted. One more, you say, and it is granted. One more, and, well, I think you can see where this is going.

✧ Soon he can’t help the bubbling of merry, lovestruck giggles at the fortune he has with you and you join him, joyous at the sight of his happiness.

✧ Another rush of tenderness strikes you when you feel his nose gently rub against your cheek.

Sam

✧ Makes him blush to high heaven the first time you just come right up to him and tell him you need a hug, but of course he does it.

✧ Soon at the days' end there you are again, going to him with arms outstretched and words sweet as they are sad, telling him he gives the best and most soothing hugs.

✧ Heart leaping, Sam lets his head fall to your chest, one hand travel up and down your back, and the other hold yours between your joined forms.

✧ "Thank you," Sam says. "Me?" You inquire. "Whatever for?" "For trusting me," he answers, and you can just see that earnest sheen in his green eyes without looking. "Thank you for being someone I can trust," is your reply.

✧ “It’s like what they say,” he remarks, “about the prettiest flowers having to deal with all the thorns.” He needn’t say any more, that alone and you’re kissing him right then and there.

Merry

✧ Loves being your comfort, so the first time you approach him needing a hug he happily obliges, running a hand up and down your back as he embraces you.

✧ He always knows exactly what to say, too, his inspiring words spinning beautiful new perspective before you even spill your troubles to him.

✧ Even still Merry wants to hear what’s on your mind, taking you for a walk to work your feelings out, an arm firmly about your shoulders the entire stretch.

✧ Your path seems aimless until you suddenly come upon a secluded meadow and are suddenly bowled to the ground, rolling atop soft flowers.

✧ Giggling softly as you stop, Merry tucking a little wildflower flower behind your ear and reaching down for your hand, his legs thrown casually over yours. “Feel any better now?”

Pippin

✧ One of his favorite qualities of yours, honestly. His arms wind around your waist without a second thought and his head falls to the crook of your neck the moment you ask.

✧ Never won't accept an excuse to lie with you, tugging you immediately to the nearest cozy surface to spread out upon.

✧ Your legs will be tangled up, entire bodies intertwined as he listens to what's bothering you, interjecting as many jokes as he can to hopefully see you smile again.

✧ For this reason especially Pippin loves to lay facing you- so he can see the changes in your expression, search for peace or the breaking of smiles like sun across the clouds in your face.

✧ Oh, and so he can kiss you lots, too- get ready for that!

Faramir

✧ His heart shows in his eyes the moment you ask him of all people for comfort, gratitude and joy shining in his face.

✧ Whatever you ask of him, you shall receive, his hands immediately clutching yours as he lets you pour your heart out to him.

✧ Now that you are heard, he pulls you into his chest, one hand laying over yours as the other holds you tight against him.

✧ His thumb draws soft, grounding circles over the back of your hand.

✧ You are his sun, his stars, every light Faramir firmly believes will shine its fortunes upon you again.

Eomer

✧ Adores the way you suddenly wrap around him from behind. He always turns his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

✧ When he sees tears in your eyes, though, Eomer is dropping everything as soon as possible to help you relieve some stress. More times than not he offers a massage, his hands heavenly upon your tension.

✧ Once his hands have kneaded tension from your body, especially the tightness across your neck and shoulders, he lays upon his back, offering himself as a cushion for you and holding your head against his chest.

✧ Open to listen or just talk about his day as a distraction OR, better yet still, tell glorious old battle tales to distract and entertain you both…even if your ears are most focused upon the music of his heartbeat.

✧ “Let us stay here and rest. Things will feel much better when we awake in each other’s arms.”

Haldir

✧ It is definitely an adjustment for him as he isn’t the most physically affectionate person himself.

✧ Thus, he may not sense your need immediately, but will respond of course when you communicate your need, usually sitting you down and starting with playing with your hair or helping you remove some layers to relax.

✧ If your problem is personal, say words exchanged between you and another, Haldir would absolutely offer to have his own words with them, unafraid to speak his mind. Without trying, he has your downtrodden facade lightening as you giggle at the resolve in his face.

✧ "What?" He asks, but little more can he say as you tackle him down, giggling again at the widening of his eyes by your boldness.

✧ Then it is Haldir's turn for merriment, a deep chuckle as he gives in completely, arms snaking about your waist.

Eowyn

✧ Grins widely the moment you open up your arms, inviting her into them, and of course she accepts.

✧ "What troubles you?" She asks the moment she hears a sniff, pulling away just to hold your shoulders and peer into your eyes with that beautifully piercing look of concern.

✧ "You carry so much," she whispers to you, running a hand softly through your hair, "let me help you."

✧ Eowyn leads you right through your problems with her drive for solutions, a hand holding yours and giving it little squeezes until the moment your load is lightened.

✧ One step of relaxation complete, Eowyn then makes you a nice warm drink, sitting with you arm in arm and sides practically blended as one beneath the sun and smiling when your head hits her shoulder.

Arwen

✧ Arwen's sharp eyes discern trouble the moment they fall upon your face; the first question falling from her lips if you want to talk about it.

✧ Whether you do or simply shake your head, she lays you down upon her chaise, holding your head to her chest to still to the beat of her heart.

✧ Her hand works wonders drawing patterns on your chest or thigh as you lay, bodies practically melting together in that manner.

✧ Her deep voice lulls you with elven songs, beautiful whether you understand the language or not and palpable against you as the sound reverberates.

✧ Smiles when you flip over requesting a kiss. Knowingly, in fact, because it will not just be one.

Elrond

✧ You barely need to ask, he can tell by the downcast of your expression the needs you have.

✧ He usually starts with a simple, firm hand upon your shoulder before you are turning around all the way, head falling lightly against his chest.

✧ Elrond loves stroking your hair as he listens to you, offering the many words of hope his years of wisdom have guided him to as a beloved host of Middle Earth.

✧ He holds you so gently, cradling you in his lap with hands placed just so upon your back; you will feel so secure, not a thought of falling even enters your mind, but if it did you know he would catch you.

✧ Distracts your mind by sitting or laying with you beneath the stars, pointing out each one by name as his hand traces up and down your spine and the other holds yours, raising it occasionally to his lips.

Lindir

✧ You can feel him start sometimes when your arms suddenly snake around him, your head leaning onto his shoulder, but he immediately relaxes into your embrace.

✧ He really loves it when you melt into him as he plays a song, every sensation heightened and reverberating through his muscles, the tender motions of his fingers upon strings and the fueling warmth coursing through his heart.

✧ If you lie together, he enjoys being the little spoon, your limbs tight about him both melting away your tension and making him feel needed, too.

✧ He wants to hear your worries, echoes them too, as your head rests against his shoulder, a hand idly running up and down his side and bringing pretty shivers down his spine.

✧ Sometimes your cuddle sessions accidentally turn into petty chatter, both of you airing your complaints to each other as you braid each other's hair or lie together in bed.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #faramir #eomer #haldir #eowyn #arwen #elrond #lindir #ask #anon #requested

[honey-beann]

💪

Not This Time

Sixty x Reader

💪 - Bridal carry

Note: This is by far the closest I have come to actually reaching the blurb/drabble request game word limit, so I'm gonna take this as a victory >:)

Word Count: 627

Every other time Sixty had carried you, he'd complained.

When your leg had fallen asleep at work and you had asked him to help you to the meeting (as your absolute last ditch effort to not miss it) he'd gone on and on about how how ridiculous the human circulatory system was.

When you'd fallen asleep in the squad car and he had carried you back into the office in lieu of waiting for you to fully wake up, he had mocked you for needing so much time to recuperate.

When you had fallen asleep (again) but this time at Hank's movie night, he had joked about you weighing too much for him to successfully carry all the way to the car (to which you'd reminded him he could carry several tons, and he'd just said 'exactly' before you punched his shoulder with a grin you just couldn't hide splitting across your cheeks).

Hell, even when you'd broken your leg and he had willingly come by your apartment on his way to work every morning to help you get out of bed safely he'd complained, asking how much longer he had to act as your "surrogate bones" before he could go back to putting you in situations where you could break them all over again.

But this time it was different.

This time he hardly said a word.

And the silence weighed on you far more than the chilling pain did.

So you spoke.

"What, I'm not too heavy for you this time?"

You joked, watching as the android carrying you gave a sad smile in response, managing a brief and soft chuckle as he shook his head.

"No, not this time."

He replied, reaching down to brush some of your hair behind your ear as he looked deep into your eyes, as if hoping to find an answer to his prayers there, if not simply an answer as to why this was happening to him.

Why this was happening to you.

You fought the urge to shrivel beneath his gaze, letting him take all of you in, committing you to a memory that would far outlast you.

You reached up to palm his cheek weakly, rubbing your thumb against the synthetic flesh there with a devotion that was almost startling to the man on the receiving end of it.

He would never get used to that, not even if you lived forever.

"I love you."

You murmured, feeling a slight shift as Sixty sat down, continuing to hold you bridal style because it allowed him to be closest to you.

Perhaps that was what he had always wanted, long before he'd had the strength to realize and admit it.

He placed his lips, usually curved in some sort of smirk or grin, against your forehead, feeling the strong heat that ravaged your flesh press warmly against his mouth.

He grimaced at that, but found himself happy that you were not growing cold.

Not leaving yet, not gone.

But still not forever, not in the way he wanted you to be.

"I love you too."

He said gently, feeling his chest tighten as you laid your hand atop where his thirium pump was located, feeling it from the outside as if it were his heart.

If you so desired, he would rip it out and give it to you, but you didn't, so he just let you feel it, wishing so desperately that it could emulate yours, that he could have a heart of tissue and muscle rather than plastic and metal.

But he could not.

So he simply sat there with you in his arms.

Praying that the day would end with him bringing you into tomorrow,

Even if he had to carry you there himself.

masterlist

AO3

#dbh sixty x reader #dbh sixty x reader angst #rk800 60 x reader #dbh x reader #dbh x reader angst #dbh fics #blurb request game #blurb requests #request

[hisbitchhh]

Banda fluff then smut 😏🫣🙏🙏pretty please

Flower Garden

(Creds to the owner of this gif!😋)

Pairing: Sunato Banda× fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Genre: 💗❤️‍🔥☄️

Notes: I'M HUNGRY AS FUCK. (This is my first time writing full smut y'all 😁🫶)

Warnings: SMUT. Getting pregnant, cumming inside, VAGINAL SEX, no kinky shit, just some lewd stuff tbh.😋💪 Although, please don't read if you're uncomfortable with the mentioned warnings.

It was late at night, what time it was you didn't know. Your eyes stared at the moonlight as you guarded the garden, the chilly night wind hitting your face like a cold slap.

“I haven't seen you guarding these areas,” A raspy voice behind you hummed. Your head snapped back to look at whoever had talked, and you quickly felt relief when you saw your boyfriend, Sunato Banda. A soft sigh escaped your lips as he gave you a smirk, walking toward you.

“What the hell are you doing around here? Someone might see you!” You whisper-shout, crossing your arms.

“I see the ladies planted flowers,” Banda added, standing next to you. You turned your flashlight on for him to see, smiling.

“Yeah. They did a good job today.”

You had been working as a prison guard for five years of your life, one year being the very year your “innocent” boyfriend got sentenced to life in jail for killing at least four to five women and keeping the bodies hidden behind a wall in your shared apartment. You were too in love with him to leave, though. That's why you moved to the prison he was serving in, always giving him good food and shortcuts to see each other whenever you were on lunch break. You didn't care what your family thought about it. Banda was the only one who ever cared and supported you.

Your eyes shifted to his face, a sour expression plastered upon his soft features as he gazed down at the flowers that blew in the light, cold wind, pointing at them with your flashlight.

“You alright?..” Your hand made its way to his shoulder, making him tense up. Your brows creased, a frown forming about your lips. “Is it the death penalty you're worried about?...”

Banda sighed, giving you a smirk.

“I don't want you to be alone,” He looked at you. You hesitantly wrapped your arm around his waist, chuckling.

“It's okay. I'll try to find the best lawyer for you. You're not going to die, alright? Mark my words.” You addressed quietly, smiling when you made eye contact with him.

“You don't have to do all of that. I deserve it.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, taking a long sniff of your neck. Ever since he found out he was going to be executed, he had gotten more touchy with you, unbeknownst of when the time was going to come along.

The both of you sat down in between all of the flowers, gazing up at the moonlight. You turned to look at him when you felt his hand on your belt. He placed his chin on your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck.

“What is it?” You whisper, running a hand through his messy hair. He gently pressed his plush lips to your neck, hands fumbling with your belt. You bit your lip, quickly placing your hand atop his.

“They're gonna hear us,” You gave him a worried look, but he ignored you, pulling your belt off and throwing it somewhere in the garden. A quiet whimper left your lips as his entire hand slid into your pants, teasing your entrance. You slowly spread your legs while his other hand clasped around your mouth. Luckily, the flowers were tall so you couldn't be easily seen behind the crops. You leaned your head back against the brick wall as he added a second digit, easily sliding it deep inside of you with the amount of wetness you provided. Banda only smirked when you clenched around his fingers, a soft, shaky sigh leaving his dry lips.

“Don't— stop..” Most of what you said was muffled by his hand, but he still understood, watching as you closed your eyes in pleasure, relishing the sound of your muffled moans. His fingers worked on you like an instrument, slowly plunging them out sleek with your womanhood and running them along your clit, rubbing gentle circles into it with one of his wet fingers. You flinched in place, legs becoming stiff as your eyes gazed up at his, brows creased and cheeks red with heat. It made you almost go berserk, the thought of him vigorously fucking into you getting you closer to your release than you should've been. Your legs began to shake; you were so fucking close. Just a little longer, and you'll feel good. You were dazed, looking up at the sky and rolling your eyes back when a wave of pleasure washed over you, legs violently shaking and eyes closed. Banda smiled down at you, letting go of your mouth as his fingers wiped your essence on your uniform, your eyes slowly opening to meet his.

“Banda..” You mutter, panting as you wrap your arms around him. Your free hand tugged at his pants, and he shushed you, placing a finger against your lips.

“Don't make any noise, dear…” Banda mumbled, pulling his orange trousers off. Before you could react, he moved your panties aside and penetrated you with a brief thrust. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip so hard you thought it would bleed. Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders as he began to send slow and firm thrusts into you, his hard cock twitching inside of you, completely shiny with your wetness. You looked up at him with an expression full of pleasure, wrapping your arms around his neck. Banda’s lips parted, a few gentle grunts coming from him as he pounded into you, slowly getting faster. You weren't trying to make noise since guards surrounded the entire area, most of whom had no clue about your secret relationship with Banda.

But you couldn't take it anymore.

Weak whines turned into quiet moans, and lewd, wet noises echoed around the small corner you were in. Banda grabbed your hips, slamming himself into your stomach once he got faster, looking down at you as he pressed his chest against yours. It felt good, so good to feel his big, hard cock stretch you out and ram against your walls.

“Banda!...” You moaned out, pulling him into a deep kiss, your tongue desperately sucking and rubbing on his own. In the corner of your eye, your clock read 23:56. His lips tasted bitter, but it all felt like heaven to get fucked into the next day, your eyes gazing up at the moonlight that shined upon your half-naked body.

23:57

“Y/n…” He grunted, his eyes half-lidded as he stared down at you, a gentle smile spreading across his lips. His thrusts began to get sloppy, and he let out a soft groan when you clenched around him, his nails digging into your hips.

23:58

“C-cum– inside..” His lips pressed against yours, eyes widening at your words. His thrusts slowed down.

23:59

“Y/n–” You looked up at him, eyes glazed with pleasure and uneasiness.

“Please, for me..” A loud moan leaves your body, your hands gripping his shoulders like there was no tomorrow. Banda quickened his pace again, his hips sloppily snapping against yours as he effortlessly moved inside of you.

00:00

The both of you came together with loud moans, no longer caring if one of the other guards heard you. You felt Banda spill inside of you, and you gently smiled up at him, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“I love you…” You sighed, resting your head on his chest. If Banda was going into the death penalty in a few days, you might as well make something out of him.

#banda sunato fluff #banda sunato x reader #banda sunato #sunato banda x reader #alice in borderland #niragisuguru #niragi #niragi x reader #chishiya shuntaro #niragi smut #niragifluff #danma takeru #hatter x reader #takeru danma

[7-dreamers]

[230525] WORLDMUSICAWARD Twitter Update: 

#Dreamcatcher's 8th mini album #Apocalypse_FromUs lands atop the Worldwide & European iTunes Album charts after going to #1 in 14+ countries and selling over 50,000 units on Hanteo so far!💪💿💥1️⃣🌎➕🌍🎵🔥👑👑👑👑👑👑👑🤍 Their new pop/rock song #BONVOYAGE which is about a wish for an an emotional farewell, has debuted at #79 on iTunes Worldwide and is trending at #2 worldwide on YouTube with over 7.5M views about to hit #1 any second! 🎥youtube.com/watch?v=RPNaYj6etb8… 🔮spoti.fi/3opz3v4

#dreamcatcher #230525 #era: a from us #p: twitter #t: chart #t: itunes

[iilahalzili]

@kurai-honoo ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ 💪 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ☼ Catch the Shadow Working Out

A bead of sweat trails down the side of the shadow's face, majority of the evening spent expelling the extra energy from the thrill of his previous hunt--the time spent mainly doing repetitions with a makeshift pull-up bar. Currently, Marik takes a rest atop the bar--the body showing little signs of fatigue aside from the irregular heartbeat growing in tempo.

The focused expression shifts to a smirk, looking down to see Yami nearby, "And how long have you been there gawking, darling?~" Not that he blames the other--it is awe striking to see the body of a god un-obscured by the cape ( even if Marik adores to cape it does obscure a lot of his form ), when the muscles are more pronounced from exertion. "Unless you want to give some compliments, you should keep moving~" It is not what he truly wants--he wants people to admire his physique, to worship him. Perhaps that is one of the drives he has to keep the flesh in peak condition, aside from being able to easily catch his victims when they run. Marik hums, shifting back that the bar rests against the back of his knees--using momentum to hang upside down and beginning another rep of crunches.

#kurai-honoo #��� ᴀ ꜰᴇᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ❜ ☾ • ☼ answered #❛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ʜᴜɴɢʀʏ ❜ ☾ • ☼ in character #(Marik quite literally flexing in front of Yami rip)

[1dreason]

Harry Styles' #AsItWas scores a 65th day atop the Global Spotify Chart with 7.865 million streams, and ties as the Longest Running #1 of 2022!💪🥇🌎🎧📈✖️6️⃣5️⃣➕🥇🎶2️⃣0️⃣2️⃣2️⃣👑❤️‍🔥

#one direction #harry styles #harry edward styles #globalmusic #65th #as it was

[mysilentmemory]

220713 WORLDMUSICAWARD Twitter update

WORLDMUSICAWARD: SuperJunior's latest masterpiece #theroadkeepongoing lands atop the #WorldwideiTunesAlbumChart, and #2 on iTunes Europe after topping iTunes charts in 23 countries!💪💿💥🥇🌎🎵➕2️⃣🎵🌍➕1️⃣✖️2️⃣3️⃣🌎❤️‍🔥The lead single #Mango lands at #19 on the #WorldwideiTunesSongChart!👏

#super junior #donghae #eunhyuk #kyuhyun #kpop #siwon #yesung #ryeowook #leeteuk

[sridharm-1980]

#Adele's record-breaking album '25' returns to #1 on the Worldwide iTunes Album chart for an incredible 296 days atop the chart and holds at #1 on the European iTunes Album chart for a 253rd day! 💪2⃣5⃣📈1⃣🔙🌎🎵✖️2⃣9⃣6⃣🕛➕1⃣🇪🇺🎵✖️2⃣5⃣3⃣🕛👑❤️‍🔥

[taylorgrace-writes]

Smutty Thot #3

Eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he leaned against the door and looked at you.

You stalked toward him, stopping a few feet away, aware of every inch between his eyes and yours.

A half smile 😊

You held his gaze.

You breathed.

His answering smile was soft-edged with that glimmer of cruelty that made your blood heat.

You let him push you back against the wall. Let him hold your gaze while tugging the top laces of your white shirt free.

One. By. One. ☝️

You arched slightly at that caress. Then he pulled back. Away from you.

His mouth parted slightly, body trembling. He stepped closer again, and those hands trailed under your breasts. You gritted your teeth.

Again, that dark, edged smile appeared.

And when he stepped close once more, his hands traced your hips, your waist, your breasts and your arms.

Each brush of his skin against yours you found yourself transfixed by each stroke. You did not even consider objecting as he slid off your shirt and surveyed your bare flesh.

His face turned ravenous as he took in your breasts, the plane of your stomach. A chill ran down your body, peaking your breasts. He watched them then circled a finger around one ☝️

He bent, his mouth following.

He lifted his head and claimed your mouth 👄

His fingers slid to your jaw, tipping your face to thoroughly take your mouth, every movement of his tongue had you arching into him. His hands slid down your thighs, as if savoring the muscle there, then around cupping your backside, grinding you into every hard inch of him. The small noise in your throat was cut off as he hoisted you from the wall in a smooth movement.

You wrapped your legs around his waist while he carried you to the bed, his mouth never leaving yours as he devoured and devoured you. He freed your pants button by button he pulled back at last, leaving you panting 😮‍💨

His voice is low and rough.

Tan skin and sculpted muscle 💪

He unbuckled his belt, hands shaking as he brushed a knuckle over your core. He let out an approving groan and a sigh of relief 🥲

His clothes joined yours on the floor and he was ready. You let him raise your arms over your head, pinning your wrists to the mattress as he touched you, first with those hands 🙌

Then with his mouth and his tongue 👅

And when you had to bite his shoulder to muffle your moaning he brought you over the edge as he buried himself deep inside you.

You dragged your hands through his thick hair, over the muscles of his back as it flexed and rippled with each thrust that drove you to the edge.

More. You wanted more and wanted everything.

You might have whispered it, might have pleaded for it. He remained atop you when he at last stilled, his lips barely a hair's-breadth above yours hovering after the brutal kiss he'd given you to contain his roar as release found him.

You were trembling.

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his own fingers shaking and his eyes staring.

Those eyes flicked to your mouth, still panting slightly as he looked at you with a smile on his face.

[ramshacklestar]

@halfafishandawholehuman sent || 💪- Grim bc funny

send 💪 to pick up / carry my muse || Accepting

It was hard not to laugh and potentially offend the small creature as grey paws pulled upwards resulting in little movement on Yuu's part. Had he wanted to reverse their positions? Perhaps hoping she could sit atop him as he had her? Well if the beast of her nightmares was in fact Grim he would most definitely be big enough someday, but she'd had no desire to think of such a thing right now.

Bringing a hand down atop his head and rubbing it back and forth there Yuu knelt down so she was more to his standing height. "Are you trying to lift me Grim?" She cooed his name pulling her hand from the top of his head down towards his paws, letting it fall loosely.

"How about we start small, think you can lift my hand and we'll go from there." She also wondered briefly if this was a part of his becoming the greatest mage thing; certainly a good idea in theory and Yuu wasn't about to dash his potential away.

#//Yuu is internally squee-ing #i'm just me || ic. #halfafishandawholehuman

[ultimatemiley23]

@MileyCyrus ' #Flowers scores a 134th incredible day atop the European iTunes song chart and holds at #2 on the Worldwide iTunes song chart after 112 days at #1! 💪💐🥇🌍🎵✖️1⃣3⃣4⃣🕛➕2⃣🌎🎵🔥👑❤️‍🔥