#cushion aloe

[animehideout]

like what would jjk men would do when you’re in your period (like how he would help you and what would he do to cheer you up)

JJK Men When You're On Your Period

a/n: Thank you anon for this request, I hope this comforts you <33 . Remember to stay warm and hydrated, also I realized that dates ( the fruit ) really helps with period pain 💗

Warnings: Fluff 🌸 but Smut only in Sukuna's part.

Characters: Satoru – Yuuji – Megumi – Choso – Toji – Nanami – Sukuna. ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Gojo Satoru: Runs you a warm bath.

He would sense that something is wrong the moment he stepped into your shared apartment after his mission.

You're not all goofy and cute while greeting him.

You didn't kiss him or jump on him like you usually do, but rather you're glaring at him.

He would be so confused trying to remember if he did something wrong to upset you but nah he's the best partner.

“Babygirl are you okay? did I do something wrong?”

“My tummy hurts” you would whine your glaring expression quickly turned into a pout.

Without saying anything he would rush to the bathroom, gather your favorite bath bombs and oils knowing that they might ease your discomfort.

Would approach you gently and carries you bridal style

“Come on babes, I think a warm bath will help, hm!”

He would adjust the water temperature for you, not too cold not too hot.

Would undress you, and help you to slowly get into the bathtub.

A playlist of your favorite songs is a must to take your mind off of your pain while you hum along with the tunes.

Gojo would light up some candles for a soothing ambiance.

He'd bring a bowl of fruits, and feed you while you're relaxing in the water.

Gives your shoulders light squeezes while rubbing them with scented body oil.

After that bath, he had already prepared a towel to wrap you with.

Covered in your towel he would carry you to your shared bedroom like a princess, where he dries your body and helps you dress up into more comfy pajamas.

He's always touchy so he can't take his hands off of you but if you don't want to be touched then he would respect your space.

“You're not alone in this, I'm right here baby. If there's anything specific you need, just let me know, kay? Your loving man will take care of you”

Yuuji Itadori: Builds you a pillow fort.

The sight of you curled up on your bed while holding your lower abdomen, broke his heart into pieces.

He can't bear seeing you in pain, he wants to protect you from every thing so that's why he'd do literally everything that may cheer you up.

He would bring you a box that he was hiding, full of your favorite snacks and necessary meds.

“I got you a little something, I've prepared this 2 weeks ago, in case your period starts”

“You prepared this for me?.. you're the best boyfriend ever”.

“Wait here for me I'll be right back! don't leave the bed..if you want you can start munching on your snacks”.

Yuuji would rush to the living room, arranging a cozy pillow fort with soft warm blankets and cushions.

He would hold you and carry you in his arms to the living room, while you hold your snack box.

“Surprise sweet cupcake! what about we spend the rest of the day in our little pillow fort?”

He would gently place you and pull up the blanket to cover both of you.

His presence created a warm and inviting space within the fort.

“Here let me fluff up these pillows for you”.

He would let you pick up your comfort show and watch it while snuggling together.

Would stare at you in a loving way while you eat your chocolate and chips.

Checks up on you every now and then to make sure you're feeling less pain.

Kisses your hands a lot and runs his thumb on your knuckles.

“How are you feeling my little pookie? Need anything else?”.

Megumi Fushiguro: Cuddles you to sleep.

You'd find a difficulty finding a comfortable position to sleep, nothing helps with your period pain like being in Megumi's embrace.

He's an understanding man, he would give you some private time to sleep alone in your bedroom while he sleeps on the couch.

But the moment you call for him because you need comfort he would literally run to you.

Approaches you with a comforting smile, sensing that now you need to be buried in his chest.

“Let me cuddle you and drift back to sleep together, you want that, love?”.

He'd bring extra pillows to ensure you're surrounded by softness even though his body is enough for you.

He'd lay next to you, while holding you gently, an arm under your head as a pillow and the other wrapped around you pulling you closer to him.

“Close your eyes love, I'm right here”.

He'd tenderly give you a backrub, easing the tension in your muscles.

He'd let you toss and turn and shift positions to make sure you have the most restful sleep.

His arms will always find a way to cuddle you close.

He'd play with your hair, while whispering sweet comforting words.

Forehead and top of the head kisses are obligatory.

“We'll take it easy tonight, no stress no worries, just relaxation and warmth–oh you're asleep? sweet dreams my love I love you”

Choso Kamo: Makes you food and tea.

Wouldn't allow you leave your bed he'll bring everything you need or crave right into your hands.

The moment you told him that your period started he'd go straight to the kitchen and prepares your comfort food.

He wouldn't let you take any period pills on an empty stomach.

He'd pick some fresh vegetables and some protein to make a nourishing soup, something that wouldn't give you a stomachache.

He would cook with care and love, making sure it tastes good.

“I'm making your favorite soup and brewing some tea for you my princess, it will be ready soon..stay cuddled on the bed”.

Once it's ready he'll bring it to you with careful balance making sure everything is in place.

The scent of the chamoline drink wafts through air creating a cozy atmosphere in your room.

He's so attentive, he'll adjust the pillows behind your back for a comfier sitting position.

He'll place the cup on your nightstand while he holds the bowl of soup in his hand, ready to feed you.

The soup is too hot? he'll blow on it. Needs more salt? he'll ran to the kitch to add some salt. You need a piece of bread? he'll instantly bring it to you.

“Eat slowly and enjoy the flavours my princess”.

After eating he'll make sure you take your pills and then drink your tea to help you warm up and digest.

Tucks you back to sleep, while he watches over you.

“I hope this brings you a bit of comfort my princess, I'm here to make you feel better, I just wish I can take your pain away”

Toji Fushiguro: Give you a massage.

I mean look at his big hands, they do magic.

He can't just watch while you're in pain.

He'd set the mood with dim lighting, and calming background instrumentals, creating a tranquil environnement.

He'd prepare your bed, spreading a big towel over it.

“Come here babe, lay and on the bed and get comfy. I'll give you a nice massage”

He'd take off your shirt so he can use the massage oils on your body.

He'd crawl on top of you while you lay on your stomach.

His large hands would begin with gentle touches, softly rubbing the warm oil on your back.

“Let me know if the pressure is too much or too little”

His hands would reach the areas where you may feel the discomfort, like your lower back.

His palms going up and down your back, caressing the soft skin and pressing on some specific spots to ease the tighteness.

Would squeeze your shoulders and the back of your neck softly.

His hands moving and working perfectly, applying magic to take your pain away.

Would regularly check if you're enjoying the massage he's giving you

“Does that feel good baby?”

Would keep the conversation going to take your mind off of your period, his voice soothing you.

He would turn you around to lay on your back, so he can massage your stomach and lower abdomen.

His hands circling around your waist, going down smoothly, the tension melting away with each stroke.

He would kiss your tummy repeatedly to make you giggle from the ticklish feeling.

“There you go doll, take your time to get up while I'll bring you some comfy clothes”.

Nanami Kento : Buys you everything you need.

He already knows you started your period, since he keeps track of your menstrual cycle.

He would get off work early to be next to you at home.

He would stop by the pharmacy to buy your favorite brand of pads and tampons and some pain killers.

He would also stop by your favorite restaurant and buys you food.

Buys you a bouquet of flowers to cheer you up.

He would arrive home, holding a lot of bags full of everything you need.

“Here you go honey, I've got you a few things that might help. Period pain sucks”

“H-how did you know my period started?”

“These flowers are for you, you deserve something beautiful like you”

He's fully aware of your mood swings, and how emotional you can get so he always makes sure to make you feel loved and cared for you.

Would help you put on some fluffy socks, so your feet won't get cold.

Would sit next to you on the couch and turn on the TV.

You'd place your head on his broad shoulder while you munch on your food.

His fingers massage your scalp and play with your hair strands.

Would encourage you a lot, drowning you in sweet and comforting words.

“I know this is tough but you're so strong love, this pain will fade away... Just say the word, and I'll bring the world to you, you're my ultimate priority”

Ryomen Sukuna: Makes you orgasm.

Instead of pain in your stomach he would make you feel butterflies.

Orgasming helps with period pain, and who's more qualified than Sukuna to help you release?

He would be surprised on how bratty you were acting towards him, literally yelling at him for the slightest things.

He breathed too loud? you'd tell him to shut up.

He chewed food too loud? you'd glare at him.

He's got enough of you screaming at his face, he's surprisingly patient with you.

“Alright, listen here little brat ..this website states that orgasming can ease the pain and regulate the hormones.. get on the bed let's me stop this mood swing of yours”

He'd be okay with making love to you while you're bleeding.

What matters is making you feel okay and brings back the soft and sweeter side of you not the grumpy one that he's already dealing with.

He'd know exactly how to make you feel good and relaxed at the same time.

Drowns you with flirty and praising words.

“You're so good baby, you know that? come on let me help you release and relief your pain”

“I must admit it, you're strong.. Periods must be a pain in the ass but you're dealing with it perfectly”.

He'd make you feel much better, both pleasured and relieved from he pain.

He'd help you clean up and then give you the aftercare you deserve.

“Finally, I've got my sweet baby back, you've been acting like a brat for the whole morning. See how patient I am with you instead of slicing you in half”

He'd flirt with you, and use cheesy pick up lines to make you laugh.

Would snuggles next to you till both of you fall asleep with you on top of him.

Sukuna tends to be more romantic when you're on you're period.

Despite his harsh and intimidating nature, he's a softball when he's around you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna headcanons #toji headcanons #gojo headcanons #nanami headcanons #choso headcanons #megumi headcanons #yuji headcanons #gojo smut #sukuna smut #toji smut #jjk men #period comfort #gojo x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader #choso smut #choso x reader #yuji x reader #megumi x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami x you

[minimallyminnie]

hehehehehehehe

okay okay

how would Sebek, Leona, Silver, and Vil react if the reader got them flowers??

Flowers

Breaking news: local tsunderes and a sleepy boy fall for a shrimp when they decide to give flowers to them.

BIGGG HUGS TO MY 2ND YEAR BABY SILVERRR 🔥🔥🔥

Leona Kingscholar

Out of everyone, you chose him?

Yeah, he’s pretty confused when you came up to him in the greenhouse one day

You knelt down to his face

He knew you were there and he half hoped you’d go away if he’d ignore you and half hoped you stayed

You did stay!….and poke his cheek multiple times before he cracked an eye open at you.

“What the hell is your problem herbivore?”

“For you.”

You shove a flower in his face and try run off when he sits up faster and grab your wrist

‘I’m gonna die today, goodbye Grim, goodbye Ace, Deuce…’ You think when you fall back and close your eyes shut, waiting for the time you’ll hit the floor

You fall back into the arm of the SavanaClaw housewarden and when you open one of your eyes, you’re greeted with his face close up

“I wasn’t finished talking.”

“U-uh! My bad! I just—“ You groaned. “I thought this flower reminded me of you.”

“…These are vegetables.”

“Idiot, it’s a herb.”

“Same shit.”

“Coriander, tarragon, and this isn’t even an herb, hydrangeas!”

Leona looked at the three flowers in his hand

“Why they remind you of me?”

Your face brightens yet again, whoops, you forgot about that, well not like you have anything to lose right…?

“Coriander for your hidden worth, tarragon because you make me interested, and hydrangeas because…I’m happy you understand me when everyone can’t.”

“…Really…?” He smirked at you, you have so many urges to kiss and slap him at the same time but you can’t deny the fear of just him ignoring you afterwards

“Just…say you don’t feel the same and move on. I don’t need to be lead on b—“

He kisses your hand that he had held onto

“Don’t assume I don’t feel the same.”

“You do?!”

Leona rolls his eyes and wraps his arm on your waist, pulling you close

“Shut up. Lemme sleep now.” And he knocks out, trapping you with a sleeping lion

You take a minute to appreciate his sleeping face and smile. When he wakes up, you’re sure to ask him out officially!

Rolling yourself on your other side, now you have a dilemma. With the sleeping lion trapping you with his arm…

How are you gonna get out and go to class???!

Vil Schoenheit

The queen of the Magicam app and your heart is always surrounded by people…

And if he isn’t, then Rook is there…

You were so close to pulling your own hair out whenever someone came up to Vil. You knew he was a housewarden, yes, but you needed just one moment alone!

Sighing out in defeat when yet another student came up, you just gave Rook the flowers and told him to give it to Vil later before going back to Ramshackle and complaining in your couch.

You’re grateful that Grim gave you the space you needed and went off to bother your two dorky friends

The rain pelted your window as you furiously screamed inside the cushions

A knock comes at your door, but you’re too frustrated to go open it

“Come in!”

“So, instead of just simply asking me to be alone with you, you asked Rook to give these to me?”

You quickly pounce up and see Vil staring at you down on the couch, his umbrella by his side, was he always that quick?!

He sits down besides you holding the bouquet, Vil looks completely elegant as usual but…the undersides of his shoes. They’re muddy and they have drops of mud on the upper side…He ran?

“An aloe piece, Calla lilies, and forget me nots…Your flower language is lovely. Though, I hope the aloe is affection and not grief…”

“It is…”

He held your hands with his own, you can tell your cheeks are definitely pink

“Affection, beauty, and to not forget. Do you think I really would swoop that low to forget you?”

Well yes, but right now? Oh sevens no.

“I-Well, do you feel…the s-same?”

You asked with curiosity and hesitation

“You’re very foolish of you think I ran in my heels here to just reject you.”

A smile graces his face and you happily hug him

Silver Vanrouge (I will die for that.)

A slight blush adorned your cheeks anytime Silver came by

He was just so pretty in your eyes!! How can one being be so…so…

RAHHHHH

You knew if he was busy guarding Malleus, he wouldn’t be able to spend time with you

If he wasn’t, he was sleeping and completely unable to talk

Knowing him better than yourself, you knew exactly what time to give the flowers to him!!!

That is until he ended up getting more shifts as a result of Sebek getting ill (you don’t blame him, you gave a little card along with Jack earlier)

Hole in your plan…

Fortunately! You got free lunch from someone who wasn’t hungry and went to his station

Not too many people and either way, Malleus just knew by the glint you saw in his eyes. Tsuntaro really was your wingman…

“Silver!” You ran up to where he was sitting and he stood up fast

“Hey, I didn’t know you were here.” He told you with slightly startled eyes

“Sit back down! I got both of us some food and…a surprise for you. You’re on break right?”

When he sits back down by your side, he nods.

You two eat the food before you wrap the plates up in their bag again

Silver, feeling sleepy, dropped his head on your shoulder

“Ah! Wait hang on, before y-you sleep…” You grab the hidden flowers from underneath a cloth and give it to him

His sleepy eyes widen, a pink bloomed on his cheeks

“For…me?”

“For you!” You blushed too, not knowing if he knew or reciprocated your feelings

“…White clovers, Gardenias, and white hyacinths…”

Mainly whites since you thought they matched Silver’s pretty white hair—Ack! Caught lacking again in front of the knight himself!

“Y-yeah! Picked them out myself! Thought they matched your appearance and how…how I think about you! Clovers because I think of you, gardenias cause you’re lovely, and hyacinths for prayers for someone or because you’re so lovely yet again!” You smile at the end, shyly looking away as his pupils dilate and his face becomes shocked

He blinks and smiles softly, taking one of the clovers and putting one behind your ear

“I think of you too.”

You’re so happy, you tackled him to the ground and almost crushed the flowers

Sebek Zigvolt

Bro would eat flowers if Malleus asked him too

Sebek is a sweetie, not everyone sees past the rough and loud exterior that he has but when you did, you fell straight down for him.

Well maybe not straight down, more like…someone entering shallow water for the first time. Carefully stepping in and then getting excited and diving all in.

You saw how Sebek refused gifts from his friends. How he was…quite determined to give the gifts back

Got pretty annoyed at the sharp toothed man for that…

Despite your sweaty palms, you decided to force a gift no matter what!

So, you decided to ask Malleus and Lilia if they could let Sebek have a single day off, you would do anything

They just laughed and said you didn’t need to

So, Sir Zigvolt got a day off! (He wasn’t happy at first but then you asked him “if he could be your knight for the day”, and with a scowling blushing face, he nodded)

“Hmph! If a lowly human like you needs my help, then fine! Only because Master Malleus Sama is not in need of me!”

You didn’t have classes that day so you spent some time with him just walking around the town with him

Panicking once the day was almost over and the sunset was blooming, you told Sebek to go to the bench that was facing the sky

You sighed out in resignation once you didn’t find anything you thought was special for Sebek…until you saw the flower shop

Going and picking the flowers, you exchanged money with the vendor before hiding them behind your back and going to Sebek

“Sebbekkk!” You nervously smiled at him

“Why hello again, what were you even doing taking so long?” He raised an eyebrow at you in suspicion

“W-well, I was trying to find something for you and I ended up picking these out for you!”

You held out a small bouquet of flowers. Dill, gladioluses, and Heliotropes.

“If you’re going to ask, yes. I know dill is also a herb.”

His eyes focused on the bouquet and then you in shock before his cheeks burned a red deeper than yours

“…You…powerful against evil, victory, devotion…Specifically picked out for…me?”

Dear sevens, as if he didn’t deserve it

“Yes! Do you…like them?”

“Do I have permission to touch you?”

That certainly startled you, but you nodded

He hugged you tight

“I…ahem…I guess I have feelings for you…human. May I take you out on a proper date next time?” He said in a soft and slightly hesitant voice

Nodding in happiness, you wrap your arms around him, hugging just as tight

@blues824 For Sebek lovers

#minniemoots #mindlessclow #x reader #request #twisted wonderland x reader #Twst x reader #silver x reader #silver x mc #silver x yuu #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x yuu #leona kingscholar x mc #vil schoenheit x mc #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x yuu #sebek zigvolt x yuu #sebek zigvolt x reader #Sebek Zigvolt x mc #twst x you #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x female reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #twst x gn reader #twst x female reader #twst x male reader

[luveline]

baby blurb of sirius looking after sick shy!reader pleaseeee. I miss him and my throat is killing me today :((

thank u for ur request! feel better soon<3 fem!reader

"Let me see," Sirius says. 

You stare at him. 

"Open up. I wanna see if you have ulcers." 

"Sirius," you say, your voice shaking with the hoarseness that accompanies a bad throat intertwined with the nervousness of having someone so handsome this close to your face, "we both know I'm not going to let you look in my mouth." 

"But you'd let me put my tongue in there?" 

You flush with a heat that has nothing to do with your flu. "We all make mistakes." 

Sirius smirks at you. It's a very charming expression on him, as is the quirk of a slender brow as he pulls his legs onto the bed and crosses them. 

Elbows on his knees, face in his palms, he looks out of place on your white sheets. Black jeans, black t-shirt with a tasteful rip from shoulder to pec, black hair a glossy, messy siren call, and all his dull black piercings. He has a stray wave splayed against his cheek that you want to push behind his ear. His stubble would scratch your thumb. 

"If that's how you feel," he murmurs, though he makes no effort to move. 

"Do you think I'll be ill forever?" you ask. 

"Likely. Don't worry, gorgeous. I'll take care of you forever." 

You bite your tongue where it's pushed against the inside of your bottom lip, your eyes softening at his promise. He's joking, sure, but he leans forward to rub your knee and inner thigh, startling you despite the layers of blankets between your bare skin and his. 

His head remains in his palm, propped up casually, so your shock swiftly fades. This is just Sirius being Sirius.

"What will I do with you?" he asks sympathetically. 

"Not much." 

He scratches a hand through his hair. "Now, why are you talking about my girl like that? Being poorly is no excuse." 

You're laying back in a mountain of Sirius-sanctioned pillows and cushions, Sirius to your left, a box of things he'd brought for you to your right. The necessities: super soft aloe vera tissues, decongestants, paracetamol and ibuprofen (an ultimate combination). The treats: new fluffy socks, chocolates you can't yet eat, a blanket one thousand times softer than the tissues, and a teddy bear that 'looks like you', apparently. 

"You're probably too good to me," you say softly. 

"Or I'm the right amount." Sirius straightens, groans, and drops into the cushions beside you. "You're very, very lovely, even when you're as sick as a dog. I think you should know that," he says, his tone ringing with a sincerity that makes your eyes ache worse than they already do. "And you're like, insane levels of gorgeous. I'm not kidding when I say–" 

He pauses as you raise your hand. You settle it sluggishly over his pretty mouth, feeling it curl upward. "Sh," you say, too tired to fluster at his praises. 

"You're beautiful," he says quietly into your hand. 

Sirius' fingertips trace the slopes of your body. Not sexual but inherently intimate, he draws a path from the fat of your upper thigh to your ribs where your blankets end. He pulls them higher. 

"You really won't let me look at your throat?" he asks. 

"No, but… maybe you can make us a cup of tea?" you suggest shyly. 

Sirius leans forward, pressing a short, firm kiss to your chapped lips. "For you? A-ny-thing." Two more quick kisses. "Don't go anywhere." 

Sirius is jogging down the stairs by the time you find the energy to call, albeit weakly, "I can't stand up!" 

"I was joking! Christ, it's worse than I thought. I havta get you to a doctor." 

That time, you catch the sarcasm. 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

[lillianofliterature]

If your requests are open, and you are comfortable with it, could you maybe please do a King Thranduil x reader one-shot where reader has cancer and it is like angsty?

the toll of sickness | thranduil x reader

a/n: Anon, I am sincerely sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to provide all the angsty venting and comfort I could for you in this! Thank you for your request! I wanted to do this right by you. I hope this helps soothe whatever parts of you need soothing today. I don’t know anon’s/anyone’s specific diagnosis or symptoms, so I’m doing my best to remain respectful and widely general with the topic of cancer. I took inspiration from my own experiences with the mental/emotional toll of long-term chronic illness to supply a plot to resolve, I hope that’s okay (and still relatable). <3

The reader is implied feminine in this as they are referred to as lady/queen, but otherwise, I did my best to keep it gender-neutral with descriptions. 

This could also be interpreted as a reader with chronic illness.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK. GIF EDIT IS MINE.

summary: after a long day of tiresome treatments and the heaviness of your thoughts, you retreat to your chambers to seek the comfort of your husband’s arms.

warnings: mentions of cancer (the reader has cancer), mentions of cancer treatments and symptoms (including needles), medical exhaustion, nonsexual nudity and nonsexual bathing, open discussions of symptoms, fear of death

word count: 6.1k

music:  As Long As We Both Shall Live by Bear McCreary

elvish translations: melamin = my love, melda = my dear/beloved

“I think we will conclude here for today, my lady.” 

The head healer’s voice drew your wayward attention back to his prim features. His thin lips spread into a smile as he gently unstrapped the tight leather band above your inner elbow, releasing the tension from your skin. The long syringe with its glass barrel was gently pulled from the blue vein that the pressure had highlighted. You rubbed your arm subconsciously as he set aside the supplies for cleaning, hoping the motion would rid your flesh of the awful sensation of being probed. 

You blinked away your muddled thoughts. Briefly, you worried that perhaps he had been talking to you long before you’d heard his assessment to end the treatments for the evening. If you had, you were grateful to find no resentment in his gaze for your absentminded silence. 

He softly closed his collection of books that had been displayed around a table on the wall adjacent to your cushioned cot in the infirmary. With a bottle of herbal salve, he applied a generous portion to the inner curve of your elbow, satiating any irritation from his needles. The cool gel of the aloe soothed the itchy redness, while the lavender masked the sterile scent of the medications and intensely bitter herbs.  

You glanced up from the healer’s gentle efforts, trying on your best smile. “Thank you for your diligence today, Sudryl. It is very much appreciated.” 

He bowed his head as he clasped your hand between his palms, “It is always a pleasure to tend to you, my queen. We will resume tomorrow morning if it suits your schedule?”

“My schedule is always free for your remedies. Thranduil has made sure to take over many of my duties so we may focus on my treatment.”

Sudryl smiled once more as he helped you stand from the cot, draping your silken robe over your bare arms as he did so. “The king is very wise, your majesty. I know you detest this period of healing you’re undergoing, but you mustn't mistake rest for idleness. Your people desire greatly for your full recovery, myself included. In order to achieve that, your rest is crucial.”

You didn’t know what to say. Rest was crucial, you knew that. As were the innumerable treatments and remedies being applied and adjusted every day. 

But didn’t anyone understand that you were tired of all of this? Exhausted by more than just the cancer and its seemingly endless repercussions that it presented almost daily. Worn down by more than just needles and salves and bitter syrups that lingered in your throat.

You missed feeling well-rested when you woke up in the mornings after a long sleep—you missed having the energy to spend your days fulfilling your duties as a queen, as a servant to her people. You missed the days in which every activity was not dictated or measured by searing pain or groggy fatigue. You were tired of wrestling with your body just to exist comfortably. 

But it’s your duty to get better, they keep telling you. 

It’s what everyone’s hoping for, your majesty. 

Do your best to rest and eat well, my lady. 

Don’t give up hope, Queen (Y/n). You are blessed among our kin!

The people have been petitioning their prayers to the Valar fervently, your grace.

They were supposed to be words of encouragement spoken to invigorate your fighting spirit, to ignite that spark of determination that was starting to flicker these last few months. But these endless strains of hope and enlightenment had started to weigh heavily upon your shoulders like a milkmaid’s yoke, and with every well-intentioned word and chorus of song another stone was dropped into the buckets you carried.

The pressure to recover for the sake of others was beginning to feel like too much—the toll of the sickness itself was enough for one to worry about, was it not? Not only did you feel this fearsome desperation to recover for your own sake, for your own life, but also the need of a thousand other voices begging for a show of strength you didn’t feel tangible anymore. 

The summoning of one of your servants outside the infirmary doors reminded you that the hour to retire for supper was nearing presently. You felt your posture deflate as it dawned on you that you couldn’t yet retire for the day. Although your extravagant evening meals were one of the few constants that motivated you to follow your days through until nightfall, your hunger had dispersed in the last few days. Being seated at a stiff table dressed with rich delicacies and savory wines sounded nothing short of torture at the moment, even with the promise of dessert. 

The servant curtseyed in the broad doorway as Sudryl led you across the room. You couldn’t help but tense as your legs tremored from the sudden activity. A long exhale slipped through your pursed lips.

“My queen,” She rose gracefully, her hands folding together at her waist. “Your supper with the king is nearly prepared. He will be present in the dining hall shortly as soon as his meeting has concluded. I was advised to escort you there safely.”

Clutching onto Sudryl’s forearm, you hesitated to address the messenger. You couldn’t help the expression of distaste that twisted your face. The thought of food was not the only thing that churned your stomach at that moment; the prospect of being walked through your own palace as though you were an invalid, incapable of making it there of your own merit, as though every pair of eyes in this forest need offer you their due pity, bothered you even more than the risk of losing your supper to the toilet. 

Knowing you couldn’t send her away under Sudryl’s watchful eye (for surely there would be further inquiries as a result of such an unnecessary dismissal), you managed to nod in thanks to her before turning to him. The head healer’s smile was brimming with empathy. You tried not to feel offended by his pitying compassion. He leaned forward and pecked your cheek reverently, bidding you a respectful farewell until the morning. 

You turned from him and followed the servant into the winding halls. Gaze following the eroded pathway of the massive tree roots beneath your sore feet, you bided the seconds until you were both too far to be noticed by any superior voices that might challenge your decision-making. When your footsteps halted, she turned to face you.

Her brows raised, she asked, “My lady? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I’m alright,” You waved her worries aside with the vague gesture of your hand. “But I can manage the walk to the dining hall from here.”

Her brows drew together in an expression of confusion. You straightened your back—had she seen through your polite fib? Was it that obvious you had no intentions of eating this evening? Or was just she not used to being given conflicting commands between two monarchs?

“—On my own. I can make it there on my own.”

Her lips parted in protest as she recalled what you assumed were very clear orders from your husband only minutes prior. Stretching your hand out to gently touch her shoulder, you reassured her it would be alright. “I will explain to the king myself that I demanded to be left alone. No trouble will come to you, I promise. You will not lose your position.” 

“But my lady, I—it is my duty is to ensure your safe arrival. Are you sure you don’t—?”

The irritation that swelled within you wasn’t her fault, you hastily reminded yourself. You bit back the frustrated sigh you wanted to release, tightening your polite smile. Reasoning with another person about what you wanted to do and why you wanted to do it was the last thing you presently wanted to deal with. Desperate to detach yourself from her and anyone else lingering about, you decided to be straightforward. No beating around the bush. 

“I value your persistence, young one, but I would very much like to retire early tonight. You may inform my husband that I’ll be taking my meal in our chambers if you must.”

“Understood, your majesty. I shall inform the king. Have a good evening.” She dipped into an impulsive curtsy, quickly trailing back to the chancellery to relay your decision. 

You didn’t even wait for her to pass beyond the long hall ahead before you turned in the opposite direction. Your private chambers weren’t too far from the infirmary, thankfully. However, it still took some resolve on your behalf to encourage your depleted energy through corridors and foyers all the way back to your comfortable bed. The silver silk of your robe billowed around your feet with every step, giving your eyes something other than walls of stone and root to follow.

You were sure your husband wouldn’t be taking the present news about your wellbeing all that agreeably. You could see it clearly in your mind—the disheveled, anxious worry in his eyes that he masked behind a wall of solemn regality. But you could always see what he was thinking. He wouldn’t like the fact that your treatments were taking more and more of a toll on your already wearisome state. He would like it even less when he found out you would soon be dismissing supper altogether. 

His concern wasn’t for himself, of course. It was for you—it was always for you.

He wanted desperately for you to be able to enjoy your meals in the glittering brilliance of the dining hall, unperturbed by fatigue and nausea. He wanted you to be able to take those strolls through the forest gardens that you adored so much without the sore discomfort in your bones. He wanted you to relish in your life and its unrivaled importance. And most of all, he wanted desperately to take this lingering sickness away; he wished he had been born with a skill for healing like some of his kin.

But all he could give you were the promises of an unsure future and the enlistment of his most skilled associates and all relevant resources that could be found about your condition. And some part of you—some sad, twisted part of you—felt a rush of guilt that so much commotion and worry was being circulated about the kingdom on your behalf. And that guilt only made the whole affair all the more frustrating and maddening. These days, everything inflamed your anger. This whole tumultuous ordeal seemed to be unraveling more than just your physical state. 

You knew it was ridiculous to feel responsible in some way for what was happening to you. You hadn’t chosen this, you hadn’t brought it on yourself—you most certainly didn’t deserve it. No one with cancer ever does. But reasoning with your inner turmoil was like wrestling a wild boar in the mud; there was never any true resolve without the cost of more anxieties, more wounds, more gashes in your soul. And the more you tried to gain a grip on yourself, the less grounded you became, the more it all slipped through your fingers. 

The click of the door was a chime of resolve as you leaned against the tall wooden frame from within the calm confines of your spacious bedroom. Sliding out of your supple leather flats and letting your robe slump to your elbows, you took the first deep breath you had been able to control since earlier that morning. The king-sized bed frame creaked subtly as you lowered yourself onto the fluffed silken duvet. Ever so gradually, you felt the weight of the vertical world begin to reprieve from your muscles like steam rushing upwards from a boiling pot. 

Rest wasn’t a cure for what ailed you, no, but Valar above, sometimes it felt like it. 

Since your diagnosis—the terrifying sickness devouring your energy and livelihood from within your own body—nearly every day had been spent in the infirmary or the healer’s sanctuary, remedies administered by the hour, conversations turning tiresome and sour. It had begun to feel like your own home was a prison, the world beyond the palace unreachable, like every action was a strenuous transaction of vitality and exhaustion. Even just walking the gardens that lead into the forest had become inexplicably draining—it left you feeling as though you’d run to Mirkwood’s southern border and back rather than taking a few turns about the courtyard. 

But here, on the cloud-like comfort of your private chambers, there was some reprieve from it all. There were no endless strands of questions about your well-being and your comfort and opinions on the tedious details of your health here—only the distant rush of the waterfalls that crashed brazenly into the river moat outside the palace gates. You could hear the chirping of the early summer insects as dusk narrowed on the horizon beyond the open terrace. There was no sterile smell of concentrated alcohol or the pungent gnawing of tart herbs. Instead, there was a faint aroma of lilacs wafting in from the gardens and the scent of your husband’s musk lingering in your bed.

Closing your eyes and rolling onto your lesser-sore side, you sought out the imprint that his body might have left there that morning. But the duvet was creased flat and folded with a chill under your skin. It was curious futility to think his warmth might have lasted after so many long hours away, you knew that; the bed was always plumped and remade in the mornings by your gracious servants. A coldness ran through you, engulfing your skin in little bumps that felt like prickling needles. 

Too sore from your aches to unfurl the taut covers from the mattress and too comfortable to retrieve one of your husband’s many fur throws, you recoiled your arm and folded your limbs closer together, curling into a position that would magnify your own body heat. While quietly taking in the environment of your sanctuary, this small peaceful haven that almost made you forget the turmoil your body was enduring, you hardly noticed as you faded into a light slumber. Caught between the ebbing flow of consciousness as it bobbed around the sleepy release of your strained body, wading between thoughts and dreams.

Unaware of the passage of time as you laid there in groggy consciousness, you hardly felt the urge to stir from your position until you felt the back of someone’s hand on your cheek, the brushing aside of your askew (h/c) tendrils. Then you made out the quiet husk of a voice that hovered above you in the dark. 

In the dark? Sunset was still a couple of hours away! And after that, dusk would linger still until the light vanished beyond the mountains to the west. Why was it already so dark?

Hadn’t it only been a few fleeting minutes since you’d closed your eyes, listening to the cicadas and savoring the sweetness of the summer flora? Eyebrows pursed, you could hear yourself attempt to answer, but the meticulous reply you’d fabricated in your mind was delivered in heavy vowels that grouped together lazily. Your speech felt like treacle slipping off your tired tongue. 

A velvet chuckle reverberated in your perking ears. 

“Have I forgotten my native tongue or was that a very poor attempt at Sindarin?”

Thranduil.

Your nose scrunched up as you fought to drain the sleepiness that was working against you so fervently. Before you could stir the tired droopiness from your eyes with eager fists, two gentle hands cupped your cheeks and swept their thumbs over your closed eyes. The motion was akin to a gentle massage, spanning your sore eyelids and dusting across your cheekbones, a cradling of your vulnerable stillness that filled your chest with a fond fervor. The supple tenderness of his lips collided briefly with yours before parting all too quickly. 

“Mm?” Your vocabulary hadn’t quite refreshed itself, it seemed. “When d’dju geten?”

Another rumbling chuckle he didn’t bother trying to hide. You pictured his willowy frame standing primly in front of the tall gilded looking glass, unfastening his stuffier robes and tucking his powder–blonde hair behind his pointed ears, or perhaps even tying it back for the night as he often did. 

Stars, it felt like there were weights on your shoulders pulling you back against the duvet as you forced yourself to sit up, like the muscles beneath your skin were unraveling at the seams. You rubbed your eyes and shooed your disheveled hair from your peripheral vision, glancing around the dark room for your husband’s silhouette. A flicker of light plumed suddenly in the sconce near the vanity, illuminating his fair features. The match in his hand extinguished with a puff of air from his lips before his pale blue eyes found yours. 

“I only just came in,” he reassured you, “I’m afraid I underestimated how much wind some of our advisors have in their lungs, especially when provoked.”

Another votive flickered to life on the other side of the room, another match snuffed out under his breath. The sunlight outside had all but gone in the murky hours you had been asleep. Now that you could take in the mellow darkness of the evening without confusion, some part of you felt distressed about the sudden absence of natural light. The daylight, warm and golden, always brought you a sense of comfort. But now it was dark and grey and the light of the moon was cold, distant, and you hadn't had a chance to prepare yourself for it. Another chill ran across your skin as a more frigid breeze swept in from the open terrace. 

“Did Sudryl have a chance to share the news with you before retiring this evening?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at you. His lips pursed when he saw your unmoving figure still sitting on the edge of the bed, your back draped in silks, facing away from him. Your slumped posture told him all he needed to know about how you were feeling after your treatments—the exhaustion was palpable in how slow your palm rose to cradle your own forehead, in how shaky you were as you forced yourself up from the bed and took hold of the bedpost.

He was near you in an instant, his strong hands taking gentle hold of your bowed shoulders. There he was, combing the stray hairs on your head down with doting affection, all while the same frustrations were building up inside of you as your sleepiness dissipated. 

“You needn’t rise for me, melamin, I am no guest.” He chided gently.

“I know, I just need a bath before we settle in for the night.” 

“You’re in no state to manage that tonight, (Y/n)—”

“Thranduil, I haven’t rinsed off the ointments. I smell like the forest—and not in a good way.”

“You smell like an herb garden, fresh and natural, as all things should be.”

“Pungent is more like it,” You quipped, catching the accent of bitter walnuts exuding from your thin robes. It was that old, damp, dingy sort of bitterness that made you want to expel the air from your lungs with a snort when you caught a whiff of it—not the pleasant sort of musk from the gardens.

He laughed again, this time with more relief behind his eyes. Even though he knew you were spent from the day’s strenuous activities, the presence of your humor provided him with some semblance of comfort. And as for your own weary senses, his smooth strain of laughter was more than a consolation for the muted anxiousness that the infirmary always inflicted. 

“Then let me help you.”

“Thranduil, I can do it mys—”

“I insist,” He offered decidedly, and you knew well enough from past experience that arguing with him on the matter would prove ineffective. 

He gently looped your arm through the curve of his elbow, placing a sweet kiss to your messy hair before turning along with you toward the adjoined bathing chamber. You leaned into him for support and begrudgingly admitted to yourself that he was right—there was no way you could withstand the exertion on your own, at least not tonight. Not while you felt this lethargic, not while your stress levels were causing such tension throughout your body, making everything denser, slower, sluggish.

Once he led you into the warmly lit haven of the spacious chamber, the steam of the hot spring pool seemed to draw you in on its own accord. The walls and their rugged shapes made the flickering yellowness of the torchlight spread longer shadows among its natural angles and divots. The far right wall was connected to the run-off of one of the many springs that stretched like veins throughout the mountain palace—and it was little cavern rooms like this one that reminded you that you were living in the majesty of a low-peaking mountain, not just nestled in the forested density of the Greenwood.

You knelt at the rim of the bathing pool on the soft stone edge, dragging your hand through the clear blue water. The natural warmth of the hot spring invigorated you with a sense of eagerness as you remembered just how soothing these glowing pools always were. A gentle touch to your shoulder lured your attention back to your husband, who with a fond smile, was waiting to help you unravel your robes and underthings. Taking his hand, you were pulled to stand in front of him with the gentlest limits of his strength. 

You hardly felt the pressure or the tugging of his lithe fingers as he helped you undress, his touch but a breeze across your sore skin. When you were naked and chilled from the exposure, he guided you into the blue waters and leaned over the pool’s edge to make sure you were steady on the outcropped seat of eroded stonework submerged in the water. As the bubbling warmth enveloped your flesh, your eyes fluttered shut with an involuntary sigh of relief. 

There were very rarely things that proved effective for your ceaseless pains—medicines and supplements only lasted so long or relieved so little, and sleep was growing more difficult to manage. But this—the heat bubbling up from the earth, sorted through sediment and mineral—was the most relief you found these days. 

When submerged in the hot spring bath, your entire body numbed to its own plague as your bones and muscles absorbed whatever benefits came from the terrain around you. You briefly wondered how you ever managed to get out the last time you soaked like this, with every inch of your flesh basking in the warmth that enveloped you.

You relaxed against the glossy stones, trying to quiet your mind of all the infernal anxieties pressing a weight against your chest. The noise of your thoughts made it difficult to focus fully on the soothing effects of the natural hot spring, tensing and loosening your muscles and posture between every harsh doubt.

With a fresh cloth he brandished from a side table, Thranduil dipped it into the warm bath and began gently scrubbing away the ground athelas mixture. He’d seated himself comfortably on the edge of the bath, submerging his calves into the pool to cradle you between them. The cloth strummed along your chest and stomach as he reached over and behind, where the herbs from Sudryl’s remedies had been infiltrating the cancerous sickness plaguing your organs. You hadn’t meant to show him how weak you felt, how tired you were, how desperately you needed this—but your head fell back to rest against his stomach despite this as the steam curled around you both, dampening your hair and foreheads. 

After your rinsing from the spout of a silver pitcher, he coaxed oils and lathered soaps across your flesh, your own fingers clasping onto the pale skin of his forearm or around his leg, refusing to cease contact with him. And although he generously and willingly offered his aide while the healing minerals of that glowing pool of steam soothed you, some venomous voice in the back of your mind tried to feed you strings of doubt and loathing.

He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have had to become my caretaker.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get sick—neither of us was. 

He deserves more than this mess I’ve given him. He deserves better than me.

You cleared your throat, trying to silence the growing guilt and shame before that stinging swell of tears could grow any more than they already were. 

“What was it you were going to tell me?” You asked after the first of his own sweet-scented oils was being lathered along your arms, turning you about to face him. “Earlier, you mentioned something about Sudryl?”

“Ah, that,” he nodded in remembrance, “I gather he didn’t mention anything about Lord Elrond to you today?”

“Lord Elrond?” You inquired, lifting your questioning gaze to meet his. “No—no, he didn’t. Has something happened? Something to do with our alliances? Or with that trade treaty we adjusted with Laketown in the spring—”

“No, melamin, nothing of diplomatic proportions—all is still amiable with our kin for the time being,” he reassured. When he glanced up at you, the tranquil hope glittering in his blue eyes soothed the curious worry growing in your mind. He almost seemed excited about something. It tugged the corners of your mouth into a brief smile. “I sent word to him a little more than a month ago now, I suppose, to see what he might be able to do about your condition, to inquire about whether his skill with healing might mend what ails you.”

You swallowed hard over the sudden discomfort of anxiety that rose again like bile in your throat at the mention of more treatment, more guests, more expectations for healing. More, more, more. 

“He is to arrive within a week of his latest correspondence, which came this morning. Preparations are being made for his arrival as we speak.” 

Unknowingly, your grip had tightened on your husband’s forearm, your nails digging shallow crescents into his skin. The sharp sensation drew his attention downward to your hands, his dark brows furrowing in concern. His fingers winding around yours brought your attention to your vice-like grip, which you promptly loosened. 

“What is it, (Y/n)? Does this news not please you?” 

The earnestness in his pale eyes pierced your heart, the guilt bubbling up in your mind again. You weren’t sure what worried you most. The prospect of more prodding, more treatments, more attempts that might lead to nowhere; the fuss being made across the realm about your condition, about this peculiar, harsh sickness that was so puzzling to even the brightest minds; or perhaps, most worrisome of all, was the fact that you were no longer able to manage the upkeep of a happy facade. So many people were hoping, praying, supporting, and tending to you. 

And somehow, you found that to be the most exhausting part of it all. Not only were you fighting for your own body, for comfort and life, but you were trying to uphold and appease every pair of eyes that was eagerly awaiting your miraculous recovery from something you didn’t even know how to fight. There were so many hopes to meet, so many hearts to comfort on your behalf, and your resolve was quietly crumbling.

Before you could think to soften your words in an attempt to save Thranduil’s optimism, your lips began to move, a sudden impulse of tears gathering in your eyes. “What if there is nothing even Lord Elrond can do to cure this?”

He paused, his eyes searching yours briefly before his damp fingers reached up to caress your cheek. How had he not seen the disparagement growing behind your gaze, darkening the lilt in your voice? Hidden behind humor and mischievous quips, but no less obvious. 

“If—if I do not show improvement, our people will lose their resolve. Everyone’s counting on me to get better, to show some store of strength I no longer have and I–I can’t will my body to right itself,” you bore to him, panicked and spent from months of effort, “I cannot give everyone the hope they're seeking from me."

“Oh, melamin,” his chin nestled over your ear as he murmured with such rich affection, pressing your face into the musky homeliness of his neck. 

“I know I should be grateful for their support, for their prayers and their offerings, but it’s becoming too much, Thranduil. I don’t have the strength for a kingdom’s worth of miracles.” 

“You do not owe anyone but yourself the grace of your strength. Had I known their encouragement had put pressure on you to perform, I would have silenced the lot of them.” 

Despite his sincerity, you panicked on. “What if I am never rid of it? What if this is my blight that I must war with for the rest of my life?”

He sombered then, drawing in a deep string of air into his lungs. You could see him wrestling with the reality of your honesty, with the questions you both had been too afraid to speak aloud before now. Gathering himself, he drew you nearer to him, clinging to you with a brief urgency that almost startled you. 

“Then we will rise together each day to face it. There will never be a single day that you will have to endure this on your own. Do you hear me? That is my promise to you—that my vow and my diligence will never waver where you are concerned.”

Your tears burned with his words and you worked to force them at bay, his sweetness drawing every sour fear and thought of guilt from your mind and onto your tongue. “I am so sorry for this life I have given you. You didn’t ask for this—you cannot be happy with me—with this-this terrible thing I’ve brought upon us. You deserve so much more, and I can no longer give it to you.”

“You’re apologizing—?” He questioned, his voice quiet in shock. 

Your eyes clamped shut, forcing the well of sorrows from your eyes to plummet. Gently, he pulled himself back, repositioning his hands on your upper arms as if to garner your absolute attention. 

“(Y/n), this life you have given me has been far more than I have ever deserved and could ever strive to. From the moment we met, you have enriched my life just by your existence alone, much less the many qualities and traits about you I have come to treasure beyond all fortune or success. You have given me everything, a dozen lifetimes over, in the mere centuries we have been together.”

“You cannot have wanted this,” you breathed out, hushed by your own shame. 

“No, I did not want you to suffer with something so abysmal, something so beyond my control. Of course I did not want for your pain…but if this is our future, if this is our path together, then I want every minute of it, and I will not settle for a second less. I would upheave the very crest of the world and drown mountains in flame if it meant saving you. And if that makes me selfish or ruthless, then I will be the standard at which devils compare their sins.”

His hands had gradually found their way up to your face, cradling your damp cheeks with a sincerity that made your lip quiver.

“Look at me,” he whispered. 

The sight of the tearful waterline reflected in his eyes drew a noise of curt regret from your lungs. Your sob pierced his heart, filling him with a desperation to amend the shame and anxiety plaguing your mind. 

“If you truly believe that you are at fault for this sickness, then in turn I must be held responsible for allowing it to happen in the first place. As your husband first, but also as your king.”

“No, no that’s not true! It’s not even reasonable of you to—”

“Then how can it be your fault? How could any of this be on your shoulders? There is no sense in blame, (Y/n). Not here, not with this.” 

There was a stillness after his words, a stillness that was meant for rumination, and sealed with his lips against your skin and hair. Your hands rose to rest against his chest, nestling them over the dip of his collarbone as you felt for comfort in the blur of your tears. His silence prompted an answer. 

“It’s not my fault,” you replied. 

“Say it again.”

“It isn’t my fault,” you echoed, meeting his gaze once more, “just as it isn’t yours.”

And as shocking as it was for you to realize it, you truly believed the words he encouraged from you. This sickness wasn’t your fault. Neither of you could have had any sway with fate or destiny, with whatever had brought this on. And perhaps, it just simply was, with no cause or fault at all. What mattered now was how kind you could be to yourself, how to take one moment of strife and find something in it to hold onto. Moments like this were one of those morsels between the ebbing aches of pain and grief that you could relish and devour again and again. 

Thranduil leaned forward, pressing his sweat-laced brow against yours. “Do not ever blame yourself, melamin. Do not let those foul words pass between your lips again.”

You nodded against him, pulling him nearer. “I promise.” 

In the long minutes that followed, there was the solace of quiet intimacy as he rinsed through your hair one final time, peppering you with kisses and caresses at every opportunity. He met you with a soft fluffy towel when he led you out of the bath, never allowing a breeze to nip at your damp skin. His touch was featherlight as he patted you dry from head to toe, scrunching your drenched tendrils of (h/c) hair without complaint. 

“I’m still so afraid,” you managed the courage to speak aloud, “What if–...what if this sickness claims my life?”

“You will not part this world without me, melda. Not a single breath will leave your lungs without my sharing it, not a single heartbeat will we not share,” he vowed, the absolute belief in his voice making the promise all the richer, “there isn’t a corner in this world or any other that you could wander to that I would not accompany you.”

Your silk nightgown slipped over your outstretched arms swiftly, sliding down your body and into place comfortably. He did up the lace of the collar with efficiency, not missing the chance to playfully tug you closer with the slightest bit of his strength. You planted yourself against his chest, the smile on your lips effortless with his own. The firm warmth of his arms wrapping around you had the same sort of pain-numbing effect as the hot spring, lulling every fretful thought to a close. His somber laugh reverberated again, this time through your bones, bringing an ethereal kind of peace with it. 

The pillows of your large four-poster bed were positioned, fluffed, and repositioned. You waited patiently, upon his insistence, as he untucked and pulled the puffy duvet back for you to crawl under. Once comfortably tucked beneath layers of silk and cotton, he assumed his place beside you, careful not to jostle the mattress as he settled, mindful that every movement enticed your discomfort. 

His body heat made you sleepy as you sank further into the covers, fogging your thoughts with a drowsy anticipation for the release of slumber. You’d waited for this moment all day—it had been the image that had pushed you through the hours of treatment and questions—the moment you could finally burrow against his warmth and drunken yourself with his scent. There was a slight stirring as he reached off to the side to retrieve something on the bedside table. 

The fluttering of pages caught your fading attention, pulling your heavy-eyed gaze toward the book in his grasp. “Would you like to continue where we left off?” 

You smiled tiredly against his chest, not recalling the events of the book he’d been reading to you for the last few nights. Oftentimes, the first few pages would strike vividly in your imagination, but as his lustrous tone carried on through paragraphs and chapters, the sleepy security that his presence enticed made it impossible to recall anything beyond the thrilling hum of his voice. In all actuality, you were quite sure he didn’t mind if you knew anything at all about the story he was reading aloud. It was enough to hold you and be held. 

TAGS:  @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossoms73 @sunnysidesidra 

#thranduil x reader #thranduil imagines #thranduil imagine #thranduilxreadaer #thranduil oropherion #King Thranduil #thranduil #thranduil one shot #thranduil one-shot #lee pace #lee pace imagine #lee pace x reader #leepacexreader #lee pace imagines #lee pace oneshot #thranduil oneshot #leep pace one-shot #lee pace one shot #reader with cancer #the hobbit reader insert #the lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit #the lord of the rings imagine #the lord of the rings imagines #lotr x reader #thranduil x reader insert #thranduil reader insert

[milfgyuu]

Bubble Boy Pairing: Song Mingi x GN!Reader Tags: 2.3k, Neighbors!AU, F2L, Fluff, Kissing booboos. Series: Mr. Right Next Door Summary: It always starts with a loud thud or groan ringing out before your sweet but terribly uncoordinated, accident-prone neighbor is knocking at your door. The only thing lucky in Mingi’s life is having you to put him back together. 

Warnings: lots of injury talk but nothing explicit, some kissing and suggestive tones toward the end.

Mingi should have known better than to attempt taking all of his groceries up in one trip but he lives in a third floor apartment and can’t fathom performing the extra work necessary to take multiple trips just so he can carry slightly lighter loads. Not after the longest work day ever. 

That is how he first found himself seated in your living room, anxiously drumming his fingers against the edge of your couch cushion while you cleaned and treated his raw and bloodied knees, elbows, and chin. He’d made it to the third floor only to misstep on the last stretch of stairs and eat the concrete. You’d found him with his groceries scattered, in the fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest and grumbling a string of profanities under his breath.

Still in your scrubs and just home from the hospital, you’d carefully helped him pack the spilled items back into the bags and carried half the load into his apartment. When he explained he didn’t have so much as a simple Band-Aid and insisted he’d ‘be alright’ you spent another five minutes arguing with him about infection before you’d just dragged him over to your apartment next door and broke out the first aid kit. 

After that, you very quickly learned that Mingi was somewhat of a disaster. 

Cuts, burns, bruises, scrapes, bumps, hives - you name it - Mingi has been a patient in your home for it. Your first aid kid saw more action than a sporting spectator and over many long months of nursing him back to health time and time again you realize there’s been a shift in your dynamic of neighborly nurse and patient.

At first it feels like a shock, like it’s happened all of a sudden but laying in your bed tonight, listening to the background sounds from the television you replay in your head some of the moments that led up to such a startling discovery.

Frankly, it wasn’t new or sudden at all.

There was that one morning Mingi burnt his arm in the kitchen and then tried to hide the injury from you in the mail room. You brought him back up stairs to clean and treat it, carefully avoiding his quivering bottom lip because he was trying to be brave and you let him think you didn’t notice. He gifted you a basket of muffins the next day with a little hand written note to thank you and poke fun at himself by saying there were no big idiots harmed in the making.

Another night, another knock on the door, which you opened to reveal Mingi, red, splotchy, and covered in hives up his neck and down his arms. Turned out, he was allergic the new houseplant he bought - because ya know, he’s also allergic to animals and wanted something to care for. You slathered him in itching cream, gave him Benadryl, and sat nearby as he snoozed on your couch, getting up every few minutes to see if the reaction was getting better. 

You personally re-homed that plant to an elderly woman two floors down in another building and then accompanied him to the pet store to buy a fish. Mingi had been elated and also dumbstruck that he hadn’t thought of a fish in the first place. You named him together and Mingi constantly sent you pictures of his best buddy, Aloe, the betta fish. 

The memory of Mingi’s frantic call in the middle of your shift still gives you chills and you twist uncomfortably in bed. He’d somehow managed to get his hand smashed beneath some heavy machinery at work and had called for advice. Heart filled with dread and beating out of your chest, you unintentionally yelled at him to get to the emergency room immediately, where you paced and paced until he’d arrived. 

Three broken fingers and a fractured wrist later you swore up and down that you’d put him in a bubble if that’s what it took to keep him in one piece. Mingi just chuckled and used his good hand to gently pluck a fallen eyelash off your cheek. You’d gone absolutely silent and your cheeks grew hot when he lifted it to your lips and told you to make a wish. 

Presently, you squeeze your eyes closed and try to quell the jittery feeling in your bones. 

It only brings about another memory of the time Mingi had caught the flu. You had gone over to his door the moment you read his text, ‘hey….what’s considered a fever?’

He was still in his pajamas, hair mussed and sticking up in the back, his cheeks red, and eyes drooping. He still smiled at you and your heart clenched almost painfully as you walked him back into his apartment. You changed his sheets, set out fresh clothes for him after a hot bath, cleaned his home, cooked his meals, held his glass of water as you fed the bendy straw between his lips. He indeed had a fever and continued to sweat through the blankets you piled on at his request but he never stopped smiling at you. 

Mingi was always smiling at you and the realization pushes sleep even further from your reaches. That’s how you hear the crash between your thins walls so easily. 

It’s cold outside and you regret not throwing on a jacket or a pair of pajama pants beneath your night dress but Mingi doesn’t leave you out in the cold for long after you rap your frozen knuckles against the blue door of his apartment. 

Because the peephole is mysteriously shattered and the management company has yet to fix it, he curiously cracks the door, peering out with one cautious eye before realizing its you.

Who else would be on his doorstep at eleven at night?

“Oh, hey!” he opens the door further, dim light illuminating your pitiful shivering, “What are you doing here so late?”

You step forward to duck under his arm and into his home, the warmth of it seeping a little too slowly into your bones. “I heard the crash,” you mutter in response, furiously rubbing your arms and focusing on his television oddly set to the same channel yours was left on.

Mingi grabs a blanket off the couch and sets it over your shoulders. He pulls together the two ends until you’re wound like a burrito and rubs his hands up and down your arms with a soft grin. “Better?”

You nod for him and scan his lanky frame head to toe. There doesn’t really seem to be anything amiss aside from the slowly blossoming red mark on his forehead, just above his glasses. 

Narrowing your eyes, you point a blanket covered finger at it. “What did you do?”

He lets out a little embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, this?,” he points at it himself, “I made some popcorn to watch a movie but when I went to grab a bowl, all the Tupperware sort of tumbled out like a landslide and I tried to catch them all at once but I bent down too fast and hit my head on the stovetop.”

Biting your lip to contain the laughter that threatens to etch a smile onto your face, you cover your mouth and snicker into the blanket instead. Mingi pokes your shoulder. “I know you’re laughing at me. It’s okay.”

You cross your arms, fortifying your blanket cocoon, and grin. “You’re hopeless.”

“At least I have you to fix me.”

His voice is too soft when he says it and it empties your brain of any potential responses. 

A minute goes by where neither of you say anything. You simply stand there looking at each other and then you realize it’s too quiet and someone has to say something. 

“Well, um,” you avert your eyes to the ground as if the answer is there before looking back to him, “I suppose you look alright…I should probably get back home…”

“You should stay.”

He says it so quickly you’re not sure he meant to say it at all. 

“I mean,” he shifts on his feet, scratching at the back of his head, “You should stay, if you want to, and uh, watch the movie with me,” he presses his lips together and rocks on his heels before throwing a thumb up in the direction of the kitchen, “I made popcorn…”

“I like popcorn.” Not really an answer but he takes it, breaking into a smile.

“Cool.”

Hanging out with Mingi has never felt so nerve wracking until now but you’re chalking that up to the fact that you’ve never been in his home so late at night, in your pajamas, huddled up on the couch to share a bowl of popcorn and a movie. And the fact that you’d been spending the entire evening just before this replaying all of Mingi’s greatest hits in your mind trying to track down when and where you started falling for him. 

More than once, you’ve reached your hand into the bowl only to find Mingi’s and vice versa, the both of you awkwardly laughing and pulling away. The plot of the film he’d chosen is easy to pinpoint but the tension between your shoulders is not and you hope he doesn’t notice when he throws his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers barely brushing the material of the leather couch where you sit. 

It’s seemingly unintentional because he is entirely focused on the screen and laughing at the movie. The rest of his long, lean body is relaxed, slouched against the cushions, with his legs spread wide, one foot kicked up on the edge of the table. He’s simply getting comfortable and then he’s looking over at you and you realize you’re still looking at him and his brows furrow. 

“What’s wrong?”

You tuck your legs a little tighter beneath you and straighten your spine. “Oh, nothing, I was just checking your head, there is still a red mark there.”

Hardly. It’s well on it’s way to disappearing entirely and he laughs. “I don’t suppose you have any magic tricks to fix it, do you?”

You relax a little, smiling back at him. “I don’t think I’ve got anything for this one.”

Mingi purses his lips as if he’s disappointed. “I mean,” his eyes dart up to yours and he smirks, “You could probably kiss it and make it better.”

With a huff of laughter you stare back at him in awe. “I don’t think that’s scientifically proven.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “Worth a try.”

“Come here,” you inch your finger and the amusement in his face dies down a little as he leans in just close enough for your breath to hitch. You look at him for a moment, appreciating his handsome face in your close proximity and then you reach up and…flick him in the forehead. 

“Hey!” he pouts, sitting up to rub the spot with his fingers before you grab his arm and tug him back down. This time you cup both cheeks in your hands, rubbing your thumbs over his soft skin and you kiss his forehead softly. When you try to let him go, Mingi catches your wrists and stills you before you can pull away. 

“Better?” you whisper quietly, just like his question earlier. 

But he shakes his head, eyes never leaving yours. “Worse,” he whispers back, “Now I won’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

You swallow around nothing. “Something wrong with your lips too?”

Mingi smiles, his tone ringing with amusement. “Something like that.”

He slips one hand around to cradle the back of your head, two of his fingers still wrapped and healing and he presses his lips to yours. For all his clumsiness, Mingi doesn’t tremble the way you do when you bring your arms around him. He pulls you closer, almost into his lap and you let him, welcoming his warmth and gentle touch. 

Dipping your fingers beneath the neckline of his loose t-shirt, you find a small raised scar and you trace over it a few times before you pull back to smile at the beautiful, uncoordinated man beneath you. “What’s this one from?”

He huffs out a laugh and traces his thumb over your cheek. “My brother tried to throw a toy car at the back of my head when we were kids,” he explains and then smirks, “He missed.”

Your eyes catch on another scar, just near his collar bones. He shivers when you run your fingertip over that one too. 

“Accidental burn when I first started welding.”

It’s his turn to hold his breath when you lean down and kiss the scar but your confidence evaporates as you straighten yourself, avoiding looking him directly in the eye. Mingi’s hand cups your chin and he makes you look at him, so similar to the way you’ve done in the past when cleaning up that cut above his eyebrow, the scar hardly visible now. 

“If you’re going to kiss every scar, you’ll be here for a very long time.”

“I think I’ll let you take me on a few dates before I start kissing things in places no one else can see.”

Mingi’s cheeks burn and he steals a quick kiss. “We can go on as many dates as you want.”

“Where should we start?”

Fingers now comfortably laced behind your back, he grins, “How about the trampoline park?”

“So you can break a leg?” you raise a brow at him to be serious but he only grins. 

“I’m not worried,” thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin, “I’ve got you, right?”

Indeed he does.

Series M.List  | ATZ M.List | Main M.List

#ateez fanfic #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #kvanity #mingi fanfic #mingi fluff #mingi oneshot #song mingi fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez series #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshot #kpop fluff #lana writes #kpop series

[indouloureux]

could you do something we’re the reader is having a spa day for her self and when joe comes home he asks if he could also have one as well

also i’ve been absolutely loving your writing and it even sometimes it makes me blush 🫶

hope you had a great day !

thank you for the request bb i love love you! i don't really know how home spa days work but i'm gonna write what i do <3

the smell of vanilla mixed with lemon that seeps through the oil diffuser greets in a puff of white smoke. journeying its way up his nose until it makes him cough silently.

frowning at the lack of noise, he ever so softly closes the door behind him. placing his shoes aside right next to yours before he enters the living room, carefully peeking through the couch.

there was you — clad in nothing but a shirt and pyjama shorts, something white covering around your face, eyes closed with your back resting against half the cushions on the sofa. joseph pulls his phone out first, putting his phone on silent before he takes a pic.

he greets you. "hi!"

a loud shout that causes you to yell, eyes snapping open. he laughs, mostly because you look like a ghost with the white thing covering your face. his socked feet cross into the carpeted floor and sits cross legged in front of you, removing his shirt so he appears half naked.

"asshole," you kick his knee. "you scared me."

"i'm sorry," his hands reach forward to hold yours, and even as you straighten your head, the face mask doesn't fall off. "what're you doin?"

"spa day," you murmur, running your thumb along his fingers. "d'you wanna try? it's very relaxing."

the corner of his lips tug downwards, and joseph shrugs. "eh, why not? i want more bonding time with you anyway."

you urge him to sit beside you as you take out another pack, getting on to your knees. you take both legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him and sitting on his knees as the package opens quietly in a soft rip, taking out the slippery mask and placing it on his forehead first.

joseph winces at the cold contact, the scent of aloe vera, or apples, he's not sure. he feels it spread around his cheeks, until he feels a tickling sensation in the middle of his eyebrows when you place it on his nose, until it finally coats his chin.

"cold?" he nods, letting his hands take a hold of your forearms and feel your veins. you let your weight sink in on his thigh, hands on his bare chest running up and down like the way you'd rub vicks on his chest when he's sick. the stress withers into nothing but an unwinding zest, placing his hands on top of yours.

"we should do this more often." he murmurs. "kiss?"

you smile at the puckering lips poking out of the mask, and you lean down to kiss him gently, hands curling on the back of his neck to lean closer, before you sit in silence — dwelling in the comfort of each other.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #blurb #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction

[miamierre]

"You're being particularly annoying." For Piarles <3

Pierre is still a lump on the couch when Charles pads back into the living room, partially-peeled banana in hand. Of course the only time his boyfriend knows when to get sick is during summer break--the too-short month of reprieve that they can never seem to spend properly year after year. Last year, Charles got sunburnt so badly during the week he'd gone off to Brazil on his yacht that he'd been untouchable for five whole days: Pierre had spent a majority of the first few rubbing aloe all over him and keeping him perched in front of the window AC unit.

This year, apparently, Pierre has the flu and has been pretty firmly rooted to the couch in his Milan apartment for the last 15 hours.

Charles tries to tiptoe his way over to the coffee table to leave the banana for Pierre whenever he wakes up, but his weight lands wrong on one of the creakier floorboards, and sure enough--

"Charles?" Pierre sounds groggy and disoriented as he lurches awake, blankets half thrown off him only to reveal just how sweaty his bare chest is.

It would probably be sexier if Charles weren't so concerned with keeping him from, you know, dying. "Hey," Charles says soothingly, striding the rest of the way to Pierre's side. He sinks to his knees and uses his free hand to push Pierre back into sleeping posture. "It's okay, Pear. Go back to sleep, I've got a banana for you when you feel like eating." He's not going to force the issue right now, since Pierre hadn't been able to keep the rice from earlier down: fluids are the priority, and his glass of water is mostly drained, which is good. Charles rests the banana on the table and picks the glass up, beginning to push back to his feet--

"Charlo," Pierre groans, reaching for the closest part of Charles he can find. His hand is too-hot as it grasps his bicep firmly. It makes Charles shiver.

"I'm here, petit. What is it?"

Pierre groans again, softer this time. "Your hand..." he lets go of Charles' arm only to tap insistently at his wrist, jostling the cool glass he's holding. "Looks cold." He sighs, then releases Charles only to flop backwards, a little dramatically, onto the couch. He watches as Pierre's eyes flutter closed, like he's going to fall asleep, but doesn't do anything until one eye cracks open. Waiting. Charles wants to laugh at how far he regresses whenever he's mildly inconvenienced like this--although, realistically he probably doesn't have a whole lot of room to talk himself.

"Yeah," he murmurs instead, setting the glass back down. He sits at the edge of the cushion and presses his hand, wet from condensation, to Pierre's forehead. (Which--he's still feverish. Maybe he'll need the thermometer again this evening after all.) "Here, P. Like that?" The rumbly noise Pierre makes in response is all he needs. "I have you, squid." Charles sits there for a few moments longer, then collects more of the condensation on his palm again and reapplies his hand. Pierre sighs. "Maybe we can get you into a cold shower soon, hm?"

At that, the Frenchman groans. "Later," is his response, followed by "don't wanna move" in that petulant whine Pierre always uses when he's trying to keep Charles in bed. It always annoys him a little--but today, at least, he'll cut his boyfriend some slack.

"Okay, Pierre," he hums, removing his hand once more. The glass isn't nearly as cool anymore, likely from the heat of his palm, so Charles grabs it once again and moves to head back to the kitchen for a refill. When he stands, though, Pierre whines again, then coughs and tries to re-pitch it as a groan. Idiot, he thinks lovingly. "What is it?"

Pierre pouts. "Don't go," he mumbles, reaching for him again as if he's not just standing upright beside the couch. "Please, Charlie."

Charles can't stop the laugh that slips out. "Pierre, my love," he hums, squatting back down to be eye-level with Pierre, "I have to go get you more water, and probably more paracetamol. I'm not going anywhere." But the pout settled on Pierre's lips seems to only get deeper upon explanation. "Pear."

"Pleaseeeeee," Pierre groans. "You are the only medicine I neeeeeed."

"Said like a man who ignores his trainer even better than he drives." He gets a cough-giggle from his patient, at least: Charles ignores the next pitiful moan and speeds to Pierre's kitchenette, where he grabs the paracetamol from where he'd left it on the countertop and then refills the glass with ice and water. (Sure, Pierre is annoyingly clingy when he's sick, but...Charles can't help but enjoy it at least a little. An unabashedly-snuggly Pierre is such a rare occurrence that Charles sometimes forgets how insufferable he gets when he's under the weather.) Now properly armed, he makes his way back into the living room, where...Pierre is flopped out again, eyes closed and mouth open. He's breathing (Charles checks every time) and he's got the blankets mostly up over his chest, so he must've just fallen back asleep.

Probably for the better. It's not going to get any easier, maneuvering him into his bathroom for a shower, but if he's gotten enough sleep, he'll be fine for the ten or so minutes it'll take for Charles to scrub him down.

"Rest up," he murmurs as he returns to Pierre's orbit. He sets the water glass down alongside the little orange tablets and sinks to his knees once more, just to press a kiss to Pierre's sweaty, kind-of-cooled forehead--

Only for Pierre's arms to fly out and grab hold of him, surprising him thoroughly as he tugs Charles onto the couch on top of him. Charles doesn't even have a chance to put up a fight from the shock. "Ha-ha!" His laugh is honking and loud and right in Charles' ear. "I have you, cheri."

"Pi-erre," he groans in response, trying unsuccessfully to untangle himself from the mess of blankets and limbs that Pierre is now attempting to cocoon him in. "Come on, you need to rest--"

"Shush," Pierre interrupts, matter-of-factly. "I sleep best when you are with me, Cha, you know that." There's that whine again. "You got me my paracetamol, and my water, and now you can be my medicine." His arms tighten around Charles' torso, and Charles just sighs, knowing he can't really wrestle his boyfriend without doing more damage.

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you, you know," he mutters instead, shifting so that he's no longer crushing Pierre under his bodyweight but now tucked firmly into the space between Pierre's feverish body and the back cushions of the couch. "Can't do that here."

"Mmmm," Pierre answers, clumsily stretching his tangle of blankets so it covers the both of them, "you are taking care of me just fine here, mon ange." One arm drapes over him. "See? Medicine."

But he's too warm to cuddle comfortably with the blankets, and Charles knows he's going to have to worm his way out of this one eventually because he will, in fact, have to actually get Pierre to take the pills sitting on the table. "You're being particularly annoying," he says under his breath as Pierre tugs him closer.

The sentiment just gets him a rumbly laugh in return.

#piarles #10 x 16 #fic #babyierre incapable of being mildly inconvenienced (under the weather) is something we as a society should explore imo #doting boyfriend charles is going to lovingly threaten to smother him with pillows at some point during this timeframe #hashtag love languages<3 #ty for the prompt my darlin!!!!!! #romance meme #ask reply #Anonymous

[denim-mixtapes]

Recovering from sunburn with Steve 👀👀

Thank u bby <3 Cute lil domestic moments with slightly bitchy Steve, about 600 words, no gendered terms for reader, but it is referenced that they wear heels!

Send me your fav summer traditions or prompts and I’ll write you a lil blurb!

It would be humorous watching Steve move about your vacation rental if you couldn’t tell how much pain every step was causing him. The slow, practiced steps, a wince with each one. The low, squatting stance. Arms held carefully stiff and away from his body. Despite his pain, the resemblance to Yosemite Sam still pulls a discreet giggle from your throat. 

“Yeah, laugh it up now,” he grits, finally reaching the couch and eyeballing it cautiously. Eventually he decides that his desire to get off of his feet beats out the fear of contact and sits gingerly on the cushion. If anything, you hope that the cool leather is soothing against the hot, angry sunburn. Finally situated in a somewhat comfortable position, he fixes a playful glare on you and continues, “but when you get a little tipsy at dinner or your feet start hurting in your heels later, guess who won’t be able to carry you back to the car. Sunburnt Steve, that’s who. You’re on your own, kid.”

“Hey!” You protest, lifting a hand to playfully smack him in the chest, but think twice and opt for a pout instead. “It’s not my fault you fell asleep on the beach! And I would never count on you to-” His dry stare, heavy head rolling against the back of the couch, is enough to stop you in your tracks. It’s true, he’s carried or piggy-backed you back to the car on more than one occasion throughout your relationship, more times than ever since you arrived at your beach vacation with the gang just a few days ago. You both share a chuckle at his accusation, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of his skin and there is a hesitance to his laugh. You do feel bad for him after all, so you tell him to sit tight and head to the bathroom to seek out a first aid kit. The little packets of aloe provided aren’t going to fix everything, but it’s a start at least, and you make a note to buy more on your way to dinner tonight. Back in the living area, you gesture for Steve to lean forward and say, “alright, Harrington, shirt off, c’mon.”

He does as requested, but not without comment. 

“Whoa, babe, I mean I’m flattered but I don’t think I’m in any state to-” 

“You want this aloe or not?” You interrupt with a cheeky smile and roll your eyes. 

“Yes please.” 

Taking a seat back on the couch, you gesture for him to settle in between your legs, which he does with a little bit of struggle. Wasting no time, you work the gel into the angriest patches of his skin, the tension melting from him as you do. He’s putty in your hands as you try to soothe the sting of his burn, working the aloe into sharp shoulders, down toned biceps and over taut pecs. By the time you’ve finished with your impromptu massage, his head lolls into your lap with a relaxed sigh. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss into your exposed thigh, just below the denim hem of your shorts. The ghost of his laugh tickles the sensitive skin there when he adds, “I take it back, I’ll suffer the pain to carry you ‘round tonight.”

You hum, threatening your fingers into his hair to tilt his gaze up at you. “You don't have to,” you coo, bending your back at an odd angle for a quick upside-down Spiderman kiss. “I’ll just be in pain with you.” 

He rolls his eyes, “how romantic.”

#steve drabble #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagine

[l0vergirlwrites]

come over ; peter parker

warnings: sweet angst & fluff post no way home (btw i didn't really edit this, don't judge)

also, listen to "pistol" by cigarettes after sex while reading <3

it was cold, considering it was the start of december. snow continued to fall from the sky at a steady pace, adding to the snow-covered streets & buildings upon where spiderman sat. peter dangled his feet off the edge of the building, gloved hands resting in his lap as he peered out onto the busy streets. "last christmas" by wham mixed in with "all i want for christmas" by mariah carrey blasted from the shops below, families eagerly trekking up & down the sidewalks with gifts & winter attire.

peter sat alone with that familiar ache in his chest. he couldn't suppress it any longer. it overtook him, making him feel both heavy like a brick & as light as the wind. heartstrings likely snapped as he caught the figures of his former friends below, faces full of smiles as they headed to mj's work.

he was happy his old friends were safe, but it was still bittersweet. more bitter though.

moving away from the ledge of the building, he dusted off the snow that gathered on him, ignoring his cuts & bruises that made him wince, & he swung to his apartment window to sit on the fire escape. while his head rested against the rusted metal, feet moving back & forth to pass the time, he waited for you--the only person he has left-- to call.

he soon heard the sweet bluebird tweeting from his phone, the ringtone he picked for you, & felt a bit of tension ease from his muscles. swiping right on the call, he put the phone up to his right ear & lifted his mask to be just under his nose.

"hey, i just got in" your voice told him, sounding soft like sleep due to the yawn you let out.

"you sound tired" he noted, looking up to see if he could catch a glance of your apartment window, only to see a bit of light seep through the curtains a few windows above.

"i can say the same thing about you. so, come over" you insisted as you plopped onto your couch, letting out the smallest sigh as the cushions enveloped you after a long day of studying.

"i really miss you & i don't know what else to do..." you admitted, hoping that'd be an incentive.

feeling his chest grow a little lighter now, the ache going away, peter gave in. he didn't like being alone anyways.

"give me five minutes?".

he could almost feel your smile beaming from the phone "see you then, peter".

ending the call off with a smile, you reluctantly rose from the couch to pull out some cleaning supplies from your bathroom, knowing that he'd likely have a few things he'd refused to patch up, so you'd do it for him.

taking a quick shower to get off any sweat & body odour, peter closed his eyes as the water pelted his skin. he grew tired of looking at all his scars, so he learned to do his routine blindly. once his body smelt of an aloe body wash he bought a few days ago & his hair was freshly clean, peter didn't bother to look at his reflection as he threw on a pair of sweatpants & a hoodie, locking his door to make his way to your apartment. lightly knocking on your door, peter could hear a few pill bottles rattling & a kettle going off, making him furrow a brow as he listened in.

but once you opened the door, his senses tuned out & he felt somewhat normal again. your warmth pulled him in, & he held you close, even though his bruised ribs weren't fond of your body's pressure; but he didn't care. his eyes closed & his arms held you tight. the comfort of your body against his felt nice.

"i missed you" you mumbled into his shoulder, smelling the aloe on the skin of his neck, which was littered with some light bruises. pulling away to get a better look at him, your hands scaled his skin before resting on his slightly hollowed cheeks as you inspected an old cut that was healing quite well.

"i'm okay, you don't have to clean me up tonight" peter whispered, knowing you worried too much cared for him.

you looked into his eyes & gave a knowing a look, a look that said "i don't completely believe you".

"okay, just checking" rubbing your thumbs along his soft skin, his hands did the same to your waist before you pulled him inside, locking the door & heading for the couch.

as he got comfortable on the cushions, you nudged his knee to look at you pointing at the tea & pain pills on the small coffee table. looking back at you with a "really, i'm okay" look, you nudged him again, urging him to take them. smiling happily when he took a few sips of hibiscus tea & the two pain pills, peter nudged you this time, a small smile forming on his lips.

"thank you" he said, his eyes twinkling at yours in the dim light of your apartment, feeling your hand slowly reach out to hold his, waiting for him to accept your touch even though you were pressed into his side.

"you're always welcome" you smiled back, heart fluttering when he rested his head against your shoulder.

comfortable silence overtook you both for a while. peter was enjoying your presence, your touch--just being there with you seemed to somewhat cure of him.

resting your head on top of his, your left arm taking a hold of his left upper arm, you asked him "do you want to talk?"

the question made him shift to peer up at you, his tired face looking at your slightly concerned one, & he tightened his lips.

but you squeezed his hand again, "no pressure, okay?" you nodded to him, just letting the option be out there because you knew he needed it.

with his eyes faltering a little, peter became conflicted. "i don't want to burden you" his hesitant voice said.

"it won't burden me, spider boy" you squeezed his hand again.

putting his head back on your shoulder, peter squeezed your hand three times, a sign that he'll talk. he quietly updated you on everything you've missed for the last few days: seeing happy again at may's grave, his old friends continuing their lives during their christmas break from MIT, the loneliness that continued to creep at him--he slowly broke through his hesitation & took off the things that made him grow hollow.

as he spoke, peter took notice of your heartbeat, your hand in his & how they both grew with empathy as he went on.

"... i-i just feel a little lost" he ended his vent, sighing deeply & shutting his eyes as the emotions he keeps trying to hide break through the surface.

you stayed silent for a minute or so while you gathered your thoughts, rubbing his arm with your left hand & rubbing his knuckles with the other.

"peter, you know you don't have to be strong right now, right?".

unsure of what you meant, peter moved his head to the the couch pillow behind him & looked at you, trying to read you.

"i-i, i-i don't know what you mean by that" he didn't understand.

biting the inside of your cheek, you tried explaining it. "you've been through so much in these last few months-- hell i could even say these last few years-- but throughout everything, you've been so strong haven't you?" you asked him, seeing him nod his head.

"i had to be" he added, to which you agreed.

"right. so you haven't had much time, until now, to process everything & take your time with it, right?" he nodded again, slowly seeing what you were getting at.

moving your hand up to his cheek again, you sighed at him, looking so fragile & precious, so vulnerable.

"you don't have to put up a front or ignore what you're feeling, even in front of me" your sincere voice told him like a vice, coaxing him out of his old isolating habits.

"it's okay to not be strong all the time".

in response, peter just nodded his head & felt his eyes begin to water, feeling more & more comfortable to be in this state with you.

"c'mere, it's okay," you cooed at him, letting him rest in the safety of your chest, hugging him as he held onto you tight. "i'm here for you" you told him quietly, lips pressed against the top of his head.

peter hasn't felt so cared for in so long after it being an official year since his old life came to a stop. you reminded him whats its like though--his light through the fog, through the tears & the endless nights where he didn't feel worth it, where he wished his dark thoughts would just consume him to the point of no return--you, the girl he met on the roof while stitching himself up, helped him through it one by one.

retreating from your chest, peter rested his forehead on yours as your hands ran through his hair, the act so domestic; so normal. his teary eyes closed as he breathed you in, the hollowness in his chest was there, but it wasn't so bad this time.

"it's been on my mind for so long... i've been meaning to properly thank you but--".

sadly smiling, you almost paused him but he shook his head, his nose bumping yours a little.

"i need to tell you how much you mean to me, 'cause you're all i got. i wait for your calls every night. i feel normal when i'm with you, i feel okay & i don't get to feel that much anymore... i-i..." opening his eyes to look at you, he genuinely smiled with so much ease where he looked almost like his old pictures from his homecoming he once showed you.

"i wasn't sure i'd get another chance at this..." he hinted, throat becoming dry due to his nerves.

"what is it?' you asked, even though you knew. you needed him to say it.

"love. i didn't know i'd get another chance at love" peter finally confessed, squeezing your hand in hopes you felt it too.

he was still hurt. he knew he still needed time to heal. but, he loved you & you need to know it.

with teary eyes, you lifted his hand to your heart which was beating loudly against your chest, & you both chuckled. tapping his hand to make him open his eyes, peter looked at you with an adoring gaze, immediately knowing you felt the same.

"i love you too, peter" those five words sounded like heaven to his ears.

they became his favourite.

#tom holland au #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman mcu #peter parker fluff #spiderman no way home

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

ayo @copper-dragon-in-disguise this is the Plamt Corner

Most of these guys were here when I moved in but I love them dearly.

We’re still looking to give away the two aloe propagates tho, the one in the checked green pot in the middle shelf and the one in the brown pot on the far side of the bottom shelf

Normally the plamts are tucked behind those movable couch cushions but I pulled em out of the way for the shot

#plants #succulents #well most of these are #im also working on an avocado tree and tomats #the plants in the little white bin are herbs

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@wolfstarmicrofic august 25 — blistering — 1.2k words — lesbian wolfstar — nsfw-ish (smut in part2 below)

“Ok,” Remus announces as she throws the keys into the bowl by the front door, “No more direct sunbathing for the next two days.”

Sirius makes a discontented noise that sounds a lot like Moony before she’s throwing herself dramatically over the arm of the leather sofa, hissing when her back hits the cushions.

“Save it,” putting as little room for argument into her tone as she is possibly capable of—which isn’t a lot but it’s Sirius’ body we’re talking about here, so Remus puts her foot down, “And you’re using that After Sun stuff after you’ve showered.”

Sirius whines pitifully, one elbow sticking up behind the couch, which means she’s thrown a forearm over her eyes in defamation.

Remus sighs as she sets the bag on the counter and goes to put their fruit juices-dirty lunchboxes into the dishwasher, “I could already see the white little blisters forming over the red of your shoulder, Sirius, I mean it.”

Sirius grumbles for another minute and then her head is peeking over the sofa, chin propping on the backrest, looking impossibly sweet, “Can you do it for me, Moons?”

Remus frowns, is about to argue when she realizes it’s futile because Sirius will find an excuse for not doing it herself either way. And she would struggle reaching the middle of her back anyways. 

If Remus can help slather her in SPF she can do this too, it’ll be fine.

It is not fine.

The way Sirius had sauntered out of the bathroom, throwing Remus a wink and a grin, hair sopping wet, ends dripping and carelessly leaving a wet trail in her wake and wearing nothing but a tiny string, had absolutely and definitely not been fine.

And when Remus had trudged back into her bedroom after her own turn in the shower dressed in soft shorts and an old T, lotion in hand, Sirius was sinfully splayed out over the thin sheets. 

Already on her front, one leg hiked up and clutching a pillow where she was dozing lazily.

Remus walks over with a lump in her throat and settles carefully on the mattress, nudging Sirius’ arm, “Hey.”

She gets a grunt in response.

“Budge up,” Remus says, the click of the bottle cap loud in the room.

Sirius peeks an eye open at the sound and then stuffles around a bit to make room for Remus to properly kneel next to her.

And so, Remus gets to work.

Slides the half-dried length of Sirius’ wavy hair over one shoulder and fans it out over the pillow. 

Sirius sighs, because she loves when Remus plays with her hair and scratches her scalp. Demands it often enough for Remus to know so she drags her short nails over Sirius skull a few times before she gets on with the After Sun.

Her friend sighs heavily, brows knitting in pleasure and that’s dangerous territory so Remus abandons that after a few more seconds and pumps a fat dollop of the cool, aloe smelling fluid onto her finger.

Rubs it a bit between her palms, “This is gonna be a little cold.”

Sirius hums in understanding and Remus notes her brace herself in the way her nose crickles a bit and then she hisses at the first cool touch of contact.

“Sorry,” Remus gently spreads the lotion between the wings of Sirius’ shoulder blades, marked by the pale strips that were protected from the sun by Sirius’ bikini.

Her eyelids flutter a bit, “S’fine.” Lashes long, and Remus is momentarily distracted.

Sirius lifts her arms obediently when Remus goes around the sides of her ribcage to get the edges of the sunburn, slumping back when Remus’ fingers retreat from the area. The whole time her eyes stay closed.

And then Remus is urging her to prop up on her forearms—which Sirius complies rather sluggish, complaining slurred, “Been nearly driftin’ off, Moons,”—to get her burnt shoulders.

Remus’ face twists into a grimace, “I think this may hurt a bit.”

Sirius hangs her head and makes a pitiful noise.

“I know, I know,” and before Remus can think she plants a small kiss on the jutt of her shoulder blade, hands occupied with the After Sun, “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

And goes on when Sirius nods a bit jerkily.

Predictably, it does hurt. 

Sirius moans pained, and Remus makes an apologetic noise as she puts even less pressure behind where she rubs the soothing lotion into Sirius’ overly warm skin. 

She keeps spreading it on every red surface and caressing her fingertips and palms over Sirius smooth skin until she’s done, all the cream absorbed.

Remus sits back and Sirius plops back down but before she can even think about standing up to wash her hands she’s held up.

Body freezing and eyes unblinking as Sirius- as Sirius proceeds to wiggle her ass, the swell of it shaking and flesh perky and nicely formed and also sunburned, “Moony, my bum.”

And Remus’ eyes skate up to her face because she must be having her on. 

But Sirius has got her eyes closed again and lower lip tucked in her mouth, like she tends to when she’s unsure about asking for things she wants. Nervous about being turned down.

And Remus would literally never, not in a million years so she hums in acknowledgment and squeezes more aloe lotion onto her fingers.

The string helps, funnily enough. 

Is so skimpy that Remus can just skirt her hands around it, doesn’t have to lift any offending fabric to be sure to have gotten every inch of precious skin. Other than when she’s asked to put SPF on Sirius back where she has to lift the strap, dipping her fingers underneath and it feeling far too intimate.

Which is stupid since Remus is now full on handling Sirius’ hot-skinned ass cheeks and it should feel dirty but instead it just feels pleasant. Like Remus is taking care of Sirius, which, well- she guesses she is.

What does feel dirty though is when Remus continues her path down the back of Sirius thighs. 

Usually milky white but today they’re angry red and so Remus slathers the lotion down there as well and then Sirius parts her legs.

Remus looks up at her but she’s still staring at the headboard, head turned front so Remus continues, dipping the tips of her finger down the inside of her thighs.

Sirius exhales a shaky breath through her nose, audible from Remus’ position so she asks, “Everything okay?”

The hum is a little more high-pitched than the regular one, “Jus’ cold.”

Remus nods dumbly and proceeds to smooth her fingers along Sirius’ thighs.

She’s massaging the aloe in until Sirius skin is nearly dry again, Remus’ fingers starting to ache dimly.

Gives one of Sirius’ asscheeks a gentle swat when she announces, “All done.”

Sirius leaves a bit of a strangled noise, which doesn’t sound entirely fake and dramatic and has Remus promptly feeling bad, unsure about the amount of force she used.

But Sirius hums again, long and low, overly content and then she’s wiggling onto her back, mattress bouncing, and demanding, “Do my front.”

-

(read the rest here)

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #wolfstar microfic #lesbian wolfstar #lune’s tiny fic

[hlizr50]

Remember that wonderful art by elizianna.the.one on Instagram? Where Lidia got a sunburn? You can check it out here!

Well, of course I had to write about it, because everything she draws is perfect and makes me want to dive into a slice of Ruhn and Lidia's life.

Aloe-ve You is a part of Tis the Season on AO3, a series solely dedicated to the inspiration derived from the artwork of elizianna.the.one!

You can check out Tis the Season here on AO3!

Read Aloe-ve You on AO3, or read below!

As much as Ruhn wanted Lidia wearing a bikini for… the rest of their lives… he also needed to get her out of the sun.

She was burnt.

She was very burnt. 

“We need to get you inside, baby,” he crooned, curling an arm around her and pulling her against his bare chest. Fuck, her skin was hot against his as he kissed her temple. “You’re fucking fried.” She looked down.

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Oh, Lids. You’re so fucking cute,” he laughed, peppering his kisses down to her cheek. “You’re in for a world of hurt. Come on.” With a little tap to her perfect ass he encouraged her forward before bending down, scooping up their towels and Lidia’s book, and following her back to Flynn’s beach house. 

When they were inside, Ruhn tried to suppress a shiver from the stark shift from the summer sun to the chilly air conditioning, and her skin prickled. Hooking her gently with his arm he walked them both to the kitchen.

“Drink some water and then sit that pretty little ass down on the couch. I’m going to get the aloe.” He leaned down and caught her lips with his. She tasted like sunlight and the coconut lip balm she’d applied earlier. Then Ruhn hustled away, bounding up the stairs to their room. He returned merely seconds later, the big bottle of green gel in one hand and one of his hoodies in the other. Judging by the way she’d pulled one of the throws up over her legs where she sat, she’d likely need extra protection against the air conditioning for her sensitive skin.

“I will admit that it’s a little worse than I thought,” she murmured sheepishly as she ran her hands over her arms. She could likely feel the heat radiating off the angry, red flesh.

“Just a little,” Ruhn chuckled, dropping himself onto the sofa cushion behind her. He brushed the wisps of fine blonde hair from her nape and leaned over her to press his lips to her cheek. “But don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” There the goosebumps were, again, and he chose to believe that this time it was because of his honeyed tone instead of the cool air.

He flipped the cap open and squirted a considerable dollop of aloe gel into his hand, snickering to himself as he envisioned what would happen next.

But at least he would warn her first.

“Okay, this is gonna be cold.” Lidia’s whole body jerked when he began slathering the calming gel between her shoulder blades.

“Fffffffuck me,” she hissed between clenched teeth. Ruhn’s laughter shook his shoulders.

“I would love to, but I think you might want to reconsider.” 

“I hate you,” the blonde muttered, which only made his grin grow wider.

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” he crooned, leaning in so that his breath tickled her ear. “And this morning.”

Lidia turned her head, golden eyes gleaming as her nose brushed his. Her voice was light and breathy. “You sound mighty smug about it.” Ruhn gave a peck to the tip of her sunburnt nose.

“I’m very smug about it. I’d like to find out how much you don’t hate me right now, but you had to go and get yourself burnt to a crisp.” His lips roamed to her shoulder, the heat of her skin warming him as he murmured against the tender flesh. “What am I supposed to do now, Lidia?” Ruhn felt her body shudder, and he hooked his arms around her middle and pulled her into his lap, her back against his hard chest. When she hissed, he immediately loosened his hold.

“Sorry, baby,” he added sheepishly, scolding himself for so quickly forgetting that she’d been absolutely fried. But she was just so fucking sexy and it was so fun to play with her like this.

And he knew that she could feel the hardness of his rigid length against her perfect, round ass.

“You have a one-track mind, Danaan.” Lidia tried to sound grumpy, but the way she curled into him and laid her hands on top of his showed Ruhn that she was just as content as he was.

He kissed her cheek and then grazed his teeth over the shell of her ear. “I can’t be held responsible for my body’s natural reaction to having a luscious, scantily clad blonde in my lap.” She rolled her hips – just a little – grinding her ass on his erection and earning a guttural groan.

“Just any scantily clad blonde?” she asked, her voice lifting with expectation.

“Are there any others?” Ruhn answered, just as she rubbed against him again. “You better behave, baby, or I’ll spank that pretty little ass and make it match the rest of you.”

The pretty, woefully sunburnt blonde wriggled out of his grasp and turned, straddling his hips and laying her hands on his shoulders. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She leaned in, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss before tugging on the silver lip ring with her teeth. Then she leaned further, her words branding him with searing suggestion. “Why don’t you take me upstairs and finish rubbing me down, and then I’ll repay the kindness.” 

The way she laughed when he hurriedly, haphazardly scooped her up and sprinted upstairs was like sweet music. The way he’d made her scream his name after was like a dream. And the way he felt as her hand squeezed him and her warm, perfect mouth sucked him dry was fucking poetry.

Clearly, he shouldn’t have been too worried about Lidia’s sunburn interfering with their fun. And, yes, he was still very smug about it.

#crescent city #hosab #house of sky and breath #cc2 #cc #cc3 #sarah j maas #fanfiction #fanfic #crescent city fanfic #ruhnlidia #ruhnlia #ruhn danaan #lidia cervos #ruhn x lidia #lidia x ruhn #ruhn danaan x lidia cervos #lidia cervos x ruhn danaan #inspired by fanart #daynight #nightbright #they're perfect and I love them and they deserve EVERYTHING

[kotsubano]

soap

cw: slight touching imagery

sakusa turns the hot water knob to the left, skin scalding and simmering under the shower, suffocating a little under thick, heavy steam; his breath condensing on his lips before sublimating in the fog spilling over the circumference of the shower stall. He welcomes the weight of the water, minacious with every droplet thrust by the showerhead, stupidly hopeful that the spray'll efface your very trace on him. letting out an inaudible whimper when his attempts prove futile, his skin puckered and creased, seemingly sculpted by your fingers, lingering and flimsy like beads of water dribbling from his limbs to the stall floor.

sakusa gingerly applies shower gel on his sore muscles, froth and foam cushioning the spray, startled by its scent, cucumber and aloe vera, confirming its yours as he holds the bottle in his hand. shrouding his body in the mousse and suds as he agitates the soap against his skin, secretly relishing in your smell within a saponaceous embrace. imagining your hands stroking and massaging him as the suds froth and retreat with lightest pressure.

interrupting his reverie with a stream of glacial, unfriendly water as he prepares to meet his girlfriend for a date this evening. stepping out onto the bathroom floor to dry and dress himself, zipping and fastening your scent to him within a 3 piece suit. spritzing cologne to deter her from discerning your fragrance; pausing to assess himself in the mirror, satisfied.

he makes a mental note to throw away the used bottle of shower gel sometime tomorrow. if he needs to pretend he moved on from you, he needs to act the part -- with his friends, his girlfriend, and within his shower.

inspired by @rinslutz and @diabolicalacid -- your sakusa smaus are genuinely so good, and I couldn't stop thinking about them! I had to write a piece))

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #hq drabbles #hq headcanons #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #hq fluff #haikyuu angst #hq sakusa #hq angst #sakusa imagines #sakusa headcanons #sakusa drabble #sakusa x reader

[nobedofroses]

Day 21: Training

pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x fem!reader

warnings: spanking, daddy kink, use of safeword, implied sex

words: 907

a/n: can’t believe i forgot to post this yesterday. fuming.

Last, Full List, Next

🎃🎃🎃

“Now, stay still, sugar! How many times do I have to tell you?” Jack admonished lightly, running his hand over your ass to smooth the sting. 

“I-I know, I’m sorry, daddy,” you said, a little tearful. He had only spanked you a couple times, but man did it hurt. “I promise I’ll do better.” 

Jack picked up your nearest hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “You’re very sweet, darlin’, and a good girl for daddy. But you know we can stop. You’re the one that wanted to train, I’m perfectly alright not spanking you.” 

“But I do like it, I just haven’t been able to take very much. I wanna do more, though. I want you to be able to punish me when I need it, daddy.” 

That made Jack groan, and you could feel his cock get even harder than it had been already underneath your stomach. He had you laying over his lap, your ass propped up at the perfect angle thanks to his thigh. You were still wearing your underwear and leggings, which felt odd for such a sexual activity, but Jack had insisted since this was for training purposed. He told you that you would start clothed so your skin had a bit more cushion. Then when you could take a full spanking like that, you’d move on to just your underwear, and then your bare ass. But with how sore your butt was already, you were sure it was going to take weeks to get there. 

“Well, alright, we’ll keep on going. But you stay absolutely still so I can make sure I’m hittin’ exactly where I want to, okay, honey?” Jack asked, with a healthy amount of sternness in his voice. 

You swallowed, already turned on from the spanking and his tone was just making it worse. But you tried to focus on the long-term goal of being able to take a spanking, “Yes, daddy.” 

Jack grunted and his hips shifted under you, “And, much as this pains me to say it, you better cool it with all that ‘daddy’ talk or daddy’ll be likely to cut this training short just to fuck your pretty pussy. You don’t want that, do you?”

It wasn’t totally clear to you what Jack wanted to hear, and if you had to guess, he wasn’t sure either. But you stuck to your guns, “No, d— no, Jack.” 

“Let’s try again, don’t move.” 

A second later, another spank stung across your ass and you cried out, feeling tears come to your eyes again. Then a spank to the other cheek, then five seconds later one more to both. With what he had done before, you were up to four on each side, a total of eight. Your goal had been ten, but you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You were worried that if he did give you those two more spanks, you’d be in so much pain that you wouldn’t want to do anything for the rest of the day, let alone fuck right after like both of you had hoped. 

As much as it disappointed you to have to stop prematurely, you figured it was the responsible thing to do and told Jack your safeword, “Cactus! Stop, please, daddy.” 

Jack’s hand immediately stilled where he held it in the air, ready to spank you again. Instead, he brought it down to your lower back and rubbed soothingly, squeezing your hand with his other one. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart, do you want to sit up?” he asked you, voice full of concern. 

You took a deep but slightly shaky breath, “Yeah, I’m okay, daddy. But I don’t think I can sit up for a bit.”

“That’s fine, sugar. Let me grab the aloe vera, it’ll help with the stinging,” Jack told you softly, getting up carefully. 

First he grabbed the aloe vera and then started carefully guiding you to move your body so you were bent over the edge of the bed and he could get your clothes off easier. You took in a deep breath as he removed your leggings and underwear, but were surprised to hear a choked sort of sound from Jack. 

“Daddy? Is anything wrong?” 

“N-no, darlin’. It’s just that you’re so… wet,” he said the last word with a bit of a whine, but cleared his throat and started putting on the gel. “But don’t worry, we’ll get you all fixed up and then we can cuddle or somethin’.” 

You smiled to yourself and shook your head, “I don’t want to cuddle. And I’m sorry, but I thought I was being obvious, daddy. The reason I used the safeword was so that you could still fuck me before I got too sore.” 

Jack swallowed, cheeks flushing as he realized that you were still calling him daddy after he warned you of the consequences. Apparently he wasn’t as observant as he thought. 

“Now, why don’t I stay still, just like you told me, daddy? Then you can make sure to hit all the right spots,” you parted your legs more as you said this, wanting to encourage him to get on with it. 

Apparently it worked, because the next thing you heard was Jack’s soft gasp of surprise and the sound of his belt buckle being hurriedly and clumsily undone. You smiled to yourself, glad he was finally coming to his senses.

🎃🎃🎃

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #smut #blurb #spooky smut 22 #nobedofroses

[feastofcadavers]

Carrying everyone was a mildly irritating task for Vampire. Mostly from the putrid scent of different cursed individual's blood filling the air… and the fact that he could've been carrying multiple corpses on his back. He didn't care to check just yet. The redhead just wanted out of there, to go somewhere comfortable, even if the weight he carried had him walking rather than the flying he preferred. Somewhere familiar… And considering how they were left in the lower part of the mansion, his sister's room would be the perfect place. Perhaps not for his emotions, still stirred from having to witness Mint's despair and heavy wounds. 

Ugh… Vampire shook his head as he stepped into his sister's room, gently setting the various bodies down. Lemon set behind a cauldron, dead as a doornail, Aloe set against a wall next to one of her stuffed-to-the-brim bookshelves, Caramel on a semi-comfortable cushioned and wooden chair… and Mint, with priority, laid upon the actual bed. Where someone is meant to rest. 

Looking over the violinist, it seems like he passed out along the way. Feeling the neck for a pulse, Vampire let out a sigh of relief knowing that there was still a pulse. Slow, but that's to be expected. Yawning, the drunkard wondered if he, too, should take a nap… but for once ignored his sleepiness in favor of at least patching up everyone else. It's what Mint would want, anyways.  ...though Lemon was left as is the minute he figured out there was no pulse- as if the sharp angle of his neck wasn't an indicator of his demise. Eugh. For someone that hated him and the rest of those stuck with this condition, seeing him like this was morbid. It struck Vampire in a way he didn't like. A reminder of mortality that even those like him had. At least he could distract himself by checking the others. Caramel, alive. Probably has some kind of brain damage considering the impact and the visible bruising, though he's not enough of a doctor to know that.  Grey would…  He'd know…  The redhead shook himself off of his thoughts, stepping over to Aloe to check if they were alive. It was a lot more debatable, considering how rough of a scrap they'd gotten into. But… alive. A pulse, though slow, and hard to hear through their newly mutated exoskeleton, was present. Good. Glad to know if Aloe wasn't gone mentally, they'd be here physically. 

With a moment of silence passing through the room, Vampire would look across the group that he wound up with. Even with all of this, the carnage and oppressive atmosphere that surrounded all of them, the curse… he could still feel it. A hand behind him felt around his wings, still distorted with veins. The hunger in him, though dulled by his equal thirst for alcohol, had not faded. Ugh… all this, and it's still not over? What else could be done? Vampire filed through his thoughts as he wandered and sat himself down on Mint's bed. Stone, but covered by blankets, left mostly unused. "You guys will think of something… right?" The drunkard murmured. "I'm not… thaaaat good at using my brain." 

…

Hazy vision brought forth a sight bright enough that one would think Heaven is nearby. Mint, not feeling a hint of drowsiness or pain, would slowly find his consciousness and take in what is around him. Golden lights from above illuminated a seemingly endless hallway full of portraits. Not having faces to stare at him, but something about them felt… heavily judgemental. The violinist would find himself staring at each of the paintings, feeling a sense of worry well in him as his legs carried him down the hallway.

Truly, this place would feel endless. And despite this, the paintings wouldn't repeat. Each unrecognizable yet still feeling pressured despite not having any means of proving that they were. A chill would run through Mint's spine as his legs picked up the pace. The golden lights would flicker, such heavenly lighting tinting cooler the further the hallway continued.

Continuing to travel down this path gave no difference other than the coloration around him becoming a familiar turquoise. Such a sight was certainly unnerving, as basic as it was. It gave enough fear in Mint's mind to turn back around- go back to that comfortable and warm golden hall. And yet, behind him… laid a wall of nothing but desecrated corpses. A sharp gasp nearly made the violinist's lungs ache as the disgusting sight nearly made him retch. Shaking his head and turning right back around, his pace would pick up to a sprint. 

The sound of bones crunching and guts squelching as the bodies were pushed forward would send a shot of fear through his system. He complains in his head about how he feels like he's had enough, but such a thought only made things worse as he tripped over himself and fell forward. Squeaking and trying to pick himself up, the musician would find his leg unable to be moved. Looking behind him, the wall had grabbed his leg, and was quickly advancing to swallow him whole. Tears welled in Mint's eyes as he clawed at the cold, tiled flooring beneath him- desperate to keep himself alive. Yet… to no avail. The darkness made by the densely packed bodies would easily overwhelm and cover his vision. Stuck inside this disgusting place full of decaying people… 

…and yet, the darkness would give way to floating in nothingness. It felt like a void, nothing but darkness. Is this death? Is this what the end is like? A sudden, relaxed stillness overtook the composer's form as he took in everything that is the nothingness.  It's… not so bad. Even as he could feel his injuries fade into his form, this… this was peaceful. Lack of sight didn't matter, his nerves weren't screaming at him from his wounds… he could get used to this. 

"Perhaps this is what will become of you…" A voice nearly startled the musician out of his relaxed state, but it was momentary at best. Rotating himself around in the blackness, the musician would be met with a gilded light above a familiar figure. Red hair glistening from the heavenly light, eyes oddly shining green… It was a comforting sight. "You… your self-importance… it does not exist, does it? After all this, that spurred bravery of your's… " The words weighed heavy in the air, like stones on Mint's back. 

"No worries… It merely means that everything is going smoothly…" The redhead approached, taking steps on the ground that didn't exist. "It's as easy as '3, 2, 1, 2', isn't it?" That… didn't make sense. Mint would speak, but his voice seemed to dry up when faced with what felt like an angel. The familiar being smiled down at him, taking his chin and lifting it up so that they were face to face. Too close, Mint thought, way too close. "I will give your broken spirit a place to rest properly in the end, I promise you that." The being drew ever closer, and Mint would draw back, only to be stripped of his sight, and-

…

Mint would jolt awake, immediately met with the horrific pain his body still had to offer. A yelp would turn into a whimper as the composer used his still functioning arm to hold the stump that was the lack of the other. Trembling from the dream he just had- only vaguely remembering it despite being in his mind only moments ago. 

"Heyyy… you good?" The emerald-eyed musician blinked and lifted himself up as much as his back could on its own to look at the voice. Vampire. Ah. His eyes were purple… why did he think they were-? "Uh, um, w-well… as good as I could be, considering u-uh…" Mint would vaguely motion at himself, looking downward. When had he been patched up like this? "Yeahhh… sorry about that, agaaaain…"  "It's… it's o-okay… everything got a little, uh, o-out of hand…" Mint would try to slow his breathing. The shock is still fresh in his system, as much as he wished that his injuries were just a part of some twisted dream. "How's… everyone else…?" 

Vampire would audibly yawn, looking at the various spots he kept the others. "Uhh… well, Lemon is definitely dead. Bad news, I gueeeeess." The redhead is trying not to look at Mint to see his despair of knowing someone else is dead. Trying. "Aloe's fiiiine, and the other one? Uhhh… I dunno. Probably alive. Juuuuust some brain damage."  "...I… don't know what I expected…" Mint would murmur, giving a heavy sigh and letting his aching body stay where it was. Vampire would stay by Mint's side, standing over him. "Do youuuu… neeeed anything?" The little hum of disagreement was all Vampire needed, though he wished he could do more. 

Everything felt… terribly silent. The air was heavy from tension and anticipation as to if the others would ever wake up. The only thing that would break the silence is the sound of breathing. A gasp followed by a hiss, that is. Vampire would quirk his head, looking to Aloe- the one that had given such a reaction. "Hmmm… good moooorniiiing."  "Shut it."  "Hehe… juuuuust feel lucky you're aliiiive."  "Ugh… I do not wish to… nevermind." Aloe would shake their head, trying to parse out everything around them considering their terrible vision. Where had their glasses gone? "What is… everyone's status?" Aloe's voice seemed gritted, trying to keep the pain- physical and otherwise- from getting through their voice.

"I'm okay…!" Mint would chime, raising an arm to wave wherever in hopes Aloe saw. Vampire sighed, giving a stretch. "Welllll, you're good, Mint's good, Lemon's dead," the small 'hmph' Aloe gave meant nothing to Vampire, "and the other guy uhhhh… is proooobably good." 

The researcher simply nodded, trying to test their muscles and see what worked and what didn't- and what did and just hurt to, of course. "We need to go back down there." They stated bluntly, prompting both of those awake to gawk at them. Even Mint lifted himself up, as much as it hurt. They couldn't see the other's expressions, but they assumed it was disbelief. Perhaps worry, for the one who cared. "Something is… not right. The hunger… still exists." 

As much as Mint didn't want to admit it… past the pain, yes, there was still that craving. Being reminded of it made him whimper, which wasn't really helped by the petting in his messy hair that Vampire gave. "I wouldn't knoooow, I've aaaalways been hungry like that. But… you reaaaaally want to go back? After I dragged you aaaaall the way here?" 

"I will carry myself." Aloe would state with a grunt as they attempted to pick themself up, leaning against the bookshelf they were laid against. "I am… used to this." Vampire would hum, shrugging before hearing Mint shuffling and trying to pick himself up. "Dooon't tell me you're trying to-"  "I-I don't want them going alone…!" Mint would practically whine, "Besides, I… I want to figure out what's… what's going on… I don't want anyone else to be hungry like us." The selflessness. Ugh, the redhead couldn't just say how endearing it was, considering how injured Mint was. "Then I'll come with you twoooo… sooomeone has to tend to the wounded." 

"No." Vampire had to hold back a growl from the denial that Aloe had given him. So stern. So ignorant to the care Mint needed. Even so, the scientist continued; "Someone needs to keep watch over what the creatures around here would see as a perfect meal. I do not care if he winds up being dead from a brain injury, if Lemon is dead, then someone would need to look after him. And that someone will be you." 

"Then why can't I tag along with Mint while you stay back? Or better yet, have Mint just stay here?"  "I am the one that knows what to look for. I am mandatory for the trip. And if Mint were to stay here, I would wind up traveling alone. Never a wise idea. And having you travel with me would mean that no one capable of defending would be left here… though I am assuming you would not wish to travel with me either way."  The redhead would try to come up with a retort, but was left with no words to say. He huffed, eyes darting away from the one that gave too good of a reasoning. "...no woooonder blondie never wished to cooperate with you until it mattered." 

Disregarding the comment, Aloe would stand themself straight and step to the bed Mint was laid upon. "Your bias is palpable." They'd mumble low enough for only Vampire to hear as they started to help Mint out of bed, trying to ignore the small sounds of pain that came from the movement. "So long as your legs work, it will be fine… I will carry you, if need be." 

Mint, unaware of the tension between the two and simply assuming that the situation itself was what made everything feel off. That, along with the lingering sensation of the dream in his body. "L-let's figure this out soon… I don't want t-to wind up too hungry and… well…" No need to finish that. Everyone knew and understood the consequences. Exertion really does bring out the hunger in someone… Mint felt his stomach churn as his weight was laid upon Aloe- realizing just how empty he felt. At least there were no pangs like he's experienced before. 

"Sooo… what, you're just going to leaaaave?"  "That's the plan." Aloe would give a short breath, adjusting themself so that Mint could wrap his arm around the taller one and not have to worry about much else but walking.  "Um-" Mint would perk up, one eye shutting at the perking shooting a spark of pain through him. "Actually, can I… do something real quick…? I-I think I owe it… and now would be… I- I think one of the only times it'll be fitting anymore…" The musician made a motion to get turned around, and the researcher would oblige, turning him around to the drunkard. "Could you… lean forward?" 

Vampire took a moment to process, blinking and eyes going wide as he practically threw himself forward. No way. Absolutely no way he's finally…  Mint would give a soft laugh, finding humor in Vamp's eagerness. "Goodness… o-okay, okay… Look, it's not that big of a deal! It's just… a small thank y-you…" And though it was highly anticipated, something wished for so long… just a small peck on the cheek was given. It was enough to flush the drunkard more than the hardest of drinks. "You're… you're weeeeelcooooome!" The two laughed, Aloe rolling their many eyes in the meantime. 

"Hehe… I'll… I'll be back, o-okay?" Mint would find just a bit of joy in this dark world seeing Vampire so alight. Not from him specifically, but… just from seeing someone so happy. Satisfaction from making someone smile. It's been so long… he missed this feeling… but it's not something that will last very long. Aloe would tug him along, and he'd have to go back to being walked by the other.

The joy the drunkard had still flourished, though was easily tainted by anxiety. His chest grew tight as he watched Mint get led away… but he had to have some trust. If Mint said he'd be back, he'll be back. It's a promise. Sitting himself on the now empty bed, he waved as the two left. The bed is still warm…

"...stay saaaaafe…" 

#feastofcadavers #📝 written scriptures #🍷 the bewitching drunkard #🌵 the rabid researcher #🎻 the court's conflicted #⚡ the vengence served sparked #🔧 the court's decadent topping #vampire cookie #mint choco cookie #aloe cookie #lemon cookie #hero cookie #caramel cookie #//all souls rest easy but the bodies agonize until the very end

[kylo-wrecked]

“ You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature. ” (Dark!Ren)

{ 🕯️ You conjured: Dark!Ren }

But it wasn't love that drove either vessel, Ren, unhelmed chassis, or the Pyrrha of aloe-soft abdomen. Through her membrane, they could watch the diaphanous black hollowing around them.

He'd not explained what Pyrrha was. Brunnhilde had to trust her biomechanics to conform a soft cushion to her body rather than digest her. Had Ren spoken, he'd have told Brunnhilde this sentient vessel consumed metals and compounds. Instead, he was a mast of silence, perceiving Pyrrha's intricate patterns of veins. Channels that were broken in him now, wires torn out.

Brunnhilde folded her wings, and Ren knew the look on her face. He saw with another sense—not the futile body; his left eye a water pearl; his right, a dark moon with clouds lapping over it; right digits whirring vessels unto themselves. Only the left hand could still steer the ship, a living thing at rest upon another.

"When one scales the celestial sphere, they realize the sky is black," he returned. The eyelids twitched. Scorn passed Ren by, leaving only a flicker on the face of a man he did not know.

@valkxrie

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #r. silver edge of darkness #edited: for quality assurance