#fluff and domesticity is the answer

[diazsdimples]

Inspiration Saturday/Several Sentence Sunday

Working a little more on my cute zoo one-shot! Here's a little moodboard for Inspiration Saturday and some sentences (I was so close to 7 this week guys I swear) for Sunday!

Tagged by @spotsandsocks and @hippolotamus for Inspiration Saturday (count this as your sunday tags 💙)

Christopher does his best to wait patiently in line for tickets, but Buck can see him bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands tightening and loosening over the grip of his crutches rhythmically as he tries to give himself something to focus on. Buck takes pity on the kid, leaning over so he’s able to whisper conspiratorially in Christopher’s ear. Eddie didn’t say anything about fun facts while waiting in line, after all. “Did you know that elephants have over 150,000 muscles in their trunk? And that they can hold up to 8 litres of water in it?” he murmurs, giving Christopher an easy grin when the kid lights up, finally able to spill the facts he’d been compiling all morning. “Really? That’s super cool! Did you know that –“ “Oi,” Eddie cuts in, jabbing Buck in the ribs. “I thought I said no hippo facts until we got there!” “You said no hippo facts in the car,” Buck corrects cheekily as Christopher nods quickly by his side, ever ready to aid Buck in tormenting his father. “And these are elephant facts, not hippo.” Eddie rolls his eyes, but Buck can see the small quirk at the corner of his mouth, clearly finding this far more endearing than he’d like to admit. “You’re impossible, both of you.” Buck claps him on the shoulder, shaking him back and forth a little. “Ah, but you love us.” Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he looks away quickly, clearing his throat. Buck would give anything to see Eddie flush like that every day.

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @puppyboybuckley@bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @aroeddiediaz @pirrusstuff @housewifebuck @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @tizniz @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rainbow-nerdss @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @epicbuddieficrecs @smilingbuckley @thekristen999 @actuallyitsellie

#this fic is healing me in so many ways #fluff and domesticity is the answer #also I'm learning so much about hippos and many other animals so it's great #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck #usercam

[simonrillleyyysss]

i am a firm believer that simon has a virginity kink thxxx for listening :3

this!!!

it’s not the idea of virgins, like.. them being a virgin is a turnon, it’s the fact that he’s tainting you and your innocence, he’s ruining you for anyone else and setting such high standards for any other man that tries to sink into your tight cunt!

‘y’like being ruined? only fr’ me..’

‘simmonnn—feels so big..’

‘yeaaahhh, that’s it love.’

he gets off on the idea of you being so dependant and vulnerable, how inexperienced you are while he’s so experienced; letting him shush you while sinking into you gently—hands digging into his shoulders; listening to your little cries.

if you’re not a virgin when he meets you, he’ll retake your virginity. forcing your face into the pillow while your hips moved back to bounce against his, whining and drooling into the pillow—brows furrowed as your eyes rolled back; arching your back into his palm.

licks ur tears lol

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #dilf ghost #ghost is babygirl #💞} riley speaks<3 #simon ghost riley x reader #💞} riley rambles #💞} anon answer! #🎀>ghost! #ghost simon riley #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon fluff #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #domestic ghost x reader

[yawnderu]

Bimbo!reader who has been crocheting for ages! And has made a cute little hat for her precious cat?

Since she now has two cats, our sweet bimbo!reader enjoys making them matching hats despite the massive size difference💗

“Si, look!” He stares at your bright smile for a few seconds with nothing but pure adoration, not even realizing that you're holding both cats until he notices Albert Whiskers moving around in your arms, making you go up to Simon and drop the heavy Maine Coon on his chest, almost knocking the air out of him on accident.

“Get the bastard off of me.” He says jokingly despite the way his hand immediately goes to run up and down the cat's fur, his gaze softening when he feels the cat kneading his chest.

“Don't be mean, he'll smack you again.” Again. He almost grimaces when he remembers how the Maine Coon got into the habit of smacking Simon whenever he did something that he didn't like— sounds, actions, and even certain words annoyed the giant cat.

“Y'made these?” His hand goes up to the little crocheted hat that Albert Whiskers was wearing, his fluffy ears poking out of the holes you made for them.

“Cute, right?” You teasingly wiggle your eyebrows at him, putting Ms. Whiskers on the little space Simon had left on his chest, tiny birman bumping her head with his jaw softly, her crocheted bunny hat making her look even more adorable. He plants a loud kiss to her covered head— a blond paw instantly gathering the strength of 20 men and coming up to smack his head a few times.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

#stray answers #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x bimbo!reader #simon riley x bimbo!reader #bimbo!reader #bimbo reader #simon x reader #ghost simon riley #domestic simon riley #domestic!ghost #domestic fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost fluff #ghost fanfiction #ghost fluff #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod #mw2 ghost #mw2

[purposechef]

Tattoos

#sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #the bear fanart #illustration #artists on tumblr #my art #domestic fluff #mutual pining #guess who's ovulating #me. the answer is me.

[xitsensunmoon]

Honestly answering asks for characters that change throughout the story is so fucking difficult. Like what am I supposed to answer if in the same situation the same character is going to act differently depending on how far they're in the story? So so difficult

#xit shh #logically i should do what i was doing this whole time: answering it from a perspective of the arc where there's no drama #domestic fluff and shit #BUT THE DRAMA IS SO TASTY :(((( #crying screaming sobbing

[frankthesnek]

♡ sharing a kiss before going in for work (but make it accidental first kiss due to sleep deprivation)

Normally, I only do each prompt once, but since this is so different from the other ask for this one I'll do it again! Thank you 😘

Coming in Hot

Rated G

Prompt: a kiss before going to work

900 words

Steve stood next to the toaster, tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for his bagel to be done. It was early, and the tower was calm. He'd seen Clint and Natasha preparing for their sparring session an hour or so earlier, but otherwise, it was a ghost town. The toaster finally finished, the crisp pop and ding of it shutting off startling him in the quiet of the kitchen. He plopped his breakfast onto a plate and checked his watch.

It wouldn't be a ghost town much longer, he would bet. Pulling the cream cheese from the fridge, he settled at the breakfast bar and finished preparing his food as he waited.

“Watch it Cap, Stark's coming in hot,” Clint drawled with an amused tone as he entered the kitchen a moment later.

“You don't say?” Steve asked, unsurprised and dry sounding.

The archer just nodded, looking far too happy as he poured the last of the coffee into a mug. 

“Fuck I'm late!” Right on cue Tony entered the space, tie hanging undone around his neck as he fumbled with his cufflinks. “Why does she keep scheduling meetings so early? She knows I'm not a morning person.”

“This wouldn't happen to be the meeting Pepper already rescheduled twice because you keep missing it?” Steve asked, the casualness in his tone giving away that he already knew the answer. 

“Maybe,” Tony grumbled as he picked up the empty coffee pot and frowned. “Barton, I'm gonna kill you,” he promised, glaring at the other man's steaming cup of coffee.

In response, Clint deliberately took a slow drink, holding Tony's eye while he did. 

“Definitely gonna get you. I swear your next batch of arrows is gonna blow up right in your smug little face,” Tony cursed and made a grab for the nearly full mug.

“Extra coffee for you on the bar,” Steve said, pointing to a thermus he'd filled earlier. “Better hurry, if you don't leave now, you'll be late.”

“Thank you,” Tony nearly moaned and picked up the travel cup.

“Uh-huh,” Steve drawled and held up half of his bagel before Tony could try stealing it from his plate. 

“Thanks,” Tony repeated with a sigh, taking it gladly. “Why do you know my schedule better than me?”

“Tony, the hotdog vendor in Central Park knows your schedule better than you do,” Clint piped up with a snort of laughter.

Steve chuckled, and he watched Tony hold the bagel in his mouth as he quickly did his tie. Nimble fingers tugging it into a knot that had no right to be as neat as it was for how fast it had been made. 

“I refuse to acknowledge the truth of that,” Tony spoke around a mouth full and held the thermus up towards Steve. “Is it—”

“Cool enough to drink? Yes.” Steve supplied, taking a bite from his remaining half of the bagel.

“You're an angel,” Tony said blissfully. Then he leaned over the bar and pressed a fast but firm kiss to Steve's mouth before rushing out, already calling the elevator via Jarvis before he left the room. 

Steve's bagel fell from his lax fingers, plopping back to the plate cream cheese side down.

“Did he just?” Clint asked, looking over at Steve with wide eyes.

“Uh…yeah,” Steve muttered, dumbstruck, his lips tingling from the surprise contact.

“And you guys aren't?”

“Nope.” 

The two men stared at each other for a moment in confused silence. Steve felt his cheeks grow hot. Tony, his friend and long-term crush, had just kissed him. Lips warm, soft, and real against his mouth. Clint was giving him a knowing smirk but was thankfully holding his tongue. A moment later, the quiet was broken by the buzzing of Steve’s phone on the counter.

“It's Tony,” he said, looking down at the smiling picture of Tony in his purple sunglasses that was set as the man’s icon. The heat of flush skirted down his neck and settled in his chest.

“Speaker, put him on speaker,” Clint demanded, coming to stand next to his friend.

Swallowing Steve swiped the call open and tapped the speaker function. “Hello?”

“I can't believe I'm even going to ask this but I'm rushed, suffering from a caffeine deficiency, and am severely sleep deprived so the last fifteen minutes are a blur—did I just kiss you?”

“Um, yes?”

Tony said nothing, only the quiet shuffle of him still rushing to his car coming through the phone.

“Hey playboy, this is the part where you ask him out,” Clint supplied, flinching away before Steve could swat him. 

“Do you have me on speaker?” Tony questioned, his tight voice sounding more flustered than angry.

“Maybe?” Steve hedged.

“Oh for Christ—” and the line clicked off.

“Wow, if that's how smooth he normally is, I can't imagine how he used to snag all the ladies. Must be the money,” Clint chuckled, picking up his coffee and heading off. 

Sighing and shaking his head, Steve poked his sad upside down bagel. Just as he was starting to think it truly had been an accident and meant nothing, his phone buzzed with a text from Tony. Steve smiled as he read it. 

‘Free for a lunch date after my meeting?’

Steve started to type out that, yes, he was free when a new message popped up, turning his smile into a joyful grin.

‘And that does not count as our first kiss!!’

#asks #answers #thank you! #writing prompt #prompt fic #stony #stevetony #clint barton #first kiss #fluff #domestic fluff #mother hen #drabble #ficlet #fanfiction #fan fic #writblr

[star-quill]

thinking about domestic quill makes my head spin, he’d be so much fun to live with 🥲🥲🥲🥲

😖no like he 100% would

he'd be the best at making u laugh when ur feeling a little down, knowing just how to cheer u up.

he's not a very good sleeper and u notice when u wake up and he's sitting on the sofa reading at like 3am. u get and up and move to put some music on, quietly in the background and he immediately perks up. he finds u and slow dances with u for a while until he yawns and u drag him back to bed, letting him pass out asleep.

sobbing crying at the thought of him running a bath and asking u to share it with him. ur leaning back against his chest while he runs his hands through ur hair, then he's rubbing bubbles into ur skin. there's no sexual undertones either, he just wants u to relax and be with him in the moment.

he will 100% help out with the cooking. he mostly chops up the vegetables though, but if the doorbell goes or u need to nip to the bathroom, he'll take over. humming to some tune while ur busy. when u come back to him, u can't help but smile.

sometimes it's literally just the most mundane, boring things that send u into a head spin. like if ur walking to the kitchen and u bump into him, or u go to the bathroom and wait for him to come out so u can go in. just the little things that make u realise u actually live together and he's in love with u.

he greets u with a kiss wherever he goes too. if he's going to mow the lawn, he'll kiss u before he goes outside. if he's going to make breakfast while ur still in bed, he kisses ur cheek and gets up. he just absolutely adores kissing u.

there are a lot of makeout sessions on the sofa, some lead to sex but most of the time he ducks his head, his lips on ur neck and then he's lost his footing. u both end up on the floor, he's groaning and ur laughing. he tells u it's not funny but the smirk on his face says otherwise.

u two will occasionally visit his grandpa down the street (peter wanted his own place with u but he didn't want to move completely away). and somehow his grandpa seemed to just have even more embarrassing baby photos of peter to show u while he just grimaces and tries to hide them.

it's not really early days in ur relationship but it's been just over a year and he's already thinking about marriage. he kinda slips it out one day, ur lying in bed together when he asks u—"u ever think about marriage?". u admit u haven't but getting to call peter ur husband? makes u feel all dizzy inside.

#<3 domesticity <3 #peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill smut #peter quill fluff #peter quill headcanons #peter quill drabble #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #✎ peter quill #answered #anon

[farfromstrange]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Matt Murdock x reader one-shot?

If you aren't comfortable writing this, that's okay! Basically the reader in an abusive relationship with an older man and she meets Matt in a bar. They flirt over drinks and the reader goes back to his apartment with him in a lapse of judgment. The reader is enjoying herself, cracking jokes and pretending nothing is wrong. Because of Matt's extra sensory abilities he can tell there is something wrong with her though. She’s recently been injured and he can hear and smell some of her injuries.

She thinks he won't know she's injured because he is blind and they start making out at his place, but when he takes off her shirt he starts subtly checking her injuries. When he gets to her ribs he stops and questions the reader because he can feel that a few are broken. She insists it's nothing and tries to laugh it off and encourages him to keep making out with her. He tells her no because she’s hurt and she gets embarrassed and tries to leave. Matt can sense her panic and soothes her. He convinces her to stay and lie down so he can take care of her injuries and he comforts her as she cries and promises her boyfriend won't ever hurt her again.

Hello, lovely! I'm sorry it took so long for me to respond to this. Thank you so much for your request. Since this is a very sensitive subject, I tried my best to convey it in the right way, and thank God, I managed to finish it! I hope you're doing okay and that you like how I interpreted your request. Thank you again and take care of yourself <3

Narcissist | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Trying to catch a break from your abusive boyfriend, you find yourself seeking refuge and a drink at Josie's in the middle of the night. It's where you bump into Matt Murdock, a charming stranger with the promise of a night of fun. Little do you know that the seemingly normal stranger has a much better perception. After taking you home with him, it doesn't take him long to discover the dark nature of your need to escape.

Warnings: ANGST, description of domestic violence, abuse, description of injuries, kissing

Word Count: 7.5k

A/n: This request probably hits very close to home for some of you, so I want you to take care of yourselves and proceed with caution. There are resources for victims of abuse that you can turn to. I've found this page for victims of abuse that's available in 115 languages: Home « HotPeachPages International Don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it! Remember, this is a work of fiction and does not represent real life. Take care of yourselves <3

18+ MINORS DNI

The crowded bar around him is bustling with noise. The distinctive smell of cheap beer and vodka clouds his senses. The balls on the pool table keep clanging against the corners and sliding into the holes. Conversations start to overlap. 

Josie’s has always held a special meaning to Matt. As uncomfortable as it could sometimes get, especially on Friday nights like this one, the chaos makes him feel at peace. The noise inside cancels out the sound of injustice that reaches his ears from the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, and sometimes a break is all he needs. 

He finds himself nursing a drink at the bar, listening to the condensation of his beer bottle hit the wooden counter. Lost in thought, he only lifts his head when the door opens. The bell attached to the frame rings out softly, barely tuning out the sound of fun that has started to dominate the room. 

Matt hears the steady sound of your heartbeat first. The muscles in your body are tense, and while your breath sounds calm, there’s a certain edge to the way you move and order your drink only a few inches apart from him. He can hear the sound of your voice, the smile that is undoubtedly fake but makes Josie smile too - and she doesn’t smile often because the clientele simply doesn’t deserve her kindness. You, however, seem to strike a nerve with your attitude. 

He can’t deny that there is a light surrounding you, but that light is about to be consumed by darkness. He can’t explain why he gets the feeling that something might be wrong; he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t recognize the distinctive smell of your perfume or the unique rhythm of your heartbeat. You’re a stranger and yet his mind instantly starts to circle what lies underneath the person you pretend to be. You’re not fake, he would never suspect that. You try to be yourself, or the version of yourself you want to be, but there seems to be something that is holding you back, something that is dragging you down and keeping your soul in a knot. 

The many eyes he feels turning toward you and the uptick of a few male heartbeats in the bar tell him what he already suspected; you’re attractive, and your smile captivates people. From what he can hear in your voice, you must be a comfortable character to be with, and as you say something to Josie that makes her laugh and he hears your laugh, Matt’s attention is on your entirely now. He’s intrigued. 

His head is screaming for him to leave it be, to leave you be, but he can’t stop himself. When Matt Murdock has his mind set on something, he needs to have it, and at that moment, it is you he wants to get to know. He can’t deny it; as curious as he is about who’s hiding behind the almost painfully obvious mask you put on - to a man with his heightened senses, at least - he is also attracted to you. Judging alone by the way you carry yourself, the sweet sound of your voice, and the way your laugh resonates, he can’t help but feel drawn to you. It’s a mix between curiosity, attraction, and concern that motivates him to grab his beer bottle and approach the chair you’ve seated yourself on, sipping on your vodka martini alone. No olives, he heard you tell Josie. You told her that you hate olives. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks. 

The moment your eyes fall on him, your heart skips a beat. Your jaw loosens as you eye him more carefully, your cheeks flushing, and the oxygen gets stuck in your lungs for a little too long. At least the attraction is mutual, he thinks, and your exhale carries a sense of determination. 

He holds his breath. Your eyes roam over him again, a different aura surrounding you now. “Sure,” you say, your voice almost hoarse, but he ignores it. 

Matt smiles, almost relieved, and sits down next to you. “Can I buy you another drink?” he asks. He knows yours is still full, but he can’t tell you that he can smell the liquor clinging to the glass, and how it always smells heavier when it’s full than when it isn’t. 

You frown, a cute little crinkle forming between your brows, and then you giggle. Your giggle is even sweeter than your laugh, and the blood rushes to your cheeks again. Your heart races. Though this time, your laugh is genuine. It sounds genuine, at least. He revels in it for a little too long.

“Um,” you begin, and your voice cracks as you try not to laugh. “I just got a drink. I’m usually not the glass-half-full type, but in this case, the glass is half-full. ‘Cause that’s the appropriate amount for a vodka martini.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry,” he says and tips his glasses. “I should have thought about that question before I asked. I didn’t see… well, I can’t see.”

He listens to your heartbeat. There’s a moment of hesitation before you laugh, noticing he’s waiting for a reaction. You laugh and it’s genuine again. The concern he had before flies out of the window and what’s left at that moment is this feeling of pure awe when he imagines the kind of person that is sitting next to him, and that he managed to lighten some of your darkness with a joke he often uses. 

“So, you still have a drink and I know Josie well enough that I shouldn’t recommend her cheese fries. That means I don’t have much else to offer you except-” Matt extends his hand, “I’m Matthew. Matthew Murdock.”

He raises his hand and you lean back a little, swallowing and considering twice what to do with his introduction. He frowns. Your reaction seems odd, and he sees the darkness sparkling again. Slowly, he lowers his hand again and offers a comforting smile. 

“You don’t have to talk to me,” he says. “I didn’t mean to come off too strong. I just heard that you were alone, as weird as that sounds, and I thought you’d want some company because, uh, I’m also here alone.” He tips his beer bottle in her direction. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, just say the word and I’ll leave.”

You swallow again, eye him, then exhale. Your shoulders slack and you turn toward him, your attention not wavering. When he finally hears your name come out of your mouth with gentle shyness, he smiles brightly again. You even offer him your nickname and it relaxes him to know you’re not as uncomfortable as you had first seemed. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

You return the favor, “Pleasure’s all mine.”

“Just to check in,” he smirks, “Is your drink still full?”

He hears you giggle again and he joins in. “It’s half-empty,” you say. 

“Oh. Well, mine’s too.”

“Then maybe we should just keep drinking and you can buy me another one after that?” 

Matt smirks. You’re bolder than he thought. He sets the brim of his bottle to his lips and says, “Deal,” before taking a long swig. 

You do the same. 

At the beginning of the day, you would have never suspected you would end up in this position. If you’re being honest with yourself, it seemed like an impossibility before. You woke up to the same nagging feeling in your stomach. You woke up just to be torn down. But every person reaches their breaking point eventually. 

Over the past two years, your days have looked the same. Every morning, you’ve dreaded waking up the same way you’ve dreaded going to bed at night, knowing that hell would start again in the morning. It has become a downward spiral that has gotten out of control. 

Every morning, you have to wake up before sunrise to make breakfast or you know your first conversation of the day would be a fight. You have to pack lunch and you have to give a proper goodbye. You go to work, and you get a few hours of break, but every hour, after every meeting, you have to send a message to the one person you even dread getting back home to now. You have to account for your whereabouts, you can’t go out after work and you can’t have friends. You need to cook dinner or your night will end in more fighting and pain, and you would wake up in the morning twice as uncomfortable. Most of the time, you have to serve your body on a silver platter to finally make the night end, and if you as much as slip up once, you’re going to have to suffer the consequences because as a woman and girlfriend, it’s your job.

At first, you were blind. You met a nice guy, you went on a few dates and it seemed like a dream come true. You were happy. The quirks he started to show a few months into the relationship were red flags, but you were young and so in love with a man older and more experienced than you, you ignored the signs. You believed him because he’s always made sure to tell you he knows better. The things he asked of you, you did out of love, but the more time passed, the more you started realizing that you’d gotten yourself into quite a predicament. 

The red flags you hadn’t seen before are clear now, and you know that the life you’re living is no real way to live, but whenever you get a moment of clarity and want to leave, it’s the smallest display of affection that makes you fall right back into the trap. Your daily routine has become a standard. Your relationship feels like a job and it hurts, more often physically than mentally, but his words are scarring all the same. You’ve tried fighting back, but it has always ended badly for you. 

Tonight though, something snapped in you. You were frustrated and in a moment of strength (or weakness) you decided to leave. That’s how you ended up at Josie’s, a bar far away from the apartment you share with the man you fell in love with but hasn’t been the same ever since your relationship became official. You stormed out and you walked the dark streets until your feet hurt and you couldn’t wait for an unhealthy amount of liquor anymore. Your goal had been to get drunk.

Never in a million years would you have thought that someone like Matt would walk up to you, let alone offer you his company. If you came home that night and he found out, you know for a fact you would have died. Though as the clock keeps ticking and you keep talking with this stranger that is starting to feel less and less like a stranger, you don’t want to go home. The feeling of being listened to is alien yet comfortable, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him. He’s compassionate, he’s kind and he’s funny. He is the kind of man you thought your boyfriend was before he turned around and stabbed you in the back, and he’s kept you there ever since. 

Though when Matt turns his head to you, making sure you know you have his attention, there is a faint flicker of hope you had once thought dead hidden away deep inside, and it’s starting to show. Just for tonight, you decide, you shut the part of yourself off that you can’t even seem to understand. For tonight, you decide, you’re going to pretend everything’s fine and that you’re not stuck in a cycle made by the devil himself. You decide to have fun. And you haven’t had that kind of fun in a very long time. 

He’s a lawyer, he tells you. He’s his own boss, he works with his best friend and he only helps those who can’t help themselves. He prefers justice over money. He’s catholic. He’s everything your mother once told you to bring home, and while they like the man you’re with, they would hate him if they knew the truth. Most people would. It’s only human to hate a man like that, especially for the things he did and continues to do. You know you’re supposed to hate him, and deep down you do, but love is a fickle thing and you can’t help but need him, even after all he’s done to hurt you. And that, in your head, is fucked up enough to get another drink. 

You get so enthralled in another conversation that you almost fail to notice Josie’s glance from behind the bar. Her eyes carry a look of concern that have you wondering what you did wrong. That’s when it dawns on you.

You touch your cheek, noticing how some of the sweat from your forehead has started to dissolve your concealer. You’re not allowed to buy expensive makeup, so you settle for what seems the most natural, and it does little to cover bruises because you’re not allowed to go out most of the time anyway, and you’ve never had the most obvious bruises on your face before. Today, that is different. 

For a second, you’re relieved Matt can’t see the obvious blue discoloration of the skin around your eye, then you meet Josie’s eye and the panic settles in. You touch your cheek and flinch when you apply too much pressure to the fresh bruise, trying to hide the shivers that adorn your skin. 

Matt looks confused and at the same time concerned, reaching out to touch your back and ask, “Are you okay?” He calls your name and it’s the softest sound you’ve ever heard. 

You don’t deserve it, you think. You lied to him, you told him you were single and that you were simply at Josie’s for an after-work drink. You laughed with him and you allowed him to flirt with you. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’ve lied to him or that you’re still lying to yourself by thinking any of this is okay. 

His hand brushes over a particularly sensitive spot just above your spine and you flinch. The sharp pain shoots straight down through the bone. It’s not his hand that lays on you now, it’s someone else’s. It’s the hand that bruised the skin. You know it’s not Matt’s fault, he doesn’t know what you’re hiding, but the anger inside your chest begins to bubble up. You’re agitated, and you know this is all on you. It can’t be on anyone else because you’ve put yourself in this position. 

You hastily scramble for your bag. 

“Where are you going?” Matt asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

You are quick to assure him, “No, not at all, I just… I gotta use the bathroom real quick. Excuse me.”

He follows you with his hearing alone, confused and concerned at the same time. Your steps retreat toward the women’s bathroom. The wood falls back into its hinges behind you. He can hear you placing your bag down on the sink and searching for something. The squishy sound of a tube of concealer fills his ears as you take out the sponge and apply some of it to your cheeks, rubbing the color into your skin. 

What you don’t know, he’s heard the hitch of your breath and the uptick of your heartbeat whenever a bittersweet lie has slipped past your lips. He could smell the fear radiating off your body. Whenever his hands brushed your skin, you grew uneasy but at the same time aroused by the simple action. You’re stuck in a weird middle space between attraction and anxiety and he’s starting to piece the puzzle together. 

When you flinched when he touched your back, he knew. He could feel the bone under your skin shift and the blood pooling in one particular spot. The nerves stretching over the muscle are inflamed, he noticed, and the fear that has suddenly spiked your heartbeat and prompted you to storm off into the bathroom set off the alarms in his head. 

Inside, you’re trying your hardest not to cry as you pat the concealer onto your skin. The bags under your eyes look so much heavier in the artificial lighting. The bruise is starting to sparkle a bright purple at the edges and the veins in the corner of your eyes are redder than usual. The vessels that burst only a couple of days ago still haven’t recovered. 

And your mind begins to reel; you wonder where you went wrong. Deep down, you know none of this was your fault, but as you look at yourself in the mirror and the ghastly picture on your right eye imprints in your brain, you begin to wonder if there was something you could have done better.

Usually, your days turn into a blur, but today remains a vivid picture in your mind. You once told yourself that if you stick to the rules set for you, you could be somewhat happy. Last night, you forgot to think. Your work day had been rough and when one of your colleagues asked if you wanted to grab a coffee with them, you were too exhausted to say no. A crowded café sounded better than the hell awaiting you at home. You lied and texted your boyfriend that your boss dropped another load of paperwork on your desk, and at first, it seemed like your lie worked. 

The people you work with are all around your age - some of them are even fresh out of college, and there is this guy, Louis, who’s simply a joy to be around. It was just a cup of coffee and a small stroll around New York, but when you came home and noticed you were still wearing your colleague’s jacket, there was not much that could hold the man you share a bed with back from unleashing his anger on you. 

You lost count of how many times you apologized. You didn’t cry, you simply let him have his way with you. As twisted as it may sound, you thought you deserved it. His hands and his words made you feel so incredibly small, you searched for the fault within you. You thought you did something wrong by accepting a friendly gesture, by doing something for yourself, and by being human. He’s always had a way of making you believe what he believes, but last night, he went too far. 

You’ve often been incapacitated by his punishment, but he left you completely humiliated, bloody, and bruised to sleep on the couch with bruises that still bothered your back from his outburst a week ago, and you found yourself crying yourself to sleep. It didn’t stop there. This morning, he barely paid attention to you, and for every word you said, he made sure to tear your pride down even further. By the time he left for work, you were late and crying and the kitchen was such a mess, he threatened to make you regret it if you didn’t clean up right this instant. So you stayed behind, you cleaned up, you put on the concealer that has become a shield from the prying eyes of the world, and you went to work. 

The last straw came when you arrived home long after him and he didn’t get the dinner he required. This time though, when he raised his hand and continuously beat down on the bruise around your eye, you didn’t lay down and cry. You waited until he was done and tucked into bed, grabbed your bag, and stormed out. What compelled you to make the decision, you aren’t sure, but it seemed to have been the right thing at the time. 

Though you know that if you decide to come back home in the morning, a black eye and a few broken ribs will be the least of your problems. 

You’re angry. You’re angry at him for making you doubt yourself and the life he’s forced you to abandon so many times before. You’re angry at him for taking your pride and turning you into someone too afraid to stand up for themselves. 

You make a decision, and it’s a decision you should have made a long time ago. 

Matt lifts his head when he hears you approach. There seems to be something different about the way you carry yourself. It’s an angry determination, a thirst for revenge, but at the same time, he can tell from the way you move and look at him that the attraction he has caught before has not once wavered. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” you ask him. 

He’s taken aback. The rational part of him screams that you’re in no state to make such a decision, but the rational part is also the concerned part and he knows that if he says no, you will find someone else to take you home and you probably won’t be as safe as he wants you to be. With him, at least, he knows you’re safe. 

So Matt makes a decision too. Unbeknownst to you though, he has a different motivation in mind when he says, “Let’s go back to my place.”

Your eyes light up and your lips curl into a smirk. “I’d love that.”

Your bold question inevitably leads you into a mouse trap. One second, you’re admiring Matt’s apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen and the way the Billboard’s green color illuminates the brown furniture, the next you have discarded the coffee he made you and find yourself seated on his lap. 

He’s a good kisser. Not that you have much experience in that arena, but as soon as you decide to kiss him - because in your life, hardly any decisions are ever yours - you get lost in the soft feeling of his plump lips moving effortlessly against yours. It’s as if he studied how to kiss. 

His hands on his hips are gentle and steady, yet he keeps you pressed to him as if he’s scared of losing you. You tangle your hands in his hair. The brown locks feel like heaven under your fingertips and you sigh into his mouth. His tongue slips between your lips and he makes sure to taste every last inch he can reach. 

You can feel his cold fingertips on your bruised skin underneath your shirt, but you don’t mind. Maybe it’s because he can’t see that you’re not scared of his touch. 

When he calls your name softly and asks, “May I?” as he attempts to take your shirt off, you’re taken aback for a second. The way he asks leaves room for you to make a choice. With a soft smile, you nod and he slides your shirt off. 

Leaning back down, you capture his lips once more. He smells like rain and sandalwood. He reminds you of a beautiful day in fall, the sun shining down on the still-wet ground as the leaves sway in the wind. His calloused fingers send shivers down your spine, but his touch has never been gentler. 

You know what you’re doing is wrong, but the sin of his lips tastes sweeter than heaven, and if wanting him was such a bad thing, you would gladly go to hell. Matt is a stranger, yet he makes you feel more alive than anyone else ever has. He sets your body on fire with a single touch, his lips dancing to a choreography that is now etched into your brain. He holds you close, he keeps you safe, and the pleasure that ripples through you is a new sensation that makes you feel so alive - for a moment, you finally forget about everything else. You forget about your boyfriend, you forget about the bruises and you forget about the fear and the pain that seems to follow you everywhere you go. You don’t feel the need to hesitate; you just want him. 

You get so lost in the taste of him, you misjudge the placement of his hands as sexual intimacy. It’s only when he pushes you away ever so softly that you open your eyes, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen from his vicious attack on them with his teeth. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to regain your breath. 

The green light reflects off his brown irises, his unfocused eyes carrying a sense of concern as they roam your face. He reaches out to touch your cheek, his other hand staying on your ribs. His thumb traces circles over the obvious bruise that adorns your right side, and he manages to find the bruise you’ve covered on your face with ease. Your mind is hazy and you can’t find it in yourself to question his actions. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and you watch him closely, the concern multiplying with each stroke of his fingers. 

His voice is soft yet hoarse when he speaks up. “What happened?” he asks. 

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hurt.”

Your heart starts beating faster. “It’s nothing. I’m okay. Let’s just keep going…” You lean back down to kiss him once more, but he stops you. 

“Sweetheart, your ribs are broken.”

At first, you wonder how he knows, but your curiosity is quickly replaced by the need to shield yourself. 

“I’m not going to take advantage of you while you’re injured. I need to know,” he says softly, “who hurt you?”

You pull away suddenly, climbing off his lap. You find your shirt on the floor and put it back on. Your heart races. His question runs circles around your head. Your hands shake as you get dressed again, and Matt whimpers softly at the loss of your warmth. 

He calls your name. Your silhouette is burning with fear and he is half-convinced that you might get a heart attack if your pulse doesn’t slow down. He knows he’s hit a nerve. The suspicion he’s had before becomes clearer, but he doesn’t want to assume something without hearing it from you first. Judging from your determination though, he needs to act fast or you will get yourself in danger as soon as he lets you out of the door. 

“This was a mistake,” you mutter under your breath, your voice quivering. 

You would be lying if you said this was the first time someone asked you this, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say that this is the first time someone has been genuine while asking, and it’s that part of his voice that breaks your heart and urges you to run. You made a mistake, you’ve meant what you said, but you’re not sure if Matt is the problem. If anything, spending time with him has proven to you that the mistake is sitting at home, waiting for you to come back and beat you into submission over and over again.

Matt cares and the fact that he does hurts so badly because now you realize how stupid you’ve been ogling for a love that has been built on violence and manipulation from the beginning. Your boyfriend has never loved you and he probably never will, and realizing that hurts even more than the fact that you’re about to push someone away who seems as if he just wants to help - and help is what you need, but God, do you hate admitting it. 

You should have known Matt wouldn’t let you go without a fight. 

He reaches out to catch your arm. “Wait,” he calls out for you softly. “Don’t go, please. I’m sorry, I just… I’m worried about you. I feel like you’re hiding something and I’m afraid that if I let you go now, you’re going to get seriously hurt. So please… please, talk to me.”

“You don’t even know me,” you snap, a pathetic attempt at keeping your heart safe from the vulnerability. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Someone’s hurting you.”

You swallow. The tears are threatening to fall. You’ve had a rough couple of days - no, you’ve had a rough two years and you’ve been waiting for a lifeline for so long, you eventually decided to give up. But there he is, Matt Murdock, holding out his hand for you to take. The lifeline is so close yet so far away, only because the fear that has seeped into your soul keeps you tied to the ground, unable to fight back. Oh, you want to fight back, but you’ve never learned how. You want to reach for the lifeline he’s throwing you, but you’re afraid of what it might mean. 

Matt tugs at your arm again. He says your name and you listen. The soft sound is about to snap the invisible string that keeps you detached from reality in two, and the tears are about ready to fall. 

“I know I don’t know you and I have no right to ask about your personal life, but I can tell that you’re scared. I can tell that you’re hurt. I won’t force you to stay, I’m not that kind of man, but I also don’t want you to leave. Just tell me, are you safe?”

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. 

“Are you okay?” he asks again. “If I let you go now, are you going to return to a home that is safe for you to stay in?”

So many questions and only one right answer. He doesn’t need to hear you say it to know what your answer is going to be. 

He lets go of your hand, albeit hesitantly. You don’t move. He expected you to run out, but instead, you stay. You stand there and don’t move. It’s as if your heart has made a decision that your mind is still arguing with, but he can tell that you’re not going to move. 

Once again, he calls your name. “Are you going to be okay?”

The invisible string snaps. “No,” you whisper.

Matt tilts his head. He doesn’t push you, he simply holds out his hand again. 

This is the first time in two years you say it out loud, but it sends the stone rolling down the hill and the tears start falling. “I think I need help…” You suck in a sharp breath, but it’s too late. The dam has already broken. 

He nods softly, opening his arms to you and you take the hug without hesitation. When was the last time someone has hugged you? You’re not sure. It’s been a while. You’ve been detached from the real world for so long, you almost forgot what it’s like to be human, to receive affection, to live your life the way you want it, and make your own decisions. You forgot what it’s like to breathe. 

Violent sobs wrack your body. You feel yourself shaking in his arms. His touch offers a sanctuary for you to release your anguish, and you do so plenty. The tears cascade down your cheeks, wetting your shirt and his. He only holds you tighter, making sure you don’t collapse. 

Every inch of your body is trembling. Fire spreads through your muscles, and the tension within them starts to dissipate. It slips off your shoulders and shatters to the floor like fragile glass. You realize that you’re just as fragile. Your foundation has taken so many hits, so many cracks, and you’ve tried everything to keep yourself upright. You developed methods of survival, but you’ve never truly lived. You’ve spent the past two years caged in, not even allowing yourself to cry because he considers it a sign of weakness. 

As Matt holds you close to him, the sickening feeling of loneliness is still there, but you no longer feel alone. You feel listened to. You feel comforted. It’s almost overwhelming. You find yourself unable to breathe while at the same time breathing better than ever before. Your body quivers again, and his grip tightens. You can feel his lips on your scalp, his fingers painting a pattern on your skin through your clothes. 

You’ve been scared and you’re still scared, but with Matt, it seems a little more bearable. There is something about him that just won’t let you go, but you mean that in all the best ways possible. 

As the waves of despair crash over you, you find solace in the warmth of his embrace. His steady presence and compassion create a haven amidst the chaos.

Gradually, the storm subsides, leaving behind a sense of catharsis. With tear-stained cheeks and a trembling voice, you gather the shattered fragments of your story, ready to share them with someone who truly listens, understands, and cares. You need help, you know that. You can run, but you can't escape on your own. And in Matt's unwavering gaze, you find the courage to speak your truth.

Silently, he guides you to his bed. He lays you down gently, encouraging you to take off your shirt. You’re not sure what the ointment he brings into the bedroom is made out of, but your tears make it impossible to speak. 

“This might sting,” he mutters. 

It wasn’t a lie. The scent alone stings in your nose, but as soon as the salve hits your skin, the cooling effect tunes out the pain of it all. You let out a trembling breath. 

“I’m sorry. You’re doing great. I’m almost done.”

He covers every last bruise you point out with the ointment. He cleans the concealer off your face and presses an ice pack against the bruised skin. He doesn’t speak. His ears are focused on the sound of your calming heartbeat and the comfort displayed in your body language. He listens to your breathing. He focuses on the signs that tell him that you’re alive and that you’re safe with him. He focuses on the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers, the jump of your pulse, and the way you reach out to hold his forearm as he pays close attention to the scrapes he finds on your arm. 

On his way up your body, he catches a single tear that has slipped your eye and started running down your neck. He strokes along the wet trail until he reaches your face. His thumb brushes over your cheek and he smiles, his brown eyes warm and focused. 

You look down at where he’s kneeling next to the bed, his hands still gentle, his touch never pressuring you into something you don’t want. You shiver. The ice around your heart has melted, leaving you behind naked and vulnerable, and your defenses are finally gone. 

He catches another tear. “Who did this to you?” he asks. 

You gather all of your strength to answer. “We’ve been together for two years,” you tell him. 

“So he’s your boyfriend?” There is a different sound to his voice now. 

You nod. 

“He did this to you?”

You nod again. 

“Regularly?”

“Yes,” you say. 

“Jesus Christ,” he curses under his breath, and you swear you saw him grab the cross necklace that is dangling off his neck. If he’s praying for self-control or your safety, you’re not sure. Maybe both. 

You take a deep breath, the weight of the past continuing to drag you down, and your boyfriend's voice loud and clear in your ear, threatening to hurt you. But not this time, you decide. You're stronger than that. In a short amount of time, you've seen how much better you deserve, and how much better you could have, and you want to learn how to breathe again. You want to make your own decisions. You don't want to be fueled by revenge or afraid to be hurt; you just want to live. That's all you've ever wanted. To live and to be in love, there has to be another way because what you've been shown up until now has been anything but genuine love. 

"It started small,” you begin, your voice still shaky, and the tears continuing to run, “insignificant things at first. He would get angry over the smallest mistakes or things that didn't go his way. But then it escalated... his anger, his violence. It became a pattern, a cycle that I couldn't break free from. He had these rules… I broke ‘em. I broke ‘em a lot, and whenever I screwed up, he would…” You swallow, the words too painful to utter. 

Matt understands. He knows what you want to say and he squeezes your hand, offering his support in the only way he knows how to. His touch is gentle, a kind of touch you’re not used to but want to get used to more than anything because it’s a touch like this that you’re craving. 

“None of this is your fault,” he says. His voice is gentle and affectionate toward you, but you don’t miss the unbridled rage hidden away inside. 

You don’t blame him. 

"I mean, I know. It's not like I don't know what abuse looks like, and I know it's wrong whenever I'm lucid, but then he looks at me and I just... I used to blame myself, and think I was the one who caused it. But deep down, I knew it was wrong. I just... didn't know how to escape,” you say. “So I played along because sometimes, he'd be the man I fell in love with and I wouldn't hate him as much, and he'd make me believe I needed him. He made me believe that serving him is all I'm good for, and I truly believed it. Sometimes, I still do. I feel so stupid now. God!" You sniffle, and the next sob breaks free from your throat.

He shushes you. “It’s still not your fault and it never was. Men like that… they thrive off of power and there is something seriously wrong with them, not with you. Please, believe me.”

“Then why didn’t I run?” 

The helpless sound of your voice breaks his heart. “He made you dependent on him. He forced you into submission. It’s co-dependency. It’s not your fault.”

The more he repeats the same four words, the further they settle in. They break through your mindset with a hammer, find a free spot in your mind, and manifest. 

"I understand, I really do," Matt says. "You deserve to be loved and understood, not used and abused. Leaving an abusive situation is never easy. But you took the first step today, acknowledging that you need help. That’s something you should be so incredibly proud of…”

You wipe your cheeks. “I just feel so empty,” you admit and he nods.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“And I’m scared I’ll go back to him. I don’t want to. Please, don’t let me go back to him.” 

Your arms reach out and he doesn’t hesitate to hold you close again. Rubbing your back as you sob, he whispers soothing sweet nothings into your ear. You cling to him, you cling to the lifeline he offers and he makes sure to keep your head above water this time. He won’t let you drown. 

“You’re not alone anymore,” and he says your name with the utmost conviction. “I’ve got you. We’ll find a way to keep you safe, okay? I promise.”

“I was so scared,” you sob. 

“I know.”

“I was so scared no one would believe me. I feel so foolish now.”

“I know, it’s okay. You did the right thing. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says.

It’s not your fault.

You repeat the same four words over and over again, and they manifest even deeper. You need to believe them, you want to believe them. 

He continues to hold you until your sobs have subsided and you can breathe again, looking at him, and he smiles back at you. 

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you ask, “Matt?”

“Yes?”

“What do I do now?”

“I’ll keep you safe,” he says. 

“But how…”

“Trust me, I’ll find a way.”

You look into his eyes, and almost as if he can feel it, he comes closer. “You know, I’m not that good with trusting people,” you say, your voice soft and almost bordering on a whisper. 

Matt smiles and brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle individually. It’s a simple display of affection that has your heart doing cartwheels. You feel warm inside. You haven’t felt so warm in a while. He’s found the key to a hidden part of you, a part you’ve been forced to bury, and he’s made it his mission to unlock it - and it worked. 

“I’m not that good with trusting people either,” he says, almost as vulnerable as you, “But I care about you and I want to help. I’m going to help. There’s always a way, and I’m a lawyer, I know people we can talk to to make this guy suffer for what he did to you. I promise to keep you safe, you can trust me on that, whatever it takes. I'm here for you. You've been through so much, and I want you to know that you're safe now."

You sniffle. "It's just... it's been a long time since someone cared enough to ask if I was okay. I didn't think anyone would believe me if I told them. This is so overwhelming, and it feels too good to be true." A sad smile spreads across your face. He reaches out to trace your features, gently trying to memorize every last crevice, painting a picture of you in his mind, and it's not just your soul that is so tragically beautiful. 

He smiles softly, keeping his hands on your face, a silent way of grounding you, of being close to you without pushing boundaries. He wants to be close to you, craves it, he wants to protect you and keep you safe - and he wants to make the man who hurt you so deeply to suffer. "I believe you," he says. "I want to help you heal. I want you to get the justice you deserve. You don't have to face this alone anymore. I know we don't know each other, but I would never leave you hanging, especially not in a situation like yours."

Fresh tears spring into your eyes as your sad smile turns almost grateful. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. "Thank you," you murmur. 

“Anytime,” he whispers back. “You deserve to be loved and cherished. You’re a good person.”

“I forgot what it feels like to be loved…”

Grabbing your hand, he squeezes it gently. “I know,” he says, “But you’re going to remember. I’ll help you remember if that’s what you want. ‘Cause you’re too good to be used like that.”

You chuckle, a tear sliding down your cheek. “That sounds nice, actually,” you admit. 

“Do you have anywhere to go to?”

You think for a moment; your family lives out of town and you don’t have any friends. You’re completely and utterly alone and the realization strikes you hard.

Matt hears the change in your heartbeat and his face softens further. “I take that as a no,” he says. 

You look away. You know you don’t want to go back, you can’t go back, he promised you wouldn’t have to go back, but you also have nowhere else to go. 

But then he is there and he grabs your face with both of his hands, underlining what he had actually meant to say. “You can stay here,” he says.

Do you want to stay with a stranger? You contemplate. You’ve asked him for help and you appreciate the way he makes you feel so secure, but there is this dark part of you that is afraid of what might happen if you do and suggest to not put up a fight and go back home. You need to choke out that dark part of you.

“You deserve better.”

And you hope you can remember that. 

“He can’t hurt you here, so I want you to stay with me. Just for tonight. Just until we’ve figured out a way to keep you safe permanently, okay?” 

The look in his eyes in genuine. “You mean that?” you ask. You’re not sure why you trust him so much, or why you don’t even consider questioning how he plans on protecting you because something tells you he knows what he’s talking about, and maybe that’s because he’s one of the most expressive men you’ve ever met. There is not a lie that could have slipped you. 

“I swear on my life,” Matt says. 

In desperate need for a break, for safety, for solace, you nod. “Okay,” you say.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” Though it is you who has to thank him.

Matt Murdock just saved your life and you don’t quite know how you could ever fully repay him for not giving up on you like most people in your life have ever since you were born, and for the first time, you truly believe that you don’t have to return to the same hell you just escaped from. He’s got you, you trust him on that, and as you lie in his bed that night, trying to fall asleep, a sense of safety settles in that finally reignites that glimmer of hope that had gotten lost on the long, rocky road to where you are now. 

#tw: domestic violence #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #matt murdock x you #no y/n #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #request #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #matt murdock fluff #one shot #lizzi answers

[notroosterbradshaw]

TBE Bradley and yours day off, what would the day be like

LONG MORNINGS IN BED... because they are so infrequent. Soz, this became a thing... unproofed, because you know I’m wild that way.

Hmm, would def start with a sleep-in and Bradley may sleeping beyond his strict 0400 alarm, but it’s uncommon. He still likes to start his day early and get in a run (ew) with Betsy, to get the coffee started. He can get that done, as well as shower before sneaking back into bed (he's learned the art of stealth to avoid waking his not-so-morning person beside him) with our reader, who sleeps to a reasonable 8/9am, usually woken to a mass of butterfly kisses on the pulse, across her cheeks and lips when Rooster just won’t wait any longer.

"The only acceptable way to be woken up," you say with a bold stretch and yawn, Bradley snuggling into your warmth and being enveloped by your arms. He likes to snuggle in the morning, quite content being the little spoon when required. It doesn't need to lead to anything sexual (it mostly does), but he's just content having you close. "How long have you been awake, or is that a stupid question?"

"Stupid question," he admits. "Coffee on your bedside table."

"My God, I love you," you gently push him off to take a sip as he giggles quietly, making himself comfy on his pillow. He knows his rank in the morning. You don't know why it tastes better when Rooster makes it and he swears he doesn't do anything except press the button, but it does and you can't explain it. "Did you sleep okay?"

The fairweather shrug of his muscular shoulders tells you probably not. That is becoming more frequent and at a time that's not right now, you're keen to ask if he's considered giving more time to the shrink. He hasn't quite been the same since his last detachment and you can't quite place why, because he's very convincing that things are truly okay.

"Come here," he says, opening his arms to you once the hot coffee is a safe distance away. You gladly fall into them, he's freshly showered and smelling like that cologne you love that smells like summer and fruit. "What do you want to do today?"

"No plans."

"Awesome, because I have a thought."

"I'm all ears," you said, your hands tracing the lines and ridges of his chest and abs. Rooster wasn't big on the romance, so him planning anything for the both of you was always something considered, rarely off the cuff.

"Boozy late lunch at that grill on the pier you love," he started. Smiling to yourself, he took the hints you dropped last week about wanting to go again. Good work, Rooster. "Yes, I listen occasionally," he could feel your smarts with a small laugh.

"I know, you're a very good boy," you teased, patting his face as he caught your hands, kissing your knuckles.

"You're as subtle as a fuckin' sledgehammer,” he muttered.

"I gotta get into that pretty head of yours."

"You are a permanent fixture. 24/7," he sighed wistfully. "And then sundown on the beach, what do you say?"

"Sounds awful," you told him, looking up at his grin back to you. "So, late lunch?"

"Yes, you don't have to get out of bed," he stroked your hair.

"Good, because you're nice and warm."

"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes, tucking you up tightly.

"I love mornings like this."

"I know," he said softly. "We don't get enough days like this."

"Yeah," you said solemnly.

"Wanna do it more often," he said, but you weren't sure if it was a question or statement. "So, I, uh, spoke to Cyclone's yesterday."

"Argh, what did you do this time, Rooster?" you almost didn't want to know. It has been a while since he'd been done for insubordination, but knowing his wit and occasional bursts of frustration he couldn’t contain, it got him in trouble enough at the best and worst of times.

"Hey," he laughed, smacking your ass with a rough thwack as you cursed a little... enjoying it. "Who said anything about a punishment?"

Keeping your trap shut, you let him speak.

"I was offered a position as an instructor again."

"Again?" you sat up to look at him, squinting. "When were you offered one before?"

"Before we started dating," he reassured you as you settled back on his chest, happy to avoid that argument. But he wasn't entirely being truthful. Rooster had approached Cyclone about taking the position if it was still available. 'The position was never off the table, Lieutenant. I did expect you to consider this appointment well before today because of...' You. It all came down to you now. "But it just seemed right. I get to come home to you every day."

"Does it mean you could still be called up?"

"Yeah," he admitted, “But it means I won't be away for months on end anymore. Hopefully."

Smiling into his chest, you tried to blink back tears. "Did you accept?" you asked meekly.

"What do you think?” he dragged your body up to his. “Totally knocked it back.”

You knew he was joking but kissed him deeply. “Oh, my goodness,” was all you could say.

“You are gonna get so sick of me.” he teased, apples of his cheeks flushing red. 

“Impossible.”

“Okay, for that news, you get the good lovin’ this morning,” you said, whipping off his ratty, old NAVY shirt as he boogied to himself.

“Yes,” he clapped quietly, wrapping you up and rolling you over. Days off were the fucking best. 

#notroosterbradshaw #asks answered #domestic!rooster drabble #rooster drabble #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw

[kelin-is-writing]

how would dabi react if his s/o asks to dye his hair for him and offer to wash and brush it too? :3

(love all of these headcanons so far btw 💕)

- 🥛

dabi x fem!reader

the first time you offer him to do that he’s reluctant about it, because dabi has never let anyone that close to him ever since what happened at sekoto peak. he was about to tell you he wasn’t really sure about it, but the moment dabi saw you looking at him pouting and with big puppy eyes his resolve started to waver; he adverts his eyes flustered trying to not make you realize how weak he actually is against that look you were giving him “fine... so stop looking at me like that...” and when your eyes light up as an excited smile forms on your lips, dabi realizes that it was worth accepting your offer if he got to see you that happy.

after that time he would always ask you to go through the “dye his hair -> wash them -> dry them -> brush them” cicle because aside from the fact that it has become an habit, your touch relaxes him a lot and he likes these little moments the two of you share together. bonus! you look like having lots of fun and that’s enough for him.

#kelin responds #answered #🥛 anon #bnha fluff #mha fluff #dabi fluff #touya todoroki fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader fluff #mha x reader fluff #dabi x reader fluff #touya todoroki x reader fluff #🥛 you know how much i love domesticity with dabi please... why doing this to me??? to make me cry???? #also i'm super happy you're loving these headcanons!!!! i'm loving writing them for you guys 💕 #you all come up with very interesting wholesome and sexy asks!!!! i'm having so much fun 🤧💜 #how would—? (s1)

[nakedcows]

Wonderful, thank you very much. First, I have to confess, that the way you created the dark prince, is simply magnificent. Aemond is beautiful in your performance.

I'll understand, if my request seems not interesting to you.

You and your brother don't have much of an age difference. Literally a year or a year and a half. You are not twins, but you feel that way. At least, judging by, what you've heard about twins... You loved all your brothers and sisters, everyone, in general, but you loved Aemond the most and felt the most of all.

It was normal for the little prince and princess to cry at the same time, being in different parts of the house. If your brother is hurt, then you are hurt the same way. If you're sad, he's sad, too. You don't understand, how it works, and you don't want to understand. You have each other, and that's all you care about. The day the prince had his eye "knocked" out, you begged him not to go. Of course, you wanted him to have a dragon, but you have a terrible feeling. Something bad is going to happen. You tearfully begged him not to do anything, but he didn't listen. As a result, no matter how Aemond drove you away from him, no matter how he drove you out of the room, you did not let him out of your arms, and constantly cried. You bathed him with affectionate words, in all the languages, you knew, you sang compliments to him, in all the languages, you knew, you constantly apologized, that you didn't protect him, you encouraged him. You never left him for a second. At some point, Aemond thought, that one of your eyes was redder, than the other. He must have imagined it... But, what he didn't imagine, was that on the mixture of your tears and his blood, he promised, that even death would not separate you. That one day, he will bind the two of you even more tightly, than you are tied now.

You have always been very close and loved each other very much. Aemond could take a relaxed nap on your lap in the garden, you could, without thinking about anything, cuddle up to his shoulder in the library, listening to him read to you. It has always been so, and your prince swore to you, that it would always be so.

And then, a couple of years later, your parents had a little princess. Well, you thought to yourself, was born and was born, okay, what's it to you. But somehow it so happened, that you and Aemond became a replacement-parents for the baby princess. You both know, what it's like, when no one cares about you, so you tried to protect the girl from this. Well, somehow it so happened, that when the little princess first chirped: - Pa! - Her little hands reached out to her older brother. You already opened your mouth to make a joke on Aemond, but your sister, diligently tried to coo: - Ma... Ma! Ma...Ma! - And now, Aemond started laughing at you. You never taught her that. You always called each other as usual: "Aemond", "Y/n", "my love, my darling", "dear brother, my sweet prince", and so on. And her parents, who are her parents, the little princess stubbornly called by name or by title. In public, it's very embarrassing... But Aemond got used to it surprisingly quickly.

In fact, it even intensified his obsession with you. He is truly blessed. First of all, he has you. His soul, his guardian, his meaning of life. And now, you two have a child, even though your skin only knew his innocent touches and kisses. He hasn't even touched you yet, as he wishes, and you already have a child. Almost immaculate. The child, who gave him a purpose. A couple more years of waiting, and he will bind the two of you forever. And the little princess, he is sure, will be glad to have a brother or sister, or several.

This is already a familiar sight, your sweet brother is dozing by the fireplace, a book, that has fallen out of his beautiful, tenacious fingers, is lying next to him, your baby sister is peacefully snoring on his chest, shamelessly pouring her saliva into Aemond's beautiful shirt. You cover them both with a blanket, and sit down next to the chair, on the floor, looking at what they were reading there so interesting.

A/N: Ahhh I got my first request!!! Thank you so much I'm so delighted you enjoyed my dark Aemond story💜💜💜. I appreciate this sweet request, I'm not used to writing fluff so forgive me if it's a bit rough (had to add a touch of angst i couldn't help myself lol).

word count: 1.8k

From birth Y/n was connected to her older brother Aemond. Though Aemond and Y/n were not born together there was a clear tether between the two that refused to be ignored. Y/n and Aemond shared a cradle during infancy for when the two were separated even in their sleep, they would screech endlessly until they were returned to the comfort of each other's company.

While the unexpected dependency of the young prince and princess were merely thought to be acquainted with the strange behavior of babes, their connection bled into childhood. As a small child Aemond was not one to cry, not when scraping his skin against stone or bumping his head. However, their mother Alicent quickly took notice that when his sensitive little sister began to weep even at the smallest of dilemmas he would join her cries with the same anguish. Alicent would often be attending to Y/n after she had tripped or Aegon had stolen one her sweets, only to have a nursemaid arrive at her door soon after with Aemond on her hip needing the same comfort. Y/n remained sensitive even as she grew to the age of nine. Though it was dangerous to be sensitive in the Red Keep even at such a young age, Y/n had no fear for when her heart began to ache and her chest began to clench Aemond would valiantly appear with a handkerchief offering his assistance and giving her solace. Were Y/n wore her grievances on her face Aemond was always silent in his sorrows. No one knew when Aegon's slights and the snickering of his nephews at the absence of a dragon of his own cut too deep. None knew of the tears he would stifle in the moment and let loose shed in his chambers. None but his sister. Y/n could feel Amond's distress as he could feel hers and always sought him out to relieve him of the dread that seeped into her soul the same it did his. Eventually the connection between brother and sister came to a head on that dreadful night. That night on Driftmark when Aemond had a dragon to claim for his own. Y/n had awoken from her sleep with a sudden rush of adrenaline. There was a pounding in her chest as she rose from her and Aemond's shared bed to find him on the balcony staring up at the sky as the behemoth Vahgar came to land on the beach with a strident chuff. Y/n rolled off the bed to join him.

"Aemond what are you doing?" she said. Though she was right next to him Aemond could not remove his eyes from Vahgar as he spoke.

"Do you see her. She is just there waiting with no one to guard her... no one to claim her," Aemond began to grin his chest filling with aspiration, but the edges of his enthusiasm began to falter as unease crept into his new found zeal. Aemond turned to his sister to see her eyes filling with panic.

"You cannot Aemond! What of Rhaena?"

"What of her? If she truly had the heart to claim her mother's dragon she would have done so by now,"

"She will not see that. Please, you must do nothing your dragon will come," Tears began to bubble at the corner of Y/n's eyes as unease developed into dread.

"My dragon is already here," Aemond brushed pass Y/n quickly dressing before leaving to claim Vahgar.

Y/n felt the exact moment Aemond's eye was stolen. As she laid restlessly in bed staring up at the canopy. Hoping the anxiety she was sharing with Aemond would encourage him to abandon his conviction and return abed. When a sudden surge of panic coupled with fear unlike she had ever felt before, vaulted her out of bed and rushing her out of the door in a thin robe covering her night dress to find Aemond. Sprinting into the grand hall Y/n found Aemond sitting in a chair facing away from her with his fist clenching and shaking. Their mother was kneeling before him with a measter at her side attending to the left side of his face. Alicent lifted her head when Y/n entered the room giving her a sorrowful smile and informed Aemond of her arrival. She flinched at Aemond's harsh tone demanding that she leave immediately. But she couldn't leave him. Though their mother sat close by Y/n could feel his lonliness. It was a deep set ache that left the both of them feeling empty. Isolated. Discarded. Y/n crept closer to where Aemond sat feeling his body stiffen a layer of shame added to their bond when she grabbed his hand and came to fully face the front of his chair. The unshed tears Y/n had buried when Aemond left the room poured from her eyes in an endless torrent at the sight of her brother's face. Aemond had a lurid gash surrounded by swollen blood stained skin newly stitched together by the measter. His remaining eye was blood shot avoiding his sisters teary gaze as she came closer until he felt her helplessness within their bond. Y/n had failed him. The knight always rushing in to save her. The strong older brother that would abandon his training and studies to comfort her in her weakest moments. She had failed to protect him. Y/n cradled her brother in her arms apologizing all throughout the night with delicate kisses to his temple.

After that night Y/n refused to allow Aemond to do anything alone. Instead of spending time with her septa she would bring the books she was meant to study to the training yard to keep an eye on Aemond as he trained with the sword. She would even refuse the maesters when they came to change Aemond's bandages. Y/n thought them too rough when handling her brother's injury and had studied disinfecting wounds along with proper care after serious injury so she could care for Aemond herself. And though she had a dragon of her own Y/n refused to ride her until Aemond was healed enough to take flight atop of Vahgar along side her. Once Aemond had recovered enough to ride Vahgar, he and Y/n flew to Agon's hill. During the hour of the owl draped moonlight Aemond cut his lip then his sister's. He leaned his forehead against her own and promised to be further their bond into eternity. Aemond and Y/n shared their first kiss that night with no one but the stars to witness their union. He vowed to bind himself to her in the ways of old Valyria and sealed his vow with another kiss.

As the years passed Aemond and Y/n had blossomed into a handsome dragon knight and an well read lady. Spending their days as they always have since the tragedy that befell Aemond the day he conquered Vahgar. Together in every way. There was no Aemond without Y/n and no Y/n without Aemond. Naping lazily in the gardens was spent laying in eachother's lap. They spent every meal holding hands under the table or on top of it when they were alone. Aemond loved how his dear sister would mindlessly lean against him while they read together in the library and swore there would never be a day he was not there for her to lean on. Along with the maturity of the intimate siblings came an unexpected pregnancy of their mother Alicent. The queen mother gave birth to daughter named Saerella. Saerella was born without a single Targaryan feature. Her chestnut hair curled like her mothers and she had the same brown doe eyes along with the same face shape. She inherited nothing of her king father's and were it not for her title one would think her Hightower instead of Targaryan. Because she was born a girl, the youngest of the kings brood, and without any distinct Targaryan traits Saerella was left neglected by her mother and father more so than her older siblings. However, Y/n and Aemond would not leave their sister to be left behind as a forgotten spare as they had. Y/n had her little sister moved into her and Aemond's bedchambers and the two began assuming the role of caregivers for little Saerella. It was an endeavor for Aemond and Y/n to care for their new sibling. Balancing the care, maintenance, and the attention their sibling required along with their daily duties was a difficult undertaking. But as little Saerella went from a newborn to a toddler of one and a half, she became a commonplace staple in their lives. The same as their naps in the garden and lounging about the library with thrilling stories. Though Saerella became apart of ther lives Y/n and Aemond never shied away from the affectionate names they had for one another even with her present. The loving pair rarely called each other by their names these days. It was more often then not little Saerella would hear her older siblings refer to eachother as

"My darling" "My knight" "My dearest love."

Her older siblings didn't notice or think about what this could result in, until one day when Aemond had returned to his bed chambers and was greeted by the familiar sight his dear sweet sister Y/n and his darling youngest sister Saerella. Saerella was enthralled within the storybook being read to her next to the hearth, until she noticed Aemond's presence and perked up.

"Papa!" she said cheerfully. Saerella hopped from Y/n's lap toddling over to Aemond and bounced raising her arms for him to lift her causing her auburn curls to jump with her. Y/n couldn't help but giggle at seeing Aemond's face began as he leaned down and lifted Saerella to sit on his hip.

"It seems our little one thinks you her father," Y/n said. Y/n slid to the right a bit on the chaise to make room for Aemond to sit with Saerella on his lap. Though Y/n's tone was in a jesting manner Aemond felt their bond prickle with a touch of jealousy.

"Who have you been with today sweet girl?" Aemond asked Saerella.

"Mama!" Saerella smiled gleefully up at Y/n. thoufh they had yet to bind together in the ways of old Valyria Aemond couldn't help but feel that everything was perfect. Him and his dear sister hadn't conceived yet already they were bound together by a child of their own Y/n. His darling Y/n. She was the sun that rose over the horizon. She was the love bleeding from his heart everyday. She was the mother of his child. As Y/n continued to read from storybook Aemond and Saerella fell asleep beside her. Aemond hadn't seemed to noticed Saerella's open mouth snoring or the drool that began to drip from her chin as she slept atop his chest. Y/n with a teary smile left the book to the side and brought over a fur blanket from the bed. She leaned against Aemond as she herself dozed off into the sweetest of dreams. In it she was being wed in the traditions of their predecessors as Aemond had promised her in their youth. They shared a bloody kiss together. She could taste the nostalgic sweet taste of his blood on her lips. It was splendid. Magnificent. Perfect.

A/N: Thank you for reading don't forget to reblog and comment

#hotd au #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #fluff #aemond fluff #domestic aemond #aemond x reader fluff #aemond x sister reader #request #requested #fanfiction asks #fanfiction requests #request answered #ask answered

[simonrillleyyysss]

Sweetest🖤

I have an idea for you, hear me out right:

Guarddog!Simon x f!reader (nsfw) :

• Simon is a hybrid, ex-military/rehabilitated illegal fighting. He's just existing now with no home.

• Reader is antisocial, working girl but she wants company and protection.

• She goes to adopt a companion, did not expect taking Simon since he was left isolated for being difficult.

• She gives him independence outright despite what she adopted him for but he stays, she treats him like a being.

• Lowkey they're enemies to lovers because they're both the same, grumpy x grumpy- they take time.

You can develop that dynamic and add in the nsfw, I'm thinking Simon goes crazy knowing he's intine with the readers cycle so when ovulation time hits - fireworks are given.

Feel free to change this however you'd like 🥀

thank u 4 this!! absolutely inlove!!! longest i’ve written in ages >_<

i feel like simon views himself as unloveable, unwanted and ruined goods;how could he not? he’s so easily irritable and snappy, always rude and unnecessarily passive-aggressive, he’d take up so much time in anyone’s schedule—let alone your own, originally, you weren’t signing up to be a free rehab program..you’re not an AA meeting for some mutt..

but, here you were.

he wasn’t ideal, but he would do. it took him centuries to get used to a life like this—free reign of his own path and livelihood, he wants to eat? go to the kitchen, sure. he wants to go for a walk? alright, be back soon. he’s like a baby going to nursery, he is timid but adapts.

clashing? always, he’s constantly starting you for something stupid and irrelevant, winding himself and you up.

“y’didn’t run me a bath today.”

“it’s not your bathtime, idiot.”

“well i want a fuckin’ bath.”

“well i want an actual fuckin’ pet.”

eventually ends up with you pushing(PS; trying to, he’s a rock.) him away from you while you tapped at the keys on the laptop, complaining about how you need to get this finished by tonight, shaking your head.

again, he cannot handle being pampered.

sometimes he’ll come and lay his head on your lap while glancing up at you, seemingly just to unwind and de-stress himself after something happened, and when you go to scratch his scalp? he’s snapping at you instinctively, listening to your yelp—reaching for his muzzle, has to mope around with it on all day. (he might’ve snapped on purpose, but he won’t admit that, will he?)

thing 1 and thing 2, you annoy him and he annoys you back, basically!

when he does eventually warm up to you and things like affection and gentle solidarity, he’ll soak it up.literally. sometimes you’ll just walk over to him, brush your hand over his hair and kiss the scar tracing the side of his scalp, he’ll just melt into you and attempt to follow you around all day, eventually draining your social and praise battery.

he does something nice? you call him a goodboy or goodman and he’s practically crushing you on the sofa that night, head burrowed comically in your chest like a pillow with his bushy tail wagging side to side. absolutely feeds off of your validation most of the time.

sometimes he’ll just walk up to you, lean down and place his head on your shoulder as if it’s a casual thing to do, you eventually begin to let him sleep in your room instead of your own if you’ve had a bad day.

“so annoying..”

“men suck.”

simon said, you sniffled, wiping your tears and engulfing your arms around the beast, listening to his low hums and embracing his gentle pecks to your cheek as if it were kisses from jesus himself. eventually, you begin to see him as more than a simple friend or companion.

it’s clear he feels the same, especially when he finds out you’re on your period and immediately tries to tug off your panties.. clearly, you had different ideas.

“no, simon—you’ll get grossed out.”

“instinct.”

“doesn’t mean you won’t get grossed out, it’s not like dogs.”

you have to coerce him not to mount you then and there, and to bugger off and do his own thing, his own thing is begging the tracking of your period on his phone.

when he finds out you’re ovulating? there’s no stopping this guy.

he’s hurriedly bending you over the kitchen table with his trousers bunched up around his thighs, cock springing free from his boxers.. wastes no time shoving himself inside, forcing the side of your face down onto the wood of the table, heavy balls slapping against the curve of your ass while you cunt enveloped him whole, lewd ‘plap’ sounds echoing throughout the newly cleaned kitchen..

bites down into your shoulder with his sharp canine, listening to your groan of complaint as your blade trickled crimson..your trembling digits rubbing quick circles on your aching clit—back arching into his free hand, which was now pushing you down further into the table, feeling you tighten around him..his tail wagging as he groaned out and spilled his cum inside of you, waiting for a few minutes before pulling himself out.

bedtime? folds you into a mating press, rutting into you like a rabid dog. (he, technically is, that rabid dog.) doesn’t stop till you’re squirting all over his abdomen and pleading for him that you’re already full enough.

“si—oh,i’m practicallymmmhh..practically overflowin’..”

“almost there..gonnafuckyoutillyourcarryin’..chhrriissttt-“

another load to add to your collection.

disappointed when he finds out you’re on birth control, not as disappointed when you find none in the container, just don’t check the bathroom..he didn’t have time to flush them yet.

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #dilf ghost #ghost is babygirl #simon ghost riley x reader #💞} riley rambles #💞} anon answer! #simon riley fanfic #simon riley headcanons #simon fluff #🎀>mutt!simon #simon x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley ghost #ghost fanfiction #domestic ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley comfort #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley smut #ghost simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader

[leventart-den]

I love seeing Sanji and Zoro trying to recover from a bad fight together

Just…. Both of them in pain, maybe some blood??? That’s good shit right there

Just them being quiet trying to patch the other up, because Chopper already has enough on his.. hooves? And they don’t want to be a burden

You don’t even have to draw this, I just want your opinion on this???? It is VERY important I swear

Dearest Anony!

I swear I'll draw this, I really like the idea! But since this is VERY important, I cannot remain silent and leave you for days without an answer.

Plus, damn, I love this kind of stuff, I could talk about it for hours (if I didn't have to use an online translator because my written English is non-existent).

AN (Me from the future while I was writing what is below): I tried to be short but I was carried away. Thanks for the inspiration, by the way. I'm sorry for all the blood. But I hope that you like it overall and that my answer will brighten up your time at least a little!

AN2 (even further in the future when I finished writing): When I have time I'll rewrite this into a fanfic, if you don't mind, dear Anony.

P.S. to everyone who wrote prompts for art - I will draw each of them, I promise! Thank you very much, they are wonderful! One Piece Art prompts are open for an unlimited time.

***

What I picture in my head when I read your prompt:

It’s time after a heavy battle, they are on the ship, everyone is tired, it’s the afternoon, calm and very quiet. Sanji and Zoro seem to be fine at first glance, and Chopper is so tired that he doesn't have the strength to insist on checking their condition, so he lets them go, immediately falling asleep at the table. It's so hot on the deck, almost suffocating without the wind, but Sanji and Zoro go downstairs to where provisions are stored, barrels of alcohol and where it's cool.

Sanji limps to his usual place, to a box against the wall on which he sits down heavily, leaning against the wooden surface and exhaling a cloud of smoke from the smoldering cigarette now clutched in his fingers. It's stained with blood.

Zoro glances at him briefly and silently heads to the far corner, pulling out a box of first aid from behind the drawers. It's a familiar routine by this point. They are both strong and both don't want to be a burden to Chopper when it can be avoided. They're both stupid like this. So of course at some point in their journey they came to this silent agreement mending each other's wounds and here they are. Again.

Zoro places the box on a nearby drawer and sits down opposite Sanji. The cook takes another drag and finally puts out the cigarette on the wall, throwing the cigarette butt into the iron tin can nearby, which he placed for such purposes. He grunts, finally opening the box and taking out everything he needs while Zoro takes off his shirt.

There is no tightness or awkwardness between them about such things. Not anymore. 

Sanji begins by treating the nasty gash on his forehead. It turned out to be difficult to wipe off all the blood; head wounds usually bleed a lot. Although, with his experience up to this point, he gets the job done quite quickly. Next come the wounds on the arms and torso. There are several cuts and spreading bruises. Zoro has a couple of broken ribs. He drinks a few drinks from the bottle while Sanji stitches up a particularly deep cut near his collarbone and tightens bandages around his chest and torso.

They don't talk during the process, they are too tired even for their usual banter and jokes towards each other. They would probably rather go to bed now, but the risk of upsetting and angering Chopper later is too great. So they will finish what they started, despite the fact that Zoro is half asleep and Sanji's movements are getting slower.

The air becomes heavy with blood and now the smell of tobacco is added to it. Sanji lights another cigarette and Zoro opens his eyes watching him. The cook's hands are shaking, he notes. He runs his eyes over his entire form, noting his injuries. He doesn't see much but Curly looks pale. His gaze falls down. There is a pool of blood on the floor under his feet. Zoro swears soundlessly. Looks like the shitty cook has got his legs messed up.

Zoro gives him a very meaningful look and Sanji sighs. He bites the cigarette between his teeth and fumbles with the waistband of his trousers, but his fingers are too weak right now. 

Zoro watches him for a few seconds and clenches his teeth because of the pain in his ribs, but still gets up and leans towards the cook, pushing his hands away and helping with the clothes. Sanji lifts himself off the box as far as he can, allowing him to pull his trousers down, and then leans heavily against the wall again. His cigarette is smoldering, he is too sleepy to even smoke.

Zoro, meanwhile, examines his legs. There are several deep cuts and his left ankle is swollen and his knees are bruised. Zoro thinks that he shouldn't be surprised, after all, the shitty cook's legs are his weapons, the main blows fall on them, but still. If some of the cuts had been any higher they could have cut the artery and then the cook would have been dead. Zoro finds himself observing all the old scars that cover his skin. He shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts; now is not the time for them.

At this moment, the pale bloodstained hand falls down and the half-smoked cigarette slips out of limped fingers onto the floor. Zoro's gaze shoots up, he feels pressure in his chest for a second and it's not his broken ribs.

But Sanji's breathing is calm and measured. The cook just fell asleep, it seems.

The swordsman releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Okay.

This is okay.

Everything is fine.

He picks up the cigarette from the floor, puts it out and throws it into the jar with the others. Zoro winces at the movement. His damn ribs hurt with the adrenaline gone, but he'll take care of this stupid cook anyway.

He gets rid of the blood around the wounds and stitches them up, trying to keep his hands as stable as possible. It turns out to be more difficult than it seemed, but he tries. He bandages Sanji's legs after and takes off his shoes with socks, checking his ankles and feet.

It looks like nothing was broken, probably just a sprain, so for now Zoro will do what he can and tomorrow Sanji will turn to Chopper himself if necessary.

After a few minutes and tending to a few other cuts and bruises here and there, Zoro looked over his work and decided he was done. The cook didn’t even flinch during all this time and it looked worrying if it weren’t for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest from breathing. He really lost a lot of blood. Zoro decided not to even try to wake him.

Grunting, he bent down, pulling his pants up to his knees and then moved the cook's motionless body closer to himself, leaning back a little so that he would lean against him and Zoro could pull his pants all the way up. He carefully returned Sanji to his seat and sighed wearily as he buttoned up his pants. Zoro felt exhausted by this point. He wasn't sure he could make it upstairs to the cabins with Sanji as dead weight.

So after a few seconds of hesitation, Zoro went to the corner where they kept all sorts of extra things and fished out a heavy animal skin with thick fur and a couple of blankets. He placed it on the floor next to Sanji and carefully moved him onto the makeshift bed, throwing a blanket over him. He watched as Sanji reflexively curled up on himself, burying his face in the soft fur. The cook always sleeps like this, as if he is trying to hide. It never sits right with Zoro. It looks wrong. 

One day he will find out why. But now Zoro settles down next to Sanji, wrapping his arm around him on top of the blanket and holding him close to himself. He feels the other man's shoulders relax and his breath a little too hot on his collarbone. His nose is cold against Zoro's skin. Zoro suddenly feels like he won't be able to sleep, but he buries his face in the cook's hair, which smells of cherry tobacco, sea and spices, and listens to his heartbeat against his skin.

He falls asleep within seconds.

#sanji #zoro #zosan #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece #art prompt turned into writing prompt #I'll still draw this I swear #blood and injury #this is my type of fluff and domesticity #Zoro cursed in his head trying to get rid of the blood on Sanji's hairy legs #next time Sanji finds a razor in the first aid box #Leventart answers

[leiawritesstories]

Happy follower celebration!! <3<3<3

May I request:

“I really want to see you first thing in the morning.”

Thank you so very much!!! 🥰💕 here you gooooo. enjoy!

Word count: 938

Warnings: none

500 followers celebration prompt fills

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"Hey." Aelin tucked her phone next to her ear, holding it with her shoulder as she unlocked her car.

"Hey, Fireheart." Rowan's voice flowed through the speaker, just the sound she needed to hear after a hell of a long shift at the restaurant. "Just clock out?"

"Yeah." She pulled the clip from her hair with a relieved groan. "God, it was such a long day. So many people. So many kids. So much bullshit."

"Bet you didn't take any bullshit."

"I try." She switched her phone to speaker and set it in the cupholder before backing out of her parking spot and heading away from the restaurant where she worked. "Seems like all the ridiculous crap comes on the weekends, though."

"Want to come over?" He sounded so hopeful. "You can rant all you need, love."

She glanced at the clock. "I'm gonna swing by my place first to shower and get out of these disgusting clothes, ok?"

"Take your time." He paused. "Wait no, not too much time. I wanna see you."

She laughed. "Has anyone ever told you you're the clingy one, buzzard?"

"Don't see anything wring with it," he returned, chuckling. "I gotta go, but I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah." She blew him an invisible kiss. "Love you, buzzard."

"Love you too, Fireheart."

An hour later, showered and changed and carrying an overnight bag, Aelin walked up the front steps of Rowan's townhouse, knocked twice, and walked in. "Ro?"

"Hey." He jogged down the hall, met her in the entryway, and tipped his head down to kiss her soundly. "I made food."

She perked up, kicked off her shoes, and bolted for the kitchen. "You're the best, Ro!"

He followed, shaking his head fondly at the way she was so much more excited to see the food than him. "Maybe I should've thought twice before proposing, love. Seems you're more in love with food than your poor sad old fiancé."

"Stop that, drama queen," she laughed. "I'm just hungry, and your cooking is amazing." She gave him a broad, suggestive wink. "I'll get a whole free chef when we get married."

"Trust me, love, I can handle myself in the kitchen." He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You like it better when I handle you, though," she hummed, casually serving herself a big bowl of the soup he'd made.

Rowan spluttered, his face flaring bright read. "Aelin!"

She burst into bright laughter. "I'll never get tired of seeing you all riled up, love."

He mumbled something incoherent about just how much she loved doing that to him and wisely changed the subject. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"When have I ever said no to that?" she grinned. "Let me guzzle this soup like a starving madwoman first and then yes, absolutely I do."

"Take your time, love," he laughed. "I need dinner too, y'know."

"Oh, so you didn't make this whole pot of soup just for me?"

"Nope." He grabbed his own bowl ad filled it up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Guess I have to knock a star off your Yelp review," she teased.

He laughed softly and nudged her towards the kitchen table. "For someone who's supposedly so hungry, you sure aren't doing a lot of eating, Ae."

Once she had a full, satisfied stomach, Aelin helped Rowan clear away the dishes, waving off his protest that he could do it all by himself, and went to the hall closet to get a big armful of fluffy blankets. Rowan's mom kept buying him throw blankets every fall and winter, insisting that he needed "splashes of color to liven up his boring gray house." Rowan pretended to be annoyed, but Aelin knew he secretly loved his collection of seasonal blankets. She loved the blankets, at least.

"How many of those does one person even need?" he teased as he came into the living room to find her snuggled into a blanket cocoon on the L-shaped couch.

"Not all of us are human furnaces, buzzard," she returned. "What are we watching?"

"Hmm...well, I'm in a classic cinema mood tonight."

"Oh gods," Aelin mock-groaned. "Why aren't you ever in a rom-com mood, you know, like a normal person?"

"Since when have I ever been a rom-com person?" Rowan asked dryly. "Besides, I know you want to watch The Godfather."

"You're too good at the bribery thing." She moved the blankets aside enough for him to sit down. "C'mere, buzzard."

Rowan obediently settled down beside her, stretching out his long legs so she could cuddle herself snugly against the toned planes of his body. He turned on the movie, turned off the lights, and tucked Aelin's blankets comfortably around her. Knowing full well she probably wouldn't stay awake for the whole movie, he idly combed his fingers through her hair.

Aelin lasted an hour before she was asleep on his chest, her breath brushing his collarbones in even pulses. A tender smile curled his lips as he watched her peaceful face. He watched the rest of the movie, turned the TV off, and rested there on the couch, his fiancée asleep in his arms.

She blinked awake a few minutes later. "Movie done?" she mumbled.

"Mhmm." He kissed her forehead. "You made it a whole hour; I think that's a new record."

"You're mean." She poked his chest, not causing any actual harm thanks the the layers of blankets. "Le's'go upstairs. Sleep. Bed."

He chuckled. "Are you propositioning me, love?"

"Nope." She shook her head. "I just really want to see you first thing in the morning."

Gods, the way Rowan's heart fluttered at that simple statement.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #answered prompt #leia's 500 followers thing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin domestic fluff #actual tooth rotting fluff

[utilitycaster]

I really hate how people are making Laudna’s arc the past few episodes about Imogen and a ship. People saying “this is what happens when you separate them!!!! Laudna lost her tether!!!” It’s really annoying. I wish people would just let Laudna be Laudna without Imogen. She’s her own person dealing with her own trauma. She’s been so much more enjoyable without Imogen and having to fake a sunshine happy face and without having to shoulder Imogen’s burdens. I don’t know if I’m making sense but it’s just annoying me.

Yeah it's...unsurprising, again, coming from the "oh but Marisha doesn't really mean it when she says things that would conflict with my personal desires, obviously," crowd, but it's really a disservice to Laudna as a character.

As was stated in the moment, Laudna felt a sense of control that she had so often lacked - which, by implication, means she felt this way during her time with Imogen as well! And then she admits to Prism that this feels like a loss of control as well, and Prism encourages her to embrace her feelings of confusion and ambiguity, and says it might be healing to do so. She's right! It was, again, a standout moment for Laudna and frankly one of my favorite Marisha moments across all campaigns, for her to grapple with this idea that control and power are really complicated and not a binary concept.

It's just...truly remarkable to watch the difference in Laudna's demeanor with Ashton, Orym, and Prism over the past few episodes vs. how she's behaved with Imogen. There's no front. She's allowed to express herself in an equal exchange, or receive comfort, rather than nearly always being the one to give and to put on a happy face and reassure everyone that everything will work out. The problem with constantly saying that the worse thing that ever happened to her already happened is not that it's necessarily false, but rather that she hasn't allowed herself to openly feel bad about anything lesser.

I think Laudna is in a rough spot right now! Like, do I care about the cringefail specter of Delilah, no, but I do care that Laudna has reawakened something that has hurt and controlled her in the pursuit of trying to gain a sense of control against someone else who hurt her, and I'm excited to see how she processes it, because right now it's trauma no matter what she does. I think it's movement forward, but like...the only way out is through and she's uh, really going through it. I really hope that given this development, with their reunion, Laudna will no longer feel this self-imposed obligation to serve as Imogen's validation at the cost of her own emotional well-being. I hope they can be honest and work through their issues, rather than slipping into their old carefully buttoned-up walking-on-eggshells status quo.

#answered #Anonymous #i made the not a pretty girl joke earlier but like...yeah they'd prefer her dirty and smiling. anyway time to make a Laudna playlist I gues #i also...i won't name it but i recently read a fic that is popular and frequently mentioned among shippers #and it's genuinely so revealing. it's barely about the characters. like oh wow you do just want interchangeable and generic domestic fluff. #if you don't engage with how imogen has potentially harmful powers and laudna's come from a source that murdered her you're saying nothing #and it's really just made me go ah you don't actually like these characters they're just conveniently colorcoded women. #critical role spoilers

[nkn0va]

Ok hear me out. Kokonoe and Tsubaki with a househusband s/o.

Anon who the FUCK gave you a cooking license? I'm taking it away.

You are now head chef, keep those banger asks incoming.

Step one to being best girl: Have hair a shade of red, pink included.

Step two: Be voiced by Julie Ann Taylor

Kokonoe A. Mercury

-Being one of Sector Seven's top scientists, Kokonoe brings in more than enough to support a household. Realistically, being in Sector Seven yourself, specifically as one of her field agents is the only way you could've gotten to know her well enough to make her of all people want to end up marrying you.

-Being her field agent for so long before marrying her, naturally you've...seen a lot of shit. You were more than happy to hang up the gear and take the role of househusband. You really had no reason not to.

-Half the time, being Kokonoe's husband is like taking care of a child to be completely honest. A hyper intelligent child whose hiding away an entire stockpile of nukes as Hakumen found out in CS, but a child nonetheless.

-Being involved with Kokonoe in any capacity, ESPECIALLY as her husband, requires a lot of patience. Even to her lover she's sassy, short tempered, and sarcastic, all the while being way too absorbed in her work and addicted to that damn silvervine candy.

-She eventually comes to depend on you entirely for her diet. The only way she's eating anything even remotely healthy is if you make it for her, otherwise she's living off silvervine, coffee, and chocolate.

-Most of the time if you wanna see Kokonoe and not just call her (which sometimes she doesn't even pick up), you're gonna have to head over to the lab yourself. If someone else is already there with her, she's gonna tell you to wait until they're gone. She's a bit embarrassed of being seen with her husband by anyone else.

-You're the only guest she ever actually looks forward to, not that she'd admit that out loud (though you already know anyway). Usually when you come visit it's to give her some actually decent food.

-She won't ever admit to it, but she really appreciates when you do it. A homecooked meal from her husband always lifts her mood, reminds her of the life she never got to have since it was taken from her by Terumi. It's one of the few things that actually makes her feel any emotion other than anger, irritation, or a sick satisfaction from watching one of her crazy ass plans come to fruition. You're just glad you can actually make her eat decently for once in her life.

-You'll also have to convince her yourself if you want her to come home for once and get some actual sleep in a proper bed. It'll take some effort but you'll get her to do so at least once a week.

-Sleeping in the same bed as you is the one time Kokonoe truly gets to relax. Once her brain finally winds down she melts into your embrace as she feels the inevitable pull of sleep, purring softly in your arms. Seeing her so unguarded like this is a unique privilege that only you have. God is it fucking precious.

-As much of a pain in the ass she is and how much she can test your patience, it's the moments like these that make it all worth it, when she finally shows her soft side to you and lets you know that she really does care about you. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Tsubaki Yayoi (my beloved 💗)

-Ending up as a househusband is pretty straightforward similar to Kokonoe. This is the heiress/soon to be head of one the families of the Duodecim, bagging this lovely heiress means you never have to work a day in your life again.

-Of course you still wanted to do at least something for such a perfect woman you had the impossible privilege of calling your wife, but she insisted you didn't need to. Eventually househusband was the thing you both agreed to. Maids and servants exist but having her husband fill the role felt much more natural. More cozy, made the house feel more like a home.

-The arrangement ends up being one you're both happy with. Tsubaki is able to continue her duties of an NOL soldier while knowing you're safe and far away from the danger taking care of the house.

-You'll occasionally drop by the base sometimes just to see her whenever you get bored. The other soldiers there eventually get used to your presence and leave you be. Hearing your knock on the door to Tsubaki's office is always the highlight of her day, she'll drop any work she's doing to spend some time with you in what would otherwise be a monotonous, boring shift, especially if you took the time to make her something to eat. It definitely beats the food offered on base.

-Of course it doesn't beat walking through the door of the house every day, having you welcome her home with a kiss. It's all blissfully domestic, like she's always wanted after living a life of such lavish luxury like she has.

-One duty of the house you both share is cooking duty. It's one of her favorite ways to spend time with you while bonding over good food. You two talk about your days, the new gossip in the Duodecim and the base, whatever tomfoolery Makoto's gotten into, overall just getting to wind down and talk about things not relating to work.

-Though speaking of Makoto, her and the rest of Tsubaki's friends on occasion sometimes are called over to have some off time together. As long as there's food prepared by you and her, the last thing anyone needs is there not being food and Noel trying to get into the kitchen.

-It's not long though before the conversation of kids inevitably comes up. Unlike Kokonoe who's probably not the biggest fan of the idea, Tsubaki's quite fond of it. She'd want at least two, she wouldn't want to have an only child that grows up without a sibling like she did. As far as she's concerned, no kid should ever have to be lonely like that, even if they'd have two parents present.

-It probably happens eventually. However many kids you two end up having, she's perfectly happy. Despite growing up richer than almost all their peers, Tsubaki will ensure her kids are raised to have dignity and compassion to the people around them. They're in a safe, loving environment where they can truly learn about the world around them and learn to appreciate it for what it is.

-Now she has even more to come home to every day, with her precious little bundles of joy. It reminds her of why she does what she does why she fights to uphold justice. So that families like hers never have to suffer pain, and can live in a world free of injustice and suffering.

-You. Her children. Her family. It is why she fights, the family she would put her life on the line to protect. Her entire world. Her past, present, and future.

#blazblue #relationship headcanons #headcanon #tsubaki yayoi #kokonoe mercury #domestic fluff #fluff #x reader #anon ask #answered