#One - shot

[manicmanuscription]

By The Candlelight

Azriel x Reader

Summary: When you and Azriel finally get a chance to sleep after traveling for so long he gets a glimpse of you through your shadow being reflected.

Word Count: 1041

Warnings: Mutual Pining, slight seduction, Azriel being a mess over reader. Forced proximity. Mostly written in Azriel's perspective.

Based on the request here. Thank you so much for your request enjoy!

─── ♡ ───

“Sorry.” Azriel had murmured as you finally, finally, reached the safe house. Although ‘house’ probably wasn’t the best term. It was more of a single room with walls. It could barely fit Azriel and his large frame but at least there was a small mattress and a sink so you weren’t complaining, happy to just finally be out of the cold and have the chance to rid your rain soaked leathers. “It’s usually just me staying here.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve stayed in worse.” You chirped, throwing your go-back on the mattress rifling through it as you looked for a change of clothes pulling out various daggers, healing potions and salves, and of course a few necessities for your hair.

“Sorry I was added to the mission so late. I don't mean to overstep or be a burden.” You mentioned a pang of guilt pulling on your heart. 

“You are not a burden.” Azriel said quickly from behind you. You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the determination in his words. 

A few moments of silence passed, the rain beating against the wooden walls, the very faint hum of magic as the few wards strained to keep this place concealed and warm.

Azriel shuffled closer so you were now standing shoulder to shoulder, his hand slightly brushing against yours and his breath hitched at the contact. He picked up your hairbrush and what looked like to be a bottle of face wash. “Really?” The Shadowsinger teased. “Rhys told us to pack light.” 

You flashed him a smile, snatching the items from his hands. “I may be a Spy, Azriel but I am still a female.” You said with a playful smile, simply brushing your wet hair over your shoulder. Your smile, the way you said his names- gods- it had his knees buckling slightly. 

You picked up your bundle of fresh clothes after stuffing everything else that wasn’t needed back in your bag and faced Azriel a few beats of silence passing, your face inches apart.  He was too focused by the faint blush on your cheeks to notice your timidness as you spoke shyly.

“I..need to change.” Your voice broke the moment of staring and Azriel cleared his throat. “Of course, my apologies.” He moved towards the door, a miracle it was still on its hinges, his hands brushing against the wooden knob when you spoke again. “You…don’t have to go outside, it's raining pretty bad.” 

Azriel froze momentarily. His heart was pounding in his ears, he was sure it roared louder than the clap of thunder that rolled across the mountain. Lightning was next, flashes of it echoing through small cracks in the walls.

“Alright.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice hoarse and he slid his hands in his pockets trying to hide the slight tremor that ran through them. He still faced the door but took a step back inside if only to appease you. 

He could hear your clothing being removed from behind him and a lump formed in his throat as lust and imagination clashed in his mind.

A few candles had automatically lit as the door opened when you two arrived and their light stayed a strong steady presence. He did his best to ignore your shadow perfectly casted on the wall, yet each movement you made had his eyes straying to the illusion there. The tiny space made your silhouette as accurate as possible and he did his best to breath through the desire that hit him like a brick. 

He needed you more than he needed anything or anyone in his life and right now you were playing a dangerous game, albeit unknowingly.

He couldn’t even feel the wetness that seeped into his leathers, no longer feeling the cold that had settled so firmly. His shadows dispersed even further away from him, settling underneath floorboards and cracks in the walls, their absence somehow making the candles brighter and his breath hitched as your shadow enhanced at the new light. He hissed under his breath and his shadows laughed at his dilemma.

A few more minutes of intense silence passed and he tried to focus on the rain, on the cracks in the floorboard, yet his eyes could not stop straying to your shadow, to your curves and elegant movement.

Azriel was sure his breathing had stopped and his mind had emptied of all other thought’s that weren’t about you. He was clenching his teeth so hard they might break. Shame and guilt tingled in his gut yet he could not look away.

Everything about you enchanted him and knowing that you were changing just a few paces behind him, knowing that you trusted him enough to do that? His cock struggled in the confine of his pants and his mind whirred at the possibilities. 

“Alright.” You spoke gently and he turned around slowly, drinking you in. You were wearing an old t-shirt that seemed just a little bit too big for you and some long sweatpants that hugged your thighs perfectly. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, staring at you with that intensity he always seemed to possess.

“Hope I didn’t take too long.” You whispered and he shook his head no, not trusting his voice. 

He was entranced with your movements as you set your bag on the floor, sliding underneath the covers of the mattress and moved over, very deliberately leaving a space for him there and his heart was going a million miles a minute, his breathing stopped as you started talking once again, it took him a minute to process your words as the sound of your voice hummed in his chest pleasantly, drowning everything else out. 

There was only you.

“Make sure to dry off before coming to bed.” 

He nodded, turning around and running his hands through his hair, trying to calm his heart and steady his breathing. Did you not see how you were affecting him?

How having you so close yet so far was physically painful. He ached for you and silently cursed Rhys for this mission. Azriel rolled his shoulders and reached for his own bag. His hearing hyper focused on the sound of your breathing, on every shift you made in the bed. 

Gods you were going to be the death of him. 

[inthelibraryrecs]

love rafe going soft over his pogue girlfriend

between two worlds

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: Rafe steps out of his comfort zone to join the Pogues for a beach night.

The beach was alive with the usual chaos that defined the Pogues. JJ was digging through a cooler for beer, Kie was setting up a makeshift bonfire, and Pope was arguing with John B over whose turn it was to collect firewood. You sat on a blanket, watching the sunset over the ocean, your heart racing as Rafe Cameron’s figure loomed in the distance.

“I can’t believe you invited him,” JJ said, shooting you a pointed look as he cracked open a beer. “This is sacred Pogue territory, Y/N.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said simply, brushing sand off your legs.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” JJ muttered under his breath.

Sarah shot him a look. “Give him a chance, JJ. If Y/N can handle his crazy ass, we can for one night.”

You turned to see Rafe walking toward you, his shoulders slightly tense, his hands shoved in his pockets. The evening light softened his features, but you could tell he was uneasy. He wasn’t exactly a welcome presence among the Pogues, and he knew it.

“You didn’t tell me it’d be this many people,” he murmured when he reached you, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“Rafe, it’s literally just them,” you teased, gesturing toward the group. “You’ll survive.”

He rolled his eyes but sat down next to you, his hand instinctively resting on your knee. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

JJ snorted. “Look at him. Acting like he belongs here.”

“JJ,” you warned.

Rafe tensed but didn’t rise to the bait, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Nice to see you too, Maybank.”

“Alright, everybody chill,” Sarah interjected, sitting cross-legged on the blanket. She gave Rafe a small smile. “Thanks for coming, Rafe. Even though I know you’re out of your element.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You could say that.”

“Just don’t kill the vibe,” JJ added, plopping down on the other side of you.

The tension was thick at first. Rafe sat quietly, his usual cocky demeanor dimmed in the face of the Pogues’ scrutiny. You felt the weight of his discomfort, and it made you squeeze his hand reassuringly. He looked at you, his blue eyes softening as if to say, I’m doing this for you.

As the night wore on, the tension began to ease. JJ’s antics and John B’s storytelling had everyone laughing, even Rafe cracking a smile here and there.

“Alright, I have to ask,” Kie said, looking directly at Rafe. “How does a Kook prince like you end up with a Pogue queen?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Kie—”

“No, it’s fine,” Rafe said, surprising you. He leaned back on his hands, glancing at you with a small smirk. “I guess I just like a challenge.”

JJ scoffed, but Kie rolled her eyes. “Seriously, though.”

Rafe’s expression softened as he looked at you. “She’s different. She doesn’t care about any of the crap I used to think mattered. She calls me out when I’m being an idiot, but she also makes me want to be better.”

The Pogues fell silent, exchanging surprised looks. Even JJ looked slightly less annoyed.

“She’s good at that,” Sarah said, smiling at you.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, JJ pointed at Rafe with his beer bottle. “Alright, Cameron, you’re scoring some points. But don’t think I’m not watching you.”

“Duly noted,” Rafe replied dryly, earning a laugh from John B.

As the night wound down, you and Rafe wandered a little farther down the beach, away from the firelight and the laughter of your friends. The ocean waves crashed gently against the shore, and the cool breeze tugged at your hair.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” you said, bumping his shoulder playfully.

He huffed a laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist. “They hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” you assured him. “They’re just…protective.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you. “And you’re worth protecting.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sincerity in his gaze made your heart skip. He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “I know I don’t always fit into your world, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I do. For you.”

Your breath hitched as his thumb traced your cheek, his touch warm and familiar. “Rafe…”

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the waves.

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word into it. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted against him, the rest of the world fading away.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Alright,” you said, your voice teasing but soft. “You’re forgiven for being awkward.”

“Awkward?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I was charming.”

“You were stiff,” you corrected with a laugh.

He grinned, kissing you again, this time quicker but no less sweet. “You bring me around them enough, and I’ll charm them too.”

“Let’s not push it,” you teased, lacing your fingers with his as you started walking back toward the fire.

In the distance, you could hear JJ yelling, “Hey! No PDA where we can see it!”

Rafe groaned, but you just laughed, pulling him closer. He might not be a Pogue, but tonight, he’d proven he was yours—and that was more than enough.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

[dorabellingham]

Complicated

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you're trying to make dinner but he ends up making an unnecessary comment that bothers you

request: yess!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a quiet night in your home, and you and Jude decided to cook dinner together. You were chopping vegetables while Jude stirred a pan on the stove. It was one of those simple and intimate moments that you loved, where the conversation flowed without rushing.

—You’re getting good at this, huh?

Jude commented, watching you wield the knife with precision.

—Only because you didn’t see how many fingers I almost cut off earlier.

You replied with a light laugh.

He laughed, exchanging knowing glances. You loved these moments with your boyfriend, where nothing seemed complicated or distant.

—Do you think we’ll be like this forever?

You asked, almost distracted, as you organized the vegetables.

—Like what?

Jude replied, turning to you.

—I don’t know... so comfortable. Like, even after everything we’ve been through, it seems like we’ve never lost that.

—Of course, babe. You’re my safe place. You always have been.

The comment made you smile, but before you could respond, Jude added something, distracted as he stirred the pan:

—And I’m lucky, because you’re not as complicated as other people I know.

You froze. The words were simple, but they sounded like a blow. It wasn’t what Jude had said, but how it sounded at that moment.

—I’m not complicated?

You asked, trying to hide the hurt tone.

Jude looked up, noticing something strange in your voice.

—That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I don’t know, you’re easier to deal with than a lot of people.

You dropped the knife on the counter, trying to process it. All you could think about were the times you felt like you were a burden to him —especially with your crises and the difficulty in adjusting to life in Madrid. That sounded like confirmation that you needed to try harder not to be a burden.

—Easy to deal with? —You repeated, your voice now lower. —Jude, do you have any idea how that sounds to me?

—Y/n, calm down. That's not what I meant. I just... —He ran his hand through his hair, clearly confused by your reaction. —I just meant that you're amazing and that you make everything seem simpler.

You took a step back, crossing your arms.

—But it's not simple, Jude. I'm not simple. I'm full of problems and insecurities. You know that.

—And I never said that was bad! —Jude exclaimed, getting closer. —Sweetie, you're human, like everyone else. But I love you precisely for who you are.

You looked away, biting your lower lip to hold back the tears. You knew Jude hadn't meant any harm, but his comment brought back all the times you felt inadequate, as if you needed to be "easy" to deserve his love.

—You'll never understand what it's like to feel like that. —You whispered. —Because you’re Jude Bellingham. Everyone loves you effortlessly.

—Hey, hey. —He held your arms gently, forcing you to look at him. —Don’t say that. Everyone can love me as a player, but who I really am… only you know. And you’re the one who makes me feel complete.

You blinked, letting out a stubborn tear.

—It’s just… sometimes I feel like I need to be perfect. That I can’t be a complication in your life.

Jude sighed, pulling you into a hug.

—Babe, you’ve never been a complication. I’m sorry if what I said made you think that. You’re the best thing in my life, and I love even the complicated parts of you.

You were silent for a moment, leaning your head against his chest as you felt the warmth of his embrace.

—I’m sorry for reacting like that. —You murmured. —It’s just that I…

—You don’t have to apologize. —He interrupted, kissing the top of your head. —I was the idiot. I should have thought before I spoke.

You stood there, hugging each other, while the smell of the sauce began to grow stronger. Jude pulled away a little, holding your face with his hands.

—You're perfect for me, Y/n. Not because it's easy, but because it's you.

You nodded, still feeling the weight of your emotions, but also the comfort of his words.

—I love you, Jude.

—I love you too. And please, let me know when I say something stupid again.

You laughed softly, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt.

—I think you already know when you say it.

—Fair enough. —He smiled and went back to the stove. —But for the record, I think I burned the sauce.

—Really? —You rolled your eyes, laughing. —I think we both need help in the kitchen.

Jude smiled at you, relieved to see you calmer.

—As long as I have you here, we can burn as many dinners as we need.

And with that, the tension was replaced by laughter and jokes, as you tried to save dinner.

[scarletttries]

When Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Fall in Love...(Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: It's been a while! I haven't posted in a while but I've got some time at the moment and I'm just finishing a first playthrough of BG3 so wanted to write some headcanons for our charming companions. Consider me open for any BG3 request too, let me know if you want to see more pieces like this :)

Astarion:

- Travelling with you makes Astarion feel grateful he's had hundreds of years to perfect his flirting technique. He knows exactly how to let you know what he's thinking without ever giving away too much of himself, how to flash his smile without ever lowering his guard. He thinks once again he knows exactly how to capture your attention, and possibly your body, without losing an ounce of control. That is until you say something that catches him completely off guard...

- "I'm really sorry to hear that." You should have laughed at his expense, his self-deprecating humour and haunted tales from his past worn like the toughest armour over silky open shirts. But you hadn't laughed, or scoffed, or replied with some equivalently sarcastic tone. Instead you'd offered empathy, a warm look and an extended hand that somehow didn't feel like pity to Astarion either.

"Well that's enough self-pity for tonight my dear." He quickly excused himself from the campfire, turning his back as he entered his tent to hide any visible blush his cheeks may muster from the way you said good night. Of course his blood didn't circulate that way any more, but he was almost sure he could feel his heart rising in his chest as it had when he was still a mortal man. No, this didn't feel right at all.

- It would be easy for Astarion to pretend he was only interested in a night of carnal pleasures with you because of all the beauty you possess, and he'll let everyone else think him a shallow man just the same. But when he lets his mind wander freely it's your kindness he finds himself dwelling on, or your firm but fair moral code that seems to carry you through these intrepid lands without doubt or tribulation. He almost wishes he had met you sooner, so sure that his life (and after-life) could have turned out quite different with you by his side at those strange early steps.

- Suddenly all his effortless flirting feels a lot more challenging and he can't decide if he should risk a small amount of sincerity to let you know how we feels, or just to double down on letting you know one night with him would ruin you for any other lover. Luckily both approaches are met with the affection he craves, and slowly but surely Astarion starts to feel like he might be able to have something real for once.

Wyll:

- Ever the hopeless romantic, Wyll was already a firm believer in love at first sight by the time he ran into you and experienced it firsthand. He fears he cannot be too bold, his staunch commitment to his duties governing his life in a way that does not leave much room for any other kind of commitment. He tries to let his feelings settle at the back of his mind, in the hopes that in time they will become nothing but a dull ache he can learn to live with.

- That could not be less of the case for poor Wyll though, your face filling his every nightly dream and your voice echoing through his mind in every moment of silence. His heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing day you travel together and soon it feels almost inevitable that he will be yours, even if he can't quite bring himself to admit it yet. Once he has accepted that thought he must wrestle with the possibility that you might not feel the same and you will be added to his list of those he cares for most that have rejected him with scorn.

- Still he lets the lighter thoughts carry him through the toughest of times; what it might be like to hear you offer your own feelings back, how it would feel to see you smile only for him, what kind of life the two of you might be able to build in a simpler times, what he could finally do if you agreed to a wedding night together. He lets himself ruminate on that more often that he'd like to admit, all gentlemanly efforts banished from his mind when he sees you walk around his camp.

- While he builds up the courage to make his feelings known, you might catch him practicing the steps of an intricate dance one night when he thinks everyone is fast asleep.

Gale:

- Gale has known love and loss before, the intensity of his past life making him consider keeping his heart closed off from others forevermore. But the gods have a funny way of keeping Gale on his toes, and introducing him to you certainly did that.

- At first you are just the warmest of friends to him: an ever-willing audience for his lifetime of tales and knowledge, a reliable companion for the throes of battle, a selfless treasure seeker who helps him fend off hunger. But over time he finds himself desperately scanning his mind for more and more facts that it would be worth waking you up to share, more tales to capture your attention, anything the two of you might do together to keep your focus on him and no one else.

- It's about when he wonders if the two of you might just camp in one tent together, that he realises he no longer views you as simply his closest friend. No, you have long passed that threshold into an entirely new realm of love. It feels so different to anything he has felt before, like your company is the warmest summer breeze after decades of stormy lightning in his heart. It feels safe and easy to be with you, like he could be content with almost nothing as long as you were by his side, looking at him with your near endless appreciation. Gale can't be sure exactly what to do about it, but he hopes the next time you draw back the opening on your tent and usher him in for another night of exchanging tales, that you might permit him to never leave.

Shadowheart:

- It's hard to know love when you barely know yourself. That's what Shadowheart tells herself when she finds her mind wandering back to you after your memorable first impression. She has so much to learn about herself, and while she's grateful for the reliable company and kind sounding-board you provide, there's simply no room in her life for anything more.

- And yet the more she uncovers about herself, the more important it seems to have you by her side. It's like she cannot exist in this new fully realised version of herself if she doesn't know you. If she doesn't get to see herself through your eyes, to hear what you think, to have your presence beside her as he continues to take more and more steps forward down this path home.

- Without ever trying you have become the other half of Shadowheart, and by the time she realises it, she knows you must have the same awareness. There could be no way that you aren't as in tune to the depth of your bond as she is, leaving her only one question. Not if to address it. But when.

Karlach:

- Though Karlach may not have a traditional heart anymore, she is more than capable of falling for the travelling companion that seems to bring out the best in her at every step. After years spent working for the devil and his underlings, having someone in her life that strives to make the world better and put her strength to good use is like the first sip of water after countless nights in the arid desert of the hells.

- Karlach knows she's as strong as they come, so she finds her eyes frantically searching you out in battle, pushing herself on and raging forwards to always keep you safe, to get you behind her, to make sure you go on to keep her company another day.

- Her time in this plane of existence may be more limited than some of the other characters, but that only means Karlach knows how important it is to truly 'live.' While the other companions may bide their time and carefully deliberate how best to inform you of their inconvenient feelings, when Karlach knows your heart is true, she's going to let you know she is all yours at the earliest, and steamiest, opportunity.

[yanderecrazysie]

Title: Rulebreaker (Part 1)

Pairings: Yandere! Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

AU: My Fantasy AU

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Notes: Riddle’s story was second-most voted, so I decided to start working on it. A Dragon’s Hoard will probably get a NSFW Part 3 on Tumblr, so look out for that lol.

What you had expected to see was a bustling marketplace, chaotic and teeming with life. Instead, market day seemed to be a subdued event. Each stall was tidy and pristine-clean. Every item for sale was arranged perfectly- books from A-Z and fruit by color. People didn’t seem to talk unless necessary, leading to long silences while customers perused goods in utter quiet. 

Your orange-and-black striped tail twitched with discomfort, off-put by the eerie silence. With as good hearing as yours was, the quiet seemed amplified. You let out a soft chuckle that sounded loud to your ears and muttered, “Well, he’s managed to ruin this too, huh?”

No wonder you were the only non-fae attending this event- no one would feel welcome in an atmosphere so dominated by a need for perfection. 

You walked up to a stall run by a young man around your age. You took a moment to admire his rounded, transparent wings and his pointed ear tips before requesting, “One tour of Heartslabyul Kingdom, please.”

“I ain’t no tour guide,” he snorted, turning up his nose at you. You pulled a pouch of coins from your dress pocket, allowing the opening to part a little to show the gold within, and his eyes went wide. “One tour, coming right up!”

The “castle” itself was a tall, stone-walled building that stretched across entire villages and kept them all in one giant box with only one exit. A secondary castle, front and center, served as the royal family’s home. This castle was pointed and elegant and, as daunting as it was, with its dark shadow over the villages, you were eager to visit it.

The home of the royal family was enclosed in a garden, similarly to how the primary castle was surrounded by forest. The garden is what you wanted to see most, as news of its beauty had traveled all the way to your home in Savanaclaw. 

Ace, as you came to understand your guide was named, pointed out mundane things on your way to the royal castle, such as the well he fell into as a child and every flock of flamingos around watering holes.

Finally, the dirt gave way to grass, signaling the start of Heartslabyul’s royal garden and it was every bit as breathtaking as you had hoped. The grass beneath your bare feet was soft and vibrant and put a spring in your step. The air smelled of flowers and, while plenty of species were present, perfectly arranged in separate beds, they could not compare to the roses the size of your head that lined the hedges.

Ace looked around with a mixture of admiration and apprehension, “Don’t step on anything, the queen’s got a thing about keeping this place clean.”

“Queen?” you asked, ears perking up.

“Figure of speech,” Ace said, peering up at the towering spires of the royal castle, “King Riddle runs this show, but you’d think he was some kind of flower tyrant with how much he obsesses over his precious garden.”

You smiled, “I’ve heard of this ‘King Riddle’. I’ve heard he’s got over a thousand ridiculous rules.”

Any trace of a smile disappeared from Ace’s face, “And you’d better follow every single one of them if you want to make it out of here.”

You hummed in response, not particularly bothered by the fear in his voice. Your tail swished back and forth as you reached out a hand towards one of the biggest roses in the garden. Each petal was the size of your hand, and you found yourself caressing the soft white petals, loving the feeling of the silky texture on your fingers.

“Someone’s here,” Ace said, stiffening, “Behave yourself!”

The man that came around the corner was not who you were expecting in the slightest. He was short, with red hair and blueish-gray eyes, and he looked absolutely furious, charging towards you with the air of a charging bull. You quickly let go of the rose and stepped away from it, eyes on Ace, who looked like he was now made of stone. From his reaction, you could surmise that you had just met the “Queen”. 

The red-haired man stormed ever closer, his wings trembling with rage. Despite his small stature, each of his steps carried the weight of authority. “You!” his sharp voice rang out, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Your ears flattened at how loud he was yelling. You held up your hands in surrender, “I was just admiring the roses.”

“Admiring them?” Riddle’s voice became dangerously low, “Rule 412: No foreign hand shall lay claim to the blooms of the Life-Garden without express permission from the king or queen!”

You blinked in surprise, “I wasn’t ‘laying claim to the blooms’. I was just touching them a little. No harm done.”

Ace threw up his hands, “Your Majesty! She didn’t mean any harm! She’s just a visitor so she doesn’t know all the rules!”

Riddle was not swayed, “Ignorance is no excuse for disorder!”

“Oh, shut up,” you snapped, “The roses are fine and your rules are dumb.”

His head snapped back as though you had slapped him. He spluttered for a moment, completely blown away by what you’d said. “These rules were put into place by the Great One herself!”

“I don’t care,” you said simply, “And if you try to lock me up for this, I guarantee you the Savanaclaw officials will come for me.” That was a lie, but you really didn’t feel like going to jail.

Riddle glared at you, but there was something behind his blueish-gray eyes that made you feel bare. “You’re insolent! Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?”

“I do,” you replied, “You’re King Riddle. You’re the one who thinks a list of rules is more important than the people who live under them.”

Ace gasped loudly, wings twitching in panic, “She didn’t mean that!” He waved his hands as though trying to undo the damage.

Riddle ignored him, an unkind smirk curling at the corner of his lips, “You’re unlike anyone I’ve met before,” he murmured, almost to himself, “Bold but foolish.”

You crossed your arms, “I’ll take bold, but I don’t claim ‘foolish’.”

Riddle’s eyes flashed, “Why are you here? What brings you so far from home, Savanaclaw were-tiger?”

“I wanted to see the kingdom everyone’s always gushing about. I guess it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Riddle’s smirk vanished, “You tread dangerously close to treason. A stay in the court would do you good.”

Ace’s wings drooped, “Oh boy…”

Fear flashed through you at Ace’s expression, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Riddle’s smirk returned, “You’ll remain here as my guest. You’ll learn the rules of Heartslabyul and you’ll come to understand the beauty of order.”

Your tail lashed, “Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m leaving.” You turned to storm out of the garden, but Riddle called to you.

“You’ll find leaving… difficult.” The glint in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, “Every flower, every tree, even every blade of grass answers to me.”

“You’re trapping me here?”

“Not at all,” Riddle said smugly, “You’re free to leave at any time- if you can.” Riddle let out a bitter laugh, “You wanted to see my kingdom? Well now you can experience it in its entirety.”

He stepped back, wings spread wide, “Welcome to Heartslabyul, little rebel. Let’s see how long your defiance lasts.”

[olailamajnoon]

Batman, arresting Harley for the umpteenth time: You're going to prison, Quinn.

Harley: You know what I was thinking?

Batman: what.

Harley: That you don't send me to prison. *grins*

Batman:...

Batman: I have no idea what to say to that.

Harley: No, think about it! I could wear my sexy nurse outfit and you me and kitty could have some fun!

Batman: *sighs* As appealing as that prospect is,....

Harley: *low squeal*

Batman: No.

Harley: You need a therapist who can fuck you and tell you about your mommy issues at the same time

Batman: I don't think anyone ever in the history of humanity has needed that.

Harley: (begging) Come on, Bats. They drug me in there! It gets all...spooky sometimes. Not your kind of spooky, the bad kind.

Batman: *hesitating*

Harley: And they feed me pea soup! PEA SOUP!! *kicks a rock and starts crying*

Batman: Quinn, you should have thought of that before you ran away with Ivy and killed the CEO of FutureTech.

Harley, pleading: That was Ivy, not me!

Batman: Uh huh.

Harley: She said he was a plant murderer. And I gotta admit, I wasn't feeling too good myself about him dumping all that toxic waste in the Amazon.

Batman: When things like this happen, you come to me.

Harley: You've never shown interest in plant shit before.

Batman, pinching the bridge of his nose: I can handle it. I know how important 'plant shit' is to Ivy and you. It's important to me too. That's why, next time, before you murder someone, let me handle it legally by scaring the shit out of them first. Okay?

Harley: *hiccups* okay.

Batman: Now. I'll talk to the Arkham parole board about your early conditional release. But I will make sure they give you some truly, spectacularly, horribly disgusting community service.

Harley, desperate: No. Not the garbage route again.

Batman, smiling grimly: Oh it gets worse. Trust me. *begins typing into his phone*

Harley: Oh my god I think I'll just do my time. I'm not going into the trash cans, you don't know the kind of shit people throw out! I think I'll just take my meds and stare at the walls instead.

Batman, looking up from his phone: I'm afraid that ship has sailed. *smiles evilly*

Harley: Oh my fucking shit you monster!

Batman: Remember that feeling the next time your trigger finger itches to pop off a human being.

Harley, gritting her teeth: It's itching now, bitch!

Batman, smugly: Good.

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | boyfriend!Jason Todd, black!fem, little bit of ass grabbing, nothing too serious, edited

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | sudden thought I wanted to share with you all. If any errors please ignore, thank you. Enjoy lovebugs!! :) like, comment, reblog.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

Usually, his mornings were spent dreading waking up and having to climb out of bed after a long night of patroling. If he could have it his way all he would want to do is sleep, lounge around and do absolutely nothing.

But when he started dating you, his life turned upside down.

Mornings were never spent alone, mornings with you were much more brighter, much more sweeter. Even in Gotham's gloomy weather he still found some sort of happiness in you.

With the sounds of chirping from outside, it's beautiful yet annoying tune broke through his slumber like shattered glass. He would lay there going in and out of sleep, kinda aware of his surroundings as he takes in a deep breath to exhale slowly.

When he opened his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight seeping through his dark curtains, his orbs set on the presence of you.

The beauty of your essence. Your glorious soft cocoa skin and gentle features. Your face was relaxed and content. Your lashes kissed along your freckled high cheekbones as you slept. Your braids were securely wrapped in a scarf as you started to stir in your sleep.

And although he was on his side of the bed, you had inched closer for his warmth, loving that even through the cold he always exuded as huge radiator for you.

Laying in the middle with your back against the mattress, your head turned towards him with your hands settled at your lower abdomen.

Your lips parted as soft snores slipped into the quiet morning, clearly etched into a deep slumber. His lips curled into a smirk, adjusting himself beside you so he could wrap his arm around you, his thumb brushing up against your back. He studies the way your face starts to move, brow twitching a little and then comes an exhale.

You looked so unbothered. As if you were dreaming of rainbows and sunshine, as if nothing could harm you at this very moment because you were sleeping so peacefully.

Being so close in the confines of his protective stronghold helped you tremendously get better sleep and he, personally, could agree. Having you by his side made him feel okay, feel better knowing that he didn't have to sit around worrying if you were okay or not. Even when you were somewhere else, still he would worry but also hate the idea of not being by your side.

Nonetheless, he could lay here for hours upon hours upon hours and never get tired of observing you.

It was nearly 11:30 now, this was the most you had ever slept in the longest time. And when you felt it was time to wake up, you didn't dare to open your eyes just yet. Instead you recognized the feeling of his hand caressing your side. Your own traveling up to grip at his forearm, recognizing the deep scars along his skin, you could feel a muscle move as he brings you closer.

You would sigh, pry your eyes open to see deep blue irises already peering over you. You'd crack a smile looking away from him, nearly laughing out of nervousness but groan, "you weirdo, watching me sleep?" You ask, voice still groggy with sleep as you spoke lowly.

He chuckles, "maybe."

"Is that a problem?" he watches as you rub the sleep from your eyes to then stretch a little and bring yourself onto your side near his chest.

It takes you a few seconds to respond, registering your surroundings.

"No, I guess not, as long as I look pretty to you. I wake up ugly sometimes, ya know? Bad breath, slobber and all?" You stated half jokingly motioning towards your face before tucking your hand into your chest.

He amusingly scoffs at that.

"Hm, I beg to differ." He says, landing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he starts to rub circles along your back. "Regardless of your state, baby, you always look pretty."

"Hm, you're just saying that to be nice."

"No, I'm saying that because I love you and I love looking at you with every chance I get." He states in a matter-of-factly tone.

"You're biased then." You challenged with a raised brow, your gaze locking back with his.

"I'm only biased because I'm your boyfriend." You suddenly felt small underneath his gaze, feeling his hand venture lower near the roundness of your ass. Beginning to palm your cheek through the oversized tee. His head was rested into the palm of his hand as his face was only merely inches apart from yours, mumbling, "I have every right to be biased, mamas." His glare was loving and serious, clearly not shying away from this small intimacy between you two.

"Hm," you smirked, nudging your nose against his, "point taken."

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

[smutszn]

Meeting at the bookstore

the first time you see luigi, you're at the hawaii public library returning your overdue books. you think "that guy is really attractive, but not my type." he looks like a total surfer bro. cute, but a bro. probably works in finance and is on his eat, pray, love trip in hawaii

next weekend, your friend wants to get a book to read on the beach. you love bookstores, so of course you say yes. to your surprise, you see the surfer guy from the library there again. you recognize him because of his distinctive eyebrows and his confident aura.

you make eyes with him, and he seems to have a look of recognition too. he's cute, you can't help but notice, but you're too chicken to do anything. did he look at me? you second guess yourself. just when you think it's all in your head, he puts down the book he was looking at and joins you by the contemporary fiction section, standing right next to you.

"hi, what are you reading?"

you flip over the book. kind of stunned and not even sure what you were looking at. "intermezzo, this new sally rooney book. i'm a big fan of her books."

"i've actually read her other books too," he chimes in.

you're a bit surprised, but of course he would. you feel yourself heating up. you're not used to this sort of attention. you wonder where your friend is.

"are you going to get it?," he asks

"i'm only allowing myself to buy one book, otherwise i'll be poor," you laugh. "so...no. i have my eye on "the backyard birds chronicles" by amy tan. i might get intermezzo from the library when they have it in stock." you show him the book that's by your side.

"well, i'm going to get it," he smiles sunnily. "so who can i thank for making a good book suggestion?"

"y/n," you extend your hand. "nice to meet you"

he shakes it. he has a nice firm shake.

"nice to meet you too, hopefully i'll see you around," he flashes a charming smile, winks and goes to the cash register.

that was a really nice encounter, you think. it was light-hearted, fun. flirtatious? would be nice to have more of that.

you go look for your friend. she's already rung up and waiting for you, flipping through her purchase, fourth wing.

"oh y/n," she says as you two are walking to the beach, "i forgot to tell you, but this cute guy with curly dark hair gave me this book to give to you. i asked him if he was sure this was for you and he said your name, so i figured i should just take it."

it's the copy of intermezzo you left on the table. your jaw drops.

you're at the beach, excited to dive into a new book. you look at "the backyard bird chronicles" but then decide against it. as a gift to the mystery boy, you'll read intermezzo first.

you open the book and on the inside cover you see scrawled

you never asked me my name. it's luigi. and you never asked me my phone number. call me maybe?

Who wants to continue my fluff?

[gymleaderdakota]

Okay hear me out…Jason with heterochromia (blue and green). Do with this what you will.

[zaineviu]

❛𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵❜ - L.F (SKZ)

synopsis. Felix feels soft at the sight of his pregnant wife.

pairings. felix x reader!

content. sfw, husband!felix, pregnant!reader.

wc. 620

a/n. A very smooth continuation of ‘A little dramatic’ as I saw that many people liked that one.

part 1: ‘A little dramatic’

Don't forget to comment, so I know you like what I write and encourage me to keep writing.

"You shouldn't be drinking this."

"Felix, I have no problem with drinking this."

"But the baby..."

"The baby enjoys it, our little bean like it." Y/N took her husband's hand to let it rest on her belly.

How round and soft it was the poor man couldn't help but not smile.

"Y/N..."

"Come and hold me, drinking coke won't hurt me, it was just a little sip." Felix shook his head.

"Don't be stubborn and give me that." He snatched the empty bottle from her hands, making a mental note with throwing away all the cans that were in the fridge. "My love, the doctor said you couldn't drink these kinds of beverages, I'll make you a natural flavoured juice, okay? Healthier, healthier, and our baby will enjoy it."

Y/N groaned nodding, ignoring the sympathetic look on her husband's face.

She knew she had a commitment to eating and drinking healthy things, however; Jisung had brought a box with cans of soda that ended up forgotten in her fridge in the end, she couldn't help but grab just one can to take a mini sip of that cold Coke.

"You're so obnoxious. Baby, I hope and you don't go out like your dad, or I'll be very upset." She muttered. Her hands slid down her swollen seven month belly, in two more weeks she would be eight and you couldn't be anything but excited about it.

"I heard you, but I know our precious baby will look like you, I hope he does," the blond man confessed genuinely, sitting down next to you after leaving the full can of soda on the bedside table next to his bed. His hand never leaving your belly.

"Seven months in my belly, of course he have to." Y/N groaned, glad to feel Felix move closer and wrap his arms around you to lift your belly a little, letting you breathe.

"Do you want anything special, are you hungry, honey?"

"I don't think so, just you please... or well yeah, can you make me eat those cheddar cinnamon rolls you made the other night?"

"It tasted gross, are you sure you want that?"

"You're talking to someone pregnant, dumb. Of course I want to eat that." She groaned again after the sense of relief she felt at being in her cloying husband's arms.

"Stop doing that..." Felix pressed his lips to her neck, hiding his face in the crook of his beloved's neck. "I love you both so much...you make me so happy Y/N, I thank God for giving me the chance to be able to be with you and to have the chance to have a baby, our sweet love...I love you so much, love of my life..." 

Felix's eyes glazed over, breaking his voice at the end of his little speech, "you don't know how much I love you."

Felix began to cry, clinging to Y/N's body who smoothly turned around so she could hug him.

"I'm not leaving, Lixie, why are you crying, my sweet heart?"

"I don't know..."

"I'm the one who should be crying not you, stop crying, my love."

"It’s just that you make me so happy, so happy that I don't know how to express it."

"Everything you do for me is your way of expressing it, look, you even got me pregnant, what other proof of love do you need to get rid of that insecurity? I love you, with all my soul... and body."

Felix sobbed once more, clinging to his wife's body again. Inhaling your lavender scent, caressing your hair and letting his heart go out to her.

He felt at home.

And you felt loved.

[lottluvs]

Hi! I love your Jackie Taylor fic! I was wondering if you could write a Jackie x Fem!Reader where the reader comes back from hunting and finds Jackie lying in the snow suffering from hypothermia? She carrys her inside and huddles with her under the blankets until she’s warm again? Heavy angst with comfort. Thank you!!

Stubborn Frost . (🌨️)

ahh!! thank you so much anon! as per your request, here is your fic! I loved writing this :) 🤍

paring : jackie taylor x fem reader , c / w : hurt / comfort , hypothermia , care , angst

summary : coming back from hunting , you notice a figure collapsed in the snow , dropping everything , you discover jackie taylor suffering hypothermia , and the unfortunate reality of the danger sets in .

words : 2.3k

lottluvs , feel free to translate with credit . . open to criticism 🌱

The woods are quiet tonight, suffocatingly so. No howls, no birds, not even the faint rustling of branches. The silence presses down on you as heavily as the snow that has steadily buried the ground for weeks. The rifle strapped across your back feels heavier than it should, useless in your hands when you’ve once again returned from a hunt with nothing to show for it. You crest the final rise, the cabin just within sight, when a shape catches your eye—a splash of pale blue stark against the snow’s endless white.

Your breath catches in your throat. At first, you think it’s your imagination, exhaustion painting shadows where there are none. But then you see it again—a figure lying in the snow, unmoving.

“Jackie?”

Her name leaves your lips before you even recognize her form. You’re moving before you have time to think, stumbling down the hill toward her. The rifle clatters to the ground as you drop to your knees beside her, hands trembling. She looks like she belongs to the snow. Her skin is pale, her lips tinged an alarming blue, her clothes dusted with frost. Her eyes are closed, lashes rimmed with tiny crystals of ice. For a moment, you think you’re too late—that her body is just a frozen silhouette of who she was.

But then you see it: the faintest rise and fall of her chest. “Jackie,” you whisper, shaking her gently. “Jackie, can you hear me?”

Her head rolls slightly, her eyelids fluttering. That tiny movement lights a fire under you. “Okay, okay,” you mutter, your breath misting in the freezing air. “I’ve got you.” You scoop her up, her body terrifyingly light in your arms, and begin the desperate trek to the cabin. The snow drags at your legs, but you push through, teeth gritted. When you reach the cabin, you hesitate at the door. If the others see her like this…

No. You can’t risk it. You can already imagine the arguments, the cold indifference from some of them, the judgment from others. Jackie doesn’t need that. She needs you. You slip inside as quietly as you can, your breath catching when the warmth of the fire hits your frozen skin. The others are scattered in the main room, some muttering, some staring blankly at the flames. No one looks your way.

Good.

You move quickly, your footsteps soft on the creaking wood as you make your way to the ladder leading to the attic. Once there, you hoist Jackie up, gritting your teeth at the strain, and lay her down on the old floor cot in the corner.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She doesn’t respond, her body limp, but you can’t let that stop you. You descend the ladder, your heart hammering in your chest, and start grabbing supplies: blankets, a lantern, anything that might help. You move swiftly but carefully, avoiding the eyes of the others as much as possible. By the time you return to the attic, your arms are full. You light the lantern and set it beside the ‘nest’ on the ground, its warm glow casting shadows across Jackie’s pale face. Her breathing is shallow, her body eerily still.

You don’t waste a second.

You strip off your outer layers, ignoring the way the cold bites into your skin, and drape the five, six, however many blankets over Jackie’s body. They swallow her whole, but even that doesn’t feel like enough. You slip beneath the layers, pulling her into your lap, her icy cheek pressing against your chest.

“Come on, Jackie,” you whisper, rubbing slow circles into her back. “Stay with me.”

Her head lolls against your shoulder, her hair damp with melted snow. She doesn’t say a word, but you feel the faintest shiver ripple through her body. It’s enough to give you hope. Mere minutes turn into half an hour as you hold her, the blankets trapping what little heat your body can offer. Your arms ache, your fingers are numb, but you don’t care. You refuse to let her go.

Eventually, a soft sound breaks the silence. A weak, almost inaudible groan. Your breath catches. “Jackie?”

A soft, pained whimper escapes her lips, barely audible over the faint creak of the attic boards beneath you. It’s not a word, just a sound, raw and broken. Her head shifts weakly against your chest, her brows furrowing as though she’s trying to piece together where she is, why she’s here. Who’s holding her. “I…” you murmur, your voice trembling with both relief and dread. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes crack open, unfocused and hazy in the dim light of the lantern. She blinks sluggishly, her lashes still speckled with melting frost, and her lips part as if to speak, but nothing coherent comes out. Just another soft noise—confusion, pain, exhaustion—all tangled together.

“Shh, don’t try to talk,” you say gently, brushing your hand over her damp hair. It clings to her forehead, her skin frighteningly cold against your fingertips. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince more—her or yourself.

Her body shivers again, body trying to awaken, more violently this time, and you tighten your hold on her, pulling the blankets higher around her chin. She’s so cold, her fingers barely twitching when you clasp one of her hands in yours.

Her head shifts again, a weak movement that presses her cheek more firmly against your chest. There’s something instinctual in it, like she’s seeking warmth, seeking you, even if she doesn’t have the strength to say it.

The thought sends a fresh wave of tears spilling down your cheeks. You let them fall silently, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other continues to rub slow, steady circles into her back beneath the layers of blankets.

Minutes crawl by. You don’t let go, don’t even shift your position despite the dull ache settling into your legs and back. The lantern’s glow flickers slightly, the shadows in the attic dancing across the wooden beams, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from her face.

“Where…” Her voice is barely a whisper, rough and broken, and it startles you enough to pull back just slightly to look at her.

Her eyes are open again, more focused this time but still clouded with confusion. Though, her light eyes have blown pupils, she blinks up at you, her lips trembling, as though she’s struggling to form the words.

“You’re in the attic,” you say quickly, your voice soft. “I found you outside. You—” Your throat tightens, and you have to swallow hard before continuing. “You were in the snow, Jackie. You almost—”

The words lodge there, too sharp to say out loud.

Jackie doesn’t respond immediately. Her brows knit together, her gaze flickering to the blankets wrapped around her, then to your face. There’s a faint, fleeting flicker of recognition in her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by a shadow of guilt or maybe even shame.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words so quiet you almost don’t hear them.

Your heart twists painfully at her tone. “Don’t apologize,” you say firmly, cupping her cheek. She leans into the touch, her skin still far too cold, but the movement gives you hope. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”

She doesn’t argue, doesn’t push back with the usual sharp edges of her personality. It’s that absence, that lack of fire, that frightens you the most. Jackie, the girl who could meet anyone’s gaze head-on, now looks like she’s shrinking into herself, her voice too fragile to hold onto.

“Jackie,” you start, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Why were you out there? What were you thinking?”

Her eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, you think she’s going to shut you out, to retreat behind that wall of indifference she so often uses to shield herself. But then her gaze drops, and her lips press together in a thin, trembling line.

“I don’t know,” she finally says, so quietly it’s barely more than a breath.

You can tell she’s lying, or at least not telling the whole truth, but you don’t push. Not now. Not when she’s still so fragile, her body trembling faintly despite the layers cocooning her.

“Okay,” you say softly, letting it go for now. “We can talk about it later—“

She closes her eyes again, her breathing shallow but steady. You stay there with her, cradling her in your lap, whispering soft reassurances whenever her face contorts with discomfort or when her body shivers violently beneath the blankets.

The storm outside howls against the cabin walls, but up here in the attic, it feels like you’re in a world apart—a small, fragile bubble where only the two of you exist. And as you hold her close, your arms aching and your heart heavy, you make a silent promise: you’ll keep her safe, no matter what it takes.

Jackie feels so small in your arms, tucked against your chest like this, a fragile bird too frozen to fly. Her cheek is pressed to your collarbone, her breath faint and shallow, and for the first time, she feels soft. Not soft in the way she always looks—pretty and perfect, even out here in the wilderness—but soft in the way that breaks your heart. Soft because she’s quiet, because she’s not nipping at you with sharp words or rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

You don’t know what to do with that.

The silence in the attic feels both heavy and delicate, like a glass you’re afraid to shatter. You hold her closer, one hand still rubbing slow circles on her back beneath the blankets. Her hair brushes against your chin, damp but smelling faintly of her— of her scent.

She shifts slightly in your lap, and for a moment, your heart seizes, thinking she’s going to push you away. But she doesn’t. She lets out a quiet, shuddering breath instead, her body relaxing into yours just a little more.

Your arms tighten around her instinctively, your fingers smoothing over the edge of the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. You can feel the way her body trembles, the aftershocks of the cold still wracking her frame, but there’s something else, too—something raw and unspoken in the way she leans into you.

She’s so unlike herself right now, and it terrifies you. Jackie isn’t like this—fragile, quiet, unsure. She’s sharp and stubborn, meeting you word for word in the banter that’s always felt like its own kind of intimacy. She arches an eyebrow at you and smirk when you can’t think of a good comeback fast enough. She tells you she’s fine in that clipped, almost dismissive tone that lets you know she cares even if she won’t admit it outright.

But none of that’s here now.

All you have is this version of her—the one who’s too cold and too quiet, the one who isn’t pushing you away or rolling her eyes, the one who feels terrifyingly breakable in your arms.

You let your forehead rest against the top of her head, closing your eyes as a tear slips free. “Jackie,” you whisper, her name soft and aching on your lips.

She doesn’t respond, but you can feel her fingers twitch against your side, the faintest attempt to move, to acknowledge you. It’s so weak, but it’s enough to unravel you further.

Your lips press into her hair, and you let the words spill out, quiet and trembling. “You scared me,” you admit, your voice thick. “I thought—I thought I was too late. I thought I lost you.”

Her head shifts slightly, her cheek pressing closer to your collarbone, but she doesn’t speak. Maybe she can’t, or maybe she doesn’t know what to say. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need her to say anything. You just need her to stay here, with you, breathing, alive.

You pull back just enough to look down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes flutter open at the touch, still glassy and tired but more focused than before. She blinks up at you, her brows furrowing faintly, like she’s trying to piece together where she is, why she’s here.

“Hey,” you whisper, your lips curving into a small, shaky smile. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Jackie doesn’t answer, but there’s something in her gaze that lingers—something vulnerable, unguarded. It’s so unlike her usual fire, and you don’t know whether to be relieved or heartbroken by it.

“I’m here,” you say again, softer this time, your thumb brushing over her temple.

Her lips part slightly, but all that comes out is another soft sound—a breath, a murmur. She looks at you like she wants to say something, like she’s searching for the words, but they never come.

And that’s okay.

“Just rest,” you whisper, shifting her gently in your lap so she’s nestled closer, her head tucked under your chin. “I’ll keep you warm. I promise.”

The promise feels heavier than it should, like it’s meant for more than just tonight.

You adjust the blankets around her, making sure every part of her is covered, and press your cheek to the top of her head. Her shivering is slowing, her breathing deepening ever so slightly, and you take comfort in those small signs of life, even as the ache in your chest refuses to fade.

Jackie’s hand moves then, weak and slow, but deliberate. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, clinging to you in a way that makes your heart ache. She’s not pushing you away. She’s holding on, even if it’s barely there, even if it’s just enough to let you know she feels safe.

You let out a shaky breath, your arms tightening around her again. “I’ve got you,” you murmur, more to yourself than to her.

And for the first time in what feels like hours, you believe it

[poolverineficrecs]

Wtf im crying

["Merry Christmas, Honey Badger!"]

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 0.6k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Wade sets a Christmas Party.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Fluff, comfort, just them being all cute and domestic and Logan not being used to affection.

Wade always made a point to decorate the apartment on holidays and celebrate them properly. He didn't had that on his fucked up childhood, so it's important to him. Althea told Logan that, so he was playing along even though he didn't really care about those things. He cares about Wade.

Wade gave him really cheesy matching Christmas sweaters with their faces on them, and he hated them. But he wore it anyway. Logan wearing the one with a little Deadpool and Wade wearing one with a little Wolverine.

It was stupid, but it made Wade happy. Logan liked him smiling, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"We look so cute, peanut! Don't you think, Al? Oh, right, you can't see."

"Fuck off, jerk." The old lady spat.

"Well, I wish you could smell how adorable we look right now."

Logan grinned and shook his head. He was doing this more often, he realized. Smiling.

Mary Puppins walks in with her tongue out and Wade quickly scoops her up, the dog licking his face excitedly.

"Come to daddy, baby!"

"Oh, god. You got one for the dog, too?" Logan scowl when he sees dogpool wearing a little Christmas sweater just like them.

"Of course I did! She's our daughter!" The merc replies, holding Mary Puppins up as she wiggles. "Aren't you the cuttest little thing? Yes, you are!"

...

Wade invited the whole gang over: Laura, Yukio, Ellie, Peter... other side characters who didn't have any lines... And he may have cooked a feast - wearing his little "Kiss the cook" apron - and got gifts for everyone. He's cheesy like that. He's got a family now, and he doesn't take them for granted.

It was opening gifts time, and everyone was exchanging presents and there were a lot of "thank you's" and hugs.

It was still all foreign to Logan. He lived the past years all alone, and holidays like this used to be all the same to regular days where he would just drown himself in bottles of whiskey and be miserable.

But this family was nice. He felt like if Wade did, then he could belong, too.

Maybe he wasn't the Wolverine he should be, but Laura still seemed to like him and wanted to bond with him despite how fucked up he is. Wade adored him, and his friends were all kind to him.

Maybe he didn't have to be miserable forever. Maybe he could put his past behind and make a future in this new universe.

"For you." Wade announced, holding out a small wrapped box in front of Logan who was sitting on the couch. "Open."

Logan took the box and Wade sits beside him, tapping his fingers excitedly on his knees.

He unwraps it and when he opens it he sees dog tags that looked very alike the ones he had. He lost them in his universe while he was black out drunk.

But as he grabbed to examine them, he noticed this one's different.

On one side, it read: 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣, and when he turned it around, it read:

"𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙒𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚"

He could feel his heart aching as he grabbed the tags tight.

"Did you make this?"

"Yeah! I didn't really know what to get you, so I- Oh my god- Are you crying?!"

"No." Logan lied, fighting back an insistent tear.

"Oh god, I can't believe I made Wolverine cry!"

"Shut up."

"Come here, honey badger." Wade coos, hugging Logan in a soft embrace.

Logan doesn't hug back, but he also doesn't pull away. He wouldn't admit, but he needed it a bit. So he just sniffed as he let Wade hold him.

And he may hide it under his shirts, but after that, he never took the tags off. Rubbing them affectionately like he used to do with his old ones. Except these were so more meaningful.

[End.]

Hope you liked it! I wanted to make a cute poolverine holiday fic, so he ya go! Them being all cute and domestic it's so important to me.

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Forbidden

a/n: Greetings, babygirls. I’ve been really into angst recently so I needed to indulge myself a little; I’m a sucker for this man in any and all scenarios, but fuck me if angst isn’t a topper on my list. 

pairing: rival!Punisher!Frank x fem!vigilante!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, angst, hickeys (mention), fingering, begging, reader is a heartless little shit (but also horny so we love her)

word count: 3.5k

Forbidden.

You knew it was, you both did. And yet, somehow, neither of you seemed to give a damn.

It was only supposed to be one time; a one night stand, if you will, but you both knew that was bullshit the moment the agreement had been made.

Things had started off pretty casual; a quickie here, a blowjob there, nothing serious. Just fucking. You had intended to keep things that way; distant, far-removed (emotionally, that is). However, as most people are well aware, intentions often do not come to fruition. This situation would be no different.

You had first come into contact with the infamous Punisher on a mission of your own, attempting to extract some intel from the Russians that had recently made themselves known in the realm of ‘black market activity.’ Unfortunately for you both, Frank had had the same idea. You held your own, no doubt, feeling proud of yourself to even cut his lip in the slightest. But most people can’t take one punch from the Punisher, let alone five. Let’s just say, your jaw was very sore the next day.

You crossed paths one or two more times, each encounter holding more of the same, until a certain mission where the two of you were forced to work together. You couldn’t help that every time he cocked his gun your eyes snapped straight to his forearms. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran straight down your spine every time he uttered a word in that raspy voice of his. And, hell, who could be expected to help themselves with Frank Castle lying on top of them, shielding them from the barrage of bullets flying from the opposition? It was unbidden madness, but you found yourself welcoming it.

You could tell he felt the same, stealing side-long glances at you whenever you walked beside him, unnecessarily shielding you from incoming punches even though he could clearly see you handling it, his hand accidentally brushing against your hip at any available opportunity.

During that same mission, you began to realize the way your heart rate would pick up with each word that left his lips, and you started to understand what it is you were feeling. Well, you were feeling many things, truthfully; annoyance, exhilaration, hunger, but most of all…

Lust.

And that is how you ended up in your bed with Frank Castle. After all, you always got what you wanted, and it helped that he wanted it too. It didn’t end after the first time, with you ignoring the guilt you felt for compromising your morals in such a way. The reward, in your mind, far out won the risk. 

You couldn’t help but notice that nagging feeling, however, that you should put a stop to it, to all of it. It was dangerous, it was stupid, it was reckless. And yet, you found yourself once again falling asleep next to your antithesis, your paradox.

Frank woke up before you this time, a rare occurrence since he wasn’t really a morning person. The sunlight peeking through the blinds agitated his subconscious enough to awaken him, causing him to tiredly roll towards you. His eyelids slowly parted, his sleepy gaze landing on your angelic form.

Covered by only the thin white sheet, the silhouette of your body on full display to Frank, your hair creating a perfect halo around your head. You looked so peaceful, he thought, quite the contrast to your usual snarky attitude. 

Frank's gaze wandered down your body, taking in every single curve you had. His eyes continued to wander downward, pausing when his gaze landed on your hair. For some reason unbeknownst to him, seeing it spread out like that was extremely satisfying to him. Hell, even when it wasn’t spread out all over, it still looked good to him. His hand slowly reached out, gently grabbing a strand of your hair as he carded his fingers through. It was soft, full, and that was even after previous activities that had left you quite messy a few hours ago.

He moved a little closer to get a better look at your sleeping face. You looked really beautiful, he thought, when you weren't yelling at him or arguing about something. A small, uncharacteristic smile appeared on his lips before it slowly faded. They were supposed to be enemies…but why did you have to look so damn good?

You stirred softly in your sleep; not enough to wake, just to subtly turn your body towards him with a subconscious hum. Watching you turn towards him made something in his chest clench, but he pushed it away. He was supposed to be at war with you, not in your bed.

Despite his better judgement, he allowed his callused hand to continue running through your hair, slowly moving down to gently rest on your jawline as he quietly admired you. When he started to really feel like a creep, he decided it was time to wake you. He braced himself for you to lash out from exhausted frustration, gingerly shaking your shoulder. You must have already been on the precipice of consciousness, your eyes almost immediately fluttering open as your gazes connected. Looking down at you as your eyes opened, Frank couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at him. It was probably nothing, but he felt a tinge in his chest all the same. God, you had ruined him.

“Mornin’, princess.” he teased. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the nickname, not appreciating it. You allowed your gaze to momentarily flit across his features, taking in the bruises and scars gleaned from his most recent mission.

“Morning.” You mumbled quietly, covering your mouth as a yawn overtook you. He chuckled softly at your tired response, watching as you yawned. You looked so cute and adorable like this, he thought, but he quickly shut himself down. Why was he getting so damn attached?

“You look a mess.” He teased again, his hand moving from your jaw to gently brush some of your locks away from your face.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who made the mess.” I shot back suggestively, sending him a look before averting my eyes to the ceiling. His face darkened slightly as a hint of a smirk appeared on his face, the memories of last night returning.

“And who was it begging for more, hm?” You rolled my eyes at his pompous reply, not dignifying his comment with a response. He chuckled, his hand trailing down and gently grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t even try it, princess. We both know you enjoyed it just as much as I did.” You uninterestedly mhm’d in response, continuing to shield yourself from experiencing any actual emotions. Letting go of your chin, he smirked again before leaning down to your neck, his lips gently brushing over a spot he’d left a mark on the night before.

“If I remember correctly, you seemed to enjoy it even more when I did this…” He paused for a moment before gently pressing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck, his hands running down your body before settling on your hips. He knew he shouldn’t be doing something like this, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be within ten feet of you, but the moment he was touching you again, all rational thoughts faded from his mind. He felt himself getting lost in you, just like he had hours ago. A small, yet all-too-influential part of him selfishly wanted more.

As your brain finally caught up to what was happening, your breath hitched at the intimacy before you pulled away, sitting up against the headboard with the sheet clutched protectively over your bare chest. He watched as you sat up, his mind still hazy with desire. He pushed it away, though, realizing that you were clearly not in the mood for anything. He rather presumptively assumed to himself that you were just tired from last night, that he must be just that good. Without a word, he sat up, his back leaning against the headboard to match you. It was silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You alright?” He knew you weren’t, but he knew he should ask all the same. You merely nodded in silence, not so convincingly. He studied you for a moment, noticing the way you held the sheet up, almost trying to hide yourself. Normally, he’d comment on it out of concern, but a rare voice of reason advised him to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he looked down at his lap, rubbing the back of his neck. The awkward silence nearly consumed the room before he spoke up again.

“Listen… about last night-“

“Don’t.” You rudely interrupted. You didn’t mean to be so harsh, but you had also assumed he was smart enough not to bring up the situation. You had agreed not to, after all. He paused for a moment, a bit surprised by the immediate cut-off.

“What, I’m not allowed to speak about it?” You sighed, looking straight ahead.

“It’s just better if we don’t. It was a mistake; we can recognize it like adults and move on.” Now that felt like a knife to his fucking heart. A mistake?

“...A mistake?” Frank felt a foreign sensation in his chest when you referred to it so dismissively. It wasn’t supposed to be a mistake; hell, it wasn’t supposed to be anything…so why did last night still feel so good to him?

“What, you don’t agree?” You finally looked over at him, your tone inconsiderate and rough. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, seeming to consider his response.

“I think…” he paused, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. “I think I enjoyed it way too much to call it a mistake.” You had to scoff at that, if for no other reason than to maintain your nonchalant facade.

“It's called sex, Frank, it's meant to be pleasurable.” You stated matter-of-factly, swallowing your desire to cover your naked body as you disappeared into your closet. He leaned forward, a part of him wanting to get up and stop you from walking away. At the same time, his eyes didn’t leave your body, taking in the view for a moment before you shut the door. He swallowed the lump in his throat before leaning back against the headboard, his eyes trained on the closet door as he spoke again.

“It’s not just that, and you know it.” You sighed heavily, having tried to avoid this very conversation for so long.

“Oh, do I?” Your tone was incredulous, haughty. You were desperately trying to push him away, not all that subconsciously. He was beginning to feel agitated. Why were you trying so hard to deny it? He thought you were past that point after last night, and now it was like you were trying to run away from him all over again.

“Yes, you do. and you’re trying to deny it because you don’t want to admit how much you enjoyed it.” He snapped back. His voice had wavered slightly at the end, almost not wanting to argue with you this time.

“The sex was great, Frank, but that’s all it was.” You thought you had him there, not picking up on the ‘just sex’ he had muttered bitterly under his breath. That sentence made him feel like he got punched in the chest. He knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, and yet the thought of it being just sex and nothing else made him feel… strange. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness or disappointment or… all three. He didn’t respond for a few moments, his hands grasping the sheets tightly as he clenched his jaw.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” He cursed himself, knowing he could’ve come up with something better if you weren’t such a damn mind-fuck. You chuckled darkly at that, finally emerging from the closet in panties and an oversized t-shirt that had been lying on the floor.

“Got me good there, Frank.” You patronized, not waiting for a response before walking into the kitchen. You didn’t have to tell Frank you were making breakfast; You always did, no matter if you argued or not. It was strangely domestic, but you chose to ignore the implications each time, and each time you kicked yourself for it. Frank grumbled under his breath at your attitude, making gibberish comments about your unnecessary stubbornness. He was one to fucking talk. 

After a moment or two of wallowing in his disdain of you, he decided to take a shower and clean himself off. He didn’t think himself very persuasive when smelling like fish. After drying himself off, he didn’t even bother putting on a shirt, only pulling on boxers and a pair of sweatpants he had left here a week or two ago. When he stepped out of the bathroom, the smell of bacon immediately found its way into his nose, improving his mood in the slightest. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all. 

He stepped out of the bedroom to find you at the stove, lightly swaying your hips from side to side while humming a tune he didn’t recognize. He thought you looked like a fucking goddess, messy hair and all. There was no way in which he preferred to see you more than right now, in just a t-shirt looking uncharacteristically domestic. He was fucking enthralled by you. Tearing himself from the doorframe, he padded up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist, his chin finding your shoulder. Your muscles tensed at the unexpected contact, but you forced yourself to relax as you heaved out a sigh.

“It’s almost done, you can sit.” You said without turning to look at him. He bit back a smirk, the smell of bacon and your obstinance filling him with a new determination. He was going to have you, and you were going to enjoy it.

“That’s alright, I’ll wait.” He declined, his breath fanning over your neck. You silently cursed your body for even registering the sensation, closing your eyes just long enough to regain complete control over yourself. Flipping a slice of bacon with tongs, you inhaled as you recognized one of Frank’s hands was beginning to move downward. The thought entered your mind to refuse him, but you were so painfully conflicted that you couldn’t bear to make the hard decision. You allowed his calloused and bruised hand to snake under your tattered shirt, smoothing down the skin of your stomach before pausing at the waistband of your panties. He wanted you, but not enough to forego consent. You turned off the burner, moving the bacon pan to the back and allowing your hands to grip the edge of the counter, silently giving him permission.

You heard him let out a sigh of, what was it, relief? And with that, his fingers edged under the lace, stretching dangerously close to your subtly pulsing clit. Damn him and his coercive tactics. He turned you on more than you cared to admit (at all times), but you had moved past being embarrassed about his affect on you, and he had moved past making childish comments about it. That is, he had moved past making childish comments about it. Emphasis is important.

“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already so wet, princess.” You rolled your eyes, not appreciating his pridefulness (not that it wasn’t completely valid).

“Bullshit, you haven’t even touched my-” You cut yourself off with an involuntary gasped as Frank’s middle finger slipped in between your folds, your body immediately betraying your previous protest. Shit.

“Fuckin’ soaked.” He huffed, sounding almost shocked at the truth behind those words. Yeah, it was shameful. You were much too turned on to even consider uttering a word, apprehensive as to whether or not your body would force a moan out of you instead.

“Not much to say now, huh?” He chided as he brushed against your clit, causing your grip on the counter to tighten in both annoyance and arousal. “What’s wrong, princess?” His lips grazed over the shell of your ear, nipping lightly before that husky voice spoke again. “Cat got your tongue?” He was a fucking menace. He was pissing you off to no end, and yet all you wanted him to do at this very moment was fuck the actual life out of you.

“Shut up, F-Frank.” Pitiful. Anyone could see through that stuttered facade. At this point, you had accepted the fact that he knew how much your body wanted this, even if your mind was screaming fifty different ways to kick him out and never be in this situation again.

“Oh, so she speaks.” What a little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was only doing it to give you a taste of your own, heartless medicine. He must’ve gotten bored, slipping his finger through your folds, because he was now teasing at your dripping entrance, clearly planning to invite himself in.

“She’s so ready for me, princess. Feel that?” He whispered huskily in your ear, not waiting for a response before shoving his finger inside you up to the knuckle. Your mouth dropped open and your breath caught in your throat as he immediately found that spongy heaven inside of you, your grip on the counter so tight you thought you might break it. Frank let out a groan of satisfaction, soon beginning to pump his finger in and out of you at a torturous pace. You could see what he was doing now. He wanted you to beg.

But you wouldn’t. No fucking way.

Frank pressed his chest against your back, his bulge poking into your thinly covered ass from behind. He knew what he was doing, increasing his pace just enough to make you want more…a lot more. It was growing difficult for you to swallow back moans, to hide the gasps that caught in the back of your throat with each pump of his long finger. And just when you had felt like you had reigned in your breathing once again, he shoved a second finger into your tight, dripping hole.

Okay, so maybe you would beg.

“Fuck, Frank.” You gasp out, your hands starting to cramp as you continue to hold onto the counter. You can practically hear the smirk that spreads across his lips at your exclamation, but you were far from bothered by it at that moment.

“What’s that, darling? Something you need?” You squeezed your eyes shut at his cocky taunt, involuntarily clenching around his fingers as they ravaged you.

“F-Frank-” The plea caught on your tongue like a stale taste, foreign on your lips. You didn’t want to beg, you were sure you didn’t, except the thought of doing so sparked a fire so deep inside you that you weren’t so sure at all.

“You can do it, sweetheart, let go.” The way his breath fanned over your ear sent tingles down your spine; you wanted to let go. With a deep breath and a whimper escaping your lips, you did.

“Frank, please.” You had expected a patronizing reply, more taunting even than before. However, the response you got boiled down to a deep groan rumbling from his chest, his lips latching onto your neck as if he were holding on for dear life. His pace increased to an inhuman speed, punching your g-spot with each thrust with expert ability. His palm smacked against your puffy clit, your thoughts clouded by pleasure alone, that impending high just within reach. Your moans echoed across the walls, coupled with Frank’s groans of satisfaction. When you finally came, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so good in your life. Maybe it was the suspense, maybe it was how taboo it all was…or maybe Frank was just that good. But you didn’t care, after this you knew all you wanted was him. You had denied yourself for so long, and you didn’t want to anymore. He was yours.

After you came down from your high, Frank gingerly turned you around and pulled you into his chest, breathing heavily himself. He allowed his lips to ghost over the skin of your neck, placing light kisses here and there.

“So beautiful, baby.” The words were tender, meant. You had never heard such sincerity from him, and you felt as though you wanted to hear it again and again.

“Frank?” You whispered, tilting your head upward to meet his gaze. He looked down at you, bringing your foreheads together.

“Yeah?” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sighed.

“What is this?” You felt terribly stupid for even asking that question; it was childish, cliche, but in this situation, all too necessary. An unexpected smirk spread across his face, and he placed a chaste kiss on your lips before rasping out his reply.

“Forbidden.”

[dorabellingham]

Let's have a baby

warning: breedking but fluff

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when out of nowhere he decides to try to convince you to have a child with him

request: yes! (adapted)

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Jude was sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out on the coffee table as he watched a game on TV. You were next to him, a fashion magazine in your hands, occasionally exchanging glances with the screen to feign interest in the football. It was a quiet afternoon, but Jude seemed restless, fiddling with his phone and stealing glances in your direction. After a while, he let out a theatrical sigh, putting the phone aside.

—Have you noticed how everyone our age is starting to have kids?

You looked up from the magazine and arched an eyebrow.

—Everyone? Like who?

—Oh, I don’t know, my friends from Birmingham... some guys from the national team... even that influencer you like. —He made a broad gesture, as if he wanted to encompass the world. —It seems to be in fashion now.

You laughed, shaking your head.

—Babies aren’t a fad, Jude. They’re... babies. It’s hard work, you know?

Jude leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees, with a smile on the corner of his mouth.

—But it must be amazing, right? Having a mini you or a mini me running around the house…

You let out a nervous laugh, closing the magazine.

—Are you telling me you want a baby, honey?

He paused dramatically, pretending to think.

—I’m not saying I want one now, but… it wouldn’t be bad, right?

You were silent for a moment, watching the way he looked at you, with a sparkle in his eyes that made you feel a mix of nervousness and affection.

—Jude, we barely managed to organize the house after the move. Do you really think a baby would be a good idea now?

He came closer, holding your hand with both of his.

—I know it wouldn’t be easy. But, honey, just imagine… a baby with your hair and my eyes. Or with your smile.

You couldn’t help but smile shyly, even though you were trying to look serious.

—What if the baby get stubborn? Or your habit of leaving things lying around?

—Or your habit of falling asleep in the middle of the movie?

Jude replied, laughing.

You laughed together, but Jude seemed determined to keep the subject alive.

—Seriously, Y/n. I’ve always thought about it, you know? Ever since I started playing professionally. Having someone to teach, to take to games... someone to call our own.

You stayed quiet, thinking. Bellingham had a persuasive way about him, but you knew he was being sincere. Still, the thought of having a baby seemed so distant to you, with college, travel plans and the whole life you still had ahead of you.

—Jude, I know you’d be an amazing father, but... isn’t it too soon? We’re still learning to live together, to deal with life here in Madrid...

—I know. —He squeezed your hand lightly, with a soft smile. —I’m not saying it has to be now. It’s just... something for us to think about.

You sighed, but you couldn't help the warmth you felt in your chest as you imagined the scene he described. A mini Jude running around the house, with the same messy hair and that charming smile. It was a sweet thought, but still scary.

—Okay, babe. We'll think about it. But just think about it, for now, okay?

He leaned in to kiss your lips quickly, with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

—But I think we could start trying, right? Just to have practice.

—Jude Bellingham!

You said laughing as you stared at the boy in front of you.

—What, sweetie? —He said, feigning false innocence as he leaned his body over yours. —I know you like this idea as much as I do.

—Of course I do, babe, but where's the "let's think about it calmly" part?

You said, trying to stand firm with your position on the subject, but your husband's body was already on top of yours.

—Y/n, imagine our little baby here... —Jude said as he lifted your shirt and caressed your belly with his fingertips. —You're going to be the most beautiful pregnant woman in the world, babe.

You couldn't take it anymore, he talked so passionately about having a baby, the way he caressed your belly so delicately and how those brown eyes shone at you with a mischievous smile on his face.

—Then make me pregnant, Jude.

[scarletttries]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Love Languages (Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Request: "hi! i loved reading your baldurs gate companions in love headcanons, i wanted to ask would it be okay if you wrote headcanons for what their love languages would be? or just how they would show love to their partner? thank you!"

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who sent in requests and reblogged my last Baldur's Gate post! Consider me open for any BG3 requests, let me know if you want to see more pieces like this :)

Astarion:

- Astarion has always had a way with words, and there's no exception in the way he sings his praises of you. He is quick to tell you how you have won his favour, how he prefers you to any of his other travelling companions, how he looks forward to the moment you open your eyes each morning. He will come up with a thousand sweet pet names to lavish you with affection, her purring voice leaving no trace of doubt that he doesn't mean exactly what he says. And he takes a certain sick satisfaction in describing all the things he wants to do for you the moment you are left alone together, and watching the blood rise up to your cheeks, only making you more appetizing.

- After years of what felt like indentured servitude, Astarion always feels himself falling only more deeply in love when you do him little favours and acts of service. He never stops being surprised when you've set up his tent for him because he could tell he was battle-worn this evening, or when you fetch him a cup of wine before he's even realised he was actually quite thirsty. He's never had someone know him well enough to anticipate his needs, let alone selflessly step up to deliver those things wanting nothing in return but to see him happy and at ease. He can feel himself grow more trusting and open of you with every kind task you undertake.

Wyll:

- Wyll has lived a life subject to many stories, and finds himself weaving a new tapestry of tales with his Words whenever he speaks to you. A simple good morning is never enough, he must soliloquise on and on about the way it feels to wake beside you, and how each ray of sunlight captures your beauty in a thousand different ways. He will wax poetic as you stroll through the lands, letting you know exactly what he admires about you, and exactly what your future adventures together would mean to him. He wants nothing more than to tell you the story that he sees the two of you writing together, every sweet word just another reminder that there's never been anything more important to him than you.

- You can show Wyll how much you care about him by just being there and sticking by for all the quality time he needs. This may include a lot of listening to the heartbreaking tale of his father's scorn, and sitting in supportive silence as he tries to let go of some of the weight he has carried on his shoulders thus far. You also need to be willing to put in the time to learn a dance or two, the retracing of steps bringing warmth to Wyll's heart and flooding him with all the brightest memories of his childhood. And when the dances have your bodies twisting closer and closer then Wyll has another idea of how you can spend some quality time together.

Gale:

- While Gale does see himself as a man of adventure, he is first and foremost a scholar of the magical arts and that requires a certain amount of Quality Time spent with his books. As he makes space in his life and heart for you, he views his time with you as equally precious. He loves that you two can sit quietly next to each other reading for hours, or just swapping stories of your adventures. He knows if the gravity of it all is getting on top of him, he can pass an easy day resting his head in your lap while the two of you discuss what the future could hold for you, giving him reason after reason to keep on fighting and never surrender to ache in his chest. On the rare occasions that Gale has to spend the day away from you, prepare yourself for the most dramatic reunion you can imagine when he returns - sweeping you into his arms, ready to cling by your side as he tells you everything you missed while being apart.

- Gale has heard and read a lot of pretty words in his time, knowing they are often not to be trusted in their intended meaning. So rather than telling Gale you care, you find it much more effective to just show him with your touch. He's a needy boy at the best of times anyway, but with a gentle caress of your fingers over the nape of his neck you can render the chatty wizard speechless and completely entranced. It's difficult to overstate how much of Gale's day he spends thinking about when it all grows dark and finally he can retire into your bed roll and feel your skin pressed against his, feeling completely safe and content in your company.

Shadowheart:

- Despite having little to offer and no intrinsic idea of an item's value, Shadowheart finds herself compelled to offer you small gifts and tokens of affection as you travel together. It might be an especially well aged bottle of wine picked up while exploring some abandoned castle, a bottle she hopes the two of you can share as the sun is setting that night. It might be a resilient flower she sees sprouting from a hillside, she can't help but tuck it behind your ear and marvel at the way it draws out the highlights in your eyes. A cup of water from a glistening stream, a smooth pebble plucked from the shore, a sweet handful of berries found deep in a thicket. Her hand is constantly extending out towards you, with some small reminder that you are never far from her thoughts.

- So much of Shadowheart's life has a been shrouded in dishonesty and mystery, so when you speak to her with only kindness and truth she comes to really value those Words of Affirmation. Giving her your honest opinion, and letting her talk through whatever moral quandary is playing on her mind, will strengthen the deep understanding you share and remind her of the way you give her something no one else has before. Let her know you're thinking of her too, that you care about how she's doing, and you like her no matter what version of herself she is becoming, and Shadowheart will continue to open her heart and mind to you again and again.

Karlach:

- Karlach has always been a helpful soul, even if she's been misguided in the past about who she's been helping. So her favourite way to show you she cares is through Acts of Service, doing little tasks for you and reinforcing that your life will just be easier if you keep her around and ideally very close by. She is particularly happy when she gets to do something for you that doubles as an excuse to show off her statuesque build; reaching something off a high shelf, lifting some heavy boulder out of your way, carrying you in her arms when the day has been long and there's still a journey ahead of you. She feels like she needs to improve your life in all these tangible ways in order to let you know just how appreciated you are, even though it would be impossible to ever feel like you were being taken for granted by this loving soldier.

- After decades of burning ultimately hot because of the infernal engine in her chest Karlach has become used to being a certain level of touch-starved. But when you first celebrate her mended heart by throwing your arms over her shoulders, all that need and want come flooding back in a landslide and Karlach is sure she'll never be able to stop squeezing you again. Show Karlach love through physical affection and this fierce warrior will be melting like a puddle into your lap at the slightest touch. Wake her with a hug each morning, let her fingers grip your hand as you explore the treacherous world, squeeze her thigh as you settle round the campfire each evening. Remind her you're there, and let her cling to you in a way she has always craved, and you'll have a very happy Barbarian on your hands.