#Softly written

[qhostqizmo]

Intertwined Hearts / Intertwined Fates

Gods I am currently so obsessed with noblewoman Essatha and urchin Amon AU I shake it like a ragdoll between my teeth I love it I love it I love it arf arf

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Was this real? Of all the places that life could lead him, how cruel the humour if it held any sort of intention within its grasp. Splendid the luxury; how it made him feel sick with wanting, and with that wanting sick of himself for having the audacity to want at all.

Lady Essätha had no shortage in her kindness. If not for how early and unsuspecting this was all, he would have believed himself a charity case. For show: maybe; but for to better her own self-image would be more like it. This concept too would have run into its doubts, however. Every glance at her came with a great difficulty not to see the poetic version everyone drew so endearingly of her. She was it seemed every bit as was sung and said of her: generous, considerate, thoughtful and wise.

And I am a fool for staring, Amon Clermont thought bitterly. She was something of class and refinement; something far beyond the realm of his thoughts. He didn’t deserve to close his eyes and think of her so softly; or the way the light shone from her eyes whilst she smiled at him.

How long had he been here on her property now? Nor more than a week, and he could feel the disaster of John Keats and Fanny Brawne burrowing into every detail of his life. She was like a flame, and he the moth. He was not so clever and imaginative as the late author, but oh, Bright Star she was. There was an understanding in his heart now, how men could buckle and break to write such passionate odes.

It was all circumstantial. He reminded himself this again and again as he stepped into the mother-in-law suit on the Meduza estate grounds. Proving to her hospitality again and again, when he had held doubt on the very idea of staying in her home, she had finally convinced him of at least taking the extra dwelling unit. More importantly: it gave him some much needed distance between his crazed thoughts, and of her, though he tried not to admit it to himself. The smell of her fragrance lingering in the air of the manor; the sound of her moving throughout the hallways, her laughter; Gods to yearn for something so maddening like a boyish crush and a madman’s obsession.

There was a possibility that his time tied to Essätha Meduza could lead to his death. But what better fate to die, then? He had nothing, and she provided him with all humanely needs and all desires he gently attempted to rebuke. And there was her of course; her mostly importantly. The way she fidgeted her fingers, pulled back her hair, turned her eyes away as though shy when their gazes caught and lingered to long-

Pity him, he must be blind. Seeing things he shouldn’t, definitely. Amon gave a shake of his head, laughing at himself harshly as he moved about the room to undress. He opened the dresser (when was the last time he’d gotten to use one of these?) and gathered out some attire to wear to bed. There was no running water to this unit, but he had bathed and brushed his teeth in the main house before mulling down the walkway to the smaller house. Amenities on top of amenities, he was becoming spoiled.

Grunting, Amon tossed back the sheets and comforters to make space for himself in the mattress bedding. He took a great delight in the plush mattress; though Lady Essätha warned him that it was old and likely lumpy. It felt heavenly enough for him, and he took up the covers to shield himself from the chill of the night. Leaning over to where he’d left the lantern bedside that he’d walked down with, he blew out the lick of flame, and turned over to rest.

The world danced behind his eyelids as sleep swiftly overtook him. Nestled in warm bedding, full from a grand feast for dinner; all his dreams and thoughts were plentiful fantasies. All the comforts he had been missing out on for so long; all the literature at his fingertips, the access to humanity he’d been rejecting for so long.

Then of course, there was her. The glow of her in any lighting; it mattered not the sun or moon, the candlelight or magical baubles. It flowed through her, along her, beside her; filled her like an ethereal glow. She was the light, and it beckoned to her welcomingly. It came home to her readily; and brightened her eyes, her face, her smile-

A rapping at the door abruptly shattered him into awareness. At first he thought he had imagined it. Then Amon thought better of it; wearily remembering the hostile intentions of the murderous assassin. They would not come knocking in the middle of the night, no; but what if it was the Warden, or one of the temple healers. What if something had become of Lady Essätha?

Amon rolled quickly out of bed just as the second knock timidly rapped upon the door. He blinked at the blurry darkness that was his room, stumbling around the bedposts. There was so little moonlight on this night, and he could hardly see a damn thing. Tripping over one of his boots at the end of the bed, he growled to himself with annoyance as he finally made it to the doorway to tug the handle open.

I must still be dreaming.

Like Heaven’s Gates had opened before the very doorway, Lady Essätha stood awkwardly, her arms wrapped over her bosom in the chilled night air. Though he had grown accustom to the visible light catching off the golden hues of her iris like a predator stalking the night, her gaze was like a beacon in the night, guiding in warmth.

“Lady Essätha?” He drowsily grunted with shock. “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

The noblewoman reached up, pushing strands of curly black hair from her face. Her expression was naked with a kind of vulnerability he only ever saw at the Temple of Torm, when they had been admitted for healing after he’d saved her from the attempt on her life. Everywhere else, she had managed to hold a cool demeanor of strength and refinement. She was unshakable in that way.

“I’m sorry to have woken you at such an hour, Amon,” she rasped. Amon. He loved the way she said his name. It lifted his spirits; how she curled it just right, announced it in such a way that gave it meaning and life and vibrancy. Not Mister Clermont, but Amon.

Call me anything, and I’ll answer to it, milady.

“It’s no trouble at all, Madame,” he answered with a rough clearing of his throat, “how can I be of service to you?”

She rubbed her elbows uneasily, dropping her gaze from his. Her entire body folded inward with doubt.

“I shouldn’t be bothering you-”

“Upon my mother’s name, milady, you are not causing me bother in the least. Is there anything that I can do for you?”

With a sigh, the woman’s shoulders sagged. “Would it… be alright if I slept here, tonight? I can’t seem to garner and rest. Every little noise sounds like someone’s in my room.”

Her throat flexed. Amon could still see the distinct impression of the rope that had at one point been tightened there, attempting to suffocate the life out of her. His own throat swallowed heavily, burdened by the reminder that still remained there.

“Of course, ma’am. This is your house, after all.”

Essätha lifted her eyes to gaze up at him with relieved fondness. “Thank you- but this is your space while you are here. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Not at all,” he quickly remarked, stepping aside as he gestured with a respectable bow. “Please do come in: the night is chilly, I wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

Her eyes were grateful as she tentatively stepped into the small dwelling space. “I’ll take the armchair-”

“The bed is most certainly yours, milady.”

“I promised this room to you; the bed is yours,” the noblelady insisted as he quietly closed the door after her.

“Madame: respectfully, I have slept on much less comfortable things than an armchair. I’ll be alright.”

To his great astonishment, she jutted out a finger at him, her voice stern: “I will take the floor, then, if you must take the armchair.”

“That is a waste of a bed milady,” Amon countered, slightly exasperated.

Though it was too dark for him to see it, her cheeks inflamed with color. “Why do we not just share in the bed, then? It is large enough for two people.”

He knew she could see him blushing; with her remarkable vision that adjusted to even this inky black. Amon swallowed thickly as his heart leapt in his throat; enthralled with the idea. One that, he knew, he should be taking no interest in.

“I- That would be indecent, madame. I’m not worthy-”

“Amon,” say it again, he prayed; latching on to her every breath and word; “This is not a matter of philosophy, nor class; this is simply about rest and impartial equality. You were granted this space as your own; therefore, the bed is rightfully yours. However I will bend in this matter to share with you the bed, since I know that you are far too much a chivalrous gentleman and wouldn’t allow a lady sharing the same space as you to be less than comfortable. We can share in the bed.”

The matter-of-fact way that she said it, well, how could he refuse her? He should; he needed to, but he didn’t wish to. There was a thrill in his body; tingling from nerve end to nerve end. The very idea of her pressed so close to him while they rested, it made him feel a giddy restlessness of joy in his heart that he wished he could vomit out. He needed to be rid of it; this longing. It was unhealthy. It would lead nowhere.

“… Fine. Fine, but I can lay at the end of the bed-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Essätha snorted, making her way to the bedside. She climbed in with ease beneath the layers of fabric, and patted the adjacent side as she glimpsed up at him.

Join her? Now? His heart was pounding; sweat beading on his brow.

With an aching lightness in his chest, Amon shuffled around the other side of the bed; his eyes having adjusted better to the dark. He sank down at first, giving her time to change her mind, but she was already ahead of him; pulling back the sheets on his side, smoothing out the bedding cover. Her mass of black curls flopped into the pillow, burying herself in like it was a Queen’s comfort.

Slow as a snail, Amon took a seat on the mattress. One by one, he raised a leg to shimmy beneath the blankets. Lady Essätha huffed softly at his sluggish delay; tugging up the covers like a shroud before he had even laid back.

“Goodnight, Amon.”

Feeling inadequate and stupefied, Amon inclined back into the mattress, immediately turning his back to her. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t bare to. He feared that his own passionate desire would be plain on his face.

“Goodnight, Lady Essätha.”

“I told you before my dear: you can call me just Essätha, or Essie.”

“Of course, milady.”

She sighed on the other side of the bed, and it sounded sad. He hated that sound, but couldn’t make any sense on why it sounded that way. The framework of the bed creaked and bounced slightly as she apparently rolled over, curling herself up into a ball.

He allowed himself a single glimpse over his shoulder, seeing nothing but the thickness of her locks and her body rolled up in a balled up indistinguishable shape beneath the sheets. It didn’t take his thoughts much though to fill in the gaps: the soft, suppleness of her skin; aglow with the rich autumn tones. The gentle valley of her chest rising and falling, the curves of her hips, the line of her throat as her head tipped back-

Clamping down on his thoughts with an bear’s iron trap, Amon turned his head over. His lips were white; pressed together firmly as he bit the inside of his cheek. He was being incredibly indecent; daring to think of her so boldly when she was right there. Gentle and funny and sweet and right there. Like fate teasing him. Or how her voice so boldly challenged him; had him biting his tongue and finding no fault in how she approached him with an answer before he could dissuade her.

It would be over soon enough. He would wake and she would not be there; like the dream he believed it to be. Or he would wake and she would not be there, having fled from his side as she should. He was hardly a prize to be won, in status or appearance with his hideous scars. She was just lonely, and frightened. How could she not be, after what she’d been through?

And he would not take advantage of her fears. He would not abuse her kindness. She was here because of her night terrors, and he would respectfully be humbled by her finding security in his presence. Nothing more.

Eventually, his eyes fell closed. Sleep this time was dreamless; almost in a knowing that the reality he sought to ignore couldn’t be matched by a fantasy. To have her so close to him was far more than an urchin like he deserved. A nobody. A cast out. A failure on his family name; a would-be murder, a mess, a disaster.

When night fell to dawn, and he blinked in the morning light to stir to the world, he thought that maybe he was still asleep. It must be a pillow in his arms; it had to be a pillow.

But Lady Essätha groggily hummed in her sleeping state, curling herself bodily into him.

He wanted her. Not sinfully; though he may be a sinner. He wanted this casual comfort; the connection of human touch so peaceful and so long forgotten. Exploring bodies in carnal lust was easy to come by; a welcome lull to a deeper kind of loneliness. This though; blissfully content, was fulfilling in every way he could ever want day by day.

How on earth had they come to this though? She in his arms, her legs tangled with his, the heat of her breath wafting against his chest?

Tentative; fearful he would wake her and she would headbutt him right in the face, he nuzzled his face into her lush ebony curls as he knew he shouldn’t. She smelled of morning dew on marigold’s bloom; like the freshness of the cotton sheets and the ozone in the air before rainfall. There was a sweet hint of vanilla on her skin, and Gods, she was soft against him; loose and relaxed with trust and faith. Her skin as warm as a summer day, the sound of her breathing muffled against him as she shifted as though to get closer; to climb into his ribcage.

Let her go, his mind demanded. Get out before it becomes too much. Before you’re pulled in any further. The loss will destroy you otherwise.

She slept so serenely now. He could recall her restless nature even now at the Temple; how she’d been struggling against invisible nightmares and horrors that gripped her. How could be possibly refuse her a moment of tranquility, even if it was with himself? Yes it was selfish to take any joy in this moment; in a moment not warranted for him, but it wasn’t just for him, was it? She had come to him asking for his presence; wanting of this feeling of protection she felt assured he offered.

The noblewoman sighed, rubbing her cheek just beneath his collarbone. A stillness took over him bodily; hoping she did not wake and scramble away from him. Not yet; just give him a moment more to pretend, to craft a memory so vivid from this moment that he might yet be able to find comfort within it long past his time here.

Amon gave a muted thanks to the Gods, and clutched her closer; swearing her felt a reflexive tightening of her own arms around him as he pressed his face into her locks. He peered wearily at the rising sun filtering in through the curtains, knowing that all too soon it would rouse her completely from her slumber and they would have to unweave from this nest they made together.

Gods help him, he prayed he could find a way to learn how to unweave his heartstrings from her unknowing grasp one day too, before he lost. Before leaving was such agony that he couldn’t bare it. Before he settled down here, watching her, wanting her, and witnessing her grow with someone else yet being unable to live with the idea of never seeing her again.

Maybe his father had been right about him all along.

He was just a pathetic boy, with a weak heart.

[summerblueringo]

Kimi's hair <3

[whollyjoly]

hot in the day, hot in the night, hot as the coal coming to tread, light on your bed, here we go oh, listen whistle roll (baby the, the sun is getting low)

the bucktommy cowboy au nobody asked for part two (part one) (part three)

(song insp.)

[yasmeensh]

Angsty Neanderthal teenager and his blind little sister. I gave them names but I'm too timid to share yet lol. I'm developing their story arc far more than the main character's 😳 they took over my mind ever since I thought of them existing.

[t3tr0m1n0]

it really must be said that in spite of my genuine opposition towards/distaste for rpf i keep on over & over ending up with an interest in or at least locked into a community centered around media that is damn near indistinguishable from it

[sins-of-the-sea]

//I dare you. I fucking dare you.

Try to steal the dragonskin from Giovanni. Then you will get to meet the true Sin of Greed of the Sea.

[clockwork---heart]

in which yang and weiss make sure blake eats

"You realize I can get out of this hold, right?"

Blake's voice comes after another forced--not really-- mouthful of food, cocking his head back to rest on Yang's chest and look up at her. While they all know this is true, they also know Yang also has his tail held firmly in her other hand. Something that she could do because harming Blake with malice in mind was never on the table, but as a punishment for not eating? Absolutely.

"I don't see it happening, Blake."

Weiss snorts as she raises the fork again, thinking the whole situation is actually incredibly funny. It is. Really, it is. Two of team RWBY ganging up on the third to force him to eat? Hilarious.

Especially when this is only happening because Yang had enough of Blake pulling the same thing on her. So she's got her tail pinning his legs together in a tight wrap and one arm around his midsection to keep his arm pinned and him from trying to escape.

"Just eat, you dork."

[metaphorical-goblin]

Does anyone have any book recs of like… queer parents? Two moms against the pta or something, or a dad making so many “trans-parent” dad jokes that his kids just combust

I haven’t looked very hard, myself, but I would just love some domestic family/relationship stuff :)

[imaginepostingonsideblogs]

i love the fact cas keeps getting depicted as a master manipulator bc like.

LADIES. IS THIS YOUR MAN.

[qhostqizmo]

Love and Loss and Found Again

whoopsie doo, this is ur fault Ammy

-

He opens his eyes, and all is bathed in a pale luminous glow. No identifying features stand out; the outline of trees that lack definition and color, buildings, roads. He isn't sure if it's just the realm in which he has found himself in, or if it's because of her.

Her presence; filled with color and vibrancy as he knew in life. Her expression; astonished to see him once more. There is no blood in her hair; no scars, no wounds, no discoloration or crusty pieces of her scales rotting off flesh. She is here, and she is just as captivating as he'd seen her in life.

The silence is deafening. Amon was never certain if he would see the sanctuary of this sort of afterlife- not after what sins he had committed and the silence that held his tongue for so many years. But even his questions on how or why were short-lived; a flash like a firefly blinking in the dark. If she was here, then this was paradise.

Without knowing he does so, the nobleman races for her. She does not move; wide-eyed and slack-jawed. When they collide it is rough; panicked, the wind knocked out of the both of them as he embraces her on impact, staggering. She wheezes against his chest out of breath, with fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Essatha," he breathes; her name like forgotten ambrosia's nectar on his tongue. Such a sweet sound; such perfection breathed into each syllable. He'd only spoken it with such loneliness for so long, now; ached with it, drowned in it.

"You're here," the sorceress rasps. Her voice is both staggering with emotion, and gasping in the strength of his arms wrapped so tightly around her. "You're here-- but you shouldn't be here, it's too soon-"

A broken and harsh choking sound escapes the Lord as he buries his face in her hair. "It was too soon for you, too. The world lost something grand, and beautiful, and exquisite the day it lost you. I was lost, without you."

No longer does he know if he's shaking like a life, or if she is, or if they both are simply too overwhelmed that their limbs and ribcages have tuned to the same overpowering force. His sobs become hers-- or maybe it's the other way around. They lost. They found. They lost again- and found, even here. Even now.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Don't," she hushes; voice softer and sweeter than any songbird melody. "Don't. Don't tell me you're sorry. Don't be sorry for things we couldn't control; for events we couldn't rewind."

"I should have protected you better," Amon mumbles; the guilt even now like lead in his chest.

"You did. You did, m'lord you aren't to blame for what happened to me, you never were. You did everything right; everything you should have, everything you could. I don't blame you. Please don't blame yourself. Please."

Heavy, agonizing moans tore through Amon's throat as he clutched to her with everything he had. He knew better than to think he deserved her, after he failed her so totally, but she didn't just forgive him-- she never put the blame he so rightfully deserved on his shoulders. As much as he wanted her to be furious with him; he wanted her to upset, or hurt; he was relieved by her generosity; her compassion. His Essie, still too good for him; kind, considerate, seeing the best in him, seeing the shades of gray in scenarios he insisted were black and white. After all: he was a failure, a weak boy, and a monster; a killer- but she never stopped insisting on the good in him, on his heart, on his spirit being unwavering.

"I missed you. I was lost without you."

"I know, beloved, I know. But this… this may not be your end-"

"I won't go back," the Briarton Lord sobbed. He heaved for oxygen, burying her into his ribcage, into his skin. He wanted her closer; needed her closer; needed her in the safety of his arms and in his heart forever.

"I'm never letting you go again."

Her breathing shuddered, in and out. "But Amon-"

The desperation in her voice made him whimper, pathetic, needy. A hiccup shook his chest as he peeled himself off her just enough to look her in the eye- hers such as bloodshot as he expected his own to appear.

"Essie; my Essie," he crooned, shaking on each breath, "I could have been a race with lifespan to last a millenia, and it would still have been worthless without you in it. The life I had been leading before you was no life at all; walking from point A to point B, trying to uphold a family legacy, mechanical, desolate, meaningless. It held no value. I was pointless. I looked after my people, and the Emerald Expanse, but anyone could have done that. I had nothing- I was nothing.*"

"I know that look, darling- please let me finish, I beg you. I know you would want me to go on. I'm selfish, I'm stupid- I'll be any kind of fool the world wants to call me, I don't care. I want you. I only want to be with you- I have missed you in every way, in every day; in the ruddy evening sunlight, in the bed we'd share, in the place by my side. I saw you in every sunrise; I longed for your touch in ever triumph and failure; that warm reassurance, that soft smile. Gods you're so beautiful, I feel as if i've forgotten every fond crinkle by your eyes when you smile-"

He reached for her cheek and Essatha shuddered, a fresh spring of tears meeting his palm as he cupped her face. The heat of her beneath his touch; the softness of his skin, it was all the same here as it had been in life. Bright, like a sun going supernova.

She turned into his hand to kiss his wrist. He wiped at the wetness beneath those golden butterscotch eyes, a dull throbbing in his heart. How he hated to see her cry; it mattered not the reason, tears did not belong in his beautiful gentle Essatha's eyes.

"I want to be with you," Amon murmured. "*I need you. I- I love you, Ess'. I could operate the Emerald Expanse; I could move through a daze in life doing as I'm needed, as I'm told; doing what's best and good but it's not what I want. I want you- I wanted you there Essie; I wanted you there for all of it. I want to live for myself a life *worth* living, and without you there… Without you- holding your hand, balancing my flaws, encouraging me, living with me…"

His throat jumped, swallowing.

"I would have married you, if you'd have taken me."

"… Why not, now?" she asked; voice faint and soft as she peered into his gaze through her long lashes.

Breath hitching, Amon trembled from head to foot. "M-… Marry you?"

She nooded, lips slightly parted.

"I love you, Amon."

Like himself, she had said it so simply; effortlessly. It was as wonderous and enchanting as the way she said his name; matching it in euphoria.

He should have asked first-- he'd laugh with embarrassement and berate himself later-- but the nobleman leaned in as he cradled her cheek, both tender and protective, and kissed her with delicate yet loving passion.

And to his delight, she reciprocated with a measure of equal enthusiasm and tender heat, wanting of him.

"I need you, too," she mouthed against him; her words barely audible even pressed nose to nose. "I would have come back to you, if I could have."

A grunt escaped him; his lips ghosting against the suppleness of her own. "I have you again, in my arms. Let me love you if- if you'll have me-"

"Always. Always and forever, my beloved m'lord Amon."

Her lord. Her beloved.

Feeling as though he was being strangled; so full of emotions surging and ebbing in hope, anguish, elation, hurt, comfort-- Amon tugged her in once more, meeting her in the middle with exact shades of adoration, and respect, and love he'd always wanted to share with her in life; listening to the sharp inhale of anticipation through her mouth before he claimed her in another kiss.

His. His darling Essatha, back in his arms, where she belonged.

[captainderyn]

My World Is You (3/4)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Wulfwryn/Raenor

Additional Tags: Aftermath of Violence, Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, emotional distress, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Summary: The path to save Raenor takes Wulfwryn into Lothlorien and into uncertain territory that is the elves of Lothlorien and dwarves in Moria working together. But her goal remains singularly focused, leaving little room for anything else.

LINK TO READ

Excerpt:

Wulfwryn stumbled outside. 

Into sunlight, so bright after the dark halls and feeble lanterns of Moria that she saw nothing but brilliant, blinding white  for several moments. She careened forward in staggering steps, forearm shielding her eyes as she blinked rapidly. 

Giant dwarven statues flanked her, standing guard over the gaping entrance into the mines. She stumbled to a halt as her eyes adjusted, still blinking rapidly. 

Her knees hit the soft, crumbly earthen path, her arms hanging lip at her sides. Long sprigs of grass brushed her knuckles. 

The Anduin snaked through the trees, happily gurgling along its carved path. Just behind her, the waterfall that bridged the Bruinen from the Misty Mountains to here purred as it poured from high in the mountain ridge. 

It was quiet. 

It was peaceful. 

Swathes of golden trees flourished as far as her eye could see, catching and displacing the sunlight into a canopy that seemed to glow from within.  

Wulfwryn gave one shuddering breath, then another. 

Her eyes burned and she hefted one arm, so heavy, to swipe away tears that poured down her cheeks. 

This place wasn’t somewhere her dirty, scuffed boots should touch. This was no place for her sharpened sword and heavy shield. 

Gazing upon the canopy of Lothlorien, Wulfwryn finally saw the images Raenor tried to paint for her with his words in his songs and stories. Of the ethereal beauty he wove melodies into tapestries about.  

[twohauntedhouses]

it’s me, viktor, and his hextech strap against the world right now

[chastiefoul]

how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

[stickbugfan72]

i cant sleep but i hope your dreams are comforting and that you can fly and its fun. i hope you wake up in the morning and smile because i was there again. I hope you dont mind that im not beside you in the daylight. I hope I can welcome you back tomorrow night and that we kiss and hug and you can still feel the warmth when you get up to brush your teeth without me.

[clockwork---heart]

"alt!"

Sheik's hands turn the blade around, studying the edge and the man sitting across the room from him. Dark's whole frame was curled into the mat, wings folded around his body protectively while he tried to get some rest while he could.

His ears flick upright, listening to Dark's breathing grow staggered, likely trapped in a nightmare. For several seconds, the sheikah doesn't move, considers his options. But Sheik was too kind. He sheathes the blade and gets to his feet, padding across the barren room to Dark's side. The darkling doesn't react to the closeness of his friend, deep enough in sleep that the intrusion isn't noticed. That's fine by Sheik, he hated worrying the darkling. Hated seeing him worried or upset. It's why he fights so much to get him treated at least decently. It's why he spends time here in the tower, rather than out amongst his own people.

Sheik's hand touches Dark's back gingerly, careful not to push on his wings or disturb his rest. Just enough contact to sooth the nerves.

"Sleep easy."

[chuluoyi]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.