#like ‘flower of sympathy’ right?

[yeyayeya]

Ok while he is not my OTP for Yin Yu (QuanYin will always have my heart), I actually think He Xuan x Yin Yu is such an interesting pairing and I like to think of scenarios for them. Like that ship is just something, and I am here for it

But I recently found out that their ship name is Black Moon and hello??? That is such a pretty name?? That ship name alone makes me ship them more tbh. I always called them YinXuan/XuanYin in my head

[spider-stark]

LADY STRONG

Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon/Strong!Reader

Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms

Warnings - none except not edited!!

Word Count - 3.1k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.  

You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.  

What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.  

Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.  

Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.  

“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”  

The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.  

Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”  

“I study!”  

“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.  

Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he's the heir to the Iron Throne. I am merely the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”  

And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.  

Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.  

Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”  

“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”  

His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”  

Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.  

Gods.  

You hate it when he’s right.  

“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”  

Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”  

“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”  

“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”  

Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”  

All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.  

Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”  

Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”  

You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.  

An hour—that's all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.  

How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one can consider nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.  

Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”  

You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you’re right—a walk might be nice.”  

Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.  

“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.  

“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”  

The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.  

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”  

Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”  

“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.  

“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”  

With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”  

Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.  

You miss home. Desperately.  

You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.  

But even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.  

Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.  

Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.  

Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.  

As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.  

You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.  

He’s talented—you think, studying his form.  

Talent is something you're familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself. Yet never before had you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.  

He didn’t move like other boys.  

He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.  

Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.  

Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.  

He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.  

Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.  

“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”  

The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.  

Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”  

You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”  

His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”  

You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”  

A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— ��and you are…?”  

Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.  

Seven Hells. He doesn't know, does he?

A sudden speechlessness grabs hold of your tongue.  

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you aren't what many expected of a Targaryen princess.

Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.  

Even so, it's rare that you met someone who doesn't know who you are. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.  

“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”  

“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”  

“Southern?”  

Benji nods.  

“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”  

The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.  

Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”  

Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”  

Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.  

“Why not?”  

He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”  

Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.  

“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”  

Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”  

Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”  

Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.  

“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to defend her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”  

You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.  

He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”  

“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”  

Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”  

The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.  

“What of me?”  

A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”  

Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.  

Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.  

It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.  

But this was different.  

Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.  

Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was too forward and-”  

You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”  

“A deal?”  

You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”  

Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”  

“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”  

In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.  

“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”  

Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”  

“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”  

The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”  

You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.  

“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”  

Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent. 

Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.  

“Princess...” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”  

You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.  

“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”  

You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.  

“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.  

Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”  

You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.  

“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”  

a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??

and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot

benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus

[cleolinda]

I am not the first person to attempt explaining this, but let me tell you about some of the nuances of Bless Your Heart™. It does not solely or even usually translate to “you are a dumbass.” It is more subtle than that:

It is primarily a thing you say to clarify (or falsify) the tone of what you DID say

OR

it is secondarily a thing you say instead of something ELSE to maintain 1) plausible deniability 2) a moral high ground.

“Bless your heart”: You genuinely deserve blessings because you are going through it right now and you need them. Gratitude, sympathy. “I’m going to have surgery next week.” “Bless your heart! Is there anything I can do for you?” (“Oh, bless your heart for asking.”) Original face-value meaning.

“Bless your heart”: You need a blessing because God knows you’re lacking (manners, intelligence, common sense) right now. Synonyms could include “Well, isn’t that precious” or “Well, that’s different.” It often comes in clutch when you don’t want to tell someone to their face that they fucked up. Your nephew has mowed the front yard for you. He has also mowed over all your flower beds. “Well… bless your heart.” If you were going to use it as a stealth insult to someone’s face for a more egregious occasion, it would be this category. It can be a mean girl move (the classic “It’s so brave that you dress like that” vibe), but it’s also a way of saying, “I want you to know that I see what you’re doing and I don’t approve of it, and you fully understand I’m expressing that, but I’m not going to give you the justification to clap back at me because I didn’t SAY that.” Someone wears a fancy white bridal-looking gown to your cousin’s wedding: “Well, bless your heart, that sure is a dress!” (If they understand you: “What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Because they know, but they want to make you SAY it. Combat engaged.)

“Bless their heart”: I am sharing news (gossiping) about someone but I like them and I want you to understand that I do, truly, bless their heart. “It’s been so hard for her after her father passed. Bless her heart, I’m gonna make her that red velvet cake she likes.”

“Bless their heart”: I am shit talking someone and I want to cover my ass, of COURSE I am just concerned for them. “She wore white to her sister’s wedding last week! WHITE! Bless her heart, I guess some people’s children just don’t know better.” (“Well you know they say she was always after the groom—“ “NO! Bless her heart.”)

That last one is the BYH they would need to deploy (but didn’t) in the Make Some Noise clip, but I feel like it honestly wasn’t necessary because the “prayer request” already served as a cover for talking shit. It probably would have come out if they’d been allowed to keep the skit going and they needed plausible deniability for spilling juicier details that maybe Jesus didn’t actually need to hear about. Thank you for coming to my Performing Southernness While Being Neurodivergent talk.

[yanderedrabbles]

Letters from a Yandere Vampire

December 7th, 1886

Dear y/n,

Please do not think me presumptuous for writing to you so soon, but my heart would give me no rest. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since our encounter at the Duke's soiree.

Perhaps it is my countenance or perhaps my foreign heritage, but London's débutantes seem to find me positively frightful. I had resigned myself to yet another evening of disappointment when you introduced yourself to me.

In all my travels, I have met few ladies with your boldness of spirit. You transformed my dour evening into one of unimaginable enjoyment.

I have included with my letter some pressed flowers from my native Transylvania. You expressed much interest in the botany of my homeland and I hope these will intrigue you.

Your interest in my travels is remarkably flattering. And, if I may be so bold, may I invite you to a dinner at my salon? I have much still to share.

Yours sincerely,

Count Nicolae Drăculești

December 17th, 1886

My dearest y/n,

How I enjoyed our evening together! When we danced, I felt my soul set afire. In my travels, none have so captivated me.

Do not think me hasty, but I have sent my messenger with a gift. I can think of no better place for these jewels than around your neck. Please, accept them with my most sincere compliments.

You amused me very much when you pointed out my teeth. My fangs are indeed much longer and sharper than a normal man's. Perhaps you wish to feel their sharpness against your skin?

The nights grow longer and colder. Do you dislike the winter darkness, I wonder. Or do you only long for someone to share it with, as I do?

Ah, forgive my rambling! I'm writing to ask if you will allow me the privilege of escorting you to the Yuletide ball? I can think of no finer gift to celebrate Christmas.

I must soon depart for my home and I insist on spending more time together before then.

Yours,

Nicolae Drăculești

December 25th, 1886

My love,

Merry Christmas! I walked through the untouched snow and even London seemed beautiful and pure.

In this cold, I can think of nothing but having you with me. A day without you is an eternity past.

It seems I have been waiting for you for centuries. Is it to bold to say you are the woman of my dreams? Forgive this fool his insolence, but when I write to you I feel possessed.

You have asked me at length about my aversion to the Church and silver. You are such a logical creature but there are some things beyond the realm of science.

Seek to know no more, for both our sakes.

Another matter has been bothering me of late. I have noticed Lord Lancaster has expressed an interest in you.

The man fawns over you like a slobering hound. As your companion, it is my duty to advise against him. He is unworthy of your attention, much less your sympathy. 

Surely you see that it is you and I that are the more compatible match?

Ever yours,

Nicușor

January 1st, 1887

Dear,

I wished to keep you ignorant of my nature. And yet, you have seen me unmasked. A creature of the night.

It was your blood that did it. A single drop was all it took for my instinct to take over.

I hope you are unhurt. If I were in my right mind, I never would have pinned you against the wall as I did. I never would have forced my kiss upon you.

I could hear your heart racing when I showed you my fangs. Why did you not scream?

Did I fighten you into silence? Or was it something else?

You asked me what you are to me and at the time I had no answer to give. Are you my prey? My meal?

I have spent all night in thought and still I fear uttering these words.

You are my beloved.

My heart belongs entirely to you, wretched and sinful though it may be. No blood is sweeter than yours.

I burn for you, my darling.

I grow agitated at each day that passes when we are not together. My treacherous mind plays such awful tricks on me. Surely you have not cast me aside for another? Or worse, have I frightened you beyond redemption?

Oh, banish the thought! Who has your affection? Your love?

Please, put my poor heart at ease. Meet me in the gazebo at the end of your garden after sunset.

I cannot bear to be parted from you much longer.

Ever your slave,

Nicușor

y/n,

My castle must be prepared for your arrival and I have set forth with great haste to do so. In case you awake before my return, I've left you this letter.

You are currently on board a private train car bound for Transylvania. Do not attempt to leave. My guards have strict orders to ensure you reach home.

You are changed, my dear.

I have bitten you and transformed you into a creature like myself. Upon our final meeting, I intended only to say goodbye. You are too fine and beautiful a creature to be wasted on the likes of me.

But when I saw you in the moonlight, I could not help myself.

You are so beautiful. So bright and lively. You are what my cold halls have lacked all these many years.

My love, I drank your blood. Every drop of it. Nothing in my centuries of existence has ever tasted so sweet, so right.

It can be frightening, I know. But do not despair.

The light of the sun will forever be out of reach, but there are a thousand traits you've gained. Strength. Speed. Immortality.

The grave will never taste your flesh, old age will never hound at your door.

As I am the one who changed you, I am also your Lord and Master. The bond between us is forged in blood. Wherever I go, you must always follow. If I am to die, so shall you. If I am to command, you must obey.

It is a tight leash and not one of my devising, I assure you.

I intend to be your partner and not your Lord. So for both our sakes, my love, do not give me cause to use that power.

You and I have all eternity together. Does it please you as it does me?

I have longed for a bride for centuries. You cannot imagine the loneliness. And in all those years, none have impressed themselves upon my heart as you have.

I have stolen you from the sunshine and into my world of night and blood. I have ripped away any hope of heaven and salvation. No God now, no church or altar.

I am a rogue and a thief and still I beg of you. Please love, do not hate me.

I've made you into my vampire bride.

Your husband,

Nicușor Drăculești

[luveline]

Mothers day lil fic with eddie x reader from june baby? 👉🏻👈🏻

mom!reader, 1.5k “Big stretch!”

You hold your arms above your head, stretching as tall as you can go. Your t-shirt rises and exposes the soft stretch of your tummy, stretch marks decorating your skin and lightened in the sun as you lean to your left side.

“Okay, now we count. One, two…”

“Three,” Junie says. “Five, six, seven.”

“You forgot four, babe. Let’s try again, okay?” You stretch to your right side. “One, two, three…”

“Five, six, four–”

You giggle. Junie, who wasn’t doing a very good job at copying your yoga poses to begin with, hears you laughing and drops her short arms to her sides. “Tummy!” she says, jumping forward to push her hand into your stomach.

“I’m telling Eddie you did that. So nasty.” You drop your arms.

“Tummy,” she says again, poking at your belly button.

You catch her hands in yours and level her with a feigned glare. “What are you trying to say about my tummy?”

She beams. It’s lovely to have a little baby that looks like you. Her joy is yours, her smile made up of your lips and teeth. She’s a mirror, and you could never not think she was gorgeous —it makes you gorgeous too.

“Guess we’re done stretching?” you ask.

She lifts her hands to your sides, a gesture to be grabbed. You lean down to collect her and drag her up for a hug, holding her low at the back to encourage face to face time. “What, you’re not talking to me?” you ask warmly.

She touches your neck.

“I know,” you say. You’re pretty sure you get it.

Outside, tires roll across grass and road alike. You listen for the whine of Eddie’s van as it parks, grinning all over again when it comes. He’s not supposed to see you today, it’s Sunday, he has too much stuff to do.

If he’s outside, it means he swapped his shifts again or called out, which means he’s gonna give you one of his speeches about being sickly sweet in love with you. You can pretend you don’t like them as much as you want, but there’s no better feeling than being loved like you’re something special.

You open the door before he can, and he needs it, anyhow. To your confusion, he’s carrying a cellophane wrapped bouquet made up of a hundred different colours and a white box in the other, arms full and naked, no jacket to hide from the early summer sun. Your eyes widen as he gets to the steps. He looks like he made an effort to see you (and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t always, you love him as he is, but you can’t help asking yourself why).

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Eddie smiles. “What do you mean?”

“What’s the stuff for?” There’s a bag hanging from his elbow.

“This stuff?” he asks, cresting the last step.

“Hi,” Junie says.

“Hi, babe.”

“Hi.” She reaches for the flowers. “Pretty.”

“You think so? I got them for your mommy but I’m sure she’ll share them with you.”

You’re nonplussed as he moves in to kiss your cheek and skirt around you. “Come on. This stuff’s heavy,” he says, the cellophane crunching against his chest as he squeezes past you into your home.

“Eddie, what is that stuff?”

“You don’t know what day it is today?”

You think about it for a second at least. “No?”

It’s not your birthday, not Junie’s. You and Eddie can’t have made it to your first anniversary already, but perhaps six months? You try to do the maths in your head. Eddie puts the white box on your kitchen table, the bag on Junie’s high chair, and the flowers by the sink.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, some sympathy in play.

“Eddie, we did stretches!” Junie says from your arms.

You offer her to him. He wraps her up and makes it look easy, baby on his hip. Quick kiss pressed to her cheek. “Yeah? Mom’s got you doing yoga again?”

You’re drawn to the box like a magnet.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It’s for you, babe,” he says easily, smiling as Junie tucks a curl behind his ear. “It’s all for you. You can open it.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am. Open it up.”

You take the box’s lid off, lips parting in surprise. Happy Mother’s Day has been written in white writing against a baby pink cake. It’s simple, without frills, but it’s sweet and it looks soft to the touch.

“Is it today?” you ask.

“Yeah, babe. I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Eddie shifts Junie forward to stop her from tangling his hair. “That’s a lie, I totally can. Quick, come here.”

You slot into his side, expecting the kiss, but not the second one against the apple of your cheek. “Happy Mother’s Day. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to make sure my mom knew I was thinking about her first.” He taps your noses together before pulling away. “You’re the best mom ever, so. Me and June got you some presents. No biggie.”

“Junie got me this?”

“Who do you think wrote on the cake?”

Eddie pretends to eat Junie’s hand, to her delight. You feel the cardboard of your box between your fingers, no attempt made to hide the achingly huge smile that’s taking shape. “And the bags for me too?” you ask.

Eddie can hear it in your voice. “The bag’s for you too, of course. You're the mother.” He snarfs against Junie’s wrist. “Um-num-num.”

You drag the bag from Junie’s blue and orange high chair across the table to peek inside. It’s a flat, paper bag from a clothing store, so the contents surprise you for being much more than clothes. Your smile gets worse with each item unveiled from its tissue paper depths: a humble box of fancy chocolates, a bag of your favourite chips, a small black box and a pair of pyjamas wrapped together with a ribbon.

You hesitate with the box, hand atop it, head tilting toward your shoulder. Eddie doesn’t notice your hesitation, or at least he’s pretending not to, pretending to nibble Junie’s sleeve where she’s laughing it up in his arms.

“What’s in the box?”

He looks up quickly. Not pretending. “Oh, that’s– If you don’t like it, I can take it back. It’s nothing crazy.”

“You’re proposing.” The box is shaped for a bracelet or necklace rather than a ring.

He nods severely. “Will you do me the honour?”

You laugh softly and line your thumb to the box’s seam. It opens on a tense hinge, clicking into place.

It’s a bracelet made up of silver beads. There’s a small flat-circle charm between the beads, that, upon closer inspection, harbours two hearts, one bigger than the other.

“It’s nothing fancy, okay? So if it breaks you won’t feel bad. It’s real silver though, you don’t have to take it off much if you don’t want to. I don’t know. I think it’s, like, a reminder of her when you’re not together.” Junie whines, encouraging Eddie to press another peck to her cheek as he hugs her tighter, and takes a step closer to you. “If you don’t like it, it’s really fine.”

You slip the bracelet onto your wrist. It goes without saying you’ve never had much jewellery.

Taking his face into your hands is easy. Holding him tenderly is second nature. “Thank you,” you say, eye to eye, willing it to sink in deeply. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you, too. And Junie loves you more than anybody. You deserve to know that.”

“I do,” you say, glad when he puckers up for a kiss. You kiss his pouting lips misaligned to nobody’s worry, adding another for thankfulness, and a third just because. He’s smirking before you’ve so much as pulled away.

“And thank you!” you add saccharinely, stroking Junie’s cheek, though the idea that she had anything to do with your gifts is funny. “I wouldn’t get to be a mommy if it wasn’t for you. I love you.”

“Love you,” Junie says distractedly, more interested by the stud earring in Eddie’s lobe.

He gives you both a soft, soft look, startlingly yards away from his previous smirking. “You’re the best girls in the world.”

“You're the best boyfriend.” You curve an arm around him to steal him and press your face into his arm. “I love you,” you say, smushed. “Thank you so much for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says.

“I really love you.”

“Yeah,” he says, his nose touching your head as he cranes his head down to you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I love you too. You deserve it, alright?”

Junie pats your head. “Love love love you. Kiss?”

She almost blinds you trying to kiss you in the eye as you turn your face toward her, but it’s nice.

[marxy-06]

Favorites Fic Recs 5

Thank you to all the amazing writers <3

Kim Seokjin

Broken happy ever after (@taexual)

Of bears and bonds (@yoonia)

Switched (@i-am-baechu)

Scale (@shina913)

Kyoho (@jeonqkooks)

End of the line (@kookslastbutton)

Min Yoongi

Only for you (@beautifulfuckup99)

Fix you (@casuallyimagining)

The one that I adore (@gimmethatagustd)

Man of the year (@raplinesmoon)

Wishes (@i-am-baechu)

Set me free (@casuallyimagining)

Jung Hoseok

Flower (@readyplayerhobi)

Dinner plans cancelled (@souryoong)

Close call (@xjoonchildx)

Bloom (@7deadlysinsfics)

Kim Namjoon

My girl (@beautifulfuckup99)

Like couples do (@jinkookspencil)

Face sitting (@euphoricfilter)

B.S standards (@katnisspeetaprim)

Pregnancy insecurity (@katnisspeetaprim) NAMJOON

Park Jimin

Love Bug (@httpjeon)

Photograph (@i-am-baechu)

Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)

Into you (@phenomenalgirl9)

Kim Taehyung

Still waters run deep (@btsmosphere)

Something blue (@moni-logues)

A human touch (@snackhobi)

Let love be enough (@jingabitch)

My tears ricochet (@augustbutwinter)

Goodbye (@jjksblackgf)

Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)

That Irish barista (@i-am-baechu)

Race to your heart (@jjkeverlast)

Loverboy (@kookslastbutton)

Jeon Jungkook

Do it right (@rerefundslocals)

Gold is dull (@kookluvre) -> (hasn't been updated in awhile but def worth the read)

Best friends (@trivia-yandere)

Need you (@archivedkookie)

Across a crowded room (@monimonimoon)

A little reminder (@beautifulfuckup99)

University superstar (@jungkookstatts)

But we loved too young (@jl-micasea-fics)

Skirt chasers (@1kook)

Big enough for both of us (@btsmosphere)

Bodywork (@angeljeonjk97)

Deep in the woods (@angllicjk)

Angel in the marble (@venusjeon)

Was it better (@gyukookswhore)

97 (@rrjkive)

Lemon sherbet (@extravaguk)

The m-word (@hansolmates)

Head over skates (@mercurygguk)

Gun (@kooeater)

Café o lay (@taesspark)

Guilty pleasures (@kookslastbutton)

Purple car (@fruitmins)

Until my last breath (@iamjungkooked)

Don't want your sympathy (@sketchguk)

Couples shoot (@katnisspeetaprim)

What we need (@jungkookstatts)

Praising (@neo-percs)

Show you what devotion is (@euaphoric)

Pluto (@katnisspeetaprim)

Cherry candy (@bonny-kookoo)

OT7

Before I leave you (@hollyhomburg)

[ellecdc]

Hiya love, sorry I know I keep making requests but my brain is riddled, I can’t help it. I’d give my left lung for a fic where Sirius introduces his new girlfriend to others and they’re all ‘gods, you HAVE got a lovely nose’, ‘you’re right pads, she does smell lush’ and god forbid a ‘oh look at her drinking her little tea, she’s like a button’ and it’s all just very teasing and lovely but in a way that’s clear quite how much Sirius talks about the reader. Thanks for listening (reading?) love you lots and lots, cheers :)

thanks for your request! (and for all of them - even one's I may not write always give me great daydreaming content) <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader who looks too cute tonight [748 words]

CW: friends taking the piss at Sirius' expense, Sirius being dramatic, reader wears lipstick, reader is - and I quote - 'cute as a button'

“Nope, sorry, we need to leave.” Sirius blurted before he managed to knock on his friend’s front door, turning around and attempting to pull you along with him by the hand.

“Wha-? Sirius, no!” You giggled, yanking him back up the steps. He returned to you willingly but made a show of having done so rather begrudgingly. “Why are we leaving?”

Sirius gave you a look as though he couldn’t believe you were asking such a ridiculous question. “Uhm, because you look too good, doll.”

“We have to leave because I look…too good?” You laughed.

“Yes!” He agreed quickly, glad you understood as he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips lest he muss your lipstick before moving to walk away again. 

You once again caught him by the arm. “Sirius.”

“Dollface.” He retorted just as sternly. 

“I thought I was supposed to be the one who was nervous to meet your friends.”

“I’m not nervous.” He scoffed dismissively. “I just don’t think any of them deserve getting to see such a beautiful girl; I’ve told you they’re a bunch of gits, right?” 

“I’m going to accept your compliment and say thank you, and I’m also going to tell you to get it together.” You told him, causing him to groan theatrically and let his head fall to your shoulder. 

“You’re torturing me.”

You offered him a rather flippant pat on the head and an ‘awe’ laden with faux sympathy before taking the initiative to knock on the front door, seeing as Sirius didn’t seem particularly keen on doing it himself. 

You were rewarded with the door swinging open nearly immediately, exposing a tall bloke with messy black hair - and glasses that fogged up almost instantly from the change in temperature - who was wearing a beaming smile, a redhead who looked to be rather embarrassed at having been caught eavesdropping, a tall lad with a mop of golden hair and eyes to match who looked rather chuffed at having been caught eavesdropping, and a shorter blond bloke who looked rather frightened at having been caught eavesdropping. 

“Ah,” you murmured, nodding your head knowingly, “the marauders.”

“And Lily!” The redhead cheered before all but grabbing you by the arm and yanking you into the warmth to embrace you in a bone crushing hug. “Please don’t lump me in with those sods.” She whispered into your shoulder so the others wouldn’t hear.

Unfortunately for her, the others did hear.

“No can do, my beautiful Lily flower; you quite literally signed up for this.” The spectacled bloke you knew just had to be James exclaimed before pointing accusatively at the gold wedding band on his finger. 

“For rich or for poor.” Sirius added solemnly.

“In sickness and in health.” The tall one you had deduced to be Remus continued.

“Till death do you part.” Who ought to be Peter concluded.

“Well,” Lily sighed with a shrug as she looked over at you, “at least there’s always death.”

“What?” James asked as Peter laughed and Remus reached over to you. 

“Can we take your coat, love? Since your boyfriend doesn’t seem to be of much use in that department.”

“Oi!” Sirius shouted, smacking Remus’ hand away before helping ease your jacket off of your shoulders. “I’m watching you, Lupin; you stay away from my girl.”

“I don’t know, Sirius…” Peter started slowly, though you could tell by the looks he was giving his three other friends that Peter did in fact know. “You talked her up real well.”

“She does have the most stunning eyes I’ve ever seen.” Lily agreed then.

“Her nose actually is perfect, isn’t it?” James asked as he cocked his head as though he were trying to get a better view. 

Peter took a dramatic inhale. "God, she really does smell lush."

“I’d never once thought to describe someone as ‘cute as a button’ but,” Remus added, “I think you hit the nail on the head here, Sirius.”

“What is happening right now?” Sirius deadpanned then, still holding your jacket in his hands as he levelled his friends with a glare. 

“What’s happening is you might have some competition there, Black.” Lily offered as she gave him a patronising pat on the cheek. 

“If he doesn’t treat you right, darling, you make sure to let us know, alright?” Remus said with a wink, though his charade fell when a laugh escaped him at the strangled and offended sound leaving Sirius' lips.

“Nope, that’s it. Put your jacket back on, doll; we’re leaving.”

[theinnerunderrain]

Flowers only bloom when the sun comes out [Yan! Prince x Fem! Maid-Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, child neglect, mentions of suggestive behaviors and lustful behaviors, manipulative thoughts, etc.

+

Miserable.

Prince Cassian would choose "miserable" as the precise term to depict his fragile existence. Born a prince into a mighty kingdom, his father ruled with an iron fist and unwavering will. Yet, despite his royal lineage, his life felt devoid of meaning, a constant struggle in the shadows of his father's reign. Maybe his father held Cassian accountable, at least in part, for the death of his beloved queen. Perhaps that's why he was abandoned to decay in the queen's once-grand residence, where dust settled like a shroud, paint flaked from the walls, and sinister spiders claimed every corner.

However, the king, perhaps out of lingering kindness or a trace of pity, permitted servants to attend to the prince. Yet, few were inclined to care for a forsaken prince; servants came and went as the boy matured into a young man. Initially, some felt sympathy for him, but they soon departed upon realizing there was no benefit. Others, driven by greed, chipped away at the scant jewelry and valuables left in the building before absconding to sell them in the market. His existence drifted aimlessly, filled with endless hours staring out his window or sipping the bitter tea his younger sister, kind but unaware of his plight, managed to sneak to him.

It all seemed so pointless.

Then, one day, you appeared. A young maid, your smile radiant and your enthusiasm palpable as you embarked on this new job. He couldn't help but feel sorry for you, knowing that your optimism would soon be crushed once you discovered the reality of serving a prince like him, someone you might deem unworthy of your efforts. Every day, he observed you closely, noting your tireless efforts and how your face, though marked by exhaustion from tasks meant for many, retained a composed and bright demeanor.

He found himself admiring your diligent work ethic, transforming his once bitter teatime into a sweeter experience as you mastered the art of brewing it just right. The clothes he wore now carried a scent of softness, feeling gentle against his skin, a stark contrast to the past when they often felt itchy and smelled of sweat. The garden flourished with the flowers you tended to, and his bedroom felt fresh and inviting, as if it were truly lived in. Your presence became a source of comfort for him. He enjoyed your greetings each morning, your smiles making him feel truly alive, reminding him of his own humanity.

He felt a growing desire to be near you, craving the comfort of your presence. He longed to bask in the warmth of your soft smile, to feel the gentle touch of your hand as you helped him dress. He treasured the moments when you enveloped him in warmth on cold, restless nights haunted by memories of his mother. Your gentle fingers combing through his hair brought a soothing calmness to his troubled mind. He delighted in teasing you during work hours, reveling in the sight of your face blushing a deep scarlet as his hands playfully found their way to your waist, causing you to momentarily lose your grip on the dustpan before scolding him.

He likes you.

Well, he didn't just like you. He was consumed by you, obsessed with every thought of you, you, you.

He yearned to be enveloped in your essence, to drown in your intoxicating fragrance, to be devoured whole by you. He craved for your lips to consume his, for your touch to consume his skin, for every part of him to be consumed by you. He was acutely aware that his thoughts about you would be deemed sinful by the church, yet he couldn't help but question God's justice in abandoning him for a crime he didn't commit. Considering your background as a commoner's daughter, burdened with constant toil, he doubted you had any prior experience with men, leading him to wonder if he might be your first.

He hoped you preferred younger men, despite his slight age difference. He vowed to bring you pleasure so intense that it would bring tears to your eyes. With your face flushed in red with his hands tracing over the curve of your body, admiring the plumpness of your swollen breast. The way your supple body would quiver and twitch with every flick of his tongue against your adorable clit, with your soft thighs grappling around his head much like soft pillows.

Ah, perhaps he shouldn't be thinking of such lustful matters.

Anyway, he was acutely aware that as a powerless and forgotten prince, his presence posed a constant danger to himself and those close to him. His older siblings, viewing him as a potential threat to the throne, could easily target him. He contemplated two options: either showing up at the King's castle, pleading with his father to take him back, or fleeing with you to another country. The idea of living as a commoner didn't seem so daunting, considering his current life despite his royal title. Yet, a third, more manipulative thought crept into his mind—perhaps he could exploit his younger sister's naivety to regain entry to the main palace, using her pity as a means to an end.

He believed that in the end, whatever sacrifices were necessary to attain the power to keep you would be worthwhile.

[0omillo0]

sooo saying this with as much love and respect as i possibly can but you are really totally utterly amazing at writing and your angst is part of the top tier community 🖤

if you’re up to writing this then 😍 and if not then it’s completely okay! but i was thinking of an angsty but hopeful? comfort ending of where chan/hyunjin/han/felix (i couldn’t decide 😫) forgets y/n bday completely, despite having plans. y/n is sad yes but expects it, so she hangs with her friends & visits her fam etc. the chosen member will either see an ig post where it’s said oh happy birthday or smth or someone asks him about it, he will try to get to y/n but she’s out and about. when she finally gets back to her apartment then you know grovelling, apologising, flowers and so on.

what do you think?🖤☺️

Hyunjin x Reader 황현진 angst/comfort

He forgets your birthday

a/n: first of all, your kind words almost made me cry, made my day fr 🥹 thank you so much for appreciating my work <3 it means the world to me. i hope this is what you wanted! lmk what you think <3

Today was your birthday.

You were never one to make a big deal out of your birthday, but everything changed when Hyunjin came into your life. From the moment he became your boyfriend, he made it his mission to ensure your special day was as cherished and unforgettable as the love he had for you.

He succeded…

until today.

The day began quietly. You woke up, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains of your shared bedroom. You stretched your arms and turned to find the other side of the bed empty—Hyunjin’s warmth long gone. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and noticed a small piece of paper resting on the pillow beside you. It read:

“Sorry baby, Chan called me. I had to run. Love you.”

You stared at the note, your heart sinking. No “Happy Birthday,” no reminder of the day that was supposed to be special. A lump formed in your throat as you folded the note and placed it on the nightstand.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t anticipated this. Hyunjin had been so busy lately, barely having time for himself, let alone anything else. But deep down, you had held onto the hope that today would be different, that he would remember.

Unable to hold back the wave of disappointment, you reached for your phone. You opened the messages between you and Hyunjin, scrolling through previous conversations where his affection and thoughtfulness had always shone. But today, there was nothing—no text, no missed call. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you dialed your best friend. The moment she picked up, her cheery tone only made the pain worse.

“Hey, birthday girl!” she greeted. “What’s up? Are you and Hyunjin doing something special today?”

That was it. The dam broke. A sob escaped your lips, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Hyunjin forgot,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “He forgot my birthday.”

“What?!” your friend exclaimed, the shock evident in her voice. “Y/N, no way. Are you serious?”

You sniffled, your voice trembling. “I woke up, and he was gone. He left a note saying Chan called him, but… but nothing about my birthday. Not even a text, nothing. I feel so stupid for expecting anything.”

Another voice chimed in—it was one of your other close friends, who had been with her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Are you sure he didn’t plan something later?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice breaking again. “I don’t think so. He’s been so busy lately. I just—” You stopped, unable to form the words as another sob wracked your chest. “It hurts. It feels like… like I don’t matter enough to be remembered lately.”

“Don’t say that,” your first friend said gently, her tone laced with sympathy. “You matter so much, Y/N. I know Hyunjin loves you like crazy. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed, but I can’t believe he’d forget on purpose.”

“Even if it’s not on purpose, it still hurts,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks. “I don’t even want to talk to him right now. I just need to turn my phone off and forget about it.”

There was a pause before your friend spoke again. “Okay. You can spend the day with us, alright? Forget about him for now. We’ll celebrate you because you deserve it.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

Later that morning, you met your friends at a cozy café. They greeted you with hugs and warm smiles, trying their best to lift your spirits. You forced yourself to smile back, but the weight of Hyunjin’s absence lingered.

As you sipped your coffee, one of your friends leaned closer. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still hurt,” you admitted quietly. “I keep telling myself not to care, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like… how could he forget something like this? We’ve been together for years. He knows how much birthdays mean to me.”

Your other friend reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You’re allowed to feel hurt, Y/N. Don’t bottle it up. But knowing Hyunjin, he’ll realize sooner or later and feel awful about it.”

You nodded but stayed silent, the sadness still gnawing at you. After a while, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, and though you appreciated their efforts, you couldn’t fully shake the disappointment.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was at the studio, oblivious to the emotional turmoil he had caused. It wasn’t until he took a break and opened Instagram that everything clicked.

His heart dropped when he saw a post from your friend—a picture of you laughing at the café, the caption reading:

“Happy Birthday to the sweetest soul! Love you, @Y/N 💕🎉”

Hyunjin froze. “Birthday? No… it can’t be today.” But as he checked the date on his phone, reality hit him like a freight train.

He scrambled to open your messages, his fingers trembling as he typed.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry. I just realized. Please call me.”

“Y/N, where are you? Please, I need to talk to you.”

“Baby, I messed up. I’m so sorry. Please answer me.”

But none of the messages went through. They were marked undelivered, a clear sign that you had turned your phone off. Panic surged through him.

“How could I forget?!” he muttered to himself, pacing the studio. Without wasting another second, he called his manager to clear his schedule and rushed home to make things right.

Back at the apartment, Hyunjin worked tirelessly to create a heartfelt surprise. He decorated the living room with string lights, candles and his paintings, filled a vase with your favorite flowers, and placed a small velvet box containing a delicate necklace on the coffee table.

He also booked a table at an upscale restaurant and bought you a gorgeous Versace dress, imagining how radiant you would look in it. Every detail was perfect—except for the sinking guilt in his chest.

When you finally returned home that evening, your face was streaked with dried tears, and your eyes were red and puffy. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you froze. The warm glow of fairy lights illuminated the room, and Hyunjin stood in the center, his face etched with guilt and love.

“Y/N…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, too emotionally drained to respond. Your gaze shifted to the flowers, the candles, and the neatly wrapped dress on the couch.

“What is all this?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

Hyunjin took a hesitant step closer. “It’s my way of saying I’m sorry. I forgot your birthday, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it. I have no excuse, Y/N. I was so caught up in everything else that I forgot the one person who matters most to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were fueled by the sincerity in his voice. “Do you know how hurt I was, Hyunjin? I woke up thinking today would be special, but you weren’t even here. I felt so… forgotten.”

You took a small break and sighed. “You… you were the only one who didn’t make me feel this way—“

Hyunjin’s eyes filled with tears as he listened. “Please don’t use the past. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I swear, it wasn’t because I don’t care. You’re everything to me, Y/N. Please, let me make it up to you.”

He gestured to the dress and added, “I planned a special dinner for us tonight. And this…” He picked up the necklace from the table. “This is for you. I know it doesn’t erase the pain I caused, but I hope it shows how much you mean to me.”

Your heart softened as his words sank in. Despite the hurt, you could see how deeply he regretted his mistake. Slowly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, letting his warmth melt the lingering sadness.

“I forgive you,” you whispered against his chest. “Just… don’t let it happen again.”

“Never,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

[d-targaryenshoe]

In The End - Colin Bridgerton

Word Count: 2172

Summary: To be married to a stranger is not what every single lady of the Ton wants, is it not?

You and Eloise Bridgerton, childhood friends, sat under the spreading branches of an ancient oak tree, the leaves above you rustling in a gentle breeze.

The sunlight streaming through the leaves cast dappled shadows upon your faces, dancing like living things.

"You can't be serious, y/n," Eloise said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "An arranged marriage? You're far too young to be thinking of such things!"

You shrugged, your expression wistful. "I know it's not what I would have chosen for myself," you admitted, "but it is the path my mama has chosen for me."

Eloise reached out to take your hand, your eyes filled with concern. "But what if you don't like this Lord Somerset?" she asked. "What if you don't want to marry him, must that not change things?"

You sighed, looking away from your friend. "My mother says I must marry well, to secure the future of our family," you replied, your voice tinged with resignation. "I fear my opinion does not matter in this matter."

Eloise frowned, her brow furrowing. "But y/n, you're not just a possession to be traded or bargained with! You have feelings, thoughts, desires! You should have a say in who you marry!"

You bit your lip, looking away again. "I know, El. I wish things were different," you sighed. "But my mama has made it clear that this is how it must be."

Eloise's heart ached for you, but she could tell that there was no changing your mind right now. "There must be something we can do?"

You looked up at her, hope flickering in Eloise's eyes before being extinguished. "I don't know, El. I don't want to disobey my mother. She's only trying to secure my future."

"The future you did not choose, must I remind you."

Eloise's tone was gentle, but firm. You looked up at her, surprise flitting across the Bridgerton her features before settling into a pensive frown.

"I know, El. I just... I feel as though I have no say in anything that happens to me."

"But you do, you always have a say."

Eloise's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes searching for any sign of doubt or hope.

"You could speak with your mother, and explain how you feel. You could try to convince her that you deserve a choice, that you deserve happiness."

You shook your head, your hair swaying gently. "She'd never understand, El. She's always put her desires first. I don't think she'd ever see things from my perspective."

Eloise bit her lip, thinking. "Then maybe it's time you showed her," she said, determination shining in her eyes. "Maybe it's time you stood up for yourself, for your future. You don't have to do this alone."

You looked up at your friend, hope flickering in your eyes. "You'd help me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise nodded, her determination growing. "Of course, I would. You know I'd do anything for you. Together, we can find a way to make sure you get the future you deserve."

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each lost in your thoughts. Your hands were clasped tightly in your lap, your nails digging into your palms.

You looked away from Eloise, out towards the garden where the flowers swayed gently in the breeze.

Eloise watched you with a mixture of sympathy and determination. She could see the turmoil in your eyes, the conflict between your duty and your desires.

It was clear that this decision weighed heavily on you. As if sensing the tension in the air, a figure appeared at the edge of your vision.

Colin Bridgerton, Eloise's brother and your friend, approached you from behind, his stride purposeful.

His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ah, there you are, you two. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Eloise turned to face him, her lips curling into a smile. "Hello, Colin. We were just having a... ladies' moment, if you will."

You looked up at Colin, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Hello, Colin. It's nice to see you."

Eloise watched as Colin's eyes flickered between the two of you, clearly sensing the weight of the conversation.

She wondered what he made of your sudden seriousness, but decided not to dwell on it. "Colin, why don't you join us?" Eloise invited, patting the bench beside her.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at you, before sitting down beside Eloise. "What were you saying about standing up for yourself, y/n?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I know you've always been good at doing what's expected of you, but sometimes I think it's important to follow your heart, too."

You looked at him gratefully. "It's just... my mother has always been so strict. I feel like I can never live up to her." you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I want so much more for myself, but I don't know how to make her understand."

Colin nodded in understanding. "I can see that. It must be tough, feeling like you're always walking a tightrope." He glanced over at Eloise, who was watching the two of you intently.

"But you know, sometimes all it takes is someone on the sidelines to give you the courage to step out of line, to take a chance on yourself."

You looked at him, hope flickering in your eyes once more. "Do you think... do you think she'd ever understand?" you asked softly.

Eloise took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I believe she can if you give her the chance. You just have to find the right way to explain how you feel, and why this means so much to you." She glanced over at Colin, who nodded in agreement. "But I- I have to join mama to the modiste."

You looked up at your friend, a mixture of gratitude and determination in your eyes. "Thank you, Eloise. I'll think about what you've said."

Eloise hesitated for a moment before standing up, her dress rustling softly against her legs before she turned around and walked away.

Colin studied your profile as you watched your friend disappear into the crowd, a quiet strength emanating from you. "You know," he began, "it's not always easy to stand up to our parents, but I believe you're brave enough to do it."

You turned to face him, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. "Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do," he replied with conviction. "You have so much to offer the world, and I think your mother just needs some time to see that."

You let out a small sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not that easy, though. She's always been so focused on me marrying well, and living a comfortable life. She doesn't understand that I want more than that."

Colin nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I know it's difficult, but you have to believe that she can change her perspective. You just have to find a way to help her see things from your point of view." He reached out, taking your hand in his. "And I promise you, I'll be here for you every step of the way."

You looked into his eyes, the sincerity in his words giving you strength. You could feel the warmth of his hand on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else.

"Thank you, Colin," you whispered. "You don't know what that means to me."

He smiled, and you noticed how his dimple dented his cheek. "I think I do, actually," he said softly.

At your surprised expression, he continued, "I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you in the garden that day. You're beautiful, intelligent, and brave. You're everything I could ever hope for in a woman."

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you listened to his words. You had never expected to hear anything like this from him.

"But... we're just friends," you stammered, your voice barely audible above the laughter and chatter of the people around you.

Colin smiled gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "We are friends, yes. But I think there's something more between us. Something deeper, more intense. And I want to explore that." He reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch.

"I want to get to know you better, y/n. Not just as a friend, but as a woman. As my woman."

Your heart raced as his words washed over you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You knew you should pull away, but the look in his eyes held you captive.

"Colin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, his lips mere inches from yours. "I know this is sudden, and perhaps I shouldn't have said anything tonight, but I couldn't help myself. I've felt this way for so long, and I needed you to know."

Your heart raced as his words sank in. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and you could hardly breathe. You knew you should say something, but the words seemed to stick in your throat.

You could only stare into his eyes, lost in the moment.

Slowly, almost tenderly, Colin leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours.

At first, it was gentle, a mere flutter of sensation, but then he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You gasped, your hands finding their way up to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin.

You felt as if you were floating, your body alive with the heat of the moment.

The world around you seemed to fade away, and it was as if there was nothing but the two of you, your hearts racing, your breath mingling together.

You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the hardness of his chest, the strength in his arms as he held you close.

When at last you broke apart, you found it difficult to focus on anything but the look in his eyes.

They were filled with desire and tenderness, and you knew that he meant every word he had said.

You could feel the blush creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile shyly.

"I-I don't know what to say," you managed to stammer.

Colin smiled back, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "You don't have to say anything right now. Just know that I meant every word I said and that I want to explore this with you." He paused for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation, before continuing.

"I want us to be together. I want to protect you and cherish you, and show you the love that you deserve."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You had never imagined feeling this way about anyone, and the thought of being with Colin filled you with a warmth you hadn't known was possible.

You looked up into his eyes, your shining with tears of happiness, and nodded slowly. "I want that too," you whispered. "So much."

He smiled down at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "I know it's fast, and I don't want you to feel pressured, but...I want to start making plans with you. I want to take you away from here, show you the world. I want to build a life with you."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you should pull away, but the look in his eyes held you captive.

"Colin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from yours once more. "I love you, y/n," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared into his eyes. You could feel the truth of his words resonating deep within you. You wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life by his side, explore the world with him, and build a future together.

You knew that you could trust him and that he would always protect you.

With trembling hands, you reached up and cupped his face, tenderly brushing your thumbs across his cheeks.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I'll marry you."

The weight of your words settled between you, and you both paused for a moment, taking in the gravity of your decision.

It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving you alone in your little bubble, suspended in time and space.

Colin leaned in closer, his lips finding yours once more, his tongue tracing the outline of your mouth.

His kiss deepened, his hands exploring the contours of your body, and you melted into him, returning his affections with equal fervor.

[koolaidoverwriting]

GENERAL DATING HEADCANONS

CHARACTERS: Eyeless Jack, Jeff the Killer, Gender Neutral Reader

Request. I wasn't sure if you meant Jack x Jeff. I stuck to separate SFW and NSFW headcanons. But you can send another ask to clarify! :)

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, But Also Romantic Fluffy Stuff, Blood, Self-Harm, Cannibalism, Biting, Not Graphic

NSFW UNDER CUT! MINORS DNI!

EYELESS JACK

SFW:

Jack doesn't feel as much empathy or sympathy as other people. It definitely takes a long time for him to warm up to you, let alone get comfortable enough to date you.

Jack is an outlier in the mansion. He likes being alone, doing his own thing. Plus, a lot of people don't like his bluntness and sarcasm.

His tar spills faster when he's upset, but it's pretty much gone when he's happy. That's why he hardly cries tar around you.

He has a hard time showing affection through his words, but you know he loves you. Sometimes, he just pops up and holds your hand, or wraps his arms around you.

When you're hurt, he tends to your wounds, cooks you warm meals, and stays by your side. It's a mutual silence where you're just enjoying each others' presence.

Jack is a bookworm. You spot the books he reads and you check them out. Jack is over the moon when you randomly reference his favourite book. "Did you really read that for me?"

Surprisingly, Jack talks a lot. He rants about his interests in gardening and science.

Speaking of gardening, he'll most definitely grow your favourite flowers for you. He'd give you handmade bouquets and flower crowns, as well as perfumes and scented candles.

Jack isn't against light–hearted teasing. He says flirty things just to catch you off guard since you aren't used to it. Most of these "flirty things" are phrases he heard from TV shows.

He does try to get you to try kidneys. If you refuse it because it's raw, he'll cook it for you. If you refuse it because it's gross, he'll shrug a shoulder and eat it himself.

NSFW:

Jack is gentle with you. He knows how much smaller you are in comparison, so he makes sure he doesn't bruise you.

If you allow it, he'll bite you enough to draw blood, but nothing more.

His ears are sensitive! Licking or biting them gets him all worked up.

Jack has three tongues that overlap in his mouth, meaning he's a fucking demon with oral sex. His tongues squirm inside of you, hitting all the right spots. He could eat you out for hours before substituting his tongues for his cock.

When he sees you're close, he only fucks you harder.

Jack's cock doesn't fit inside you all the way. Your senses leave you, and you're a drooling, blubbering mess as he rams into your entrance.

After you're done, he'll clean up any blood that spilled and kiss your bite marks. While cuddling, he asks you what you want to eat. He'll cook anything for you.

JEFF THE KILLER

SFW:

Jeff lives in the mansion and has been living there since he was 17. Before that, he lived with a blind old woman who thought he was her grandson.

Dating him means you're going to have to get used to his angry outbursts until he learns how to control them better. He tends to lash out and then apologise later. You're sure with enough patience, things might get better. Especially because you know he's trying his best.

He loves emo music. In fact, he collects merchandise from the concerts he sneaks into. At night, you get to cuddle with Jeff while some emo song blasts on his speaker.

He also plays the electric guitar and would love to teach you how to play. And if you already know how to play, he'll get really excited about duetting with you.

Jeff has had self-esteem issues since the incident. He tries everything to make himself "beautiful", taking extensive care of his skin, hair and clothes.

He believes the scar makes him look better, maybe because it distracts from other parts of his face he's insecure about. He refreshes his cut every month.

You have to remind him that he's beautiful just the way he is. There are nights where you argue over it, but you try everything you can to help him overcome his insecurities — or at least accept his flaws.

He has a knife collection. He paints the handles of his knives all different colours. Some days, you could sit and talk with Jeff while you paint knife handles together.

"Can I test the sharpness on you?" "What?" "...I'm joking."

Jeff isn't a good cook. He never put time into learning how to cook. You, knowing he has to learn at some point, convince him you're on a "cooking date" whenever you want to teach him how to make a meal.

NSFW:

I already have a NSFW post for Jeff, but these are softer alternatives for when he's in a relationship.

Known fact: Jeff will use his knife during sex. He enjoys grazing it across your skin, smiling at your "cute" reactions.

The tip of the knife scratches your thighs. Your legs twitch as he looks into your eyes with a needy look.

Jeff likes seeing your desperation. He loves it when you grind against him, begging for his cock. He'll keep his hands off you, forcing you to grind helplessly. "Horny little bitch... Yeah, tell me how much you want me."

He fucks you at a rough, unstable rhythm as he tries to reach his peak. When he's in the zone, it's only his orgasm that matters to him.

Jeff mutters profanities under his breath with almost every thrust. It's a mixture of praise and degradation. "Fuck... D–Damn slut... You feel so fucking good..."

For aftercare, he doesn't do much. Just small things like giving you water and cuddling with you in bed. It's simple and it's nice.

!!! i'm very sorry if you meant "jack x jeff"! feel free to let me know in another ask, though!

[nejiverse]

NASTY WOUNDS PT. 2

Aventurine, Boothill, Wriothesley, Neuvillette

part 1

In which you tend to their injuries and pamper them. Fem! Reader

cw: none

1256 words

"Wipe that smirk off your face Aventurine", Y/n grumbled, patching the wound on his cheek. "It's like you're getting yourself hurt on purpose these days".

Aventurine chuckled, wincing slightly as merely laughing made his injury throb. With his hands at his sides, slightly behind him, he leaned his weight on them and shrugged his shoulders. "Trouble just seems to have a knack for finding me".

She rolled her eyes, her hands moving deftly to clean and bandage his latest injury. "Or you just have a knack for finding trouble". She shook her head in disapproval, a frown etched on her lips. "You're not making it easy for me y'know".

"Well, I do appreciate the attention," he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously. "You have a gentle touch."

Purposefully, she smacked the bandage onto his cheek, earning a string of childish groans from Aventurine. "Flattery won't get you out of this lecture i'm afraid", Y/n feigned an expression of sympathy. "You have to be more careful Aven", she said in a softer and more serious tone.

He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Alright, alright. I promise to be more careful. But, tell you what..", Aventurine pulled a coin out of his pocket and rolled it across his knuckles. "Guess right and you get a prize. Heads or tails?".

Y/n folded her arms and raised a brow quizzically. "What are you up to...".

"Pick a side and find out".

With caution, the woman picked heads.

Aventurine flipped the coin high into the air, both of them watching as it spun and glinted under the light before landing in his palm. He uncovered it with a flourish. "Heads it is," he declared, showing her the result.

A triumphant smile spread across Y/n's face. "Looks like I win."

He laughed, tucking the coin back into his pocket. "You certainly do. And as your reward..." Aventurine reached into his jacket and pulled out a single, delicate flower, offering it to her with a sincere smile. "For my favorite healer. A token of my appreciation."

Y/n couldn't help the smile reappearing on her lips. "Is this really a thank you gift or your way of getting me to shut up?", she giggled.

"That's for me to know and you to never find out", he gestured her to come closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, looking up at the woman with nothing short of admiration.

"See you tonight?".

"Boothill...I can obviously tell you're hiding your arm behind your back cause clearly there is no arm attached to your right shoulder", Y/n placed a hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes at the man.

Boothill clicked his tongue, revealing his quite literally dislocated arm. "Darn, an' I thought I was being pretty discreet".

Y/n approached him, patting his good shoulder. "Not in this lifetime I fear". She took the arm from him and opted to get some tools out, Boothill following close behind her. "It's not like I mind fixing you up, it's just..what if D/n sees—", speak of the devil.

The two were met with the shocked face of their daughter as Y/n quickly hid the arm behind her back, a poor attempt to stop the waterworks from beginning.

"I really wasn't discreet huh", a lazy grin made it to Boothill's face.

D/n's bottom lip was jutted out and tears prickled her eyes causing Y/n to panic and search for a screwdriver.

"It's okay baby, look!", the woman hurriedly attached Boothill's arm back on, the screwdriver almost falling out of her grip a few times.

"Good as new, see?", patting his arm for good measure.

Boothill helped appease the situation by flashing his pointy teeth a flexing his fingers.

"Ya don't gotta worry about me princess, you've got the strongest papa in the universe", he scooped his little girl into his arms, d/n wiping her tears with the back of her hand and her endearing sniffles ceasing.

"Where's yer smile gone, huh?", he cooed as he playfully tickled the toddler who erupted into a fit of giggles.

Suddenly, Boothill's arm fell off again, ruining the entire mood. He let out a sigh of relief that it wasn't the hand he was using to hold his daughter.

Y/n ran a hand down her face. "Dammit".

"You don't have to do this y'know, I'm used to it", Wriothesley voiced to the woman who had a worried expression etched onto her face.

"I want to though, you make me worry", the ravenette watched her carefully tend to his wounds, her gentle hands moving with practiced precision as she wrapped bandages around his bicep.

"Hey, at least I won".

Y/n gave him an unimpressed look, not caring about whether he was victorious or not. Wriothesley pursed his lips.

"Winning won't matter if you're dead".

Wriothesley laughed under his breath. "You're so dramatic". Y/n put away the bandages while Wriothesley gave his limbs a much needed stretch after being forced to sit down for what felt like multiple hours. "A few cuts and a busted lip won't be enough to take me out".

He came up behind her, hands on her waist and placed a kiss on her lips, one that lasted much longer than he intended.

"They still work don't they?".

Y/n punched his shoulder. "Those weren't just a 'few cuts' Wrio!", she responded, completely ignoring his question.

"Mhm..", he mumbled as he went in for another kiss before he felt Y/n's hand blocking him from doing so.

"Sorry but I don't like kissing people with busted lips", she teased.

Wriothesley frowned coyly. "I guess i'll just have to heal quickly. But in the meantime..", he leaned in closer and moved her hand down to her side, interlocking their fingers. "Maybe you can give me a kiss somewhere else?".

"Why would I wanna do that?".

"Well they say it helps for a speedy recovery".

"Is that so?", she retorted, a hand on his left cheek and placing a kiss on his right.

"Yup. I feel better already".

"No more apologising alright Chief Justice?", Y/n spoke softly, eyes focused on the last of the stitches she was applying to Neuvillette’s hand.

"Understood, forgive me for burdening you".

Y/n squeezed his hand before relaxing her grip again. "Hey what did I just say?", she scolded lightly. "Besides, you're not burdening me, if you're always looking out for others like this then who looks after you?", as she posed the question, a look of worry was evident on her face.

A faint drizzle began outside, the light pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows a clear sign of his emotions.

Without another word, Y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Neuvillette stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. His formal posture relaxed gradually as he allowed himself to sink into the warmth of her embrace.

When last was he enveloped by such warmth? He wasn’t sure. But what he was sure of was that if it were possible, he would remain just like this, in her arms, for eternity.

“I’d like to be that person, if you’d let me”, she uttered sincerely.

Neuvillette’s heart swelled with feelings that were foreign to him. Maybe he wasn’t as familiar with human emotions as he thought he was. Still, whatever it was, it felt comforting and reassuring.

“I would be honoured, more than you can imagine”.

Masterlist

[inklore]

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard 

runaway 

repercussions 

sledgehammer 

stargazing 

symmetry 

deathless 

honey 

retrograde 

stitches 

gravity 

helpline 

hollow 

suffer 

pushing 

warrant 

want 

wonder 

emotions 

nonchalant 

lavender 

daydream 

nosebleed 

jigsaw 

static 

float 

limbs 

hologram 

careless 

lush 

rotting 

phonograph 

hypnotic 

splinters 

magnetic 

wasted 

lithium 

dealer 

she

candles 

sabotage 

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

more

misery

like

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

xo

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet 

cherry bullet 

midnight guest 

cherry wish 

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions 

atlas hands 

broken crown 

crystallized words 

filthy pride 

fresh eyes 

heavy feet 

hungry ghosts 

imaginary paintings 

neon jungle 

perfect storm 

slow hands 

stop signs 

sad farewells 

untranslated stars 

after hours 

bad liar 

bonfire heart 

bruised lips 

cherry bomb 

damaged goods 

dead end 

fire away 

gunpowder hourglass 

lonely together 

lost language 

old moons 

one dance 

paper knees 

sleepy eyes 

stolen dance 

vice city 

artificial heart 

cry baby 

daylight fading 

dream awake 

empty bottle 

exit wounds 

ghost orchards 

moving stones 

paper walls 

oceans away 

playing fiction 

something wild 

wild thoughts 

everybody’s fool 

eyes closed 

storms incarnate 

writing tragedies 

stereo driver 

soul searching 

party’s over 

backseat driving 

fearful heart 

backwards directions 

nosebleed seats 

high hopes 

lovers rock

wet dream 

selfish soul 

washed away 

rose rogue 

midnight sun 

teenage fantasy 

wandering romance 

sure thing 

wildest dreams 

rock candy

losing momentum 

ruin you 

heart holiday 

sink her 

cut splinters 

hot mess 

frozen devotion 

little star 

blind faith 

favorite crime 

romantic homicide 

those eyes 

play pretend 

plot line 

pretty poison 

intimidate you 

pretty face 

strawberry kisses 

lovers rock 

worlds apart 

desperate/separate ways 

those eyes 

the blonde 

loving machine 

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed 

bleed for love

between the bars 

can’t be still

cold morning mist 

in cold blood

matter of time 

piece by piece 

ship to wreck 

taut with love 

waste a moment 

can’t see straight 

down and out 

in a blackout 

just like fire 

notes on tenderness 

across the room

fire with fire 

going half-mad

loving to ruins 

rust to gold

send my love 

talking in code 

cradling a dream 

cut to black 

dear to me 

run me dry 

dancing with demons 

kiss and tell 

if you care 

the cry out 

steal this night 

just for now 

heart on fire 

hold my head 

nobody but you 

simple and plain

a familiar sound 

fool for you 

drown your memory 

falling into you 

just like heaven 

warm like beaches 

love that stings 

rotting in places 

moves on you 

save your tears 

a single tear 

light my cigarette 

long nights, daydreams 

boys like you 

love me forever 

hands on me 

like a phonograph 

taking over me 

dug so deep 

touch the ground 

heart shaped box 

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine 

love me wrong

kiss or kill 

exes and why’s 

love is easy 

stupid in love 

easy to love

lost with you 

glimpse of us 

keep you safe 

death with dignity 

just like heaven 

heart of glass 

baby i’m yours 

pull my strings 

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do 

on a war path 

blood on the surface 

corner of the sky 

do the divine love 

drinking the corinthian sun 

everything is laced in (add word) 

lost in the moment 

in the nick of time 

mouth like a pomegranate 

the bones you’re made of 

when the mania speaks 

all desire & no thought 

blue in the face 

collapsing and relapsing 

middle of the night 

sail to the sun 

lay down your arms 

falling into the sky 

take me where your heart is 

she’s like the bad weather 

kill for your love 

the cigarette and the smoker 

the match and the fuse 

saint, i’m a sinner 

when the sky comes falling 

pretty little hand in mine 

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset 

tangled up with you all night 

paper airplanes flying 

maybe i’m a fool 

tastes like rock candy 

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die 

fate is losing its patience 

at least we feel alive 

death for your secrets 

someone’s gonna ruin you 

dancing in a crowded room 

smell you on my clothes 

always taste like you 

leave me wanting more 

hunger for (insert here) 

swim before you drown 

put your hands on me 

drink my (these) tears and cry 

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 

so high we never stood a chance 

i’d break down anytime for you 

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette 

lips on my cold neck 

talking in my sleep 

make me feel like someone else 

locked inside your heart 

hooked on her flesh 

it’s bloody and raw 

the angel of small death 

just a couple sinners 

smiles cover your heart 

charmer and the snake 

stuck on your thumb 

if i killed someone for you 

dancing with your ghost 

i miss you, i’m sorry 

woman of the hour 

shut up and look pretty 

queen of the night 

devil in a dress 

the thought of you 

to be your lover 

falling over you 

just like a movie 

love on the line 

[coldhndss]

A sight for sore eyes

Yukimiya Kenyu

@sailorstar9

“You don’t have to come by you know..” Your hesitant voice sounded through the phone to the other end of the speaker.

“Sounds like you really don’t want me to meet your family.” He hummed in thought, the clicking of his car’s indicator lingering in the background.

With a deep sigh and a smile to yourself, you wrapped your arms around a large pillow on your bed, placing the phone beside your ear on speaker. “It’s not like that, Yuki. I can’t exactly explain it, but you’d be able to tell straight away if you see it.”

 “…Guess I’ll take your word for it then.” A soft chuckle strung alongside his words. “I’m still going to come over though. I’ll just have to deal with it, right?”

He sounded so confident that it’d be fine, though you worried how things would unfold knowing your younger sister was back from college and would be for a while. She’d always been spoiled by your parents who fold under any pressure from her.

“I… I can’t take this anymore…!” She’d ‘sulk’ to herself, before rushing to her room, locking the door behind her. She’d sit there for upwards of 10 minutes max, and soon after, she’d give up and return with another attempt at garnering sympathy.

For the second round, she’d exaggerate her sobs, heaving and heavily coughing. After a few moments of feature film acting, she’d drop the bomb.

With a hand loosely holding her neck, she’d begin wheezing and shakily pointing to the counter where her asthma puffer sat. You’d seen this hundreds of times. Of course, she had her moments where she’d genuinely suffer an asthma attack. But it was painfully obvious to you when she was faking it.

Despite that, your parents would give in, rushing to her assistance and complying with her out of fear of her having another lethal attack similar to the one she had as a child.

You had a feeling she’d pull a stunt once she sees him, knowing he was out of her reach. Despite your worries, Yukimiya ensured you that he’d be there to meet your parents, not to meddle in things that didn’t concern him.

Ending the call, he told you he’d be there in around half an hour. You quietly let your parents know, and headed back to your room to prepare an outfit.

Sitting on the couch in the living room, you fiddled with the fabric of your dress, nervously waiting. Suddenly, your sister walked in, inspecting the living room with her arms crossed.

“Why is the house so… tidy all of a sudden?” Her scrutinizing gaze fell to you. “And why are you dressed up like that? Having a photoshoot?” She sneered.

“A friend is coming over.” You replied, wondering what made her come out of her room where she’d usually be sleeping until midday.

Your mother was preparing a fruit platter in the kitchen, when her voice called out to your sister. You exhaled a sigh as relief as she left the living room; one step closer to her returning to her room.

Almost immediately as she was out of sight, a knock came from the door. You stood up, flattening your dress and taking one last glance in the mirror before opening the door.

“Ah, there you are.” You were greeted by Yukimiya who was carrying a cake box and a large bouquet of elegant, neutral coloured flowers whose hue matched his clothes. He wore an overcoat that ran down to his shins, complimenting the fall colours present within his turtleneck and pants.

Before you could say anything, the overly familiar sound of your sister gushing met your ears. Whipping your head around, you shot her a glare as though to say ‘don’t you dare.’ It might keep her at bay for now.

He hadn’t even stepped foot inside your house yet, and you were already worried.“May I come in?” He smiled, offering the gifts to you. Taking them from him you led him inside to the house.

“You didn’t need to do all this...” Forgetting the annoyance you felt towards your sister moments before, your lips curved upwards.

“I happened to be at the pastry store and they had your favourite. How could I leave without getting it for you?” He chuckled as the two of you made your way to the living room where your parents and unsurprisingly, sister were waiting.

The three of them stood up, politely greeting Yukimiya. Your father shook hands with him and your mother took the gifts from you, placing the pastry box and bouquet on the coffee table in between the couches.

Though your sister wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions. While four of you sat, chatting together, she suddenly shifted from where she was sitting next to your parents – to the couch you sat on with Yukimiya.  

“A Model?” Your mother questioned “Well, you certainly are very tall and handsome.” She looked towards your father who smiled.

Yukimiya let out a coy laugh “It’s not much, really”.

Though suddenly, your sister’s unwanted voice swamped the conversation that the four of you were having.

“You are handsome!” With a giggle, she inched closer and placed a hand on Yukimiya’s shoulder. “I look pretty good, but what if you and I were together? Two people who are…” Her gaze narrowed as it shifted to you “…easier on the eyes.”

Yukimiya uncomfortably stood, shrugging her hand off his shoulder as he did so. He politely smiled at your parents, excusing himself before asking you where the bathroom was. As you lead him to the corridor outside the living room, your eyes reflected apology - what you had worried about seemed to be happening right in front of you.

Once you returned, you noticed that your sister looked elated, and she took your hand by force, leading you to back the corridor to ‘chat’.

“Where did you meet him?!” She whispered in a scolding tone.

“None of your business.” Your words were blunt, telling her more than enough.

“Is that so?” She sneered. “Well, he won’t be with you any longer now that I’m around.”

That was the last straw. For as long as you could remember, she’s ripped toys, books and many belongings out from your hands whenever she pleased, and once she was done with them, she’d get rid of them. But this time it was something completely different.

Threatening to ‘take’ a person away was low. Especially Yukimiya, who was one of the only people you had met who actually paid genuine attention to your needs, considering your thoughts and feelings instead of treating you like a burden. Ever since you and him became closer to each other, the void in your heart has begun to heal - allowing you to feel what it’s like to be acknowledged and understood. So her threat did not come lightly to you at all.

“You wouldn’t dare do anything.” A scoff escaped your lips as you crossed your arms.

She sighed, mocking you with false pity“Come on, we know how this goes, don’t we?” She whispered, cocking her head to the entry of the corridor where your parents, who were none the wiser to her intentions sat.

“It won’t work on him. You’ll only embarrass yourself.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Though, it seemed that she forgot to consider a circumstance where she might’ve been heard.

The doorknob to the bathroom at the end of the hallway clicked and turned with Yukimiya stepping out wearing a surprised expression.

“Is everything okay?” He smiled, looking in your direction.

Sashaying a few steps in his direction, she locked her arm around his. “Yukimiya… My big sister, she’s...” Cracking her voice into a sob, she began to gradually elevate the sound. Just a few more words and your parents would come rushing.

“She’s.. so mean to me..!” As she rubbed her moistening eyes, he looked at her, confused. He then shot you a look that read ‘So this is what you meant.’ You couldn’t help but snicker a little. Though your little laugh seemed to get to your sister, as she decided that to be the reason for her to start shrieking.

“You have the nerve to let out such an ugly laugh while I’m crying!?” She whipped her head towards you. “You think you’re so pretty just because this guy gave you a second of attention?”

Dumbfounded, you opened your mouth to defend yourself but no words came out. You knew she wasn’t too fond of you but this was a whole new level of disdain. Suddenly, Yukimiya annoyedly yanked his arm away from her, and took a few steps towards you, standing bu your side

“I don’t exactly have a place to speak in this…” He looked at her, then back to you “family.. discussion. But the way you’re acting is completely uncalled for.” He’d been able to speak clearly for as long as you’ve known him, but to be able to shut your sister up hadn’t been within your expectations.

As he spoke, your parents appeared behind you, confused by the situation. Your mothers first instinct was usually to coddle your sister and ask her what was wrong. Though before she could do so, she dug the hole even further.

“But… but I’m so much prettier than she is! You don’t seriously like her?” She scoffed, folding her arms.

“Like?” His eyebrows were slightly raised in confusion. “I don’t think I’d come to visit the family of a girl I only liked, no?” He wore a smile, but you’d seen that expression multiple times before; and you knew he wasn’t about to lose his cool over a girl like her.

As a last resort, she tried to farm remorse from him; thinking that he’d fall for her exaggerations. She caught a glimpse of your parents standing behind you and him in shock, and panic began to wash over her as she realised that they’d seen the way she had been acting. Her eyes were dry despite all the fake sobbing she had done, and despite this, she began to heave, coughing and placing a hand on her chest. Although your mother did immediately rush to her side, this time it was to tell her off. Your father apologised to Yukimiya, and offered the two of you to sit back down wherever, and that they’d be there soon.

Leaving the corridor, you could still hear your mother and father scolding her, calling her behaviour ‘unacceptable’ as they saw through the act she had been putting up for years. As you sat back down on the couch, an audible exhale escaped your lips. “This is what I was talking about.”

Removing his glasses, he wiped them with a cloth from his pocket as he spoke, “Nothing I haven’t been through before.” He looked at you with warmth in his smile as he turned his body to face yours. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you for a little – just the two of us.”

Your eyes followed his hand as it reached inside his coat pocket, pulling out a small box. He gently opened it, revealing a glistening gold ring with a sizeable diamond perched at the top. Your gaze lifted, following his hand that took yours as he slipped the ring onto your finger. Warmth crept up on your face as your eyes began to moisten, and once again, you were at a loss for words, although this time was unlike before.

Eventually, you choked out a few words. “Yuki, you…”

Holding your hand with his two, his thumbs held your fingers, rubbing the back of your hand. “I did say I didn’t only like you.” He chuckled, his cheeks painted a gentle hue of red. “Unless, well, you don’t actually like me.”

The growing lump in your throat protested against your words you fought to speak once more. “Of course I like you…” You smiled as a memory played back in your head. “Didn’t I tell you that in high school?”

He nodded in response, being taken back to the same memory. “And what did I tell you then?”

The memory lapsed in your head, the words the same as they were when you first heard them. The redness on both of your faces, how you were too shy to meet each other’s eyes, and the way his voice shook ever so slightly when he spoke.

“That you’d always be with me.”

[kyometeru]

© uvuyai 2024

ძᥲᥡ 1 ~ 𝐿𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒 [EVENT]

Transfem! Furina x FEM! Reader

–genre. smut, nsfw,

–tw. girl cock, description of furina's cock, breeding, slight perv furina, sub x dom trope, overstimulation, MINORS DNI, creampie, riding, teasing, groping, reader is the same height as her, blow job, ooc furina, tit play, im sorry if you uncomfy with this,

–synopsis. Since Valentine's Day is around the corner, you called Furina in as you wanted to give her a good surprise. She wasn't expecting this.

Mari/yai's message – I've been thinking about an idea like this for a while.

Furina was patiently waiting on the duvet covered bed as you told her to meet her there. She had your favorite flowers, favorite chocolate, and a little teddy bear in her trembling hands. She could feel sweat dripping down her face and she barely could keep her excitement down.

Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor. She kind of spoiled half of the suprise for her. She asked if you got her something amongst chocolate or a teddy bear.

She heard a turning of a door knob come from the bathroom within the room

She turned her gaze towards the door, hoping it was you. And she was right. “A-ah, hey baby!” she waved at you with her eyes closed and a trembling smile. She opened her eyes to see you covered in a silky black (slightly) see through robe with fluff at the hem of it and at the end of the sleeves. Her face a really red by now. If you look closely, you can see her eyes turn into a black and white hypno circle but it didn't move.

You walked over to her with a blank expression lining your face.

You sat close to her, your thighs nearly touching. Both of her legs were trembling too much that it's visible to you now. You placed a hand on her thigh, sliding up and down with your index a ending up at her crotch.

A bulge began to rise on her shorts. A surprisingly big one. “I see you've gotten me something, hm?” you tilted you head and looked at Furina as she frantically looked somewhere else than your face. “Yes, y-yes. H-here!” she gulped and pushed the chocolate box with a brand on it(which were your favorite) towards, your favorite flowers, and a brown teddy bear. you carefully took them and placed them on the nightstand.

“I have that for you too Furi, but I have something extra to give” you places your index finger under her chin which made her immediately lock eye contact with you. “You are really quiet today Furi, what's wrong?” you showed sympathy but in a teasing way that made you voice a bit pitcher.

“Hm? Do you want this?” you dropped your robe to reveal a black lingerie set as if it was meant to be as a sleepwear. It had laced cloth around the bra part of it that it covered right above your thighs but it was see through.

Furina felt as if she was in heaven. She was slightly leaning back and her hands were grasping the covers with a harsh grip and if she had enough strength she could rip them off. “You want to touch me? Come on.” you opened your arms up to her. She quickly went into your arms, burying her burning face in your shoulder. Her bulge was poking at your thigh and it was

Her face was drenched in sweat. Her trembling hands reached down to your ass. You placed your arms around her neck, giving her a warming smile.

Furina noticed your breasts were slipping out of your top. She face planted herself between them which startled you. “Okay Furina calm down, now let me pamper you instead.” you pointed towards the bed(you both were standing fyi) and she obeyed.

You climbed on top of her, straddling her waist. “You should wear less clothing, Furi.” you slid your hand up and down her chest. Your hand went to her shorts, unhooking the button and pulling the zipper down. You slid her underwear down and her dick popped up.

It was an ocean blue color with dark blue line streaks leading up to her pelvis. It was a good tone to her skin. The tip was the same colors as the line streaks. A white bead of precum was at the slit of the tip.

You let out a heartly chuckle and moved down to where her cock was lining up your face. You placed your lips on the tip of her cock and slowly let it seep in until it reaches the back of your throat.

You bobbed your head up and down at a fast but simple pace. Furina clenched her teeth together as she grabbed strands of your hair.

You moved faster as you felt her dick pulsing in your mouth. She came with a loud whine and groan that anyone walking outside the door could hear. You felt thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. She was twitching too much now.

You climbed back on top of her to which she let out a gasp too. You slowly sank down onto her thick cock. You moved your panties to the side then sat in front of her dick so it was touching your pussy. It's been a while since you last did it before. Both of your faces were burning. Her moans were getting loud by the second. You closed your eyes as you gave into pleasure.

Whimpers and moans were stuck in Furina's throat. You moved at a simple pace as you bounced on her cock. You leaned your head back and placed your hands on Furina's knees(which were behind you).

Her dick was webbed in your juices. If it wasn't for your closed eyes, you would've seen hearts in her eyes bouncing. Your pussy was just so good for her, she wishes she could spend hours rather than doing her duties.

She wanted to take charge and make you moan louder. She rose up with her trembling arms and grabbed at your waist. Her nails dig into your waist so hard that it left crescent marks. You opened your eyes and looked at her with a startled gasp. Her left hand wrapped around your waist while her right hand took the straps of the bra off your shoulder, revealing your perky breast.

Beads of sweat dripped down your chest. She immediately latched onto your tits. The arm around your waist makes you bounce on her cock faster. She wanted to hear your moans louder now.

Her dick hit your cervix harder now. It's surprising that a short girl like her has a size like that. But hey, size doesn't matter.

“I-i'm gonna come–!” her breaths got harsher. And so as yours. You came on her dick as it sent volts of electricity run through your core. Thick ropes a milky white cum went flying in your insides.

You both were a panting mess as she fell back on the bed. You leaned down and unbuttoned her clothes, revealing her chest. She gasps as you look at her with lust.

“Let's go further Furi, it's Valentine's Day in fact~”

[luveline]

hi again!! i saw you mention wanting to write for prince!steve, and i also saw that you write with dialogue prompts so i present to you:

A: “I’ll take care of you.”

B: “It’s rotten work.”

A: “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

maybe the reader gets injured doing something for training, but it’s all up to you!! i’m sure we’ll love it regardless. kisses!!

thank you for requesting! —prince steve au. fem, 1.5k

Pain was familiar before you came to the palace. Small pains and big, all kinds of hurting, poverty-driven neglect leading to toothaches and back pain, twisted ankles walked on without choice, sore skin otherwise ignored. It didn’t matter if you got hurt as long as you lived. 

Not in a dramatic sense. It didn’t feel dramatic at the time, only miserable. You go to work with a migraine because you can’t afford not to. You walk home in the dark because the mag-trams are getting too expensive. You break your holo, so you make do without one. You pick your head up to keep looking both ways and you get everywhere you need to go because you need to work, to get paid, to eat, to work. 

That’s how it always was. So getting sick didn’t matter. An injury was temporary pain that your body would fix eventually, and if it didn’t, well, it’s cheaper to pull a tooth than pay to have it filled. 

You were used to your sorry life, and then you met Steve. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed Steve. Looking at him sometimes is enough to make your whole body a void for things you used to complain about; you wake up across from him in the big bed and forget you can feel pain at all, if only because he’s already awake, waiting for you to open your eyes before he rests his hand on your cheek. You met him and your soul-mark glowed with a lacy, almost feathered light, your wrist braceleted with white colour that soon faded to mellow blue. 

When you first meet your soulmate, the colours you make tend to shift. It takes time for your heart to decide if love is pink or orange or blue. It seems to have settled now —when Steve kisses you, your mark turns a Gaussian amber. When you kiss back, his mark turns light pink, like the lotus flowers he keeps in his private gardens. 

Right now, your mark hums an angry red. It’s typical in its colour, and it’s common. Most people’s marks turn red when they’re hurting. Yours is a crimson so dark it looks black in the dim lighting, and it throbs in time with your pain like a vexing metronome. You’ll never be able to put it from your mind if the mark continues to remind you. 

Steve is uncharacteristically quiet at your side. His own mark is lit in sympathy, mostly pink with his affection, but threaded in red like spider lily flowers blooming against his forearm. 

He shifts beside you. It’s been more than a month since your wedding, and yet he’s careful with you. Almost shy, though he can be brash and cocky. You know intimately how sweet Steve can be when he’s in love. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

“How’s the pain now?” he asks, his eyebrows pulled together at their starts. 

“Not so bad.” 

“Could you rate it on a scale? If zero was no pain at all, and ten were enough to warrant another dose of white willow bark?” 

“What if I were at a five?” you ask. 

“A half dose and a good kiss?” 

You turn his way but flinch when it puts undue pressure on your leg, a stab of hot pain jumping from your fractured tibia to deep inside of your hips. Steve sees your wincing and presses your shoulder into the bed, leaning over you, a scolding he doesn’t give in the pinch of his eyebrows as he leans down to kiss you. It’s more caress than kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his lips barely touching yours before he rests his nose at your brow. “Can you stay still?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” 

He lifts his head. Holds your cheek for longer than you can work out why, dotting another soft kiss to your nose before slinking out of bed to find you some white willow bark tincture. It’s a potent pain reliever. You shouldn’t have too much of it. If you were still living your past life, you’d be chewing on ginger skins trying to limp your way back into work. There’d be no time to stop. 

“Steve,” you say, watching him a small ways away at the table of your quarters. He turns to you. “I don’t really need anything else.” 

“You said it’s hurting?” Steve pipettes the tincture into a cup of water. “You said a five, and you lie. Knowing you, it’s closer to an eight, you just don’t want to tell me.” 

It might not be as extreme as an eight now, laying down and bandaged, but it hurts badly and a tincture would solve this. Still, you say, “It’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

He brings the glass regardless and puts it on the nightstand. Your bed is yards too big for one person, even two, but when Steve sits next to you he leaves no room between you. He looks down at you fondly. Brown hair like down feather falls against his forehead. 

“You’re going to be in pain for a long time.” He brings a hand to your cheek again. “It might sound tame, a plateau fracture, but that’s still a fracture. You know doctors say fracture when they mean broken, right? You broke your leg. It’s okay to want pain relief.” 

“I knew that. I didn’t know you knew it.” 

“Impolite.” He ducks down to look you in the eyes. You’re a little skewiff, straight to his sideways, but it gets a point across. He wants to kiss you while you’ve said something maddening. “I don’t see why you’re so insistent on pretending it hasn’t happened and that you’re fine. You got hurt, and you’ll stay hurt for a while. It might be weeks of bed and– and you need to be looked after. I don’t know why you’re so guilty about it.” 

“I’m not guilty,” you deny guilty, turning your face to lean into his hand, rather than continue to face his imploring gaze. “I just… I’m not used to this. Before, if something went wrong, I couldn’t just lay down and wait to get better, and I surely wouldn’t be laying here with doctors and servants and the ladies in waiting all trying to make sure– It’s like it’s not my fault, and that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to be a burden on everyone. More than I already am,” you add, a bitter mumble nearly lost to his palm. 

He makes a promise, then, turning your face to the light. “I’ll take care of you,” he says. 

“It’s rotten work.” 

Steve shakes his head gently. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” 

You press your tongue to your teeth, worried you’ll say something you’ll regret. You don’t want him to go. You want him to mean exactly what he says, to stay here and take care of you, and to enjoy doing it. Wouldn’t it be nice to be loved for love's sake? 

Steve shuffles inward and encourages your head into his lap, thrusting pillows aside to take up station against your headboard. He frames your face, upside down, before both hands begin to run down your arms. A hug, in a way, as he twists his face to kiss the skin beside your eye. You squint at the proximity. 

“You’re not a burden,” he says, hands climbing upwards now, warm and steady where they travel, “you’re my wife. My cherished wife, remember?” 

His tone is silk. 

“You… haven’t proved to be a wretched husband,” you confess. 

“I did try. But loving you has been easy. It makes husbandry a gift.” He laughs at his grandiose and gives you a kiss that’s more familiar by your ear, his pleading, searching kisses, the kind he likes to press to all your softest junctures. “I wish you could understand that we’re marked for a reason. We were always meant to be together, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to stand with me. I’m happy you’re here. I want to take care of you.” 

Not if it’s you, he’d said. 

You wonder if it might be okay to cry. He’s massaging your arms, still bent in half over you trying to kiss some belief in him into your forehead. 

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs between chaste, silent kisses, “really. You don’t have to pretend things don’t hurt you anymore.” 

You feel strange, then, shivery and weak as you turn your face into his thigh. His hand slips behind your back to hold you.

“Can I convince you to drink this tincture now?” he asks, just above your ear. 

“I love you,” you mumble. 

He pauses his trailing hands. You squeeze your eyes closed, but he doesn’t pause for long enough to scare you. “I love you,” he says. “Since the day we met, I’ve loved you. I’ll take care of you.” 

He is easy to believe.