#mistake……. 😔
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bishopony · 8 months ago
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I’m also really mad cause I think it was the vegan Mac and cheese that did me in. I ate it bc it was supposed to NOT give me a stomach ache and indigestion like what 😭😭
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kaitcake1289 · 7 months ago
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in paris you gotta sleep with one eye open
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choccy-milky · 2 months ago
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herbology class 🌹🌿 (from chap 2 of my fic!)
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chocostrwberry · 4 months ago
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I like to think that Marinette’s qualities come from her parents!! Like her kindness is because of Tom’s example, and her resourcefulness as Ladybug is from Sabine.
Also “Marinette” being her French name and “Jiayi” being her Chinese name I put in there along with Socqueline! She’s kind of an older sister figure to her and considers her a cousin bc their families are so close. She had moved to another city in France by the time Marinette starts junior year but they call often!
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Just rewatched centaurworld with my sister, is this anything?
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childrenofcain-if · 13 days ago
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Picture this: ROs showing up to their morning classes looking slightly disheveled and quickly taking a seat. Little do they know that their necks are covered with hickeys left by MC the night before. Their reactions when people point it out should be priceless 😂😂
C LACROIX
C barely made it out of bed that morning, the remnants of the night still clinging to them like a warm, invisible string. they hadn’t even looked in the mirror beyond a quick pass of the toothbrush and mouthwash, hadn’t registered the faint bruises blooming like dark smudges on their fair neck.
it was an unusually rushed morning—coffee sloshing in its cup, a blazer haphazardly pulled on over yesterday’s rumpled button-up shirt, and the quiet contentment that still lingered under their skin from the night before.
the lecture hall was in that strange, early-morning lull, with only the few dedicated souls filtering in. C took a seat near the front of the lecture room, slouching down and letting their eyes drift, half-focused on the professor setting up for the day. the room filled up slowly, a dozen students murmuring, flipping open their notebooks, the usual dull hum of university mornings. C felt halfway to a daydream.
it wasn’t until ten minutes into class that the girl sitting directly behind them leaned in with a conspiratorial grin.
“hey, C,” she whispered, her gaze flicking from their bored green eyes to somewhere just below their jaw, amusement dancing in her expression. “had a busy night?”
C looked at her, eyes narrowing in confusion, and she just giggled, clearly finding some private delight in whatever she was looking at. the professor’s voice was droning on in the background about economic indicators, but C’s attention had slipped, irritation prickling.
“what are you talking about?” they muttered back, still bleary with early-morning fatigue. “your neck,” she said with a little wave of her hand, as if that explained everything. “care to explain what that is?”
C’s hand shot to their neck, feeling the skin warm under their touch. they hadn’t given it much thought, hadn’t even realized—last night’s memory a blur of laughter, close warmth, the heady closeness of you, but now it crystallized sharply in their mind. they could feel the heat creeping up their neck, but the words came out automatically, with practiced precision.
“this is a sign,” C said, raising an eyebrow and giving her a look that could have frozen rivers, “for you to mind your own business.”
the girl laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “all right, all right,” she said, but her smirk didn’t fade, and C could feel other eyes turning in their direction, whispers curling through the air like smoke. they slouched further in their seat, wishing they could disappear entirely and regretting the decision to sit on the front.
as the professor rambled on, C sat there fuming, each murmured glance another spark on an already frayed wick. what had you been thinking, they found themself wondering, though they knew perfectly well that you’d been thinking of nothing but the electric thrill of the moment, your hands in their hair, the quiet gasps and the blurred edges of night.
the guy two seats behind caught C’s eye and smirked.
“didn’t know you were the type,” he said, barely containing his laughter.
“what type?” C snapped, keeping their tone flat but seething inside.
“the type to walk around like a billboard,” he replied, nodding toward C’s neck. “seriously, you might want to invest in a scarf.”
C shot him an unimpressed look. “thanks for the suggestion, but i’m not taking fashion advice from poor people.”
the guy frowned in disbelief before huffing and muttering, “whatever, rich prick.”
class dragged on, the ticking of the clock like nails on a chalkboard. C tried to keep their head down, but the whispers and glances only seemed to get louder. every time they caught someone’s eye, there was that same smirk, that same knowing look that made C want to snap, to tell everyone to go back to their notes and leave them the hell alone. but of course, that would only make things worse.
by the time class ended, C was practically out of their seat before the professor had even finished dismissing them. they strode out of the room, head down, hoping to avoid any more looks or comments, but of course, luck wasn’t on their side. just as they stepped out into the hallway, someone else called out.
“nice look, C,” a girl from one of their other classes teased, looking far too pleased with herself.
C sighed, letting out a sharp breath. “you know, there are more interesting things in this world than staring at my neck.”
“oh, but it’s the most interesting thing we’ve seen all semester,” she shot back, laughing, her friends joining in.
C rolled their eyes and kept walking, feeling the last shreds of their patience fraying. they practically stormed down the college halls, footsteps echoing, each step a reminder of the mess they’d somehow gotten themself into. and all because of you, they thought, though they couldn’t bring themselves to be truly angry. there was a part of them—a very small, very hidden part—that was secretly pleased, that liked the quiet claim your marks had left on their skin.
finally, they found a quiet corner, pulling out their phone with a sigh. it only took a second to find your name, to start typing a message they hadn’t planned to send but couldn’t hold back any longer.
they kept it short, precise: “i hope you’re happy with the unwanted attention i’ve been getting today.”
your reply came almost immediately, as if you’d been waiting for it.
“oh, i am,” you texted back, and C could almost picture the smirk on your face, the gleam in your eyes. “plus, it’s not like you’re complaining.”
they scoffed, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of their mouth despite themselves: “you’re an idiot, starkid.”
“you still didn’t deny it though,” came your reply, and C shook their head, slipping their phone back into their pocket.
they straightened up, brushing a hand over their neck as if that could somehow erase the marks before walking back to their dorm to do something about it.
V NÆSHOLM
V was already late, stumbling out of their dorm with a heavy book clutched against their chest, their fingers pressed tight to the leather cover like it was a lifeline. they’d overslept, an unusual occurrence, the morning alarm buried somewhere under last night’s fog of dreams and restless shuffles in bed. their curls were a bit of a mess, the hem of their shirt tugged half-untucked in their rush to get dressed. V didn’t bother with a mirror—they rarely did—just shoved their notebook into a worn leather bag and hurried out into the crisp morning.
the classics lecture room was already half-full when they slipped in, doing their best to keep their head down as they found an empty seat by the window. they fumbled with the zipper of their bag, pulling out pens, notes, the creased corner of an assignment they’d meant to retype. a couple of glances flitted their way, but V paid them no mind, assuming it was just the consequence of arriving late—not their usual style, but excusable, they supposed. they hadn’t quite noticed the warmth still lingering on their neck, hadn’t registered the faint marks, those tiny bruises left by your lips in the hazy hours of last night, each one like a dark cherry painted on their skin.
professor caldwell’s voice began to drone on from the front, and V dropped their gaze to the desk, willing themselves to focus, to let the rhythm of greek declensions and conjugations drown out the lingering warmth that tingled through them. you had laughed about their major, half-joking about the language of romance and poetry while your mouth traced along the curve of their neck, each word becoming something soft, quiet, reverent in the dark. they thought they could still feel it, could still remember the press of your hands against their shoulders, the unguarded look in your eyes that made V feel both completely exposed and utterly safe.
across the room, someone leaned over to their friend, whispering something with a smirk, and V felt the faint prickling sensation of being watched. they glanced up, catching the raised eyebrows, the conspiratorial gleam in their classmates’ eyes. V’s face warmed instantly, but they managed a small, polite smile before dropping their gaze back to their notebook, convinced that if they focused hard enough, they could make themself invisible.
it wasn’t long before someone inched closer, a girl from their study group, flashing them a look that was equal parts amused and intrigued.
“V,” she whispered, leaning in, “looks like you had an eventful night.”
V blinked, taken aback. “an eventful night?”
she gave them a playful grin, tilting her head just enough for her eyes to drift to the side of their neck, and suddenly, V felt the weight of her gaze as if it were a burning mark itself. they pressed a hand self-consciously to their skin, realizing with a jolt what she must be seeing—the faint outline of each mark you’d left, the soft purples and blues etched into their dusky skin.
the girl’s grin widened, and V could practically feel the heat creeping up their neck, staining their cheeks.
“i– it’s not–” they stammered, words tumbling over themselves in a futile attempt to explain something that needed no explanation. “it’s just… nothing!”
she laughed, a soft, knowing sound that made V feel like every inch of them was under a spotlight.
“sure,” she replied, her tone teasing. “nothing at all.”
another voice piped up from across the room, this time one of the guys they vaguely recognized from last semester, watching them with a smirk. “get it, V!”
V felt their heart sink, the warmth on their cheeks intensifying as they desperately tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone. they wanted to disappear, to melt into the seat and let the floor swallow them whole. this wasn’t like them—V, quiet and unassuming, the one who read too many old texts and held onto thoughts like secrets. they could hardly bear the thought of all these eyes on them now, each one reading the evidence of last night like an open book.
professor caldwell finally took note of the murmuring, glancing up from his notes with a frown. “is there something particularly fascinating happening in the back of the room that i should know about?”
silence fell, and V took the opportunity to bury themselves deeper in their notes, trying to will away the warmth in their cheeks and the prickling awareness that your mark on them had become the morning’s unspoken headline. they could feel every sideways glance, every whispered comment, as though it were written in neon across their skin.
when class finally ended, V was the first out of the room, slipping through the hallways as quickly as they could, every step carrying them further from the embarrassment of those lingering glances and raised eyebrows. they found a quiet alcove near the library, leaning against the cool stone wall, finally able to breathe.
V closed their eyes, a quiet, helpless laugh slipping out as they leaned back against the wall, feeling every inch the awkward, bashful mess you somehow adored.
W OSTENDORF
W stumbled into their morning cinematography lecture, barely awake. they hadn’t even glanced in the mirror before dashing out of their room, their shirt collar slightly askew, blonde hair tousled in a way that looked less artful and more accidental. their eyes were ringed with the faint shadows of sleep deprivation, deep-set from too many late nights and one too many bad dreams. they’d long accepted that sleep, for them, was like an old friend gone missing.
W slipped into a chair near the back of the room, hoping to fade into the background. but, almost immediately, they felt a tap on their shoulder. they turned, meeting the curious gaze of bailey, one of the classmates they usually talked to. they were already leaning in, their eyes bright with mischief.
“W…” bailey said, a sly smile creeping up their face, “so how was it?”
W blinked, looking back at them with a blank expression. “what?”
bailey stifled a laugh, glancing pointedly at W’s neck. “i’d be more concerned about covering those up if i were you.”
confused, W’s hand drifted to the side of their neck, their fingers brushing over what felt like faint ridges in the skin—tender and, unmistakably, hickey-shaped. last night came back to them in fragments: the soft press of your lips against their skin, the warmth of your hands, and the way W’s heart had beat so fast it was like it was learning to keep time for the first time. they could still feel it—the gentleness of you, the careful way you’d mapped out their skin, the way you had filled the empty spaces in them like sunlight spilling into shadows.
“oh,” they mumbled, barely audible, color rising in their fair cheeks as they finally understood what bailey was implying. they fumbled with their winter coat, as though it could somehow cover up the evidence. but it was too late; bailey had already seen, and so had half the classroom, if the muffled snickers and side-glances were any indication.
W swallowed hard, trying to suppress the urge to shrink into themself. it was one thing to carry the memory of last night like a secret tucked close to their chest, but it was another to have it branded on their skin, visible for everyone to see. “with a reaction like that, i’m curious now,” bailey whispered conspiratorially. “who was it?”
W was too flustered to answer, too aware of the heat creeping up their neck. they just shook their head, mumbling something incoherent under their breath.
they could practically feel the weight of everyone’s attention pressing down on them, and it was unbearable. the classroom had never felt so small. they wanted to disappear, to dissolve into the air and float away. their fingers tightened around the edge of their desk, knuckles white.
just as they were beginning to think they might actually combust under the weight of it all, professor shah finally started the lecture, mercifully redirecting everyone’s attention to the topic of 60s cinematography. W tried to focus, to let the professor’s voice anchor them, but they kept getting distracted by the faint brush of their own fingertips against their neck, as though they were reassuring themself that last night had been real.
but the worst part, the part W couldn’t admit even to themself, was that somewhere beneath all the embarrassment, there was a strange, inexplicable warmth in their chest. it wasn’t just the memory of you; it was the fact that, for once, they felt like someone who mattered. you had looked at them like they were more than a bundle of nerves, more than a collection of protruding ribs and insecurities. you had wanted them, had left marks on them like an artist signing their work, as though to say, “this precious one belongs to me.”
W kept their head down for the rest of class, pretending to take notes while their mind wandered. they thought about your laugh, the way it filled up the quiet spaces between words; they thought about the constellations embedded in your eyes, a collection of universes unknown. and even as their skin burned under the scrutiny of their classmates, they couldn’t help but feel a kind of ridiculous, unsteady happiness, as though they were holding a fragile piece of you.
after class, as W gathered their things, bailey caught up with them again, their eyes dancing with barely-contained laughter.
“whoever they are,” they said, leaning in with a grin, “they did a number on you. you look like a jackson pollock painting.”
W managed a small, awkward smile, brushing them off with a half-hearted shrug. “i… thank you? i think?”
but bailey just laughed, giving them a pat on the shoulder before they sauntered off. W watched them go, exhaling a long, shaky breath. the hallway stretched out in front of them, crowded with students milling about, voices echoing in the familiar buzz of conversation. they felt oddly detached from it all, like they were drifting, the world around them softened by the memory of you.
when they finally stepped outside, the winter air was like an ice pack against their flushed cheeks. they pulled their coat tighter around them, but they couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. even in their embarrassment, they felt lighter, their heart buoyed by the quiet assurance that they had been seen, and known, and wanted.
for a brief, foolish moment, W wished you were there beside them, walking through the crowded hallway, your shoulder brushing against theirs. they imagined the feel of your hand slipping into theirs, the easy way you would laugh at their embarrassment, and they felt a surge of something that was both longing and contentment.
D DIACONU
D showed up to their morning music class like they did every day: with a sort of effortless swagger, their bag slung over one shoulder, hair messier than usual, and the faintest grin ghosting their mouth as though they were carrying a secret joke. they slipped into their seat near the back, collapsing into it with the practiced nonchalance of someone who had perfected the art of looking utterly unfazed.
to D, mornings meant more than just a groggy start; they were an opportunity to blend their night life into the mundane day, to turn the hours of dawn into some blurry prequel that nobody else needed to understand.
what D didn’t realize, though, was that last night had left its mark in more ways than one.
the professor was droning on about music theory, the class settling into its familiar rhythm, when senne, a friend sitting beside D, leaned over, his eyebrows quirked, mischief lighting up his eyes.
“good morning to you,” he murmured, his voice low, his smile mischievous. “do you, perchance, have a good mirror at your dorm? you can borrow mine if that’s not the case.”
D glanced at him, half-interested, arching an eyebrow. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
senne snickered, nudging his chin toward D’s neck, gesturing without making a scene but just enough to catch D’s attention.
D frowned, hands drifting to their collarbone almost instinctively, fingers brushing over their neck. the memory of last night washed over them—your lips, your hands, the way you laughed softly against their skin as if every touch could be a confession. in the hazy, half-lit memory, the feel of your warmth and weight lingered as though it had seeped into them. but that feeling, that heated moment, had seemed so ephemeral, so fleeting, something to fold up and pocket away by morning.
D’s fingers brushed over the skin—the sensitive spots, the small, faint bruises where you had left traces. hickeys. and not just one.
a dozen memories flashed in their mind. the way you had leaned in, your mouth grazing the edge of their collarbone, the laughter that bubbled up in between breaths, a hand gripping their shoulder. D’s smile faltered, turning instead into a half-smirk as they let their fingers drop, trying to play it cool even as their face warmed.
senne whistled quietly, leaning back with a knowing look that made it clear he wasn’t going to let this go. “you lucky dog.”
D shrugged, attempting to look bored but failing to disguise the slight, pleased flicker in their eyes. “well, i’m not going to deny that.”
at that, senne’s eyebrows went up. “oh, believe me, it shows. whoever they are, they really… left their mark, huh? quite a possessive one you got there.”
D rolled their eyes, feeling strangely irritated under the scrutiny of both Sam and a few other classmates who had caught on, now sneaking glances and stifling laughs. the professor continued to lecture in the background, blissfully unaware of the scandalous distraction sitting right in front of him. metronomes would wait; apparently, D’s love life was more important.
“i didn’t ask for you to take a guess,” D murmured, voice low and defiant, as if the room wasn’t filled with people trying to catch a glimpse of the faint marks you’d left on them. they tilted their head, defiant as ever, lips pulled into a smirk that only grew when senne laughed.
“not my fault you’re wearing your social life like a badge of honor,” senne retorted, giving them a playful nudge. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you be okay with people giving you hickeys.”
“maybe this person’s special,” D shot back, pulling the collar of their leather jacket up just a bit. “or maybe i don’t particularly care about it anymore.”
as the professor continued to lecture on how music was seen as a blessing from the gods, it struck D as amusingly fitting. aphrodite would have approved, they thought with a sly grin, leaning back in their chair with a certain satisfaction, a sense of belonging to a story larger than themself, even if just for a night.
the professor’s voice carried on, explaining some about some more old instruments. D tried to focus on the words, on the way they wove together in that heavy, ancient way, but every phrase seemed to loop back to you. your eyes. your teeth against their skin. the way you’d whispered things that only mattered in the small hours, words that vanished with the dawn but left their mark all the same.
senne leaned over once more, whispering, “so, is it, y’know?”
D smirked, tilting their head as though considering it, as though they didn’t already know the answer.
“maybe,” they said casually, but there was a knowing glint in their gray eyes. “i’d prefer not to reveal anything yet.”
senne chuckled, rolling his eyes, but there was a part of him that seemed genuinely curious, almost as if he wanted to know what it was like to be seen the way D was seen last night—to be held and marked and claimed, even if just for a moment. of course, he was thinking about emerson again.
when class ended, D stood up, brushing off senne’s continued teasing, rolling their eyes with a smirk that was equal parts cocky and lazy. they didn’t bother to fix their collar again, didn’t try to hide the hickeys. Instead, they let them be—little maroon trails of a night well-spent, reminders of a heat they’d carry with them through the rest of the day, a secret in plain sight.
M WHITLOCK-SINGH
M slipped into their philosophy class with the quiet poise of someone determined to avoid attention, a little bleary-eyed from the night before. they moved with the precision of a dancer, even half-awake, shoulders straight and head held just high enough to nod politely to the few classmates they recognized.
it had been one of those endless nights, where time seemed to slip in and out of itself, conversations trailing into dawn without ever quite stopping, hours blending until they felt like one long and breathless moment. M had walked to class still caught in the residue of that night, smiling privately, replaying your smile, the warmth of your hand, the way you’d leaned in close with that unmistakably needy glint in your eye.
they slid into their seat, adjusting their collar out of habit, but the faint ache at their neck went unnoticed in their early morning haze. they didn’t see the subtle bruises—purple shadows kissed onto their skin like reminders of you. but someone else did.
“morning, M,” murmured eli, who sat next to them, their tone riddled with a soft irish accent. they eyed M’s neck for a second too long, their gaze slipping toward the faint trail of hickeys there before they looked away, poorly disguised laughter on their lips.
“good morning, eli,” M replied, their usual courtesy unfazed by the glances and whispered chuckles around the room. they didn’t catch the murmurs, or the sneaky glances, still thinking of last night—how you’d wrapped them in your laughter, how you’d left them breathless with the reckless ease that only you had.
it wasn’t until professor dunbar, a tall and somewhat intimidating figure with a penchant for socratic questioning, entered and began the lecture that M started to catch on. he looked right at the royal, paused, and then coughed, almost as if trying to conceal a smirk.
the entire class seemed to ripple with an electric, almost surreptitious amusement.
finally, one of the other students, a lanky guy named oliver who was known for his bluntness, leaned over. he barely whispered, though, letting his voice carry to others seated nearby. “your highness, didn’t know you were the type to show up to class wearing your nightlife around your neck.”
M blinked, feeling the words settle before they fully registered. “i beg your pardon?”
they touched their neck absentmindedly, but as they felt the faint bruises beneath their fingers, realization spread across their face. the warmth of last night’s memory filled them again, and there was a warmth in their cheeks that couldn’t quite be disguised.
oliver grinned, looking far too pleased. “you’ve got souvenirs, nice.”
M’s hand dropped, and they straightened, composure slipping for just a heartbeat. a rush of images flooded their mind—you, under the dim lights, your lips lingering on their neck, the world a comfortable blur around you both. they felt exposed in a way that was unfamiliar, like someone had opened a book they’d meant to keep closed.
eli leaned over, their voice gentle with a thread of teasing. “they suit you, actually. just… remember to cover it before class next time”
M managed a demure smile, lifting their chin slightly. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
eli’s smile widened, but they said nothing, only gave a small shrug as if to say no worries.
M could feel their heart thundering under the calm mask they usually wore, wondering how they could possibly explain to these people how it felt to be with you. how every touch had felt both wild and intimate, like a shared whisper that neither of you could ever forget. there was no explaining to eli or oliver or anyone here how your presence lingered, how it was both comforting and thrilling, how you’d looked at them like they were someone worth keeping close.
the professor’s lecture drifted on, dissecting concepts of ethics and purpose, but M’s mind wandered. they half-listened, still feeling the ghost of your touch, remembering the twinkling of your eyes in the small hours of the night. when the lecture ended, and they were finally free to leave, they lingered, half-expecting another comment, another nudge from a classmate.
instead, it was eli who sidled up to them, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “so… who was it, mate? don’t be shy now.”
M raised an eyebrow, almost amused by their persistence. “i’m afraid i can’t disclose that, eli.”
eli shrugged, undeterred. “fine, keep your secrets. but hey,” he added with a knowing smirk, “they must be something else if you’re willing to come here wearing their love bites.”
for a second, M considered dismissing eli with their usual reserve, but something in them softened. they allowed a faint smile, a rare and almost too-open thing, as they looked toward the door, already picturing you there. “yes,” M said, their voice a quiet warmth that made eli blink, momentarily thrown by the softness in their tone. “they really are something else.”
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icantdothistodaybruh · 7 months ago
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I miss winter again🍨
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l3viat8an · 22 days ago
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Ro what smuty Levi thoughts are we having tonight? -🍿
Nsfw!
I’m so glad you asked 🤭
Tall subby / needy LevI X shorter mean-ish dom reader <3
Earlier Levi invited you over to play some new video game, really that was all he wanted!!! To try this new game with you, he can’t even remember how you got here-
Not that he’s complaining, now you’re sitting in his gaming chair in his lap, facing him, kissing him?! even moaning into the kiss as you press your body against his.
When you pull back to catch your breath you smirk when you see just how red his face is, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, the tip of his forked tongue poking past his lips as he pants trying to catch his breath at the same time. “Please,,,” he whimpers.
“Please what?” you ask, brushing his bangs back out of his eyes. But all Levi can do is stare at you, mouthing something but no actual words come out.
"Aww, my poor baby, can’t think.” you coo, kissing him again, a much shorter kiss this time. pulling back just as quick and Levi leans forward, following you, trying to keep your lips on his, but you put a hand on his chest to keep him leaning back.
“How does it feel to be overpowered by someone so much smaller than you?” you pause to kiss down his neck, you can feel rather than hear the whine stuck in Levi’s throat as he desperately tries to grind his hard cock up against your core, you nip at his neck a little warning that he’s supposed to sit still. “So fucking needy already, it’s actually kinda pathetic, Lev...”
You pull back, sliding off his lap and onto the floor in front of him. Slipping your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, without a word he lifts his hips so you can pull them down in one fluid motion. His cock springs free the tip all red and already leaking pre-cum, you lean forward and lick from the base to the tip then look up and meet his eyes, “Now just sit back and watch someone so small make you a crying, dirty mess~”
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tianhai03 · 1 year ago
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havent drawn dante in a while so here's a doodle
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zoeysnowydoughy · 13 days ago
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RAHHH THIS GAME HAS BROUGHT ME SM JOY!! the writing was peak (as expected) and the character is so endearing
and what do we do w things that make us happy? We draw it 😼
SPOILER WARNING BELOW ⚠️
((I like Atom a lot but they probably would’ve stuffed me under the floorboards too because Im scared of legless creatures 😔 (bro wouldve NOT been saved by ME if I was MC 😭🙏))
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roseadleyn · 3 months ago
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Hi! May I get a yandere bertol axios x nonchalant willing reader? Where y/n is not bothered if he's too possessive and instead love him back?
dug this out the very bottom of my askbox,,,, here it is nonnie! a whole year or something later 🫶🏻
RED MEANS I LOVE YOU. || axion vergette
( / fan translation : berzet )
tw : blood, murder, two psychopaths in love ( how cute <3 )
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'Axion?' You call upon waking up to an empty bed, tangled within the sheets. It was a little routine between the two of you for him to wake you and kiss you a good morning before he left for his duties, and Axion wasn't one to rise early either, so...
You pad out of bed, his shirt large and comfortable and sweetly familiar with his scent, looking for him in his office, his libraries. Nothing. Then, just as you resign yourself to worry, the huge, oak front doors creak open and your husband and lover walks in and you gasp.
He's covered in blood. Down his shirt, his jaw, his hands coated in the thick, viscous red. His teeth are gritted in irritation, but his eyes are strangely cold. He sighs heavily before his gaze finds you, fixed in place with horror and worry.
'Sweetheart.' His voice is enveloping, warm, but tired. It makes your heart throb with need and want and love. 'Why are you out of bed?'
'That sounds like something I should be asking you,' you object, moving closer to gently inspect his face for injuries, careful and concerned for him. He closes his eyes with a low hum of pleasure at your touch. 'I woke up in bed and you weren't there!'
He sighs again, irritable and weary, drawing you closer, arms tight around your waist, head on your shoulder. 'I was out for important work, darling.'
'I suppose that's why you're covered in blood, then. A massive paper cut.' You never talk back to him, but it just slipped back, and you wince instantly. 'S-sorry.'
He snorts at your snide remark. 'Remember, I don't appreciate that tone, sweetheart. But as I've scared you, I'll tell you. I was not busy with work concerning papers. With work concerning people.'
You draw back, frowning in puzzlement. 'I didn't leave the manor, Axion! I promise.'
'I know you didn't,' he laughed softly. 'Oh, no use in hiding it from you, little minx. I didn't appreciate your butler's... gaze.'
'Wh-what do you mean?' You don't understand him. You don't care about any butler! You don't think you care about anyone other than Axion. If that makes you an awful person, then so be it.
'He was looking so lovingly at you, didn't you notice?' His voice is condescendingly soft. 'All those lingering touches, all those sweet words. He was getting in our way.'
How dare he? Trying to get in your way? If he did harbor his stupid feelings for you he should've cared for your happiness and in turn, known you were happiest with Axion! Ridiculous man.
You curl up to him in his arms. 'He... He's dead, then.'
Axion doesn't answer. He does that, sometimes — if he doesn't want you to know a particular thing. But right now it's useless. You know just how much Axion loves you, but also... how ruthless he could be in that regard. There's no way that man lived.
But whatever. He isn't worth thinking of.
Your husband kisses your temple and carries you upstairs after that, quiet but attentive. You wash the blood off of him, huffing over the particularly stubborn bits, before you drag him to bed. Your heart swells as he settles beside you in your bed, the room glowing with the pale blue and golden shine of dawn, curtains drawn defiantly against the sun. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you sigh blissfully and lean into him.
'I love you.' He whispers softly into the crook of your neck, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.
'I love you too,' you say instantly. Because you do. Despite the locks on your door. Despite the guards positioned everywhere around the house. Despite the shackles in the corner of the room, kept 'just in case' (they were just precautions, anyways. He'd never do that to you!). Despite the little flecks of red on his knuckles that you'd missed. Despite the bloody knife lying downstairs to be cleaned.
You do love him. Why wouldn't you?
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hyunpic · 1 year ago
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🥟: “thank you for giving us our 1st place at mucore. thanks to stay it feels like my empty day was filled up. more than being thankful about the first place, im more thankful about the love you give us. i feel it more lately, that im living thankfully everyday” [translation source]
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ashipiko · 4 months ago
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do you guys ever just wanna doodle and end up launching yourself into your own doom
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jkvjimin · 7 months ago
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FILTER JIMIN ↳ for @kth1 💜
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charlotte-family-apologist · 4 months ago
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Help I’m once again suffering from Suchin brainrot (I never stopped)
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macaroonkitti · 11 months ago
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Quick treat for my Zelda followers, thinking about Link post totk <3
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