#new bedsheets and curtains

[dollybites]

refreshed my room a bit

[pandaemoanium]

going to ikea today, puppy's enclosure is getting a proper makeover :3

[milo-is-rambling]

Quick Netflix play the Tuca and Bertie episode where Bertie has intrusive pastry pete memory/fantasy masturbation and then has panic attacks and tries to get rid of her vibe and her bed to magically fix herself. Umm. No reason why I wanna watch that one tho. It’s fine. No comment.

[4theitgirls]

the it girl’s spring cleaning

phone reset

delete old contacts and messages

go through social media following

delete unused apps

go through photos

set a new wallpaper

add widgets for reminders, weather, battery, etc.

delete old songs and add new ones

environmental reset

clean your bedroom (vacuum, dust, put clothes away, etc.)

sort through and donate old clothes

organize your makeup, skincare, etc.

wash or change your bedsheets

rearrange your bedroom

open your windows and curtains to let fresh air in

get outdoors

clean your home with fresh scented products (lemon, lavender, etc.)

physical reset

try a new workout routine

get some new outfits

do a face mask

exfoliate and shave

oil your hair or do a hair mask

try a new hair color, cut, or style

do your nails or get your nails done

get some fresh makeup and try a new makeup routine

do a lip mask and scrub

mental reset

start journaling or try some new prompts

do a refreshing meditation

try a new yoga practice or workout

read instead of scrolling

put a time limit on your phone usage

reset your sleep schedule

[huellitaa]

girl exorcism ⊹˚. ♡

cuz sometimes we all get a little off track and need to wake the fuck up again !!! 🫶🩷

──★ ˙ ̟🐰 physical! 🎀

have an everything shower

do ur whole skincare routine

brush ur teeth, floss, dental care

arrange a new workout routine

dance, pilates, exercise, move around

go on a walk and thrive in nature like a plant or a tree

find and try out some new cute hairstyles

pamper urself! face masks, spa day, etc.

get ur beauty sleep

change your bedsheets and pillowcases

clean your makeup brushes

go through all haircare, skincare, makeup, etc. products

organise and donate or throw out all of the clothes you don't wear or don't make you feel like your own dream girl

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 mental! 🧸

write down all your thoughts. every one.

write down all the problems in your life right now

have a mental breakdown over something tiny and let all ur emotions out by bursting into tears

write down what you want and go over your dreams and goals

read over or write out your highest self and everything about them

analyse your mindset at the moment

write what limiting beliefs you have

remember and remind yourself of your "why", keep it somewhere you can see

write down all your bad habits

write down some new habits to counteract them, become your best self and to work towards the future

vaunt and go on a huuuge rant to urself about how beautiful and perfect and amazing you are bc you literally are <3

──★ ˙ ̟💬 personal! 🎀

sweep your room

open the curtains

wipe down all your mirrors

dust down all surfaces

go through all ur clothes and chuck out or donate ones you don't wear

clean out under your bed !!!!!!!!

rearrange your shelves

get some new posters & wall prints

go through all of the books, movies, series, content you're consuming right now and choose new ones that align with ur highest self

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 digital! 🎧

go through ur following on every platform and delete everyone that makes you feel even remotely negative

uninstall a bunch of apps you don't need

install useful, helpful, purposeful apps

go on the hunt for accounts that make you laugh, happy, or confident

redecorate your home page

revamp your social medias (pinterest, tumblr, instagram, etc)

go through all your playlists and reorganise your music

delete all depressing songs and media

go through your contacts, rename, delete, etc

[leviathanspain]

not without him

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you knew birth would be no easy feat, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it without him

you clutched onto the white bedsheets, they were drenched with blood, and you were writhing on the bed as the doctor shouted orders at the nurses.

one had a cloth to your forehead, dabbing away your sweat and your tears. you couldn’t stop crying, it was an unbearable pain, that only got worse as the night went on.

violet had tried to prepare you, coming to her for advice on how to birth a bridgerton child. she had her most difficult birth with hyacinth, and just hearing her story sent chills down your spine.

anthony had been away in london when you went into labor. you knew he shouldn’t have left aubrey hall so close to the end of your pregnancy, but being the viscount meant there were things that required him present. you had hoped that your child would have some decency and arrive after the father, but the urge to push only became greater.

you feared that anthony wouldn’t make it, he was supposed to be here an hour ago, having rushed from london upon hearing the news.

the nurse looked down at you, “you have to push, my lady.” her voice quivered, as if she could feel your emotion. you teared up more, “no please- we have to wait for the viscount.” you felt weak, and you faintly heard the doctor shout that you were losing blood.

the nurse looked down again, and seemed firm, “you have to push, there is no time to spare if we wait for the viscount.” she dabbed your forehead again, “you and this baby will die if you don’t push now.”

you cried harder, “i need him here. i can’t do it without him.” you were scared, frightened by all these unfamiliar people. yes they were there to help you give birth to your first child, but you didn’t care, it wasn’t your husband dabbing your forehead or encouraging you.

your vision went fuzzy around the edges and your head fell back into the mounds of pillows that held you up. you could still hear the door push open, shouts being echoed into the room and finally, “let me through-“ his voice.

you heard a clatter of gear hit the wooden floor and you felt relief as he rushed to your side. anthony, still cold with the winter air, brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheek. he saw how weak you looked, and could see the doctor’s expression.

“you can do it.” he whispered sweetly, “i’m here, you can do it.” he grabbed your hand, clutching it tightly and with his encouragement, you did the one thing you had been putting off.

the nurse over you seemed overjoyed that you were finally listening, there was fear among the doctor and staff that you would bleed out before anthony got there.

you grunted, weak from the blood loss. “push, my lady, push!” the nurse above you shouted, and you grunted loudly, doing as she said.

there was a brief moment of pause, relief that washed over you as you heard a newborn’s cry. you blinked away the sweat, feeling the damp cloth across your skin as you looked over at anthony, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. he was smiling brightly, but tears brimmed in his eyes, “you did it.” he whispered, “my lady….” he brushed the side of your face with a hand, and you closed your eyes, exhaustion washing over you.

you could see the light creeping through the curtains. it had been kept dark for you, candles burning just as you liked, even wearing your favorite nightgown. you could feel the pain, that ache that reminded you of what had happened.

you called out to your handmaid, watching as the door opened and instead, in stepped anthony holding the baby in his arms. your eyes softened, and you cooed, “my love.” you beckoned him to the bed, and anthony sat down carefully, the newborn in his arms was peacefully sleeping.

“good morning.” he kissed your forehead, “you have no idea how much i love you. i-“ he faltered, looking down at the baby to compose himself before he continued, “i almost lost you. please,” he looked at you, “please don’t ever scare me like that again. i beg you.” he whispered. he was happy at the birth of your son, but he wouldn’t have been if you had lost your life.

you looked at him, nodding. you didn’t want to say anything, instead looking down at the baby and resting your head on anthony’s shoulder, “have you thought of a name?” you noticed the baby’s fell head of hair and smirked, “looks like he got my hair.” you looked at the baby’s nose, “and your nose.” you laughed slightly, and anthony shrugged, “everyone says he looks like you more.”

his siblings must’ve arrived in from london. you smiled, but anthony knew what that smile was, “you must rest. the doctor said you lost a lot of blood, that you shouldn’t even think to lift a finger today.”

you sighed, “i won’t protest, i am feeling exhausted..” you didn’t know how to feel, your heart had never felt so much love all at once, “my boys.” you cooed, touching the baby’s hair as anthony kissed your forehead again.

[madamecaos]

Angst/Comfort

(Not proof-read sorry)

Where Simon hurts you and makes up for it.

————————

“Just one more kiss, pretty girl,” Simon mumbled against the plush of your trembling thighs. He planted a slow and wet kiss on your clit, making you shiver at the overstimulation.

He had been at it all night.

Your whines at his lack of attention had given him an attitude. The files before deployment wouldn’t sign themselves, and you wanted to spend the little time you had together doing something couply.

In return, he answered in displeased huffs at your lack of understanding. That this was his job.

When you mentioned that he had agreed to a simple shopping trip beforehand, he exploded in frustration and anger. All directed at you, at your clinginess.

How you weren’t a little girl anymore, that he was not responsible for.

Instead of the expected denial or angry rebuttal, you went quiet. You allowed him to finish his job as you hid in your shared bedroom. In the rising pile of work, he didn’t notice.

Finally, standing up with a giant stretch, Simon realized the silence in his usual boisterous shared flat.

He asked for your name and no answer was given.

The apartment was dark, inhabited. Or so he thought, until he saw a still lump beneath his bedsheets. For a second he thought you were sleeping, retreating back to close the door behind him.

Until he saw you shake, a motion accompanied by a sniffle.

Simon sighed, head bent down at his inadequacy. He was often the monster that made you cry the most.

“Hey,” he cooed, settling behind you, brushing your hair as he called for your attention. You refused to look back at him, pretending to be asleep. “I’m done now. How about that shopping expedition, hm?”

You shuddered, holding in the sobs at his new compliance.

“Hey…” he tried again, yet not finishing the sentence already suspecting which words of his afflicted her.

Not very vocal, Simon laid down beside her then hugged his arms around her midsection, dragging her towards him in a cuddle.

You sniffled again, trying to muffle the sounds with your pillow.

“I… I didn’t mean what I said,” he started, tentatively petting her arm. “You’re not clingy. In fact, I think is the opposite.”

At that confession, you looked sideways, opting to stare him from your peripheral. Not ready to face him.

“I think about you so much, love. Enough to fuck up in missions. Enough for Price to send me home with a mount load of paperwork just because I was missing you.”

“Really?” You asked meekly, voice raw.

“It was the only option where I could see you… and I mucked it up.”

You rolled over slowly, still in his arms. Now facing each other in the low light bleeding through your sheer curtains.

“But you’re right,” you started, eyes watering and unable to look at his. “I’m not a little girl, you shouldn’t be made responsible for-“

“No.” He cut you off severely, decided. “You’re my girl. Little, big, fun size, whatever. You’re my girl.”

He grasped your cheeks between his palms, thumbs brushing away the tears.

“And it’s my responsibility to take care you. It’s a choice I made and I stand by it. Your needs are my needs… and your tears are my tears,” he flickered another tear away from your waterline. “And I made you cry because you wanted to spend time with me… and said those foul things in anger.”

He finished the sentence in a whisper, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “So, allow me take care of you, hmm?”

The gentle kisses on your forehead drifted over tenderly to your temple. Down to your wet cheeks, then your trembling lips.

Suddenly, with a little more urgency, he whispered against your mouth the words that had you trembling minutes later beneath his torturing tongue.

“Let me make you forget what I said.”

An hour later, after he removed every single item of your clothing, down to the socks of your feet, you laid back with your legs spread wide. A man easily twice your size suckling sloppily at your clit, caressing its hood with his placid tongue.

By the fourth orgasm, as your eyes closed drowsily, you certainly had forgotten any ill words directed at you.

[konigsblog]

lazy mornings with retired-könig... 💤

there's nothing more comforting and relaxing than spending time with the love of your life, a sunny saturday morning, the birds chirping in harmony with each other and the sun shining through the flowery, transparent curtains.

you're könig's favourite thing in the entire world, filling the hole in his cold heart with your sweetness. moving to a secluded area in the middle of a field was the best decision you could have possibly made, with no disruptions or distractions, for könig to dote and love on you, spreading your supple thighs in bed as the clock hits eight o’clock.

there's something so intimate and sexual about riding könig, his large and scarred hands gripping your waist while your smaller hands wander over the new flesh over his abdomen caused by delicious and calorific meals, covering the chiseled muscles he once had. you slowly ease down onto könig's fat, meaty cock and begin to rock your hips slowly, moaning into könig's lips as you press your chest against his. “that’s it, häsechen. just what i need, pretty...”

you lay in bed with könig, the bedsheets tangled in your feet as you try out different positions, fucking each other until noon now that you have all the time in the world to tend to each other's needs. you may as well throw out all your sex toys since könig will always be here to pleasure you now that he isn't on long deployments without his beloved angel.

[mikanotes]

don’t even bother ft. aventurine x gn!reader — just something short bcs his va is too good at his job and him voicing that post made me go oh wow! warnings cursing, clingy aven and reader in denial about their feelings, one suggestive joke, badly written Sorry! this is very much dedicated to nour enjoy ur bf

The light of the sun indicates that the day has started much longer ago than you had originally thought. You cling onto sleep, nevertheless, not at all fond of the idea of facing the day properly.

“Alright. I understand.”

There isn’t need for any context for you to get that the second disruption of your attempts at going back to dreamland is a call concerning work, of all things. The clear exhaustion and barely concealed frustration in Aventurine’s voice as he speaks to the person on the other end of that call indicates he probably feels the same as you.

Irritated enough to go back to sleep immediately after hanging up.

“Let’s schedule the interview for today.” he says, sounding like he’s stretching. Oh, great. He’s decided to be professional and get up. You hear him heave a long sigh, probably after hanging up, and blindly try to reach for him.

“No.” you mumble, frowning slightly. Aventurine hums, seemingly surprised, then chuckles.

“Hm? No?” he repeats, and leans down. You open your eyes enough to see him cover the painful rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains. He looks at you and tilts his head with a smile, “Not even a hello, huh? You’re so polite.” his voice drips with sarcasm.

You try to press your palm to his face but he grabs your wrist before you can, laughing. He presses closer to you and leans his forehead to your shoulder. “No what?” he asks, whispering. You don’t appreciate the chill that runs down your spine. He’s so close.

“No to leaving before me. I heard that call.”

He smiles against your neck before pulling back to look at you. “Who says I’m leaving?” he huffs softly, “I was just trying to sound awake, okay? And since when were you this clingy?”

“I’m the same as usual,” you complain, turning to lay on your back, “I just don’t want to be kicked out become the actual room’s owner isn’t here, is all. It’s a pain to deal with.”

He’s right. You’re not a clingy person. In fact, you don’t usually find yourself sleeping in the same bed as anyone, no matter how close you are to them. This is just… A rare occurence.

You and Aventurine getting one too many drinks at a nearby bar, you realizing you didn’t get yourself a hotel room prior to the whole ordeal, and crashing in his luxury bedsheets before he could protest.

And the worst part of it? You slept well.

In any case, the problem was that the warmth of someone by your side as you slept felt much more comforting than you’d expected it to be. Maybe it was just the previous night’s drinks residue blurring your thoughts. Maybe that’s what made you say no to him potentially leaving before you could actually process it.

Maybe it’s just because it’s him, and you never really mind him being so close to you.

He sighs and moves over your figure, planting his arm at the side of your head to hover over you. “You’re an awful liar. You wouldn’t last at poker.”

“Enlighten me. What the hell am I lying about?”

“This.”

He smiles, and it somehow makes you all the more aware of the distance between the two of you. It’s not nerve-wracking but it’s not uncomfortable. And it’s not comfortable, either, but it’s somewhere there in the middle. It’s on that line that makes your head struggle to keep up and that’s more than enough to tell you how badly you’re handling what should be a routine, by now. This is nothing new, come on.

“Who am I lying to…?” you continue.

He scoffs. “Yourself. I can practically see the gears turning inside your head. It’s almost cute.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Almost.”

He smiles to himself but doesn’t add more, moving away from you. He breathes out tiredly as he leans back against his pillows, a hand moving to cover his eyes. “You should get the higher-ups to call for a room for you. No one’ll bother you then.”

“You’re the higher-ups, do it yourself, you have the funds.” you imitate a robotic-sounding voice, then sigh, “That’s what they’ll tell me.”

“Mm, will they, now?”

You look at him. Only then do you notice the sun on his skin, his slightly messed up bangs, and the one button holding that cursed hotel pajamas top. You press your eyes shut with half a mind to hold back an annoyed groan. Don’t look at him like that, you repeat in your head.

You and Aventurine are friends. He likes to tease and flirt but that’s just how he is, so there’s really nothing more to it. You work as a negotiator for a group who frequently deals with the IPC’s offers and request for help to convince people of their grandiose plans. And Aventurine is arguably very high-up in the ranks of the IPC. It’s a wonder you even became friends, but it has been a long while now. A long while of bantering, clinging into each other just a bit too much, and listening to the other’s stories the very few times either of you actually opened up.

— Most of those times being after drinks. Nevertheless, it counts for something.

But you’ve never seen him in this kind of light. In sunlight! You’re not seeing him in any kind of new light at all. It’s just a different atmosphere than what you’re used to around him. You’ve spent time talking for hours at quiet bars or helping each other out in the most chaotic situations, but it’s never been this.

It’s so… calm.

But your phone rings. You sigh heavily before you grab it and answer the call. “Hello?” You barely get to properly register who called you before the voice of your senior at work starts complaining in your ear. You grimace.

Aventurine stares at you curiously.

“… This is really last-minute. Seriously?” you say, then wait for an answer. Seems like you’re needed somewhere again. But calling you saying to get to a location one system hour later is just… “Fine, I’ll— I said fine. I’ll be there. Yeah. Yes, sir.”

You hang up. Quiet daydream’s over.

“Turns out I’m gonna need to leave, anyways.” you mutter, sitting up. You suddenly become very aware of how comfortable it was simply laying there talking with Aventurine. Now that you’re faced eith your usual duties and loud coworkers, you’re forced to realize just how soothing the man’s presence is in comparison.

You feel a hand on your arm. It’s warm on your skin, holding some remains from the sun’s touch. You turn your head to see Aventurine’s fingers trailing down slightly, seemingly in thought. “How about…” he trails off, brows furrowing.

“How about?”

He looks up at you and grins before pulling you back into him, wrapping his free arm around your waist swiftly. You end up much closer to his face than either of you had anticipated but you don’t move away, and neither does he.

“How about we take a day off?” he whispers.

You try to say something but no word comes to mind. Aventurine stares at you for a while and you notice his gaze flitting down your face for a flicker of a second before he grabs your arm more firmly and pulls you closer, leaving you no room to even attempt thinking. “Hm?”

“I, you… Fuck you.” is the only response you manage to get out of your throat, and even that sounds half-hearted. It almost sounds like a question, even. You have to blame it on the exhaustion. You brain’s not cooperating, right now.

“Are you offering?”

Now he’s done it. You manage to grab his pillow from underneath his head to swat it at him, making him exclaim in surprise and soon yell for mercy. “Okay, hold on, hear me out, I’m sorry!”

You lower the pillow, looking down at him. You’ve been close before but straddling him’s a new one. Outside of fighting, that is. Maybe this counts as fighting.

“Good Heavens.” he huffs, hair at least ten times messier than it was before, “Okay. That was unnecessary.”

“False. Deserved.”

“…Perhaps.” he clicks his tongue, and carefully picks his pillow from your hands, like it’s a gun threatening to fire at him. “But that was no answer to my offer. Shall we take a vacation?”

“You get to decide when your vacation is?”

His sigh sounds nothing short of exasperated. “Just play along, will you? If you do, I’ll find a way to cover for both of us.” he says, fingers touching your face for who-knows-why. His eyes focus back on yours and he raises his eyebrows questioningly.

You’re not going to immediately say yes.

“Fine. Full blame’s on you if my boss kills me.”

He laughs, seemingly pleased with your answer.

“Then rest.” he says quietly, pulling you against his chest. You tense for a while, then relax. Now the sun is on your skin, too, and its warmth almost seems to beckon you back into sleep. Or is it his arms wrapped around you? You can’t tell.

Maybe the world feels a bit less harsh and cold when Aventurine is with you, and maybe you just shouldn’t bother questioning it.

[chaldeanu]

golden hour ノ sunday

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.0k ノ fem reader — reader is sunday’s chambermaid . secret affair . boss & employee relationship ノ making out right after waking up . pulling out . he cums in your mouth ノ surprisingly domestic fluffy smut

“please, don’t get up yet. we still have some time… i can always explain if you’re late,” he murmurs into your hair, scooping your body closer.

the only reply he hears is just a soft grunt and a sigh as you let yourself be convinced. the sheets are messy, crumpled, and you already think how long it will take you to change them because of this delay.

as if sensing your mind being preoccupied with something else, sunday starts smooching you all across your head, getting closer to your face, feathery touch tickling you here and there slightly until you giggle into his lips and reciprocate the direct kiss.

there are no mornings or evenings in penacony. always an hour set by the clock, and everyone just lives around it. it’s dark behind the curtains of the guest bedroom in his office, but it’s constantly dark here, if not counting the dazzling and sparkling, shimmering spectacle of lights of the neons, billboards, lamps and other attractions the golden hour can offer.

there’s only one rule here — live to the fullest at all times. for once, the prim and proper young man tries to apply it to his own routine, risking being late just to feel your body close to his own one more time. he runs his hand across your shoulder, leaving goosebumps where he touches. then his fingers glide downwards along your side and waist until he cups your thigh and pulls your leg over himself before you can even react.

“ah…” you hum sweetly and your whole frame trembles at this movement that was meant as a casual gesture and gets turned into a pleasurable foreplay so easily.

he shifts slowly, rubbing his cock between your folds as you wrap yourself around him with every limb like ivy. resting foreheads against each other, dishevelled hair tangled together and, almost moaning out loud from your intoxicating heat and wetness, he places the tip inside.

it’s difficult not to rush. he holds onto control tightly, keeps himself contained and careful so much that sometimes it makes you want to see him break out of these walls, come undone completely with passion. this time is no different. it seems as if you could barely hear his heartbeat quickening up against your ear while you press your lips against each other sloppily. but he slides into you with caution nonetheless, enjoying every inch of you wrapping around his length.

slowly, carefully, steadily, he’s making love to you for minutes now. soft cries die out between ruffled bedsheets along with quiet slick noises of his cock dragging through your walls and pulling back in, covered with your juices. the leisurely pace is just perfect for you today — there’s no need for excitement nor to have a shattering orgasm. everything is so warm, cosy and satisfying…

and then sunday picks up the tempo abruptly.

the feeling is so sudden; it catches you off-guard. your inner walls are hugging him tightly in response to the new, rougher approach, but he doesn’t give up. now it’s the tip hitting that sensitive spot inside, which sends waves of pleasure all over your body and you have to moan out loud to release the tension.

“i… ha-aah! i thought you wanted to take it s-slow, mmh!” you pant in surprise and protest. it only makes him chuckle at first as he watches your flustered expression with interest and adjusts your hips slightly to reach even deeper.

“forgive me this time, will you, dove?”

the friction is too much to handle. what he sees is you — a quivering mess — panting faster with your eyes closed shut to deal with it. your chest heaves shakily against his own one with every huff. but he wouldn’t dare stop again when you’re reacting so intensely, not unless you tell him so.

untangling your arms from himself before he manages to pull himself up just so he can comfortably reach between your bodies and put his hand on your clit, just above the delicate flesh that now parts with each of his deep thrusts. you squeal from this stimulation at once and squirm under him, trying to hold on to his forearms.

he knows exactly how you like to be touched, never turning away his gaze from your reactions. the tender bud swells even more under his fingertips and sunday smiles watching your body jerking suddenly and reflexively with every move he makes. you’re moaning out loud as if you had no worries about being heard and he wonders if maybe he could make you scream out his name someday — but maybe not yet, not when you two shouldn’t even be in one bed.

brows furrowing with an upcoming climax, he gives some extra attention to your clit for a while until, finally, there’s no way back for you. his ears enjoy hearing you almost singing your cries of relief and pleasure, shuddering throughout your entire silhouette as it grips on him from inside and releases him with wet sticky warmth. hissing at this, he’s barely able to pull out in time and clumsily crawls up on top of you while fisting his cock above your face.

ignoring the heatwave rushing down your every nerve, you open your mouth and let him smack the tip over your tongue over and over again until a few ropes of cum fall right on it. your mind goes blank, being high on the ecstasy of the recent orgasm, and your lover milks the last drops out into your throat as you continue to gently suck on his girth.

as you’re coming to your senses and the bliss of afterglow subsides, sunday begins cleaning you and his own cock up, planting a gentle kiss on your temple with a heavy breath before sitting upright on the bed.

“would you consider not wearing me down first thing in the morning?“ you tease, but he remains silent with a distant smile, stroking your cheek as he continues cleaning your body with wet wipes he keeps on the nightstand.

“just another perk of staying here late at night,” he eventually replies, quietly, almost like an afterthought, and then proceeds to gather the clothes for another day. “i’m always waiting to see you come to tell that i should rest. just so i can hug you and take you to bed with me…” he confesses softly, the same vague, half-amused, half-wistful look in his eyes.

[jemiswumbo]

she’s out of her mind

luke castellan x daughter of hades!reader

anon prompt: Hey babes! I saw your post about wanting prompts and I was wondering you could write Luke Castellan x Daughter of Hades! Reader where it's like sunshine (Luke) x grumpy (Reader) trope?

authors note: hello i am back with a small drabble for the cute prompt above! i got drunk off of applebees dollaritas and wrote this in 15mins so do with that information what you will. hope you enjoy! :)

title is from she’s out of her mind by blink-182. lyrics are a lil fitting.

warnings: none? i think? it’s just fluff, i think. sort of.

“Wake up, sunshine.”

You groaned low and deep, releasing a guttural sound full of pure agony. Rolling over on your (extremely warm, cozy, sleep inducing) bed, you came face to face with your boyfriend, Luke Castellan, who was currently opening up the curtains in your cabin.

Being the only child of Hades at the camp, the entire cabin was sparse and empty, save for the corner you called home. There was a bed with black sheets and blanket, a side table full of the few memorabilia you had to your name, and a dresser beside that which held your extensive collection of black clothing. The walls resembled the inner workings of a cavern; slick rock prodded with small bones and beautiful jewels encapsulated the bedroom areas. Sconces held lit torches burning bright with turquoise Greek fire.

Your favourite part of the cabin, though, was the specially-crafted blackout curtains that were typically drawn tight over the windows. Not even a sliver of light could penetrate the thick, black, velvet drapes. That was, until, your idiot boyfriend took it upon himself to draw them open. The harsh blades of sunlight violated your eyes, illiciting your pained groan. You hated it when people interrupted your sleep.

“Luke,” You whined, shoving your face into your pillow, hoping to evade the blinding light. “Let me sleep, please, for the love of the gods.”

“Fuck the gods,” Luke said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice without needing to see his (cute, devilishly handsome) face. “Anyways, it’s 9am! You’ve slept in long enough and I wanna have breakfast with you and your pretty face.” Luke flopped down on the bed beside you and flipped your body back over with ease, in a foolish attempt to force you into the world of the living.

Typical for a child of Death, you kept your eyes squeezed shut and pounded the bedsheet with your fist. “I will literally, genuinely, actually murder you without hesitation if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend.” Luke said, pressed a small kiss to your nose. You swatted him away with anger.

Any other (normal, rational, smart) kid at camp would’ve soiled their pants and fled in terror from such a threat uttered by the one and only daughter of Hades. You were capable of a simple killing — you were graciously bestowed the gift of sucking out the souls of mortals with a mere flick of the wrist — and so it was only logical to fear such a ghastly claim. Luke, however, had realized early on in your Camp days that you were full of shit and would never hurt a fly. He took an opportunity to befriend you and you’d been dating for a few years now. You were (truly, madly, deeply) in love with him and yes, despite your immense hatred for morning sunlight, you would never actually hurt him.

“Come on,” he prodded again, cuddling up beside you and tapping your forehead mischievously. You mustered the courage to crack open one eye (barely) and saw him grinning down at you. “Wake up, baby. Let’s get breakfast and then spend the day at the docks. We can swim and sun bathe and have a picnic—“

“Gods, you’re ambitious today,” you grumbled, rolling back over to face the opposite direction of Luke (and, the open windows), allowing him to grab your waist and pull you up against his chest. “I hate being in the sun. You know this.”

“Yeah, but I like to try new things with you,” Luke said, peppering a few kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, squeezing his taut arm around your torso. “And I’m dying to see you in a bikini.”

“Perv,” you mumbled, but deep down you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing a crimson blush to bloom over your chest. “Give me another hour to sleep.”

“No,” Luke said, and now it was his turn to groan impatiently. “Please, now, for me? I love you and want to spend time with you.”

“I hate you and want you to leave me alone,” you replied, pulling your fluffy duvet back up over your shoulders. “Bed time.”

“Beach time,” Luke decided. He sat up slightly and ripped the blankets entirely off your form, exposing your body to the cold air of the morning.

You shrieked. “Luke, you asshole—“

Luke jumped out of the bed, smiling wide. He gathered up all the blankets up into his arms, much to your dismay, and held them away from you. You only wore shorts and a tank top to sleep last night, and the chill in the room froze you right to your bones. Luke bundled up the bedding into a ball and fired it across the room. “There, now you’re acclimated.”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

“You are a grouchy, sleepy demon who needs breakfast and vitamin D.”

“Ugh!” You exploded, finally shoving yourself out of bed in a fit of exasperation. Luke had the audacity to applaud you. “Okay, there, I’m up!”

“So proud of you, my sleeping beauty,” Luke remarked. He crossed the room to you and placed a tender kiss to your lips, making sure to nip at your pouty bottom lip.

“Sorry for being rude,” You murmured, after having kissed him back. “I love you. I just don’t love being woken up.”

“I know,” Luke said with a grin. “I actually think you’re cute when your grumpy, so I do it on purpose to bug you.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smirk from appearing on your cheeks. “Whatever. You promised breakfast and I’m starving, so let’s go.”

Luke mimicked your playful eyeroll. He took your hand, leading you out the door and towards the dining pavilion.

note 2: hi hi! if you read this and enjoyed it and maybe want to read more from me, i would super appreciate prompts and requests sent to my inbox! can’t guarantee i’ll write them all but i will for sure try my best! thanks for reading! :)

[fayes-fics]

Comfort

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict comforts his new wife when her courses arrive…

Warnings: mentions of menstruation, non graphic references to period blood. Otherwise, just the fluffiest of fluff.

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Thanks to @colettebronte for help with the title. Request fill for anon HERE, where Benedict comforts his new wife when her period arrives overnight. This might be the most saccharine-sweet fluff I have ever written. For my usual smut peeps… err, apologies? Normal filth will resume shortly, I'm sure lol. <3

You stir from your slumber to a dreaded dampness you know far too well. 

Oh dear heavens, no! 

Overnight, your courses have arrived without warning. Or perhaps, with hindsight, there were some signs, but you had assigned blame for the symptoms elsewhere. You had put your tiredness down to the exhaustive social whirlwind of your first ball as a Bridgerton. The dull lower back pain you had felt merely due to traipsing around the extensive grounds the host was keen to show off to all and sundry.

For a few moments, you lay staring frettingly at the ceiling, unsure what to do. You can tell that your nightgown and, likely, the bedsheets will carry evidence of this unwanted early arrival. You had plans to inform your lady's maids to prepare the following night. Trust your body to be at least a day early when you least need it. 

Next to you, your new husband of just fourteen days, Benedict Bridgerton, is sleeping soundly. You roll your head to look briefly at his handsome face in repose on the adjacent pillow, then bite your lip in anxiety.

Oh god, he cannot see this!! He simply cannot! What am I to do?!?

____

You had been taught a few things in the run-up to marriage by your Mama. One of them was never to mention or address the “monthly visitor” to your husband—it was a matter for you and your maids to deal with. On the nights you were “visited”, you were strongly counselled to sleep in your room rather than with your husband so he would not have to deal with “such unpleasantness”. This may have been logical advice for a regular wife of the Ton, but your mother probably never considered how non-traditional your husband would turn out to be. 

Hours after your nuptials, upon arrival at your new marital home - a wonderful brick townhouse just a few streets from Bridgerton House - you had politely inquired where your bedchamber was. At first, he laughed, then frowned when he realised you were serious. It turned out he had not made plans for, or indeed, set up a room for you separate from his.

“We are husband and wife now. We shall sleep together,” he explained, drawing you into his arms and planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

“But… every night?” you stuttered, still grappling with what exactly was expected of you as a wife.

“Yes darling,” he confirmed, still sounding vaguely bemused.

____

Since that day, you have shared a bed every night, which has been delightful for so many reasons. Indeed, you have never slept better in your life than in the two weeks since your wedding, falling asleep securely in his arms and awakening to his handsome, smiling face…

…Well, that is until now.

Now, you have no earthly idea what to do. 

You surmise it must be early, dawn breaking, a grey, feeble light peeking around the top of the heavy velvet drape curtains over the windows. Barely enough to see shapes and rough outlines as your eyes adjust. Not wanting to awaken Benedict by igniting a candle, you gingerly push back the bedspread and slide out as quietly as possible. In the mirror across the room, you catch sight of a scarlet bloom, visible even in this low light, so stark against your white cotton nightgown. Turning back around, your fears are fully realised when you see a mirror imprint left upon the sheet where you slept.

Horrified, you fly into a flurry of movements. Wanting to hide both your nightgown and the sheets you have sullied, albeit unintentionally. You slip as silently as you are able to the linen supplies cupboard and gather terrycloths designed for bathing. One, you wrap around yourself; another two, you decide to place upon the bed, hoping it will conceal the stain until your husband leaves the bedroom.  

You cannot wait to bathe but know that running a bath would surely awaken Benedict, the noise of water being poured into the echoey copper, even if across the hallway, being bound to rouse him.

Once back next to your side of the bed, you push the covers towards the middle and start to pull at the edge of the undersheet, hoping to slide a cloth under the stain and one atop, to stop the evidence from spreading. You glance furtively at your husband as you work, who unfortunately is turned onto his side facing towards you, as he often is when you awaken. 

In all heavens, could you not turn the other way just for once, my love? 

You move as stealthily as you can, so very keen to be unnoticed. The most challenging part is trying to wedge a cloth underneath, the sheet pulled taut by your husband's weight pinning down the other side. Just as you are fighting with both hands shoved far under the sullied sheet, you hear a sudden sharp intake of breath.

Oh no! He is awake.

His eyes fly open, and he squints as he takes in the sight before him. Then, a frown passes over his features.

“What on earth are you doing, my love?” his voice is deep and rough with sleep.

You whip your hands out from under the sheet, belatedly realising you are also muttering a repeated “no no, no no” under your breath as you attempt to reach for the upper cover and hide what has happened, but it is just out of reach, kneeling as you are beside the bed.

“Darling,” he sits up slightly, rubbing his eyes, obviously thrown off by your agitated state. “Please, whatever is the matter??” his tone rising in volume and concern.

Your eyeline falls reflexively upon what you are trying to conceal on the bedsheets, and his tracks yours. Unable to handle your embarrassment, you bury your head in your hands and slump backwards onto your heels, certain this will be repulsive to him.

“I am so sorry, husband; I was not expecting this to happen today; please forgive me,” you mutter defeatedly behind your hands, ashamed.

You are expecting a noise of derision or disgust. What you do not expect is a chuckle and then a large, warm hand brushing your shoulder.

“Darling, please get up off the floor,” his ask caring, no rebuke to be heard.

Your head slowly tilts up, and to your shock, he is leaning over onto your side of the bed, not far above the stain, and is observing you mildly befuddled benevolence.

“But, I…” you trail off, even as he reaches for your hand.

“It is fine,” he cuts in, squeezing reassuringly with his fingers. “You are a woman. Such things happen. There is no need for shame,” his eyes are soft with understanding. “I do have sisters, you know,” he adds with a sanguine laugh, a shorthand to explain his knowledge of your situation.

Your mouth falls open a fraction, completely taken aback by his affable, almost nonchalant reaction; it is very different from what your Mama taught you to expect. While you flounder in surprise, he rolls away and gets out of bed, padding around to your side, crouching next to you and drawing you into his arms.

“You… you are not repulsed?” you stutter as you recover, your brow creasing.

“Of course not, my love. It is perfectly natural, and there is nothing about you or your body that repulses me,” he assures, kissing your cheek. “In fact, it is very much the opposite,” his tone sincere and soothing.

You get lost in his hazy eyes and gentle smile, accepting his doting kisses that make you feel warm from head to toe. It is then he looks down and spies the bathing cloth you have swaddled yourself in from the waist down.

“I assume your nightgown is in a similar state? And that you would like to get clean?” he guesses empathetically as you nod demurely. “Then I shall summon the staff to run you a bath,” he hums, delicately brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen askew in your scrambling efforts.

“Thank you, Benedict, so very much” you exhale, relieved and still slightly unmoored by his reaction.

His face breaks into that crooked smile that makes butterflies flutter under your ribs. 

“Please, my love, it is literally nothing. We have promised ourselves to each other for life. I expect to see this many more times,” he explains calmly as he rings a bell to summon his butler and presently provides instructions for a warm bath to be drawn and the bedding to be changed by the maids.

“You do not wish for me to sleep elsewhere when I am so afflicted?” you check as soon as you are alone again.

He chuckles as he did before. “Whatever for? You are my wife. I want you beside me all the time. It matters not to me if you have your courses. I still wish to fall asleep with you in my arms.” His sweet sincerity makes your heart skip a beat as he nuzzles your temple. “Although it has been a few short days since our wedding, I have rather gotten used to you being beside me. I cannot sleep soundly without you, my love. Nor would I want to try. We shall share our bed every night,” he adds solemnly.

“But, what if one of us is sick?” you inquire as he helps you to stand up from the floor, pulling you into his arms.

“‘Tis no bother. We shall surely both contract the same, seeing as we reside under the same roof; at least we can suffer in company,” he jests warmly into your ear as his hands rub your lumbar spine with a pattern that soothes the ache you feel there.

“What if you must travel for your art?” you challenge.

“I would be heartbroken if you did not come with me,” he volleys back with a playful pout that you can't help but giggle at.

“What if one day we have a child, and they will not rest without their mother?” your question is almost timid, knowing there is a bloom on your cheeks at the very thought.

He cups your jaw gently and tilts your face to look up into his. His mien is so devoted that the air is stolen from your lungs. 

“Then they shall simply sleep between us, my love. It will be my child, too. You will not be alone. Not when you have your monthly courses and not in the raising of our children. Of that, I promise,” his cadence is lilting and ardent.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you breathe shakily, scarcely able to believe that the man you married is nothing like how your mother had warned. It makes you feel so grateful you cannot stop your emotions, heightened at this time of the month, from bubbling over.

A large, warm thumb blots the tears that gather at the corner of your eyes without comment; he just accepts your state, bussing a kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you, y/n,” he breathes, warm air gusting over your skin.

“I love you too, Benedict,” your reply muffled into his neck as you mould into his strong embrace, remaining there until a lady’s maid taps on the door to convey that your bath is ready.

And true to his word, over the years, you are never a night without your husband. Through many monthly courses, through sickness and health, through children and even grandchildren. It is always his face you see just before your eyes droop closed and the moment they flutter open again. Your safe space. Your comfort. 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

[appleblueberry-pie]

Moving into a new house with Gojo & Yuuta hcs?

Safe Space

Gojo

Don't even let your mind conjure up the words to think to yourself about getting someone to move your stuff into the new house. That's HIS job.

You want the washing machine in that corner? He's got it. Oh, you meant the other corner? Don't worry, he'll be fine carrying this around, he's held heavier.

For sure has the couch on one shoulder when moving it into the living room, pecks your lips on the way in to make a point, muscles bulging as he effortlessly places the couch wherever you want it to be.

Pays for whatever you want to decorate the house.

HE'LL paint the outside aaand the inside of the house.

He'll build the damn shed in the yard.

He'll construct the bed and buy the mattress and shit. Only the best for his baby.

You like that view? Want ceiling to floor windows instead to make it bigger? He got it.

Mounts the TV on the wall and everything.

The only thing he can't do is cook the damn food, he's literally banned from touching the kitchen, you're the one who will redesign it.

You said you don't like the bathtub? Too small? Yeah, not enough room to-

Literally takes out the bathtub and has a new one brought in and installed in like an hour.

He's the only man who could possibly make the moving process a one-day thing.

Was this a set up to get pussy the same night? Yes.

Yuuta

Literally plans out the entire process with you for like so many weeks and is very excited to be able to do this type of thing with you.

He also doesn't enjoy having to pay for someone to help with the moving process when this can be a bonding experience for the both of you guys.

He makes sure to declutter the entire house before packing what he sees as important and helps you move that into the new home before getting to the fun part.

Letting you decorate the entire house is like being entirely covered by you. And he loves every second of it. So, everyday after work, you two stop by so many stores and he lets you run his pockets to pick whatever decorations your little heart desires. You like that slow cooker? Those curtains look nice to you? Super soft rug that's adorable and can go right by the bed? Stove mittens? Fluffy bedsheets? Done, done, done, done, done, and done.

Anything you want.

Loves seeing that excited smile on your face when you turn to show him what you'd think would look great on the patio or bathroom or whatever.

Loves watching you go back home to place it carefully wherever you wanted it to be.

Loves when you take laps around the house to stare at your work.

If the backyard is big, he'll help you build that big garden you want, that swing you've always dreamed of having.

Did he just hear you saying under your breath that you would love to have a fountain in the yard, too?

Would find the tools and materials and build it for you overnight.

Also does this to get pussy the next day.

Is very proud of his work when you come outside to see him finishing the fountain and you jump into his arms happily, peppering kisses all over his face.

Overall, he just loves experiencing these things with you.

[livinghostly]

hey there, sunshine — suguru geto x reader

a/n: not in love w this !! but couldn't get the idea out of my brain when i was trying to sleep. was also intended to be for choso but got too ooc sooooo wc: 2.3k yet another date didn't work out for you, and your roommate bears the burden of listening to all your complaints. he also may or may not have a crush on you. fluff/humor

the soft orange of the painted sky poured through your blinds, slipping through the cracks and almost deliberately shining down on your eyes that just barely peeked beneath your comforter. your curtains waved back and forth with the fan, soft whirrs that once lulled you to sleep now drawing you from your slumber with a ragged groan. far gone was the fulfillment of your soothing dreams, your memories running farther and farther away as you tried to recall them and sink yourself back into that peace of mind.

you screwed your eyes shut in defense from the harsh rays of the sun, huffing in the warmth of your pillow before lifting your head and sandwiching yourself against the mattress. your fists squeezed the pillowcase with irritation, pulling as hard as you could manage to encase you in the comfort of your bed. 

the birds chirped in unison, chattering as they built a nest on the apartment balcony your roommate refused to relocate (he called himself a humanitarian, but you were sure part of him refrained because he knew it bothered you). the slight creaks of your rotating fan were becoming more noticeable even as you tried to calm yourself back to sleep. you were uncomfortably warm now, the frustration culminating beneath your comforter and suffocating the air.

buzz.

your phone, shaking itself to life with a notification. you sighed.

buzz.

buzz.

you thrashed the bedsheets away from you, your pillows and plushies cocooning in your blankets landing on the ground with a soft thump. the palm of your hand slammed against the hollow wood of your bedside table in a blind rage, desperately scouring your clutter in an attempt to locate your phone.

finally, you dug your nails into the rubber case and snagged it from the charger with a thwack. you rolled over to your side, squinting at the sunlight as you turned it on. three new messages, and an aspiring text bubble all from one person.

080-7766-5289

hey 

good morning

would you want to get coffee with me?

the pondering text bubble finally popped, and your phone vibrated again.

maybe some breakfast too?

your groggy eyes glanced at the time. 8:23am. you barely had a chance to think through the onslaught of messages. the unrelenting number belonged to a guy you’d met at the bar last week, who was sweet enough for you to trade numbers with. last night had been your first date, a simple dinner and a movie.

unfortunately for him, you felt a better connection to the movie that night than to him. he was strangely stiff when you were around, answering any questions with caution that made you feel like an intruder for asking. comments and questions of his own were dry and anything but open-ended, his punctuation hanging in the stale air while you worked overtime to keep the conversation going.

it really didn’t seem worth it.

you shut off your phone and placed it on the table again, taking a deep breath. all at once, the scent of brewed coffee beans and pancakes wafted in from the kitchen. your stomach rumbled in response, mouth slightly watering as you came to terms with just how hungry you were.

you pulled yourself out of bed, dragging your feet along the plush carpet of the apartment. sluggishly, you ran your hands through your hair in an attempt to tame what mess it made of itself. it was cooler in the open loft, the windows propped open, welcoming the dewey air and various chattering of wild critters. those damn birds. 

your roommate, suguru, was in the kitchen, his back to you as he worked his magic on the stovetop in front of him. his red apron was tied into neat bows wrapped around his neck and his waist– the words ‘kiss the cook’ plastered in bold font on the front of it with puckered lips, a gag gift from gojo last christmas that he had now worn to the point of the ends being frayed and stained with various ingredients. 

he was wearing a black t-shirt that squeezed the tightness of his muscles, tense and working diligently as he flipped a pancake. his black basketball shorts hung loosely around his waist– surely thrown on haphazardly as he woke up –and he donned a pair of mismatched neon-striped socks. truly, a sight reserved for you, and only you.

on the island behind him, two steaming cups of coffee were presented next to empty plates. the pink one was yours, the black one was his. your utensils had a few extra napkins stuffed underneath them.

you make a mess one time and he can’t let it go.

he acknowledged your presence with a soft hum, before turning his head and offering a small smile. it was soft and captivating, just as he was. his charm washed over you as his gaze followed every part of your figure, raising a curious eyebrow at the sight of you missing a sock. nothing he hadn’t seen before, in fact, he’d seen you much worse and much more grumpy.

“good morning,” he said, his voice a low rumble. he met your tired eyes, taking in the delicate hues that warmed his skin. your eyebrows were still pinched together as you recovered from the confusion and discomfort of your untimely awakening. “rough night?”

“rough everything,” you huffed, grabbing your coffee and shuffling next to him. you hoisted yourself up to sit next to the stack of pancakes he’d created and leaned your head against the cabinets. 

suguru watched carefully as you took a sip of your coffee, a sense of pride fluttered in his stomach when a content smile graced your lips. his motions came to a slow stop as he stared you down. you paid him no mind as you wrapped both hands around the mug for warmth and basked in the taste again, then kept it close to your chest as you licked the sweetness off your lips. 

after many months, he’d refined your coffee blend to your ideal taste. pestering you each time if you liked it enough, or what he could improve on to make sure that his handiwork was no less than perfect in your eyes. he reveled in the way you adored his cooking, putting pieces of himself– his adoration, compassion, and sentiment –into his creations and curating your taste closer to his own. 

his grip on the spatula loosened, nearly slipping out of his hand and bringing him back to reality. 

suguru cleared his throat and resumed his task, sliding an additional pancake onto the tower, slowly but surely resembling the one of pisa. he kept his head low with a merciless blush refusing to back down. you didn’t notice. “did it not go well?”

“it was… fine, i guess.” you sighed, beginning to zone out as you stared down a picture frame hanging not too far away.

it was you and suguru, one of the first few nights you had finally gotten comfortable being around him and he’d invited you to meet his friends. more so, he begged you to come out of your room and gave you no room for escape when he sandwiched you between himself and the couch’s armrest. shoko took the photo, stealthily enough you didn’t realize it existed until you saw it hanging in the hallway.

suguru’s arm was thrown over the back of the couch, a lazy grin on his face as he looked at you. (gojo told him he looked goofy with that expression. lovestruck didn’t ‘suit’ him.) you couldn’t stop laughing at one of his many sly comments he’d whisper to you, covering your face as you cackled and peeked through them to get a look at him. his stare made your face burn hot and you kept it covered until gojo managed to grab everyone’s attention, like he always did.

it felt so long ago when suguru existed as your shy, withdrawn roommate who would stare at you with, seemingly, a dull interest when you spoke to him. despite his staring, he was always polite and considerate of your needs, your time, your privacy. he invited you to the food he’d make, setting aside extra servings for you. if you had already eaten, they’d go in the fridge with a sticky note on it.

then he was recording your shows, buying your snacks, anything he got for himself he seemed to get one for you as well, in a different color. it all came with ease, drawing you into his routines like he had his own gravitational pull and you were stuck in his orbit.

as he’d gotten to know you, he learned how spiteful you were to any form of change. you hated it when your go-to brands changed their packaging, when your restaurants were out of your preferred foods, or when your route to work was partially under construction. but you adjusted, without contest, to suguru’s rituals like it was nothing at all.

“i don’t know. maybe i’m being mean, but he was so, like, hard to talk to,” you shrugged. “it is so tiring to be the one doing all the talking.”

suguru doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“and then he texted me good morning. in what world are we in the good-morning-text phase?” you pouted, looking at him. “so weird. i barely know him.”

“and he asked me out for coffee. and breakfast. why would i do that?” suguru’s gaze flutters over you as you take a sip from your mug, his eyes lingering on the way you bite your lip in thought afterward. he chooses to stay quiet, inviting you to ramble for as long as you pleased, as long as he would be the one to hear your voice. “i don’t think i have the brainpower for either of those things and carrying an entire conversation on my back. it’s not even 9 in the morning.”

he turned the stovetop off, taking the pan over to the sink to wash. the mixing bowl and other utensils were taken care of earlier and already set aside on the drying rack, always so tidy.

“so, not well,” suguru concluded, his lips turning into a smirk. he teased, “i won’t get to meet him?”

“no, never. but also i got a free dinner and a movie out of it. so, something went right...” 

he chuckled. the one thing men are good for, you’d told him before. in that way, he really wasn’t any different from the rest of your roster. he supplied you with food and outings, and wouldn’t dream of you paying for them, paying no mind to the way you’d protest and nearly brawl at the register. 

suguru never met any of your dates, you’d disappear into the night– or days on end, not allowing them the gratification of crossing the threshold of your apartment.

he began to separate the pancakes onto your respective plates and set a small bowl of sliced fruit between them for you to share. he cleared his throat. “on to the next, then?” 

“maybe… i don’t know. the thought of going out and all the dates is just so exhausting.”

suguru hummed again. a man of few words. he liked the idea of you staying in– staying home, with him. he honestly wasn’t sure how many horrible date stories he could handle, you could do so much better. you deserved better, and he could give it to you.

he twirled his fork as you slipped behind him, gently caressing his back as you passed. a warm trail remained in the absence of your hand, burning into his skin before dissipating into nothing more than a longing to reel back into your embrace again. “are you still interested in that bodega that just opened up? i don’t want to exhaust you.”

“no, that's not…” you paused, slipping into your stool, mouth agape as you found your words. “it’s different, with you, you know. it’s easy.”

“i’m easy?”

it was too early in the morning for his games. you sputtered. “no– stop! that’s not what i’m saying.”

suguru chuckled. “we don’t have to call it a date, you know, if it makes it easier.”

“what?” you blinked, then narrowing your eyes at him. the sun from the loft brightened his toffee-colored eyes that bored into you expectantly, though not bothering to repeat himself. he’d rather watch you squirm while he kept that stupid grin on his face. “do you think you’re making me feel better?”

the gentle glow of his skin was unmatched to anything, or anyone, you’ve seen. his hair was unbrushed, the slight curls framing the sides of his face and tickling underneath his chin. he was always elegant. and pretty. unfortunately, he was just as aware as you were.

he shrugged half-heartedly, taking note of the way your fingers bounced your fork in the air as you stared. “don’t worry if you don’t want to go.”

“i do want to go.”

“so, it’s a date, then.”

suguru took a quick bite of his pancakes, poorly hiding his taunting grin with stuffed cheeks. maybe later he would feel guilty, making you all flustered so soon after waking up, drowsiness anchoring your posture against the stool. but, for now, with you in front of him, he found himself giddy as he toyed with your reactions.

“you’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?” you opted for taking a sip of your coffee, an anxious whisper in the shell of your ear warning you that you were going to embarrass yourself by chewing with your mouth full. as if he hadn't seen it before. it was hard to avoid his stare, to escape the painful position he put you in. was he serious?

you mumbled into your mug, “you hang out with gojo too much. is he gonna tag along, too?”

(gojo, the master of getting anything he wanted, any time, anywhere, no matter what.)

“it hurt's me, that you're thinking about him at a time like this.”

he smiled, more genuine this time. you watched him carefully, catching the nervous twitch of his fingertips he combated with a melodic thrum against the island. you considered how sincere his tone was, his gentle demeanor somehow becoming more soft as his playfulness subsided. 

"let me take you out."

you blinked, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. "to... the bodega?"

suguru laughed. "of course. i was thinking of a few different places, though."

"as in more dates?" you poked in his direction with your fork. he nodded. "who says we make it past one?"

"why not? we've already made it to our 'good morning' and 'eating breakfast together' phase."

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

OH, WHO IS SHE? ( HOTD x Reader )

author notes: thanks so much for the love! stay happy and safe! pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Death! Reader key words: h/c = hair color, e/c = eye color prompt: You've been haunting Aegon since Rook's Rest. word count: 600+ words

Aegon did not know who or what you were. You always came at the same time, wearing the small hooded cloak that hid your face, a soft linen with little gold embroidery on the trim. You are always whispering to him, most of the time he did not hear what you were saying, your words coming out like a gust of wind. Too fast and too gentle for him to cling onto until it was too late.

Sometimes you did not speak at all, just standing like a ghost at the foot of his bed, the dark shadows of the room keeping your face hidden. He craved to know more. To even get a glimpse of your features, like a hint of your hair color or just the outline of your face. What were you? Who were you? Were you a part of the staff? Someone that he had never met before? Or were you just a figment of his imagination, fueled by the heavy doses of milk of the poppy?

Tonight, he would get an answer.

Staring droopy eyed at the foot of his bed, he waited for you to appear, the heavy dose of milk of the poppy keeping his injuries numb and stated. He was still forced on bed rest, the left side of his body tender and healing from the burns of dragonfire of Meleys. Hearing a gust of wind slam against the window, he tilts his head to the side, watching the curtains blow and rattle. 

Licking his chapped bottom lip, he catches a soft whisper filling the room, his head turning back to look at the foot of his bed. Seeing you stand there, he slightly perks up as much as he could with his injuries, his eyes no longer as droopy as before. His fingers twitch, brushing against the soft linen bed sheet, longing to reach out for you. Inspecting you, you looked the same as always.

“It’s you.” He croaks out, his throat dry.

“Upsurger King, chokes on wine.” You whisper nonsense, “Dies like a rat, oh, so divine.”

“Won’t you come closer?” He croaks out, licking his lip with his tongue.

“No.” 

Watching you turn your head to the side, he catches a glimpse of wispy strands of hair peeking out, his eyes fixating on the strands of ( h/c ). It would be something that he clings onto for the rest of his days. Your hair was ( h/c ). You had ( h/c ) hair. His mind reeling with a new thousand questions, was your hair curly? Or straight? Or wavy? Was it long? Or short? Did you style it like other Ladies in the Court, with jewels and braids? Or were you more simple and let it flow loose and freely? Seeing you take a step back from the foot of his bed, he cursed his injuries, wanting to reach out and stop you from leaving. 

“No? Please, come to me.” He begs, his voice trembling as tears build up.

“You will die.” You babble on nonsense, “Wine. Fall. Sword. Fire. Four children with Hightower blood, yes, yes, shall die.” 

“No, no, just come to me. Please, do not leave me alone.” He whimpers, hoping to get you closer.

Surprisingly, you obey and saunter over to him. Watching you slowly stalk towards him like a predator stalking its prey, you pull down the hood of your cloak, the shadows hiding most of your features. The only thing he could see as clear as day was two ( e/ c ) eyes staring deep into his soul. He shivers in his place on the bed, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. 

He was sure now, that this had to be a dream of some kind. There was no other reason for your strange babbles and the darkness perfectly hiding your face from his view, even though the moonlight filled his chambers. If you were nothing but a dream? Why did you feel so real? Like if he reached out, he would be able to touch you. 

“You came.” He whimpered out, his bottom lip trembling. 

“I must.” You breathe out, “I must come to you. Tis’ my duty to do so.”

“Who are you?” He breathes out, his fingers twitching against the bedsheet. 

“You walked with me once, twas’ in a dream. You danced with dragon flames.” You whisper, “You called for me as they took you from Rook’s Rest.”

Shivering at you, raising your voice more clearly, there was something so soothing about it, like honey dripping down his throat. He faintly remembered his Mother had mentioned that the Stranger would be like this, so mysterious and soothing, meant to guide those to eternal rest. Is that what you were doing? Had you come to take him to a peaceful eternal rest? 

“Are you the Stranger?” He whispers, “Have you come to take me?” 

“No.” You state, no longer whispering. 

“No?” 

“When the sun rises, on the sixth moon of 131, your line shall end.” You state, vanishing into thin air.

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[mylonelylittlestar]

XAVIER: RED FLAGS

Summary: Some of Xaviers' tiny and massive red flags Warnings: mentions of murder

Will sometimes not show up to dates because he didn't hear his alarm in his sleep. He feels guilty about it, but it will happen again.

Can't cook at all. Genuine fire hazard in the kitchen, which is pretty bad for a normal human, but he's like... old. He should know how to cook.

Too calm about murder. Like he just isn't bothered when he has to kill people. Doesn't care about corpses and blood, etc. There's no guilt, no shame, nothing. It's a regular Tuesday for him.

He gets a bit confused when you freak out about him killing someone, not realising how odd his behaviour is from your point of view until you spell it out for him.

He probably takes the health of your heart as seriously as Zayne does (if not more seriously) and he will never explain why. He doesn't see the point in coming clean about that stuff.

He will also probably never explain the star tassel on his sword. He will just say that someone he loved very dearly gave it to him a long time ago and never tell you that he's talking about you. He doesn't realise that it makes you feel like you're the second choice unless you explicitly tell him.

Eats your leftovers without asking. Doesn't matter what it is. He's like a racoon.

He will also eat stale chips and flat soda without complaint when he's hungry (and he's always hungry)

Has no playlists on Spotify. He just listens to his liked songs on shuffle

You could get murdered next to him, and he would accidentally sleep through it (and then he would hunt down the people who killed you and wait for your next reincarnation)

Does not own a single pen. Not even one. Or kitchen scissors. Or tape. Or straws. Or more than 3 cups and 4 plates. But he does have a bedframe and nice curtains and bedsheets and beautiful towels, and that makes him better than a lot of other guys.

Has to buy new headphones every 3-5 months because he keeps losing them. He usually forgets them on the subway.

He takes a lot of time in the shower. Sometimes you think he fell asleep while washing out his shampoo.

Top player in the world in some shitty mobile game like garden scapes. He has definitely spent money on it as well after promising himself he would never do that, and thousands of older women worldwide ask themselves who that mysterious number 1 player is who's somehow level 18457

Regularly has to Google most phrases that people around him use because he genuinely doesn't understand them. He also still uses slang that is decades old (he's been alive for a long time and trends die quickly okay. It's hard to keep up with all that stuff)

Takes inaccuracies in historical dramas very personally

Doesn't talk much about his thoughts and feelings unless you explicitly ask him to do so. Would much rather talk about yours instead. He doesn't really think his own thoughts matter that much compared to yours.

He regularly has nightmares about his past. Especially about you dying in his arms (anecdotes 3). He never talks about his nightmares with you. Even begging will not soften him up. To him it would just be an unnecessary burden to place onto your shoulders.