#the colors confuse me greatly

[asexual-shelly]

alright thats it im coming out as a stawnling

[suckishima]

"...and it was the most fun I've had in my life."

[lanatusnebula]

Well clearly I am confused.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Warning: Mention of rape.

You let out a sigh, as if you had held your breath for a few seconds upon seeing him there.

The only thing you could recognize was that blue eye color he had.

You were in a conflict, you didn't know what to do at that moment, your eyes filled with tears in an instant.

Before you knew it, you were walking towards him, your body aching, but the pain was secondary at that moment.

You leaned over his bed to see him up close, kneeling to be face to face with him. 

If he could express any kind of emotion on his face, you would say he was terrified that you finally saw him, your eyes were focused on him, and you didn't say a word.

Until you smiled.

"You're really alive..."

You murmured and covered your mouth when you started to laugh, the mix of emotions at that moment was a disaster, between laughter and sobs, you didn't know what to do, whether to feel happy because he was alive, or feel sad about the state he was in.

You slapped your cheeks hard enough to leave them red, trying to reason with yourself while listening to Curly's whimpers.

"Okay- okay- let me help you- I know they've been giving you painkillers for your pain, just let me give them to you"

You mentioned that upon hearing those sounds, you quickly looked for the pills and took one to be able to give it to him.

You moved your fingers nervously as you brought your hand closer to his jaw, his exposed teeth were something unpleasant to see, and the smell of burnt flesh was even worse in the room.

"I see why Anya looks so terrified... It must be difficult for her."

At one point, you pushed the pills down his throat and tried to move him a bit so he could swallow without choking.

In a short time, their whimpers ceased.

You noticed the robe you were wearing and decided to take it off to put on your uniform that was next to the bed where you woke up.

Curly inhaled sharply when you changed, seeing how almost your entire body was covered in bruises.

When you finished, you took a chair and sat down next to your husband.

They both looked at each other in silence.

"I understand why you didn't want me to see you like this... I really thought I would wait until you gave me permission to see you... I didn't expect to end up here in the nursery just like that..."

You looked at your hands and arms, well aware that they were covered in bruises that were now hidden by your clothes, but they were still there, and it hurt so bad. You took one of the painkillers and swallowed it, hoping the pain would go away soon.

"Do you have any idea why Jimmy hates me so much? Maybe he wanted to marry you."

You joked, leaning back in the chair, waiting for the medication to take effect. 

"I think I found a way to get back, we are heading to a Pony Express station, it seems you were able to reactivate the autopilot in the cabin before the explosion, we will get there in three months, I'm sure we can communicate with someone so they can come and rescue us."

Even when he didn't respond, you enjoyed this conversation you were having, you were happy to be able to talk to your husband again, and you knew very well that he could hear you, by the way he looked at you attentively. 

Anya: "Curly, I'm sorry for being late, I-"

You turned when you heard the door open and smiled upon seeing that woman, who immediately looked surprised to see you.

"Hey Anya~ woah-"

You were greatly surprised when she jumped at you to hug you, you pressed your lips together to avoid letting out a whimper of pain, reciprocating the hug in confusion. 

Anya: "I was so scared—I thought you would never wake up! I thought you were bleeding inside - we didn't know what to do - it happened -"

Immediately, you took her by the shoulders to make her separate and looked her straight in the eyes. 

"How long was I asleep?...."

Anya wiped her tears and took a breath before answering you.

Anya: "Three weeks..." 

You immediately got up from your seat, ready to leave the nursery. 

Curly immediately started making strange sounds, looking at the door and Anya, as if he were begging her to go with you. 

The woman looked at him strangely but soon began to follow him. 

Anya: "(Y/n) - please wait -" 

"Where the hell is Jimmy?"

You stopped and turned to look at her seriously. 

Anya: "Why are you looking for him?..."

"I'm sure that son of a bitch tried to kill me, I don't know what he's planning, but whatever it is, it ends here and now! Who knows what other damage he has done here on the ship and-!" 

You fell silent upon noticing his face, a mix of sadness and hope now that you were saying that. 

"Anya... please... no..."

Anya: "I told Curly but... He didn't do anything... I... I'm pregnant."

You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, but you just pressed your lips together, turned slowly, and took a few steps before starting to run in search of that man. 

Daisuke: "Swansea, I don't think you should drink that-"

Swansea: "We have no escape from this place now! Bah! Without the captains, there's nothing left."

He commented, taking another sip of the mouthwash they had found in the cargo. 

Jimmy: "I remind you that I am the captain now, so-" 

"CAPTAIN MY ASS!"

You arrived furiously in the room where everyone was gathered, you didn't even wait for him to respond, you took a chair close to you and hit him on the back with it. 

Daisuke: "Woah! What's happening?? (Y/n)! How long ago did you wake up? Why-?"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

When the boy tried to approach you, you pushed him away, ready to hit Jimmy again, who was on the ground in pain. 

"DON'T TOUCH ME! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"

You started to shake as you felt the arms of both males holding you, preventing you from continuing to hit the other. 

Swansea: "What's happening with you?!"

"HE RAPE ANYA!" 

You shouted, exposing him in front of everyone, all of them speechless at the revelation. 

They slowly released you, and when you saw Jimmy move, trying to get up, you kicked him in the mouth, making him fall to the ground again. 

"You are disgusting, disgusting! Aren't you ashamed?! You've already done too much damage, you're on my damn ship! You're not going to do anything else here. And when we return, I will make sure you ROT IN JAIL."

You shouted this last part in his ear, grabbing his hair to make him lift his head, and then you slammed it against the ground again.

"Killing you would be showing mercy on you." 

You spat on his chest and left him there for a few seconds, you were going to have to find a place to lock him up.

[imfoive]

Love Notes

Lee Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: Established Relationship au!, Fluff Warnings: suggestive, somewhat proofread WC: 582 A/N: Here’s a late night snippet that turned into something fluffy :) Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

DRABBLE ──────────────────────────

It was a habit of his.

Jotting down words he couldn’t really say out loud. Instead he’s tear a piece of paper he’d find. A napkin, a card, scribbling whatever thoughts that raced through his head.

That’s how it all began.

When Minho’s eyes would rake over the love of his life, taking in the sight that was her, inhaling silently, overwhelmed by words that refused to come out.

Instead staring at Y/N in fascination.

When he was too shy to voice out that she looked breathtaking, actually rendering him speechless.

That the dress fit her so well, the color brought out her eyes.

The style suit her well.

That he loved how she looked. Loved her.

Words he couldn’t say out loud without stumbling over them, without his ears, his cheeks turning red and hot.

So he scribbled them down.

The note was passed with a nonchalant handover, avoiding her confused gaze as she took it, like passing secret notes in school. He acted as if nothing was amiss, waiting for her to read.

Of course her confused expression doesn’t last. Her eyes flitting over his handwriting, her lips thinning into a smile. Seeing which he smiles pleasingly as well.

   “Thank you.” Y/N whispered, already reaching out, tugging at his arms to brush her lips over his warm cheeks.

It became a shared habit almost instantaneously. They felt like kids, once again, giggling and laughing as they scribbled down their thoughts.

Notes filled with compliments.

Words that made them blush. Their hearts hammer in their chest.

Some words were mischievous, one that would make him raise an eyebrow at her playful suggestions. His eyes glancing between her and her scribbles. His lips would morph into that smirk he reserved for moments when he knew he wouldn’t let her leave the bedroom until she was satisfied. The kind of smirk she loved seeing.

His fingers easily lacing around her wrist to pull her into their room, the door shutting with a loud thud.

Their love notes littered the space. The post-it notes on the refrigerator, next to the list of household items and groceries they needed to buy and re-stock, even more scribbles at the bottom, were all filled with warm messages.

That two page letter Minho wrote one night, feeling guilty after coming home too late. On a day where Y/N had no plans besides staying in, staying with him. But ultimately had fallen asleep from boredom because he couldn’t slip out easily from his own responsibilities.

That letter, full of apologies and compliments, was tucked into her box of cherished items. Words that he couldn’t bring himself to voice out loud, yet easily poured them into the page, each word making her heart swell bigger than it was.

   “How lucky I am…”

   “You’re the greatest thing that happened to me…”

   “I’m sorry I don’t say this enough…”

He could have gone on and on about everything he loved about her, how special she made him feel. How much she deserves the moon, the stars, and everything shiny in the sky. But some words were meant to be shared aloud.

Like the ones he whispered into her ear as he cradled her in his embrace, settling comfortably under the sheets. His lips brushed softly against her hair, lingering with gentle kisses atop her forehead. As he pulled her flush against him, her body heat radiating and warming him.

The words easily slip out of his lips.

   “I love you...”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

[solitaryearthperson]

I'm Yours and You're Mine

Summary: You will never understand Jennifer's jealousy.

(The reader is gender-neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably black/person of color.)

You loved everything about Jennifer. Her beauty, charm, charisma, and her confidence. Even before she had become a half-demon, everything about her had captivated you and many others greatly. It was like she was a siren who didn’t need to serenade others. Her presence was enough. That’s why it was always shocking to see this side of her come out: her jealousy. 

“Who was that guy,” she asked you as you hurriedly grabbed your books from your locker, not wanting to be late to class. 

“What guy?”

“That guy that was flirting with you, just a second ago.”

It took you a minute to realize what she was talking about, but when you did, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

The guy she was talking about was the new student that you were showing around the school. Sure he had made some flirty comments towards you, but you quickly brushed them off.

“He’s new, and I already turned him down.”

“Mm-hm,” she had hummed.

Closing your locker, you looked at her and grinned in amusement at her jealousy. You never understood how someone so pretty could get jealous that fast.

“Don’t worry about him, Jen. He’s nothing compared to you.” With that, you gathered your books in your arms, closed your locker, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. The pink blush that spread across her face made you grin wider. 

“See you after class,” she told you, smiling.

Returning her smile, you began your walk to class, not knowing that Jennifer had remained by your locker, looking at each passing student. It didn’t take long to spot the boy from before, his locker not being that far from yours. As she looked at him, she could feel her stomach begin to growl in both hunger and jealousy.

~

“Jennifer!” you yelled, walking aimlessly through the woods, careful to not fall or trip on anything. You had received a strange text from her in the middle of class:

From: Jenn baby 👩‍❤️‍👩

Meet me in the woods 

You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now as you walked around, confused, you began to fear that something was wrong.

“He didn’t mean anything, right,” her voice came from behind you and you turned around to see your girlfriend, naked, covered in blood.

“What,” you asked. “Who?”

“That guy you were flirting with,” she said, taking a step closer, grabbing your hand. It was warm and sticky with blood. “He meant nothing, right?”

“I didn’t flirt with him, he flirted with me,” you defended yourself. “Is that his blood?” Looking behind her, you tried to see if his body was anywhere near you two, but you only saw her footprints in the dirt and grass. 

“You promise,” she didn’t answer your question, but pulled you closer till both of your faces were an inch apart. “I’m yours, and you're mine, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, closing the distance between you two and placing a kiss upon her lips, not caring about the blood. “I’m yours and you're mine.”

[fairy-writes]

REMEMBER ME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Trigun Stampede

Pairing(s): Vash the Stampede x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Angst, Reader is Short, Use of Various Nicknames (mayfly, half-pint, shorty, etc.)

Notes: I’m still very new to the Trigun Stampede fandom. So please forgive me if I get anything wrong!

ALSO, YES, I’M STEALING THE TITLE FROM COCO

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

When you opened your eyes, you scared the poor nurse checking your vitals.

Your eyes flew open, and you gasped for air. The nurse screams and pushes a button as you pass back into unconsciousness.

When you wake up again, there’s a doctor in a white lab coat writing something on a clipboard when he notices you looking around.

“Ah, so you’re awake then?” He says kindly, and you mumble something incoherent. Your throat is as dry as the desert outside, and you can’t quite remember where you are.

The doctor seems to realize something and chuckles to himself.

“Right, you’d probably want some answers, yes?” You nod silently, not entirely trusting yourself to speak just yet. 

“You’re in the hospital. Your friends brought you here after a nasty hit to the head. You fractured your skull, but it’s healing nicely thus far.”

A fractured skull? 

“Wouldn’t that kill me?” At this, the doctor shakes his head,

“Humans have existed for centuries and dealt with injuries far worse than this one. You’ll be fine.”

“How long was I out for?” You can’t help but ask, almost scared of the answer. The doctor checks your clipboard at the end of your bed and flips a couple of pages. 

“Looks like you were out for about a week, give or take a day or two.” He says casually, and you swallow thickly. 

The doctor notices your brief panic and puts the clipboard down to touch your shoulder, 

“You’re fine. You shouldn’t have any long-term effects from your injury.” He reassures you, and your shoulders sag in relief. If he said everything was okay, you had no reason to be alarmed. You nod with a tight smile, and the doctor seems to have remembered something. 

“Your friends are waiting outside. Would you like me to bring them in?” He asks, and you pause for a brief moment before nodding. 

“Yes, please.” You say, and he smiles from under his mustache, 

“We’ll bring them in one at a time so you aren’t overwhelmed. They are a bit of a rowdy bunch.”

Things go horribly wrong when someone you don’t recognize comes in. 

He’s tall, with floppy blond hair and eyes hidden behind orange glasses. He has an odd-looking prosthetic arm and is dressed in a crimson coat over all black. He looks incredibly relieved to see you. So relieved, in fact, that he all but sprints to your side, leans down, and kisses you on the mouth desperately. 

He tastes like tears and anguish. Like he never expected you to wake up. All of that was well and good, except for the fact that you didn’t know who this was. 

So you push him away, eyes wide, and your shoulders tensing. Confusion colors his features. 

“Mayfly—” You cut him off. 

“I’m sorry… Who are you?”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say. Because it looked like you had just shattered this man’s heart. Like you ripped out his heart and stomped on it. The light in his gaze died, and he almost crumpled to the floor. He slumped into a chair in shock. 

“Mayfly?” He all but whimpered, and you frowned. 

“That’s not my name.” Just then, before you can say anything else, the doctor came back in. 

“Are you ready for the next person?” He asked, and you nodded. 

Anything to get your mind off of the poor blond in front of you. 

Luckily, you recognize the next person that comes through the door. 

“Nicky!” You cheer when you recognize the face of Nicholas D. Wolfwood. He grins and ruffles your hair as gently as he can manage. His Punisher is nowhere to be found. Maybe it’s on the van? 

“You had us worried there, Half-Pint.” He teases, and you bat his hand away, but you’re grinning. 

“You remember him?” Comes a soft voice and you turn to see the blond man again. If possible, he looks like he’s even more heartbroken and upset than before. 

He’s acting like you keep stabbing him in the back with every word out of your mouth. And for whatever reason, your heart aches for him. 

Nicholas seems to notice the tension between you two and frowns, 

“What, you having a lover’s spat or something?” He asks, and now you frown, 

“I don’t even know who he is.” You say quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. 

“The hell do you mean? You two can’t keep your hands off each other.” He demands and flicks your forehead. You wince and swat his hand away. 

“I mean, I’ve never seen this man in my life!”

The next two people tumble into your hospital room, and you flinch at the noise. Your name blubbers from Meryl Stryfe’s lips, and she throws herself onto your bed and wraps her arms around you tightly. Roberto de Niro follows slowly behind, offering you a toast of sorts with his flask. 

“I thought you’d never wake up!” Meryl cries, and you pat the short girl’s head,

“You can’t keep me down forever, Meryl, you know that.” You tease, and she looks up at you, wiping tears from her eyes. A wobbly smile crosses her face as the doctor comes back in. 

You are discharged the next day. But not before the doctor has some parting words for you. After mentioning the whole “not recognizing the blond man whose name was apparently Vash” thing, he ran some tests. He diagnosed you with “systematized amnesia,” which was apparently where you could lose all memories of a single person or event. 

Huh… The brain was a funny thing…

Meryl is babbling about what you missed during your coma. 

“Vash rarely left your side, you know!” She chirps, and you glance sidelong at Vash, who is avoiding your gaze. You sit on the left side of the van, with Nicholas stuck in the middle and Vash on the opposite side. Apparently, you used to sit next to Vash, but after everything that happened after you woke up, you weren’t comfortable with it. 

Nicholas is less than pleased. 

“You better get your memories back soon, shorty.” He says before he clambers back into the van after a rest stop. His expression was angry, but you know by how he holds his shoulders and his words that he’s worried about you. He is so concerned, in fact, that he doesn’t complain otherwise. 

You jolt and see Meryl looking at you in the rearview mirror, concern etched across her features, and realize that you never replied. You offer her an awkward smile but don’t say anything. 

If possible, Vash sinks into his coat even more as if trying to disappear. 

It’s cold in the deserts of No Man’s Land during the evenings. You can feel the temperature dropping as you build a small fire. Usually, fires would be dangerous, especially with bandits roaming these parts but it was cold enough to risk it. So, to mitigate the risk, you parked the van against an alcove of rocks and built a fire just at the mouth of the little cave. 

Everyone is snoozing in their sleeping bags while you keep watch when you’re approached by Vash. 

Perhaps approached isn’t the right word. Vash more or less sits an appropriate distance away from you, arms around his knees.

It’s quiet. 

Almost awkwardly so. 

The tension between you two is so thick that you’re fairly certain you could slice through it with a knife.

Until…

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, unable to take the silence and his quick little glances when he thinks you aren’t looking. You can’t take the heartbreak in this man’s eyes. The eyes of someone you feel like you should know but are entirely unfamiliar to you.

But something in your heart yearns for him.

Vash looks at you, uncertainty playing across his face. You look away when his gaze meets yours and down at your fingers. 

“I’m just—I’m sorry for all of this… For not being able to remember… I want to! I do! I promise! But—”

“Mayfly,” He says gently, and you look up to see him staring with something unreadable in those beautiful blue eyes hidden behind orange glasses. He doesn’t scoot closer, almost like he’s not allowing himself to. But he still continues on, “It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s mine. I should’ve made you stay behind. Then maybe—”

Not it’s your turn to cut him off. 

“I’m going to stop you right there. If we really were together, then you know I wouldn’t have sat idly by.” You say sourly, and he huffs out a little laugh.

“You’re right… I should’ve remembered that…” He mumbles, and you smile,

“Looks like I’m not the only one losing my marbles.” You tease. His eyes darken again, and he looks to the dying fire. 

Whoops… Wrong thing to say… 

You sigh and look out at the desert. Well… You look out at what you can see with the van in the way.

“I can see how much this hurts you. I’m so, so sorry I can’t remember.” You whisper, twisting your hands this way and that as you wrack your brain, trying to remember something about this blond man who seemed to love you so much.

Only to end up with a headache and not much else. 

A thump on your head causes you to flinch and look up. 

Nicholas stares down at you with tired eyes. 

“Time for you to go to bed, runt. ‘s my turn to keep watch.” He says with a yawn before glaring pointedly at Vash, who sits ramrod straight when he notices the look. “And you need rest, too, blondie.” He scolds, and you roll your eyes,

“Yes, mom.” You say in jest, and he just ruffles your hair while fishing a cigarette from his jacket pocket. 

But you relent, standing and wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you leave the comfort of the fire. The cold sets in soon after, and you snuggle into your sleeping bag as quickly as you can manage. You hear Vash do the same, but his breathing doesn’t deepen, nor does it slow. 

He’s awake, just like you.

At least… Until you fall asleep. 

You dream of a soft caress, gentle lips against yours, and the most beautiful shade of blue you’ve ever seen. 

And you awake feeling confused. 

[misswynters]

Market & Secrets – Chapter Three

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: Aegon and you both head out to the market. While alone, you encounter a rude vendor. Later, you encounter aerion, at a bar and he’s drunk. A rare occurrence.

[warnings: drunken aerion, near kidnapping, stabbing, blood

[work count: 3.1k

[a/n: imagine harry gilby as daeron targaryen

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

You and Aegon continued to walk your way out of the Red Keep and onto the carriage that would take you to the market. He lend you his hand so you can easily maneuver your way into the carriage, your dress in hand to stop you from accidentally tripping.

The market is bustling with life, the air filled with the sounds of haggling merchants, laughing children, and the clinking of coins. You and Aegon walk hand in hand, exploring the vibrant stalls. The scents of freshly baked bread and roasted meats waft through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of spices.

As you make your way through the market, you spot a familiar face. Daeron, Aegon's younger brother, stands by a fruit stall, examining a pomegranate. Aegon waves, and Daeron looks up, a smile spreading across his face.

"Brother!" Daeron calls, walking over to you both. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Aegon smiles, pulling you closer. "Daeron, this is my wife,___. She arrived while you were away." He said softly, looking towards you.

Daeron takes your hand, bowing slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

You smile back, grateful for the warm welcome. "Hopefully it were good things that you’ve heard, nevertheless it’s wonderful to meet you too, Daeron."

As you exchange greetings, Daeron glances at Aegon and smirks. "Be aware of my older brother. He can be quite the handful."

You chuckle, but Aegon remains serious, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. Daeron seems to notice the tension and quickly bids his farewells. "I should get going. It was nice meeting you. Take care, both of you." he waved his hands, saying goodbye.

You watch as Daeron disappears into the crowd, then turn to Aegon, confused by his reaction. "Is everything okay?" you asked him looking towards his beautiful eyes.

Aegon forces a smile. "Everything's fine. I just remembered something I need to take care of. I'll be back soon." He softly kisses your forehead and leaves you standing in the middle of the market, your heart sinking at his abrupt departure.

Left alone, you decide to continue exploring the stalls, hoping to find something that might lift your spirits. You wander from vendor to vendor, admiring the colorful fabrics, intricate jewelry, and exotic trinkets. One item, in particular, catches your eye: a pin with red and black stones, reminiscent of the Targaryen House colors.

You reach out to pick it up, but the merchant swiftly yanks it from your hand. "Don't touch that," he snaps, glaring at you. "Do you have any idea how expensive this is? You probably can't even afford it."

Stunned by his rudeness, you stammer an apology. "I was just looking—"

He cuts you off, sneering. "Looking? People like you have no business even being here. Go on, leave."

Angry tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes as you turn away, humiliated. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the encounter. As you walk away from the stall, you spot Aegon returning, his face softening as he sees the distress on your face.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice full of concern. “Are you okay, my dear?”

You quickly wipe your eyes and force a smile. "It's nothing, just a rude merchant."

Aegon's expression darkens. "Show me which one."

Aegon’s eyes narrow at your explanation, his protective instincts flaring. “Show me which merchant.”

You hesitate, not wanting to cause a scene, but the determination in his eyes convinces you to lead him back to the stall. As you approach, the merchant is still there, smugly attending to another customer.

Aegon steps forward, his presence commanding attention. “You,” he calls out, his voice cold and authoritative. The merchant looks up, his expression shifting from disdain to fear as he recognizes the prince.

“Y-Your grace,” the merchant stammers, bowing deeply. “What can I do for you?”

Aegon gestures toward you. “This is my wife. They told me you weren’t being kind to them. Is that true?”

The merchant’s eyes widen in panic. “I-I didn’t know, Your grace. I meant no disrespect.”

Aegon steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You dared to insult them and treated them like they was beneath you. Do you know what happens to those who disrespect the royal family?”

The merchant’s face turns pale. “Please, Your grace, I beg for your mercy. It was a mistake.”

Aegon smirks, his tone turning sassy and mocking. “A mistake, you say? Then perhaps you should correct it.” He points to the ground in front of you. “Kneel and beg for her forgiveness. Kiss her feet and show them the respect she deserves.”

The crowd around you watches in stunned silence as the merchant drops to his knees, his face contorted in humiliation. He crawls forward and hesitantly places his lips on your feet, muttering apologies and pleading for your forgiveness.

Aegon watches with satisfaction, his arms crossed. “Louder,” he demands. “Let everyone hear how sorry you are.”

The merchant’s voice rises, trembling. “I’m deeply sorry, Your grace. Please forgive me.”

You look down at the groveling man, your initial shock giving way to a mix of pity and satisfaction. Aegon places a hand on your shoulder, his gaze softening as he turns to you. “Is that enough for you, my love?”

You nod, feeling a strange sense of empowerment but also embarrassment. “Yes, that’s enough.”

Aegon smiles, helping you step back. He then addresses the merchant one last time. “Remember this moment. If you ever show disrespect to my wife, i shall have your tongue cut off.”

The merchant nods frantically, still on his knees. “Yes, Your grace. I understand.”

Aegon takes your hand, leading you away from the crowd. As you walk, the whispers and murmurs of the onlookers follow you, but you feel a renewed sense of strength with Aegon by your side.

“Are you alright?” Aegon asks once you’re a distance away.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Yes, I am. Thank you, Aegon.”

He smiles, kissing your hand. “No one will ever treat you like that again. I promise.”

You lean into him, grateful for his unwavering support. The day had taken an unexpected turn, but with Aegon, you felt ready to face anything.

With the incident behind you, Aegon squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Let's get away from this crowd," he suggests. "There's a garden near the palace that's always peaceful."

You nod, grateful for the chance to escape the bustling market and the prying eyes of the townsfolk. Hand in hand, you make your way to the tranquil garden, a hidden gem that Aegon often escapes to for solace. The path is lined with blooming flowers, and the scent of jasmine fills the air, calming your senses.

As you enter the garden, you feel the tension of the market incident melt away. Aegon leads you to a secluded bench beneath a willow tree, its branches creating a natural canopy. The gentle rustling of leaves and the soft chirping of birds create a serene atmosphere.

"Much better, isn't it?" Aegon asks, sitting down and pulling you close.

You smile, leaning against him. "Much better."

For a while, you simply enjoy the peaceful surroundings, letting the calmness of the garden wash over you. Aegon strokes your hair gently, his touch soothing.

"Thank you for standing up for me," you say softly.

Aegon looks into your eyes, his expression tender. "I will always stand up for you. You're my wife, and I love you. No one has the right to treat you with anything less than the utmost respect."

His words warm your heart, and you lean in to kiss him. It's a gentle, affectionate kiss, full of gratitude and love. When you pull back, Aegon smiles, his eyes twinkling.

"Let's stay here for a while," he suggests. "Just the two of us.”

You nod, content to spend the rest of the afternoon in this peaceful sanctuary with the man you love. As the day turns to evening, you and Aegon share stories, laughter, and quiet moments of connection, strengthening the bond between you.

Eventually, as the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, you both decide it's time to return to the palace. Hand in hand, you make your way back, feeling closer than ever. The day's events have only served to deepen your love and commitment to each other, and you know that with Aegon by your side, you can face anything the future holds.

As you and Aegon leave the peaceful garden, he suggests stopping by a local tavern known for its delectable pastries. “They make the best honey cakes in the city,” he says with a smile, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

The tavern is bustling with activity, the warm, inviting smell of baked goods wafting through the air. You find a cozy corner table and order a selection of pastries. The atmosphere is lively, filled with the cheerful chatter of patrons and the clinking of glasses.

Just as you're about to take a bite of a delicious-looking honey cake, you hear a familiar voice. Turning, you spot Aerion with a group of his friends at a nearby table. He's laughing loudly, his cheeks flushed—a rare sight. It's clear he's had a bit too much to drink.

Aegon follows your gaze and frowns slightly. “I didn’t expect to see him here, especially in this state,” he mutters.

Aerion catches sight of you both and raises his glass in a tipsy salute. “Aegon! And… the his lovely wife! Join us!”

Aegon hesitates, then gives you a reassuring nod. “Let’s say hello. It wouldn’t hurt.”

You both make your way to Aerion’s table, where his friends greet you warmly. Aerion, clearly enjoying himself, pulls out a chair for you. “Sit, sit! Have a drink with us!”

Aegon shakes his head, smiling. “We’ve just come for some pastries, Aerion. But it looks like you’re having quite the time.”

Aerion chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just letting off some steam. You should try it, brother. It’s liberating.”

You share a glance with Aegon, both amused and a bit concerned. Aerion’s friends seem friendly enough, and they all raise their glasses to toast to the evening.

“We’ll just stay for a moment,” you say, taking a seat. As you sit, Aerion leans in closer, his voice low. “I saw you at the market earlier. Quite the scene you made with that merchant.”

Aegon’s expression darkens slightly, but he keeps his tone light. “He deserved it. No one disrespects my wife, the queen.”

Aerion nods, his gaze lingering on you. “Good. They deserves nothing less than respect and admiration.”

The conversation turns lighter as Aerion’s friends share stories and jokes. Despite his tipsy state, Aerion seems genuinely happy, and it’s clear his friends care for him. After a while, Aegon stands, signaling it’s time to leave.

“We should get going,” he says, helping you to your feet. “It’s been a long day.” Aerion stands as well, swaying slightly. “Take care of ___, Aegon. They sure are a rare gem.”

Aegon nods, his expression serious. “Always.”

You bid farewell to Aerion and his friends, and as you step outside, the cool evening air is a welcome change. Aegon wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“That was interesting,” you say, looking up at him.

Aegon chuckles softly. “Indeed. Let’s head back to the palace. We’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

With the pastries in hand and the warmth of Aegon’s embrace, you make your way back to the palace, feeling a sense of contentment. The day's events have been unexpected, but they've only brought you and Aegon closer.

   ࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫  

Back at the palace, you and Aegon walk through the grand corridors, the echoes of your footsteps the only sound breaking the tranquil silence of the evening. Once inside your chambers, Aegon closes the door behind you and sets the pastries on a nearby table.

“Today was… eventful,” Aegon says with a sigh, leaning against the door.

You nod, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “It was. But I’m glad we spent it together.”

Aegon smiles warmly at you and steps closer, taking your hands in his. “I am too. I’m sorry for how things have been between us lately. I don’t want there to be any distance or misunderstandings between us.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and concern there. “Neither do I, Aegon. I want us to trust each other.” He sits down beside you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. “About Aerion… I know you had your moment with him, but can’t you just forget about him.”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Of course, what kind of wife would i be if i don’t. You are my husband.”

Aegon’s eyes soften, and he leans in to kiss your forehead. “Thank you. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

After a moment of comfortable silence, you both decide to change into more comfortable clothes. Aegon heads to his chambers to give you some privacy. As you change, your mind drifts back to the day’s events, the confrontation with the merchant, Aerion’s tipsy state, and Aegon’s protectiveness. Just as you finish changing, there’s a soft knock on your door. It’s one of your handmaidens, bringing in a tray with a pot of tea and two cups.

“I thought your graces might like some tea before bed,” she says with a smile. “Thank you,” you reply, appreciating her thoughtfulness.

As you pour the tea, Aegon returns, looking more relaxed in his nightclothes. He joins you at the small table, and you both enjoy the calming tea in comfortable silence.

Aegon, however, tries to bring some normalcy back by offering you one of the treats he picked up from the pastry shop. The sweet, flaky pastry is a small comfort, but it does little to ease the turmoil in your heart. As you both settle into the room, Aegon takes a bite of the treat, savoring its flavor while you sit silently by the hearth. The room is dimly lit by the flickering flames, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Despite the cozy atmosphere, the weight of the day's events presses heavily on both of you.

Aegon's moment of quiet is interrupted by the urgent knock of a messenger at the door. “Your grace, you have been summoned by the small council due to an urgent matter.”

"Of course," Aegon replies, brushing crumbs from his fingers. He glances at you with an apologetic look. "I have to go. It's important."

You nod, understanding the gravity of his duties. As he makes his way to the door, he pauses, turning back to you.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. If i don’t come back then see you on the morrow" Aegon leaves, and you're left alone in the room. The silence feels heavier now that he's gone. You try to focus on a book by the hearth, but your thoughts keep drifting to the unsettling encounter at the market and the unique revelation about Aerion.

Just as you begin to lose yourself in the book, the door to your chambers creaks open. The figure that enters is not Aegon but a Kingsguard, his face stern and unreadable. You look up in surprise, your heart skipping a beat.

Before you can react, the Kingsguard lunges forward, wrapping an arm around your waist while the other hand clamps tightly over your mouth. Panic surges through you as you struggle against the iron grip. The book falls from your hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Your muffled cries are silenced by the guard's firm hold.

"Don't make a sound, you whore" the guard hisses in a low, menacing voice. Fear grips you tightly, your mind racing. Who could have sent him? Why is he doing this? The questions swirl together in a haze of terror. Your mind races, trying to make sense of the situation, but the guard's actions leave no room for hesitation. His grip is unyielding, his intention clear: to subdue you. Desperation surges through you. You thrash against him, but he's too strong.

With a sudden, forceful shove, he sends you sprawling onto the cold, stone floor. Your breath escapes in a sharp gasp as you try to scramble away, but he's already moving towards you with lethal intent. He draws his sword, its blade glinting dangerously in the dim light. Panic overtakes you, and you fumble to your feet. You reach for your dagger-a weapon you've always carried for protection. Your hands are trembling, and tears blur your vision as you face the dire threat.

The guard advances, his eyes cold and merciless. He raises his sword high, aiming directly at you. In a last-ditch effort to defend yourself, you take a deep breath standing up to hurl your dagger with all the force you can muster. The blade slices through the air, finding its mark in the guard's eye. He lets out a guttural scream as the blood gushed out of his face, collapsing to the floor with a sickening thud. You were now covered in his blood, as you look down at what you just had.

The room is filled with the echoes of his final, desperate cries. You stare at the fallen guard, your hands trembling uncontrollably. Tears stream down your face as the reality of what you've just done sinks in. The guard, now motionless, lies on the floor with your dagger embedded in his eye—a stark reminder of the deadly force you were forced to unleash.

The door bursts open, and Aegon rushes in, his face a mask of horror and relief as he takes in the scene. His gaze shifts from the dead guard to you, and his expression softens with concern.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, rushing to your side.

You can't answer immediately, the shock and fear overwhelming you. Aegon helps you walk towards him, his hands gentle despite the urgency of the situation. You look around, seeing the blood and the fallen guard, continuing to shake uncontrollably. You can’t believe what you just had done, you’ve taken someone else’s life. Blood on your hands.

Aegon pulls you into a tight embrace, his own breaths coming fast. "You're safe now," he whispers, though his voice trembles slightly. "It's over. You're safe." He helps you away from the grisly scene, his arms wrapped protectively around you. The reality of the situation is harsh and raw, but Aegon's presence provides some solace amidst the chaos. The fear and adrenaline start to ebb, replaced by an overwhelming sadness at what you've been forced to do.

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva @malfoycassimalfoy @klutzylaena @champomiel @p45510n4f4shi0n @moonnicole @delicatebearpandaopera

banner by: @cafekitsune

[anantaru]

How about jealous reader with kuni?

cw. [ex]plicit, jealous! reader, established relationship, fem! reader

kuni was as pretty as a drawing— or a picture made by the most finest camera of fontaine. beautiful, bewitching, pretty— there were many ways to accurately describe your boyfriend‘s alluring demeanor.

but in your own very eyes, they still did not do him any justice.

consequently, you, in all respects, did not mind the eye twitching chit chatters behind your back you oh so happen to catch onto every once in a while— how, another clique of people you only knew distantly, would slowly walk past your boyfriend and afterwards gush about his darling face and his beauteous traits.

his lustrous eyes and the color— which was hypnotizing in its own rights, reminding them of how he‘s idly behaving and how damn strong he was said to be according to the other rapidly growing news chumming about the mysterious man wandering around sumeru city.

but, snap out of it, not to lose sight of the fact that in actuality he was all yours— yours, yours and yours. but for some annoying, irksome ground you wanted to show him, as if he wasn't already aware of it— even though scaramouche knew and did not require you to prove nor demonstrate anything of that sorts to his person.

thus far, you kept it to yourself— that brewing, gut-wrenching feeling manifesting in your belly and littering into your bones, remained concealing by yourself until it all shattered right into your face.

now, you hover over him, saddened with your mind everywhere but where it should be— clumsily glissading your hands over his pale chest before raking your head down. you think he notices that something wasn't right but you hope he doesn't after all.

at your own pacing, you ghost over his jawline before placing your lips on top of his, for once sealing the insufferable distance between your bodies and stealing a couple kisses from your lover.

"i hate it." you admit against your own volition, it's almost as if something metaphysical forced you to say it out loud, though you're moaning into his mouth as he skillfully bottomed his hips deeper into you, erratically slapping his erection into your worn out hole.

"i hate it when they talk about you!" but then, it hits him and scaramouche opens his eyes at your baffling words— which had also been confusing him greatly as he carefully reduced the flow on his hips to pull your face off his, observing your with sorrow drenched expression.

"ah— wait!" even with him trying to decipher what was going on with you, he catches himself flinching into your lips again when you jerk your cunt into his length, walls twitching experimentally, like a second pulls enclosing his throbbing cock.

"who— fucking who talks about me?!"

breathing slowed, you pout at him, unintentionally reliving the innumerable days you had witnessed people attempting to get with him, with scaramouche; your boyfriend, soulmate, your life.

it was sad— but more embarrassing if you were actually truthful to yourself, that you let someone so insignificant as a random person‘s words influence you this much that you‘re still thinking about it even while your boyfriend was in the midst of fucking the broad daylight out of your skull.

"those girls." you sniff, messily shoving away the crystallines sticking onto your doused lashes with the back of your hand. but before you can catch a breather from your own damned psyche, scaramouche curls your body close to him, your hips now muted— though his cock would rest and skim into the cavernous pits in your pussy, but mellowing down your rise and falls.

"they always talk about you." you hiccup again, kissing his lips once, twice— one more, trying to hide the fact that you were tremendously jealous right now, of everything and all, it's not even 'just' those people, you began to doubt yourself and if anything, that's what worsened the whole setting.

scaramouche‘s face was ridden with confusion still but he did not say anything right away— right now, he thinks the most important was you, as always— to aid you, to kiss and drink your tears away and keep you warm, plugged into his chest.

genuinely, he had no clue who or what you were talking about, but if he learned one thing from being in a relationship with you; it’s that whatever is happening in either of your lives, you're battling it together, as one entity.

yet still, did you already forget that he‘s absolutely in love with you? or lets rephrase that, shall we? scaramouche was obsessed with you, downright and shamelessly crazy about you. that you‘re the only person that crosses his mind hour on hour, night on night?

he opens his eyes, he sees you, he closes them, he sees you.

"i don‘t care." he spoke upfront to be certain to get his point across.

yet scaramouche needed to show his disinterest in more ways than a simple sentence— in an immediate chain of reactions, he was flaunting you on your back so he‘d be the one to tower over your pretty frame.

you're his, you're his and his, he thinks about it, knows it and wants to imprint it into your insides and out.

"i don‘t care about anyone." he drawls back, using his skilled tongue to plant a wet line on your collarbones before shutting down your worries by a swift hurdle of his hips in you, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder as you tremble under him by how good of a position he had you in, how almost feral, he uncontrollably claimed your sopping cunt with the relentless tempo on his hips.

"i only care about you." he smacks his cock forward again and again, "you, you, you." and he muses in tune with each thrust— fuck, again and he wants to make you cum so badly his cock was beginning to ache, then twitch in you, from both excitement and the pinpointed drags of his heavy cock rubbing over your inflamed insides.

"so stop thinking about it, hm?"

with the impact now being significantly larger, your breasts bounced in keeping with his newfound, reckless energy— and you cry out his name with a sweet, satisfied smile on your lips.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐣. 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

wasnt sure if you wanted smut so if you do just send another req and ill gladly make a pt 2, tysm for the request!

John Murphy - Dropship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ Murphy was always protective of you, so when he thought Jasper sparked an interest in you- he was quick to shut it down. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: sfw, kissing

Being an engineer meant I had to be around Monty and Jasper whether I liked it or not- and I did like it, they were my first two friends on the ground. Other than Murphy.

Murphy and I had been friends on the Ark before we got incriminated, he was my best friend. We always did everything together. Stealing, pranking, once even blasting music through the intercoms. I always smiled at the memories, they were the only good ones I made on the Ark.

I'd like to think Murphy was still my friend, but most of his old self had been glossed over with the new ego of being Bellamy's 'second in command' as they called it. I think Bellamy knows more than half of these people trust Murphy, or well they did. Bellamy could've been easily taken over without the title, now that people were more afraid of Murphy given his recent history.

What happened to 'whatever the hell we want'?

With Murphy playing leader, I was left with Monty and Jasper. I enjoyed their company greatly- as weird as they were. Out of the two, Jasper and I had been the closest, though, I knew nobody could take the 'best friend' title away from Monty. Not that I was shooting for it, anyway. I had my own things to worry about, things most people in this camp couldn't care less about; Murphy.

I was sitting by the campfire next to Jasper and Monty, it was a cold day, the sun was resting behind grey clouds and only peeking through every now and then. Jasper must've noticed how my nose turned color because he unraveled himself from the jacket that was previously hiding his lanky body and wrapped it around my shoulders.

I smiled at his gesture, not knowing a certain someone was looking, "Thanks, Jasp."

Jasper gave me a warm smile in return, "You need it more than me," While the gesture was sweet, he in fact needed it more. The fire didn't look like it was helping anybody.

"Have you guys seen Murphy?" I muttered. I had been meaning to talk with him and catch up on how he's been. I missed our small talks. With him playing leader he's been too 'busy'.

Monty's eyes began trailing something behind me, "Walking into the dropship, why?"

It took me a few seconds to get what he said, the coldness from before melting away as I hurriedly handed Jasper his jacket back and left- leaving them questioning.

My demeanor appeared nervous, I wasn't sure how he viewed me anymore with his new act. We hadn't sat down and talked since we landed, I was sure he had already forgotten about me. But you don't know until you try, right?

Moving past the red tarp we used as a door I saw no sight of Murphy, I was about to give up when I heard a loud slam from the level above. It had to of been Murphy.

I swiftly made my way up the ladder and pushed open the hatch with a loud grunt.

"Murphy?" I asked as I stood up and dusted my hands off.

"Look who it is." A voice came from behind me, his tone was full of annoyance. I wasn't sure if the annoyance was towards me.

"This was a bad idea." I said, heading towards the hatch.

Murphy sighed and threw his head back, "Bored of flirting with Jasper?"

His sentence made me stop in my tracks, no way he thought that, right? He couldn't possibly think me and Jasper were more than friends, no offense Jasper. I felt anger bubbling in my chest as my face conformed to one of confusion as I tried to think of how he could've possibly came to that conclusion.

He took my silence as a sign to explain, "Where's his jacket?" The dots seemed to finally connect, he was jealous of Jasper.

Murphy was jealous of Jasper?!

No offense Jasper.

A wave of relief hit my body as I let out an exaggerated exhale, which only seemed to annoy Murphy further. I was relieved that's the only thing he was frustrated with, I'd never expected to see Murphy jealous over somebody interacting with me. I knew he was protective but I didn't think he was that protective.

"Me and Jasper are just friends, Murph," I said, my shivering hands going unnoticed by me.

"Friends don't sit that close, I see you guys talking like all the time," Murphy expressed, his brows furrowing as his voice grew more stern. He started walking closer to me and I took a few steps back, my back hitting the cold metal wall which sent shivers down my body.

"What're you doing?" I ask, my voice wavering.

"What I should've done a long time ago," Murphy's hands reached for my cheeks, the warmth of his palms engulfing them as his lips met mine.

I was shocked but I wasn't planning on moving away, I swore Murphy could've heard how fast my heart was beating. After a few seconds, my eyes fluttered shut and I leaned into the kiss, bringing my arms up around his neck only pushing him in more.

His body was flat against mine, the closeness brought a nice warmth to my body. His lips felt rough against mine and his nose fit cozy next to my nose.

I didn't have any thoughts, my mind went blank, and the only thing I was thinking about was how good Murphy tasted. My hands ran through his hair and his fingers ran across my jawline. Murphy was the first to pull away, leaving me feeling a sense of loss and emptiness- already missing the way his lips felt.

Murphy smirked almost like he sensed how I felt, he leaned into my neck and began sucking, leaving traces of him all over my neck. I gasped out at the feeling, but I didn't complain, I wanted people to know I was Murphy's.

After a while, Murphy finally felt satisfied with the amount of markings he made, not that I could see.

"Now everyone will know who you belong to," He gave me his classic shit-eating grin, clearly feeling full of himself as he admired the hickeys he left.

"Shut up," I said with a smile.

"Make me," He said, shrugging off his jacket and placing it into my hands, "Next time, just ask."

His fingers trailed along my jawline again, stopping at my chin and swiftly pulling me into another quick kiss, causing me to form a blush on my cheeks.

I was his.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˓ @ taglist. ৎ ᐟ ۫

@yokolesbianism @itzdarling

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Four)

Summary: “I wonder what color your eyes were…” Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him. Word Count: 4297 Warnings: still no smut, triple asterisk denotes a POV change as usual Notes: Happy birthday @kaya-nets ! Here is a surprise midweek update as a little gift, and a thank you for being the first person on tumblr to leave feedback on Dove! It is greatly appreciated, especially since I had a hard today. I hope you had a great birthday! AO3, Masterlist

“It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

Ghost was sure no word had ever sounded so beautiful. To hear someone calling him by his name again, after all this time, was… he had no words to describe it. If he were religious, he might’ve called it a come-to-God moment. But his dog tags said No Preference for a reason, and that reason was that Ghost had stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago.

As he looked at his little dove, holding his tags and giving him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, he thought that maybe he’d finally found one he’d happily worship.

He groaned softly, trying to say hello back, and then gestured at her, cocking his head to the side in question.

“What is it?” She asked. He pointed at his dog tags again, then at her once more. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and he grunted, like that would help her understand what he was asking. Maybe it did, or maybe she just remembered how first meetings were typically supposed to go, because her brows went up this time and her pink lips parted, a rosy blush darkening her cheeks. “Oh! Oh, my name, of course. I’m Lelia Par—Addams. Lelia Addams.”

Ghost caught the slip, and the mix of panic and sadness that flashed through her eyes at it. He couldn’t exactly press even if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He had no desire to see his dove upset.

He tried to say her name, despite knowing it was useless. But it was just so pretty. Lelia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

That was one of Johnny’s favorite chat up lines, Simon’s voice in his head said distantly, sounding both exasperated and wistful. Ghost ignored it. He didn't know who Johnny was and no amount of trying to force his ruined mind to cough up the memory of him would work. But staying in his dove’s presence, might. She was the reason he’d remembered the name at all.

“Thank you for saving me, by the way,” Lelia said a moment later, handing him his dog tags back. She still looked faintly embarrassed. “Both times… I— I would be dead without you. I suppose not all soldiers are bad…”

Ghost knew that if she were aware of all he’d done, both before and after he’d turned, she wouldn’t think so highly of him. Nonetheless, he would very much have liked to find whichever soldiers made Lelia decide she was better off out here on her own, instead of back on a base, safe and warm and fed. He thought about the way her eyes had looked broken and glassy as she’d spoken about the place she’d come from, and how she’d insisted she’d rather be ripped apart than go back, not a trace of exaggeration in her voice. Whatever had happened to her there must have been hellish.

Ghost wanted to move forward to comfort her, but he’d seen the way she’d gagged and grimaced when he got close to retrieve his tags, slipping them over his head once more. He knew that he smelled something awful, that he always would no matter what he did, but he would at least try to clean himself, for her sake. She couldn’t afford to lose the little food she’d eaten.

There was a stream not far from here, he’d been near it yesterday before he’d decided to investigate all the noise. And he was fast, faster than he had been when he was human. He could be there and back in half an hour, tops.

Lelia, on the other hand, barely looked like she could make it to the front door.

He was incredibly reluctant to let her out of his sight for any length of time. Even just going around to the back of the cabin to dispose of the body earlier had made him twitchy. And if it was just a matter of his smell, he’d wait until tomorrow, when she was rested enough to make the trip with him. But it wasn’t. He could see just how dehydrated she was—chapped lips, dry skin, a constant tremor in her hands… she needed clean drinking water, now. And if he could get some from the stream for her to boil, she would be set.

He would have barricaded the door for extra protection, but it opened outwards rather than in. Shoddy installation job if he’d ever seen one. So instead, he pointed at her, and then at the bedroom. He awkwardly put his hands under his ear and then closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He bumped his broken jaw as he did, and his teeth clacked against each other loudly.

He heard a little giggle, soft and high pitched. He opened his cloudy eyes to see his dove watching him, a pretty smile on her cherubic face. Her laugh was beautiful, pure and sweet. It was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. The sunken skin around his eyes crinkled a little bit, the only evidence of his smile.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go take a nap,” Lelia said, still giggling, as she headed for the bedroom. She disappeared inside, the door closing behind her. He waited until he heard her heartbeat slow and her breaths grow steady, and then he quietly moved the couch in front of it, blocking her in. He didn't want to risk her waking up, finding him gone, and getting herself killed while looking for him. If she decided to look for him. She might not—just because she asked his name and gave him a sweet smile didn’t mean she cared about him, the undead soldier who’d inserted himself into her life and wouldn’t leave her alone. That was alright, though. Ghost was so starved for human interaction that he’d take whatever he could get. And hearing his name from her lips was more than he’d ever expected.

Even if it was less than what he wanted.

With his dove secure, he left the cabin, making sure he didn't hear anyone nearby. There were a few infected a ways away, but if she stayed put—which he’d made sure she would—they wouldn't smell her. He was more worried about other people, but he couldn’t smell or hear anyone within range, so he felt comfortable enough to leave. Barely. He grabbed the large, rusted pail he’d noticed behind the cabin where he’d dumped the other zombie’s body, and then he was off.

-*-

When Ghost saw his reflection in the stream, he understood why Lelia had been so terrified to wake up and see his face first thing.

He’d known he looked bad, he wasn't an idiot. Just because his eyes were clouded didn't mean his vision was. He could see how disgusting the other zombies looked, and he figured he looked much the same.

None of that had prepared him for actually seeing himself.

Blood and gore covered every inch of him, bits of flesh stuck between his teeth and blackened gums—his teeth, which were permanently bared in a snarl, because his lips had rotted away.

That was the most horrifying part, he thought. Not the grey, sunken skin, the milky eyes, or all the gore and viscera. It was that his lips were gone, and he couldn’t kiss his dove even if she’d let him.

You’re disgusting.

The words echoed in his head, and he knew it wasn’t just about his visage. He shouldn't have been thinking about his dove like that. It wasn't as bad as his earlier thoughts, but just about. He was dead. A nasty, rotting corpse that happened to be able to walk around. There was something wrong with him to even be contemplating doing more than hugging Lelia. That was bad enough. She’d never want him to touch her in any way, she’d shown him that earlier when she’d kicked him while he was trying to check her for bites.

But maybe she would let him get a little closer, at least, if he didn't smell so bloody horrid.

It was that possibility that had him methodically strip out of his ragged tactical gear. He washed each piece in the knee-deep stream, even his mask and his boots. He laid them out on the bank to dry, moved a little further upstream, and then repeated the process with his body, dumping bucket after bucket full of water over every part of him.

The amount of congealed black blood and pieces of flesh that came off was concerning. He just hoped that none of the latter was his own.

Finally, he was done, and he stepped out of the stream and redressed in his still damp gear. Moving upstream for a third time, unwilling to contaminate his dove’s drinking water, he filled the bucket once more and began his trek back to the cabin, moving briskly but carefully so as not to spill.

Lelia was still asleep by the time he returned, and so he put the bucket down on the kitchen table, moved the couch away from her door, and then set about starting a fire. There was a small stack of roughly chopped logs next to the old, wood burning stove, and he placed a few inside. He searched through some of the drawers and found a book of matches, letting out a triumphant grunt, unable to believe his luck.

Except of course, things couldn’t be that easy.

Ghost’s fingers were far too stiff and clumsy to light a match. Fine motor skills were difficult for him, his muscles permanently locked in rigor mortis. Even piling up the logs in the stove had been difficult, as had carrying the bucket. He’d had to wrap his arms around it and hold it to his chest because his fingers wouldn't quite bend enough to grasp it by the handle.

After finally getting one of the matches to light, only to immediately drop it on the floor and burn a mark into the wood, Ghost gave up. He would just have to let Lelia do this part.

He moved the bucket onto the stovetop before quietly walking over to the bedroom. He reached out for the door knob and hesitated for a long moment, before letting his hand drop as he turned back around. She’d closed it for a reason, and he didn't need to see her to know she was alright. Her heartbeat and breathing were loud enough. So instead, he resumed his position as her zombified guard dog, and barricaded her door with his body while she slept, standing between her and anything that could bring her harm.

***

This time, when Lelia woke up, she knew exactly where she was.

The tiny bed in the cabin smelled of dust and old mothballs, but it was still far more comfortable than either a tree hollow or the bed she'd shared with Andrew back on the military base. She let herself luxuriate in it for a moment, exhaustion still pulling heavily at her no matter how long she had slept. Finally, she got up, walking over to the door and opening it—only to startle when she found Simon standing directly outside.

“Oh!” She gasped, hand clutching her chest, right over her racing heart. Then, she registered the lack of blood and gore on his face—which looked far less decayed now that it was clean—and the lack of a stomach churning odor wafting over her. He still smelled of death, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before. “You’re— you’re clean!”

Simon groaned quietly. He was staring at her, as if waiting for something. She blinked several times, and then spoke again. 

“Did you— did you do that for me?”

She knew she hadn’t hid her reaction to his stench well enough. She felt a bit bad, but she also couldn’t help but be relieved he'd noticed and decided to do something about it.

Simon jerked his head up and down in a nod, jaw wobbling. He shifted back and forth a little bit, then tilted his head to the side and let out a questioning grunt, milky eyes downcast. He almost seemed… nervous? Shy? Or like he was looking for her approval. She couldn't quite tell. But the thought was endearing, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “This is much better, really. I appreciate it.”

Despite the fact that he couldn't really make any expression, Lelia got the distinct impression that he was pleased with her answer.

Simon shuffled back, and then stiffly gestured for her to follow him. She did so, curious, and she found she could remain quite close to him without being overwhelmed by the urge to vomit. She still left a meter or so between them, as was proper. She doubted he wanted her crowding his space, after all.

He led her over to the kitchenette, and then gestured to a bucket on top of the stove. She peered inside it, and found that it was full of water. She brightened considerably, licking her dry lips.

“Can I drink this?” She asked, already reaching for the bucket. She was so thirsty, she’d even drink orange juice, right now. And she hated orange juice.

But Simon grunted, reaching out and stopping her hand with his own. His glove was slightly damp, and she blinked, frowning as she looked at him again.

“You’re wet,” she said, finally noticing that his gear was dripping a little bit. He grunted, ignoring her, and then gestured at a matchbook next to the stove. She stared at it in confusion, not knowing what he wanted her to do, before turning her attention back to the trail of water he was leaving in his wake. “You shouldn't walk around in wet clothes. You’ll catch a cold—”

Lelia paused, looked at Simon’s already dead self, and blushed.

“Well. Maybe you won’t, but still. You’re getting water everywhere. You should take them off to let them dry,” she continued, trying to recover. Simon gave her what she thought might have been an amused look, if the little crinkles around his sunken, milky white eyes meant anything. Though it was entirely possible she was just imagining it. “There’s a closet in the bedroom. I’m sure I can find you something to wear while you wait.”

Eager to escape after her blunder, she retreated to do just that. She heard Simon let out a grumble that sounded suspiciously like an exasperated sigh, but she didn't let that stop her. She let out her own noise of victory when she found a set of flannel pajamas that looked like they would fit her zombie.

When she returned to the kitchen, Simon was in the process of removing his gear. Lelia watched as he struggled with zips and buckles—he was making progress, but very slowly—and took a step closer to him.

“Do you need help?” She asked innocently, never one to just stand idly by.

***

Simon froze, damnable buckle falling from his stiff fingers. It had taken him ages to get all this off and back on again at the stream, but he’d managed. He would manage again… but his little dove was offering to help. To stand close to him, to touch him, or at least his clothes… he knew he should have said no, that she was just being kind and didn’t actually want to get anywhere near him—but she sounded so sincere, and he was so fucking desperate. So he groaned quietly, almost ashamed, as he jerked his head in a nod, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

Lelia set the clothes she’d found for him on the arm of the couch and then approached, starting with removing his helmet. She was so small, she couldn’t reach even when she stood on her toes, and he had to crouch down a little bit, knees creaking.

“You’re blonde,” she said, surprised. He looked down at her. She was close enough that he couldn’t smell anything but her, and it was intoxicating. But not nearly as intoxicating as the feel of her body heat, so near yet so far. He sniffed discreetly, once again trying to place the floral scent on her skin. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect that. I wonder what color your eyes were…”

Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him.

She moved on to unbuckling his vest, and then unzipping his jacket once he’d gotten the bulky gear out of the way. Underneath was a plain black t-shirt, the least destroyed item of clothing he had on, but also the foulest smelling. Her delicate little nose wrinkled slightly, and he would have found it adorable if he weren't so embarrassed. He reeked, still, and she smelt so delicious he began to drool again. He reached up to wipe it away, but his dove beat him to it, using the sleeve of the jacket he’d just discarded. She seemed entirely unphased, rather than repulsed like he thought she’d be, just giving him a smile before stepping back.

“No buttons on that,” she said as an explanation. He didn’t dare mention the buttons on his combat trousers, once again disgusted by his own thoughts. He pulled his t-shirt off after a second of hesitation, knowing the grisly sight that lay beneath. Grey, translucent, thinning skin smattered with deep gashes in several places that would never heal. They were accompanied by faded tattoos and dozens of scars, including a patchwork of rough, burnt flesh over his bicep and left shoulder, going all the way down to his hip. He reached quickly for the dry shirt, but Lelia stopped him.

“Your gloves,” she said, staring at his torso with a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't positive, though, he could tell that much. She tore her gaze away a second later, gently grabbing one of his hands and pulling it closer to her as she undid the velcro strap at his wrist. She slipped her fingers beneath the wrist of his glove, and he felt her skin directly against his own for the very first time.

He groaned, resisting the urge to grab her hand and keep it where it was. He couldn’t feel the softness of her skin, his own senses too numb for that, but the heat of it practically scorched him in the most pleasant way. It sank all the way down to his frozen bones, and when it slipped away as she pulled his glove off, it was agony.

She repeated the process with his other glove, and his bare hands twitched as he fought not to clutch onto hers and not let go. Finally, he regained control of himself, grabbing the flannel pajama shirt and pulling it on. It was a couple sizes too small, clinging to him like a second skin and stopping an inch or so above the waistband of his combat trousers, but it would do for now, even if he felt ridiculous.

“You’re shivering,” his dove said, frowning. “I’ll fetch you a blanket.”

She turned around and headed back into the bedroom, and he took the chance to shuck off his trousers. It was almost as if the warmth of her touch had reinvigorated his hands, or perhaps it was just luck, because he managed to get the button on the third try, and the zip on the second. He stepped into the too-small flannels just as she was returning with the quilt he’d given her earlier. He tried to avoid taking it—though he felt cold, he knew it was all in his mind—as he didn't want to contaminate it with the smell of death. But Lelia was stubborn, and she just wrapped the blanket around his shoulders for him, so he looked like he was wearing a flowery, quilted cape.

“There,” she said with a pleased smile, before bending down to pick up his gear and head over to the door. He followed her, a silent, massive, undead shadow, unwilling to let her go outside without him. He stood guard as she hung the clothes over the half-rotted wooden banister of the tiny porch, and when she came back in, he grunted to get her attention again before leading her back to the kitchenette. He tapped the matchbook, then pointed at the pile of firewood in the metal belly of the stove.

“You want me to start a fire?” She asked nervously, and he nodded, pointing at the logs again. She paled. “I don't know… I’ve never done that before. What if I burn myself?”

Ghost didn't like the thought of her getting hurt any more than she did, but they didn’t have a choice. She needed drinkable water, and right now, boiling what was in the bucket was the only way she was going to get that. So he fumbled for the book of matches and then pressed it into her hands—and if he let out another pleased groan when her warm skin touched his again, he hoped she misread it as encouragement.

His dove looked afraid, but she notched her chin and accepted the matches, clearly trying to put on a brave face. He let himself wonder at the fact that she had never used matches before. What kind of world had she lived in, prior to the end of it? Based on her nice clothes, posh accent, and utter lack of survival instincts, he imagined it was something privileged, something sheltered. He would’ve scoffed at the thought if he were still alive—pretty little rich girl with a pretty, perfect life. Had the dead not risen, she likely would have never known pain or fear or struggle. It would’ve angered him back then; the injustice of it all. The jealousy. Now, he just felt sad. She deserved a life like that. Not this hell on earth. She was woefully unprepared for her new reality—and she had suffered for it. The men she had had to rely on to keep her safe had put that haunted look in her eyes that spoke of a pain familiar to him, if unnamable. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. That he couldn’t kill each and every person that had ever contributed to her suffering. But there was nothing he could do about that, now. All he could do was keep her safe, keep her alive. And maybe even make her laugh again.

It took a few tries, and several broken matches, but Lelia finally managed to get one lit without immediately dropping it in fear. She tossed it into the stove, and while Ghost would have advised her to hold it to the corner of one of the logs, first, it did the trick, and the fire caught. He gave her a groan of approval, and admired the way her face lit up with pride, a rosiness dusting her cheeks as she grinned. She was always beautiful, but when she smiled, she looked like an angel. Something far too good and far too pure for this hellish plane and all the monsters that lived on it, both alive and dead.

Together, they watched the water boil. It was about as exciting as watching paint dry, and took only slightly less time due to the old fashioned stove and small flame. He didn't mind, though, as his dove eventually began to fill the silence with mindless chatter, telling him about the meals her private chef—oh, so she’d been rich rich—used to make for her. Ghost was informed very seriously that Román was the best cook in the world and could have had his own restaurant, but he liked hearing Lelia’s in-depth analysis of his meals too much to leave. Ghost thought it was adorable that she believed that that’s why the chef had stayed, rather than the money he was making. Then again, Ghost had stayed because of her too, so maybe there was some truth to her words after all.

When the water was sufficiently clean, he grabbed the bucket and moved it off the stove so it could cool down. Curiously, he didn't feel any heat from it, despite knowing it had to be hot enough to burn. It only made him crave his dove’s touch even more, the only source of warmth in his cold, undead life.

He searched through the cupboards again as they waited, looking for some sort of cup. He found a single dusty mug with a large chip near the rim. It was no crystal champagne flute, like she was clearly used to, but it would do. He handed it over, and Lelia made a face but thanked him nonetheless. She unbuttoned her pink tweed jacket and untucked a section of her still clean white blouse underneath, using it to wipe out the mug. He stared.

Look away, Simon’s voice in his head ordered. Ghost reluctantly obeyed. You’re a vile creature. You don’t get to look at her like that.

Even if Ghost was alive, he'd probably think the same thing. He’d been old and monstrous then. He was dead and monstrous now. He'd never lived a life in which he would deserve a sweet thing like her. But he still wanted, in this life and the last.

So when Lelia smiled at him after drinking her fill of the purified water, lips still wet and shiny, he tried to ignore the phantom sensation of his undead heart pounding in his chest.

[nyctoaerah]

AERAH, I BEG OF YOUUU, I SAW YOUR POST ON QUOTEV, PLEASE, PLEASE, ATLEAST A SNEAK PEAK OF THE UPCOMING FIC? OR THE ONE WHERE YOU SAID ON YOUR IG THAT YOU'RE POSTING A ONESHOT ABT GETO! PLS PLS, ANY OF THAT, JUST A SNEAK PEAK, I BEG YOUU, I'M GETTING SO FANFIC DEPRIVED AND I'M SUCH A WHORE FOR YOUR IMMACULATE WRITING 😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋

“ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃 ”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Satoru’s sister started to have an unusual cravings for blood after managing to tame habakiri, and Suguru is there to help her.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: vampirism (lmfao), sexual stuff, cannibalism (habakiri), blood

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo’s Sister! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: just a sneakpeek cause i still haven't written the chapter 11 of idiosyncrasies, and this oneshot is in between the timeline of chapter 14-15 and it's a smut one at that LMAO💀 so i probs won't upload it until i finish chapter 14 of idiosyncrasies pookie. And HELP, the new fic i was talking about on quotev is devil in disguise, and i already posted it on tumblr but not in quotev HAHHA. Also, this might be confusing if you guys haven't read the chapter 9 of idiosyncrasies/haven't read idiosyncrasies. I SWEAR, I’LL DO THE OTHER REQS SOON.😭 I just did this one ‘cause i’ve already wrote some of it. Also, hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated<3

Masterlist

The crimson rivulets of his blood trickles down your chin, the exquisite taste of the sanguine liquid staining your lips. Your teeth bore small smudges of red, smearing them like fallen blood on freshly fallen snow.

Using his unoccupied hand, he cradled your chin, his thumb and middle finger. His forefinger to brushed away the residual droplets of blood on the curve of your lips and wiped them away from your chin too.

“Never thought that you had such an appetite for blood...” he murmured, sensing your touch descending down from his shoulders and going southward on his abdomen. Your fingers sought purchase on his firm abdominal muscles.

“I have an idea as to why you have it though...”

“It’s because you’re habakiri’s owner, isn’t it?” Suguru murmurs, the memory of how you had managed to subdue the bloodthirsty sword, to make it submit to your will without it killing you still lingers in his mind. But perhaps, in doing so, you had inadvertently sated its voracious appetite, if only momentarily.

Your body tenses imperceptibly at his observation, and he responds with a knowing smile, his touch gentle against your skin.

“There’s no shame in it, you know?” he reassures in a hushed tone, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip, coaxing it to part slightly.

“And why is that so?”

Curiosity colors your words as you inquire.

“You two share the same traits, that ensures that it won’t eat you, after all, it won’t turn on his master.” he muses with a faint hum, his gaze unwavering.

“Furthermore,” he interjects with a teasing tone,

“It makes you look like a vampire...” He says.

“And.. fuck, it might seem weird but vampires are sexy in my point of view.” He confessed, a laugh bubbling on his throat.

“Hm? ‘s that so?” You asked hesitantly.

“Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Nope, Your predilection doesn’t scare me in the slightest,” he whispered softly, nibbling pensively at his lower lip as his gaze remained fixed upon you.

“In fact, I found it rather... alluring,” he admitted in a low voice.

“Do you truly not mind, then?” you inquired, though his assurance had already been vocalized.

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?...” You questioned, your voice wavering in uncertainty.

“You’re too pure for your own well, Geto,” you sighed, shaking your head disapprovingly. 

The unexpected reaction that Suguru received was far from the jubilation he had expected.

Is the pessimistic trait a common trait inherited on the Gojo clan?

Suguru thought, he wanted to release an exasperated groan; you were single-handedly sabotaging the moment once again. Though he cherished your idiosyncrasies, he longed for you to simply revel in the present moment.

Just as he prepared to interject, your hand abandoned its place on his abdomen, navigating its way to his cheek, tenderly caressing the contours of his face. Once again, your mixed signals were a labyrinth he struggled to navigate. 

“You’re seriously letting a bloodthirsty woman in your bed, Geto?”

Your brows furrowed in a contemplative manner, your delicate fingers caressing his cheek as you tip your head to the side, a look of utter confusion etched upon your features.

“Suguru,”

he implores softly.

“Call me Suguru,” he insists, clasping your hand tenderly and drawing it nearer to his warm cheek.

“Suguru,” you repeat in a gentle whisper, the syllables of his name effortlessly gliding off your tongue.

A contented smile graces his lips as he nods in approval.

“That's it,” he affirms with a quiet hum of satisfaction.

“You haven’t answered my question yet, Suguru..”

You venture forth with your query, your voice barely above a murmur, as his gaze meets yours.

“Ah, about that?”

He inquired, a single eyebrow arching in intrigue as he watched your hand slipping away from his,  The warmth of your touch lingered on his cheek before your fingers finding their way to the bulb of muscle at the neck base, caressing it softly, before your hand pressed onto the twin punctures that you left on his neck.

“I would.” He breathed out sincerely.

“doesn't matter if you're a monster or not...” he whispered.

“I don't mind having a monster in my bed if it’s you,”

Your expression softened at his words before a sharp yelp escaped your lips as he firmly seized your hips, deftly maneuvering to shift his weight and flipping your positions easily so that he’s the one on top of you now.

Your breath caught in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you sank into the softness of the pillow, your silken tresses sprawling across the expanse of the mattress, you could basically feel the rapid drumming of your heart within your ribcage.

“Want you so bad...” he whispered.

A shiver ran through you, your gaze fixated on his form as he leaned in, lips parted, his teeth grazing his lower lip with a fervor that drew forth an errant droplet of crimson, tracing a path down his chin.

Your pupils dilated at the sight, fingers twitching.

“Suguru...” The word fell from your lips, the syllables laced with a hint of restraint.

“You started it...” he mumbled, brows twitching as he looked at you.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this..” He says in a low voice.

“What were you even thinking?... Climbing onto my lap, biting me, kissing me.. tasting me without thinking that there’s no consequences to that...”

His fingers threaded through the strands of your hair, a gentle tug coaxing you even closer until your lips were mere inches apart. 

“So, come now,” he murmured, a sly grin tugged at the corner of his lips as his onyx colored eyes bore into you.

“Finish what you started, Angel.”

[caesium-55]

Lewis just wants to sleep. He's tired. He just arrived yesterday from Las Vegas and he needs to grant himself a lazy day or else, he'll go insane. He already planned out a perfect morning. You, on the bed with him in the most innocent sense—Lewis wouldn't mind sex because sex is nice and all but he also loved just resting with you and basking in your existence and your being—freely drifting in and out of the realm of sleep, no annoying alarm waiting to ruin his morning with that god-awful buzzing nose, basking in the silence and peace of a morning in the quiet part of Monaco, and letting the hours pass by without care. Then, when you both get sick of the sheets, you go down and grab breakfast in that café just across the building that sells amazing crepes.

But he wakes up and your side of the bed is cold and empty and panic sinks in his system quickly. He glances around the room. Sunlight peeks through the tiny gap of the black out curtains in the window. Besides the night lamp, it's the only source of light in the room. Your phone is not on the bedside table, Lewis notes. That means you slipped away from the bed and left the room some time ago without Lewis noticing. Usually, he'd feel it if you even just twitched and he'd wake up in a heartbeat, but the jet lag and the exhaustion that engulfed his entire body must have stopped him from doing so.

He sits up and rubs his face with his palms. He decides to follow after you downstairs.

The door abruptly opens with a loud bang, making Lewis flinch and turn his head towards. Lewis's face transitions from sleepy to shocked to confused.

You're wearing a gown that greatly resembles the type of gowns that the female cast of Netflix's Bridgerton wore in the show. It's a mixture of lilac and pink, both are pretty colors. Your hair is fixed into an elegant half-do with a plastic tiara to complete everything. On one hand, you carry a portable Bluetooth speaker. In the other, a microphone. You sport the most serious facial expression in the universe but nothing about you screams seriousness at all. Especially not with the funky-shaped eyeglasses that sit on the bridge of your nose.

You slam your hand against the light switch next to the door and the entire room brightens. Lewis chuckles at the sight of you, eyes twinkling with mirth. The room never feels more alive than it does now.

"Ta-da."

"Good morning, baby."

The intro of the song starts blaring through the speaker. A strong beat of drums. Then, you began to sing.

“After the war I went back to New York

A-after the war I went back to New York

I finished up my studies and I practiced law

I practiced law, Lewis worked next door—"

"Baby, you practice medicine—"

"Even though we started at the very same time

Lewis Hamilton began to climb

How to account for his rise to the top?"

You point the mic towards him. Lewis smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

"Man, the man is non-stop."

Lewis chuckles, amused. You are getting into it. You put your mic on your mouth again.

"Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me

Are you aware that we're making hist'ry?

This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation

The liberty behind deliberation (Non-stop!)

I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt

With my assistant counsel

Co-counsel—"

Lewis tries to leave the sheets so he can get his phone and capture you in video. You stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hamilton, sit down."

"I'm sat."

You begin pacing around the room, hands waving around in theatrical fluorish.

"Our client Levi Weeks is innocent

Call your first witness

That's all you had to say

Okay

One more thing–"

You walk up to him and Lewis waits for your next move.

"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?"

"Because I am?"

"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?

Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?

Soon that attitude may be your doom!"

Lewis shakes his head at you.

"Why do you drive like you're running out of time?

Drive day and night like you're running out of time?

Every day you fight, like you're running out of time

Keep on fighting, in the meantime."

Your number ends with you doing a dramatic pose and Lewis bursts out laughing, the sound mixing with the fading music.

"I love you so much. You have no idea."

This is far from the ideal morning he's planned out. This is not quiet. This is not peaceful. This is boisterous and obnoxious and too much energy so early in the day and every bone in Lewis's body still screams exhaustion.

But Lewis wouldn't trade this morning over the peaceful morning in his mind. Not when you looked so happy singing and rapping that Hamilton song. You theater nerd. God, Lewis didn't know he was physically capable of loving a person this much.

"Hey baby, if we get a son, can we name him Alexander?"

"Whatever you want."

Lewis wishes this morning will never end.

[natti-ice]

The Truth Will Set You Free- Tom Riddle.

Pairing: Tom riddle x fem!reader

Summary: a mysterious letter reveals Tom’s biggest secret.

Warnings: angst, written in third person (she/her pronouns) (1k words)

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

"YOU'RE MARRIED?!?" She yelled at him, watching the color drain from his face gave her the answer. Tom closed the book he had been reading peacefully as he lounged in a plush chair in his dorm room.

"What are you talking about, dear?" He swallowed, he saw Y/N holding a piece of paper in her hand, confusion and anger in her facial expressions. He had no idea how this could have got to her, barely anyone knew about this.

"I received this letter this morning" she started, showing him the paper she had been clutching onto for the past twenty minutes. "I don't know if this is some sick joke or if you've been lying to me this whole time. Tom, is it true?" She didn't know what to think, when she got the letter she thought it was someone trying to play with her. But as the letter went on it seemed too real

"Tom and I were wed the summer before his sixth year. Once he graduates we shall start a family together, I believe you deserve to know since there are talks of your attachment to him. Just know, this is how it has to be, he cannot be yours."

Reading this brought a sharp pain in her chest, she thought she knew the man she loved. She knew he had his secrets, but she wouldn't think he would withhold this from her. Her emotions were all jumbled into one, she didn't know what to feel.

"It's true," he said in a hushed tone, his head hung low like a dog being scolded. "You weren't supposed to find out this way"

"Like this? Or was I not supposed to find out at all?" Okay, it seems her anger has gotten the better of her

"Please let me explain, Y/N" Tom begged. His usual stoic demeanor had completely vanished, he had never let his emotions show this way, it made him feel weak.

"I don't know if I want to hear it, Tom. How could you do this to me?"

"I didn't do it to hurt you" he raised his voice as he became angry at himself "I figured if you knew, you would want nothing to do with me" he admitted

"You're probably right about that" she said sarcastically

"Y/N, please don't joke about this" he warned "if you'd let me, I'll explain to you everything that happened. Only the truth" his eyes met hers he could see the pain in them, that shattered his heart. When he met Y/N he knew he had found the only person in the world he could truly care for. She broke down every wall he tried to put up with ease, there was no way he could let her get away.

"Fine, go ahead" she whispered as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat

He sighed, calming his brain before proceeding to tell her about something that has eaten at him every day for the past two years. "At the end of my fifth year, my mother put me into an arranged marriage. I fought and fought to get out of it, but no matter what I said I couldn't get out. She paired me with some pure-blooded floozy who couldn't last a day without her father's money, the day of the ceremony was the worst day of my life. My mother expects me to have children with that girl and I honestly couldn't care less about that stupid girl." Talking about her put a bad taste in his mouth, he hated her with every ounce of his being.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me" Y/N said during Tom's pause

"I didn't tell you because it's a part of me that I hate. Having my name attached to someone who I will never love, isn't something I'm proud of. When I met you, it was like that terrible situation was in the past and you were my future. For years I have been trying to find a way out of this marriage. I plan to divorce her as soon as I'm done with school." He felt slight relief as he finally got this off his chest, it always weighed heavy on him.

Y/N stood a foot away from Tom, as he explained his story her heart broke more, she had never seen Tom in such pain before, and it definitely wasn't a good feeling to watch. "What about your mother?" She asked

"I don't care about that woman! She hasn't a motherly bone in her body, once I'm done with school I'll never see her again" His hatred for his mother ran deep, Y/N knew he never liked his mother. She understood why, if she was her mother she'd probably feel the exact same way.

"Y/N" Tom reached for her hand, wrapping both his hands around her, bringing it up to his mouth gently kissing the back. "I am very sorry I never told you about this, I've never been good at telling the truth but that's no excuse. I promise you, you are the only person I will ever love." This is the truest thing to ever leave Tom's mouth

God, he's so beautiful she thought, searching for any trace he was lying to her. Sometimes she felt foolish thinking about how much she loved him, his hold on her was so strong. But she wouldn't change a thing.

"I'm so conflicted right now" she admitted, "but I believe you, you swear you want nothing to do with her?"

"Cross my heart, I would never dream of being with her" he brought his hand up to Y/N's cheek, slowly stroking it with his thumb. "You are the only person I want to marry" he whispered

"Good, because I don't think I'd like a life without you" she slightly grinned

"What if, when we're done at this tragic place, you and I run off together? We won't have to worry about anyone else, it'll just be us living our life together" Tom suggested

"That sounds like a very thought out plan, dear" she smirked "perhaps I might take you up on that offer" she leaned in, slightly pecking his lips

"You really have to get those papers signed, Tom. I am no one's mistress" she half-joked but he knew she was serious.

"Anything for you my dear"

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[lemonlover1110]

Little Monster

Dad Series

Sukuna Ryomen

Warnings: Pure Fluff

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Sukuna, a greatly feared monster, has thought about all the possible outcomes of his life. Except this. He never thought he’d be sitting in a chair that’s far too small, waiting for his daughter to serve him “tea”. Which in reality is muddy rain water with some dead leaves. It’s so gross to even pretend to drink it, and believe that Sukuna has seen and eaten some gross stuff in his lifetime. 

“Namie…” Sukuna looks at the brown colored water. “You made this with mommy?”

“Yes, mommy helped.” Namie answers, pushing the tea cup towards her father. Sukuna certainly doesn’t like tea parties anymore. He sits next to a couple of his daughter’s toys, who are also enjoying the tea. “She made it special for you.”

“She’s trying to kill me for the time I tried to kill yo–” Sukuna mutters.

“Would you like some sugar, daddy?” Namie asks and he wants to see the imitation of sugar that she has, only to see that she has actual sugar cubes– Those shouldn’t be wasted on this fake tea. But Sukuna won’t do anything about it, he can just get more.

“Two cubes please.” Sukuna had never heard of the word please before, until you and his daughter came along. She places two cubes into his tea and then distributes it to her other toys. Sukuna stirs the sugar in with a rather small spoon. Namie takes a seat across from his father, which isn’t too far away since the table is small. It’s for a little girl after all.

“Alright, daddy. Now we drink it.”

“Right, of course.” He sticks his pinky out, just like she taught him, and pretends to drink the tea. But Namie doesn’t buy it. She squints her eyes and crosses her top arms.

“Daddy, we have to drink it.” Namie reminds him and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. He just did. “Like actually. There’s tea now.”

“Namie, we can’t drink that.” He tells her, and she furrows her eyebrows as well.

“Why not? Drink it!” She orders, causing Sukuna to sigh. If she were anyone else, she’d be dead. But she’s not anyone else, she’s his daughter. 

“Okay…”

[haru-natsuka]

Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 1

Story will start from below synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1: THE CONFESSION

How would you determine for a man to be the first or second male lead? From behind a bush, you secretly watched a famous young knight professed his love to the most esteemed lady at the academy.

Confessions of love are a natural thing, it was everyone's right to develop such a feeling. However, how could you confess when you were hanging out with your best friend who had a crush on the same girl? We should talk about the timing there! 

There was a clear idiot word displayed on the knight's forehead in your eyes. His look also looks a bit stupid with a dump grin as he passionately confessing his love, forgetting his bestfriend altogether. Self-centeredness and idiocy were not a nice combination.

The girl appeared shyly glancing at him while softly playing with her eyelashes, deeply engrossed in the moment. Their surroundings were filled with a colorful display of flowers, bathed in the gentle rays of sunlight. What a truly perfect match.

'Hey, Liesel and Cyrus! My man over there, yeah, the one who is being ignored and neglected by you guys is having a moment of deep sadness and heartbreak right now. If you could please be the best friends that you're supposed to be and show some compassion and support, that would be greatly appreciated.'

You sighed with disappointment as both of them cannot hear your thoughts. It appeared that you were the one who must take action to save your man. Your crush hung his head low, using his glistening silver hair to shield his face from the painful scene unfolding before him. Hiding behind this wall of silvery locks, you could witness him hiding his tears. 

That was the difference between the male lead and the second male lead. One was a courageous figure, while the other merely existed in service of the female protagonist, loving and watching her from the sideline. As if she deserved such a title.

Despite the apparent contrast between the male lead and the second male lead, you found your true interest in the latter. You preferred him who was not as bold or confident, but who was always considerate of others' feelings. Even though all his paintings related to that famous girl, you still would like to declare that,

'My man finally is officially available!'

You made your way to your man, his head still bowed, tears still streaming down his face. You reached out a reassuring hand and quickly pulled him away from the scene. He appeared confused, and you flashed a triumphant glance in his direction, a bright smile upon your face.

"It's alright Adrian. My love is only for you"

>> CHAPTER 2