isla• she/her • ‘09 liner • armin’s gf • anime• drabbles

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isla• she/her • ‘09 liner • armin’s gf • anime• drabbles

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𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ᥫ᭡
⭑.ᐟ ────── 0.6k+ words, zoro x reader, f!reader (no use of pronouns), established (secret) relationship, fluff, skinship, kissing, proofread but still may have errors! <3
RORONOA ZORO was not a man who showed his affection for you outwardly so everyone aboard could notice. Instead he opted for fleeting, discreet displays.
One could notice only if they were really paying attention. Both of you hadn’t planned it exactly but through mutual understanding you didn’t tell the rest of the crew about your feelings.
Leading to the nerves and excitement of having to hold back in certain situations, for example, enduring one of Usopp's infamous stories, the drone of his voice was lulling to sleep as you sat there, you wished you could rest your head on the green haired man beside you but it wasn’t worth the trouble. Sensing this, he shifted closer and wrapped his arm around the back of your chair, a cushion of sorts. An act inconspicuous to the rest of the crew or so you thought.
It didn’t take very long for the rest of them to pick up on the closeness of the pair of you.
stood at the railing of the ship, the green haired man to the right, his larger pinky intertwined with yours. The aquamarine waters below sparkled in the disappearance of daylight. Nami slid beside you, a knowing smile plastered across her face.
“So, anything you’d like to tell me or the rest of the crew perhaps?”
both of you turning towards her, trying to keep your faces as neutral as possible, he was doing a better job of doing so. Pinkies unlinked hastily in an attempt to hide the display from Nami. The pair hoped you were quick enough and she hadn’t noticed. Nami’s gaze darted from yours, the grin growing bigger the more the silence prolonged. Zoro eventually was the one to reply,
“No,”
His response was blunt, an attempt at shutting the navigator down but she wouldn’t give up that easily.
She shook her head in amusement, this was exactly the response she was expecting from the green haired man but you on the other hand, you’d probably give her the dirt she was looking for. .
“You sure nothing between you, that you’d like to explain?”
finger pointed as she wiggled it back and forth from you, to him. Her eyes trained on yours, your face began to blister with heat. A small giggle escaped her lips, she knew she’d gotten you. Zoro’s face hadn’t changed since the first interaction, expression stoic, the complete opposite of you. You groaned before questioning,
“How’d you find out? How long?”
You asked knowing the act was up, there was no denying it now after that display.
“Secrets and discreteness aren’t your forte, why’d’ you think we wouldn’t notice when you keep holding pinky’s every time your stood next to each other, or he points towards Zoro “likes to lend out his arms as a pillow, We’ve known for ..” Nami counted on her fingers,
“5 months, exactly.”
The Green haired man’s eye brows moved into a frown, staring at you with a questioning look as you stood their dumbfounded. All those days and nights you’d been sneaking around, giggling to yourself thinking you had them completely fooled so it only turned out, it was the pair of you who’d been fooled all along.
An amused smile began to paint her face, once she realised how flustered the both of you had gotten over her simple comment.
She walked away, her work here was done. Over her shoulder she shouted.
“You should be thanking me, you don’t have to hide it anymore!”
You turned to the three swordsman, he was as unmoving as ever. He gazed trained on you.
“I told you we should’ve been more slick! We should’ve only done it when it was the two of us, then nobody would’ve seen anything!!”
“It isn’t so bad now we can do this,”
He cupped your cheek and tilted your head so his lips met his. Oh how you’d longed to do this without the pressure of getting caught.
⭑.ᐟ ────── authors note: this has been sitting in my drafts for the last five months. thinking of writing an itadori drabble next. feedback is appreciated! 💗
masterlist
clan leader!Gojo Satoru x reader the 'elders' lay their hands on you.
...
everytime you look at his footwear, you remember the first time you ever tried cleaning them.
“Sweetheart” Gojo Satoru’s voice rolled like summer thunder, low and indulgent. “What did I say about touching those?”
You looked up, after two months of marriage, the sight of him stole your breath. his eyes, glowing softly in the daylight. The haori of the clan head rested over his broad shoulders, the fabric whispering as he crouched before you.
“I was only going to wipe the dust” you murmured, cheeks warming. “You have the elders’ meeting after breakfast, and—”
“And nothing.” His large hands, hands that had ended curses with casual flicks, gently took the cloth from you. He lifted your chin with two fingers, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“The only thing these hands should be doing is resting on my chest while I kiss you senseless.”
your boyfriend is clingy when he's sick!
megumi’s different when he’s sick, really different. but you can’t say you mind.
your usually stoic, collected, unemotional boyfriend is suddenly all over you, clingy as a koala. it’s pathetically adorable.
your hand is flat against megumi’s forehead, checking for a temperature, and he’s blatantly leaning into your touch. a kiss pressed to your knuckles, another to your palm.
you get up to make soup and he pulls you back towards him with surprising strength, for someone who’s sick. a surprised squeak leaves your mouth as you’re tugged into his warm arms, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.
“don’t go,” megumi mumbles, pouting.
you laugh quietly, hand threading through his hair. “i’ll be back in a minute, baby. just gonna make you something warm so you feel better.”
he huffs, tightening his hold on you. “you can do that later. ‘s cold without you.”
“i’ll give you more blankets?”
“it’s not the same,” he grumbles. then he sniffles, a quiet, sickly sound. it tugs at your heartstrings, and you wonder whether he was faking it just for the attention.
you exhale, amused yet unrelenting. “i’m sorry, gumi. i have to, okay?” somehow, some way, you untangle yourself from his tight embrace and stand up.
megumi whines, reaching for you, and you fight back a smile.
“i’ll be really quick, baby. promise.” you press a peck to his warm forehead, tucking him more properly into the blankets before slipping out of the bedroom.
not even a minute goes by before you feel megumi’s presence in the kitchen. you smile softly as his arms come around your waist, chin resting heavily on your shoulder.
“you should be in bed, baby.”
“i know,” he mumbles almost guiltily, breath warm on your neck. he watches you cut the vegetables, spiky hair tickling your skin. “it was just really cold without you. horrible.”
“horrible indeed,” you humour him, reaching back to scratch his scalp. he exhales, eyes droopy as he melts into you. “i told you i’d be back soon, no?”
“but you were taking forever,” megumi groans earnestly, eyes opening to peek at you.
“i was away for one minute.”
“a minute too long.” he says, sniffling and shutting his eyes again. “i almost died.”
you giggle, pouring the finished soup into a bowl. “i’m really sorry,” you say as you lead him back into the bedroom, pulling him behind you like a sad puppy. “won’t happen again.”
“good,” megumi huffs, satisfied.
his eyes trail over you as you get him settled in, cocooning him in blankets and pressing the bowl into his hands. you know exactly what’s coming next.
megumi locks his gaze on yours. “is it cuddle time now?” he asks hopefully, eyes wide and shiny, lips downturned as though he might burst into tears if you refused.
the sight of him like this is so unexpected, so precious. you almost give in. almost.
“nope,” you say, trying to sound as firm as you can muster. you press the soup bowl further into his hands as his bottom lip quivers. “drink first, then cuddles.”
“and- and you won’t even feed me?” megumi warbles, sniffling sadly. “i’m dying, you know.”
“you’re not dying,” you sigh, sitting down next to him. “but fine, i’ll feed you. only cos’ you’re sick.”
the biggest smile breaks onto his face, eyes clearing up immediately as he hands you the soup bowl. your megumi wouldn’t smile like this in a million years, and you try to savour it.
he’s almost giddy with affection as he presses the soup bowl into your hands, cozying up to you and pressing his face into your chest. “you’re the best,” he mumbles happily.
you can’t wait to tell your boyfriend about this when he’s well again.
there you are
tags; anime vergil x female reader, nightmares, hurt and comfort, bed sharing, wing hugs, soft vergil.
Shadows softened in the corners of your apartment.
The room was partially dark. Somewhere, something was dripping—surely the bathroom faucet that had yet to be repaired. The sound was accompanied by the distant murmur of the city. At least the walls were thick enough to keep the noise of the traffic at bay. When you opened your eyes, the faint glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting stripes of light across the bed.
You let out a silent yawn, and the digital clock on the nightstand blinked. The sun was still nowhere near rising.
Then, the sound of steady breathing reminded your sleepy mind of who occupied the other half of the bed. Beside you, Vergil slept. Or rather, he did what he referred to as sleeping. You described it as remaining eerily motionless for hours with his eyes closed.
He claimed there was no difference, but there was.
Ever since Vergil decided to share a space with you—or rather, ever since you sheltered him in your home—you had watched him adjust to being back in the human world. Or among the sapiens, as he sometimes called them. Sleep, among other things, was an abstract concept to him. And it didn't always come easily.
Vergil tended to stay perfectly still, his eyes squeezed shut as if he were listening to something in the far distance. Or as if he were waiting for something to happen. Rare were the occasions when he truly slept, and when it did happen, it was because you were with him.
You tried not to let that affect you. You failed.
Tonight, however, he seemed genuinely submerged in sleep. Without his shoulders tensed and his brow furrowed, he almost looked younger, less defensive. His breathing was slow and constant. Peaceful.
Then, you remembered why your body had decided to wake you. Ah, right, you thought. I need to use the restroom.
You tried to be as quiet as possible. The sheets slipped slightly as you climbed out of bed. Once sitting on the edge, you looked over your shoulder. Vergil hadn't moved. You took a selfish moment to look at him. Even while doing something as banal as sleeping and wearing the most mundane clothes, he exuded something that made it glaringly obvious he wasn't completely human.
The floor was cold beneath your bare feet.
You just needed to use the restroom.
You slipped out of the room cautiously, careful not to interrupt Vergil's sleep, unusual as it was. The door remained ajar behind you.
And the room fell silent once more.
Nightmares were enemies whose ambushes Vergil could never anticipate.
When they caught him, they dragged him into a darkness of no return, deeper than the hell that had torn him to pieces only to rebuild him out of rot. Then, he would see them: grotesque demon faces reaching for him, claws and wings pursuing him, training him.
Then came the fire.
The heat of the flames scorching stone, consuming wood until it splintered apart, made him feel terribly small, even within himself. He was. Surrounded by fire once more, back in the body of a child. The panic felt so real. Through younger eyes—his own eyes—Vergil desperately tried to find salvation, only to find it on the ground, pooled in blood. Then the fire consumed everything, and he was dragged to a prison where the horrific heat would only intensify, swallowing his tortured screams along with it.
He snapped awake.
It was never a gentle return.
It was like being ripped from his own mind by claws and fangs.
In an instant, Vergil was sitting up, his hands clenched into fists over whatever fabric he could grasp, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. For a dizzying fraction of a second, he didn't know where he was. The memory of the fire and a cell in the bowels of hell were still too vivid. Blood could be smelled in the air—dense, and undeniably his own. What his senses perceived was the darkness enveloping the space, the silence, and the cold. He tasted smoke and the blistering heat on his skin.
Then... nothing.
Reality rushed back as quickly as it had vanished. The room, the cracked and faded walls of the apartment, the sheets he remembered falling asleep on beside—
He snapped his gaze sideways, letting go of the fabric and instinctively reaching for the space beside him. Empty.
Any lingering remnant of sleep vanished.
The room was empty. Far too empty.
Vergil stood up without a second thought. Every muscle in his body stiffened with a tension he only ever felt before a fight. His breathing grew shallow; to his ears, it was barely perceptible, yet it felt deafening. His gaze swept the room until it locked onto the door left ajar. The apartment remained silent. No voices. Nothing.
An unpleasant pressure constricted his chest.
She left. The thought surfaced before he could stop it. It was absurd, irrational. And yet, there it was. The ghost of the fire and a childhood shattered to pieces, years of pain and rot. Of being completely adrift.
Gone, gone, gone.
Before he realized it, Vergil was standing in the hallway. The air felt heavier, but there were no traces of other demons in the vicinity. Then what...? A current of energy traced a path beneath his skin, as if his body were tearing itself apart to fight something that wasn't even visible. What was he going to fight?
His own fears?
Then, he heard footsteps. Light, soft. Unmistakably human.
Before Vergil could take another step, you appeared, walking barefoot with a sleepy expression and tangled hair.
Ah, he thought, all his instincts silenced by a relief so dense it smothered everything else. There you are.
You stopped the moment you noticed him. Your eyes narrowed in confusion, as if you hadn't expected to see him awake, let alone looking like he was about to kill something.
"Vergil?"
You stepped closer to him. Your gaze, clearer now, immediately caught the tension wrapping around Vergil's tall frame like a rope snapped taut. The tightness in his jaw only showed like that when he was angry or irritated, but you had learned to read his moods. Vergil didn't look angry in the slightest. It took you a long moment to recognize the emotion blanketing his features because you had never seen it before. Not on him. You had never seen fear in Vergil.
The distance between you closed by a couple of steps.
"What's wrong?" you asked.
Nothing, he thought. A superficial, useless answer when he clearly looked as though he were about to lunge forward and trap you. Ridiculous. You were perfectly capable of getting up during the night without a tragedy occurring; he knew that.
But a part of Vergil—a terribly human part—couldn't differentiate between a momentary absence and a permanent loss. Not when there were still times he woke up expecting to find smoke, or waiting to hear his own screams echoing off the walls of a cavern. But now... a vacant bed had been enough for Vergil to imagine the worst, because a door left ajar had been enough to drag him decades back. What kind of weakness was that?
Nothing, he thought again. He didn't grab you only because he remained rooted to the spot, staring at you. Searching for wounds, traces of blood, any sign of danger. There was none. And how sickening it was, the way the pressure in his chest dissipated the moment he realized you were unharmed.
Only then was Vergil able to answer.
"You weren't here."
There was a moment where the words hung suspended in the air. Just that. You weren't in bed. It wasn't a reproach, nor was it an accusation.
You blinked, startled.
All Vergil could hear was the rhythm of your pulse.
You understood, and your heart took a painful plunge in your chest as it clicked.
You knew his nightmares. He had told you about that night and everything that followed. How could you have forgotten? Vergil's nightmares always began like this. He had undoubtedly feared the worst when he didn't see you.
You had seen it before, on the nights he snapped awake with a start and held you tighter, the times he stayed awake staring at the ceiling. You knew where it all came from.
"I just went to the restroom," you said softly, closing the distance between you. His eyes followed your every step, capturing everything from the movement of your body to the cadence of your breathing. Vergil's eyes were honest in a way he himself could never be. A few strands of white hair fell out of place, disrupting his immaculate appearance, you fought the urge to brush them away. "I'm sorry."
Vergil's jaw clenched before he forced himself to relax it.
"You have nothing to apologize for." His shoulders sank just a fraction as your scent replaced the air around him.
You tilted your chin slightly to look him in the face.
"I should have told you," you murmured. "Or made a bit more noise—"
"You are not responsible for my afflictions," he replied in a hushed voice. If anyone else were to hear the tone Vergil used with you, hell would freeze over.
Your expression softened under the bluish glow of his gaze.
"Maybe not." Your hand slowly sought his out. Vergil followed the movement as if it were mesmerizing, as if he didn't comprehend that it was meant for him. Slowly, your fingers laced with his—soft skin slipping against the hand calloused by swordplay and years of training. "But that doesn't mean you have to deal with them entirely alone."
In moments like this, Vergil was grateful you couldn't hear his heartbeat. It wasn't a frantic pulse born of fear or alertness, but it undoubtedly exceeded established boundaries, and it was ridiculous, and he couldn't stop it.
A human making the heart of a half-demon beat for something other than hunger. Perhaps he truly was banished from hell.
For a suspended moment, Vergil didn't answer; he simply stood there, watching you. If only you could see yourself through his eyes.
Finally, his fingers closed around yours, covering them.
"Go back to bed," he said.
For a split second, he almost sounded on the verge of saying please. You couldn't help but smile a little, even as your heart melted inside your chest.
"That sounded suspiciously like a request."
Vergil shot you an unimpressed look, but the corners of his mouth twitched just enough to give him away.
"Do not flatter yourself."
"Was it a request?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Completely."
"Because it felt like a request."
"Your perception is flawed."
You laughed, and the sound did something inside his chest. Something warm and unknown, something that would take him time to accept. Slowly, the nightmares receded. He knew that, at least for tonight, they wouldn't return.
Because you were there.
Because you were smiling at him.
Because tonight was simply a mundane, boring night.
Vergil didn't let go of your hand on the way back to the bedroom. Your fingers unraveled from his when you flopped onto the bed—the exact way you knew made him huff—and opened your arms wide.
Vergil watched you the way one observes something entirely nonsensical.
"What are you doing?"
"Offering hugs."
A cricket could have played a concerto in that silence.
"I do not need them."
You dropped your arms and shrugged, looking more amused than slighted by the rejection. You had long since learned not to take Vergil's defense mechanisms personally, but you pulled the entire blanket over to your side of the bed anyway.
"Your loss," you said, barely hiding your amusement as you cocooned yourself in the fabric.
Vergil sighed. That long, resigned sigh you discovered was reserved exclusively for you. The mattress dipped beside you as he took his place, hogging more than half the space. The bed wasn't built for two people, much less a half-demon.
In the ensuing silence, nothing happened, and you wondered if he was pretending to sleep. You were just about to drift off when a firm arm wrapped around your waist. The heat of his skin bled into yours through your clothes. You smiled against the pillow.
"So you did need them."
"Silence."
"Caught you red-handed."
"Silence."
"Vergil has feelings."
"I am going to let you go."
"No, you won't."
He didn't. You two knew it.
The pause that followed was so long you almost started to chuckle.
Then, a surge of energy filled the room. A warm blue radiance momentarily coated the walls before dimming into a soft illumination. The bed groaned under the sudden shift in weight. The cold instantly vanished, and all you felt was a wall of heat pressing against your back. The arm around your waist grew broader, lined with claws that tickled your skin. The blanket covering you disappeared, and you found yourself face-to-face with... well, Vergil. In his Devil Trigger.
It wasn't the first time you'd seen it, but your jaw dropped nonetheless. The bed was definitely not made to sustain the weight of a demon.
"Seriously?"
"Sleep."
"You're gonna break the bed."
"Irrelevant," he replied, his voice a octave deeper. The hand—claw—at your waist hauled you backward, making the poor bed wail. Your back collided with the solid armor of his chest. "You are speaking too much."
Massive wings unfurled, swallowing up most of the room, but Vergil used them to drape over both of you, creating a barrier. A sanctuary. The most dangerous creature your world knew was shielding you with his wings in an attempt to protect you from that very world. Or perhaps it was just another way for Vergil to harbor himself.
The outside world fell entirely mute. Inside that barrier, it was only the two of you. The beat of that heart—which was as human as it was demonic—became a drum that, of all its lethal purposes, ended up lulling you to sleep.
Slowly your eyelids began to close.
"Goodnight, Vergil," you whispered.
There was a low rumble, a rough sort of purr that vibrated against your back. Vergil pulled you closer.
He felt the moment you fell asleep. This time, when Vergil closed his eyes, there was no darkness, no home swallowed by flames. Only your breathing, and the human fluttering inside your chest. Only your warmth.
Slowly, he closed his eyes, silently letting himself drift away, anchored by the certainty that when he woke up, you would still be there. Right beside him.

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your grace, my heart | j. kirstein
pt. 1
synopsis: Marley and Eldia had just signed a peace treaty. You and other members of high society gathered in Jaeger County for a card game. The purpose of the event was to establish contact between the nobility of the two countries. But it seems you and Count Jean Kirstein of Eldia have gone a little bit too far with this.
c/w: angst, hurt/comfort, 18th century au, marleyan!reader, no mentions of y/n, fl*ch is our shitty husband, alcohol, smoking, YEARNING, Jean is down bad, WE are down bad, a lil suggestive, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of cheating, arranged marriage, French speaking Jean.
a/n: I've been wanting to write this for a long time, since I've watched Barry lyndon (it's so good trust me!). Pt. 2 is in a process and it's going to be smutty..hehe. Also, I have an unhealthy obsession with Jean being French, I'm sorry.
Thick smoke from strong cigars enveloped the room in dancing curls. The alcohol they'd consumed made their heads spin, fueling the excitement of the game of preference.
The counts and countesses of two countries - Marley and Eldia - who had just established a peace treaty, gathered in the gaming hall of the Jaeger estate. The purpose of this event was to establish contact between the highest nobility. And as a representative of one of Marley's most noble and influential houses, you couldn't help but attend.
The maids poured whiskey into glass after glass and carried trays of cigars of all sorts, while the croupier calculated Count Brown's latest win.
The heavy smoke mingled with the heavy liquid, but there was something heavier in the room, something that made the heat rise and the heart flutter. A gaze.
No, it wasn't the look between people whose countries had a history of war going back years. It was the look of one particular man. Count Jean Kirstein of Eldia.
From the moment you entered the room, you hadn't felt a moment of relaxation. Like a student under the strictest royal tutor, you tried to avert his gaze, to hide your tension. However, he didn't grant you such an honor.
The man's intense, searching gaze, his sharp, light-brown eyes, pierced you, making you feel naked, even though you were wearing nearly a dozen layers of dress and a corset.
You wanted to look at him, you wanted everyone but him to disappear, you wanted to taste his lips again.
What a mistake you made, allowing him and you to indulge in forbidden pleasure right at the peace treaty ball three months ago! Just like now, you practically caressed each other with your eyes throughout the evening. Until the moment when you both got fed up and fled to a dusty storage room.
Things didn't go far, as the frightened mind of a married girl prevailed over her raging heart. In the end, you fled the ball, citing poor health. But damn it, since that evening, neither of you has been able to quell the intense feelings that flared between you.
As if things weren't bad enough, a maid approached you and whispered disappointing news. Your husband had once again dodged coming to the Jaeger estate, inventing a terrible excuse. Even though you'd asked him to join you that morning so you both could return home together.
Now at the card table, you were the only Marleyan woman without a partner by your side. While Jean was the only Eldian without a wife.
Clearing your throat, you prepared to once again be embarrassed in front of the nobles of both countries.
"Ahem, counts and countesses, I hasten to inform you that my husband, Count Forster, will not be able to be here with us today. He complained of a heartache. He is very sorry, as am I."
Among all the guests at the party who muttered things like, "it's okay, your grace, don't worry," "It's a shame, but I hope he is well" Jean was the only one who didn't express regret. He spoke up later than the others.
"Complained about his heart, but he didn't think about his own wife's heart?" He threw down his cards, crossing his arms over his chest.
The man's words stirred a tinge of resentment somewhere in your chest. It was as if he was trying to embarrass you in front of representatives of two countries at once. You didn't expect to hear such words from the lips that had covered yours just months ago.
"Excuse me?" You raised an eyebrow, maintaining your composure. "My husband has health problems; risking it for alcohol and cigarettes would be foolish for anyone."
He began counting his winnings, as if they hadn't been carefully calculated by the croupier. "Whatever you say, Your Grace." He feigned indifference, not looking up from the papers in front of him.
The heat rising in your face forced you to leave the room and take a breather. You stood up and quickly apologized. "Ladies and gentlemen, I need some air; I'll be there in time for the next game."
Thanking the heavens that Count Jaeger owned such extensive property, you delved into his luxurious flower garden. Your head, overwhelmed with thoughts, felt like it would split under the pressure. You stopped in a gazebo perched above a small lotus pond.
The uncomfortable tension in your chest wouldn't go away, making your breathing ragged. The tears threatening to ruin your makeup at any moment, but fortunately you managed to hold them back.
You were used to holding back your tears on the days when your husband left you alone at the estate, or when he dared to tell you how your choice of dress seemed childish to him, and that other countesses would have chosen a more mature option. Perhaps that's why he went to visit them, staying days and nights.
"Here you are." You heard Count Kirstein's breathless voice behind you. He was clearly running, searching for you.
You didn't dare turn around, pressing your lips together. Judging by the silence behind you, he hadn't moved either. He seemed to be searching for the right words.
"I...Your Grace, I am incredibly ashamed. I apologize for the audacity of insulting you." He muttered, not moving.
You stood in silence, pondering what to do and what to say. A variety of emotions mingled in your head. However, silence was useless; he was here, standing behind you, waiting for an answer.
"Lord, please return to the estate. I'm not feeling well."
"I know. But I can't leave knowing I made you feel this way. I don't know what came over me. I had no right to act like this. Please forgive me, I'm so sorry." He took a slow step toward you.
You decided to turn around, afraid he'd be too close. "Yes, you haven't. But you said it, and you hurt my feelings." You blurted out, despite the hurt burning in your throat.
"I sincerely repent, my lady. I cannot be forgiven, yet I beg you for it. My words were not meant to offend you. But I will not hide the fact that I am angry with your husband, Count Forster. His neglect of you makes my heart boil. You do not deserve this."
"I thought we were finished with this conversation, Your Grace. My family's affairs remain outside my family. We are happy and content with our lives. I ask you not to interfere from now on." You hastened to defend your husband's fragile dignity.
"Happy? You can lie to anyone, but I see everything, from your behavior with him to the deep sadness in your eyes. Count Forster is notorious for his bad temper even without your confirmation." He frowned, restraining himself from an emotional outburst.
"Be that as it may, I repeat, it's none of your business. I have a family and responsibilities." You replied.
"Au diable les responsabilités!" (To hell with responsibilities!) He shouted, but came to his senses and cleared his throat, lowering his tone. "Forgive me. Why should you be beholden to a man like him? Why do you torture yourself and say everything is fine, my lady? It pains me to look at you. It pains me to see a cruel, dishonest man try to extinguish such a bright light as yours."
"Your Grace, you don't understand. I am a woman. I had no choice, and I have no choice. I was promised to Flo- my husband, from an early age. It would seem pathetic if I began to complain about my life, after all, I have shelter, food and an honorable title. Women from all over the country envy me. Who am I to neglect that?" You spoke out, avoiding the Count's gaze.
"My God. Forgive me for forcing you to talk about this. But I can't sleep knowing he doesn't hold you in his sleep, isn't tender to you, and doesn't cherish every second spent with you. While for months, I've been warmed only by the warmth of your lips. I live thinking that I'm one day closer to meeting you, no matter when it happens. I know there's no justice in this life, because it's unfair to you." He took a few more steps closer, walking slowly.
You turned your face to the side, avoiding his eyes, your graceful curls slid over your face. "Your words hurt my heart. But what can we do? What we did back then... it's already a sin. We shouldn't have..." You couldn't find the words, but the Count spoke again.
"Yes, it's wrong. But look me in the eyes and tell me you regret it. Even if it's a sin, even if one kiss with you is worth a thousand sins, I'm ready to be a damned sinner, because only with you did I feel how close I was to heaven." He blurted out again, and when you looked into his eyes, you saw the heaviness in them. The weight of a burden he's been carrying for a long time.
"Let lightning strike me right now if I ever tell you I'll regret this. But I'm afraid we can't afford more. Our countries have only just formed an alliance; imagine what will happen if people find out about us. I don't care what happens to me, but you... please, don't risk it because of me. Find yourself a good woman, start a family. I promise you'll forget about me." As you said these words, it seemed as if you were convincing yourself with them. After all, there is no universe in the world in which you would be happy to see him with another.
The man shook his head, as if to show how useless this advice was. "You don't understand. I'm a grown man who's only been with women I didn't love, leaving me lonely my entire life. And I swear on my honor, the night I first laid eyes on you changed my life. And the hour I was privileged to touch you... I had to pinch myself to make sure it was real. Even now, standing before you, I can hardly believe I'm awake and you're crying because of me."
And only thanks to him did you notice how wet your eyes had become, a few tears already trickling down your cheek.
"Your Grace..."
"Just Jean. Please."
"Jean... I just want you to know... I would sacrifice everything I have just to be by your side. To wake up next to you, to go to balls together, and to run the Kirstein estate. My husband is a nasty man, and despite his sins, he's constantly looking for something to blame me for. My freedom depends on him; if he leaves, it'll be on my father again."
"What do you mean by sacrifices? I'm asking because if you're willing to give me your time just one more time, then I'll come. I'll definitely come, and I'll do everything I can to keep everything from being known. And... well, forget it. I'm sorry, forget what I've just said. I'll only endanger you." He quickly retreated.
"Wait, your- Jean. I'm ready. I'm not afraid, because even if I'm executed after meeting you, I'll die with a smile on my face. And no matter how reckless this decision may seem, I won't back down from it."
"Your higness, my lady, ma belle.." He stepped decisively closer and placed his hand on your cheek. You automatically leaned into him, feeling the familiar warmth of his hand. "No one will dare lay a finger on you as long as I live. If anyone tries to come between us, I will not be gentle with them."
"So, we'll see each other later?" Your eyes lit up with hope, and his gaze softened at the smile on your face.
"We'll see each other, mon cher. I promise you." He pulled a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and gently wiped away your tears.
"But how? Where can we be alone, without prying eyes?"
"I have a hunting lodge here, in Eldia. It was given to me by Count Galliard in honor of the establishment of peace. It's located far from the estate. There's nothing nearby, it's safe. If you agree, if you're willing to give me the gift of time with you, I'll arrange everything. I'll send a letter the day the lodge is ready. I'll work out the details there. You just need to come up with an excuse." The Count intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them gently.
"I'll come as soon as I see your letter, I swear. And no one will stop me."
"I'll wait. I'll wake up and fall asleep thinking about the day I'll see you again. Now go inside the estate. I'll come in a little later, so no one suspects anything."
"Jean."
Before he could respond, you placed your hand on his cheek and, leaning toward him on your tiptoes, kissed him. Jean held you by the waist, locking your lips in a single kiss, filled with despair, pain, and months of thinking about each other.
You rested your forehead against his and looked into his eyes. "Consider this the seal of our agreement." He smiled and kissed you again, one last time before you walked into the card room and pretended nothing had happened.
2nd chapter coning soon!!
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀
Tagging those who were encouraging me for writing this in comments🫶🏼:
@bambijumpropequeenxx @memoriesofahandkerchief @xxwinterknightxx
𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎 ٠࣪⭑
⭑.ᐟ ────── 0.4K words, angst, no happy ending, set during gojo’s time at jujutsu high, f!reader (no use of pronouns), friends to lovers?, proofread but still may have errors.
The wooden flooring of the room was cold against your back, as you sprawled out, SATORU doing the same to the left. Shirts clinging to the pair's sweat-slick bodies, it was the height of summer at Jujutsu High. It was too warm for anything to be done except lie and hope the cool of the floor would ease the heat. The dorm's air conditioning had been down for the past few weeks but nobody had bothered to fix it. The weather making the room feel hazy, stuffy almost.
Notes of a song neither one of you were listening to filtered through the cd player into the congenial silence. He began to hum along, fingers dancing their way along your arm, leaving a tingling in their wake. Staring, with those bright blue eyes of his, as if you’d hung the moon. His fingers pausing on your palm,
“Ever thought about..I don’t know, us?”
Heart dropping to your stomach, the flooring beneath was hard to feel. The heat of his fingers, searing into your palm.
“Sometimes.”
Hoping the answer you’d given him would shut the conversation down. He stares at the photos of the two of you, fingers sliding back and forth upon your palm, all from various stages of life, plastering the wall. Ranging from group shots of the four of you, meaning Shoko, Geto, Gojo and you, to ones of the pair laying together at this current moment. Satoru lingered on a recently taken photo, just the two of you, a candid shot of the pair laughing, after a mission. He turns to look back at you,
“[Name],”
It was hard to keep from vomiting. You pull your hand away, and turn towards the wall, not wanting to look into those eyes.
“[Name], please look at me. You know I mean more than just friends right?”
You felt like you’d been hit by a truck, your head spinning. The floor was no longer providing a cold relief.
Maybe he was joking? If this was one of his jokes, it was a cruel one. You slowly turned to face him. His face was unreadable, eyes still lingering. The cd being the only thing that filled the room with sound, as the words turned in your head before replying,
“Satoru, don’t do this. Not now.”
“If I don’t I never will, I want to be more, more than this.”
He was waiting for an answer, one that you couldn't give him. It’s so hard to say the truth even when it’s on the tips of one's tongue.
There was someone else, someone who wasn’t him.
⭑.ᐟ ────── authors note: not me writing 2 drabbles today after not publishing anything in a while, watch me not write anything after this 😭🙏. requests are open and feedback is appreciated! 💗
masterlist
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐄 ᝰ.ᐟ
⭑.ᐟ ────── 0.4K words, established relationship, f!reader (but no use of pronouns), spoilers for shiratorizawa match, fluff, kind of a sequel to this, proofread but still may have errors.
The roar of the crowd and teammates was loud in his ears.
Karasuno had made it to nationals.
Compliments were being thrown at TSUKISHIMA KEI, especially from his freckled friend, Yamaguchi. Pats upon the back of accomplishment were also received, he graciously thanked them but his attention was elsewhere.
His eyes skimming through the crowd hoping to find a familiar face. He found who he was looking for, in between Saeko and Yachi adorned in the iconic black and orange jersey. Specifically the one with a white number eleven etched upon the front, his jersey. His eyes catching yours, he couldn’t contain the smile that was beginning to form as you looked at him with such admiration. Tsukishima waved his hand signalling you to join him.
Your heart was pounding as you made the way down to the court, weaving you way through gaggles of people, letting out a hurried, excuse me’s and sorry’s as you went by. His eyes never leaving you as you made your way over.
As soon as he was in your line of sight you rushed over, arms snaking around his neck pressing yourself against him at an attempt at a hug. His body stiffened at first but soon loosened up, arms encircling your waist the grip tight. Ignoring the fact that Tsukishima had just finished playing a long game of volleyball and his jersey was slick with sweat.
“Congrats, Tsukki you’re blocks were incredible.”
“It’s all thanks to you, I like you’re shirt, it looks good on you.”
He retorted, a smug smirk plastered upon his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at a compliment, face burning. He leaned down, breath tickling the side of you neck as he whispered only so you could hear,
“You should really come to watch more of my games, you’re good luck.”
You tucked yourself into the crook of his neck hoping he wouldn’t notice the warmth rising upon your face again.
Comments and whistles of teammates who bared witness to the event started, most of them if not all of them were coming from Tanaka and Nishnoya.
“I’ve never seen Tsukki show so much emotion before!”
The rest of the team erupted into fits of laughter at the comment. Tsukishima tried to play it off but the reddening tips of his ears gave him away. You giggled at the comment too, and he groaned,
“Not you too, you’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I mean, he isn’t wrong.”
He shook his head in disbelief but the smile that was beginning to creep in said otherwise.
⭑.ᐟ ────── authors note: sorry for being inactive with writing, writers block really hit hard. photos used aren't mine credits to whoever uploaded them to pinterest. feeback appreciated as i haven't written anything in so long.
masterlist
𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀'𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 ⪩. .⪨
zoro - one piece
space
outro
hidden kisses
tsukishima - haikyuu
moonstruck
stand by me
gojo - jujutsu kaisen
say it ain’t so
𖦹 Boyfriend!armin & sick!reader (req)
Armin never thought he would have to use the spare key.
You weren't answering the the door nor your phone. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't concerned.
Hurriedly taking off his shoes by the front door. He called out your name, walking through your apartment.
Feeling the slightest relief when he found you wrapped in your comforter. A box of tissues next to you. Your phone is flipped over, muffled by your other pillow— no wonder you didn’t hear/see his notifications.
"When d'you get here?" You sounded both congested and tired at the same time.
“I just got here, you weren’t answering your phone— I got worried.”
You flip over and find your phone, staring at the missed messages. “Oh, m’sorry.”
“Don’t be…” pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. He’s now grateful from how many wiki-how pages he’s read. Taking care of a sick person should be easy, in theory at least.
Armin disappears for a short while, coming back with a cup of hot tea. His coat is gone now, probably draped over one of the chairs.
Finally emerging from the fabric wrapped around you, taking the cup in your hand, holding it like a lifeline. The steam starts to clear up your nostrils. And after a moment you can finally breathe again.
But your boyfriend notices that you’re still cold even though the heater is on full blast. The tea is set aside on your bedside table. Climbing onto the other side of your bed, pulling you to his chest. Rubbing circles along your shoulder. The cold subsides, feeling the warmth of his body.
I actually hate tea idk, Im a sucker for sick fics 😋 @kamislop
© ie4ri 2026 . all rights reserved.

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ok ok three random leon s. kennedy soft headcanons
𐙚 He's been the first person to acquaint you on how to handle a gun properly. Rough, calloused hands brush against your fingers as he shows you how to control the trigger and barrel, slowly aiming at target with your hand intertwined with his.
"That's it, baby. Just breathe." He whispers.
Warm breath grazes against your neck as you close on eye to fixate on the object infront of you two, mapping out the surroundings before aiming.
His sight never leaves you, observing how your chest rises and falls with each breath—the small tremor in your fingers and how oddly appealing you look with his guns on you.
He quietly offers you the time you need, his front pressed into you from behind to ensure the trigger won't push you back too far and end up injuring you.
He doesn't flinch or move when your pointy nudges the trigger, shooting straight ahead with a loud bang. He smiles fond to himself, you're a natural—as expected of his girl.
He sighs softly, fingers cradling your head before pressing a light kiss to your head. "So proud of you."
𐙚 He kisses you like there's no tomorrow, because frankly his job has him missing and starving you like crazy. He's afraid any other day his next mission might pull you apart again, so he doesn't half ass your time together and especially not when your soft lips are just in reach.
He's gentle with it, at first, fingers threading around your neck to hold onto you. His mouth moves with yours in slow rhythm, savoring the heat of your breath, the small gasps that slip past you and his favourite—fingers digging into his arms like he's all you can hold onto.
He's patient, but even his composure shatters after a long day. It's not long before his tongue demands entrance, groaning when you oblige without second thought.
"Fuck, you feel so good." He grunts before diving in again, kissing you with more fever.
He'll guide you two towards the next chair, sofa, bed, he doesn't care, anywhere to pull you onto his lap to feel your body squeezing into him while tasting you to the fullest.
𐙚 He's a loyal boyfriend. He carries a small photo of you in the pocket of his uniform no matter where he's heading and even cares for the matching rings he's bought for you two.
He's usally very busy but even with his schedule, you occupy his mind more than once a day. It's the fleeting thoughts when something remembers him of his girl.
He's professional and all serious but once he gets to wind down, his mind circles around you—have you been taking care? What are you doing?
He's just as lonely as you are when he hasn't been home for a few days, but that has never let his love for you die down.
for my cutie miri hihihiheue ^_^
Jeon Seok-dae | Your sweet nothings
Summary: After his release from prison, Seok-dae finds refuge in the tiny apartment of the girl he once protected.
Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of angst, trauma, violence and brief mentions of blood.
Note: English is not my first language so feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes.
The heavy prison doors opened, dragging loudly against the concrete floor. To Jeon Seok-dae, that sound marked the definitive end of the absolute worst months of his life.
can i request a zoro x reader where she gets attached to him after he saves her and she's always showing her affection towards him, such as taking care of him, worrying about him and let's say she's a very...affectionate person who cares about the ones around her, but when it comes to him, the rest of the crew can see the difference (except him bc he can be a very obvilious cutie sometimes lol), he never gets uncomfortable or annoyed about that, he's just, you know, zoro 🥹 also he doesn't like to admit, but he likes it and gets jealous when she's with sanji? she can be anything you chose her to be (doctor, musician, saleswoman, you decide it)
i started watching the anime version while we wait for season 3 and let's say i'm more in love w him, opla zoro and anime zoro are both my loves 🙂↕️ i love your writing btw ♥️
truth for a truth - roronoa zoro
summary: you had already developed feelings for the man who saved you. now if only he could realize it as obviously as everyone else…
warnings: language, TENSION, jealousy, tension, wingman sanji!, tension, reader is PINING after this man, zoro is struggling™️, pda!, brief kissing- heavy/ boarding make out, public kiss, mild angst
Jujutsu Kaisen Season 4 — The Culling Game Arc Part 2
༝༚༝༚
Dante loved kissing you in absolutely random moments and random places. The affection always slipped out in little impulsive moments, for him every place, every second and every circumstance was suited for a kiss.
𑣲 In the middle of gunfire he’ll casually pull you behind cover, kiss you once like he’s been thinking about it all day, needing to taste you desperately for a moment to function properly, then go right back to shooting.
𑣲 He absolutely kisses you after particularly stylish kills. Sword still dripping demon blood, grin sharp, “You see that combo, babe?” as he kisses you deeply, tasting your tongue like he's taking himself a prize for doing a good job.
𑣲 You’d be washing demon grime off your hands in some destroyed motel restroom and he’ll sneak up behind you, chin on your shoulder, then kiss the side of your neck slowly till his lips climb up your jaw and turns you more his way so he can meet your lips.
𑣲 He’d kiss you in elevators during awkward silence purely for entertainment. Using that brief moment of you two being completely alone and secluded in a cramp space, he possessed ability to make things real intense in such a short amount of time. Sometimes even clicking random buttons just to make the elevator ride way longer than it was supposed to take. And you'd always need to go through that embarrassing moment of getting out and passing through people waiting for their turn. Their eyes on your flushed faced, disheveled clothing and chest raising with quickened breath while your man looked all smug and proud.
𑣲 Dante kisses like he’s trying to leave you dizzy on purpose. Even quick kisses somehow feel intense with him because he always pulls you closer first; hand on your waist, thumb under your chin, fingers hooked in your belt loop, pulling your necklace, anything to keep you near him.
𑣲 If you grab his jacket or hair while kissing him, he completely loses composure for a second. You can actually feel him pause before kissing you harder, deeper, devouring your mouth and it gets real hard to keep him in tact.

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Can I req the one bed trope tjingyy with Vergil 🥹 not nsfw or anything but I love that cheesy trope it’s so good I don’t care if it’s overused but uahhhhh yeah thank you I recently found your stuff and I love it
of course you can! i’m a sucker for this trope tooo, so walk with me 🫰🏼
a/n: hints of childhood. softy vergil cuz he’s just that cute. takes place in season 2 for dmc netflix adaptation!
spending multiple hours entertaining a high-energy little girl is a handful, for sure. all you wanted to do now was knock out on a bed, couch, anything with some sort of cushioning.
you don’t even remember if you could manage all that running around when you were little.
luckily for you, lucan had rooms that were prepared for you, vergil, dante, and lady while you stayed overnight to watch over the arcana’s destruction.
the four of you stand in the hallway, about to part off for the night before lady brings up something important.
“wait, there’s four of us. and two bedrooms.”
radio silence.
“… we could split boys and girls.” you suggest after swallowing a pill of dread.
dante’s gaze immediately snaps to you. you glance back. and in all seriousness, the two of you have a full conversation with looks.
because he knows how you feel about his brother. the thing is, you don’t know about how vergil feels about you.
dante’s eyes flicker to vergil, then at you. go with him.
you squint. hell no, are you crazy?
the idiot grins in response. don’t act like you don’t want to.
i’m not having this conversation with you. you glare back at him.
lady notices the weird tension between the two of you, the way you’re looking oddly at one another. “what’s wrong with you two?”
you open your mouth to respond, but dante opens his loud mouth faster.
“i’ll share a room with lady. vergil, you’ll share with her.” he proposes, too giddy for the lovely opportunity chaos he’s caused.
vergil tenses beside you. you can feel it, even if you’re not looking at him. not that you want to. “what?” he questions.
“okay, goodnight!” dante starts to gallop down the hallway before you can get close to sock him in his throat.
you just stare at his shrinking frame in disbelief. lady takes one step, flashing an expression of amusement, before slowly following behind dante.
traitors. both of them.
vergil shifting his weight brings you back to the present, your head shooting up. he’s already looking at you. “are you sure you’re okay with this?” vergil asks.
you don’t answer for a moment. but you nod anyway.
and that’s how you got here.
the two of you walked to your bedroom for the night. vergil’s hand turns the handle, allowing you to step in first. but you stop immediately in your tracks.
there’s one bed.
the heat creeps up ridiculously fast across your neck, moving to your features. “okay, am i hallucinating?” your voice sounds small to your ears.
“what do you mean?” vergil huffs, stepping in after you and seeing the issue. “oh.”
“i can sleep on the floor, really.” you immediately offer, turning to him with your hands in front of you.
his face contorts into something that close to a scowl. “absolutely not. i’m not letting you sleep like that.”
the door clicks behind you. the bed itself isn’t really tiny, looks twin sized, but it won’t fit two people just right.
vergil steps past you towards the bed, lowering himself onto its edge. his hand gently pats the space next to him. “come on. it’ll be okay.”
he grins slightly. “i don’t bite.”
you take a hesitant step towards him, before fully commiting and sitting beside him.
“i don’t remember you being this shy.” he notes. you huff a breath of oxygen in response. “we were kids back then.”
“you were worse than me. always hid behind things.”
“i was scared one of you would blow something into oblivion.”
the room settles into a silence for a moment, but it isn’t suffocating. it’s full, relaxing the nerves that settled into your body.
“y’know, i can sleep on the floor if you want me to.” vergil murmurs, turning his head to meet your gaze. “if you’re uncomfortable, there’s no—“
“stay.” you voice, steady and sure.
vergil’s eyes widen slightly. “you’re sure?”
“haven’t been more sure of anything.”
he holds your eye contact for a moment, before getting up and slowly shrugging his blue coat off, leaving him in the sleeveless top underneath.
your gaze lingers far longer than you would’ve allowed it to, before scooting yourself back onto the bed.
your hands find the covers as you slide yourself under, allowing it to pool at your waist. vergil drapes his coat along a chair before striding to the other side of the bed.
“you can still back out.” vergil mentions, bringing one knee up to join you on the bed. but you shake your head in answer. “‘m fine.”
he turns the bedside lamp off, silently moving under the covers. his body takes up most of its space, and he’s warm. so warm that you can feel it emanating from him.
sharing a bed with your childhood crush. how cute is that?
the silence settles over the room again. your back’s facing him, and his chest is practically pressed against you. you attempt to shut your eyes, but you’re too aware of vergil behind you.
his hand grazes your hip accidentally, but you don’t find yourself moving away. instead, you instinctively lean into it.
vergil seems to notice the motion with the quiet hitch of his breath, and he doesn’t pull away this time. slowly, tentatively, his hand trails to rest on your hip fully.
your back’s fully pressed against his body, yet neither of you say anything. the feel of his touch fills everything that neither of you voiced audibly.
“are you okay with this?” vergil murmurs, voice hushed against your ear. you nod against him. “yeah.”
after another moment, his arm fully drapes around you, gently tugging you closer into his body, his head coming to rest on top of your own.
“goodnight,” vergil whispers, the vibrations warming all the corners of your body.
“g’night, vergil.” you slur back, voice laced with sleep.
looks like you’ll have to thank dante tomorrow.
i don’t know if you write fluff but.. if u do… maybe.. first date/kiss with armin? 🥹 it could be idk a frat party eren forced him to go and socialize or maybe a tender friends-to-lovers-coffee-shop thing IDK IDK im nervous
a/n: yes i do write for sfw stuff too!! this request is so cute, hope i did it justice :p
c/w: just kissing
words: 1.1k
you weren't even aware that armin arlert was asking you out on a date because he said it so softly, so under his breath, that you almost missed it.
"what was that, min?" you asked, eyes peering over your laptop while the two of you sat at the same table on the second floor of the library.