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serverusslaype · 1 year

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Shameless, pt. 8

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

omg hi guys.............

i'm so sorry for leaving it this long, i just literally could not write anything, my brain was absolutely fogged up - probably because i had covid unknowingly lmao. this is another long chapter so i hope this makes up for it! <3

thank you for reading and for all your kind messages and support, i appreciate you all so much. i know i say this constantly but i really mean it. stay safe and keep healthy, guys!! love you :')

let's get this train on the ROAD!!!

The summer of '93 was an interesting feat, to say the least. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, and you'd found yourself dating someone you never thought you would.

You had not expected yourself to be caught up in a whirlwind type of romance, especially not by someone you'd despised back in school. Yet, here you were, arm in arm with none other than school menace, Benjamin Bluewater. The two of you were currently strolling through Hogsmeade, wide smiles spread across your rosy-cheeked, cold faces. The snow crunched beneath your feet as Ben wrapped an affectionate arm around your waist, pulling you close against him. You failed horribly at trying to hide the bashful smile that picked at the corners of your shivering lips.

"I'm gonna miss seeing you every other day." Ben said, giving you a squeeze.

"Yeah," you hummed happily, glancing up, "this summer has been very..." You trailed off, struggling to find the words. Ben glanced down at you, a lazy half-smile reaching his lips.

"Unexpected?" He chuckled, finishing your sentence for you.

A grin broke out on your face and Ben leant down to plant a soft kiss against your smiling mouth. "Definitely." You replied against his lips, nodding softly, letting your eyes fall back to the powdery-white trail in front of you as he pulled away. "You can visit me if it gets too hard." You teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. It'd only been a month and a bit of seeing Ben, but he really had you hooked. Each time you saw him, the agonising thought of you and Snape melted away from your mind a little bit more. You felt like you'd finally got control - he was no longer dictating how you felt. However, you did feel a tad bit guilty. At times it felt like you were using Ben to get over the broody Potions Master. You didn't dare tell him about it either, you were pretty sure that he wouldn't take it well - in fact, you were certain he wouldn't. How would he believe that you'd fallen for the man that used to cause the pair of you grief in school? For starters, he used to be your teacher all those years ago, and secondly, in Ben's mind, he considered Snape an ugly old git.

"I think you'll be the first to crack, Y/N." Ben nudged you back, prompting a playful scoff to fall from your mouth. Ben's lips broke into a grin, pleased with your reaction.

"As if," You choked. "Wait, who was it again that turned up at my door the day after our first date? Oh yeah, you." You scrunched your nose up at him and poked out your tongue, though, your attention was soon hooked by the flash of what looked like a figure dressed in all-black. Your breath caught in your throat as your head snapped to the left, eyes flicking desperately between the forest of pine trees, searching for what you thought you had seen. Ben picked up on your change in behaviour almost immediately.

It couldn't be, you thought, heart suddenly beginning to race.

"You okay?" His bushy brows furrowed at your unusual skittish demeanour, clearly worried about you. Ben's alarmed voice did not compute in your head. "Hey," His hand slipped from your arm and fell to your wrist, tugging it at it to pull you from your thoughts, inducing a soft gasp from you as you spun on your heel to face Ben. It looked as if you had just seen a ghost of some sort.

"What?" You questioned softly, blinking. Ben stared at you.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost, Y/N." He said, concerned. You swallowed and wet your lips, looking down at the ground as he brushed his thumb tenderly against your wrist.

"I'm alright." You looked back up at Ben, placing a forced smile upon your lips. He didn't seem convinced, though he didn't press you. He gave you the benefit of the doubt. "Just, err, just a little on edge, you know with, erm, the whole Sirius Black thing." You lied, a nervous chuckle leaving your throat.

"I don't think the mass murderer known as Sirius Black would bother himself with a place such as Hogsmeade, Y/N." Ben smiled, almost amusedly at you. You stayed silent, not sure what to say. Ben let his blue eyes to flick between yours, almost like he was attempting to read your mind. You broke the connection and glanced away, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine. Ben sighed gently and looked ahead of the two of you. The town of Hogsmeade was settled in the distance, shrouded in a cloudy mist. An idea popped in his mind. "Would a tea or a hot beverage of some sort make you feel a little better?"

"Um, yes, I could go for a tea." You nodded lightly, looking back to Ben. A small smile graced his features as he let his warm hand slip into yours. The corners of your lips tugged upwards a little. Ben felt at ease once more as your pretty face was lit up with that bright smile of yours. He couldn't resist placing another sweet kiss upon your lips.

"Alright. Let's go, I know just the place."

You laid on your bed in your quarters at Hogwarts, the pale sunlight peeking through your curtains was slowly ceasing as the evening began to set in. Your mind was constantly reeling back to yesterday afternoon. You continuously replayed the memory of the flash of black in your mind, attempting to put a name to what it was. A sigh of frustration left your lips, leading into a groan. You refused to acknowledge who you thought it was. There was just no way.

All those feelings and thoughts that you'd buried and hidden away with the idea of Ben started to creep back out of it's cage and it frightened you. Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that you'd move on so quickly. A month and a bit was definitely not enough time to heal. Yes, you were unquestionably foolish to think that forty-three days was a satisfactory amount of time to rid yourself of the thought of someone you had been near almost every day for a year.

Whatever, you thought. It'll pass. It will... won't it?

Gods, now you were doubting yourself. You knew you still felt deeply for Snape, of course you did, you spent almost a whole year in his presence, but you thought dating someone else in the meantime would have solved some of that. Jesus, that's messed up. Were you just using Ben to get over Snape? This was so wrong on so many levels. You liked Ben, truly you did, but you always found yourself comparing him to Severus. The way he spoke, the way he moved... your mind was plagued with him, and you were an idiot to think that locking away the thought of Severus would do anything but help yourself. You did this to yourself, and now you deserved to deal with the consequences. You just had to act like your feelings for him didn't exist, maybe that would help. …Maybe it wouldn't, but that was the best idea you had right now.

You needed to clear your head, and badly. Your buzzing thoughts were starting to drown you. You quickly slipped out of your bed and headed out of your room, quietly shutting the door behind you. Just as you were about to turn around to walk down the hallway, a tall, shabby looking man stood in your way. He had light brown hair with flecks of grey in it, a fluffy moustache and a rather painful looking scar was scraped across the middle of his handsome face.

"Oh- hello," You said in surprise, confusion evident in your tone. The man smiled at you jovially, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He looked rather tired and pale. You tilted your head at him, furrowing your brows.

"I apologise for scaring you," The man pursed his lips as he attempted a light-hearted joke, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm Remus, err, Remus Lupin, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor." He added, his eyebrows raising a tad.

"Oh, yes, of course!" You instantly smiled, your cheeks turning a little red out of embarrassment. Lupin found it rather endearing. You scolded yourself for forgetting soemthing so important - Dumbledore had mentioned this the day before you left for Summer break. "I'm so sorry, it had totally slipped my mind. My name is Y/N L/N," Your smile widened as you held out a friendly hand for him to shake. "I'm the professor of Herbology here at Hogwarts."

"Ah," He nodded, returning your smile and shaking your hand. His grip was firm. "Lovely to meet you. I hope we get along well, Professor L/N." Remus said trustingly, his hands returning to his pockets. You clasped yours together, resting them against your hips out of habit.

"I'm sure we will, and please, call me Y/N." You grinned. Remus gave you a curt nod. "Is this your first day here?"

"Teaching yes, but in regards to having been here before? No." He replied.

"Oh?"

"I attended Hogwarts as a small boy, so it's a little nostalgic walking round the place again." Remus explained, earning a surprised look from you.

"It seems as though every single teacher here also used to be a student here." You laughed lightly, inducing an amused smile from the new professor.

"It seems that way, yes." Remus nodded.

"Well, I hope to see you around, Remus." You smiled politely at him, noticing the way he slumped slightly in posture, almost like he was trying to hide himself. Remus returned your smile and dismissed you with a nod, continuing past you with a slow gait. You let yourself think for a moment. Those scars looked pretty horrific, they looked rather... deep. A grimace twisted your facial features as your mind raced with quite gruesome and morbid theories on how Lupin had acquired those wounds. You shook your head rather vigorously as if to relieve your mind of the grisly images that were popping in and out of it.

The hallways and corridors of Hogwarts were peacefully empty once again. Students, old and new, were still back at home preparing for the next school year that began in just a couple days. Goosebumps erupted on your body out of anticipation as you thought about what the year could hold - though, you were mainly excited to get back to teaching your beloved subject. In fact, you'd missed it a lot over the summer. More than you expected to, despite the distraction called Ben.

A tiny smile flickered on your lips at the thought of him, your eyes glued to the floor in front of you as your feet carried you forwards, a cool chill wrapping itself around your bare shoulders. You were wearing a thick-ish, buttercup-yellow night dress; the sleeves reached your wrists, but it was a little baggy up top, causing the wide neckline to slip partially off your shoulder. The chill made you quickly pull it up with your fingers, enveloping yourself with your arms.

Bumping into Professor Lupin outside your room had caught you off-guard. The thought of grabbing a coat of some sort had slipped from your mind the second your curious and confused eyes fell onto him. You shivered slightly, cursing yourself for being so forgetful sometimes. It might have been late August, but Scotland's freezing climate left no survivors.

"Did you not think it unwise to go around strolling in such... poorly thought out attire, Professor L/N? It is almost as cold as the arctic." That deep voice that had caused you so much grief and heartache shot through your head like a stray bullet. You froze in your position, your breath hitching as you refused to turn around to acknowledge the man that spoke with such articulated words it seemed laughable. You felt like you couldn't move. Like you were in a glue trap, like a little mouse.

Eventually, you thawed. "I'm not cold." You replied shortly, reluctantly turning around to face Snape. Your heart instantly sped into a gallop as your eyes fell onto his tall, brooding figure. Then and there, thought of Ben entered your mind as you stared at the Potions Master, immediately comparing the two. You knew Ben didn't make your heart race like he did. Your shoulders suddenly slumped with guilt. You shouldn't be thinking any of this. Ben was good for you, he treated you with kindness and respect, and most of all, he actually liked you.

"Your trembling figure says otherwise." Snape tilted his head at you, scrutinising you. Right then you wanted to shrink down into nothingness. You couldn't bear to feel so vulnerable underneath his eyes. Somehow, Snape looked better than the last time you saw him. And you hated that. You were sure you looked utterly terrible right now.

"I'm fine." You said sternly, dragging out the syllables as you fought back the bitter glare that was itching to break out onto your face.

"Fine, hm..." Snape drawled, almost mocking and sarcastic, letting his dark eyes drop down your figure, studying your improper outfit. You hugged yourself tighter at the sight, cheeks suddenly burning as you felt rather self-conscious. His brows knitted together suddenly, like something had just clicked in his mind. "Why aren't you wearing a coat?"

You hesitated. "I forgot to grab one." Snape's brow arched at you disapprovingly. You fought the urge to groan at him. "I bumped into the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, outside my door." You explained, tone flat. "It's not like you care whether I freeze to death or not anyway." You added, rather bitterly. Snape narrowed his eyes at you, glaring. He did care, but he would never show it. Not right now, at least.

"Lupin?" He repeated, ignoring your last comment as his jaw ticked out of irritation. You frowned at his odd reaction. "I suggest you stay away from him, Professor L/N. For your own..." Snape trailed off, pondering on his words as he let his eyes sweep over you in a patronising manner. "...good." He uttered, almost like a warning. You were completely and utterly confused. Why did Snape seem so unwelcoming towards Lupin, he'd just joined Hogwarts, unless there was... history between them? Was there?

"What's wrong with Remus?" You asked, eyes narrowing in curiosity and suspicion about his feelings regarding the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape's jaw clenched at the sound of Lupin's first name, almost like he flinched. "He seemed perfectly kind and pleasant earlier."

Snape didn't reply. A harsh, exasperated sigh fell through your nose as you rolled your eyes at the enigmatic man before you, growing tired of his games. Why did he always act so cryptic? What was the problem with telling you the truth? Would it be so bad?

Before you could protest and poke at his mind, Snape began to stalk away from you, prompting a curt scoff to leave your lips. Your teeth were gritted out of frustration as you stared at the back of his head. Christ, he really hadn't changed - he was still pissing you off at an almighty rate. At this point, it was impressive.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, forcing Snape to halt in his tracks. He turned his head to the left, silently encouraging you to continue. "Would you just answer me?"

"I don't owe you anything." Snape said rather coldly. You clenched your jaw rather angrily at his rude reply. Jesus, will this guy ever just bite the bullet for once and give in?

"When you tell me to 'avoid' Professor Lupin, I think that demands an explanation as to why I should, Snape," You said, shaking your head at him like he was daft. "You must be delusional to think otherwise!" That must have struck a nerve within the Potions Master, as he swiftly spun around, his cloak turning with him dramatically like a bat, making you shrink in regret. He stormed over to you, footsteps heavy and determined. You backed yourself up, a little unnerved by his sudden and intense approach towards you. Snape got right up in your face and you could feel his hot breath dance across your skin, sending anxious goosebumps down your spine. It felt like your heart was about to fall out of your chest from the high gear it had suddenly kicked into.

How could- no, why was your body still reacting so fiercely to Snape? Weren't you meant to be focusing on Ben?

"Lupin is not who you think he is, Y/N." Snape warned, snapping you out of your thoughts. It nearly sounded like there was a hint of concern in his voice, like he was worried about you. You had to laugh at that, as if Snape - the man who had pretended like you didn't exist for half a year - cared for you. He'd never stoop to such a pathetic ideal. You brushed the hurtful lie under a dusty rug in your mind, averting your attention back to the pair of deep, obsidian-coloured eyes that sat mere inches away from your own.

"And how do you know that?" You challenged, a hint of venom in your voice as you mocked his serious tone. Snape sneered at you, leaning back from your face, like he was disgusted.

"Your ignorance is blinding." He replied bitterly, still refusing to explain anything to you. At this point he seemed like a child to you. From his the way he glared at you, and reeled back from your agitated little form, Snape seemed to be disappointed in you. You didn't think he had a leg to stand on with that idea.

And so, that was your last straw, you couldn't hold in your frustration anymore; it felt like all the pressure that had been building up beneath your skin was coming to a rise and it had finally burst at the seams. "Jesus, Snape!" You cried out, infuriated, your hands flying up to pull helplessly at your hair. "Why is it so hard for you to answer me?! Are you so incapable of that?!"

Snape seemed a little taken aback by your outburst as the ill feeling of deja vu began to seep into his bones. This felt a little too familiar: it reminded him of that night he found you drunk. Yet, right now, you were stone-cold sober, and still shouting the same things at him. In regards to your outburst, he truly hadn't seen it coming, and yet, he was almost always aware of how you were feeling. He could read you so easily. To him, you were like a book he'd read almost a thousand times. He remained quiet again, unsure of how to reply to your instantaneous combustion; a briefly-lived feeling of worry that he'd add more fuel to the fire.

He couldn't reveal the reason to you. He'd given Dumbledore his word that he would not speak of Lupin's condition. In fact, Snape had doubted Dumbledore's usually-wise judgement when he mentioned that he'd hired Lupin. The Potions Master thought the Headmaster had gone mad for openly inviting a werewolf into Hogwarts, let alone allowing him to teach classes full of children. And then, he'd found himself roped into producing the Wolfsbane potion so Lupin could keep his wretched condition of Lycanthropy at bay. Snape still doubted the whole idea. He knew it was doomed from the very beginning. Balancing the safety of Hogwarts on the constant, perfect production of a potion and the hope that Lupin was competent enough to remember to take it each day of the preceding week of a full moon?

Doomed, Snape thought.

Despite your best efforts of attempting to force the answer out of Snape, he knew you'd figure it out sooner or later once you noticed which ingredients he'd be borrowing from you. He had faith that you were smart enough to work it out. So, he stood straighter in front of you, wordlessly giving you his answer as he turned around to walk away from you.

No.

"A warm, warm welcome back to you all!" Dumbledore's raspy voice boomed through the Great Hall, the applause from students and staff alike to quickly quietening down. You were seated comfortably between McGonagall and Hagrid, and it felt awfully similar to last year. Just a year ago, you had no idea what you were strapping yourself in for. "Before we indulge ourselves in this delectable feast, I'd like to welcome Professor RJ Lupin, who will be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said, turning around to gesture to Lupin with eccentric, wrinkly hands. The professor stood up goofily with anxiously-clasped hands, giving a grateful nod to the Hall as they applauded him. He caught your eye, and you sent him an encouraging smile, ignoring Snape's distasteful face beside Lupin.

"Good luck, professor! Now, our teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken than none other than our own, Rubeus Hagrid!" The Headmaster announced as he spun around to gesture to the half-man-half-giant sat happily beside you, a genial smile spreading across the Dumbledore's face. Applause and whoops erupted in the Hall once more as Hagrid gave a short nod and a cheerful smile to the hooting crowd. You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, prompting him to stand up, his large belly shoving the table forwards with a sharp screech; a handful of glass goblets falling over and smashing. McGonagall looked up at the newly-appointed professor rather disappointedly before eyes her goblet that now laid shattered before her.

"Finally, on a more describing note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will until further notice play host to the dementors of Azkaban, until such a time Sirius Black is captured." Dumbledore said, a stern and serious tone taking place of his usual reserved one. Gods, how could you have forgotten? Mass murderer Sirius Black was still on the loose. Apparently the thought of Snape was enough to distract you from a highly important news article. And now, one of the most feared creatures of the Wizarding World was going to be lingering around Hogwarts? This was not what you signed up for. Your teeth started to chew against the inside of your bottom lip anxiously.

"Will they be on the school grounds?" You whispered to Minerva beside you, failing miserably at trying to hide the shaky fear within your voice. She instantly looked at you, smiling softly. You'd always had a phobia of dementors, and now the fact that they were going to be lurking around the school had put you on edge. Merlin, can this year get any worse?

"I'm not sure, my dear." Minerva replied to you quietly, subtly noticing the fear swimming in your eyes. The older witch placed a hand upon yours in an attempt to soothe your anxiety. "There's nothing to worry about, I assure you." You merely nodded at her, unbelieving. Nothing to worry about, sure. It's not like some savage, minacious murderer is on the loose.

"The dementors willl be stationed at every entrance to the grounds." There goes your sanity. "Now, whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution: dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt, and the one who gets in their way." You hated the way that Dumbledore spoke of the dementors, and it hardly settled your trembling and anxious mind. No, in fact, it bloody well worsened it. The old man was basically saying if you get in their way, it's a death sentence. They have no sense to decide whether you're a threat or not, or they just don't care.

Either way, you were screwed. You could not produce a Patronus charm, let alone a corporeal one, and it was something that played on your mind a lot. You could never find the right memory to do so. Every happy memory you flicked through in your mind, it just wasn't happy enough. So, if you came into contact with a dementor, you were, let's say, royally fucked. Was your life that sad?

"Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you, give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving. But, you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light." The Headmaster finished with a cryptic riddle, making you sigh a little heavier than expected, catching an intrigued look from Hagrid. Sorry, but what the fuck does that even mean, Dumbledore? You were well aware that Dumbledore was undoubtedly an ingenious and powerful wizard, but sometimes, the things that came out of his mouth just sounded like nonsense. Maybe he just said those random things to keep up his mysterious act.

As you looked up from the nervous, fidgeting fingers in your lap, your eyes locked with that same pair of black, emotionless ones that were staring so deeply into yours just last night. Immediately, you looked away, your cheeks flushing red out of embarrassment, and perhaps, suppressed affection. There was that weighty feeling of guilt again, finding your shoulders once more. Ben's smiling face materialised in your mind as you shut your eyes, attempting to rid yourself of the buzzing feeling that Snape had awakened within you. With just one look into his eyes, you were melting back into your old ways.

You heard the creaking of a chair shift beside you as a gentle mass poked your side. "A'right down there?" Hagrid questioned quietly, noticing your subtle change in demeanour. You were suddenly stiff in your seat.

"Yeah, yeah, fine thanks, Hagrid." You cleared your throat, avoiding those two addicting pools of inky-black.

"Hmm." Hagrid hummed beside you, obviously skeptical about your curt response. He let his eyes flick to where you were previously looking, his stomach sinking as he spotted the broody cause of your sudden mood change. Hagrid didn't bother pressing you for answers, he knew you had enough on your plate, and he would rather you come to him. The last time you spoke about your problems regarding Snape, you were in tears, or you would burst into tears, there wasn't really an inbetween.

Silently, you were thankful that the newly-appointed professor beside you chose to keep shtum.

As you glanced back to where Snape sat, he was completely avoiding your eyes too, however, as you continued looking over in his direction, the wave of a hand beside the Potions Master caught your eye. Flicking your gaze to the right, you noticed it was Lupin waving sheepishly at you, a kind smile tugging at his scarred lips. You returned his smile and waved back, turning to the professors beside you as he glanced away from you.

"Professor Lupin seems to be a kind soul." You commented outloud, a genial smile upon your lips. McGonagall glanced at you, eyeing your curiously.

"Yes," She agreed slowly, her eyes gently dissecting you. "Have you met before?"

"No, I just bumped into him a couple nights ago, by my door."

"Yer' door?" Hagrid repeated in an octave higher than usual, intrigued.

"He just happened to be there when I walked out." You frowned, wide eyes looking up at the gigantic man, trying to understand what he was insinuating.

"Right, right." Hagrid quickly said, almost awkwardly as his cheeks reddened a tad, averting his eyes from your suspicious ones. Minerva's lips quirked into a small, amused smirk as she glanced between you and Hagrid. "Well, this food looks delicious, ay?" He cleared his throat, raising his brows as he glanced down at your plates that were now burdened with a generous amount of steaming hot meat and vegetables. You couldn't help but laugh softly to yourself at Hagrid's awkwardness. It was sweet to you.

Before you let yourself indulge in the plate full of food in front of you, you dared to look in the direction of a certain gloomy individual. Snape had already begun to eat, which surprised you. He usually takes a few bites and retires to his office, but this time, he'd stayed. You frowned to yourself as you stared at him, observing the glum way he kept to himself, avoiding any kind of conversation. Once more, you found yourself yearning for him. And yet again, your heart and mind were telling you two different things.

"Isn't that a Mimbulus Mimbletonia plant, professor?" Came Neville Longbottom's curious voice, his inquisitive eyes dragging over the plant you held cautiously in your arms. A cheery smile graced your lips as you nodded at the boy.

"Yes, indeed it is, Mr Longbottom." You said proudly, inducing a thrilled smile from Neville. "Can anyone tell me what it's uses are?" You asked, glancing around your greenhouse at mostly confused faces. You had an inkling that none of them would know the answer, perhaps apart from Hermione or Neville, who you noticed seemed to excel in Herbology. Though, Hermione wasn't in your class this morning. So to you, it was all down to Neville.

"Stinksap, right?" Neville answered quickly, his bunny-like teeth sticking out from underneath his top lip as he stared at you, awaiting your reply.

"Correct, and what can we use stinksap for?" You questioned, your smile widening at Neville. A sense of accomplishment suddenly tickled your body - maybe your students were listening to you and learning. You were a little worried that you hadn't exactly made an impact on them. As you got lost in your fretting thoughts, a light voice you weren't familiar with caught your attention. You turned towards the dark-haired girl, her deep blue eyes lighting up with confidence as she retrieved you from the abyss that you unfortunately called your mind.

"Stinksap can be used in certain potions as it contains very good healing properties," Alisa Arumina spoke up, earning a tilt of your head. You nodded at her, encouraging the girl to continue. "However, you have to be extra cautious when handling such a plant as this one since it will squirt out rather rancid smelling sap. Hence the name, stinksap." She finished, a sheepish smile upon her lips. You grinned proudly at her.

"Yes, lovely! Ten points to Ravenclaw, Miss Arumina." You carefully placed the plant down upon the table you were all gathered around. Before you could continue on to explain how to care for it, a distraught sounding voice called from behind you, at the door to your greenhouse.

"Professor L/N," Madam Pomfrey called out, her voice shaky. Immediately, you spun around with a worried frown upon your face. She sighed. "There's been an accident, do you have any mature Mandrakes ready for use? A Wiggenweld potion is required at once." Madam Pomfrey's eyes looked afraid. This must be serious, what the hell happened? You thought as your heart began to anxiously pick up in pace.

"Err," You stumbled over your words, blinking quickly. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll have them delivered to you immediately." You nodded in a poor attempt to assure the terrified look upon Madam Pomfrey's face. It didn't work.

"I'm afraid Professor Snape has asked for you to go to him right away." She said regretfully. Of course he fucking did, you groaned inwardly.

"Is it so hard for you to come and retrieve the Mandrakes yourself?" You demanded as you burst through Snape's classroom door, your irked eyes finding Snape's startled ones. Though, just as quickly as he had looked startled by your sudden entry to his room, he had returned back to his usual angry glare, shooting it directly at you.

"Is it so hard for you to knock before entering?" Snape grunted at you, rubbing his fingers in circles against his temples. He lifted a hand and patted the empty space on his desk beside him. "Place the mandrakes here." You scrunched up your nose at him in disgust,

"I'll put them there once you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Your dear friend, Professor Rubeus Hagrid, thought it wise to introduce the children to a hippogriff on their first lesson together." Snape sneered as he rose from his desk in a slow and intimidating manner, his hands splayed out across the deeply grooved, dark wood surface. "I knew he was an oaf, but I at least thought he had retained some form ofhuman intelligence. Perhaps even common sense!" He exclaimed, his brows glued together in fury. Your brows mirrored his own as he insulted your friend. "A student was injured, Professor L/N, a student of my house." Ah, so that's why he's so upset. "Draco Malfoy." Riiight, it's adding up now, you thought, your anger simmering down slightly at the utterance of a student being injured.

You knew Hagrid wasn't incompetent, he was smart enough to not put students in the way of danger, but maybe this was a very big mistake. Perhaps he was too... eager. A hippogriff is a highly dangerous animal, especially if the students are not taught how to approach one beforehand. A strained sigh left your nostrils as you clenched your jaw, averting your eyes from a fuming Snape.

"Is he alright?" You asked, hesitating. "Hopefully he didn't lose a limb..." You muttered whilst perching yourself down upon a stool to your right.

"By the grace of the gods, Malfoy's arm was merely scratched," Snape seethed, clearly still very angry. Maybe it'd be best if you just left now, you did leave your class unsupervised for this visit. The thought of being a hypocrite niggled at your mind as you thought back to the time you'd chastised Lockhart for doing the same thing. But, this wasn't the same thing right? This was urgent, his was... whatever, you're better than that babbling, bumbling baboon anyway.

"So, it wasn't even a big injury...?" You repeated, frowning. "A little... scratch and you're almost losing your hair over it?"

"I think you're missing the point, Professor L/N, as always," Snape scoffed at you, earning a resentful glare from your eyes. "Hagrid has proved himself to be incapable of handling a class safely. I mean, a student injured and sent to the hospital on the very first lesson? Seems like a bad omen, if I do say so myself."

"Oh, please, Snape," A frustrated, heavy sigh left your nostrils again as you glanced to the side. "It's his first day!" You laughed incredulously, defending your friend. Sure, Hagrid might have misjudged this lesson by a smidge, however, you knew he would never put students in harms way.

"His first day, and his incompetency has resulted in injury!" Snape replied bitterly. He clearly didn't like Hagrid, and it was very obvious. He only ever spoke bad about the man, and it angered you. Hagrid was more than just an... 'oaf'. "Those... beasts... should have never been allowed at Hogwarts, regardless." Snape's nose crinkled in disgust.

"Give him the benefit of the doubt!" You cried out at Snape hopelessly. "And Buckbeak is a perfectly good hippogriff, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"How would you know that?" Snape's lips curled up into a distasteful sneer once again. Your cheeks ran hot as rage boiled beneath them at his comment.

"Because I know Buckbeak, Snape," You seethed at him with your fists balled, "Buckbeak would never do such a thing unless he felt threatened or insulted!" A hand flew up to wipe at your face, your breathing becoming ragged and hopeless. As you glanced back at Snape, he paused for a moment, his lips curling into an amused, incredulous smirk at your words. He couldn't believe what had just fallen from your mouth. Did he hear you correctly? Were you truly so delusional?

"You 'know' Buckbeak? Don't be absurd, Y/N." Snape huffed at you, his eyes narrowing as the corners of his lips tugged downwards disdainfully. "Buckbeak is a wild creature, it is hopelessly foolish of you to believe you can understand, much less, tame one!" He said, strained, his knuckles turning white from the aggressive, vice-like grip he had on his desk.

"These creatures are deeper than you think, Snape," you frowned, eyes stormy and reckless, unknowingly searching for trouble. His long fingers flew up to massage the bridge of his nose, clearly growing more fed up by the second. "Perhaps you'd understand if you had a heart within that empty chest of yours." A curt, exasperated sigh tore from your nostrils. Though, before you could take back your words, a blanket of regret wrapped itself around your seething body, your once-stormy eyes widening a tad as the realisation of what you had just uttered began to seep in. The sudden silence in the room was unbearably thick.

Snape's eyebrow twitched as he raised his head. Slowly, he fixed you with a dark, scrutinising gaze, rendering you speechless. Your body froze. "Bold, today, are we?" Snape's deep, stinging voice cut through the quietness like razors, reaching your ears like a thousand sharp pins.

You didn't answer him, fearing you might provoke him further. You'd never seen him like this. Dark, unnerved, fervent. It was terrifying to you. Perhaps you did cross the line. Gods, what had you done? Couldn't you have just brought the Mandrakes and sodded off? Jesus.

Snape marched towards you without a word, his cloak billowing out behind him like a flag. You couldn't help but notice the fury emanating from every single inch of his body, prompting your cheeks to flare up in a wild, raging blush. You had no time to defend yourself from Snape's long, cold and slender fingers as they clutched your jaw in force, shooting a frightening yet delicious shiver down your spine. A soft surprised gasp escaped your throat as he pushed you off of the stool you were sat on, a loud bang breaking through the silence as it clattered to the floor. Your back was instantaneously pressed against the table behind you as Snape shoved your backwards from the hold of your jaw, your eyes pooling with sudden panic as his fingers tightened against your skin, bound to leave marks. Fearfully, the palms of your hands flew to steady yourself against the edge of the table he'd rammed you against; your back arched painfully as he leaned right into your face, a spine-chilling scowl adopting his features.

The two of you were mere inches away from each other. Snape bared his teeth at you in a sneer, almost like he was revolted by your presence. He let his thumb slip upwards from your chin to the skin just beneath your bottom lip, pressing it against your teeth. Your eyes were forced to stare into his, his ones cold and penetrating in a way that only Snape's could be. Your heart was pounding so loud in your ears that at this point that you were afraid you'd go deaf.

Both of your chests heaved laboriously, leaning against one another, like you'd just sprinted for a mile without stopping for a break. As you stared into Snape's threatening eyes, you felt your body numb, his signature scent of sweet wine, books and smoke invading your nose like it was nothing. Against your will, your body welcomed it and you felt yourself relapsing from the addicting smell. With wild eyes locked together, you saw something else swimming in his wicked, black eyes. They almost looked pained, helpless, maybe even like they were... yearning? Your eyes flicked over his face gradually, slowly drinking him in. Whilst the two of you stared at each other, trapped between one another's body, a fluttering sensation slowly materialised in your gut, prompting your eyes to fall to Snape's angry, quivering lips. The undeniable urge to press your lips against his own was scratching at you like a desperate caged animal. You inhaled sharply and blinked, averting your hungry eyes back to his own, distracting yourself from such thoughts. Again, you found yourself lost in him.

Before you even had a chance to look deeper, Snape's bone-chilling voice tore you from your thoughts. You felt as if he'd noticed you spotting something deeper lingering within him.

"Get. Out." Snape spat, roughly releasing you from his grip, your hand flying up to soothe your aching jaw. You stood there, your arched back and splayed out hands against the edge of the wooden table, flabbergasted. Snape stalked back to his desk acting like the previous minute did not just happen. For once, you obliged and stood up straight, your feet immediately rushing forwards to carry yourself out of Snape's classroom in absolute silence, face blank with shock. As you shut the door behind you, you paused in your footsteps for a moment, eyes locked absentmindedly on the cobblestone ground in front of you.

What the fuck had just happened? Can the two of you no longer have normal interactions? You always have to be at each other's throats each time?

Your fingers lifted up to your face and traced where Snape's fingertips had been pressed into the skin on your jaw, a dull soreness emitting from the area as you touched it. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

Fuck.

You just hoped Ben didn't visit you for another week or so. There was absolutely no way you could explain this without it seeming super fucking suspicious. Oh jeez, Ben. How were you meant to face him when you'd just been on the verge of kissing Snape? It was just in the heat of the moment, obviously... Was it? Did he feel it too? No, of course he didn't, he looked like he wanted to kill you.

A frustrated groan bubbled in your throat as you stomped away from Snape's classroom door, heading back to your class.

Merlin, were you fucked.

Part 9!

hey guys.... i hope you enjoyed this part, i apologise again for how long it took me omfg. i'm ashamed. :( i just couldn't get the creative juices flowing, then i got covid (which im still battling). like bruh give me a BREAK PLEASE.

anyway, i already have part 9 planned out so i'm hoping it wont be as long to type up!! <3 love you guys.

please let me know what you thought!! also what are your patronuses if you have one?! mine is a snowy owl :)

taglist: (i hope i haven't missed anyone or added anyone by accidient!! if i have i'm sorry and please tell me!!)

@a-laufeyson

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

#taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #bts fluff #bts x reader

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weebsinstash · 1 year

Note

for the whole marriage thing, it would be kinda funny if you marry someone else out of spite, especially right after Miguel found out that you two were actually destined for each other.

You, out of breath and looking upset: Dude, this is gonna be a lot but, I need your help doing something to spite Miguel--

Hobie: don't even have to finish mate, you've already sold me on it

You: you and I need to get married because I wanna be my own person and rebel against Miguel because he wants US to get married but I don't want to because fuck him and fuck canon and I wanna choose my own destiny idk am I being dumb 🥺

Hobie, who Definitely Has Nothing To Gain Here Wink Wink: alright, that's what I'm talkin about, fuckin mental, let's do it 😌 fight the man ✊️

But no for real, you were actively avoiding relationships and suddenly Miguel hits you with "you and I are canon and I want to start getting to know each other better" and you're, I dunno, would "panic fucking" work. Would you be so bold. You're just trying to hook another person that YOU choose (and again Hobie would still apply here lmao) because, no, no, you can't let canon TRAP you like this!! And it would fucking suck if you had like, neutral or even negative feelings about Miguel. Shit, I've thought of, imagine being his FWB that he's actually catching feelings for but then the Miles Morales Incident happens and, you're just kind of disgusted how he acted, how he spoke to Miles, how he treated Gwen, but before you can officially tell him "hey, I want nothing to do with you anymore", that's when Miguel comes to you wanting to get more serious and he uh, does not accept you wanting to move on

I guess detouring into a different idea but imagine being kind of a FWB or fling of his that you kind of moved on from him from for whatever reason (he can have a temper, he can be too intense, you don't like when he did xyz, or maybe you're a free spirit and don't want to get serious and break things off when you feel he's too clingy) and he like. Cannot accept you've moved on. He's cockblocking you at the Spider Society bars n clubs and little holes in the wall where the adults go to drink and get together. By reputation alone, people know to avoid tou because Miguel wants you back, everyone still sees you as His Girl, like he's claimed you, but he still catches people dumb enough to get close to you (and I imagine his surveillance slips or he gets busy and you have a casual fuck under his radar and he sees hickeys or something on you later and goes ballistic)

But yeah gosh imagine like, he tells you up front you two are canon and not even 24 hours later you can notice the atmosphere has changed in the Spider Society with how people treat you in terms of respect, personal space, not being too touchy or overly familiar, but, most importantly, you just feel. Awkward. It's like everyone knows. Did they all know before you did, or did Miguel quickly spread the news around? You're not sure which of those is worse. He's wanting to get you know you more intimately, he wants to try and take you on dates, but, he sucks at it, he's been out of the game way too long and he's a stressed temperamental half-spider workaholic, so, his dates amount to, him just trying to spend time with you in different ways while trying to make awkward small talk. He takes you to dinner. He sees if there are any movies or entertainment you wanna see in the Spider Society, making awkward attempts to try and hold your hand

But also. Imagine. A version of Miguel that wants to move much faster than that. I mean, you two are going to be canon, so, you might as well get acclimated to him right away, right? He wants you to immediately spend more time with him, he starts controlling where you are and what you do so he can be spending time with you or connected to you in some way, you're living with him in his own residence now, he INSISTS you sleep in the same bed like a married couple, and while he may not immediately demand you do what married couples do, he makes it clear that he wants to eventually. God, you can barely even relax knowing he's in bed with you and he still forcibly cuddles you, getting used to feeling his body against your own (and what if he slept in the nude 😳 he provides you pj's but they're kind of small and thin and he keeps the room cold on purpose so you have to seek his warmth under the covers)

Miguel is like an established adult in his 30s or something all "we'll get to know each other and then we can start planning our wedding. We'll have dinner dates at least once a week and we'll have joint bank accounts--" meanwhile you're just sitting over here like " um 🥺 I um 🥺 have never really even dated anyone before 🥺" and suddenly this 6 ft 9 man is looking down at you realizing there's a lil bit of an age gap and definitely an experience gap and he gets to have all of your "firsts" and he's Just So Weird About It in like, kinda a fetish way. He gets to have your first kiss, your first time (maybe he even wants to wait until marriage), he gets to teach you things, like, lowkey it's kinda like a mentorship as well as a relationship, he's your teacher, your protector, your husband, your jailor

Like imagine you finally have your first baby and you're freaking out and you're so scared and worried about doing everything absolutely perfect and he's just like, so happy but also kind of romanticizing/fetishizing you being a new/first-time mom, he thinks you're so cute, so eager to do good and learn how to do the best for your baby. He teaches you all kinds of things about childcare and being pregnant since, he's already cared for his fiance before his canon event, he remembers all the things he learned to become a dad, all the things he picked up during the second go around, and now everything new he's learned just for you. I mean really if we follow the combo comic/movie canon, you're the first time he's getting a BABY baby and getting to raise it and do everything from the start, and it's his CANON baby so he knows you're both safe.

I just feel like between his literal list of trauma (beaten by abusive father who also abused his mom, he was betrayed and drugged with a highly addictive and agonizing substance to basically be enslaved, he was sabotaged and atomically spliced with a spider while trying to cure said addiction, his pregnant fiance died, his second family died as well as an entire universe) and him not really even having much of an OPTION with breaking canon at risk (which would have such a domino effect because it happening in his Nueva York would dismantle THE ENTIRE SPIDER SOCIETY, so, this is like, QUARDUPLE RISK) he would just. Like damn you don't even need to have yandere stuff in there, he HAS to make you stay with him? Obviously he eventually has no problem with it and fully enjoys the excuse if he wasn't crazy about you on sight, but like. LMAO you're just hanging around HQ with big sad eyes and people are whispering "who's that over there that Miguel is hovering over" "oh that's Miguel's wife. she's scared of him and he's way too intense" "well why doesnt she just leave him" "can't, they're canon, and even if they werent, i dont think he'd allow it. Shit just the other day she wanted to leave HQ to swing through the city and she didn't get his permission first and Miguel activated the Morales Protocol and sent us all chasing after her" "like ALL all?" "Oh yeah it was totally an 'all available units' situation, and once she saw she was being chased she started freaking out and panicking and tried to run, which pissed him off even more, and is why she's got a babysitter now" "oh wow, that's rough... so anyways do you know what they're serving in the cafeteria today?"

#miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts #woe! my constant barrage of long cringe posts be upon ye

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lousypotatoes · 6 months

Note

Can we please get Loona x Male Sinner Reader? Thanks for your time!

Oh boy, I'm not the best at writing for male readers, but I'll do my best!! Hope you like it <33

Song Recommendation:

Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Goulding

Part 2

The Intern - Loona x Male Reader

"I swear, I'm gonna shoot myself if Blitz has me get him one more cup of fucking coffee," you grumbled, setting down the plastic cup full of the hot liquid.

"Well, that's what an intern does, Y/N," Moxxie said. "They run errands, get coffee, get lun-"

"I get the point, Mox," you mumbled, running your fingers through your H/C hair. "Did you guys need anything?"

"Nah, we're good," Millie said. "Thanks Y/N!"

"Mhmmm,"

"Y/N!!! WHERE'S MY FUCKING COFFEE?!"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" you cried out, grabbing the coffee cup, starting to walk towards Blitzo's office.

"You better get in there," Loona joked. "You don't wanna see him without his coffee."

You turned your head, hoping to hide the blush creeping up on your face. "He's not that scary,"

At that moment, Blitzo came out of his office, looking very tired and very angry.

He looked scary.

"Y/N, if you don't give me my coffee right now," he said in a deadly calm voice. "I will rip your dick off and shove it down your throat and out of your ass you FUCKING CUNT LICKING BITCH!!!

You looked over at Loona, smirking at you because she was right.

"Sorry Blitz," you muttered, handing him the coffee cup. "Here's your coffee sir,"

He swiped the coffee cup from your hand and chugged the whole thing.

"Ah! Now that's much better!" Blitzo said, stretching out his limbs, throwing the empty coffee cup at your head. "Now go get me some booze."

"What kind would you like, sir?" you grumbled.

"I don't fucking know, anything to get me drunk off my ass," he said, walking back into is office. "It's a get drunk off my ass kinda day."

"Right away Blitz," you mumbled as he slammed his office door.

"You want me to come with you?" Loona asked.

"Oh-uh" you stuttered. "Only if you want,"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What's Earth like?" Loona said suddenly, as the two of you walked back to I.M.P headquarters.

"A lot better than Hell, that's for sure," you chuckled, swinging the bag filled with beer.

"How did you die?" she asked.

"What's with all the questions, Loona," you joked. "I was driving home drunk one night and t-boned someone."

"Damn," Loona said. "That sucks, I'm sorry."

"It's whatever,"

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Why did you decided to intern at I.M.P?"

You had to think about it for a moment.

"I guess I wanted to learn to protect myself against the exterminators," you said. "And what better way to learn than from assassins."

Loona stayed quiet.

"I don't know if I'm gonna stay an intern, though," you said, rubbing your bicep. "I might just check in to that redemption hotel."

"Well if you do," Loona began. "We'll stay in contact, right?"

"Yeah, of course,"

You and Loona awkwardly smiled at each other. Blush creeping onto both of your faces.

"Hey, you wanna get a bite to eat?" Loona asked, pointing to a fast-food place across the street.

"Sure," you said.

"Blitz would throw a fucking hissy fit if he found we were hanging out,"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU SAW MY LOONY AND THAT HPV HAVING PRICK LEAVE TOGETHER AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!?!"

"I-I didn't think anything of it sir-"

"IF THOSE TWO END UP PLAYING TONSIL TENNIS, I SWEAR TO GOD MOX, I WILL FUCK YOU AND YOUR WIFE SO FUCKING HARD THAT YOUR DAD WILL FEEL IT IN HIS MOBSTER BOSS BALLS!!!!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I haven't written for Helluva Boss before, so I hope it's good lol. I also need to rewatch the series. Hopefully we get a new episode soon lmao.

Remember to drink lots of water and stay safe <33

xoxo, Izzy

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #loona #loona x reader #hazbin hotel #blitz #blitzo #moxxie #millie #moxxie and millie

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moralina · 2 years

Text

WILD NIGHTS - WILD NIGHTS! | JJ MAYBANK

Summary: JJ decides to take you on an unusual date, and maybe you should've known that with him you could possibly end the night running away from security.

Warnings: nothing to do with the poem except for the title and i thought it'd be a great way to cut the scenes with lmao, also quickly edited, wanted to write more but also wanted to post this today. fem!reader.

Wc: 1.5k

Masterlist

My latest jj blurb

Not my gif

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Your feet met the slippery grass with a thud, making you slightly lose your balance but quickly adjusting your footing back as soon as his hands touched yours.

"Where are we going?" you asked, hands pulling at the sleeves of your sweater trying to find warmth within. "I'm not complaining but i'd rather stay under my warm and soft blankets, y'know"

"it's worth it, i promise." he whispered even though there was no need to. Your parents were gone for a week, letting you by yourself while they visited some distant family member who you've never really met. "now c'mon"

his right hand closed around yours, pulling your arm and bringing you with him to the parked van on the other side of the street.

"jj" you whined, sounding too much like a child but too cold to really care.

"it's warm in the van"

You hummed, still dreaming about your comfortable bed.

Yesterday you had agreed to go on a date with jj - your first official date - but it didn't cross your mind to check the weather. How would you have guessed tonight would be as freezing as the inside of a freezer, when just yesterday night you were wearing a bikini and chilling in JB's backyard with the rest of your friends, relaxing in the warmth of the night.

However, the weather betrayed you, and decided to suddenly change drastically on the exact day you and jj decided would be your date night.

"Ohmygod." You exhaled a breath of relief, relishing in the slightly warmer atmosphere of the van.

After a few moments of staring and smiling like a fool in love, jj started the van.

Futile - the winds -

To a Heart in port -

Done with the Compass -

Done with the Chart!

"That's our date?"

"C'mon baby! A kook's pool all to ourselves? It's the dream!" "They have a heat pump!" His eyebrows wiggled and you stared, not really sold

"No" you shook your head "no no no- jj, if we get caught we're screwed."

"Yeah but we won't."

"And how are you so sure?"

"The cameras stopped working after the storm last week and they haven't changed them yet" he spoke matter of factly "plus, there's no one taking care of the house, they're basically asking for it" you deadpanned and he smirked.

Typical jj behavior, you thought to yourself, should've expected it.

How on earth did you fall for this reckless boy?

"Hey, be fun at least once in your life." He said, poking your side with his index finger

"Excuse me, i am fun."

"Keep telling yourself that." He mumbled and you huffed a laugh, eyeing him up and down

"If the cops get us-" you started saying, slowly getting closer to him "i'll throw you to the lions and run as fast as i can"

"Deal!" He exchanged his arm, a cocky grin on his face

After jumping over the gate with jj's help you waited for him to do the same, eyes traveling around the huge backyard. You've never seen a pool so big in your life. Its was probably the size of your house.

"Those kooks, man." You muttered as jj appeared beside you.

"Yeah." He said, also taking a moment to look around the whole place.

"How did you know about this?"

"I cut their grass last week" he shrugged, "heard someone talking about the security cameras not working."

"Oh so then you decided it'd be a good idea to just… break in?"

"Yes." He said casually.

You rolled your eyes, but followed him nonetheless as he started walking towards the pool.

"Even the air feels different here."

His comment made you laugh. He wasn't necessarily wrong. Everything felt different on figure eight. Didn't mean it was better, though.

"What are you doing?" You hushed when you noticed jj taking off his sweater

"What do you think im doing?" You lifted a brow quizzically "i'm not getting into the pool with my clothes on now, am i?"

"Yeah, but it's free-"

"Freezing, i know, i know." His sweater was thrown aimlessly to the side "But the moment i turn this pretty thing on it'll be like a huge jacuzzi, baby!"

You waited for him to do exactly that, and when the water seemed to be at a decent temperature you began to take off your shirt. However, your eyes wined when you glanced at jj and he was moments away from getting all of his clothes off.

All of it.

"Jj" you hissed "what. Are. You. Doing!?"

"I thought skinny dipping would be more romantic." He winked before finally discarding his sweatpants and underwear to the side

Not even a second later he started running, and before jumping straight to the water he let out the loudest scream he could master.

"We're fucked." You breathed out.

Definitely the whole neighborhood heard that, and then security would get here and see you and your-not-yet-official naked boyfriend

"Are you planning to run away from the cops with your thing dangling between your legs?" You questioned when his head finally came back to the surface

He chuckled at your comment, once again too loudly for your liking.

"I'll give them a show, princess." His hand ran through his wet hair and something inside you clicked. The urge to throw him against the pool walls and kiss him for hours being stronger than anything else "Now get in the water."

You hesitated, but decided to go against your gut feeling, and I guess be fun for once in your life.

When your left foot touched the warm water you allowed yourself to breathe normally again, not noticing how your breath seemed shallow before.

Slowly, you entered the pool, your underwear getting soaked in the process. You decided not to follow jj's idea for at least this one thing. You were not getting into someone else's pool naked. And you were not going to run from the cops naked either.

Rowing in Eden -

Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -

In thee!

"Get back here!"

"It was nice seeing you again, Carl!" Jj waved at the poor security guard.

As he ran in front of you, with his pants worn inside out, and his shirt not making all its way through covering his torso, was definitely a funny site, but as much as you wanted to laugh, you also needed air to keep on running.

A scream of joy left his lips and you felt so much adrenaline running through your body. Something you only really felt with jj. I mean, he was the one always dragging you around and making you participate in his wild plans.

"You're too slow!" He screamed, momentarily looking behind him to see you running a few meters behind.

"I'm not used to running from the cops as much as you!" You exclaimed, extending your arm forward so he could grab onto you and take you with him.

When he caught your hand you almost fell to the ground, losing your balance, once again this night, for a short second, but your legs were quick to catch on to his speed.

You only stopped running when you reached the sand. The beach was dark at this time of night, a few lights coming from the street that weren't enough to illuminate the open space.

"That was-" you heaved, trying to speak but also catching your breath

"Amazing? Thrilling? The best night of your life?!"

"It's a way to put it, yeah." You nodded your head, mouth open still trying to even your breathing.

"Did you like it?" Jj asked after a moment of silence, speaking up once again after you gave him a questioning look "our date. Did you like it?"

"It was… something." You laughed.

Definitely an adventure. It made you feel more alive than ever, but you wouldn't say that aloud, not wanting to give jj more motivation to take you to any more fun dates

"Something good or…" he trailed off.

You couldn’t see it, mostly because he wouldn't show it, but jj was nervous. He wanted to give you a memorable date. You've already gone out thousands of times together. Sometimes only the two of you, other times as a group with all of the pogues, but you never called it a date. Before tonight your relationship didn't have a label, and he really wanted it to have. He wanted you to be his girlfriend, and he wanted to be your boyfriend.

So yeah, it was kind of a stressful night and maybe he went too far, but hey, you had the biggest smile on your face right now. You didn't look mad. Not one bit.

"Good." You told him finally

"Good" he repeated, feeling his muscles relax.

"But we're not doing this again."

"Yup! Definitely… not doing this again."

"Jj…"

"What? You have my word."

"Yeah, no. Definitely not trusting that."

A/n: im so anxious rn, you guys have no idea. Anyway, did this so fast I'll probably edit it again when i wake up tomorrow oof

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strawberrychainsawz · 1 year

Text

Feeling like some Douma smut as I'm drunk has nothing to do with my my own story lmao

You noticed him sitting in his chair that resembled a big bag chair. He had just finished for the day with pandering to his followers.

A heat build up inside of you, just looking at this beautiful man. It nearly made your clit throb.

You fastly walk up to him, until you are close. Right in front of him. For a while you have have felt like you're prey and he's the hunter but for tonight? You are the hunter. He's your prey.

He slowly looks up at you, with those beautiful pastel colored eyes.

"Yes? And just what do you think you're doing, my blossom?"

You straddle yourself right on top of him, feeling his hardness rub against your sensitive clit.

"Oh? You have no idea what you have unleashed, my lotus." He whispered in your soft ear.

You slowly start dry humping him, with his hands grasping your hips, him pressing his own hips up to get more pressure. He lets out the the sweetest moans. Whispering your name under breath as you keep riding him. Feeling whatever is oozing out of him leaking through his pants. His hands exploring your body, rubbing your breasts.

He suddenly pulls you closer

"I just need to feel inside of you my blossom, I'm aching to feel you"

Before you can even say anything he flips you in a missionary position. He feels so good on top of you. Your legs clench around his body.

He puts his finger inside of your mouth, demanding you to suck on it.

"Wider, my flower" he says as he sticks another finger in your mouth.

He moans at the the mere sight of it. Plants kisses all over your beautiful face.

"Good girl!" he says "I think you're ready"

Said in a very playful tone.

He finaly loosens his pants, undones his belt.

Reveals his hard rock member, oozing pre c*m

He teases you by rubbing it against your clit, making you moan, you're just begging this man to fuck you. And hard.

"So sensitive for me, my lotus" he says as he keeps teasing you. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want to feel me inside of you."

Through muffled moans and words you can't even say properly, you beg.

"P-please I'm begging you I need to feel you inside of me, i want you to fill me. Please douma, make me yours"

He smirks at your sweet words. He slowly enters himself inside of you

"Fuck" he says upon entering, in a heavy raspy murmur.

He's fully inside of you now. The pleasure is overwhelming. You can feel yourself tightening around him as each time he makes you c*m. He's being so fast, taking his time. Definitely making sure you're enjoying yourself before he does.

The amount of times you climax makes you almost about to pass out

He wraps his icy hand around your delicate throat

"Don't pass out out now, my flower. I'm not finished with you yet"

He keeps thrusting himself inside of you, you can hear his breath getting heavier and heavier. You know he's about to finish.

"I'm going to, c*m, my flower, keep pleasing me" he says out of breath, under muffled moans.

"P-please fill me with your c*m "you begged"

A few more thrusts and that's that. You can feel his warm fluid filling inside of you. You can hear him moaning your name as his face is buried inside of your neck.

"You did so good for me, my love."

He whispered into your ear, planting a deep passionate kiss against your lips. Feeling his warm tongue play around in your mouth.

#douma smut #douma x reader smut #akaza kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #douma my beloved #kimetsu no yaiba smut

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ahoyimlosingmymind · 6 months

Note

genuine thoughts on Sokeefe. Go 🎤

This is gonna piss somebody off. They're probably one of my least favorite ships in fiction to date. Only coming slightly before Jude and Cardan lol It's not a popular opinion, I know, so please don't come @ me. And I haven't read the books in so long... I might have details screwy.

PS: I don't hate Sokeefe shippers, ship away, it doesn't bother me. but I hold deep animosity for the way the ship is written.

Sokeefe feels contrived, and unplanned. Which is the appeal to many, but the turn off for me. Genuinely. I think I just have issues with the writing and execution of it. If you have to completely ruin the other love interest (Fitz) to convince me that the runner up is better... we got issues.

Allow me to explain:

Fitzphie felt intentional and planned. And sue me, I hate love triangles and I like when someone can just unequivocally choose someone and stick with them.

I used to really ship Fitzphie, but after Legacy I was really annoyed with the way Shannon wrote it all playing out. It felt fabricated and convoluted and completely out of character. Sure, I can pathologize why Fitz would care about matchmaking to the moon and back... but canonically, it doesn't even make sense. He was okay with going to Exullium and ruining his reputation that way, he was okay with infiltrating the ogre king's mind, and throwing hands with his brother publicly, being seen with Sophie, and befriending outcasts- but matchmaking is his last straw?? That's what suddenly got him pissed off? Not the fact that Sophie was keeping secrets, emotionally confiding in Keefe and not Fitz, whilst claiming Fitz as her boyfriend, letting his traitorous brother go etc...

^THOSE are all way more valid reasons to break up a ship like Fitzphie. That's a break up I can respect. Bc we know Fitz values honesty, trust and dependability. That tracks. We know he struggles with anger, but only when something actually serious is happening: His dad's mind breaking, Alvar betraying them <- arguably bigger deals than matchmaking by a LANDSLIDE. but anyway- I'm fine with them being broken up. I just wish it hadn't taken a complete character assassination and a stupid reason. I am of the mind that Fitz straight up just deserves better atp and that he's been ooc for the last few books and held to unfair standards compared to Keefe and Sophie's characters. Which just makes me pissed off at the whole ship lmao

(this all led to me beginning to dislike the series as a whole, and Fitz becoming my favorite character.)

OKAY- now for Sokeefe.

They feel contrived and like a fan-service. Don't hate me PLEASE-

You mean to tell me I read 7 books straight of Sophie pining after Fitz, never commenting on having romantic feelings for Keefe (aside from loving him in general as a friend and finding him attractive and him making suggestive comments about her feelings and being overly touchy feely and her deliberately choosing not to examine it) only for Sophie to suddenly act like she hadn't been obsessed with Fitz for 7 books straight the moment she had him?? because of some stupid concept about head and heart emotions?? (It's world building. I get it. Doesn't mean I don't find it hilariously dumb.)

I ALWAYS got the undertone of Keefe pining for Sophie, but she did not have that energy back towards him. In fact, she seemed wildly uncomfortable in some scenes (the one in Nightfall?? I think?? Where he backs her up against a wall??) and she seemed to not understand and be completely oblivious to his suggestive comments, aside from making her blushy and self conscious cuz she's an insecure character.

So anyway, after the Fitzphie break up, reading Stellarlune- I KNEW she was going to end up with Keefe. Not because it made sense, or because it had been foreshadowed in SOPHIE"S POV, but bc the fans wanted it and Keefe is a favorite, and he grew on Shannon. I just- maybe I'm just bitter, but I have never been under the impression that Sophie genuinely wanted a romantic relationship with Keefe. Until this book. Which felt like whiplash to me.

Wasn't our girl just crying over Fitz? like what is going onnnn

I could respect Sokeefe If Sophie had been having a mental war between Fitz and Keefe since at least book five, I'd believe that she had real romantic feelings for Keefe. BUT SHE DIDN"T. at least- not that I remember. So with the lack of build up on her part, but the readers obvious awareness of Keefe's feelings for her... it falls flat. Had Shannon planned on Sokeefe being endgame and had she sprinkled in more deliberate and crushy thoughts that could only be interpreted as romantic on Sophie's part, I would feel less blindsided. I would feel like it was all intentional. Like Keefe wasn't the only one pining for 9 books. Like Sophie wanted it just as bad as him.

like how long does it really take someone to realize they like someone?? I just find the whole thing to be unrealistic. How can Sophie be THAT unself aware? (I know the argument is that she didn't allow herself to like him bc it would put their friendship on the line but girl- it was obvious Keefe liked her and I just don't think she's that purposefully dumb.)

bro I could go on forever.

I didn't even touch on Keefe and Sophie's personalities and why I don't particularly like them as individual characters. That's a rant for another time.

im sorry! please forgive me.

#Fitz vacker #anti sokeefe #kotlc #Sophie foster #keefe scencen #rant #I'm sorry

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a-pigeons-soliloquy · 1 year

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oouugghhh hannigram either 7 or 45. maybe even combine the two.

ok so it has been. a while. this one got, uh, more than a little out of control lmao (almost 3500 words holy fuck). but it's finally finished! i'm not sure if it exactly fits the prompts anymore but i tried to combine them both :) i hope you like it! (even if it did just end up as yet another mizumono fic lol oops)

***

"You were supposed to leave," Will hisses, and his voice is a devastated, furious thing.

There is blood soaking into his shoes and the scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, and the worst part is that Will doesn't even know whose blood it is anymore, but the question is lost to the back of his mind. Because in front of him stands a dishevelled man whose shirt is a mess of shiny red stains, a knife dripping in his hand.

A man who isn’t supposed to be there at all.

"I didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time," Hannibal says. The words one last time should be ringing alarm bells in Will's head, but he can’t hear them over the overwhelming chorus of thousands of other alarms, because everything is going wrong. There is blood on the floor and on the walls and Alana and Jack lie dying among shards of glass, and there is a SWAT team likely only minutes away, and yet Hannibal is still here.

They both are.

And now Will doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t known what to do for the last 3 months and hadn’t known what he’d do next when he’d made that phone call, telling the Chesapeake Ripper that they know. All he’d known was that he didn’t want Hannibal to die, didn’t want him locked up in a cage by his own hands. But here he is, faced with the consequences of his own actions, and once again Will doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to feel, or even what he is feeling beyond the adrenaline and desperation and horror and relief and confusion. He doesn’t want to feel the overwhelming guilt and sense of responsibility that has been steadily building behind his ribs since this whole scheme began. Yet that guilt now tears at the lining of his chest and crushes his lungs and holds his throat in a chokehold, and it’s just all too much and all he can think is none of this was supposed to happen and this is all my fault and what if?

Seeing Hannibal alive, he’d been struck by a sudden wave of relief that had almost caused his knees to give out beneath him. But now, as Hannibal’s eyes meet his, the awful look that greets him makes a pit suddenly form in his stomach, and the relief gives way to guilt again. And Will can’t take it.

None of this was supposed to happen.

This is all my fault.

What if?

And then it hits him: none of this was supposed to happen. And it hadn’t needed to. This awful mess of glass and blood and ruin could have all been avoided if Hannibal had just listened. If he’d trusted Will when he’d picked up the phone with shaky fingers and told him to run. But he hadn't. And this realisation comes with a sick sense of understanding, because for the whole time Will had known him, Hannibal had always had to have something hidden up his sleeve, always had to keep secrets from Will. Always had to know better. Feel superior. At last the final veil falls from Will's eyes, and all at once he can see how foolish he'd been to ever believe that they could be equals. How pathetic it was that, for those few long weeks they'd spent together, he'd actually believed that they were.

(Will fiercely forces back the voice in his head that whispers that he hadn’t exactly given Hannibal a reason to trust him.)

Heart hammering against his ribs, all of that guilt and fear melts together and stretches and twists and is reborn as deep, righteous anger.

Because no, all he’d wanted was for Hannibal to be safe and free and far from here, even if it meant Hannibal hated him, even if it meant they could never be together, even if it meant that one day Hannibal would come back and rip his still-beating heart from his chest without remorse. But instead here they are, highly armed police likely mere minutes out. And all because Hannibal hadn’t listened. Bitterly, Will thinks to himself that maybe he couldn’t change Hannibal in this way after all.

As if hearing the war cry of bitterness and anger, the resentment he’d kept locked away over the last year begins to bay and claw at its cage too, and, with no reason left to hold it back, Will finally opens the latch and lets it loose.

His next words come out as a growl. “Well now neither of us might get to leave at all”.

Hannibal looks at him, and before he can hide any emotion behind his mask Will can see surprise and deep betrayal warring behind his eyes. It should make him stop and consider, that surprise - that indication that he is behaving in a way that Hannibal did not quite anticipate. But the look of betrayal is like a knife to his chest, and so Will grips his resentment tightly and fumes.

What had Hannibal expected? For Will to be small, desperate? Cowering? Begging for forgiveness? His lip curls in derision. As if he would give him the satisfaction. No, mongooses have teeth and claws, and may whatever god he believes in help Hannibal if he thinks Will won’t use them.

Hannibal manages to force the emotion all behind a mask of icy indifference, and now when he looks at Will his gaze is blank. Though it is not his usual blankness which Will has become familiar with. It is an empty, unsettling kind of blank, the sort of blank he’s only ever seen in the eye of a shark. When Hannibal speaks his voice is cold, colder than Will has ever heard it.

"Forgive me for having doubts about the sincerity of your warning when you've been lying to me for the last month. Forgive me for wanting to see the truth of where your loyalties lie."

The acknowledgement is agony. All the guilt Will had been trying to force down suddenly rears its monstrous head again, and he finds his voice suddenly drying up. His throat feels tight.

He whispers. "My loyalties lie with you'

Hannibal only scoffs. It is ugly. Will has never seen Hannibal ugly before.

"A last minute change of heart is hardly loyalty, Will," he says. “What does Uncle Jack think of your loyalty, lying bleeding out in my pantry? Alana, shattered on the street? How can I be sure you do not still intend for me to join them?”

Hannibal takes a step towards him, adjusting his grip on the knife. Will’s heart pounds. He forces himself not to take a step back.

“Because I chose you, Hannibal, I was always going to choose you, I just needed time to accept that.”

But Hannibal just looks away. “If that is what you truly believe, then you haven't just been lying to me, you've also been lying to yourself.”

It’s so wrong, yet Hannibal had said it with such certainty and disdain that all Will sees is the arrogance with which Hannibal always assumes himself to be right. He dares to presume to know what Will is thinking better than Will knows himself? It turns out Hannibal Lecter really is just like every other psychiatrist Will has ever met, and a sense of grief rises up within him at the loss of something he’d never thought he could have until meeting Hannibal.

He hates himself for mourning what he shouldn’t want.

Will smothers the voice in his head whispering that Hannibal may in fact be correct, that he really does know Will's mind better than Will does his own. Instead he lets anger take over again, and this time it burns.

“You know nothing,” he hisses. His hands shake. Deep waves of indignant resentment roll over him, the roaring of the waves matching the blood in his ears.

He doesn’t know what he expects Hannibal to do next, but it isn’t for Hannibal to hum to himself, then huff a mirthless laugh and concede in a tone both melancholy and angry, “Perhaps you’re right.”

Once again Hannibal meets his eyes. “You know, I've never fully been able to predict you, Will, but this time I had hoped. It is a mistake I will not make again.”

He prowls closer still, and this time Will steps forward to meet him. Fight has won over flight and as the rising fury makes it hard to find words Will’s body seems to have decided to speak for him. The ticking clock of the impending arrival of the FBI ignored in favour of the burning, all-consuming rage within him.

But the fear of their time running out is still there, forced down as it is, and between that and the anger it’s only getting harder to think, and Hannibal is only making it worse. Every word that leaves his mouth brings fresh waves of intense emotion and it’s rapidly reducing Will to a state where there is nothing in his brain except pure animalistic rage-fear.

He just needs Hannibal to stop talking for one moment so he can think.

With what little coherent thought remains in his brain, Will decides to tell Hannibal in the only way he can manage anymore.

“For once in your life can you please just shut the fuck up”.

Hannibal's eyes flash dangerously. His lips curl up into a snarl, and the part of Will that still understands anything knows that he’s made a mistake - he’s only succeeded in confirming for Hannibal exactly how his words are affecting him, and getting him to stop now won’t be achieved without consequences.

Hannibal is quick to recover, a cruel grin taking over his face. His head tilts condescendingly. “Terribly rude, Will,’ he taunts.

The fire inside Will soars higher. He can feel it scorching his insides.

“Fuck you, Hannibal.” He spits.

Hannibal begins to loom over him, moving closer still in a manner that can only be called predatory, until all that separates them is an arm’s length. The knife still glistens in his hand.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Will? Childish comebacks? I’ve come to expect better from you. I'm disappointed.” There is a gleam of self-satisfied malice in his eyes and the shape of his lips. He looks dangerous. He looks beautiful.

Will hates him.

Will loves him.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuck-

And suddenly Will can’t take it any longer.

Before he knows what he is doing, he’s grabbing Hannibal by the bloody shirt and crashing his lips into his.

Time seems to stop, the world narrowing into a millisecond of time in which Hannibal’s hair brushes against Will’s forehead, breath warm against his mouth, their noses pressed almost painfully against each other. A moment where the cooling blood on Hannibal’s shirt soaks into Will’s palms and stains his fingers red. A moment where Hannibal stands deadly still, as if frozen, and Will feels as if he’s been frozen too.

There is a distant pressure in the corner of Will’s abdomen, then the vague sound of something clattering to the ground. But Will’s lips are on Hannibal’s and it is as if everything everywhere is inconsequential other than the feeling of Hannibal’s teeth against his, just as he’d imagined on so many a lonely night.

The moment seems to last an eternity before Hannibal’s hand finally comes up to grasp the back of his shirt tightly, and Will feels the sharp pull of the fabric against his skin, the pressure of Hannibal’s knuckles firm against his flank. A breathy gasp escapes his burning lips, and he can’t help the animal noise that subsequently tears its way from his throat. Luckily it seems that is what it takes for Hannibal to finally move his mouth and kiss back with equal force, teeth scraping sharply against Will’s. They gravitate closer and closer until Will’s arm is wrapped around Hannibal’s neck and their hips are pressed tightly together.

Eventually, Hannibal lets out a deep growl before he at last pulls away, dragging Will backwards until there is an arm’s distance between them. Will’s eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Hannibal. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and setting him alight, but this time it is not with anger but something wholly new.

As they lock eyes, Will realises that Hannibal is finally allowing Will to see, without barriers or veils, the full breadth of emotion in his eyes. There is still frustration and betrayal, yes (indeed, Will hadn’t let go of his either) but there is also - and Will’s heart skips a beat when he recognises it - pure and all-encompassing adoration. A wonderful warmth blossoms within his core, rendering him both weak and solid and light as a feather, and it is unlike anything Will can ever remember feeling.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

Then those wonderful, expressive maroon eyes flicker downwards, and Hannibal’s brow furrows, lines around his eyes deepening. Confused, Will follows his gaze, and is surprised to see a growing deep red stain on his shirt, though any reaction he distantly thinks he perhaps should be having is dulled and seems to float just out of reach. It’s strange; there isn’t any pain, just the memory of an odd pressure that he’d ignored at the time and a peculiar sense of unreality.

For a moment he just stands, uncomprehending, but as the adrenaline finally starts to wear off he becomes increasingly aware of a dull ache at the site of the wound, and it isn’t long before that dull ache blossoms into a terrible burning pain. Hand instinctively falling from Hannibal’s shoulder to hover protectively over the wound, Will looks back up at Hannibal, a mix of confusion, surprise, pain and betrayal written across his face. An involuntary whine slips from his suddenly dry throat.

The vocalisation appears to spur Hannibal into action. He takes Will gently but firmly by the arms and quickly guides him to a nearby sofa, helping him lay down across its seats before sinking to his knees beside him and pulling up his shirt to inspect the injury. A moment passes, then a near-imperceptible line of tension seems to drop slightly from Hannibal’s shoulders and he pulls Will’s shirt back down.

“It is as I thought: due to the angle and the quick loosening of my grip on the handle, only the tip of my knife entered your body. The wound is not so deep as to require immediate attention, but it will certainly require stitches.”

He guides Will’s hand back to his injury and helps him to apply the right amount of pressure. It hurts, and when Will winces and lets out small pained noise, Hannibal brings a hand to his hair and cards it through the damp curls. It feels nice, it feels so very nice and right, and Will’s eyes slip closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling. When he opens them, Hannibal is looking down at him, face once again carefully blank.

“There is likely very little time left before the FBI arrives,” he begins, “and I will soon be leaving for Florence. I will offer you this once and only once, and you will have until I return with our passports and a select few other items to make your decision.”

He fixes Will with a heavy look. “One last chance, Will. You can come with me to Florence, and I will show you the city where I became a man. We will leave immediately, take up new identities, and likely never return.

“Or, I can leave you here. You can wait for the cops to arrive and take you to a hospital. Your reputation will remain intact, and you can go back to your job and your house in the woods, your life as you know it, and you will never see me again.”

An almost undetectable pause, and then, “This is your final decision, Will. I suggest you make it wisely.”

With this he climbs to his feet and leaves the room

For a while Will sits thinking, but deep down he knows his mind is already made up. The myriad of complicated feelings he harbours towards Hannibal still plague him, and a part of him still wants to lock the man up and throw away the key, but he’s finally willing to admit that it’s all inconsequential. He knows now he can't live without Hannibal, for better or for worse, whether he loves him or hates him, or a twisted mix of both. He’ll miss his life terribly for the isolated comfort it brought, but he’d miss Hannibal far, far more.

There is only one choice to make.

The moment Hannibal reappears in the doorway Will is speaking.

“I want to come with you.”

Hannibal’s face remains carefully blank. “You understand there is no going back from this. I will not change my lifestyle and you can never return to the false life you have led. You will be shedding your sheepskin for good this time, and the world will be on our tail for as long as we-”

Will cuts him off.

“I want to come with you,” he repeats firmly.

A long pause, and then a small but genuine smile graces Hannibal's lips. With a dip of his head, he seems to accept the decision. “Very well,” he says, though Will can hear the unspoken relief that lies beneath it. He lets himself smile back, tired but overjoyed and honest. It feels right.

Hannibal comes back to where he lies on the couch, and helps him get up, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds Will against his side.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asks.

Will’s breath catches as the shift to being upright pulls sharply on his wound. While it could have been far deeper - and Will doesn’t want to imagine what Hannibal’s initial plan for him was - it is still painful, and increasingly so as the last of the adrenaline wears off. Plus, he’s losing a fair amount of blood, and the change in angle temporarily darkens his vision and sends stars dancing across his eyes. Grimacing, he closes his eyes and waits for the pounding in his head to stop. Hannibal lets him lean against him, steadfastly taking his weight, and says nothing.

When the stars fade and he feels steadier on his feet, Will considers Hannibal’s question, and after a moment of assessment nods - he’s been shot in the shoulder before, he can handle this - and lets Hannibal lead him out of the house and down the street to an unfamiliar car.

Alana is unconscious now, and Will catches Hannibal’s eyes lingering on his jacket where it lies over her body. He looks at her, the person he’d once imagined sharing a life with, and thinks of how important she had always been to him, even after everything. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia hits him, accompanied by a longing for a simpler time when maybe it could have been possible. But ultimately he allows Hannibal to help him into the passenger seat of the car. This is the life he’s chosen, the person he’s chosen, cannibalism and all. There is no going back now, and nothing to be gained from contemplating what ifs.

Then the car door closes, and Alana is hidden from sight.

There is another noise as Hannibal gets in the car from the other side, and after fiddling with some dials and buttons, he starts the engine.

“I will drive us to the airport where our flight awaits. When we are a safe distance from the house we will stop and I will clean and suture your wound. But for now I suggest you sleep - you will need the rest if you are to recover well.”

He must notice the lines of discomfort on Will’s face, as he adds, softening slightly, “There are some painkillers in the door.”

After taking the pills as directed, Will lays his head back against the headrest and allows his eyes to close. The last of the adrenaline has left his system, leaving behind a sudden bone tiredness that makes his lids heavy and breathing slow.

With the sound of the vehicle lulling him and the comfort of Hannibal’s presence beside him - alive, together - sleep comes quickly, and the last thing Will knows before the darkness claims him is the feeling of a warm hand gently coming to rest upon his own.

#nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannigram fic #hannibal fanfiction #my writing #kiss prompts #gonna say abigail is in the backseat of the car but it's dark and will is too tired to notice lol #and they find a way to have all 7 dogs sent to wherever they end up :)#i hope this is decent enough and there aren't any mistakes!#pretty sure everything is capitalised and in the same tense now haha #god this has taken forever #also #this is the first fic i've managed to finish in like 7 years so i'm really proud :)#now to work on my many other wips!#also i hope the formatting is ok!#let me know if it's horrible lol and i'll try to fix it

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thejojosanctuary · 1 year

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heyy! hope you guys are having a wonderful day 💕 i was wondering if i could have headcanons of giorno, bruno, abbacchio, fugo, mista and narancia reacting to the gn! reader (who’s the boys’ crush) feeling down about never having been in a relationship, like not even one? ‘cause they hear about some of their friends either already being in relationships or talking to other people could potentially become their (s/o) if all goes well, and all of that makes the reader feel like maybe they’re undeserving of love? (just started getting emotional about the fact that i’ve been single my whole life and i haven’t found a guy i liked, despite me never being bothered about being single ahaha 🥲) tysm!!

Thank you so much hun I'm doing okay~! I hope that you're having an amazing day yourself ♡ it was super interesting to consider how each of the gang would react and I hope I did this justice~!

Gotta put it under a read more cause I got carried away lmao

=======

Giorno

♡ The sound of you sighing catches Giorno’s attention as you rejoin the gang shortly after excusing yourself to take a phone call, slumping into your chair a little harsher than intended and accidentally booting Mista under the table. That nets you a complaint and a nudge back from the gun-wielding stand user though Giorno can tell you’re barely paying attention as you try to go back to stirring your fork around your food, eyes unfocused as though your mind is miles away from the current moment. Few things slip past Giorno when it comes to you; it’s clear that there’s something weighing on you, and it doesn’t take much to put two and two together that it has something to do with whoever you were just speaking to.

♡ However, Giorno knows that you’re not going to talk about it surrounded by the rest of the gang so he acts accordingly. You’re still picking half heartedly at your dish when he shifts in his chair, leans just enough towards you that you can hear him over the heated food related debate brewing between the others, and asks if you want to come with him to get some fresh air. Smiles when you all but jump at the opportunity, out the nearest door grateful for the excuse to get out of the place for a second.

♡ He doesn’t press the issue at first, giving you a chance to lean against the nearest surface and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, It’s only when he can see you’ve calmed down a little that he broaches the subject, coming to join you at your side watching you worry your bottom lip as you consider opening up about it. But this is Giorno, he’s never given you a reason not to trust him, and with those blue eyes already studying you it doesn’t take much to start talking.

♡ He listens to your worries about never being in a relationship, brought up once again by a comment from a friend talking about their latest love life. All it had taken was an innocent comment that you were missing out and suddenly it’s all you can think about. It’s a horrible feeling - you shouldn’t feel like you’re missing out but you do. You want to have the love that they have; the happy looks and the giddiness just thinking about your other half, and the little moments that make giving love and being loved in return worth it. Do you even deserve to have that?

♡ You don’t mean for that last part to slip but it does. Suddenly there’s a hand resting over yours and you freeze, not even realizing that you’d started pacing until Giorno’s now in front of you, his hand giving a comforting squeeze.

♡ Giorno’s not going to rush things and outright confess to you, not right now. If he did then he’s sure that you’d assume it was only out of pity and ruin all of the hard work that he’s been putting into gauging how you feel about others - specifically him. And now that he knows that you’re interested in relationships it’s a clear sign for the gangstar that he needs to be bolder in pursuing you romantically. Whether you’ve just never noticed his attempts to gain your affection or have merely brushed it off, believing all of the stolen moments together to be platonic thanks to your unlovable mindset this proves he’s done a poor job at showing you just how worthy of love you are.

♡ Right now you don’t need a confession, you need comfort, and Giorno’s hand never leaves yours as he assures you that you being unlovable couldn’t be further from the truth. Love has no timeline, and there’s nothing wrong with living your life and enjoying what the world has to offer while you wait for the person that’s deserving of you to give you everything you could possibly need. May or may not be talking about himself here, as he’s already thinking of ways to win you over as he rubs a thumb over your knuckles, offering to get you something to eat (since your original meal is probably cold by now) once you’re ready to head back inside.

Bruno

♡ You’re beginning to regret joining your friend a little for this excursion. Sure, it’s fun to have the chance to get out with some friends, and you’re not exactly the only one they dragged along for the night. But that doesn’t stop the pit that’s forming in your stomach watching everyone gradually being whisked away, either splitting with their significant others to spend time together or chatting it up with anyone bold enough to shoot their shot on the frankly gorgeous members of your friend group. And yet you’re still here, idly messing with your phone screen as you read over the latest message from said friend showing off the date they just scored and telling you not to wait up.

♡ There’s no hiding how you’re feeling around the Capo. Even without the whole taste of a liar incident Giorno mentioned once Bruno’s got a good read on people. It’s a trait he’s always had and cultivated over the years, so he’d have to be blind to miss how your grip tightens on your phone and you bite the inside of your cheek trying hard to fight off the uncomfortable feeling you’re fighting to ignore.

♡ Not wanting to startle you, Bruno places a hand on your back and politely clears his throat as he joins you in your little corner of the room, resting his other arm against the railing watching your head snap up to look at him. You’re quick to fill him in, showing him the message before taking a look at the lovey dovey image sent along with it and sighing out a “Man, why can’t I have something like that?”

♡ That gives Bruno pause. It doesn’t take a genius to know what you’re talking about, but he’s surprised to hear that you’re interested in something like that. There’s a small hopeful spark in his chest hearing that you want a relationship, given that he’s been interested in you for quite some time, but then Bruno sees the way your expression falls.

♡ “Guess I’m cursed to be single forever, huh?”

♡ You mean for it to come out as a joke but Bruno doesn’t miss the somber tone that you try to hide behind a dry chuckle. Things don’t really stay a secret when you’re constantly around the gang, and briefly Bruno recalls the time you lunged for Mista a few weeks ago when, upon hearing you’d never had a relationship - not even a casual thing, had the mature reaction of parroting it back to you loud enough to turn the heads of half the people on the street. It’s clear that it bothered you then, but you seem so convinced that a relationship is out of your reach that even if you want it that no one out there could love you. Of course he knows better than anyone that this isn’t the case.

♡ He doesn’t want his personal feelings to get in the way of comforting you - you’re opening up a part of yourself that you hate to let others see to him and he knows better than to take advantage of that. Even so, something at the back of his mind yearns to say something, to do something that would prove without a shadow of a doubt that you are loved and worthy of love. For now he’ll keep those thoughts at bay.

♡ The hand on your back begins rubbing small circles and Bruno’s expression softens when you unconsciously lean into the touch. There’s a gentle sincerity to his voice when he tells you that there are many people who would tell you otherwise, who are out in the world all the poorer for not having been blessed by your love and affections. Had it come from anyone else you would have called their bluff immediately and ended the conversation there and then, but Bruno has a way with words. You can tell that these are words from the heart, though you don’t catch the emotion behind his words when he says that anyone who ends up with your love would be truly blessed.

♡ Bruno doesn’t press the matter any further than that but it seems to have done the trick. The bashful smile directed at him as you thank him for being so kind is one that he locks firmly into the back of his mind for later; for now he can be content just to ease your fears, even troubled by the twist in his chest from words better left unsaid.

Abbacchio

♡ Running into a friend while they’re on a date at the gang’s residential haunt wasn’t what you’d mentally prepared yourself for that day. Sure, you’d mentioned how great the food there was a couple times in the past, but you hadn’t actually expected to run into them and their partner here. Abbacchio gives you an unimpressed scowl watching you sink into your chair trying to minimize your presence but it’s already too late - the familiar squeal of your name is the only warning you get before there’s arms looped over your shoulders and you friend tries to somehow hug you out of your chair

♡ Abba’s not fussed on watching you catch up with your friend, so he turns his focus elsewhere instead of wasting his time eavesdropping. It just so happens that he looks up right as your friend’s trying to coax you over to their table, dead set on introducing you to their partner that he sees the discomfort flit over your face. Your gaze drops to him for but a second, a silent plea for some help before you realize this is Abbacchio and you’re probably going to have to cave and just go along with your friend.

♡ And yet a grip on your wrist pulls you right back into your chair, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to turn your attention to Abbacchio who’s giving them a firm stare as he spits out “We’re busy; another time.” Your friend is quick to return back to their date at that point, citing to hang out with you later though you notice the way they speed up as they walk away from Abba’s disapproving gaze.

♡ He pays little attention to the thanks you give him, making a noncommittal noise and acting like whatever he’s doing is far more important than watching you, but of course Abba can’t mind his own business when it comes to you. There’s no need to even tell him what you're feeling right now - he knows that look on your face well enough to know you’re conflicted and it isn’t hard to guess what about. He’d also been there at your little outburst at Mista the other week (and he may or may not have tilted his chair back to give you a boost to lunge for the hat wearing gangster at the time.) Since then he’s seen the frustration that mounts on your face each and every time someone comes to you about the latest relationship drama, like you want to be happy for these people, but a part of you envies what they have.

♡ Abbacchio thinks about how stupid it is that your working yourself up thinking that you’re somehow unlovable and undeserving - it’s not the end of the world that someone hasn’t swept you off of your feet and proven that you’re loved and adored. And yet the thought of anyone else doing that leaves Abbacchio with a sour taste. You’re a good person, he doesn’t actively hate having you around, and he’d have to be blind not to notice that you’re annoyingly attractive - to Abbacchio it’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with everyone else not being brave enough to give you what you deserve. The irony isn’t lost on Abbacchio; even still struggling to put into words exactly how he’s feeling for you he knows he likes you, but he’s not about to waste your time with a confession from a man who believes he’s barely a shred of the person he once was. A person who, in another life, on a different path, could have gladly been what you wanted all along.

♡ Won’t actively broach the topic, however when you ask yourself if anyone will ever like you like that watching the couple laughing and enjoying one another's company Abba butts in, telling you that’s not something you need to worry about before he can stop the words from coming out. It comes off a bit sharp but thankfully you don’t seem to take it the wrong way, and the smile he’s able to coax out of you as you once again thank him for the ego boost has his heart twist just enough to be uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, but not unwelcome.

Fugo

♡ “Hey, Fugo…do you think I’ll ever have that?”

♡ Fugo has no idea what you’re talking about as he looks up from what he was doing to see what you’re looking at. Following your line of sight he finds a couple cuddling up close as they walk together, oblivious to the world around them as they link arms and talk about something he can’t make out but can only assume it’s something sappy from the giddy tone in their voices. The face he makes seeing the openly unabashed PDA would have made you laugh if your eyes weren’t glued to the couple before you, an uncomfortable feeling making itself heavy in your chest.

♡ It takes him a second to realize that’s who you’re talking about and scoffs before he realizes what he’s saying. “I didn’t know you were interested in that kind of thing.”

♡ “Why wouldn’t I be?” you shoot back, and Fugo pauses at the sharp, defensive tone that your voice takes. Glancing at you out of the corner of his eye he’s shocked to see that not only do you look frustrated, you actually look hurt, and he realizes that he’s walked into a mess again. He doesn’t mean for it to come out like it did - an attempt to gauge if you were actually interested in a relationship backfiring spectacularly as you misunderstand his words as only solidifying that romance and you just don’t mix. That reality couldn’t be further from the truth, and he wants to kick himself for causing you to assume otherwise.

♡ He’ll struggle to admit it, but Fugo understands what you’re feeling better than he’d like to think. He’s had a couple of people that seemed interested in him, a few that were bold enough to call him cute or handsome, but the abrasive side of his personality when he’s upset puts up a barrier between them in the end. That’s his biggest concern when it comes to you too. You’ve seen him angry, seen the spats between him and the other younger members of Bruno’s gang, and every time that it’s happened all Fugo worries about is that he’s ruining how you see him; that eventually you’ll get fed up of it to and chalk him off as unlovable.

♡ So to know that you’re going through it too? Convinced that love is off of the table for you makes him want to take you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you telling you all the reasons why you’re so, so wrong that no one loves you - especially because he’s so down bad it’s ridiculous. If he were maybe Mista or Narancia he probably would have done exactly that, but thankfully Fugo has enough tact to use his words, especially when you go to leave and he hears you say “Maybe you’re right - shouldn’t worry about something I’ll never have.”

♡ “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that!”

♡ Fugo’s apology is sincere, and at least stops you from walking away believing he genuinely didn’t mean to insinuate anything bad. He makes a point to tell you that he just didn’t know where you stood on wanting relationships - it’s not a conversation topic you shared willingly and was surprised . There’s a pause for a second before he adds that he does think you’ll have a love like that some day; waiting for the right person to come along doesn’t mean that you’ll never find love, and he thinks that you’ll find someone who makes you happy one day.

♡ He knows that you’d aren’t entirely convinced; you’ve been dealing with these thoughts popping up unwarranted for longer than he knows. But he plays it calm, pretending not to notice the glossy look in your eye and the sniffle you mask with a cough as you thank him. It’s enough to get you to stay, rejoining him back at the railing with a playful jab at his arm for being so sweet as you settle shoulder to shoulder and look down at the crowds once again.

Mista

♡ You’re nursing a drink at Libeccio’s as you pour your heart out to the first person unlucky enough to be at the usual table. Mista has no idea what’s going on listening to you talk about how all of your friends were in committed relationships or going out on dates, but you sound like you need a shoulder to complain on and he’s more than willing to be the guy you lean on till you’ve got it out of your system.

♡ It doesn’t click until he catches you grumbling about how you can’t help but feel a little jealous seeing everyone getting into relationships - is it so bad to just want a date when you’ve never even been asked out? Now THAT ends up getting his attention, and he almost chokes on his own drink slamming the glass down onto the tablecloth louder than necessary as he thumps a hand over his throat with a shout.

♡ “NEVER? SERIOUSLY?!”

♡ That gets him a simmering glare as you look at him over the rim of your glass, the sour expression hidden behind a hard swig before you slam your own cup down. “Mista, I swear to god if you make a joke about this I-” He’s quick to cut you off, apologizing before you decide to throw the rest of your drink at him or something. He’s surprised mostly because Mista always assumed that you just weren’t looking to be in a relationship right now, and though you’ve talked about love lives before it’s always been light hearted. How could he believe that you’d never been in a relationship before? He’s always thought you were too hot not to have been snatched up by someone and now he’s hearing that you haven’t??? The hell, is everyone blind or something???

♡ Mista’s always had a bit of a casual approach to love and liking someone. If you’re looking for it then that’s fine, and if you’re not that’s fine too! - it’s not really a rush and more of a case of if it happens it happens. Then again it’s not something he’s ever really stressed over, Mista takes things as they come and tries not to work himself up over the small things. If he likes someone he’s pretty open about just telling them - at least he thought he was until he fell head over heels for you and has been making himself look like a fool for ages just trying to show off and somehow impress you into liking him back without ever actually telling you that he likes you.

♡ He’s got no hesitation telling you outright that people are losing out not trying to shoot their shot on someone like you, and the earlier comment about being blind makes the tenseness fade from your shoulders a little bit. You don’t look like you’re gonna lunge for him anymore, but he can tell you don’t fully believe him when he says that. Mista’s firm in telling you not to sweat about the whole relationship thing - when the time comes you’re gonna end up finding someone who’ll be tripping over themselves just to have a chance to make you happy. So enjoy the life you have while you’ve got it! Focus on what’s making you happy right now till someone comes along to really send you swooning.

♡ Makes a not-so-subtle joke about that person being closer than you think, but you guys have joked about this before so you assume he’s just pulling your leg and you none too gently nudge his leg under the table with a huff about knocking it off. Despite that it’s at least got a small smile back on your face again, which to him is about a big of a win he’s going to get as he reaches for his glass again, swirling the drink around as he tries to think of the best way to win you over. After all, he did promise to send you swooning, right?

Narancia

♡ Narancia at first doesn’t get why you’re acting so down in the dumps as he watches you listen to your friend gush over the phone. Something about their partner and how they’re so excited for a date and making plans with you to help them pick out something cute yadda yadda yadda. Honestly he’s only half paying attention to whatever’s going on at the other end, more focused on plucking things off of the meal you’re sharing and moving your favorite pieces to your side of the plate for when you’re off of the phone - he’s considerate with these kinda things, y’know?

♡ At some point the phone call comes to an end, and Narancia gives you a soft nudge and pushes the meal closer to you so that you can enjoy your fill too, but whatever’s just happened has clearly tanked the happy carefree mood you were in before. You stare at the plate but don’t even move to pick up your fork, and when Narancia ducks his head to get a better look at your face you’re frowning. Had he done something wrong? Maybe he’d gotten the food mixed up and you didn’t actually like it - though he swore you’d mentioned just the other day how much you’d like this kind of stuff…

♡ Nearly jumps in his seat when your head drops into your hands, letting out a frustrated noise before throwing your head up and blurting what you’re thinking. “Why are relationships so hard?!” …okay, so it wasn’t the food. He’s not sure what to say to the sudden outburst, but thankfully you keep speaking, spilling your guts about how you’re starting to feel so lost; that you’re missing out on something wonderful because you haven’t even had a date, let alone a committed relationship. Is this how it was always going to feel? Like you were just some undateable figure no one even batted an eye at romantically???

♡ “Bullshit. Who wouldn’t wanna date you?”

♡ Narancia means every word of that statement, and yet hearing it put so bluntly leaves you literally speechless, whatever you were about to say next dying in your throat as you shoot up in your chair not quite believing what you just heard. Honestly, like Mista he doesn’t see the big deal - you’re feeling bad about it when you shouldn’t be, and he means it when he says who wouldn’t want to date you - of course he’s at the top of that list though so maybe he’s biased.

♡ Would honestly see this as a clear chance to shoot his shot and would almost immediately ask you out. He likes you, so why would he wait when he can make you happy right now and finally score a date with you! You almost shoot him down straight away thinking that he’s making a joke of the situation or just doing it to somehow cheer you up out of pity. The thought of the latter makes you feel somehow worse, and Narancia needs to scramble over himself to cut you off before you really start believing those thoughts - he’s not lying when he says he likes you, you’ve gotta trust him!

♡ If you seriously don’t believe him then he’s just gotta prove it to you - just give him one chance at a date and he’ll set his heart on showing you that he really means it.

♡ Definitely the most direct about it, the other guys need to take notes lmao

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cloudghoul32 · 2 years

Text

Confessions

Summary: Copia wants to ask you out, but he's nervous.

Word count: 609 words lmao, sorry this one was shorter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copia loved you. Ever since he saw you, he'd been spellbound by your presence and just wanted to pull you into a big kiss sometimes. But he'd never do that, he was way too shy. All he could do was stare at you from afar, gazing at you dreamily. His head was filled with filthy thoughts about you, but you'd never guess it by the calm, almost blank expression on his face.

"Hey, Cardi," you said, giving him a small but genuine smile. "H-hi," he stuttered. Ugh, why did I say it like that, he thought. You didn't mind, though, you thought his stuttering was cute. In fact, you thought everything he did was cute. The way he fidgeted with his gloves, his dumb jokes, and his overall awkwardness. You didn't want to admit it, but you too were in love with him.

"So how are you today?" you asked him, putting an arm on his shoulder. He shuddered, feeling the warmth of your touch. "I'm good... My rat kind of, eh, chewed a hole in my shirt this morning, but other than that, I'm really good." He looked into your shiny, bright eyes and couldn't suppress a little smile. Satanas, you were beautiful. Every little detail of your face was permanently stuck in his mind from staring at you all day.

"What about you?" Copia asked, breaking eye contact. "Well, I've been great, but, um, I've been wanting to tell you something. Something personal, too, so we should probably go somewhere-" you looked around. "-private." Copia's eyes widened. "Oh yeah? Like where?" He was getting a little nervous, you didn't usually act like this unless you had something really, really important to say.

The two of you ended up in the small kitchen, which was empty at this hour. The lights were off and there wasn't any light except for the dim glow of a black candle. But you didn't mind, you'd be leaving as soon as you told the cardinal what you needed to. "Okay, so, um..." But just as you were about to talk, Copia raised his hand as to imply he was about to say something. "Oh, haha, you can go first," you chuckled.

Copia let out a shuddery breath as he took a step closer. "So Y/N, ehh, this might be a little awkward but... ehm... I kind of, I... what I mean to say is, I like you."

There was a moment of silence before you replied. "That's what I was going to say," you said with a slight grin. Before Copia could say anything, you jumped onto him and gave him a kiss. Not on the cheek, but straight on his lips. He broke away suddenly. "But I also have something else to say" he said, straightening himself. He cleared his throat and pulled something from his pocket. It was a little wooden box, painted black and red. He opened in and inside was a small but beautiful dead flower, and in the light of the dimly lit candle, it looked like it was glowing.

"Y/N, will you go out with me?" he asked, looking down, blushing. It took you a minute before you fully comprehended what he just said, and when you did, you too were blushing. "I-I'd love to!" you said, sounding way more excited than you meant to. He grinned happily as you said those three words; this was the greatest day of his pathetic, stressful life. "Are you sure? Really??" He gasped as you pulled him in for a hug, one that lasted a long time. "Yes, really," you laughed. "So, where do you wanna go?"

______________________________________________________________

#cardinal copia x reader #my writing #cardinal copia #the band ghost #cardinal copia x gn reader #shy copia is my source of comfort

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always-andromeda · 2 years

Note

i come to you in my lowliest form and still recovering from yesterday wondering if you can do strawberry creme for klitz🥺

– 𝐒𝐢𝐱

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐊𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: listen. when Sophia sends in a request. I am obligated to drop everything and fulfill it. because that is what we do on this account. (lmao truly, I hope this hits the spot for you, sweetheart. I love and adore you and I will always do anything I can to help you feel better <3).

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: complete and utter fluff, nothing else I can think of!

A first kiss for Klitz...is probably one of the scariest things he could ever think of. It's on the same level as failing his finals or coming to school naked. An absolute nightmare.

It's why he put it off for as long as he possibly could.

It's nothing against you, truly. It's his own insecurities shining through. Which is also why he swears to himself that he won't even try to kiss you until he's completely sure of his own abilities.

He practiced approximately one time on his own hand before experiencing such a thorough, full body convulsion of disgust. Klitz was rushing to the bathroom immediately afterwards and scrubbing his hands multiple times over, trying to get rid of the awkwardness of the whole thing.

But he couldn't help his own desperation. And he'd be so embarrassed if you ever initiated anything or even hinted at wanting him to make a move.

You're at the movies with him and he's hesitant to do the arm maneuver, not wanting you to assume that it'll progress to a full makeout session.

He's terrified of dropping you off afterwards when you give him that wide eyed look. Expectant. That's the only thing he could see in that expression.

That's when he pulled out his best defense: a nice, innocent hug. You couldn't go wrong with a hug, right? He got to feel your chest against his and got a covert little whiff of your hair and you'd be satisfied with that level of contact for now...right? Surely he'd staved off the wrath of the kissing gods for yet another day.

He attempted to cement it in place with a polite, "I had a great time tonight. Same time again next week?"

"Uh-huh, I guess," you sighed.

Success.

Klitz pulled back and swerved around quickly, hoping you wouldn't catch a glimpse of his beet red face.

Then you said softly, "Do you not like me or something?"

He swore he felt his heart drop to his feet as he turned slowly on his heel, already nervously playing with the sleeves of his jacket. "...huh?"

"If you don't actually like me, you can tell me. I would really prefer that over you just wasting my time every weekend."

Klitz blinked fast, snapping himself out of his nervous haze. "No! I don't– I mean, I do like you. A lot! I like you a lot. And I swear that I'm not wasting your–"

"Then why won't you just kiss me already?"

And that was how the bomb dropped. Of course you said it. He should've known you would. But he didn't have time to berate himself for his lack of foresight. The only explanation he could manage to give was, "I...I didn't want to be bad at it."

"So you'd rather me think that you don't even want to kiss me?"

"I just– I don't know, okay? I wanted to be good at it. You...you deserve a good first kiss."

Klitz kept his eyes averted, his nose twitching as he tried to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. You were quiet and he could only imagine how you must've been seething at him. How could I have been so stu–?

"Any kiss with you would be a good kiss, Klitzy," you replied.

He looked up at you over the tops of his glasses. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"…okay."

Finally, Klitz held his head up; burning cheeks proudly exposed so you could truly see all of the too strong feelings that he'd held inside for fear of disappointing you. Suddenly, those worries seemed so silly to him.

It seemed hilarious, actually, as he strode forward and did the most confident thing he thought he'd ever done in his entire life. He actually kissed you.

Luckily, kissing you was nothing like failing finals or coming to school naked or any other nightmare his mind constructed for him. It was just...you. And him. Kissing.

He didn't dare introduce his tongue this time around; the idea of being like one of those horny couples in the hall shoving their tongue down each other's throats made him want to curl up into a ball and wither away. He kept it simple, placing little fervent kisses on your mouth as he cupped your face.

There may not have been any frills to it, but when he felt like he needed a breather, he was delighted to find that he could hardly see you through the fog that had formed over his glasses.

And he was even more delighted to hear you laugh.

Klitz chuckled along with you and squinted at you through his lenses. "So...how was that?" he asked.

"I mean...do you want me to rate it or something?"

"Yeah, sure. That works."

As the fog started to dissipate, he caught your nose scrunching up as you thought about it. Then you answered, "I'd say a solid six."

"A six?!" Klitz exclaimed.

"Oh, well, what would you rate it?"

"I don't know. Something higher than a six," he said, trying not to let his tone sound too offended.

You giggled again and gave him one last little peck. "I promise, you'll get plenty more chances to score better than a six, Klitzy."

And that...that sounded pretty good to him.

#chocolate box valentine event❣️#paul dano #danonation #danocel #the girl next door #timothy klitz #klitz #timothy klitz x reader #timothy klitz x you #timothy klitz x y/n #timothy klitz fluff #klitz x reader #klitz x you #klitz x y/n #klitz fluff #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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toastybagel-fanfiction · 8 months

Text

the hotbox

{so this one was part of my purplephone and friends drabble collection on ao3 but the collection got no kudos so i'm going to put all of those here instead, like i probably should have done in the first place lmao. anyway enjoy!}

[note: this is a non canon deleted scene from my fic tell me what i want to hear but reading that fic isnt necessary for this oneshot.]

“Michael?”

“Michael, are you alright?”

Suddenly, Scott was sitting beside him, one hand on his thigh and the other on his shoulder. Michael hadn’t even realized he had zoned out until then, thinking that, perhaps, he was only imagining Scott’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, looking into Scott’s eyes, watching as they flickered with concern. “I guess I just didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“Yeah, well-” Scott shrugged, glancing off to the side. “Your dad needed to get something from the office, and being in the shop alone freaks me out…” His gaze returned to Michael, who was still looking back at him. Scott couldn’t help but smile. “And I wanted to see you, too.”

Michael grinned, knowing that he was probably blushing despite how much he tried to hide it.

“You know,” he replied, leaning toward Scott. “Vincent’s on the cameras right now, and I’m sure he wants to see you.”

“I’ll try to catch him on my way out.” Scott reached out, hesitantly touching the darkened circles underneath Michael’s eyes as if they had just appeared at that moment. “You look tired. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, really. I’ve just been so busy with work and missing children’s cases, and on top of that, I’ve been having some weird dreams.” Michael grimaced before realizing what conversation he had just opened up.

Scott was in those dreams.

Not only was Scott in the dreams, but he had a starring role, and he was oddly out of character compared to his real life self.

The next words out of Scott’s mouth were expected, but Michael still dreaded them.

“What were the dreams about?”

Michael sighed.

He could talk about it, though he never mentioned Scott’s presence in his dreams. That was the part that he would take to his grave.

“I was in a cabaret, but it was empty, all except for one chair. I sat down and the stage lit up…”

The show began.

Scott stepped out from the nothingness beside the stage and stepped onto it.

Sometimes he wore his normal clothes. Sometimes he wore something more revealing.

Sometimes he wore the same outfit that he wore to the senior prom.

Sometimes he wore nothing at all.

Even though he hated performing for people, it was all that he ever did for Michael.

The band began to play, a soft drum beat shaking the floors.

“Michael,” Scott would say, crouching at the edge of the stage to brush his hand over the side of Michael’s face. “This song’s for you.”

Then, he would sing or dance and Michael would watch, physically unable to look away, as if Scott had cast a kind of spell on him.

When the song drew to a close, he would applaud, his two hands joining in a vast sea of emptiness. If not for his applause, the room would be silent.

“Did you like the show?” He would ask sometimes, stepping down from the stage to sit in front of Michael.

Sometimes, he would stand for a while, silent, while the music continued.

Other times, he would run from the stage as quickly as he could in order to press his lips against Michael’s, holding him close.

When they pulled away, they both always had lipstick smeared across their lips, whether Scott had been wearing makeup during the show or not.

“Why did you do that?” Scott asked, a hint of fear growing in his eyes.

“What did I do?” Michael glanced around the room, confused.

Scott’s hands tightened around Michael’s forearms.

“Why did you kiss back?” he asked. “You know I love Vincent.” Sometimes, he added, “You know how I feel about your dad.”

In reality, Michael didn’t know how Scott felt about William. It was an odd detail that he never truly found the reason behind.

“Can we pretend?” Michael asked. “Pretend they don’t exist. It’s only us in this void; no one will stop us.”

Scott would take Michael’s shoulders after that, guiding him back into the singular chair before straddling his thighs. He nearly brushed his lips against Michael’s, but managed to make him wait.

“Yeah, we can pretend.” Scott muttered, moving even closer so that his hips were against Michael’s, making the man underneath him shudder. “I’ll play another song for you.”

The band started again.

#fnaf #microphone #phone guy x michael afton #phone guy x mike schmidt #phone guy #michael afton #mike schmidt #michael afton x phone guy #mike schmidt x phone guy #fanfiction

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practickles · 2 years

Text

Build Up - Featherary Day 1

Fandom: Project Sekai

Lee: Rui Kamishiro

Ler: Mizuki Akiyama

Open to interpretation MizuRui

Word Ct: 2k

Warnings: Tickles, physical pinning

This is day one of this Featherary prompt list! I will be doing my best to complete it over the span of the next month

Trying something new with my text here, thought my usual format looked a bit boring but I am not yet to the point of going through the effort of finding and inserting an image. Major props to those who do. Fair warning: This is about 85% pure teasing, lmao. I use they/she pronouns interchangeably for Mizuki here. I would sell my soul for MizuRui.

----

Rui wasn’t entirely sure how he found himself in his current situation. One moment he was hanging out with Mizuki in his room and maybe he had gotten a little distracted with his robotics at some point and now he was pinned on the floor with Mizuki sitting on his torso and holding both of his arms above his head.

“Are you ready, Rui?~” They teased, leaning close to his ear.

“Pft- Hehehe, wehehe can talk about this rihihght?” Rui looked at her with a pleading expression. Its effect was lost slightly by the anticipatory giggles spilling from his lips.

“Oh but you had your chance to talk to me. You didn’t use it so this is what you get.~” She adjusted herself so she was holding both of his wrists down with one hand, leaving Rui’s palms open.

“Wahait, I'm sohorhey-” Rui weakly tried to pull his arms down but Mizuki could feel he wasn't even using close to his full strength. He was struggling only for show and they both knew it.

“Aww, it's too late for that, cutie.” They took their long nails and scribbled gently all over his palms, periodically switching between Rui’s hands.

“Ahehehe *snort* nohohot thehe*snort*rhehe,” Rui burst into squeaking giggles and snorts at the sudden ticklish touch and endearing term. “Goho *snort* sohomewhEHRE elseHEHEHE-“ He shook his head back and forth, trying to hide his face at the humiliating noises he was making without pulling his hands from Mizuki’s grasp.

Mizuki sighed. “If that's what you really want, I guess I could. I know your palms are pretty ticklish, huh? Maybe we shooooould-” She removed her hand from Rui’s and slowly moved it downwards, ever so slightly, finally touching down on Rui’s wrist. “-start here and work our way down to your verrrry worst spot. How does that sound?” They scribbled just below where their hands held his wrists.

“I dohon’t expect mhy answer to affehect yohou muhuch.” Rui was still giggly from the torment on his palms.

“You're right!” She booped him on the nose, cooing a bit when he crossed his eyes and scrunched his nose in an involuntary response. “It won’t do a thing for you. You're going to stay riiight here and be tktktktickled no matter what! Aren't you so smart?”

Her words brought on yet another giggle fit as she moved her hand further down his arms, now about a quarter of the way down his forearm. “Hehehe stahap tehehesing-”

“Rui Kamishiro himself telling ME to stop teasing?” They fake gasped and sped their fingers. Rui’s giggles only increased despite not being attacked in any particularly sensitive spot. The action alone was enough to make him feel all exposed and ticklish. Anticipation truly was a wonderful horrible thing and Mizuki fully knew it.

Speaking of Rui’s currently very teasy friend, they smirked at him, a plan coming to their wonderfully evil mind. “You're one to talk. I think you could use a taste of your own medicine don't you think?” He shook his head desperately, only offending them further as they continued “In fact, I think you could use a bit more teasing, just for that~”

Rui was confused only for a moment when Mizuki suddenly stopped her scribbling and moved their hands so that each of his wrists were firmly pinned to the ground with a hand. They stared him in the eyes and gave no indication of any intention to keep going. Why did they- No. Oh no.

She was going to make him ask.

Mizuki would have paid good money for a photo of Rui’s face at that moment. A mirthful, carefree expression replaced in an instant with one of shock, understanding, and pure fear.

“Hehe- Is something wrong there, Rui?” Mizuki asked, despite being fully aware of both the honest answer and the answer her friend was surely going to give.

“I- uh- n-no, noth-ing is the matter. Now be a dear and let my hands go so I can get back to work.” He tried, again, to pull his arms free, now with a little more effort than his previous attempt but Mizuki held him fast. He was well and truly trapped and that knowledge flustered him to no end.

Unsurprisingly, his tormentor was not convinced in the slightest. “Awww, but that’s just not true, is it?” They knew Rui couldn’t ask and she planned to use that to their fullest advantage. “I bet you don’t even really want to get back to your work. There’s something else you’d much rather be doing~”

“I do-hon’t know what you mean. Though I think there’s also something you’d rather be doing as well-” Rui desperately hoped he could provoke them into tickling him. He might actually explode if he didn’t; He wasn't used to feeling so embarrassed.

Mizuki, not only rivaling Rui in their ability to tease, was also a more than apt opponent in their stubbornness and saw right through his ruse, only egging them on further. “Oh yeah? And why don’t you remind me what that is?”

Rui’s face flushed. How in the world did he not see that coming? The usually unabashed and composed stage director reduced to nothing but a flustered, red-faced mess over just the mention of a few tickles. How embarrassing. “I- cahn’t!”

Mizuki adjusted themself so that the could lean close to Rui’s face, still keeping him in place, and give a breathy whisper right along his ear, “Aw, that’s too bad~ I would have loooved getting to tickle you~”

That was the breaking point for Rui. He couldn’t handle any more anticipation. His face burning, his arms stuck above his head, the teasing, the weight of Mizuki keeping him on the floor, and finally the warm breath barely tickling him. It was all too much. He burst into a flurry of uncontrollable giggles and all but shouted “Cahan you PLEHESE just GEEHT OHON WITH IHIT?”

“Get on with what?” Mizuki tilted her head sideways in a blatantly exaggerated confused and innocent expression.

“MIZUKI! JUHUST TIHICKLE MEHE ALRHEADY!” Rui’s blush darkened as he processed what he just said and again, even further as he looked up at his cruel companion who was making no move to comply with his request.

“See, that’s not a very nice way to be talking to me, Rui.” They smirked. She absolutely adored being able to tease Rui to absolute pieces. “Because I care about you oh so much, I’ll tickle you-”

Rui shot a naively hopeful glance up at her.

“-but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be nice about it. Don’t get your hopes up, hehe~”

She changed back to their original position with Rui pinned with one hand, leaving her other free. She, again, began to scribble softly at Rui’s forearms.

“NOhoho, naht thaht again-”

Mizuki let out a playful gasp “Is that a complaint I hear?”

Rui’s giggles turned panicked “Nohehe, ihit’s nahat- Ihi’m sahahry,”

“Good. Then I guess you won’t mind if I continue.” Mizuki continued the progression down his arms. They paid special attention to the odd squeaks he made when they reached the inside of his elbow. “Hehe~ It’s so cute how ticklish you are here. Maybe it’s just the build up though.”

Beyond frantic giggles and the occasional coo (from Rui and Mizuki respectively), not many words were said from either party as Rui fell apart beneath Mizuki’s careful touch trailing down his arms. He couldn’t do anything but just watch and wait for the moment she would reach the awaited dreaded spot.

They got closer and closer and as a result, Rui’s laughter grew louder and more frenzied.

Finally Mizuki uttered the words Rui had been waiting for what seemed like forever to hear. Their hand was just inches above Rui’s armpit, gently waiting to absolutely destroy him. Rui couldn’t wait. “Okay. Are you ready?~”

Rui’s nerves were so shot, all he could manage was a short nod. Thankfully, for the first time today, Mizuki would show mercy on him and start their countdown anyways.

“Five~”

“Four~

“Threeee~”

“Twoooo~”

They didn’t even wait for “one”, surprising Rui as their hand shot straight under his arm, going right to playful scratching.

Rui was, needless to say, in absolute hysterics. The sheer amount of build up coupled with the attack on his most sensitive spot left him feeling more ticklish than he thought he had ever been in his entire life. “AHAHAHAHEHEHEH MIUZHUUHE” He tugged on his still unwavering arms with no expectation or really desire for anything to come of it.

“Just relax and take it, Rui, no need to pretend to be fighting it. You don’t need to pretend right now. I know you’ve wanted to be tickled sooo bad. That’s because you love it when I tickle you. Lucky for you, I’ll tickle you whenever you want as long as you ask to be tickled just like I am right now.” She tried her best to use the word that she knew would fluster Rui even further over and over as well as subtly reassuring him that she was also happy with their current position.

It was incredibly effective on both accounts. Along with the uncontrollable laughter freely flooding out of Rui, he now also had a warm feeling in his chest, both from the teases that made him want to melt into the floor, but also the kind words of a sentiment Mizuki seldom expressed verbally. Despite his trapped and vulnerable position, he felt warm and safe and very, very happy.

He shrieked and screamed in laughter, squirming back and forth and still slightly yanking on his arms. It was taking most of Mizuki’s strength just to keep him down. Apparently not all of it though, evident in the fact they were still releasing a steady stream of teases. “Tickle tickle tickle~ Aaaa kitchi kitchi coo!~ RuRu can’t handle a few tickly tickles on his poor armpits? That’s adorable.”

Rui stopped squirming and pulling and went completely limp, his loud laughter still raking through his body though. Gazing at his disheveled form, Mizuki knew he had finally had enough. They quickly slowed their fingers and lightened their touches until they were just barely grazing against the ticklish spot. She hesitantly removed her hand fully and let go of Rui’s wrists to rub firmly up and down both of his arms in what they hoped was a comforting manner. While they excelled at teasing, they were lacking slightly in the comfort department.

“Have fun?” She asked. “You definitely look like you did,” They poked at his bright red cheek, which at the moment formed an incredibly dorky grin as residual giggles poured out of Rui.

Still breathless and overtaken with laughter, Rui couldn’t do anything but nod.

“Geez, you must really be out of it. You haven’t even put your arms down. They haven’t been held up for a few minutes now.” She made her point with a quick poke to either armpit. Rui, still however, held his arms above his head and only continued to laugh.

“EHEHEhehe, tiheihered,” He barely managed to mumble out.

“Oh I bet. Still wanna get back to your robots?” They said with a soft but teasing grin.

He shook his head faintly, sleepiness obviously beginning to overtake him.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep here. Let’s get you to bed at least.”

Ask Rui in the morning and he would have claimed that Mizuki gently helped him off the ground and he walked himself to his bed. Ask Mizuki, however, and hear endless complaints of having to drag Rui across the entire room as he offered no help and made fun of her the whole time for not being able to just pick him up. Either way though, there was no question over the sweet expression on both of their faces while Rui curled into Mizuki that night as they both drifted off to sleep, each grateful for the other’s presence.

----

WOW this got out of hand fast- What a way to start the month. I promise you the rest of these will NOT be this long

#project sekai #project sekai tickles #lee!rui #ler!mizuki #tickling #sfw tickling community #rui kamishiro #mizuki akiyama #featherary2023 #mizurui

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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 2 years

Text

Pygmalion (IV)

Pairings: Rook/ (Pygmalion) Reader // Idia/Reader (Platonic)

Summary: You were frequently told that your career as a renowned sculptor did not match your dull and less than colorful personality. With your cybernetic hands, you carve the lives and deaths of those long gone‒ producing pieces which have been held in both technical and emotional high regard, dubbing you with the title “Pygm.AI.lion” despite your human heart and brain. When you accidentally still the usually flamboyant archer into silence after he comes across you working in your atelier‒ you find that you’ve become a victim to one of his ceaseless stalkings. Though, you’ve been prey long enough to know how hunt the huntsman himself.

Notes: I've been reading more of Song of Achilles and I'm sobbing. Help lol

Sorry updates have been slow. I've been working between fics‒ I have an Orpheus inspired Vil fic coming out soon-ish??? We'll see how my creativity is fairing after completing this chapter lmao I can feel myself burning out as we speak. Short chapter but I have big things coming next chapter

Comments and kudos always appreciated ヽ(●´ε｀●)ノ

CW: Hints of depression?? Mention of death. Not really much else except bad French oh my god it’s so so bad

AO3 Link Here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 (Here) // Part 5 // Part 6

Masterlist

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Grief anchored you to the ground for minutes? Hours? Days? You weren't sure. Your sense of time had been long broken when you separated from the rhythm of human life‒ and you would let yourself rot for however long you wished, knowing‒ painfully‒ that it would not matter how many more centuries you stayed harbored to that misery, as it would just circle back to the same emptiness. But you knew it was long enough to warrant a visit from Idia of all people, who examined your arm with a careful eye.

"Seems fine now. Your Orpheus system is just lagging because you haven't upgraded your physical body in its entirety for a while.” He let your hand go, falling limp into your lap. “I can whip up something quick‒"

"It's fine." You tried to say it as neutrally as you could, but it came out strained and hoarse instead. Porcelain teeth grazed the insides of your mouth, gathering saliva in your mouth to fix the dryness in your throat. "I'll be alright, little flame." You corrected.

"Ortho misses you, you know."

"Is that so?" You clenched your fist, testing its movements. "It'll pass."

Idia pushed a stiff breath past his lips to release his growing frustration. "Hah? Sorry‒ what? 'It'll pass?'"

"Yes, it will."

A violent vermillion licked the tips of his hair. "Be so serious right now (Name)." He stood suddenly to his full height, knocking the wooden stool behind him. "You're finally free and this is what you are now?"

He was nearly three feet taller than your sitting height. It would have shook a bit before to see the difference from his small stature during his childhood, and now at the cusp of his adulthood, but it didn’t now. You challenged him with an empty gaze, cold as splintering ice. "And what am I now?"

"You know what I mean."

“I’m not quite sure. Enlighten me.”

"I know it's not simple.” He began. His chest heaved with desperate, slow breaths‒ you could tell that he wasn’t used to raising his voice. There’s a slight pain that made you squint your eyes. “Ortho reminded me that you need to value your heart, as much of a fault in human programming it is. You taught me that first, you know.” If an answer was expected at that time, you did not give it. “If you keep cornering yourself into what S.T.Y.X tried to make of you, you’ll never actually be free from them.”

There was a familiarity in this conversation that slumbered somewhere in your hazy memories, that prompted you to answer as automatically as the reflexes programmed within your bionic muscles.

“You don’t know me.”

Idia’s sudden strength almost surprised you when he picked you up by the scruff of your collar, face bright from the orange flames that flickered onto his face. "No‒ don't you dare‒"

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

The door opens wide, revealing Rook with an amused stare. You were sure you locked it‒ but everything seemed to blur together in your head.

"...No." Idia's hands left your collar, letting you fall solidly onto your chair. You slumped into yourself, turning to your drafting table to keep pretending like you were busy like when Idia had first entered.

"Just…think about it, please?" He says quietly, turning away to leave. You couldn’t bring yourself to nod, or shake your head‒ unsure if who he was talking about was truly the one implanted in your mechanical body. So you merely stared at the bare paper, bent and wrinkled from the several days you had spent laboring over its blankness.

“A spat with the Ignihyde house warden? Now that’s a sight to behold. One could only imagine what you have done to prompt such a response.”

“I was being cruel.” You answered‒ almost a warning, a violence to fend him off. That fire felt seasoned in your throat, perhaps you had someone else’s memories deep down that had spat the same wickedness from it.

Rook tried again. "Critique is not quite the same without you."

You felt your voice echo in the hollowness of your body, ringing in your ears. "Really."

"Yes‒ no one appreciates or loves beauty quite like you do." He shakes his head. "As Le chasseur d'amour‒ I find it simply pitiful that I am unable to be in the presence of your masterful critiques anymore."

"I don’t love beauty‒ they were just my observations."

"Ah but I know it‒ I feel it!" He exclaims, pacing between statues bearing foreign faces. "You love beauty most of all‒ Maître d’Ivoire, is it not what has pushed you for all these centuries?"

You evaded his last statement, turning your face sour at the thought of even contemplating what truly had been dragging you through the centuries. "Knowing and feeling are two different things."

"Oh?"

"Knowledge does not require sacrifice. Feeling does." Something deep was swelling inside you, which plunged your voice into a quicker pace. You weren't sure what it was, but it singed more than the archaic violence in your throat. "Knowledge is obsession‒ there is nothing you just give to obtain it. Feeling‒ however‒ is love, it is giving a precious part of yourself to make room for something, someone, whatever." You stumbled over your sentences, urging you to bite your lip to quiet yourself.

"Hm. Then in that case I do not know which one beauty is for me." His hair sways as he turns towards you again. "This is so like you‒ Maître d’Ivoire. You make me question new possibilities. Tell me‒ what do you think it is for me?"

"Hunter of love, you say?"

"Oh, vous parlez ma langue?"

"I lived in the City of Flowers, I speak a bygone version of it."*

"You're from there?"

“Je viens de nulle part.” I am from no where, you dismissed with a quick tongue. "As a hunter‒ do you truly care if it's love or obsession? I imagine it doesn't matter as long as you're fed."

He thinks. "Hm. I suppose it doesn't. But I would like to think I love it.”

“If you merely think of it then you do not love it. Beauty is but knowledge to you. When you love it‒ you feel it, and let it feel you‒ unravel you, break you if you stay long enough.”

The smile began to falter from his lips. Cruel, you knew it. But you had warned him, hadn’t you? The words didn’t stop from your mouth. “Obsession is young, it takes, it conquers. It is tethered to ephemerality, and therefore is the brightest, the most beautiful. But it devours itself eventually. To love is pain. To love is to prevail beauty, to feel absolute reverence in whatever shape it takes. If in your eyes…” the breath hooked heavily in your chest, reminded of his words, “With my human eyes, that's all I can see”. You started again. “If in your eyes, it is beauty, then so be it. But to love it is to know you'll grieve over and over and over again, for it is a part of your heart." When you talked with him, you felt so sure of your words despite the centuries weighing heavy on your chest. You pierced your gaze into his own, looking far into the lush green of his eyes. “Would you fear that? Lingering and loving a thing enough to know it’s absence, le chasseur d'amour?”

Hunter of love. The title he wore like a crown felt like dust when it touched your lips. Once again, you were blurring the picture of clarity in his mind with a hazy heat, an aching hunger which rolled inside him that urged him to join your hands in breaking beauty, breaking truth. But he remained frozen.

His eyes shook at your words, your unblinking gaze searching for any fear, any grief, anything‒ in hopes that he would pluck it from its own heart and hand them to you‒ fill you with any particle of humanity. If it was him, surely it would feel fresh like the hunger in his eyes. Rook clambered those things in his chest, he felt the roles of the hunt were tipping, fiercely tumbling between animal and human‒ but he felt himself allowing it for once, his grip loosening and his chest swelling euphorically at his flowering palms.

“I am not scared.” He reveals quietly to you, as if whispering a secret. “Just greedy for it. For everything. Maybe it’s not all black and white as you say.”

Too many fruit bore in front of his eyes, and every second he spent inspecting one made another rot. He starved below the base of the fruit tree, paralyzed in choosing which delectable sweetness he could latch his lips onto for eternity. There’s no time, no time, not enough, he seethes.

You saw the quiet fire in his eyes, looking aside in shame. You had no right on the matter‒ you could linger as long as you could‒ you had the choice to leave people first before they hollowed you out with their absence. And even if you stayed, it would be fossilized under the deep pressure of eternity‒ their faces would become unknown to even you, forgotten forever. True death‒ you witnessed it, created it over and over.

Right, this again. Humans did not have this privilege. But you did.

You felt far, impossibly small for these vast things.

“Yes. You’re right.” I am no longer entitled to such things.

“Then how about you? Do you love it?”

“I…” I shouldn’t. I can’t. Not again.“…I have no right on the matter. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

His frown loosened into disappointment. He grips his sensitivities back into his chest once more, quieting his footsteps as a kindness as he walks towards the door. “I see”.

You clumsily clasped his wrist with your gloved hand. “Wait‒” He turns, with wild eyes. “I didn’t mean‒“ What were you doing?

Despite the stillness in his body, you could feel the warmth rumbling through his wrist through your gloves, into you sensors. “Can I show you instead? And‒ you could help me decide?" You felt like a child again, begging for forgiveness, justifying your ignorance to people twice your size. "I don’t know. I truly don’t. I wish I could tell you. I'm sorry."

“...Okay.”

You slid your arm to cup your hand over his. His lips twisted slightly, but allowed you to guide his fingers towards a familiar statue, encrusted with soft, pink wax. You pressed it against where her cheek was, her flushed skin, warmed from the sunlight and life that was fleeting within when you touched her with your bare hand. You felt hers, then his heartbeat jump in your hands.

“Tell me, what does she say to you?”

Rook was silent for a moment. “Can it speak?”

“Her.” You corrected gently, running his hand in across her jaw with the soft force of your own. “Her name…I cannot remember, time is bitter to me right now. But feel her‒ what do you feel from her?” You felt your fingers lingering on his own, before they parted from him, your body falling to a chair.

As he felt the fluttering heartbeat‒ gradually slowing in his hands, a storm of stimulation buzzed inside him. This felt like sweetness leaving his lips, leaving his mouth dry, but honeyed. She feels green with greed, but in the light it shines pink‒ like tender flesh, like love; and blue, like the quiet entropy of the cosmos. Everything felt so raw‒ the colors and his senses fresh to him like a child, or a man nearing death. When the beating burrowed in the wax slowed to a whisper, she felt lighter against his touch. But he still felt her warmth dancing in his palms, leaving a ripple of colors before it turned snowy white in his mind. A frosted fragrance, like pine, smoldering to ash in the fireplace. It reminded him of Christmas nights with his siblings, where distant laughter could be heard in the room over as he drifted into blissful stillness. The warmth felt like a hand in the dark‒ like when his father had guided him through the forest on early winter mornings to see the sun rise. Your love carved into this cold flesh‒ felt so alive, felt like everything, everywhere, all at once.

He felt a swelling in his entire body, every nerve, every cell in his body felt bigger than he was, threatening to burst at his seams. It was the same feeling he had felt when he first encountered this statue‒ a bittersweet fire at his tongue, something writhing under his bones, begging to dig its way out.

The beauty of your craft had been knowledge, something he had merely observed before. But even his exceptionally sharp eyes could not have felt so tenderly, this, that, here, there, all of it. Only when you had led his hand heavy towards fleeting life, a ceaseless thing you had felt in the centuries of your existence‒ had he truly loved the heaven-laden beauty crafted by your hands. You were right. Before, he didn't want to give a single drop of himself‒ seizing your life as a fruitful opportunity, sweet but quick to rot. Now, he felt himself sinking into it, feeling, smelling, and tasting its whole as a part of himself, before he carried that flesh to his mouth to become a part of his mortal blood. Oh gods, it was delicious to eat the world so tender. He could feel himself falling off his bones.

“Do you think that is love? It’s been six hundred years‒“ You gulped the heavy air between those words. “I just know anymore‒ what humanity or beauty or love is. I'm a fraud. I'm no artist. A fraud."

He suddenly understood Idia’s angered response. If you were a fraud what was he? “Maître d’Ivoire. You know better than anyone, those words could not possibly be true.” The muscles behind his eyes tightened from the salt that lurched behind them. He cradled his own thoughts in his chest, guarding it with such tightness he feared he might break them. He let go to reach a hand towards your bare hand‒ feeling the warmth pouring from yours into his bones, softening that hold inside of him even more. When he spoke, he merely traced the words inside of him, spending no time decorating with meticulous distance like he always had.

“It feels like a storm is buzzing inside me. Like the bitter chill of a quiet morning. Like sweetness leaving my lips‒ spacious, but sweetened. She feels green with greed but shines pink in the light‒ like tender flesh, like love; and blue like the quiet entropy of the cosmos.”

“Oh‒“

“Allow me to finish. Everything feel so raw when I touched her‒ I felt like. Child or a man of his deathbed. And when the life stopped‒ it still felt warm, and colorful. It was like cool pine, smoldering to ash in the fireplace. Like Christmas nights with my family, nights where I hear distant auger from the other room while I drifted off to sleep. The warmth felt like my father’s hand in the dark‒ when he guided me through the forest on early winter mornings to see the sunrise.” He sucked in a deep breath to catch his own. “If this is the life and death you have touched others with is not love, I would not want to know it.”

You gave him an owlish stare, unable to give a response to his words. Now, you felt far too close, tethered to your body and its rising warmth that tingled at your cheeks. You brought your fingers to your face to check your temperature. They shook with your twitching blood, unable to register anything other than their tremble. If you had a stomach, you would have heaved it out with your heart at that moment you realized Rook was still holding your bare hand in his own.

“That’s so…” Your hand squeezed his. “…sappy.”

Rook gave you the same look you had a second ago, before bursting out in a fit of laughter. You quickly trailed behind him with your own chuckles, but you don’t let eachother’s hands go. The atelier fills with the lightness of your laughters, the two of you clutching stomachs and throwing your heads back and forth, but you don’t let eachother’s hands go. The weight of that touch grounds the soaring feeling inside of you, hand in hand, sharing that gravity together.

“Not only are you an artist‒ you are a comedian too? Fantastique!”

“Only because I did not know you were such a sap! But I should have guessed‒ le chasseur d'amour.” Your laughter began to die down to chuckles. “It’s been centuries since I’ve laughed like this.”

“I am glad to be the reason you have.”

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Notes:

You know, in a perfect world, there would be an English or Japanese to Old French translator. Or I would have some linguistic talent. Unfortunately the transition from Roman Vulgar Latin (the dialect of Classic Latin spoken in the Western Roman Empire) to French is so fucking convoluted because Charlemagne tasked an English who didn’t even speak a lick of Latin (or any Romance languages) to “French-ify” it by making all of the spelling literal from the pronouciation of the Latin word. Also French has a bunch of other influences like Celtic languages (Gaulish‒ because oh yeah, the Roman Empire was big but so were the Goths) and others because after the Roman Empire fell, things were a little bit chaotic until countries began to differentiate themselves by the Middle Ages were Middle French emerged as a closer relative to contemporary French.

If it’s one thing I can’t do it’s languages. I can barely speak my native language (Japanese) or my second language (English), and sometimes I’m illiterate like genuinely I look at my writing sometimes and I’m like ….What? I’m sure you all share similar sentiments about my writing sometimes lol. But sorry for the historical accuracy this time. My academic Achilles heel consists of non-applicable math and sciences, and linguistics.

Fruit tree analogy stolen from The Bell Jar lol I love Sylvia Plath

Sorry this was kind of short. But I have something bigger planned for the next chapter

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