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#also not proofread
ryehoneyinkstains · 1 year
Text
Words, Unspoken
Severus Snape x Reader
Mentions PTSD, Agoraphobia, Depression.
AN: Writing this was hard. I wish I could come up with a summary for this, but I just cant. I like the idea of a post war Severus struggling to come to term with the fact that he's allowed to finally be happy. Remember, love isn't always linear. Sometimes we unintentionally hurt the ones we love the most. Slight ambiguous ending. Enjoy.
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The room beneath his staircase at Spinners End is full of dust and cobwebs, the smell of mildew and decay clings to the walls, to the wooden crates his father had shoved most of his things in once he was accepted into Hogwarts so many years ago. Clothing his mother once thought to save are ruined, full of tiny moth holes and stains from leaks he never knew he had. Still Severus keeps them, holding onto the memories more than anything.
He had wanted to put some more things in storage, wanted to stow away parts of his life that he no longer wanted to be reminded of, that he no longer had a connection with. He wasn't one to throw things away, growing up beneath the poverty line meant that the clung to things longer than he should have. Clothing that no longer fit him, books he's read so many times that they were tearing, edges rubbed raw from his fingers, the spine so broken that he knew if he was to open them the pages would start falling out, they were all put in boxes, labeled and sealed.
Severus never meant to pick up the box, never meant to turn it on its side and see his mother's penmanship, the words blurred from water damage yet so familiar that he could read them easily.
Severus, 6th year
Curiosity had gotten the best of him, so he took it out to the kitchen, using the midday sun as light so that he didn't have to waste what was left of his candles or call out for his wand. His throat was still raw and healing from Nagini's bite and every time he spoke it agitated the wound. The doctor had told him it would be many months before he was able to speak again, even with the many spells and potions he was to take. There were some things not even magic could heal.
The box isn't heavy and he can hear things rattling around as he pulls it open, careful not to tear at it. There's a faded school sweater he sets aside, the bag of gobstones that his mother had given him but he never got around to using, and a couple of notebooks he's reluctant to throw away but has no other option to, seeing as they're illegible from all the water damage.
At the very bottom he finds a book that sends a wave of nostalgia through his bones. Severus can't help the smile that spreads across his face as he recognizes the tattered cover and worn pages of his favorite childhood book. He had taken it to Hogwarts every year, finding great comfort in its pages when he needed it the most. The cover is held together with a piece of duct tape, the pages warped and yellow and faded at some parts. Even now, as he holds it, he can still remember his mother gifting it to him, sitting him on her lap as she read it to him by the fire place, back when life was easy and his father hadn't taken to drinking and carrying his belt around in his hand.
Severus sits, the rest of the box forgotten as he runs his thumb against the brittle spine, wondering how he could have forgotten about such an important thing. Even now, at thirty-six he still had the urge to crack open the book, let himself slip back into the fantasy world between the pages.
A letter falls on his lap as he fans the pages open, the wax seal crumbling and leaving bits of blue across his sleeve and on his lap. He cleans himself off, picks up the letter and the first thing he realizes is that the handwriting does not belong to his mother, but it is familiar. He can just about make out the fact that he's seen it before, the soft slope of the 's' and the way the letters connected; he knows this writing, he just can't recall who it belongs to.
The glue holding the envelope shut is so old that it's dried up and Severus just has to tug at a corner, the whole thing opening rather easily.
The letter is dated exactly nineteen years ago, written on a piece of official Hogwarts parchment, the school logo stamped on the upper right corner. Severus can feel his mouth go dry, his heart stopping as he reads the letter someone must have sneaked into his book during his Sixth year at Hogwarts.
'Severus,
I wish I was brave enough to tell this to your face, but it's like every time I'm around you I can't get my brain to work. The words are always there, yet somehow I don't know how to speak them. I'm hoping that this letter does a good enough job of expressing how I feel.
I've known you for a long time now, and I've always admired you from afar. Your intelligence, your wit, your passion - all of it has drawn me to you in ways that I can't fully explain. But what I really want you to know is that I care about you. I care about your happiness, your safety, your well-being.
I know that you've been through a lot, Severus. I know that life hasn't always been kind to you. But I want you to know that you don't have to go through it alone. You have people in your life who care about you, who want to support you, who want to see you thrive.
It's no secret that you don't feel the same way, that perhaps there's someone else you're interested in, but I don't think I can hide the way I feel about you any longer. So here it is, here goes nothing.
I am in love with you, Severus Snape. I have been for a long time. I know this might come as a shock to you, and I understand if you don't feel the same way. I just needed to tell you how I feel, so that I don't have any regrets later in life.
Please don't feel pressured to respond right away, or to feel the same way. I'm just glad that I finally get to share my feelings with you, even though I have to hide behind a piece of parchment.
I can't wait to see you again after this Winter break,'
Severus feels a knot form in his throat as he reads the letter, a sense of dread filling him up. The name of the writer is smudged, almost as if they had written this in a rush and hadn't let the ink dry properly before slipping it inside the envelope. But he so desperately wants to know who wrote this, who had slipped a love letter into the pages of his book nineteen years ago, hoping he would read it?
The thought of it being a joke, another one of Potter's or Black's twisted pranks, did cross his mind and for a second he could feel a wave of anger lick at his veins. But he read it again and he could feel the sincerity of every word and that anger melts away into uncertainty.
What is Severus supposed to do with this letter? Is he to put it in the rubbish, seeing as he's nineteen years too late? It's not as if the writer, whoever they may be, somehow still felt the same after all this time. Keeping it would make absolutely no sense.
Yet as he sat there in his kitchen, the sun at its highest, Severus thinks about how someone had looked at the young, awkward, poor boy that he was and had somehow seen something worth loving in him. Simply thinking about it sent his blood pressure soaring, a feeling he couldn't quite identify sinking its fingers deep inside his chest and squeezing until breathing was painful.
He was careful to slip the parchment back into its envelope, careful when he picked up the book and found space between the pages to put back the letter. Ever since the War, Severus was prone to panic attacks, and the weight of the letter, the weight that came with the realization that someone had entrusted him with their heart only for him to discover it almost two decades later, threatened to overwhelm him.
He slowly puts everything back in the box, deciding that it's best if he forgets about it all. If he acts like he's never found it, perhaps the guilt that's eating at his bone will go away. The letter would remain tucked between the pages of the book, stored away in the very bottom of the box and he could go back to living his life as if nothing had ever happened.
His resolve to ignore the growing seed of emotion inside of him breaks a few months later, when he wakes panting in the middle of the night. Severus is used to nightmares, is used to the feeling of his throat closing up and the weight of memories that threaten to suffocate him. But this time, it's not a nightmare that has him waking up in a cold sweat, no. This time he dreamt. Something soft and benevolent and unbelonging to him.
He dreamt of a house warm with life, of bright colors and laughter. Of a hand so tiny and fragile resting on his, a pair of sparkling eyes that look at him with so much trust and love. In his dream, he knew that child was his own, a child that he had never gotten to hold in his arms. In that dream he had loved her, had felt a warmth and tenderness that he had never experienced before.
The dream leaves Severus feeling disoriented and emotionally raw. He sits on the edge of his bed, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. He's never been the type to long for companionship or a family, not after everything he's done, everything he's lost. He's always known that he will never have those things, that they are not meant for him, and he's come to accept that.
But that dream has shaken him, has managed to free whatever longing Severus had in his body and magnified it until it's all he seems to be capable of thinking about.
He thinks about the letter tucked between the pages of the book in the room underneath his staircase. He thinks about the person who had wrote it, thinks about how his younger self might have felt had they found the letter when he was supposed to. Would he still be sitting here alone, scared that if he went back to bed he would be forced to see a life that suddenly he craves more than air itself?
Severus isn't expecting company, so when someone knocks at his door and he's forced to put down his tea, he feels a pang of annoyance. He's just gotten back from his appointment at St. Mungo's and while his vocal chords are healing, he's in no mood to entertain company.
He opens the creaky door with a frown, ready to tell whoever stands in front of it that they ought to turn around and leave him alone. But the words die in his throat when he see's you standing there, one arm wrapped around a large brown paper bag, the other holding your wand up besides you, a thin layer of 'Protego' keeping you dry from the cold rain.
"Good Evening, Severus." You say with a smile, "May I come in?"
He wants to say no, wants to slam the door shut in your face because he knows what's in the bag and he doesn't need you buying him groceries. You've done this before, every so often showing up to check up on him and make sure that what- he hasn't stopped taking care of himself? He's unsure of why you do it, why you seem to think that he needs you to look after him, but he knows that even if he were to close the door in your face, you would leave the supplies at his door. With how hard it was raining, he knew it would ruin whatever you had purchased and he wouldn't allow food to spoil because of him.
So he takes a step to the side, his frown permanent on his face as he lets you walk past him and into his tiny home.
"I'm going to go put these things away, is that okay?"
He wonders why you ask when you make your way to his kitchen, setting the bag down to pull open the curtains on his window, letting the light in.
"You don't have to keep doing this." Severus says, and his voice is still damaged from the bite, harsh and strained. "I can take care of myself."
"I never said you couldn't," you reply as you set down a loaf of bread atop his counter. "I did it because I wanted to, because as hard as I tried I simply couldn't picture you shopping for groceries. Anyways I had a feeling you were running low. Figured I would save you the trip and take care of it myself." You said it like it was supposed to make sense, as if he was simply supposed to accept it and move on with his life.
But he couldn't, not when it made him feel so vulnerable and exposed. No one had ever cared about him enough to check in on him, to make sure that he had enough to eat, but you did and you did so without making him feel like he owed you anything in return.
Severus grunts, makes his way to at least help you. "How much was it all?"
"Not very expensive, don't even think about saying you'll pay me back. Would you put these away?" you hand him a small bag of potatoes.
He grabs them, biting his tongue so he's not tempted to remind you that you're in his house and he wasn't a fan of being bossed around. He takes the potatoes and places them inside the same drawer his mother always had. He watches you put the rest away, watches as you fold the bag and place it into the rubbish bin.
"Thank you," he says once you're done and the look of surprise that crosses your face has him wanting to tell you to leave. He hates the way some people act as if there's not a single cell of kindness in his body.
"For how long I've known you, I think that's the first time you've ever thanked me." You smile at him, and he can tell that you're not one of those people, that you genuinely appreciate his thanks. "You're welcome Severus. I will always be here for you."
Your words slither through his body, cling to that vulnerable part of him that's been exposed ever since he found the damned letter, and makes his heart beat just a decibel louder. He knows what you meant, but for some appalling reason his body reacts as if it's longing for something more, something he's not quite ready to admit.
He clears his throat, regrets it as soon as he can feel the pinpricks of pain against his scar. " I will make you some tea." he says, because he doesn't have much to offer you.
"I would love that." you reply and he can physically feel the warmth in your voice.
He lets you be, turning on his old gas stove and setting the kettle on top once its filled with water. He can feel your eyes on him as he brings back the teapot he had used and rinses it clean. It's a strange sensation, being the object of someone's focus and attention, but he finds that he doesn't mind it when it's you. It's almost comforting, in a way. Even though it makes his hands shake as he feels that pit of loneliness grow inside him.
He finds that he likes making you tea, likes the way your presence makes him feel less alone. When you leave the kitchen to, what he assumes is explore his home, he finds himself missing you, missing the times when he wasn't so afraid to leave his home and be around people.
The realization makes him rather dizzy, makes the small kitchen seem even smaller, the warmth from the fire all at once suffocating. His collar is too tight and he can't seem to loosen it. His fingers unable to grasp at the buttons. He gasps as the world around him starts to shift and blur.
Severus feels himself slipping, feels himself getting sucked into the dark depths that he can't ever seem to escape. He tries to breathe but it feels like he's breathing through a straw and his heart is about to burst out of his chest.
He calls your name, his voice trembling with fear. "Please, I need you." He doesn't even care that he sounds desperate, that he's revealing his weakness. All he knows is that he can't face this alone, that he needs someone to ground him, to remind him that he's not completely lost in his own mind.
The next few moments are all a blur for Severus. He can barely recall the way you had helped him to the floor, the way you had pulled apart his shirt, ripping the first few buttons off. He feels your hand on his forehead, cold and soothing against his boiling skin. He can hear your voice as you calmly ask him to say his own name. He doesn't know if he does it, he just remembers closing his eyes.
Severus is unsure if he passed out or not, but the moment he opens his eyes he sees you kneeling in front of him, your hand still pressed against his skin. He can see the worry in your eyes.
"Are you okay?" you ask gently.
He nods, unable to look at you anymore. He feels embarrassed, ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry." his throat is raw and it hurts to talk again. "I shouldn't have let you see me like that."
"Oh Severus," you say and he lets your hand push his hair out of his face. "Please don't apologize. There's nothing to be ashamed about."
He wants to believe you, wants to believe that it's okay to be vulnerable, but the years of conditioning have taught him otherwise. He reaches up, gently grabbing your wrist and moving your hand away. "I think it's time you take your leave."
He's so tired, always is after a big attack, and he just wants to go to bed. He wants to forget the way he felt when he called out for you, wants to forget that this whole thing ever happened. He doesn't look at you as you stand, ignores the hand you offer him and forces himself onto his feet. His body aches and that hole in his chest seems to grow the longer you stand in front of him.
"Please," he whispers, his throat going dry. "Just go."
"I can't leave you like this." You reach out to steady him but he moves away from you. "I don't want to leave you alone."
Severus shakes his head, in no mood for this. "I said go," he snaps, his eyes burning with anger and frustration. "I don't need your pity. I don't need anyone's pity." He scoffs, and he wonders when he got so angry
"Severus I don't pity you, I just-"
"Just what?" he interrupts, his voice rising in frustration. "What could you possibly want from me? You can't fix me, you can't make me whole again."
"I want to help you!" you snap, your own frustration rising. "I want to be there for you. But you're always pushing me away, shutting me out. Why won't you let me help you?"
He doesn't care that his throat feels like it's been rubbed raw, or that his head is pounding. All he knows is that he wants you gone. He wants to be alone, to wallow in his misery without anyone watching. He doesn't want you around, doesn't want his heart to soften at the sight of your concern. "I don't need your help," he growls, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I don't need anyone's help. I've been alone my whole life, I don't need anyone now."
"Severus, that's not true," you plead, taking a step closer to him. "You don't have to be alone anymore. I'm here for you."
Severus is suddenly scared that if you get any closer, if you touch him, he won't be able to hold himself together. He takes a step back, shaking his head.
"You called for me." you remind him softly. "You called me and I answered. I will always answer."
Severus freezes at your words, his body tense with a mix of emotions. He remembers calling out for you, remembers the pain and fear that consumed him in that moment. But he also remembers the shame and vulnerability he felt, and he doesn't want to face that again.
"I didn't mean it," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was... I didn't know what I was doing."
"It's okay," you say gently, taking another step closer. "It's okay to need someone, Severus."
Severus feels his resolve crumbling at your words, at the gentleness in your tone. He wants to push you away, to tell you to leave him be, but he can't find the strength. He looks at you, really looks at you, and sees the worry etched on your face, the concern in your eyes. He hates what he's become. Hates that he thinks about the letter and the gaping hole it left in him.
Most of all, Severus hates the way he wants you to keep fighting for him. He wants to push and push and have you push back. He pictures the little girl from his dream and he thinks how lovely it would be if she were to have your eyes.
Severus slouches, physically giving up. He can't take anymore of whatever is going on with him. He's never been the type to get lonely, to fear being all alone in this house he grew up in. He's always been okay with silence, with being a man no one looks at twice, no one ever thinks about. Yet, ever since he read that letter and found out that at one point someone had loved him, it suddenly became crystal clear that he doesn't want to be alone anymore. He wants to be loved, he wants to love back. He's so very tired of the walls he's surrounded himself with, of the coldness he's become so accustomed with.
"Stay" he whispers, because what else is there left to say?
You nod, understanding the weight behind his simple request. You take a step closer, and this time he doesn't push you away. He lets your hand rest on his shoulder. "I'll stay," you promise softly. "For as long as you need me to. I'm not going anywhere."
He want's to tell you that's not true, that you have a life beyond him and eventually you will put your coat back on and leave him and once you will he will be left all alone, like he thought he wanted to be. But he doesn't voice those doubt's. He keeps his mouth shut and lets himself believe that this will last forever.
You made him tea for the second time that night and set it in front of him, telling him to drink up. You also made him dinner, but he doesn't want to think about how he felt as he watched you go about in his kitchen, taking out pots and pans and ingredients as if you belonged here, as if this was just as much your home as it was his. He doesn't want to admit to himself that watching you cook for him felt like a luxury he didn't deserve.
He was surprised when you offered, surprised that even as night came and the rain stopped you stuck around. He was so sure that you would leave, that the words you had said earlier would come with a time limit. But you sat across from him, in one of the many mismatched chairs he owned and sipped at your tea, your eyes glued to the fireplace.
It was getting late, yet still you made no move to leave.
"Are you planning on staying the night?" he finally asks, and even though his words come out harsh, he feels a sliver of hope that you will say yes.
You look surprised, as if you were lost in your thoughts and he managed to startle you. "Oh, you're right, I'm sorry."
Severus sets his cup down as he watches you stand, disappointed. "It's fine if you want to." he says and again his tone is clipped even though he's trying his hardest to be kind, to ask you indirectly once more to please stay with him. He likes the way his home seems to brighten up the longer you're here and he's not ready to give that up.
You look at him, studying his face before answering. "Would you like me to stay?"
He nods, not trusting himself to say anything more.
"I'll have to go back home to grab a few things, but I will be right back okay?" you say, and he swears he can see a hint of a smile on your lips.
"Alright." he says, trying not to sound too eager. That will give him enough time to fix up his room for you. He doesn't have the luxury of offering you a guest room, but he doesn't mind sleeping on his couch if it means not spending a night alone.
"I'll be back soon." you say and disapparate, popping out of existence in a swirl.
He sits there for a couple seconds, his heart racing. He doesn't know what made him ask for such a thing. But he knows that he doesn't want to let you go. That perhaps in his state he's attached himself to you and let your kindness start to fill the darkness that he's kept inside of himself for so long. Severus is unsure of what it is that he feels towards you- he's unsure if he's somehow come to gather some sort of affection towards you. But he knows that you've always been there, from the time he was a young boy back in Hogwarts to when he defected and took up the position of Potions Professor. You have always been a constant in his life. Present, but not invasive. He thinks to himself what it would be like if he had come to notice you earlier.
Perhaps things would have been different. Maybe he would have been able to open up to you sooner, to let you in and share his burden. But it's too late for that now. He'll take what he can get and cherish it.
He stands and takes his cup of tea to the kitchen. He needs to replace the sheets on his bed, needs to set out a towel and candles for you. He's always thought about fixing the electricity in his home, perhaps this will give him the motivation to do so. If he was going to open up and make you a part of his life- in what way he was still undecided- he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. He could look into charming the place to be a bit bigger, more inviting.
Severus climbs the stairs, winces at how cold it is in his room and moves to light the tiny gas heater he keeps in the corner. He wants to make sure that you will have everything you need, but everything he has is outdated, he's unsure if he can provide for you properly.
It makes him anxious as he strips the bed and finds new sheets to dress the bed in. He makes sure your pillow is fluffed, that the quilt he drags from the closet isn't too old. He's nervous and thinks that perhaps he shouldn't have asked you to stay, suddenly embarrassed at how he lives.
He hears you apparate downstairs, and he lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. Of course you would return, so why did he feel such relief to hear you?
The walls are thin, not very well insulated, and he can hear you set something down on the ground, can hear you walk up the steps, probably following the light glow from the candles.
"Severus?" you call out and he has to force himself to step away from his room, to accept that he's done all that he could to make it presentable, and calls out to you.
He's surprised to see that you've let your hair down, even more surprised when he thinks that he rather likes it like that. It frames your face in a way that has him never wanting to look away. He doesn't know why he's just now realizing this, why he hadn't looked at you sooner.
He stops his thoughts from drifting too far, moves out of your way so you can enter the room. "I left a towel for you in the bathroom, just in case." He says, and this whole exchange is making him uncomfortable. He's not sure what he's supposed to do, what he's supposed to say. "I also turned on the heater for you, it should keep you adequately warm for the night."
"Is this your room?" you ask, looking around.
Severus is unsure why, but he bristles, watching as you walk around the tiny bedroom, using the soft glow of the candles to peek at the books he had stacked on top of his dresser. "Clearly," he responds curtly, trying to hide the irritation in his voice. He knew that it wasn't the best, that it was tiny and cramped but it was his. He didn't want you to judge him.
When you turn to face him he can see the confusion across your face. "Do you want me to sleep in here?"
"Is it not up to your standards?" he snaps, "Perhaps you would prefer a luxurious suite in a five-star hotel?"
"I didn't mean it like that," you say and the embarrassment in your voice, in the way your face seems to flush isn't lost to him. "I'm okay with the couch downstairs. I wouldn't feel right taking your bed."
Severus softens a bit at your words, feeling guilty for his outburst. "I'm...sorry. I'm not used to this, to having someone else in my space. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable...I know it's not what you're used to but-"
"There's nothing wrong with your room. I like it, it's cozy." you interrupt him, giving him a small smile. "But I don't think I can kick you out of your own bedroom."
"You expect me to let you sleep downstairs on the sofa? I couldn't possibly allow that," Severus says firmly. "I'll make do with the couch, you can have my bed. It's only fair."
"But-"
"No. Whatever reason you think will change my mind is irrelevant," he says, cutting you off. "I won't have you sleeping on a couch when there's a perfectly good bed in this room. It's settled."
He watches you fight a battle internally before sighing "I'll go grab my bag."
Severus nods, satisfied that he's won the argument. He lets you go, taking this time to grab himself a blanket and pillow from his closet and his pajamas before heading downstairs himself. Why you would think that he would force you sleep on the couch when there was a bed available was beyond him. He may not be used to having company, but he wasn't heartless.
"Are you sure you're okay sleeping down here?" you say as he reaches the living room.
He sighs, setting his things down on the couch. It's smaller than him, but nothing the Engorgement charm couldn't fix. "I'm not changing my mind, the bed is yours for the night. It's the least I can offer you."
"Thank you." you say and do the one thing he never expected, you lean forward and softly brush your lips against his cheek.
The intimacy catches him off guard, has his mind reeling as you step around him and towards the stairs. You did it so casually, but the touch of your lips on his skin has his body on fire. He can't comprehend why you did it, why he's reacting in such a way.
"Goodnight" you say from the stairs, pulling him from his thoughts.
He turns to face you, surprise still etched on his face. "Goodnight."
You smile at him and he watches you head upstairs, the ghost of your lips still burning his skin.
Severus doesn't know why he thought tonight would be any different. He always had nightmares, changing where he sleeps wasn't going to prevent them. But he had been so hopeful, so sure that tonight would be different. He could hear you walking around upstairs, could hear the sound of the sink running in the bathroom. It was nice, not being alone, knowing that you were here with him. Those tiny little noises you made as you got ready for bed had lulled him to sleep, had made the night seem a little less dark.
But the nightmares came regardless, they crept up on him and tortured him until he had woken up in a panic, sweaty and unable to breathe. He had to toss the blanket aside, had to sit up to stop his heart from beating with such an intensity that he thought perhaps he was having a heart attack. In the haze of it all he had forgotten about you, had forgotten that he had given you his bed for the night. So when he heard the creaking of his stairs he felt ice cold fear, his hand reaching for his wand.
"Severus?" you whispered and it all came back to him. He let go of his wand, his hands trembling and he takes a deep breath, trying to remind himself that he wasn't back in the Shrieking Shack. That he was home and he was safe.
"Are you okay?" you ask him and he can hear the concern in your voice, the worry. He's grateful for the darkness of the room, that you cant see the way his face is contorted in pain, in embarrassment.
"I'm fine." he chokes out, his throat dry. "Go back to sleep."
You ignore him, of course you do. Instead you go into the kitchen and fill a glass with water, handing it to him. "Here."
He takes it with a shaky hand, takes a small sip and works the cool liquid around his mouth. He's grateful for it, for you, but he needs you to head back upstairs before he ends up breaking down in front of you. "Go back to bed" he tries again, pleading that you listen to him. He hates how weak he is, how you keep seeing him at his worst.
Instead you kneel down in front of him, right in between his legs and gently grab the glass from him, setting it down besides you. "It's okay. You're okay." you whisper, your voice the soothing balm he's always needed.
He feels himself slipping as you kneel there in front of him. "I keep making a fool of myself in front of you, I'm sorry." he whispers.
"Stop saying things like that already." you say, and he can hear how frustrated you are. "There's nothing to apologize for. You don't have to keep trying to hide your struggles from me. You don't have to pretend that everything is okay all the time."
He has to stop himself from flinching as you grab his hands, as your touch sends a bolt of electricity through him.
"That war affected everyone, even me. I have my own struggles, my own demons to overcome but that doesn't make me weak. So why would it make you weak?" you pull his hands against your chest, and he can just about make out your eyes in the dark. "Don't undermine your strength Severus."
Your words loosen something in Severus and suddenly, he feels a weight lifted off his chest. He had always thought that he had to carry his burdens alone, that showing any vulnerability was a sign of weakness. But your words, your touch, and your presence made him realize that it was okay to let someone in, to let someone help him carry the weight. He doesn't have to be alone, he doesn't have to suffer alone.
He pulls his hands free from your grasp and touches your face. He uses what little moonlight that filters in from the windows to look at you, to really see you. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispers, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "But I am grateful for you." He's gentle when he cups your face, when he lets his fingers stroke your cheeks and trace the outline of your jaw. He tilts your head to the side slightly, feels himself starting to lean in towards you. He can feel your face warming as his hands hold you in place, as he moves to-.
Severus freezes, realizing how close his face is to yours, how he can feel your breath on his face. He had wanted to kiss you, had he not? He wanted to taste the kindness of your words, of your very soul. This close to you he can see the way you look at him, the way your eyes are asking him to keep going, to take that final step and kiss you. He sees how you genuinely want this and it terrifies him.
He lets go of you slowly, pulling away so that he's no longer leaning over you. "I'm sorry I woke you."
He notices how your eyes seem to linger on his hands before you look up at him. He was scared to see disappointment, to see rejection in your eyes. He doesn't find anything in them.
"I couldn't sleep." you say and stand up.
Severus tries not to notice how you're wearing so little, tries not to notice the fullness of your thighs, tries not to focus on the way he can tell you're not wearing a bra. He looks away, giving you the respect you deserve. He focuses on your words, not your body. "Are you uncomfortable?"
Suddenly he's worried that perhaps he had missed something while setting up the room for you. Had the heater died? Was his bed not soft enough? But you chuckle, shake your head.
"No. Like I said, you're not the only one struggling to make things go back to normal. I usually take a sleeping draught before bed, but I forgot to grab them."
Severus wants to ask you about your pain. Wants to know what's haunting you so much that you can't find sleep without the aide of a potion. What demons where you carrying? But he doesn't. He can't.
You stretch, bringing your arms above your head as you yawn and your shirt rises, exposing your midriff. He stares at that expanse of skin, thinks about reaching out, about running his fingers across it and pulling you into his arms. He wants to feel the warmth of your skin, your heartbeat against his chest. He wants your weight atop him, grounding him in place. But he's too afraid to do so, afraid of what will happen next. So he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts.
"I keep some in the drawer besides the bed. You're free to take one."
"You don't mind?"
"I can always make more." he says, wondering if perhaps you've forgotten that he was a Potion Master.
You giggle, and Severus wonders how come he's never noticed how sweet the sound is. "Then if its okay, I will."
He nods.
"Will... will you be alright?"
He wonders what will happen if he says no, if he asks you to stay besides him for the rest of the night so he doesn't have to be alone. So he doesn't have to remember the feeling of Nagini at his throat, of his life slowly ebbing away that night at the Shrieking Shack.
"I'll be fine." He says, hoping to convince you, convince himself.
"You can come upstairs with me, we can share the bed."
Severus feels his breath catch in his throat at your suggestion. He wants to say yes, wants to be close to you, to feel your warmth and your presence. But he's scared of what might happen, of what he might do if he's alone with you. He doesn't want to hurt you, to make things worse for both of them.
"I appreciate the offer, but I think I need some time alone." He wants you to know that he's grateful for your kindness and your care, but he can't take advantage of it. Not yet.
You smile at him, "I'm here if you need me."
"Get some sleep." he says, watching you go back upstairs, the room no longer quite as warm as when you were in it.
Severus sits there, listening to the sound of your footsteps as you make your way back to the room. He doesn't hear the sound of the door closing and he knows you did it just in case he were to change his mind. He runs his hands through his hair, reaches for the glass of water and thinks about being bold enough to follow you upstairs, to sleep besides you.
He wasn't seeking anything else. He knew that you were probably already asleep. Or perhaps you were sitting in there, watching the door and hoping that he would walk through them and join you?
That was wishful thinking, Severus tells himself, shaking his head. But he remembers the way you had looked at him when he had almost kissed you, the desperation in your eyes. He finishes the water, hoping it would cool him down, cool down his thoughts so that he will think about anything but you.
He immediately remembers moving the potions to the bathroom, scared that he would get addicted to them if he had them so close to him. It was easy to take one every night, when all he had to do was stretch his arm out. He stands up, frowning because he knew that by now you would have found the drawer empty, so why hadn't you come back to tell him so? He was worried that perhaps you didn't want to bother him.
With a sigh Severus quickly makes his way upstairs, wanting to apologize for forgetting. He was right, you did leave the door open, and as he knocks he can see the soft glow of a light through the gap. He calls your name but you don't answer.
He softly pushes open the door and sees you sitting at the edge of the bed, the letter that had managed to overturn his life, to remind him of everything he would never have, is in your hands. There's a bitter taste in his mouth as he moves, snatching it away from you. He knows that there's not a single reason for him to be angry at you, that you hadn't done anything wrong. It was his fault for forgetting that he had stored it in the drawer, that any person would have picked it up and read it. But he's not thinking straight, embarrassment coursing through his veins at having you read such a personal thing.
"What do you think you're doing?" he hisses, grabbing the book from besides you as well.
"I-"
He doesn't let you speak. "Do you make it a habit of snooping through things that don't concern you?"
"Se-"
"Perhaps you thought that was an invitation to help yourself to all of my personal belongings? Go ahead, let's see what else you can rummage through." He should stop, he can see the tears forming in your eyes. He knows he's being irrational, that he has no reason to lash out like this, but the letter suddenly feels like its made out of lead, weighing down on him, reminding him of all his insecurities.
"Please just let me-"
"Enough. I don't want to hear it. You just have to stick your nose where it doesn't belong, don't you? You can't even respect my privacy for one second." he continues, his voice dripping with venom.
You flinch at his words, your face contorting in pain. He hates himself for hurting you like this, but he can't seem to stop. The words keep pouring out of his mouth, each one more hurtful than the last.
"You're just a nuisance, always getting in the way. I don't know why I even bother with you."
He sees the tears finally fall and he knows that he's gone too far. That there is no way he can take back his words. The way he's lashing out now, it's unfair and cruel. But the damage is done, and he can feel the weight of his actions settling heavily on his chest. He needs to apologize, he needs to tell you that he's sorry, that the words he said were out of insecurity and shame, that he didn't mean them. He opens his mouth, reaching out towards you but you back away from him.
"I wrote the stupid letter!" you shout, your voice shaking from anger and hurt. "You have no right to talk to me like that. To say all those awful things to me. Do you know what it feels like being in love with you all these years, to have you blatantly ignore me, to have to suffer through these unrequited feelings that no matter how much I try just wont go away?"
Severus feels like he's being dragged underwater. The pain in his chest doubles, claws at his heart, at his lungs. The weight of his words, his actions, feels even heavier now. He wants to reach out, to apologize. But he's rooted in place, unable to speak, unable to move. He can feel the guilt and shame building up inside him, overwhelming him with emotions he's been suppressing for so long. The realization of how much he's hurt you hits him like a ton of bricks, and he can't help but feel like he's finally pushed too hard.
He should have known, should have realized sooner. "I'm sorry." he chokes out, taking a step towards you. "I never meant to hurt you."
"Why did you keep it?" you ask him, your shoulders slumping as you wipe at your eyes. "All this time you've known how I feel and you've acted so cold, so mean to me when I've been nothing but a friend to you!"
"I didn't know!" he can't stand it, can't have you looking at him like that anymore. If he could turn back time and realized how you felt about him he would. Yet he couldn't, he couldn't have known how you you were suffering, how much he was hurting you. Even know, he still did. "I had no clue how you felt, I'm sorry."
"You had the letter. For nineteen years dammit, how could you have not known?"
He holds it out to you, shows you that where you had signed your name was nothing but a blurred mess of ink. "I found it six months ago. I had left the book at home and my mother must have put it away. I never realized that there was something so important tucked between the pages."
He lets you grab it from him, lets you see exactly what he's talking about. He didn't expect you to start crying again, sitting down on the bed.
"You never read it." you say, and he feels a lump form in the back of his throat at the way you sound so heartbroken.
"I never knew." he repeats, letting himself sit down besides you. The bed sinks and he can't help but feel like he's sinking down with it. "I said a lot of things... things I really shouldn't have."
You stay silent besides him, wiping at your eyes with your wrist.
"I..." Severus swallows, pushes past the fear that's been keeping him from opening up, from allowing himself to let you in. "I saw you with that letter in your hand and I was suddenly so afraid that you would finally realize that I'm nothing short of pathetic."
He continues after taking a shaky breath. "I'm aware of what kind of person I am, of what my past is full of. I see how people look at me, what they say about me, about how I look, how I act."
"Severus-"
He shakes his head, he doesn't want you to comfort him. He just needs you to listen, because if he doesn't say it now, he knows that he will never be able to open up. Not to you, not to anyone.
"I'm not a man that's meant to be loved. I've hurt people, done terrible things. And no matter how much I try to make up for it, to be better, I can never escape the person I once was. But when I found that letter, suddenly it felt like perhaps I had a chance, that perhaps I was wrong. If they... if you could have come to love that boy that I was...then maybe I could find someone that would come to love me for who I am now." He pauses when he feels your hand grab his, your fingers interlocking with his.
"I love you now. I always have."
Severus laughs, not because what you say is in any shape funny, but because you're too good to love someone like him, to have spent all those decades pining after him. "You shouldn't." he says, his voice shaky. "I don't deserve you."
"You don't. But it's always been you and it will always be you."
"I won't be able to make you happy." He whispers.
"You have to try. That's what love is after all, trying to make each other happy, to support and care for each other through everything." You lean in closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. "I'm not asking for perfection, Severus. I'm asking for you, flaws and all."
For the first time in his life, Severus feels the hole in his chest shrink. He's not sure what the future holds, but he knows he wants to face it with you by his side.
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medicbrainrot · 10 months
Text
i don’t wanna be here when you lose control
An awkward silence had taken over the room Task Force 141 was occupying when Ghost and Jaguar (Simon and Artemis) had gotten into a heated argument during a briefing meeting for an upcoming mission.
Ghost gritted his teeth. “Why do you always go on these off-topic tangents?! This is important!” His icy cold stare went right through Jaguar, putting a bit of a chill in the air.
“I’m sorry, but sometimes I get off track!” She says defensively.
“That is not good enough! This is important!!” He stalks closer to her, still gritting his teeth. His eyes look as angry as ever through the mask.
“We are not continuing until you realize that what you are doing is disruptive and wasting time!” His tone is cold, and his stare is even colder.
As his anger builds, his tone becomes even more harsh, to the point where he is almost yelling at Jaguar.
“Sit. Still! This is important! Now, can we please keep focus here!?” He grits out loudly.
“I CAN’T HELP IT! I HAVE ADHD!” Jaguar shouts.
Ghost growls and steps closer, putting his face right in front of hers.
“I said SIT STILL. This is IMPORTANT.” He said furiously.
His words shut her up immediately, and Jaguar didn’t move a muscle or say a single word throughout the rest of the meeting.
When the meeting was over, Ghost turned to Jaguar one more time. 
“I trust you understand the gravity of this now.” He said coldly, before walking away without another word. He’s absolutely livid, but he needs to calm down.
The next few days, the base feels awfully quiet as the team prepares for the mission.
Ghost himself is as silent as ever, hardly speaking to anyone, and keeping mostly to himself. It seems like he’s mostly gotten over the argument with Artemis, but he’s still a little pissed off about it.
No one really knows what’s going through his mind, but they’re all keeping an eye on him in case he snaps.
Artemis, in a similar vein, has been more withdrawn than usual, and barely gives more than one or two word responses when spoken to.
Simon picked up on Artemis’ behavior, and realized that perhaps she’s feeling the same way he is: guilty.
He knows he shouldn’t have snapped at her the way he did, but he couldn’t help it.
After a brief moment of pondering, he decides to go find her and try to make it up to her. He gathers a few of her favorite snacks into a little bag, and heads to her room, hesitating before knocking on the door. “Artemis?” 
After a few more knocks, Soap pokes his head out from his own room next door. “Jaguar’s not here, LT.” He says.
Ghost sighs internally. “Where is she?” He asks gruffly, even though internally he’s feeling guilty. His body language still reads frustration, but he manages to calm himself down so he doesn’t snap at Soap.
“Last I heard, she was headed to the firing range.” He supplies helpfully.
“The firing range?” Ghost asks.
Soap nods in response.
“Okay.” Ghost nods, hanging the little bag of snacks on Jaguar’s door handle before turning to leave for the range.
As he approaches the firing range, he can hear shot after shot being fired, in an even, precise rhythm. He slips on a pair of hearing protection headphones, and enters the range to find Artemis there, firing at target after target in pure anger and frustration.
She’s got her own hearing protection on, and it seems like she’s settled into a rhythm of firing round after round into the targets, quickly changing the mag, then continuing to fire.
Ghost approaches Jaguar carefully, getting closer with each step. He finally speaks when he's close enough she’ll be able to hear him over her protective equipment.
“Artemis?” He says, trying to keep a sense of calm in his voice, despite what happened the other day. “I came to apologize.”
“It’s alright Lieutenant.” She says stiffly, without turning around.
His tones soften a bit, not having expected forgiveness so easily. “Are you sure?” He pauses and lowers his voice a bit. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that…We disagree sometimes, but you didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s fine.” she says, equally as stiff as the first response.
Ghost stands in silence for a moment, before taking a deep breath. He’s not sure what else he could say to make things right between them, but he knows he has to do something.
“Are you absolutely sure it’s alright?”
She fires the rifle again. “It’s fine.” She says again. She has yet to turn around, and her voice remains awfully stiff.
Simon begins to worry that it’s not all fine. “I don’t like you sounding so stiff.” He says, notes of concern filling his voice.
He takes a step closer to her, his tone trying to remain soft and gentle. “Artemis…”
This time, she sets the rifle down and finally turns to look at him, slipping off her hearing protection. Her eyes are red and puffy, and now that she’s not holding the rifle, he can see that her hands are shaking. “I said it’s fine Lieutenant.”
An awful sinking feeling settled in Simon’s stomach, almost like he was sick. He knew immediately that he had to do something in order to fix this. All he wants is to comfort her, but he has to know where to start. He slipped off his hearing protection before speaking.
“No, it’s not. What’s wrong Artemis?”
“If you’ve come to yell at me to sit still again, don’t worry. I’ve been working on it the past few days.” She says, gesturing to the destroyed targets downrange. 
Simon looks at the targets, concerned by the mess, horrified by the realization that he was the cause. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Artemis, I haven’t come to yell. I’m so, so sorry for snapping at you the other day.” 
He pauses for a moment, trying to put himself in her shows. “Do you…want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know…I might go on another tangent…” She says flatly.
His tone softens some more, he can tell that she’s very bitter. “Artemis, you can tell me anything you want. What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying to show that he is being genuine, and won’t criticize her for going on another ‘tangent’. 
“What’s on my mind? What’s on my mind!?” She exclaims, as she presses her hands tightly into her eyes. “What’s on my mind is I’ve been trying to figure out for weeks how to tell my boyfriend I have ADHD, only for it to slip out in an argument and then have him use it against me. That’s what’s on my mind, Simon.”
‘Oh god.’ Simon thinks to himself. ‘That’s what’s been keeping her up at night?’ Simon hasn’t felt this awful in a long, long time. He’s horrified that he’s done this to her. “I’m sorry…”
“It’s fine.” She mumbles, her hands still pressed tightly into her eyes.
“Artemis…” He takes a few tentative steps closer, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him more.
“I didn’t mean to attack you like I did. I was wrong to do so, and I was wrong to not consider the consequences. I’m so, so sorry for my actions.”
“You’re not the first one.” She mumbles, lowering her hands from her eyes. “I’m surprised you haven’t broken up with me yet.”
“What do you mean?” He asks, his eyebrows raising under his mask. “Did I make you feel like breaking up is the only option?” He’s shocked at the possibility, a look of worry on his face. “Artemis, breaking up with you never even crossed my mind. Are you serious?”
“My last boyfriend broke up with me a few days after I told him, said I was too much to handle.” She says, a few tears escaping her eyes.
Artemis’ words cause Simon to feel another wave of guilt wash over him. He had no idea this wasn’t the first time she was treated this way, and it made him feel so much worse, knowing that he was one of the people who caused her pain. “He was wrong…” Simon starts gently. “He was wrong. You’re not ‘too much to handle’, Artemis.” He pauses. “You’re perfect just the way you are, I promise.”
“That’s not what you said when you yelled at me…” She says with a flat affect.
A look of guilt passes through Simon’s eyes, and he drops his head as he tries to come up with a response. “You’re right. I didn’t say that. I essentially said the opposite, something  cruel, that I shouldn’t have said. But, Artemis…” He pauses, his tone getting soft again. “What I said was wrong. You deserve to be treated better than that… I’m sorry.”
Artemis shrugs. “It’s my fault for fidgeting during a meeting.”
“No Artemis, it isn’t.” Simon sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “You have ADHD. It’s something you can’t control. You deserve to be treated with love and respect, and you shouldn’t have to be shamed simply because you don’t act how others might want you to.”
“I wish that conversation had gone differently.” She sniffles, as a fresh wave of tears fills her eyes.
“I do too, Artemis.” Simon steps forward and hugs her tightly, trying to comfort her. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” He asks gently.
“I don’t know. My brain is so fucking scrambled.” She sniffles.
“Scrambled?” He asks gently. “Why? Do you feel anxious? Do you feel overwhelmed?”
“I don’t know what I feel right now. There’s too much going on in my brain.” Artemis says.
“It’s okay, It’s okay to not know, love.” Simon says softly.
“It’s not okay! I keep fucking up because I can’t get my fucking brain under control!” She yells, exasperated.
Simon flinches slightly when she yells. “What do you mean by that…?” He asks cautiously. “How have you been messing up?”
“I talk too much, I fidget too much, I annoy everyone around me because I’m too much. I have seventeen trains of thought going in my head at all times and I don’t know where any of them are fucking going!” She shouts.
It takes effort from Simon not to jump when she shouts again. He takes a deep breath before speaking, trying to calm his nerves, so that he doesn’t say something that might hurt Artemis further. “Artemis…If I might speak bluntly. It doesn’t sound like you’re the problem here. It sounds to me that your previous exes were too harsh to you…” He says gently.
“It’s not just my exes. My friends, my teachers, my parents. I feel like I’m gonna go crazy if I have to be still and quiet but there’s nothing I can fucking do about it!!” She tries to take a breath. “It’s always, sit still, stop talking, stop fidgeting, stop bouncing, stop shouting, you’re being too loud, you’re being disruptive. Everything about my existence is annoying and yet I can’t seem to SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”
Simon’s eyes go wide at the outburst, but he manages to keep calm and keep holding Artemis tightly. “Artemis…” His tone remains gentle, and he realizes what he needs to say. His own trauma is screaming at him to not go near this, but he knows that right now that’s not the answer. He takes a deep breath and starts softly. “I think I understand what happens when you get overwhelmed.”
“What.” She says in a small voice.
He can hear the pain in her voice and it makes him feel even more horrible for speaking so harshly to her.  He rubs her shoulder gently, trying to comfort her. “Your mind feels like it’s being attacked by constant thoughts, and you feel like you might explode if you don’t do something…And you feel like talking and moving helps you, even if just for a little bit.”
“Pretty much. I didn’t get diagnosed until I was 22, but it made so much sense.” She says quietly.
“Artemis, I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this like that. Nobody should have to feel like they’re not allowed to speak or move. You have every right to speak and move around all you want. If anyone else tells you otherwise, they’re wrong.” His voice grows even softer. “You are not too much.”
“Even when it’s you telling me to be quiet and sit still?” She asks.
“That’s on me. That’s me being inconsiderate, and it’s me being wrong. I can’t apologize enough for that. I’m sorry Artemis, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He says softly, hoping she understands.
“It’s okay.” She says sadly. “You didn’t know…”
“Artemis, I still shouldn’t have treated you like that, regardless. I’m just…I’m sorry I didn’t realize something sooner.” He says gently. “If I could go back and undo what I said, I swear I would. But I can’t. All I can do is apologize and make sure I don’t do something like that again.”
“I wanted to tell you sooner… I just….didn’t know how…I felt like there was never a right time…” She says as a tear slides down her cheek.
“It’s alright.” Simon says softly, swiping away the tear with his thumb. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m the one who reacted poorly. It’s on me to learn, not on you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.” He holds her tighter, trying to express his love with the hug.
Artemis leans into the hug, burying herself into his chest. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.” She mumbles.
“It’s alright to ask for space after an argument. It just means you want time to cool down.” He says reassuringly. “If you need more time to process, I’m alright giving you whatever you need.”
“I don’t want more time to process. I haven’t slept in two days. I just want to go to bed.” Artemis says, trying not to cry.
Simon nods, pulling slightly back from the hug. He looks down at Artemis, still feeling guilty about how he hurt her. He can now tell how tired she is, and how desperately she needs sleep. 
“Okay, I can help with that. Do you need anything before you go rest? Water, a snack, anything?”
“A snack would probably be good. I’ve been here at the range since early this morning.” She yawns. “Maybe…maybe, after I’ve slept, we can talk some more about this?”
Simon gives Artemis a warm smile. “Of course, take all the time you need, love.”
He releases her from the embrace and turns to go get her a snack while she cleans up her stuff at the range.
“Simon, wait.” She calls out.
Simon stops in his tracks, turning around to face Artemis again. “What is it, Artemis? Was there something else?” He asks softly.
She steps forward and lifts his mask to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you.” She says softly.
Simon is caught a little off guard by the kiss, but he quickly recovers. He leans into the kiss, and pulls away after a few seconds, smiling warmly at her. “I love you too, Artemis.” He pulls her into another gentle kiss, holding her close. “I love you… more than you could ever know. Never forget that.”
A/N: Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated!
Masterlist
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belovaskitkat · 2 years
Note
Hailee steinfeld x female reader
Maybe something where it's night and R is sleeping over at hailees house and the power cuts off in the whole neighborhood because it's raining outside so hailee and R get bored coz there's nothing to do so they play truth or dare and R confessed to never kissing someone and hailee says she can be R's first and teach her how to kiss but it goes from a simple kiss to a make out session and hailee just calling R a good girl every time R does something right 😭😭
And hailee pulling R on her lap and whispering anything she says 😭
Beefy boyfriend hailee and shy R who gets flustered easily
I absolutely love your writing btw literally one of my favorite blogs 🥲
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“Shit!” Hailee swore. The power flickered off in her apartment just as the two of you were setting up her room for a sleepover and a movie. Clearly the air mattress won’t be blown up in time for bed so you resolve to the floor. You watched as she lit some candles to brighten the otherwise pitch black room.
“Don’t be silly, we can share my bed. It’s plenty big enough for us both!” Hailee said smiling.
“Um- n-no that’s.. that’s okay. I can take the couch in the living room. Yeah that’s f-fine,” you stammered. Your best friend, your crush; just offered to share a bed with you. Just thinking of lying on her muscles or within that close of proximity to her alone made you drool.
“Nonsense. I swear it’s fine, love. Besides, how else are we gonna watch a movie once the power goes back on?!” Hailee asked.
“I guess you’ve got a point,” you responded, scratching the back of your neck.
“Yay! So what should we do in the mean time?! Oooh! Do you wanna play truth or dare?” Hailee asked with a smirk.
“Uh I- yeah sure,” you responded. What could possibly go wrong?
“Okay you ask me first!” Hailee said smiling.
“Alright. Um truth or dare?”
“Dare,” she said confidently.
“I dare you to switch Griffin’s toothpaste with denture cream next time he’s here!” You said, feigning confidence.
“…c’mon it has to be something I can do right now! I’ll show you. You pick this time. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” you said shakily, not ready for a dare from Hailee just yet.
Hailee leaned in close, leaning her face on her arms propped up by her elbows. “Who was your first kiss?”
“Um.. I- actually can I choose dare.. I’m uh-“
“Have you… have you not had your first kiss yet?” Hailee asked. Her face was way too close to yours and her mint breath blew over your skin, her snapback hiding the low ponytail she usually rocked on casual days. The candles making her look even more beautiful than usual.
“Can we please change the subject?” You whispered, not wanting to talk about it.
“It’s okay if you haven’t, you know? If you want, I could kiss you just so you could say you’ve done it?” Hailee offered. Your eyes went wide and you quickly declined with a shake of your head even though all you wanted to do right there was kiss the beautiful brunette in front of you. “No? Uh alright I just figured maybe..”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes you can kiss me,” you gave in.
“No it’s okay if it’s not what you want. I know it was weird to offer, I’m sorry,” Hailee admitted.
“No… p-please?” You whispered again.
“Are you sure?”
“Haiz please,” you whined quietly.
She nodded, pulling you into her to straddle her lap with ease. Her scent filling your nose and you thought you’d pass out right there. Hailee placed her hands on your face, her long fingers splayed over your jaw and your neck as she leaned in. Her soft lips met yours and there were fireworks. You tried kissing her back but you weren’t sure what to do.
“Let me teach you,” she rasped against your lips. She kissed your slower and you followed her movements, eager to do well and please her. “That’s it; good girl,” Hailee husked. A shiver slid down your spine and a blush across your cheeks as she praised you.
“Hmm you liked that huh? Like the thought of being my good girl?” Hailee teased.
“Haaaiiizzz,” you whined. Her hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, just feeling your soft skin, giving a light squeeze as she continued to kiss you.
The pace quickened; what were soft kisses were now heavy, breathless kisses. You gasped as Hailee pressed her tongue in your mouth, a sensation not unwelcome. You allowed the muscly brunette to explore your mouth and you let out an accidental moan when the hand under your shirt slid down to grab at your ass.
“Hailee,” you breathed, pulling away from your best friend. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry I-“
“No. You’re perfect. I just… ask me truth or dare again,” you said, looking into the honey eyed girl.
“Okay… truth or dare?” She asked.
“Truth,” you said nodding, hoping she’d catch on.
“Who was your first kiss?” She did.
“My first kiss was unlike anything I’d ever imagined and I got to share it with my biggest crush and best friend. So I’d say I won,” you admitted.
“Yeah, you did,” the brunette agreed. “Wait… crush?!”
“Yeah…..” you answered, scratching your neck.
“Oh thank god,” Hailee said, leaning in to kiss you more. “I’ve been holding it in forever!”
“You had feelings and you didn’t tell me?!”
“In my defense, neither did you!” She countered.
“Fair enough. Kiss me again please,” you said softly.
“Of course, baby,” Hailee said. “Anything for my good girl,” she teased with a wink.
105 notes · View notes
alaboadoa · 8 months
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neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.
uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.
you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.
he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.
however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"
neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.
it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.
the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.
“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.
it's far from over.
he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.
neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.
you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.
it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.
he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.
the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.
not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.
"what are you doing? i am going to be late."
"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.
"you have to do my hair."
"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."
your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.
no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.
but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.
you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.
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© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
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astraystayyh · 7 months
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hyunjin with glasses and a tiny ponytail brainrot
fluff and kissing and Hyune is too pretty and suggestive in the end (so mdni)
also can you tell I'm obsessed with the imagery of hyunjin and lipstick stains????? this is a recurrent theme atp
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you're sitting on the bathroom countertop, knees tightly hugged to your chest as hyunjin brushes his teeth next to you. it's a bit silly, you admit, to watch in silence while he completes the most mundane tasks. but every second spent not looking at him feels like a wasted one to you.
"put this on for me?" he suddenly asks, his golden necklace dangling between his fingers, a sweet smile brightening his face. you nod, as hyunjin hands you the dainty chain and turns his back to you.
you swiftly clasp the necklace in place, before letting your fingers trail across the nape of his neck. "your hair's gotten longer," you remark, as you gently brush your hand through it.
"mm. do you like it?" he asks. and by the grin that can be heard in his voice, he already knows the answer to this.
"i do. very pretty," you whisper, as you gather a small section of his hair and twist it into a tiny ponytail. hyunjin turns around once you're done, and you pull him closer by the hem of his black cashmere shirt.
he's standing between your legs, strong, toned arms are on either side of your body as you tuck away some strands of his bangs, framing his face with them.
his eyes soften once they finally meet yours and you grin sheepishly at the impromptu hair updo, "you should put your hair up more often."
hyunjin tilts his head to the side, bringing his face closer to yours in the process. and you're suddenly blushing, profusely. you can't help it, not when he looks this pretty, his leg nudging your thigh every now and then. "it seems like you love my hair too much," he pouts, gently taking off your glasses and placing them on the bridge of his nose.
"does these fit me too?" he questions, his thumb rubbing featherlight circles on your bare knee. you can't speak, words elusive as your eyes run wild over his face.
you don't know exactly how you ended up this way- caged between his arms and dazed by how perfect he looks. you didn't even know that a tiny ponytail and a pair of glasses would affect you this much. but he's dizzying, in the most delicious way, and you suddenly don't want him to go out anymore.
"what? cat got your tongue," he smirks, as he grazes your cheek gently. the contrast between his mocking words and gentle touch puts your body on overdrive. it feels like a flame is blazing across your skin and yet you're floating in cold water.
"excuse me for being attracted to my boyfriend," you finally respond, tucking strands of his bangs behind his ear. "you can't really blame me, can you?" you chastise, your lips grazing the corner of his mouth. "not when you look like this."
"like what?" he giggles, before pressing his rosy lips onto yours.
"too pretty," you whisper against his mouth and he smiles onto the kiss, his hands finding your waist and holding it gently.
"i know how to make you prettier though," you grin secretly and he cocks an eyebrow at you in response. "close your eyes, for me. please, hyune?"
hyunjin knows he might run late if he doesn't leave in a few minutes, but he can never say no to you. so he closes his eyes, letting darkness surround him as he hears you rummage through a nearby drawer.
after a few, quiet seconds, you make hyunjin stand between your legs once again. your warm hands cradle his face, and then you press the softest kiss onto his lips. then his cheeks. his forehead. and the corner of his mouth. you kiss the tip of his nose and he goes to remove his glasses, but you stop him. "leave them on."
hyunjin's eyes are still closed, as your hands trail down his chest, before curling around his neck. that's where you place your next kiss, right where his pulse is wildly beating. you then move to the sensitive skin under his ear, and you can feel the goosebumps running across his body. "seems like I'm not the only one affected here."
"I never claimed not to be affected by you," he shrugs, and the sincerity of his statement makes the butterflies in your stomach surge ten times fold.
"open your eyes," you finally say, moving hyunjin to the mirror next to you, quiet giggles escaping your lips. there, he finds your red lipstick imprints all over his face, down the curve of his neck. soft kisses scorched into his skin, sealed in there forever.
"see, this is the prettiest you've ever been, baby."
hyunjin shakes his head, before standing in front of you again. there is a fond smile on his face as he runs his thumb across your red lips, where your lipstick is surely smudged by now. "you know i need to go out, right?"
"this should send off anyone who'll try to talk to you."
"as if I'll ever look at anyone else but you."
"you can't keep saying things like this and expect me not to pass out."
"then what should i do?" hyunjin smirks down at you, as you wrap your legs around his waist.
"you should stay home and ruin my lipstick even more."
"will the glasses stay on?" hyunjin muses, as he finally picks you up, his hands holding your thighs securely. you won.
"they will."
"and the ponytail too?"
"mm.." you run your fingers through his hair, tugging at it gently. "it will."
"i should've never asked you to help with my necklace," hyunjin chuckles as he leads you to your bedroom.
"why, do you regret this?" you question playfully and he shakes his head, lowering you onto the bed gently.
"no. not even a little bit."
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matchaitham · 11 months
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Smitten Kitten
Diluc, Alhaitham x gn! Reader
Summary: Your lover has magically turned into a cat! (Please help him)
Genre: fluff, crack?
Warnings: none
Note: a very late fic/hc inspired by genshin's april fools post :'> apologies in advance if this is similar to other fics, i hadn't read one yet so any similarities is by coincidence, it is not my intention to steal!
( Part Two ! )
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Diluc Ragnvindr
After a long day of running errands, defeating monsters, and being away from your beloved, you finally make your way back to your new home: the Dawn Winery.
The sunset made a beautiful backdrop for your home, and you just can't wait to return to the warm and loving arms of Diluc to soothe your sore limbs and fatigued soul.
You finally open the doors, about to call out to your lover when a furry obstacle blocks your way.
"Dearest, I'm home─oh? And who might you be, you dapper looking gentleman?" You smile and tilt your head at the cat who was sitting patiently by the doorway as if waiting for your arrival.
The cat looks up at you expectantly in return, slowly blinking up at you. It exudes an aura of elegance not common in a cat. But why is it so irresistibly adorable?
It has midnight black fur with red highlights, quite an unusual yet very elegant appearance. What caught your eye further was the collar, necktie, and ruby red gem it adorned, identical to your lover's accessories.
You slowly reach out a hand to not spook it, cooing at the way it immediately rubs its face onto your palm.
"Aww, did Diluc get us a cat? You're adorable!" You chuckle as you shower it with affection.
"Speaking of Diluc, have you seen a tall, handsome, kinda scary looking but still very hot fella around? He owes me some cuddles as you can see," you jokingly ask the cat, who quietly meows back as if it was entertained.
You walk past the cat (much to its disappointment) and make you way further into the house, "Diluc? My loooove?"
The cat meows at each of your calls in response. Hmm, very odd indeed.
The further you explore inside, the more worried you get. He promised to be home before dinner after all, and he never breaks a promise.
The cat seems to notice your growing uneasiness and tugs on the hem of your pants with its claws.
"Ah, are you hungry, little baby? I guess I could get you something to eat while I wait," you ponder, reaching down to pick it up and hold it close to your chest.
Soon enough you push a plate of fresh fish in front of the cat, crouching next to it on the kitchen floor.
It stares at the food in disgust, before looking back at you as if to say 'really?'
"Oh come on, that's high quality fish!" You pout at it, leaning your face closer to its own.
After a staring contest, you affectionately kiss the top of its head, sighing and complaining about wanting your lover home already.
A puff of smoke wraps around the cat in front of you the moment your lips touch its fur. The smoke catches you by surprise and makes you cough a bit and... wait, why is the smoke adorned by glitter?
After the smoke dissipates, there sits your red haired lover.
You stare at each other with wide eyes, still processing the whole situation.
"...hey hottie, come here often?"
Diluc snorts (snorts!) at your attempt at flirting before kissing your forehead like you did to his cat form.
"Sorry to make you wait, sweetheart. I suppose I found your tall, handsome, kinda scary looking but still very hot fella."
If you melt into a puddle of goo in his arms, I won't blame you.
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Alhaitham
You and your lover had arranged to meet up at Puspa Café for a date, how cute!
However, minutes have passed since your agreed meeting time, and you have yet to see a sign of Alhaitham anywhere. This was an unusual thing to happen as he valued you too much to make you wait even a second.
Before you got up to look for him in the Akademiya, a gray cat suddenly pounced on your lap.
You let out a surprised gasp at its sudden appearance before laughing it off.
"Hi there cutie," you rub at its chin, hoping it won't bite your fingers off.
Instead of a violent outburst, it instead closes its eyes and preens at your affections.
This gave you the time to take in its appearance. Fur with the same shade as your lover's hair, with the tips of its long coat turning white exactly like Alhaitham's. It even had an identical green ahoge on top of its head!
"Are you Haitham..."
The cat perks up, looking at you with hopeful eyes as if saying 'yes yes!'
"...'s cat?"
Its ears pull back in disappointment, and you almost feel bad if it didn't suddenly bite your fingers in annoyance.
"Ow hey!" You whine as you pull back.
Its eyes in sharp slits suddenly dilate and its ears droop. Huh, it reminds you of your lover whenever you scold him for being too blunt toward his subordinates.
"Aww cheer up lil guy, the bite didn't hurt that much! Although...what is it about my dear's name that made you so mad, huh?" You ponder for a bit, staring at the cat as if it would answer back.
You sigh and pick it up from your lap, embarking on a quest to search for Alhaitham around Sumeru City.
The cat wriggles out of your hands in order to perch on top of your shoulder. It holds itself with an air of sophistication and authority, like your proud little bodyguard.
(It also hisses at anyone who tries to get close to you, proving your thoughts to be correct)
After hours of searching to no avail, you meet up with your close group of friends outside your home to relay your concern.
Cyno, Tighnari, and Kaveh stand around you as you explain, not bothering to hide your distress, "I swear, no one has seen him all day! What if something bad happened?"
The General Mahamatra hums in thought before his eyes land on the cat, "Truly a cat-astrophe...we should still stay paw-sitive nonetheless."
You and the cat sigh in exasperation as Tighnari elbows him on the side.
Kaveh remained silent the whole time, only staring at the cat on your shoulder with suspicious eyes.
"Alhaitham?" He asks out loud.
The cat turns to him and meows in a tone that awfully sounds like 'what?'
"...oh archons," you take him off your shoulder and hold him up so that you're eye-to-eye.
"Meow twice if you're Haitham."
Lo and behold, it (he?) meowed twice.
"Actually, meow three times for good measure," Tighnari adds.
Cat-haitham did as told.
"Just to be sure, meow four times," Kaveh added again, looking highly entertained at his roommate's misfortune.
Instead of doing as told, Cat-haitham yowls in annoyance, similar to his typical sarcastic replies to the architect.
"Oh that's him alright," Kaveh snickers.
You look at the cat and back at the men in bewilderment, "How do we turn him back?"
Cyno speaks up again, "Maybe a true love's kiss would work?"
Just as Tighnari smacks the former's head, you pout and lightly kiss Cat-haitham on the nose anyway.
Poof!
After the smoke dies down, Alhaitham stands in the center of it all, a mix of relief, annoyance, and exhaustion adorning his handsome face.
He ignores your group of friends in favor of resting his head on your shoulders, mumbling incoherent words about being drained.
You pat his back as the rest bid the two of you goodbye.
"Guess we should reschedule our date?" You chuckle as he leans his weight further onto you.
He hums non committedly, "I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Right now, I just want to be as close to you as...paw-ssible."
"...Haitham??"
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zephyrchama · 1 month
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Obey Me! brothers and an MC with long hair...
---
It drives Lucifer crazy. He's constantly asking you to clean the shower drain and nagging at you to either pull it back while studying or cut it short. His tune changes at night, when there's a chance to unwind with his favorite record. One hand cups a glass of Demonus while the other idly runs through your hair. He'll brush his fingers through it to the tune of his music. He'll grab a fistful of it and let his imagination run wild. The next morning he's back to complaining about the drain again and dropping a scrunchie on your head.
---
It's such a distraction for Mammon. He'll drape your hair across his shoulders like a scarf or hold it up to his lips like a fake mustache to make you laugh. He'll bury his face in it to escape from the world when his brothers find a new reason to be mad at him. He'll tug on it if he feels you're not paying enough attention to him. Mammon enjoys wrapping your hair around his fingers and rings. He's very possessive over it. He has a habit of sticking stuff in it like a mischievous little boy, but instead of gum he'll plant flowers and leaves in your hair, then kick back and watch as you dig out a mirror to see what he's stuck on your head this time.
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Leviathan has a hoard of anime-themed hair accessories that don't suit him. He only bought them for collection purposes, but now that you're around he's always looking for an excuse for you to wear one. It's too adorable. He's mesmerized over the way your hair bounces and sways in pigtails, versus how elegant you can look when a high bun exposes your neck. He wants photos of them all. If you sit in front of him, Leviathan will comb his dexterous fingers through your hair and ask to style it. He enjoys the smell of your shampoo lingering on his hand and on the accessories he lends you.
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Satan idly plays with your hair while he reads or spaces out. Most of the time he doesn't realize he's doing it. It does irk him when he finds a stray hair in the pages of his book, or on his clothes, but he doesn't vocalize it like Lucifer does. He'll take matters into his own hands. You'll find Satan randomly tying up your hair without warning, then look all smug admiring his own handiwork. The elastic hair ties he keeps in his pocket for you double as toys for any playful stray he spots on the street. If you have a hair out of place then Satan will tuck it back for you, slowly smoothing it out while making intense eye contact.
---
You never knew how many hairstyles existed until you met Asmodeus. He frequently asks to try out new ideas and products with your hair. He comes to brush it when he wants to vent. Spa days are his way of bonding, wherein he'll wrap your long hair up in a towel and wrap his arms around you while it dries. Asmodeus is addicted to the feeling of it, freshly combed, falling across his skin. He uses your hair as an excuse to touch you and will match your shampoo scents with his. You have to admit the feel of his nails against your scalp is incredibly relaxing, and his intuition for fashion is never wrong. He loves watching you admire his work in the mirror while singing his praises.
---
It worries Beelzebub. He worries your hair will get stuck on something, as he's had to help you untangle it from a hook more than once. He worries someone will use it to hurt you, as he's seen Mammon pull it to tease you. He worries it will get in the food, since he's choked on a long strand before. Whenever you're in the kitchen, asking Beel to tie your hair back is a good way to distract him until the food is done, as long as you don't use a fruit-scented shampoo. When you do, it's fun to have him guess what fruit you smell like and compare it to the real thing. Beelzebub is always conscious of your safety and won't hesitate to put a protective hand on the back of your head if you're walking past a low tree branch or leaning over a pot of oil. He's trying to learn to braid for you.
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Belphegor finds it annoying to wake up with a mouthful of your long hair. It's pretty, but he hates getting his hands tangled in it while he naps, or finding strands of it on his sheets. If it didn't smell so good he'd have already cut it for you. His solution is to buy you soft hooded pajamas. He thinks it's cute to button a big plush hood (think of kigurumi) around your head and tuck the hair inside it. Sometimes he gets really ugly ones because they're funny. Then he has no problem using your head as his personal headrest. He likes rubbing your head because of the expressions you make. The only downside to these hoods is that he can't enjoy your messy bedhead, so he makes sure to take them off for you, too.
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pupkashi · 3 months
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satoru thinks about the anatomy of a hug often.
he thinks about it when you’re both waking up in the morning, you’re still half asleep and his hair is poking in every direction possible, a half dazed smile on his face as he scoots over, urging you to wrap your arms around him.
a content sigh leaves him, face burying into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath.
“g’morning sweets,” voice raspy and muffled, you smile, humming in response.
“g’morning angel boy,” you whisper, eyes still closed as the two of you gently fall back to sleep, this time hugging each other, with your heart as close as possible.
satoru thinks about the anatomy of a hug when the two of you are arguing, when you’re upset at him and frustrated beyond belief. he’s being stubborn, he knows he is but he also doesn’t get why you’re so upset.
“maybe if you’d just listen to me you’d get what I’m saying!” you groan, your jaw is clenched as you stare at your lover in anger.
“you just keep saying the same thing over and over what else is there for me to listen to?” he replies back, angry at the lack of progress in the conversation.
“whatever,” you mumble, turning your back on him and beginning to walk away.
if there’s one thing satoru would never allow himself to do, it’s let you go to bed angry and in the middle of an argument. he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he follows you into the bedroom.
“sweetheart I’m sorry, i don’t wanna go to bed arguing, can we please just- let’s just sit on the couch for a little okay?” his voice is leagues gentler than it was before, and you feel yourself wanting to lash out at him again.
a deep breath and a cold glass of water later you’re on the couch with your lover, wrapped in each others arms. soft sniffles leaving your nose as satoru wipes away your tears, apologizing once again before hugging you tighter than before.
the second he sees you after a mission away he’s wrapping you in his arms, hugging you and never planning on letting you go.
“oh i missed you so much lovebug” he murmurs, kissing your forehead before hugging you once more.
“you were gone for two days, toru” you laugh, holding him tightly nonetheless, grateful to have your lover back in your arms.
he’s hugging you after he gets home from work or you get back from hanging out with friends. he’s hugging you after a rough mission and is choking back sobs. when he’s being harassed by his students and you peek your head into the classroom, all of them immediately on their best behaviors.
“oh sweetheart you saved me!” he fawns, hugging you, picking you up and spinning you around before kissing your cheeks.
satoru loves hugging you, knowing there’s no other way for your hearts to be closer, knowing you’re here and safe in his arms. knowing the two of you are heart to heart, filled with love for one another.
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a/n: i hope you get a nice warm hug, you deserve it ! <3
masterlist
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aroaceleovaldez · 6 months
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reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.
Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.
A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).
anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.
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saerins · 5 months
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𝐒𝐀𝐄 // 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓
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+ sae x f!reader | wc 5k | content: angst to fluff, breakups, exbf!sae, exes to lovers
notes: this is the alternate ending to conversations ! (requested by one of my anons) i’m so sorry this took so long !!! and i’m 100% sure you did not expect me to write anything this long but i’m sorry my hand slipped >_< again … i’m super rusty but i hope you guys still like this ^_^
summary: sae’s willing to throw everything else away to prove that out of everything in his life, you’re the one sure thing he needs. problem is, will you accept him after what he’s done?
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he’s sorry.
he repeats it in his head, over and over again, his fingers almost numb from repeatedly pressing the call button on your number—over and over and over again.
sorry, sorry, sorry.
it’s no use, he knows. it’s why he’s here—why he’s taking a flight, bare-handed, back to japan, back to home, back to you.
“please switch off your phone, sir,” the flight attendant says politely, dutily, as the plane starts to move.
begrudgingly, he resigns, but the moment he starts hearing your voicemail message play, he sighs, speaking into the receiver.
“look, i know i fucked up and it was stupid of me to keep it from you. i’m sorry, okay? and i know you don’t want to speak to me right now but i can’t just sit around and do nothing. i love you, so i’m coming back home, and we’ll talk, and then… i promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”
yes, because he’ll make sure of that. he’ll make sure he doesn’t make decisions like a stupid teenage boy and he’ll make sure to trust you at every turn instead of trying to hide anything from you because you’re right. never in the course of your relationship did you ever doubt sae.
which is a feat. because given his profession and status, any number of girls would’ve been distrusting had they been in your position. not that sae knows, what can he say he knows about girls? nothing, apparently. after today, that much is sure.
as he turns his phone on aeroplane mode, he throws his head back and looks out of the plane window. less than a day till he’ll be there to see you in person. he’s not sure if you’re going to even want to see him, but he’ll try. you deserve that much, at least.
in his head, the same words repeat over and over again.
i’m sorry.
i love you.
you’re all i ever want.
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by the time sae’s plane touches down, it’s night time in japan, close to midnight. you should be resting, probably tired out from crying; he can imagine, because stupid as he may be, he can at least say he knows you this much.
your words can be hard, cold, cruel, but you never are. you’re all soft inside, and you’d rather face your emotions alone than let anyone know how you feel. at least, when those emotions concern sae. you’ll keep them to yourself and keep crying, day after day, until you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.
passport in one hand, his phone in another, he whisks off toward the taxi stand, mind in a mess because his phone’s now ringing with messages from everyone that isn’t you, probably concerning his absence from the last match of the tournament.
fuck the final match.
you probably thought he’ll play anyway. that he’ll play the match, and only afterwards would he attempt things further with you.
funnily enough, that’s what sae used to think too. before any of this happened. never in his life did he think he’d sooner rather sabotage his own career than lose you. it’s laughable, really, how much he’s so afraid of losing you that it clouds his judgement.
he should’ve been honest with you from the start instead of letting you find out on your own. it was that easy.
“could you step on it, please?” sae sighs, irritated at everything keeping him from you; the distance, the traffic, the stupidity.
the taxi driver narrows his gaze at sae through the rear view mirror, clearly annoyed. “i’d rather not get a ticket,” he replies monotonously, and sae sees that he’s driving at the speed limit. “wouldn’t want to get into an accident, would you?”
well, if he did, that would put a real hamper in his plans, so sae just shuts up and switches off his phone. none of them are you anyway. there’s no point.
as he stares out the window at the now-quiet city, he finds that, for the first time, he’s afraid of losing everything.
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mira [7.28pm]: make sure you get enough rest! bought some soup for you in case you haven’t eaten :)
you look at the time now—12.14am. fuck, did you really sleep the entire day away?
the sliver of moonlight that shines through your blinds is all you see next to the pitter patter of the heavy rain against your window. it’s pathetic, really, for you to take a day off just because of that argument (if you can really call it that) the night before. you couldn’t bring yourself to even watch his game like you’d promised him you always would, once upon a time.
something tells you that he should expect that, though. even without watching his game, you know they’d win. sae has always been magical like that, being the playmaker he is. you imagine he’s probably with his team now, celebrating the win. or are they asleep right now? you never could get used to the time difference. it’s too much of a headache.
aside from mira, you see a voicemail message in your inbox. from sae. it makes your heart skip a beat. are you even ready to hear him and whatever he has to say? it’s why you’d been avoiding him since yesterday—you’re afraid you’re just going to crumble and forgive and get taken advantage of. it threatens to spin the same old story you’ve always known.
you click on it anyway.
“look, i know i fucked up and it was stupid of me to keep it from you. i’m sorry, okay? and i know you don’t want to speak to me right now but i can’t just sit around and do nothing. i love you, so i’m coming back home, and we’ll talk, and then… i promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”
will it though? how much can you trust his words after he already failed once? it makes you think twice, no matter how badly you want to forgive him because you do believe him. it’s most likely nothing, and what he said is most likely true, but it makes you upset that he thought of hiding such a thing from you.
just as you toss your phone aside, you hear a series of urgent knocks on your door, the thunder ruthless outside. slowly, you get up, dragging your feet against the hardwood floors and flinching a little as you hear how loud the banging is. you’re half afraid and half agitated, halfway between hiding yourself under the covers and threatening to kill whoever it is outside.
but then you swing the door open and you’re met with that pair of teal eyes you’ve always loved, his bangs matted against his face as he pants, the rainwater drenching him from head to toe.
“y/n,” he calls out, as though it’s been ages since he last heard from you. it’s only been a day, but it’s enough to make sae feel as though it’s been forever.
you’re a little shocked, your brain trying to process every single question that comes to mind.
is that really him? why isn’t he in spain? if he played the game, the timeline doesn’t add up—how did he get here so fast? is this actually a dream? holy crap it feels so real, though? why isn’t he saying anything?
“s-sae?”
you’re not even sure if you said that out loud—you’re a little too shocked to make sense of anything right now. but the moment the corner of his lips tug upward, revealing that lopsided smile you love, you know it’s real.
he’s here.
“i… came to talk,” is all he can say. he’s tired from running up the stairs. apparently tonight, everything was against him. there was an accident right at the street before the corner of your apartment, so he’d had to end the trip early and start running for it. by the time he got here, the elevators for your block were all undergoing maintenance and unusable. but fuck if twenty flights of stairs are enough to make him turn away.
you’re blinking a lot, as if you find it unbelievable that he’s here in the first place, but you nod anyway and step aside to let him in, wet clothes and all.
“how was work today?”
it’s definitely not what he came here from spain to talk about but you entertain it anyway.
“didn’t go,” you tell him, a little coldly, but you think he deserves that much, at least. “how was the game?”
“don’t know, didn’t go.”
you two are similar that way.
“why not?”
“i had other important things to do.”
“you do? pray tell.”
it’s the first time sae’s hearing you like this and he’s sure now that he never wants to make you like this ever again—going against your nature.
it’s lame, and overused, and you deserve an essay for why he shouldn’t and wouldn’t ever do this again to you but it’s sae and he’s never sure what’s good in these situations so all he can manage to say is, “i’m so sorry.”
you cross your arms as the both of you stand in your dimly-lit living room, the storm raging on outside. it’s not like you don’t know that. that aside, you’re pretty sure he’s the most sorry he’s ever been. and if you were still the same naive girl you used to be ten years ago you probably would’ve forgiven him by now.
but you’re not.
“okay, is that all?”
it’s not what you really want to say. you kind of just want this to be a dream; that picture of him and that random girl with their lips locked, that fight that you had that made you cry to sleep. you wish it was some sort of stupid nightmare that didn’t make him ruin your trust but it did.
sae, on the other hand, seems restless. he’s taken aback, not quite sure how to get through to you because he’s never made a mistake like this before. “just- could you… forgive me?”
the ache you head in his voice breaks you, and you’re sure he can see the tears threatening to spill, but you stand with your choice. “can i? i don’t really know, to be honest,” you respond, voice soft and low, not quite daring to meet his eyes in case you falter.
the contrast between how you were and how you are kicks him in the gut and he has no one to blame but himself. he doesn’t want to, but he can sense where this is going. he’s not stupid, he just… doesn’t want to believe it.
“please… don’t do this?” sae swallows the lump in his throat, the foreign way his heartbeat quickens out of fear stumping him. there’s probably more he should say, but maybe that just wouldn’t be enough anymore. his words can’t find him and he can’t find it in himself to reach out to you. not when he realises you out of all people hate the most for having to do this.
if you just blindly follow your heart, you’d leap in his arms right now, fuck how soaked he is. because you still love him. you know that, and you think maybe he knows it too, but judging by the perplexed look on his face, he probably doesn’t realise it. that’s why your brain does the deciding for you. it had already made its choice the moment you saw that picture, the moment you saw the headlines on that gossip rag.
“i… think we should break up, sae.”
before today, if you’d told yourself that one day, you’d say these words, you wouldn’t believe it. but here you are, breaking up with the love of your life.
sae is just standing in front of you, staring at you, the happy picture of the two of you during your second year anniversary hanging on your wall haunting him this very second. the command he gave his assistant to help him get that ring for you sending him into the pits of despair. he’s so stunned he doesn’t know what to say or do.
“you’re… serious?”
there’s no expression in his eyes. they’re just dull, and dark, and nothing like how you’re used to.
this time, you’re the one trying to force the words out of your mouth, calmly, because you’re afraid that the tears will just spill out. “you’re… you’re the one who told me to be kinder to myself, right?”
sae chuckles softly, helplessly, as he realises you take every word he says to heart.
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EIGHT YEARS AGO
it was beyond him why you let yourself be subjected to this. nobody was a saint, but surely you deserved better than to be treated like trash?
sae understood a little of where you were coming from. it was hard to let go of a three-year relationship, but having you visit him crying in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly what he would condone.
“you can do better than him, you know that right?”
the words slipped out of his mouth before he knew it. he’d once sworn that he wouldn’t meddle in your relationship, that he’d let you figure it out on your own, but your heartaches were getting too often those days that sae just couldn’t hold it in anymore.
it probably wasn’t the best thing to say to you, considering how you were bawling your eyes out and staining his entire jersey with your tears, but sae was never one to filter his words.
“everyone says that.”
which tells sae you didn’t believe that.
“which means there’s some truth there,” he sighed, leaning back against the couch as you continued to bury your head in his chest. sae saw rin from the corner of the room, peaking out of the hallway and gave him a quick wave to signal him to leave them alone.
“i… don’t know what to do.”
you rarely ever did. having been your friend for the past four years before this taught sae two things: one, you gave your all for your relationship, and two, you were one of the kindest people he’s ever known. (and by extension, it simply meant you knew what had to be done, but you refused to do it.)
sae took a deep breath, eyes gazing up at the ceiling before he resumes, “i don’t know why you let people treat you like that.”
you stayed quiet, sniffling, though it’s getting softer now, so sae continues.
“you know, you’re one of the nicest people i know,” sae told you, fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair—the way he always wanted to but never let himself admit. “which is why it kinda sucks that you’re so stupid to let yourself be hurt by that asshole over and over again.”
the both of you chuckled at that. sae was glad to know you understood he meant only well.
“stop… letting people hurt you and then letting them get away like that, okay?” he said it softly, but you definitely caught it. “be kinder to yourself, fucks sake.”
he felt your fingers curl, gripping at his shirt as you stopped yourself from crying. you looked up at him that night, smiling as your tears dried, and sae remembered telling himself that he’d never want to be the reason you had to feel upset.
“when you say it like that, how can i say no?” you joked, laughing, wiping the last of your tears away. “besides, even if i was still being stupid, i’d always have you with me, right?”
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sae remembers.
he remembers not answering you, but he remembers thinking yes, always. and he has a feeling you knew back then too, that sae would always be there for you regardless.
only if it’s you.
maybe even back then, you already knew how he felt for you. and you would always listen to him. you’d always believe in him. now he feels even more stupid for everything that transpired. with his words thrown back at him, he finds himself speechless.
“you’re right,” he replies, voice hoarse, his gaze dropping to the floor. sae was being stupid, and he’s crazy if he thinks he’ll be let off that easy.
you’re sniffling a little, and he does you the courtesy of not looking at you even though you’re already turning away. “i’ll mail you your stuff.”
“it’s fine, i’ll get rin to help me take ‘em.”
it’s a diplomatic breakup. polite, nothing out of line, just two adults deciding that maybe now just isn’t the time.
after a long pause, sae gets the guts to speak. “you know you’re the only one for me, right?” because he feels like maybe you’d been doubting it recently and he doesn’t want you to feel worthless. maybe it has the adverse effect and maybe it’s selfish but he needs you to hear that.
you don’t acknowledge it, and you barely acknowledge him, even as he turns to walk out the door. this time, you’re the one not giving the answer, but sae feels like he knows how you feel anyway. you need time away from him. a proper break from him. so sae leaves wordlessly, clinging on to hope that maybe one day, he’ll be deserving of you again.
the moment sae closes the door, you fall to the floor, wailing into your cushion pillow, having one of the worst nights of your life.
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THE NEXT WEEK
annoying jr [10.48am]: oi stupid, i’m here.
—followed by an incessant ringing of your doorbell.
when you groan and swing the front door open, you’re greeted by a smirking rin. at least he hasn’t changed one bit since you’d known him when he was a kid. well, at least not to you.
“did you have to ring it so obnoxiously?” you whine, plopping down on your couch, burying your head in the leather seats.
rin shuts the door behind him, scoffing. “you’re the one who always used to wake up late,” he quips, rolling his eyes (you don’t have to see it, you just know how he’s going to react).
“and someone was always the third party on dates,” you snap back, sticking your tongue out at him.
he deadpans, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “hey, wasn’t my fault my stupid brother kept using me as an excuse to go out.”
right, because back then his parents were a lot more strict than they are now, back before they didn’t know you.
realising that the mood had grown a little somber, rin clears his throat, changing the subject. “how’s work so far?”
you chuckle under your breath, finding it funny how both the brothers’ go-to question is to ask about your work. though, they’ve never been that good in conversations so you can’t blame them.
“it’s fine, promotion period’s coming up so i’m preparing for that,” you respond lacklustrely, getting up off the couch, dragging your feet to your bedroom before resurfacing just ten seconds later, carrying a box full of sae’s things.
it’s full of his clothes, care products and the like, but mostly clothes, because you’d realised you liked to steal his jerseys, wear them like they’re your own, but mostly because they smell like him, remind you of him when he’s not physically around and makes you feel better.
doesn’t make you feel good when you have to pack them up, though. you cried all the way again. pathetically. but rin doesn’t have to know, so you keep up your unbothered facade.
rin takes the box from you, thankfully not mentioning his brother. “hope you get that promotion then,” he says politely, though you sense he might have something else to say that he doesn’t know if he should.
you sigh, because sometimes rin looks like a neglected younger brother and you don’t have the heart to ignore him like sae does sometimes. “go ahead, say what’s on your mind.”
it takes just a moment of hesitation before rin heeds your words. “did you see sae’s interview last night?”
part of you doesn’t want to think about anything related to sae, but most of you still misses him, so it’s a canon event that you still look out for any and every news of him. it’s sad and pathetic and that’s why you make extra care not to mention any of that to anyone.
“nope, was it about their recent win?”
you try to go on as per normal, like sae isn’t just the love of your life that you still wanted.
“mhm.” rin, at least, doesn’t tease you about it. whether he means to or not, you’re grateful for that. “they asked him, though. about that game.” (but of course, you knew that already.)
ah, that game. the game that he abandoned to come find you. the game that led up to your breakup. the game that sae probably had to pay dearly for for knowingly ditching.
“oh, i see. what about it?”
a resigned sigh leaves rin’s lips as he looks at you with the full sincerity of a younger brother concerned with his older brother’s fuckup. “he… really loves you, you know? he’s just… stupid.”
you snort at his last remark, both of you breaking out into a small laughter. it’s bittersweet, thinking about how this might be the last time you see rin, but you’ll probably get over it. you’ll get over this, and sae, and move on someday—now if only you could get yourself to want that.
“i know,” you mutter quietly, deciding that it’s best not to speak too much about it. it’s dumb, considering everything that happened, but his words made you feel relieved, even if just for a second.
just before he leaves, you give him one last hug. “thanks, rin.”
THREE MONTHS LATER
“please don’t give me another heart attack like last time.”
sae huffs, annoyed, although he knows he probably deserves that. his poor assistant went through hell trying to appease everyone on the team due to sae’s last stunt. luckily, there are exceptions made for the best soccer player on the team, so no punishment was dire enough that he had to get kicked.
“i’m just going out for some air.” sae leaves before his assistant can get any words out, entirely too tired today to listen to anything anyone else has to say.
besides, today is a special day.
the moment he’s out of earshot, he calls one of the only contacts on his phone. for some reason, his heart is thumping wildly and his fingers are fiddling with the hem of his windbreaker. the weather is nearing negatives but somehow, he doesn’t feel it.
“hello?”
sae nearly gets a heart attack of his own when a deep, low voice is what he hears, until he realises that he recognises it.
“rin, what’re you doing there?”
he can make out the sadistic chuckle from halfway across the world. “what, disappointed?” (if sae could punch him right now he would.) “relax, we’re just at her birthday dinner and she’s busy,” he explains, though sae doesn’t nearly care about any of that other than the fact that he wants to talk to you.
“where’s y/n?”
“she’s the birthday girl, people are lining up just to take pictures with her,” rin raises his voice over the background, and sae’s never been more frustrated. “she’s taking pics with some handsome guy right now, and he’s got his hands around her waist,” rin whistles right after, and sae can just sense his smugness through the phone.
whether what his brother said was true or not, sae is in no position to be jealous anyway. (even though he is and he’s sporting an unamused frown that’s enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone watching him.)
“wish her happy birthday for me then.”
rin snorts. “sure. disappointed you didn’t get to hear her—” sae hangs up before he can be subjected to anymore of his brother’s nonsense. all he really wanted was to just hear your voice, but he won’t be greedy.
staying friends was already a miracle. that’s only possible because you have a heart of gold, and he knows that if he ever pushes it too much, he might just risk losing you forever and he knows he can’t have that. so for now, this’ll do.
he’ll wait, no matter how long he has to.
later that night, when the moon is high up in spain, sae receives a notification from you. there, attached in your thread is an audio message.
“itoshi sae… thank you.”
the little laugh you leave at the end is enough to make him smile at his phone. he counts his blessings for you, and starts counting down to the days he has left in spain. if he wants you, he needs to go all in.
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ONE YEAR LATER
“you ready yet? i’m at your lobby.”
sae can just barely make out your panicked state from the other line. you’re late, and you know he’s fine with waiting, but because you’re a perfectionist, you really really don’t want him to have to.
“yeah, just gimme like, five minutes!” which sae knows translates to i actually need twenty but i’ll rush. there’s a certain satisfaction it gives him—knowing that he knows you in these ways that nobody else can.
“take your time, i have to pump some gas anyway, running low,” he tells you, an excuse which you accept right away because it’s convenient.
sae doesn’t even need any gas. it’s full, so he parks his car by the entrance and waits inside, turning up the air conditioning because he knows you’ll be sweating a little by the time you inevitably still choose to rush down.
it’s exactly one year since the last time he wished you happy birthday (through rin). and this year, he’s happy enough he gets to actually take you out. the past year’s been filled of sae restarting the relationship from ground zero—back to being friends and gradually coming back again to where you are now, dating. sure, it’s taxing having to do it all over again, but he’d do this however many times you want him to.
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SIX MONTHS AGO
“hmmm, i dunno how to feel, i kinda like this.”
sae had been calling you up often, and he feels good inside knowing that you might miss him as much as he misses you.
“kinda like what?” he asked, wishing that he could see your expression right now.
“kinda like you chasing me all over again,” you giggled, shameless with your words. “what if i just never agree to be your girlfriend again? what if i just make you chase after me forever?”
he knew for a fact that you weren’t that sadistic, but even so, his answer would still be the same. “then i’ll stick in this phase with you. forever.” although that would render the ring that he bought for you useless.
“oh really?”
sae hummed in faux contemplation. “nah, maybe not. maybe i’ll just ditch you and run off with ryusei or something.”
he got a laugh out of you for that.
“ryusei? not even some other girl, but ryusei?”
sae chuckled—he still remembered his mistake. and he’d never put you in a position to feel that way again. even if you two were just joking around.
“y/n, there’s no one else except you.” he was rarely ever serious like this, especially considering how you bantered as friends, but sometimes, he knew he had to. nowadays, more than anything, he just wanted to know that you had no doubts about how he felt for you.
you didn’t give any response to that, but considering how you started to ease up around him even more after that, sae felt like maybe there was a solid hope there of reviving this after all.
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the knock on his window brings him back into the present, your pretty face doing wonders in lighting up his mood.
as you get into the passenger seat, sae steals a glance at you from head to toe—you’re so beautiful and so worth the wait and you’ll always be.
“so, where are you taking me today, mr itoshi sae?”
he leans back against his seat, tilting his head as he looks at you, feigning contemplation. “depends, ms l/n y/n, do you trust me?”
you press your lips into a line, the corners threatening to tug upwards. you’re so adorable that sae’s actually going to go insane but he dons a straight face like he always has because letting you know the power you have over him is more than you need to know.
“i think it’d be a little weird if i couldn’t trust my boyfriend.”
suddenly it’s like time stands still and sae’s hands are stuck on the steering wheel and he’s left staring into space wondering if he heard you right. boyfriend? he turns around to look at you, teal eyes searching your own for answers but all he sees is a smirk on your face—you definitely know the power you have over him.
“wow, want me that bad, huh?” you joke, giggling as you tell him to hit the gas. “i… wasn’t kidding though.”
and as he pulls out of the parking lot, he thinks about the little velvet box that sits in his jacket pocket, thinks about the fact that he’s one of the luckiest people in the world thanks to you. heat rises to his cheeks, and he has to look away from you.
“you know one day you’re still gonna be mrs itoshi, right?”
this time, you laugh—but not like you think it’s a joke, more like the kind where you think was there even any other option? and even then, you offer him assurance.
“there’s nothing i want more.”
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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months
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katsuki likes to bite you. it’s his weird way of showing you affection. whenever he feels like annoying you (because he can’t live for more than ten seconds if he’s not being a nuisance) but he also wants to you to know he cares, he’ll find whatever part of your skin is exposed and just—bite.
you don’t remember when he started doing it but you’ve never stopped him so he hasn’t stopped. he bites your exposed shoulder when hes walking by and your lounging in the living area of the dorms, he grabs your hand and bites at your fingers when you’re alone and he bites at your cheeks and nose when you get mad at him for ‘being mean’ and teasing you. to which he always replies with “you love it.”
“why do you do that ?” you asked randomly after he bit your cheek again while you were watching a movie in his room. he looks down at you and his brows furrow in confusion “ do what ?” he asks.
“ bite me,” you play with the ends of his hair a little, it’s been getting longer and he’ll complain about it soon(the only reason he hasn’t cut it yet is because you said it looked good on him) “ why do you that ?” he goes quiet for a moment, gauging to see if you were upset, was it suddenly bothering you ?
he frowns. lips already unconsciously forming into a pout when he speaks “ ya don’t like it when i do ?” he tries to sound self assured, but his question comes out whiny. you smile lightly at him, nosing at the underside of his jaw. “it’s not that, dummy. just wonder why you do it.”
his nose scrunches at the nickname but he pays it no further mind. he huffs out a little breath and looks away from you towards the tv screen, a pink tint grows on his cheeks. having to tell you why he does it suddenly makes him embarrassed.
“jus’ feel like it. f’ya don’t mind when i do it why’re you questioning me about it.” you feel his hand heat up from where he has it pressed against your stomach under your shirt, no doubt getting more and more embarrassed having to explain why he has this weird little habit.
you shrug, sighing and nuzzling into him a little more. you press a light peck to his neck and his hand heating up even more makes you smile “i don’t mind it, just never had anyone bite me before.”
“good” he huffs, suddenly pressing you closer to his side. a sudden rush of protectiveness washing over him “get used to it. m’the only one who’s gonna be doing that from now on, got that ?”
“alright” you giggle. you suddenly get an idea and you look up at him. “you wouldn’t mind it if i bit you, then ?” a teasing smirk appears on your face when he almost cracks his neck when looking down at you, wide eyed and cheeks absolutely set ablaze. he sputters and looks away, unable to keep eye contact as he looks to the screen again.
“knock yourself out.” he tries to sound indifferent but his voice cracks a little at the end of his sentence and he cranes his neck to the side a bit to give you more access. you don’t mention either. instead you lean closer to him and nip at his neck lightly. his hold on you tightens for a moment before loosening up slightly and he suddenly won’t look at you anymore. not even when you laugh and poke at his cheek, asking him what’s got him so red in the face. his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are so laser focused on the tv you fear he might burn a hole through it. he offers you nothing more than a harsh glare and a muttered out “shush.”
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gojoest · 11 months
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—reunion ;
how many times was it, you wonder.
that you opened the closet in your shared bedroom and found yourself staring at satoru’s clothes, and teared up because the last time you had them ironed, he was sitting on the bed behind you, throwing silly remarks at how you’re hotter than the steaming iron in your hand. you would roll your eyes and tell him that half of the time you were steaming hot was out of annoyance because he left the toilet seat up. and he would chuckle and say “my bad, love. won’t forget next time”.
that next time never came.
you would tear up every time upon seeing the toilet seat left down. so you got used to his habit and purposely kept it up at all times. because that way the bathroom had more semblance of when he was still around.
you would tear up simply glancing at his toothbrush placed in the holder because the bristles looked too hard and stiff since he didn’t get to use it in a long time. or the sunglasses he left on the nightstand that you couldn’t bring yourself to move and would carefully dust around so you didn’t change the way they were placed. because he left them there. he touched them last.
was it silly to think that as long as they stayed there, part of him would always be in that house? you didn’t know. but you clearly remember the day you had a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen because your friend threw the empty box of kikufuku mochi in the trash. it was the box he bought. the box he ate from. it was just an empty snack wrap, a trash. yet it felt like part of his presence was torn out of your life.
and this morning your alarm goes off. you open your eyes and sigh because you know how the routine goes— get up, see his sunglasses on the nightstand, tear up, wash your face, brush your teeth, see his toothbrush, tear up some more, smile at the toilet seat being up but then cry because it wasn’t him who left it that way but you, see his clothes when picking your outfit, cry, get dressed and go to work with puffy eyes.
but every once in a while, certain circumstances make it so you’re unable to stick to your daily routine. like oversleeping in the morning and then being forced to skip half of the steps in a rush so you don’t run late to work. or missing sunglasses on the nightstand, or the toilet seat left down, or a white-haired man, making pancakes in the kitchen (or an attempt at least).
“is this a dream or..”, you mumble with a shaky voice.
“if i burn the kitchen down— yes! it’s a bad bad dream”
tears build up in your eyes and you quickly rush to nuzzle into his chest, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing tightly.
“you.. you idiot”
“kept my word though— did you see the seat? left it down this time!”
“took you long..”
“my bad, love”, he chuckles resting his chin at the top of your head while squeezing you back into the hug, “but think i need a new toothbrush, this one hurts my gums”
he does need a new toothbrush. and this time you don’t mind throwing away the old one.
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running-with-kn1ves · 1 month
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Drunken Stupor
A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!
OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble
TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior, 
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Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor. 
How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself. 
You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades. 
You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?
Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month. 
Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle. 
“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”
Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.
“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”
You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though. 
“You still gotts’a hold on me…” 
The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified. 
“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped. 
“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?” 
He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”
Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly. 
“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile. 
“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke. 
You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar. 
But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.
“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..” 
The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face. 
“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”
You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell. 
“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo. 
“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...” 
He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts. 
“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.” 
The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible. 
The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?
“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”
He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck. 
“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..” 
“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”
“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”
“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move. 
“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.
“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”
He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together. 
“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..” 
You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you. 
He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress. 
“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.” 
“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity. 
“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..” 
You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside. 
But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth. 
Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you. 
One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair. 
“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda… mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?” 
With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session. 
“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.” 
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skzms · 27 days
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HI MAY seung brainrot incoming LMAO
IM ABSOLUTELY SOBBING OVER FASHION WEEK SEUNGMIN I LOVE HIM SM he looked so nervous while at the show BUT HE SERVED SO HARD HE’S SO PERFECT I LOVE MY LOEWE BF!!!
and then of course i had to be horny about it so I’m just thinking about taking care of him when he gets back to the hotel room or wherever… his dick in ur mouth while u make him feel good and reassure him that he did so well and that ur so proud of him 🥹💗 all loving and shit like this boy needs to cum so hard he passes out fr!!!!!
heather I have been writing all night and your message just made me go absolutely bonkers so I wrote this in half an hour before I pass out
I’m also so stupid proud of him, sweet bean, but oh my GOD he looked so nervous and awkward and who can blame him?!?!? Fashion shows seem like a nightmare, honestly.
I …. changed this a lil bit …. like it's still soft but ... something about him ranting while you suck him off …… just got me
🔞 1.2k words, messy blowjob
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“Lime green,” he breathes out with a scowl that turns into a drawn out moan when you run your tongue up the velvety underside of his cock. “Who, fuuuck, decided that lime green would be a good colour?!”
You look up at your boyfriend, his pretty face pulled into glower, his lip pulled between his teeth as you run your hands up his thighs. He’s also rock hard, big and heavy and pink and leaky, boxers around one ankle where you’ve haphazardly tugged them, t-shirt rucked up enough to expose the soft expanse of his toned stomach.
“I think you looked incredible,” you mumble before you do it again, swirling your tongue around his cock, little kitten licks all the way up his shaft that have his hips jumping off the bed slightly. You give him a more solid lick and he groans, lets his head drop back into the pillows.
“So did everyone else, by the way,” you continue, gently tonguing at the little spot right underneath his head until his hands are fisting the sheets. “Stay, the press, fashion magazines.”
“I looked like an idiot,” he breathes and you punish (reward?) him by suckling his tip between your lips, the salty taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue.
You pull off enough to be able to mumble “you looked so fucking sexy,” before sinking back down and sucking him further into your mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, your mouth,” he babbles, one of his hands winding into your hair to keep you steady as you give him tentative little bobs, laving your tongue around his sensitive head.
“Fuck, I felt so awkward. And it was so loud and I barely understood what anyone was saying to me oh, shit, God, yeah, just like that.”
The most beautiful moan tumbles past his lips as you take him further into your mouth, teasing him until he starts hitting the back of your throat. You bring your hand up, wrapping it around his spit-slick cock and pull away, making him mewl unhappily.
“Everyone looked absolutely charmed with you, baby,” you tell him, your hand tightening around him until he groans. “They loved you, you could see it on their faces. I’m sure they don’t often get to meet someone so interesting at these events.”
A bead of pre-cum beads out of his slit at the praise.
You lean down to lap it up, and he digs the back of his head into the pillows.
“Please, baby, your mouth …” he babbles, and you comply, letting spit pool in your mouth before sinking back down on him entirely. Your saliva dribbles down his shaft, and he moans, his nails dragging over your scalp.
“Oh fuck but … oh my god,” he gets distracted again, “the lady I sat next to? Her outfit?! She had her whole … you know, her whole … chest was out. Like it could’ve slipped and boom.”
You giggle, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue.
“You don’t usually have a problem saying the word tits,” you tease and watch him blush, impatiently wiggling his hips before wrapping your lips back around him.
“Yeah, when I’m fucking you, not trying to get my picture taken with some random model twice my age. I saw my entire career flash before my eyes.”
“Seungmin, baby, love of my life,” you rasp out, your throat already raw with use. You stare up at him from between his legs, making his pupils blow wider. You keep pumping his cock, wet and sloppy with your spit. You know you look positively debauched.
“You were the sexiest, most handsome man there, today, and I’m willing to bet money that you were also the most interesting, the most talented …” you trail off, lean down to dip your tongue into his slit, making his back arch a little, “I checked Twitter, I checked Bubble, everyone is so proud of you and absolutely in love with you. Did you hear everyone scream for you?! You did great.”
He blinks down at you so cutely you want to eat him up. You do the next best thing and wrap your lips back around his cock, your hand trailing down until you can massage his balls.
“Now, let me reward you and stop talking about another woman’s tits while I have your cock in my mouth,” you say before swallowing him all the way down in one go, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat so he can slip deeper and deeper.
“S-sorry,” he gasps out, “oh, baby I’m sorry, you’re so … oh, so good to me …”
He groans again, laces his other hand into your hair as well and starts gently pushing and pulling you up and down on his cock, just the hint of it, allowing you to keep control if you want to. But you relax into his hold, hum to show him it’s alright, and then he grips you harder, tugs you up and down at a desperate, but unhurried pace.
“W-wish I could always t-take you with me,” he gasps out. “You always know how to turn my b-brain off.”
Your heart flutters in your chest, despite the ache in your jaw, the tears spilling from your eyes. You would let him use you over and over if it meant you would be the only one who got to see him like this, all undone and with his heart on his sleeve.
He’s chanting your name now, a litany of beautiful little gasps in between, until his grip tightens, and he tugs you lower and lower.
“I-I’m gonna … baby, please, oh, please …”
He’s still begging, babbling sweet nothings as he pushes you down, buries himself into your throat and releases.
And it feels like it goes on forever, his body arching and twitching underneath you, his fingers carding through your hair, trying to ground himself while his body is racked with waves and waves and waves of pleasure.
When he’s finally done, you carefully pull off and tug his discarded boxers back up his legs. Apparently it’s not fast enough because he whines, makes grabby hands at you, pulls you close as soon as you let him, straight into his chest, cupping your face and kissing you so sloppily you just know it was a good orgasm. All the pent-up energy from earlier melted from his bones.
“I’ve never come so hard in my life,” he slurs out when he pulls back, his eyes at half-mast as he stares at you. But he can’t mask the love.
You hum happily, give him another kiss on his soft, pliant lips, before you make to get up. He lets you go hesitantly, but when you turn around, you see he’s already starting to doze off. So you tug down his shirt, and pull the sheets up to settle around him, before you get up to get yourself some water and brush your teeth.
When you return, he’s snoring lightly. You turn off the light and slide under the covers.
His arm finds your body, and he pulls you against him, still asleep, a happy little hum on his lips.
You’ll tell him all of it again tomorrow.
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skzms' masterlist // ko-fi
taglist: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector @stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut @warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti @hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows @ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny @seukijeuxq @bakedlilgoonie @bookworm731 @jazziwritesthings @katsukis1wife @minhos4thkitty @gbskzlover @armystay89 @chuwii3o @foivetimesacharm @palindrome969 @luvyev @binnies-binna @gimmeurtmi @ashareeboobear @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @staysinbloom @f1wh0r3
GENERAL TAGLIST OPEN 🔖 (please be 18+ and have your age in your bio, otherwise I won't add you)
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alaboadoa · 6 months
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ೃ⁀➷ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE ★
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a/n: fluff!! neuvillette being a touch starved loser (affectionate) + lots of terms of endearment. happy belated neuvillette day! may all neuvillette wanters be neuvillette havers ≧◡≦
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Neuvillette can't stand coming home if not into your arms.
The deafening silence of a sleeping home drives him mad. It used to be welcomed after his terribly loud days. Now only serves to remind him of the millennium he spent alone, of the heartbreak he had to endure with no one to hold him, and of the growing emptiness within his heart long before he knew you.
It's unlike him to come home so late, but duty calls and as the Iudex of Fontaine he must go wherever summoned.
For days he has come home well into the latest hours of the night, sliding off his shoes in the darkness of the hall and allowing the silence to swallow him up whole. Five unbearably long days of missing your smile greeting him at the door, hands all over his face and squeezing his cheeks until he nudges them away in lieu of kissing you hello.
He expects tonight to be the same. It's so late that there was not a single soul wandering the streets of the city, no one awake to witness the very tired, very cranky Chief Justice.
You always find a way to defy his expectations.
The hall is quiet when he cracks open the front door. Crushing loneliness swells in his chest and sinks into the pit of his stomach when he realizes that you must have gone to bed long ago, as anyone sane would do. But then there's a click, followed by a small flame dancing in the dark.
You ignite an array of candles one by one, each additional glow illuminating your beautiful face in warm light. Neuvillette can't stop the hitching of his breath, nor the confusion knitted through his brows.
"What are you doing awake?"
You know he doesn't mean to scold you. Soft laughter fills his ears as you saunter over to him slowly. Realization crashes down on him as you approach, allowing him to see closer what has kept you up.
"Happy birthday, my love."
It's so late that midnight passed hours ago. He hadn't even realized amongst all the chaos of his work that the 17th had come and gone, making way for his birthday.
Only you would remember. It was a talent you had, memorizing every detail about him that sometimes even he lost track of.
("Neuvillette, dear, I picked up some dark roast on the way home today." He didn't even realize he had run out.
"Welcome home, I made ragout!" He wasn't aware he was craving it until you brought it up.
"Do you want this?" It's the last cookie in the bag, saved especially for him because you know it's from his favourite bakery in town.)
He leans in and blows out his candles, eyes never leaving yours as he blinks at you slowly. You look so beautiful even now, in the dimly moonlit hall. Darkness envelops your bodies again and yet he never tears his gaze away. Not even for a moment.
"Now put the cake down, please."
"Hm?" Your head tilts, clearly confused by his request.
"So I can hold you," he quickly explains, fingers itching at his sides because of how much he aches to hug you.
You gently set the cake down on the entrance table before you get scooped into a warm embrace, pressed snuggly to his chest as he memorizes the outline of your body against his once more.
"I've missed you, my dear," he says, face burrowed into the crook of your neck.
"It's only been a couple days," you laugh, and then remind him: "I see you every day at lunch."
"No, this is different." He pulls away slightly, forehead pressed against yours as he looks into your eyes. There's something in there— vulnerability and love all mixed into a beautiful purple harmony. "I miss coming home into your arms after long days," he admits.
"Oh, love," you breathe, reaching up to cup his face the way he's so used to. "Things will settle down again soon."
His eyes close as he savours your presence, soaking up all the affection you're giving him in his moment of weakness. You've always spoiled him.
"I suppose so," he agrees, a smile finally settling on his lips. Your thumb runs along it, tracing the curve of his happiness. There's a beat of silence before you open your mouth again.
"What did you wish for?" You ask curiously, voice growing quieter as you lean in to kiss him. And the answer he gives comes naturally.
Neuvillette has always wished for things he read about in novels; imaginary promises of treasure and desire and fame, sealed with the wispy smoke of blown out birthday candles. He isn't even sure if he has ever actually wanted any of those. But as he looks at you, with the slow beating of his heart and the brushing of your lips against him, he can't think of a single thing he could want more than this.
"I did not wish for anything," he tells you honestly, giving your waist a squeeze. "I already have everything I could ever want."
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© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
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riaki · 3 months
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guys pls consider… lifeguard!gojo bit inspired by a post i saw a long time ago from @/shotorus, thank u sel + inez !
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lifeguard!gojo, who signs you in for a pool session and gives you the wrong time-slot wristband because he’s too busy gawking at you with hearts in his blue eyes to notice he registered you to swim for 12pm-2pm. when, in reality, it’s 4pm in the afternoon and the hot sun is slowly sinking in the sky.
lifeguard!gojo, who mistakes your polite attempts to correct him as signs of disinterest; he sees things through romance-tinted glasses. of course he can't keep a wounded pride, and so he makes it his saturday afternoon goal to win your heart. after all, who in their right mind would reject him in all his dashing chlorine scented glory?
lifeguard!gojo, who reintroduces himself all suave and cool and he thinks it's working mid-hair slick-back— until he gets smacked in the face by a stray rubber ball, and his sunglasses go flying. it leaves a red spot of hashmarks on his nose, like the ball was a cookie cutter and he was the dough. but he doesn't mind, because he got to hear your pretty laugh as you pick up his shades and hand them back to him, albeit at his own expense. you even say a cute thing or two about the chipped popsicle sticker on the frame.
lifeguard!gojo, who's unreasonably (and immaturely) upset over the fact he can't seductively rub sunscreen into your back because you already have beforehand. but he's not complaining; it smells good when he's forced a little closer to you to avoid a rampaging train of kids running across the pool deck. he should yell at them, but the smell of summery citrus and sea salt wafting on the humid breeze distracts him.
lifeguard!gojo, who pours every ounce of his remaining energy into gettin your attention the entire time you're there— with loud whistle blows from the scribble-adorned plastic whistle hanging from his neck, grabbing your attention, only to just offer a charming wink in your direction. or, squeezing idle small talk between every lap you swim, teasing you with a lazy grin on his lips from under his shaded lifeguard stand when you complain about the heat of the blazing sun.
lifeguard!gojo, who ropes his poor, exhausted snack stand friend with the blonde hair and dark shadows beneath his eyes into helping him— when you give up on swimming laps and begrudgingly let him convince you into going down the waterslides as if you’re a nine year old with neon pink inflatable buoy rings around your arms.
lifeguard!gojo, who forces nanami (snack stand man) to ‘accidentally’ send you down the slide early— you’re caught up in the surprise, the sound of rushing water and kids shouting and a cicada’s buzz filling your ears— and before you know it you’re tossed into the bottom of the pool by the stream of water, disoriented and panicking until two steady arms fish you out of the pool.
lifeguard!gojo, who ‘rescues you from drowning’ holding you bridal style to his chest with his sunglasses balanced on the edge of his nose, letting you catch a glimpse of his uncanny blue eyes hidden beneath his dripping white hair. his whistle lanyard hangs loosely around his neck, drawing a line down the center of his toned chest.
lifeguard!gojo, who can’t help but double over as he laughs obnoxiously— boyishly when he gets to watch your face flush cherry as you scramble to get out of his arms and fall straight back into the refreshing water with a splash.
lifeguard!gojo, who’s forced to reconcile with what he thinks is defeat when he gets you kicked out of the pool early because of his earnest registering mistake— and in doing so, you forget your ring on the pool deck. it's just your luck— you don't even realize it until the sun's almost set and you’re halfway home.
lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning up and getting ready to close for the night when he spots a gleam of silver reflecting the hazy purple sunset, and he recognizes it as your jewelry (even though that was the first time he ever met you). of course he'd remember it— he'd been absentmindedly staring at your fingers, burning them into his mind; imagining how they'd feel in his damp hair.
lifeguard!gojo, who slips your ring into his pocket after trying it on and marveling at how small your hands must be in comparison to his.
lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning out the gutters, waist deep in the pool, when he hears your voice again— pretty like birdsong in the spring, dew gathering on the fragile petals of blooming petals.
lifeguard!gojo, who waits for you to come in— the gate was unlocked— and watches as you kneel on the concrete deck, elbows on your knees as you smile down at him. you look really cute, with your hair falling over your face like that, framed by the dying sunlight.
lifeguard!gojo, who’s a little disheartened when you tell him all you came back for was your ring, and not him. or his phone number.
lifeguard!gojo, who disappears beneath the water for a moment— then resurfaces from the pool dripping wet, hair clinging to his face while he acts as though he'd found your ring at the bottom of the pool. "it's stainless steel, yeah? don't worry about rust." he reassures you with a chuckle when you panic; he thinks it's cute.
lifeguard!gojo, who holds the ring just out of your grasp when you make a grab for it, laughing as you almost fall right into the pool.
lifeguard!gojo, who tells you he'll only give it back if you give him your phone number in exchange as he climbs out of the pool and sits next to you, on the gutters, the sound of rushing water filling his ear.
lifeguard!gojo, who, sitting by your side, focuses on the way the pool looks with the lights turned on, an ethereal underwater dreamscape distorted by the incessant moving water. a way of distracting himself from how beautiful you look in the painted sunset.
lifeguard!gojo, who gets his first taste of you when you ask him to face you; you muffle his yelp of surprise, but it doesn’t matter because you taste even better than you smell, a sweetness like crystal rock candy and blueberries on his tongue when his lips meet yours.
lifeguard!gojo, who takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and slide your ring back onto your finger with a quick lingering kiss to your cheek; his lips are a little wet from his earlier pool dip, but the dreamy look in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.
lifeguard!gojo, who sees you out, still riding on the thrill of your lips; the pride in his chest now that he's got your contact saved on his phone with an excessive amount of heart emojis and a (˘ڡ˘ς) next to your name.
lifeguard!gojo, who can't wait for the next time you come back to the pool, and who ignores the angry slew of texts from his boss scolding him for leaving the gate unlocked in favor of the selfie you send him.
you: [ one image attached ]
lifeguard boy 🛟🤍 : GAYATTTTT LET ME HIT PLSPLSPLSS 🙈🙈😝😝😝😋😋🤞🔥🔥🔥⁉️‼️🔞💯💯😼😻💺💺🗽
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bonus: nanami gets u two popsicles to share tagging @sugumimi NAOMI I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WERE TALKING AB my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !
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