#you're all so far away its unfair :(

[stupidpubby]

I want a trans furry doggirlfriend who can hang out with me smoke weed and make me suck her off when she was in heat.... open for applications ;)

[hirukochan]

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out. 

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good. 

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.” 

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 

You have always been Severus’ safespace. 

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it. 

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

[alexisomnias]

— "DOVES SING JUST LIKE YOU" . . .

⤷ how they love your voice

featuring the OVERBLOT BOYS

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

        he listens to your voice while studying, while sometimes its a distraction, he loves listening to you ramble while working. Too some its listening to music, but too him its listening to you. You're such a guiding voice for him and he can't help but want to cloud his head with you instead of the equations being put down. Sometimes even just the sound of your breath is sufficient to help him work more steadily. Perhaps its the overlooking hope to impress that is an encouragement, either way he's not hanging up the phone anytime soon! Nor is he EVER going to admit the affect your voice has on him!

"what do you mean, "why do you call me when your studying?" can I not worry about my dears day? In peace...!" 

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

        he listens to your voice before going to bed, as obvious as it is. He doesn't like having recordings of it, he'd much rather hear your voice in person. No matter how loud or soft it is he can fall asleep easily, so speak all you want, yap away he'd still sleep. Either way its a clearing of his head, and a purify of his dreams. He adores falling asleep to the sound of your voice, and if it has to be over call you better not hang up... He's also a fan of your breath, the sound of your breath relaxes him. He loves listening to yours voice! So never stop talking hm? you'd never annoy him even if you might think so. your his relaxant. 

"don't shut up, keep talking away as you normally do."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

        he's SO embarrassed about how much he adores listening to you speak. He keeps all your voicemails to keep and listen to while he works on paperwork. The tweels tease him far too much, but even then he'd never delete them. Don't tell anyone else either, but he falls asleep to them too. Voice messages are highly encouraged, he will save them! He may never bring it up other then in smooth talking and flirting, but oh the effect your voice has on him... is this how the land dweller felt when hearing the mermaid princesses voice? He's enchanted every time you speak... sometimes he'll even purposely call you when he knows you won't answer just to hear your voice message left after the tone. UGH! The effect you have is so unfair!

"89 saved voicemails..? what about them? as a business owner its... important to hold every detail said as a reminder!"

JAMIL VIPER

        Jamil will call you while he works. The sound of your voice and the knowing your presence is on the other end of the device motivates him to do whatever he's doing. Sometimes he'll invite you over, but he adores being on call too. Ramble away, please, he loves listening. He's a good listener, he swears. So please, yap away, he'll lovingly listen to it all. After all he adores listening to your voice. Don't tell him I told you, but he ADORES it when you whisper in his ear... just a thing that gets him flustered in ways nothing else could. He'll brush it off, but know he'll be replaying whatever you said for the rest of the 24 hour period."Would you mind repeating yourself? I think your voice is nice to listen to while cooking."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

        vil adores talking to you during routine. He'll call you in the morning, and night if your unable to stay over. Its apart of his everyday now, for you to be the first voice he hears and the last he hears that day. He wouldn't have it any other way though. He particularly adores hearing you ramble, or talk about whatever happened to you that day during makeup or skincare. Its on facetime or in person, he'll listen like your the only sound around. Conversation with you is always a highlight and he adores every word you say. Vil is also the type to hold onto voicemails if he can, he just likes hearing you speak.

"so how was your day? be sure to include every detail, I want to hear all about it."

IDIA SHROUD

        idia is the type to spam call you into vc. bros desperate. the first time he heard your voice he short circuited, and oh dear now is he getting thrown into the fantasies of falling asleep on call like the normies?! ARGH WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM!? this is unfair! he shouldn't be thinking about how silky,,, and nice,,, and amazing your voice sounds. get out of his head!! your voice is nice okay?! just get in the vc! Don't leave him waiting like a fool, like a desperate blundering fool!

"ah, y..your voice?! its not bad don't worry. no please don't mute! i'm not being sarcastic i swear!!"

MALLEUS DRACONIA

        malleus loves listening to you ramble. every word you say he holds dear, and sometimes he gets needy to hear it he'll even come all the way from his dorm to yours just to hear you talk! he's not a fan of phone calls, it doesn't feel as genuine as in person. He fucking adores listening to you, no matter what the hell your talking about. He'll just nod his head no matter, he's listening sure, but your voice lulls him into a trance he never wants to be pulled out of. Keeping singing him a lullaby with your wonderful voice! he loves listening to you, and if you love listening to him then oh dear the conversations would never end. 

"I love hearing what you have to contribute, its very insightful. So please, what about that topic again?"

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities. 

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking. 

Right. 

Pain management. 

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot. 

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice. 

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit. 

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer. 

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open. 

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it. 

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed. 

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up. 

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick." 

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed." 

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit. 

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it. 

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store. 

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted. 

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand. 

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed. 

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed. 

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture. 

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.' 

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.  

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday. 

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire. 

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it. 

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights. 

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two. 

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this. 

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight. 

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches. 

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over. 

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home. 

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it. 

Not in general, and definitely not for this. 

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill. 

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go. 

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good." 

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes. 

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced. 

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo. 

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago. 

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly. 

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything. 

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons. 

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them. 

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental. 

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth. 

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face. 

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve? 

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch." 

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least. 

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off. 

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side. 

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife. 

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know." 

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face. 

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door. 

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?" 

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed. 

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react. 

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne. 

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?” 

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.” 

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train. 

All gas, no breaks. 

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant. 

‘Dammit.’  Wayne thought with a sigh. 

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats. 

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid. 

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish. 

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve. 

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit. 

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

 It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face. 

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?” 

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.” 

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time. 

God save him from idiot teenagers. 

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking. 

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills. 

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit. 

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind. 

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?” 

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb. 

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,” 

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.” 

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious. 

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases. 

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position. 

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent. 

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.” 

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed. 

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation. 

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home. 

“Good.” Wayne said. 

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room. 

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer. 

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways. 

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag. 

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both. 

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked. 

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep. 

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with. 

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him. 

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute. 

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure. 

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on. 

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet. 

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as  just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on. 

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain. 

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out. 

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid. 

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse. 

He just had to find the right words. 

[thatfrailsoul]

_

P.s. See the full painting at the end!♡

_

Slow down for a moment. Allow your heart to guide you, to tell you if there is really a message here for you... And whatever the answer is, feel free to listen to it or to let go. Remembering that when you will be ready or will have the need, your true message will find its way to you.♡

_

_

_

Yes. Because, even though it's unfair, even though it was so overwhelmingly painful and challenging - it was necessary. Because you're so persistent and ready to fight for what you love, for what you consider right... that you would've never been able to let it go. To see the reality, understand and accept the fact that it was more harmful than right for you. That situation. That decision. That person. The ones that the world decided to protect you from, stepping in when you needed it the most. Even if you are starting to realize it only now. Now that, not so gently but for your own good, you were pushed away. Into a new and different phase of your life.

_

_

Even though this journey was always meant to end... Its transformation into that battle that you've had to endure was not the way it was supposed to happen. Your heart, so powerful, convinced and ready to fight for what it feels is right... Was too strong this time. Had too much resilience to make this work, no matter how, no matter how much you would've need to try. And although there is absolutely nothing wrong with it... Sometimes it's exactly this desire and perseverance that makes us lose sight of the reality and what is right.

Especially, when we are running from our past, determined to don't make the same mistakes that scared us so much. To the point that it's easier to sacrifice ourselves to make everything change and adapt, then to accept that no matter how much we tried to avoid it, we found the same pain and nightmare even if in someone new, far away from the past.

But everything is alright now, even if it still hurts and every memory makes your heart tremble. You are fine now. You are safe. You escaped and found your right path once again.

_

_

Pile Three, the six of wands

You handled it much better than you imagine. You made the right choices even if the wounds they created make you doubt. It happened. But it doesn't really matter why or how. It's already in the past, as the time keeps running and drags you with its passage. With all the new beginnings, new people, new moments and emotions that almost overwhelm your life. Not leaving you a second to process and allow yourself to take a break and realize...

But rather than being a cruel joke and coincidence, it's more of an awkward way of this world to not allow you to fall into that spiral in your mind. It's their way to not allow you to focus on anything but your strength, courage and all the things that still await you in your life.

Because the most important thing, truly, is that you are here now, and everything about what happened... is already far far away in the past. The one that you already faced and survived, and that doesn't need anymore the attention of your heart and mind.

_

"The Bouquet", 1900, by Wladyslaw Czachorski.

_

_

[pruneunfair]

The Remarried empress fandom is practically a cult.

If it isn't the very pro-monarchy storyline that gets me, its the fans and how they idolize its protagonist and everyone else who supports her, this normally wouldn't be an issue if it didn't reach the point of condoning literal slavery.

The way the fans of this comic act is straight up disturbing, part of me thinks remarried empress might even be propaganda to push imperialism and monarchies. The characters you're supposed to root for are all horrible people such as a slave owner who is regarded as a cute fangirl, the ML who is a king with an annoying uwu persona that also steals from mages and kills innocent people, a grand duke is so obsessed with Navier he becomes a creep who goes around passing date-rape love potions like candy, and a brother who violates another woman's autonomy by slipping her abortion drugs but they never face consequences and if they do, its portrayed as something unfair caused by the evil women who get in Navier's way.

speaking of which lets talk about how any other woman in this story who is powerful and above Navier in some way is immediately villainized. the mistress Rashta is a former slave who was sold by her father, abused by her masters, one of them sexually assaults her as well (the narrative tries to say Rashta consented even though a slave can't say no to someone who owns them) and ends up severely traumatized after her baby is taken away and replaced with a dead one. Already off to a rough start for someone we are supposed to see as a one dimensional villain.

in the beginning chapters, Navier's ladies in waiting are already ridiculing Rashta before she even did anything all for being a slave who dared to become the Emperors mistress and hurt the feelings of their perfect empress, how could that slave not worship our empress!? What a wench!. later the narrative justifies making a slave the ultimate evil by making her into someone who "seduced" the Emperor and is ultimately written as a evil moron who is the true villain using her body to charm the poor little noblemen. (Ugh..) In the end her character is basically to be a punching bag for Navier to girl boss back into place and she dies alone in a prison cell as the most evil empress in history.

Then there's Krista, a queen dowager who didn't really like Navier but never went as far beyond snubbing her and letting rumors spread, bad but nothing too horrible, and when she sends a gift one of Navier's ladies in waiting gets all upset and asks if she can toss the gift out, its played off as a joke but it becomes clear it's supposed to tell readers that Krista is a mean mean woman for not adoring the MC.

Then when Krista is becoming too independent for the authors liking they begin to ruin her character by having pine after Heinrey, weird as hell but it could've worked if she was actually utilized as a villain and not a bug that needs to be squashed, she then gets blamed for letting Heinrey rest on her lap even though Kaufman was the one who drugged Heinrey while Krista didn't know, she's disgraced and later killed off while Heinrey proceeds to make the rest of her family suffer in the long run as well. And yet fans practically celebrated her death.

The comments are honestly the worst part, nothing but "Trashta has nothing on our queen! 😍" and "Navier is such a true girlboss! go away Trashta! 🤢" there are chapters where characters like Heinrey literally say that he'll torture people who don't like Navier and the comments are all just "Awww he's such an upgrade from Sovieshit, what a soft boy he is!" ffs it honestly feels like a cult where Navier is the god and all her supporters are her apostles.

The message is clear: you MUST like Navier! If you don't then it makes you a bad guy worthy of death row, and it doesn't take much either, all you need to do if talk a little shit about Navier and boom, her hubby has your mouth with rocks and sewn shut (yes this actually happened and it's never talked about again) if Rashta did something like that she'd be getting flamed, I'm even willing to bet if it was Heinrey who mutilated Delice the comments would either be full of cheap excuses for him or they just would give him a slap on the wrist.

I really wanted to like Remarried empress but I honestly can't anymore with the hypocrisy. Navier isn't even very likeable anymore since all she does now is react to everything and either condone what people do in her name or just not caring, so much for an empress who loves her subjects.

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

Magic on a canvas - Kaz Brekker

Masterlist

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x artist!reader

Word count: 978

Warnings: none

Summary: You're an artist and one day you want to paint Kaz.

Winter had arrived to Ketterdam and snow was falling upon the dirty streets, covering them in a powder of white snowflakes, making them look crazy and welcoming. It kind of destroyed the whole “barrel vibe” and the criminals all looked like Santa’s workers after being outside. That included your little gang too.

The dregs were still running the businesses as usual, although the ships got a bit delayed and the delivery from the docks to the Slat and to the Crow club were a bit slower than usual because of the cold and the snow and ice on the cobblestones.

You had settled in Kaz office. A canvas propped up and a cup of hot chocolate on the small table beside you. You'd faced the canvas towards the window to take advantage of the natural lightning so Kaz never saw what you were working on until you turned it around to show him. He was currently sitting in his office, working away at some papers he had lying around that needed to be taken care of. He had a glass of liquor on the desktop among the papers, as well as a few rolled up maps from the last heist you'd done. Occasionally, you’d look up from what you were doing to take a sip of your chocolate, or sometimes just to look at him and what he was doing. In truth you were taking in his features to get them down on the canvas as true to reality as possible. 

“You need something?” He mumbled, eyes glued on the written lines. He picked up a pencil, scribbled something down and then placed it aside. He looked up to meet your eyes and a teasing smirk made its way to his lips. You returned his smirk and returned to your canvas with a shake of your head. He rolled his eyes at your nonverbal reply but went back to his work nonetheless. But it was hard to try and paint him when he had his head bent forwards, his dark hair falling into his eyes and his brown eyes stuck on papers. So you carefully reached out with the back of your long brush to make him look up from his work. You let the brush end rest under his chin, holding him there, taking in the way the light from the window caught onto his features. Even in the raw light, he looked good. It was a bit unfair, to be honest. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled and drew back the brush and returned to your painting. Your actions left Kaz a bit dumbfounded but he quickly shook it off and returned to his work. He’d learned since long to not question you, just go with whatever you were doing and just let it slide, however weird it was. But a small smile still made its way to his lips when he looked down at his work. It was so purely you, what you’d just done. And all while still respecting his boundaries and not touching him with skin to skin contact. His heart stopped for just a moment at the thought. 

These actions continued on for a few hours. You’d reach out for him to look up from what he was doing and then he returned to his work. One time he left to go fetch some more drinks for the two of you, one time you left to get some paint. He contemplated if he should look at what you were painting but just when he were to go for it you pushed the door to his office open again and he lost his chance. When the light from the window started to dim down you let out a content sight and put down the brush you’d been holding for hours. You put it in the cup of water where you’d put the others and Kaz looked up to see what you’d been painting. You always showed him when you were finished, but not before that. 

The painting on the canvas took him aback a bit. You’d painted him. A scene where he was walking on a snow covered road with white, pearly trees on each side. It wasn’t in a city, it was somewhere else, he didn’t know where. And he looked far better in your painting than he did in real life. You somehow always managed to paint some sort of magic into your paintings, making them breathtaking and beautiful. Your pictures were nowhere near what reality looked like and it always made him gasp a bit for breath. But you’d never painted him before. Or maybe you had and just hadn’t shown him, only Ghezen knew. You tilted your head to the side a bit, taking in his reaction. He didn’t say anything for a while, just letting his gaze take in the masterpiece. Then he spoke up after a few solid minutes.

“You make me look so much more beautiful than I do, than I deserve,” his voice was just a whisper. You smiled gently at the words and his gaze flickered from the painting and met yours for a few seconds before returning to the painting. 

“You look like that for real, you know. It isn’t just the painting. You look like that right now. At least in my eyes you look like that,” you words were gentle but Kaz heard the honesty behind them. And he believed you. Maybe you did see him that way. His heart swelled at the thought and his breathing got stuck in his throat. He could only nod as he reached out a gloved hand to rest over yours, giving it a soft squeeze before retracting again. 

“You look like that too, you know,” he told you, not looking at you but resting his gaze on the painting, “In my eyes, you look that beautiful.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

In the original format of the Chinese Miraculous Box there was a Yin-Yang and the Ladybug Miraculous was placed in the Yin half while the Black Cat Miraculous was placed in the Yang half. It's just me who finds it very strange? Like, Tikki represents Creation and Plagg represents Destruction so Tikki was supposed to be the Yang half while Plagg was supposed to be the Yin half but at the same that would mean that Tikki was supposed to be the male half while Plagg was supposed to be female half.

Yeah, there are a lot of things that Miraculous seems to get wrong if you start looking into the source cultures on even a surface level. I'm with you on the placing potentially being off. They could be going for the classic look where there's a spot of yin in yang and vise versa, but Tikki and Plagg are pure Creation and Destruction, so I'm not sure how well that works. I've been trying to do some research on this topic for the next time it came up and I am still woefully uneducated, but I can say that yin and yang are complex concepts. Just reading through the Wikipedia page will tell you that much.

The more I learn, the more I applaud the movie for its version of the miracle box which just vaguely evokes the "classic" image of a yin-yang and doesn't try to commit to anything too hard:

They went with colors and matching dragon motifs instead of the traditional white-and-black, making it less clear who is supposed to be yin and who is supposed to be yang if there even is a direct association at all! Which I think works much better for the following ranty reasons:

The kwamis' are "officially" genderless so their gender associations can potentially be ignored and we can just focus on their Force associations when discussing the symbolism. However, that feels like a copout to me because no one watching the show or the movie will know that. The genderless thing is a twitter-only bit of canon and you all know how I feel about that BS. If you want a thing to be canon, then put it in canon. Otherwise it is by definition not canon!

There's also the issue that no one watching the show will inherently know that yin and yang have associations with Creation and Destruction because the both versions never discuss the Chinese influences that the writers love to claim credit for. You have to already know them going in to get what's going on. No five-year-old is going to walk away understanding - or even knowing the words - yin and yang. They will also have no idea that the zodiac kwamis are based on the Chinese zodiac because I don't think that we ever even hear the word "zodiac" in the actual text. Given all that, I think that it's way better to remove yourself from direct association and just go with some vague influence since that is all these things are in the context of canon. They are not meaningful representation by any conceivable metric.

Is even vague influence going to far? I have no idea! That's an incredibly complex topic that I don't have the knowledge or training to meaningfully discuss. That's why I will repeat the thing I always say in posts on this topic: if you want to rep a culture that you're not part of and have no deep understanding of, then do some research and - if you have the funds - pay for a cultural consultant to help guide you. Don't want to do that? That's fine, just don't pick a real culture as a major influence to your magic system. Especially don't pick one that has an unfair stereotype of being "magical and weird" to the cultures that will be consuming your creation.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey bunny! I'm back at it with my brainrot XD this time the trope is brother's best friend but the subject is still Kang Yeosang cuz I'm obsessed with him and the anti delulu meds didn't work 😮‍💨🫠🫠

I think this is the result of reading too many teacher/personal tutor yuyu fics + seeing posts about how our slow boy is actually hella smart, but can you imagine bratty MC and brother's best friend Yeosang (the brother in question being San or Yunho) who's known all over campus and your neighbourhood as being this sweet lil angel boy.... but who has been an absolute MENACE to you since you were kids?

Not in a harsh way cuz I don't think our boy is capable of that, but he's so indifferent and blunt? Barely pays you any mind at all and when he does it's this clipped, measured politeness?? Which is so unfair because he's beautiful and you've had a crush on him since forever???

Honestly it's more your fault than his that you're always so angry at him, but it makes you snappish and bratty just to try and push his buttons, but he never seems phased, always responds in a cool levelheaded way that's kinda hot and makes you even MORE pissed

So when you're failing math and your oh so wonderful brother decides to volunteer his only number literate friend as a tutor? And for some reason that friend says yes??

I can't finish these thoughts cuz I have a dinner to get to but yeah! Hope you have a good day bunny! Thank you so much for blessing us with all the incredible content that you do, make sure to get some rest and stay hydrated while you're at it <33

~Lyra

no bc i love this so much!!! just reader being bratty and then yeosang being all nonchalant about it AHDKSGDJSV ITS SO GOOD!!!!

but i feel like yeosang would be patient to a degree. like sure, he’s chill and cool about it usually but if you push his buttons too far he just snaps and you don’t expect it at all.

“can you focus?” he grumbles as he tried to find the relevant page in the text book. you’ve been watching the way his hands move over the pages for the best part of 5 minutes now, not taking in a single word he has to say. sure you’ve been listening, kind of, but that’s just so you can hear his deep voice in your ear - no other reason, “i’m not here for fun, y’know…”

you can’t help but scoff because of course not. why would he be here for fun? honestly, you have a hard time working out why he’s here at all, especially when he’s not getting paid for it.

“well, it’s not like you ever focus on what i have to say,” you spit back at him as you put your pen down defiantly. he doesn’t say anything or even acknowledge it, which only serves to drive your frustration up even higher. it’s not like you need a tutor anyway. sure, you’re failing, but you don’t see why that means yeosang had to be called in to help.

“maybe say something worth listening to,” he says, voice as calm as always, “now pick up your pen and work through these logarithmic functions for me.”

years ago you probably would’ve jumped at the thought of doing anything ‘for him’. what with his stupidly pretty face attached to that stupidly muscular body, and his irresistibly deep voice that only seems to come out with irritatingly quick quips. he was the only man to exist in your eyes, and perhaps he still would be if he weren’t so annoying. always so polite with you like you couldn’t see him being so free with other people. never responding to your jokes or rising to your teasing. it’s like he wants nothing to do with you, and you hate it.

in fact, you hate a lot of things, like the fact that you love a man who clearly wants nothing to do with you, or the fact that everything he does regarding you pisses you off. you hate that you can’t seem to shed your feelings of affection and lust towards him despite his apparent distaste of you.

but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s tutoring you, and for some reason he’s doing it for free.

you sigh and try your hardest to brush away your annoyance. if he’s going to be here, you may as well make him pay, right? maybe if you push his buttons enough he’ll decide he doesn’t want to come back.

“i don’t want to,” you push your pen further onto the page with a shit-eating grin, “so you’re going to have to make me.”

you watch him as he mumbles something under his breath, eyes rolling into his skull in annoyance, and you can’t deny that it feels good to finally get a rise out of him.

“i’ll tell yunho you’re not being cooperative,” he threatens. you shrug your shoulders.

“and what’s he going to do?” you reply, “find me a different tutor? i doubt it,” you smirk and lean in close, “you’re the only one willing to do this for free.”

at this, he closes his eyes and puts his own pen down. you almost cry out in victory when he rubs at his face in frustration, a small groan leaving his lips when he pulls them away again.

“believe me, sangie,” you say in the most sickly sweet tone you can muster, “nothing you can do is going to make me cooperate.”

he turns his head in one shaky motion, and he looks at you properly for the first time since entering your house. he’s pretty as always, but you can hardly take the time to study him when he’s looking at your like he’s a predator about to pounce. his eyes are icy cold as he runs them up and down your body. his jaw is clenched as his gaze finally settles on your face, and you have to admit that the quiet boy has suddenly got very intimidating. you shrink back into your seat.

“fine then,” he says through gritted teeth, “either you do this, or i’ll have to find some other way to teach you a lesson.” now it’s his turn to lean in close. his elbows find purchase on his knees as he lowers his face to yours. you can feel the way his breath brushes against your exposed collarbones, and you hope to anything out there that he doesn’t see the way it sends a shiver down your spine, “don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me, little girl. i’ve seen you staring at my hands. i know you’ve been daydreaming about me, hm?”

in the blink of an eye, he traps you. with one hand on one of your chair’s arm rests, he spins it until you’re facing him fully. his own rolls forwards until his thigh’s sit either side of yours. you blink at him, all wide eyed and confused. he just smirks at you.

“i’ve seen what you’ve been doing all these years,” a hand drops to your thigh, rubbing gently up and down against the skin that your short skirt - that you’d worn for no reason… no reason at all - had left exposed, “teasing me, trying to get me to drop my act and finally do what we’ve both been craving for so long. i’ve always kept to my lane for the sake of yunho, but i don’t think i can anymore.”

you whimper when he moves his face in close to yours, lips barely brushing up against yours. he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip gently.

“not when you so clearly need to be taught a lesson…”

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Maisel character of choice discovering an old love letter

Noah Maisel sighs heavily. He's been doing that a lot lately.

2015 has been a tough year. He was denied funding on a study he's been trying to get off the ground. His girlfriend of a year called it quits on New Years Day (nine months ago. He's mostly over it), and the icing on the shit cake, the coupe de gras. The worst of the worst.

Pop-Pop passed away.

And Noah supposes that makes sense. Lenny Bruce was an old man. He had certainly lived quite a few different lives in the last ninety years, but it seems oddly unfair; oddly short for someone so excited about life.

Last week, Noah had received a text message from his grandfather that simply said "fuckin' cronuts are great. Go get one! It'll change your life!"

"Pop-Pop, after all the crap you've been through, how are you not more jaded?" he asked once a few years ago.

His grandfather had chuckled and nudged Noah's foot with his own. "You take the good with the bad, kid. Yeah, I did that one time, and the addiction problems are a pain the ass. But there are flowers that bloom, and chicken salad sandwiches, and orgasms."

"Agh. Gagh."

"What?"

Noah laughs quietly to himself and then sighs again. Offering to help his father and aunts go through his grandfather's belongings. Softa isn't up for it yet, and...well. Who could blame her?

He sorts through a stack of papers and letters, one falling to the floor. He bends down to pick it back up, and glances at the front of the envelope.

To: Upper West Side

Noah frowns and sits with it for a moment. He probably shouldn't read it. It's meant for Softa, and he should walk it up the stairs to hand it over.

But he's really fucking curious, and what if it's sad, or upsetting? He doesn't want to just hand over a mysterious letter to his grandmother only for her to read it and feel more heartbroken.

He sits down at the desk and opens the envelope (not sealed shut, thankfully), and pulls the letter out, taking a look.

Midge -

You won an Emmy yesterday, and I thought I'd drop you a note letting you know how proud of you I am.

Not that you need me to be proud. It's just the reality of the situation. I am so proud of you, I could keel over.

From the second I saw you on stage at the Vanguard that one night, I knew you would surpass us all. There is more talent in your pinky finger than most comics have in their entire body. You've astounded me from the beginning, truly.

So yes. Again. Very proud.

I know we haven't seen each other in a little while; California and New York being so far apart. But I wanted to let you know. I saw you accept that Emmy, and I cheered. I woke my mother, I cheered so loud.

In any case, I hope you're celebrating. I should be in New York again soon, so I hope to run into you while I'm bumming around.

Congratulations, Upper West Side

Love, Lenny

Noah smiles sadly and blows out a breath, tilting his head up to do some math. Softa won her first Emmy in '64, and she and Pop-Pop married in '65. He wonders if they ran into each other before Pop-Pop could send that letter. It's a really nice though.

Carefully, he slips the letter back into its envelope and gets up to deliver it to his grandmother.

[liveyun]

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 ; KSJ

title. white sand

pairing. kim seokjin x female oc/reader

genre. angst, exes au

warnings. mentions of broken marriage, arguments, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, missing communication in a relationship ; divorce ; non descriptive smut, allusions to miscarriage ; surprise ending?

wc. 3.3k+

listen to : playlist

masterlist | taglist

The sky is gloomy today.

Do you want to turn a river in its bed,

Or plant a barren wilderness with wheat?

Warm water ripples underneath your feet, giving you a feeling of you being still alive. That certain feeling of your stomach churning never leaves you, as you inhale a deep breath. This wasn't new to you, at least you knowing that wasn't. Your heart throbbing with pain each time whenever you see colors swirling around your life, but not you. Everything felt blank, everyday was an endless loop.

Your thoughts never ran twice before committing anything, resulting in indiscretion.

You didn't know why you'd visit the beach once in the year when the water felt bizzare to your skin; but at least this feeling of your feet sinking in the soft wet sand, the feeling of the cold breeze soothing your skin calms down your racing thoughts.

If you can meet with triumph and failure

And treat those two impostors just the same

Triumph. You weren't sure of when you met triumph, but failure, for sure was met by you. Failure is the secret ingredient to your success, they say, but when you actually fail, there aren't many who still stand by their quote.

The bubbling pot of jealousy inside, being compared to others, despised, accused of being a traitor, these all were some things which you craved to forget, but some things can't be just forgotten, can they really be?

If you can bear to hear the truth they've spoken

That you stepped right in trap for fools. But when?

They get buried inside your own self, in one such deep crests inside your heart that when even a glance is spared over, your whole self falls into an endless slumber of contriteness. Was it fair to lead on in this way? Pity for others, harassment for your own self. The truth is factual, you have heard it by your own self, and you are ready to accept it all. It itself might hurt but all these things, at least have an honesty within that you haven't been through unfair means to provide you a bittersweet nostalgia.

They say that success and failures are like the two faces of a coin. They're both an outcome of luck with a probable chance of 50-50 for each. Hard work does not always bring success, no matter how hard you put in your efforts.

But they also say that to keep a drowning relationship afloat, you have to put in effort.

It hit you hard when you’d realized that the risk of risking it all can also mean losing everything you've ever had in your life.

It hits you even harder when you remember how the decade old moon pendant still rests peacefully between your clavicles, against the resonating of your heart. You'd wanted to throw that away in the vast ocean, wanting the hues of the blues carry your pain, the memories to a place far, far away from you.

But you never had the heart to part away with something so close to your heart.

It's the seventh year you're seeing the imprints of your feet on the dunes of the damp sand on the same day, every year.

It's the seventh year you're walking alone on the beach with no sounds of squeaky giggles tingling your ears.

You wonder if the pendant still holds the tiny pieces of paper between its leaves which have both of your initials imprinted, or it's faded away like your footprints on the sand with each wave hitting the coast. Like how the castles you'd build together did.

4th December.

Your heart beats like crazy within your ribcage when your fingers feel the gentle surface of the white pendant, a relic which once was the reason for your smile blooming like lilies in a pond. But now, it only reminds you of your failure— your failure to keep your relationship afloat. Of your broken connection.

It's the seventh year you're reminded once again that it's truly over.

It's the seventh year you've realized that you're no longer together with your childhood friend whom you'd married.

It's the seventh year you've realized that maybe you've died. Maybe a part of you has, because till death do us part did not do any justice to you. To your best friend, your husband— ex husband.

It's the seventh year you're living without him, as many would say that you're doing completely fine, maybe only you know that a part of you never has ever stopped yearning.

Never stopped loving him.

You take off the pendant from your neck, gently unfolding the metallic celestial halves. The white paper in both of the tiny compartments unveiled bold, black scrawls with tiny hearts surrounding them.

KSJ ♡ YN

You feel the pain right in your chest, spiraling up your lungs to down your stomach till you could no longer breathe properly.

It's not a vague memory in your mind the day he gifted you the pendant. The event replays in your head like it's yesterday, when you were both young adults with warmth glowing in your faces, in your hearts, surrounding each other with the blanket of love. You still remember how young he looked with flushed cheeks and eyes twinkling under the moonlight, half squeaking, half laughing at some lame joke. His warm, big hand enveloped yours as you two walked to the waves in this same beach, feet sinking to the white sand glowing in the night.

You still remember how Seokjin had made a note of how warm the water was in comparison to the weather, and you'd make a note of how the tips of his ears were a shade of crimson.

You still remember when he had handed you the pendant, smiling so brightly, saying that he's forever grateful to the moon for blessing him, and you still remember the freshness of his breath as his lips touched yours for the first time ever.

You still remember how scared you two were. Having discovered your love for eachother after pining like idiots, you knew you had a lot of talking to do. You still remember how hot his lips felt on your skin, promising you words of affirmation that you both got this.

You still remember how delicate he was at that night of your first time together, how gently he made love to you, and how he coaxed releases after releases from you, gently kissing your heated flesh with each stroke to your skin. How he'd turned to mush after you'd touched him back with the same passion, with the same desire.

You still remember his teary face when you'd met him at the altar, when you'd exchanged your vows of eternal love and fidelity. You still remember how different the kiss you'd both shared felt to be, almost like a seal to your newfound journey.

You still remember how happy you two were. You two had promised that you'd got this together.

You feel your eyes stinging with tears amidst the bitter smile that hangs loosely on your lips, because you still remember the first time when things got hard. Really hard. You still remember the shaking of his dark pupils like an autumn leaf hanging on the tree, quivering with guilt suppressed anger when he saw you flinch. He had yelled at you, for the first time ever. He stroked your back with flurries of apologies as he kissed you to sleep that day.

You remember how any squabbles were silenced without any communication gradually and how any quarrel would be slept on without any apologies from either of you.

Despite the slowly forming gap between you two, he'd still make sure to have prepared breakfast for you when you'd wake up late. How he'd still prepare the vase every two days with your favorite flowers. How he'd pull you closer to his broad chest, lulling you to sleep, or occasionally telling you about his days.

You still remember how slowly the arguments turned to sleepless nights with a fidgeting heart and a choking stomach. How everything was so gradual that it took you time to realize that it was happening, and you'd taken it for granted.

How the loud voices of you both threatened to blow off the ceiling, and how your eyes hurt after crying yourself to sleep. How dark the bags under his eyes seemed every morning. How scared you were when you realized that he was no longer behind you, let alone stroking your back when you were bawling your eyes out as he used to do earlier.

How you'd wake up to an empty side of your bed, how your texts went unanswered most of the time. How every day after work you'd return to an empty home, flowers withered and dead on vases and everything picking up layers of dust.

How you'd fall asleep with untouched food on the table when he'd return back to home late from work. How you'd no longer smell the piping hot food everyday when you'd woken up. You would wake up to the same, empty place, knowing that he had been there, but he left without even sparing a glance.

You'd also miss how Seokjin would return to home with a throbbing guilt in his heart, never putting off the blame in his heart which accused him for everything which has been happening in your marriage.

How his heart would shatter to pieces each time after a quarrel, realizing the situation. How heartbreaking your sobs were behind the closed rooms or the running showers.

But he'd never got to apologize, because a part of him wanted that to come from you too. He'd wonder at times if you thought the same.

You still remember the lone happiness which bloomed inside you after so long when you'd seen two lines on the pregnancy stick after days of throwing up in the morning. How you'd thought that maybe, maybe this could fix everything between you two. Everything which you weren't ready for, but were thrown onto. Everything which you didn't know existed between you two, but was clearly visible day after day. You were positive that it definitely would.

How fucking selfish of you.

You still remember his absence and his ignorance when you were so excited to let him know about the happy news. You still remember the piercing fight which took place when he returned from his three month long business trip. You vaguely remember how you'd cry for him at nights to hold you, trashing beside the empty bed, how you'd throw up and clutch yourself to sleep. How the doctor had already warned you of your difficult pregnancy and to avoid mental stress as much as you can.

You vaguely remember how he'd asked you why do you look so pale. You barely remember the panic, the pain when the conversation flowed to another fight, now you yelling at him. He'd screamed at you that you were a burden to him.

You faintly remember the agonizing pain at your lower abdomen, strong enough to blur your vision and strangle you down to the ground where he'd cried your name as you fell down, and everything had blacked out.

But you actually remember the look on the doctor's face when she told it out loud.

And even clearer, the look on Seokjin’s face.

You don't really want to remember everything else which happened after that. Your friends had taken you home, away from him, suggesting that it's for the best. Some of them had already warned you beforehand when things had started to fall gradually and they emphasized their surmise of the situation.

You don't want to remember anything else which happened after that. You don't want to remember how you'd know that his company had gone completely bankrupt, and how he'd tried his best to save it.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd sent him the divorce papers and the look on his face, ignoring his thin frame, dark bags underneath his eyes which seemed devoid of any light in them, at all.

You don't want to remember all the times he came back to you, called you, texted you endlessly and begged forgiveness for everything he'd done to you but not even once to come back to him.

Maybe he knew already that you wouldn't.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd gone to your once shared apartment to get back your stuff. It felt. . .empty and devoid of any life, your once warm home staring at your face with a cold air around it, partially suffocating you from all the memories you'd created together. Whether they were the happy ones, or the terrible ones.

You'd purposefully ignored the vase of fresh flowers greeting you or all the furniture being spotlessly free of any dust. You'd ignored how your heartstring tugged at you when you'd see that his clothes are still with your own in the closet and how the bed was changed into the bedsheets which you'd bought at the beginning of your honeymoon.

But you couldn't refrain yourself from stepping into his study. Maybe it was because you were sure that you wouldn't be seeing him anymore, and the court would be the last place and time when you'd see him. Maybe because there was a part inside of you which wanted you to hang on for him. Hang on for you, but you'd ignored that, suppressing the voice inside you.

You absolutely don't want to remember whatever you'd seen there anymore. Whether it was the unfinished yarn you'd knitted to a poorly made mass during those three months knitted to an almost finished sweater, or the photos of you both framed on the shelves where you'd previously seen trophies of his youth camping on.

From small kids grinning ear to ear to adolescent teens with awkward poses to full grown adults and your last photo you'd taken together at Ilsan a year ago then as a couple. Each of them rested one beside another and other memories which were caught in small handicrafts you'd thrifted during your small visits to nearby towns in your early teens.

Because that only makes you fall into the endless pit of guilt, again and again, realizing that you'd never heard his part of the story. Your initial anger had always refrained you from thinking that way, but you'd know that despite everything, every effort you two had put into your marriage, had been in vain. You remember how pale, dull, thin and silent he'd seemed at the day of your divorce. He'd just a thin jacket on his frame regardless of the freezing cold outside with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He'd acknowledged your presence with a slow, long stare of his dim, puffy eyes, a small single nod of his head. You'd ignored how much it hurt to see Seokjin like that, but you'd instead decided to move forward, no matter how painful it was.

You remember the silence from his side when the judge had asked him questions about the reasons why your marriage broke down to pieces. You'd held your breath in your chest which already hurt with the constant throbbing.

He'd answered with a voice that you couldn't recognise from the person you'd known for more than half of your life.

“I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most.”

The judge had asked again, why'd he give up. If he knows, shouldn't he be trying to make it up to you? His answer, perhaps, had shocked the judge, too.

“Once a knot gets tied between a thread, the knot forever remains, no matter how much you try to untangle it.”

The actual last time you saw Seokjin was after you two were divorced, sitting beside each other, having signed on the papers which officially meant that you two no longer were married to each other. Your heart felt numb with the pain and your eyes were devoid of any moisture, having exhausted them all within the painful months you'd spent alone with the memories haunting you.

You hadn't looked up at him, and you knew he didn't, too, and you didn't want to. You'd seen his fingers twitch on the paper where he held his pen, close to yours own, but made no further move. You'd itched to say something to him which you didn't know if you should've, but you'd kept quiet all the while.

You'd heard his tiny please forgive me,if you can the last time before you exited the court, but also from the place where you'd relished your memories, a souvenir to your old love.

You close the pendant with a snap.

It's the same day you divorced your ex husband.

4th December.

It's his thirty-first birthday, too.

As the waves crawl gently towards the white sand of the coast, you exhale in the breath you were holding in. You run your thumb on the craters like designs on the outside of the golden pendant, silently feeling the burden inside your chest now being a bit lighter.

You don't know if you've truly moved on, but the bitterness in the memories doesn't really feel bitter to you. At times they overwhelm you, but it's not intense.

You wonder if Seokjin is doing well.

We were taken from the ore-bed

And melted in the furnace pit—

We were cast and hammered to design,

We were cut and filed to fit.

You don't like nostalgia, but sometimes it reminds you that failure and struggle are the components who develop your character. If anything, it reminds you that mistakes were made and consequences were beared, but it also leaves you with a tingling curiosity inside. Is Seokjin living in the same city? Is he..is he celebrating his birthday today?

Birthdays for him were fun. Birthdays with him were fun.

You don't know. You guess it wasn't really within your imagination to imagine what it would be like for him. You just hope and wish he's doing okay. You hope he has healed well, or is healing well.

You stand up, your pendant still clutched in between your palms, no longer feeling the weight it carried for you, from you throughout the years of your life.

The weather begins to get chillier as the sun slowly makes its way away from the face of the world.

The low rustle of the waves and the slow whoosh of the wind tells you that it's time to leave.

Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding on, you turn to exit the beach. A simple smile spreads on your lips when you suddenly feel the pendant slip away from your slightly sweaty palms to the sand underneath.

You bend down to pick it up, and your hands brush against another hand which doesn't belong to you.

A warm one, and an oddly familiar,big one.

A pair of warm, curious pupils, twinkling within the dark pools of coffee hidden underneath tresses of dark hair greets you.

You look up.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes are wide and shaking slightly by the time you both stand up, your hands dangerously close to his which clasps the pendant within. He looks healthier, fuller and he's gained some much needed weight over the years. He's dressed in a white tee and black shorts, and you notice that he's let his hair grow. His cheeks have a flush which you'd notice was new to you. If anything, he looked handsomely young, as if he'd aged back.

Walk down the white sand just to watch his lonely footprints get washed away by the currents. He's trying not to fall back to the habits which tore himself away from him, but he's never been truly free from the guilt which pokes his chest in every aspect of his life.

When he saw you seated on the edge of the coast when he was out to visit the beach that meant the most to him, he couldn't believe his eyes. Every year on his birthday he'd visit the beach in the evening with a selfish hope in his heart, which he knew wasn't rational at any cost.

He used to sit on the coast the whole night, feeling the moon soothe away the burning memories of you. Hoping he'd ever find you, but always in vain. Hoping he could apologize for everything he's done except uttering a small sorry like a fucking coward.

The beach would always remind him of you.

Your hair is shorter than how he saw it the last time. Your cheeks are fuller, and your eyes have their light returned back to their places. You sat there in the same silence which he did at a distance, refusing the rational part of him which told him that it's wrong. He'd promised himself that he'd go away before you'd get up, and you seemed lost in thoughts as he took you in. Even if you two weren't together anymore, he was happy. Genuinely happy to see you okay. After everything you'd gone through. He knew, he was by no means rightful to ever look at you even, because he knew ever since then that you don't need him anymore.

Even if he tried, he could never stop loving you. Trying to be a better man everyday, wishing he could stop time and go back, knowing it's impossible. Everyday he'd wished he could. . . .

Now you're looking at him, and he doesn't know what to say. How to talk. You looked peaceful. You looked happy. You—

But when he'd seen the pendant he'd thought you wouldn't have it with you anymore, he lost it.

“Seokjin?” Fuck. This is the second time you've called him, but he doesn't find the crease in between your eyebrows as he'd expected to. You're rather smiling, a sight which he finds his heart racing miles at.

You don't wait for his response.

“Happy birthday.”

a/n : happy birthday to our silly moon prince~ hope you liked this one which i actually managed to finish in the brink of time ong

don't be sad, he's coming back soon home! :D as always, reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated 🌙🌹

[tilthedayidice]

Hey welcome back to my BG3 Hot Takes

While I have your attention, here's a cool site to help Palestine, all you gotta do is click it daily.

This session was inspired by @lipsie, gettin me ttalkin way too much. Yes I am aware that the tadpole changes things, and they have to make it balanced for the game blah blah blah- let a bitch complain.

Screenshots sourced from the Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki

Gale is the only character I feel is spec'd correctly, He's smart but fiuckin stupid, he has autism rizz, mam could not lift any box you asked him to, the only reason his constitution is 13 is because he's been dealing with the Orb and he's used to it by now.

Karlach should start with 20 strength and you CANNOT convince me otherwise, her charisma should be higher also, she's a ball of sunshine and could put the fear of god into anyone, and the line "Gods I wanna ride you til you see stars" will never leave my brain. Give this bitch a 15. She do be a little dumb I'll give you that.

Shadowheart is just funny to me, How can her wisdom be a 17 when she's been cloistered away for so long? Her wisdom is only a 17 in ONE SPECIFIC SUBJECT, a subject where she's forced to give up her memories. Memories are where we get our wisdom. Wisdom is gained through lived experiences, I'd give you the 17 for endgame Shart, but not start of game Shart. I'll take the 8 CHA cause she's a bitch (said with love, me too babe) but she knows enough to get what and where she wants so I think we should nudge it up to like 10.

Lae'zel.... I think it's unfair to put Lae'zel's intelligence at 10. Her wisdom being low, yeah i get that she's been cloistered away in a society that believes its the only way, it's all she knows. But intelligence? No. She might know much about Faeruns culture and people, but she knows EVERYTHING about the stars. And there's far more of that than there will ever be of Faerun. She's the funniest person we know, give her 9 CHA.

Wyll my beloved, do you airbrush those abs on? Do you wake up every morning and contour them? I DON'T BELIEVE YOU DO!!!!!!!!! SO WHO'S THE ASS WHO DECIDED YOUR STRENGHT WAS A FUCKIN 8??????? THE BLADE OF FRONTIERS SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST A 13. He deserve a 15 but I know they won't give it to him. Lipsie and I were talking about him and they're right, WHEN WE DUMP THE BITCH HE SHOULD RESPEC INTO BARD.

Astarion..... oh Astarion.... you're such a disaster. Such a wet cat of a man. Such a pathetic little mew mew. I shit on him a lot, but I do really love his character and development lol. LESS STR MAKE HIM WEAK, he has been starved and living off rats and shame, he can have his measly 8 AFTER he drinks... uh "Thinking" Blood. His CHA being 10 is perfect actually no notes. I personally think his actual INT should be lower, not too much lower, maybe 11/12, I knooooow he was a magistrate, but you can't tell me he's not giving himbo... no what was that word on the meme graph? Himbim? Himbim.

Halsin.......... 10 STR? 10?!?!?!?! You built him LIKE THAT and give him 10 STR?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!? What in the nine hells...... Weaker than Karlach of course, but 10????? Give that man 15 at least 8 INT???????????? 8???????? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HATE HIM???? Is it because he isn't Gale? Mans has been studying the mindflayers on his own, he's been studying the shadow curse... on his own. HE'S A MASTER HEALER?!?!?! AN ARCHDRUID?!?!?!?!?!?!? That takes time, study, and dedication. You wanna assign him himbo so bad. He's just a whole well rounded man with autism,. (Not a dig on himbos, quite literally my favorite genre of Man). This is just 'cause he fucks isn't it.

Minthara she's so much smarter than Larian gives her credit for. While I agree with the WIS, that's more a product of being so closed off, Her INT is much higher. I'd give her a 14? She cunning, just because it's used for Evil deeds doesn't mean she hasn't been she hasn't put a lot of thought into her work. She lived in Menzoberranzan for Gods' sake. She had to be smart or be killed?!? She's said so on multiple occasions! Just because she's Evil aligned doesn't mean she not smart. (She's just as smart as our average Bear according to Larian)

Minsc...... First off let me say that I love that they chose this image. A Bad Bitch. Anyways, anyone who doesn't find that dumb happy face charming is either lying or literally has a stick up their ass.... 12 CHA. Also why is he so weak? I know he isn't like actually weak... but mans chunked that mimic? Let him have 14.

Jaheira I'll give you the 10 STR, she's complained about her knees like three times in my most recent session. 8 INT? So what I'm getting here.... is anyone not an origin character is just baseline 8? Lazy. Especially considering she was ALREADY GIVEN STATS IN TWO PREVIOUS GAMES. In both BG1 and BG2 she has an intelligence of 10, and if anything she's only gotten smarter over time. I wasn't gonna do this... but left is 1 right is 2.

15, 14, 17, 10, 14, 15, and 15, 17, 17, 10, 14, 15

Make it make sense. I know she's old at this point, but in my game she killed Sarevok again so idk man.

Rip me apart in the notes ;)

But do it nicely...

[cherryjuicegf]

"What's that thing you keep saying to Yarpen everytime you meet?"

Jaskier's face, buried into the crook of her neck, surfaces for a moment to look at her questioningly. Yennefer does not grant him a glance back. Only, her hand continues to stroke at his hair absentmindedly as she stares out the window, at the setting autumn sun.

He knows at once, of course. There are few things that torture him in his life, but few as they are, they leave little room for mercy.

He sighs. "Well," he mutters, somehow unwillingly, "it happens to be my full name."

Yennefer's eyebrows raise in amusement, the corners of her lips slightly twitching. He thinks of kissing them, the way he has done and will do, soon, but perhaps not now, for he has settled warmly in her arms and the curious scrunch of her nose is far too endearing from down here.

"Hm. You're a funny little thing..." Her fingers scratch playfully at his head and he feels himself blushing. Then, finally, she looks at him. Daring. "I want to hear it."

His heart drops to his stomach, just a little, and he suspects she feels its absence under her hand because she keeps on staring, waiting. Her eyes glint with unspoken thirst, gentle like that of a little kid discovering a shell buried underground.

A shell, maybe, of an old self. One that he shies away from now, before her. He shakes his head.

"Ah, it's not important." What's gotten into her now to unearth this, of all things? "It's ugly anyway."

Yennefer rolls her eyes, fond, insistent.

"Come, now," she prompts and her voice is oh, so soft that his heart almost crumbles back to its place, just to feel the sound vibrate on her skin. A cunning smile. "Do I not have the right to know my husband's name? I may even use it."

At once, he laughs. Silent, surrenderring, certain there is no escape and it's so unfair and so, so sweet, the way she forces his own hand to dig inside his chest.

His face returns to its hiding place into her neck.

"Julian," he says, a bitter taste. "Julian Alfred Pankratz."

She hums, satisfied. Now that she's seen it, the relic, she averts her eyes.

"Why use it, then?"

Jaskier muffles a chuckle against her skin, trapped. He considers not answering. But it's not like she will not know anyway. And maybe he has been alone in knowing for too long.

The images of another life flash before his eyes and he winces in distress.

"Perhaps," he swallows, shrugs, "it sounds more imposing." Fraudulent attention, false power, enough to feign importance. Reeking more than royal. He smiles. "At least, I thought so when they called me that. A bit scarier."

He thinks, the name of a flower is not always heavy enough to rock the ears, and this is why he chose it for himself. Only, perhaps other ears are more welcoming to what is heavy to the tongue.

Then, again, it didn't make much of a difference, did it?

Yennefer sighs, brows slightly furrowed as though pensive, working it in her mind. It's almost a relief, the lack of impression it's left on her.

"Julian..." she whispers after a while, not so much calling him by his name as feeling it on her tongue, letting it flood her mouth. His whole body shivers in her arms. Soft, light, like a feather's caress, she feels it, dusts it like she would a rare finding settled between her hands. She squints her eyes, picks apart every sound. "Julian, Julian..."

A lump is suddenly choking his throat, and he can't help but smile, let out a breath that has been weighting on his chest.

"Strange," he breathes, laughs. "It sounds beautiful when you say it. It sounds..."

"Important?" Yennefer smiles faintly and meets his gaze. He smiles back, grateful. Nods. "That's good," she shakes her head, lowers her look just a bit as a thought clouds her eyes. "It's good... to hear your name uttered like it's something precious."

Jaskier parts his lips to say something but forgets it at once. He stays there, still, staring at her face and the way the evening paints her eyes in a deep haze, and makes her look even softer than he could ever have imagined her. Glowing, like a gleaming stone. That's what it is, then.

He grins and sits up to look at her properly, to take her in.

"That's right, Yennefer of Vengerberg," he whispers, slow like a prayer, tender like a poem, and brushes her hair back, finds her eyes.

Then, he holds her face gently in his hands, and she leans into the touch to lay her own name between them in return. And he kisses, at last, the smiling corners of her lips.

"Something precious indeed."

[kmazines]

Our Little Home

pairing ; dad!seungcheol x female reader

warnings ; grammatical mistakes

You look at the clock, its 8.30 pm already. You look at your daughter's sleeping face. Smile plastered on your face as you watch your little princess sleeping sound in your arms. She was a perfect mix of you and Seungcheol but to you, he resembles your husband more than you. Her long eyelashes, her dimples and especially her eyes are the exact copy of your husband.

"Well, she's mine so.." he was always proud and rub in on your face about it whenever you jokingly complaint to him at how unfair it is that she start to resemble him more each days. Especially nowadays, not just his look, she even start to act and sounds more like her dad.

You want to wait for Seungcheol to come home too but you're just so sleepy so you fell asleep with your daughter snuggling in your arms.

You're woken up from the stronger and tighter hug around you. Confused, you open your eyes only to be greeted by Seungcheol's smile in front of your face. You furrowed your brows. Still so confused.

"What's wrong?" He chuckled at your expression.

"Where's Ahreum?" your asked slowly almost like whisper.

"I've put her to sleep in her crib", you looked back, peeked at the crib behind you. Her crib not too far from your bed so she won't be woken up by your night talk with your husband but also close enough for both of you to wake up if she's having trouble or crying at night.

"Maybe we should let her sleep with us tonight?" your question making Seungcheol pouts.

"My wife don't want to cuddle with me anymore huh. Hmmp I'm so sad now, I'm not that important anymore..I'm hurt ", he said so softly, still so dramatic, pretending to be sad.

"Oh, said the one that hug and kiss Ahreum first when he comes home", you counter him back.

"Hey but you got kisses and hugs tooo," his whines was a bit louder this time. You shushed and slapped his shoulder softly, reminding him about your sleeping daughter.

"And why do you think she's being extra clingy and insist sleeping with me tonight? She's gonna be upset tomorrow so don't say I don't warn you. It's hard to persuade her to eat her dinner. I swear if she's start throwing tantrum, I'm so going to make you feed her in your meeting room", you pouted. Seungcheol was supposed to come home for dinner but he got called into last minute meeting, so he couldn't get home early.

You're used to it so you don't mind. Despite Seungcheol being away a lot, he really know how to make it up to both of you when he's home and around, so you never can get mad or upset with him knowing he did his best. But your daughter are still so small and young to know or understand it, so it's upsetting her sometimes.

"I know, sorry for that. And thank you. I know it must be hard for you to handle our daughter alone," he leaned his face closer, stamped a long soft kiss on your forehead. Seungcheol know you always try your best to explain it to your daughter about his job and he can't thank you enough for that. He always think about how lucky he is to have you as his love, his life partner and the mother of his child.

"Especially nowadays she seems to be so into her princess role. Isn't its too early for her to have that attitude? I don't think I let her hang out with Hoshi or Joshua that much yet" you both chuckled at his remarks. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your face closer to his chest.

"You're looking at your mini-me, so I don't think you should put that blame on your members ", you mumbled, making him scoffed.

"Mommyyyyy", You felt a sudden weight on top of you before you're attacked with kisses all over your face from your daughter. You opened your eyes to see Ahreum being all giddy on top of you. Seungcheol was standing right behind her laughing at both of you.

"My baby, you wake up early today huh. Did you play with your dad?" Ahreum nodded her head and giggled when you stamped kisses all over her face back. You then sat her down on your lap, her back against you. You softly brushing her messy hair back, reaching the cute strawberry hair clips on your bedside table and clips her hair gently, not to hurt her but secure enough to keep her hair tidy.

"What happened? What did you do?" you mouthed towards Seungcheol, trying not to let your daughter heard. Seungcheol responded with a smug little smile. Enough to confirm you that you don't need to worry about Ahreum being upset about last night.

"Breakfast is ready, mommy. Me and daddy made it for us!" seeing how excited she is right now, you know they're having fun preparing the food. Ahreum loves helping with cooking and baking, that he takes after you so kudos to Seungcheol for using it to his advantage.

"We made breakfast. Come on" he kissed your forehead before taking Ahreum from you and carrying her outside to the kitchen.

"What happened?" you gasped when you walking towards the kitchen. Your eyes glued to the mess behind the dining table. You shook your head to see the mess they made in the kitchen over making the breakfast. The pans and plate all over the sink.

"Breakfast?" Ahreum looked at you, fishing for some compliments. You look at the breakfast they made. Fried rice with fried eggs on top, butchered one if you must add. There are also some sausages and chicken nuggets on the table. Two cups of coffee and a banana milk, Ahreum favourite.

"Thank you so much baby. Mommy so lucky, my Ahreum is so good and kind, even helping daddy make breakfast for me" You cupped Ahreum's cheeks and shower her with kisses all over her face.

"Me too, me too", Seungcheol playfully hopped towards you, face closer to yours waiting for kisses. You cupped his face and kiss both his cheeks, making your kid giggles at the sight. You pulled his face closer.

"I'm not cleaning all that" you said before give him a peck on his lips.

"Don't worry I'll clean all of this" Seungcheol giggles.

"Me too me too, I'll clean with daddy" Ahreum chipped in from behind.

"She's the mini you indeed", you both laughed. Your little family enjoy the breakfast as slow and calm as you can. Not that calm actually, with this father-daughter duo, your life was full of chaos, but the kind of chaos that you're thankful for.

Seungcheol told you to rest while he clean the mess but you insisted to help. Your daughter popped up sometimes to help with simple task before fully distracted with her toys.

P/S : I hope you enjoy this! I have this in my draft for the longest time. I wanted to post birthday post for Scoups but I've been distracted, fighting with Joshua's antis, akgaes and delulus and didn't finish it on time so I'll post this one instead. Been missing him so much too, my heart hurts.

I don't do taglist and smut, sorry in advance (｡•́︿•̀｡)

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hello,

Is there any way you could translate Samatoki's newest solo, Rinka/Blue Flame? I've been looking for a translation everywhere, but cannot seem to find one.

Best regards and thank you very much.

Oh my God I am desperate slug-san, please please pleaaasee tell me you know where to find a translation of Samatoki's Rinka/Blue Flame!! OTL I was so surprised a translator wasn't already linked in the wiki which is where I usually look first & then I couldn't find anything by searching on twitter or google or tumblr and I just really wanna know what his song is about!! T°T I can't believe I found a translation of Honobono's song but not of Samatoki's song?? I must be doing sth wrong.. Help :')

Hey slug-san! A follow-up of the Rinka/Blue Flame message. I've searched some more, and I think there's actually no translation of it so far anywhere.. T~T Would you be willing to translate it? A standard/literal translation with a lil clean-up like you did with Akuma no Hana would be totally alright!! Thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to engage with Hypmic in a way the official creators haven't made possible yet! :D <3

Sure. Under a cut for length.

I'm running at a speed faster than grief, going so fast I leave even the smallest bad feelings behind me. I spit on my dead-end future, spit in the dirty puddles. Now I'm clinging to the guardrail, tears tracing scribbled lines down my cheeks. I bet it looks pretty comical. C'mon, laugh at me, why don't you? Let's start somewhere around the unhappy ending. Why not? Works for me. The clear, blue sky waits for sunset; but to hell with that. I don't need that crap! Let's do whatever we damn well please, here in this vacant city. Just the thought of them makes me light up a cigarette. Look, I don't wanna tell people we gotta fight each other to get what we want. I just think we have to, because there's things out there that're worth keeping safe. There's a stray dog baying at the rain streaking down the glass, and that SOB won't shut up. Hey, fuck your umbrella. Who needs that kinda crap? Throw it away and let the rain drench you too. The beat's entrenched in my soul, a stupid requiem for this unfair world we live in, lying on its sickbed. C'mon, get in there and pay your respects to it. You don't have the time to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You know lashing out's the answer, right? You'll be okay. And I'm not gonna tell you you're running from your responsibilities. So c'mon. Quit your sniveling and come ride with me. The brakes don't work; those emotions never get any slower. And we're burning ourselves out, but don't let that stop you from coming along with me for the ride. Ride with me through thick and thin. Ride with me all the way to the grave.

A few final notes:

Sunset is a metaphor for melancholy. When Samatoki rejects that in the third verse, he's rejecting sitting through his feelings of loss. He uses this image again later in the line I wrote as "sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

The gender and plurality of the "them" Samatoki thinks about isn't specified. While it's most likely referring to his family, the verse immediately afterward sounds like a direct reference to Ichirou and Samatoki battling to save their siblings in the TDD breakup.

"We're burning ourselves out" could also be written like "We're burning ourselves down to ash" which connects with the cigarette image.

Given the prevalence of stray dogs in hardboiled/yakuza fiction and their recurrence as an image in Samatoki's other raps, the stray dog should be understood to be Samatoki himself.

[gojot-t]

You remember the first time that you brushed Suguru's hair was during a film marathon on your doom.

Satoru and Shoko are already sleeping and the film was long forgotten. He had taken his hair out of its usual bun, the strands falling down his shoulders in such a pretty way that you almost thought it was unfair, before looking at you and giving you the kindest smile you had ever seen in your life. "Want to do it?", was all he needed to ask.

At that time, you thought your heart would come out of your mouth. Face hot with embarrassment and hands shaking, every time your fingers ran through the soft strands, the smell of his shampoo entered your nose.

At the end of the night, as he laid his face on your shoulder, soft breaths on your neck making your skin shiver, he chuckled lightly at how quickly your heart was beating before whispering a soft "Goodnight." Just for you, with the intimacy of two lovers. You knew you were lost in love with the man.

After that, It became common for you to exchange touches and glances while no one was looking, like two silly teenagers in love.

But you think the most memorable one was during the summer of the second year. The boys had just arrived from a mission and something was off. You didn't know the details of what had happened, only that the vessel that was going to merge with Master Tengen had been murdered before that could happen.

“Riko.” Was all Suguru said when he came back, bruised and with dried blood clinging on him. “Her name was Riko.”

You don't know how to describe it, but at that moment, with eyes so dark and out of shine, he seemed to have lost something that would never come back to him.

Since then he is no longer your usual Suguru. Even though his presence was right there, you know that his mind was somewhere else far away, drowning in a spiral that you weren't sure you could save him from.

You realized things couldn't stay like this anymore when you found him sitting on one of the benches at Jujutsu High, looking down and wet hair dripping onto his white t-shirt. So distracted that he didn't even notice you until you sat down next to him, knees lightly brushing his.

“Suguru… Are you fine?” You already know what he's going to answer.

“Yes, just thinking a bit, that's all.”

You try to meet his eyes, but he avert his gaze away, the same hair you loved so much now served as a curtain over his eyes, distancing the two of you. Your heart breaks at the thought.

“Suguru…” you had thought a lot about how to comfort him, what to say, but now all the words seemed to escape you. Tongue stuck between your teeth, you wanted to scream at him, that you were here, to share his pains and sufferings with you, that he should never be afraid of being judged by you because you would love and kiss even the ugliest parts of him.

“...Your hair is still wet." Is what you tell him.

You stand up and your hand finds his, leading him to your room. He doesn't say a word the entire way, not even when you comb and dry his hair, with the delicacy of something fragile, as if he would break at the slightest touch.

He kissed your forehead when you finished.

That night you slept together for the first time, clinging to each other like it was all you had, his fingers marking your skin where they held, as if you were his rescue anchor and he would be lost far away if you let go. Not once did either of you complain or move.

So when days later you receive the news that he has disappeared after murdering his parents and an entire village, you're not quite sure how to react. It's as if the ground beneath your feet has disappeared, falling into an endless fall. Your stomach turns and your head feels like it's going to explode, with so many thoughts but at the same time completely empty.

You almost told Yaga to stop lying, that it's not funny, but then he looks at you with so much pity that you feel like you're going to vomit. Satoru, next to you, slams his fist on the table so hard that the wood breaks. He looks almost sterile as he screams that he refuses to believe it, that Suguru would never do that. You've never seen him so vulnerable, raw emotions on his skin for all to see. Shoko leaves the room without saying a word.

Your suguru is a gentle soul, too gentle for this world and you know that better than anyone. He exchanged letters and bought flowers for his parents when he visited them, he gave up his seat on the subway to the pregnant lady no matter how tired he was, he smiled for you even when the taste of curses was so bitter in his mouth that it seemed to burn. He always gave his all to others, never asking for anything in return.

you know that's the problem, hell might freeze over before you can hate Suguru. Instead, you blame the world for not being fair to him, the superiors for treating everyone like soldiers just waiting to be slaughtered, and especially yourself.

No matter how much you wish you had done differently, insisted more that time, demonstrated more, asked more, the damage was already done and things would never be the same again. These thoughts were nothing more than “what ifs” now.

That night, Suguru's warmth in your bed seemed to haunt you and beneath all the anger and sadness, as much as you wanted to deny yourself, you felt disappointed, betrayed that he had left without you.

To stain every part of your life with his presence only to leave abruptly without even looking back or saying goodbye. He really is a cruel man, you think bitterly to yourself.

You wonder how you can get over the loss of someone who was still alive, if things would be easier if Suguru was dead. Because then there would be some explanation for why his classroom chair remained empty, why Shoko kept forgetting her lighter (he always carried one with him because he knows she always forgets), why Satoru still got his favorite soda from the vending machine. Because then wouldn't you have this hope that he would come back to you.

Because then, two weeks after he left you so selfishly, when you finished a mission in the most desolate part of the city and he appeared in front of you with his hand outstretched, you would have hesitated a little more, no matter how much your mind screamed at you to not do something you would regret, that nothing good could come of it, your heart had already made a decision long time ago.