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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 2 months

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AHDJAJSJANEHEHD DW I NEARLY CRIED WRITING IT I AM SUCH A SUCKER FOR LOVERS/CLOSE FRIENDS PARTING WAYS 😭😭😭 honestly though if he told me he was happy for me i would do a complete 180 and i mean I would whip around on my heel and I would literally hold him so tight I’m not even jk 🙁 giggles YES i had to top it off with beabadoobee !!! Don’t you know already stsg fans can’t be happy !!!! Okokokok to apologise for the sadness I have brought more poly stsg because I’m stsg anon and I can’t go a day without thinking of them 💪💪 .poly stsg x reader who’s also a sorcerer but is just a complete ray of sunshine. As in the world is exploding in front of their eyes but they’re js like ‘oh that’s unfortunate :(‘ and just generally tries to have a positive and optimistic outlook on the world n be kind to those around them (My fav type of people) but the funny thing is that wanting to be a sorcerer probably means that you stayed with satoru when the incident™️ happened — So imagine stsg seeing each other years later all cold and >:| but you were kept behind for whatever reason and they’re in the middle of talking to each other when you come bounding up behind satoru like “oh sorry I’m la- OHH HEYYY SUGUUUUuuu :D” ASGHAGSHA 😭😭 no because to be perfectly honest that would be me in that situation because I could care less that he left or that I haven’t seen him in 10 years ITS SUGU??? ILL TAKE THAT W THANK YOUUUU 🤩🤩🤩 ahdhs i feel like there are so many possible scenarios with poly stsg x sunshine reader aughhh!!! Hehehdhxhs thank u for listening to my brain rambles once again :𝟥 — YOU KNOW WHO (stsg anon) !!

STSG ANON MY BELOVED MY ANGEL first of all i’m so so sorry for how long this took me to answer T_T uni has been uni-ing lately …… AS ALWAYS U FEED ME SO WELL THOUGH pls know i always smile so wide reading ur asks !! :’3 they bring me sooo much joy i am opening your scalp gently and kissing your beautiful genius brain <33

AND GOSHHHHH THIS IS SUCH A SWEET SCENARIO PLS 😭😭😭😭 I LOVEEEE THIS SO MUCH this reader reminds me so much of haibara.. like i firmly believe this is how he would’ve acted with geto HAIBARA ASIDE THOUGH… this is just. so tasty. 😵‍💫😵‍💫 so sweet !!!

like .. a reader like this would completely fuck up stsg’s attempts at acting hostile towards each other because they’re just so sincere??? just happy to see geto again!! and i think it would hurt gojo and geto both because you’re still the same as before, you make them feel like you’re all still in high school, but you’re not and it hurts :((( i can see geto enjoying it though… he just gets all soft knowing you don’t hate him. he assumed that both you and satoru would but you welcome him back so warmly!! makes him want to pinch your cheeks the way he always used to <33 i think he would jokingly but not really so jokingly suggest that you join his side and you’re like… :0 PHDJFJ just all sweet and apologetic because you want to be with him and you appreciate the offer but you like being at jujutsu high…. and he just kinda chuckles because it’s such a casual reply. it’s so you. it makes him feel warm.

(… i also feel like this reader would be very good for stsg because, again, their sincerity and sunshiney attitude would essentially force them both to be sincere too and i think that’d clear up a lot of misunderstandings between them.. yes i am suggesting that this reader + satoru could’ve gotten suguru back i know it’s delusional but idc reader would go up to bleeding dying suguru and boop his nose and ask him to come back to them and he would stfu and listen <3333)

#IM SOOO IN LOVE W THIS AS ALWAYS #stsg anon i feel like we’re both connected through the stsg hivemind #every single thing u send makes me think so hard !! i have so much fun imagining these scenarios #geto would have suchhhhh a soft spot for this reader like they’re his little baby no matter what!!#his lil ray of sunshine <3333 #i just knowwww he’s jealous that u stayed with satoru instead of following him..#(.. but he’s also very happy bc he loves you both and know satoru will keep you safe. it’s just a little lonely without you around.)#ok ill stop im making myself sad LMAOOO #stsg anon i am hugging u so so tightly and rocking u back and forth 🫂🫂🫂 ILYYY #i hope u are having such a lovely day or night!! u deserve it !!! <333 #ask tag ✩#stsg anon !! ✩

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sungie · 2 years

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hello i know this might sound random but do you know why you and other people tag inumaki's name like this "#inumaki to/ge"? btw i also want to say that i love reading your inumaki works sm T__T i love him and its pretty rare to see a jjk writer create a lot of fics for him :D

hi anon!! omg last year using #inumakitoge didn't let writing show up through searches so i looked at other fics and hopped on the #inumakito/ge train (°ロ°) ! oh and don't quote me on this but i heard someone mention that "toge" might have prev. been a banned word?

ALSO AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! i love inumaki too and i'm so happy you like my writing for him screaming sobbing sending u all my love (´ ω `♡)

#anon this ask made me so happy u deserve all the love in the world #<333 #mwah #i hope u have a great day/night #asks

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woozi · 6 months

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i have not been here in MONTHSSSS how are you!!!!!!!!!! my favorite cc!!!! u better have a great fantastic amazing week or else 👹

#YOUR FAVORITE CC?????????? OUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AND IF I PASSED OUT??? 😔😔😔😔😔 IM DEVASTATED I LOV U #this is so incredibly sweet of u 🥺🥺#the past week has been... interesting for me <33 BUT NOW MY WHOLE WEEK HAS BEEN MADE THANKS TO U <33333333 #ok but this lich rally IS the sweetest thing i've heard all day!! maybe even the whole week </3333333333 #u dk how much it means for me for u to come back AND even remember lil old me and THEN go out of ur way to say hi 😭😭😭😭 PLS???????//#hope ure having an even better day/night ahead lovely <333 and that the days r always kind to u!! its what u deserve #ALSO WIGGG forgot to say i've also just been back recently (only for the recent svt cb season) maybe we ARE fated 😋😋😋#anYWAY I LOV U #HOPE URE HAVING A BEAUTIFUL SPOOPY HALLOWEEN <3333333333333 MWAH #anon #y.ask

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in-a-faith-forgottenn-land · 6 months

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la la la la la good morning/evening/whatever time of day! this is a lil reminder that u are gorgeous and sweet and i love u sm ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

omg bestie i love U sm!!!!! MWAHHHHH <333333

#also u r so so sweet and beautiful and amazing and i love u sm #and i hope u have the greates day or night bc i love u and u deserve it <333 #asks <33 #mutuals <33 #this made me tear up omg

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satorhime · 11 months

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. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

#little novels.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo angst

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months

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soft/needy/clingy sevika? 🥺

i love you babe, i hope you’re having the most incredible day. you deserve the world <3

awee thank u so much !! <333

men and minors dni

you're just about to turn in for bed when there's a knock at your door.

the only time someone knocks on your door this late at night without previous notice is when that someone is sevika. you grin as you run toward the living room, flinging your door open to reveal your girlfriend.

she looks exhausted. but the moment she sees you, the tension in her shoulders disappears, and she smiles, slumping forward to collapse into your arms.

"hi, honey." you say, wrapping her up into a warm hug. she sighs.

"hey, baby."

"you okay?" you ask as you guide her into your apartment. she trails behind you, touching you the entire walk to the bedroom.

she's quiet as she collapses onto your bed, and you smile down at her.

sevika gets like this sometimes-- all needy and clingy-- and it's the cutest fucking thing in the world.

she's making grabby hands at you from her spot, but you dodge her grasp to start undressing her from her day-clothes.

you start at her feet, unlacing her boots. she sighs when her feet are freed, and you quickly peel off her socks before moving up to unbutton her pants.

as you slowly strip her down to just her boxers, she finds her words, your touch bringing her back to life.

"i just missed you." she whispers, her eyes big and watery as she watches you work. you smile, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before you crawl into bed beside her.

you curl around her and she shifts in your arms until her nose is brushing yours and your knees are knocking. you start trailing your hand up and down her spine, and watch as she melts under your touch.

"i missed you too." you say. she smiles shyly.

"really? it's only been twelve hours since we saw each other." she says, a little self consciously, like she's worried that her sudden appearance at your doorstep might be over-stepping. she's always insecure about her clingy side, and it only makes you love her more.

"really, sev. wish i could spend every minute with you." you say. sevika smiles, big and toothy, and she leans forward to nuzzle her nose against yours.

"me too." she admits. you giggle.

"i love you." you say. sevika grins.

"i love you too." she says.

"you gonna spend the night here?" you ask. she shrugs.

"if you want me."

"shut the fuck up, i always want you. please stay." you say. sevika sighs happily, closing her eyes in satisfaction at your words.

she's so fucking cute it makes you want to squeal.

"okay." she says, like she didn't walk all the way across town just to be with you. "i'll stay."

you kiss her forehead, and she giggles, a sweet little sound.

"you sleepy?" you ask. she nods, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you closer toward her.

"was tryin' to sleep at home, but i couldn't without you there. missed you. i've gotten used to you squishing me in my sleep-- now bed feels empty without you." she says. your heart skips a beat and you kiss her again.

"you should just move in with me." you whisper.

sevika's sleepy eyes pop right back open, big and bugging out of her skull as she looks at you. you smirk. sevika blinks several times, trying to take in your words, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly as she tries to find her words.

"wh-- seriously?"

"dead serious." you say, nodding. she huffs a little disbelieving laugh, her lips quirking up at the side.

"you-- you won't get sick of me? i'm not very organized-- you know i leave my clothes all over the place. and i work horrible hours, i'll always be waking you up in the middle of the night. and--"

"sevika." you cut her off. she gulps and looks at you with stars in her eyes. "i know all of this already." you say, giggling. "we've been together for two years. you're over here five nights of the week anyways. i still want more of you. i want all of you, always." you remind her. she blinks back tears, then leans forward to bury her face against your throat.

you give her time to collect herself, continuing to stroke your nails up and down her spine, scratching your free hand through her hair.

sevika always gets a little shaky when she's like this. she's tough and stoic all the time, and it took her months to finally open up to you and show you how clingy and soft she can really be. you know how vulnerable she is in this state, and you feel like the luckiest person in the world to be the person she's trusted her sweet heart with.

eventually she catches her breath, pulling away just an inch, her voice wobbly as she speaks.

"okay." she whispers. you grin.

"yeah?"

"yes. please."

"thank fuck." you say, giggling as you pepper her face with kisses. she starts to laugh in your hold, giddy and excited, and when she pulls away enough to look you in the eye, she's got tears running down her cheeks. you coo, cupping her cheeks and wiping up her tears.

"are you sure?" she asks again.

"quit fucking asking me that!" you laugh. sevika snorts. "more sure than i've ever been about anything, okay?"

"okay." sevika says, giggling.

"now go to sleep because the first thing we're doing when we wake up is going to yours to pack your shit up." you say. sevika grins.

"okay."

"goodnight, baby." you whisper, kissing her forehead. "i love you so fucking much."

"'s kinda gay to say to your roommate." she teases. you snort and tug her hair, and she bursts into laughter.

"shut the fuck up." you giggle. sevika hums, then pushes on your shoulder and pins you to the mattress, before flopping right on top of you, nuzzling her face against the crook of your neck and shoulder. you kiss her cheek and wrap your arms around her waist.

"i love you too, you know?" she asks. you smile.

"i know baby." you say.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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miraclewoozi · 2 months

Note

hi angel!! congrats on 500 followers 🫶 i'm so proud of you and i hope u know u deserve every single one of these milestones (and even more!)

i'd like to request hoshi + “you can hold my hand, if you want.” !!

looking forward to seeing you hit many many more milestones🩷 once again, congratulations!

JUST THE TWO OF US? - k.sy

500 follower party <3 ( accepting until 14th March ! )

pair : ksy x gn!reader. prompt : “ you can hold my hand if you want. ” wc : 1.1k and some change. notes : just fluff ! barely proofread. jeonghan is a shit. jihoon is also in on the games. i probably swore once or twice idk. literally warning free otherwise this is just a sweetie pie fluff for my sunshine bby.<3 ( i love u literally so much. thank u for sending this<333 i am kissing ur forehead holding ur hand rocking u to sleep and running through fields of daisies with u as we SPEAK. mwah. mwah mwah mwah mwah. i hope this u enjoy this.<3)

You’re never going to forgive Jeonghan for this.

It was supposed to be a group thing. When the plans were made a few days ago, there were six of you all in talks to go to the movies together, and as far as you were concerned, Jeonghan had booked the seats all at once so you would all be next to one another. He'd given you the time, told you where he’d wait for you inside the theater lobby, refused to accept reimbursement for the ticket (he quite often told you just to cover his snacks, instead), and you didn't think anything more of it. Even last night when you’d messaged Jihoon to ask if he needed a ride, he’d told you that he was going to hop in with Soonyoung so you didn't need to worry.

Which means that obviously, he's in on this too. He's on thin ice, as well.

Because when you walk through the doors at 7:15 on Friday night and turn to the left to meet your friends by the GODZILLA standee, there's only one person waiting for you. Leaning against the wall, eyes glued to his phone, shifting his weight impatiently from one side to the other. Soonyoung. He looks stressed, biting on his bottom lip, seemingly typing out quite an aggressive series of messages: if the increasingly creased space between his eyebrows is anything to go by, all of them are going unanswered.

He doesn't look up until you're standing right in front of him, wrestling your own phone free from the pocket of your jeans. When he does, and he realises that it's you, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Thank God you're here," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was starting to think this was some kind of a set-up."

You laugh quietly, tapping your screen and opening your text thread with Jeonghan, scrolling back to find the messages concerning tonight's plans.

"The others aren't here yet?" you ask distractedly.

Soonyoung shakes his head. "I thought maybe everyone was stuck in traffic, or something," he says. "Wait – are you on your own?"

It's your turn to frown, now.

"Yeah?" you say, glancing back down at your screen. You definitely have the right date and time. "Where's Jihoon?"

It falls silent for a moment as you stare each other down, matching confused looks plastered on both of your faces.

"I thought... he was coming with you?" you say in unison.

The ball drops for Soonyoung first. He slumps back against the wall as he connects the dots in his brain and he brings both his hands up to his face, rubbing the tips of his fingers into his eye sockets. You watch him, concerned: he looks genuinely distressed, and when he re-emerges from behind his palms, his cheeks are brightly flushed, face scrunched up in a way that you're not sure you've ever seen before.

"I'm so sorry," he says wearily, tipping his head back against the wall.

You don't get a chance to challenge him on the apology. At the same time as he says it, your phone pings with a notification; you bring it within range to find a new message from Jeonghan. A picture message. A screenshot, of a movie reservation, except there aren't six seat numbers listed. There are two. And it's not in his name, it's in yours. Underneath, another message pops up, just as wordless as the first. It contains one single wink emoji and a thumbs up.

You get there too eventually, and under your breath, you mutter, "that scheming little shit."

What's more annoying is that Jeonghan joked about doing exactly this a few months ago when you asked, in what you thought was a very nonchalant manner, whether Soonyoung was seeing anyone, what his 'situation' was. After some questioning, he excitedly offered to set the two of you up on a date, if you were interested. When you pleaded for him not to, he teased that he'd find a way, and that he'd catch you out when you least expected it: you never thought he'd follow through though, especially not after this long. You were sure he'd forgotten, just as you had..

You can't believe him. You really can't.

"I guess... it's just you and me," you swallow, acknowledging that this really isn't the fault of the man standing across from you and that it isn't fair to be grouchy with him when he hasn't done anything wrong. Besides, he looks mortified: hands balled up down by his thighs, cheeks still stained pink, a few beads of sweat starting to glisten at his hairline.

"I–... yeah," he grimaces.

"I'm really sorry," you sigh, tapping your pointer finger against the back of your phone. "I didn't– I really didn't have a clue he was doing all this. If I'd known..."

"Hey, no, don't be," Soonyoung insists, shaking off his discomfort and stepping away from the wall, taking a step closer to you. "Why would you-...?"

He trails off and in the seconds that follow, something... happens. Multiple expressions appear on- and vanish from- his face, replaced just as quickly as they come and immediately replaced by another that you don't have quite enough time to read. You're sure the same thing happens to you, too. There's a conversation shared that doesn't result in any words being said aloud, but even so, things are acknowledged. Things are understood. Soonyoung stands up straighter when the threads knit together in his brain and he slides his phone into the front of his hoodie, kicking at the ground with the rubber toe of his shoe as he pulls out his wallet instead.

He starts to take a few slow steps towards the concession stand, keeping his eyes on you to make sure you follow. Your tickets get printed, you head into the screen and settle into the seats Jeonghan booked for you, and while you wait for the movie to start, you make a little small talk. It's nothing groundbreaking. You catch up on the things you've missed in the few months since you last saw him, crack a few jokes, share a few shy smiles, grin as you sip at the drink he insisted on paying for. You bump hands as you simultaneously reach for the popcorn bucket. It takes him a whole ten seconds to get over it.

(He doesn't need to know that it takes you even longer.)

Soonyoung's fingers bounce idly on the arm of the chair the whole time, like he's twitching to do something with them, fighting against a strong, overwhelming impulse. And as the lights grow dimmer and the people around you start falling quiet, you lean over to him, close enough that you can whisper something straight into his ear.

"You can hold my hand, if you want."

So... he does.

He doesn't let go, either: not until the movie ends and you leave together and he walks you all the way back to your car. Not until he asks if you'd be interested in going out on another date: one that he gets to plan. And there are a million reasons you say yes to him, of course, but when he looks so pretty blushing under the lights of the parking lot... how on Earth could you ever say no?

(He squeezes your fingers and gently tugs you closer until you're falling into him: then, he catches you with an arm around your waist and his lips on yours. The salty aftertaste of the popcorn on his mouth lingers long after he says goodnight, and you consider, on the drive home, that maybe you can forgive Jeonghan this one time.)

(Just... not before you make him squirm a little bit, first.)

#💌 - mailbox.#sammy 🩷#mw500party!#hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #j writes.#*

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shawtuzi · 2 years

Note

more of plug eren plssss it was too good 😩😩

OFCCCC

this might be a little messy and rushed but i hope y’all like it </3

this is 18+///cw include: smut, some fluff, drug usage, black coded reader

- plug!eren loves buying you different kinds of jewelry his favorite being the silver anklet with a small e dangling from it. he loves the way it jingles ever so softly by his ear whenever he’s got you on your back legs up in the air. ah yes he loves that anklet very much but the tennis necklace that sits so pretty on your neck is a close second

- whenever you sleepover at his apartment (which is almost every night) he’s always the first to wake up and does his daily wake and bake. he ofc has another blunt set aside for when you wake up knowing you wouldn’t let him hear the end of it for smoking without you

- i don’t see him being much of a drinker for obvious reasons but when he does drink girl he is a SLUT!!! give this man a couple shots of hennessy and he’ll have you folded in a mating press whining and bitching about how much he wants to cum in you and how much he loves you. get him cross faded and he’ll become the definition of a service dom, giving you multiple orgasms until you have to tap out only for him to breathlessly plead in your ear, “c’mon baby just one more time you feel so fucking good”

- plug!eren’s first post with the two of you on his ig is captioned “me & my bitch” and this man genuinely thought he was being romantic and still does to this day so he refuses to change it

- plug!eren will never admit it to anyone except you ofc but he loves baking. you don’t know when he got into it or why but he loves it and he infuses everything obviously. you tried making a simple red velvet with him one night and everything was going fine until you suggested the two of you have some wine while you wait which lead to eren suggesting a quickie which lead to the poor cake slowly burning while eren had your face pushed in his mattress

- KING OF BACKSHOTS!!!! omfg the way he can reach so deep and bump against that special spot with every stroke is straight up insanity. he def does the thing where he holds his shirt up with his teeth so he can see himself fucking into you

- don’t even think about buying from another plug or even a dispensary plug!eren considers it cheating but 10x worse

- “where did you get that?” eren asked referring to the disposable pen you were holding. “umm….connie….” you mumbled looking everywhere but eren’s face. “wow y/n just wow” he huffed crossing his arms an adorable pout on his face. you learned that day that plug!eren is very possessive over his clientele especially you

- baby boy secretly loves to be praised whether it’s about his looks, his performance in bed, or how good his weed is he just loves hearing good things about himself

- is the type to grab you by your throat/jaw and say “stop playin’ with me” whenever ur acting bratty and then gives u a lil kiss on the lips to let you know you’re gonna get ur way. he just cannot help but spoil you his woman deserves the finest of everything in this world

- your contact name in his phone is “wife” and the contact picture is a pic of you sleeping clutching onto the hello kitty plushie he bought for you

- plug!eren absolutely adores having slow sensual sex while he’s high!!! he loves having you ride him omfg the way he’s able to slowly run his hands over your body and admire the pretty fucked out look on your face <333 the dirty talk is elite as well and don’t even get me started on his facial expressions

- “fuuuck you feel so good baby” eren rasped using what little strength he had to bounce you on his dick. you couldn’t even reply your mind too foggy to come up with a response all you could muster were tiny moans and whines. he looked so pretty. his brows were furrowed and his nose was scrunched homeboy was completely basked in the feeling of your pussy. “this fucking pussy i swear y/n i’m gonna fuck a kid in you if you keep squeezin’ me like that” *screams internally*

- loves to roll blunts on you. he’ll roll up on your tits, back, ass, stomach it doesn’t matter he just loves to do it

- plug!eren doesn’t like to share as we all know but there was this one time you convinced him to watch you and mikasa fool around and he liked it way more then he admitted. smoking a blunt and watching the two women he trusted more than anything make out and touch each other??? yeah he loved it but don’t worry eren knew good and well his dick belonged to you and would never think about be intimate with another woman even if you were okay with it no one compares to his pretty lil gf </3

#eren <3 #my writing #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren smut #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot eren #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren yeager imagines #eren jaeger imagines #plug!eren

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da-proti-toku-grem · 5 days

Note

*🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁…It may have took over a week N 3 sick days buttt….THE MEGA MOODBOARD BUNDLE IS COMPLETE!! XDD 🎉🎉🎊🎊🥳🥳 now close ur eyes N open them on the count of 3! readyy??, 1…2…

3!!,what we’ve got here is Bojure! night out then Jance! puppy 4 kitty,Bokris! sun and moon,holy trinity! lazy day, Jan! autumn theme Nace! German Shepard theme, Jure! royalty AU, Bokris! star gazing date, Jance! aquarium date N finally Bojure! kinky moodboard :33! It was the lest I could do since U made that f4n *ADORABLE* Bojure fic based on the movie date board I sent ya N the Jan/Jure fic that was inspired by the beach date board aswell (actually died when he pinned Jure down N started tickling him like fr biting my sleeve out of cuteness aggression 😭😭💓💗) I’ve got a few more sneak peeks 4 ya later of what I’ve planned so far 4 the magical girl! AU soo I’ll probably send the summery’s 4 chapters 3 N 5 straight 2 ya dm’s as a surprise (chapter 3 is gonna be angsty I’ll tell ya that much ☺️),hope ya like ur lil gift cuz by *GOD* do U deserve it >:3! Ily <33333

GENGAR ILY I'M GOING TO CRY OMG 😭😭😭😭😭😭💗

Genuinely screamed into my pillow when I saw these

I've been sitting here for like 15 minutes trying to come up with something to say or comment on the moodboards but you've left me speechlessless (/pos) fr. I love all of these so much, all the themes, the colors, the quotes and the pics you chose, just... EVERYTHING ZJSISZNSBXJSBSJSBZSI

I really wasn't expecting anything in return when I wrote those, but I'm so happy you think my fics made justice to the wonderful moodboards you sent me because I wouldn't have wrote them if it weren't for you <333

Anyways, THANK YOU SO MUCH I'M IN LOVE WITH THESE 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶

#on a side note #god this is also making me want to do those joker out individual moodboards i've been thinking about #i already did jure but i want to make all of them before posting it mmm....#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #jure maček #nace jordan #jan peteh #kris guštin #bojure #jance #bokris #holy trinity #moodboard #ask #mine #fave

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olivyh · 1 year

Note

omg!??! Your work is so entertaining!! U deserve more attention! u are very good at writing angst, amazing!!!! I dont know how to explain it while reading ur work, i felt very amused and satisfied ! Very pleasing written story!! In my eyes, ur work is unique

Absolute obsessed with ur ruggie x reader and leona x reader, secretly hoping for more stuff like these

Could u please do riddle x reader angst to comfort/fluff if u have free time ?

Thank you so much <<33!!!!!! I also love, LOVE the different colors in this request- it makes my brain vvvv happy because it's bright!!!!!!!!! I also love the fact that people are actually requesting angsty things because it gives me an excuse to do character analysis' and fanfics at the same time <<333 enjoy!

TW: Mentions of abuse, slight panic attacks

Riddle was not always treated with cruelty. He was pampered the first few months of his life, being treated with care by the maids and the servants.

He remembered being told that, when he was a newborn, even his mother was doting and affectionate. He was told how she would read him stories every night, she would rock him gently when he was getting too fussy and would whisper into his small ears while he whines and whimpered, small, pale face turning red from the hungered wailing. Oftentimes, he would lie awake at night and try to remember those days, try to feel the way her soft hands would feel as they stroked his chubby cheeks.

Riddle would find his mind wandering during those endless lessons, racing to find any explanation as to why she'd stopped treating him with such care, why she'd decided that she would no longer act as a mother, but as a tyrant.

Even as a child, he would hold his own hands up to his face and caress his soft skin, trying to desperately pretend that they were hers as he rubbed them up and down. His own hands even felt too cold against his face, the chill sending shivers down his spine.

It was all wrong. His hands were always too small, and his shoulders ached from how long he held the uncomfortable position. His thumbs would never run over his forehead in the way he'd imagined hers to, and his hands were far too calloused to even attempt to compare to her own. He would lower his hands to his sides and bunch them in the soft silk of his blankets, gritting his teeth as he stared at the ceiling with blurred vision and muffled sniffles that sounded all too loud in the vastness of his childhood bedroom.

He would often comfort himself in the way he'd imagined her to, positioning his pillows to resemble a person's torso and resting his head against it, wrapping his arms around the center of it and trying not to squeeze too hard in fear of ruining the fragile fantasy he'd created. He would imagine her playing with his hair softly, tried to desperately imagine the feeling of her chest rising and falling with breaths that would come out as delicate birdsong, twirling through the air with the goal of putting the boy to rest with a peaceful sleep. She would rub his shoulders and back as he cried, hushing him and pulling the blanket tighter around the both of them. He would pretend that the blood rushing through his ears was her heartbeat as it pounded in her chest, that the loose fabric of the pillowcase was her nightgown as he gripped onto it for dear life and tried to muffle his sobs to hide it from any curious ears walking past his door.

Some days he would even imagine his father coming home late from one of his many business trips and sitting on his opposite side, fixing the blankets and speaking to his mother in hushed, loving tones as Riddle drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Riddle had gotten used to laying down on his sleeve, knowing all too well that the servants would notice the dried tear stains and the stains of his runny nose on the pillow when they would clean his bed sheets. He knew better than that. He would lay on his sleeve and cry until his mind and body were too exhausted to continue through the night, then he would wake in the morning and wash off his sleeve before crawling back into bed silently and pretending to be asleep until his nanny came in and woke him up for the day.

He'd fallen into this same routine at NRC, with an added layer of sorrow when he would pass by friend groups who grew silent at the sound of his heels clicking against the marble. Their laughter would bounce off the walls and would send a mysterious pang that shook him to the core and made his knees weak and his eyes watery. He felt as though he were an outsider to this strange new world, as though he were a puzzle piece that did not create a whole picture, no matter how much he tried.

He was lonely, he'd decided. He was lonely and bitter, and so unbearably cold that he wanted to sit beside the fireplace and never leave despite knowing all too well that even the suffocating heat of the flame could not thaw the ice that had settled in his bones.

Riddle was used to the isolation that came with his house, how it would never truly feel like a home no matter what he did to make himself as comfortable as possible. He was used to spending endless days in his study, barely seeing the sunlight until his skin had paled to the extent where he could crane his neck and see the delicate blue veins that traced patterns beneath his thin skin. The darkness crept around every corner, was buried within the pages of every textbook and had managed to worm itself into every spell and rule that he had committed to heart.

There was no spell to make him friends, he knew that much.

But... nobody had taken the time to teach him the proper way to make a friend. Nobody had sat him down and given him a lesson on how to socialize properly, nobody had taught him what to do and what not to do, how to act in different situations, what is alright to say or not. Riddle was... guessing. His whole life, every interaction depended on the flip of a coin or the roll of a dice.

That's why he truly felt terrible when he had first met the prefect. The lovely, kind prefect who had shown him nothing but generosity that he returned with a scowl and bluntness. Riddle wasn't used to this feeling within his chest, this warmth that only ever arose when he could finally speak with his peers as though they were friends. This warmth, however, was new. It was practically scalding and made his mind absolutely blank.

It hurt him more than anything he could ever imagine.

He was blunt and he knew his charm had failed him whenever you two spoke. Riddle knew that his words often came off as condescending or as cruel. He had never intended it to! He wanted nothing more than to sit beside them and explain with teary eyes and a heavy heart that he just didn't know how to properly express himself.

He had somehow stumbled even closer to the prefect, hoping to, in some part, understand them better. He desperately wanted to find out everything he could about them, curiosity overtaking his senses as he soaked in every crumb of information he could get. He was greedy for the warmth that they offered to him, a warmth like no other than melted that shell around his heart and made him desperate for more, more, more.

Until he blew it.

One moment the two were baking, and the next they stood next to him, eyes wide and clutching their hand close to their chest. Riddle stood in equal shock, jaw dropped and lower lip quivering as his mind raced to understand what had happened. He was reading off the instructions, and they were laughing at something he'd done. They'd pointed out the batter on his face and reached to brush it off with their thumb. Riddle would have fantasized that his heart was soaring and his head would be full of cotton candy, just as it's described in all the novels he may or may not have been reading. His eyes would meet theirs, and they'd both blush and chuckle as he tried to swallow the butterflies that swarmed in his stomach and crept up his throat and he could finally, finally feel the warmth of your touch against his skin- the same warmth he'd craved since he was a child.

And then their hand met his cheek, and it all felt wrong.

Too terribly wrong, in a way that dissolved the butterflies into acid that sunk into his heart and took his breath away as tears sprung to his eyes and his skin was itchy and burnt and his lungs struggled to take in any sort of air which left him gasping as his face pales and his ears rang as blood pounds at the vessels within it and the lights above were too bright and he was too painfully aware of the feeling of everything clinging to his skin and-

It all felt like too much.

He had, in his panic, smacked their hand away. The kitchen was silent aside from Riddle's still racing breaths as his heart sunk and his stomach clenched in a way that would have made him double over if he had not been so mortified. His mouth opened for a moment as his shaky hands scrambled to find purchase on the counter.

"I-I'm-" He gasped, gulping and taking another few heaving breaths. "I'm so sorry-"

"Riddle, it's-" The prefect begins. He slams his eyes shut and raises his hands from the counter, running off with wobbly legs before they could finish their sentence. He raced until he made it to his room, collapsing against the door and panting until his lungs ached and burned. He grew desperate for air as he used the chill of the hardwood floor to ground himself, mind racing over what had just happened. A pit in his stomach formed and deepened the more he played it over and over, tears welling in his eyes as he hiccupped silently, holding his knees close to his chest and weeping into them.

Perhaps, he thinks bitterly, the words swimming in his mind, perhaps I'm not meant for love after all.

Riddle hardly thinks he deserves it after what he'd done, his actions reminiscent of his mother's whenever he would slack or slow down in his studies. He felt sick to his stomach as the world around him spun and he tried to desperately bite back the nausea that crept up his throat.

"Riddle?" A knock on the door sounds, making him jolt. The sound of the prefect and their concern makes his heart deflate just as quickly as it had swelled. He ponders telling them to leave, to never come back, but he can't trust his voice.

And he can't trust his heart to not betray him in that split second.

"I'm sorry," He mumbles into his knees, just loud enough for them to hear him through the door.

"Can I see you?" They ask quietly, and he can hear how their voice sinks closer to the ground. He could practically picture them lowering themselves to talk to him more clearly, putting themselves on equal ground with him. Why? He wonders. Why me?

"Not right now," He whispers, voice breaking as more warm tears stream down his porcelain face. They're silent for a moment on the other end, and he would have assumed that they'd left would it not be for the rustling of fabric as they make themselves comfortable on the other side of the door.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you without your permission..." They're quiet, and their voice sounds remorseful, a realization that makes Riddle's tears stream faster down his face and drip onto the soft cotton of his uniform. He was a monster, a tyrant, so why? Why are they choosing to give him their kindness and share their light with him?

"No," He sighs. "I should be apologizing. I should never hit you. I-I never wanted to-" His voice betrays him once more as he hiccups, breaths catching on the words that tear through his throat. "I really wanted you do to that, really." The confession would normally make his heart race and his face flush a bright red, but his heart was too heavy to soar as it was supposed to. "I wanted it to be perfect."

"Perfect?"

"It hurt, being touched so gently," Finally, he was able to choke out the words that had been lodged in his throat since day one. Admitting it out loud made it seem more real, adding another stab of sorrow into his heart as he chokes back a sob. "I wanted to..." he can't seem to finish his sentence as he swallows thickly and takes a shaky breath.

"It's okay, Riddle," He can hear the love in their voice from the other side of the door, and the stream of tears lessens ever so slightly. "We can take our time with it."

"You don't deserve that," He decides firmly. "I-I truly like you, but...I can't love."

"Let yourself be loved," They practically demand, making the boy jump as his breath catches. "You think you're this terrible person when you're not that at all. You're hurt, and you're confused," He wants to wail, to scream at them and beg them to stop, but at the same time...

They understood. They were finally seeing him as he always wanted to be seen, they were telling him the truth of who he was- of who Riddle Rosehearts was and not just Riddle of the Rosehearts family.

"You're not going to hurt me," They're silent against the door, and the redhead finds himself leaning further back and hoping to feel the warmth of their body press seep through the mahogany door. He swallows once more, wiping at his tears as he stares up at the ceiling, focusing only on the prefect's steady breaths on the other side of the door. "I know you're scared but...I promise that you could never hurt me."

"I just did."

"I overstepped a boundary. I- you were scared, I saw it. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" He sniffles. "You never did anything wrong."

"Then make it up to me!" They argue, taking the boy back for a moment. "Make it up by finally letting yourself be happy, Riddle! It doesn't have to be with me! You don't have to confess your love, or do anything! Shit, even if you tell me to never come back to Heartslabyul I still- I'll care, and I would be absolutely heartbroken because I love you so, so much, but... I'll understand. I just need you to promise me that you'll be happy. I need you to promise that you would allow yourself to love, and to be loved."

"I want..." He stammers before taking a breath. "I want to love you. And... to be loved by you."

Riddle could hear their sharp intake of breath, and, in a moment of bravery, he spins his hand and slips it under the crack in the door., feeling the rough wood scrape against his hand until he was certain his fingers are visible on the other side.

"Y-you can..." He can't finish his sentence and he hears an affirmative hum sound from the other side of the door as warm fingertips rest over his own.

"Is this okay?" They ask. He nods slowly and hums, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he relishes in their touch. It's gentle, as though he were made of glass and any touch harder than what they were doing would break him. There was no malice, not cruelty.

He felt safe.

"It's..." Riddle smiles softly. "Warm... it's nice."

For the first time in his life, Riddle saw a future in which he could be held in the same tender way he'd dreamt all those years ago.

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