#the country you shouldn't mess with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saekkas · 11 months

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

summary: in which you need to wrestle your boyfriend, michael kaiser, out of his bed to fulfil a promise- re dye his hair.

notes: it's meant to be a continuation of this fic but you can read it as a standalone too! 2.1k words for my favorite german pomeranian <3

germany is beautiful. in all seasons and weather, even with rain and snow pelting down the windows. the bread and sausages make amazing breakfast items, the beer is pleasantly warm, and the sight of castles and palaces all around the country make you feel like a princess. your favorite though, is when spring comes around.

spring blows away the last dregs of winter. there are puddles from melted snow all over the station, sweaters are still needed because of the chilly air, and christmas decorations still litter around town square, ready to be replaced by the eggs of easter. it's when mother nature reappears, pushing winter away for another half year.

coincidentally, it's michael kaiser's least favorite time of the year.

"you don't love me anymore, do you?" he dramatically sobs into your neck, his hands holding onto your body for dear life. "you're moving away to break up with me, aren't you?"

his duvets feel like clouds. made out of the softest material, you find it hard to haul yourself out of the room every day. his sheets are made of silk, a beautiful rose gold in hue, and his bed is enormous, framed by mahogany wood on all sides. kaiser's bedroom is heaven on earth, and you've got your personal angel lying in the middle of it all.

"you've finally found someone better, haven't you?" he asks once more, his eyes peeking from your chest. his hair is a mess, the blue streaks already fading out to match the rest of his hair, there are dark circles surrounding his eyes, and he's got patches of drool in the corner of his lips. but you don't think he's ever looked more ethereal than this.

"who is it?" there's a pout on his lips, his eyes still drowsy from sleep. you watch with a smile of your own, taking in his fluttering eyelashes, your faces close enough to count every last one. "is it a guy from china that you met in hawaii? is he prettier than me? richer? is that why you're leaving me for him?"

"what are you even talking about, silly?" even when you roll your eyes, the smile stays, and you look at him with every bit of fondness in your body. "you're the only pretty boy for me. you know that."

his lips stretch out into a dopey smile, an uncontained giggle spilling from his lips. there's a certain giddiness in his motions, as if he couldn't contain his feelings inside his body. you watch with amusement as he kicks his feet, accidentally pushing pillows out of the bed.

"mhm. i know. just wanted to hear you say it," he hums, going back to nuzzling your tummy. he mumbles incoherently against your shirt before yanking the fabric up, burrowing his face onto your bare skin. "love you, pretty."

"were you out drinking last night?" you shake your head, squealing when he blows against your bare skin. "i thought i could trust ness to keep you out of trouble."

"i wasn't drinking." he's back to his whiny state, both of his hands tightening on your waist. there's a glare this time, his lips twisting back into a pout. "you shouldn't trust ness. trust me instead."

sunlight bleeds into the room, soft and serene as they bypass the curtains. a ray bounces off the mirror on kaiser's vanity, one he specifically added just for you, and makes its way to his face, bathing him in a dreamy glow. the reflection of light turns his eye into an icy blue, stealing your breath. he looks divine.

you take him in, as much as he does you. there's a muted sound from traffic, and the chatter of birds but in the moment, nothing else matters except you and him. his frown deepens after a moment of silence and you chuckle, relenting as you thread your hands into his hair.

"love you too, baby."

if there's anything you've learned from dating him through years, it's that your boyfriend absolutely loathes it when you fail to respond to his declarations of love. another thing, is that he becomes clingier and far more possessive when spring comes, dreading every moment he has to be away from you for matches.

it's seen in the way he's holding your body tighter, preventing you from moving an inch off the bed. he's pouty, lips twisted downward because it's the last day he has you to himself before he's called back to the field. it's on days like this that you smother him until he can't shake away the ghost of your lips around his body, even in the middle of a match.

"gonna let me move anytime soon?" the hand on his head moves to glide down his neck, stroking the sensitive skin around the back of his ear. you watch as he moans, his eyes snapping shut at the touch. "mein kaiser?"

"wenn du so weitermachst." his voice is low, his heart beating faster as he moves from his previous position to hover above you with half lidded eyes. "du wirst dich überhaupt nicht bewegen können, liebling."

translation: if you continue to be like this, you won't be able to move at all, darling.

you suppose there's a reason he's down on earth rather than above. michael kaiser may have the looks of an angel but he acts like the devil.

he's looking down at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes, as if ready to eat you alive. you gulp, eyes roaming down the expanse of his chest before they land on the necklace dangling by his neck. the ring it holds is 24 carats, gold, with roman numerals of your anniversary date engraved on the inside. it matches with the diamond encrusted promise ring on your finger, gleaming in the shade of his eyes.

you tug the necklace, pulling him until you're nose-to-nose. you shiver at the way his eyes darken even more, his lips quirking into a smirk. "who knew you were so naughty, liebling," he hums, pushing your knees apart to slot himself between your legs. "who taught you, hm?"

"you did," you say before lifting the ring to your lips, kissing it with a small smile. he shudders at the intimacy of the action. "you also taught me not to break my promises, right?"

kaiser raises an eyebrow at the direction you're taking this. he's got you on the bed, flushed, under him. to him, the only promise worth thinking about right now is the promise of intimacy and pleasure.

"i promised to dye your hair, remember?" you lean forward, this time pressing a kiss onto your beloved. "you can do whatever you want to me after we're done."

he groans, letting himself drop on your body. he giggles when you groan at his weight, his face flushing at your words. "whatever i want. that's a promise too, right?" the whisper of his voice against your ear is delightful, and you nod where you're pressed against his shoulder. "i hope you intend to keep that one too, liebling~"

he waits for a moment, savoring your warmth until you start to squirm. laughing, he hovers over you once more to press a kiss on your forehead before scooting over to make room for you to move. "gonna let me use your mask?" he grins widely when you nod, rushing over to the bathroom.

but not before stripping off his night tee and chucking it straight at your head, laughing like a mad man when you throw his beloved stuffed panda at his back in retaliation.

your boyfriend has always been restless. he's never shown much patience, and you should've known that re-dyeing his hair was going to be a hassle. "hold still, mikka." your tone is scolding but not stern, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration to make sure the dye doesn't spill. "i need to make sure you look pretty."

he stops squirming at the nickname, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips as he places a hand on your hip. "you should call me mikka more often, it's cute." he looks up from his position, seated on a chair and facing your front, and wiggles his eyebrows at you. "not only when you want something."

"yeah?" you hum, distracted by the strands of his hair in your hand. you grasp at it with gloves, sectioning to thinner pieces before using a brush to smear the color in. it comes out decently and you grin in satisfaction before moving onto another strand. "glad you like it. it suits you."

kaiser stays unmoving, not even answering back like he's supposed to. concerned with the sudden silence, you look down only to be greeted by a blinding his smile. you quirk an eyebrow, smiling at him in question. "what?"

"you're so cute." he tries to shake his head, stopping when you send him a glare. the hand on your hip squeezes at the fat in affection, his eyes shining even against the brightly lit bathroom. "ich liebe dich, liebling."

"very romantic of you," you say with a roll of your eyes. you store away the bowl of blue hair dye in your hand, leaning down to press a kiss. you feel him hum against your lips, his smile widening from the kiss as he pulls you closer. "i love you too, mikka. even when you won't sit still."

"are you done yet?" he asks with wide eyes, the sight of his puppy eyes looking at you from below sending butterflies to your stomach. "can i look?"

"mhm. go ahead." you step back, making room for him to face the mirror. you watch over his shoulder as he examines his newly re dyed hair, the blue strands at the bottom a contrast to his pale blond. you were getting used to the full head of blond, getting used to having mikka all to yourself. now you've got to share him with the world again as michael kaiser makes his comeback on the field.

"you like it?"

"i love it and i love you."

"maybe we should try another color next time. like purple or pink," you say before giggling at the way his face lights up at the suggestion. you eye him in curiosity when he turns to look at you with a proud grin.

he moves quicker than you expect, grabbing your waist and setting you on the bathroom vanity. he pushes you against the mirror, planting a searing kiss on your lips. you feel him smirk against your lips as his hands move to trail down your waist, settling on your thighs.

"there. a thank you kiss for my little genius," he says, breathless from the exchange, a wicked gleam in his eyes that you're wary of. he leans his forehead against yours, pressing a kiss to your nose. "one 'i'm sorry' kiss too."

"what for-" you're about to question him but a sigh interrupts your words, one that comes from the feeling of wet hair dye trickling down your neck and clothes.

you glare as he presses another kiss in apology. "i'm sorry."

"no, you're not," you snort at the teasing smile on his face. "now i have to go bathe."

he perks up, "want me to join-"

"no."

bonus:

"you really are pretty, mikka." glancing at the mirror from behind him, you watch with fascination as kaiser pushes a hello kitty hairband onto his head. it's yours, one you bought as a pair with his pink panther one. surprisingly, he likes this one more. "the prettiest."

you watch him nod to his own reflection, seemingly agreeing with your words. his newly dried hair bobs along with the motion, the strands fluffy and smooth. you'd run your hands through if you hadn't just spent the last half hour styling it.

"your prettiest-"

"-like a german pomeranian."

"...what?"

"nothing!" you laugh at the disgruntled expression he wears, shaking your head. hoping to appease him before the whining ensues, you hand him a small container filled with matcha facemask. his favorite to wear because it does wonders for his skin.

he looks at the thing as if it's offended his entire lineage. "you're seriously going to bribe me with this?" he pouts, crossing his hands against his chest.

such a big baby. your big baby, though.

"what's wrong? pomeranians are cute!"

"yeah but i'd be more of a husky," he grumbles as he pushes the pink panther hairband onto your head, clearing any hair away from your face. he uses a brush to smear the mask across, stopping every so often to peck your lips. "they're handsome, strong, and expensive."

"high maintenance, too," you mumble under your breath before shrugging. "i just like pomeranians better," you grin, scrunching your nose when he finishes with a kiss on it.

"...fine. german pomeranian it is then."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser x reader #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock headcanons #kaiser fluff

3K notes · View notes

hyunniesgirl · 7 months

Text

Break up with your boyfriend, I'm bored

Pairing: Seungmin x fem!reader

Summary: Seungmin knew what he wanted since the first time he laid eyes on you. The problem is that you have a boyfriend... Actually, that's not a problem for him.

Warnings: angst, cheating, Seungmin is a bit of a meanie, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it), oral sex(f receiving)

Words count: 4,537

>>Part 2: Leave<<

A/N: I got this idea and I couldn't take it out of my mind 😭 I suck big time at writing smut but I'll only get better by writing it so bear with me.

My requests are currently open

Seungmin's having a lot of sleepless nights lately. It usually happens when he stays for sometime out of the country and gets too used to the foreign timezone. So one night, after getting tired of tossing and turning in bed he goes to the convenience store nearby, maybe a walk and some fresh air will make him sleepy or at least he can get a beer and some snacks.

That's the first time he sees you: an absolute mess. You are studying while eating spicy noodles, lips covered in sauce, glasses slipping to the tip of your nose, white shirt stained with red drops and hair all disheveled.

For some reason he just can't avert his gaze from you. Is it because you look a total mess in public and don't seem to care? Maybe he finds that interesting, since he can't do the same.

The second time he sees you, you are all dressed up with your makeup and hair done. You're laughing while looking at something on your phone and he thinks your smile is the prettiest he has ever seen. He can't help but stare at your every movement and the way your lips move while you speak on the phone is just enticing.

He thinks of talking to you, he just doesn't know how. Seungmin is usually not the one to make the first move, he's the one who's hit on. And while thinking about how to approach you, he sees you get up and walk out of the store, would you be there the next night?

You didn't show up for almost two weeks, but he didn't give up. Seungmin went back to the store every night hoping to see you again.

When you show up once more you are not alone, there is a man with you and Seungmin doesn't like it. He has his arm over your shoulder, stealing glances at your cleavage and slipping his hand into the small of your back, touching your ass every chance he gets.

Seungmin feels strange, sick, heart beating fast and head hurting. He shouldn't be feeling this way, you never even spoke with him but he can't shake the feeling that this is unfair, he wants you for himself.

Seungmin spent the night before cooking up a plan to get acquainted with you and the best idea he had wasn't the smartest one. You are seated, studying again and he's close to you on the table the customers use to eat. He takes a deep, dramatic breath, making you look at him.

As soon as your eyes meet his, you blush instantly. It's not everyday you meet a handsome stranger in a convenience store.

It's strange though, he looks really familiar, you just can't remember where you saw him before.

"Is there something wrong?", you ask, fixing your glasses closer to your eyes, you really have to get them adjusted again since they keep slipping.

"I bought this, but I didn't like the flavor", he lifts the food. "Do you want it?", he asks, getting closer. He saw you eating one of these every time you were at the store, so he knows you like them.

"I shouldn't", you answer, shifting uncomfortably on your seat. You're a little bit embarrassed, he's dressed really nicely and you're in your sweats.

"I'll just throw it away if you don't want it", he shrugs.

You pout, thinking carefully.

"I suppose I can have it then", while you take the food, smiling awkwardly. Your fingers touch his and Seungmin has to hold his breath so he won't gasp at the warmth of your touch.

"I see you a lot here, do you live close by?" You hear him again before you can go back to your book. "I don't know a lot of people here, I just came back from the U.S." He explains after the suspicious look you gave him.

Technically he's not lying, he doesn't know a lot of people in that neighborhood and he did just come back from the U.S. You smile understanding, you don't have many friends either.

"I go to the college nearby, so I usually come here when I stay late to study", you give your hand to him so he can shake it, "I'm Y/N, by the way"

Seungmin has to think fast, you don't seem to realize who he is yet and he wants to keep it that way for now.

"You can call me Sky", he answers, shaking your hand back and you nod.

"So you're going to stay? Or are you going back overseas?", you ask, curious.

"I'm probably staying", he answers, glancing at your phone that just started ringing.

You close your book, answering the call.

"Yes baby, I'm done", you say smiling awkwardly to Seungmin. "I have to go", you whisper to him, waving goodbye.

Seungmin can barely breathe seeing you go into your boyfriend's car, he's so mad and at that moment he realize that he's completely lost.

You're so kind, your voice is so much sweeter than he thought it would be, he wants you to call him babe, he wants you to go to him, moan and scream his name, cumming and begging for him to give you the release you want.

He shakes his head, what's he even thinking about someone he just met?

You meet each other almost every night after that, it's not on purpose on your part but Seungmin is always there at the store, he helps you study, buys you snacks so you won't have to get up every time you're hungry and massage your fingers when your hands hurt because you wrote too much, with time friendship comes naturally.

When you find out he's famous you can't believe it, your friend is an actual idol? Of course, he has the looks and the talent, you often thought he should be a singer when you two went to karaoke together. You're much more into girl groups than boy groups and with college and work you were just so busy it was impossible to follow the new trends, that's why you didn't recognize him earlier.

You thought his real name was Sky till six months into your friendship, when he had to buy drinks and they asked for his ID. You stole a glance at the document and read "Kim Seungmin". You were sure you heard that name before so when you looked it up on google you freaked out storming out of the store with a confused Seungmin after you.

"Wait, what's wrong?" He asks, grabbing your arm, making you look at him.

"Kim Seungmin?", you scoff, you're mad that he didn't tell you before, did he not trust you? You're sure it's not that, but it doesn't make you less upset.

He takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry", he looks down massaging his eyes with the tip of his fingers, "I should have told you, I just… lost the timing"

You shake your arm out of his grasp, stepping away from him.

"I can't believe a famous person saw me on pajamas", you blush, "It's so embarrassing"

Seungmin smiles.

"You look cute in your PJ's"

"I don't!", you whisper yell at him trying not to attract attention, "I look ridiculous"

He frowns, staring at you, lips tightly together.

"Never, you would never look ridiculous, okay?"

You cross your arms, pouting. You should be the one scolding him, not the other way around.

"Can you forgive me for not telling you? Just this once?", he asks, giving you puppy eyes.

You huff.

"You're going to pay for my food every time we go out together", you answer, crossing your arms.

"I already do that", he laughs.

"Yeah, but now I won't fight with you so I can pay nor will I feel guilty about it"

"Done", he smiles and you roll your eyes, you just can't stay mad at him.

Not long after, you graduate from college. You invite him and his friends to a little celebration at your house. You live a bit far from campus in a shared apartment with your best friend who has one more year to go until she graduates.

Seungmin arrived an hour late, he and the boys got stuck in practice longer than they expected but they finally made it.

A ginger girl opens the door to the apartment, he presumes she's Soojin, your roommate.

"Hey! I'm-"

"I know who you are", the girl interrupts, looking behind Seungmin, "woah, when Y/N told me you are her friend I thought she had finally lost it, I'm glad it's not the case", she chuckles, giving space for the guests to enter.

"Minnieeeeee", Seungmin hears your voice and turns to find you, you look beautiful with your hair down, a tight black dress and no shoes, he feels jealous that the other guys can see you like that too. You stumble a bit coming in his direction, you are already drunk.

"She got an early start when that asshole called saying he won't be coming", Soojin says, rolling her eyes.

So your boyfriend couldn't make it? Too bad, he thinks.

Seungmin walks towards you, holding your arms and supporting you so you won't fall.

"Hey, congrats on finishing college", he says and you smile widely.

"Finally!"

Seungmin introduces you to the rest of the boys, they are all so handsome you almost sober up seeing their faces.

"You look even better than on YouTube", you say and they laugh.

"It's nice finally meeting you", Chan says.

"Yeah, Seungmin talked a lot about you", Lee Know smirks, glancing at Seungmin.

"Oh, I hope only good things", you look at him too.

"Oh, yeah! Especially when he's drunk-", Jeongin starts to speak but is interrupted.

"So, where are the other guests?", Seungmin asks, glaring at the boys.

"She's a loner", Soojin says and you laugh, awkwardly. "I'm her only friend"

"Well, yeah…" you admit, "but I wouldn't have invited anyone else since you're all here, I want you to be comfortable tonight"

Seungmin feels his heart beat so fast in that moment, he thinks it will burst out of his chest. He has always known how sweet you are, but now the other boys can see that you're considerate too.

"Do you like truth or dare? Let's drink!" You laugh, running to the kitchen to pour some alcohol to everyone.

He can do anything for you, be it playing a stupid drinking game or stealing you from your boyfriend.

Since you graduated you don't go to that convenience store anymore and you don't need Seungmin's help with your studies either. But you both got really attached to each other, so you start hanging out in your house or his dorm.

You go shopping together, eat delicious food, watch movies and cuddle. Sometimes you think he's much more like a boyfriend than your actual boyfriend, and you feel guilty instantly after thinking that way.

When you are not at work you are hanging out in his dorm with the other boys, talking all night long and listening to each other's worries. It's no surprise how lonely you feel since they went on tour a month ago, you can't spend time with them anymore, Soojin is having her finals and to top it off your boyfriend is getting more distant by the day.

You are finishing your work day when your phone buzzes. You walk out of the company's entrance while reading your texts.

Minnie: where are you?

You: just finished work

You: why?

You frown, this guy is somewhere in Japan right now, why does he want to know where you are?

Minnie: stop frowning, you look ugly when you do that

You: what?

You: how do you know I'm doing it?

Minnie: are you dumb, do you wanna trip?

Minnie: look ahead when you're walking

You bump into someone before you can take your eyes out of your phone and Seungmin looks at you with that familiar condescending smile.

"You!" You scream, this man is unbelievable, of course he would show up out of nowhere. "When did you get back?"

You wrap your arms around his chest, hugging him and feeling him squeezing you into his embrace.

"I came here right after we landed", he answers, looking around and making sure no one's looking at you two.

"Oh, you must be tired", you poke him in the chest, stepping away from his hug, "I don't look ugly when I'm frowning, you're such a meanie", you point it out.

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night", he sighs dramatically and you have to hold yourself to not punch him. "I actually rested a lot in the flight so I'm okay"

He grabs your bag, putting it on his shoulder. "Let's go, the guys are dying to see you", he says and you smile widely.

Seungmin missed you so much he thought he would die, but just by seeing your smile it makes him feel like the happiest person alive.

"Oh, I actually have a date with my boyfriend", you take your phone out of your pocket, seeing a message from him. You sigh, "never mind, he just stood me up"

You smile at Seungmin, "I was actually going to ask for a raincheck so I could go with you, so it's all good"

Seungmin knows it's not all good, after seeing you struggle in this relationship he decided it's time for him to make a move. He doesn't care about your relationship, not that he ever did, but now it's definitive. He needs to have you.

You arrive at the dorm and find Hyunjin, Felix, Han and Jeongin playing some game you don't know the name of, trying to decide who will wash the dishes.

"You're here!", Felix gets up quickly and runs to you giving you a hug. "We missed you a lot", he says.

"I missed you all a lot too", you smile, hugging him back.

"I think that's enough touching", Seungmin put his hands between you two, coming in the middle and making Felix pout, stepping away.

"Hey!", you want to fight back but he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, daring you to oppose him. You clear your throat not sure why that look made you feel so… hot? "Where are the other guys?"

"They went to the convenience store to buy drinks and snacks"

You nod, thinking maybe you should have brought something too.

"What are we going to eat?", Seungmin asks, sitting on the sofa's arm.

"Fried chicken?", Hyunjin suggests and you nod.

"I'm in", Felix says and Han agrees.

"I'm gonna send it on the group chat so the others can give their opinions", Jeongin says, already typing on his phone.

"Sounds good to me", you poke Seungmin asking him to come closer. "Do you maybe have some clothes I could change into?" You are uncomfortable in your outside clothes and if you want to eat a lot it's going to be hard with those tight jeans.

Seungmin has to take a deep breath and make a silent prayer to any god that's listening to him so he won't get hard by the thought of you wearing his clothes. Every other day you slept in his dorm, you came prepared bringing your own clothes, so this is going to be a first.

You follow him to the bedroom, which you had been to a lot before, however for some reason the atmosphere feels different this time.

Seungmin prepares a shirt and sweatpants for you, he steps out of the room so you can change even though he really wanted to stay there and watch you strip for him.

When he sees you his heart skips a bit, he did try to prepare himself beforehand but it was just too much, so much more enticing than he expected.

He avoids your gaze, clearing his throat and telling you to go on to the living room, he will change and be there soon.

He can't help but eye fuck you the entire night, he loves when you dress up, put some tight little dress and makeup on. But there's something about the comfy you, that leaves her hair to dry naturally and wear pajamas in every opportunity she gets, that's the you that turns him on the most.

You on the other hand, don't know why he keeps staring at you like that. Although, contrary to your expectations, you don't feel uncomfortable at all with that. It's been a few months since you began having these weird feelings about Seungmin.

It all started with a wet dream you had five months ago, he was fucking you so hard in your dream that you woke up drenched. That was when you started thinking about him in that way, of course you put these thoughts aside, you have a boyfriend and Seungmin is a celebrity he can have anyone he wants so you thought it best not to entertain the idea anymore than in your dreams only.

You didn't drink much, too afraid of saying something about your strange feelings if you were not sober. You were relieved when everyone called it a night and you went to the bedroom. You have always slept with Seungmin when your thoughts were still innocent but things are different now, you're feeling different.

Taking a deep breath you begin arranging the sheets, you can just put some pillows between the two of you and you can pretend he's not right there on the same bed.

Seungmin has some different ideas, seeing how he enters the room and locks the door behind him, staring at you. His eyes are dark like you have never seen before and you feel that familiar knot grow in your lower stomach.

"What is it?", you ask and he takes a long step forward, then another and one more. He's right in front of you now, towering over you.

He lifts his hand caressing your cheek.

"I can't take it anymore", he whispers as if he talked louder someone would barge in and take you away.

"What are you talking about?", you ask, a feeling of warmth climbing up your neck and cheeks.

"Please be mine", he slides one of his hands to your waist, pulling you closer and pressing his body against yours.

"I don't understand", you say while he bends, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Let me show you? Hm? I can show you how much better I'm"

You feel your heart beat so fast and loud you almost can't hear his words.

In that moment, you understand all the looks Seungmin gave you, all the smiles and affection he had shown you. All those times he told you how you could find someone better than your boyfriend, how he got mad every time you tried to set him up with someone or even when you asked if he liked someone and he always changed the subject. It was you all along.

You don't think it through, just wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He can't believe you're actually doing it, that you're letting him finally taste you, you feel so good, your lips are soft just like your gentle nature.

Seungmin is surprised, he thought you would be much more reluctant and that makes him feel reassured because it means you feel something too.

His hands slide down your thighs, helping you wrap your legs around his hips. You can already feel his hard on pressing against your cunt, making you moan slightly. He lay you on the bed, playing with the waistband of your pants and pulling it down, admiring your bare legs. He takes his shirt off and unbuckles his belt, crawling close to you.

"I waited so long for this", he says, caressing your face, the picture of Seungmin with no shirt, naked chest, wearing just his loosened trousers, makes you salivate.

You don't know what to do, you're not inexperienced but for some reason you want him to be pleased with everything you do.

"You look so beautiful", he smiles, his hands caressing your stomach, going down and wandering through your thighs.

Seungmin kisses you again, sliding his right hand to your hair, pulling it slightly. You gasp not expecting it and he smirks.

"If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable you can tell me, okay?" He tells you, teasing the waistband of your underwear with his free hand, threatening to take them off. He wants to do much more than what he's planning for tonight, but he has to take it easy, he doesn't want to scare you.

"Please", you beg thinking he will stop teasing you. You never thought you could feel so needy, you're not sure if it's because of the ambiance or because it's him.

"Oh, you want me to fuck you already, right?", he asks sarcastically and you nod.

"Too bad, I had to wait a year so you'll have to wait too", he answers, kissing your stomach and going up, riding your shirt up and taking it off. You're glad you took off your bra when you were changing, because the lustful look Seungmin has staring at your breasts is to die for. He stops for a moment trying to memorize the image only looking away when you try to cover yourself, you're feeling unusually embarrassed. He grabs your arms, pushing them down and pressing it to the side of your head.

"That's not good, I need you to feel comfortable with me watching you because I like what I see", he gets closer to your face and licks your mouth, literally running his tongue over your lips as if he's marking you.

You never thought you were into this kind of thing but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and the loud moan that comes out of your mouth beg to differ.

"I love the sounds you make", he kisses your cheek and goes down to your neck biting and sucking there. "But if you don't want the others to know exactly what we are up too, you better be quiet"

"What if they catch us?", you ask, finally remembering that you're not the only ones in the house.

"I don't care", he says, releasing your arms. He slides his hands down to focus on your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples, making you whimper and whine.

"I don't want them to know what we're doing", you respond, questioning if this is a good idea.

"I already told you then, be quiet", he tells you, biting your breast slightly and making you squeal, exactly the opposite of what he just ordered.

Seungmin chuckles deeply, going down, he's taking his sweet time even though he knows what you want. You hold your breath when he actually takes off your underwear and looks at your cunt like it's his favorite food, licking his lips and opening your legs even wider so you can be totally exposed for him.

Seungmin licks long stripes from your entrance to your clit where he attaches his lips and sucks hungrily. He brings two fingers to your mouth and you automatically suck on it making him moan and squeeze your thighs. He brings his hand down, inserting one finger inside you, making you groan. He sighs, bringing up the hand he had on your thigh and covering your mouth before inserting another finger.

You're already feeling the tight knot in your stomach getting bigger, looking at Seungmin eating you out so lustfully don't do much to help you. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, he squeezes your thighs even more, rubbing his hips in the bed to ease the tension in his crotch while he sees you coming undone in his mouth.

You're absolutely wrecked, breathing heavily and with no strength left. Seungmin makes a trail of kisses from your cunt, to your stomach, in between your breasts, your neck and finally arriving at your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, making you feel more turned on.

"You taste so good", he says, licking his lips. It's such a sinful image to see Seungmin mouth covered in your juices.

"Fuck me, now", you command and even though he doesn't like taking orders that's one order he won't object to.

Lining himself on your entrance, Seungmin takes a deep breath because he's afraid he'll cum just by feeling you around him. He stares at you while entering, he wants to make sure you're enjoying it as much as him.

You have your eyes closed shut, he's bigger than you expected and it's hard to take in, even though you're so wet. You hear him groan and open your eyes, moaning just by taking a look on Seungmin's face.

His eyes are locked with yours, he's biting his lower lip so hard you're sure it will bleed any moment. You squeeze him, just so you can see his reaction and he gasps.

"Fuck", he says, between heavy breaths, "I'm already on the verge of cumming, if you do that I won't last long"

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing the space between you, kissing him. You wrap your legs around his waist trying to restrain your moan, earning another groan from him when he hits you so deeply you want to scream, digging your fingernails on his back.

Seungmin starts thrusting in and out of you, it feels so good having you underneath him, being inside you, he wants to stay in this moment forever but his release is so close, he's not sure if he'll be able to make you cum again before he does. He slides his hand to your clit, wanting to cum with you, feeling you squeezing his cock and moaning his name.

You can already feel your second orgasm building up, trying to keep your moans in a low tone.

"I want you to say my name, yeah?" Seungmin grunts, making you feel like you could combust anytime, "moan my name", he pleads and you do it, shaking and arching underneath him, feeling in cloud nine. He doesn't take much more time to cum too, you feel the warm liquid spreading inside you and Seungmin collapses on top of you, resting his head on your chest.

You two don't say much for a few minutes, both trying to catch your breath while you play with his hair. You feel so tired you're already drifting to sleep.

"I like you", Seungmin says before you lose all consciousness, "I want to be with you", but you're already too groggy to even answer him.

Seungmin wakes up with the noises of rustling, he opens his eyes slightly seeing you zipping your pants. You have your shoulder close to your face holding your phone in your ear.

"Yes, babe. I'm on my way", he hears you say as you take a look in his direction.

Seungmin stays there, pretending to be asleep while you close the door on your way out. He feels his chest ache so much, it hurts so much he thinks his heart is actually shattering.

______________________

If you like my work and want to support it, you can like, comment and/or reblog my content so more people get to know it. You can also buy me a coffee.

All characters in my writing are from my own imagination and don't represent nor reflect in any way the people in real life.

734 notes · View notes

alavestineneas · 4 months

Text

Poisonous bites

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it. warnings: mentions of minor violence, mentions of cheating, not really canon-compliant, blood and shitty people in shitty relationships word count: 3,7k

Part 1 is here

author's note: part 2 of Losing Dogs is here! thank you for the love and support that you showed for the first chapter - hope you enjoy this one too! we all love some twisted people in fiction :)

She knows.

It's in his mind when they get into the black car, away from the president's party and obnoxiously loud music, with a few new cuts on his hands and faint blue marks on her neck.

She knows.

It's the only thought in his head when it hits the pillow at almost midnight, as her warm body lays beside him, breathing even so faintly. His brain almost explodes under the pressure of guessing her thoughts, hidden behind the soft smile and gentle touch. She, the ghost wrapped in opulent sheets, is a new figure on the chessboard. The crippling fear of being watched cuts his forehead in sharp, taunting pain.

YN, the blind lamb with sharp teeth, knows.

He did everything right. A whisper here, a bribe there, and no one noticed how a small, silly rumour grew into a threat almost overnight, pointing its sleek, twisted fingers at the President. Corrupt, illegal activities—that's what the press called them, but the truth was much less poetic. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, and some people shouldn't be trusted.

It was supposed to be a simple payback—let the bastard simmer in his own venom, betrayed by people he considered allies. But then it became something bigger: the sacred place is never empty, and the herd of sheep is always in need of guidance. That's when Coriolanus knew what he had to do for the better future of Panem. For the pride of his family. For the satisfaction of his hunger.

He is deep in his thoughts when YN appears in the doorframe; she is careful not to make too much noise as she waits for him to look up. Beautiful, like death herself— Coriolanus saw her enough times up close to recognize the dark glimmer in her eyes.

''Come here,'' he motions, clearing the space on the table for her to sit.

She does. YN's steps are light, even in the heels she always wears. There were a lot of things money couldn't buy, and class was one of them. Nobody came close to her upbringing; therefore, nobody could come close to him.

''Here,'' he hands her his speech, a careful combination of neat letters. Coriolanus watches with starved eyes as she reads, studying every expression and passing of emotion on her dolled-up face. ''What do you think?''

''It's good, really good.'' YN nods, a small smile covering her lips. ''You were always great at this type of thing, since the academy.''

Coriolanus feels a cold sting in his abdomen; she knows him. Before he became a man, before he got a chance to truly be the person he was destined to be, YN remembers a peckish, awkward boy who was pathetic enough to let an animal fool him.

''Thank you,'' he says, placing a hand on her thigh and slowly sliding it up. He likes the way her body reacts in response, leaning closer.

It doesn't matter who he was before. He won, and he is almost at the top—a few steps, and there won't be just her body underneath him—the whole country will be in his hands.

Her husband is messed up. The way he fucked her in the dining hall hours before the guest arrived, in the same dining hall where they stand, brings a smile to YN's face. Nobody suspects a thing, not even her closest confidants, who now sipped from the stylish tall glasses beside YN, conversing on everything and anything but the swollenness of her lips.

Coriolanus wants to play in politics now that he has had enough of game-making. Like a small, pouty child tired of his old toys. The thought of her husband in a one-piece strikes her as funny; her mind is drawing the picture vividly. He was, for sure, a mama's boy. He still is.

It's cute, the way he kisses her aged picture when he thinks YN can't see him, or the way he buys the rose female perfume nobody ever uses—its smell still lingers in the air every time the maids change the sheets. The only woman who can truly love is a mother, he told her one day. The only woman he thought was deserving of loving back.

YN watches as he approaches the group of men with confident steps. The people are right, the way is wrong—if it were that easy to fit in their circle, it wouldn't be as important. Just like she predicted, he is quickly cast aside to the benches of dialogue; the tall figure of her husband lingers silently, waiting for the right moment to strike.

It's entertaining to see him slowly boil, which goes unnoticed by everybody else in the hall. YN observed him for years to crack his facade as swiftly as she does now. A few moments, and he will decide to walk away, unable to swallow his pride back anymore, and there will be no chance of meeting the people he desperately needs.

''Excuse me for a moment,'' YN smiles at the women beside her, placing her glass on the gilded trail. They are good people—sure, some a little less bright and some a little less assertive as she is, but still, most of the information she finds useful comes from them—silent furniture, as they often joke. They are noticed no more than vases in the corners of their grand mansions; just like their houses, their husbands come in different shapes, and just like houses, the inside is always the same. Empty.

''Good evening, gentleman!'' she chirps, putting on one of her many expressions. She never felt bad about changing her face to fit the situation better; after all, they were all just different versions of her. ''I believe you already met my husband.'' YN delicately diverts her gaze from the black mass of suits to her husband's face, sending a loving smile his way.

The men are smitten, as usual. Who could've thought the young lad was the owner of this house? YN doesn't pay them much attention; they are never the driving force behind connections. Instead, she turns to the only woman in the bleak company.

''Missis Nej, what a lovely broch! You have to tell me where you got it; the details are incredible!''

It was true—YN sees no point in lying about liking something when the compliment is right there—a beautiful dove broch with sparkly gems instead of eyes, placed on a delicate lace.

The woman's face lights up at her words. ''I made the design myself, and then my seamstress pulled it together. I am glad you like it—isn't the stitching so fine?''

''It is! I wish I was as creative as you are; my imagination is only enough for the table centerpieces.''

''You know what? I have many other drafts at home; why don't you and your husband stop by for tea for a few hours? To see if my seamstress could come up with something for you?''

''Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful! What do you think, Coriolanus?''

What can he think? Her husband is happy things are going his way, of course, but there is something else in his gaze that makes YN's heart skip a beat. Suspicion. The only thing she should be scared of was her husband's mind—the deadliest of the weapons, his paranoia. It, like a vicious exotic, has to be put away from his reach; it sinks its teeth in everything Coriolanus feeds to it, and if he does not, turns onto him.

He smiles and nods, wrapping his hand around her bare shoulders. YN thinks she ought to be more careful; it was her job to keep him on a leash, like a beat she signed to care for. Whose fault would it be if the wild thing did what wild things do—bite?

He almost doesn't have any opponents left. Those who dared not to support the young candidate from the party were quickly silenced, and those who tried to get their hands on Snow's place were eliminated. What was better was that nothing could be traced back to the blonde male in a red suit. YN didn't worry about that.

She had to work overtime to make sure their paths didn't cross. Coriolanus never told her his plans so she could build hers. Oh, no. She had to scurry, like a rat, searching for his ideas to make sure they didn't clash with hers because, just like her mother told her, you can't put on everything best at once.

That's why YN sits in the dim, foul-smelling room on the outcast of the city during what was supposed to be a lunch hour. She almost laughs at the thought of her Coriolanus finding out where his wife spent this afternoon— in a brothel, in clothes that weren't even hers, without her usual jewellery and signature scent.

The door to the room opens quickly, but YN doesn't even bother looking in its direction. She knew what she was going to see there, so why bother?

''YN,'' the man in his forties breathes out, ''you came.''

Jerome. A tailored suit of dark brown, matching his hair. Wealthy, pretty enough, and damn stubborn. One of the few who refused to step down in elections, one of the few who still had a huge chance at winning them.

''Of course, I did—how could I not?'' She sheds a tear, breathing in his scent and hiding her face in his lean chest. ''I missed you, J; I missed you so much.''

They used to fuck before she married Coriolanus, ever since she turned eighteen. He even wanted to marry her for some time before she married Snow. YN was quite popular with the suitors; her husband was a fool for thinking other men didn't notice her. They did.

Jerome crushes her lips with his, leaving no time for talking. He was a serious man—a tough man, even—the type to endure the hardships of life without complaining. He is the type to get what he wants, no matter the obstacles. YN thinks he could've been on top instead of her dear husband if she only chose to marry him, but Jerome is too human for her. He is a man, a man who takes pleasure in her, and YN can't stand it. She likes her lovers without weaknesses, and Jerome isn't like that.

When an hour passes, YN thinks it is time to return home; she kisses Jerome goodbye one last time and waits for him to exit the room as quickly as he enters. That's the agreement: he pays for the room under his name; he deals with hosts and room service. YN just has to be, and he is happy with that.

She waits exactly fifteen minutes before she picks up her coat from the floor and puts it on—fifteen minutes is what was needed for a junkie she hired to stab Jerome in the ally seven times—for every year of their age gap when he first kissed her at her birthday party. Symbolic: She pays attention to the details, not only on her high-end dresses. YN imagines the headlines in the papers tomorrow morning: a respected politician found dead near the whorehouse. A death fit for a pig.

She leaves the building in a good mood—one more step to being the first lady of Panem—and she still has an hour before Coriolanus returns home. YN has everything in check, down to the smallest gist, except for the blonde man in the telephone booth across the street.

Coriolanus is mad. Another man, behind his back, even if for the sole purpose of eliminating him. He doesn't like that YN makes arrangements when it is he who is the man of the house, the driving force behind the successes. She forgot her place, and if he has to remind her, he will. Coriolanus always liked YN better with her mouth shut.

''How are things at work?'' YN asks, twirling in front of the mirror in their bedroom. It's like she doesn't notice his annoyed stare or his jealous eyes following her every move.

Coriolanus doesn't answer. He pulls her closer and takes off her robe in one swift motion. It falls on the floor, light blue fabric pooling around his feet. He searches for something—anything—to indicate another man's presence near her body or in it. Nothing—her skin glows under the faint light of lamps, free of any marks or scratches.

Coriolanus sighed with relief, his hands letting go of YN's hips. She looks at him, confused.

''Is there anything wrong? Why did you stop?''

He wants to slap her. To make her apologize, to make her beg for his forgiveness. But something in her deep eyes and painted lips makes his head cloud, stirring around a familiar mix of emotions. Anger. Lust. Fear. Maybe she was the death herself—he wouldn't know. The way YN laughed as he kissed her exposed skin, pressing a little too hard for it to be enjoyable, made blood rush to his body. ''Tell me,'' Coriolanus whispers in her ear. "Have you ever killed?"

YN grins, holding his reddened face in her hands. ''No, never.''

Coriolanus chuckles softly, diverting his gaze to her chest. A lie.

He turns her around, pushing her body on the bed before getting on his knees. That was the night he knew she had to die.

It wasn't hard to make her fall in love with him. Flowers on the doorstep of the mansion just in time for her to leave the house, along with a handwritten note declaring his undying affection. Make her less alert; make her more vulnerable. YN gave him the key to her demise easily—it was always him.

Coriolanus was good at ensuring everyone benefited him, and his wife did nothing better than play right into his hands. YN willingly planned her own funeral with her every move—she knew too much about his secrets and had become a liability. If only she knew better than to play with fire, she might have stood a chance.

It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it.

''New wine?'' YN motions to the tall bottle on the table as they eat dinner. ''Is this the one from the Darians?''

Coriolanus shakes his head. Darians. It was like fate was testing his patience, as if one headache wasn't enough. The only one of his possible opponents in the upcoming elections held a good amount of votes, mainly because of his recognizable name. The Darians were wine magnates, with at least forty vineyards under their name. Of course, they gifted wine bottles for holidays, and of course, it was nothing but a slap in the face—Coriolanus could very much afford to buy his own bottles.

''I bought this one yesterday. Would you like a glass?'' he pours before YN has time to agree; the dark red liquor fills their glasses, turning the transparent walls slightly pink. Coriolanus watches as his wife takes a big sip, surprise evident on her face.

''It's sweet,'' she announces but quickly corrects herself. ''But it is good. Unusual, but quite nice.''

''Really?'' He acts surprised and takes a small sip, not to raise any suspicion. ''It indeed is.''

They continue their dinner as usual, with occasional remarks here and there. Everything goes according to plan, with YN drinking from her glass more than twice more. Until it doesn't.

Fifty-five minutes.

This is how long he has before the poison kills him. Given that YN weighs less and consumes more, she should start to portray the first symptoms. She doesn't.

Twenty minutes pass, and Coriolanus feels a slight nausea. Twenty-five—his head starts lightly spinning. He watches his wife put down a fork and stare at the sky through the open window. If she faints now, he would still have time to drink the antidote, but she doesn't. Instead, she smiles at his wandering gaze and asks for dessert.

When thirty minutes pass, Coriolanus feels a stream of blood travels down his chin onto the freshly washed shirt. He can't keep himself on the chair, sliding down from it on the carpeted floor. The surrounding furniture stands as if in a haze, and the only thing he can make out is the nearing steps of the heeled feet.

YN says something, kneeling beside him and putting his head on her lap, although he can't understand the word she utters. It hits him like a brick wall—the smell of roses radiating from her, the same perfume his mother wore. Her hands, although adorned with more rings than his mother could've possibly owned, are just as gentle when they touch his forehead.

''I'm sorry,'' he tries to choke out, but all that comes out of his mouth is hot, thick blood.

When Coriolanus wakes up in the hospital, he is frantic. The only thing he was familiar with was the only thing he tried so hard to escape. Fear. It spreads through his body, paralyzing his limbs in the white room of a singular bed. It chocks him, tugging the strings in his throat to leave hot, burning holes each time he swallows. It burns, and bites, and twists in his stomach; if he survives, YN will get her revenge.

That's why she kept him alive—to taunt and mock. He lost, once and for all, and got himself into a corner with no escape. There is no point in begging, no point in lying—his wife knows everything he did, and she won't hesitate to let the whole country know. Outsmarted, outplayed. Alone.

His eyes wander across the room in a last resort—he will take his own life, and she will have no power in making him a laughing stock. But the hospital room is empty; the only thing besides a small coffee table and bed is a pile of newspapers. Coriolanus stands up and almost falls in an attempt to reach them, yet manages to grab one. Just like he predicted, on the front page of it is the perfectly painted face of his wife; the beauty of it is disturbed only by a single tear rolling down her cheek.

POISONING ATTEMPT ON A FAMOUS POLITICIAN

Three days ago, an attempted poisoning took place in the Snow's family's mansion. Our correspondent was lucky enough to ask a few questions to YN Snow, the wife of the victim.

''Tell me, Miss Snow, why do you think you and your husband were the targets of this crime?''

''I think it is rather obvious that motive was political; we all know that my husband posed a serious threat to Ethan Darius because he was estimated to win instead of him. That's why he decided to kill him in that dirty way, like a snake, with poison, instead of losing to him in a fair competition like any gentleman would!''

''And do you think there are any correlations between Mister Darius and a string of suspicious murders of civilians and people higher in power?''

''As far as my knowledge goes, the court is still deciding on the matter, but one thing I know for sure: if Ethan Darius went as far as to try to kill his opponent, what indicates he wouldn't have done the same with others? ''

''People of Panem were moved by the love you and your husband seem to hold for each other ever since your wedding, but the way you fight for justice made many wonder - will we see you as a first lady of Panem soon?''

''I just do what any person would—it is my duty as a wife and as a citizen to advocate for those who were wronged. As for your question, I do think this happening only solidified that our country and political scene need change. And change is what my husband stands for.''

''And lastly, is there anything you wish you could say to your husband right now?''

''I would want to remind him of a simple truth: the one who is more afraid always strikes first. Thank you.''

Coriolanus didn't need to read anymore. YN made sure she wasn't going anywhere if he did something like that in the future—the public loved her before, but now they will go crazy. But that didn't bother him too much; on the contrary, he was rather impressed. Coriolanus felt fear leave his body with every breath. His place took something else, something he couldn't quite name yet—the feeling of stillness in his stomach. He wondered if that's what fullness felt like. A sweet, honey-like sensation in his veins.

The hall of the president's house is filled with what seems to be hundreds of people. Tables are overflowing with the most exquisite dishes, and laughter fills the air.

''Corio, look! The kids are dressed as little snowflakes—for us! Oh, isn't it so cute?'' YN coes, motioning at the girls-ballerinas in white tutus. They twirl on the stage, their movements mimicking the ones of snow falling outside.

He doesn't care if they are dressed as giant cockroaches, but he still nods in agreement. Coriolanus watches as YN steals one white rose from the piles decorating the balcony and throws it on stage, laughing in delight when girls start to argue over it.

There are flashes of cameras capturing every interaction between them; he knows that, so he places his hand on the back of the chair YN sits on. She looks as beautiful as always, perfect from every angle. His wife might be poison, dangerous, and lethal, but he is the one who knows that, when handled with care, it brings much more benefits to its owner than any other weapon.

Coriolanus already envisions their photo as the headline tomorrow morning—beside them, the big, bold letters.

Panem today.

He feels YN place a kiss on his cheek, staining it a little with her red lipstick.

Panem tomorrow.

Coriolanus smiles and brings her closer, whispering a compliment in her ear.

Panem forever.

The hall erupts with applause and cheers, some even going as far as shouting words of admiration for the new president and his wife.

They are the guard dogs, and they are the house dogs guard. And, until the last brick of it is there, they will bite.

tag list (do tell me if I'm doing it wrong) @aemondsb1tch @cecekcecekceckceckceck @queenofshinigamis @julesandro

#coriolanus x reader #imagine #hunger games #corio snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #character x you #coriolanus snow imagine #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games x reader #hurt/comfort #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow #president snow #tbosas x reader

436 notes · View notes

zzzzzestforlife · 3 months

Text

increasingly "useless" reasons why i like learning languages

@studentbyday said i should re-define "useless" in my mind. instructions unclear. made a shitpost instead 💩

💌: inside-my-phone format is back!🍃 do you agree/disagree with my MTL rankings? what motivates you? 👀

i can be a more empathetic, understanding, and supportive person who makes sure to only cuss people out in languages they don't understand so that their feelings aren't hurt ❤️

i can talk to more people who will probably think i'm an idiot because of how badly i speak their language 👄

i can nurture my self-confidence/-esteem as long as i don't think too hard about how much i don't know 🥰

i can read more books, articles, people arguing on the internet, etc. 📚

i can travel to foreign countries more easily until someone asks me to translate something important and i mess up and land us both in prison or something ✈️

i can unlock new work opportunities until someone asks me to translate something important and i mess up and land us both in prison or something 💼

i can multitask better even though i shouldn't even be doing it in the first place 🤹‍♀️

i can watch my favorite shows/listen to my favorite songs without subtitles/translations so that my brain rot can continue in peace 📺

i can, on the other hand, stop losing brain cells?? 🧠

i can eavesdrop on more people, probably at the grocery store 🙉

i can show off at work and other places where it is appropriate to show off irrelevant skills ✨

sex appeal?? 🥵

294 notes · View notes

sevencolorsatlast · 6 months

Text

Archons Reacting To Their Creator Singing Pt. 2

Part 1 [Venti, Zhongli, Ei and Nahida] || Part 2 [Furina] (You're Here!)

Author's Note: 4.2 Update Spoilers! You've been warned! Song used: "Curses" by The Crane Wives. No beta, we die like my heart while playing this quest.

Update: I changed the verse weeee. Also corrected a couple of mistakes.

Content Warning(s): None.

Other Notes: Default SAGAU / GN!Reader / Drabble / 800+ Words / Ao3 Link

[ Furina ]

"There's still cobwebs in the corners

And the backyard's full of bones

Won't you stay with me, my darling

When this house don't feel like home?"

You came down from the heavens weeks ago, knowing Fontaine is in danger but kept your head low and disguised yourself as a Fontainian to seek solutions to their prophecy. No one suspected you aside from the Vision wielders and a few Guardes who eventually left you alone since you seem to be harmless. You also manage to avoid any unpleasant encounters with your followers while roaming around the city.

Visiting Focalors in the opera house when no one was around was... rather an eventful one; she hopes you do not intervene with her plans to save her beloved people. You tried to reason with her: you are her god — you can forgive her and her people but she says it is her duty as Hydro Archon as prophecies cannot be changed. To pursue "justice", so to speak, is via the death of her and her throne.

You no longer attempt to pursue the topic which Focalors tacitly appreciates. Instead, you promised to look after her "human" self... Furina.

She smiles ever so graciously, knowing that such a divine being like you would keep Furina safe and sound - even after she meets her fate. You ask if you can hug Focalors, she happily accepts as this will be your first and last meeting her. You give most of your strength to hug her and you pull away, saying your tearful goodbye.

Everything went down according to her plan; watching scenes unfolding right before your eyes. Furina's trial was heart wrenching to watch, you want to jump and defend her... but this was all part of her "divine" self's plan. You shouldn't interfere, you reminded yourself, you clench your fists as the last puzzle of the prophecy reveals itself in front of you and the rest of the audience.

After the flooding in Fontaine died down and you let weeks pass by to let the country recover, you sought out Neuvillette. He is surprised to see you, easily seeing through your disguise. He bows before you and airs his concerns about Furina who had moved away from Palais Mermonia. You gently grab his hand and hold it in-between yours, telling him to stand up. You reassure that you'll be discreetly visiting Furina and the Hydro Sovereign gives you the address on where she currently lives.

During sunset, you found Furina cooped up in her new home. You knock and it took her a while before peeking through the small gap of the door. To put it lightly, her place is in disarray even when the gap of her door is small — her things are littered on the floor and she... doesn't look too good. She is far from well-presented and she looks like a ghost.

You can tell her eyes are red from crying and lack of sleep is evident on her unusually pale face. Her once kept hair's a mess and her clothes aren't well-presented like they usually do. Her hat is also nowhere to be found, it must've been included in the pile of mess scattered about her floorboards.

She weakly asks who you are and tells you that she doesn't accept visitors. You look around, making sure no one is around to see your transformation. Once you know the coast is clear, you transform into your normal self; soft glow emanating from your skin.

Once you are done dusting off your robes, Furina suddenly pulls you into her home and slams the door behind her - stuttering "Your Grace" under her breath and muttering how she's embarrassed that she's in a mess.

You turn around to speak and, instead, you are met with a tight hug from Furina. She buries her head into your shoulder and clutching onto your robes.

She doesn't understand why you hadn't come down from the heavens sooner... and you tell her Focalors wanted to do her part while you witnessed everything. She remained silent for a while before letting out a few sobs. You finally let your arms wrap around her; like a parent hugging their long-lost child.

To calm her down, you sing a song you know from the depths of your heart; the one that is ingrained to the forefronts of your mind even as a child. You alternate between singing and humming while gently running your hand up and down on Furina's back.

Her sobs subside as the last lyric of the song leaves your lips. She wipes her tears away with her hands and regains her composure. She pulls her head away from your shoulder, her eyes yet to look at your direction.

"My apologies for seeing me in such a state, Your Grace." She says, her voice slightly above a whisper, "And ...That's a wonderful song you've sung. I... appreciate it..."

She sniffles; it reminded you when you were a kid. You smile at the fond memory.

"The song was sung to calm me down by my caretakers." You say, "I suppose it still holds its charm."

She lets out a weak chuckle and meets your eyes, "I... Thank you, Your Grace."

"For what?" You inquired despite knowing the answer. She pulls you into another hug, you could've sworn you had seen her genuinely smiling for the first time.

"For being here with me." She says, a small spark of joy coming from her voice, "For seeing the 'real' me."

As she hums your song, you hold each other close until the sun finally sets from the horizon.

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact spoilers #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #furina #furina sagau #neuvillette #neuvillette sagau #focalors #focalors sagau #once again i've used the word 'eyes' like i did with the previous archons lezgoooo #seven's tag #500

684 notes · View notes

hg-aneh · 7 months

Note

will you ever come back, or is this an indefinite hiatus/straight up dipping?

i don't know

all the i miss yous are making me want to come back but ik i would just be terrified and motionless as soon as i do

Vent-ish Rant downstairs

CW: Pedophilia, Antisemitism, Suicide, Ableism, Harassment, Bullying, all the important words except for murder basically

i want to fix things in private with the people who hurt me so things can be okay and I don't out them for being wieners

but i also want everyone to know who hurt me, yet I'm aware it's not the right choice to make. social media outrage barely leads to anything, specially where minors are concerned

hell,now that i think about it, considering the fact that they genuinely don't believe people older than them are allowed to have feelings, I don't even think talking would be the right move

it's scary, its fucking scary

fuck. the whole thing started with a person mocking the way i spoke about crowley telling me to stop babying him because i was a legal adult and shouldn't be speaking like that

i had just turned 18 and the person was only a year younger than me

like when it's gone to that point and shit is that fucked up, what can one person even do

i remember i laughed about it back then but truth be told, every single little thing I've been told and that I've listened to coming from the people who hurt me has fucking destroyed me as a person

I looked at my older Discord messages, from before this whole mess started. I was so fucking happy and shameless with my joy, now look at my sorry ass

i just.

it's crazy that i have to go around masking in social media of all places because there are people that take such offense to me being cringe that they legitimately turn into high school mean girls

it's crazy that there are people who claim I'm something i am not because they want to make me look bad in the eyes of their little circlejerking friend groups so they can feel like the hero of the story

it's crazy that empathy goes completely out of the window when an account is big, that people don't see human beings as human beings when they're behind a screen

"just log off lol" i am a lonely shut in motherfucker due to my autism (that, surprise surprise, hinders my ability to socialize), you do not understand what you're asking of me, specially while being in this country and at this point in time where I'm actively craving to kick the metaphorical bucket, at daily risk of doing so, and what basically is house arrest for my own safety and well being

(aka, avoiding to physically yeet myself into upcoming traffic or buying something to actually seal the deal)

thus far I've been accused of antisemitism, pedophilia, being too self-centered (which. bro, the reason why i talk about myself is because it's the one thing i can comment on without being scared of some random person coming to tell me "NuH uH" about it out of nowhere or worse, having their feelings hurt because I don't agree with them 100%), proshipper (which, to those people, the word implies wonderful labels such as "incest apologist" "pedophile" (again) "abuse endorser" among other things) ((sidenote, I'm on neither side on that particular discourse. my friends from both sides know this. I would elaborate on my stance if this wasn't already long enough, but it is, so I'm leaving it at an "I don't care, you do you, but please leave me out of it")), being... mean... because i blocked someone...? (this one is just. that's how the second wave of hate started btw. yeah, because i blocked someone. holy fuck), and there's probably a handful of other things I haven't seen yet. fuck it, there's probably someone out there calling me a zoophile because of my catboy au

My friends who I will not name because I don't want the high school mean girls crusade to get to them, have helped me stash out evidence for all of the accusations and bullying.

fuck, they were the ones who let me know about it on the first place, both actions for which i am eternally thankful for because it means I can defend myself properly should the occasion arise (dios no quiera)

I've already had to make a post on Xitter responding to the antisemitism and pedophilia claims, in which, for the latter, i had to reveal extremely personal information for the people who started this to give me respite if only for a while

and. ugh

What I'm trying to get at with all of this is. it's. coming back is scary. i want to but at the same time I don't think I can take this shit anymore

I wish I had people defending me like this when the harassment started because I'm a spineless little bitch who'd rather talk things out and at least be neutral with people than clap back and tell them to stop being stinky

but what's done is done and now i just gotta figure out how to fix my head before i do something stupid

this is not the full story obviously, I'm cutting off certain details as well as more personal depression stuff to not make this bible longer than it already is

fuck

TLDR: I need a hug, idk if I'm coming back, I probably will cuz I can't say no to people, and some teenagers are horrible

#aneh answers #aneh cries #sorry this is so desorganized and scattered #never been too good at writing #and to clarify #no im not outing the shitheads #i just feel like theres no way to fix things anymore #theyre far too... words #ngh

584 notes · View notes

fallingskiesandrisingseas · 6 months

Text

Today, Peter Pevensie after Narnia.

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

Peter has severe body dysmorphia when he comes back.

He used to be strong, reliable. Able to pick up his sister with one hand and fence with the other one. He prided himself on it, had arm wrestling contests with minotaurs and centaurs.

The first time he walks down the stairs he falls flat on his face. He's not used to his legs being half a foot shorter than they used to be.

His teachers don't understand how he turned into such a mess. He was normal, right? He was normal before he was sent away?

They talk of the way war hurts young children. They don't know just how true that is.

Peter cannot find his scars anymore. His body is soft, the skin unbroken. It fosters a rage in him so loud that teachers have to scold him every week. He fights with class bullies all the time. They gang up on him. They usually lose. They eventually stop trying.

Peter fights with honour, though. Closed fists, never below the belt, no permanent damage. If he gets the chance he will even take off his lion rings.

Long nights crying are replaced by sessions in the gym. Peter has pride like a wounded lion, will not let himself be pushed around. He gets used to his new body, makes it strong. Others worry over this obsession with strenght.

His siblings know it is because he has to regain an identity all by himself. Sure, they were royalty too, but he was the High King, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands. He was the face of their court, the man behind the flag.

Others brought more back from Narnia then he did. Lucy has dancing, Edmund has chess, Susan has diplomacy and her silver tongue.

Peter had his crown, his country, his duties and his sword. Peter, even when stranded on a lone island, always had his wit and his strenght.

All that is lost in England, where he is not allowed to speak before his father, where he no longer has authority. He has to respect teachers talking about war while he knows they never fought.

He sits in the front of class still. He learns to hide the snarl, the comeback, the lazy sarcasm that fits a High King but not a 14 year old kid. Stops challenging his teachers verbally. He adjusts. His curiosity never leaves him, and his manners, he reminds himself, shouldn't neither.

He's cunning and clever and articulates himself well. Teachers often feel the need to call him arrogant, but he isn't that.

He's confident and secure, doesn't seem to suffer from teenage angst. He has endured loss, that they know. But they haven't a clue what he lost.

Peter is insufferable for the first 2 months he comes back from Caspian's Narnia. A kingdom, gone. Even with Aslan's words this is a hard lesson.

Then he becomes a man no one knew he could be.

Peter doesn't back down from bullies or harsh teachers. Peter doesn't ask for justice, he demands it.

Peter is brave. Two weeks after he's back, he sees a vet begging in the streets, harassed by a group of young men. He jumps in, comes home with a tooth missing and his knuckles bloodied.

When the vet is admitted to the hospital, no one believes the stories he tells. He says he saw a 15-year old veteran. The look in his eyes gave it away, he assures his physicians. That's a war look.

Peter is much more aware than he seems, can burn right through you with his glares. He takes critique seriously, but doesn't do well with disrespect, no matter who it's from.

Teachers hate that.

Despite this, kids like Peter, eventually. He's popular. Adults listen to him, which is strange. Not many 14 year old kids can command a room the way he can. They gravitate towards him, somehow.

It helps he grows tall faster than seems possible and walks so straight that it adds inches to his height. It helps he tells stories so vividly they almost come alive before their eyes. It helps he is cool under pressure, self-assured, broadshouldered. He's pious, goes to church every Sunday.

Peter settles eventually, a little slower than Susan and Edmund but before Lucy. He discovers the fencing club and immediately becomes the most talented member by a distance. Three weeks after he joins he beats the instructor. It makes him easier to manage, takes the edge of him.

He likes to quip while fencing. It's sometimes quite dark.

He's helpful though. His classmates don't take offence; Peter tells often and gladly of his instructor, a man named Oreius. He makes it sound like he was the greatest fencer in the country, always calls him "swordmaster".

He's often archaic with his speech like that.

His teachers are glad that the anger has faded. He's become better at many things, they discuss among themselves. An excellent writer, a brilliant fencer. A very strong debater. Peter, they conclude, makes sure things get done. The makings of a leader.

Peter likes languages. He's the one that remembers Narnian the best, uses it to learn a few other tongues. He likes sailing, and riding horses. His academic performances always improve after physical exercise, he can feel his brain speed up when the blood is flowing. Stories about who taught him that, who taught ALL the Pevensies that, circulate widly. Peter smiles when he hears he must've been recruited by MI6. He doesn't fight the allegations.

Women take a liking to him as he ages. He has "old-time charm", they say, even though they don't understand exactly what that means.

Chivalrous. That's the word they look for often. When they find out he can dance too, all of them fall head over heels. Peter is never smug about it, always remains polite. He doesn't kiss and tell.

He talks to his sisters and brother often.

Edmund seems like his shadow, but Peter never treats him like a little brother. He respects his input, often asks him for advice. Many are astonished when they find out Edmund is only 11 years old. They don't bicker. He dances with Lucy, talks deeply and seriously with Susan.

The Pevensies are close, and Peter is the oldest brother. He behaves like that, too.

He is the first to sign up for the war effort, eager to defend his nation and his family. But despite doing very well in selection, he doesn't get a frontline position. His skills, his supervisors decide, are better put to use elsewhere. He's too good to be cannon fodder.

Lucy and Edmund are secretely somewhat glad when he leaves to work with Susan in the States after he turns 19. Getting a date is very hard when Peter Pevensie is your older brother. And the States are safe.

Potential partners tend to be a little ... intimidated around him. Golden child, blond hair, 6"3, built like a brick, VERY protective of them, and fencing champion; Peter is a lot. He's disarming when you get to know him, but still.

They never liked Peter in the front lines, anyway.

Narnia never leaves his mind. Back from America with a BA in History and work experience from a secret service, he has dinner with the Friends of Narnia, sees the spectre, goes to find the rings.

He dies happy.

#peter pevensie #narnia meta #narnia #prince caspian #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie

475 notes · View notes

nariism · 8 months

Text

come out and haunt me

pair. itoshi sae x ghost!reader

content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining

synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.

wc. 5.7k

You are dead.

As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.

You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?

If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.

There's a boy who lives with you.

You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.

Sae feels more dead than alive.

He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.

His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.

He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.

And, well. The place is haunted.

You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.

You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.

It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.

The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.

His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.

Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.

"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.

"Seriously. I have a picture."

He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.

"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."

Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.

He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.

"I'm not," Sae deadpans.

"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.

"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."

From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.

You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.

Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.

You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.

He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.

You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.

He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.

"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.

He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.

You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.

Sae thinks you are funny.

He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him— hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.

He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.

He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.

You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.

He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.

"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.

Silence. Of course.

"Don't have one?"

You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.

Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.

"Should I name you?"

Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?

He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.

You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.

You like listening to Sae talk.

He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.

Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.

Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.

He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.

"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."

You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.

Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.

This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.

He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.

He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.

You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.

If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?

You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.

"I was thinking of moving out."

Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.

"Like, leaving. Leaving here."

You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.

"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.

You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.

"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"

You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.

When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.

That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.

It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"

You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.

You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.

He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"

Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.

Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?

You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.

You. Me. Friends.

Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.

Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?

Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.

He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.

Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.

"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.

You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.

He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.

"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.

You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.

"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."

The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.

For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.

He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.

You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.

Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.

"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."

You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.

By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.

In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.

Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.

"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."

You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.

"You're seriously jealous?"

You shoot him a glare.

"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.

He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.

You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.

You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.

He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.

"What?"

You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.

He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.

He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.

"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.

Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.

He doesn't show up to his date that night.

"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow?

"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."

Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?

Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"

You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.

He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.

Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.

Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.

13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.

He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?

He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.

Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.

You wake up one morning, and he's gone.

There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.

Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.

You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.

You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?

Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.

For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.

No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.

There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.

There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.

Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.

It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.

Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.

Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.

(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.

You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)

He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.

It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.

He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.

He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.

You start to think that you're the selfish one.

The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.

Death is lonely without him.

One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.

One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.

Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.

It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.

You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.

He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?

"So playing football has always been your dream?"

Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.

"Yes."

"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"

"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.

"So where will you go?"

Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.

(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)

You've never been outside before.

You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.

There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.

Something tells you that you do.

You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.

You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help.

All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.

Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.

His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.

Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.

He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.

He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.

Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.

His heart aches.

Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.

You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.

There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.

It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.

He must be famous here, too.

Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.

It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.

He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.

He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.

He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.

He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.

He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.

As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.

You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.

It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.

Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.

You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.

But every time he wakes up, there you are.

You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.

Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.

You point at him. Then yourself.

You. Me.

He nods in understanding.

When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"

You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.

"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.

You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.

What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.

You are dead.

You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you.

You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.

You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.

You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.

You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.

(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)

511 notes · View notes

aryxchse · 28 days

Text

school president and the troublemaker. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n ; hello ya'll it's ya fav daughter of hera writer, this fic is written while i listened to my 'old bts songs' playlist, you know i'm talkin' about you just one day!!!

warnings : cursing, teenagers (that's should be a warning), this is writed by according to my countries school rules so deal with it, also grover, y/n, annabeth and percy are my favorite gang fr, rival-ish friends to lovers??, percy beating the shit out of some guy, mentions of staring, blood, no kiss on the lips ugh

"i fucking hate mondays," the son of poseidon whined, crossing his arms on his desk and leaning his head on them.

the first two class was history, which it didn't made anything better for him. he was a math guy, he didn't liked reading and stuff. but you and annabeth seemed to really enjoy it, even though annabeth is literally dislexic while your adhd was messing with your head.

grover sighed in front of him, leaning his head back until it rested on percy's desk. "i know right?" he said, fixing his green beanie. annabeth and you sighed, rolling your eyes at the two lazy boys.

"oh please, today's class is about mythology. i'm going to fuck that bitch up," annabeth said, smiling at you. you smiled back, knowing how much she hated your history teacher.

"you're fucking every teacher beth." percy yawned next to you, looking at the blonde girl. "they all hate you at this point for real."

"don't care," annabeth shrugged, looking like she was proud of herself. which she was. "they should educate people with truth, not a fucking lie."

"speak louder queen!" you agreed with her, while taking notes to your clipboard. there was a lot of shit going on in this big ass school, and you didn't know why you wanted to be a president of it this much.

at the beginning of the year, percy told you that you shouldn't get ahead of yourself—meaning that you guys can get expelled any day. but it never happened, it was yours second year in this school. three demigod's and one satyr, in the same school for two years. they should write and teach this in history too!

you had a way of talking out of problems, so whenever you four caused a trouble, everyone acted like nothing happened because of the mist. you controlled it in some type of way, because you wanted to be a president of some school before you become an adult.

back to now, percy peeked from your shoulder to see what you were writing on the clipboard.

— TO DO LIST —

visit the art, music and sport club to see if they need anything ✓

send the principal the needs of the clubs ✓

hang the new concert posters to schools board ✓

check if the p.e class needs anything

meeting with the other members at 13.00, lunch break

take the list of needed books in the library and hand the list to principal ✓

help the teachers or principal with the paperwork or sending them to where they should go ✓ (done for today)

you tapped your pen on the clipboard, focusing on the tasks you haven't done yet. percy sighed next to you, getting overwhelmed with how much work you had.

percy and annabeth was in the president club thingy with you, annabeth was the leader of the library club while percy was the sport clubs. they handed you the lists you writed on your clipboard. percy joined you to skip some classes and spend some time with you while annabeth just liked to be in charge.

"i didn't know we had a meeting today," percy whispered to you as the bitchy history teacher came into class. you rolled your eyes at the boy, putting the clipboard away to open your history notebook.

"i literally texted it in our groupchat. but you decided to ignore it and write 'what are we doing after school tomorrow?'" you reminded him. percy was about to answer you, but the teacher started yelling.

"alright kids, today we're learning about the twelve olympians and their wars!"

the four of you tried your hardest to not laugh, instead sharing side-eyes.

"man, for the first time this class will be fun," percy said, resting his cheek on his palm.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the class was indeed fun.

annabeth had so much fun fixing the teacher's every mistake while the rest of you tried not to laugh. but you took notes anyway. you wrote the notes in ancient greek for the gang to copy from you, since they had dislexia and couldn't read.

"you're the best," annabeth said, kissing your cheek as you handed her the notes. you smiled, blowing a kiss to her way as a response. grover sat next to annabeth while eating a vegan sandwich, and percy was trying to get a drink from the machine.

"ya'll have any more cents?" percy asked, angry at the machine. you sighed and stood up, giving a good kick to the machine. it started working again, dropping percy's blue coke with some snacks. you smiled at him, flipping your hair while you returned to your seat.

"like i didn't know how to do that," he murmured, taking his drink with his now free snacks. he gave the chips to annabeth while handing the m&m's to you. he took the fish cracker to himself, holding it in his mouth to open his coke.

there was this little table at the end of the corridor, right next to the food machine. it was you guys usual spot, and everyone knew it. except the lunch times at the cafeteria, you four always hanged around here.

annabeth rested her back against the wall, laying her feet on top of grover's lap. the satyr didn't mind, since they usually sit like that. your seat was in front of annabeth, as you rested your head against your palm, taking a support from the wall. percy leaned against you, putting his whole weight on you while he eated the fish crackers messily.

you paid no attention to him as you wrote something on your clipboard again. "did we have anything missing in p.e class? like some new basketball's?"

annabeth looked up as she thinked for a moment. "the new one we got apperantly blowed up, at least that's what james told me." you groaned, smashing your head -gently- to the table. "i fucking hate basketball team."

"same," grover said, eating percy's now empty diet coke. "they're like hydra's."

percy laughed at that, making a fist bump with grover.

"when was the meeting again?" grover asked after the laugh session with percy. you groaned again, head still on the table. "read the fucking group chat for gods' sake!"

"man, chill." grover raised his hands in defeat. annabeth closed her own notebook while handing you yours. "thanks babe." she said, patting your head gently. you only made thumbs up to her, leaving the notebook on the table.

percy sighed and sat straight, putting your notebook in your bag. he held you by the waist and made you lean to his shoulder, taking your clipboard away from you. "you've already done almost everything here, the others are useless." he said, voice soft.

you hugged percy's arm to support yourself and annabeth slightly smiled to herself. as your chin rested on top of his shoulder, you looked at the clipboard. "i know but the p.e class is worst than everything i did there, it's so tiring."

"i can help you, you know." he said, putting the clipboard on the table and looking at you. you pulled yourself away to look in his eyes. how those ocean eyes can held so much care in them?

"but you hate checking p.e class," you said quietly, hands still lazily on his bicep. he smirked, putting his own hand on top of yours.

"if it's going to make you shut up, then i'll be glad to help." he teased, and you can see it in his expression. you only rolled your eyes, smile betraying your fake annoyance.

"wow, what a nice man you are percy jackson." you complimented, patting his bicep. he flexed them while he gave you a cocky look. "i know pretty."

"i'm gonna throw up," annabeth said, still smiling. grover nodded, gagging playfully. you both sticked your tongue out to them, chuckling.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"that's it, i'm not fucking letting you help me through the p.e class check again." you hissed, making percy sit on the infirmary bed.

he fucking had a fight. apperantly some guy from the soccer team checked you out in that pretty school skirt of yours, and percy noticed it. you didn't know why he was this protective or annoyed when it camed to other guys, but now you had to deal with his bloody lip and eyebrow.

"he was fucking you with his eyes, what i was gonna do? give him a view?" he snapped back, his normally sweet shade of sea green eyes now as dark as a storm. you hated when percy looked at you like this. his hatred was easier to see. it wasn't towards to you, it's never towards to you. but you can't help but feel like you're being attacked too.

"nothing, percy. nothing!" you said, your own eyebrows furrowed. no one was in the infirmary because the school sucked at being responsible. you made sure to point this to principal too.

luckily, your best friend was a demigod, who can heal with water. but unluckily for you, there was no water near. so, you had to caress his wounds like the old ways. still, he healed much faster than a mortal could.

the moment alcoholed cotten touched his lip, he hissed. "what the fuck you mean nothing?" he said, but his voice wasn't loud. "you- you had a crush on him or something?" the last sentence camed out his lip weak.

you rolled your eyes at the boy, who's now had a worried expression on his face. you couldn't understand why, but he looked like he could cry if you touched him. "don't tell me you have a crush on that fucking asshole. you can't be serious, i mean- have you seen hi-"

"percy shut up for gods' sake!" you yelled and he jumped. it made you feel a bit bad, but he was not making any sense. you stopped wiping the blood and cleaning the wound on his lip, now starting to put some bandages on it.

"i don't have a crush on the guy, i don't even know who he is." you explained, now wiping his eyebrow. he didn't flinched on this one, instead he was focused on you. "but you can't just attack people just because they're looking at me."

"he wasn't looking, y/n/n. he was literally-"

"fucking me with his eyes, i know." you shushed him gently with your words, your eyes holding too much care in them. weren't you questioning his eyes back then?

you were standing in between percy's legs, and you both were face to face, even though he was sitting. his expression was soft once again, and his eyes shined like always. you held his chin gently while carefuly treating the wound. "but he didn't dared to do anything, did he?"

"i would like to see him fucking try." he hissed.

"believe me, he wouldn't." you assured him, now bandaging him once again. he had a confused look on his face, but one side of him telled him you were right. "those guys like that can do nothing but stare."

there was a silence between you two now. percy kept sitting on the bed while you put away the first aid kit. after that you camed back to your previous place in between percy's legs, hands resting on his thigh.

he gently held your wrists in return, thumbs caressing the place gently. the boy was in the other infirmary in school, since they didn't want to put him in the same place as percy. you wondered how was the boy, because percy was literally about to kill him.

"how am i gonna get a boyfriend if you keep attacking the boys around me?" you joked, and for the first time, percy didn't laughed. he still looked down on your now intertwined hands, looking like he was in some kind of a trance.

you didn't want a boyfriend anyways, you wanted percy. the joke was to lighten the mood, but to also see his reaction. you we're having suspicions or delusions lately, about him liking you back. and you wanted to get a real answer for yourself.

luckily for you, percy was about to give you one.

"i don't want you to have a boyfriend, to be honest." he whispered, his forehead resting on your shoulder. your cheek -you didn't know why- immediatly found it's place on his head, smelling the salt water scent he had.

"why? you wanna keep me to yourself?" you chuckled, asking what you wanted to ask for a long time in a jokeful way.

"yeah, actually." he said.

you frozed. you wanted to keep your actions as warm as possible for him to not think you would ever reject him. you did wanted to get some real answers, but not stomach flipping, toe curling and cheek blushing one like this. your heart beated so fast that you thought you we're having a heart attack, and your breath hitched.

"what?" you managed to ask softly, and your voice felt like an angel to his ears.

"i'm sorry i-" he choked in his own words, afraid to face you. he still kept his head on your shoulder, in fact; he nuzzled into your neck a bit. "i don't want to ruin our friendship, but... in some way i do."

you chuckled, and he felt like the weight on his shoulders lifted.

"i kinda want that too," you whispered back, hands now caressing his bicep. his hands find their way onto your waist, holding you firmly close to himself. his heart was about to pop out from his body and met with yours, just chilling inside your body instead of his. weird way to express what he was feeling, but percy was never good with words anyway.

"yeah?" he breathed out, his smile can be heard from his voice. your own smile matched his, so bright that sun would be jealous. "since when?"

"oh man, i don't want to answer this." you joked, and he laughed. that's the react you've been waiting for. "you'd think i'm obsessed with you."

he raised his face from your neck to look at you, his eyes shining as bright as the sky now. you loved how his emotions reflected in his eyes, making him not be able to hide anything. you knew him better than anyone else anyways, he was always an open book to you.

"oh please, i don't have the right to judge you when i'm this whipped." he said, making you laugh. "we're we even friends this whole time?"

you laughed harder. "you know what? i think the fuck not." you answered through giggles. "we we're just two idiots who pretended to be friends."

as you both laughed there, to your whole situation, percy hugged you tight. an air escaped your lips in suprise, but you were quick to hug him back.

"you don't have any idea how relieved i am right now," he mumbled to your neck, leaving a few light kisses there. your hands caressed his raven hair, massaging the scalp. "i love you, so fuckin' much."

"i love you too, seaweed brain." you said back quietly, kissing on top of his head.

he was about to kiss you on the lips when annabeth and grover barged in.

"finally you idiots!" annabeth said, crossing her arms and resting her back on the door frame. grover put his arm on her shoulder, smirking.

"it's about fucking time, eh?"

#haha #what is this #can u say the end is rushed??#i didn't know where to make them confess #i just want some k drama type of shit with my bae percy #percy jackson #percy x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson headcanon #pjo show #pjo tv show #annabeth chase #grover underwood

230 notes · View notes

lyneira · 1 year

Text

○ "you're the cooler brother!" ○

-> how would rin/sae react if you (their younger sibling) liked the other brother more?

rin itoshi × itoshi!reader × sae itoshi (both platonic)

some quick thoughts just for funsies

If you liked Rin more:

Sae would give the impression that he didn't care

And honestly, yeah he really wouldn't

Would probably treat you just as coldly as he does to Rin, you two were just his silly little siblings after all

At the same time, a part of me feels that it would still nag him, even if it was to the tiniest extent bc this dude has a big ego

No freakin way was Rin gonna be deemed the cooler brother than him

So! He'd probably lowkey find ways to make you eat your words

He'd do so by further showing off his skills on the playing field, flaunting them effortlessly, doing anything to make you go "wow!" and fawn over him like he deserved

"Hmph, who's the cooler brother now?" 🙄

Rin, on the other hand, would be bursting with joy, albeit quietly if he knew you viewed him as the cooler brother

If you hadn't already, you've just unlocked his soft spot for you

He'd have a higher tolerance of any silliness or tomfoolery from you. And that says a lot, considering he barely tolerates it from anyone else

Will FOR SURE give you headpats often. I just KNOW it, probably not in front of his teammates or generally in public tho

Would probably also be the type to ruffle your hair a bit too, just to mess with you a little. And if you complain or whine like, "hey! stop messing with my hair..!" >:( and give him a little pout, you're going to receive a small chuckle and smile from him

Sooo maybe the messed up hair would be worth it to see that rare view, idk 🤭

Will make it a point to give 110% if he knows you're in the crowd watching him play

The cooler brother needs to look 'cool' after all

If you liked Sae more:

Rin would also attempt to appear unfazed by it, but deep down it would bother him WAY more than Sae, and it would definitely be clear despite how much he tries to hide it

It just hurts him a little :(

If that's how you feel, okay...it simply gives him all the more reason to want to beat Sae

As for Sae, he would think that it's only natural for you to think of him as the cooler brother, like, 'of course I'm the cooler one, that shouldn't be a surprise'

But I think he'd feel just the tiniest bit of warmth knowing that you view him that way

He'll be happy enough to spoil you sometimes, bringing you cool souvenirs from the countries he has visited to enjoy the excited look on your face, all while having the usual stoic look on his own

a/n: I'm always thinking that I'm writing the itoshi bros ooc, but I just want to see them being SOFT okay?! and I just noticed that I wrote more for Rin's then Sae's, it's clear to see which brother I like more LOL

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi sae #nene writes~♡

992 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 11 months

Text

Pour Some Sugar On Me | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley loves it when you take time out of your busy day to give him a little treat. He knows how smart and capable you are, and he is going to work so hard to be your star student.

Warnings: Fluff, swears and smut

Length: 2100 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! This was written for a request.

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bradley had become accustomed to a certain way of life since you moved to San Diego. And it involved a lot of dirty sex on campus at San Diego State University where you worked. Your office door had a lock. And so did the library study rooms. Although he was partial to the study rooms in Virginia, he had to admit these ones were very nice, too.

The fact that you and he had been messing around in study rooms at two different colleges on either side of the country had him smiling every time he met you on campus. He could get hard just thinking about it.

When he occasionally called you on his way home to see if you were still working, he always asked you the same thing. "Do you have time to pour some Sugar on me?"

You always laughed, but you were usually game to meet him for a quickie before he went home to make dinner. This was his routine, and he loved it.

On Friday, when you were kissing his lips softly while he helped you pull your skirt back down, he whispered, "I'm going to head home and make spaghetti. And I'm taking your underwear with me."

You moaned into his mouth as your fingers skimmed along his uniform insignia pins. "So I'll just be a mess until I get home then?"

"Uh huh," he confirmed. "And then I'll feed you dinner and mess you up again."

You kissed him one more time before you promised to be home soon, and then you unlocked the study room door. "Oh, don't forget, I have to be on campus tomorrow morning. I have to take those proficiency exams using the school's wifi connection."

Bradley linked his fingers with yours and just mumbled, "But, Sugar, I love to sleep in with you on Saturday mornings. When I don't, it feels like I'm deployed or you're at a conference."

You looked up at him like he was the sweetest thing you had ever seen. "Sorry, Beer Boy. But we can always get back in bed when I get home."

But Bradley already had a plan.

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

Your desk was a mess with papers, and you were tired and hungry, and now you were going to have to take a series of California state mandated math proficiency exams while you tried not to chew your arm off. Because you left your lunch at home.

You know you shouldn't have skipped breakfast today, but you were running late, and Bradley kept kissing you and telling you to stay in bed. You leaned back in your chair and listened to your stomach growl as you thought about whatever Bradley was making for lunch today.

Then there was a knock at your door. Of course. Because you had just kicked your shoes off underneath your desk, and now you couldn't find the left one with your foot.

"Come in!" you called, hoping you could get rid of this person without having to stand up since you were wearing shorts and only one shoe.

"Hey, Sugar."

You laughed as soon as you saw him in his jeans and the tie dye shirt that you had claimed as your own. "What are you doing here?" You walked around your desk with one shoe on and hugged Bradley tight.

"Brought you lunch," he replied, holding out a container of food that was still warm, and you moaned as you opened it. He handed you a fork as well, and you started digging in.

"How did you know I was starving?"

He plopped down in your desk chair and made grabby hands until you sat on his lap. "I didn't know. I just missed you." He kissed your neck and shoulder around your tank top while you ate, and his hands started to explore your bare thighs.

"Beer Boy," you warned, glancing at the time on your computer as you set down the fork and empty container. Your next exam was going to start in about five minutes.

He whispered. "I just want a little Sugar. Pour some Sugar on me?"

His words were low and a little rough, and you felt yourself clenching at nothing as he whispered your name and nosed his way along your collarbone. "But I have a test," you complained as you stood to lock your door. And then he was making grabby hands again before you watched him reach down to run his hand along his cock through his jeans. His erection was so pronounced, your mouth was watering with need.

"I can wait until you're done with it," he promised, but then when you started unzipping your shorts, his eyebrows shot up. "Hell yes."

You kicked off your right shoe and stepped out of your shorts and underwear as Bradley unzipped his jeans. His eyes were glued to your every move. "If we do this, you need to behave," you warned, standing in front of him between his spread thighs, facing your desk. You bent over to log into your exam, and his hands came up to gently caress your rear end. When you wiggled it for him, he moaned.

"What exactly is happening here?" he grunted.

You looked at him over your shoulder, and his eyes were wide with intrigue. "Pull your jeans down, and I'll warm your cock while I take this exam."

He was immediately pulling down his pants and boxer shorts and stroking himself. "Oh fuck. Sugar. You're gonna kill me, baby."

You just smirked and he moved the chair a little closer to you.

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

Bradley reached for your hips as you sat back on his lap with that gorgeous ass. You were going to take a math exam with him inside you. A timed, mandated math exam. With his cock inside your pussy. "Okay, Professor Sugar." It was like a fantasy roleplay, and he needed to be good and stay still so you'd pass your test.

"Mmm," you hummed as you gripped his cock and slid your pussy down around him until you were sitting snug against his balls.

Bradley panted as he tried his best not to move, but your ass looked so pretty and you were pulsing gently around him. He held your hips and leaned forward to kiss the back of your neck. Then you propped your feet up next to his thighs and arched your back as you leaned one elbow on your desk. "It's about to start," you whispered, looking at him over your shoulder.

He had to force his gaze up to meet your eyes as he stroked his fingers along your ass. "How long is it?" he asked, voice hoarse and needy.

"Thirty minutes," you replied, and then you turned back to your computer. "But I'll try to be quick." Bradley watched you answer three questions in a row that he couldn't even understand. Every time you hummed or clicked your tongue, his eyes rolled back, and he had to work to regain his focus. When you eventually had to pull your calculator out of your desk to solve one of the problems, he found that insanely hot.

"Sugar?" he groaned, pushing himself deeper inside you. When you wiggled your hips and glanced at him, you shook your head with a smirk.

"I need to finish this, Beer Boy. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself."

He tipped his head back and took a deep breath while stroking his fingers along your thigh. "But you're so fucking tight. All I want to do it fuck you."

When he bit his lip and managed to get control, he looked over your shoulder again, groaning in your ear. You were on problem ten, scribbling down some nonsense on a sheet of notebook paper that he supposed meant something to you. "How many questions are there?" he asked, rubbing his mustache along your neck and inhaling your scent. He thought that would calm him down; it only made it worse.

"Thirty questions," you said softly, turning to kiss his lips softly. "You can do it. This is fucking hot."

"So damn hot!" he readily agreed, chasing your lips as you turned back toward your computer. "Fucking hot," he grunted, palming your ass in both of his hands. You were a third of the way done. He could hang on a little longer.

"Oooh, linear algebra," you mumbled happily, and your pussy clenched around him.

"Fuck! Sugar, are you getting turned on by math?" He dug his fingers into your thighs to keep himself still.

"I always get a little hot for a good linear algebra problem," you muttered, once again scribbling down some numbers. "You know that."

"Some things never change," he grunted, thinking about how you'd sit on his lap in the study room at UVA and pause your work to have sex with him. This was the same thing. Somehow he was still living that same dream more than ten years later.

"This exam is not actually that hard," you remarked, selecting answers for problems fourteen through seventeen without too much fuss.

"Something else is definitely hard," Bradley panted, thrusting involuntarily.

"It's a lot easier than I thought it would be," you said as you grinned at him over your shoulder.

"Are you kidding me right now, Sugar? I can't understand any of it, and I've been reading it over your shoulder." But he was getting desperate now. Every time you turned and looked at him, he thought he was going to finish.

"I'm almost done," you promised when you turned back to the screen.

"Me too," he growled, shaking his head. "If your ass didn't look so perfect just chilling in my lap like this, I'd be a lot better off."

"You're strong, Bradley. I have faith."

But now you were starting to clench around him again as you entered something into your calculator. "God, you're so fucking smart. Makes me insane for you, Professor Sugar."

"Be my star student, Lieutenant Bradshaw, and don't cum quite yet."

He was such a goner. All he could do was count slowly backwards from one hundred and try to enjoy your tight warmth around him while holding himself off. Fingers digging into your ass, he knew he wasn't going to be good for much longer. "Baby?"

You reached back and grabbed his left hand with yours and guided his fingers to your clit. "Three more questions," you whispered as he stroked you, making you gasp.

"You can answer them while I touch you?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed.

"You're a fucking genius," he said before he nibbled on your neck and eased his right hand up inside your shirt to your tattoos. He knew where they were by heart. And he knew how to get you off with his fingers like an expert.

By the time you were working on the last problem, he was whispering, "You got this. Come on, baby." And when you clicked the Submit icon at the bottom, you and Bradley both saw your score before he grabbed you by your hips and stood, still buried deep inside you.

"100%. Perfect score. You're perfect," he grunted as you planted your hands on your desk while he railed you.

"Oh god!" you moaned as his fingers found your clit again, the slapping of his thighs meeting yours filling the room.

"Math makes you hot, and that makes me hot," he growled as he fucked you harder. "And it always will."

You arched your back as he whispered your name and came so hard, he was shaking. No longer able to form coherent words, he kept his fingers moving against you while he fucked his cum deeper inside you.

Then you were whining and bucking back against him, and then he could feel you squeezing him so sweetly. "Yes, yes, yes," you chanted as you came.

When you caught your breath, Bradley withdrew himself from you. He helped you get cleaned up and get your shorts back on, and then you curled up in his lap in your desk chair.

"You got a perfect test score while I was inside you."

You kissed along his scars and his mustache and laughed. "I guess all that time sitting on your lap and studying really paid off."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you and hummed in agreement. "You wore me the fuck out, Teach. Please take me back home for a lazy Saturday afternoon in bed."

"Anything for my star student."

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

This was written for a request as well as for my friend Jay @thedroneranger who really wanted some Beer Boy and Sugar love with this song title!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

745 notes · View notes