#sevlomi

USAGE NOTICE. -> i have two formats of works: fics, under the tag [sev.writes] and drabbles, under the tag [sev.scribbles]. there is no difference between the two besides formatting. -> this masterlist contains both types. drabbles are located in the section under fics. -> i have a third writing tag called [sev.thirsts], however i will not be including the works in that tag in this masterlist to keep it short and simple. you are free to peruse the rabbit hole of my lust at your own leisure using the tag LOL the tags will be in the tags of this masterlist. -> i do write a lot under my own selfship tags, so if browsing those doesn't give you Psychic Damage(tm) i would also encourage checking those out! the tags will be in the tags of this masterlist.

shalom’s soft voice carries across the living room from where she’s sat on the couch, a thick novel in her lap. the fading sunlight filters in through the open windows, painting her pretty face in shades of gold. the vase of lillies on the side table cast delicate shadows on the marbled oak. you barely mumble a reply, and by the slump of your shoulders and the sullen look on your face, shalom knows immediately that something’s wrong. she doesn’t get to say it in time, however, because you round the couch and immediately collapse into her lap, plucking the book out of her hands to place it on the side table and all her other finished books. shalom blinks, then chuckles, running her hands through your hair as you wrap your arms around her waist and press your face into the crook of her neck.

“bad day, i take it?” she asks, smoothing down your hair and toying with the downy strands near the nape of your neck. you groan in reply, squeezing her a little tighter.

“there was… someone. she kept…” you say, biting the words like it physically pained you to get them out. you shift a little restlessly, sighing again and breathing in deeply, nosing under her jaw. “she kept flirting with me.”

ah. shalom hums, not stopping her idle touches. “i see. and what did you do?”

“i told her i was married,” you say stubbornly, almost indignant. you draw back to give her a look halfway between incredulous and pleading—as if to say, did you think i’d say anything else? she almost chuckles again, but tamps it down for your sake, since you do seem genuinely unsettled by the whole thing. her hand cups your face, encouraging you to continue. you lean into her touch, and huff again. “and i was not interested.”

“and how did this person handle that?” she asks. her expression is perfectly impassive—though she can hear rebel screech and roar in the back of her mind, outraged at the idea someone else would dare approach what’s hers. and she’s inclined to agree with it, though for now she’ll settle for holding you close.

you deflate against her chest at the question, head flopping back down onto her shoulder. “it’s like she didn’t hear it at all. she kept going—nothing too serious—but i still had to help her, and i just…”

shalom presses a chaste kiss to your temple. “you just…?”

“i feel guilty,” you admit, and she has to resist the urge to coo at you. what a sweet thing you are, to be so distraught even if you were barely a willing participant in the whole mess. shalom lifts your face from her shoulder to look you in the eyes, her lips pulled into an amused yet fond smile. her thumbs brush along your cheekbones, and your lashes flutter as you react to the tender touch. shalom swears she sees your eyes dilate too. it makes something spark in her chest, seeing the way even your physiology responds so sweetly to her.

“is that so, sweetheart?” she muses, and you nod, an almost kicked puppy expression crossing your face. “well, i believe i know the perfect solution for you to make it up to me—the option with the lowest cost, and highest rewards.”

you lean forward almost imperceptibly, eagerness and anticipation overwriting any guilt you might have felt prior. shalom lets out a breezy laugh at that, and then draws close, close enough that her breath spills warm from her lips and mingles with yours.

“kiss me.”

the past is miles behind you both, and buried deep beneath the soil. its corpse now feeds the fertile flowerbeds of your backyard gardens, encouraging blooms of roses and lillies and daisies and daffodils. shalom tends to her flowers every morning, and drags you out too—lest her notorious anti-green thumb cause her beloved flowers to wilt.

she stays at home while you go out to run a few errands and odd jobs here and there; you may be on a luxurious government pension, but the lack of something to do has never sat right with you. so you leave in the late mornings with a kiss pressed to her crown, and return just before golden hour with another against her lips. but sometimes— sometimes, the house seems a little too quiet when you’re gone. she knows you aren’t truly gone, and that you’ll always come back to her, but, well.

she misses you. that’s all there is to it.

and it’s what moves her to call you on a particularly gloomy afternoon. you were out, as usual, this time helping out a local store with some deliveries. she had smiled, amused, when you told her about the job— you never could turn down a request for help. it’s part of what she adores so deeply about you, enough to defy the will of heaven itself for your sake.

she counts the number of times the phone rings after she dials you—once, twice, almost thrice before you pick up. there’s a slight breathless quality to your voice when you speak.

“hey,” you say, and she can hear the smile in your voice. it makes one tug at her lips too.

“hello to you too,” she hums in return, leaning against the window as she sits in the little alcove, watching the grey sky and the lazy, rolling clouds. “i’m not disturbing, am i?”

“never,” is your immediate, sure answer. her heart jumps a little in her chest at the sound, and she brushes a hand over the firm plane of her breastbone, feeling the pitter-patter of the organ beneath.

“such a smooth talker.”

“i learned from the best.”

her neck and ears warm, and she breathes a laugh against the cool surface of her phone. “is that so?”

“sure is,” you confirm, and she hears vaguely the sound of muffled conversation and the rustle of a bag. you cup your hand over the reciever, speaking to whoever it was beside you, before talking to her again. “was there something you needed?”

was there? shalom ponders the question briefly. the answer comes quickly to her, and she needed not any of paradeisos’s great computational techniques to find it. the answer was always there, locked in her once-unfeeling heart.

i need you, she thinks, always. “no,” is what she answers.

you’re silent for a moment on the other line, then hum quietly. “okay. i’ll see you soon, then.”

“yes,” she breathes, eyes fluttering shut. funny, how she could once rip and tear even the strongest of people into nothingness with just her tongue, but when it comes to saying those words to you she finds it tied into knots, heavy like lead in her mouth. you end the call, and shalom lets her head thud against the wall as she looks up at that overcast sky.

but then, not even a few moments later, she hears the rattling of keys in the door, and a layer of tension settles over her form like morning dew. she can’t help the slight widening of her eyes or the surprised part of her lips when she sees you walk into the room, a knowing look in your eye and a gentle smile playing on your lips. there’s a paper bag in your hands, and it smells like freshly baked pastries.

“you came,” she manages, her voice uncharacteristically small as she cranes her head upwards while you lean down, letting your forehead rest against hers.

“you called,” you answer softly, then let out a tiny chuckle against her lips as your free hand runs through her wine-red hair to settle at the nape of her neck. “or not exactly, but i know you.”

she kisses you instead of saying anything else, because no word that she knows could ever do justice the way she feels about you. she remembers, distantly, reading a poem on love—on a love so much greater than words, that the poet has chosen to fall silent. she did not understand then, but she understands now. your words echo in her mind and the four chambers of her racing heart, carried by her blood to every fiber of her being.

i know you.