#in my drafts trying to string words together

[lil-vibes]

very specific skk cuddling headcanons in my head.... spinning... weaving themselves with two (2) also Very Specific dazai scars headcanons .. mixing....

[floydsteeth]

my want to write angst vs my abilty fo understand the enlish language

[saturnsorbits]

Dear Creativity,

Please, come back soon, and while you’re at it, can you bring Motivation back with you.

Yours… Desperately,

Saturn.

[scoops-aboy86]

Secret Admirer

Steddie Week 2024, July 1: Mystery / secret relationship / One Night Alone by Vixen

wc: 2131 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

cw: negative self talk (steve), allusions to unhealthy use of drugs and alcohol (eddie), and one horny paragraph

In the first few letters, Eddie had tried to disguise his handwriting. It occurred to him after a while, though, that there would be no reason for someone like Steve Harrington to recognize it, so he stopped. And he was right, nothing happened. 

Steve hasn’t figured out the secret admirer letters he kept answering were written by none other than the official Freak of Hawkins High. Hell, Steve hasn’t even worked out that he’s a he. Though a few vaguely worded sentences every now and then suggest that Steve might not be assuming she either, which is…interesting. Possibly nothing, but interesting all the same. And Eddie knows he’s probably just stringing himself along by doing this, but he’s about to repeat his senior year of high school for the third goddamn time and this is a better option than drinking or dipping into the harder stuff that Reefer Rick expects him to sell. Broken heart likely, but at least he doesn’t wake up with a headache or the shakes.

Now it’s well into summer, and the PO Box he’d had since he was sixteen (for Blueboys and other mags that would get him equally tarred and feathered if anyone finds out) gets mail every damn day.

Eddie looks down at the most recent letter, rereading it for the hundredth time with a joint in one hand, several empty beer cans littering the bedspread and floor of his room around him. 

Dear Secret Admirer, Hey, I’m sorry if I came on too strong in my last couple of letters. I get why you don’t want to tell me who you are. We probably went to high school together, right? You don’t write like a middle schooler and no one who graduates sticks around in this stupid town besides me. I guess that makes me stupid means you probably knew me when I was still a douchebag. Sorry about that. I hope I never said anything to you or let Tommy push you around. Except I don’t know why you would’ve started writing to me in the first place if I had? It’s not like I would’ve written back if I was still that popular guy who everyone talked to and thought was so cool. Yeah, I admit it, I thought I was hot shit back then too! But it turns out, they only give you the spotlight as long as you don’t put a toe out of line. Don’t point out when they’re being assholes. You wouldn’t believe the kind of shit some people will say when they think you already agree with them about everything.  Anyway, I’m trying to be better now. Genuinely, if I’m not, if I’ve been an asshole in these letters at all, please tell me. And it’s not like I’m tired of writing to you, I just. Wouldn’t getting to talk in person be even better? Or we don’t even have to talk, if you don’t want to, that’s okay! You can come by Scoops and tell me it’s you and I’ll give you a free ice cream cone or something, whatever you want. Because actions speak louder than words, right? You keep sending me all these nice letters, and I’m not the best with words so I want to give you something too. (I don’t mean that like That wasn’t a come-on, I swear. Shit, I should rewrite this again but this is already the fifth draft, it’s not getting any better than this. Sorry.) — Steve PS, I don’t know if you have been to Scoops already, but if you’ve seen my coworker’s whiteboard I swear I’m not interested just because I keep striking out. Turns out I don’t actually know how to talk to girls without being weird. It’s weird being done with high school and not have that stuff in common to talk about, and I used to be this cool guy that I’m really not anymore so I panic and all this bullshit (who am I kidding) bullshit comes out my mouth and it’s EMBARRASSING. Anyway. I really like your letters, it’s been great having someone to talk to even if it’s not really talking a face to face thing, and I’m not just saying that because I’m kind of a loser now. Anyway, have a nice day! Fuck, Robin is right, I SUCK

The first bullshit in the postscript is crossed out so hard there’s a tear in the paper. All the scribbled out bits are borderline illegible, like Steve really tried, but Eddie can still make out most of it and can guess the rest from context. The very last word, for example, is totally obscured, but he has seen the You Rule / You Suck board, so. Yeah.

It makes his heart ache, the way Steve talks about himself sometimes. The way his insecurities bleed through artlessly on the page like coffee stains. Eddie alternates between wanting to wrap him up in soft things to protect him from whatever sharpness left him so cut open, and wanting to smother him with kisses for the bravery in being so genuine with a nameless, faceless stranger. 

Except Steve isn’t his. Steve is straight, for all he’s apparently being kind enough not to make assumptions, and could never want Eddie in the same way. And it’s not fair, the hanging back that Eddie’s been doing, holding out now that Steve has come to look forward to his letters just because of a little (huge, massive, life-threatening) fear of rejection. 

He’s been dragging his heels so long that Steve is feeling rejected, and that just won’t do. 

Sighing, Eddie takes another long drag before stubbing the remaining nub of the joint out. Scrubs his hands across his face and considers getting another beer. Or maybe forgetting the corner he’s backed himself into, with Steve wanting to meet—not only to satisfy the curiosity of knowing who his secret admirer is, but because he actually seems to like the person writing to him. (Actually wrote that they didn’t have to talk if Eddie didn’t want to, Jesus H. Christ, why did he have to be such a fucking sweetheart about that?) 

It’s late, and he’s already stripped restlessly down to just his boxers for bed. He could push it all aside, push his hands down the front of his underwear and get lost in different thoughts about Steve for a while, for the trillionth time. God knows that always works to clear his head, sometimes twice if he’s ambitious about it, enough for sleep to take him. 

Instead, Eddie drops the letter on his bed and hunts around on his desk for a notebook he can stand to tear a few more pages out of. Once he has what he needs, he chews on the end of his pen for several minutes  before putting it to the paper.

Steve, my beloved, It has been some time since I’ve replied. My deepest apologies for that, as it seems like you’ve taken that to mean something I absolutely did not intend. I received all of your letters, and “too strong” is not how I would describe them. They were lovely, sweetheart. I have reread them many times, I have slept with them under my pillow, I have cried happy tears over them for the thought that you might actually share my affection enough to want so badly to know who I am.  Very quickly, to address some of your questions and concerns: One, we did share some years in high school, yes, and I’m pleased to read that you think my writing is at a level appropriate to someone approximately our age. (I wish more of my teachers shared that view, but alas, I’m pretty sure that most of them hate me. Except for the drama teacher, who would let me get away with murder as long as I didn’t stain or break any of his props with the act.) Two, Hagan was a dick, but more to my friends than me directly, and the worst you ever did was laugh when I dropped my books a few times, that sort of thing. Water under the bridge, fuck high school, etc. etc.. Three, you have not engaged in any assholery in your writing, or in any of your actions that I’ve seen in a long time.  And four… you should’ve left the double entendre (i.e. the “I want to give you something too”); I wouldn’t have minded.  Obviously I think of you as prime boyfriend material—thoughtful, good sense of humor and humility, and whenever those younger kids swing by to pester you at the mall you put up a good front of being exasperated and annoyed, but through all that I can tell you care about them. (They say never trust someone who would hurt an animal, it works for kids too.)  But you’re also a total smoke show, baby. The effortless way you moved around the basketball court, same as in the water when you were still on the swim team, and in those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off with this paragraph.  It was a relief to write that, to be honest. I am not without my fantasies, you see; in a lot of ways, they’re all I have. The real reason I’ve been hesitant to respond to all of your heartfelt entreaties to meet, sweetheart, is that I’m afraid. I’ve been head over heels for you for so long—for your looks before anything else, I’ll admit, but the douchebag boy from high school that you mentioned is long gone. A man stands in his place, and what a man you are. In writing to you, I wanted to make clear first and foremost how ardently I admire and love you, lest my feelings be mistaken for mere tawdry teen lust.  And hopefully I’ve succeeded. If so, can you see now how actions can be carved in with the words? It is the intent that shines through, and I can read in between the lines, Steve, that you are being genuinely honest with yours. All those disparaging remarks you made about yourself in your last letter, both crossed out and not, are probably you being too hard on yourself, but they speak to the fact that you both understand you’ve made mistakes in the past and are trying to pay penance for them. That, along with your fantastic hair and magnificent ass, are just a few of the reasons I remain, as always— Your Secret Admirer P.S. I don’t mind weird. Like it, even. Bring it on, big boy.  P.P.S.  If all I could ever have with you is one night alone, I’d take it and be grateful.

Eddie’s letter is almost twice as long as Steve’s, but whatever. That’s par for the course; he never expected Steve to be much of a wordsmith, even though the guy is clearly putting in a lot of effort. Writes drafts, apparently. Unlike Eddie, who bangs all that out in pretty much one go and merely skims it before sliding it in an envelope, sealing it in, slapping on a stamp and address, and throwing it off the bed. 

Then he falls into bed and strips his dick to the thought of Steve reading the letter and thinking about his mouth, half in a hot anonymous way and half in some imaginary reality where Steve knows it’s him and wants this just as badly. Of Steve groaning out how good it feels and maybe wanting to hold him after, fall asleep together, like they’re…

The next morning (or afternoon, whatever, it’s summer vacation), Eddie reviews his slightly fuzzy memory of the letter after stepping on the envelope and realizing, oh, right. Overly verbose and dramatic, the way he always is but even more so when tipsy. And… fuck it. One horny paragraph, he decides, won’t be the end of the world. Maybe it will scare Steve off; maybe he���ll enjoy it. Let fate decide, just like at the dnd table. 

Eddie shoves the envelope into the mail drop box just outside the trailer park gate on his way into town and sends a prayer out to no god in particular that he hasn’t just rolled a nat one.

~

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

Tagging some folks who expressed interest about this story in my Wiggly Wednesday post last week, let me know if you don't want to be tagged going forward: @steviewashere @cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve

@rozzieroos @lunaraindrop @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

[starcrossedslytherin]

Love Letters

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

WC: 1K

A/N: I don’t know how popular the Hogwarts legacy fandom is as of now because I’ve not been on tumblr, but I found this fic in my drafts(along with quite a few wips) and realized I never posted it so I thought I would feed the Sallow girlies a quick snack today.

Summary: Sebastian wants to write you a love letter to tell you about his feelings but it’s not going the way he hoped, even with Ominis’ help.

---

Ominis knows he shouldn’t be as amused as he is right now, but he can’t help it. It’s not often he gets to experience Sebastian embarrass himself so willingly.

Try as he does to suppress his chuckle, it slips out and Sebastian sighs, letting the several half written love notes spill onto the table in front of him.

“It’s not funny.” Sebastian practically pouts, glad his friend can’t see the expression on his face.

“I disagree.” Ominis taunts him with a grin, leaning back in his seat.

“I’ve been trying to write Y/N a note all afternoon! I just don’t understand why they sound so…”

“Awful?” Ominis jumps in. “Horrendous? Painfully cliche?”

“Oi, shut it.” Sebastian mutters, gently nudging Ominis’ foot under the table. He very much regrets asking his best friend for help now he knows how embarrassed he’d be.

He sighs before picking up all his papers, trying to find the best parts of them all. “Why don’t you read them again? Out loud, so I can hear.” Sebastian doesn’t see why Ominis asks him to do so, but he reads through the notes, pulling faces every time he gets to a rather cheesy part of the note.

When he finishes, he looks to Ominis, hoping he can give him any sort of feedback to fix this mess.

Ominis stays quiet for a moment, thinking Merlin only knows what until he says, “You make me wish I was deaf as well.”

Sebastian’s hands slap against the table as he gives up, annoyed with his inability to string together simple words to tell you how he feels and annoyed with Ominis’ lack of help. “Forget this.” Sebastian grumbles, crumpling up as many of the letters as he can.

Ominis sighs and puts his hand across the table, covering some of the papers and getting Sebastian to stop. “Just talk to her. Tell her how you feel.”

Sebastian pulls a face at the recommendation. “Tell her how I feel?” He repeats, starting to pace in his spot. “You mean, just walk up to her and tell her how beautiful I think she is? Or how any time she smiles at me, you, Anne or anything really, I can’t help but stare? How she is most likely the smartest and kindest person I have ever met? How anytime she’s in the room, I am most certain my heart will beat out of my chest with how fast she makes it? How each time I see her leave the castle on her little adventures, I fight myself on whether to go with because I need to know that she makes it back safe to me? To us? You think I should just walk right up to Y/N and tell I am absolutely in love with her?”

There was silence between the two boys after Sebastian’s speech and the brunette boy, exhausted mentally, falls in his seat in a slump. Ominis just sat there, gripping his wand tight in his hand as his lips gently pull up to the left. “Well,” he whispers, getting Sebastian’s attention, who frowns upon seeing his smirk, “I don’t think you have to worry about it anymore.”

Sebastian’s brows furrow and he was about to ask Ominis what he meant before the sound of a book clattering to the ground behind him has him whipping his hand around and he opens his eyes wide. There you were, frozen in your place as you struggle to keep more books from falling off the shelves.

“Sorry.” You mumble, trying to determine if you really were hearing what you think you were hearing. “And uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

Sebastian nods at your reassurance. “How much did you hear?”

You wave your hand in the air. “Oh, well just, uh, just… everything.”

Well, that’s not what he wanted.

He turned to glare at Ominis, but the boy slipped out when you and Sebastian were focused on each other.

You glance down at the paper strewn across the table, ready to dismiss them before seeing your name on one of them. “What is that?”

Sebastian sighs, debating whether he could really show you his mess of notes. He nods, letting you fall into the seat next to him as you pick through the papers. You barely got through the first sentence of the very first letter before your eyes shoot to Sebastian’s.

“You.. you wrote me letters?” There was a deep blush on his face and he’d gone silent, but he nods. You stare at him, feeling your own cheeks heat up quite a bit before you turn back and read, picking a few sentences of each discarded letter. Your favorite ones were the ones Sebastian had scratched over with his quill, obviously being embarrassed of having written them, but you enjoyed them.

From the first moment we met, I knew there was something extraordinary about you.

I know what love is because I know you.

My darling, you are my rock, my confident, my ally, my friend, and so much more.

“Bash…” you mumble, blinking repeatedly to keep your tears from spilling out.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” He whispers, picking up a few of the letters and holding them. “I had Ominis try to help me, but I don’t think he was particularly helpful.” You chuckle, imagining Ominis trying to help Sebastian.

Your laugh fades out as you put your hands on top of Sebastian’s and your eyes meet. Your stomach flutters with nerves and adoration. “I think you know the right words.”

Sebastian smiles at you, the corners of his mouth tugging up just enough that his eyes crinkle and he nods. “Y/N,” he begins, looking to his letters for strength but he knows he doesn’t need it. “Y/N, I love you. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you and I want to go on adventures with you and I want to smile with you and I want, I just want you.” His hand cups your cheek, bringing you closer to him as your eyes flutter close and he whispers, one last time before your lips meet, “I love you.”

•

[eluxcastar]

Heyy! May i request dottore x fem!reader who is a Porcelain doll(a puppet like scara but she's made out of Porcelain instead) and likes all those cute feminine stuff and collecting stuff like bows, Porcelain dolls and more. And I wonder if dottore would like the reader being pretty feminine and what's his opinion on Porcelain dolls (don't mind when i did any mistakes, English isn't my native language)

~🎀🧷

Dottore with a doll reader

── ୨୧：il dottore x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: silly rambles about Dottore and doll reader being cute

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader (no gendered terms really used tho tbh), soft dottore (listen it's my guilty pleasure), reader has the properties of porcelain, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 950

THIS ACTUALLY reminds me of one of the very very first drafts I wrote even before Tartaglia's little brotherfication (coincidentally also of Dottore) so this is very fun. That doll was one of Sandrone's creations and I've decided so is this one

this also may hit close to home did I ever mention my slight obsession with dolls (it's worse than slight)

Dottore has fixed you many times, much to his inconvenience.

He has warned you many times against becoming reckless, but you never seem to listen, at least in his eyes. You are by no means fragile—porcelain is hard to chip away at—your habit is simply that of finding danger. Finding it, throwing yourself at it, and landing yourself here in the darkest corners of the Fatui's headquarters so the doctor can carefully string you back together.

A gentle touch is not his forte, the practised hands of a doctor toiling away in his effort to put you back together. You prefer him to Sandrone any day for how much less pain you associate with him. He can scold you all he likes, but it may never work. You'll keep coming back and asking for his help when your strings come loose, and he will oblige your request for reasons that escape even him. It is a simple process now performed practically from memory.

Your habit of collecting frankly worthless items is certainly something. The bows, frilly dresses, and varying spools of lace you always claim you'll do something with and never do all feel normal. The porcelain dolls, on the other hand, are...interesting.

You are a living porcelain doll, and yet you collect them like novelty items. Isn't that like your equivalent of collecting human babies? Whatever it is to you, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, so he keeps quiet as you fuss over their placement and hair, straighten their clothes or whether you're willing to sacrifice the careful styling of their hair to a pretty hat. It keeps you happy and away from everything dangerous that you seem to always run into.

The truth is, you are not in the slightest delicate despite making yourself seem that way. What you are is heavy, too heavy to always be lifting onto an operating table and too heavy to be lugging your pieces around—porcelain is not light.

However, there is interest to be had in the workings of your construction, which he is reminded of each time he takes you apart and watches you divide into inanimate pieces. You talk to him sometimes, pleasant background noise, or maybe just annoying when you start asking foolish questions he can't possibly answer. He can handle every "What are you doing?" and "Why are you doing that?" but when you begin to show your ignorance regarding your own creation and try to turn to him for answers instead of Sandrone, it frustrates him. 

You're supposed to answer his questions.

"She doesn't like my questions," you reason, and he never has to wonder why that is. Your incessant prodding and curiosity would irritate her, as does his indulging of your curiosity. She will complain that you're becoming restless and not as quickly satisfied, but really, nothing much at all has changed.

He can deal with your gravitation toward the things that make you happy if that's what keeps a smile on your face. One might even say he doesn't mind it, even when you pester him to help you tie your bows when they come loose in your hair or listen to your ramblings as you try to get him to help you with your dolls. He's better at tying knots than you. His hands have friction to keep the strings in place, unlike your slippery porcelain hands.

Your habits are endearing in their own way, the satisfaction with things that make you feel...human. You will never be, but the illusion of humanity and the yearning to chase it is not unlike the Segments. They think of themselves as human, believe they are, and exist as though they are human, yet they will never be as human as Prime. The only idea that makes sense is that you are displaying the same behaviour.

It is how Sandrone made you to be.

He can't say he especially blames you for following what your creation dictates. Your presence could bother him more than your interests could, namely a result of your many, many questions. It's not that you're sheltered or ignorant of the world around you—far from it—but most people don't know the nature of the things he works on, and you are no exception. You learned everything by asking, and he presents a wormhole of knowledge that you seek to understand by having him explain everything he's doing to you in great detail.

There's a bargaining that comes with it. Dottore will give you things so long as you stay out of the way, and you'll inspect them with a curious eye because he presents you with what Sandrone keeps you from. That is the only reason he can accept as to why you're talking to him, not that you like his voice and his smile, nor that you find the things he says fascinating or enjoy the light brush of his fingers against yours as he passes you your little 'distrations'. It's enough to watch him.

He complains his hands are always cold, and supposedly so are yours, but you've never felt temperature before. You like the faint glimpses of his scars, soft as his skin. They're not like yours, the closest equivalent being jagged cracks in your limbs that someone has to eventually fix before they worsen into breaks. 

Things are comfortable around him. He is used to the odds quirks of sentient, inhuman beings, and a benefit of being around them is that they don't mind how weird he is by most standards.

You are something he can easily get used to lingering around. Despite your similarities to the segments, he must admit that you are far less of a bother.

[disneyprincemuke]

sex * gr63

it was supposed to be just sex.

pairings: george russell x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of sex

notes: fun fact, this was supposed to be about max but hehe… fun fact number 2 is that this is the second draft and the first is messier than this, but i liked this better! based on sex by eden <3 and i aM TRYING TO CREDIT THIS GIF BUT I’M ON MY PHONE AND THEY WONT LET ME SO I’LL DO IT WHEN I FIND MY LAPTOP OK PLS IM BEGGING YOU

(sex) // (be mine)

you watch george’s eyes shut and feel his grip around your hips tighten, soft mews passing his lips while he comes down from his high. your hips come to a slow stop while his eyes slowly open, flashing you a smile.

you return the gesture before you slowly untangle yourself from his grip. you drop yourself on the empty spot on the bed. your hand pats around the area next to you, lifting your head up slightly to find the blanket kicked down to the floor amidst your passionate and selfish exchange.

george’s thumb swipes across your forehead, swiping away the sweat that’s formed.

there’s a feeling in your stomach for the past few weeks that has been eating you up. it’s indescribable, which is why you simply try not to think of it. but right now, with george next to you, it’s hard to ignore.

“what’s up, what are you thinking about?” george shifts to prop himself up on his elbow to look down at you. his smile grows as he moves the hair out of your face, brushing your hair in the process. “you’ve been staring at that ceiling for so long, i swear it’s come alive.”

you sigh. you blink then turn your head to the other side of the room, desperate to not get caught in his blue eyes. “george, i think you think too much of me.”

george feels his heart stop in his chest. in the short few months since alex has introduced you to him, you were never one to get in touch with your emotions. to say something with so much depth is worrying to him.

it’s more to contribute to the fact that your arrangement is strictly sex, with the side quest of pretending to be friendly when alex is around. other than that, there is no relationship to base all of this off.

when you’re not together, you don’t text. neither of you know what goes on in each other’s lives in the event of separation.

which is why he can’t figure out why your tone is scaring him so much. because he knows where you are going with this.

but george has to fight himself against what his chest is urging him to do. he swallows the forming lump in his throat and tilts his head at you. “what do you mean?”

there must have been something he has done that made it seem like there’s something more. he’s been so careful with the way he is in bed with you, and the amount of affection he gives you.

if you asked him, you’ve already taken his heart. and he’s almost a hundred percent sure that he doesn’t want anyone but you.

you clear your throat softly. you turn to finally meet his eyes. “you know, whatever this is, means nothing.” you speak slowly, ensuring that your words are clearly understood. “we’re just having sex.”

and there it is.

you can barely consider yourself friends. which is why your label isn’t even ‘friends with benefits’ — there is no label at all. you don’t even have each other’s numbers; all the initiations just stemming from instagram dms and your shared time at the club after alex taps out from the alcohol.

george feels his heart skip a beat, his stomach churning with uneasiness. he was just about to tell you that he’ll take you out on a proper date; actually make an effort to get to know you better.

in this moment, he is suddenly reminded of the situation. it’s just sex you’re having. there were no strings attached in the first place, and he isn’t supposed to have feelings for you.

the nights you spent tangled in his hotel room sheets should not have replayed in his mind as much as it did. he shouldn’t have noticed how you started letting yourself spend the night securely in his arms and thought to himself this might be going somewhere good.

on the other end of the spectrum, your chest ached. alex’s stern words echoes in your mind as you were slapped with the harsh reality of your inability to be in a healthy and loving relationship.

“fix yourself first, please. don’t break george’s heart,” alex had said to you when you came clean to him about your arrangement and the feelings that caused you to stir about at night before sleeping.

you can hardly consider it love. you barely know anything about george. of course, you would talk whenever you are tangled up in sheets with him, but you’d kept them minimal to protect you both from the very perdicament you’ve found yourself in.

you notice the way his expression changes ever so slightly. hurt flashes in his eyes as he withdraws his hand from you, your fingers flinching as you fight the impulse to chase for his touch. his eyebrows furrow as he inches back. “of course. it’s just sex.”

george almost tells you that he’s always been this heartless. in fact, he is convinced that this is his karma for break all those girls’ hearts back in the day.

he watches you take a deep breath and return your gaze to the ceiling of his hotel room. “this should be the last night. we should stop.”

he drops himself on the bed. he mimics your position, hands laying on his stomach as he traces the design of the light structure with his eyes.

he contemplates, the risk and rewards of just letting loose and telling you how he feels. can he really live with the fact that he just lets you go here without a fight?

instead, he turns to you with a playful smirk on his face. “you said this is the last night.”

you playfully roll your eyes, turning your head to meet him. “that is what i said.”

“not the last time, so come here.”

[chimielie]

i swear that i will hate you 'till forever

summary: Yaku x F!Reader. sometimes divorce is what you really need to strengthen a marriage

word count: 1.2k

cw: angst, alcohol, pr marriage gone extremely wrong, yaku is older by six years, reader is a socialite with no life skills or healthy coping mechanisms, yaku also has no healthy coping mechanisms, no one in this story is doing well, The Judgment of God Himself, also blasphemy

a/n: heeey long time no see. i actually genuinely don't know when i wrote this, i'm just emptying my drafts of all the half-written fics i have locked in jail. i do still like this concept a lot so shoot me an ask if you want to know more about what i had planned for the full thing :)

Morisuke hates weddings.

He stares up at God, who is trapped in a little circle in a bigger circle, surrounded by gorgeous, centuries-old paintings of angels and saints and little red devils. Everything is gold, the flickering light of hanging chandeliers shining down to gild a rapt audience, even as the real people seem to pale in comparison to their artistically rendered counterparts. Standing here, surrounded by ornate displays of divinity, Morisuke has never felt so wealthy in spirit and physicality. He wasn’t raised in this religion, nor was he ever baptized into it as an adult, but he doesn’t find a seed of objection in himself he’d though he would. The icon he thinks is God looks both mournful and benevolent. All the shining things make Morisuke feel as though he’s looking into a mirror.

The people rustle, whispering among themselves. A stray string instrument sounds, alone and twanging into a silence far greater than itself, and Morisuke almost misses it when the orchestra starts up moments later. He has a headache, the kind that gets worse because he’s so irritated that he has one at all.

He looks down and away from God, straight into the blinding flash of a camera. His only reaction is a slight narrowing of the eyes, the closest he’s come to flinching in years. When the spots clear from his vision, you’re there, an angel from the fresco come to life, a goddess in the church.

Morisuke folds his hands. It feels only right to pray, the way he’s seen it on television, the way some of his teammates do before matches. You stare at him as you walk down the aisle, light playing over your dress in shining bursts that make his head throb harder. He can’t find any bridal tears in your eyes.

He shifts in his dress shoes, fights not to run his hands through his carefully-styled hair. The air-conditioning is too strong, meant to keep a thousand pressed-together people from overheating, or perhaps it’s the winter air leaking in through the great doors. You reach the stairs to the altar, wobbling a little on your first step up, though the movement is so minuscule anyone but him wouldn’t have noticed. Without thinking, Morisuke reaches a hand out to steady you. Your fingers press hard into the flesh of his palm, gripping him bruisingly tight. He can barely pull his hand away fast enough. The music stops, and Morisuke takes in a deep breath, while your chest doesn’t move to inhale or exhale. This is the last moment before you are knotted together irrevocably for life. A groom who hates weddings for a bride who doesn’t cry.

one year, eight months later

If you tilt your head up and almost close your eyes so that you’re looking through your lashes, you can pretend that you’re floating among the stars. You do so, walking backwards, tipping champagne down your throat as you go, trying to envision yourself as a constellation. You’re pretty sure you are one—Morisuke’s gift to you on your birthday, the first one after you’d married. The tabloids had eaten it up. You, watching him board a plane through the social media stories of your so-called friends, hadn’t felt quite as romanced as your picture in the news claimed.

You had forgotten about the constellation. Perhaps it had stuck in your subconscious, though; it was awfully romantic. Perhaps that’s why you had chosen the planetarium as a venue for tonight, though in the light of day it had been the midnight blue velvet and shadowy, domed ceilings that had cinched it for you. But you throw a lot of parties, and you don’t need any more sentiment in your life than what you’re currently suffocating under. You’ll come back on your own, you decide, finishing off your glass and plucking another from the nearest hand to you. You like being lost amongst your guests, freewheeling in space even without oxygen to breathe.

You stumble as you continue your backwards, meandering path through the party. You kick off your shoes, lab-grown crystals chipping off as they bounce. You don’t notice. You’ll buy more. You could buy the whole stupid world, with your husband’s money that he throws at you so he doesn’t have to come home and face you. Your husband who leaves you alone to do whatever you please. Alone, dancing among the stars.

Morisuke was twenty-eight when he proposed to you; you had just turned twenty-two when you said yes. You had been officially seeing each other for three months and acquaintances for nearly a year prior.

The story of your first meeting the interviewers knew was one you and your husband had told many times. A mutual friend had introduced you at a high-profile event and said, blatantly, that the two of you should “make babies.” Morisuke was smooth; you were flirtatious. The story played out like a romantic comedy, ending in a fairytale wedding.

You and he had kept the real story for yourselves, to take out and admire in times of trouble, to tuck away in your pocket like a note between secret lovers.

You were running through a rose-garden maze, eyes over your shoulder, hands fisted in your skirts. He had been walking a perpendicular path to yours (looking for someone else, another lover, you’d later learn) when you had tripped right over him, tumbling head over heels through the flora and into a new sector. Your breath knocked out of you, it was all you could do to stare up at the sky and try to laugh.

“Miss?” He’d called, ducking through the opening, pushing stray rose canes away. “Miss! Are you alright?”

He sounded so formal. You accepted his hand up, but only pulled yourself into a sitting position, trying desperately to catch your breath. He was so handsome, it was making things much harder. Inconsiderate of him, you thought

“I’m fine,” you managed, eventually. “Are you?”

“No more bruised than usual,” he’d returned, teasing. You cocked a brow. “I’m an athlete. I dive face-first onto hardwood floors all day."

For reasons you couldn’t recognize, you’d taken his hand, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt. His forearm toward the elbow had a nasty bruise, as he had said. You ran a careful finger over the discoloration, and he hissed.

“How was my form?”

“Awful,” he said frankly. “But—“ He’d seemed to get lost there, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the clouds and played across your features. With all the raw honesty of someone saying something they hadn’t even known they were thinking, he opened his mouth and said: “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

On a slight breeze, the petals you’d knocked off drifted around the two of you, catching on his shirt, in your hair. They pooled between you, and when you ducked your head down they were all you could see.

You fell in love during that first meeting.

He never fell in love with you at all.

[haowrld]

TO WISH — XU MINGHAO

SYNOPSIS : minghao finds himself back at his hometown, dreaming to meet you again.

NOTES : xu minghao x gn!reader, small fluff, angst, romance, non-idol!au, minghao’s pov, lowercase intended, a bit grim(?), dream to nightmare, not proofread

WORD COUNT : 1.8k words

WARNINGS : drowning, mentions of death, character death

A/N : this is inspired by hai cheng and this took like months to finish since it was just in the drafts LMAO. anywayy pls let me know what you think 🤧 🩵

MASTERLIST

it was the season of autumn, and the rustling leaves on the trees gently fell on the stony ground. there was a comforting silence in the afternoon and minghao thought that this would be a good moment to take a picture.

walking to his old home, he begins to appreciate the usual comfort. the cozy color of brown around the beige white as he lets himself bask in the peeking sunlight through the window and wishes to think about nothing—letting time pass by without a word.

but his mind continued to trail on as he thought about the waters. the rich color of the sea—a vibrant teal with a mix of the soft color blue. the way the waves move past sandy shores. he thinks about the sea creatures that wander aimlessly around the sea.

he also thought about his family, his home, and the frequent chilly weather that he grew up in. the familiar smell of his family's cooking, the pot of rice still hot as he took a bite. the book that was given to him resting on the floor even though he barely read any of the pages, and the small conversations he would listen to from his family.

“how was school? did you have fun with your friends?” his family wonders.

but most of all, minghao thought about you. he thought about the day he first met you. he noticed you wandering around the town, your eyes were pasted on your phone.

minghao was kind enough to try and guide you, “new around this town?” he remembered asking, each step unconsciously wanting to be close to you.

unsurprisingly, you looked back at him, letting out a sigh as you looked at him like he was your savior. minghao noticed the way you were clutching the on string of the balloon that you were holding. a bright red color, he thought.

“i can’t seem to find this place,” you walk up to minghao showing him your phone, its bright light hitting his face immediately. minghao noticed the familiar trails on the map, following their town’s local beach. no one ever visited that place as it wasn’t exactly the hotspot of his town.

but of course, minghao wasn’t about to let you down on the first day that he had met you, “sure, i could help you find it,” he said as he looked at you giving you a nod, your face practically lit up

he still remembers the walk you two both had together. you had a brown scarf that wrapped around your neck loosely, it seemed like it could’ve blown away at any second.

“so your name is minghao?” after asking for his name, you repeat it once more. you smile before introducing yourself as well.

“yep, i grew up in this neighborhood, so if you hear anyone call my name, that’s because they’re calling me. quite popular around here” he grins, as he looks at the older people from the cliffs, giving them a wave.

“then i can rely on you for a lot of things then?” you give minghao a bright look in your eyes, something made him sigh with content in his heart.

“i suppose, but what do i gain from this?”

“a new friend maybe?” you reply, nudging minghao as you give him a grin.

minghao, can’t help but smile. new friend?

“that would be nice,” he said, “someone from out of town needs to get to know this place.”

minghao remembers that fulfilling day, you two had exchanged numbers after and hit it off since. you and minghao were basically inseparable.

as he opened the curtains, minghao looked at the beach, and he noticed someone holding a red balloon and a familiar one too, he never thought you’d be here again.

or was it all just a dream?

even if it was a dream, he would want it to last forever. minghao immediately leaves his home to go to his sanctuary where you would be waiting for him.

were you here just to see him again? minghao didn’t know why you were suddenly at the beach, it logically didn’t make sense at all, since the last time he met you was years ago.

maybe you wanted to surprise him or maybe you don’t even remember him, but he doesn’t mind at all as he pulls the scarf you gave him close to his face, the same love and longing that he had when he first met you.

he dreams to see you again, look for the red balloon you hold for him to look for you, follow you around as you try finding hiding spots to try and not get caught, but as he finds you hiding a corner, he’s reaching out to you as you move away from him as a joke making him smile. he would feel his steps getting quicker as he tries to chase you.

“yn!” he didn’t care if his shoes were brand new and were going to be ruined by the sand, he quickly called out and you turned around, giving him a wave, you were so far ahead, he thought. minghao walks calmly, knowing you wouldn’t leave. he knows you wouldn’t.

he wishes for another day with you, sitting across from him on the train as he sketches you out, he thought of you as the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

he wants to have one more night with you, sitting next together, as you both let out a sigh seeing the small fog. he wants to hold you close, as night falls, and the lampposts begin to glow the same orange hue.

but as he steps to the sand, there he finds nothing but a floating red balloon and the brown scarf.

“wake up, you’ll drown.” a familiar voice said.

what?

the red balloon pops as the shores wash past him, he has to remember to wake up as fast as he can. the water quickly drags him down from within. he was falling, drowning, he couldn’t feel anything but the strong, moving waters.

it was sudden. it was too much, he couldn’t breathe or feel anything. minghao was trying to swim as fast as he could, trying to get back to shore. he wanted to see you, but you were too far.

he was so close just to be able to see you. but you were too far, and now he’s going to…

“wake up.”

wake up it says.

WAKE UP.

minghao jolts, immediately getting up to find himself in his old bedroom, he could hear someone snoring quietly. the morning was about to rise, as the sun peeked through his curtains.

“a dream,” he mumbled to himself. as he gets off his bed, he suddenly steps on something soft, a contrast to the hardwood floors.

a brown knitted scarf was on the floor. minghao carefully picked it up, his thumb grazing around its details, its different shades of brown, and its textures.

minghao begins to tear up. he pulls the brown scarf close to his chest.

🌊﹕──﹕🧣﹕──﹕🌊

the train ride to the beach was pretty quick, there wasn’t anyone on the train like he remembered. as he steps off the light rail, he finally sees the beach.

the familiar turquoise color rushes through the sand as he looks around, the sunlight was warm as it was the coldest season of the year, he was the only person who ever visited this beach whenever he visited his family, it was quite calming as he looked down, listening to the waters.

although something told minghao to look up, and as he did, he noticed someone, someone familiar who was standing on the water still.

“minghao,” it mouths out before waving.

“take care,” minghao recalls your familiar catchphrase.

“take care…” minghao couldn’t help it anymore, he began to cry as everything else went silent. the unfinished dance, you two had choreographed together, he remembers fondly. the incomplete sketch of you, it was the only thing he could remember of you.

minghao wants to live another moment with you again, to be able to have another dance with you, to hold your hand as you move along with him, and let out a hearty laugh as you accidentally make a misstep before telling you it’s okay to make mistakes. step by step, the two would dance together like droplets of rain pattering down the ground.

but he knows it would never happen again.

“minghao!” a hand grabs his shoulder, trying to shake him, all the noise finally came to him, he heard the waves of the water hitting his shoes, the squawk of seagulls, and the person who was shaking his body

“are you…okay?” he hadn’t realized there was someone right in front of him. their shiny black shoes had been ruined by the grainy yellow sand, but it’s like the stranger didn’t seem to mind at all, they were only worried about minghao’s state and his unending tears.

“i…” he quickly notices the tears dropping into the sand. wiping away the tears, he looks at them, “w-who are you…?”

“oh you can’t be joking right now hao!” they aggressively shake his shoulders before immediately placing their hands on his face, “i just see you staring from far ahead and reaching at nothing and weeping, then you start saying that you don’t know me,” they said as they let go of his face and crouch on the grainy ground.

“you’re starting to sound like someone from an amnesia episode in a show…” continuing to ramble on, making minghao smile lightly. he laughed like this was the first joke he had ever understood. it was hearty, and it was weird, but it brought comfort.

“i’m sorry..it was just a dream…” he reassures them, holding onto the brown scarf tightly, “i just thought i needed some fresh air.

“minghao if something is bothering you, you have to let me know,” they said looking up at him, “if this place leaves a bad impression on you we can just leave and—”

“i’m going to be alright.”

“but you were crying hao..”

“it’s going to be okay, i told myself i would leave this…” minghao says, pulling the scarf away from his face, “…this scarf, it meant everything to me.”

minghao crouches on the sand next to them, “i’m sorry for going crazy,” he grinned wrapping an arm around them.

“well, i’ll be here if you need anything,” they said, “but i don’t want you to forget about yourself again,” they joke.

minghao remembers how long ago it had been since he lost you in the waters. the scarf was something that he needed to remove if he wanted to move on.

he unwraps the scarf around himself, but before he even places it on the sand, he stops himself for a moment. he didn’t know whether or not this was the right call, i mean this was the last time he was seeing this scarf.

it takes him a while to think, but minghao quickly shakes his head, wrapping the scarf around himself again before getting up taking their hand, “let’s go,” he says.

the beach that was once yours and minghao’s sanctuary. it lingers behind his mind as he leaves the beach with them, holding their hand. not knowing it, a popped red balloon slowly moves from the shallow sea.

taglist (open) send an ask or fill out the form to be part of the taglist!

©️HAOWRLD

[darkmajesty-xo]

the spark between us pt.1

18+ MDNI| himbo!kaminari , cherrychaser!shinsou, nerdy!reader

this was an absolute disaster.

out of all the students in your soc theory class, the professor had paired you with none other than denki fucking kaminari.

why is this such a big deal ?

for starters, he’s an idiot. there isn’t an intelligent thought going on in that pretty blonde head. the only reason he was even enrolled at Yuuei University was athletics. he was set to go pro but the league required at least three years of college before an athlete could be drafted. school was literally a placeholder for him until he was able to do what he really wanted.

secondly, it would be extremely difficult to be partnered with this beautiful idiot because you had the hugest crush on him.

what’s not to like about kaminari ? he’s handsome, funny and charismatic—undeniably one of the most popular guys in school. a super bubbly, “life of the party, attitude that was the complete opposite of your shy, reserved nature.

he was also taken, so that ruined your chances of anything happening if you were even his type to begin with. as far as you knew, he’d never spared you a second glance. so, why was he walking over to your lunch table with his boyfriend in tow.

you knew shinsou a little better than kaminari—he was the son of your favorite professor and you had a couple classes together. on a few occasions he’d lean over to ask for the date or a spare pencil. and it definitely made your heart race when he’d whisper “thanks, kitty” , referring to your favorite headband, and wink before turning around.

okay, so maybe you had a crush on both of them but that made things even more difficult!

“hey, yn!” kaminari shouted as he approached.

god, he was so loud. half the cafe turned to look in your direction. you sunk in your seat silently praying that the ground would swallow you hole.

“helloooo— earth to yn. anybody home?”

he was getting closer and there was absolutely no way out of this, so you gave a small wave as he slid into the booth across from you. shinsou opted to sit next to you, throwing his long arm behind your head.

“hey, kitty. funny meeting you here” he smirked lazily, reaching into your lunch tray to pop one of the fries in his mouth.

“h-hi shinsou. hi k-kaminari” you replied, looking down at your fingernails. eye contact wasn’t your strong suit and it was especially intimidating with the two of them.

kaminari didn’t seem to notice. “no need to be so formal—all my friends call me kami or denki!”

“we’re not friends…” you mutter, sparing a glance at the blonde while chewing at your fingertips. seeing his pout made you immediately regret your words.

“ouch, sparky. sucks to be you” shinsou teases, taking another fry to throw at his boyfriend.

“dick” kaminari scoffs, before glancing back at you. there was the briefest moment that his honey brown eyes met your own before snapping back down. interesting, he thought to himself. “well, we may not be friends yet but i promise to win you over if you give me a chance ! whaddya say partner?”

he extends his hand for you to shake. they’re pale and pretty. with long veins popping out of the flesh and black painted fingernails. your mind flashes to thoughts of them caressing your body—would they be soft and smooth or rough and calloused ?

you knawed at your lip in contemplation. it wouldn’t hurt to try and be friends— you did have to work together anyway. and it would be nice to have someone to talk to outside of schoolwork. if you could manage to string together more than two sentences.

you dare glance up at his honey brown orbs for the briefest of moments before settling on his pouty lips.

“ohkay, k-kami” his lips curl into a smile as you extend your hand to meet his. static electricity courses through your fingertips causing you to yelp and pull back.

“looks like you two have chemistry” shinsou purrs, lazily fingering the tip of your cat eared headband.

kaminari looks at his boyfriend incredulously.

“no bro, i told you we have sociology!”

you and shinsou groan in unison. “whaaaat?” kaminari whines making you giggle. shinsou squeezes your shoulder and smirks down at you and heat immediately floods your face.

this is going to be a long semester.

[peachhcs]

new and old faces

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy meets a new friend at the 2024 nhl draft and picks up some old ones along the way

2.5k words

i also rewrote this 3 different times so hopefully it’s good. here’s the fic of samy meeting beckett and macklin & becoming besties & also some jealous will while they’re broken up still at the draft! i’m excited to make them closer because i think they’d get along really well :) (also sorry i post at such awk times)

au masterlist

samy squeezed herself past a group of people lingering by the main entrance and stumbled right through the front doors onto the busy sidewalks of las vegas. she breathed out, taking a moment to get over everyone packed into the sphere right now, but her bliss didn't last long when she realized there were people pushed against the barricades trying to get glimpses of what was going on inside by watching the screen light up as different draftees were announced.

"hey! is that samy hughes?" someone called her name causing everyone else to look in her direction. when the fans recognized her face they started going crazy for a picture or an autograph.

usually, the girl wouldn't mind, but right now she just needed a second alone, so she muttered out an apology before racing off to a place much quieter than this. she made it around the back where it was a lot less crowded and fans weren't standing on the sidewalk. another sigh of relief escaped samy's lips and for a moment she wondered why she thought she could manage this by herself.

technically, she wasn't going to be by herself. her and will talked about going to this year's draft together many, many months ago and of course the thought of breaking up didn't cross their minds when they bought the tickets. somewhere in there was will and they were supposed to sit together, but samy managed to pull some strings so she wouldn't have to and she hasn't seen him all night. not yet anyways.

she quickly tried pushing any thoughts of will away because he didn't matter and samy could do this by herself. she just needed a second to breathe away from all the people in there.

when she thought she was okay to head back in someone on one of the lower steps caught her attention. she thought it was a fan or something, but she saw the badge laying beside them and how they wore a freshly pressed anaheim ducks jersey meaning they definitely weren't a fan. actually, they looked nothing like a fan and samy quickly recognized them as one of the newest draftees: beckett sennecke.

the brunette stood dumbfounded for a moment. did she approach him or just leave him be? but then again, she worried why he was out here by himself, so samy decided to carefully walk up behind him.

"you okay?" she spoke up making him whip around in surprise.

he met her gaze, "oh, shit. yeah. sorry. i'm fine," he stumbled over his words realizing samy hughes stood feet away from him.

"are you sure?" samy raised her eyebrow, not really believing him.

"yeah. i just..i needed a second," beckett answered, but it didn't sound too convincing.

"yeah, you and me both. mind if i sit?"

the younger brunette nodded, moving over so there was more room on the step and samy sat down. another small sigh escaped her lips while the two sat in silence for a few moments. both of them seemed unsure of what to say because samy didn't want to prod if he didn't want to talk about it while beckett was just shocked samy hughes was sitting this close to him.

"my first year i was at the draft for quinn i was super overwhelmed. i think i was about..12 or something and i'd never seen so many people in one place before, so i get that all of this can be overwhelming at times," the girl started talking just because she couldn't sit in silence anymore.

"wow, that's young," beckett mumbled in almost disbelief that samy was that much younger than quinn.

the hughes laughed, "yeah, i know. then i did it two more times, but at least for luke we were in the comfort of our own home."

"i don't know, i don't think it's hit me yet that i'm now like..a member of the nhl and i went 3rd overall," the boy smiled a bit.

"you definitely looked shocked up on the screen. congratulations by the way. i think the anaheim ducks picked a good one," she met his gaze, beckett's face instantly flushing at the compliment.

"thanks, that means a lot coming from you. i didn't even think you knew who i was," he admitted shyly while samy chuckled again, her gaze falling back on the busy streets of las vegas in front of them.

"oh come on, you're a pretty big deal in the ohl. i've seen some of your highlights online," her words made beckett's red cheeks even worse because how could someone like her even know about someone like him who was just a hockey player from toronto.

"jeez, thanks. i guess you're a pretty big deal too," beckett managed making samy shake her head.

"i mean, not really. not as big as my brothers."

"well either way, i think you are. i think a lot of people think you are."

his words were endearing because samy didn't hear them a whole lot. she really didn't think people paid that much attention to her, but it was cute beckett thought so because then at least one person saw her as someone a part from her brothers who were definitely big deals.

"i guess i knew this would be a lot, but i didn't think it would be this much. all the press and sudden things i have to sign just kind of got to me and i needed a second. my mom's been calling me, but i've been ignoring her messages," beckett finally opened up more, his voice becoming small.

"hey, i get it. this is a lot and it's okay that you need to take a second. i would too if thousands of people are watching me walk down to a stage after just getting drafted. last year, i think will, ryan, and gabe took a second to themselves during the night because it was a lot," samy reassured the younger boy that he didn't need to explain himself. she's been doing this for four years now and she totally understood that these players weren't gonna have a happy face all the time throughout the night.

"i'm actually kind of glad you came out here because i think i would've started really overthinking if you didn't," beckett laughed a little while samy's expression softened out.

"i know it's corny to say this, but you're gonna be in good hands. if you know trevor zegras, he's close with jack, and i know he'll make sure to take care of you or i'll tell him too if he doesn't."

"wow, thanks. i'll keep an eye out for him then. say you recommended me," that made both of them laugh out loud.

"you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but what made you not choose hockey because i know you were pretty good," beckett asked after they fell into a quick, comfortable silence.

"uh..i guess just that i started really falling in love with soccer as i kept playing. something just called out to me when my coach said she could see me going far, so i picked it up full time and stopped playing hockey competitively," samy shrugged a bit.

"well, you're super good at soccer. i've seen some of your highlights too," the two shared a smile.

one of the back doors bursted open, startling samy and beckett as they spun around, "found him! where have you been?" macklin came through the door with a few other boys on his tail, specifically teddy, cole, zeev, and will.

samy quickly adverted her gaze before she met will's. "oh, hey. sorry. needed some air. i ran into samy," beckett stood up.

"samy hughes? no way, we've been trying to find you since this started," teddy chuckled, quickly bringing the girl into a quick hug.

"hey, it's good to finally run into you guys," she smiled, going to hug cole and zeev as well.

will hung back, putting himself into conversation with macklin so samy didn't have to awkwardly hug them in front of everyone. "how've you been?" teddy wondered.

"i've been good. doing a bunch of camps and stuff, so i've had a fairly busy summer," samy focused her attention on the three boys so she wouldn't look over at will only feet away from her.

"we've just been finishing up ntdp before getting ready for college," cole explained for the three of them.

"i can't believe you guys are gonna be in college already. i remember you guys being babies with everyone else," the youngest hughes teasingly squeezed their cheeks making them push her hands away.

"alright, alright. it wasn't that long ago. you know macklin celebrini, right?" zeev nodded towards the other brunette standing with them.

she looked over at the boy who smiled with a shy wave, completely ignoring will standing right beside him where he was most definitely looking at her now, "yeah, i do. you played for canada in the world juniors, right?"

"yeah, that's me. it's good to officially meet you," the two of them exchanged a quick handshake.

they all started talking with one another, catching up with samy while will lingered in the back. his hands were stuffed deep into his pockets while he watched his friends talk up his ex either poking at her or joking around while they spoke. he tried not to, but his jaw clenched seeing them be so up close and friendly.

will swore that even though he loved them, they always flirted with samy last year whenever she came up to watch the games and the worse part was that she indulged in it every time. will knew samy wasn't that kind of person and she was just super friendly, but the guys knew what they were doing and they knew will liked her, yet they flirted with her right in front of him like right now.

and that really irritated the blonde.

what irritated will even more was how good samy looked. her skin was glowing underneath the harsh lights of the sphere and just everything about her made the hockey player weak at the knees. her hair, her dress, her makeup, everything. will's eyes couldn't leave hers no matter how hard he tried looking away and swallowing his urge to pull her away from all of them.

she wouldn't even look at him. as soon as he stumbled outside with the others, she avoided his gaze and sure, he deserved that, but it still hurt real bad.

zeev was probably the worst one as he grabbed samy's arm whenever she made a joke that made him laugh. he knew everything from will, yet here he was flirting with his ex as if he wanted her.

"will, get over here!" teddy exclaimed and now everyone's eyes were on the blonde. he shuffled his way towards their group between cole and zeev, but across from samy. her eyes were anywhere but him.

"we need to all hang out again. i miss this and being with you guys," cole smiled a bit sadly making the others frown.

"maybe i can see if you guys can come up for the lake house later on? i think that would be fun and i can get the other guys there too," samy piped up and all the guys quickly agreed with her.

"that would be awesome. personal invite to the hughes lake house? count me in," macklin said making everyone laugh.

"i'll ask my brothers, but i'm sure they'll say yes," the girl grinned.

that idea prompted them to start talking about what they'd do when they were there, but will felt like he was physically going to throw up hearing all this talk and thinking about these guys being close to samy in nothing but a t-shirt and her bathing suit. the blonde couldn't think about them eyeing her and he couldn't do anything about it because they weren't together anymore.

he grabbed at zeev's arm, pulling him away, "we should go back in."

"yeah, sure. guys, wanna head back in?" the darker-haired boy called to the others.

they all simultaneously agreed and followed each other back into the crowded arena, trying to stick close together so they wouldn't lose one another.

"you okay? you look angry," zeev wondered out of earshot from the others.

"fine," the blonde muttered because he wasn't gonna get into it about his ex girlfriend when she was right there.

"are you sure?"

"yeah, i'm fine. let's just go back to our seats," will almost snapped. zeev threw his hands up in defense.

"shit, what's gotten into you?" his words blew steam from will's ears as he spun around in the crowd. the two of them stopped while the others were still a ways behind.

"what's gotten into me? you're fucking flirting with my ex girlfriend like i'm not right there!" will let the anger and jealousy get the better of him.

zeev's face twisted, "what the hell are you on about? we weren't flirting with her."

"yes you were. i could see it with my own eyes," will argued back.

"why does it even matter anyway? she isn't your girlfriend anymore. she's your ex," zeev crossed his arms.

"that doesn't mean you can flirt with her! ever heard about bro code?"

"oh fuck off. you're not even dating her anymore and she doesn't even wanna talk to you. sorry she's our friend still, too," they were now arguing in the middle of the arena and people were starting to look.

"yeah, but you've been flirting with her since dev program! even when you knew i liked her!" will's yelling caught the attention of everyone else including samy and the guys behind them.

the other four slowed to a stop while will's face burned hot red in embarrassment. zeev didn't know what to say, eyeing the others behind them. "dude, come on. let's not do this here," the boy tried pulling will away before the others caught on.

"just leave me alone," will mumbled, storming off into the crowd.

samy met zeev's eyes, trying to read what just happened. the younger boy's face burned a little bit too as he avoided everyone else's gaze.

"we're gonna go back to our seats," he mumbled before disappearing as well.

"what happened?" teddy wondered since they were too far behind to hear what the argument was about.

samy had a small inkling, but she wasn't gonna say anything in front of them. even though they were broken up, she could still read will like the back of her hand and she knew jealousy when she saw it. it was clear on the blonde's demeanor, especially when his eyes never left her when they were outside talking.

"i don't know. where are you guys sitting?" samy changed the subject, hoping they'd just drop it too.

"i have more press to do, but we can all meet back at the hotel later?" macklin suggested and the others liked that idea.

"you get 'em tiger!" cole shook macklin's shoulders before the brunette disappeared into the crowd.

"we're sitting high up, you can sit with us if you want?" teddy suggested to samy and beckett.

the two nodded and quickly disappeared into the crowd while samy's scanned for will who couldn't be seen anymore because he disappeared into one of the bathrooms to calm himself down before he exploded on everyone.

[suavemania]

to be honest with you...

pairing: leon kennedy x reader word count: 850+ reader summary: you cant help yourself and tell leon the truth, you like him a bit too much than just a casual fling. warning: this sat in my drafts so here it is notes: not pining for once. just a bit short and sweet before i drop the most emotionally destructive drabble ive inflicted on myself:(

“I think I like you.” 

The words just came out, almost as if you couldn’t help yourself. Your body was pressed against his, you were on top of him; fingers had just traced his collarbone.You blinked at him, your eyes wide as you realized just what you had said.

The two of you weren’t anything official. It started with meet-ups every now and then, bodies intertwining with each other for emotional comfort. The nights would always end with the two of you sleeping next to each other, clinging onto the other as if to cram in as much physical touch before the sun came up. The two of you always hated mornings, but for various reasons. Leon never liked mornings because it meant he had to leave. You hated mornings because you would have to kill the feeling in you that this was more, meant more than just being a casual thing.

You swore that you wouldn’t meet him more after the tenth time, it was always on his accord, his rules. He would be the one to reach out, he would be the one to reply hours later after you ask him simple questions- it was never easy to get to him (you never knew why), but god, it was easy to be with him. His hands were always placed on your body perfectly, he always knew where to touch, where to be and when. It’s like he set his eyes on you, and he just knew how to treat you, to adore you, to love you. Parts of you would die for him, and you always figured it was because the two of you never just settled with ‘fucking’ each other, it had to be more. 

Your eyes would always lock with each other, hands clasping and bodies pressing desperately against each other; almost as if to carve a part in the other. It felt like love. To be filled with the desire to dig for each other, to live inside the very ribcage of the other but settling for just sex because it was as close as you were gonna get to being a part of him. 

It wasn’t only about being close to each other’s bodies. It was also the fact that the two of you didn’t sleep, like at all. After every session, the two of you would lie in your bed, chatting about everything, like for example: your theory that Leon dyes his hair blonde or Leon scolding you for the way you cook your scrambled eggs in the mornings. 

The routine is uncomplicated, simple yet enough:

Leon would come over. You’d kiss, sloppy kisses turn into passionate, feverish ones. It would be a stumbling battle to the bed, Leon would push you to the bed, leaving you to say: how did we actually pull it off to get here? Which was Leon’s cue to shut you up until your brain couldn’t possibly string together a sentence properly. Then, it was just mindless chatting so long into the night that the two of you would later head into the kitchen to cook a late-night snack. From there, it would just be a movie to fall asleep, or more chatting until the other went silent, usually you.

“You like me?” Leon asks, raising an eyebrow as you push yourself off his chest, scrambling for your underwear as you try to cover your body with the wrinkled, warm sheets. 

“I don’t know-” you spit out, hands aimlessly patting at the floor. Where were your underwear and why did it feel like everything had gotten a lot darker? And was it always this warm in the room? You let out a whine, but suddenly you felt the warm muscular chest meet your back. A gentle hand placed on your shoulder as Leon leans into your ear, his hot air brushing your already-blushing ear. 

“I know something you don’t.” He muses, and you could just hear that Leon had a smirk on his dumb, soft lips. The lips that you so desperately didn’t want to stop kissing. You close your eyes, feeling the awkward tension in your body numbing your entire body. Was this it, the slow humiliation? The painful end of your casual meet-ups that you promised you were fine with, settling for the crumbs of Leon that you could possibly get?

“What’s that?” You respond, a small tinge of reluctance as you await Leon’s disapproval, still disgruntled over the disappearance of your undergarments. Leon chuckles, plopping your underwear onto your lap as he lays himself down onto the bed again.

“That I think I like you too,” He says, and you could feel his eyes on you as you turn to look at him. The words sent a shiver down your spine, and then the lower part of your stomach began stirring. Your heart beating in your chest as you felt yourself growing needy. Without really realizing it yourself, you inch closer to him; disregarding the found underwear that was given to you by him. 

“Now come over here.” he says, his voice soft and affectionate as he speaks. "I want to kiss you."

[sapphire-writes]

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: Date night with Cregan Stark, and an after-party that causes confusion.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ series general language & mature themes, kissing

note: nothing spicy this chapter but hope you enjoy my loves, just some drama 😘

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 4: Hole In One ~ next chapter

Aegon slides a piece of paper across the table. You glance at it before looking at him, meeting his lavender eyes and raising a brow. 

You had resorted to taking Aegon to the library during quiet hours for him to really focus on the midterm paper. He’d written a first draft that wasn’t up to par, making you force him to rewrite the majority of it. Now he’s slumped in his seat, silver hair sticking up in different directions from him constantly running his fingers through it. 

He nods at you, gesturing towards the folded piece of paper. You roll your eyes before picking it up and unraveling the message.

This blows. 

You meet Aegon’s eyes once more, giving him a stern glare. He sighs, slumping his cheek against his hand, resuming typing with the other. You try to focus on your own homework, but your mind begins to wander to the date you have that evening. Cregan Stark. 

Cregan Stark asked you out on a date.

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm with anticipation. You’re so excited. What are you going to wear? What should your makeup be like? And your hair?

A piece of paper hits your nose, falling onto your keyboard. Aegon bites his fist, stifling a laugh. You glare at him. He’s ripped you from your fantasy. You unravel his note, regardless. 

I’m hungry. 

You look up at him. Aegon pouts, lips looking all too inviting. He truly has some magic about him. Again you find yourself remembering dancing with him, grinding against his thigh. You blink rapidly, shredding the note into tiny pieces. 

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss at him, closing your laptop.

Aegon grins, knowing he’s won, and closes his computer as well before shoving it into his backpack. The library is silent despite the sounds of you packing your stuff. Aegon’s in a hurry, he’s finished before you and walks over to your side of the table as you continue to pack your things. 

He leans down next to you, lips level with your ear. 

“You love it,” he teases, voice rough as gravel.

You pause your actions momentarily, a shiver rolling down your spine and goosebumps blossoming on your neck. 

Aegon chuckles, as though not noticing the effect he’s had on you and continues walking. You hurry after him and he holds the library door open for you. 

“Freedom!” he cries, in a loud voice as you exit into the afternoon sunlight. 

“Send me your final draft,” you tell him, “I’ll read it later and give you my edits.”

Aegon groans, kicking his feet.

“More edits?” he asks, throwing his head back dramatically.

“Duh,” you answer, lifting an eyebrow at him. 

Aegon groans again, a low whine escaping his lips. You can’t help but giggle at his distress. 

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Aegon asks, “Neon paint party should be fun- a good excuse to leave some suggestive handprints on Stark.”

Aegon waggles his eyebrows at you and you shake your head. 

“Date night, remember?” you tell him, as he gets a text, “We’re going mini golfing?”

Aegon is too busy reading the message on his phone, his perfect brows concaving together. Your eyes flicker to his phone, then back to his face.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Huh?” he says, looking up, “Yeah….yeah no biggie. Date, right? Well if it sucks, you’ve got an invite to the hockey house.”

You scrunch your nose.

“Really? Like, no strings attached?” you ask.

“We still have a deal bunny,” Aegon teases, “I still need to pass this midterm. There’s no way in hell I’m missing formal due to failing this thing.”

You roll your eyes. 

“You’re going to pass,” you tell him, placing your hands on his shoulders, “What do we say?”

Aegon meets your eyes, blinking innocently.

“Wrap it before you tap it?”

You scowl at him, and he grins.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, “You’re smart, you know it, you got it.”

“I’ve got it,” he repeats, “I’ve got it.”

“Say it with your chest!” you tell him, “you’re Aegon Targaryen goddammit!”

“I’ve got it!” he says louder.

You clap your hands on his shoulders.

“Damn right, you do,” you tell him, laughing. 

Aegon smiles then, and it touches his eyes. Something stirs in his chest, at you believing in him. But then you’re glancing at your phone, checking the time.

“Shit, I have to go,” you tell him.

Aegon nods.

“Have a good time, bunny,” he tells you, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“What wouldn’t you do?” you tease.

“Huh,” he frowns, backing away, “I guess, you’re right.”

You roll your eyes. They’re bound to fall out of your head if you keep spending time around Aegon. You wave to him, before parting ways, nervous butterflies in your stomach. 

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Sara promises, sitting in front of the mirror and curling her hair. 

She takes the strand she’s been working with, giving it a spritz of hairspray before choosing another section to begin working with. 

You’ve been pacing for the better half an hour, slowly completing your makeup as you do so, taking time to pause; standing behind Sarah to look in the mirror. 

“Jace says this place is really cute,” Sara continues, as you put on some mascara.

You had decided on mini golfing. It’s a cute idea for a group date and Dragon’s Den is cute, so Sara and Jace say. 

You carpool with Sara, meeting both of them there. The excitement in your chest builds as Sara pulls the car up next to Cregan’s truck. As Sara turns the car off she looks at you.

“You’re hot,” she tells you, fixing your hair, “You’re smart, you’re the whole goddamn package.”

“I am,” you say, nodding nervously causing Sara to smile.

“Let’s rock this bitch,” she says, and you leave the car.

Cregan smiles when he greets you.

“Hey you,” he says, eyes scanning your outfit, “You look great! I’m glad we’re doing this.” 

You’d settled on a cute dress, playing it safe. 

Sara and Jace have gone off ahead; Sara’s very competitive and moves along rather quickly, while you and Cregan have been hanging back, taking your time and chatting, getting to know each other. 

“You’re from Winterfell, right?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, pretty far north from here actually,” he says, swinging his club and sending his blue golf ball into a dragon’s mouth. 

You feign disappointment at his success, causing him to chuckle.

“You a sore loser?” he jokes.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, swinging your club at your pink golf ball. 

It narrowly misses the dragon’s jaws. 

“Is it just you?” you ask, following your ball, “Or do you have siblings?”

“Just me,” Cregan says, watching your form, “I live with my uncle, my parents passed away when I was younger.”

The news shocks you a little, the casual tone he uses, and your swing fails you once more. You curse yourself as the ball bounces off the dragon’s tooth, landing farther away than before. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and he shrugs, leaning against a neighboring dragon. 

“Don’t be,” he says, smiling kindly, “It was a long time ago.”

You smile back apologetically. He looks odd resting against the preening golden dragon as though he’s not supposed to be resting there. Cregan and the golden-scaled dragon both look like they’ve been pulled out of two different fairy tales. 

“So..how long have you played hockey?” you ask, desperate to change the subject.

Cregan grins.

“Since I could skate on the pond near my house,” he tells you, “I’ve always loved the ice.”

“I’ve never been a great skater,” you admit sheepishly. 

“I’ll take you to the rink sometime,” Cregan teases, “I’m a good teacher.”

“Oh, I bet,” you say giggling, cheeks flushing. 

Something about this conversation feels flirtatious. Cregan grins wolfishly. 

“Come on slowpokes!” Sara calls. 

She and Jace are several holes ahead. Cregan moves behind you. 

“Here, let me show you,” he says, placing his hands over yours. 

Holy shit his hands are huge. You can feel him pressing against you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. You’re sure you can feel the scruff of his beard against your cheek as he leans forward, helping you aim. 

You tap the ball gently with his help and it rolls into the hole. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, before releasing you. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, retrieving your ball. 

You complete the course, talking and laughing the whole time. Cregan’s nice, really nice, and you almost don’t want the date to end. 

“Hey,” Cregan says, shifting on his feet a little, “This may be too soon, but do you think you’d want to be my date for the hockey formal Friday? It’s supposed to be really classy this year, we’ve got a limo and everything.”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

“I’d love to go with you,” you tell him, smiling from ear to ear. 

His grin matches yours.

“Cool, cool,” he says, wetting his lips, “I really liked hanging out with you tonight.”

He leans forward then, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek, his stubble tickling you. You let out a small giggle at the action and he pulls away.

“It tickles,” you tell him blushing.

“Let me try again,” he says, cupping your face and connecting your lips to his. 

His mouth is soft and warm as he kisses you, tasting of spearmint and something woodsy. His cologne fills your senses and you nearly pop your foot like a princess as he deepens the kiss. A wolf whistle is heard and you break away, noticing Jace clapping before he and Sara walk over to you. 

“C’mon let’s keep the good vibes going!” Sara teases, bumping into you as you return your clubs.

“Well…” you tell her, “There is one place we can go.”

The hockey house is insane when you arrive. The whole house is dark except for black lights illuminating the neon streamers and body paint that adorns every student. The music is blaring through the house with people dancing and drinking. Sheer collegiate madness. 

Sara squeezes your arm before pushing by you, dragging Jace behind her into the crowd. You look at Cregan, smiling. 

“Let me get you a drink,” he tells you, squeezing your hand before letting go, “Wait right here.”

You nod excitedly.

“Not going anywhere!” you tell him. 

Cregan smiles once more, before disappearing into the crowd. You hear Baela call your name before she’s tumbling toward you, wrapping you in a hug.

“How was the date?” she asks, keeping her arms around you.

“Good! Like really good,” you tell her smiling, “Cregan even asked me to be his date to the hockey formal.”

Baela squeals with excitement. 

“So cute!” she says, “Where’s Sara?”

“She and Jace retired to his room I think,” you tell her, causing the both of you to dissolve into giggles.

“I’m surprised she’s ready for more,” Baela teases. 

You giggle, pressing your head against hers as Aegon pushes through the crowd, splattered with neon green paint. Baela kisses your cheek before dancing into the crowd. 

“You came!” Aegon says grinning, handing you a drink.

You accept the beverage, taking a sip. The cool liquid is refreshing as it flows down your throat.  

“This is really cool,” you tell him, smiling.

“It’s neon baby!” Aegon says, smiling. 

His teeth shine in the blacklight, unnervingly white. 

“Have you seen Cregan?” you ask, taking the cup he offers. 

Aegon shakes his head, looking you up and down. His eyes are hungry, the violet irises glowing like the middle of a flame in the blacklights. He’s got green paint splattered across his cheek, onto his clothes, and his hand. 

“You need my help?” he asks. 

“Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p.’

His brow furrows and he frowns playfully.

“Why not?”

“We just had a date, remember?” you tell him, biting your lip.

You glance around the room still looking for Cregan, missing how Aegon’s smile drops slightly; the corner of his mouth twitches back into a smile when you meet his eyes once more. 

“What’d you do?” Aegon asks, sipping his drink nonchalantly.

“You want to hear about my date?” you tease, “Egg, seriously, I told you about this, you jerk.”

Aegon nods, waving off your playful insult.

“We went mini golfing,” you tell him, looking around the room again, “It was really-” as soon as you turn your face back to him, Aegon’s lips meet yours. Tongue parting your lips, gently sliding into your mouth. 

It’s unconscious at this point, the way your body reacts, free hand latching itself in his soft hair as his hands find your waist. The cool metal of his tongue ring slides over your tongue and you sigh into his mouth. Then he pulls away. 

“Gotta go,” he says, before pushing by you to the other side of the room.

You stand, frozen, lips tingling. 

What the fuck was that?

“There you are!” Cregan says, walking up to you with two cups in hand, “Thought I lost you.” 

You’re still standing in shock, blinking and trying to force a smile. Cregan notes the cup in your hand. 

“You’ve found a drink, damn,” Cregan says, chuckling.

“Yeah um Baela brought me one,” you tell him.

What was that? Why lie? 

“Nice,” Cregan says smiling.

He’s looking at you too closely, too intently, as though he must be sensing your lie. Sensing your anxiety. Oh god, did he see? Does he know?

“Y/N,” Cregan says, “you have some paint-”

He brings his hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb along the corner of your mouth. When he pulls away neon green paint is left behind. 

“Baela,” you tell him, giggling. 

He nods, smiling. He believes you. Completely. You’re not sure which feels worse, him knowing or him believing you. 

You look across the room, meeting Aegon’s eyes as he leans against the wall. Neon green paint still splattered across his face and his hands. His hands. 

You glance down at your dress. Streaks of green glow on your waist where Aegon’s hands have been. You rub your hands against it, trying to rid yourself of the paint. Locking eyes with Aegon once more, his mouth forms a smirk sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Uh oh.

note: hope you enjoy my loves! things are starting to get messy hehe 😘

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[bibisbooktalk]

Being a writer and not knowing what to write or where to start sucks. I want to make a living out of writing. It's been my dream since I was a child to become a published author. My style and writing preferences have changed through the years. I used to write more than I do now. I barely even open a book to read anymore.

I'm never happy about any ideas I get, never satisfied with anything I come up with, and I always end up stuck somewhere in the plotting stage. I wrote fanfictions from 2020 to 2022. I stopped when I found out all of my stories had been re-published in different fanfiction websites without my consent.

That didn't stear my dream, though, didn't change what I wanted. It encouraged me to start working more on my original work rather than fanfiction. However, my writing hasn't come smoothly since my days as a fanfic writer. My ideas were more frequent then, and I would spend hours and sleepless nights writing. Now I'm stuck staring at a blank page, trying to figure out what I want to achieve as a writer. Do I want to write fantasy or romance, YA or adult fiction. Do I want to make vampire novels my trademark or do I want to write fae romance.

How do I write about what I don't know? I lack a community where I can talk about my work, yet I am also afraid to share my ideas and find myself betrayed. Writing is more than just words on paper, yet writing has become meaningless words to me.

I'm pointlessly attempting to string sentences together, to create something worth it, something good, something groundbreaking, yet the words don't come, and nothing seems special enough or interesting enough. First drafts aren't meant to be good, but I feel like I'm running out of time. I can't even write a prologue.

"Start in the middle.", "Start with the action." But nothing comes to me. It is frustrating to be a writer and have no creativity at all. I've been imprisoned in this "writer's block" since 2022. So, what do I do? How do I figure out my story? How do I take control of the narrative? How can I love writing the way I used to again?

Novel writing will never stop being my dream, and I refuse to give up even through this endless fog. However, it doesn't stop me from wondering if I'm wasting my time. If writing was just once a brief hyperfixation—a dream never meant to be.

[slytherinshua]

DEATH OF A BROKEN HEART

genre. angst. soulmate au. warnings. heartbreak and major character death. pairing. leehan x fem!reader. wc. 524. request. requested by @hyunhanie: could you pleaseee do an angsty fic with Leehan?? Like idk about what in particular,but please something dramatic!! a/n. sry for this being so late but i hope you like it!! ik its not very long-- originally i was going to write a leehan hanahaki au but that kind of got forgotten in my drafts for a bit :( i just whipped this up cause i had angsty ideas from the trailer film that i still can't stop rewatching skdjks lol. original gif by @/foamofyouth and i just put the text over <3

Donghyun let a string of curses leave his mouth when he heard the robotic tone of the voice message rejecting his call for the 10th time that night. He wasn’t sure what else to do. Cry, shout, scream? All those options had already been expended. And so he let foul words slip from his pretty lips into the cool air of the bathroom; words he would never ever have imagined being directed towards you.

You were so precious to him. Or, at least, you had been.

72 hours. 28 missed calls. 2 broken promises. 1 burning soul mark.

Donghyun had been lied to by the whole world. He sunk to the floor as the weight of it all hit him, the sting on his wrist getting more extreme the farther you were from him. He pressed down on it with one hand, dropping his phone as he curled into a tighter ball from the pain. No amount of pressure would ever relieve it. There was no medication he could take. He just had to wait.

If you were his soulmate then how did it go wrong? It wasn’t supposed to be able to go wrong. Soulmates were supposed to be perfect for each other. 

But you had switched faster than Donghyun could blink. 4 days ago you had been planning your future together, and now here he was abandoned by the only person he had ever trusted.

You were running away from him, he knew that much. There was no other explanation for why it burned so much. Soul marks only hurt when your soulmate left you for good. It was a pain that you were only supposed to feel when they died.

You weren’t dead.

You weren’t supposed to leave.

Donghyun knew that he would never get the answers to his millions of questions. He had no way to reach you, no way to demand an explanation from your lips. Not that he would last 1 second in your presence again. He broke so easily, wrapped tightly around your finger even when you had left his heart broken and bleeding on the cold tile floor. 

He would never get you back, and by virtue of it, he would never love again. No one would love someone abandoned by their own soulmate, especially when he had no defense.

Donghyun let his eyes flutter closed, breathing a few soft breaths of fresh air as he let his mind wander over memories one last time. The grips of death fingered at his clothes, creeping ever closer, trying to grab hold of his heart. 

And he let it.

There was no reason to resist anymore; no motive for prolonging the inevitable. 

A shaky breath left his soft lips, and one final tear formed on his lash line. It wasn’t out of anger or hatred for you and your actions, but full of regret and longing for one more chance. If he could restart time and do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat. 

That was his weakness. That was what made him all the more vulnerable to the soulmate phenomenon; death of a broken heart.

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[katuschka]

Scene One – Lampshade

Jake Kiszka x f!Reader (1st person narrative)

2.541 words

On my bedside table, I have a beautiful art deco lamp. When my lover leaves, he ties a scarf he wore for days on top. And when he’s gone I let my window open just a bit, the gentle breeze sets the scarf on motion, just like the waves in the tempestuous ocean.  Once or twice, I swear, I could smell him in my dreams.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: longing, alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, phone sex and masturbation, sex toys, phantasmagorical dream visions

Taglist

It’s been almost three weeks since I last saw him. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not that bad, but the truth is that I always start missing him the moment he leaves. It’s a bittersweet feeling. I’m a grown, independent woman, engaging in my daily routines...or breaking them, just to stay sane. 

But, it feels as if a part of my soul got attached to him. It travels with him wherever he goes and I feel it tugging at my insides every now and then. At first I thought it was just a side effect of the early stages of falling in love. I believed that it would get easier with time, but it never did. If anything, it only got worse. 

It’s bearable during the day. My mind’s too preoccupied with my job, thank god. It’s not really much different from when he’s here. I still have my work to do and he’s busy too, until we finally meet at home to share a glass of wine or two. And then we fuck.

That’s why early evenings are the worst when he’s away. The house is just too big, too quiet, and my mind too restless. No sound of the strings being plucked greets me when I get home, no smell of savory dishes waiting for me in the oven or on the stove. I’m too lazy to do it myself, so I just order in, only to be reproached by him later that I’m not taking proper care of myself. My lover does all these things. My body’s spoiled with constant hugs and my cheeks peppered with warm kisses. So, on days like these, this is what his lady misses. 

He knows that, so he tries to call anytime he can. It’s easier in between shows. He makes sure to call me around eight, even when it’s already 3 am where he’s at. Him being a night owl, this has never been a problem. Sometimes it’s just a quick hello to make sure I’m ok. Other times we talk for hours. 

I didn’t expect anything like that today. He might call late or not at all. Probably not at all because today’s show was too important. He wanted me there, but I couldn’t go this time. I had an important project to finish and came home pleasantly exhausted. In a perfect world, we would celebrate our respective achievements together, but this world is not perfect, so I have to content myself with the fact that he is. 

Well, not really, but I wouldn’t change a thing about him. 

So, I just poured myself a glass of wine, climbed in bed early and tried to read, only to find myself checking the Instagram updates constantly. I don’t do it very often, because I’m not really keen on seeing hundreds of women swooning over him, but someone might be streaming the show, and I just couldn’t miss it. 

Before he left, he fastened his scarf on my lampshade. That little piece of fabric is basically marinated in his scent – his strong, yet religiously comforting cologne mixed with the warm smell of him. I made sure to leave both the bedroom door and the window open, to create a slight draft. After three weeks, the scent had already faded a bit, but I still could get whiffs of him while falling asleep. Just like today. The livestream I found ended mid-show, but I wasn’t really paying attention anymore. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy long before the concert ended and without even bothering to turn off the light, I fell asleep with my phone still in my hand. 

Except I couldn’t sleep. The thunderstorm in the distance and the billowing wind kept me awake. The sky was clear when I went to bed, so I couldn’t understand where the clouds came from. It didn’t matter anyway. 

He was here. In my bed, sleeping. The intoxicating scent of clove and incense mixed with his musk wrapped around me like a second comfort blanket. The bedside lamp illuminated his disheveled hair and the clothes he had carelessly thrown over the armchair next to the bed. He was naked and all of the sudden, so was I.

It was our bedroom…and it wasn’t. The southern wall was gone, exposing us to the elements outside. Our garden turned to a stony shore, with the waves of a rough sea crashing upon it. Somewhere in the distance, I could see the storm raging.

I was feeling snug under the blanket, the warmth he elicited sheltering me from everything else around. I reached out to touch him. His skin was warm and dry and I snuggled closer to him from behind, inhaling the comforting aroma of his relaxed, sleeping body. 

He never slept much. Sometimes I wondered how he could function after yet another sleepless night, and the dark circles under his eyes often worried me. But when he did fall asleep, he looked like a baby boy, his full lips slightly parted and his brows turned upwards. A man of paradoxes. He would fuck my brains out just moments after he spoon-fed me pistachio ice-cream. My doe-eyed barbarian. A romantic adventure, but a reptile too. Always offering something new. Just like the sky outside, with the full moon now illuminating the stormy sky. Where did it come from? It was hanging there in mid-air in front of the clouds, so big, so close it seemed that I could reach it with my fingers if I just stepped outside of the room. 

But I didn’t want to. Instead, I slowly swirled around him like a serpent. I could feel him stir, his body responding to mine. It was a silent dialogue. He turned to me and pushed my chin upwards to nuzzle the soft skin behind my left earlobe. I could hear him murmur a prayer, the words of which I didn’t recognize, but I understood it anyway. I could feel his hand travel slowly down my belly, pulling my thighs apart, his palm sliding gently to my pussy and his middle finger slipping in between my folds. It’s been too long… My body reacted immediately. I arched my back and gasped for air as his moistened fingertip glided over my clit in slow circles. He kissed my shoulder and I could feel his parted lips stretch in a smile before he nibbled lightly on my skin covered with goosebumps.

He spread my thighs even more, like the petals of a blooming flower. I felt the weight of his body on mine as he shifted, obscuring my view, silencing the wind, his porcelain face dimming all the celestial lights behind him. He was coming home. 

I cried out when he entered me, grabbing pillows on both sides of my head. He, too, yelped like a puppy, laying his head on my bosom just for a while, to gain his composure. I felt every exhale of his quickened breath on my skin, and enveloped his body with my limbs in a false promise to never let go. 

He started moving inside me and I felt absolutely lightheaded, as if we were floating in an empty void. It got darker with each deep, long thrust until time and space around us disappeared and the only thing that tethered me to reality was the rhythm of his beating heart and the alluring sounds of his raspy moans. We moved together languidly, drunk in love, and the waves of pleasure running through my body intensified with each passing second. My fingernails dug into his skin…so deep until he suddenly stiffened and screamed in pain right next to left ear…

…nooo…at first I couldn’t tell where I was or who I was until the sound of my phone ringing on the pillow next to my head slowly brought me back to reality. I couldn’t believe it. What? Why? I looked at the screen and saw the name of the only person whom I could forgive for calling me right fucking now!

“Jake? Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I breathed out. 

A moment of silence before the man on the other side responded. I must have sounded pre-t-t-y irritated. “Babe? Did I wake you up?” 

Of course you did. What day is it? Oh yeah, it was slowly coming back to me. Madison Square Garden… “What time is it?” I breathed out.

“Almost one am here, your midnight. We just arrived at the hotel a moment ago, I haven’t even had a shower yet, I just had to hear…”

“Urgh,” I interrupted him with a groan, not in a reaction to what he said. My still not fully awakened body was just fighting with my mind as I tried to sit. I was still slightly disoriented and my coochie weeped. “I, uhm, I’m sorry baby. I just had a very intense erotic dream…the first one in years. And you just happened to interrupt it at the worst possible moment.”

“Oh, daamn!” he chuckled. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Not funny Jake. No one else but you could ever make me this wet. The sheets below me are literally soaked through.” I heard him inhale sharply on the other side. It took him a few more seconds to respond. “You’re wet?” It sounded a bit like a stifled groan, followed by him clearing his throat. Poor Jake, he was so taken aback by my response that Oliver had to take over. “Thaths probably because I was absolu-te-ly on fire tonight, my love! Telepathy must be one of my many superior powers. Now I need to clean the mess…”

“What do you mean?”

“Phone sex, obviously.” 

I laughed. Nah, I’m not a fan. I love his voice, don’t get me wrong, but it couldn’t possibly make up for all the stuff that my subconsciousness flooded my brain with just a moment ago. Also, I’ve always found the idea of phone sex strangely disconcerting. We could do the most obscene stuff face to face without even batting an eye, but to be describing to him how I’m touching myself? No, thank you. I’d be embarrassed. Don’t know why. That’s just how it is, And that’s what I told him.  

“Oh come on, let’s try it.” Jake was back. “Besides, it’s a mutual obligation now. I’m already hard.” 

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok Jake,” I crooned monotonously, “what are you wearing?” 

“Oh GOD!” he moaned theatrically. “You sound so sexy when you’re bored. Mmmmm.”

I laughed again, in earnest. “Sorry,” I chuckled. “Ok, let’s try it. But I’m not going to describe what I’m doing. You tell me what to do.”

“Deal.”

I heard his sheets rustle as he shifted on his bed, which meant he already had me on speaker, so I did the same. I adjusted the pillows, stripped off my babydoll and tried to find a comfortable position. “Ok Jake, I’m ready.”

“Good girl. Now, close your eyes and cup your breasts. Let your thumbs draw slow circles around your nipples. No pressure.” His voice suddenly sounded huskier than before. 

“Are you jerking off?” And then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of his fist sliding rhythmically up and down his cock. Of course he was. 

“You can’t blame me sweetheart,” he breathed out. “I got here, still full of adrenaline from the show, only to hear you tell me that I was fucking you in your dreams. I couldn’t wait any longer.” 

The sound of his heavy breath made my pelvic muscles contract and my heartbeat quicken. I licked my fingertips and let my hand slide between my legs, trying to ease the ache. “Talk to me Jake. Forget the nipples. Guide my fingers.”

“Who’s impatient now?” He let out an involuntary moan, swallowed harshly and continued: “Squeeze your clit between two fingers, scissor-like. Now rub from side to side and gently pull.”

I knew what he meant. His technique was completely different from mine and effective in its own way. I never tried to recreate it before. I did now, and it all suddenly came back to me. The dream, his touch, his dick, stretching me, fucking me, our loins dancing together to the rhythm of our heartbeats…

“Not enough,” I whined. “I need more, Jake.”

“Ok, time for Mini Me.”

That was yet another thing my lover did for me. We found a company that makes custom dildos using castings of real customers. Now, a cold piece of silicone can never compete with the real jake, but it was the next best thing whenever I needed to release the tension after a long day. I loved the shape of it. It was mine. I opened the drawer and reached for the toy. “Now what?”

“Ride me,” he groaned. 

“How am I supp…”

“Let’s pretend we fell off the bed.”

“What?”

“Off the bed! Now!” he commanded. I climbed off the bed and attached the dildo to the wooden floor. “Mini Me’s ready. What now?”

“Now sit.”

I did as I was told. I got on my knees, placed the tip between my folds and slowly slid all the way down. Our roles reversed for a brief moment as I was now guiding him through. I heard him spit into his palm and groan with relief. It was his time to take the reins again. “Move,” he rasped. “Grab your hips and pretend it’s me. Set the pace, but tell me.”

I started moving my hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, while whispering up and down and up and down to him. I was now close to my bedside table, the fragrant scarf only a few feet from me. I closed my eyes. The illusion was almost perfect. 

“That’s my girl,” he moaned. “Do you want to go faster?”

“No, this is fine.”

“Ok, continue baby. Let me hear you.”

We continued like that for several minutes, eyes closed, listening to each other. I could hear that he was close as his low moans turned to high-pitched whimpers. My thighs started shaking and I had to catch hold of the bedside table to ease the tension in my legs. I opened my eyes and that’s when I saw it. The multi coloured lampshade. As I was moving, so were the colorful lights before my eyes. It was like being there, under the stage lights, as I was listening to my man. The most beautiful song. It overwhelmed my senses and I came, screaming. From the haze of my own high, I heard him finish shortly afterwards. 

I wanted to hear every detail of his show, and he wanted to know about my project, but we were both already too exhausted, so he promised to call me again in the morning. I knew he would, because that’s what my lover does. 

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @klarxtr @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @GVFstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise