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ghostselena · 3 years ago

Note

rafe x fem!reader

the hawk tower scene and he’s there at the bottom because he followed the pouges and topper pushes you and you’re unconscious he’s a mess fights topper

really angsty and sad

Title: Goner

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: WELP yeah Idk what to tell you here, it ain't a fun one, we all know how the scene goes, minus the happy ending, but there is blood and well, a sad ending pls don’t hate me, 18+

a/n: you said to make it sad..😭 I tried here, I really did. Used lines from the show to freshen up the scenes. (Guys tbh with you, I don't know how JB survived that fall... if I'm being realistic here..) Thank you for 300+ followers!!

Excuse the shitty beginning I swear it gets better quickly, Enjoy!! [Slightly Edited]

You may not copy or post this as your own anywhere.

---

It was the night during Midsummers, your friends had convinced you to leave together. You were running alongside Kiara, leaving a trail of sand behind you.

The both of you laughed, catching up with the rest of the boys, "Later, losers!" Jj yells as you ran to a very familiar place, the small fireplace you all loved to huddle around and tell stories.

John B had a plan, coming clean with the reason to bring you all together. He wanted to use Sarah to obtain information. Kie despised the plan, "Why don't I believe you?"

"I'm trying to make us filthy rich here." he defended, not seeing anything wrong with it.

"Do I look like the type of person, to fall for Sarah Cameron?" He added, raising his eyebrow down at her.

You were involved with Rafe on the low. His sister knew but she kept the promise to not tell on you. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, hating the way this was going down.

"Uh..." Jj mumbled as Pope added, "Do you want us to answer that, or-"

"You can't trust her." Kie sighed in frustration, staring at him—hoping to knock some sense into her friend's head.

"Her brother did hit me in the back, with a golf club." Pope looked up at him, pointing over at his now healing cut below his top lip.

"Rafe and Sarah are different human beings."

"That, they are." You spoke, nodding in agreement with JB, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire.

"Guys, it won't be that bad." You stood up, cleaning your dress from any sand that could've gotten on it. Your mom would kill you if you ruined the dress she helped you buy.

You were invited to Midsummers thanks to your mom having connections, but it was clear you didn't belong there. Your parent's followed you anywhere you went. They craved attention, you didn't.

Rafe had cornered you inside the bathroom, his eyes watching you like a hawk to catch you alone.

Your dress was breathtaking, you made sure of that. The kisses and touches that were shared inside that stall, will forever be engraved inside your mind.

---

The strong thunder and lighting made you jump as you stood behind JB, deciding to follow along with him to make sure Sarah didn't try anything.

Persuaded by Kie you were, now standing there as they spoke. Your eyes looked down, shuddering at the height of the old tower.

"Did you tell your crew, you were here with me?" Sarah spoke, looking up with a small smile.

"Did you?"

"No. I will, though. I don't care." she stated, brushing back her hair as the wind picked up, making you pat down your dress as it kept rising up.

"Guys, please—I'm scared of heights... let's just get down." you nervously spoke, your foot shaking as you took deep breaths, not thinking this through

The weather was certainly not helping you stay calm. The only person who could wasn't here, at least you thought he wasn't.

He lurked behind the branches after following Topper in his truck. Finding it strange that his friend had left his house without saying a word.

He stayed down as he watched Topper walk up the tower slowly and quietly, keeping his noise to a minimum, hoping to catch onto every word.

"And I'm breaking up with Topper," Sarah spoke, turning to face you with a smile as she held your hand for support.

"Really?"

"What, you dont think that's a good idea?"

He stumbled around with his words nervously, redeeming himself quickly, agreeing with the idea being beyond great, happy she felt the same way.

A strong thunder made her latch onto JB, laughing it out together as you jumped nervously, shaking your head, "That's it, I'm leaving you two."

"We're gonna go down now, hold on." He assured you, turning back to press his lips against Sarah, his hands holding onto her hips.

You turned your head to look away, coming face to face with a drunk, pissed-off Topper.

Ah, shit.

"I knew it, Sarah. I knew you were lying to me." He let out, "You stupid, lying whore."

Your eyes widened in shock, putting your hands forwards to stop him from coming closer, "Watch your mouth."

"Tell her to back off, cause I'm not about to beat up a girl." Topper motioned at your frame, pushing you back slightly to get closer to JB.

"Walk, man. Go home. Go home." he pushed Top back, earning back a shove.

"Guys, stop!" you yell, trying to hold Topper back from doing anything, getting in front of him.

"Sarah, let's talk." He lets out, pointing over at her as she shakes her head, "No."

"She doesn't want to!" John B exclaims, getting in front of Sarah, leaving you near the rails.

"What did I tell you, man??" Top yells once more, launching himself to push JB, but he was too quick, his body moved away from the hands that had now pushed you back against the rails.

You screamed as you fell off the tower, becoming aware of the situation you were now in. It all happened too fast.

"Y/N!!" Rafe screamed, watching you hit the ground with a thud, your body going limp.

He ran to you quickly, getting down on his knees as he cried, not believing what he just witnessed.

A small pool of blood slowly surrounded your head, being swallowed by the grass beneath you.

You groan softly, losing focus as you tried to keep still, your lip quivering up at him, your eyes fluttering shut as he spoke, "Oh.. ohh, my god."

He looked down at you, pressing his hands to your cheeks softly, "Stay with me, please." His eyes were tearing up, a few teardrops falling onto your dress.

John B and Sarah had run down quickly, "Rafe?" she asked, tears in her eyes as she stared down at her brother in confusion.

"She's not responding, but she moved," He choked out, his hands now covered in your blood, "We- we have to call someone."

"I got it," JB grabbed his phone, dialing 911 as he stared at your unconscious body, knowing that would've been him if you hadn't been there.

He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, speaking on the phone with the emergency operator on the other line, giving them the address.

Topper stayed behind, hands shaking in despair. You weren't responding, he didn't mean to. He just wanted to talk it out with Sarah, why were you there? He sobbed to himself, gripping his hair—smacking his head repeatedly, "Fuck!"

That grabbed the attention of Rafe, who had yet to leave your side. He was scared leave you alone, his hands wrapped around yours, whispering words to get you to respond, but to no avail—you stayed there, feeling cold to the touch.

The rain had died down, the tower was too high up, and there was no way to survive the fall. You were fading away, the voices and cries out for you were getting quieter, it felt calm.

You were calm.

You took your last breath, a small tear falling down your eye as you did so.

Rafe noticed while his face was pressed against your stomach, slowly turning his head to face you, "y/n?"

"What- what's going on?" Sarah rushed over to his side, using two fingers and pressing them against your neck, hoping to find anything that showed her you were still there.

"She's okay, right?" he nods over at her, holding onto your hand, rubbing his thumb against your hand

The only person that knew about you and Rafe was Sarah. She'd never seen him this happy, calm even. You kept him sane, he felt at peace in your presence. A light that guided him down the right path, had dimmed away, leaving him all alone.

How could she tell him you were gone?

"Rafe.." her voice was shaky, taking a few deep breaths to keep herself together, "She's.. she's gone."

The words circled around his head, thinking of them as a joke. He let out a slight laugh— not believing her, "Sarah, that's not something to joke about."

His eyes looked down at you, his hand brushing the hair away from your face. You looked so peaceful, a sleeping beauty in his eyes.

How could Sarah play with him like this? You're right there. You haven't gone anywhere.

"She's right here, she's gonna be okay—I know she will." He insisted, shaking your body softly, "Wake up, pretty girl, let her know you're okay."

But you didn't move. Your chest had stopped rising, and the faint sound of the sirens was getting closer.

He shook your body once more, turning to John B who was holding Sarah tightly in his embrace, her face hidden away against his chest as she sobbed.

"Why are you just standing? come help me wake her up!" his heart was pounding, he could feel the thump of his heartbeat in his ears.

His hands were shaking as he stared down at you, slowly becoming aware that you were in fact, not coming back.

The lump in his throat had thickened, now on his feet— eyes burning into Topper's back.

He'd heard the news from Sarah, instantly turning away to swallow the guilt. He killed an innocent girl.

"You fucking killed her." He was now headed straight to him, pushing him forward and down to the floor.

Top caught himself with his hands, staying on his knees as he stared up at Rafe, "Look man, I swear I- she fell, the rail must've been rotten!"

Words were not enough to bring you back, with a blow to the jaw— Topper was under Rafe, accepting his beating.

The paramedics attended to your body, deeming you dead at the scene.

The other pogues had appeared, watching the medics put your body inside a body bag, closing it up.

Too lost to notice Topper laying unconsciously on the floor.

Rafe's hands were bloody, most of it was yours. He sat down, pressing his head against his knees, letting it all out as he cried, not wanting to see the ambulance drive away with your body inside.

It was a night he'd never forget. The night a piece of him died along with you, his pretty girl.

But there was something that was quite wrong with his logic, even after months passing from the day you left him, the night he thought he remembered all too vividly, was completely wrong.

Sarah had explained it to him after 6 months.

He'd learned it was all part of his imagination, he couldn't comprehend it. He saw your body moving when you hit the ground, your eyes were on his. He saw you breathing.

How could he be wrong?

But the truth was, when you fell off the tower, the moment you had plowed into the ground, you were gone. Your head had hit the grass with a strong force— a few small rocks breaking through your skull. You had felt no pain, but he didn't know that.

He had imagined it all and it broke him, you were never conscious, it was all a lie. Tricked by his own mind in his state. He felt defeated.

He never got to say goodbye.

He never got to tell you he loved you.

---

I honestly had to stop myself from making this sadder, the pain this boy has been through, and here I am, making it worse.

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notnctu · 4 years ago

Text

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details - hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical

READ NEXT PART

Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances.

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.”

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression.

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander.

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room.

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?�� He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head.

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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euphorickaeya · 3 years ago

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congrats on 100+ followers honey !!! you wholeheartedly deserve them :DD

for what event: may i request a four star with kazuha for the quote: “it’s not an addiction! it’s a coping mechanism” (i think i did that right, but feel free to ignore if i didn’t lmao)

aaaa!! hello hello!! I didn’t even know u knew I existed- if y’all must know, I love to read @azempyrea’s works! I don’t follow them (I know I lurk on their acc but I’m too scared to follow them..) but I’m so happy they know of me!!

I’ll try to make this requests extra special!! THIS REQUEST TOOK SO LONG??? IM SORRY PLS

[CONTENT WARNING: this contains a scenario where Darling is eating food, some people who struggle with eating disorders may find that uncomfortable. Please do not read any further if you are uncomfortable by the topic of food and consuming food. If you continue to read KNOWING you’re uncomfortable with the topic, then it is not my responsibility anymore.]

“your grace! That’s the fourth (4th) dango you’ve had this evening! Please slow down!”

Today is a day of relaxing for you, although everyday might just be you strolling around teyvat, it doesn’t mean it’s not a lot of work, this faithful day, you decided to spend the day in inazuma with your wonderful and sweet acolyte Kazuha.

Now, Kazuha was grateful you chose him to join you on your journey around inazuma, but he never knew it would be this hard. You’d been spending his money left and right…with food. Yes food. It was fine, you’re his god, the one he spent many restless nights praying to, he prayed you’d lead his friend Tomo to a good place in the afterlife, he prayed to you when he was uncertain about the outcome of his life during a war.

He looks at you now and thinks, ‘are they really the god I’ve been praying to for so long? They’re so..so..’ Kazuha tries to find the words to explain as he watched you finish your fourth (4th) dango stick, a cup of dango milk in your hands.

“I’m finally full! Okay Kazuha, let’s go and- HEY IS THAT FISH CAKE?!” You pointed to a stall, only leave a trail of dust in your wake. Kazuha sighs as the cycle of you running around and him trying to catch up starts again. He watched you chomp and nom away at the treats you’ve eaten. The poor boy couldn’t even sit down! You’re like a timer, but how it works is however long you eat something, that’s how much time Kazuha can rest.

most of the time it doesn’t last even five (5) minutes, you smiled at him, looking like a chipmunk who was scavenging for some nuts during the winter. He couldn’t help but laugh, how adoring your behaviour was, he shook his head and continued jogging after you, holding the one thing you bought that wasn’t good, a bunny plushie.

“Kazu…we don’t have anymore..” you shoved the empty bag of mora into his chest, where he let out a small ‘oof’ holding the part where you hit his chest the with the mora pouch. “It’s okay, your grace! I can call on Mr. zhongli to get you more.” His hands flailing everywhere as he tries to comfort you, “If I may, your grace, you should probably stop coming back to that dango stall then we’d have money?” Kazuha patted your back as you sulked, holding sticks of the rest of dango you ate.

“If I were to think any better, I’d say you have a dango addiction!” Kazuha chirped, trying to make you laugh, but it did nothing but make you stand up from your chair pointing at him. “How dare you, Kazu! You betray me like this, saying I have an addiction?” You yelled, various people who were busy looking at stalls or just going on walks stared at you with a bit of a bewildered look as Kazuha stood up worriedly too.

“No, it was just a joke, I-“ Kazuha frantically tried to explain himself, as if the archons could hear you from miles away, (they probbaly did.) Ei and Zhongli had come to your side as quick as you could snap your fingers. “Your grace? What’s wrong?” Ei held your hands as Kazuha stood beside Zhongli trying to give his side of the story.

“Kazuha said I had a dango addiction! In my Defense! Dango is the love of my life! It’s not an addiction, it’s a coping mechanism!” Que the unsheathing of the archons’ weapons as Kazuha jumps back. Kazuha grabs onto your hands, his face red and almost pouting. “I’m really sorry, your grace! I wouldn’t dare say such false accusations and if I ever did without knowing, you know I’d take any punishment you’d give me.” You looked down at Kazuha, who was in a kneeling position. “Please forgive me your grace.” He mumbled your hands being kissed by his delicate lips as a sign of respect and sincerity.

You stared for a while, every passing second, Zhongli and Ei’s fists wrapped tighter around their weapons, waiting for a command. Before you laughed, “I’m just kidding Kazu, don’t take it seriously. I love joking around with you guys.” You explained through fits of chuckles, as he looked at you dumbfounded. “It gets a little tiring if I’m always treated as a fragile object. I’m a god right? I shouldn’t need you guys around me and treating me as if I’m some holy grail.” You passed the dango sticks in your hand to Zhongli who stepped back after being handed the sticks, seeming to give you and Kazuha space.

“It’s a little dehumanizing, I’d say. I want you guys to treat me as a normal person too.” You patted Kazuha’s head, who accepted your action generously. “I see, your grace. I’ll try to treat you better.” Kazuha replied, a small smile on his face.

“Eh?..can’t you drop the formalities.”

“That’s the only thing I’m not gonna do.”

“Kazuha!”

#genshin cult au #genshin sagau #genshin self aware au #sagau #yandere genshin impact self-aware #yandere genshin #euphoric~kazuha #euphoric~follower events #yandere kazuha #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #euphoric~works

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

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Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts

AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,

❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅

It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.

But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.

He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.

But eventually, he messes up.

You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.

He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.

“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.

“Oh, you little brat,”

And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.

They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.

And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.

Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.

“God, I love you,”

They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.

Nearly.

And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.

He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.

He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.

And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?

The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.

A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.

He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.

But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.

“Oh, thank God,”

He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.

“Dabi, listen—”

“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”

Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”

“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”

And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Wh-What?”

He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.

I didn’t mean to say I love you.

What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.

‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.

“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”

He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.

“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”

“No.”

“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.

You know why.

But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!

Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.

He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.

Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—

Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.

“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—

No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.

Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.

“I love you, too,”

A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.

There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—

“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”

#dabi x reader #dabi #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi angst #dabi fluff #???? just BARELY #TW SOFT DABI #AHHHHHH anon i am screaming endlessly into the void #sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail

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ayamturd · 4 years ago

Text

yourself│awesamdude

summary: love is precious, love is pure; how insecure thoughts and concerns trouble a scared lover, and how to convince one they are deserving of said love

warnings: descriptive insecure + self-deprecating thoughts, slight angst to fluff

pairing: in-game c!awesamdude

a/n: couldn’t stop thinking of this concept, i wouldn’t physically sleep till i wrote it all out lol

pls know you are loved, that you matter and are important. even if it doesn’t feel like, i’ll say now that i do, i love you. i don’t need to know you to know you deserve love, you deserve to know you are amazing for being yourself and for simply trying your best by existing for what it is <3

wc: (2.1k) - m.list

“Why do you love me?”

It was late. Very late.

The sky was pitch black and the forest held nothing but a ringing silence to screen, the brief sounds of woodland creatures along with lurking monsters occasionally breaking through. While the night was alive by the stir of the wind, the world above was obscured beneath the depths of the newly discovered mineshaft.

You were tired, your body aching and sore from the continuous grind along side your lover for the past few hours now. Unbeknownst to you, the early morn had been replaced with the midnight sky, the twists of the cave’s darkness becoming so lost to your sensitive eyes.

While you were resting on a large boulder, Sam’s stamina was relentless as he worked to mine into the next cave tunnel. He was beautiful, to say the least.

The ever so flicker of nearby torches illuminated only the best of his features, his usual mask hanging low around his neck due to the cramped and tight spaces underground. His brows were furrowed, the gentle concentration that pulled onto his face strangely handsome to observe.

His hair, the dark yet notable green shade, was seemingly drenched with sweat. In spite of how dreadful the thought could come across, it only did him wonders when weighing his locks down to frame his face. It curled around his eyes, the sage emerald-color contrasting his light skin tone while emphasizing the dark glisten of his squinted eyes.

Through his intent and determined grunts with every swing of his blade against the course stone, his stance was firm and strong, each strike crumbling beneath him from pure strength and integrity.

Moments like these were random, but reoccurring. Moments where you could stop to stare at him for hours on end, appreciate him for what he was and all that he did, yet question on why he was still here.

Why someone so talented and earnest in his work could even consider you as someone special, someone worth his attention and love to be with.

You spoke before you could stop to process your words and what possible answer he could imagine. Your curiosity got the better of you, and your insecurity blinded your perception. It didn’t seem like he heard you initially, and as you began to take it as a sign to forget the question entirely, his diligent swings stopped and his heavy panting filled the air.

He carelessly rested the large tool on top of his shoulders, twisting only his head in your direction while wiping the salty sting of raining sweat from his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Why do you love me?” you asked again.

Pushing yourself up, you glanced down while fiddling with your pickaxe, the old wrap around its handle fraying ever so lightly despite its lack of consistent use. You’d need to replace it soon.

“I just- it’s hard sometimes, you know? To think why you’ve stayed with me for so long or why you even want to stay with me altogether.”

You suddenly lost all courage, and couldn’t dare look him straight in the eye from your admittance. There was an unfounded trust your relationship, no doubt, but trust can only go far when comparing yourself to others. This was a question of worth, of importance when believing one has nothing special to give to someone who deserves the world.

“Love…”

Shaking your head, you turned away from him to face the arching gem wall, driving your pickaxe into the thick, shimmering stone with a slam before wrapping your arms around yourself. You bit the inner side of your check, loose and anxious thoughts raging wild to come through in the vulnerable space.

Your hands shook in unpredictable expectations, fingers twitching against your pounding chest.

“I know you’re going to dismiss it as some kind of nonsense, ‘insecurity’ thing and honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong. But I can’t help it when you’re you and I’m me.”

The pause that followed was unbearable. Steady breathes pervaded the tense air, and after what felt to be an entirety in harsh, prolonged silence, you heard the shuffles of his feet when cautiously approaching you from behind.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was serious, yet his voice soft. Like he was cornering a scared and injured animal, he seemed mindful of his volume for your own concern. Another quality to consider: he was too kind than for what you rightfully earned.

There was so much to say, yet so little at the same time. You were at a loss for words on how to explain something so broad and conceptually troubling to see through. How does one explain how little they matter? How meaningless they are in the grand scheme of things to someone that only tries to see the best of them.

Someone that would refuse a truth for the sake of your troubled mentality.

“Well- you know…”

He stood directly behind you now, his radiating warmth encompassing your entire being, leaving you to shudder from the sharp contrast in the freezing underground. Hands hovering your rigid shoulders, he contemplated touching you but decided against it. He dropped his arms to his side with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. What possible reasoning could you have for me not to love you?”

His pleading whisper was left unanswered, your body frozen to the guilt that consumed you from worrying him over your own problematic assumptions. As if he could read you, he began a different approach to break through to you.

“Why do you love me?”

His unexpected question immediately caused you to go in defense. Spinning around, you glared up at him with resistant eyes, the response to trade your unsure gaze with ones that screamed in flipped concern for his own good.

“Don’t do that.”

Sam’s own eyes remained just as hard, the unnatural line from his neutral expression pulling further to create an evident frown. He was just as serious as you.

“I’m serious here. What reasoning do you have to love me? A screw up, that does nothing but hurt others no matter how much I try in opposition to protect.”

Admittedly shaking your head, you unconsciously reached to grab the front of his chest plate, the enchanted armor glowing beneath your bare hands as you forcefully pushed him in disagreement.

You knew what he was referencing to, and how hard the events became for him. No matter if Tommy would never forgive him, he had yet to forgive himself in any reasonable sense.

“You know that’s not true. Mistakes are mistakes that can’t always be avoided or your fault.”

Tilting his head, Sam’s nose scrunched aggressively to your argument with a scowl.

“Can’t it?”

While your face dropped from his jarring snap, he only sighed before bowing his head away, rubbing the back of his head with a tired exhale and dropped shoulders. It was his turn to struggle with his own words as you stared intensely for his explanation.

His voice were soft again, and wavered slightly in the near beginning.

“I’m not perfect, far from it actually. No matter how many times you try and reassure me of the fact, I’ll never truly believe anything there is good to say about me. I only see the worst of myself,” he murmured. Although a majority of his speech could have easily been missed from his airy quiet, your ears were strained and focused solely on him.

As you tried to step closer to comfort him in some way or another, he finished his final thought then, causing you to freeze once more.

“And when that negatively becomes too much, I look to you as my light.”

Sam sheepishly faced you, his bashful grin completely deviating from the conversation at hand. An unexpected heat rushed to your face, causing you fall apart by the mere power behind his words.

He gave an airy chuckle, closing his eyes with a gentle smile and opening to reveal such fragility in all he had to tell, eyes watering from the sight of you.

“You give me more hope than I think I could ever deserve. From your shining smile to the smallest forms of affection, you give me a love irreplaceable by others and unconceivable to consider.”

Biting your lip, your eyes also began to tear from the overly tender conceptions. He knew better than to let your thoughts run wild and interrupt him, so he continued before you could open your mouth in protest.

“I love you, for everything you’ve sacrificed and lost. You are my strength that pulls me through, inspires me to continue even on the hardest of days. You teach me to forgive myself and work through my hardships for a greater objective at play.”

Steadily nearing your emotional state, Sam carefully pulled your hands into his own and caressed your knuckles with his callous thumbs. He squeezed them tightly once, before reaching a singular hand against your cheek, catching the fallen tears that escaped your adoring eyes.

“Even if you unintentionally did, you became that objective to pull me through it all.”

A sob escaped you, and Sam was quick to pull you into his chest. He kissed the top of your head earnestly while resuming to whisper his declaration against your hair.

“I love you and all that you do. Everything that I said now, everything that I know how to express, it does nothing to how much you truly impact by merely existing as yourself.”

“Sam-” you had tried to interject, stop him from tearing you to complete bits as an over sentimental puddle, but he chose to speak over you instead.

“I don’t love you simply because you’ve given so much to me, that you’ve went through notions with my sake as priority. I don’t care for any of that in all honesty. I love you, because you do all that you do as yourself.”

Shudder breathes caused you to shake beneath his firm hold, his only response to pull you inhumanely closer if possible.

“It doesn’t matter why or what pushes you to do what you do, it’s the fact that you exist as yourself, that that beautiful heart of yours goes beyond any and all expectations anyone can conceive of you and never fails to the most of any situation to come.”

“You amaze me, y/n,” he hummed. Pulling you back, he raised a single finger below your chin to lift your face to his. He leaned a near breathes away, with an indescribable admiration that caused more tears to spill.

“Why do I love you?” he re-asked.

His own tears coursed down his dirt stained skin, and you habitually moved to cup both of his cheeks.

“Because you’re able to love me, and not even know the adverse effects you cause to those around you.”

Bringing your forehead to his, he kissed your scrunched nose as he released a small whimper, for he had nothing left to express through words.

“If ever you question yourself again, ask yourself how are you able to love someone like me, and know that that same confounding thought shakes my very core and beats my love-stricken heart for you.”

Bonus:

Pathetic giggles bounced around the gem filled enclosure, the high of work finally wearing you both down into a helpless mess of two exhausted, yet stubborn lovers.

You leaned heavily into Sam’s hold, his own stance faltering from the unexpected weight you gave in as he groaned from the fast movement.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready for some rest, wouldn’t you say?”

Giving out incomprehensible whines smothered into the crook of his arm, you raised a lazy hand to give a subtle thumbs up. Sam laughed loudly, and took your silent gesture as an answer.

“You ready to climb back to the surface then?”

Mellow wails spoke for themselves, and he shook his head in joking disbelief to how drained you easily became.

With you still in his arms, he maneuvered around you to grab both of your pickaxes and gathered resources, them too heavy to physically carry for his next course of action. He pulled out his Enderchest and swiftly packed everything away.

Once everything else was settled, he worked on the actual situation in hand; literally, it being you basically asleep on your feet against his balanced arms.

“Here,” he spoke. Lifting from your waist, he placed you on top of an overgrown gem stone and steadied your footing before quickly turning. He gripped your thighs, and even in your tired state, you instinctively jumped onto his back.

He sighed when adjusting you, before making the trek back up the stair incline.

“To think I choose to love you.”

You yawned loudly, and to his surprise, comprehended his words enough to respond.

“Mmmm, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” Head propped between his neck, he glanced down at you with a smirk.

“Maybe, but a problem I welcome nonetheless.”

#dream smp x you #dream smp x reader #awesamdude x reader #awesamdude x you #awesamdude x gn!reader #awesamdude imagine #awesamdude x reader fluff #mcyt x reader fluff #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dsmp x reader

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reawritesthings · 4 years ago

Text

work this out | luke patterson

summary: loving luke was hard, harder than you thought. but, somehow luke felt the same. he just needed an extra push.

words: 1.5k

a/n: kinda proud of this? i kinda changed the prompt a little but yeah! pls reblog and share what u think :)

masterlist | taglist

You didn’t quite understand the relationship that you and luke were in; it was something that you could never explain unless you were there when it happened. It’s been a month since you and Luke had a moment, something that was waiting to happen but, neither of you wanted to act upon it.

It was a simple new years kiss. It was nothing but, for you, it meant something. It wasn’t just a quick peck or a light touch; it was something that clarified that this was supposed to happen. You tried to ignore the feelings that became stronger each day whilst Luke just brushed it off.

It was Julie’s birthday, and you were glazing around the house, watching people grind against each other. Some would describe as stalking but, you never were the person who would freely dance as Flynn or Julie did.They always offered to take you to the dance floor, but you always managed to come up with an excuse.

When Flynn caught your eyes and motioned her hands for you to come, you just lifted your red cup and shook your head. You weren’t really in the mood to party as you were stupidly waiting for Luke to appear. You knew Luke didn’t feel the same way which hurt but, your heart didn’t want to let go of the ‘if’s’.

You checked your watch, hoping it was near to wrapping up but, the frown that invited itself on your face told you that it just barely began. To pass time you decided to wander around trying to see if you could find Luke. Despite your feelings, he was still good company. Alas, you found him with a girl, a blonde to be specific. Usually, when you see your crush kissing another person, that would finalise the if’s, but it didn’t for you which made this more frustrating.

You suddenly dipped yourself down, hiding behind the island as you accidentally catch Luke’s eye. You closed your eyes shut hoping he didn’t notice but the soft touch that radiated your skin, showed your clownery.

“You good?” Luke said, crouching down to your level. You causally made eye contact with the first thing that came to your mind; Dust.

“Yeah. I just... saw some dust.”

“Dust?” Luke questioned, laughing a little.

You gulped, trying to make the reason more realistic. “Hayfever season...”

Luke hummed, shaking his head as he helped you up. “You want another drink?”

You shook your head, wanting to get far away from him as possible. Luke frowned a little, watching you leave his aroma. He wasn't stupid, and neither were you. In fact, he was just slower. He found himself lurking around the room for Alex, as he knew that Alex has the answers to everything.

“Yo, Al. Can I ask you something?”

Alex groaned, excusing himself from the cute quarterback he was talking too. “This better be worth it.”

“I think Y/N saw me kissing Tayla...”

Alex titled his head back, hissing at himself as to why he thought it would be something important. “And?”

“I think she is upset and I don’t like it when she is upset with me.”

Alex wasn’t drunk, but he felt like he needed to be. He was tired of being the messenger of the two of you. He loved you guys but, it was suffocating hearing it again and again.“Can I be real with you? Like, I’m going to tell you the truth and, it is up to you if you want to take the statement and do something.”

Luke wasn’t sure if he was ready. Alex seemed serious and Luke hated serious. “O-Okay..”

“First. I don’t blame her for being upset. You don’t just kiss her on NYE, take her on a date and show up to her house uninvited whenever you have a hissy fit with your parents. - it’s like you are using her, Luke. That’s not even the worst thing - it’s the way she normalised it. She is so infatuated by you that she doesn’t even care if you string her along, and that’s not healthy for her.”

Luke didn’t say anything he just gripped his cup to allow Alex to know that he was listening.

“It’s not fair for her to wait around for you because you are taking away her confidence and freedom to mingle with others. The number of people who asked her to dance, have a drink and even talk is shocking but she turned them down because she is so in love with you. You know she is and you still choose to not address her feelings and be an adult.”

“I didn’t know she loved me... she never told me.” Luke barked but Alex just chortles at Luke’s stupidity.

“She shouldn’t have to tell you. It’s pretty clear that she does.”

Luke allowed Alex to pour into him some more, a stream of tears trickled down his skin as he was now remembering all the times you were there for him, cared for him to only kiss and flirt with other girls. He was taking you for granted and, he hated himself for that. What was worst than all of this was finding out from his best friend.

He thanked Alex with a hug before running to find you. He wasn’t exactly sure where to find you but, he did have faith that you would be somewhere only the both of you would know. As Luke tried to avoided Tayla, which was impossible as she was the clingy type. He quickly divert her attention and dipped, running up the stairs.

He knew Julie’s house quite well, too well for Ray’s liking but Luke assured him that Julie and Luke were friends. On the other hand, the other reason why he knew this house well was due to your little rendezvous whenever the other’s fell asleep or arguing.

He knew where you were, and that only made him realise that maybe he had some feelings too. You were standing on the balcony, with a blanket wrapped around your figure whilst you looked up at the night sky.

He slowly walked towards you, hands getting clammy as he was a few steps behind you. He took a deep breath and waited for you to acknowledge him.

“Hey... I knew you would be here.” Luke whispered, bumping your shoulder.

You didn’t say anything but you didn't refuse his company.

“I just wanted to ask you something....”

You faked a smile, dreading the question about you catching his gaze when he was kissing Tayla.

“Do you love me?”

Your eyes widened as you heard those words. You certainly wasn’t expecting that. You closed your eyes shut, panic was rummaging around your body and your mind was hoping this was just some dream and that you would wake up in any given moment.

“Y/N....” Luke whispered.

“I do. But, it doesn’t matter.”

Luke frowned, hating himself for making you feel this way. “It does matter.”

“It’s honestly fine, Lu. I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same. You can go back to kissing Tayla.”

Luke shook his head. He didn’t want to kiss Tayla, he wanted to fix this. “I don’t want to kiss Tayla. I don’t want to keep kissing strangers and pretending they are you. Fuck, I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just, know that I’ve been a jerk and haven’t treated you fairly.”

You were stunned by his confession, you weren’t sure if Luke was drunk or not. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but you couldn’t deny the small smile that rang across your lips. “I don’t understand, Lu. You can’t just say that. You can’t just confess these feelings to me.”

“I know and I’m sorry. It took me so long to realise that maybe I should be kissing you and not her.”

You frowned, still trying to process the confession. “Did Alex say something? Whatever he said, he was lying...”

“Stop that. Stop trying to find an excuse for me. Don’t make me the good guy. Stop trying to tell yourself that this is normal, okay? You don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it.”

“What can I say Luke? I’m not going to be that girl who tells you who you can’t or can kiss. I’m not going to stop you from flirting with other girls. It’s okay to not feel the same or want this. I’ll get over it.”

“What if I don’t want you to get over me? What if I want to flirt with you and maybe kiss you?”

“You aren’t makin-” He cut you off with a kiss. It started off small, just an ordinary kiss but, when his hand found your neck, slowly caressing, the kiss was something you only dreamed about having. You closed your eyes and placed your hands over around his neck, pushing yourself closer to him. You allowed him to take charge, as you both knew you weren’t that experienced. As he parted his lips, he met your gaze and kissed your nose.

“Does that answer your question?”, he smirked as he rubbed his thumb across your lower lip. You nodded, as you grinned stupidly at the kiss. He could tell you were shy and allowed you to bury your head in his neck.

“I don’t know what this means but I want to work it out together... only if you want too?”

You looked up at him, brushing the curls out of his face before agreeing with him. “Together.”

@thatphannie @dpaccione @kiss-themoongoodbye @sageellsworth05 @killingbxys @sunsetcurve-h @poguestyleskye @lolychu @emotionalbruv @andycanbeemotional @talksoprettyjjx @kinda-really-lost @echocharm17618 @thesweetestsinner @edgeofgr8 @lukewearingbeanies @cordeliascrown @jeremygilbertss @jatpfan99 @ontheouterbanksofthemcu @caitsymichelle13 @jazzyhalestorm @makebank @indiecline @lukes-orange-beanie @joyjoyner @merceret @bright-molina @calamitykaty @lazydaisy19 @wonderful-writer @rosylinn @rafehogwarts @crybabyddl @sargent-barnes @weasley011 @yourprincess-maybe @motheroffae @mysterygurlrandom @sovereignparker @katie-navarro @g7aesthetic @spooky-season-bitch @tenaciousperfectionunknown @notasoftie @averyharrypotterandjatplife @brithedemonspawn @thesweetestsinner @lukeys-giggle @kelieah

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson #luke patterson fluff #luke patterson angst #jatp imagine #jatp imagines #jatp luke #jatp alex #charlie gillespie x reader

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dickwheelie · 3 years ago

Note

*appears again* jonah and hector talking about hector’s apparently numerous scars pls👀

ohhh I really liked this prompt, thank you, Moss!

no specific spoilers here, all the stuff about the scars is made up, I have no idea how well it fits in canon. please enjoy!

_____________

They were in Hector's tent, tangled together intimately, though not as intimately as they had been a few minutes prior. They spoke in low, quiet voices, for it seemed wrong to disturb the night, and those that lurked in its shadows.

"I used to dream about a guy like you, you know," Jonah said, and Hector glanced up.

"What d'you mean?"

"When I was young. I'd have daydreams about this big, strong, lumberjack-looking fella, burly and hairy and . . . you get the picture. I had so many fantasies about being carried away by a guy like that." He winked at Hector. "Or riding away on his motorcycle."

"Well, now," Hector said gruffly. He was often gruff when he was trying to hide his affection.

"For a while," Jonah went on, "I wasn't sure if I wanted to kiss that guy, or be that guy." He huffed a laugh. "Guess it turned out to be both."

"You got the second one, at least," said Hector, eyeing Jonah appreciatively.

"Did I?" Jonah looked down at his bare torso, or at least the parts that Hector wasn't draped over. "Didn't think I was ever tall enough. And I got flab in all the wrong places."

Hector hummed his disagreement. "I don't know about you, but that's how I like my lumberjacks. Short and fat and handsome as hell."

"You old softie," Jonah said, and kissed his brow. "And look at that. Guess I did get to kiss the guy of my dreams, after all."

Hector rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"I mean it," said Jonah. "You're a helluva catch, Hec."

"Nah. I'm just an old, messed-up guy with a motorcycle." Hector sat up, moving out of Jonah's arms. Without thinking, he ran his hands over each other, feeling the old nicks and pockmarks that sat between the lines of his palms. There was an itch that had started on his back, as it always did when he remembered his scars.

Jonah was rising to meet him, his brow furrowed. "Alright there?"

"Fine," said Hector, staring at his hands.

"Don't seem fine," Jonah murmured.

Slowly, giving him time to move away, Jonah reached for Hector's hands, taking them gently in his own. Hector put up no resistance as Jonah ran his hands over his, feeling the scars with careful consideration. Jonah's hands were covered in callouses and imperfections, but they were different from Hector's, which was partly why he was fond of them. Now, Jonah's rough edges caught on his, not painfully, but just enough so that they felt real.

"You don't have to tell me," Jonah said at length, "but I'm curious. Where'd you get these?"

Hector shook his head. "I don't mind. It was a long time ago. One of my first jobs, back--hell, I was still pretty much a kid. A dumb kid. I messed with some people I shouldn't have messed with. Got shot at. Didn't get hit, not that time, but the buckshot got all over my hands." He flexed them in the air, and huffed a laugh. "At the time I thought I'd never feel anything that painful again. Like I said, dumb kid."

"God," said Jonah, sympathetically.

"Actually getting shot was worse." Instinctively, Hector put his hand to his lower back, where his bullet wound was. "I was a little older, still too young, though. I got cocky, so I got shot."

Jonah was hovering at the hem of Hector's shirt. "Can I . . . ?"

Hector gave him a puzzled look. "If you want to," he said, slowly.

Jonah carefully lifted his shirt a few inches, revealing the sunburst scar that, decades ago, had nearly cost Hector a kidney. Behind him, Hector heard Jonah's breath hitch.

"I know," Hector said, "ugly thing, huh."

"I don't know about that," Jonah said. "Looks kinda pretty to me."

"Shut up," said Hector, with a laugh.

"I mean it. Reminds me of a sunflower."

Hector had to stop himself from laughing aloud. Leave it to Jonah to see something so fanciful in a bullet wound. "Well," he said, "if you like that, you'll love what the rest of my back looks like."

He let Jonah slowly remove his shirt entirely. The cold night air hit his bare skin abrasively, but Hector didn't move as Jonah examined the numerous clawmarks that littered his back, his fingers ghosting over them. It tickled a bit, but again, there was no pain.

"Werewolves?" Jonah guessed.

"Mean ones," said Hector. "Not my fault, that time. I was just minding my business when they ambushed my camp. My only crime was being out in the woods during a full moon. Which, huh, guess I should've known better then, too."

He felt Jonah press a kiss, gently, over one of the scars. "Maybe you should've known better then," he said, "but at least you know better now. You got these scars to remind you. And to make you look sexy."

Despite the chill night air, Hector felt his face grow warm, and he let out an embarrassed laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not gonna argue with you, either, Jones."

"That's fair," said Jonah, moving back around so they were face-to-face. "Give me a kiss, instead."

Hector was glad to.

"There's the old, messed-up guy with a motorcycle of my dreams," Jonah said, when they moved apart. He had placed a calloused hand over Hector's bullet scar, and was holding him there, almost protectively.

"And there's that short, fat lumberjack of mine," Hector said, grinning, as Jonah laughed into the quiet night air.

#hfth #hello from the hallowoods #jonah/hector #jonah duckworth #hector mendoza #gwyneth writes

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voidcat · 4 years ago

Text

– Stardust

Characters: Oikawa Tooru/You

Genre: fluff/comfort, heart to heart on reader’s part (questioning your place in the universe and all)

Summary: Sleep does not come some nights when it gets loud inside your head. Pebbles thrown at your window feels something out of movies. Oikawa Tooru being the one to do feels unreal. So you do what everyone does in dreams, is this a dream?, and follow his lead.

Word Count: 4.3k (i poured my heart out pls respond)

A/N: I didn’t write it with a song in mind but Kimochi Warui (When? When? When? When? When? When? When?) sounded fitting while proofreading. Take it as a suggestion if you want. – ao3 - PART 2

It’s late.

Too late to still be up. Too late to be thinking like this.

Too late to be up, awake, vibrating with all these overwhelming thoughts filling your head, wanting to break free, scratching the inside of your skull like feral animals, dying to get out.

It’s late and you keep lying down just like that. Hands clasped over your stomach, eyes locked onto the ceiling, trying not to think, keeping your mind blank like a newly bought sketchbook.

You lie like that for seconds feeling like hours and hours feeling like seconds.

You lie awake, the dim moon light entering your room lazily. All too familiar thoughts plaguing your mind, telling things you’ve known since childhood over and over and over until you grow numb to the noise.

Tck.

You consider checking the time but you’re afraid it’ll still be too early for the new day to start.

Tck.

Was that an actual sound or the newest trick of your mind?

Tck.

They say third time is the charm. Third time also means it’s too much of a specific occurrence to be a coincidence. The noise seems to be coming from outside, something small hitting your window.

Irritation and curiosity taking over you at last, not to mention boredom, you make way to the window and open it.

You see Oikawa Tooru of all people waving with his phone at you, a little aggressively.

Walking back to your nightstand and picking up your phone, you receive a message.

>[Does your folks wake up early?]

>[Or check up on you first thing in the morning?]

[No. why?] Hitting the send button you wait, walking back there and looking at him again. Face lightened by the glow of his phone, you can make up his eyes and nose.

>[Wear something warm.]

>[And make that spicy tea thingy you like so much if you want.]

>[I’m waiting by the door.]

Weird is seeing Oikawa Tooru under your window at an hour no one else is awake. Him telling you to get dressed and come outside? That’s creepy and worrying.

[Why]

>[I’m doing you a favor out of the goodness of my heart for once.] You want to roll your eyes at that. Since when does he know what being good means? Towards you especially.

>[No shady business, I promise.]

>[Trust me.]

As if knowing what went in your mind, these texts show up on your screen. You come to a halt.

Your relationship with Oikawa was never good. You would ignore one another on the good days and be utterly destructive and spiteful on the bad days. He never gave you a reason or made a gesture to earn your trust, you don’t even recall hearing those words from him much. They are reserved for Iwaizumi and the team only.

So why do you find yourself in a dilemma, as if there’s something to choose, a decision to make? Because the logical thing for you to do, the in-character thing for you to do, is to say no, go back to bed and hope to fall asleep at some point. The usual set of action for you is to refuse whatever he has to offer and go back to your own thing.

But you’re done with the logical and the in-character. So you send a quick [I’ll be down in 5.], make way to prepare something warm first and change your clothes as you wait for it to heat up. A sweatshirt should be enough.

Being too lazy and out-of-it to function once in a while pays, because instead of having to brew the tea and wait for a long while, you just heat up the already brewed and stashed one and pour it to your thermos.

Silently opening the door and getting out, you see Oikawa leaning against the wall.

He walks away when he sees you, you follow without a word. Soon enough you’re met with a car. Since when he has a car?

Wait, no. Don’t ask, don’t wait for an answer. Don’t look at the stupid car, don’t examine it. It is a dream after all, right? What’s the point in observing things when you’ll forget about them first thing in the morning?

Following his lead, you get inside the passenger seat, hear him start the engine, watch his hand reach for the stereo. A low hum arise.

It sounds like he picked a channel on random, the music isn’t bad per se, the volume is down. So it doesn’t exactly bother you either. Getting comfortable in your seat and resting your head against the window, you watch the blur of images go by.

There is no moon tonight, the only source of light is the street lamps coming into view and leaving as fast. Houses, buildings, trees, everything belonging to the day pass by in a fog and smear of colors. Almost like a quick brush of oil paint. It’s calming in a quiet before the thunderstorm kind of way.

As the road goes under the wheels, less and less houses come in to your view.

“Where to?”

Oikawa gives you a quick glance. He almost looks surprised to see you speak. Did he just assume you’d stay quiet all night?

“You’ll see.” His tone doesn’t match his face.

“What’s the meaning of it?”

“Consider it a favor.” This marks the end of your short lived conversation.

You don’t need to recognize the road he takes to understand he’s driving out of town, out of Miyagi. The why of it keeps floating in your head, you can’t apply the ‘it’s a dream’ tactic any more either, you are too awake for that, in both senses.

Turning your attention back on the sidelines, you let your mind wander off to meaningless assumptions.

A light behind the trees, you imagine a lonely night creature, lurking around to find his lost love.

You spot an animal you can’t identify and make up a story about an once-successful maiden, falling fool to a wicked spell.

You look at the trees and imagine nature coming to life in humanoid form, mutating and taking its revenge on human race.

Hearing a ribbit nearby and you recall the time your mother read you the Princess and the Frog years ago.

You turn left to look at Oikawa. Finding your phone inside your pocket and raising it in a show-and-tell manner, you wait for him to take notice and turn off the stereo. You press play.

Satie’s Once Upon A Time In Paris fills the air.

You note the relaxation in his shoulders. You let the melody take over your body as well.

Closing your eyes and holding your hands in the air, you can see the keys in front of you.

Hitting the keys one by one, reaching for the pedal, you can feel it flow through you. Head moving on its own, dancing with the melody, Gymnopedie no.1 as calm and serene as ever. Simple like a short quote on love from a poet.

It ends silently, Gnossienne no.3 enters with much more emotion.

It’s almost comical how many times you’ve played this exact piece but almost never listened to others playing. It sounds like you in some ways, some tints and emphasis different than how you’d play but that’s all you got right now.

You don’t need to break out of the music’s hold or open your eyes to catch Oikawa’s gaze on you once in a while. You went through all this before on so many occasions. Be it on public transportation and a piece you connect with comes on, you can’t stop your fingers from trying to play it on air, making keys out of nitrogen and oxygen in the air. Your body starting to move on its own after a while. Strangers giving you funny looks all the while.

The notes gain meaning and heaviness, hanging in the air and making way for the following ones as fast.

When the B bemols come, you can feel a stinging feeling in your eyes.

Since when does Gnossienne no.3 make you want to cry? Why now of all times?

You don’t care, you don’t want the answers, you don’t want to understand or reach a new level of understanding within yourself. Just shutting yourself out completely and taking in all the music with a deep breathe, you lean back as far as you can into the seat.

Gnossienne no.4 starts and your hands no longer itch to play.

When Oikawa pulls up at last, the music has long ended.

Getting off with your thermos in one hand, you look around.

Not a single building, a sign of life in sight. Where the hell did he bring you?

You can see his figure searching for something in the back seat, some shuffling reaches your ear. You look at the few and far between trees in the distance. It is a dead night. Not even wind, not even some comical tumbleweeds are in sight to add some motion. Time has stopped completely.

You don’t realize Oikawa’s signals for the second time that night, just as you didn’t hear him throwing pebbles at your window.

Noticing the loud thud, as him patting the hood of his car a little too late, only when he starts to get loud, you look back up. He’s sitting there, patting the space next to him, the gesture all too familiar.

Your mind wanders back to the moments you’d do the same, asking your cat to come sit with you, listen to you ramble, maybe purr for you, hear your sobs or meow at your antics. Tilting your hand with her head, bumping your legs with her tail. Those moments painted golden, filtered with a gray film, already gone, leaving nothing but a sharp pain in your chest.

You climb and sit, careful not to have any physical contact with him.

“Why are we here?” you try one last time.

“I didn’t want to be alone.” He says. Nodding your head at that, you’re not exactly surprised. The way he always surrounds himself with people, no matter the proximity and bond he shares with them.

He answered a question, maybe he can answer few more before I drive him to the limit, you think. “Why me?” This nags at your brain more than any other current question you have for him.

“It seemed fitting.”

“Why not Hajime or Makki, or even Mattsun?”

“Iwa-chan has come on little trips such as this with me before. I didn’t want to drag him tonight. Asking anyone else I’m close with didn’t sound like a good idea. And frankly? You seemed like you could use a break like this today.”

Observant prick.

“So, what exactly? We share one cozy moment tonight and return to our daily selves of hating one another in the morning?” His silence is a yes enough. “Sure, sounds good then.”

After the little conversation, you are back examining the surroundings, the comforting stillness in the air, the silence, the emptiness and the blackness of it all.

It gets boring after a while. Not wanting to disturb Oikawa further and at a loss of what else to do in the middle of nowhere, you look up at last.

Oh.

You forget to breathe for a few seconds. And that doesn’t even seem to be a problem in your eyes.

Has he done this before? How long has he been going out at ungodly hours for this?

You knew Oikawa Tooru was obsessed with space and aliens, thanks to Iwaizumi, but you never expected it to be on a more serious, in-depth level. Not like this.

Never like this.

Billions of stars hanging in the night sky, most millions of years old, blinking from a long gone past, probably dead in their current time.

A calm breeze washing over your wholly, reminding you just how small you are, your life is and how it is all okay because in the big picture you’re all nothing but dust. Destined to be forgotten by history in few centuries, if not decades.

Seeing all these stars, colorful lights what you hope are planets, an arm of the Milky Way, flowing like a waterfall and you feel a sense of security you haven’t felt in a while.

There is something comforting about the night sky, the way it can show you your unimportance in the big picture, your place in all this. You feel whole with the universe. You belong.

So you look up, and up and up. Stare at the sky, blink at the stars, smile at the constellations you spot and remember their stories, the gods and the myths, the heroes and the queens…

You look back at Oikawa then. As if remembering only now that he is there by your side.

Facing the sky in a manner just like yours, you can see the stars on his face. Shining on his hair, cheeks and in his eyes. Almost like stardust.

He looks ethereal, unreachable, enchanting. And a little vulnerable. All that tension, layers of masks he puts on each day, all the fake smiles and empty look in his eyes are gone.

Raw and pure.

This is the truest of Oikawa you’ve ever seen.

The admiration can be read from his eyes. His face holding an emotion you’ve seen on him once or twice. Not intense like this, never like this. You’ve seen the same look on him for Iwaizumi but only for a second, when he’s sure no one is watching.

With the same eyes, he watches the starry night sky.

He looks like he belongs up there. Not in a “be an astronaut and go to space” but in a “should be there, amongst the stars, his memory up there, to be remembered by everyone gazing upon the starry night. Like a constellation, become a constellation, a legend and a story, and so much more, just like Orion and Andromeda.”

This is the closest to Oikawa Tooru you’ve ever been. The thought gives you a shiver.

Seeming to notice that, he gives you a puzzled look and raises his right arm. You realize the blanket around his form then. He’s making an offer.

“Don’t worry, three people can fit in easily, it’s wide enough for the both of us.” When his face turned to you, it’s dark, no source of light to reflect on his skin.

You scoot over to him, under the blanket. The two of you refocus back on the scene above you.

Remembering the little mug inside your front pocket, you open the lid of your thermos and start pouring some tea, the steam leaving a little trail behind. You hold out the mug to Oikawa, he just looks at you, the confusion clear on his face.

Why are you offering me the tea you brought for yourself?

What makes you think I’d trust you enough to taste something you made?

“We said tonight was our little secret, right? I can use the cap as a mug, don’t worry.”

Your words and clarification seems to convince him somewhat, holding the mug with both hands, he smells it before taking a sip.

Silence falls over again and it’s much nicer this time.

Not even the coldness can get to you or pull you out of the warm embrace you’re in. The warmth around your shoulders, more provided by the idea of the blanket than the blanket itself. Like a thin veil, separating the real world from your little bubble of escape.

It’s new moon, no reflecting lunar light to block your view of stars. Sitting under the tent of black, blue, white and red; it feels divine. Divine to live in the moment, to truly breathe, to witness something so enthralling and forever.

To stand by yourself, stripped bare of everything; your layers, titles, names and ticks, clothes and paints, to be a newborn again, to reborn again, all alone, in an endless room, empty and cold, filled with stars and gods, stories to tell and dreams to see.

To feel whole again, alone again, hopeless again but reach a self-realization again, to taste nectar and discover the secrets of the universe, converse with the long gone philosophers and waltz with supernovas.

You’re not alone. Not completely.

Maybe left alone with your thoughts in this dead land and you know how one can never have company in their own mind, forever trapped alone. Yet in that moment, you’re not alone. Moving your head to steal a glance at the boy next to you again, you understand it well. It all happens so fast.

“Isn’t it ironic? How as humans we use a word like ‘star’ for untouchable celebrities, important people and such while in reality stars are nothing but these giant balls of plasma-“ gesturing a ball with your hands now, thermos sitting between your legs, “-with their ongoing chemical reactions, sputtering molecules of hydrogen and helium and all, until they come to an end with their current phase of life. If you can call that life.” You say all these with your eyes locked onto the stars, Oikawa’s locked on you. You keep going.

“Speaking of life, what is even life? Aren’t we just a bunch of organic components somehow managing to come together, build a system and gain conscious somehow? Just trying to survive until an outer force comes or our cells come off? Isn’t it technically our cells living, in a way?”

“Aren’t we just piles of protein just walking around and doing things that make no sense but to us? Until we come to an end with our current phase of life? Doing what we see fit or fun or appropriate until it all ends.” It’s not a question any more. He doesn’t give you an answer.

“Aren’t we all children of the stars in a different point of view? All our molecules and elements coming from them. I mean, look at them. We see them blinking and smirking and smiling at us but for all we know they could’ve ended long ago. They could’ve become part of a new life for all we know. They break down and give birth to us, pieces of us; and in return we go back to them when we are gone. Despite being made of stardust, we live pretty shit lives huh?” You give him a lopsided smile, facing him as you say your last words.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time?” he replies.

“For far too long to pinpoint an exact date actually.” You almost say in a singsong voice. He frowns at that slightly.

“But I am right! Right? I mean, you’re a space nerd! You must know what I’m talking about.”

“Understanding and putting it into words in such a depressing way are two different things.”

Pouting at that, you look the opposite direction sharply. “Whatever, I know I am right.”

His gaze is still on you. “Is that what you’re like most of the time? I don’t get how Iwa-chan deals with you.” He must be shaking his head now.

“Iwa-chan can’t read minds last time I checked.” You deadpan.

His laugh fills the air at that. Light and lively, carefree; you doubt you’ve heard him laugh before. It sounds wonderful.

You wonder how things would’ve been between you and Oikawa, if the circumstances were different. If you never met Iwaizumi that day, would your paths still cross? Would you finish your Aoba Johsai years never meeting him?

Would you meet Oikawa on your own? Could you ever be friends, instead of dancing around one another and spitting out insults whenever you can? Would you like him in another world? Value his friendship, the person he is? Would the two of you have met before or become something more?

All these unanswered questions hanging in the air and you find yourself looking at him again.

His smile looks different now, he looks different, changed. Almost breathtaking. Is that what Iwaizumi means by his ‘fake smiles’?

A honest smile looks good on him.

You find yourself smiling back.

“Hey.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “If you still want to complain about the meaningless of life and all that, be my guest. I promise I won’t listen.”

Taken aback by his wording, you give him a confused look.

“Tonight doesn’t exist, remember?”

“…Right.” You decide to lean back and lie under the stars.

Feeling a tug at the blanket after a while, you see him placing the mug down next to the tire. You hand him your thermos as he regains his composure, he complies silently and leans back when he’s done.

All there is in the air is your faint breathing now. Never matching one another, sometimes loud, sometimes ghostly. There is no rhythm, no adjusting subconsciously. Completely independent.

You take a deep breath and start.

“It feels grey most of the time. Not in a ‘there’s never two sides, everything is grey, blah blah.’ But more like a numbness of grey.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything, nothing to show or to indicate that he is listening. You continue talking.

“Like lacking all color and feeling in life, blocking all there is to see and enjoy and I am left with nothing but… grey.

Grey to the point of everything is filtered, there are no boundaries, it all feels the same, plays the same and I am afraid. I am afraid of hurting. Hurting myself, being hurt myself and hurting the ones around me. Not the ones I love, I don’t even know love. What is love?” You turn to look at him.

“I tried thinking about it, reading about it, understanding it on a chemical and hormonal way. Consulted mathematics and never got an answer. It feels made up, a fairy tale to feel better, to attach ourselves to one another.

I fear I came across love and didn’t notice it, I fear I brushed it off for something else and now it’s too late.”

With each pause, it gets easier to speak, harder to talk. Finding the right words, using your vocal chords, moving your tongue, writing your sentences in your mind. You don’t feel the tears gathering around your eyes or going down your cheeks. You wait for the robot title, to be called heartless and how you have a rock in your chest. They never come.

“Do you really fear of hurting him?” There’s no doubt he is talking about Iwaizumi.

“I don’t know.”

“But you care for him.”

“I don’t know.”

“Think before you answer.” He says then, voice stern.

“I think I care for him but I fear I will ruin him.”

The unspoken ‘how so?’ is in the air.

“I feel grey to the point of dust and decay. I fear everything I touch either drives away from me or decays. I don’t want to lose him. I think I care for him. But I don’t want to watch him stay by my side and crumble one by one.

I don’t want to go from grey to blue.”

“Doesn’t he make you happy? I’ve seen genuine smiles on you when you’re with him. You almost light up when he enter a room or sits beside you.”

“What’s the point of happiness if it’s dependent on one person? It is not fair to either parties.”

He starts tsking. “Too many don’ts for that age. You’ll end up with wrinkles before your thirties.”

He stops prying after that.

The air begins to grow colder, a little breeze picks up.

The stars are as cold as ever, blinking diamonds in the sky.

You swear you see the arm of Milky Way coming into motion, flowing like a stream.

For what feels like an hour, it is quiescent. You decide to break it one last time.

“Speaking of stars, you and Iwaizumi are like neutron stars. Can be found alone or orbiting one another, chasing after each other, forever together and merged at last. Both stars on your own but as captivating when together.”

The hour taking its toll on you, your senses grow duller. You can’t hear his breathing without focusing, even the stars are getting blurry.

“Then you’re like a black dwarf.” Oikawa speaks up. “Because you feel unreal most of the time.”

You both fall back into silence. You don’t ask him if he meant it as a compliment and he doesn’t answer.

You don’t need to know which way he meant, in a way, you already know the response to that.

Tonight isn’t real. It’ll cease to exist in a few hours and you let these rare moments sink in. Probably the closest you’ll ever be to Oikawa Tooru, closest see him like this. It almost feels familiar, like you’ve done this before, went on stargazing with him and opened your heart out to him. It feels like a dream, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You chuckle at your attempt of a joke lightly.

It is serene around the two of you and in your mind. A placidity you haven’t had without the help of a distraction in a long while.

“Thanks Tooru.”

His name falls out of your lips like you use it on the daily. Like the comforting shuffle of a worn out sweater as you put it on, the chirping of this family of birds living by your house for decades, the warm meow of your cat when you’re headed to bed. It sounds natural.

Scooting closer to him until your head rests on his chest. He just wraps his arm around you, pulling you further. Not a single word on your way of addressing him. And not a word from you on his way of holding you.

The moment will cease to exist in the morning, along with your confessions and the blinking lights of the stars. In a few hours it’ll no longer be real. So you decide to give it a shot at being close to him in all senses, share something the two of you will never have. Wrapping your arm around his torso, listening closely to his heart. Your head under his chin, his hand atop yours, you fall asleep until the sun comes.

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sorenskyhigh · 4 years ago

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Might be a weird request but Tendou as a protective serial killer and his s/o doesn't know. Until she comes across him in front of murder scene. Let's just say kidnapping and he probs wouldn't let me go but would I mind... No. This is a weird request...😐😑😐🤣🤣🤣

NO!!! This is not weird at all!!! Honestly I live this!!! The comedy that could ensue from this has me just wksnejekjekw

Satori Tendo As a Protective Serial Killer Boyfriend

⚠️ If it wasn't already apparent, gore, and descriptions of a panic attack

First of all, he acted a lot like 707 does in Mystic Messenger

Super funny, super flirty, and makes you laugh like crazy

But you ask him out on a date and now he's borderline rude, very cold

Satori loves you, he does

But to bring you into he dark world he lives in.....he could never

He stays near you so he can protect you, but he stays farther away

He does everything he can to make you want to leave, to not want him

You keep pushing though

You'll be damned if you're letting this one get away

You knew he had trauma, you just didn't know how deep

Tendo also doesn't kill anyone in relation to you unless it's absolutely necessary

He may be a serial killer, but he only kills people he thinks are bad and don't deserve the breath they take from everyone else

It's around 10 at night. You're walking towards your apartment building. This was a nice neighborhood, but that doesn't mean there still aren't unsavory people lurking in the shadows in the alleyways between the beautiful French architecture.

The cobblestone street under your feet click clacked as you walked on. People passing you by every once in awhile.

It was a little chilly. The wind whistled as it struggled to pass through the tight knit homes and shops. The wind complimented a full moon that shined brightly in the pitch black sky.

You avoided eye contact with anyone you passed, but you made sure to check down every alley as you passed.

A scream sounded from a backstreet further down.

Naturally you froze in your tracks. The scream had been broken off at the end but a bubbly, wet sound. Your heart beat against your ribs, very painfully. Your breath became ragged and your throat burned.

You wanted to run the otherwise, call the police, something, but what if you were the only person standing between whoever that was and death?

What if you running away could mean their demise?

Your conscience got the better of you and you started inching along the front of buildings with your back towards the brick buildings.

You checked an alley and saw nothing, so you went to the next building and checked the narrow backstreet.

You almost screamed. You honestly would have if you could get enough breath to.

There, with blood splattered all over him, a crouched Satori Tendo.

He was tending to the body. He was removing the persons fingers, the eyes and teeth already in a jar that sat next to his feet.

Tendo was singing a song in Japanese. You have no idea what he was saying, you only spoke French.

His voice sounded haunting as it resounded quietly in the space around him. Echoing off the walls of the buildings.

His breath was visible from the chill in the air, though you, you felt a different kind of chill.

The kind that ran up your spine like boney children's fingers.

The kind of chill that caused that tingling feeling all over your arms as your hairs raised on end.

The kind of chill that made you feel nauseous.

You had no idea what to do. What was someone supposed to do in this situation? You were watching someone that you loved, dearly, dismember a random person that probably did nothing to deserve this kind of treatment.

A small breath finally escaped you. The smoke billowing out into the opening of the street.

You hurriedly pulled yourself back, trying not to make any noise.

All you could hear was the rapid thrumming of your heart.

Tendo switched to French so you could understand him."Now, now, now. Why did you have to go and start sneaking around. If you would have ignored his scream, you could have lived a long and fulfilling life. Probably".

His footsteps were getting louder. Your fight or flight kicked in and you jumped to your feet and started running.

Your feet smacked loudly against the stones, but yours weren't the only one. You could hear his loud and clear behind you.

As much as you wanted to think that Satori wouldn't hurt you, he did just murder and sliced someone to bits.

Your lungs burned and you could tell he was too close. Your feet hurt as you slammed them against the street. Your eyes started to water.

You stopped and turned on a dime. Tendou saw your face an stopped just short, your noses almost touching. His eyes were the ones wide with fear this time.

His hands were dripping with blood, a knife clenched in one.

You started to shake. Obviously you're scared. Who wouldn't be??? Your breath came out fast and in short, quick spurts.

Tendou very slowly and cautiously took a step back from you. His eyes had saddened as he stared into your soul.

"Call the police if you must. I refuse to hurt you, my Paradise." His words were barely above a whisper. You almost didn't catch what he said over your rapidly beating heart.

You couldn't speak, your mouth was suddenly so dry. It felt like sand had filled your senses, your lungs.

You were having a panic attack. You quickly grabbed the cloth over your chest and bent over. You couldn't get any breath and your mind couldn't focus on anything.

It happened so fast. Satori grabbing your wrist and leading you down the street with the dead person, picking up the jar full of fingers teeth, and eyes. He continued down and made many turns.

Your mind, from lack of oxygen, couldn't comprehend what was going on. Everything was so fast and so complicated. You felt dizzy. You felt even more nauseous.

He brought you to a duplex. He unlocked the door and guided you.

You could barely stand at this point. The blood; his hand covered in it.

Satori led you to his couch. Out of habit you sat down.

You don't know where he went or what he was doing. You didn't know what he would do to you. The only thing you did know was, that person's blood was on your wrist and the sleeves of your sweater. That as all you could focus on.

Your vision started to blurr and blacken out around the edge.

Everything from the wind, the creaks, the pipes; it all was so loud.

You barely noticed a how Satori cleaned the blood off your wrist. His hand was gentle and warm.

Your mind happened to think of the first time he had held your hand.

It was the first time you both had met. He had asked if he could brush a kiss across your knuckles. He said he would never touch someone, especially someone as amazing as you, without your consent.

You were being enrapt by the memory. It was calming.

His eyes had had a slight mischief and he brushed his soft lips across your fingers. His eyes has never left yours.

He then sandwich your hand between his two massive ones, leaning forward slightly so his breath would just barely dance across your skin.

"You were once shattered and then you had to use fire to melt the pieces so you could put yourself back together again, right? You're just like me."

His words that day were why you were here. His words were why you hadn't run when he gave you the chance. That day is why you were now breathing calmly on his couch as he sat on the floor on the opposite side of the room from you.

His large, ruby red eyes glistened with worry as you calmed yourself down.

Pt. 2 maybe?????? If enough people want me to continue this I will

Thank you to @thatfunnysprout for sending in another request and thank you for collaborating with me ❤

My request are currently open, don't be afraid to ask

@popcorntime-doodles @multifandombrainrot @kneecapstealingalien @akabxne @jiheonity @weareallhumans123 @smallmangi @canadian-crow @just-jellyfish @immiamarais @i-need-coffee-now-pls @foreveryoung050 @kuroos-world @luminasapphire @silverfire6 @shadowsbutdead @ghostexhibit @simpfornishinoya @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @japoga @all-around-fandoms31 @myyeetfelloff @itsallgonnabokayihope @g00s3 @boreateo @mirrorballmyfave @backalley-astrologer @vaniatslover @lil-mellow-bunbun @strawberrymakki @beelziee @mehreenlol @taiyahhh

#hot.thoughts.here #owchie

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magniloquent-raven · 5 years ago

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Ooh for your prompts: Fluffy Elmax sleepover with cuddling for #16 pls :') xoxox

i had such a good time writing this omg thank you!!! tho there’s a couple bits that threaten to be angst because im physically incapable of writing pure fluff lmao. it’s just tiny bits tho. just a smidge.

also, because s4 isn’t out yet i uh. kinda just did a time skip but didn’t rly change anything about how s3 left off? i know we know hopper’s alive but like. i guess he’s just still in russia in this fic LMAO rip. don’t think about it too hard

posted on ao3 as well :)

—-

Max’s watch timer beeps obnoxiously again. 8:36. El’s late. She hits snooze.

“When’s your friend supposed to be here, sweetie?”

“Soon, mom. You know, you and Neil don’t have to wait up.” They do this every time. Like Max isn’t almost seventeen and perfectly capable of being alone in her own damn house for five minutes. At this rate they’re going to be late for whatever thing it is they’re going to, and Neil will be even more of a bitch than usual.

Her mom glances over at him. He’s sitting in his armchair looking surly, checking his watch pointedly. Asshole.

“Well…I don’t think—”

Max hears a car pull up out front. “Oh, thank fuck,” she mutters, turning on her heel and marching out to greet the Byers’.

Joyce climbs out of the passenger seat as Max strides across the lawn. “Max, honey!” she waves, grinning bright, “How are you?” There’s always a…tone to how she asks that. Questions lurking under the surface that they don’t talk about. It makes Max’s insides all squirmy thinking about it, though she is on some level grateful for the concern.

Max stands on the curb, tugging on her earring. A habit by now. It’s both a comfort and a reminder. She got one hell of a lecture the day she came out of the bathroom with blood running down her neck and a safety pin in her earlobe, but she didn’t regret it for a second.

El slides out of the driver’s seat, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Max watches her stand and adjust her shirt. She always looked good in yellow. “I’m good,” Max responds after a beat, and it’s honest for once.

The door behind her creaks. Probably her mom and Neil coming out of the house, hopefully to leave, finally. She doesn’t turn around, just steps into Joyce’s waiting arms and presses her face into her shoulder. Max is taller than her now, by a couple inches, so it hurts her neck a little, but it’s worth it.

Will’s still tucked away in the backseat, peering through the window, Max waves at him when she peeks up over Joyce’s shoulder.

Then El distracts her. “Your hair,” she says, gently tugging on a lock behind her ear. Max steps back from Joyce, and runs a hand through it, cheeks pink. Three years ago she’d hacked off all her hair with a pocket-knife, woke up the morning of Billy’s funeral with strands still stuck to her neck, locks hanging ragged across her forehead. Her mother had thrown a fit.

“Yeah, I cut it again,” Max says, like that wasn’t obvious. She’d let it grow out uneven and messy for a while, but she broke out the scissors again about a month ago. It’s neater than her last haircut, but not by much.

El’s hand is in Max’s hair again, dangerously close to her face. Max’s knees wobble a little.

“Bitchin’,” she says solemnly, after a few seconds of consideration.

Max’s grin is blinding.

Her mother cuts in, before she can respond, gives her the usual talk about staying in the house and making sure she’s got her emergency numbers memorized. Then she bids them all a hasty, distracted goodbye. Her mom was never very comfortable about the Byers’. Probably something about Joyce’s too-knowing gaze, or the fact that El glares daggers at Neil every time he’s within range.

She’s doing it now. Watching him get into his truck with a quiet rage in her eyes. Joyce puts a hand on her elbow, and it doesn’t move until Neil’s truck has turned the corner at the end of the street.

“We should get going,” Joyce says, checking her watch. “Will wanted to be at Claudia’s an hour ago but we got caught up at Mike’s house, and, well, you know how it is,” she flutters her hands, approximating a shrug.

She hugs El goodbye, then pulls Max in for another one. “Call us if you need anything,” she says, pulling back and putting her hands on Max’s shoulders. That sad glint is in her eye again, and Max knows the offer extends beyond tonight.

“Thanks, Joyce, we will.”

By the time she’s taken the corner at the end of Cherry Lane Max’s watch is beeping again.

El glances down at it, a pinch between her eyebrows. “…Was that for me?”

“Uh.”

The confusion melts off her face, replaced by a cheeky grin. “It was!”

Max shuts the alarm off, cheeks burning. “Why were you guys at Mike’s for so long?” she asks. eager to change the subject. If the guys are meeting up at Dustin’s the delay wasn’t because Will and Mike were catching up, and, well, Mike and El’s relationship is…of interest to Max. For reasons.

El purses her lips. It’s a face that tells Max they’re gonna need to be sitting and cozy for this conversation because it’s gonna be a long one. So, she links their arms and pulls her inside.

An hour later they’re huddled under a throw blanket on the couch. El is giggling, face in her hands, and Max is wheezing around a mouthful of skittles.

“Oh, that’s so not funny,” she chokes out, trying not to spew candy everywhere, which brings about a fresh wave of laughter. El’s shoulders are shaking, brushing against Max’s and making her warm all over. God damn, she’s missed this.

“Then why are you laughing,” El replies, poking her side and smiling from ear-to-ear.

She’s beautiful, Max thinks. Her braid is half-undone, letting her hair curl around her face in gentle waves, and her eyes are bright. She looks happy, and Max holds on to that, keeps it all for herself because she did that, she made that happen. She might not have everything she wants from El, but she’ll take whatever she can get. Whatever El wants to give. And sometimes just her smiles are enough, enough to make Max’s chest constrict and her heart glow, because for now, she’s happy too.

She laughs again, in leu of a response. How can she not, when she feels so light she could float away, high on the soft strawberry scent of El’s shampoo and the way her cheek dimples when she grins. But she can’t say that, so she says, “Because it’s Mike,” and pokes El right back. “I’m legally obligated to laugh at his misfortune.”

They have a complicated friendship, which mostly boils down to her being willing to bail him out when he’s in shit, but only if she gets to make fun of him while she does it.

El wrinkles her nose a little, but her smile doesn’t dim, “You two are weird.”

She’s pretty sure it used to bother El, how much Mike and Max fought. Max can’t help but wonder if they’d have gotten along better if she wasn’t in love with his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Because she’d dumped him for good this time. Four months ago, apparently, though Mike was, until a few hours ago, under the impression it was temporary.

Max almost feels bad for him. Except she doesn’t. Apparently, he was a dick about the whole thing, so at least she has a solid reason not to.

“You love us,” Max scoffs. El may have broken up with Mike, but she’ll always love him in some way or another.

El’s expression softens, turns fond and sweet. She’s thinking about Mike, Max is sure, but the smile is still directed as her. Small victories. “I do,” she says quietly.

They order a pizza after that, and watch movies into the wee hours of the morning. By 3am Max’s throat is raw, and her stomach hurts from laughing (and too much pizza). It’s the most fun she’s had in a while. The Byers’ don’t visit as often as any of them would like.

Max isn’t even tired, but El’s head has been dropping onto her shoulder on and off for the past hour so she suggests they call it a night.

She knows that when the boys sleep over at each other’s houses they’ll take the floor, or the couch in the basement, anything but actually sharing a bed. As El wraps an arm around her waist and snuggles up with her under the blankets, Max takes a moment to wonder if that would be better or worse than this.

It always seemed so miserable to Max, how much boys have to limit themselves.

But also…well, it might be easier sometimes. She wouldn’t have to deal with wanting things she shouldn’t want because El would be over there, and not right up in her space, hands warm and breath tickling Max’s ear. This is different than sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, it blurs the line more, and it’s the ambiguity that’s driving Max crazy.

She wasn’t tired before, but she’s wide-awake now.

Time creeps by strangely this late at night. Max isn’t sure how long she lays there, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm her pounding heart. El’s breath is steady, quiet, and her eyes are closed. Max is sure she’s asleep, she was so tired before.

Before she can stop herself her hand creeps up, brushes a strand of hair from El’s face.

Moonlit, she’s ethereal. There’s always been something otherworldly about El, with her big, dark eyes, always watching, boring holes into you with their intensity. Shadows play across her cheek, and Max tracks them for a while, absurdly jealous of moonlight.

She traces patterns on El’s forearm, the one resting on Max’s stomach, keeping her touch light so as not to wake her.

More time passes, and Max’s head feels heavy with sleep that won’t come. She’s groggy, leaning back but unable to keep her eyes closed.

She starts talking. Whispering. Remembering the times she read Wonder Woman comics to El until she fell asleep, and hoping, somewhere in her foggy brain, that it might work on herself too.

“You know… I always knew we’d be good friends. The second I heard your name I wanted to know you,” she murmurs, and draws a star on El’s wrist. “Didn’t know how badly I wanted until I saw you though. You were terrifying, and I loved it. And now…” Her eyes slide closed as she thinks. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful. Everything about you. And I love you…more than I should.” She sighs, sits in silence and cards her fingers through El’s hair. It’s getting so long.

El’s hand closes around her wrist.

Max’s eyes fly open, and she stills, heart pounding. “Uh.” El’s eyes are open, looking up at her, she’s awake, she’s awake, oh fuck– “Um. Did—did I wake you up, I’m—sorry if I woke you—”

“It’s okay.” The corners of her mouth turn up, slow and careful, “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” Is all Max can manage, staring down at El with wide eyes, waiting for her to…do something. Max’s palms are sweating. She doesn’t know what to expect.

El moves her hand, puts Max’s palm against her cheek and shuffles forward until they’re nose to nose.

“Oh.”

She tastes like toothpaste and kiwi lip balm, and kisses as sweetly as she smiles. Her hands end up in Max’s hair, fingers gentle but demanding, guiding her forward. If Max wasn’t already laying down, she’d need to be because her knees are jelly.

“Oh,” El echoes when she pulls back, laughter in her voice. She presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth, careful and deliberate. Then her expression softens, sobers. “I was jealous of you. At first. Didn’t…know what it was. Know why. So, I ignored you. And… I’m sorry.”

Max shakes her head, “Ancient history. It’s okay.”

“No, I,” El stops, furrows her brow, “You were so happy. Free. I wanted that. And then, then you helped me have that. So. Thank you.” She cups Max’s face, fingertips tracing along her cheekbone, and Max’s heart sings. “And I love you too.”

They kiss again, and Max decides that El sleeping on the floor would’ve been a terrible idea.

#elmax #elmax fanfic #stranger things #el hopper #max mayfield #i couldn't resist the little bits about max mourning her brother because im a masochist apparently #if anyone was wondering the earring max is wearing is 100% billy's #and joyce knows neil is The Worst which is why she's concerned about max #making sure he isn't treating her how he used to treat billy #yeah #ALSO #susan being all overprotective?#is because of billy #like. he might not have been her kid but he was something to her yknow?#and now he's gone #and she gotta deal w that somehow #and shes dealing with it by clinging extra hard to the kid she's got left #THAT'S TOO MANY SAD HEADCANONS TO PUT IN ONE FLUFFY SLEEPOVER FIC WHY AM I LIKE THIS #anyway apparently posting my writing is a thing i do now so i need a tag #a raven's writing desk #because i'm real pretentious dont @ me lmao

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elvencantation · 4 years ago

Text

mpub ep12 liveblog

-WAIT WHERE IS KANG BAE??

-sad they’re not showing the last scene again like they usually do. but i guess they gotta fit a lot into this last episode. imma go rewatch it again real quick then come back 😂

-alright i’m back. i rly hope this is like kang bae inside his own head while the tree fucks shit up or something. cause i rly wanna see him fuck shit up!!!

-oh no honey please don’t cry!!! i cant stand it when you cry 😭

-YES ITS INTERDIMENSIONAL DAD POV I NEED HIM TO WALK IN ON BB BOY SAVING HIS MOM

-OMG BACK TO MY BADASS BOY OMGOGMOMGOMG

-made a video of my reaction to this next bit. gonna go rewatch real quick while it posts

-SECOND TIME WEOL JU GETS TO DOTE OVER HIM AS HE’S SICK IN BED. I SHOULDNT ENJOY THIS AS MUCH AS I DO

-OMG SHES REALIZED WHO HE IS HASNT SHE AAAAAAA

-OK NOW TELL DAD ALREADY PLS

-what in the world is going on is a good question

-*flashes back to lwj not telling wwx who sizhui is until the last episode*

-homeboy not only just found out he was actually a dad, then also found out the kid that they’d both been doting on and looking after is his actual kid (tho honestly, the found family trope wouldve worked just as well here)

-FUCK ME UPPP

-NO DONT CRY INTERDIMENSIONAL DAD ITS ALMOST WORSE THAN WHEN KANG BAE CRIES

-OH SHIT HE HAVING TREE FLASHBACKS OMGOMGOMG

-OH NO THEYRE TALKING TO HIM EVEN THO HES NOT TOUCHING THEM

-GO DIE IN A HOLE DICKWAD NOBODY WANTS U AROUND. STOP LURKING IN THAT ABANDONED BUILDING

-well i guess i do feel bad for his dad a little. and settling that grudge would really tie this whole thing up in a pretty bow. i mean, obviously its not gonna be that easy

-wait is kang bae asleep or did he somehow go find the tree? or wait is the tree even there anymore im not 100% sure what happened to the physical tree after what weol ju did

-oh ok hes asleep ofc that makes more sense

-NOPE THIS CANT BE GOODBYE IT CANNOT HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW WHO HE IS TO THEM OR ANYTHING HE SAID HE WANTED TO MEET HIS MOM JUST ONCE

-wait is this what his life would’ve been like if they’d been reborn and been his proper parents???

-his room is so cute

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-made another little video here

-FUCK!!!!!

-srsly dude ur still lurking dramatically in that abandoned warehouse?

-I KNEW AS SOON AS HE WENT FOR THE FRIDGE THAT SHE’D HAVE LEFT HIM FOOD IN THERE I CANNOT

-oooooo pretty knife!! can she stab him (non lethally) with the pretty knife please? also i know interdimensional dad is walking into a trap or whatever but i need him to be ok. esp since that trap doesnt directly involve wonhyung but only his weird minion

-he says he wants her to feel like she’s lost everything. dude what do u think happened to her in her last life? you literally ruined her whole life but i guess that wasn’t enough because u actually had to face the consequences of ur actions

-yeah yeah we knew that wasn’t actually weol ju. but then wheres the real weol ju... is yeorin gonna find her???

-get the dad to get the kid? i’m confused why didn’t he just shift into weol ju without that? or did she have to be unconscious for that? or wait he probably thought distracting dad would give him enough time eh whatever let’s watch

-TIME FOR THE BADASS GLAIVE FUCK THEM UP DAD

-video time again!

-WAIT KANG BAE WAS HAVING A PROPHETIC DREAM IN THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE WASNT HE

- FUCK ME UPPPPPPP

-oh my GOD I LOVE HOW YOU CAN SEE HOT AIR COMING OFF THE BLADE OF THE GLAIVE?!?!

-ahhhh the glaive looks so awesome all glowing!!!

-EVEN MORE BADASS FIGHT YES OMG

-oh we using the force now!

-HE LITERALLY GRABBED THE PIPE THAT WAS FLYING TOWARDS HIM LIKE CATCHING AN ARROW MID FLIGHT AND THREW IT BACK I CANNOT

-yeah u deserve to get stabbed idiot

-AND VIDEO TIME AGAIN BECAUSE I DONT LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING

-WHAT ELSE DO U CALL SACRIFICING URSELF FOR SOMEONE? YOU LITERALLY PROTECTED HER FROM BEING IMPALED

-also if i was watching this at night, instead of 2pm with the sunlight streaming in through the window, i would be bawling like a baby

-WHY U JUST GOTTA KEEP MAKING MOM AND DAD CRY

-AND THEN HE DISAPPEARS LIKE BEN WHY U TRYING TO HURT ME LIKE THIS

-ok so mom is so badass with her snap of freezing time or whatever. ahhh i love it

-DONT LIKE THIS HE MOVED A FINGER!!!

-I DONT LIKE THIS WEI WUXIAN MOMENT JUST USE HIS HELP TO GET BACK UP GODDAMNIT OTHERWISE WHO WILL SETTLE THE SCORE AND HELP HIM CLOSE HIS SPIRITUAL VISION

-wait is she settling her own grudge? I DONT LIKE THIS

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-i fuckIN KNEW IT I KNEW SHE WASNT GONE

-OMG SHES STILL FUCKING PEOPLE UP YES THIS IS AMAZING

-awww samsin and death talking about weol ju i cant

-OH MY GOD WHY DID THEY DO THIS TO ME AGAIN THATS MEAN TO MAKE ME THINK THAT KANG BAE STILL HAD THE SPIRITUAL VISION PROBLEM WHEN ALL HE HAD WAS SOMETHING ON HIS EYE. no srsly they already did that once with weol ju i feel like this is overdoing it

-weol ju looks horrible oh honey im sorry. well, she did just lose the love of her life and thinks she failed her son as well

-I FUCKING KNEW IT DAD IS BACK TOO WHO ELSE WOULDVE RESCUED HER FROM THE DARKNESS YET AGAIN

-thank the gods. nobody has been as cruel to me as guardian. except perhaps rogue one

-AAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT WAIT TO SEE KANG BAE’S FACE

-AAAAAAAAA?!?!?!!?!?!

#mystic pop up bar #mystic pop up bar liveblog #mystic pop up bar spoilers #blue watches #mystic pop up bar finale #han kang bae #weol ju #chief gwi #kang yeorin #video reactions linked in this post!

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ambroseias · 4 years ago

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「lorenzo zurzolo & male/questioning」⇾ ambrose , elijah, the junior horton student’s records show that he is an virgo and 21 years old. he is studying classics and econ, living in noland and can be charming, diligent, self-centered & vain. when i see him i am reminded of clenched teeth, pyrrhic victories & a laugh that comes to haunt you. ⇽「momo & 20 & est & any pronouns.」

“all stories are about wolves. all worth repeating, that is. anything else is sentimental drivel.” - margaret atwood

hi it’s momo ur resident mess and this is adapted from a previous intro i did so pls dont make fun of me if u catch mistakes. if u like this, i’m coming into ur dms to plot and, if u don’t, i’m still yearning for connection with ur chara. pls. come validate my cliched average bacchanalian icarus bitch, toxic faerie princeling, dark academia fuccboi, dorian grey in the FLESH.

full bio to be found HERE bulleted bio below

AESTHETICS.

sunlight on skin in the morning, like ribbons of gold gleaming between tousled sheets. he throws his head back, laughing. if you do not love him, then you will now. clothes, always pressed. hair, meticulously in place. a dog-eared copy of a streetcar named desire in the crook of his arm. lies. they come so easy to boys like him. lies. tinged honey sweet to hide the fact that there is nothing but teeth behind them. you’ve seen his face in a painting somewhere, you’re certain. and if not, then it haunts you in your dreams. kisses that always taste like champagne, no matter what time it is. if you cut him open, he’d be more red wine than blood. secrets. there is something he’s not telling you. secrets. something rotten behind that sweet-faced grin. walden and thoreau in place of a father figure. choosing dickinson instead of the mother he had. clenched teeth. pyrrhic victories. he wins, always, but at what cost? climb into his chest, now. ignore that miraculously still-beating heart. feel how hollow it is here? he has tried to fill this emptiness his whole life. he has never succeeded.

BULLETED BIO

TW parental issues

first off, say mommy issues into a mirror 3x and this bitch appears behind u like the demon he is

‘that’s it. thats the chara.

im jk but not rlly. eli is the only child to one of radcliffe’s esteemed feminism + gender studies professor (prof. vivianne ambrose) and their relationship has always been... rough

it’s not for lack of love. it’s just that-- sometimes, people are too alike. and it’s hard to apologize and express the love that you feel.

halfway “ignored” by his mother, he’s spent his entire life trying to gain the attention and love of everyone around him. he definitely tries to shift his personality to be the person u want him to be--- but can only really settle on pretentious intellectual + wild child

so ig what i’m trying to say is that ... he’s the duality of man if both dualities were the WORST and most pretentious

mostly, what’s happened is that the people who like him really like him. and the people who don’t-- he refuses to spend the time of day on.

+ like ! i guess the best way to describe him is bright, glittering, hard to look at directly.

he wants u to want him.

but he doesn’t want u to know him

classics n econ bc honestly, he wants to be a professor like his mom and teach classics or theatre BUT he refuses to admit it so he’s getting a double major in econ and telling himself he’s gonna be like a politician or lawyer or some other slick shit

he... ............... would make a good politician probably.

but still.

he rattles off a list of dream roles he wants to play. hamlet. coriolanus. oedipus. caesar. creon. gatsby. some are leads, some aren’t. but most of all-- “they’re tragedies,” you say, “you really like tragedies that much?”

he laughs glibly. “no--” he says, “god, of course not. but they’re the only things i can play. look, i know what i look like. i know what you think of me. deep down, you want nothing more than to see me suffer. on stage, you can.”

“and off-stage?“ you ask tentatively. his eyes flash green, his lips press together almost imperceptibly, “oh come on. look at me. no one’s ever going to deny me of what i want.“

it’s a lie, of course. but it’s a good one. and it’s one that he goes to sleep telling himself.

pls i beg u!! yes, he’s terrible, but, deep down, i think he wants to be good. i think he wants to be soft. but the only time he ever got his mother’s attention was when he was doing something wrong and it’s made his perception of how love is supposed to be— skewed.

he definitely FEELS like an old soul, but he also probably has a very active thirst instagram using oscar wilde and margaret atwood quotes as captions

i hate him dearly pls

IMMA ADD MORE WANTED CONNECTIONS

people who have studied under/knows his mom -- ur too close. everytime he sees u he flinches. he’ll walk in during ur consultation with his mother and the two of them will stiffly update each other on their day and ur like god dang what a weird ass relationship. alternately, he’ll sit outside his mother’s office while ur doing consults. and u can’t help but wonder... god... what kind of mom, would make her child wait.

friends/enemies/etc. from childhood --- he grew up near the university has always been around town

wld die for a childhood crush on him or from him, but likely from him bc that’s cute af

a childhood friend that has always been his ride-or-die, even though they’ve definitely grown apart bc elijah has a fear of Emotional Intimacy!! but u knew him once and u know... there’s a real boy behind that layer of pretense.

step/half-siblings !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! --- his mom might have remarried! his bio dad maybe is lurking out there with another family! who knows!

a tormentor --- for anyone who knows the ambrose family, its’ not hard to see that the relationship btwn mom + son is strained. and like-- that’s something eli is always gonna be sensitive abt. ur chara knows that eli isn’t the hard shell he pretends to be. he’s just a soft boi longing for approval + that scares tf out of eli

people who eli hates -- mostly softs who remind him of his own failure to become completely unfeeling

rlly pretentious friends

unpretentious not friends

party friends

litcherally anything

neighbors

one night stands

fwbs

exes (elijah is tentatively pan, but objectively hates labels)

i live for apartment plots so pls hit me up if ur chara lives in noland

#ruhqintro

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heartjwi · 5 years ago

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high school sweethearts — lee donghyuck

GENRE | fluff, angst

SUMMARY | farewell to you, my high school sweetheart

DISCLAIMER | includes cheating (minimal)

A/N | prequel for ‘where do broken hearts go’ pls dont roast me as i havent written anything in like,,, months oof + would recommend listening to bye my first as you read this !!! + this has nothing to do with jeno’s story this is just like how i want the feel to be comprende? comprende. i just wanted to include hyuck in this lil series cs he wasnt in dnyl so yes

all your life, you never thought you could meet someone like lee donghyuck. the epitome of a high school sweetheart. he was everything you could dream of. donghyuck was perfect in your eyes and will always be, no matter what.

you first met him when you were in sixth grade, when he first transferred to your school. almost instantly, you two became friends due to your friendly persona. it’s like you two just instantly clicked and skipped the awkward stage.

it didn’t take a while for you guys to catch feelings for each other. he was like your other half afterall. you remember it like it was yesterday, the day he asked you to be his.

“can i ask you something?” donghyuck holds your hand while you two sit in a dark playground late at night. “anything” you smile at your best friend. donghyuck nervously laughs as he stares off somewhere else. you feel his hand get damp making you chuckle. “hyuck your hands are sweaty” you chortled, letting go of his hand. haechan wipes his sweaty hands against the fabric of his sweatpants before taking both of your hands again, swaying them.

“i hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship” he starts, making you raise a brow. “what?” you asked. donghyuck clears his throat before finally asking you the question he’s been dying to ask you.

“will you be my girlfriend..?” he stares deeply in your eyes. you felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment, like you two were frozen in time. “it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, just forget i asked” he says slowly, averting his gaze from you to his shoes, kickng the sand.

“hey” you cup his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “yes. i’ll be your girlfriend” you kissed his cheek making him turn red. “FUCK YES” donghyuck yells in triumph, throwing his fist up in the air.

“you know, i’ve been wanting to ask you that since we first met” he tells you as you two walk home hand in hand.

———

for the first half of your relationship, you kept your relationship hidden from your friends. not that it was a bad thing, you just wanted to enjoy your relationship in peace without anyone lurking in your business.

but as for someone like donghyuck who’s very much very open to the public, he publicly expressed his love for you for the first time in the middle of the cafeteria one day.

“attention y/n!” hyuck screams into the megaphone, almost bursting everyone’s ears. “what do you want donghyuck” you groaned, not liking the attention from bystanders. “i just want to say that i love you very much” he jumps down from the cafeteria table and hands you a bouquet of flowers. pretty much surprising everyone in school

and the crowd cheers as you take the bouquet of flowers from him and kissed him on the cheek. “and i love you too” you whisper in his ear, making him giggle.

ever since then, the school voted the two of you as the high school sweethearts.

———

just like you’ve imagined it, you never felt so loved by anyone else. donghyuck gave you everything he had. he poured his heart and soul into each thing he has done for you and you couldn’t ask for anything more. but as your relationship grows older, you found yourself growing distant from him more and more.

during the end of junior year, you felt like you lost the spark you initially had with donghyuck. after spending almost 4 years with him, it’s bound to happen, right or so you thought.

for donghyuck, the more he spent time with you, the more he is certain that you were gonna be his first and last.

“good morning, baby” he kisses your forehead as you enter his car. “hey” you mumbled, not giving him a kiss back. donghyuck frowns at your sudden change of behavior. you thought he’d never notice such change but in this case, he did. he does, he always notices every little thing about you.

“i’ll be going on a trip with my family” donghyuck starts, looking at you as he drives the both of you to school. “and?” you reply, scrolling through your phone. “i’m just saying i’ll be gone for a week..” hyuck finishes quietly, pulling up in the school’s parking lot. “that’s great i guess, hope you have fun” you tell him nonchalantly, closing the door before he could even reply.

—

and just like what donghyuck said, he was indeed gone for the week. with this, you have enough time to look back and decide if it’s worth staying with donghyuck.

you were currently in calculus, growing bored as time passes by. luckily, you sat next to jeno, who was the top student in calculus. “hey jeno” you whispered, trying to catch his attention. “hmm?” he hums, not taking his eyes off the whiteboard.

“can you help me with this? it’s hard” you pout making jeno chuckle. “y/n that’s literally our first topic” he grabs your notebook and starts skimming through them. “and you didn’t even take notes!” he points out making you red from embarrassment.

“but sure, i’ll help you” jeno flashes his infamous eye smile making your heart flutter. “thanks jen, you’re the best” you smile back, feeling giddy all of a sudden.

for the rest of the class, you got to know more about jeno and you even offered if he wanted to have lunch with you. completely forgetting about your boyfriend whatsoever.

as the days pass, you and jeno became closer and closer. currently, you were hanging out with him in a cat cafe. despite him being allergic to cats. “so tell me,” he starts, petting the cats nearby. “when did you and hyuck start dating?”

and almost instantly, all your memories of being together with hyuck flashed before your eyes. ‘did i seriously forget about my own boyfriend’ you thought to yourself. jeno notices you spaced out and snaps his fingers in front of your face.

“hello? earth to y/n?” he waves a hand over your face. “you know what, let’s talk about another thing” you faked a smile making jeno a bit confused. “okay”

later that day, you and jeno head over to the amusement park for a bit just to get your mind off things. “you seriously haven’t been to lotte world?!” he reacts. you slowly nod your head and smiled sheepishly. “well, i’m gonna have to show you around then” he proudly states before grabbing your hand and dragging you everywhere.

that was the first time you had fun in months. you stared at your hands that was intertwined with jeno��s making you blush a bit. you were about to lean your head against his shoulders before it hits you, you already have a boyfriend.

you instantly let go of jeno’s hand and felt tears brimming in your eyes. “jen can you take me home” you asked, not daring to look at him in the eye. “what? we were just about to get in the ferris wheel” he pouts. “take me home, please” you plead, finally looked at him in the eye. jeno notices your red eyes and gets the idea.

“i had so much fun today!” jeno laughs as you hold the corndog he’s been eating the entire trip back home. “i know, thank you for that” you blushed, wiping the mayo off the side of his lips. “you got something there” you giggled. jeno shows his infamous smile for what seems like the nth time today. “we’re here!” you tell him as you see your house in the distance.

“thanks again jeno, i’ll see you on monday” you kissed his cheek making him freeze. the realization hits you a second later. “fuck” you cursed, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “jen..” you say slowly. “i know, i’m sorry too” he says quietly. “we shouldn’t tell anyone” you tell him to which he reluctantly agrees doing. “i’m really sorry, please don’t tell hyuck” you plead one last time before leaving his car. “i won’t don’t worry” was the last thing you heard before you closed his door and he sped off.

after jeno drops you off at your house, you notice a familiar car sitting in your driveway. you went near it and found donghyuck sitting inside, blankly staring at his dashboard. hyuck notices your presence and unlocks the car for you to get in.

“so, how was your date?” he asks like it’s nothing. you felt your heart drop to your stomach. ‘he knows?’ you thought to yourself. you opened your mouth to say something but hyuck beat you to it. “you think i didn’t know about your whereabouts with jeno? i’m not stupid as you think i am y/n” hyuck says seriously, showing you his phone filled with text messages from your classmates.

“i-i can explain” you stammered, trying to defend yourself. donghyuck chuckles lowly, “save it. i don’t think i can take it listening to you right now” his voice cracks at the end of his sentence making your heart shatter into pieces. a tear rolls down his cheek.

“please, i swear it’s not what it looks like!” you cried out. donghyuck scoffs, “do you really think you can fool me? i’ve known you for almost 4 years. i know when something’s up with you and the fact you had the guts to do this to me after everything we’ve been through?” he yells out in frustration, hitting the steering wheel in the process.

“after everything i’ve done for you, you do me like this” he finally cries, making you speechless. you’ve never seen haechan cry like this.

“did you ever think of the consequences of your actions? seeing how happy you looked with him rather than me, your own fucking boyfriend? did you ever think about how i will feel about this if i see it? do you even think about me at all?” haechan rants, letting his emotions get the best of him.

“why am i even telling you this, look at you, you don’t even care” he chuckles again, avoiding your gaze. you wiped the tears falling from your cheek, “i do. i do fucking care” you sniffled. haechan turns his head to you and shakes his head, “you don’t anymore” he smiles sadly.

“oh yeah, i forgot i got you this” haechan chucks a fancy box onto your lap. you shakily grab and opened the box to reveal a necklace with his initials making you cry even more. “i got your initials to match with mine but i think it’s different now” he croaks. you shake your head no and tried to hold his hand but he swatted it away.

“don’t touch me” he says, “please” he wipes his tears. “hyuck please, i’m sorry! i swear it’s not what it looks like” you sobbed onto your hands. “you know, it hurts me seeing you cry like this” donghyuck stares at your shaking figure. “but after what you did to me, i’m not really sure anymore”

it grows quiet inside his car, just the sound of your sniffles can be heard. “i need some time to think about this— about us” donghyuck starts. “you’ll know when i’ve made up my mind” he finishes. you hiccuped, “please don’t leave me” making hyuck’s heart hurt even more. “i’m not too sure about that” he looks down.

you took this as a sign for you to get out of his car and out of his life as well. without saying another word, you stepped out of his car and silently closed the door. “i’m sorry” you murmured to yourself before stepping inside your house.

donghyuck stares at your back the entire time you went inside your house. hyuck starts his engine and leaves your driveway. “guess she never really loved me the way i loved her” he laughs to himself, ripping the dangling locket he had on his rear view mirror, speeding off to who knows where to clear his head and to fix his broken heart.

#haechan #nct #nct dream #lee donghyuck #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct angst #nct dream angst #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan angst #jeno #lee jeno #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #jeno angst

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