#so now it’s reduced to jokes that don’t address the heart of why they did that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tellmenauineo · 4 years ago

Text

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre:��soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes.

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment)

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone.

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy.

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.”

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside 🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

“I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit.

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight. You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance.

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already.

207 notes · View notes

dracosaurusrex · 4 years ago

Text

Take a Chance (Draco x Reader)

Summary: In which Draco is forced to come to terms with his behavior when he meets a girl much different than him.

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: Mostly fluff; slight angst; mutual pining

A/N: Happy New Year! I’ve been working on several fics lately, but this one was too tempting to resist. Like, I would think about it as I write my other drafts haha. Anyway, I hope you like it! Any feedback is much appreciated :D

Witches and wizards alike flitted across the skies as sounds of the blazing crowds consumed the quidditch pitch. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins fueled Draco’s senses. His mind, alert. His body, in sync. His eyes were peeled for the prized speck of gold. After several minutes of patrolling the air above, he sees it, and without a second to spare, he dives. Frigid wind angrily brushes against his platinum locks as he cuts through the sky--his focus now at an all time high. The sudden change in movement grabs the attention of the opposing team, and their seeker dived in just as fast, trailing behind the flash of green robes. Draco pressed onward, pulling his body inward to increase the acceleration--the snitch now within finger’s length. Within a spur of a second the two players collide, sending the boy flying off of his broomstick to fall freely towards the earth beneath him. The sky's the last thing that occupies his vision before it turns black. His body came into contact with the ground.

It was when he opened his eyes that he sees her. The girl with long, flowy locks was dressed in her Slytherin uniform, tending to the other seeker in the hospital wing. Despite the soreness that filled his body, he kept his gaze locked on her, observing her fluid motions as she addressed sustained wounds and injuries. She’s beautiful.

Draco witnesses Madame Pomfrey tapping the girl’s shoulder before gesturing to him. The moment she meets his gaze, a small smile appears on her face; and the boy, albeit the pain, makes the effort to cast one in return. His heart flutters as she approaches him--only worsening the closer she gets.

“Hi,” She says sweetly, “I don’t think we’ve formally met. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here.” She reaches her hand out towards him. He looks at her straight before firmly gripping it.

“Draco Malfoy, but you probably knew that already.” She laughs before pointing at her green and silver tie.

“Very much so. Can you sit up?” The boy winces in pain at his attempt to do so. Taking notice of this, the girl steps closer to his side.

“Here let me help you.” Y/N cautiously snakes an arm around his back, and gently lifts him upward. In doing so, he takes in her scent--it consisted of dark chocolate and citrus. The palms that were wrapped firmly around his shoulder loosen as she pulls a chair to the bed. She takes a seat and grabs the clipboard that was placed on the nightstand.

“Do you feel pain anywhere?” The boy thought about pulling a pick up line then and there, but abandoned the thought immediately.

“Just soreness everywhere.” He looked at her as she jotted his information down. She then tears her gaze from it momentarily.

“Can you rate it on a scale from 1-10?”

“Probably an 8.” Her gaze fixated on the board once again. Draco admired the serenity that framed her features. The light that was casted from the window shines down on her, wrapping her in an angelic aura.

“I’m going to take your pulse now, okay?” Cold, slender fingers wrap around his wrist, gripping it gently as she takes two other fingers and presses it to the base of his palm. As she counts in her mind, the boy takes initiative to engage in conversation.

“Why haven’t I seen you before?” She takes a moment to respond, writing down his info on the chart. After she finishes, she tucks her hair behind her ear and faces him.

“You’re a year above me.” She states simply.

“Surely I would’ve seen you in the common room though.”

“Perhaps, but I spend a lot of time here in the wing. That explains why.”

“Why do you spend your time here?” He ignores the pain he feels when he leans on his elbow, and towards her. She rubs her chin in thought.

“Call it training if you will. I want to be a healer.”

“That’s quite the ambition.”

“We Slytherins have pride in becoming something great, do we not? What better way than to take the opportunity now?” The attraction the boy felt only grew at the sound of her words. She flashed him a smile as she stood up.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?” He asked with slight disappointment in his tone. Its sound stirred some interest in Y/N. With her back turned, she bit her lip before reassuring him.

“I’m just getting your potion, Malfoy. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” She says before walking towards the front of the hall. The boy enjoys the energy she gives off, and allows his sights to linger on her as she plods through the aisles. He watches as she reaches for a vial from the shelf, proceeding to the way she dutifully writes down information on what seems to be a logbook. The girl catches his gaze, and grins slightly. The longer he lays on the hospital bed, under her care, the more he longs to remain there.

Y/N situates herself by his side again, handing the vial to the boy.

“You came in with your tibia and rib fractured, and your forearm broken. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey was able to tend to you right away. The potion is to ease the pain. It’s recommended that you rest after you take it. You’ll be able to leave tomorrow morning.” Draco opens the vial and gulps down the fluid before making a face of disgust. The way his face contorts induces the girl into laughter. She proceeds to hand him a cup of water in exchange for the vial in his grasp.

“You must’ve had a nasty fall. I’ll leave you to rest now.” Just as soon as she turns, the boy frantically grabs her wrist.

“Will you be around tomorrow morning?” He asks. She glances down at his hand, but his grip remains.

“Tomorrow is actually my free day.” Her voice held a certain timidness, heat swarmed her head, and her heart fluttered. “Why do you ask?”

Upon realization that his grip lingered much longer than it should have, he pulls away stammering, “N-no reason. I was just wondering.”

“I’ll be in the common room if you need anything.” She states.

“I’ll see you there then.” She nods before flashing one last grin, leaving the boy alone to rest.

Draco awakens the following morning, with thoughts immediately drifting to the fourth year that he encountered the night before. With his body slightly aching and a noticeable urgency in his step, he approaches the dungeons, and slips into the Slytherin common room with hopes to see Y/N. When he does, however, disappointment greets him in the form of another boy occupying the space next to her. Books are laid out in front of them, leading him to assume that he was a fourth year as well. He can’t help but stare from afar. Not only did she seem diligent in her healing duties, but she seemed as equally so when it came to her studies. The sound of her melodic laugh overtakes his hearing, while the sight of her smiling induces his heart to palpitate abnormally—merely wishing that it was him in the place of the boy.

Before he could do anything, a firm arm wraps around his shoulder. Standing next to him was his good friend, Blaise.

“Did Madam Pomfrey fix you up well, mate?” He asks. In attempts to get her attention, Draco responds with a volume slightly louder than normal.

“If it weren’t for her, I’d probably be dead right now.” He was exaggerating, but it was enough to get her to face him. Blaise chuckled and shook his head.

“Dramatic as always, but at least you’re well.”

Y/N kept her sights locked on the boy, noticing how his friends started pooling in. Suddenly, he was surrounded by those she knew as Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass--all who were her upperclassmen by a year. They showed him concern, asking what parts of his body were in pain, laughing when they made jokes, and patted his back with reassurance that the next match will be better. She looks at them with longing, wishing she could be as close to the boy in that moment.

Draco meets her gaze, and softens his own. He gives her a soft smile, reducing her stomach into mush. She responds to him with one herself. Warmth fills both hearts as the moment ensues, however the sounds of his friends voices and the presence of a hand waving in front of her face pull the two back into their respective years.

“Y/N, what are you looking at?” Her best friend, Malachi, asks her. He needed help with charms--nothing more, nothing less. The boy follows her line of vision, tracing it back to the platinum-haired boy.

“Malfoy? He’s a fifth year, isn't he? Do you fancy him?” He asked a little too loudly for comfort. Y/N frantically placed her hand over his mouth, and threw him a glare.

“Shut up, Mal! You’ll be the death of me!” She expresses her disdain with a slap to his shoulder, to which he responds with a wince. The boy grips the area and furrows his brows at the girl.

“Isn’t he a bully, though? I get he’s quite a stunner, but why would you, out of all people, like someone so foul?” He wasn’t wrong. Draco had a notorious reputation for picking on others, but memories from their interactions tell her that there’s more to him than what others think.

“I can’t even say I like him--I literally only interacted with him yesterday. Pull your head out of the gutter.”

“You do like him, or at least you’re mildly attracted to him. It’s written all over your face, Y/L/N.” He said teasingly.

“Stop it before I use you to practice my hexing charms.” The girl grabs her wand as a way to hoax him. He laughs again before raising his arms in defeat.

“Fine, but with the way he’s looking at you, I’d say he’s mildly attracted to you too.” The warmth from Y/N’s heart fills her face, while her hands grow clammy. When she looks up, she begins to understand what Malachi was saying, because Draco was staring at her from where he was standing. Unbeknownst to her, the boy beside her packs his belongings silently, gaining her attention only when his chair screeches.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“Mel is waiting for me in the courtyard. I promised we’d talk about her boy problems too.” He winks at her, eliciting imaginary steam from her head.

“I-I don’t have any boy problems!” It was her turn to speak in a tone much louder than what was acceptably normal, gaining the attention of the students around her. One of them being Draco himself. Malachi laughs at the girl before ruffling her hair.

“See you, Y/N!” The girl rubs her temples in frustration as she waves the boy away.

“Idiot.” She mutters under her breath. Her mind is swamped with ideas to get back at her friend that she doesn’t notice him approaching her. Draco sits across from her, taking note of the way her quill was aggressively dragged along her roll of parchment. It amuses him seeing her riled up. Her face was scrunched in annoyance, and her cheek was planted on the surface of her palm.

“Pleasant morning, Y/L/N?” The sudden sound of his voice startles her.

“Very much so. Weren’t you with your friends?” She asks. Her sights juggled between him and the words in her text.

“I was. They went to breakfast.”

“You should eat also. You need to replenish your body from yesterday’s fall.” Y/N places her quill down, clasped her hands together, and looked at him with a knowing look in her eye.

“I would’ve, except I couldn’t help but overhear someone going on about their boy problems.” Draco leans forward with a mischievous expression. He raises his eyebrows at the girl, while

A coy smirk spreads across his lips. She merely rolls her eyes in response.

“I don’t have any boy problems. My friend was being a git.” She stated in matter-of-fact. Concern then took over, and she remembered the boy’s fragile state.

“In all seriousness though, how are you feeling? Do you feel any pain anywhere?” Draco, too, dropped his flirtatious facade at the sound of her voice. The expression held in her eyes elicited nervousness from him as they looked directly into his.

“I’m doing fine,” He pauses, “A little sore, but I’m fine.” The boy settled in a more serious state and leaned into his seat.

Feeling a little brave, Y/N reached for his hand, which was propped on the table and lightly squeezed it. Her touch tingled his senses.

“I’m glad you’re alright. I can get you another vial if you’d like.” She says. A gentle tone fills her voice and she gives him yet another bright smile. He shakes his head--his lips pulling into a genuine grin.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be needing it.” She nods and retracts her grip. A comfortable silence ensues as she resumes her studies. The boy admires her from his seat. She has the same focused expression that she had when she tended to him the night before. Hair that fell to her face was tucked behind her ear. Her fingers mindlessly spun her quill as she read. She wasn’t actively trying to get his attention, but somehow that was all he could give her.

“Y/N,” He calls out.

“Yes?”

“I think you’d make a wonderful healer.” The comment makes her face bloom into a bright expression. Within a few moments, she reaches into her bag. Out comes a green apple, which she then places in front of the boy.

“Thank you. With best intentions for you in mind, here’s an apple for your consumption.” He chuckles and takes it.

“Healer’s orders.”

Weeks go by since their first interaction. Due to the differences in their years, there isn’t much that goes on between them during the day (to Draco’s dismay). Y/N, although keeping herself occupied, finds that her thoughts drift to the boy from time to time as well. There are several things that irk her, however: the arrogant pride that comes out when with others, and the bullying. A gut-wrenching distaste sat within her every instance that she witnessed it, and the way he treats her in contrast to others is appalling. Therefore, she takes advantage of the distance. It doesn’t deny the butterflies that erupt in her stomach when she sees him, but it allows her to stay true to her morals and values, giving her some peace of mind.

In the midst of all her emotions, she finds herself sitting in potions, listening into Snape’s lecture on the Calming Draught. It was used for calming individuals suffering from shock or trauma, and was a substance commonly found in the hospital wing. The subject itself was something that Y/N desired to excel in, however there have been plenty of moments where she’s seen struggling. Taking note of this, Snape decides to request the assistance from one of the upperclassmen to tutor her. The class session for fourth years takes place during the later half of the day, and by then most fifth years have a study hall to utilize for OWLs review. Without much knowledge about her predicament, Draco walks into the classroom with disinterest painted on his face, and approaches the professor.

“Mr. Malfoy, glad to see you could make it.”

“Of course, professor.” Snape senses the hint of the begrudging tone in his voice.

“Ms. Y/L/N, please come up to the front.” The boy’s heart races at the sound of her last name. There’s a shift in energy almost immediately, as she’s seen walking towards the two. Her eyes widen at the sight of the familiar boy, moreover at the realization that he may very much be the tutor Snape was referring to.

“Draco, it’s nice to see you.” She says politely. He nods in response.

“It seems you’re already familiar with each other? Good. Y/L/N, you’re dismissed. Mr. Malfoy will be responsible for tutoring you from this point forward.” The boy waits for her at the entrance of the room while she collects her belongings. Another set of butterflies erupt, and nervousness racks her insides. She purposefully takes her time as she moves towards the door. Draco lightly grins when he sees her.

“I didn’t know you were good in potions.” She says.

“Let me surprise you then.”

The pair slowly made their way to the library, discussing things that have happened since the last time they spoke. The boy had been busy studying for his OWLs while Y/N spent her time in the hospital wing as always. It was a funny feeling, really--the ease that came when engaging in conversation. The fact that he was indeed a bully went past her head the more they spoke. In such little time, she learned new things about him, like the way he nodded when he paid attention to her speak, the way he’d fumble with the rings on his fingers, and the way he spoke with expressive hand gestures. He was boisterous and animated, and not too shabby in contrast to the moments when ill-formed words poured out of his mouth.

“So what role does lavender play in this concoction?” The boy sat with her textbook in hand, quizzing the girl on the brewing process for Calming Draught. He glanced at the girl who was deep in thought.

“It’s calming to aches and an agent for relaxation, is it not?”

“Perfect.” Relief overcomes Y/N, and the comfort she feels around him increases.

“Draco, you’re taking your OWLs this year. What do you plan on doing after you graduate?” He takes a while to respond. It wasn’t something he thought about all the time.

“Perhaps something close to Alchemy. I’m good with potions, so probably something within that realm.” The girl stared in awe.

“What’s with the look?” A scowl found its way to his face while he fiddled with the pages of her book.

“I think it’s really cool. I never would’ve expected.”

“And why’s that? I’ll have you know I’m very capable.” Y/N sensed a defensive tone in his voice. Nevertheless, she approached her response with much caution.

“Well,” She hesitated, “I don’t see you often, and when I do it’s mostly when you’re picking on others.” She lowered her volume towards the end of her sentence. The boy quirked a brow upward.

“And how does that impact my abilities to excel?” She actively avoided his gaze.

“I’m not saying it does, but it’s not like I know what goes on in that mind of yours either.” The boy softened the tension in his facial features. She was nervous, and he didn’t realize how much her opinion mattered to him until that moment. A small knot began to form in his stomach.

“Well what goes on in your mind when that happens?” He leans forward, interested in what she had to say.

“I would think, ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’” She said honestly. The frown on his lips deepened, the knot that had formed only grew bigger, and he glanced anywhere except her. How was he supposed to respond? The differences between them felt greater than what it seemed. Without much thought, he silently closed the book and shifted it to her. With the feeling of defeat overcoming him, he lifts himself from his seat and leaves.

The action alerts the girl right away. With her heartbeat elevated and her eyes widened, she frantically shoves her books in her bag, and trails after him in a brisk walk. She catches sight of the platinum-haired boy, and quickens her pace. With much urgency, she grabs his wrist, panting at the amount of energy she just spent trying to meet him.

“Draco, why’d you leave? Is there something wrong?” Y/N’s grip remained unwavering as he turned to her, exposing the shame that filled his eyes. Without meaning to make himself any more vulnerable, he faces away.

“You can’t just walk away like that and expect me to pay no mind.” She says.

“I don’t think you should be seen with someone like me Y/L/N.”

“What are you talking about? You’re my tutor. I-”

“But I’m also a prick. You have your values, I have mine,” He scans her from head to toe, “I’m not exactly your definition of good.”

“Draco, I don’t understand why that would matter. You’re my tu-”

“Are you really that daft?” His sudden outburst shocked her.

“I like you, Y/N. Your damn opinion matters to me, but I don’t exactly fare well with others in comparison to you.” The girl stood there in shock. With her mind processing his declaration, she couldn’t find the proper words to form a coherent sentence. Draco shifted his view to her hand that remained wrapped around his wrist. Disappointed at her lack of response, he shook it off and trudged away.

To be quite frank, Y/N didn’t know exactly what to feel. Surely, the boy crossed her mind here and there, and it wasn’t wrong to say that she enjoyed his company, but why would he like a fourth year like her? Wouldn’t it be more logical for him to like someone who had more in common with him?

Three weeks had passed since their last encounter. The girl tried her very best to understand what Snape was lecturing about, so she wouldn’t have to be tutored by the boy. Besides, it wasn’t like he was making the effort to face her either. Whenever he’d enter the common room, he wouldn’t even look at her (at least that’s what she thought). The boy would take a seat with his friends, join in conversation, and laugh along as if the feelings he had for the younger was nonexistent. Perhaps that was the reality of the situation. It shouldn’t bother her--she didn’t want it to--but it did. She found herself cursing the day she tended to him. If only she had taken leave earlier, then he wouldn’t have known about her, and all of these feelings would’ve been avoided. At the same time, it was bliss talking to him--it felt natural. She was comfortable around him, and he believed in her ability to succeed. Yet, the barrier found within their differences managed to convince her to keep her feelings suppressed.

“Earth to Y/N, what the heck is going on with you?” Y/N finds herself stuck tutoring Malachi in charms yet again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been dozing off for a while now.”

“Oh, have I? I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“Clearly. You’re normally so focused. Did something happen recently?” As if on cue, Draco enters the common room, eyes meeting hers for a second before they shift elsewhere. She feels pain slowly creeping into her chest.

“Nothing, really,” She lies, “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to head to the hospital wing.” Malachi nods his head, and helps her from her seat.

“Can you make it there by yourself?” He asks. She nods before giving a weak smile.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Draco witnesses the interaction from the sofas located in the center of the room. Jealousy arises at the sight of her friend lifting her, patting her back, and sharing her smile. At the same time, however, her dazed expression fills him with worry. His sight follows the girl as she walks past him, not bothering to spare him a glance. Malachi notices this, and approaches him as soon as she leaves the room.

“Malfoy, may I have a word with you?” His confrontation sparks the attention of the group of fifth years surrounding him.

“Anything you have to say to him, you can say to us. Spit it.” Pansy spews aggressively.

“Easy now, Pans.” Draco lifts himself from his seat, “Let’s take this outside.” The two situate themselves in the halls of the dungeon, keeping silent for a short while.

“Is this about Y/N?” Draco asks.

“You can’t fool me, Malfoy—I see how you look at her. She’s not okay, and as her friend, I want to know what happened.” The demand in his tone kindled a slight annoyance in the boy’s gut.

“Nothing happened, and I can assure you that if she wanted you to know, then she would’ve told you already.”

“Merlin, don’t you notice the way she looks at you?” The tension in Malachi’s voice grew.

“What do you mean?” The previous question took Draco by shock.

“For two smart individuals, you both are incredibly daft.” A scowl appeared yet again on Draco’s face, however the other boy remains firm.

“If the reason behind the way you look at her is exactly what I think, then all I can say is that she thinks about you too.” The way he framed his words made Draco’s heart beat. He releases the tightness in his face, allowing himself to express more gentleness at the thought of Y/N.

Malachi continues, “Y/N has a logical way of thinking. With her head wrapped around her goals, how could she not? Her mind is constantly fixated on the next step and its consequences, so much so that she doesn’t allow her heart to decide.” The rosy feeling ignited within his chest once again.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you two are pining like idiots.” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Besides, I’m sure there’s a softy under that bully we all know.”

“Shove off git.”

“Pleasure.” Malachi retreats to the common room, leaving Draco alone in the hall. He chuckles softly before setting off to find Y/N. As he navigates his way through the halls and corridors, his thoughts drift to the way she responded in the past. Would he be able to handle it if she reacts the same way? When the boy finds her, she’s seen in the hospital wing organizing potion vials—her focus was completely locked onto her work. Once he’s in front of her, he clears his throat.

“Excuse me, can I have a vial of Calming Draught?” The familiar voice causes the girl to freeze in place. With much hesitation, she looks up at him.

“You need a referral, Malfoy.” She returns to her duties, but the boy doesn’t leave.

“Then is it alright if I can lay down here? I don’t feel too well.” Y/N glares at him.

“Should I hex myself then?” The boy pushes his luck, eliciting a sigh from the girl.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” The boy sits himself on the bed nearest to the counter she’s stationed in.

“I wasn’t feeling well. I’m feeling pain.” Y/N glances over to Madame Pomfrey, who’s occupied with other students. With a softened glance, she turns to Draco.

“Where does it hurt?” She asks. He points to his heart. “Right here.” The girl couldn’t help but let out a laugh, making him beam in response.

“Don’t waste my time, Malfoy.” She suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes.

“Time with you is time well spent.” Heat rises to her face before she releases a groan of frustration followed by a fit of giggles. She grabs his wrist and pulls him into a secluded hallway.

“Care to explain to me why you’re here? For real this time?” Draco’s face turns serious as he scans her eyes. Her body was close to his, arms crossed over her chest, and her face pointed up at him to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the girl raises her eyebrows in response, prompting him to continue.

“I shouldn’t have left you the way I did.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I like you, and the opinion you have of me matters.” The boy stumbles over his words, “I’m a git, and you’re the exact opposite. You’re diligent, you’re smart, you’re considerate, you’re ambitious,” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “You deserve someone who has a better reputation than I do—someone who can help you.”

Y/N’s arms fell to her sides, her heart rate ramped up with its beats wildly pounding against her chest.

“I’m sorry too.” She says softly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did,” she smiled weakly, “I knew I liked you also, Draco. I have for a while now. I was afraid of taking a chance—that our differences would somehow come between us, and drag us down.” The boy cherished the way she referred to their relationship with an “us”. It was as though they were already in this together. Furthermore, he closed his eyes in relief before opening them once more to face her. Without any warning, he snakes his arms around her waist and brings her into a close embrace.

“Surely we can work something out, right?” He asks. The depth of his voice induces goosebumps to rise on her skin. With hesitation, she trails her fingers up his forearms before resting her palms on his biceps. Her chest overflows with rosiness and warmth.

“I think we can.” She presses her ear to his heart, taking in the sounds of his rapid heart beats.

“You’ll give me a chance?” He parts from her, hands still lingering on her waist, his face slowly and mindlessly leaning in.

“Only if you give me one too.” The gaze she holds shifts to his lips and back to his silvery orbs. Draco notices this, and lowers himself even closer to her. She can feel the shape of his lips ghosting over hers.

“What are you waiting for? Kiss-” The boy doesn’t hesitate to cut her off, pressing his lips gently on her own. He closes his eyes, and allows himself to memorize the feeling of her mouth. He then tightens his embrace, pressing her body flushed against his. The girl, in turn, steps on her tiptoes, and wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer and deepening the kiss. Sparse breaths were taken in between, only to be disturbed by the reunion of their lips—each time becoming more passionate than the last. Draco lifts one of his hands to her cheek, dragging his thumb along her cheek bones, while she takes the liberty to run her fingers through his hair. The longing that has accumulated throughout the weeks poured throughout the duration of the kiss each caressed one another with gentle, affectionate intent.

“Does your heart still hurt?” She asks before pressing her lips on his again.

“I think I’ve been healed.” He responds briefly, and plants another one with him smiling into it.

“Good.”

A/N: Thank you once again for reading! I’m going to try to post my other fics asap! School is starting up again, so I’ll try to find a way to adjust, although I can’t guarantee I’ll be posting as much :D Nevertheless, I’ll try my best; I appreciate you all and the support you give! I hope you have a great New Year!

Tags C:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #slytherin imagines

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honeyxchoso · 4 years ago

Text

Promise (fuckboy!Satoru Gojo x reader) (college AU)

warnings: Gojo being a fuckboy who knows his effect on women all too well, MC's declining mental health implied

genre: angst? (sfw)

word count: 1.9k

“Please, just hear me out!” Gojo begged, face contorting into a desperate expression you knew all too well by now.

The scene is just like the numerous ones you’ve experienced in the past few months, all consequential to Satoru Gojo asking you out earlier that year. You should have known better. After all, you’ve been a witness of all of his intimate endeavours throughout high school. It was naive to assume that you would be spared of his promiscuous behaviour and that, somehow, this would be different.

“I promise you it won’t happen again!”

The exclamation just fell on deaf ears. That very promise, which he never fails to make in moments like these, has lost all meaning long ago. The sincerity fading more and more each time it was broken. These conversations, which once used to reduce you to tears, have now lost all meaning they once might have possessed.

All you know is the emptiness you feel resulting from your heart being shattered over and over again, your soul reduced to nothingness. You can no longer cry. You can no longer get mad. You are no longer surprised. Just a shell of the person you once were.

No longer are you even aware of your surroundings, lost in your own mind as Gojo spouted endless dubious apologies and false promises, all of which you’ve heard dozens of times before. How many times have you turned a blind eye so far? How many second chances have you given? How much longer will this go on? You do not know.

How did it come to this?

You and Satoru are first years in an honours programme at Jujutsu college, with you majoring in Biology and him in Physical engineering. Although you had known him since your first year of high school, you two have only gotten close in the summer leading up to your first year at college. During that summer, he’s managed to get closer to you than anyone ever has before. It really isn’t that difficult to imagine considering his flamboyant personality and stunning appearance.

Right now, you were at a cafe, waiting for Mr Perfect to show up for your weekly Math and Chem study session. You chuckle looking at a meme he just texted you. The lovely bastard is fashionably late per usual, but you are somehow never annoyed at that nasty habit of his. Five minutes of texting later, you feel a tap on your shoulder alerting you of Satoru’s arrival. Soon after the tap, you can feel his presence on the left side of your head.

“I think you can kiss heaven goodbye, as it must be a sin to look that good,” he proudly stated right next to you. You gazed to the side with widened eyes and your mouth slightly agape. It was just quick enough for you to catch a glimpse of those gorgeous sky blue eyes of his, mischievously peeking up at you from the pitch-black sunglasses the man always adorned. It truly was a sight to behold. To your great misfortune, however, it was gone as soon as it came, with him rising up to ruffle your hair a bit with his enormous hand before going to sit at the other end of your small table.

You focused on regaining your usual composure, as you’ve grown accustomed to his flirty persona during the summer while observing him picking up girls wherever you went. His sense of humour is just atrocious, but it eventually grew on you also. Despite his provocative behaviour and dirty humour implying he’s still very much immature for anything of the sort, you’ve started harbouring hope that one day, just maybe, he’ll give it a shot for you. Yes, as naive as it was, you couldn’t help but fall for the marvellous man sitting across from you.

You sighed at your inner turmoil and slightly irritably ran a hand through your hair. Satoru, of course, interpreted your reaction as you being annoyed at his borderline foul compliment and the thought elicited a deep, alluring chuckle from him. Slightly shaken from the beautiful sound, you plastered on a smile and looked at him, asking to begin your study session already since he was late again.

Two hours of studying later, you two were walking back to the student dorms on the other end of the campus site making small talk on your way.

“Argh! I hate this unit so much. Why do we have to memorise all the functional groups when it would be so much easier to just look them up in the data booklet during exams? It is so unnecessary!” you cried out, pouting while clenching your fists in exasperation. When Satoru didn’t respond, you relaxed your posture and turned to address him, only to blank out upon seeing the way he was staring at you.

He had a tender look on his face the likes of which you’ve never seen before. His lips formed into a small but genuine smile with his eyes relaxed as he just looked at you. You felt as though he was staring right into your soul. At this point, you both stopped walking instinctively and held your eyes locked wishing for the tender moment to last forever. Satoru was the first to speak up.

He called your name, not breaking eye contact. You just barely took notice of his voice, getting lost in his gorgeous blue eyes during your little moment just now. God, does your name sound good coming from his mouth. You barely had the common sense at this point to utter out a small “Hm?” and no notion whatsoever of what was yet to come.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

You were baffled. The person you’ve been crushing on for months now just asked you out. You. Little old insignificant you. Too startled to form a coherent response, you replied with the only concern you had. “Me?”

After all, you were a nobody. You’ve seen the women who talk to him on a daily basis. The perfect height, athletic, well-adorned in all sorts of jewellery and fancy clothes, makeup perfectly done and never a single strand of hair out of place - those were the type of women surrounding Satoru Gojo. Compared to them, you were the lowest of the low. Your face contorted into one of confusion before your eyes started tearing up. This must be a joke...

That was only in the few seconds leading up to Satoru bursting out in a tear-inducing laugh. This did well to break you out of your small trance, sobering up a little before becoming even more confused. He asked you out, and now he’s laughing about it? Is this man in his right senses? You don’t recall him having any alcoholic beverages at the cafe so it can’t be. He stopped laughing soon after and used the tip of his right-hand sleeve to wipe away his tears.

“Of course it’s you, silly! It’s 10pm. We’re the only ones here right now!” he exclaimed, giggling a bit throughout forming his sentence still. This only served to confuse you even more. It must be a joke, then.

“You’re joking,” you voiced your thoughts. At this, his formerly happy expression fell and formed into one of concern.

“How could I be?” he asked. Seeming genuinely concerned as to why you’d think that. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed an unusual frown. “How could I ever joke about something like that? You have no clue what you mean to me, Y/N.” You could tell from his expression that he was being sincere, making you falter. Your face seemed to be enough of a response for him to continue speaking.

“You are honestly the best person I have ever met. You are strong and independent despite everything life has thrown at you. You are smarter than anyone I know. You have an amazing sense of humour and are a great listener. You’ve always been there for me when I needed you most. Along with being a good person, you also make me a better person myself. You fulfil me. Without you, I feel my very existence would be meaningless.” All the while saying this, he hasn’t broken eye contact once. “So I will ask you once again, Y/N, will you go out with me?

Following that evening, the two of you were in a happy relationship.

So how did it turn into this?

You first noticed something was wrong when you saw him dancing really close with a girl at a college party. He had his left hand low on her waist and his other hand entangled in her hair, bringing her closer so he could lean into her neck. It was just an embrace, right? Perhaps she was his friend who needed comfort of some sort? These are the excuses you made for yourself at the time to console the slight pang of concern and betrayal felt upon witnessing that scene. You never confronted him about that. At the time, you told yourself that was because there was no issue to address but reflecting on that moment now, you know it was the fear of your suspicion being proven right that discouraged you from bringing it up.

This happened about an additional five or six times before you started acting a bit more adverse to Satoru’s usual affection. You would no longer initiate kisses and would become stiff in his embrace. It was mortifying to know he was behaving so naturally around you when you know he’s off with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. Despite this, the relationship was maintained as your love for him didn’t falter.

After a while, his endeavours would cause arguments. He would argue the women were coming onto him, that he was drunk or anything of the sort, just to get out of the situation, and you would argue he was fully aware of his promiscuous behaviour. These arguments would always end in forgiveness and the movie would rewind yet again. That is what led you where you are now. Your forgiving nature backfired and your feelings for the man were constantly extorted.

Sometimes, enough is enough.

It is time to put a stop to this neverending loop your relationship has turned into.

“Stop,” Satoru was still pleading for forgiveness when you interrupted him mid-sentence. Your simple exclamation seemingly pausing time, as it was the first word you have uttered in this conversation so far. Gojo looked at you anxiously, hope evident in his eyes that you would forgive him. Oh, how you loved those eyes of his, full of deceit.

“I’ve had enough. I’ve given you far too many chances and have been disappointed every time without fail. It is time for both of us to admit to ourselves that this won’t work. Not the way it is now.”

Despite your calm exterior, your previously empty inside now felt a sharp, anxious pain. No one said it was going to be easy. While the fear of change is strong, you know this is the right thing to do. Fear can bring no actual harm, but this relationship has and will continue to do so if you don’t put a stop to it. It is time.

“Goodbye, Satoru Gojo.”

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #au #alternate universe #college au #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x you #gojo jujutsu kaisen

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peanut-in-the-goal · 4 years ago

Text

Remus is in the dorm screaming and pulling on his own hair while he cries.

“I trusted you! I fucking trusted you!! And what I hate the most is that I still love you, you asshole!”

After the prank, and James and Peter are forced to listen to their friends’ brother’s cries at night because he cant sleep peacefully without the comforting presence of Sirius by his side. And they have to do everything they can to keep him from accidently hurting himself from fury and rage.

they dont think he’s going to make it to the next moon. A blue moon, because the fates are against him and there were 2 that month

Sirius hasn’t been seen much since the prank. He doesn’t come by the tower much anymore, when he does it’s for a change of clothes. No one ever sees him. One day his trunk disappears from the end of his bed.

It was getting too hard to go back every so often and hear his friends laughter as he waited outside the door for them to go to sleep.

James is worried. He forgave Sirius ages ago, even when he knows he shouldn’t have. But the guilt is destroying Sirius, he can see it. But he cant do anything about it. He had to pick a side and he picked Remus.

As much as he loves the werewolf as his brother, he hates to admit that he cares more for sirius. So now he’s stuck with deciding if he should stab someone in the back to save another.

He knows why Sirius did it, and his reasoning. It was reckless and stupid and cruel, but now it made sense as to why.

Sirius has been staring at the wall for the past hour. He thinks it’s been an hour, time doesn’t feel very real. There’s nothing to fill it, no friends, no laughter, no people.

He’s finished his homework by now, he’s had it done hours ago. Now he just stares at the wall as the clock keeps ticking on.

The only coherent thought that circulates in his head if I fucked up. He hates me and it’s my fault.

It’s not the first night that Sirius falls asleep with tear tracks on his face. It doesn’t matter, no one knows where to find him anyways.

They can’t find him, Sirius.

Remus has been looking. He knows he shouldn’t he knows he should hate shim. But he can’t. Not when he’s in love with the idiot. James has started to help too, both of them scanning every room that they enter.

But they can’t find that mop of black hair anywhere. He’s not in the dorm, the dining hall, or any classes. They’ve check the astronomy tower a thousand times over but he’s just gone.

The map has disappeared a long with him. Sirius obviously doesn’t want to be found.

The stars seem dimmer. They have been for a while now. James sits in the quidditch stands. It’s long after curfew, but sometimes he has to escape too.

it’s hard acting like everything is okay all the time for his friends when he’s crumbling inside. He hasn’t seen his best friend in weeks, going onto a month. They’ve never gone this long without talking, much less seeing each other.

He just wants to make sure he’s okay, and not off dead in a ditch somewhere. He knows Sirius can dig himself into a ditch when he wants. He blames himself for everything, or blows things out of proportion.

A lot.

He’s worries, so beyond worried at this point. He isn’t sure if that worry lessens or increases when he sees a thing dog gallop across the quidditch pitch in the dark.

Sirius doesn’t sleep much at night anymore. He doesn’t sleep much in general, not unless he can’t help it. Unless he’s exhausted and will collapse if he doesn’t sleep now.

Sometimes at night he turns into Padfoot and just runs. He’s always hoped since he was young that if he could run fast enough, that he’d be able to leave, and escape.

But he’s never had the heart to. Not since he’s met the rest of the Marauders. They were the first people he saw as family. Real family, people who loved him and wanted to be around him.

But he fucked that up. He lost them, and they never wanted to see him again.

He had to accept it.

Sirius grew up around people who didn’t want him. He thought his family were just ignorant prats, but it turns out that maybe, it was his fault. He really is an unlovable mutt.

James shot up onto his feet. But the dog was already lost into the forest. At least James knew he was alive, but it wasn’t enough. Something didn’t see right, the dog was too skinny. His ribcage didn’t use to stick out that much...

Remus paced his dorm. He had to find Sirius. He had to find him, he had to find him, he had to find him.

James told him about what he saw that night, about the skinny, sickly looking dog. He wouldn’t let Sirius ruin himself because of him. He loved him more than he wanted to admit.

He would find him.

Sirius collapsed just on the edge of the forbidden forest, by Hagrid's hut. He was chased by the centaurs, again. It gave him a a thrill that he couldn’t get anymore. Made him feel alive.

Although it always left him dead tired. Sometimes it was good, it means he was able to get to sleep that night. But dawn was breaking at and the sun was rising over the trees. It wouldn’t be long before someone found him.

He barely registers the fact the he turned back to human form as his eyes drift shut.

Hagrid finds him that morning. This boy who is usually larger than life, with a smile that is blinding, was reduced to skin and bones, with matted hair in just a few weeks.

He lifts the all too light boy and makes his way to the Hospital Wing.

Sirius wakes up to white walls and bright lights.

It smells an awful lot like antiseptic and potions. He hates it because he can recognize where he is immediately.

He’s grateful that none of his friends—no, not friends. Classmates— aren’t there. He doesn’t expect them to be, although it still kind of hurts seeing as they don’t care.

The others weren’t told that Sirius was in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomphrey didn’t think they’d want to know, nor would they care. She sees the way Sirius has changed. How skinny and underweight he is.

No doubt they’re the cause for this change. They’re the ones that shunned and exiled him.

Although their responses weren’t uncalled for. She herself was reluctant to treat the boy at first, knowing how he hurt Remus.

But this was far more serious then she had originally thought.

The only reason that James found out where Sirius was there was because he had to help bring a quidditch teammate. Their keeper blocked a shot wrong and sprained his wrist. There was an upcoming match against Slytherin this weekend, so he wasn’t taking any risks.

He saw Sirius laying unconscious in the hospital bed. Well he thought he was unconscious.

Sirius woke to James’ voice. He hasn’t heard that voice in so long. He misses him.

His eyes stayed shut, he wonders if he had opened them would James have stayed?

He heard James’ look curse, before heavy footsteps and the door to the Hospital Wing slamming shut. He can’t help but be disappointed that even just his appearance is enough to make someone flee.

Remus is seething by the time he gets down all the stair cases and reaches the hospital wing. James had rushed up to tell him that Sirius was there and he was breathing.

He wasn’t in the best of shape but he would be okay. They could help him and make him okay, even just a little bit to make him feel better.

The door to the Hospital Wing swung open as Remus and James storm in.

Sirius startles from where he’s trying to fall back asleep. He wasn’t being very successful anyways.

He sits up quickly, looking towards the source of the sound. His head is pounding slightly and his vision dances before his eyes before blacking out for a moment from sitting up too fast.

When it clears, he can finally see. And what he sees terrifies him.

Both James and Remus are storming towards him, a matching unreadable expression covering their faces.

Sirius wanted nothing more than to shrink up and melt into the Hospital bed.

“The hell were you thinking Black??” James’ voice was loud, he only ever yelled when he was joking or really fucking pissed. Sirius didn’t think it was the former with his luck.

He flinched away from the voice,

This was the first time he’s been addressed in a long time. The first time someone was actually trying to communicate with him in something other than glares in weeks.

But you deserve this. They hate you. They should hate you, you fucked up. You shouldn’t be here, lying in this bed. You don’t deserve it.

He tried to get the voice in his head to shut up, but it wouldn’t. It was right anyways.

Remus looked at his best friend. Someone he used to call his boyfriend. He wished he still did.

Sirius looked tiny in that bed. Like a spooked animal with wide eyes, frantically looking around for an escape. He merely shrugged at James’ question, eyes dropping down at his hands as to not have to look at them.

Remus’ heart broke.

I did this. He thought. I love him so much and yet this is my fault. I reduced him to-to this!

James didn’t know who he was more mad at. Sirius or himself.

Then again, Sirius only did what they asked. They told him to stay away, to stop talking because they didn’t want to hear it.

Sirius really couldn’t be blamed for running.

They spent the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing. Making sure Sirius stayed and ate, and maybe one day he be okay.

Sirius couldn’t believe it when they said he was welcomed back. That they didn’t hate him. He cried.

He got his friends back that day, he had his family again.

Madam Pomphrey was relieved to see the gang back together again. Although she might be seeing Mr. Snape a lot more...

#peanut writes #The Prank #tm #Sirius black #Remus lupin #James potter #poppy pomfrey #madam pomfrey #peter pettigrew #I couldn’t spell his name #angst #hurt/comfort #wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #fanfiction #mwpp #marauders #marauders era

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nanasparadise · 4 years ago

Note

Could you perhaps do a yandere Formaggio keeping a smol s/o in pocket or cage or something? 👉👈

Hiya! Thanks for your request, I hope you enjoy it! <3

“Tiny” Yan! Formaggio x gender-neutral reader

Summary: Formaggio shrinks his darling after one of their escape attempts and keeps them in a pocket and a cage.

TW: noncon touching and kiss, kidnapping, implied stalking toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 1390

„Please, let me go! You can’t just keep me like that!“, you shouted desperately. Currently, you were in the pocket of Formaggio and about the size of a lipstick at best. The hitman had shrunk you, wanting you to remain by his side. And what better way to do that than to keep you in his trouser pocket? Despite your tininess, Formaggio still heard you. A cruel smile formed on his lips.

“Ah ah Y/N, you did this to yourself. I’ve told you I’d shrink you if you tried to escape again”, he said condescendingly, while clicking his tongue. The Italian slightly patted his pocket, which caused you to shake around. You were scared, so terribly scared. The man who did this to you grew utterly obsessed with you. You hardly knew him, but he had promised you that he knew you all too well. And for sure, he did: once he had kidnapped you, you had seen all of the photographs of you scattered around his flat. “I’ve warned you, but you wouldn’t listen. That’s the punishment for your disobedience.”

“Please,” you cried again, “please, if you really love me like you claim, then let me go!” This sentence caused Formaggio to stop walking immediately. He was roaming around the streets and was going back to his flat, since you had decided to escape and now the Italian wanted to bring you back “home”. Formaggio picked you out of the pocket. You tried to struggle his grip, but it was hard to resist when you were the size of his thumb. So all you could do for now was to remain in his palm and stare at his face which seemed gigantic to you.

“Y/N,” Formaggio said seriously, all of his characteristic laid-back atmosphere gone, “you know I love you. And that’s exactly why you can’t leave. How do you expect me to continue living when you’re not near me, constantly worrying about you? I’ve seen murders, gruesome murders Y/N, some of the victims were even members of my team. I can’t let you have the same fate. Even if that means you have to stay tiny.” His enormous green eyes fixated you. You gulped heavily. “There goes my chance to free myself from him”, you thought depressively. But as quickly as the moment of seriousness (at least serious to Formaggio, since for you the whole situation was very much severe) came, it also died. A smile appeared on the hitman’s face again.

“And by the way, I have no problem with keep you so small, it only makes you even cuter than you already are.”

You were stuffed back into his pocket. “Damn it”, you whispered hopelessly. Your feelings of desperation and fear only grew. Tears started pricking in your eyes and eventually streamed down your cheeks. Sobs escaped your lips until you began shaking uncontrollably. Were you doomed to stay with Formaggio while remaining tiny? Formaggio heard your sobbing, making guilt blooming in his chest. But the Italian kept telling to himself that you needed this. You needed him. You were so helpless, it was pitiful. So he ignored your crying and pleading and continued walking back home.

After you two had arrived in his flat, he had immediately placed you in a small cage, which was actually meant for hamsters. You were now at least three hours stuck there and it started to take toll on your sanity. “Great,” you thought, sighing, “I’m equal to a pet.” This thought reduced you back to tears. “Please Formaggio, at least turn me back to my original size”, you begged despairingly. Formaggio had been the whole time with you in the same room, but not saying a single thing. Now that you addressed him, he looked at you through the bars of the cage. God, you were so adorable when you were this small! He gave you a big smile, but you noticed a dark glint in his green eyes.

“But Y/N, how do I know you won’t escape again?”, he teased you.

“I won’t! I promise you, I won’t try it again. Just please, I don’t want to stay in this cage.” The hitman seemed to contemplate your words. He remained silent for a few more moment. The quietness weighed down on you and made your palms sweaty. Was he really going to keep you like this forever? “Alright,” Formaggio finally said, “I will size you up again.” A wave of relief washed over your body.

“Thank you,” you blurted out, “I really can’t- “

“But,” Formaggio interrupted you abruptly, “you need to do something for me, just so that I know that you keep your word.” You stared at him with big eyes.

“What does want from me now?” You would lie if you said you weren’t scared of his intentions. After all, he held you captive. “But still, better to be trapped in a flat like and treated like a person than to be in a cage like an animal.” Your heart began to beat faster, resembling now a hummingbird as Formaggio kept talking.

“Once you’re normally sized, you’ll kiss me.” Your mouth opened instinctively, giving you an astonished expression. You were well aware of his obsession, but he had always said he wouldn’t pressure you into anything, wanting you to get closer to him voluntarily. So, his words shocked you. “Can I do that? Can I just kiss my captor like that?” Formaggio grew impatient with your silence.

“Well, amore, if you don’t want to kiss me, then be my guest and remain in the cage. I have no problem with you being my little doll”, the Italian said seemingly teasing, but you could hear the underlying threat in his tone. Did you have a choice? You certainly didn’t want to be tiny forever… A shudder crept down your back. His gigantic eyes were still resting on you, reminding you of a predator.

“N-No please! I’ll kiss you”, you shouted eventually. Formaggio’s eyes lit up at your words. His characteristic smiled returned on his face.

“A wise choice”, the hitman joked. You couldn’t laugh though…

Quickly, you were placed out of the cage and on the floor. With the help of his Stand Little Feet you immediately grew back to your initial size. A sigh of relief came out of your mouth as you observed your normal sized limbs thoroughly. Suddenly, a pair of arms draped around your middle. You were dragged closely to Formaggio’s chest. The hitman’s eyes started glowing again, which only made your fear growing in your stomach. “

And?”, Formaggio said with a grin, “Didn’t you want to do something?” You started to slightly shiver.

“There’s no escape now, Y/N.” Slowly, you forced your mouth closer to his. Formaggio’s eyes were fixated on lips, eagerly awaiting them. Your face was millimetres away from his, you could already feel his hot breath. Still, you didn’t manage to press your lips on his. Overtaken by lust and impatience, the Italian removed one of his arms from your middle and it travelled to the back of your head, pressing it closer to his mouth so that the distance between you was gone. You were too surprised by his sudden action to react. Instead, you instinctively leaned into his kiss. His lips felt warm and soft on yours, almost reassuring. It started out as innocent and calm, but soon the kiss became more demanding and needy. Still paralysed by your anguish and surprise, you let Formaggio do what pleased him. He easily managed to open your mouth and slit his tongue inside of it. The man kept exploring your inside eagerly. After what felt like an eternity to you, Formaggio removed himself from your face. Your shortened breath and heated face as well as a string of saliva coming out of the corner of your mouth were the remains of the passionate kiss between you. Formaggio contemplated your expression, happiness taking over him. His eyes softened as his hands caressed your cheeks.

“Y/N,” he whispered affectionately, “I love you.” The Italian gave you a little kiss on your forehead, his arms snaking around your middle again. As you were resting your head on his chest, you realised yet again that you couldn’t escape him, no matter if you were put in a cage or not.

#jjba #jojosbizarreadventure #yandere jjba x reader #jojo golden wind #jojo part 5 #jojo vento aureo #yandere jjba #yandere #yandere formaggio #yandere formaggio x reader #minors dni #tw: yandere #tw: kidnapping #tw: noncon touching #tw: cage #tw: implied stalking

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miraculouscontent · 4 years ago

Text

Didn’t Need Burrow (March 23rd-31st)

Anonymous said:

Don't Need Burrow: If Marinette gets akumatized, she will be presented as too strong for Chat Noir to even try to fight back. The narrative of this episode will focus on Chat Noir blaming himself for "failing Marinette" (of course, the narrative in the episode will say that it's not his fault but Marinette) and Akumanette herself will have a basically negligible role in the episode. After some time, he decides that he must "stop running away from his problems (or something similar)". This time, he will somehow defeat Akumanette without any effort, using plan that wouldn't work against basically anyone, especially someone so inteligent and cunning as Marinette. After Marinette deakumatization Chat Noir will try to apologize to her for failing her, and Marinette will say that she didnt need to apologize and that it's her fault for being akumatized.

Alternative “bonus” that Akumanette is defeated with the power of the love square because Adrien/Chat is her weakness and her life would be better without him.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: The episode where Kagami is akumatized would probably be the Adrimi/Adrigami breakup episode. Kagami would either be conveniently absent from the rest of the season or be reduced to the crazy ex trope (and blame Marinette for the breakup); she might get a new love interest (bonus points if it's Luka) or support the Love Square.

I’d bet on Luka getting more appearances than Kagami post-Adrimi break-up (outside of Kagami being annoyed at Marinette) since Luka is connected to Marinette and she’s the POV character.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: The New York special is not mentioned at all despite happening after Season 3.

To be honest, that’s kind of what I’m hoping for. I don’t want Marinette’s suffering and Alya’s meddling to be canon.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: Lila, Chloé, and Mayura/Nathalie would be absent throughout the season and would face no repercussions for their actions.

Addition to Nathalie: Adrien’s schedule will not get anymore hectic despite Nathalie being bedridden now (if the New York special is hinting at her being MIA).

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: The new Bee Miraculous holder only exists to show how "horrible" Chloé is. Bonus points if her personality is the opposite of Chloé's and befriends everyone who hates Chloé.

Sounds accurate.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: Love Square would be rushed and/or forced after the Lukanette and Adrimi/Adrigami breakups. Both Adrien and Marinette would say that they "loved each other from the start" despite dating other people.

The love square has been forced for the whole show so--

Anonymous said:

Don't need Burrow: There will be episode, where Chloe will be akumatized into Antibug rehash named Scarlet Lady, it will be also full of references to Scarlet Lady comic.

I would honestly like to see that just so I can laugh at it.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: We will get another Love Square reveal/dating tease only to have any development and/or memories reset at the end.

We had two+ in Season 3 so it’s basically expected at this point.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: Adrien/Chat Noir will be coddled by the narrative while Marinette/Ladybug will be punished (whatever they did {or didn't do} doesn't matter.)

I’d be about as shocked as rubber.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: Adrimi is still not acknowledged as a couple by people other than Marinette (basically, New York Special 2.0 but Marinette has to suffer more.)

Yeah, so Adrimi dating but no one else knows so Marinette’s friends can meddle for the love square.

mindfulmagics said:

Didn’t Need Burrow: Marinette’s feelings towards moving on are invalidated/ignored by one of her “friends” to push for the Love Square

Let me fix that for you:

Marinette’s feelings are invalidated/ignored

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: The show keeps giving reasons why the Love Square shouldn't get together or would not be a healthy relationship; these reasons would conveniently disappear once the ship is canon.

Relationships fix all problems.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: We don't get a Lukanette and Adrimi double date to show how far everyone has come from Frozer. Alternately, post-breakup Marinette becomes a third wheel for an Adrimi date.

Both are super likely.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need Burrow: Lila's backstory isn't revealed until the show gives her a "redemption" arc. Bonus points if Lila becomes a Chloé 2.0.

"Felix” was the only one who actually got his sympathetic backstory from the get-go. *sigh*

Anonymous said:

Don't need Burrow: Zoe will be(e)come Marinette's fourth rival for Adrien's heart.

is2g i will riot

(the bee pun made me smile though so thank you)

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: Marinette *does* tell Alya that she is Ladybug. Alya laughs in her face because she thinks this is a joke.

I hate how likely this is.

“Bonus” if Marinette has to transform in front of her for Alya to believe her.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the burrow: However Marinette tells or wants to tell her identity, Chat will be mopey. Either around Marinette because she tells "obviously false" stories about his lady or around LB because there are rumours of people knowing her identity.

I had a hard time fully understanding this one, so I’ll simplify it to, “No matter who Marinette tells her identity to or even if she just considers it, Chat will be mopey about it.”

neyla9 said:

Didn't Need Burrow: If Lila and Felix become the new wielders of the Butterfly and Peacock miraculouses, they won't get a five minute time limit, because reasons

rEaSonS

Anonymous said:

DIDN'T NEED BURROW: Worst case scenario, Marinette suffers from depression(they probably won't say the D-word out loud, though), and possibly tries to hide it, but fails. Her "friends" are convinced that her depression is entirely caused by her unrequited love for Adrien, and do everything in their power to get him and her together. Yay.... Also, Luka and Kagami are conspicuously absent from this episode(and it only lasts one episode). And yes, I'm sorry for making you cry in advance.

I don’t actually think you’re sorry, but yes, I’m sorry.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need Burrow to know that the show will address the fandom's "Marinette Deserves Better" in a mean-spirited way, by having Marinette try to explain WHY she's not to blame when she's once again blamed for things that aren't her fault(or it is partly her fault so she takes responsibility but also points out what the other party should've done) only for the characters blaming her to go "No, it IS all your fault, Marinette. Just apologize already!" Which she will, taking all of the blame again.

“Animaestro” caused so much internal fear about “address the critics” episodes and I wouldn’t be surprised if this happened.

#Didn't Need Burrow

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cyhyr · 3 years ago

Text

Summer of Whump Day 8: Allergies

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~840

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N: After that last one, let me give y’all something a bit fluffier, a bit more light-hearted. I know I needed to write something lighter.

Coming to live with Kakashi had many benefits, ones they had discussed and ones they hadn’t realized until they started living together. Getting to see each other more, reduced expenses, eating out less, built-in plant-sitter (mostly a benefit for Kakashi, as Iruka had never trusted himself with plants before having Ukki-san thrust into his hands once and told to water ‘him’ sparingly while Kakashi was away on a mission); on top of no longer having to plan out when they were going to… well.

Anyway.

Iruka enjoys living with Kakashi. He doesn’t even mind the expansive compound or the huge house he feels the need to clean top-to-bottom at least once a fortnight. The odd looks he got when he filed his change of address and next-of-kin paperwork were worth getting to see Kakashi after his missions and stay with him in the hospital when he’s there. It’s worth the whispers that follow him around town; ones that insult him, or insinuate why he’s living with Sharingan no Kakashi, or what they get up to in that huge compound all alone.

Joke’s on them; Iruka’s the one who gets to see Kakashi first thing in the morning. Iruka gets breakfast in bed and tea in the gardens and lunch brought to him at work. Iruka has a home and a family and a place no one else can touch.

Everything is wonderful.

The only thing he would change is that tree.

Don’t get him wrong; the rest of the year, it’s a beautiful tree. But right now the pollen is horrible and the breeze across the compound naturally blows it right into their bedroom at night. Closing the window isn’t an option; the room becomes stifling without that breeze.

His eyes have been itchy and watery for the past two weeks, and a cough started a week ago. He’ll lose his voice if it gets much worse. The only good thing about this situation is that the Academy’s on break.

At least he isn’t trying to teach while also keeping the waterfall of mucus in his nose.

“I can remove the tree,” Kakashi proposes one day. They’re having breakfast at the kitchen counter, both of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder and looking out the window.

“It’s been there longer than Konoha has,” Iruka shakes his head. “I can’t—”

“It’s making you miserable.” Kakashi takes a sip of his coffee and reaches for a tissue as Iruka sneezes. Handing it over, he continues by asking, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Iruka shrugs. “I passed out at some point.”

“That’s not—”

“Kakashi, it’s three weeks—maybe four—out of the year. I can live with it.”

“I don’t want you to have to,” Kakashi groans and cuts himself off. He puts his coffee down and turns himself and Iruka to face each other. With one hand on Iruka’s waist and the other at his temple—gods, he looks exhausted, eyes lined in red and sunken in shadow—Kakashi says, “I want you to thrive here. I only agreed to move back here because you saw the gardens and wanted them, and I wanted to give them to you. But,” he put his finger over Iruka’s lips as he noticed a rebuke readying to slip out, “if you can’t even sleep in the house I’ve provided, what good is the rest of it?”

Iruka blushes. “It’s just one month,” he mutters.

“One month out of a year, out of who knows how many years we have left together.”

“Don’t say that.” Iruka closes his eyes, leans in and presses their foreheads together. “Not right now. Not—”

“I could die on a mission tomorrow, Iruka,” Kakashi murmurs. “I want to be able to go knowing that you’re happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Then let me get rid of the tree and make you happier.”

Iruka turns his head and coughs into his fist. It gets bad enough that he leans over the sink and presses his other palm against his chest. Kakashi, all the while, rubs circles on his back and glares out the window at the tree causing so much misery in his house.

He doesn’t remember it, but he knows his mother loved that tree. He and his father spent hours when he was a child sitting quietly in its shade. He’d hoped that he could have made new memories in that space with Iruka, like they’ve made new memories for most of the house and compound.

The coughing stops. Iruka catches his breath and stands up, getting another tissue and blowing his nose.

“Will getting rid of the tree make you happy, Kakashi?” Iruka asks softly.

“It’s just a tree,” he says. “There are others.”

Iruka nods. “Fine. Put the Tree From Hell back where it came from, then.”

Kakashi laughs. Holds Iruka tighter. “Go out for the day, and it’ll be gone when you come home. I’ll even clean up the bedroom and change the sheets.” He presses a kiss into Iruka’s hair and mutters, “We’re going to sleep well tonight, I promise.”

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump8 #allergies #fanfic #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

Note

I am a hard Taekook shipper but recently Jikook have been melting my heart by being so cute and cudly and loving. I understand and i am sorry for so mhch hate from Taekookers but trust me Taekookers are a bit shaken right now. I cannot disclose my name here but i would like to say if Jikook is real or they decide to come out which i higly doubt then i am 100% in support and also ur page helped me open my eyes and see a diff sude of shipping which is needed alot more. I am Loving Love ryt now.

C'est la vie!

So sorry for the late response love. You've always been on my mind.

I get not every Taekooker is wild and rabid just as not every Joker is sane and fake woke. Lol.

I mean I'm still holding on to my grudge against your people for storming my business pages and leaving shit reviews on my books- and laughing about it? What was that? Damn. Had to change my author name and everything and I've since been publishing under an alias- let me tell you, it's no fun at all.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have called y'all's ship dead- but honestly it dead, it dried up like a drop of sweat on a dessert. What can I say? People just don't want the truth, lol- had these angry thirteen year olds and fake woke Jokers coming for my ass and my business ass on the flamingo app. Chilee. Your people don't want to be civil. Sigh.

Some people just have no sense of personal responsibility and when they get called out for it they slap you with the whole, 'no one asked you to put yourself and your business out there' - this creepy behavior and mental adroitness is not far from rapists blaming girls for wearing short shorts and mini skirts or thieves blaming people for not putting up a fence and shit to protect their property. It's fucked up.

And don't get me started on what they do to Jimin or JK... or even Tae- not to make you feel bad or anything. It's just my people suck, your people suck, we all suck square- don't apologize for it unless you plan on doing something to change it?

As for Taekook, yea I don't think there is anything wrong with shipping them. They have a beautiful bond, they are both visuals and both funny as hell. If you won't ship them I will. Lol.

Just know the reason you are shipping them? If you are shipping them because you genuinely believe they are a couple too then you need to stop shipping them and start supporting them?

And once you start supporting them then I think you'd sooner realize there isn't anything there to support in the first place. Lol.

I support Jikook because I believe with my full chest they are real and are closeted- emphasis on closeted. And for the record, they are the only queer couples in BTS.

Tae lost his queer card when he accidentally outed Jimin on that radio show. 'I think he likes men' yea, straight up het behavior. Lack of homo sensitivity.

Did you see JK's reaction when JM was asked to spill tea on their pervy behaviors behind cams? My butt quivered. Chilee, I thought he was gone out JK too. Damn.

I think the word real and closeted have come loose and cheap on these streets these days. I don't think most of these shippers when they throw it around fully understand the term or realise what it means and what it takes. If they did, they wouldn't randomly be labeling every ship as 'real' within the fandom.

If you believe Taekook is real and that they are equally hiding their sexuality as well as their relationship within the group, then you should understand how severe and traumatizing this fact is and would be for them as gay men?

The thing is, they are not just hiding parts of themselves and their identity for the sake of their careers or military or whatever if they are real, they are lying to millions, millions of people at a time about who they really are by keeping their identity a secret. Secrets are lies honey, however way we want to see it.

If they are real then they are concealing their true identity away from not just their families and friends- if they haven't come out to them, but acquaintances from work, businesses who wouldn't work with them otherwise, brands, sponsors, Heads of states, their fans....

It's one thing for a heterosexual to keep their heterosexual relationship a secret, it's another for a queer person to keep their queerness and or queer relationship a secret.

A lie as heavy as this is bound to take a toll on them, no matter how good they are at hiding it. A secret gets heavy before it gets easy. Not to sell you on anything but do you see any such secret taking a toll on Taekook? Because I see it taking a toll on Jikook.

Do you believe Taekook are closeted? Because I believe Jikook are.

Being closeted means they have to carry the guilt of knowing that each time they pander to heteronormative roles in variety shows or interviews, or imply by omissions that they are straight, or make generalizing statements about their sexuality to avoid addressing their sexuality directly or give it away, that they are lying to people and spewing half truths- seven years in a roll.

Being closeted is not a joke. It's heavy. I think you need to grasp this before you claim it for anyone.

People like to throw the 'closeted' phrase around willy nilly but fail to comprehend its weight and complexity and consequences especially for people that they believe are actually queer.

It's not easy lying to people about who you are. Unless you are a pathological liar and a psychopath, it's like drowning each day you wake up. You die a little each time. Your sexuality is a huge part of your identity and when you deny it for so long by lying and suppressing it, it's like shutting out a peice of yourself and silencing your own voice. The more you push it aside the louder it screams and the harder it fights to come out.

It's a state of constant internal struggle. You wake up everyday contemplating whether to risk the perfect life you've spent years building just so you can turn off the guilt that comes with keeping a secret of this nature.

And each time you get better at omitting or generalizing and evading questions that hint at your truth, the more you hate yourself and the more guilt you feel. This guilt can become a driving force that pushes you to make risky moves and take impulsive actions such as 'borderline outing your relationship'- does that sound like Taekook to you?

If you are not driven by the love you feel for your partner, you are driven by the guilt and neither is a great place to be if you are queer.

You lie everyday, you get caught up in the lies and soon you start believing in the web of lies you've woven around yourself such that you don't even recognize who you are or why you are, anymore. As such, you are constantly searching for yourself, to reconcile the bits you've hidden away and perhaps forgotten, and you keep exploring your identity because you are unsettled- honey, that sounds more like Jikook than Taekook to me but c'est la vie.

Being closeted is not about moments that get cut by editors, or less interactions, or being seperated or seated further apart from eachother. These are just ship street parlance. Being closeted is an attitudinal, internal attribute rather than external manipulations or influences- it's a science. Lol

Coming out may be risky for any of these boys if they are real, but I promise you hiding is much harder for them.

And so When I look at Taekook, and I see how beautiful they are yet I don't in God's honest truth see them 'dealing' with any or all of these struggles Jikook deal with or have dealt with at one point, in my opinion- forget the homophobia, the wanting to come out, the low key microaggressions they deal with even within the group- 'the Jk never stops crying,' 'the real men don't do this and that talk' talk, the toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia traits JK and Jimin used to exhibit in their early days talking about 'real men don't twerk,' 'real men don't wear rings on their pinky'- all the times Jimin have had to defend his masculinity or even femininity, or stand up for Kook's within the group. 'Men, men, men. What is men?'

Jikook are the only two within the group that in my opinion have struggled most with their identity, with embracing aspects of themselves; you hear them complain about 'living a lie' 'tired of hiding, lying' and all these are themes consistent with closet behavior that they've both explored in one way or the other and even as of 2020 they are still dealing with or 'exploring' their identities perhaps as a means to reconcile their true selves? I'm really struggling with this post because I don't wanna get salesy on your ass. Lol.

Don't get me wrong, Tae struggles and deals with issues too- mostly with loneliness, lowkey depression in my opinion, lowkey bullying- sometimes, lol and he often expresses a desire to find someone and be happy and yet 'his supporters' don't recognize that...

You can wait till Jikook come out officially as queer, if they ever chose to, to support them- Or you can choose to support them and love them now because that's what they need in order to officially come out as and when they choose to? Ok I'm being salesy. Lmho. I'll stop. Don't mind me. But think about it.

Ship whatever ship you want but support Jikook. It's all I'm asking. And by support, I mean don't exhibit any anti homosexual attitude towards them- deadass. You and I gone fight, square up toe to toe, if you do. Lol.

People don't need to be afraid of Jikook. They just need to treat them as human beings and not reduce them to a mere ship. They are a ship too yes, but they are more than that if you ask me.

You sound nice. I love you. I'm glad you enjoy my posts. Merry Christmas and cheers to our ships.

Keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Signed,

GOLDY

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cauliflowercounty · 4 years ago

Text

Firsts (Harry Potter x Reader)

House: You Choose

Blood Status: You Choose

Request: Hi!! Do you think you could write a Harry Potter x reader where they are friends with the trio and Harry says something funny and mid laugh reader casually says “I love you” in a platonic way and Harry gets quiet bc he’s never heard anyone say that before and the reader makes a note to tell him every day that he is loved and it eventually becomes more?????? It came to my mind at work and I can’t stop thinking about it. Thank you so so much💕

A/n

-----

Tossing his book bag to the side, Ron huffs as he sits down next to Harry and Hermione. He’s obviously in a tizzy. He runs his hands through his hair, breathing out heavily trying to defuse his anxiety.

“What’s wrong, Ron?” you ask as you approach the group, knowing something must have happened to reduce Ron to such a state.

“It’s Malfoy and his cretins again,” Ron grumbles. “They were on Ginny and me about how our family is dirt and we’ll never get anything in life because our father is poor. The usual. He also told us something along the lines of ‘I, unlike you, am not a disgrace to wizards and purebloods, so he has the right to tell us off. He’s an absolute rotten git.”

“Ignore him Ron,” Hermione retorts. “The rise he gets out of you is what he wants. He’s just seeking attention. If you ignore him he’ll find someone else to mess with.”

“Good point, Hermione, but he never seems to move on. I’m so tired of Malfoy. It’s been years at this point,” you add. “I would think he would have run out of things to say about us. It’s like someone’s feeding him insults to use.”

“You think Draco’s imaginative enough to come up with new material all the time? His head’s full of dry, old, expired Christmas pudding from last year and sand. His dear old daddy, Lucius, is his source,” Harry quips, prompting a you to crack up laughing.

“Oh my god, Harry! That’s too accurate. I absolutely love you!” you say through your giggles, trying to get a hold of yourself. Harry just stares at you, a bit taken a back. As soon as you see the look on his face, you freeze and your laughter ceases. “Uh oh,” you think.

Hermione and Ron have noticed the sudden stop.

“Harry?” You ask softly, a look of worry spreading over your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“N-no, y/n,” Harry stutters, shaking just head quickly, trying to ease the tension and your nervousness. He gets up quickly and takes your hand, pulling you aside and down the hall to an empty classroom. Hermione and Ron give each other a look as you both disappear from sight.

As soon as you’re alone with Harry, he takes a deep breath. You’re officially scared. You’ve been friends with Harry for a long time and you know if he pulls you aside somewhere to have a private conversation, it’s serious. Most often, it’s about dangerous or he’s going to break the rules again and he needs your help. Harry notices the apprehension in your stance and the look on your face easily.

“Sorry, y/n, if I’ve scared you at all,” Harry starts. “It’s just what you said...”

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask. As soon as you say that the realization dawns on you. “It was the ‘I love you’ wasn’t it? Did it make you uncomfortable? Oh, God. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Harry. It was meant to be like a friendly ‘I love you.’ It won’t h-!”

“No, no, no!” Harry says as quickly as he hears what you’re saying. “It’s not that... it didn’t bother me at all. It was actually... welcome, if I’m honest. It’s just I don’t hear it a lot. The Dursley’s weren’t really the cuddliest of people towards me.”

You nod in agreement, and Harry looks into your eyes as if to say thank you.

“Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry. Well, you deserve to hear it, Harry,” you smile. “You should be hearing it all the time.”

“Thanks, y/n,” Harry grins as you bring him into a hug. He sighs as he wraps his arms around you in return, a warm tingly feeling glowing in his chest. As you break away, you giggle a bit. Harry looks down at his scuffed up trainers in the cute, shy way he does when he’s a bit nervous or there’s an awkward pause.

“Come on, Harry,” you say finally. “Hermione and Ron are all alone. We should get back before they get in a fight and Hermione resorts to calling him ‘Ronald’ and he’s ignoring her at every turn.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckles as you grab his hand and pull him away. “They’re pretty lost without us.”

After your private conversation with Harry, you had been thinking about what he’d said. You felt sad that just casually saying “i love you” had had such an effect on Harry. It had made him shocked and surprised, which was a bit heart breaking but at the same time understandable because of his upbringing. From that day forth, you had made a commitment to coming up to Harry and telling him he’s loved or cared for. You made sure to do it in moments where there weren’t a lot of people around, especially the Slytherins because Harry’d never see the end of it if Draco and his posse overheard. Plus, it was something between the two of you and not for the world.

In your opinion, your endeavor was highly successful. The first two or three times, it caught Harry off guard and you could sense he felt on the spot, but you always lightened the mood with a good talk over a butterbeer or some sort of magical sweet. After a while, Harry got more and more used to hearing “I love you” and not before long, he began to smile very time you said it, even looking forward to it daily. He’d wonder when you’d say it each day and you never failed to tell him.

You also enjoyed telling him “i love you” from day to day. it was like a little moment that would was guaranteed to make you smile no matter what. Even if the day was horrible, that one interaction with harry would make it all better because of the look on his face. The way his cheeks grow slightly pink and how wide his smile gets was always a little treat. It made you happy to see Harry like this.

After about a month and a half of this, you’d noticed a new pattern in Harry’s behavior every time you’d come into the room and not just when you were saying your daily “i love you.” He’d now become bashful and fiddle with his quill or the hem of his clothes. When Harry was nervous usually, he’d grip his wand tightly or stare off in front of him as if he had some sort of purpose or direction. Clenching his fist was a good tell for Harry’s nervousness or anxiety level, but this was different.

Finally, your concern overtook you and now you’re facing Harry in and abandoned classroom.

“Harry?” you say looking straight at him. “What’s been going on? I’ve noticed you acting different around me. When I first started this “I love you thing,” I checked with you and you said that you were okay with it. Did that change? You know I respect your boundaries and if you want me to stop I will. Please just communicate with me? The last thing I want to do is destroy our friendship.”

“Y/n,” Harry says, reaching out and gripping you by your arms to try to calm you. He could tell you were about to start rambling. “Like I said, I’m not uncomfortable. It’s okay. I just... I guess now’s a good time to say what I’ve been thinking....”

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. “Whatever you’re about to say to me sounds serious.”

“I-i...,” Harry trails off, taking his hands back and placing them on his hips. He exhales deeply and turns away for a second. Something must be looming over him. A moment later, he turns back and readjusts himself. “I just wanted to tell you... No. I’m just going to come out with it. I like it when you tell me “i love you,” y/n. It really makes my day.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way, Harry,” you respond, your heart warming knowing that what you’re doing is making Harry feel good.

“It’s just changed something for me... How I see you... and how I feel about you,” he admits anxiously. “I get so happy when you come up to me and I’ve realized that I want to hear that all the time, but I want you to mean it, mean it and not just say it because you’re my friend and I should hear that people love me more often.”

“Oh, Harry,” you gasp, not ever expecting this would be how this conversation would evolve.

“That’s why I’ve been acting different around you. I’ve been wrestling with this,” Harry explains. “For as long you’ve been saying this, it’s just been a nice gesture, and I don’t know if I can take it if that’s how it’s always going to be. Each time you come up, I get this feeling I want you to be closer to me. I... y/n I want us to be more than friends, but ‘us’ seems like an impossibility, and each time you’ve come up to me for the past few weeks, I’ve been considering distancing myself to spare myself the heartache. That’s why I’ve been acting strange.”

Initially, you’re shocked and surprised, but you smile at him and rush forward and wrap him up in a tight hug.

“Is that how you really feel, Harry?” you murmur over his shoulder into his ear, and you feel him nod. “That’s a relief because in the last few weeks, I’ve been feeling different about you. too. It makes me happy to see you smile. I love your company and I want you around all the time. I’ve meant every ‘I love you’ I’ve said for weeks. I feel the same way.”

You both pull back and look into each other’s eyes and break out into laughter, grinning like idiots.

“So... I guess we’ve been thinking the same thing for weeks and we never once addressed it?” you chuckle.

“I guess so,” Harry nods. You shake you head with another laugh building in your chest.

“How come other couples make getting together out to be so much easier, but it takes us weeks to figure out what’s going on?” you ask with a fake exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, but we got there in the end,” Harry concludes as he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go, y/n. We should be getting back.”

“So we’re... together now?” you ask, still in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“No. We’ve been demoted to acquaintances. This interaction was way too much for our teenage brains to handle. Of course we are!” Harry jokes. “But only if you want to, y/n.”

“Okay, okay. Stop stalling and beating around the bush. I like you, Harry,” you state. “and you admitted you like me AND said you wanted us to be together. I also said that, too. Now, by the law of mutual confessions, we are now obligated to try to be together or are in fact together. Do you object to this logic?”

“Not at all,” Harry replies, laughing at your formality. He smiles at you and slowly leans in, bringing his lips inches away from your own. “Is this okay?”

You nod at him and he closes the gap, You close your eyes. The kiss is perfect and gentle. As your heart leaps in your chest, Harry wraps his free arm around you. Breaking away after a few blissful moments, Harry grins at you.

“Hermione and Ron are going to have a field day when we tell them,” you whisper to him.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry mumbles. “That’s a problem for later,” he sighs, going back in for one more kiss, and you and Harry are finally on the same wavelength. This has been a long time coming.

#Harry Potter #golden trio era #harry potter x reader #y/n #hp #hp fanfic

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stennnn06 · 4 years ago

Text

another year over, a new one just begun

reignjas + NYE - quick fic.

[possible continuation from ‘under the mistletoe’ ]

The phone rings sharply-- a blaring, ghastly sound that jolts Andrea so far out of sleep that she's convinced she's run an entire marathon and collapsed, right back into her king sized bed. Her heart pounds as she glares at the clock.

11:05.

It isn't even that late, but it's a holiday, and she's trying to forget about the fact that she's already in bed, alone. The phone continues to wail. Apparently, in her wine drunken stupor, she left the volume all the way up after watching an embarrassing number of TikTok videos. Past Andrea is a fucking idiot, and she curses herself swiftly. She doesn't bother sitting up as she pulls the phone to her face in a sloppy, sideways angle.

"Hello?" she answers, muffled.

"Andrea, hi," a painfully familiar voice croons on the other end. There's a pause, and Andrea frowns, sure that she's making things up. It would be a fitting end to a shit year, the ghosts of missed opportunities calling her in the middle of the night on New Year's Eve just to taunt her. But as if the woman on the other end can read her thoughts, she quietly exhales a soft, "it's Sam," and Andrea is sent reeling.

"What do you want?"

Andrea grimaces. It comes out so much sharper than she intends, but she can't very well say "what are you doing?" or "how are you?" because that would be normal, and they're not normal. They've never been, and Andrea knows she's partially to blame for that.

Okay, maybe she's fully to blame, but they aren't keeping score and she isn't about to open her heart and allow Sam Arias of all people to make herself at home.

She won't.

"I don't really know," Sam says, a teasing laugh in her voice. Andrea's stomach flips. "I just thought -- well I guess you're probably at some swanky New Year's Eve party or something, I don't know why I'm bothering you--"

"I'm not," Andrea interrupts. "I'm not anywhere."

"Oh," Sam says quickly. "Oh, okay."

There's another awkward pause that seems to stretch to infinity. Andrea listens to the soft sounds of Sam's shallow breaths and the muffled voices in the background. Ryan Seacrest is babbling about some pop group that Andrea assumes is far out of her demographic, but then it hits her that Sam doesn't sound like she has any plans, either.

The last time they spoke was at Lena's holiday party, if you could count it as speaking. Mostly, Andrea hid behind veiled insults and sarcasm until the gin in her martinis loosened her tongue enough to find Sam's mouth charming. She doesn't know how they ended up huddled together during a game of charades of all things, with Sam's hand ghosting over the small of her back and her own fingers tracing patterns on Sam's thigh, and she'd rather not dwell on the fact that she let her guard slip enough to pull Sam under the mistletoe, but--

Sam kissed her back. That much she knows. And, beyond that, it was searing hot and something she hasn't been able to remove from her mind since, which is its own brand of infuriating.

(That, and the fact that she actually doesn't find Sam as insufferable as she acts, and in fact finds her annoyingly attractive, all grates against her patience as she waits for Sam to say something.)

"I should have called earlier," Sam says, still toeing the line of actually getting to the point.

"You should also get an award for the gymnastics you're doing," Andrea bites back. "What do you want, Sam?"

"Nothing, I'm sorry," Sam apologizes, unnecessarily. "I guess... I just wanted to say happy new year. I hope you have a good night, Andrea."

She hangs up before Andrea can respond, which is just as well. She's not about to get snuggly on the phone and whisper pleasantries until the ball drops. That's not the kind of girl she is.

She tosses her phone aside and curls back up on her side, angrily pulling the covers up high over her shoulders. Stupid Sam with her stupid voice and her stupid face, calling before midnight on stupid New Year's Eve--

Well, now she's awake. Dammit all to hell. She throws the covers back in exasperation. She's also out of wine, and out of patience, and God, why did Sam have to go and ruin everything?

The address stares back at her, teasing, from the application on her phone. She knows it because there isn't anything she can't access -- thank God for data privacy and her company's penchant for exploiting it. It's something she'll ask forgiveness for later, probably. Until then--

Her car pulls up to a modest brownstone only several minutes from her own condo. The fact that she sleeps only a few miles from Sam's house isn't lost on her, but they can spend the rest of the new year unpacking all that.

It's 11:45 by the time she knocks on the door.

Sam answers after a minute, and she has no right to look that fucking good, but. That's just how this is going to go, apparently. Sam curls a strand of hair behind her ear, her oversized NCU sweatshirt looking so warm and inviting--

Andrea huffs at the sight. She's still in yoga pants and a crew neck sweatshirt, her hair tucked under a Metropolis Monarchs baseball cap because she's not trying to look like she's trying, which means she didn't try at all. Seeing Sam in front of her now, though, makes her wish she did. She purses her lips.

"Andrea?" Sam frowns, crossing her arms tentatively. "What are you--"

"Don't read into it," Andrea scolds, feeling suddenly very bold and very presumptuous. Sam didn't even really ask her to do anything, and yet here she is, with fucking bells on. "You sounded desperate."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Sam agrees, shrugging. She's so unbothered by the whole idea of asking for what she wants, that Andrea is bewildered. Can it really just be like that? "You want to come in?"

Andrea bites back every sarcastic comment she can think to make -- 'no, I want to stand on your porch for the rest of time' or 'no, I'm not here to see you--" and instead she simply nods and follows.

Sam leads her to a warm family room with a blazing fire, a good sized TV and a modestly full bottle of champagne. It needles at her that Sam is here, alone, throwing her own little celebration, without falling apart at the seams like Andrea was. It's baffling.

"I don't want to intrude," Andrea jokes, nodding at the small singular plate of snacks.

"Yeah, I was throwing a rager, but I guess I have room for one more," Sam teases, and it's light and easy and Andrea's stomach catapults into space. "Drink?"

Andrea bites her lip and nods, and before she can stop it, they're sitting on the couch, thighs touching, watching everyone in downtown Metropolis huddle together in preparation for the ball to drop.

"Is this what you normally do?" Andrea asks, curious. She doesn't look at Sam, instead gluing her eyes to the TV where Anderson Cooper is trying desperately to look like he wants to be there instead of his cozy, posh mansion. Andrea can't imagine.

"My daughter is usually here, but she's at that age now where friends are much cooler than mom," Sam sighs, almost wistful. "So I guess this is the new normal."

Ah right, the daughter. Sam has a child, and Andrea knows it, but also conveniently forgets about it until it's staring her in the face. Or being dropped casually into the conversation, like right now. She wonders what it'll be like, to have to navigate that, but it's so far beyond comprehension that she lets it slide in silence.

The fact that her mind inevitably went there, however, presses firmly in her chest.

"I'm glad you came over," Sam says softly as the giant ticker starts to count down from 1 minute. "I wanted you to--"

Andrea turns and is immediately lost in the look on Sam's face -- like she means what she's saying, and God, isn't that just everything Andrea has been looking to avoid?

Before she has to come up with a response, everyone starts counting down from 10 and she's saved by the hokey tradition of watching a glistening crystal ball drop in the middle of a crowd.

"Happy new year!" Sam exclaims, turning to her with a hundred watt smile. It's ridiculously adorable, how excited she is about something so simple, and part of Andrea simply melts. "Cheers!"

Their glasses clink together, and they're sipping champagne, and then their glasses are put aside and Sam is still staring at her with that look....

Andrea wants it, desperately, and she watches the way Sam's eyes glance from her lips to her eyes and back, a question burning in the silence between them.

Sam leans forward and Andrea lets her, and before she can fully process, their lips are slotted together, soft, and warm and hungry. Everything seems to break apart fully, her impenetrable wall reduced to dust. Why she was ever trying to deny this is beyond her, as Sam's lips push every last thought from her brain. Her hands trail along Sam's toned sides and up into her hair, satisfied at the whimper it elicits from Sam's mouth.

She gives and takes in a comfortable back and forth, all the while thinking that maybe this could be something worth getting used to.

"Do you think what they say is true?" Sam asks, breathless as they pull apart. Auld Lang Syne plays softly in the background, the melody profound and sad and nostalgic. Andrea is pretty sure she'll never hear it the same way again, not after tonight. "That whatever you're doing at midnight is how you'll spend the year?" She has a goofy smile teasing across her lips and her cheeks are flushed and Andrea just wants to kiss her over and over and over.

"That's absurd--" Andrea scoffs, her heart squeezing slightly. "Why?"

"I kind of hope it is," Sam says, shrugging, her hand still resting on Andrea's knee.

Something about the way she says it -- soft, vulnerable, honest -- makes Andrea break. She pulls her forward by the collar of her sweatshirt, breaking her momentum with her lips. She kisses her with everything she has, pleading it's enough without having to explain. Sam smiles against her mouth, and it causes Andrea to follow, and soon they're grinning and kissing and kissing and kissing... And oh, this is what it's supposed to feel like.

"I hope so too," Andrea eventually whispers in the space between them as they try to catch their breath. Sam looks at her, eyes wide and sparkling and Andrea can't help but chuckle. "Happy new year, Sam."

#reignjas #rojarias #NYE #i really wanted a NYE fic and so i panicked and threw this together last minute #while angrily answering emails #but this is keeping me sane #happy new year everyone!#stay safe #andrea x sam #why are they so fucking GOOD #UGH #going to go write more about them PROBABLY

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

Yamata-no-Orochi (Part 3) Betrayal

*kicks the legs out from under the table, one by one*

You’d been stuck for hours. It was extremely late but you couldn’t sleep. Caesar and Chu Zihang drove in circles before finally parking in an alley to wait. At first, it was all emergency vehicles -- Police, Fire, and EMS -- then there were many reporter trucks with satellites mushrooming from their roofs.

After that, the streets got very quiet and occasionally you spotted dark sedans driving far below the speed limit, like sharks on the hunt. Hydra was looking for Mingfei and Erii.

You lay in the back seat to keep hidden. You were still in your silver Cheongsam and heels. You stared holes in the back of the driver's seat and listened to the radio. Seventy six people were dead. Only a single person was injured. They were painting it as some wild street race gone wrong. People were describing fiery debris. Bodies, some of them in various degrees of dismemberment, were strewn all over the street. It would take days to recreate the scene. One of the things the reporters quickly picked up on was the lack of wounded. How could a car accident be so catastrophically fatal?

But the noise of the radio faded away in your mind. Instead you were remembering when you first saw Z. It wasn’t in real life. You first saw him in your dreams. When you were hurt or frightened by the nursery staff, Z would appear and ask you what you would like to happen to those people. If they stuck you with needles you would say, “I wish they would be stuck by a million needles.” And then watch as they were stuck, screaming and crying in pain, just like you were.

Or if you were beaten by the nurses, something horrible and perverse would happen to them in your dreams. Like one round nurse would swell up so big and red you could see her veins through her transparent skin and wherever you popped her she would bleed.

When you first saw Z in real life, it was the special day when you graduated from the preschool section to the adolescent section and started to use your soul skills in experiments. He stood tall and proud, his bright red-gold eyes gleaming at you. He smiled at you, a warm smile like he was the king and he could have picked anyone in the world but he picked you. That smile was a gift that beckoned you to run towards him. You thought it was a dream. But he opened his arms and hugged you.

In the back of the car, tears fell at the memory. You’d never been hugged before. Ever. A warmth spread from his arms and his body and filled you. It made you bright. It opened your mind and heart and let him in completely, without reservations. After that he was your best friend. Between him, you and Renata, you felt privileged, you learned quickly how to navigate your dangerous world and soon you were the oldest and most successful hybrids there. You were sure to go to the capital.

It was only at Anton’s death that Z showed you the truth, but he didn’t help you survive Black Swan overtly. You still had to watch your friends die. You assumed Z died too. He never reappeared in your dreams again until you nearly died in Chizuru and then you were so happy to see him again. But your relationship changed into something far more intimate. You didn’t know if you were ready for something like that. But he certainly did.

At least he never lied. He never explicitly said he loved you. He didn’t even say you could love him either. He said you didn’t know any better. Of course you didn’t. He’d groomed you since you were a child.

Remembering that made it hurt all the worse. A great shadow has fallen over your past. Now you had no happy moments to reflect on with Z. Everything was full of crevasses that hid questions and doubts. Like the boulders that would forever separate Izanami and Izanagi from each other in the underworld, you and Z were now irreconcilable.

“I haven’t seen a patrol in the past 15 minutes. Think we’re clear?” Chu Zihang asked.

“How the hell should I know? We take a risk if we wait 15 minutes or an hour.” Caesar responded. “You okay back there MC?”

You look up at him, his blue eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. “I’m pissed.” you growl.

“I bet you are.”

There was more to be said but now was not the right time.

You end up making it a room across from the hotel where Erii was staying. Lu Mingfei was waiting for you there.

Mingfei cracked open the door and then let you in.

“Take off your clothes!” Caesar said coldly.

His voice was so sharp and harsh that Lu Mingfei immediately did so, removing his shirt.

When Mingfei unbuckled his belt, Caesar snapped. “Keep your pants on… turn around.”

“Oh, you were so serious I thought I had to take off all my clothes.” Lu Mingfei said.

Chu Zihang and Caesar curiously admired the dense lines of scars on Lu Mingfei’s back. They were so numerous that you could not find a single unmarked spot on him. It was like he had endured a beating of a thousand strokes or had rolled over a bed of knives. Even Caesar and Chu Zihang were stunned speechless.

“Are you done looking? I’m kinda cold.” Mingfei peeked over and startled at the sight of you. “Ah! You didn’t tell me MC was here!”

“She doesn’t care, stop wiggling!” Caesar hummed. “Incredible self-healing ability. A trauma of this magnitude would take at least 3 weeks to heal even at a top-notch medical center. But only eight hours have passed since you were attacked. You should have bled to death on the spot.”

“That’s because the wound began to heal itself the moment he was injured. The blood vessels stopped bleeding on their own, so the blood was locked in the body. The cells filled in the wound by a high rate of division. Even the ruptured tendons were repaired.” Chu Zihang said. “This self-healing ability surprasses that of Chisei Gen and MC.”

Could this be why the principal rated him as S-rank?” Caesar mused. “If he always had this ability, wouldn’t he make the perfect meat shield? If we have another gunfight with someone, we can send him in front of us to Main Tank the damage while we lay down suppressive fire!”

“The so-called lack-of-childhood must have been an act, then? Boss, you’re so familiar with the term ‘main tank’. What do you play? Warcraft or Warhammer? Anyways, shut up about that, we’ve got a bigger problem!”

“We already know, even if you didn’t come to us, we came to you. Every news channel is broadcasting what happened last night.” Caesar grabbed the remote from the chair and turned on the TV.

You already knew the story, so you don’t bother watching it again. Something else was bothering you. Caesar said she was 21, and was staying at a love hotel, but he also said she was wrapped around his finger. Didn’t Caesar say that he was hoping for Erii to fall in love with Mingfei? The whole idea suddenly made your skin crawl!

“Caesar. Is it alright if I go to the bathroom?”

“Huh?” Caesar looked up from the TV. “Yeah sure whatever.”

You walk inside and shut the door and get as far away from the door as you can and lean against the wall. You cross your arms, your nails biting into your biceps. You understood that Erii was potentially dangerous and that was evident today. But all you could think of was Z’s gentle hug, his indulging in your punishment fantasies, the play time and the jokes. It was all fun until it wasn’t. You recall the souvenir Mingfei got from her after she rescued him, a little duck bath toy. You’d tteased him for playing with it. Mingfei said he would never bathe with a duck.

He wasn’t that much of a kid.

Fire like a kiln blazed in your stomach. This was the person Mingfei had wrapped around his little finger? As Caesar had so blithely put it? You flush the toilet and pretend to wash your hands and open the door.

The boys were already moving on, talking about something else.

Caesar was standing next to Mingfei and handing him a card. “Meet at Pier 7 in Tokyo Harbor. The address is written on this.”

“What if she loses control while on the ship?” Lu Mingfei looked frightened.

Caesar handed him a box of medication encased in a glass vial to Lu Mingfei: “Isoproterenol, a strong anesthetic. Give her this medication. It will reduce her vital signs to a minimum and she will sleep until she gets to China. Give her some glucose half way through the trip.”

“But she’s very weak now!” Lu Mingfei raised his voice. “Injecting a very weak person with a strong anesthetic and only living on glucose for seven days? What if she dies?”

Caesar patted his shoulder: “We don't want her to die either, but this is the most feasible way to deal with it right now. She is a deadly weapon that could get out of control at any moment. And we can neither continue to hold this dangerous weapon nor return her to the Hydra, so the only way to do that is to send her out of Japan. It would take a bit of a risk, but it would get her out of Tokyo, the center of controversy. She’s the strangest hybrid we know of, perhaps related to the awakening of the White King. And with her gone, it would be the equivalent of a dangerous element being removed.”

Wait a minute. This didn’t sound like Caesar. The way Caesar was talking about her to Mingfei was not the way he talked about her to you. The way he talked to you was that she was a beautiful girl and that hoped Lu Mingfei and the Uesugi Clan Chief would get together!

Mingfei seemed convinced by this however.

Chu Zihang spoke up. “Caesar and I have discussed this before we came. And this is the only way. Find an excuse to take her out and bring her to the dock tomorrow at exactly four in the morning. She trusts you and should agree to board the ship with you.”

Chu Zihang’s words were like a bomb going off. “Uh… excuse me!” You say.

“What is it?” Caesar asked, his voice slightly dismissive.

“Why don’t you just tell her the truth?” Your face was awash in indignant confusion.

“What? Are you kidding?” Mingfei squeaked.

“No, I’m not kidding! Caesar just said, ‘make up an excuse’. You’re going to lie to her!” You lower your voice to a whisper but point sharply at the hotel across the street. “Do you think she’s stupid?! When she finds out that you’re lying, she will go absolutely nuts!”

“MC.” Caesar took a breath. “MC… I know how you feel but now is really not the time.”

“No, you’re being cruel. Mingfei, you should know better!” You snarl. “You are her only friend, her only one! You are under an obligation to be upfront with her or else you’re no better than Herzog! You should know better. All of you should know better!”

“Hey…” Caesar growled, his eyes darkening. “This is completely different. Don’t compare me to that asshole.”

“What if she loses it? You don’t know if she can handle that sort of information. She’s extremely mentally unstable!” Mingfei whimpered.

“There is nothing more destabilizing than being betrayed by the people you trust.” You stare at Caesar accusingly. “After all this time, after all you know about me. You turn around and pull this?” You take a shaking breath. “She is a child.”

The room descended into an uneasy silence and no one moved or spoke. The only sound was the continuous rain on the window and the rumble of distant thunder.

“That’s your plan? Tell her the truth. Are you going to take responsibility for her going on a rampage after she hears that she’s dying? Not everyone is that strong, MC.” Caesar was completely expressionless. He only got this way when he was upset.

You take a breath and let it out. You start to speak and nothing comes. You shake your head, struggling. “The man who told me I was dying was the man who loved me.”

You turn away and leave the room to regain control of yourself.

A few moments later, Chu Zihang exited with a box of tissues but he quickly saw it wasn’t needed. You were just staring blankly at the wall in the hall.

“Caesar has decided to let you go. He wants you to stay with Mingfei tonight and go with them to the docks tomorrow. Take the ship to China with them.”

“What’s stopping me from telling her the truth on the way there?”

“Mingfei will drug both of you.” Chu Zihang said.

You turn to look at him and then immediately turn away, your heart sinking. “He views me the same way. So much for the ‘I'm not Godzilla’ speech huh?”

“Things aren’t always black and white. A lot has happened. You’re in obvious danger from something we don’t understand. You may not realize it but your mental state is not the same as when you arrived.” Chu Zihang’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Your mind is going too.”

You just shake your head. “All I hear are excuses. Excuses for him to be a hypocrite.”

Chu Zihang sighed, and you see for a moment how tired he was.. “You don’t have any say in the matter. The decision is unanimous, not only between me and him, but also Lu Mingfei.”

You drop your arms from your chest, limply.

He looked down at you, his eyes cold. “If you defy the orders, I won’t hold back. From your training you should understand what I mean.”

The door opened and Caesar walked out. “Alright, let’s go Chu.” He paused next to you, his eyes cloudy. “I care about you. I really do. But there’s too much you just don’t understand. We’ll talk about getting you back to Japan once this is all over.”

You look up at him and shake your head. “The key to my survival is in Tokyo. If I leave, you won’t see me again..

He reaches out to hug you and you let him. You take a deep breath of the smell of his shirt which still smelled of those fine Cubans. It might be the last time. He really did believe what he was doing was the right thing even though it directly contradicted what he said before.

“Don’t say goodbye. I’ll see you later.” Caesar said. “Keep an eye out on the two love birds.”

He walked away and didn’t bother looking back.

You return to the room with Lu Mingfei and sigh. “What a mess.”

He laughed but there was no humor in it.. “Yeah no kidding.” He was holding a modified pistol in his hand, one of Caesar’s Desert Eagles!

“What… are you doing with that?” You shiver violently.

“If she gets out of control, I will have to shoot her. The bullet inside is specially made to be completely lethal. Even to dragons.” He mumbled. His eyes were dark pools and you couldn’t read the emotion in them. “If, for some reason that doesn’t work, you’re to finish her off.”

“Will you use that against me too?”

After a long silence he continued. “Turns out we actually are going to be at war this whole time. Me and Erii were never going to happen. You and I were never going to happen. I tend towards being a human. You and Erii tend towards the dragon side. If we go to battle, we have to use all our resources against each other and fight tooth and nail. It doesn’t matter if you sit together on a Ferris wheel or… talk all night on the phone or… run through the streets in the rain.”

He lifts his head to you. “If that day comes, we just have to grab our weapons and fight.”

He looks back down at the gun. “You were raised to fight. It’s what you know. But Erii… she doesn’t know anything.”

Outside the window it was pouring rain.

#Dragon Raja

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