#The amount of complexities I can fit in THAT bad boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supernaturalscribe67 · 4 months

Text

Unwarranted

Words: 4,983

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Team Free Will x Male!ExAngel!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Mention of past sexual harassment, sexual harassment, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Humans are interesting and complex creatures, and ever since the reader lost his grace, he had to learn to become one. Luckily, he had his friends by his side to help him through his trials and tribulations. What happens when he's face-to-face with a human experience he never anticipated, and how will Team Free Will help him resolve his issue?

Request:

Hi! I hope you're having a good day/night. This request is very specific. I would write it myself, but im awful at it. I hope you don't mind, lol.

May you do (ex?)Angel!Male!reader x TFW (platonic obv). You can make it where Reader joined after the angels fell and was castiels past battle partner and was good friends with him, or something else if you'd like.

Reader lost his grace after a rogue angel took it from him. He has no idea how to be human and struggles a lot, even with the help of Dean, Sam, and Castiel. Anyways, to get to the point- Reader picked a pretty attractive vessel, so both men and women hit on him a lot when the group goes to diners or bars and most of the time Reader wanders off to explore since hes never really gone to earth before so the boys never notice, and he doesn't know how to react or what to do when they start to get touchy, only that he doesn't feel comfortable with it at all, but he thinks if he tells them to stop its a form of being rude, so he never says so. the person usually stops when they realize Reader isn't having the type of reaction they were looking for.

When Reader mentioned this to the boys randomly, they realized that Reader didn't know that it was bad that they were touching him and explained what it was, what to say, and do when that happens and comforts him when he finally cries as a human.

Anonymous

A/N: I am so sorry for going off the grid for a while! Honestly, keeping track of dates and time frames has not been my strong point, especially with everything going on with work. Luckily I'm almost done with another request as well and will have that up by this weekend! I hope this gives the request justice. As always, feedback is very much appreciated!

~ Much Love!

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Humans are interesting and complex creatures, each with their own thoughts, wants, needs, and interests. When (Y/N) first joined Castiel on Earth two years prior, he was amazed by the array of personalities and emotions. No two people are alike, but, due to the vast differences, many of them can be categorized under three distinct titles; good, neutral, and evil.

The good people are the ones who are selfless. They take the first step when it comes to helping others. They aren’t perfect but they are as close as anyone can be. Only a small amount of people fit into the category of ‘good’, most of which find themselves canonized into sainthood years after death. Many strive to be classified under such a prestige title, but few make the cut. However, just because someone isn’t worthy of the title, doesn’t make them a bad person automatically.

Neutral individuals are what most would describe as your ‘average Joe’. It is the category in which most people lie. They are neither good nor bad. The choices they make in life come with a mix of positive and negative intentions. An example of a neutral person could be someone’s English teacher, who partakes in volunteer work after hours, or your boss, who had just been caught cheating on his wife with Jim from the mailroom. Just because people do bad things, doesn’t make them inherently evil.

True evil is much darker. An individual who would put a demon to shame with their actions, thoughts, and desires. One with little regard for the well-being of others. Ones that hurt others purely for self-gratification. To gain an advantage. Those are the ones that end up in prison or a seat in Congress. They’re usually manipulative, have a silver tongue placed in their mouth at birth, and can easily coerce those who are weak and gullible.

(Y/N) had met his fair share of individuals from all three categories throughout his time on Earth, supernatural entities excluded. At first, with his angelic powers, he was able to make an assumption of others based solely on their thoughts. Ever since the fall, however, his judgments on people had become rather askew. He was able to get the full experience of being human - not able to truly tell what one was thinking during various interactions - and he would be lying if he said he enjoyed it. Rather, the lack of understanding when it came to others caused him to develop a sense of paranoia. The last thing he wanted was for others to assume the worst of him. Even as an angel, he would treat the worst of the worst with as much kindness as he could muster.

Little did he know that the paranoia would lead to his downfall and a deep realization of how evil some people could be.

The first couple of weeks after his grace was stolen, (Y/N) was lost. He knew next to nothing about maintaining the necessary needs to keep his body alive. It was all tedious in his eyes. Why did humans need to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom so much throughout the day? Who possibly had the time to do so? Do they have to thread their needs into their schedules for work and school? On top of that, why did humans need to pay for food and water? Were they not necessities? Why would someone need to pay to survive? (Y/N) held a plethora of questions in his mind that still go unanswered.

Thankfully, Castiel, Sam, and Dean were all there for him, guiding him through the processes necessary to provide for his new form. It took a while for him to get the hang of it - the most overwhelming thing was when he was introduced to a large variety of foods. All the new flavors and textures send his tongue into sensory overdrive. Dean was more than happy to realize, though, that the two of them were rather fond of the same flavor of pie.

With the loss of his grace came the depletion of his strength. He was no longer invincible to man-made weaponry. Because of this, and since Sam and Dean’s jobs were so physically demanding, they spent weeks in training. Blades, firearms, and hand-to-hand all had their challenges, but (Y/N) was a quick learner, something the brothers respected him highly for. Within a month and a half, he was on the road with them, hopping from case to case.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

And true it was. The time he had spent with Castiel and the Winchesters was extensive, and there was never a dull moment. Away from the darkness and the monsters that crept in the night, Sam and Dean were playful jokesters. Childish, yet mature when they needed to be. It was noticeable that Castiel had also developed certain aspects of their personalities, as he was more lighthearted than when (Y/N) first met him. As time passed, (Y/N), too, started to display those characteristics. He felt like a member of the team. A real Winchester. For the first time since the fall, he felt at home.

*~*

(Y/N) had been to a handful of bars since he turned human, before becoming an honorary member of the Winchester family, and there was one fact he could confidently state; he didn’t like them.

Sure, he met some rather nice people while at said bars, mainly the middle-aged female bartenders who gave off a motherly aura, but with every kind individual he saw, he encountered twice as many assholes. Those were the ones that drunkenly called him slurs even though they knew nothing about him, the ones that shoved him out of the way when they wanted to get to the bar, or the ones that continuously pushed their limits on his personal boundaries.

Unfortunately, he had experienced the latter more than he would have liked.

He couldn’t quite describe how he felt when he had those interactions. When a bar patron would press themselves against his back or chest, touch his ass or thighs, or even leave kisses on his neck, shoulders, cheeks, and lips. It was decided, though, that he was extremely uncomfortable. Why would he possibly feel that way? He assumed that touches and kisses were how humans expressed affection towards one another. So, why didn’t he like it? He chalked it up to not being used to that form of affection or affection in general. Surely, he was bound to get comfortable with it eventually.

After-hunt celebrations were common with the Winchesters. Either the day of or the night after, they would all gather at the nearest watering hole, grab a drink or two, and then head back to the motel. Sometimes, Sam or Dean would abandon the group to retreat with a romantic partner, but (Y/N) would always stick with Castiel and the remaining brother. He never had any interest in human relations. It was a new, complex situation outside of learning to be human. He was just getting used to that concept, and he had no desire to learn about other aspects of humanity yet.

Classy Cline’s sat on the edge of a small town in Washington state. While its name suggested an upscale establishment, the place was, in all actuality, a shit hole. The booths and barstools were ripped at every corner of the seam, the tables were chipped and scuffed, and it appeared as if the employees hadn’t swept or mopped the floor in well over a decade. They had all been to nasty bars in the past, but Classy Cline’s took the cake.

“I don’t even wanna drink from this glass,” Sam mumbled as he eyed the pint glass Dean had placed in front of him.

While aesthetics weren’t on Cline’s side, the beer looked more than appetizing. An amber/gold liquid, topped with a beautiful, white head. Any beer enthusiast would foam at the mouth at the sight. The glasses, contrary to the floors, looked spotless. If they had put as much effort into cleaning the building as they did disinfecting the glassware, lines would be out the door, and Cline would be a millionaire.

“Oh, don’t be a baby, Sammy,” Dean rolled his eyes and gave a beer to (Y/N) and Castiel. “It may not live up to its name, but the beer sure looks good.”

“Thank you, Dean,” (Y/N) and Castiel spoke in unison.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Dean shook his head and sat down next to his brother. “It’s as if you two are constantly in sync.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he cupped the glass with one hand, condensation coating his palm. “We’re an American boy band from the 90’s?” He cocked his head to the side.

Dean froze, the glass inches from his lips as he shot him a questioning glance. “While I’m proud of you for remembering what I taught you about music, that’s not what I meant. ‘In sync’. Two separate words.”

“Oh…”

“(Y/N) and I have worked together for well over a century. We’re bound to have some similarities.” Castiel explained.

Dean shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” he took a sip of his beer.

(Y/N) noted Sam’s hesitancy to drink, so he took a moment to examine the liquid himself. It looked clean, safe, and better than many other beers he had drank before. He took a swig and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still very cold. A layer of foam coated his upper lip. Sam picked up his glass and examined the bottom.

“Will you stop that?” Dean scolded. “The beer is fine, Sam, you’re not going to die. You look like an idiot.”

“Well, excuse me for being skeptical, Dean! Have you seen the state of this place? I believe I have a right to be concerned.” Sam hissed.

“The beer is very pleasant, Sam,” (Y/N) smiled as he took another long swig, downing half the pint.

Sam slowly nodded. “I can tell,” he mumbled and glanced down at his glass. He hesitated for a moment before he took a careful sip, letting the liquid rest against his tastebuds before he swallowed. He hummed and raised his brows. “Wow, that’s pretty good.”

“See? Your big brother knows a thing or two about beer,” Dean smiled.

A bartender waltzed into view - an overworked twenty-something with her dirty blonde hair tossed back into a bun that she should have fixed hours ago. She sat a rocks glass in front of (Y/N), the ice emanating a clink inside as it shifted. He stared and intensely studied the dark liquid.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I didn’t order this,” he looked up at her.

The bartender sighed and gestured towards the bar. “The man over there sent it,” she grumbled, her voice unenthusiastic and laced with exhaustion. She didn’t give him any time to further investigate before she swiveled through the booths and tables, vanishing into the crowd of regulars.

The group looked at the drink with curiosity before their attention shifted to the bar. Only one of the patrons had their gaze glued to the hunters. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with short, salt-and-pepper hair decorating the top of his head and a beard to match. Age lines crinkled the corners of his mouth and eyes. A leather jacket covered his broad shoulders and the jeans he wore left little to the imagination. When (Y/N)’s eyes connected with the stranger’s, the man smirked and winked. (Y/N) continued to stare at him, lips slightly parted, until he felt an elbow in his side. His gaze shot over to the eldest Winchester.

“Give him a smile and a wave. That shows him you appreciate it.” Dean said through a smile.

“Oh,” (Y/N) raised his brows and looked back at the man, whose eyes were still on him. He gave a small smile, followed by a timid wave.

The stranger grinned before he turned his head away. (Y/N) looked down and studied the glass once more. The liquid was a slightly darker shade than the beer, but more transparent. When he picked it up, the liquid sloshed inside. The smell was strong but slightly sweet. Whiskey. A sip of it caused him to cringe. It was Fireball. Not the best choice to send a stranger across the bar, but to each their own.

Dean leaned in close to him, his cheeky grin still prominent. “You should go over and talk to him.”

“Why?”

“He just gave you a drink. He wants to talk to you.”

(Y/N) gave Dean a confused stare. “How does that-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean waved him off. “He’s flirting with you by sending over the drink! You should go flirt back.”

(Y/N) looked from the drink to Dean, from Dean to the stranger. He was a very attractive man, but (Y/N) was far from interested in flirtation. However, if Dean thought he should, what could go wrong? He trusted Dean’s advice.

Hesitantly, (Y/N) stood, the glass of Fireball in hand, and made his way over to the bar where the gentleman sat. He took the empty barstool next to him. The man looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

“Good to see you up close,” he said and turned his body to face (Y/N). “You’re even cuter than I thought. Chris,” he held out his hand.

This is a handshake. This is how strangers greet each other.

(Y/n) grasped Chris’ hand and shook it gently. He noticed how firm his grip was. “My name is (Y/N),” he said.

Chris smirked. “A beautiful name for a beautiful man,” he pulled his hand away and casually placed it on (Y/N)’s knee. “I’ve been coming here for, close to, fifteen years, and I have never seen anyone as good-looking as yourself. You new around here?”

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted to Chris’ hand before they returned to his face. “My friends and I are on a trip.” He replied. It’s a classic lie most hunters use and one that was taught to him early on in his training.

“Ah, and how long will you be staying?”

“I believe this is the last night we’re here.”

“You’re not sure?”

“My friend, Dean, drives us. He knows more about our itinerary than I do.”

“A ‘go with the flow’ kind of man. I like it.”

As they continued to talk, Chris’ hand ventured further up (Y/N)’s thigh, squeezing the flesh on his leg from time to time. Simple conversation switched to flirting rather quickly, the majority of it one-sided. What started as cheesy ‘first date’ type questions turned risque in the blink of an eye. At first, they were easy questions that (Y/N) could answer without an issue, but once they started to get dirty, his mind turned blank. Half the vocabulary Chris used was new to him. While he knew all of them revolved around sex, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the definition, regardless of the context clues provided.

He could feel the familiar pit in his stomach as the questions droned on. The sensation that he couldn’t quite give a title to yet. At least, not an accurate one. ‘Uncomfortable’ seemed as if it fit too loosely for the circumstance. It felt as if there were a swarm of bees buzzing around in his stomach, moving from his gut to his chest periodically.

Chris leaned in close to (Y/N)’s ear, his warm, whiskey-filled breath caressing his cheek. (Y/N)’s eyes were cast down. He had lost the ability to maintain constant eye contact when the mood shifted, and the bees began their attack.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Chris asked. “I could show you a thing or two.”

When Chris’s hand landed on (Y/N)’s crotch, every muscle in his body was on fire as they clenched tightly. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide and his body froze. The bees didn’t just fly, they infiltrated his entire nervous system. He felt an overwhelming need to retreat like one would in a battle they knew they couldn’t win. But he wasn’t in a battle. It was a simple conversation. Why did he feel like that?

Chris pressed small kisses on the back of (Y/N)’s ear. (Y/N) inhaled and turned his head slightly, the need to get away from Chris strong. Chris immediately stopped and opened his eyes. He paused for a moment before he pulled away and sighed.

“I see you’re not as interested as I thought you were,” he gave a tight smile, pulled out his wallet, and slammed a twenty on the bar. “Thanks for nothing.” He grumbled before he got up and stormed away.

With his presence gone, (Y/N) felt a sense of peace and ease wash over him. The beating of his heart inside his chest began to lessen and return to a normal pace. With a glance down at his hand, he noticed the way his fingertips trembled. That hadn’t been the first time someone else had gotten so bold with touching him, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. When was that feeling going to go away?

After a minute or so passed, he was able to compose himself enough to stand from the barstool and wander back to the table where Sam, Dean, and Castiel sat. He joined them without a word, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, and grabbed his lukewarm beer. There was no chance he was going to drink anymore that night. Not with his stomach as uneasy as it was.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) spoke.

“You sure?” Dean chimed in. “Guy looked like he had a stick up his ass when he left.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I believe he just wanted to leave.” He tried to keep his voice as straight as possible. He could tell his nerves hadn’t fully recovered.

Dean shook his head. “Well, his loss.”

*~*

One thing (Y/N) adored about being human was the way showers made him feel after a hunt. He never quite realized how tense his muscles could get until the hot water caressed his limbs. It was as if all the adrenaline was washed from his body. It made him feel refreshed. Renewed.

That night, he got the last shower. The water wasn’t as hot as other showers he had taken, but he would accept warm any day. By the time he left the bathroom, clad in a pair of night pants and a loose t-shirt courtesy of the youngest Winchester, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were dressed to leave. Another post-hunt celebration. Dean glanced at (Y/N).

“You’re not coming?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head and walked over to his bed. “Not tonight, no.”

“Why not? You never miss out on a bar.”

(Y/N) settled into the bed, and sat up with his legs crossed. “I notice that humans get very physical when they are at bars. I’m not quite used to it yet, so I think I’m going to wait until I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, (Y/N)?” Castiel asked.

“The touching.”

The three of them shared a concerned look before Sam waved his hand dramatically, eyes closed tightly.

“Wait,” he reached a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean ‘get used to’?”

“Well, I’m not accustomed to the way humans express attraction. I surely wasn’t aware that there was as much physical contact involved. So, I figured it was something I would be more comfortable with as time went on. I mean, I never knew strangers were so interested in touching each other’s genitalia.”

They all furrowed their brows, confusion etched perfectly on their faces, and slowly made their way over to the bed. Sam sat at the edge next to (Y/N), Dean stood next to him, and Castiel sat on the opposite side of the bed from Sam.

“(Y/N),” Sam started, his voice soft and steady, the same voice he used when talking to the families of victims. “Have you…given these people permission to touch you?”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side, slightly taken aback by the question, as it was something he had never even considered before. Had he permitted them to touch him? He could not recall. Then again, he didn’t remember them asking. He took a moment to think back on the times he had been in bars since he became human.

“No,” he answered. “The first couple of times it happened, I pulled away from the touch, as it made me rather uncomfortable, but they would just get upset. One man told me it was wrong to ‘lead him on’ and then deny his touch. After that, I let people touch me. I would like a break from it for tonight.”

“(Y/N), other humans need permission to touch you,” Castiel said.

“But they get upset-”

“To Hell with them being upset,” Dean interjected. “No one has a right to touch you, especially if you don’t want them to.”

“Is that why that one guy left the last bar we went to left? You wouldn’t let him touch you?” Sam asked.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks and neck heat up. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hide his face. Was it because of the answer to the question? Was it because of the question itself? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of the sense of dread, but he knew it wasn’t going to vanish anytime soon.

He shook his head, eyes cast down to his hands. “I let him touch me. I assume it was because I didn’t respond when he asked me to leave with him.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he ran a hand down his face. “Son of a bitch,” he growled and began to lightly pace between the motel beds.

Sam slowly shook his head. “(Y/N), those people are horrible. You should never touch someone without consent, and you should never let anyone touch you if you are uncomfortable with it. Do you understand?” His eyes were laced with sympathy.

(Y/N) went to say something, but he felt a lump in his throat prevent him from doing so. Instead, he just gave a short, brief nod.

“I can only imagine how tough it was to become human. To lose all that power. You may not have the power to heal us anymore or read others’ minds, but you are still your own person, (Y/N). You have the power to tell people to keep their hands off of you. You have the power to let yourself have a good time at these places. It doesn’t matter what other people think about your choices. In the end, all that matters is you, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) sniffled, and he felt as if his head was pulsing. Tears sprung to the corner of his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks. For the first time since he lost his grace, he cried. It wasn’t loud and dramatic, but, rather, soft.

It explained so much. How he hated the way bar patrons touched him, the sinking feeling when they got too close, the panic that coursed through his veins. That was no flaw on his part, but a flaw on the strangers. What they did was wrong, not him.

And that validation broke him.

(Y/N) immediately knew he hated crying. His chest ached as the silent sobs racked his body. In a way, it was relieving, though. It felt as if all of the pent-up discomfort was being released. As if he was reborn. Still, it hurt worse than it did comfort him.

Castiel was the first to respond as he placed a gentle hand against (Y/N)’s back, Sam, being the closest, engulfed him in a near bone-shattering embrace, and Dean halted his paces to kneel beside the bed, one of his hands landing on the small of his back. (Y/N) closed his eyes tight and leaned his head against Sam’s chest. Their touch made him feel safe. This was a good touch. This was how touch should make him feel. He shouldn’t be forced to feel uncomfortable to please others, because, in reality, some people aren’t going to like him, even if the reasons are far from valid. It was a harsh reality, but as long as he had his family by his side, he didn’t mind if the whole world hated him.

After a few quiet minutes, filled with silent cries, the tears stopped. (Y/N)’s eyes were bright red and puffy, and he occasionally sniffled.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice soothing.

(Y/N) lifted his head from Sam’s chest and glanced over at him. Sam pulled back a bit so the embrace wasn’t nearly as intense.

“If you’re ever in a situation like that, where some douchebag won’t keep his hands off of you, all you have to do is say the word and we’ll kick his ass for you.”

“What if it’s a woman?” He asked quietly.

Dean opened his mouth to give a quick answer but shut it as he thought about it. “Then we will have Cas bring Jody or Charlie in to kick her ass. The point is; fuck everyone else.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “Does that not mean to have intercourse with them?”

Dean sighed. “Sam, Cas, a little help?”

“What Dean is trying to say,” Castiel chimed in. “Is that you should not prioritize other peoples’ desires over your comfort. You are more important than a stranger. They are not important, you are, and what other people think doesn’t matter. If someone does not listen to you when you deny them, we will do everything in our power to protect you. We still care about you, and want what’s best for you.”

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. That’s exactly what I meant.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back his smirk. “Look, we know how tough it is to be human. Dean and I have been dealing with this our whole lives. We know that there are setbacks that come with the package, but there are also a ton of fun experiences. We don’t want some jackass to ruin it for you. Cas said it better than Dean or I could. We care about you and want to do everything we can to look out for you. You deserve it.”

The tears reappeared, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. Of relief. As if his heart would burst with all the love and care his friends will it with. (Y/N) took a moment to wrap his arms around each of them in an individual hug to show his appreciation.

“Thank you. I am very grateful to have friends like you.” He smiled warmly.

Dean smiled before he cleared his throat and waved him off. “Alright, enough of the chick-flick crap,” he said as he stood from his spot on the floor, a groan escaping his throat that he tried not to make too noticeable. “What do you say we skip the bar tonight, order some takeout, and watch a movie? I hear Roadhouse is on at seven.”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side. “What’s Roadhouse?”

Dean froze, wide-eyed. His jaw dropped in shock. “‘What’s Roadhouse’?” He repeated in disbelief. “Action movie? Patrick Swayze? Sam Elliott? Kelly Lumch? Julie Michaels? Keith David!?” With each name, his voice got louder.

“Are those actors?”

“I-” Dean threw his hands up as he turned his back on him and began to pace around the room once more.

(Y/N) flashed a worried look at Castiel, then Sam. Sam shook his head and chuckled.

“Dean’s just being dramatic,” he whispered, which caused (Y/N) to let out a sigh of relief.

“I am not being dramatic!” Dean retorted before he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “This is all my fault. I was so focused on teaching him about good music that movies never crossed my mind. Have you at least seen Indiana Jones?”

“Indiana…as in the state?”

“If it makes you feel any better, (Y/N), I, too, have yet to see Roadhouse or Indiana Jones,” Castiel said.

Dean deadpanned. “I have some work to do. Sam, go get us some food. I need to make a list of movies for them to watch.”

Sam snorted as he stood from his spot on the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Just text me what you guys want.” He mumbled and retrieved his jacket from the back of one of the chairs.

As Sam left to get them food, Dean began to ramble on about movies he determined (Y/N) and Castiel had to watch, most of which were either action or old westerns. He talked with such passion regarding the films that (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Dean was right, the opinions of others didn’t matter, especially those whose only goal was to satisfy their selfish desires, disregarding others’ wellbeing. They were foolish, scum, true lions in sheep’s clothing. Those hidden evil beings could make themselves look innocent. (Y/N) didn’t need to please them. Didn’t need to make them happy. He only wanted to make his family happy, just as they did him. For how much they’ve helped him on his treacherous journey into manhood, they deserve it, for they have taught him the most valuable lesson of all;

His worth was priceless.

…

“Hey, are you even listening?”

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im--never--happy · 1 year

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I really fundamentally cannot understand how and why the avatar fandom has been sleeping on Mako. Especially with all the Zuko love. People love an angsty sad boi who just wants to do the right thing. And by god if that is not Mako I don’t know what is. Like. Mako as a character is soooo fucking angstable. So much angst potential right there. But fandom just collectively ignores him (or else hates on him for no fucking reason). Is he perfect? Of course not, but Zuko is so insanely far from perfect and all of Zuko’s wrongdoings so far surpass any of Mako’s. Yet fandom easily forgives Zuko, resident sad boi, for his actual fucking crimes (kyoshi village didn’t burn itself down, Song’s ostrich horse didn’t steal itself, Sparky Sparky Boom—I mean Combustion Man didn’t hire himself—lmao) in favor of focusing on his trauma and angst (don’t get me wrong I am an absolute slut for angst and complex nuanced discussions of trauma in fictional characters, and Zuko is such an amazing vessel for my insatiable thirst for angst. But. SO!! IS!!! MAKO!!!!!). But Mako doesn’t get that treatment. He’s vilified for his significantly less bad mistakes. And it makes no actual fucking sense. Because he is so primed for angst and he has insane amounts of trauma. And he’s so sweet. He just loves the people in his circle so fucking much, he just wants to do right by them, he just wants to protect them and keep them safe, and also fucking save the goddamn world. Jfc. He’s sooo GOOD. And the crazy thing is that he’d actually be a better fit for a lot of the specific angst and character traits people want to project onto Zuko that actually aren’t in line with Zuko’s character. Like when people write how Zuko is so humble and doesn’t think he deserves anything and is so intrinsically kind and patient and gentle. And that’s just… not canon Zuko at all. Canon Zuko is impatient and loud and shouts and so insanely fucking proud. He was raised a prince thinking he deserved everything because he was royalty. And yes yes so much abuse and lack of self worth and trauma. Yes obviously. But Zuko expects (or at least expected) people to give him things or do things for him because he was royalty. At least at one point. He doesn’t know how to cook or take care of himself or other people, because he’s always had people doing that for him, at least to a certain degree (I’m not saying the ship banishment was luxury but he still absolutely had a crew that did a lot of shit, like cooking and day to day grunt work for him). Whereas Mako IS humble and soft spoken and quiet and gentle. He never raises his voice with bolin and never lashes out in anger. Bolin and Korra say hurtful unfair and unkind shit to him, and he just fucking takes it. He doesn’t shout or throw insults back. He just accepts their anger and criticims and still fights to help and protect them. He is self reliant and raised his younger brother alone since they were both homeless orphans. He can cook. He also doesn’t think he deserves better when people treat him like shit, because he’s always been treated like shit. (Hello self worth self-loathing angst potential galore!!) Mako is everything that a lot of fandom want Zuko to be and he has endless potential for sad boi trauma angsting. But he gets hated for no fucking reason while Zuko gets idolized. And it makes no fucking sense and drives me absolutely fucking nuts

#Wow that was a long rant #Avatar #legend of korra #atla #lok #mako #zuko #atla meta #lok meta #mako meta #Zuko meta #Damn I had a lot of thoughts and feelings on this #Lmao #mako angst #Zuko angst #can someone please just fucking write some goddamn Mako angst #That’s really all I’m asking for #I don’t want to have to write my own fics lmao #Mako lok

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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You might get a kick out of this article someone linked me to, to try and argue that BL is in fact fetishizing (because Yada Yada women consume it and produce it and all that)

https://www.youthoutright.org/articles/fetishization-of-the-queer-community

Article is a fairly short read. But I have to chuckle at it as "evidence" since it makes a fair amount of claims with 0 sources:

That young teenage women make up a majority of fandom (and that's whose consuming/producing BL)

Straight, white women get paid more to write gay romance novels (and that these novels often feature Adonis like males with 0% body fat and no body hair; play into gender/hetero norms)

Etc.

Honestly the....article, if I can even call it that, isn't cohesive. I do find myself agreeing with its first two paragraphs...and surprisingly only the first two. However, this article spends a lot of its time focusing on fetishization of Trans bodies and chasers who go after transfolks bodies (which I'm not too familiar with this so if anyone wants to speak up on this point...)

I'm very confused by how someone could read this and think "this proves my point!"

Sigh.

I don't even agree with the beginning. Trashy "girl-on-girl" isn't what's making men think women exist to serve them. Society is doing that. Porn is a reflection, not a cause.

Not to mention the fact that f/f-for-dudes is astronomically common compared to shitheads pestering lesbians in bars. The latter are too common because the correct amount is 0, but just based on the numbers, a lot of dudes are capable of consuming this porn without being confused about what's fiction and what's reality.

The mass quantities of f/f-for-dudes do make it hard to find f/f-for-ladies, but this article has taken the wrong message from that. The correct takeaway is that we need better labeling and search features that are driven by the nerdy desire to categorize and not by algorithms that want to sell you stuff.

As long as het romance novels or porno movies for straight guys or bestselling thrillers or whatever are popular, they're going to drown out the algorithmic results for more niche things one is interested in.

Libraries and AO3 don't have this problem. Amazon and Youtube do.

the world of “slash fiction” (fanfiction portraying a romantic and often sexual relationship between characters from a given source) began centering gay men

Wow, article writer. So you know nothing then.

it’s been claimed that straight, white women are paid more than gay men by publishers to write gay romances

I'm honestly embarrassed for this article writer. First, most of this burgeoning field is selfpub anyway. Second, many established writers in the romance field are women, and established names will probably have a shot at better pay than new people.

Third, anyone who injects "white" like this is a moron and a wanker. If we're talking about racism in the Romance field (and boy howdy is there a lot), white gay men are no better, and men's race is just as relevant as women's. Either we're talking about race or we're not.

As it stands, this author just comes across as a misogynist piece of shit.

The overwhelming majority of these romances portray relationships between white, cis, abled men with no fat or body hair.

I have bad news for them about cis gay men's media. (Well, okay, some of that has a lot of body hair and interminable descriptions of the smell of ball sweat and stinky armpits, but still...)

Men who fit the first archetype will take the position of “top” in the numerous, inaccurate, graphic-as-possible sex scenes that are central to these stories and also appear to be central to many readers’ enjoyment.

I see we're in the usual "I, a sex-repulsed person, speak for all of humanity" mode.

People like horny art. News at 11.

These are complex issues deeply rooted in society. It’s difficult to envision mitigations and solutions. However, somewhere to begin would certainly be promoting more positive, intersectional, realistic representations of queer people and queer relationships. A vital action that can further this goal is choosing to consume media with queer representation that was created by queer people whenever possible.

Honestly, my response to this ending is:

Fuck off, you entitled git.

This uninformed little whiner is equating all kinds of unequal things. Chasers are all over the place, but they aren't the ones writing fanfic or any other amateur, personal writing. We have no right to other people's hobby time. Sure, we can vote with our feet, and we should, but this article doesn't really sound like it's advocating that: it sounds like it's crying that other people have different taste from the writer. Boo, hoo, hoo, someone I don't like got attention.

It's the usual ignorant trash.

Embarrassing.

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oneatlatime · 1 year

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The Great Divide

Is this episode as bad as people say?

It starts pretty at least.

Would Little Miss Steals From Pirates really be a stickler for camping etiquette? Also, I have to agree with Sokka on this one. If you're lucky enough to live somewhere with such predictable precipitation that you can name your seasons after it, hell yeah don't prepare for off-season weather unnecessarily. Imagine the freedom that comes with not having to carry an umbrella everywhere.

Something that's occured to me is that Katara is always slapping Sokka around (usually for a comedy bit) but Sokka never gets to slap her back. We're like three minutes into this episode and Katara's already thrown sticks at Sokka twice. It's about time Sokka throws some back. There's probably some cartoon violence rule that says violence is only ok when it's gendered the one way, but isn't it about time that got changed?

When Aang namedrops his job a slowed down version of the flute melody from the credits music plays. Neat.

Really liking the banjo type music in this episode.

I have bad luck with spelling phonetically, so the tribes will henceforth be known as Prissy and Dirty.

Gotta say, Prissy seems to always be attacking. Looks like Dirty wouldn't even bother with the feud if Prissy didn't keep bringing it up.

That Canyon guide earthbends a seriously large amount of earth. Like Bumi quantities.

Another responsibility added to the nebulously defined Avatar duties: peacemaking between peoples. I figured he was just for spirit stuff.

Appa's weight limit is apparently at least 11 people plus supplies. Strong boy. Also, this episode he understands enough English to know where to go without a human steering him.

"Would you rather be hungry, or dead?" Love how that line is delivered. Also I get the feeling this poor guy's been working a customer-facing role for too long.

Tiny Momo.

More evidence that this guy is a Bumi level earthbender. Diverting a landslide in mid-air? Diverting a whole landslide's worth of momentum-heavy rocks without any contact with them? This is nuts. Throw this guy at the Fire Nation and the war would be over in ten minutes.

"Now we gotta help me!" Unexpectedly funny line.

You know, now would be a good time for the Avatar to know earthbending. Actually how does that work? Aang can bend all four elements, but I guess he hasn't unlocked earth yet? What unlocks it? Apparently not peril.

Told you that earthbending guide had worked too long in customer service.

I get it. This whole tribal conflict is a mirror of Sokka and Katara's fight at the beginning. I completely agree that Sokka would have the grounded practicality of the Dirty tribe, but I've never read Katara as a "you can never be too careful" type of person. If anything, she's the much bigger risk-taker, especially compared to Sokka. In the very first episode, it was Katara who (with Aang's encouragement) went on the Fire Nation shipwreck. In the second episode, it was Sokka who was carefully assembling the supplies required to rescue Aang. Frankly Katara and Sokka as written in any other episode would fit into the opposite tribes, although Katara wouldn't fit the aesthetic of the Dirty tribe. Maybe that's the point? That they're not so different after all?

"Well, I guess it's ok if everyone's doing it." I am abruptly reminded of the fact that I am an adult, not a member of the target audience of this show. That line awakened my disapproving mom voice with such force that I had to restrain myself from yelling "if all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you jump too?" at the screen. Honestly, I thought that the fact that I am not the target audience would cause problems like finding the humour too juvenile or the plots too basic or preachy. Turns out the humour is not juvenile at all, and the plots are complex and sincere in a way that makes any message being delivered seem a natural consequence of the plot and the opposite of preachy. No, where my age gets in the way is when Katara acts her age in small ways that make me want to throw half a dozen parental figures at her, with great force.

Wanna bet that Gin-wei and Wei-gin were the same person, if they existed at all?

Add gullible to Katara's list of things she needs to work on.

The justifications for bringing in food are hitting 5D chess levels.

This is gorgeous. I'll side with the Dirty tribe just because their myth is prettier. Yes, I'm that shallow, but this episode is too.

Sokka maintaining the appropriate amount of distance from the conflict and not getting sucked in like his sister by focusing on food is a lovely touch. Both true to Sokka's less trusting tendencies and true to the fact that he is a teenage boy.

Don't worry Aang, you're not missing much.

This canyon guide's got wisdom. Impartiality is lonely, and getting out will be a team effort. Definitely not his first rodeo.

Every argument between these two tribes is started by the Prissy one. Would they just put a sock in it?

Don't let the praise go to your head honey. I don't think they took it like you meant it.

One-man-army Aang strikes again.

"You're all AWFUL!" Yep. I think that's the crux of this episode. The problems are tiny and stupid, but seem huge when you're in the middle of them. Another of the side-effects of being impartial is that sometimes the pettiness and irrelevance in the grand scheme of things of very heated debates is infuriating.

"I only took their side because they fed me." Sokka shines this episode.

How did Aang make the canyon crawler pile? First time I haven't been able to follow fight choreography.

Combination muzzle and reins? I wouldn't have thought of that in a million years. And are people who aren't airbenders/acrobats going to be able to pull that muzzling move off?

Apparently yes. Gotta love cartoon physics.

Congratulations to both tribes for having superhuman grip strength. Clinging to a moving giant bug thing at 90 degrees while ascending a several hundred metre tall canyon seems neither fun nor possible.

I love the fake-out resolution. No way would 100 years of oral history be forgotten because of one bout of co-operation.

I love the noise these two make. They sound like ducks.

The panda referee going completely without explanation is fitting, given that Aang is completely done with these people, and is putting in as little effort as possible to get them out of the way as quickly as he can.

Can you really forget 100 years of prejudice so quickly? I predict there will be some hiccups along the journey.

Someone get that poor canyon guide a cushy retirement.

Look at these faces. I have nothing to say about them, they're just worth looking at.

The purple sky in the last scene is a delicious colour. Also harmonises really well with water tribe attire.

Casually overwriting a century of oral history (otherwise known as culture) in order to get the stupid problem to go away is funny as hell, and putting two warring tribes on the path to peace is an objectively good thing to do. That being said, any anthropologist in the audience is cringing, and I would think at least Katara, who seems to be very aware of the cultural importance of her waterbending, would not be ok with Aang casually rewriting someone's history like that. And maybe an Avatar that lies that easily is not the ideal. It's certainly realistic - sometimes bullshit problems require bullshit solutions. And lying equally to everyone is technically impartial, right?

Final Thoughts

This episode is not bad. That is my ATLA hot take and I will stand by it. Do you know what this episode is? It's an episode where Aang and friends get to see what their more ludicrous adventures look like from the perspective of an uninformed outsider. I guarantee you that Aang & company's attitude by the end of the episode is an exact mirror to how the guards in Omashu felt after hosting them for a couple of days. 'Good riddance to that nuisance, may it never darken our door again. What a headache that was.' We always see Aang's adventures from within, with the context to understand what is going on. Riding a mail cart down a mail chute makes sense to Aang and the viewer, but the guards see it as a disruptive nuisance that needs to be stopped. Hating a member of the opposing tribe for a past betrayal makes sense to one of the tribe members, but Aang and the viewer can see that it's a disruptive nuisance that needs to be stopped if they want to get out of the canyon alive. I liked that the episode did let us inside both tribes' perspectives, so that they aren't entirely unsympathetic. But even with an understanding of the dispute, what essentially amounts to a century-long blood feud is objectively a bad idea, especially with the fire nation after both tribes. It's not like the fire nation will go after one but not the other; both tribes will just be earth kingdom citizens to them, as they are to Aang, the impartial observer.

This episode was sort of Aang & friends getting a taste of their own medicine. It also maintained a consistent attitude of not taking seriously the problems that people who are too involved are taking too seriously. I think that the overarching theme of the episode is basically 'it's not that deep.' Sometimes the Avatar's duties will include solving petty, stupid problems. Good to see that Aang has at least one workable, if ethically dubious, strategy for handling said problems.

I do feel that Katara's sudden goody-two-shoes characterisation in the tent fight in the beginning of the episode was incorrect, unless I'm missing or forgetting some time she's clung to the rules before. It was obviously to set up the episode's larger conflict on a micro scale between her and Sokka, but as I said in my post on the Warriors of Kyoshi episode, if you have to Flanderise your character in order to make them eligible for learning the lesson of the episode, maybe they weren't the right character to use to drive home the lesson.

Aang is so zen most of the time that I enjoyed seeing him lose his temper on people who absolutely deserved it. Sokka had lots of great lines this episode, and Katara was a beast with that water whip of hers. Looks like, much as I don't want to admit it, stealing the water bending scroll paid off.

It does bother me how every argument between the two tribes seems to be started by the Prissy one. I would have preferred if the two tribes were equally antagonistic, I guess that would just be fairer?

If this episode was aiming for Southern Air Temple or Jet levels of depth and emotion, then this episode would be bad. But this episode, to me at least, is clearly a goofy side trip style episode, like the King of Omashu. Makes sense to have some utterly irrelevant side adventure after and episode as dark as Jet.

As an unexpected bonus, Zuko's characterisation was wonderfully consistent this episode!

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #the great divide #avatar the last airbender

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gunnrblze · 27 days

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Hello, hope you’re doing alright! I’m back with Ghosts related song recs part 4 lol.

You said you were up for some loud songs last time, so loud it is! Plus one calm song to salvage your ears lmfao. Watch you’re volume tho because I’ve killed my hearing one too many times with some of these. (Also excuse the mass amount of Cane Hill. I think they do loud music very well 😔)

(The New) Jesus - Cane Hill: If there ever was a song that is the epitome of Fed Rorke, this is easily one of the top contenders for me. You can’t tell me that man doesn’t love to play God. His ass was smug the entire game.

Kill Me - Cane Hill: this one is very Hesh coded to me. He was already pissed after Elias’s death. The dude must’ve been FERAL after the beach. Idk this song very much feels like blind rage to me, I think it’s fitting.

Screwtape - Cane Hill: Kick our beloved freak. What can I say, this song is a little screwy. (Idk how else to put it help.) I think it matches him well. I don’t think he’s this insane 100% of the time but he has his moments. A little savior complex, mayhaps?

Eyeless - SlipKnot: FED LOGAN, NO?? The feds fucked this poor man up for sure, he’s definitely a little crazy after the pit. Also the resentment towards a father figure is *chef’s kiss*. I definitely think Logan would hold some resentment towards his family/the Ghosts once he’s free. The classic “why didn’t you save me?” complex.

Gods - Sleep Token: I kinda got some Keegan vibes from this? Not too sure so lmk what you think if you’d like. He’s pretty calm and collected but he has his beserker moments—Ajax’s death, to name one. I imagine he must feel very strung out sometimes, and that frustration turns to anger: “my fucking form is but a wreck beneath them.”

There’s a Girl in the Corner - The Twilight Sad: here’s the calmer song lol. You said you liked synth and these guys use it a lot in their music. This song also gives me Keegan vibes, specifically after SV. The “she’s not coming back from that”, specifically. That op definitely killed a part of who he was.

Well, that’s all from me! I hope you like them. As always, I’m very curious to hear your opinions or suggestions of your own! Sorry for all the recs lately, I have so many 😟, but feel free to tell me to shut up lmao. I get it. Either way, have a good one. :)

— Cold blooded anon

Also!!! I apologize if this got sent twice. My WiFi absolutely offed itself in the middle of writing the first one, so I had to retype EVERYTHING. I don’t actually know if it sent?

Hello my dear, I hope you’re well too! Thank you for more recs, I’m being fed so well by you lol. I loved these and have many thoughts once again;

(The New) Jesus- godddd im obsessed with this+Fed Rorke, ur a genius. “Welcome to Genesis, go see the miracles now. I’ll be your exodus so you can tell all the others God was found” HELLO? The ex Christian in me is having many thoughts lmao. He definitely loves the power trip of being the Feds commander

Kill Me- I fw this bad. Hesh was definitely feral post beach and I think this perfectly captures how earth shatteringly enraged he’d be, and directed mostly at Rorke? Yeowch

Screwtape- KICK my freaky boy, I love this for him. I feel like when he gets upset it’d be very volatile/emotional like this. This band almost reminds me of Slipknot a bit, I really like them :))

Eyeless- well speaking of Slipknot I love this song hehe, smiled when I saw it cus it reminds me of my own brother lol. This definitely fits the genuine insanity Logan would feel from the pit. “I am my father’s son cause he’s a phantom, a mystery, and that leaves me nothing” this is KILLING me actually. He (and Hesh) were essentially thrusted into their father’s world (literally a phantom/ghost, hello), and all the mystery surrounding his legacy, all the unanswered questions they must have EEK. Rorkes “why won’t Elias save me” in the pit would be Logan’s “why won’t Hesh save me” in the pit, it’s perfectttt

Gods- oh I loveee this for Keegan, my poor traumatized man. His calm cool collected shit definitely gets challenged, even just looking for Ajax during that mission he was loosing it and I think this fits him

There’s a girl in the corner- WEEPING this feels like a Keegan song too. Love the synth and the vibe. If he was actually as young as his canon age suggests (which feels impossible to be 16/17 during SV but I digress lol) there’s no way he left with all the parts of himself he came with.

Def don’t shut up or apologize for all the recs!! I love and appreciate these so much, send as many as you want hehe. Also I did get the first one but i got interrupted with something right in the middle of listening to all of these earlier and then forgot 💀

#cold blooded anon #my beloved #call of duty ghosts #music recs #gunnrblze rambles

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docholligay · 1 year

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Ep 5: Bullet points

Hello! This is about up to Episode 5 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY episode 5 of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond the fifth episode, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me. Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please just fucking block the tag

If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.

Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open

Also loving the stage that’s being set of ‘feeling bad for Jeff’ who is making a distinct effort here to try and engage with Shauna we love a complex narrative, we love Shauna looking like a real asshole.

I adore what a dumbass Shauna is to think she can hide being pregnant from all of these girls, this is never going to happen, no.

Boy do I wish actual hunting was as easy as hunting in Yellowjackets

“I looked him up,. He doesn’t exist” what an interesting thing to make note of

How much shitty eyeliner does nat have and how long will she continue to wear it?

I find it so fucking deeply suspicious that Misty catches the symbol in the photos. I know she’s a citizen detective, but, that absolutely should not be something one can catch from random photos that are not of the pattern itself. That’s an insane amount of mental mapping.

Jackie’s parents giving Shauna the uniform feels borderline cruel.

Hey, captioners, it’s “speak your piece” not “speak your peace”

I did not like putting this in any of the essays, because it didn’t really fit, but I absolutely love the infinity symbol, as an idea that they will always be dying here, they will always be here, they will never, in a sense, get to leave this room.

I should have seen Shauna being pregnant with Jeff’s baby.

#Doc watches Yellowjackets #Yellowjackets S1 E5 #that's it!#about 3500 words total

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thebookofcommonprayer · 1 year

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i'm answering this from my main; thank you for asking! here's my tweet for a little further context for everyone else:

essentially what i have going is that rusty and the boys live in death and decay in a miserable ramshackle apartment building in a bad part of denver (probably five points or capitol hill, i'm not sure yet, i'll have to do more research). rusty used to be the child star of the action/adventure show that his daddy produced and when he turned eighteen, hollywood realized that he's a terrible actor and jonas realized this too. he focused his attention entirely on funding jj's career, who became very successful for his science shows on documentary channels. jonas dies and rusty gets very little from his will. he uses this to very, very briefly live large and he tries desperately to make money by starring in terribly, critically-panned indie movies. he gets nowhere aside from briefly falling in love with one of his costars, knocking her up, and not trying that hard to make it work with her for the next several months. feeling miserable and confused and trapped, she leaves and abandons her twin infants with rusty.

so throughout the years rusty drags his kids from bad to worse places, getting constantly fired from wageslave jobs in fits of pill-addled hysteria or drunkenness. the boys are pulled in and out of school until they're around eleven or twelve and then they never go again. rusty continues to build up tolerances to prescription drugs and finally decides that things can't really get that much worse in his life and he maybe-sorta-kinda decides to try heroin via the ambiguously gay albino and little person duo that lives on another floor. and things obviously immediately get worse.

rusty's concepts of morality and shame and guilt are endlessly twisted past the point of no return after suffering so tremendously during his career and beyond that and even though he gets a little bit of welfare every month, it's not nearly enough to fund his drug habits and also pay his meager rent and also keep his children fed, and they're clearly never going to be able to go to college or amount to anything at all, so rusty starts to force dean into secondhand dresses and heels and stolen makeup and he sends him out into the streets with hank acting as his pimp (he's got more business sensibilities anyway and he knows how to handle money and sell a product). they both try very hard to make money for daddy even though this is really, really scary and weird and it feels so awful. they'll crawl back to the apartment at dawn and hand the money over and they always pray to a god who won't listen that it's enough.

over time, hank starts to pocket some of it so he can use it during the nights that he sneaks out. dean doesn't like it and he doesn't go with him, but he begrudgingly promises not to tell. if he's not trying to make awkward, insane conversation with the 24-hour convenience store cashier (21) a block away, hank will go see the gruff, ruggedly handsome former soldier a few rooms down from theirs who's been hiding out and doing spy work over the past six months. extremely sympathetic to the situation (despite not ever really letting it show), brock will let hank stick around and vent and complain and cry while cleaning weapons or doing paperwork. hank is absolutely crazy about him and whispers stories about him to dean when they're curled up in bed together, huddled on a twin mattress across the room from their father.

i have this idea that malcolm was also a former child star whose accomplishments were constantly overshadowed in comparison to rusty, who was always thought to be his much cuter, pluckier twin on screen. malcolm and sheila are a deeply codependent couple that also live in the crackhouse and they're trying desperately to scrape their way out of poverty and they've kidnapped the boys a few times for ransom, because they're really the only kids they've ever seen in the entire complex and they're very kidnappable. obviously, this never works and they're always quickly let go. malcolm is constantly overcome with rage that rusty pissed away all his money even after getting all the fame and glory over him and never being grateful for it.

there's a lot more to this whole thing knocking around in my head but this is all i have rn ... i'm thinking about it. i'm thinking about it hard

#i think the guild is probably just . child protective services #orpheus is a librarian. poor traumatized kids love libraries (speaking from experience)#there's so much i can do with this and it would be so fun as fucked up as i want it to be #commonasks

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daintyduck99 · 1 year

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Crush crush! Being asked to take photos, rulie

Everyone jokes that Reggie is the band's Instagram boyfriend for a reason.

He takes beautiful candid photos, seemingly at random, but the end result is always, as he says, worth it. Or, well. Almost always. It had scared Julie to death when he nearly got run over once, no matter how ethereal Willie looked in the picture Reggie had managed to take.

He'll do anything for that perfect shot, anything besides stopping in the street after Julie had cried that last time: lay on the floor, crack a joke, even sit on Alex's shoulders or rearrange the furniture. Carlos had been convinced they were being haunted until he saw Reggie do it.

So yeah. He deserves the title, and he deserves recognition for the beauty he captures, the pure amount of love he manages to filter through every photo.

The photos he takes of everyone but her.

Okay, that's not entirely fair. Julie's in plenty of group shots. She's just…not in any of the gorgeous solo candids.

"Am I vain?" she asks Flynn in a fit of desperation, frowning down at the latest picture that she isn't in. "For caring?"

Flynn wraps her in a hug. "Aw, Jules. I don't think so. Of course you're feeling left out. For what it's worth, though, I'm pretty sure he just can't look right at you."

She sighs into Flynn's shoulder. "Sure."

"I'm serious! Remember when you wore that new halter wrap bikini? He nearly fell off of the pier. Boy kept his distance so he wouldn't drown and die."

Julie shakes her head as they unravel, but she can't suppress a smile.

"There's no way. Reggie's practically part fish, Flynn."

"He was so flustered, Jules. He would've forgotten how."

She doesn't quite believe it, but it does prompt her to hatch a plan.

The next time she sees Reggie, she's wearing a new sundress and a shy smile, along with a complex braid.

He looks like a startled deer.

She lays her hand on his arm before he can retreat behind his bass, soundly ignoring the bemused looks that Luke and Alex are sending them.

"Could you do me a favor?"

A pink flush pools high on his cheeks, and she feels a little bad for putting him on the spot, but then he swallows and says—

"Anything."

And he says it so lowly and sincerely that sparks dance in the pit of her stomach.

She looks at him through her lashes.

"Would you take some pictures? So I can really see what this braid looks like?"

"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah, of course."

But he doesn't have that intense shine in his eyes as he aims her phone at her. He doesn't bite his lip, or lay on the ground, or say anything to make her smile or laugh. She eventually turns of her own volition.

And the photos he took are…fine.

They're just fine.

Every time she asks, rinse and repeat. She never gets those photos that glow.

She's starting to feel just a little unloved.

It's Flynn, of course, who figures it out.

"Jules…when's the last time you went through your deleted photos?"

"Never? You know me," she replies slowly, tracking every astonished twitch of Flynn's face with mounting dread."What is it?"

Flynn wordlessly passes her the phone.

Julie's breath catches.

She swipes through shot after shot, multiple candids of her with Reggie's signature warmth shining through. There's a softness to them that she's never seen before, though, something in the composition and the coloring and the moments he's captured that make her…

Beautiful. Bewitching.

Beloved.

The next time he sees her, he's wearing that deer in the headlights look again.

She supposes that's fair. She can count the amount of times that she's stood on his front porch on one hand.

As soon as he steps through the screen door, though, she launches herself at him, and he stumbles from the force of it, the way she presses him against the house.

The way she presses him to her heart.

She tucks her face into the crook of his neck. She tries not to cry. "Reggie."

"I'm here," he murmurs, rubbing her back. "I'm right here, Julie. What's the matter?"

"You love me," she says, stubbornly sliding her fingers through his belt loops when he flails, "and you weren't going to tell me."

His throat clicks. "How—I—how could I?"

She pulls back to look at him through her slightly tear-clumped lashes.

"You could've just showed me any of those photos. I was starting to think that I'd done something…that you didn't love me at all, and I must've done something because you love so much. I thought you never took photos of me. It…really hurt."

"Oh, Julie." He presses his lips to her forehead, a soft contrast to the roughness of his voice. "I'm sorry, I never—I only—I love you so much. Too much. I'm in love with you, Julie, and I couldn't hide it. Not unless I kept deleting all my pictures of you. The good ones, anyway."

She takes a shuddering breath. Tilts her head to meet his eyes and all of the emotions shimmering there, like so many facets of a precious set of gems.

"I wish you would've said. Reggie, don't you know? You're easy to love. I really, really like you, and I know I could fall in love with you, too. If…if you'll let me."

"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, if you're sure."

When she leans in to press her lips to his, she's never been more sure of anything.

The next photo he posts is one he caught of her, laughing and unaware, as she adjusts her sunhat in the passenger seat. Orange light streams through in an artful flare, and she doesn't hate the way her nose is scrunched, for once.

@therealreginald: best date w/ the best girl

@ julie's_butterflies: 💜💜💜

So. Everyone jokes that Reggie is the band's Instagram boyfriend for a reason.

Julie's just glad he's her boyfriend for real.

#rulie #reggie x julie #fluffy crush prompts #apparently this is 1000 words exactly somehow lol #ficlets with ash #julie and the phantoms

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thestraystarproject · 1 year

Text

status report production wise...

so, about the latest update. you may have noticed i've been able to put out two updates in a single week, which is insane considering the short amount of time i've got to work on these, but a big help has been my recent decision to switch to a much quicker and more consistent method of updates.

you see, the stray star went through a few revisions on what type of media its updates would mainly consist of. first it was going to be mostly fully animated video game cutscene-esque videos with original music and sound effects. then, it was scaled down to special occasions for videos, but fully colored and self contained comic issues for each update.

finally, we have reached the current compromise, which is a few exceptions made to make fully animated videos when it might seem cool to do so, as well as some other types of media once in a while, but mostly sprite comics.

there are a few reasons for this, the first being as you can see being that it gets the job done much quicker. i can simply draw up a static background, get a few character sprites done for each fitting pose and expression, and set that bad boy rolling with the dialogue necessary.

the stray star is a big, BIG story, and i know it may not look it at the moment, but if i'm going to tell this whole story before i, oh, i don't know, end up doing this for like four years, i need to cut down on how much time it costs me to get these going. i want to at LEAST have arc 1 finished by the start of next year, and that's already a big ask.

but with this format of updates, things get significantly easier. therefore, you may see comics popping up significantly less. as for animated videos, there are some in store, but again, they will only show up when fitting.

that being said, one of such situations is the next video! i have the music ready for it and i'd hate to see that funky little baby go to waste. it's quite different from the demo i put up here a few weeks ago, so i wonder if people will get pleasantly surprised from hearing the newer version :3 i sure hope so!

so that's going to take a little longer. drawing all the sprites, looping animations, effects, arranging the video, all of that requires a lot of time to get going, so i'll do my best to work on that and get it to you as early as possible! we will see how long this takes...

there is one more thing before i wrap up this update. i think if you frequent the site enough you may or may not have noticed tumblr is kind of. uh. going through a rough patch. i'm currently hatching a plan to, if possible, move the stray star to its own neocities domain, however i have never made such a website before, and i'm famously bad at coding (believe me, if i could make tss a video game, i would, but i really and truly suck shit at this, plus it would require a lot more asset building than i already am doing). i have heard there are some ways to set up domains easily via using handy assets to set up a premade code n then customize, so i'll try that this weekend... and we shall see.

all this to say, as i work on the next update which will take longer because of its complexity, expect me to also try and set up a website for tss. i probably won't shut down this blog and will keep updating on it and will keep it up as an archive even if i decide to stop using tumblr, but if i can help it, i'll try to move most of tss there and spruce it up as a definitive gateway for the project.

well, that's it, see you all next update! (or status report... we will see)

#tss post

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edoro · 2 years

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Caleb and his wife (and if you're up for it, Belord). ☕️

under a cut bc it got long!

Caleb and his wife: i am sooo fascinated with them. i want to know everything. Caleb is really just the character of all time, he's this ghost haunting the narrative whose death led directly to the entire story we see, but we know virtually nothing about him.

i'm very fond of my characterization of Caleb as a person who, as a survival mechanism, developed the ability to just Choose Not To See things that were threatening or painful, which came to include "every single one of the five billion red flags that Philip was waving all the time." i enjoy more complex takes on him that explore what his personal role in the absolute nightmare dumpster fire his and Philip's relationship clearly became might have been, and dislike the tendency to treat him as a precious cinnamon roll golden retriever boy (outside of like, obvious jokes/shitposts.)

i'm less firm on my mental characterization for his wife... she's fun to think about but exists as far more of like, an accessory to a plot device (Caleb being the plot device, LOVE his fridged anime mom energy) to me.

i like imagining her as someone who was really interested in the human realm, kind of similarly to the way Gus is, except she actually got to go there sometimes! it's really fun to think about the culture shock she experienced meeting Caleb and gradually finding out how fucking bonkers the culture he comes from is - like imagine your first introduction to Christianity being a seventeenth century literal Puritan.

the two of them are some really fertile ground for like, trauma recovery hurt/comfort - Caleb finding out how harmful and abnormal his upbringing was, getting to experience someone being like "wow none of that should have happened."

i also really enjoy imagining scenarios where like, the two of them end up spending time around or even living with Philip for a while, and he becomes a huge source of friction in their marriage, because Caleb's always overlooking his shitty behavior and making excuses for him, but witchwife doesn't have the same attachment.

(also interesting to consider that Caleb seems to have been willing to finally stand up to Philip and say enough when it came to protecting his wife, so, there IS a line Pip could cross...)

Belord: i love it so much. makes a terrifying amount of sense? like it's such a crackship but at the same time... there's genuinely a lot of intense emotional potential there. i can so easily see it actually happening, they would go together so well and have SUCH a bad breakup.

it's just so... it's such a relationship where both of them are using each other as stand-ins, basically. Philip of course just projects like hell onto Ford, sees him as basically another version of himself, and is so desperate for another human to be around that he'll completely forgive and excuse things totally antithetical to his own worldview.

and Ford does have a fundamentally opposed worldview! Ford loves the strange, paranormal, supernatural, occult, etc - he finds it fascinating and worthy of study, he finds it marvelous. he doesn't see it as something threatening which needs to be stamped out, he sees it as beautiful and relates to it.

Ford sees himself as a person rejected by and outside of typical society, and spitefully embraces that; at his worst he considers himself better than the people who reject him, at his best he's got a supreme sense of self-confidence and understanding of who he is and what his place in the world is.

Philip meanwhile is someone who i think has also been rejected and feels outside of typical society, and also looks down on those who have rejected him, but also tries incredibly hard to fit in and earn their respect. like, Ford knows nobody respects his study of the supernatural, but it means the world to him; Philip's whole thing here revolves around trying to gain status for himself and be the best and gain the regard of his community, a community i sincerely doubt was ever kind to him.

and Ford of course... is someone who is very vulnerable to flattery and having his ego stroked and also very lonely, and i think he would be really prone to ignoring Philip's red flags. they both project onto each other about their respective brother experiences, they both want to see each other as Just What They've Been Looking For, and for a time at least they both are able to be that for each other... but of course it can't last.

#caleb wittebane #witchwife #belord #asks

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rafaelcb · 1 year

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THE INSPIRATION BEHIND… RAFAEL CRISTIAN BARDALES

it was a sin / the revivalists 🎧

i'm a man / black strobe 🎧

notorious / duran duran 🎧

rafael is … 24k gold cuff links, cigar smoke and whiskey glasses, skyscrapers against the black sky, the hum of a ferrari's engine, spotless soccer cleats leaving the sports complex, an absurd amount of silk ties, the scent of tom ford tuscan leather on a pillowcase, his mother singing in italian while cooking, his father conducting business meetings down the hall and an unmatched intensity in both rivalry and passion.

Rafael is one of those characters that I can say with complete honesty… I don't really have a lot in common with. I'm a thirty-something year-old woman, it's sort of hard to say that you relate to a fifty-something year-old man who grew up on the Amalfi Coast, but that's what has made playing him as fun as it is. … I'm also a lot taller than Mark Consuelos, so sorry Rafael, I can't relate. Still, I mostly chose Mark because a good friend and I thought he was very attractive and I had a burning desire to play an older character with a lot of life behind him… and lot left to live.

That being said, some characters that inspired Rafael would of course be Hiram Lodge from Riverdale, just in terms of the aesthetic, body language, having a head for business, the good things… not so much the evil. (I also quit watching Riverdale, so don't ask me more than that.) Other characters that inspired him would be Elijah Mikaelson as far as how he dresses and his countenance and personality, Edward Lewis from Pretty Woman -- a man who has far, far too much money for his own good and prefers to keep his relationships casual, Robert McAllister from Brothers & Sisters, in terms of still having a good heart, despite the work that he does, and … Gabe Ricci from the Choices novel, Laws of Attraction. Far more than I want to admit.

At the point when Rafael was created in my mind, I had Cage, who was the quintessential small town golden boy who ran away and came crawling back to build a life, and the effervescent go-getter Nari. Both lived within their means and fit into the small town life perfectly, so someone who rolled into town and made it his bitch in twenty years by amassing a fleet of luxury cars, owned a sprawling countryside estate with a wine cellar, and wore nothing without a designer label… hell yeah, sign me up.

Given that Mark himself is Italian and Mexican, I chose to have him be born and raised on the Amalfi Coast to an Italian mother and a Mexican father -- that part, I defintiely borrowed from Mark. His love of lasagna comes from me. Having him live in New York City after moving away from home just made sense to me. A hot shot lawyer should always cut their teeth in one of the most well-known cities in the world. And a lawyer just seemed to make sense … also because I was reading Laws of Attraction at the time, I'm sure. The real estate aspect came along further down the line for him simply because I enjoy looking at houses and wanted to play someone who was a mogul across several fields.

For me, one of the most exciting things to explore with Rafael was his backstory, and how he became who he is in the present day. I think a lot of people are afraid to play characters with any gray moral areas: they want to be either all bad, or all good (mostly the latter). I wanted to delve into the idea of this guy who had the world at his fingertips: gorgeous wife, top of his firm, penthouse apartment overlooking the city… and then he dropped the ball. But it couldn't just be a little bit… it had to be all the way. Rafael had to cheat on his wife and throw his entire life away to start over again. And it isn't as though he's tried to paint himself as perfection since then. I play Rafael as the quiet kind of person that doesn't really divulge a lot about his personal life, but he's also a serial dater, the sort of person with three lovers at once. He's just more honest about it these days.

On the opposite side of his lothario tendencies, it was important to me that Rafael have a shot at redemption. To rebuild himself from the ground up as the person that he wanted to be vs. the person he had been becoming in New York City. Let go a little bit of the morally shaky ground he had been on to build up a new reputation, a better reputation. I fucking love a good redemption arc. The idea of this person coming in on a trajectory similar to the Benefactor in terms of making positive changes in the town fascinated me, too, and over the year and a half since our soft open, having people ask me if he's the Benefactor has made me laugh deviously. He's not. But he started small and built his company and let go of the shame he held onto in the past… he just had to work extremely hard to get there.

Personality-wise, I was inspired by characters who had wealth, who weren't afraid to show that they had wealth, but did not make it their entire personality. Yes, Rafael has nice things. But he doesn't talk about those nice things constantly, unless it's tongue in cheek. Yes, Rafael gives to charity often. But he doesn't talk about doing that, unless asked. Yes, he gets VIP tickets to every Duran Duran concert. … that, he does brag about. I also wanted to play a sort of eternal bachelor who isn't closed off to the idea of love, but absolutely isn't looking for it… and maybe doesn't trust himself after his first marriage. He has close friends, and he has acquaintances, there's very few in between with Rafael. He can be a little tough to figure out; sometimes he forgets to leave the court room in the court room and that's because I like a good, stoic, intense man. And of course, at the heart of it all -- his family. His mother and father who have moved to town; mother who volunteers at the hospital, father who works on the board of his company. The absolute lights of his life, who bring out the 'true' Rafael -- a laughing, smiling man who enjoys a good lasagna and movie night.

He wears Tom Ford cologne and has an entire section of closet that is dedicated to nothing but ties, cuff links and accessories to go with his ... well, entire other sections of his closet filled with designer duds that he wears to work daily. That's because I like men's fashion. He also rolls his sleeves and wears loafers to be casual, because the man cannot be caught looking anything short of perfection. He owns a Ferrari, a Jaguar and a BMW because I really, really like to look at fancy cars, and sorry, but I will always give that to my characters. Oh! And he doesn't like pets. He doesn't think that your rats or shaggy bears are cute, sorry. Something that is both a given and a hidden surprise about Rafael... he plays chess. And he plays damn well. That, I have no inspiration for other than I have never understood the game, but feel like someone with his calculating mind would.

Oh, and watching my dad and my uncles decide that they're of the age to take up golfing… sorry, Rafael. But they've inspired you to golf, too. You're getting good, though.

#merrocktask #all about raf

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heliads · 2 years

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Can I request for Z3 Wyatt.

Wyatt and y/n are secretly dating for a while and when the aliens comes alan takes a liking to her and flirts with her and Wyatt gets jealous. So basically one day alan wanted to ask y/n out then Wyatt gets so jealous/overprotective and basically says while he’s in full wear wolf form ( his eyes glow and his fangs show) “ get ur hands off my girlfriend” in front of everyone. Angst with fluffy ending :))

I hope u understood that

i understand everything

masterlist

Wyatt Lykensen isn’t a big fan of the aliens.

He isn’t the only one to feel this way, certainly. Not after they touched down in an explosion that rocked Seabrook half to pieces. Not after they’re taking advantage of their otherworldly abilities to beat out the rest of Seabrook High in just about every contest possible— athletic achievements, good grades, you name it.

Plus, their attitudes are just terrible. They pretend they’re just exploring a new way of life and just happen to be grinding everyone’s faces into the dirt by accident, but Wyatt swears he knows better.

He might be a little biased, though. The extraterrestrial newcomers committed one cardinal sin that’s damned them in Wyatt’s eyes until eternity. It’s something so bad that he’ll never forgive them again, even if they save his life a thousand times. It’s not just trying to tamper with the moonstone, as if that wasn’t bad enough.

No, what the aliens have done is something far worse, so terrible Wyatt’s fists clench at his sides when he so much as thinks about it. What is this terrible act, one might ask? What have the aliens done to ruin them forever? Easy. They’re trying to steal his girl.

Technically, they don’t know Wyatt’s girl is Wyatt’s girl, although that doesn’t earn them back any points. Wyatt has been secretly dating Y/N L/N for about three months now, and he’s never been happier. Their relationship started off a secret back when the werewolves were the unwanted intruders, and the easy rhythm of keeping everything hidden ended up being too familiar a pattern to break.

So no one else knows Wyatt is dating Y/N and they automatically assume she’s available. That would be an acceptable mistake to make, except for the fact that it isn’t. Y/N is Wyatt’s girlfriend, and no one else’s. Certainly not some alien weirdo whose biggest claim to fame is the fact that he descended from the sky like a glorified stage performer.

It’s the fault of one alien in particular. Their leader of sorts, A-Lan, has been all over Y/N ever since his ship touched down. It’s not like Wyatt feels threatened by him or anything, he just doesn’t like it, that’s all. What does A-Lan possibly have over him other than oddly bright blue hair, a superiority complex, and insanely good grades and skills and— oh no, he might be threatened after all.

Wyatt tries to push the whole thing from his mind. This isn’t a big deal, Y/N loves him and not the alien so the whole situation can just die down. He’ll probably forget he ever saw A-Lan as a possibility of pain in a week or two.

So Wyatt thinks, at least, and then he looks across a crowded hallway and sees Y/N talking to A-Lan by her locker. She’s laughing at something he just said, and Wyatt thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

“Careful,” says a wry voice from behind him, “I don’t think that combination lock has done anything to you to deserve being crushed.”

Wyatt startled and looks from Zed Necrodopolis, who has just appeared from the crowds to stand by his side, to the combination lock still in his hand. It had once been able to fit in his locker, but judging by the way it’s been almost flattened in Wyatt’s death grip, it won’t be useful as anything more than a paperweight from now on.

Wyatt pries his fingers from around the twisted metal with no small amount of effort. Zed watches with amusement.

“I take it you aren’t as open to the aliens, then?” The other boy prods.

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

Zed arches a brow. “I’m sure you don’t. You just happen to have it out for your lock for a reason utterly unrelated to the fact that Y/N’s smiling at A-Lan?”

“Again?” Wyatt breaks out, temporarily forgetting that he’s not supposed to be aware of any of that. He tries to school his expression back into a more suitable neutral, but the damage is down.

Zed nods sagely. “Thought so. I get it, though. I know how it feels.”

Wyatt glowers as he puts his binders into his only slightly demolished locker. “Do you really?”

“Actually,” Zed says, “I do. Remember when you and your pack were the new guys in town? It used to drive me crazy watching you talk to Addison all the time. I was sure you were going to steal her from me.”

Wyatt scoffs. “Of course I wasn’t. Addison wouldn’t leave you if she found a fairytale prince ready to offer her a castle.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Zed remarks pleasantly, “but this is exactly the same thing with you and Y/N. She loves you, not A-Lan.”

It occurs to Wyatt that he shouldn’t be hearing this advice. “Y/N doesn’t love me. We’re, uh, just friends.”

Zed snorts. “You actually think I’m going to believe that? I mean, I only figured it out a month ago, but it’s pretty obvious if you think about it. You and Y/N are clearly in love. That’s why you’re so angry that A-Lan is flirting with her.”

Wyatt groans. “Yeah, that’s it alright. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

Zed plunks a reassuring hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything about it unless something happens. Y/N can handle herself, trust me. That’s why she’s been glancing over at you every five seconds instead of paying attention to A-Lan blabbering away at her.”

“Really?” Wyatt asks hopefully.

Zed nods and jerks his head towards Y/N’s locker to prove his point. Wyatt follows his line of sight and meets Y/N’s eyes. She flashes him a bright smile, and just like that, he can’t find it within him to worry about blue haired aliens for a single second.

That relief is only temporary, however. A few days later, Wyatt is still stressed. Y/N may love him as much as Wyatt loves her, but A-Lan’s efforts to win her over are so relentless that they could convince anyone that it’s time for a change. A-Lan holds doors open for Y/N, he carries her books in the hall, he even brings her flowers, something that sends Wyatt into a fury that Willa has to be called in to calm him down.

No, he’s losing it. Losing her, maybe, and that thought is enough to make Wyatt even less sure of himself. So, when he’s walking Y/N home from school one supposedly sunny afternoon and he sees A-Lan approaching them with a stupid little grin on his face, Wyatt knows, he Knows, that this is going to be bad.

Still, he tries to be civil. For Y/N’s sake at least, Wyatt can stop rising to every single bait. He can still remember what it was like to be the supernatural outcast, how the zombies hated the werewolves for being different even though they had fought so hard for equality. Now it’s the werewolves’ turn to repeat the cycle, and maybe at some point these otherworldly newcomers will be able to go through the exact same thing.

A-Lan comes to an excited stop beside them. “Y/N, it’s so good to see you can. It has been far too long since the last time we spoke.”

Y/N chuckles. “I saw you last period. It’s barely been ten minutes.”

“Exactly,” A-Lan says, teeth shining uncannily brightly. His fluorescent smile dims somewhat when he turns to Wyatt, as if just now realizing that Y/N isn’t alone. “Wyatt Lykensen.”

“A-Lan,” Wyatt says, mirroring the other boy’s stilted tone.

A-Lan clears his throat. “I was hoping to speak to Y/N.”

Wyatt nods, and after a few moments, A-Lan coughs again, this time louder. “Alone,” he clarifies.

Oh. Wyatt glances over at Y/N, and he’s just about to prove that he’s the bigger person and leave when he notices that Y/N is looking at him beseechingly. A second later, it hits him. Y/N wants this as little as Wyatt does, and that gives him enough strength to take on a thousand aliens if need be.

Wyatt squares his shoulders and remains exactly where he is. “Actually, I’m good here, thanks.”

Y/N nods quickly. “Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of Wyatt. Trust me.”

A-Lan’s gaze sours momentarily before he forces himself to adopt a dazzling grin once more. “Alright, then. Y/N, over my time here at Seabrook I’ve grown to appreciate the good things in life, and you’re one of them. I hear that it’s common around people to ask someone in, and I’d like to do that now.”

Wyatt has to bite back a laugh even as he feels himself flicker with irritation. “You’re asking her out, you mean?”

A-Lan blinks. “That’s what I said.”

“Sure it is,” Y/N says placatingly, “but–”

The second someone other than Wyatt speaks, A-Lan’s eerily positive aura returns in full force. “So you accept? Wonderful. We can go to an ice cream shop tomorrow. Maybe even tonight. Is that too soon? I don’t think it is.”

Y/N holds up a hand. “Wait a minute, I never actually said yes.”

“You don’t have to,” A-Lan says delightedly, “I know how you feel. It’s the same as me, you’re excited about this.”

Wyatt can feel a slow burn of anger coursing through him, turning his bones into solid iron, his blood to liquid flame. “Slow down, buddy. Y/N doesn’t want to go out with you.”

A-Lan loses control over his smile once again. “I don’t know why you’re so involved in this. I’m asking Y/N out, you’re not. Right, Y/N?”

The other boy puts his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, and that is exactly when Wyatt loses it. He can feel the transformation even without looking at himself. Judging by the gasp of surprise A-Lan lets out, Wyatt’s eyes have begun to glow, and Wyatt can feel the added length of his fangs when he speaks.

His tone cool and deadly, Wyatt fixes A-Lan with a stare so severe that the alien takes a step back, even without realizing it. “Get your hands off of my girlfriend,” Wyatt asserts, “Right now.”

A-Lan’s eyes widen. “Your– Y/N’s your–” He has to take a moment to collect himself, and then the plastic smile is back again. “I didn’t realize. You two are dating?”

“Yes,” Y/N says crisply, “which is why I’m going to have to turn down your offer of getting ice cream later. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do,” A-Lan murmurs at last, “I most certainly do. Excuse the interruption.”

He all but speed walks away, leaving Wyatt and Y/N there in stunned silence. It occurs to Wyatt that they are not alone; indeed, they’re just outside the bounds of the school, and everyone walking by has seen what happened. They’re the recipients of more than a few shocked stares, and Wyatt can practically hear it as people race to their phones to tell their friends what just happened.

“Well,” Wyatt says as casually as he can, “I don’t think our relationship is a secret anymore.”

Y/N smiles at last. “I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing. Unless you wanted it to stay that way?”

“No,” Wyatt declares fervently, “Not at all. I love you, Y/N, and that means I don’t care what people have to say. I’m happy with you. I never needed anyone’s opinion but yours.”

Wyatt decides there and then that he’s never seen a prettier sight than when Y/N turns to beam at him. “I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me yet,” she comments.

“I’ll just have to say it more often,” Wyatt decides.

He has the creativity for endless compliments, now and forever. A-Lan is out of the way, and now Wyatt doesn’t have to fear any untoward attempts from other students trying to steal his girl. He will be happy with Y/N until forever. As it turns out, that’s just enough time for him.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

#wyatt lykensen #wyatt lykensen imagines #wyatt lykensen x reader #wyatt lykensen oneshot #zombies #zombies imagines #zombies x reader #zombies oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #z-o-m-b-i-e-s imagines #z-o-m-b-i-e-s x reader #z-o-m-b-i-e-s oneshot #zombies wyatt #zombies wyatt imagines #zombies wyatt x reader #zombies wyatt oneshot

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notnctu · 4 years

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push & pull | kim doyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re in some deep---”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Possibly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what for?”

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

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

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

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

“Tell them to leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

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

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