#2d x y/n

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐎𝐡 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

↳ summary: what do you do when your neighbor is an up and coming rock star, and also the biggest dickhead you've ever met?

↳ warnings: mentions of smoking, murdoc being murdoc, canon type gorillaz content, etc. this all takes place sort of pre phase one/beginning of phase one

↳ song: sabbath bloody sabbath—black sabbath

masterlist | commissions | carrd

Your next door neighbor was a prick.

The apartment down the hall from you had been empty for as long as you could remember. It didn’t surprise you, to be honest, that in the year and a half you had lived in Essex nobody had snatched up the vacancy. Living in a cheap building with leaky faucets and flickering lights wasn’t for everyone, and if it weren’t for the fact that the complex was close enough to your job for you to commute on foot, you would have gone out flat hunting a long time ago.

So when your landlord mentioned in passing that you’d be getting a new neighbor, your first thought had been one of sympathy. This was a place of last resort, and you felt sorry for them if their financial status was anywhere near the likes of yours.

You no longer felt that way. Not one bit. If you were being completely honest, it had taken less than a week for you to realize that you wouldn’t be borrowing a cup of sugar from your new neighbor anytime soon.

He was loud, inconsiderate, apathetic, and you're pretty sure he worshiped satan. Not that there's anything wrong with that— you were simply tired of waking up every morning to the smell of fresh sulfur. The amount of air fresheners you had to go through just to get your place smelling normal again was criminal to both your sense of smell and your pocket book.

He would blast his music at all hours of the day, throw things at his wall hard enough to cause your picture frames to shake, and generally sound like he was orchestrating a brawl in the middle of his apartment. And when he wasn't doing his best to break the sound barrier, or win the world's worst neighbor award, he was snooping around the complex with a cigarette dangling from his lips, bothering anyone that happened to be passing by, and laughing like a banshee when they inevitably told him to fuck off.

Not to mention that he's green. You're still not sure what all of that's about, but at this point you’ve just accepted it as a fact. You had a green man living next door, and you couldn’t be more pissed about it.

You had done your best to avoid him as much as possible the first few months after he moved next to you, going as far as to wait each morning until you heard his door down the hallway slam shut and lock so you knew when to slip out into the hallway. It was just your luck that all that effort went to waste the moment you found him outside your door one night, riffling through your mail like it was nothing if not his own.

When you had blankly snatched the junk advertisements and bills from his sharp nails, shooting an accusatory 'what in the hell do you think you're doing' in his direction, he didn't even have the decency to apologize. He just blinked and scratched at his bare chest, his initial scowl switching to a sleazy sharks grin the second he finished giving you a once over.

You didn't give him a chance to form a sentence before you were shutting your door in his face with a resounding thud, faintly wondering afterward if it hit him with it. Upon further reflection, you decided you didn't care if you had or not.

His mate that happened to be over that night was the one that ended up apologizing to you later, and you had been pleasantly surprised to find that he was the exact opposite of his friend; all stuttering apologies and long legs as he messed nervously with his blue hair. He spent most of the conversation standing awkwardly in your door frame before you invited him in, ultimately deciding that he made for better company than his companion.

You found out that night that your neighbors name was Murdoc Niccals, and he was crashing in the space next to you for the time being while he tried to work on starting up a band. His partner that you let into your flat, 2D, was apparently the singer for the band, and claimed that he joined because he owed Murdoc a debt of some kind. You hadn't pushed further after hearing that, instead focusing on the band part. It certainly explained the blaring guitar samples you'd hear in the dead of night, and the suspicious looking cd's that were occasionally stuffed in your doors mail slot that you had chalked up to a scam up until until now.

You had been a bit more neighborly with Murdoc after that, no longer avoiding him and his smoky stench on purpose— if only because 2D had asked you to not judge him too harshly, and you felt you could trust the blue haired man.

That didn't mean you liked Murdoc, though. Every attempt he inevitably made after that day to get you to visit his apartment, or go out drinking with him, was always met with a quick exit from whatever conversation he had been trying to strike up with you. The pattern would repeat for weeks in what you knew was an attempt to wear you down, and to be perfectly honest, you thought you had been doing pretty well at warding off the oddly persistent man. It wasn't until a month or two more passed that you finally caved at the sight of 2D on your doorstep, waving at you with a squinted grin and halfway concealing a smug Murdoc behind him.

Bastard.

"I still don't know why I agreed to this." You surmised while locking the door to your apartment, purposefully not looking at Murdoc when he laughed. He was shirtless again— he was always shirtless —and his hair was flatter in the back this morning, like he’d smoothed a hand over it absentmindedly.

2D was standing to the right of the both of you, fiddling with the inner pockets of his jacket while waiting for you to finish up. He gave you a gap toothed smile when you turned to look at him. He had mentioned showing you some of the songs the band had been working on if you ever decided to come over, and was finally looking forward to delivering on that promise.

"Knew you couldn't say no to ol' face-ache. Don't know why I didn't think of it sooner." Murdoc tried to sling an arm around your shoulders, but you pulled away quick enough to make it look like he missed. You almost laughed at the scowl on his face.

"More like I couldn't say no to another week of you knocking on my door every day." You resorted to pulling a face, remembering how just this past week you had been woken up to impatient knocking on your door at least three times. "If I was of sound mind, I'd have reported you to the landlord already."

And yet here you were, you mused silently, accepting an invite to your strange neighbors apartment instead.

"No one's of sound mind anymore, mate. That's why the world’s so wonderfully shit these days." Came Murdoc's cynical response. He dug around in his teeth for something with his pinky for a moment before taking it out and looking at it, flicking it off his finger with a pleased look. You ignored him.

"Why do you even want me to come over anyways? It's not like we're best pals. I avoided you for a month, found you going through my mail, and then kicked you off my doorstep." You asked while wrestling your keys from the door lock.

"Everyone needs a bit of Niccals in their life." Murdoc said with a short laugh. You thought you saw him wiggle his eyebrows.

"Uh huh." You decided not to point out the fact he had ignored your question entirely, simply following after him.

The three of you got into Murdoc's apartment down the hall fairly quick. He only had to kick the door with the toe of his boot a few times before it gave way, opening with a loud creak and bringing the strong smell of smoke with it, along with the familiar stench of sulfur that you had since come to associate with him.

"Welcome—" Murdoc drew out the 'e' slowly as he sauntered through the doorway, "—to my crib."

He walked into the middle of the entrance and spread his arms out while grinning to himself. 2D shuffled in after you did, thanking you when you held the door open for him.

Murdoc’s apartment was much darker than yours. That was the first thing you noticed. Looking up, you saw that two of the three overhead lights that came with the apartment were either busted or shattered, and the third seemed to be handing on by a single wire. The rest of the room was lit up by flames from surrounding scentless candles, and looking at the red wax cascading down the long sides and onto carpet and countertops below, you wondered if he ever even bothered to blow them out before he left. Probably not.

In the middle of the living room, which was connected directly to the entrance, sat a rickety coffee table and an ashen sofa. Both of them had matching burns littering their surface, and you briefly got the mental image of Murdoc falling asleep on the couch with a lit cigarette still in between his sharp teeth.

You took in a few more details as Murdoc led you through the expanse of the living room. A signed copy of the Wickerman sat on a wooden mantle next to what looked like an upside down rubber cross. Both items were surrounded by numerous amounts of stains and scuffs on the walls, the majority of which looked to be more cigarette burns. At one point you almost tripped over what looked like a stack of old rock cd's at one point, only for 2D to immediately knock them over from behind. Murdoc didn't seem to notice, and you weren't about to point it out, so the two of you scurried away.

Murdoc had his hands in his jean pockets when he reached a different room separate from the living area, but took them out to open the door with some effort.

"Now, this is where the magic happens." Murdoc said smugly. You hesitantly walked forwards as 2D brushed past you from behind, making a beeline for what was probably a bed in one corner of the room, but looked more akin to a pile of dirty clothes and balled up linin sheets.

Murdoc’s inverted cross necklace bounced on his chest as he flopped on the mattress. 2D roughly sat up from where he had laid down on it, and the two of them started kicking each other pointlessly as you perused around the room.

“This is where you record?” The two of them stopped fighting when you turned back around, Murdoc having sent one more kick to 2D’s lower back before you could see.

“More like practice, love.” Murdoc chewed on his lip and closed his eyes. “Couldn’t record here if we wanted to. The acoustics just ain’t right for what we wanna do. We’re renting a studio out downtown for the real stuff, but we come up with most everything here.”

“Is it just you two? In your band, I mean.” You had been wondering that for a bit. You didn’t know much about making an album, but a band consisting of just a singer and a bass player didn’t seem like much of a band to you at all.

“Naw.” 2D spoke up with a shake of his head. “We’ve got a drummer, an’ my girlfrien’s the guitarist. They just don’t like comin up ‘ere much. Somefink about the smell, I fink. They keep buggin us about buyin’ a studio of our own, but Murdoc says we don’t haff the money right now.”

You heard Murdoc mumble something about the money comment to himself with a growl, and you pretended not to hear as you nodded at 2D.

A sort of awkward silence fell over the room after that, and you looked at a random stain on the ceiling while shifting your weight from foot to foot, unsure of where to go from there. It wasn’t like you had come over with an itinerary for the day in mind, and you certainly weren’t about to ask Murdoc what he wanted to do. You had a feeling you wouldn’t like his answer no matter what it was.

Another beat of silence passed. Murdoc’s chest rose and fell slowly. You poked at the inside of your cheek with your tongue.

“So— you want to show off some of those songs of yours or not?” You eventually asked, directing the question at 2D.

The reaction was immediate. He smiled widely, showing off some of his missing teeth, and launched himself off the bed towards a desk with a pair of speakers nestled next to you. You saw from the corner of your eye as Murdoc opened his eyes again, watching as the two of you crowded around a busted up computer screen in an attempt to pull up a song demo or two.

“Let me do it.” He grew impatient when 2D took too long, hopping out of bed to swagger over to the computer, hitting 2D on the back of the head as he forced him out of the desk chair and onto the floor by you.

“Show 'em th' one we worked on last month—“

“I got it!” Murdoc snapped, growling as he clicked a few more buttons. Finally, the file came up, and he pressed play as you shuffled closer to listen, ears straining as the melody opened with a heavy bass line. You watched the time stamp creep across the computer screen with rapt attention, pretending to ignore the feeling of two pairs of eyes on you.

It didn’t take long for it to finish with a flourish of drums, and one song from last month turned into one more song they worked on last night, then “just a few more” from the beginning of the year, until Murdoc was scrolling down in an attempt to find something they hadn’t showed you yet. At one point, 2D even shared some lyrics he had scrawled on a diner napkin this morning, smiling with squinted eyes as you laughed at some of the more absurd ones.

The three of you spent the rest of the night listening to the files Murdoc had at the ready, the two of them occasionally stopping one of the songs to gauge your opinion on it. More than once you had to reach over Murdoc’s shoulder to pause an ongoing track so 2D could launch into a detailed lyrical explanation, and after a few tries to slap your hand away, eventually the bassist would let you, even jumping into the conversation with a genuine take of his own every so often. After a while, you didn’t even have to tell Murdoc to keep hands to himself, all of you falling into easy conversation. 2D happily admitted at one point he was surprised you knew as much as you did about making music, considering when he had first started out, he had known fuck all. You’d just shrugged, taking the compliment, and told Murdoc to shut up when he grinned and said he liked someone with intelligence.

By the time you were leaving to get back to your apartment, waving goodbye to 2D and ignoring a borderline raunchy comment tossed your way by Murdoc, you hadn’t even realized six hours had passed.

Staring at your apartment door in the dark hallway outside of your flat, you blinked once. Twice.

You sighed. Fuck.

Maybe your next door neighbor wasn’t that bad after all.

[popponn]

Your phone sits in your hand. Through his half-opened eyes, Yoichi could see your fingers moving occasionally. He wonders if you are playing something or reading.

His hand reaches for the blanket on your side, still covering your legs even though you are sitting already. Have you already taken a step off the bed today? If you haven’t, Yoichi maybe should remind you to. Whatever it is in your phone could wait after a drink or a proper toilet trip, no matter how demanding it is. Unfortunately, his mouth is still sticky with sleep. Unable to open it, Yoichi trusts the tug of his hand to call out for your attention.

He pulls at the blanket lightly. In a motion that seems to be out of your own awareness, you spare a hand to pet his hair gently. It is as if you are ushering him back to sleep—Yoichi notes. You could have succeeded. Yoichi doesn’t remember what day or hour it is, but with nothing rushing him from the back of his mind, he lets himself take in your touches a bit longer.

Your clothes and hair are rumpled. You probably haven’t been awake for long, considering the way lethargy still paints your face. Rationally, objectively, you don’t look really good (yet, something that sounds like an annoying boyfriend in his head insists).

But, really—with the way the soft morning light hits your face, Yoichi finds himself feeling like a violent mush that might or might not want to cry out of many, many feelings.

Perhaps, this is what it feels to be a man in love—Yoichi tries to reason. It only makes him want to bury himself on your side of the bed, warped in blankets with you until the two of you find the will to get out of the bed.

“Ah,” Yoichi whispers—hoarsely, urgently, most ardently, “I really do love you.”

[aennasan]

I feel like Kenji Sato would support your love for you “2D bOyFriEnDs”, and would even gift you their plushies and attend conventions with you.

But as an exchange, you must have his plushies and merch as well in your room.

Placed higher on the prettiest shelf, of course. He is a man of pride. Even if your other obsessions was basically flat cartoon bOyFriEnDs, he must place hierarchy amongst them. 🫣

[weirdest-lights]

Shay and Haytham aren't having a good time with the new stray.

[mybluelonglegs]

2d x reader mini story

(backstage y/n is a beginning singer)

i closed my eyes finished singing my lyrics and heard the crowd scream. i smiled in response

" Thank you so much guys!, ill be right back but with the time ill be gone a wonderful group called the.." i said looking at my hand which had the name of the band. " the GORILLAZ" i said yelling the bands name, i heard the crowd scream in response while i started walking off the stage until... "o-" i said closing my eyes feeling my body fall from the impact that hit me, i felt someone's arm wrap around my waist and said "oh im sorry love, i didn't see you their" he said laughing softly and nervously " you, okay?" i quickly opened my eyes "oh ya sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going"i said quickly getting up off of him" oh go,go your gonna miss your que" i said running backstage "bu-"i heard him say before i ran far enough backstage. ( what the fuck was that) i thought to myself, i shrugged it off and started getting ready for my next song after them which was about in 20 or so, so i had time to change into a new outfit " hmm what should i wear?" i said looking at my closet. "oh perfect" i said heading to the bathroom in my changing room i changed and walked infront of my body lengthen mirror

y/ns hair

y/ns shirt

y/ns pants

y/ns shoes

" okay i think this will fit the song good" i said shrugging and walking to my makeup desk and starting my makeup

" that was a weird interaction, never had that happen before" i said thinking about the situation while doing my makeup

" okay and done" i said smiling at my art work

y/ns makeup

jewelry

"okay i really went off with this look" i said looking into the mirror when my ear bud buzzed my managers voice coming from it

" okay y/n its time to get into place"

i pushed a button " you got it mom" i said jokingly

i heard my manager laugh in response " come on if we go at this speed you'll miss it"

"okay,okay im going mom" i said laughing and walking out my changing room

i slowly made it to the side of the stage watching the man that caught me from falling singing i looked at him confused and buzzed my earbud " hey who's the guy that singing?" i waited for her to answer

" thats the lead singing of the gorillaz" i heard her voice

" really? i thought the band would be older than that how old is he anyway?" i said buzzing my ear bud

"um let me think by the way hes acting and how he looks i would say maybe like 24 or 5 why?" my manager asked confused

" just curious i guess i mean the name just sounds like they would be older" i said crossing my arms and listening to the song he was singing

( he was singing 5/4) the girls were going crazy for him and he was eating it up winking and kissing their hands i rolled my eyes waiting for my turn

but when i was about to turn, i was someone in the corner of my eyes so i looked back and he was Infront of me.. he pulled the mic away listening to the tempo " sing with me" he said putting his hand out

i grabbed my mic and walked out with him the crowd went wild screaming our names i laughed in response. he continued to sing his bands song

" she turned my dad on~" he sang winking at me

i laughed in response and looked back at the crowd walking over to the other side of the stage and started humming to the tempo

"she turned my dad on~" i sang looking at him and started moving my body ( hips) to the beat

( i noticed a light tint of blush on his face while he sang making me laugh softly)

"dad on, dad on" a little girl sang playing the guitar

i turned and smiled

" she made me kill myself come on~" he sang as the song slowly ended looking at me

the crowed cheered us on and we walked to each other and bowed. i turned to him " your really good" i said smiling

"thx love you to" i said winking at me

" thanks so whos in your band we might have to chat" i said winking back

" well then we'll meet you after the show" he said winking and walking off the stage with his band

i looked at the crowd and waited for my song

~skipping my song hermit the frog~

"we broke our glass ballon let go of my glass ballon" i said singing the lasts of the lyrics and bowed

" thank you, thank you i hope you enjoyed the show tonight and have a wonderful lasting night" i smiled and blow a kiss at the crowd and walked backstage still hearing them clapping

i sighed going to my dressing room and started humming music and taking off my outfit and putting on a black crop top on with some flannel pjs. i sighed again laying down on the couch when was a knock at my door.

( hey guys if you would like a part two pls like or give me some ideas pls)

[saturnzkelz]

WRITING GORILLAZ SCENARIOS!!

I can do any scenario! Read rules before giving a scenario:

- Only light NSFW (sensitive topics, NO sexual things but they can be hinted at)

- 2Doc, 2oodle, Russdoc, Noodoc, Acedoc, 2Ace, Noodace, or any ships similar to this are STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. Only exceptions are Murdoc and Paula or 2D and Paula and Murdoc and Moonflower. Band member x y/n is allowed.

- No romantic or light nsfw scenarios of Noodle as a child.

- no romantic or light nsfw of ANY band members as a child

- No topics that include detailed depictions of SA. Hinting at or anything that isn’t to be enjoyed or detailed depictions are allowed.

- Angst is allowed

- be respectful of these rules and my boundaries.

- lgbtq Headcanons are allowed.

Anyways, comment what scenarios I should write!

[simp-king-noshi]

𝓜𝓐𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓛𝓘𝓢𝓣

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬:

𝒲𝒾𝓁𝒷𝓊𝓇：

𝒮𝒾𝓂𝓅𝒷𝓊𝓇：

Simpbur kidnaps you pt 1, pt 2

𝒜𝓇𝑔𝒷𝓊𝓇：

𝒢𝒽ℴ𝓈𝓉𝒷𝓊𝓇：

𝒫ℴ𝑔𝒷𝓊𝓇：

𝐎𝐂 𝐱 𝐎𝐂：

𝒩𝒶ℴ𝓂𝒾 𝓍 𝒮𝓃ℴ𝓌：

𝒩𝒶ℴ𝓂𝒾 𝓍 𝒥ℯ𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶：

𝒩𝒶𝓉 𝓍 𝒜𝓊𝒹𝓇ℯ𝓎：

𝐃𝐒𝐌𝐏:

𝒯ℯ𝒸𝒽𝓃ℴ𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒹ℯ：

𝒟𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂：

𝒮𝒶𝓅𝓃𝒶𝓅：

𝒢ℯℴ𝓇𝑔ℯ：

Dress

𝒯ℴ𝓂𝓂𝓎：

Vampire Tommy

ℱ𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓎：

𝒮𝒸𝒽𝓁𝒶𝓉𝓉：

𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐳:

2𝒟：

ℳ𝓊𝓇𝒹ℴ𝒸：

ℛ𝓊𝓈𝓈ℯ𝓁：

𝒩ℴℴ𝒹𝓁ℯ：

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬:

𝐀𝐉𝐑:

𝒜𝒹𝒶𝓂：

𝒥𝒶𝒸𝓀：

ℛ𝓎𝒶𝓃：

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬:

ℱ𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻𝓉ℴ𝒷ℯ𝓇

[alicedash2]

"Hallo evernyan, haw are you? Fine Thanks Yu"

Hi, I'm Alice Dash, I'm 19

I like draw, anime and cats ( and learn news languages)

I write in Portuguese but I translate to English, my English is not very good, so, I will translate and repost, or, just write in English/Portuguese

Native language: Portuguese ( from Brazil ) 🇧🇷

Learning 日本語 (Japanese)🇯🇵, Русский(Russian)🇷🇺, Svenska (swedish)🇸🇪, Suomen (Finnish)🇫🇮 and Deutsch (German)🇩🇪 languages

In the moment I will just write request and not original ideas, I don't have time and energy for that

Requests is open ♥️

RULES

MASTERLIST- One Piece

MASTERLIST 2- One Piece part 2

MASTERLIST 3- Jujutsu Kaisen

MASTERLIST 4- HUNTER X HUNTER

MASTERLIST 5- Call of Duty

MASTERLIST 6- Death Note

MASTERLIST FOR GORILLAZ

The all thing is all in my Wattpad in Portuguese!

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲

↳ summary: the day that landed your coworker in the hospital, and a car in the side of a building

↳ warnings: some blood, mentions of alcohol, some hurt but everyone turns out okay, and murdoc being murdoc

↳ notes: had a close friend that knows nothing about gorillaz beta read this, and they convinced me to post it. enjoy. reblogs and comments are more than appreciated

↳ song: da funk—daft punk

masterlist | commissions | carrd

Business at Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium had been steady that day.

You remember it being around three in the afternoon when your shift rounded its end. The busted heater of the store rattled with a wheeze as it desperately tried to stay on, and you reveled in the momentary relief it brought you from the cold weather. Customers shuffled amongst isles lined with various vinyl’s and cd’s, occasionally approaching you at the front desk to ask a question or secure their purchase. Only one or two complained about the mold in the corners of the room this time—an overall win for the day, you mused. 

“‘Ello.”

The small shop filled with a tinkling noise as the glass door to the outside swung open. A burst of cold air came with it, and the customers nearest the entrance bundled up tighter for the moment. You just exchanged a polite look with the newest addition to the store, eager to get off your feet and go home.

Stuart Pot’s green eyes flitted to you for a moment as he offered a small smile to accompany his hello. He took a moment to breathe in the warm air of the shop, no longer disrupted by the draft he had let in, before shedding his coat and starting forward. No doubt preparing himself for the beginning of his shift.

Stuart was a man that seemed to be all legs and no brain. Most people upon meeting him assumed he was stupid, walking all over him until he said something to make them think otherwise about their actions. You yourself wouldn’t have made much of him if he hadn’t struck up a conversation one day. Now, he was one of the only people you talked to on a regular basis. Pretty sad, considering he was just your coworker, but not at all unexpected for having just moved here.

You knew he liked roller skating and wanted to be a storm chaser as a kid. You knew he had a girlfriend that played guitar, and spent his spare time painting. And after one unforgettable day when you decided to bring your lunch in, you now knew his lips ballooned up when he ate pickles.

Stuart really wasn’t a difficult guy to get along with. And while your job wasn’t bad, it was always nice to have something of a friend to complain about it with.

“Afternoon.” You settled for nodding at him as he rounded the corner of the desk, pushing yourself out of the leaning position you had been in to allow him space behind the register. “It’s a real nasty one out there, yeah?”

“Only if yew don’t have a car.” Stuart, who had insisted you call him Stu for the past year now, shrugged. In truth, it wasn’t that he didn’t have a car, just that he didn’t know how to drive it. But that wasn’t anything important you needed to know.

You nodded in agreement as he panned away from you to clock in. At that moment across the store, a customer opened the door Stuart had just come from only to have the wind outside blow it closed right in their face. They took a moment to struggle with it before stumbling outside, looking displeased as they did so.

You made a face.

On a nearby chair hung your own scarf and jacket that you’d brought for the walk home. And while your feet hurt something awful, the thin layers you had brought in preparation of the temperature made you hesitate. Clearly you hadn’t thought long enough about how cold it would get. You sighed in defeat before turning back to Stuart.

“So, how have you been?”

The blue haired man blinked at your form leaning on the counter, no doubt wondering why you weren’t heading out. With a huff of air, you tossed the formalities in favor of a more straightforward conversation.

“It’s freezing out there.” You scrunched up your nose. “I don’t want to walk all the way through town in that just to get to my flat and find out my landlord forgot to fix the heat again. At least here has some warmth.”

“True.” Stuart’s voice cracked in its familiar fashion. Ever a man of few words, he just stood awkwardly, biting at a stray fingernail or two as a nasty habit. Thankfully the silence didn’t linger long before someone shuffled up to purchase a new set of guitar picks.

“Have you heard the new album that we got last week yet?” You mused after he was done ringing the fellow up, pushing yourself off and jumping over the front desk to point at a collection of records. “I thought it was pretty good, and it sounded like one of those underground bands you like to talk about.”

Stuart immediately perked up when you started talking about music; as he always did. It shouldn’t have surprised you, really, to work at a music shop with someone that was passionate about the art form. But with the way Stuart rambled on every now and then you’d think that that’s all he ever thought about.

Nimble fingers picked up the artists cover as Stuart turned it over to the description on the back. When you hadn’t been looking, he’d abandoned his post in favor of the possibility of a new song track, moving surprisingly quiet for someone of his height.

“Homework?” Stuart parroted the title back at you as he read through the track names. “Sounds funny.”

“Lot’s of people think the same thing about you.” You grinned with teeth, unaffected by his suspicion. Stuart just looked at you owlishly, letting a small gap toothed smile show as he caught onto the joke.

“‘S nawt my fault I got an accent.” He placed the album under his arm for later, no doubt going to utilize the employee discount you and him were so generously offered. “If anyfing you’re the weird one.”

You would have responded. In fact, your lips had already opened— ready to rebuke his claim —when a horrible screeching noise stopped you.

The front of the store exploded into a brilliant shower of glass mere seconds later. Shards glittering in the grey light from outside threw themselves at you, covering the skin along your arms and face with a tingly feeling. You barely had time to process a slow trickle of something warm making its way down your face before your body reacted for you. 

A poorly carpeted floor felt the weight of your backside as you fell back, bumping your head on a nearby table in the process. Somewhere a few feet away from you, you heard high pitched groaning that sounded faintly like Stuart’s voice, and a gleeful cackle that incited a splitting headache.

Faint sirens wailed in the background as you wobbly stood to your feet. The sight before you was much different than it had been a few moments ago. Pianos and cases of speakers that you had spent the better part of last week propping up were now in pieces. Some made sparking noises as they lay in disarray. You stared at them as your vision swam, not yet aware of the yelling figures around you or of the  small pool of blood collecting at your feet.

But the biggest change by far you noticed, was the giant car sticking through the front of the shop.

At the wheel was the source of the maniacal laughing. In the three seconds it took to give him a once over, you observed more details about the driver than you could ever want in your life.

He had olive toned skin that was lined with sparse scars. His teeth were yellowed and pointed in an unnatural manner, and his hair fell just about halfway over his eyes; which when he opened them you saw were two different colors. One black, and the other a faded pink. It didn’t take long for his gaze to land on you.

“Oi! Did you bloody see that!” He shouted with glee, apparently ignorant to the chaos he had caused. “Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! Can’t even say I’m sorry about the cuts, love.”

His gravelly tone did nothing to snap your brain out of the haze it was floating in. With a far away look, you stared straight through the driver.

Later you wouldn’t remember the way his eyes widened as you mumbled something with a frown before collapsing forward on the hood of his car, fading into a restless realm of black.

You were fine.

Stuart Pot was fine. 

At least that’s what the tests said. 

Doctor after doctor had come in and out of your room with clipboards before they allowed you to even so much as get up. They’d given up on keeping you off your feet after you rolled out of bed as an act of defiance.

Everything was too white. Hospitals had always felt so artificial to you, so being stuck in one was nothing short of a nuisance. Beeping machines in your ear only proved to aggravate you further, testing your nerves. Thankfully, a nurse was sent in to discharge you, bringing news of only a few cuts they had disinfected, and some minor head trauma that should be okay as long as you kept an eye on it.

Now here you sat, just a few rooms over from the one you had just woken up in, sitting in a visitors chair next to your only friend.

Your only, catatonic, unresponsive friend.

Stuart’s hospital room was busier than yours. There were more machines, more i.v drips, and more nurse visits than yours had. It was to be expected, though. He had gotten hit with the car head on instead of just being near it, unlike you and the other spectators. The only thing keeping your stresses at bay was that his vitals were steady. 

Blue hair splayed itself all around his pillow like a halo as he lay almost peacefully. His chest was moving up and down at an even pace, the gap in his teeth making a whistling noise as he breathed. You would have felt more relieved about it all, if it wasn’t for his eye.

It was fucked. That was the simple way to put it. Completely and utterly fucked. Where a gaze of mossy green had been prior, there was now brilliant bloody red. The entirety of it had been consumed by an inky darkness, making it look like the appendage had just popped right on out of his face. You were unaware if Stuart could see you staring at him from time to time, but you figured if he could, all he would see was pain on your face. Pain, not at his appearance, but at the trauma that was sure to come from it when he woke up.

There had been a third party to visit Stuarts bed not too long ago, sporting sunglasses indoors and black lipstick, and proving to be a very useful distraction for you. You hadn’t recognized her at first until she rushed to Stuart’s bedside, clutching at his hand like it would somehow shock him back awake.

Paula Cracker was just as you remembered her; loud and unabashed. The one time she had come by the shop to pick up Stu on her way home hadn’t been particularly interesting, if the way she barely looked at you before screaming along to her radio said anything. Stuart had to assure you the next day that she didn’t mean any harm. She just wasn’t all for meeting new people. 

You had shaken your head at him and said nothing at the time.

But now, in the hospital, sitting by her boyfriend’s bed, Paula couldn’t seem to stop talking to you. She ran right into conversations like they were open doors, barely leaving any room for you to respond before barreling on. By the time she declared that she had to leave, no matter how much she apparently wished to stay, you had counted a total of ten words that you’d managed to get in. You offered her a short goodbye to match. She didn’t seem to notice.

You settled into a morose silence after that. Nurses stopped coming in, and you stopped waiting for something, anything at all, to happen. It was beginning to set in that Stu had been, to out it bluntly, run over, and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

You had just begun to wonder if you should head home when the door knob to the room rattled, and opened harshly.

“Well this is bloody brilliant.”

The door to the hospital room, which you could have sworn Paula had just walked out of, swung open in a wide berth to reveal the very person that landed you in the hospital.

A quick glance at the clock let you know that Paula had been gone for almost two hours, leaving you to sit by yourself as Stu stayed put. 

“What are you doing here.” Your mouth moved before you could stop it, sentence slipping past your lips in a weak attempt to make sense of this unsettlingly human being.

He looked the very same as he had the last time the two of you met. Just this time with an upside down cross for a necklace, and less blood on his hands. Literally.

The stranger made his way over to you, flopping down in a visitor chair and lighting a cigarette with one very dented lighter. He smiled cruelly at you, showing off a familiar row of teeth. They were as pointed as you remembered.

“Charity.” He tacked on a weird laugh at the end through the stick in his mouth. Two fingers lifted to his lips to remove the cigarette, a thick plume of smoke coming with it. He blew it in your face, and if you hadn’t been so lost in thought, you might have hit him for it.

“You don’t seem the charitable type.” Once again, your words were getting ahead of you. But he didn’t seem to be offended at all. Rather, the man gave a bone chilling laugh that was ended with another drag of his fag.

“Court mandated.” He continued with a smirk.

“They already had you tried?”

“What can I say? The law works fast when it comes to Murdoc Niccals.” He shrugged, once again with that strange laugh of his that accompanied nearly everything he said.

You simply eyed him with a tired sort of caution, drinking in the new information like it could kill you at any second.

“What? Not going to share your name with me?” Murdoc sneered. “It’s only polite.”

“When it comes to you, I have a feeling manners don’t really apply.” You grumbled, but ended up sharing your name all the same. Murdoc nodded slowly in response. You saw his eyes flick you up and down a couple times— something that made you clench a fist —before they found their way over to Stu’s bed.

“Hafta take care of him for ten hours.” He continued to explain without a hint of regret for the individual. “Apparently knocking some scrub in the noggin’ is a crime.”

“I wonder why.” You responded dryly, scratching at the bottom of your right eye without thinking about it.

“Wish I’d hit someone better looking with my car.” Murdoc laughed with a not so subtle look to you. “Wouldn’t mind taking care of ‘em for a few hours.”

“You just crashed a car into the front of a building and nearly killed someone. I don’t think I’d trust you with as much as a dead fish, much less Stuart.” You crinkled your nose. ‘Or me,’ your brain silently added.

“Not much you or I can do ��bout it now, love.” He took another smoke to punctuate his sentence. It left you with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Murdoc snickered at your expression.

“I mean, it wouldn’t that be hard to watch you.” 

“Didn’t know you were into that.” The man sported a shark’s grin, only dropping it when you made a fake vomiting noise.

“God no. I meant watch you while you take care of Stu. Make sure you don’t do anything to him.” 

“I’m hurt you think I’d do anything unethical to Steve.” He scoffed.

“Stuart.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged. You didn’t bother to correct him.

The two of you delved into an awkward pause that was timed by the ticking of the nearby wall clock. While you were busy thinking about what exactly you had just offered yourself up for, you could tell Murdoc was growing bored. You fell back on bouncing your leg as you analyzed him, the bottom half of your body attempting to get out all of the nervous energy you had been bottling up.

“Well—" Murdoc flicked a bit of ash off the butt of his cigarette, putting it out against the armrest of his chair. “—this was a joy, yeah? Let’s never do it again.”

You couldn’t help but mumble an agreement in his direction. He stood up with a twist of his back, letting out a satisfied sigh as it cracked.

“Guess I’ll see you soon, love.” Murdoc chuckled darkly while heading for the door. One leather clad boot was out the exit before he paused, necklace bouncing against his chest as he turned to look at you.

“Say. You don’t play any instruments, do you?” His eyes held an unreadable emotion.

“Uh, I dabble. Stu is more of the music guy than me.” You responded. “Why?”

But he was already gone, leaving you to wonder if he had never been there. But the ash on the chair next to you and the faint smell of booze in the air told you otherwise.

You let your head fall into the embrace of your hands as you groaned, massaging at your temples in an attempt to quell the pounding in your head.

“What have I gotten myself into.”

[cerene-dipity]

[WIP] Hanma Shuji x Reader

Here is it.. a preview of this fic I'm working on with the work of art Hanma Shuji unedited version

++++

Smelling her scent, he hovers over her pelvis.

She was the sweetest thing he tasted. A taste that delivers him from his damnation on earth and enters a glimpse of heaven. Him, with his punishment and sin written across both hands as he moves towards her velvety thighs. He wanted nothing more than to keep tasting her, smelling her scent and engulfing in her sweeet juicy cunt.

Gazing down at her stomach, her sight catches the way the strands of his hair sticks to his forehead, his eyes glistening with lust. It was the perfect image of a man on the verge of devouring his meal. And indeed he did...

Hanma had to restrain himself from fully engulfing your body onto his. He stiffens the minute he hovers on top of your body, gazing his golden hues to your chestnut creamy eyes. "Perfect - everything is just perfect". Pink blushes appear on your cheeks, before you can respond he smothered your lips with a kiss. Taking his sweet time exploring your lips with his tongue before you part your lips for his tongue to enter. ...

Shifting your weight over his thighs, Hanma helps glide your wet pussy down his thick shaft. Inch by inch you take in as much as you can without too much force. Hanma guides you down slowly, shivering your breaths together, his looks up to you, in your natural beauty. He can see it now. Why [retracted] would risk everything. For you, for not your beauty by your very essence. This essence that's currently battling her lust, Hanma thinks to himself. He could come undone right now.

"Sh..Shu.. it's too much"

He loves the tone of your voice, especially when he hears his name spoken in such lustful state.

You grip the sheets, tears starting to form on the corner of your eyes. Hanma wipes them off before they can drop down your cheeks. He edges himself closer to the bed frame, holds your face with both hands, and gently kisses your lips.

"I got you baby" I love you. he thinks.

As much as your stuffed with the fullness of his cock, he doesn't want to break you. No. to Hanma you are his precious treasure.

...

[ghostboycosplaysworld]

Happy birthday 🎂 to my beautiful blue boy💗(my little blueberry)

Pls listen to 12d3 oh and souk eye for me💕

[gemstonehub]

I hope you don't mind but I NEEDED to see a Biblically Accurate Sun version of that last panel. >w<

The arms and the tutu did not like each other XD

Uururggrgh i have plans that icannot share withyou right now (i have the bare bones of an idea and nothing more)

[skloobles]

maybe i should get into fanfic writing. do it so much it starts to feel like a chore and i end up dropping a fic for 6 months before coming back to it writing one (1) chapter and running away forever

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hi! First of all I *love* your guidelines. I’m just recently getting into Stray Kids and while I will read smut about 2D men, smut about real people is off putting to me, so that was really cool to see. Anyway, I love love love your angsty shots. They’re so good! Could I put in a request? I was thinking like how they would all react like, they were out on a date and paparazzi get too aggressive with Y/N and it causes her to get hurt? (I had a dream where I was on a date with Bangchan and we were trying to get into the back of a car and once I got in a paparazzi went to the other side of the car and yanked me out and Bangchan was BIG mad at them, especially cause when I fell out of the car I broke my wrist from landing on it) ANYWAY SORRY FOR THE RANT I’m just big in my feelings about these guys now and since it’s just new I know I’m in for a ride. Thank you!

When Paparazzi Gets Too Violent

OT8 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cussing

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Bang Chan

The night had started off perfectly- just you and Chan enjoying a cozy dinner in a quiet restaurant. It had been a while since you two had some time to unwind, since he had been busy with a comeback, and he looked so relieved to just be in your company. You loved watching him let down his guard, his tired eyes softening as he smiled at you across the table.

But the peace didn’t last long.

As soon as you both stepped out onto the street, the flashing lights and swarm of paparazzi descended. You heard your boyfriend let out a deafening sigh.

"Let's just get to the car," Chan whispered, his hand firm on the small of your back as he tried to guide you through the crowd of photographers, questions flying at both of you.

Despite his calm facade, you could feel his body tense under the pressure, his jaw clenching tighter each time someone shoved forward for a shot. You could tell he was on edge, trying so hard to keep his cool.

But then it happened.

You were just about to step into the safety of the car when a paparazzo grabbed you by the arm and yanked you backward. The sudden force threw you off balance, and before you knew it, you were crashing to the pavement. The pain in your wrist was immediate and sharp as you braced yourself on the concrete. The gasp you let out sent Chan into a rage.

"Y/N!" His voice was frantic as he rushed to your side, but the second his eyes landed on the man who had pulled you, something dark flickered across his face.

Bang Chan was not one to lose his temper. He was the leader, the level-headed one, but seeing you hurt because of someone else’s carelessness was his breaking point.

He stood, stepping between you and the crowd, his entire posture shifting from protective to menacing in the blink of an eye. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" His voice was low and dangerous, and you could see the tension in his fists, knuckles white as he held himself back from doing something drastic.

The paparazzo who had grabbed you shrunk back under his icy glare, but the cameras kept flashing, people still trying to get closer.

Chan shoved him back, hard. "Get. Away. From her."

It was only when he heard your voice again, a weak "Chan, I'm okay…" that he turned his attention back to you, his anger melting instantly into concern. His eyes softened as he knelt down beside you, his hands gentle as they reached for your wrist.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice shaky, filled with guilt. "I’m so sorry. I should’ve-"

You shook your head, biting back the pain, not wanting to make him feel worse. "It's not your fault."

But he wasn’t having any of it. "We’re going to the hospital," he said firmly, scooping you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. "And I swear, I' won’t let them get away with this. I'm ruining that bastard. "

Lee Know

You and Minho were just trying to enjoy a quiet evening stroll through the park- nothing fancy, just some much-needed alone time. Minho had been busy lately, so this was your chance to reconnect, to talk, to be close. The air was crisp, the city lights reflecting off the pond as you held hands, walking slowly. It was a short escape.

Paparazzi had a way of ruining even the quietest moments. You didn’t notice them at first, but Minho did. His grip on your hand tightened subtly, his gaze shifting as they began to close in, cameras ready, questions already being flung at both of you.

He didn’t say anything- just kept walking, his jaw set, but you could feel the tension in his steps, the way his body became a shield between you and them.

"Ignore them," he muttered under his breath, pulling you a little closer. His voice was calm, almost icy. Minho never gave them the satisfaction of a reaction.

But then one of the paparazzo's got too close- pushing past Minho to get a better shot of you. The sudden shove caused you to lose your footing, and before you could even process what was happening, you were on the ground, a sharp pain shooting through your knee.

You winced, your hands instinctively reaching for your leg, but before you could even say a word, Minho was already in motion.

He froze, his eyes narrowing in on the photographer who had knocked you down. The air around him seemed to grow colder, his usual composed demeanor unraveling in the blink of an eye. "Are you out of your mind?"

His voice was so calm it was terrifying.

Minho’s eyes were dark as he stepped toward the paparazzo, and though he wasn’t yelling, the quiet, seething rage in his voice made everyone around stop in their tracks. "You’ve got five seconds to leave before I make you regret it."

The man stammered, backing away, but Minho didn’t even spare him another glance as he knelt down next to you, his hands surprisingly gentle as they inspected your scraped knee.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his tone soft and completely different from the menacing one he used just moments before.

You nodded, wincing as he brushed some of the dirt off your skin. "It’s just a scratch though, I'll be okay."

His eyes softened, though you could still see the anger simmering beneath the surface. "I’m sorry," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "The night's ruined now..."

You shook your head, knowing it wasn’t his fault, but Minho wasn’t easily reassured. He stood, lifting you in his arms as he headed toward the car. "Let’s go home. I’m not letting you out of my sight again."

Changbin

Being with Changbin was always full of fun, laughter, and energy. Tonight was no different as you both walked hand-in-hand down the street after attending an small festival and grabbing a bit to eat. The air was light, and Changbin was chatting animatedly about music, making you giggle as he recounted a funny story from practice earlier.

But the night took a turn for the worse when you two were spotted. At first, it was just a few cameras, nothing unusual. Changbin was good at staying composed in these situations, but tonight, the crowd of photographers seemed to multiply within seconds, blocking your path as they shoved their cameras in your faces.

Changbin’s expression shifted instantly, his playful smile fading as he moved protectively in front of you. "Stay behind me," he muttered, his voice low and firm.

You did as he said, gripping his arm as he tried to push through the crowd, but the paparazzi weren’t letting up. One of them shoved past Changbin, aiming for a close-up shot, and in the process, they knocked into you hard.

You stumbled backward, tripping over the uneven pavement and hitting your head against the side of a parked car. The impact sent a sharp pain through your skull, and you gasped, your hand flying to your head as you tried to steady yourself.

That was all it took for Changbin to snap.

His usually calm and playful demeanor was gone, replaced by a burning fury that made everyone around stop in their tracks. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" His voice boomed through the crowd as he stormed toward the man who had hurt you.

Changbin wasn’t usually one to raise his voice in anger, but when he did, it was enough to make even the bravest person shrink back. The photographer stammered, trying to backpedal, but Changbin was already in his face, his fists clenched as he loomed over him.

"You touch her again, and I swear-"

"Changbin," you called out softly, trying to bring him back to reality as you cradled your head. "I’m okay…"

Hearing your voice, he snapped out of it, his expression softening instantly as he rushed back to your side. "Are you hurt? Let me see."

His hands trembled slightly as he gently brushed your hair away from your face, his eyes filled with guilt and concern. "I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking.

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "It’s not your fault."

But Changbin wasn’t convinced. He helped you into the car, his jaw still clenched as he muttered, "I’m never letting them get near you again."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had always been good at keeping his emotions in check when the paparazzi were involved, but tonight they seemed particularly aggressive. You two had just finished a late-night art gallery visit, one of Hyunjin’s favorite ways to unwind, when the paparazzi caught wind of your location.

At first, Hyunjin tried to ignore them, his arm securely around your waist as you both headed toward the car. "Don’t look at them," he whispered, his voice calm but with an edge of anxiety. He hated the way they intruded on your private moments. Especially when you weren't too keen about having your face all over the internet.

But as you got closer to the car, the crowd surged forward, one of the photographers getting too close. In the rush, someone shoved you hard from behind, causing you to trip and fall forward. You reached out trying to grab Hyunjin- accidentally bringing him down with you, which caused the cameras to snap even more. Hyunjin had somehow landed on top of you; while you landed awkwardly on your elbow, pain shooting up your arm as you let out a soft cry.

Hyunjin had already gotten up but upon hearing your cry his entire body froze. His gaze shot down to where you were on the ground, and for a moment, he didn’t move, the shock registering on his face. Then, something snapped.

His eyes blazed as he turned to the photographer who had caused your fall, his usually soft expression darkening with anger. "Why the hell would you think it's okay to get rough?!" he spat, his voice shaking with fury. Hyunjin wasn’t one to yell, but the way his voice trembled with suppressed rage was even more terrifying.

He stalked toward the man, his entire body tense as if he was ready to lash out at any moment. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" His voice was quiet, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

The photographer backed away, stammering apologies, but Hyunjin wasn’t listening. His focus was on you now, his anger dissipating the second he saw you holding your elbow in pain.

"Y/N…" He knelt down beside you, his hands hovering over your arm as if he was afraid to touch you in case he made it worse. "Where does it hurt, love? I’m so sorry…I didn’t see them coming towards you, it's my fault.”

You winced, trying to smile through the pain. "I’ll be okay."

But Hyunjin wasn’t having any of it. "We’re going to get your elbow checked out." he said firmly, his voice still shaking as he helped you to your feet. "And then we'll deal with the idiot who pushed you."

Jisung

Jisung had always been protective of you, but he wasn’t one to confront others unless he absolutely had to. Tonight, however, the situation forced his hand.

You and Jisung were leaving a small café after a quiet date, enjoying the peace that came with being together without people around. But that peace was shattered when a swarm of cameras appeared out of nowhere, crowding around you both as you tried to make your way back to the car.

At first, Jisung tried to keep it together. His grip on your hand tightened as he led you through the mass of flashing cameras and shouted questions. His heartbeat raced, anxiety bubbling in his chest as he tried to remain calm for your sake. You could easily tell he was anxious by the way his hand shook in yours.

But then it happened.

One of the photographers got too close, bumping into you as she shoved her camera forward. The force of it sent you stumbling, your knee hitting the ground hard as you let out a sharp cry of pain.

Panic surged through Jisung. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he froze, his wide eyes darting between you and the crowd around you. He wanted to lash out, wanted to yell, but his anxiety made his words catch in his throat.

Instead, he knelt down beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your injured knee. "Y/N, are you okay?" His voice wavered, the fear and guilt evident in his tone.

You winced, trying to smile through the pain. "I think I’m okay, just a bit scraped up."

Jisung’s mind raced. He knew he should say something, do something, but his usual anxious thoughts were louder than ever. What if he made it worse? What if he couldn’t protect you?

But then he saw the look on your face- how you were trying so hard to stay strong even though you were in pain -and something in him snapped. His fear was replaced by a surge of protective anger.

Jisung stood up, his usually anxious eyes hardening as he faced the paparazzi. His voice was shaky, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "Back off," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but firm. "You’ve done enough."

The paparazza who had bumped into you tried to offer an apology, but Jisung wasn’t listening. His focus was solely on you as he crouched back down, gently helping you to your feet. His hands were still shaking, but his grip was steady as he held you close.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his eyes glistening with guilt and worry. "I should’ve done more."

You shook your head, placing a hand on his cheek. "It’s not your fault, Jisung. I’m okay. And there isn't much you can do about them."

But Jisung wasn’t convinced. He gently wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you limp toward the car. His voice was quiet, filled with an anxiety-fueled promise. "I’ll protect you better next time, I swear. I won’t let them hurt you."

As you both reached the safety of the car, Jisung finally let out the breath he had been holding, pulling you into a tight hug. His body trembled slightly, but his arms were firm around you, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with sincerity. "I’m never letting this happen again. Never."

Felix

Felix had always been the softest, sweetest soul you’d ever met, but even the kindest person had their limits. Tonight, you found out exactly what that limit was.

You and Felix were on your way to a late-night movie when the paparazzi caught wind of your date. It started with a few photographers, nothing Felix couldn’t handle. He just kept you close, his hand in yours, trying to keep the mood light as you both walked toward the theater. If anything, some cute and candid photos of his love for you would be broadcasted to the world. Nothing too bad about that, right?

But then the crowd started to grow, and they weren’t just taking pictures- they were yelling questions, getting closer and closer with each step. Felix’s grip on your hand tightened, his steps growing faster as he tried to get you away from them.

"Just ignore them," he whispered, his usual bright demeanor gone as he focused on getting you to safety.

But then, in the chaos, one of the photographers reached out, grabbing your shoulder to pull you back for a better shot. The force of it caused you to stumble, your ankle twisting painfully as you cried out in surprise.

That was when everything changed.

That limit was reached.

Felix’s usually bright eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them as he turned on the photographer who had dared to touch you. You had never seen him like this- his entire body radiated fury as he stepped toward the man, his voice low and dangerous.

"Touch her again, and I swear to God, I'll end you." Felix’s voice was a quiet snarl, each word laced with venom. He didn’t have to yell to be terrifying. The photographer shrank back, clearly not expecting this reaction from the usually soft-spoken Felix.

But Felix didn’t stop there. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can just push her around like that?" His voice trembled with rage, his fists clenched at his sides as he held himself back from doing something he might regret.

Despite Felix’s usually soft-spoken nature, tonight, seeing you hurt pushed him beyond his breaking point. The paparazzo who had shoved you continued to cower as Felix approached him, his eyes blazing with a fury that you had never seen before.

No one had, really. You now understood why the members had once said Felix might have been the scariest one of them all, when he was truly angry.

"You think this is a game?" Your fiancé's voice was low, almost a whisper, but it was filled with a deadly calm that sent chills down your spine. His usually gentle demeanor had been replaced by something darker, more dangerous.

The paparazzi stuttered an apology, backing away, but Felix didn’t move. He took another step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don’t get to touch her," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying an unmistakable threat. "You crossed a line, and that was a huge mistake."

The photographer muttered an apology, scurrying away, but Felix wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. He turned back to you, his expression softening instantly as he saw you clutching your ankle.

"Oh, love," he whispered, his voice full of guilt and concern as he crouched down beside you. "I don't know how I got blessed with someone like you. The fact you put up with all of this is insane."

He helped you up. "Is your ankle, okay?"

"Yeah, I think I just landed on it weird I'll be fine..." Your voice was a bit shaky- not because you were in pain but because an angry Felix was...scary, to say the least. "I can walk- woah!"

Felix scooped you up into his arms effortlessly, the pure rush of adrenaline giving him a strength that you figured could rival Changbin's in the moment. His eyes still blazed with anger as he shot a look towards the rest of the paparazzi who left without another word. "They'll never bother us again." he promised, his calm. "I swear."

Seungmin

Seungmin was always calm under pressure, the voice of reason when things got chaotic. But even he had times where his rationale would fly out the window.

You and Seungmin were walking through the streets after dinner, enjoying a date night together when the paparazzi found you.

Or someone else for that matter. As you two quickly realized they were focused on a different idol who had happened to be in the same area. So, Seungmin just kept his arm around you, his posture relaxed, guiding you through around crowd without a word- without so much as a look to the cameras.

And you almost got away.

That was until more photographers joined in, pushing and shoving to get closer, to the other idol. Seungmin’s calm demeanor began to slip. He tightened his hold on you, his eyes flickering with irritation as he tried to get you through the growing crowd.

"Just pay no mind," he muttered, his voice low, but you could hear the tension in it.

You nodded, staying close to him as you reached the end of the crowded space- but then another swarm of the pap came in and in the midst of chaos, someone pushed you from behind, causing you to stumble and fall against the pavement. Your hands hit the ground hard, scraping your palms as you let out a small whine, trying to get up but nearly stampeded in the process.

That was when Seungmin snapped.

His usually calm eyes darkened as he turned on the photographer who had pushed you, his entire body radiating fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?" His voice was low and controlled, but the anger in it was unmistakable.

One of the paparazza's turned to see Seungmin, who in the middle of the commotion had somehow lost his hat.

Seungmin wasn’t the type to raise his voice, but the way he looked at the photographer made everyone around stop in their tracks for a second. The woman stammered, trying to back away, but Seungmin wasn’t letting her off easily.

But the second the words left his mouth, he felt the cool breeze ruffle his hair and he knew he made a mistake. He mutter a curse under his breath and he rushed to your side blocking you from the paparazzi as their cameras started flashing in his direction. His hands were gentle as they reached for yours, inspecting the scrapes on your palms. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of guilt.

You nodded. "I’ll be fine."

"I'm sorry I drew attention to us." He murmured.

"It's okay."

But Seungmin's mood was ruined. He helped you to your feet, his eyes still flickering with anger as he glared at the paparazzi over his shoulder. "No pictures." he said firmly, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury as he guided you to where he had parked the car. It was no use, since they never listened. But he continued chanting it as he hid your face.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said once more. "They're the fucking worst."

Jeongin

You and Jeongin had been trying to enjoy a quiet day out, just the two of you exploring the city. He’d been excited to show you some of his favorite spots, and the day had been perfect, but the inevitable happened.

Jeongin tensed the moment he saw the cameras approaching, his hand tightening around yours as he tried to keep his cool. "Just stay close," he whispered, his voice calm but a little shaky. "It hasn't happened to me yet but sometimes they can get rough..."

You could tell he was nervous, but he did his best to protect you, stepping in front of you as the photographers got closer. They started snapping pictures, throwing questions at you both, but Jeongin just kept walking, his arm securely around you.

But then one of the paparazzi got too close, pushing past Jeongin to get a better shot of you. The sudden shove knocked you off balance, and you tripped over the curb, falling hard onto the pavement. You cried out as you landed on your tailbone.

Damn that hurts.

You felt blood seeping on the back of your leg too, a shard of glass seeming to have cut through your pant and wounded your thigh.

Jeongin froze, his eyes wide with shock as he saw you on the ground and the bit of blood. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, his usual calm demeanor slipping as panic set in. "Y/N…" he whispered, his voice trembling as he crouched down beside you.

"Where are you bleeding from?" he asked, his hands hovering over you as if he was too scared to touch you, afraid of making it worse.

You winced, in annoyance, since the fall was painful but not unbearable. "I think that there was a broken bottle..."

Jeongin’s eyes filled with guilt as he glanced back at the paparazzi, his usually soft expression hardening for just a moment. He wasn’t the type to get angry easily in front of you, but seeing you hurt because of someone else’s carelessness made something inside him snap.

He stood up, turning to face the photographer with a look of quiet fury. "You shouldn’t have done that," he muttered, his voice low and steady, but there was a fire in his eyes that you had never seen before. "Get away now before I call the police on all of you."

When the paparazzi didn't listen his voice raised.

"I SAID LEAVE!" His voice was sharp and threatening. So much so the group immediately dissipated.

He quickly turned his attention back to you after making sure everyone was gone, his hands trembling slightly as he helped you up. "I’m so sorry…" he whispered, his voice thick with guilt as he wrapped an arm around you. "I didn't think they would do that..."

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "It’s not your fault, Innie."

Jeongin frowned, pulling you closer to him. "Next time we can bring one of the Hyungs. Then I can protect you better."

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

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@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[dwaekkicidal]

The Meeting

˚ʚPerv!Emo!Han Jisung x Cutesy!Fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Based off of this ask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.9k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: told from his pov, jisung is a huge perv (lowkey a creep but we dont talk about that), public masturbation(m), exhibitionism, kinda iconifying? (f)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: Italics are Han's thoughts! also the picture is just a reference for the outfit i had in mind :) Part 2 maybe coming out this weekend

The Incidents Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

It's Jisung's English Composition class. He sits at the farthest back table on his own, tapping away at his laptop as the teacher discusses some concept he couldn't care less about. He hears some ruckus past his airpods, but ignores it in favor of listening to the music that's playing. That is, until, a figure covered in pink and white stands directly behind his screen. It's very obvious that the person is looking at him, but he tries to ignore it hoping that they will just go away.

It's not until the person's hand reaches out and waves in front of his screen that he finally looks up. As his eyes trail up the person's body he slowly realizes who it is. When their eyes meet, it finally clicks. Y/N L/N. The popular girl who is friends with "everybody" and dresses in short, short skirts with thigh highs and her stupid Hello Kitty pendant necklace that falls perfectly between her boobs. It should be my face there.

His eyes move to the top of her head, glancing at the fluffy pink scrunchie that holds her hair together in two pigtails. Then they move lower, catching her shiny eyes that are risen at the edges from her smile. And- oh. Her smile.. The one that is created from those pretty plump lips covered in a pinkish-red tinted gloss. He starts to picture what they would look like wrapped around his-

But then she's tilting her head and mouthing words at him. Oh, fuck that's right. His hands bolt up to his ears, yanking the earbuds out and completely forgetting about the music that bleeds out. He holds them away from his ears and meets her eyes again, almost moaning out loud when she bites her lip bashfully and speaks up again. Her silky sweet voice finally meets his ears and he can feel his dick twitch in his jeans.

"My group was being loud so we got separated for the rest of the semester.. Is that seat taken?" Her short charm-clad acrylic nails catch his attention for a moment as she points to the seat occupied by his bag. Fuck.. what he would give to see them also wrapped around- Ok ok calm the hell down Jisung.

"Uh.. yeah?" His voice comes out pathetic and he almost explodes from embarrassment when he realizes that he answered the wrong way. The corners of her shiny lips turn downwards and she goes to take a step back. But somewhere in that horny brain of his, he grows the balls to shoot out his hand to grab her wrist, "Wait! Sorry, I meant it's not taken. It's my bag. Let me move it out of your way. Oh- fuck sorry I didn't mean to grab you all of the sudden I-"

He starts to ramble, his pink cheeks jiggling as he desperately moves to throw his bag on the floor. She giggles at the sight and he malfunctions, accidentally dropping his bag as he looks up at her dumbfounded.

She makes her way around the table and he gets a whiff of her vanilla-strawberry perfume as she sits. His dick twitches again in his jeans and he inhales again, then he looks over at her from the corner of his eye. Her nails clack against her laptop as she pulls it out and opens it. Of course it's fucking covered in Sanrio stickers. Hello Kitty stickers being the most of them. He doesn't think he's been so envious of a 2D pixelated character in his life until the day he laid eyes on her.

Her hair bounces as she turns to him, those pretty lips taking all his attention again as he watches them move with every word. "My name's Y/N L/N. You're... Han! Right?" He nods slowly, no longer trusting his voice in the slightest. How does she know my name?!? I don't even talk to anybody in this class.. "Yeah.. Han Jisung."

She smiles widely, then those nails are moving around in his field of view again. This time her hands go up to her necklace, fiddling with it as she leans back into her chair and her shiny lips part again. "It's nice to finally meet you, by the way. We had statistics together last semester, but we didn't get the chance to talk at all." 

"Oh. You remember that class?" He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, zoning out after she nods. He suddenly remembered the presentation for the final his group had to do in that class, And he vividly remembers the hard-on he had during it. It was only because of her and that stupid sundress she had on that day. Fuck you mother nature for the summer heat that day..

When her eyes turn to the whiteboard, he looks down at his crotch and rolls his eyes when he sees an evident bulge. He pulls the hem of his sweater down to cover it up and looks up at the clock hopefully, but is quickly shut down. God damn it.. It’s only noon and this class ends at 3:30.. I'm so fucked.

He gets through the next 2 hours before his hard on becomes too much to handle. His hand sneaks from the touchpad to his crotch, palming it lightly to relieve some pressure. Just real quick, he swears. It hurts like a bitch, so just this for now until I can go home. But all too easily he gets addicted to the feeling and pushes harder until he’s full on stroking himself through the fabric.

Shit.. she won't notice.. right? A sudden movement in the corner of his eye grabs his attention and he stops like a deer in headlights, in fear that she already figured out what he was doing and that he would get told off for being a freak in front of the entire class.

He glances over, watching for a moment as she instead mindlessly twirls her hair. Eyes still completely forward and focused on the professor. Then his eyes trail a little lower. Her lips are puckered in a cute pout. She eventually un-puffs her cheeks in favor of poking her tongue out slightly, in what he can only assume is focus as she types away at her laptop.

He watches for a few more seconds before slowly trailing all the way down, taking in her outfit and every curve of her body that he can see. When his eyes finally meet her thighs, he thinks his eyes are gonna pop out of his head. The skirt, that was already too short to be appropriate for a place of education, was ridden so far up her thighs that he swears if she just spread her legs even the slightest he could get a glance of her panties. Speaking of her thighs, the plush, bare skin there looks so soft. So biteable.. He licks his lips at the sight.

Before he realizes what’s happening, his eyes peek around to make sure nobody is in the neighboring tables. Then his hand moves on its own, sneaking out of the arm of his thankfully oversized sweater and sliding over his shirt to his pants. He clears his throat to cover up the noise of his jeans unbuckling and unzipping, and then his hand finally slides into his boxers. It was a tight fit but god was he going to make it work.

He strokes himself slowly, angling his dick upwards in hopes that the sweater would cover up the movements. He looks down for a few seconds and bites his lip, biting back a victorious smile as the sweater does just that. 

Feeling a little more relaxed, he allows his eyes to flutter closed. Immediately images of her flood his mind. Images of those pretty, glossy lips wrapping around his dick, those pretty big eyes looking up at him all watery while he shoves his dick down her throat. Images of her pretty pink nail-clad fingers wrapped tightly around his dick. He starts to stroke himself a little faster, imagining that it's her hand instead of his. Fuck. Now images of her jerking him off in the middle of class fill his head. 

His entire body shivers at the thought and he leans forward, resting the elbow on his free arm on the table as he speeds up again. He glances down once more to make sure he’s hidden well, then sighs a little too loudly. He tilts his head down slightly, pulling his hoodie down to cover his face. He knows damn well how expressive his face can be and if that is what gives him away, he would never forgive himself. ‘M so close….

He basks in the pleasure for about a minute before a hand on his shoulder startles him. His hand immediately stops. His eyes shoot open and he snaps his head to his left, looking at the girl as if he’s disoriented. The face he was just fantasizing about looks at him worriedly, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted.

“Are you okay, Hannie?” His hand subconsciously squeezes his dick at the sound of her hushed voice and the new nickname. He breathes heavily for a moment, stuttering slowly as he racks his brain for the best excuse he could think of when she speaks up again. “Do you have a headache or something? You look like you’re sick, and your face is all sweaty!” She giggles at the last part and he watches as her eyes trace a drop of sweat down his forehead to his chin.

He nods his head, gulping as his hand slowly begins its movements again. She mocks his nod, eyebrows still furrowed. He feels her hand caress his biceps through the sweater. She means it in nothing but a soothing way, he’s sure of it. But the warmth of her hand on his skin after the thoughts he just had only made him twitch in his grasp.

He whines and leans forward, resting his arm flat on the table and resting his head on the fat of his forearm. To anybody else looking it seems like he was sleeping, and the way her hand moves to skim his back, also soothingly, just encourages him to move his hand again.

Her worried voice is suddenly close to his ear as her hand slows to a stop, and as his own hand continues to move along his length. “If you want me to stop, let me know please. I’m super touchy and I just wanna help.” His eyes roll into his skull and she can see his head faintly shake ‘no’. “It’s f-fine. I don’t mind it.” He misses out on seeing her smile as she hums and moves her hands once again, this time more confidently and down his spine.

It doesn’t take him very long to build up his orgasm. The feeling of her nails raking down his back, the imagery of her below him that floods his senses, and the feeling of his tip rubbing along his boxers join together to create one of the craziest orgasms he thinks he’s ever had. He moves his head slightly and latches onto his forearm, biting down roughly to stop himself from moaning out loud as he cums right then and there.

He strokes himself through it, waiting until he feels the cum stop spilling out his dick to pull his hand out and release his poor arm. He softens against the wet spot in his underwear and desperately wipes the excess that got onto his hands on his shirt. Fuck.. I just washed these too.

The post-nut clarity hits too fast, the charmed nails that are still raking up and down his back make sure of that. When he peeks out to look at the girl, he watches her type with her free hand, eyes focused on her laptop screen. And completely unaware of what he just did to the thought of her.

His now unoccupied arm wiggles through the sleeve of his sweater, meeting his other arm on the desk as he rests against it.

This is gonna be a long semester.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08 @grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog