#I was drawing the first one and then I thought. huh no angst?

[shadowlinktheshadow]

What if i said fortuna with with with vidow

-z

anything for you 💜

"I'm serious, Vio. For the first time, I feel like I have a real friend.."

"..Someone I can trust.."

@vio-starzz

(palette for requests)

[naniwatig3r]

CONTOUR LINES (18+)

Mingyu x artstudent!Femreader

Summary: You’ve finally broken up with your boyfriend Mingyu. Ignoring him has been hard, but you were finally at peace. But he had other plans, as he shows up to the figure drawing class you T.A…. And as the model.

Warnings: Unexplained breakup (im lazy lol), angst, cute fluff sometimes, art school stress, public nudity, public unprotected penetrative sex (no one is around though!), quickie

a/n: this was a idea i got while messing around with my friend who has a thing for mingyu, lol.

Word count: uhhh, around 7k ? I can’t remember 😅

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Another miss call.

Great, you thought, the tenth missed call from your ex boyfriend Mingyu this week.

It’s been about a month since you broke up with your ex, Kim Mingyu. It was an odd pairing in the first place. You met him coincidentally in the quad the beginning of the year, as you sat at the edge of the school fountain. Your sketchbook open, as you drew the scenery and people around you. A normal activity you did as an arts student.

You were clearly in the zone, drawing the fold in a random college student’s arm, before a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Whoa, you can draw.”

Your eyes snap up, seeing a towering figure, completely blocking your view. No shit, you thought.

“Yeah, I guess.” You say plainly, hoping your short answer would deter this guy. But then the sunlight is back on the page you’re drawing, and you feel his warm presence sit right next to you. Maybe he’s just sitting down to sit down, so you try and finish your life drawing of the current student, but they were gone. Probably going to their next class.

Huffing, you still for a moment to put your pencil down.

“I wish I could draw like that,” You hear, as you glance to your side. Furrowing your eyebrows in irritation as the man leans over to stare directly into your sketchbook. “You’re a really good drawer.” He says in awe.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” You say curtly, as he continues to stare at your sketches like he’s at a museum. These sketches were nothing compared to a Degas or something, yet he stared at them like it was, his brown eyes flickering around in interest.

He clears his throat, as he looks up to meet your eyes. He smiles, a toothy one where you notice how sharp his canines were. Cute.

He pulls his sleeve up from his wrist to his elbow, holding his large hand out, “Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.” He says, introducing himself. You nod, reluctantly shaking his hand, his grip tight and strong.

“Y/n.” You say back shortly, eyeing him, wondering how long this tall man was going to bother you.

He lets go of your hand, as he adjusts his position to turn more towards you. One leg over the other, leaning forward. His bangs falling so perfectly across his eyebrow, that it made you narrow your eyes. It’s crazy, people like this seriously exist huh?

“Do you do art or something?” No shit.

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a fine arts major.” You respond, giving him a strained polite smile. It felt like you had to, the way this guy has been beaming at you like a puppy as you give the driest replies.

He grins, “Whoa, no way. Thats cool,” He praises, “I’m—“

The rest of the meet cute didn’t matter.

After this, you kept bumping into him, coincidence you thought at first, but thinking back… he had no reason to be near the art school area of the campus.

He always asked to see your sketchbook, or whatever was in your portfolio folder as you tried to get to your studio. Even helping you carry your supplies and folders inside, and once he learned where you worked he came with iced coffee when he could.

At 3 am, he’d lay on the floor of your messy studio, watching you as you mix another color on your palette. Your sweatshirt pushed to your elbows, paint on your hands and face as you work on the gigantic canvas for your final.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” You say a bit softly, your eyes tired despite your multiple energy drinks. “It must be boring to watch me throw paint for the last few hours.”

He shakes his head, sitting up as he looks at you with his puppy like eyes. “No, I like it. You’re so focused…” He trails, “I didn’t think art would be this hard.”

You glare at him for that remark, making him immediately tread back. His mouth gaping open and closing like a fish, “Ah! Not like that it’s easy — just that you’re so passionate you know?” He explains, throwing his hands around.

Rolling your eyes, you put your brush back into the muddy cup of water. “Why? Engineering not doing it for you?” You ask lazily, as you pull your claw clip out of your hair. Massaging your scalp from the tension.

Mingyu’s eyes focused on you, his cheeks slightly flushing. Eyes roving over how strands of your hair effortlessly frame your face. He clears his throat, “Uh, no. I like it. I’ve always been good at studying, and I get the material so,” He says, as he scratches his head.

“But I guess, it’s different watching you. Your eyes are different when you’re drawing, painting, sculpting. Whatever.” He says quietly.

“Different?” You muse, standing up to stretch your legs. Mingyu following instinctively, his tall frame dwarfing you.

He nods, “Mhm, yeah. I thought art was just a major for people who didn’t want to do anything, but getting to know you…” he says, as he follows you to your studio table. As you open the most recent energy drink you got from the vending machine. “You just don’t stop. Like you’re meant to do it.” He breathes.

His genuine words make you raise an eyebrow, turning to him. You give him a small smile, making his heart rate jump. “Yeah? It’s like you, I think.” You say, taking a sip of that battery acid of a drink. “I’ve just been doing this since forever. Natural to keep going.” You say nonchalantly, but Mingyu looks at you like you’re a living genius.

“Thats whats so cool,” He gushes, “You’re just made to do this.” He says, as he glances at your current work in progress. A large canvas with pleasing colors, his eye being drawn to the right areas. The beautifully rendered figure, framed with all the right strokes.

He looks back at you, with such an adoration you think it’s hallucinations from doing so many allnighters.

“Ah,” he starts, as he moves his long legs to shuffle through his bag, pulling out some tupperware. “I forgot, I was making uh, some dinner earlier and I had leftovers.” He lies, knowing full well he made it for you. He turns around, opening the tupperware to reveal a lunch box of different side dishes and protein. It could rival any meal inspo on pinterest, as he even carefully cut out seaweed to make cute faces.

You snicker, making Mingyu’s cheeks pink. “Leftovers huh?” You say, as you grab the lunchbox from him. Your fingers brushing over his, a welcome warmth from the cold air conditioning of the studio. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I was just gonna make some ramen.”

“Yeah no problem,” He strains, smiling. “You need energy to keep on going right? At least eat well if you’re gonna sacrifice your sleep.”

You take a bite, and even though it was cold, you nod in approval at the taste. The annoyingly large man could cook. Your reaction makes Mingyu grin, as you can see shamelessly how much that did to his ego.

“Still, you should go you know?” You say, as you remember Mingyu talking about his week a few days ago as you painted. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

Oh? He doesn’t focus on the fact that you’re asking him to go. Only that you remembered his schedule. He grins, “You remembered huh?”

You roll your eyes, “Of course I did. You told me.” You say, your own cheeks reddening from how embarrassed you felt from Mingyu’s reaction. Why was he so excited?

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, I was reviewing earlier. It’s in the afternoon anyways.”

You finish the lunchbox, washing it down with your energy drink before going to pick up a new large paint brush. “Fine by me then,” you sigh, not bothering to argue with him. It was weird the first time he accompanied you on an allnighter, but Mingyu’s presence became a normal occurrence since then.

And there he was, sitting obediently like a dog next to you as you continued painting. Your playlist ending hours ago, as the only sounds are the strokes of your brush, and the breathing of both of you.

It was like this for a while, until near the end of the year. This time, you were running out of steam.

Maybe it was all the all nighters the whole year, or the fact you got sick right before finals, but you were stuck in your studio once more. Slaving away as you work on your third painting of the night, trying to get your exhibition finished before sunlight.

You hear the sound of the door opening. He had his own key now — you copied one at one point since he always was knocking. Mingyu coming in with late night take out in one hand, clad in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, ready to tackle the night with you.

You don’t even bother looking behind you, his familiar presence and cologne already telling you who it is. “Hey,” He says softly, putting the food down as he notices your tired state. It was like you were running on fumes, the amount of empty redbulls and monsters around your studio telling him all he needed to know.

You grunt, “Yeah, hey.” You say tiredly, as you wipe your face with the back of your hand. Paint smearing on your cheek. Mingyu comes over with a napkin from the takeout container, huffing as he wipes your cheek with it.

“Whens the last time you took a break?” He asks, a bit worried. Despite hanging out with you for so long, he wouldn’t say he knew anything about art. But he knew you. And the way your wrist movements against the canvas were sluggish, and the way your eyebrows furrowed as the strokes didn’t land and look the way you wanted… he knew you were at your limit.

“Doesn’t matter, I have another painting after this.” You say roughly, “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I should have painted when I was sick. At least worked on the concepts and colors so I didn’t have to figure it out right now.” You rant, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

Mingyu frowns, “No, y/n. What about a fifteen minute break? I got burgers, it’ll help.” He says, but your face isn’t budging, like the strict deadlines for the paintings.

You curse, “God, Mingyu, I can’t stop. All the fucking pieces look like shit, if I stall any longer I’ll never finish this ass of an exhibition.” You say shakily, as you haphazardly throw your brush into the water cup, the muddy water splashing out. You grab another brush to pick up a new color.

He looks around the 10 other pieces littered around the room drying, he doesn’t get it, and he never would. They all looked great, cohesive despite your protests. “Y/n, they look great. You gotta take a break you know? Maybe it’ll help. Maybe your eyes will like, reset or something. You’ve been looking at this painting for hours.” He says, trying to reason.

You don’t listen, as you flick your wrist harshly to create a quick line of color.

clack!

You wince, dropping your brush to clatter on the floor. Your wrist acting up at the worst time, as you curse under your breath. Mingyu’s hands go up instinctively to hold your wrist, holding it still.

“God, now my wrist is flaring up too. Great, just what I need!” You curse bitterly, your head down.

Mingyu holds your wrist gently, despite your angry state you don’t push him away as he gingerly inspects your wrist. “Hey, come on. Lets take a break, and then we can wrap your hand alright?” He says softly, trying to coax you.

He leans down to see your hidden face, and it breaks his heart. Hot tears welling in your eyes from stress, frustration, and the impending deadline.

He doesn’t think twice, leaning down to hold you into an embrace, pulling you off your stool into his arms. Tight, the tips of your shoes barely grazing the floor. You can’t help but cry into his shoulder, “God, why am I so bad? I can’t show anyone any of this,” You sob, as Mingyu rubs your back. His grip tightening around you, holding you close as you basically collapse into his arms.

“Hey, y/n, you’ve just been working too long. Lets take a break alright? It’ll look better once you rest your eyes a bit, I promise.” He coos, “I’ve got some burgers and sweet potato fries, even convinced them to give me extra —“

“Mingyu, why are you always here?” You ask bluntly, choking back your tears. Through the whole year you’ve been tolerating him getting closer. First, random conversations when you bumped into each other on campus, then visiting the art school, coming to your studio, staying to keep you company. You never once tried to push him away, but you didn’t understand how he hasn’t been turned off yet. Your all nighters, your insecurities, the way you reject his invitations to campus parties and events to work. It was all a mystery, especially as you crash out in his arms, over some acrylic and oil on canvas. This must look pathetic to him.

His eyes are a bit panicked at the question, “I uh, do you not want me to be?” He asks reluctantly, still holding you close.

You sniff, your hand against his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie into your fist.

“No, I just... Thank you.” You say quietly into his chest, and Mingyu felt his head spin. You could definitely hear it, he thought, the way his heart was pounding out his chest. How you relied on him, telling him to stay. If it wasn’t for the fact you were leaning on him to stay up, he’d probably melt into a puddle on the floor.

Mingyu takes you to the table, helping you sit down on one of the comfier chairs. A foldable one with a pillow he brought at one point, so he could watch you comfortably. He boasted once — y/n look! Found this by the dumpster!

You let out a deep sigh as you sit down, Mingyu bending down to his knees to look at you eye level. A hand to your cheek as you close your eyes tiredly. “Hey, you okay?” He asks, searching your face.

You nod, “Yeah, um, sorry,” You sigh, “I’m just — I’m just stressed. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown in front of you.” You say apologetically, embarrassed by it. But he shakes his head, not affected by it. In fact, it probably caused him to fall harder, seeing how hard you work.

“Don’t apologize,” He says, pushing strands of your hair back. You look up at him, straight into his brown eyes. The way he looks at you so fondly, worried, that his bottom lip juts out slightly as he observes you. The way his fingers felt along your cheek, how he’s warmed you up in the cold room, brought takeout for you.

Fuck, how his hair is tousled under the hood, and the fact his face was a sight for sore eyes after looking at your paintings all day. Something with actual 3d planes staring at you, instead of flat canvas. Maybe it was the all nighters, the fact you’re on multiple energy drinks on an empty stomach, or that Mingyu is there for you.

You lean forward, shutting your eyes shut as you push your lips against his.

It’s warm, soft… might even get lost in it if—

You pull back after a second, as you see Mingyu’s wide eyes.

Oh fuck, did you read this wrong? Shit, at least you can blame it on lack of sleep—

A pair of lips crash into yours again, this time, you part yours as Mingyu’s warm lips mold into yours. Its warm, and comforting and everything nice, as you grab his collar to pull him closer. Making him stumble forward as he holds onto the edge of the chair to steady himself close to you.

You let out a soft breath as Mingyu snakes his free hand around to the small or your back, pushing you close as possible to him. Mingyu compensating for your lack of energy with his, as he kisses you deeply, something he’s always wanted to do. Every since he watched you draw random people at that campus fountain.

He pulls back as you pathetically try to chase his lips, as he kisses you chastely before speaking. “Y/n,” He breathes, “Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted to do that.” He confesses, as he holds your face in his large hands.

You smile softly, “Mingyu, I—“

The box of charcoals clatter, as you accidentally drop it right next to the table of supplies. Sheepishly you bow at the students in class, not meaning to disrupt their focus.

You bend down to pick up the charcoal. What are you doing? It may be the third figure drawing class today, but dropping a box of pencils as you recount your days with Mingyu was horrible. Terrible.

Especially when you boasted to one of your friends as you shared a meal, Ah, Kim Mingyu? Thats over. Lets just focus on grad review.

You sigh, standing back up as you slide the box of art supplies on the table. Checking the time, you slide the notifications of Mingyu’s missed calls away. It was five minutes before class started, where the hell was the model?

And as if on cue, the other T.A. comes skitting towards you, pushing her glasses up as she avoids the boxes of supplies around the room. “Ah, Y/n—“ She starts, talking quietly to not cause alarm.

She stops in front of you, as you furrow your brows. Today the professor wasn’t in. As the consistent T.A., she trusted you to handle today with no substitutes. It wasn’t anything hard. You just helped set up the drawing horses and supplies, adjusted the lights and made sure the models were comfortable. It was easier especially when another T.A. was assigned to assist you today.

“Hm? What?” You ask, as you dust your hands.

She takes a deep breath, “Um, well, the model got food poisoning.” She starts. Leaning in so other students didn’t hear. “I just learned this right now, she’s like in the bathroom in the main hall throwing up like crazy.”

You frown, “What? Is she okay?” You say, straightening up, walking towards the front door grabbing your jacket off one of the stray art horse chairs.

She follows clumsily, “She’s fine! But she can’t model for this class. I know you’re in charge, but I panicked and just called whoever was on the emergency model list.”

You stop, causing the other T.A. to bump into your back, with a little squeak. A small what should have been insignificant memory flooding back.

“You’re TAing now? Seriously?” Mingyu asks lightly, as he fiddles with a loose strand of your sweater, the rough pads of his fingers pulling on it.

You slap his hand away disapprovingly, causing him to pout. “Yeah, just for figure drawing. I want to make a little money anyways, but working at the campus cafe is too time consuming.” You respond, as you continue to draw in your sketchbook. Outlining the foliage in front of you with your pen.

“Hm, what would that mean?” He asks, leaning forward to wrap an arm around your shoulder. Careful not to disturb your drawing, as he rests his chin on your closer shoulder. Watching you draw was his favorite past time nowadays.

“Just like, setting up, taking care of the figure drawing models. Things like that.” You respond absentmindedly.

“Models? Like, thats a job?” He asks, making you crack a smile. You forget how normal people knew nothing about art. You’re just glad he was openminded about basically everything.

You turn to look at him, “Yeah, the school hires people to pose for drawing. Its for studying.” You respond, as you tap your pen against the tip of his nose, where his beloved mole resided. Making him scrunch his nose, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Actually, I should write the emergency contact list. The professor updates every semester of models to contact if theres no shows, and the et cetera. I should just do it now so I don’t forget —“

“Add me on there then.”

You blink.

“Huh, what?” You say confused, looking at him with raised brows.

He straightens up, “You heard me. Add my number to that list. It sounds interesting,” He defends, his tone light.

You shake your head, smiling. “Mingyu, you don’t get it. You have to stand there naked, and do different poses every five to thirty minutes. Its not an easy thing to do.” You say, dismissing his words as nonsense. Sometimes he was too eager to try things just because they existed in your world.

Mingyu doesn’t falter. “Yeah I know. I just, it sounds cool. Also having a bunch of people drawing me, I don’t know… sounds nice. Also its like emergency contact right?” He says shrugging, “It’s not like it’ll actually happen. I know you’d never call me if it was an emergency, but just add me on it. If all models decide they’re not feeling it that day.” He suggests lightly.

You stare at him still in disbelief, narrowing your eyes. He scoffs, leaning forward to lean his forehead against yours as a challenge. A little goofy smile on his face, “What? Come on. Just add me to the list.”

The rational side of you knew this would never actually happen. Mingyu had no qualifications, and besides, there was a dozen other numbers to call before him. So you suck it up, sighing, writing his name down. Just for the sake that he’d shut up about it.

“Okay, fine.”

Your heart beats, eyes wide as you try to calm yourself. You didn’t want to release your anger against this girl for trying to fix the situation. It was your fault, really, in the first place to put his number on there. But this never was something that has happened before.

“Which number picked up?” You ask calmly, clasping your hands together as you focus on not exploding on your fellow T.A.

“Uh, just called the first one. He said he was on campus so he was down, and we only have five minutes till class—“

“Jesus, his name please?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Oh fuck. Fuuuucckkkkk.

Mouth wide, and panicked eyes, you start to speak, before you hear the opening of the classroom door. You turn, and your face practically goes pale.

There he was — Kim Mingyu, just in a simple coat and pants. His eyes immediately landing on you. Its only been a month, but he cut his hair. Slightly shorter than you remember, as you tilt your head.

Stop it. You have to act normal.

You take a deep breath, trying to act professional. There was no time to question why the hell he’d even pick up and walk all the way here. Or why your heart was beating so fast, just looking at him.

“Um, escort him to the dressing room area.” You start, prying your eyes from Mingyu to the other T.A. “There should be a clean robe there too.” You inform, patting her arm as you beeline straight away from them.

You find a haphazardly stacked amount of newsprint, focusing on making all the edges match as you calm your heart. It’s fine, it really is.

For some reason Mingyu was interested in figure drawing modeling before. Maybe he just wanted to cross that off his bucket list, and had nothing to do with you.

The other T.A. comes back to stand beside you, “Is he comfortable?” You ask.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just seems a little inexperienced,” She responds, scratching her cheek. “He asked if he had to take all his clothes off, and I was like, huh? Yeah? But other that that—“

“Yeah, alright.” You interrupt dryly. “Thank you. I’ll just take over after this.” You say, as you grab the timer from the table.

You walk towards the center, clearing your throat as the art students look up. “Right, hi. Professor Kang isn’t here today, but don’t mind. Today will be quite an easy day.” You start, crossing your arms.

Your eyes immediately follow to the ruffle of the dressing curtain, as Mingyu walks out in a fluffy robe. Brown eyes meet yours, and for a second you think this will be fine. Until the corners of his lips turn up, into a toothy grin only you knew so well.

That motherfucker. Bucket list my ass, he said yes just to mess with you!

You turn away sharply, focusing back on the class. “The model today is Kim Mingyu.” You say shortly, before stepping off the small platform.

You gesture for Mingyu to walk to the center, your face stone cold as you watch him step onto the platform.

He clears his throat, “Do I take the robe off now?” He asks cluelessly.

Great, just show everyone you have no clue what you’re doing. If this was a few months ago, it’d be cute. But Mingyu standing hopelessly waiting for instructions was annoying you, to say the least.

You nod, and immediately, he undoes his robe and lets it fall to the floor.

You can’t help but stare. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your body tense. Stop stop stop! You couldn’t give him a reaction. As an artist, it was normal to see naked bodies. It wasn’t a sexual thing, especially in figure drawing. But Mingyu wasn’t just an old man or something. He was a conventionally attractive, tall, well built man. In more places than one.

“Oh shit, he’s hot.” The other T.A. whispers to you, covering her mouth. You bite back your embarrassment, as you just send her a glare for her unprofessional reaction.

It doesn’t help that other people around the room are pleasantly surprised by Mingyu, as I see pink dusting around people’s cheeks. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Holy shit, a hot model. Is this real?”

“I thought we had a middle aged woman today. Bro… score!”

“I’ve never stared so closely.”

“Alright, warm ups. Ten one minute poses.” You say plainly, holding up the timer and pressing down on it. Immediately, Mingyu nods, springing into action.

His poses were something else. They were a bit awkward, as he stood there. First putting his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

But he started getting more comfortable. After the ten one minute poses were up, the other T.A. Adds a stool to the platform for Mingyu to sit on.

“One pose, 15 minutes.” You say, setting the timer again.

This time instead of looking at the ground, wall, or ceiling, he stared straight at you. His eyes unwavering. The sight makes your mouth go dry, as the studio lights enhance Mingyu’s features perfectly.

His face framed by the little curl of his bang, light bouncing off his tanned skin as the definition of his muscles are on display. The way his large shoulders balance his proportions, and his skin smooth and tightly wrapped around his toned torso. He always was working out, and it seemed like he kept that up, as your eyes trail from his abs to his bottom half. Your cheeks flushing as he’s so unabashedly bare in front of the whole room.

But it only propelled your anger. How could he? Just step into your domain — the art school wing — and just come here? Posing like a gangly weirdo, riding on his looks so none of the students complained. Staring straight into your eyes as a confrontation. So much it felt like he was telepathically speaking to you.

Why aren’t you returning my calls? Or, how does this make you feel? It was infuriating.

And as if satisfied in your attention on him, he smirks, like he won some imaginary battle. This idiot.

The timer rings, making you flinch against the supply table. Your cheeks flush slightly, as you clear your throat. “Another 6 poses, each 2 minutes.” You manage to choke out, pressing the timer.

As the figure session goes on for the next hour, Mingyu’s confidence was starting to irritate you to no end. At first what was awkward, was now overtly dramatic. His poses of showing off his muscles, flexing his back, it was too much. People were here to draw, not ogle.

You decided to play, not wanting Mingyu to have the upper hand. As Mingyu goes to pick up the robe off the ground, you yell, “Stop right there!”

Mingyu freezes immediately, mainly out of confusion. His eyes drifting to you, a slight furrow of his brows.

“Now, the model will stay still. Do you see how the arm connects to the shoulder blades? Please turn to a new paper and start focusing on that area.” You say, stopping Mingyu in an uncomfortable position in the name of education.

You eye how his leg starts to shake from holding it, but it only fuels you. “Now focus on the thigh muscle, we’ll hold this pose for another 3 minutes.” You say, a little glee seeping into your voice.

Mingyu’s eyes shooting up to glare at you, as you cock your head and smile.

You push Mingyu to do crazy things, like pretending to do a lay up for 10 minutes to talk about line of action. Or when you asked the students to move in closer to draw his face, having twenty people at once hyper fixate on his expression. Now, the class was fun. You completely turned it around.

The timer rings. “Alright, lunch break.” You say, as it’s half way through the 6 hour class.

Theres a collective sigh of relief, as students massage their wrists, and Mingyu putting his robe back on, but loosely. Letting his chest peek out through the fabric, as he walks around the room.

You watch as he circles, smiling and complimenting others.

“Wow, thats really good.”

“Whoa, really love how you drew that one.”

“Is that how I look? I’m flattered! Thanks.”

You huff, looking away as you catch a glimpse of him leaning over a pretty girl’s shoulder as she shows her sketches. Purposefully letting the loose robe drape his exposed chest as he examines the drawings.

Students get up to stretch their bones outside, getting lunch during the break. The other T.A. goes to check on something, leaving only you and Mingyu in the figure drawing room.

You stand, ignoring him as you walk towards the platform, readjusting the power of the studio lights. “Next part of the class is long poses,” You say, twisting the knob. “So it’ll be harsh lights. you just have to sit there, it’ll easy.”

You turn back around, Mingyu looking at you with a small smile, barely a yard away. His hands on his hips, as he looks down at you. “You know,” He drawls, his voice low. “This was a lot more fun than I thought.”

“Is it?” You respond bitterly, “Well I’m glad. Because you’re not gonna be paid for this.” You inform him, as Mingyu isn’t a real model signed with the school.

“Thats okay, I’m getting what I wanted anyways.”

You sigh, as you cross your arms. Deciding not to beat around the bush.

“What are you doing here, Mingyu?” You ask tiredly, finally looking at him straight, your brows furrowed. You boldly looking into his playful eyes.

His smug expression softens, almost reminiscent to how he would look at you before everything. He takes his bottom lip under his teeth, chewing as he looks at you.

“You seriously need me to answer that? Like always?” He says quietly, but with only you two in the studio, he could whisper from across the room and you’d still catch it.

“What, like you actually answer me with anything that makes sense?” You respond back tightly. Sighing, you relax your shoulders, biting your cheek as you glance away from him. A student’s messy pencil case catching your attention, albeit forced.

A deafening silence falls. Mingyu never really liked to fight anyways.

“You’re, you’re difficult, you know that?” He starts, as he ruffles his hair with his hand, as if that would release his pent up frustration. “When I got the random phone call that you guys needed a last minute model, I thought for a second it was intentional.”

He takes a step closer, “But of course not. You looked like you saw a ghost when I walked in.”

You gulp, “Well, to be fair, thats what you are now.” You say quietly. Avoiding his eyes.

“Oh? So I’m just dead to you?”

“No, that would be easier.” You snap, finally looking back to face his eyes. Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his eyebrows knitted, trying to figure you out like an abstract art piece.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a disappointed huff. “y/n.” He starts firmly, in a tone he barely used.

But of course, directed to you, making your skin crawl in the overly air conditioned room.

Hands on his hips, as he takes a long breath, his head facing down as he hides his expression. “For an artist, you’re really shit at expressing your feelings.” He sighs, his bangs hiding whatever you could gather from him.

“Fine.” He concludes, looking up, his shoulders more relaxed. “I’ll stop bothering you about it, since you’re so sure.” He says throwing his arms out. “On one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, wary of whatever condition he was gonna propose. Mingyu could be unpredictable when you pushed him, making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

“Draw me.” He says finally. He glances at the clock on the wall, “They still have that lunch break. So just draw me at least once, before everyone comes back.” He proposes, turning around to walk casually to the platform, as if he’s assuming you would just do it.

Is he serious? You weren’t even together anymore, and yet he wants a free commission from you? Thats crazy, like you’d ever —

“Fine.” You say curtly, “Since you’re so desperate for my attention anyways.” You quip, walking over to the supply table, making sure your shoes stomp against the hard floor. You swipe some spare paper, clipboard, and some charcoal.

The second you were at an art horse in front of Mingyu though, your fire waned slightly. The dead silence of the room was deafening, as you adjust your clipboard. The sound of the metal clips thumping against the paper, the feet of the art horse squeaking as you adjust sitting on the worn wood.

When you gaze up at Mingyu, it was obvious. He really was getting what he wanted, and it was your undivided attention.

Once ready, the charcoal in your hand, Mingyu sits down on the stool, eyes steady on you as he grips the already loose tie around his robe with his large hand. Letting it fall, as he exposes himself once more in the bright lights you set up yourself. He kicks the robe away off the platform, set on you drawing him like this.

You blink back any feelings that threaten to show on your face, readjusting the charcoal in your hand as you avoid Mingyu’s eyes, pressing down to finally start a line.

Its been a while since you last drew figures, and it usually took an hour of continuous drawing before you really found your pace in figure drawing sessions. But it was different this time.

Your heart beats in your ears, a silence of the room highlighting the sound of your charcoal smearing against the newsprint — the sounds of your breathing and of Mingyu’s, as time passes. Agonizingly slowly, yet a focus every artist aches for.

Your hand moves accordingly. Outlining the contour of his silhouette, the way his neck slopes, the soft lines that shape his abs he always was working on. Pressing for pressure with your charcoal as you indicate the weight of him sitting on the stool, hands in his laps loose as you capture his likeness with ease.

But the focus doesn’t last for long, especially when you flicker your eyes back to his. Already flicking a stroke to mimic his right eyelid, before you still. Pressing the tip of your charcoal into the paper, crumbling against the grain as you stare into his large brown eyes.

Fuck. What are you even doing?

Why are you drawing him so intently, when you vowed just a while ago that you never wanted to see Mingyu again?

Your breath hitches, as you raise your arm, flickering back to your drawing. Charcoal in the air, swinging to run a huge line through your figure of him, to smear it, to destroy it, to —

Your wrist stops mid air, as you feel a warm grip tightening around you. Eyes wide, you unfocus on the paper, to look up. Somehow in your tiny melt down Mingyu got down from the platform.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. Jaw tense, “You were just gonna ruin it, weren’t you?” He asks you quietly.

You can’t help but knit your brows, a pained expression forming that matches the one in his eyes.

The charcoal clatters out of your hand, landing on the floor in broken pieces.

Tears start welling in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. “You’re right,” You start shakily, “I don’t know… how to address anything unless I’m drawing.” You say weakly.

Mingyu’s eyes soften slightly, swallowing hard as the bright lights highlight the contour of throat bobbing. “Yeah, seems like it.” He replies carefully. You expected him to use this as a told you so, maybe give you a smug smile, like, I knew you weren’t over me.

But Mingyu was never like that anyways. No matter how much he craved your attention, he also wanted your peace of mind. A hard thing to ask from an artist like you.

His grip on your wrist softens, as he kneels down, getting eye level with you as you still sit on the art horse. Holding your hand in his, rubbing a thumb over the veins on the back of your hand gently.

“I miss you.” You finally muster, your eyes focused on his.

“I miss you too.” He responds back, before cracking a small smile.

You strain your brows into a furrow, blinking back the warm tears you naturally formed from the vulnerable moment. A shaky huff also coming out of you, as you decide to lean forward.

Inching your face closer, until the tip of your noses brush, Mingyu stiffening slightly as you shyly graze your lips against his lips. A small breath escaping his lips, fanning over yours before you finally part them.

Your lips against his — it was like home. Finding your way back after such a tumultuous and useless road. The warmth of his lips seeping into you, Mingyu as relieved as you are. His hands finding its way to the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer.

It only escalates, as you open your mouth wider to push your tongue against his, making Mingyu groan out as he meets you with similar enthusiasm.

He pulls you forward, off the art horse. Taking you down to the ground, maneuvering you until your back is against the hard floor. Covering you with his large frame, his weight pressing down on you in ways you were having such a hard time admitting you missed.

It was fast, and albeit messy and rushed. Like trying to make up for wasted time as you pull him close, hands wrapped around the back of his neck as your lips go numb, your teeth clashing.

You let out a whine, when Mingyu pulls away with a heavy breath, fighting against your attempts to pull him back for a kiss.

“Y/n — fuck, can we?” He asks hurriedly, his voice breathless. A look of want in his big eyes, but there was also a little responsibility.

First of all — anyone could walk into the studio any second. There was only a lunch break, sure, an hour. But at least half of it has passed.

As you take your bottom lip under your teeth, chewing at your swollen lip as you think. And Mingyu knows exactly what look you were giving him, and he wasn’t going to reject you. Not now.

He leans back in, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, breath hot against yours, before moving to your jaw. Leaving open mouthed rushed kisses down your neck, as you move your hands down his back. Feeling the muscles you were forcing yourself to look away from during the whole first half of class.

Touching Mingyu was way better than just drawing him from afar. You’re sure on that.

He moves his hand down, to push your midi skirt up, bunching the fabric to your hips. Your legs exposed to the cold air of the studio, as he wastes no time to slide your panties to the side. Already wet and damp from the heavy making out, and partially to the adrenaline of being in such a risky place.

“Damn, already?” He says, with a slight tease to his voice, making you pinch his arm. He lets out a pained chuckle, before placing his thick fingers against yours core, a gasp escaping your lips.

It helped that he knew you so well already, your legs squirming around the sides of him as he runs his fingers through yours wet folds, his thumb circling your clit as he inserts two fingers in, stretching you out as you gasp, Mingyu attacking your neck with messy kisses as he gets you ready for him.

“Fuck, Gyu,” You whine, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he curls his fingers, hitting the spongy flesh that makes you arch your back off of the floor.

You weren’t the only one worked up, Mingyu being bare this entire time. His dick pressing up against the inner of your thigh, hardening at the sounds of your pleasure.

Your hand shoots down to grab hold of him, helping him get hard as he lets out a moan, as you tighten your grip. Pumping him a few times, lining him up to you as he removes his hand from your entrance.

You both let out soft gasps as you hold his dick to swipe against you, coating him in your arousal, his tip leaking with precum.

He doesn’t even ask, he just knows, as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch. The friction from your pulled to the side panties, to the tight warm walls of your pussy, making him feel lightheaded with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby,” He breathes, without even adjusting, he ruts into you roughly. Bottoming out as he knocks the wind out of you.

A whine escapes your throat, as you hold tightly around his shoulders, as Mingyu doesn’t slow his pace.

Its rough, its fast, and overall — desperate. The lewd sounds of flesh colliding echoing in the empty studio. Your mind going dumb at his fast pace, only focused on how he goes in, out. In, out.

The smell of his sweat, the way your hands run down his exposed body, all for you. He did this all for you. To get your attention, to get you back. God, does he even know how that makes you feel?

“Fuck, fuck,” He whines, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Already feeling a little fatigued from abusing your pussy so fast. But it was just too good, he missed it so much. So, so much. And he made it evident, as he pushes the back of your thighs higher to your chest, getting deep as he can. And fucking you like his life counted on it.

You feel the familiar build up of your orgasm, your walls tightening as you grip Mingyu’s shoulders. “Gyu, Gyu, I’m —“ You manage to choke out, as he moves his face from your neck to yours. Catching your cry with his mouth, drowning it as he kisses you messily.

You shudder, squirming under him as you feel the familiar high. Your body tingling with sensitivity and pleasure, as he overwhelms you with what can only be love.

He follows soon after, not being able to maintain his mouth to yours as he lets out a shaky grunt. Spilling inside you, his cum warm and filling, making your cheeks flush in contentment and relief.

He slows, stilling as you both catch your breaths. Pulling out of you with a reluctance. Pushing himself up, to lean back to sit. You follow as well, adjusting your skirt back as you push yourself up to your elbows.

Mingyu was a sight, as he always is. His tan skin glowing with a layer of sweat. The way his toned chest rises from catching his breath. The way his bangs are sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with a rush of blood. A satisfied look on his face, as he sighs, licking his bottom lip as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile, a warm one. As you gather yourself.

“Lets get you cleaned up before the second half. Where did you throw your robe?”

“Oh fuck. I don’t know. You got any other ones?”

[ssahotchnerr]

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

[critterbitter]

It’s everybody’s favorite lantern! Ingo's partner pokemon's very chaos incorporated. Inspired by the very enthusiastic asks in my inbox, which I’ll be responding to under this cut ;0 Wanna see more? Check out this submas masterlist.

@euos-the-cat AAA thank you! I took one look at that waxy gremlin and thought "huh. I can do something with this."

@eventhetiniestbugs Yo. YO. HEADCANNON ACCEPTED. Litwick really is sort of a beatrice, isn't she? Being Ingo (and in part, Emmet's) unwilling guide. Reluctant friend. Best found family.

@answrs Thanks!!! I love sneasler and I need to draw her more. It wasn't on purpose, but it seems I've accidentally wrote myself into a Sort Of chronological posting (oops!) But sneasler WILL appear later (hopefully BEFORE my hyperfixation fizzles out haha)

@raynavan AhHEhEHEHEH. I usually don't dabble with too much angst, but yeah. On the plus side, uh, more chandelure emmet interactions! On the down side, well.

@blueisquitetired You learn to like rice. It's a staple in your diet, and while you may think its bland and boring, it becomes something you can always rely on during meal time when things get dicey. Or, well. It was.

@moothebloo ...DEFINITELY SAVING THAT FOR LATER. CHANDELURE ANGRY SHARPIE BROWS LETS GOO. (Idk if you're into rottmnt, but uh that's some donnie behaviors that I definitely approve of.)

@gender-nuteral-nut-boy First of all, amazing user name. you get all the gender. second of all (points at picture) she's doing finnee! She's doing So Great. Don't Worry About It. ((She has emmet, and later the gear station, and even later maybe even elesa. But Ingo's Hers, and that's a wound that can't be easily staunched.)) @ghostlykryptonitenight Ah,, you see, your first mistake is thinking she'll Remember. : )

Head cannon: ghost pokemon are not a direct reincarnation of a dead soul, and are more like… say, the mold that grows from a coffee mug left out for too long. But they have fragments of memories and dreams of cherished ones. Chandelure knows Ingo’s alive thanks to their bond. She vaguely knows her propagator probably knew Ingo’s identical great uncle or something. But those pieces don’t really connect until Emmet’s research, and she’s tired and faded and the simple act of trying hurts.

(She would leap through space and time for ingo. Chandelure and Emmet would do anything to get their muppet back, even if it means to salt the earth and unearth gods.)

[miumura]

ᯓ VILLAIN NEVER DIES — HEESEUNG FIC ๋࣭

SYNOPSIS Heeseung was great at his job—you knew that as one of the biggest villains. So, without a doubt, he was going to have you cornered. At a weakened state, Heeseung tried to save you, rather than killing you. Why? Because he loves you.

PAIRING hero!heeseung x villain-gn!reader

𓍼 WARNINGS profanity, violence, quite graphic? ( blood /cuts / blade ; just more detailed ), both are in visible pain

GENRE a little enemies to lovers action, forbidden love, betrayal, angst, comfort (?) — WORD COUNT 1.8K+ ( 1855 )

NOTE no joke i woke up from a nap and started writing away 😅 BUT WOOOO FIRST HERO X VILLAIN FIC 🗣️ i actually had fun writing this one 🫡 !! maybe i should write more stuff like this … thinking about it !

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, taking a look at your surroundings once again. You took the wrong exit out of the building, feeling yourself panic. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Placing your hand over the fresh wound on your arm, you winced, uttering a series of curses under your breath. The footsteps drew nearer, and you found yourself trapped. "Oh, is our most dangerous and scary villain stuck?" You turned to see the city's proclaimed "best" hero, Lee Heeseung.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, but it was loud enough for Heeseung to hear, making him break into a smirk. You backed away—only to fall onto the boxes behind you, making you close your eyes due to the stinging pain.

“You’re weaker than I thought,” You hear Heeseung’s footsteps approaching you, and you flutter your eyes open, only to see him with a huge smirk while holding a blade to your throat. “This is the villain everyone in the city fears about?”

"You're quite the cocky hero, huh?" You retort, maintaining unwavering eye contact. In response, he just offers a serene smile, seemingly unruffled by the exchange.

“Not cocky, just simply telling the truth. You’re less stronger than the other villains I’ve been able to take out myself.”

Now that pissed you off. Just as you were about to grab his arm, he pushed you down again, making you wince one more time. The pain from you colliding with the wall during the chase was coming back to you again.

You glanced at him, breathing heavily after your rough collision with the boxes behind you. The unmistakable sting of glass shards embedded in your skin added to your discomfort, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain through your body. “What makes me so different from the other villains?” you demanded, locking eyes with Heeseung as he stood over you.

Seizing the moment, you grabbed onto his arm with all the strength you could muster, pulling the blade he wielded closer to your shoulder. The sharp point of the weapon had already pierced your skin, drawing a thin line of blood. You pressed his hand down harder, feeling the cold steel bite deeper. Despite your effort to provoke him, Heeseung resisted, his grip tightening as he fought to stop you.

"Stop this," Heeseung said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His eyes searched yours, looking for something beyond the rage and defiance.

“I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we?” you said, pushing the blade even deeper into your shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but you refused to drop this act. “You love me.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung snapped, his voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation.

But you could see the truth in his eyes. Despite the pain and the blood, you pressed on, your voice trembling. “Admit it, Heeseung. You can’t stand the thought of losing me.”

“Stop it,” he snarled, trying to pull the blade away, but you held firm, forcing him to face the reality he was denying. “I can easily take you out now.”

His voice was filled with frustration, but also filled with conflict. You clearly knew he was faltering, he just didn’t want to admit it as the supposed hero he was.

"Then why don't you?" you shot back, your voice steady despite the searing pain. "You already have me here, clearly at a weak point."

Heeseung's grip on the blade tightened momentarily, his knuckles white. But instead of pressing forward, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours.

"Because," he finally said, his voice low and filled with emotion, "I can't bring myself to do it. No matter how much I try, I can't see you as just a villain. You're more than that to me."

"You're weak," you taunted, though your words lacked the usual venom. You needed to understand his hesitance, to push him to reveal the truth.

"The most wanted villain is in your hands, and yet you can’t take them out because of your feelings?" You scoffed, incredulous at how he continued to play the hero. "I didn’t know you were such a softie."

"Call me a softie then," Heeseung replied, his voice steady but filled with earnestness. "Throw all the insults you want at me—just remove the blade, please. I beg of you."

You hesitated, your grip on the blade faltering. His plea caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his eyes breaking through your defenses. For a moment, the lines between hero and villain blurred, leaving just two people caught in a complex web of emotions.

"Why should I?" you challenged, trying to regain control of the situation. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because this isn't who you are," Heeseung said softly, his eyes searching for yours. "You’re not just a villain. I see the conflict in you, the struggle. You don’t want to hurt people. And deep down, I think you don’t want to hurt me."

“Yeah right,” you said with a shaky breath, you slowly released the blade, the weight of it falling from your hand. The pain in your shoulder was still there, but the intensity of the moment overshadowed it. “As if you can change me.”

Heeseung immediately tended to your wound, tearing another strip from his clothing to staunch the bleeding. His touch was tender, careful not to cause you more pain. "Thank you," he murmured, relief evident in his voice.

"You keep letting me off easy. I know you’re a better hero than this," you said, your voice edged with frustration and disbelief.

Heeseung sighed, his expression conflicted. "Maybe I’m not the hero you think I am," he admitted, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "Maybe it’s my tendency of wanting to save all kinds of people. Good or not."

You stared at him, caught off guard by his words. "What are you saying, Heeseung? That you think I can be saved?"

"I know you can be," he replied, his voice firm with conviction. "I've seen the good in you, and we both know that. You can keep lying to yourself, but we both feel something for each other.”

“Shut up,” you managed to wince as he wrapped your arm, the pain from your injury mingling with the turmoil of your emotions.

Heeseung paused for a moment, his fingers gentle but steady as he continued to bandage your wound. "Deny it all you want," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But it’s the truth. And deep down, you know it too."

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice strained. "Why not just kill me, end this once and for all?"

"Because I can’t," Heeseung said, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions.

"Then you’ll fail your mission. Your main goal," you coughed out, the effort sending a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Getting rid of me."

Heeseung’s grip tightened slightly on the bandage, his eyes hardening with resolve. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "My mission is to protect this city, to save lives. And that includes you."

You scoffed, "You can’t save everyone, Heeseung. Sometimes, you have to let go."

"I’m not letting go of you," he replied, his voice fierce. "Not now, not ever."

"Why?" you demanded, frustration and confusion mingling with the pain. "Why can’t you just do your job and get rid of me?"

"Because," Heeseung said, his voice softening, "you’re not just a mission to me. You’re someone I care about. And I refuse to believe that you’re beyond saving."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes almost too much to bear. "You’re risking everything for me," you whispered. "For what? A chance that I might change?"

"Yes," Heeseung said without hesitation. "I believe in that chance. I believe in you."

You shut your eyes, refusing to speak anymore. You knew if you continued, your facade would crumble, and you wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of a hero who claimed to have so much faith in you.

"You sure have some nerve to have faith in someone like me," you muttered bitterly, keeping your eyes closed.

"So what?" Heeseung replied, his voice unwavering. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of their past."

"A villain never dies," you retorted, your tone laced with defiance.

"What—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off before he could finish his thought. Without hesitation, you seized the blade he had discarded on the side and lunged at him, stabbing him in the side. He gasped in shock and pain, his eyes widening with betrayal as he stumbled back, clutching his wound.

For a moment, you stood frozen, watching as the reality of what you had done sank in. Heeseung’s expression was a mixture of shock, hurt, and disbelief, and each emotion felt like a dagger to your own heart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. But your apology fell on deaf ears as Heeseung staggered backwards, his eyes never leaving yours.

You knew you felt terrible, and you usually don’t.

You can’t.

Emotions were supposed to be reserved for the weak, for those who had the luxury of feeling. All you had left in you was hatred. And you knew Heeseung didn’t believe that though. He just had seen you like everyone else, a person with emotions and feelings.

But you can’t listen to him. You’ve already fallen so deep in your ways. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe in that possibility. You had fallen too deep into your ways, too far gone to be saved, even if he claimed otherwise.

"YN, why?" Heeseung's voice rang out behind you, filled with hurt and confusion.

"A villain never dies, Heeseung," you replied coldly, steeling yourself against the emotions threatening to surface. You reverted to the persona you had carefully crafted. “Did I just not tell you that?”

"Next time, get me with no intentions to keep me alive," you added, your voice devoid of any warmth or remorse.

"But—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Heeseung, you’re smarter than this," you said sharply, your tone cutting through the night air like a knife. Before you could lose your resolve, you turned away, the pain of your actions heavy in your heart.

But before you could disappear into the darkness, you paused, turning back to face him one last time. "You’ve built up this fantasy, thinking we could make things work just because I’ve opened up to you a couple of times," you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. "And even if you want to change things, no one can approve of us. I’ve done too much harm, and you have to stop me from hurting your people."

You looked at him, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "Villains and heroes are never meant to be together," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You know that very well.”

💬 : too much angst lately sorry guys ive been going thru it 😣 fluff soon !!!! (maybe)

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[evnseokz]

{ ☆ breaking the ice - p.sh }

pairing: closed off! sunghoon x f. reader

contents: somewhat reserved sunghoon (at first), lowk down bad sunghoon, jake is an extra in this, kind of typical guy saves girl party scene, smut at the end, dry humping, making out, a little fluff, mostly just sappy romance, maybe slight angst if you squint

based off this request here

a.n: tysm anon for the request!! i hope i did it justice. i focused a lot on the plot and dialogue in this one, w.c. 2.6k

MINORS DNI

sunghoon had always been the silent anchor of his friend group, the one who seemed to glide through life with an effortless coldness that both intrigued and confused those around him. He rarely piped up, preferring to observe from the background, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of nonchalance. it wasn’t that he didn't care; rather, he found solace in the quietude of his own company.

up until you entered the scene, invited by his friend jake for a casual lunch that would unknowingly disrupt his carefully maintained solitude. at first, sunghoon regarded you with mild indifference, his responses curt as you attempted to chip away at his icy exterior. but as the days stretched on, you began to see each other more often, and your laughter filled the spaces he had always left empty. something in him began to shift, tugging at the corners of his guarded heart.

——

flash forward to a couple weeks later, jake was throwing an afterparty for some event he held previously that had to do with his band. he held the party at his house, as it was big enough to withstand the amount of people he invited. sunghoon was standing, leaning against the wall of the crowded abode, his drink in his hand as he scanned the room. laughter and music mingled in the air, but his focus was solely on you. you were standing by the kitchen island, chatting animatedly, a bright smile lighting up your face. but it wasn’t just your smile that held his attention; it was also the guy next to you.

“come on, just a little more fun, right?” the guy said, his fingers brushing against your arm in a way that made sunghoon’s blood boil. sunghoon recognized this guy, everyone knew he had a reputation as a smooth talker and troublemaker. the kind of guy who toyed with people like you for fun. “maybe we should just stay here?” you replied, your tone playful but laced with uncertainty. sunghoon’s heart raced at the sight of you inching away from the kitchen. “aw, don't be like that,” the guy laughed, leaning in closer. “i promise it’ll be worth it.”

sunghoon could see you visibly stiffen, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and he couldn’t take it anymore. ‘hey!” he pushed off the wall, his legs carrying him across the room with determination. “what’s going on here?” you turned, surprise flickering in your eyes. how long had he been watching you? “sunghoon! we were just—“ “just what?” he interrupted, trying to keep his voice steady. “you were about to go... where?”

“just to the bathroom,” the guy interrupted with a smirk. “no harm done.” “yeah, well, its not a good idea,” sunghoon shot back, stepping between you and the guy. “you don't need to follow her, man. she can find it on her own.” “relax, it’s just a quick walk,” the guy said, crossing his arms, his bravado oozing. sunghoon felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “not with you. not ever,” he spewed. you looked between the two, confusion mixing with concern. “sunghoon, it’s fine. really,” you say, seemingly trying to ease his growing frustration.

“no, its not fine,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly. this is probably the most you’d ever heard him talk. “you don’t know what they say about this guy; he’s bad news y/n.” sunghoon pleads with you. the guy chuckled, but it was an empty sound. “a little jealous, huh? cute."  “call it what you want,” sunghoon said, his gaze locked on you. “but im not letting you walk away with him. not like this.” your expression shifted, realization drawing. “sunghoon, i appreciate it, but i can handle myself.”

“maybe you can, but i don't trust him.” the words spilled out, raw and desperate. “you deserve better than some guy who only sees you as a piece of meat.” a silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words. sunghoon took a breath, his heart racing. “i want to be the one who gets to know you. not him.  you’re worth more than this.” your gaze softened, and for the first time, sunghoon saw something flicker in your eyes—maybe understanding, maybe something more.

“okay,” you said softly. “let’s stay here, then.” sunghoon exhaled, relief flooding his body, but he didn’t take his eyes off the guy who was still lingering around. “and you can back off.” his gaze stern as he looked him in the eyes. the guy rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of wariness now. “fine, whatever. your loss."  he spoke childishly as he walked away. sunghoon turned to you, searching your face. “i meant what i said,” he said softly. “i know,” you replied, a hint of a smile creeping in on your face. “thank you for stepping in.”

“i just—“ he hesitated, heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. “i don't want to lose you to guys like him. i want to be the one you trust.” your expression shifted again, this time filled with something deeper. “then show me. show me you’re the one.” sunghoon nodded, feeling a spark of courage ignite within him. “i will. just give me a chance.” he took your hands in his as he spoke, his gaze softening as he looked you in the eyes.

“i never dubbed you as the jealous type,” you giggled, eyes gleaming up at sunghoon. one of his hands reached behind his neck to scratch nervously. “me neither,” he laughs with you. silence falls upon you two, awkwardness suddenly seeping in. you take a sip of your drink, and look around the room. not quite sure what to do next. sunghoon rocks on the balls of his feet, also unsure of the next move he should make. suddenly, a very tipsy jake stumbles his way over to the two of you. “hey guys! what’re you up toooo,” his words slur slightly as he speaks, placing himself in between the two of you, an arm thrown around each of your shoulders. you and sunghoon glance at each other nervously, not sure what to say. “uh, i think we’re actually about to head out!” sunghoon says quickly, pursing his lips afterwards. you nod in agreement as jake lets out a loud whine. “alreadyyyyy?!” he pouts. sunghoon laughs at his friend before pulling him off of your shoulders. he looks him in the face and grabs the red solo cup in his hand, and setting it on the counter. “i think you should call it a night too,” he says. jake shakes his head no before stumbling off again.

sunghoon pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly disappointed in his friend. “he’ll crash eventually,” you snicker. sunghoon laughs with you before reaching out and grabbing your hand in his. “so, about heading out?” he asks, and all you have to do is nod before he’s pulling you through the sea of people and out the front door. “did you drive?” he asks. you shake your head no. “i took an uber,” you reply. sunghoon nods in satisfaction. he rocks on the balls of his feet again, suddenly becoming hyperaware of the fact that you are alone together right now. “do you maybe wanna come back to mine?” he asks, his voice shaking with nerves. “i’d very much like that, yes,” you beam up at him. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding before beckoning you to follow him to his car. he opens the passenger door for you, letting you sit down before leaning across you to buckle you in. your breath hitches in your throat at the proximity, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as he stands back up. “t-thank you,” you say coyly, toying with the hem of your skirt. sunghoon nods a quick no problem before shutting the door and walking around to get in the driver's seat.

the ride to sunghoons apartment is quiet. sunghoon focused on the road in front of him while you watched the night sky out of the window. once pulled up to his place, he unbuckles and gets out of the car, headed over to the passenger side. you unbuckle your seatbelt before he even opens the door, afraid his smell in such close proximity to you will drive you wild. once the door is open, you scurry out of the car, almost tripping in the process, but luckily sunghoon was able to grab your arm, steadying you. “easy there; don't want you getting hurt,” he says, playfulness in his tone. you curse yourself for immediately blushing at his words. he closes the car door before heading into the main doors of his apartment building. you follow along closely behind him. he stopped in front of the elevator, pressing the up button. now its your turn to sway on the balls of your feet. after what feels like forever, the elevator finally dings, and you both enter. you watch sunghoon as he presses the number three button. the doors close, and here you guys are again, in awkward silence.

you stand next to each other as the elevator moves between floors, and you let your gaze fall upon the boy next to you. you had always found sunghoon attractive, but that attraction has skyrocketed since his whole hero moment at the party. the elevator dinging pulls you out of your trance, head snapping forward. sunghoon let you step out first; your heart was racing. you walked beside him as he guided you to his apartment, his casual confidence making your pulse quicken even more. “so, this is your place?” you ask, glancing around as you approached the door. “yeah, just a simple apartment,’ he replied, smiling. he opens the door and gestures for you to enter. “make yourself at home,” he beams, following in behind you.

you looked around the place in front of you, taking in the modern decor and the faint woodsy scent that lingered in the air. “it’s nice. cozy,” you breathed. sunghoon chuckled, closing the door behind him. “cozy is the goal. would you like something to drink?” he asks. “water is fine,” you smiled to him, watching as he moved around the kitchen. as he filled two glasses, you couldn’t help but admire the way he moved with ease, letting your gaze fall to the way his back muscles tensed as he moved. he turned to face you, leaning against the counter, a playful smile on his lips. “so, where should we start?” he trails off nervously. “well, what do you wanna know?” you reply. his eyes shine as he looks at you, “anything. everything.” heat rushes to your cheeks as you look at him, his desire to know more about you sending butterflies straight to your tummy. 

“well… one time i tripped and fell into a fountain during a school trip,” sunghoons laughter echoed through the room. “oh no! did you get wet?” he questioned through his chuckles. “absolutely drenched, i had to walk around the rest of the day in a soggy shirt.” he leaned closer, his eyes sparkling. “i think that’s hilarious; i wish i could’ve seen it.” you both laugh for a moment before silence falls upon you again. you look at him, “aren’t you gonna tell me one of your embarrassing moments?” a nervous chuckle leaves his lips, a sheepish grin forming on his face. “once i thought i was being smooth at a party and accidentally spilled my drink all over someone. turns out, it was the birthday girl.” your laughter floods sunghoons ears, his heart swelling at the sight of the smile on your face. “that’s definitely pretty embarrassing!” you continue to giggle, teasing him slightly.

he begins to move closer as you laugh, the air between you two shifting. “yeah, i wasn’t very popular that night,” he says, his voice softening. “but i guess i can be a little clumsy.” “maybe it’s just because you’re too busy being charming,” you say to him, meeting his gaze. he took another step towards you, his expression suddenly serious. “i don’t want to mess this up, you know?” desperation in his voice. “mess what up?” the sudden topic change is confusing you. “this,” he says, glancing at the space between you two, then back to your eyes. “us.” the weight of his words hung in the air, and you could feel a thrill run through you. “i don’t think you could mess it up.” your chest heaves as you look up at him. anticipation is coursing through your bones. “really?” he asks, stepping even closer, your breaths mingling. “what if i wanted to kiss you right now?” your pulse quickened. you contemplate for a second on what to do, but quickly come up with an answer. “then you should.”

sunghoon hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes for reassurance. then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. the kiss was tentative at first, a soft exploration that quickly turned heated. you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his hair as his fell to your waist. his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, asking for entry, which you granted. your saliva mixing as you moaned into his mouth. the two of you shuffled around the room as you kissed. finding yourself in front of his couch, he goes to sit down, and you follow, only breaking away for a split second as you straddle his lap before connecting your lips again. his hands are resting on your hips, and you lightly grind down on his lap, earning a groan from him. you bite at his bottom lip, pulling slightly before letting go, breaking the kiss, but only so you could continue to pepper kisses down his jaw and neck.

he moved his neck, giving you more access as you bit and sucked slightly on the skin. small groans left his mouth, his hands beginning to guide your body on his clothed erection. a moan fell past your lips at the sensation, your assault to his neck stopping as you focused on the pleasure you’re feeling between your legs. you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your forehead against his as he continues to grind you on his lap. small pants are coming from your mouth, as well as groans from his. he drops his head down, taking his turn to trail kisses along the exposed skin of your collarbones and chest. you roll your head back, a moan leaving your lips. one of sunghoons hands travels up to your face, bringing you back to lean against him, fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. you lean into his touch, whines leaving your lips as you chase your high. his hand falls back down to your hip, helping you in quickening your pace. the texture of his jeans hitting your clit in just the right spot to send you over the edge, your body trembles as your high washes over you, head thrown back as sunghoon helps you ride it out. his own orgasm followed shortly after.

both of you are a panting mess, and sunghoon can’t help but hold you tight against him, hugging you gently. you tighten your arms around him, enjoying the comfort of the boy in front of you. you pull away for a moment to look eachother in the eyes. a smile forms on both of your lips as you chuckle breathlessly. sunghoon is the first to speak. “that was. wow” you giggle at his words, fingertips fiddling with the hairs at the base of his neck. “i think we need to do that again sometime, maybe with less clothes,” you joke. sunghoon is smiling from ear to ear, thinking about how lucky he is to have you here right now. “maybe so. but how about a proper date first?” he says. and you nod eagerly.

“i’d like that.”

.

..

…

[rafecameronssl4t]

can u do dcc!reader x Rafe where they’re both at like an event, obvs reader w the other cheerleaders and Rafe with his other teammates and he sees when a man touches your waist even tho they aren’t allowed to bc of the no touching rule and the security guard doesn’t notice until you tell him to get his hands off of you. maybe the guy even goes up to Rafe to ask for a photo but he’s rude to him bc he was touching her girl

Hands off || nfl player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

A/n: so creative anon! thank you :)

Warnings: unwanted touching from stranger, lil bit of angst at end if you squint

Word count: 1,973

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The "no touch" policy was quite simple: fans were not allowed to touch the cheerleaders. Footballs were brought to every stand and pose event. This gave fans something to hold during photos, making the interaction less awkward and minimising any potential for psychical contact.

Not everyone knew the rule, though, and some would instinctively try to put their arms around the cheerleaders for a photo. Thankfully, security was always on hand, watching and ready to step in, instructing fans to keep their distance.

Over the three years you've been a dcc, you’ve never had a bad experience with this policy. It’s become second nature, and you trust the system. So when you and a few of the other girls arrive at the event, where fans will be meeting you and taking photos, you think little of it.

The familiar buzz of excitement fills the room, and as you scan the crowd, your eyes land on Rafe. He’s on the other side of the room, already engaged in conversation with a fan. A small smile tugs at your lips as you take in his casual outfit: a pair of well-worn jeans, a black shirt that fits him just right, and a green baseball hat.

Before you can admire him any longer, Kelcey pulls you along to start taking photos. The first few interactions go smoothly, with fans smiling as they pose beside you, football in hand. Of course, there are always a few who try to get a little too close, but security is quick to intervene, keeping everything under control.

As you smile for the camera, you’re completely unaware of Rafe’s gaze locked on you from across the room. His eyes trail over your figure, captivated by your appearance. Your radiant smile, the way you carry yourself—everything about you seems to draw him in. He watches intently, his attention fixed solely on you, as if nothing else in the room matters.

“Watcha lookin’ at?” Chris asks, nudging Rafe’s shoulder with a playful grin. He follows Rafe’s line of sight, his curiosity piqued. It doesn’t take long for Chris to figure out what—or rather, who—has captured Rafe’s attention. A knowing smirk spreads across his face as he spots you across the room. “Coach’s daughter, huh?” he chuckles, turning back to Rafe, who still hasn’t torn his eyes away from you.

Chris can’t resist teasing him a bit more. “Heard from a few fans ‘round here that she’s their favourite,” he comments, watching Rafe’s expression carefully. Rafe scoffs, but the amusement is clear in his eyes. “Too bad. It’s not like it’s my name she’s—” “Woah there, bud. Too much info. Jesus,” Chris interrupts with a laugh, shaking his head as he holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t need to hear all that.”

As Chris walks back to the others, still chuckling to himself, Rafe remains rooted to the spot, his gaze never straying from you. The smirk on his lips only deepens as he watches you, the teasing from Chris barely registering in his mind.

His thoughts are entirely occupied by you—your smile, the way you move, the effortless way you light up the room. Even from across the room, it’s clear that you have a magnetic pull on him, one that he has no desire to resist.

Rafe’s gaze narrows as he notices a man approach you and the other cheerleaders. Even from a distance, it’s clear that this guy’s attention is solely on you. The way he barely acknowledges the others, his focus only really locking on you when it’s his turn for a photo, makes it obvious to anyone paying attention—this man has a particular interest in you.

Rafe watches intently, a sense of unease creeping in as the man lingers around you. Something about him doesn’t sit right. The usual football, meant to occupy fans' hands and prevent unwanted contact, has somehow gone missing, and security is scrambling to find a replacement. In that brief moment of chaos, the man sees his opportunity.

Rafe’s muscles tense as he watches the man discreetly slide his hand around your back. His fingers hover just above your exposed skin, as if hesitating, before finally making contact with your waist and smoothly resting on your hip. It’s a subtle move, but to Rafe, it’s glaringly inappropriate.

His jaw clenches tightly, frustration bubbling up as he realises the sea of fans between you and him would make it impossible to reach you in time. He feels a surge of protectiveness and helplessness all at once.

But then, he notices your reaction. You don’t hesitate—your hand quickly grabs his, pulling it firmly away from your body. Your expression is unreadable from where Rafe stands, but he can see that you’re saying something to the man, your words lost in the noise of the crowd. Fortunately, before the situation escalates further, the security guard steps in. His large frame moves between you and the man, effectively blocking any further contact.

Rafe exhales, tension still coiled in his muscles, but relieved that you handled the situation with the confidence and poise he’s come to admire in you. Even from across the room, he can see that you’re okay, but that doesn’t stop the protective instinct from simmering just beneath the surface.

~

The moment you make eye contact with the fan, a strange vibe settles over you. There’s something off about the way he looks at you, his gaze intense and fixated. Still, you smile at him, greeting him politely even as he barely acknowledges the other girls.

His focus is entirely on you, and you can feel the discomfort creeping in. A quick glance at Kelcey and Reece confirms they feel it too, their eyes mirroring your unease. "Hi, how are you?" you ask, maintaining your practiced smile as the man approaches. You guide him to the center, between you and Kelcey, trying to keep things professional.

"I'm so great," he replies, grinning at you in a way that makes your skin crawl. You nod, forcing a smile, though the unease gnaws at you. "You're even more gorgeous up close," he comments, his voice laced with something that makes you nervously chuckle.

"Thank you..." you reply, your voice trailing off as you notice the security guards in conversation. Concern flickers in your eyes, and you glance at Kelcey for confirmation. "They lost the football," she whispers, and you nod in understanding, trying to keep your composure.

"Did the other guy maybe take it with him—" Before you can finish your sentence, you feel it—a hand sliding onto your waist, then resting on your hip bone. Your body tenses, and without hesitation, you step away, firmly pulling his hand off of you.

"Please do not touch me," you say, your voice steady and commanding. The firmness of your tone catches the attention of everyone around you. The man’s bravado crumbles in an instant, replaced by nervousness as all eyes turn on him. "I didn’t mean to—sorry," he stammers, but the lie is obvious, his excuse flimsy.

You narrow your eyes slightly, your patience wearing thin. "You didn’t mean to feel up my waist and hip?" you challenge, your voice tinged with defensiveness. Before the situation can escalate further, a security guard steps in, his imposing presence effectively cutting off the interaction.

"Okay, that’s enough," the guard says firmly, positioning himself between you and the man. "Sir, were you aware that there is a strictly no-touching rule when it comes to taking pictures with the cheerleaders?" The man gulps, his earlier confidence evaporating. "No—no, I had no idea—"

The guard raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You’re telling me you haven’t seen the signs that are everywhere informing you about this?" His tone leaves no room for argument. "Move along, please," the guard instructs, gesturing with a dismissive wave of his hand. As the man sheepishly slinks away, the guard turns to you, his voice softening. "Miss, are you okay?"

You nod, your pulse still racing but your composure intact. "I’m fine, thank you," you reply, your voice steady. Kelcey and Reece quickly move to your side, their concern evident as they guide you away from the scene.

"Let’s get to the changing rooms," Kelcey murmurs, her arm around your shoulder as the next group of cheerleaders takes over. You allow yourself to be led away, grateful for the support, but also determined not to let the incident shake you.

~

Rafe watches intently as you disappear from view with the other girls, a tightness in his chest gradually loosening as you’re led safely away. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, turning back to face the next round of fans lining up for pictures. His mind is still half on you, replaying the scene over in his head, but he forces himself to focus on the task at hand.

A few more fans pass by, offering handshakes and snapping photos, but then something catches Rafe’s eye—a familiar face in the crowd. It’s him. The same guy who had touched you earlier. Rafe’s entire body stiffens, his muscles tensing as a wave of anger surges through him.

His glare sharpens, eyes narrowing on the man who seems completely oblivious to the fury directed his way. The guy casually makes his way down the line of players, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, utterly unaware of the storm brewing in Rafe’s eyes.

When the man finally reaches Rafe, he extends his hand with the same nonchalant attitude, expecting another casual greeting. But Rafe has no intention of letting this slide. He grasps the man’s hand in a firm, vice-like grip, squeezing just hard enough to send a clear message.

The man’s expression shifts from easygoing to startled as he looks up at Rafe, his brows furrowing in confusion. Rafe meets his gaze head-on, his eyes cold and unyielding. There’s no need for words; the intensity of Rafe’s stare says it all. The man fidgets slightly, trying to mask his discomfort, but it’s clear he’s rattled by the unexpected show of strength and the silent warning in Rafe’s eyes.

The handshake lingers a beat too long, the tension thick in the air, before the man awkwardly pulls his hand back, mumbling something under his breath as he moves on to the next player. Rafe watches him go, his jaw still clenched. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, but the anger simmering beneath the surface remains.

When it came time for the group photo, Rafe made sure his smile was practiced, not genuine, his eyes cold as the man stood at the center of the group. The man's audacity to remain at the event after what he had done gnawed at Rafe, his mind replaying the earlier scene with a growing sense of disbelief and anger.

As soon as the photo was taken and the man left, Rafe rolled his eyes and shook his head, barely able to contain his frustration. "I need to take five. Gotta hit the bathroom," Rafe said to the event coordinator, his tone controlled but urgent. "Yeah, sure, go ahead," she replied, barely glancing up as she continued to redirect the flow of fans.

Without wasting another second, Rafe made his way to the girls' changing room, his heart pounding with concern. He knocked in a familiar rhythmic pattern, the signal you both had used before to let each other know it was safe to open up.

You opened the door, and before you could say a word, Rafe swept you off your feet, pulling you into a tight embrace. The door clicked shut behind him as he nudged it closed with his foot, his arms wrapping around you protectively. The tension you’d been holding onto melted away the moment you felt his warmth, your own arms sliding around his waist.

"I saw what happened," he murmured against your hair, his voice soft but filled with concern. "You okay?" You let out a shaky breath, your face buried in his chest as you absorbed the comfort he offered. "Not really," you admitted quietly, the vulnerability in your voice evident. "But I'll be fine."

Rafe’s arms tightened around you, his grip steady and reassuring. He didn’t say anything, just held you close, letting the silence speak for the care he felt. He knew you were strong, that you could handle yourself, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to shield you from every bad moment, every unsettling experience. He couldn’t change what had happened, but he could be there for you now, and that was enough.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding onto each other as the world outside faded into the background. Rafe’s presence was a balm to your frayed nerves, grounding you in a way that made the fear and unease dissipate, if only for a little while.

Finally, Rafe leaned back just enough to look at you, his hand gently cupping your face. "If you need anything, you tell me, alright? You don’t have to go through this alone." You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you, Rafe. I’m glad you’re here."

His gaze softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. "Always," he whispered, the promise clear in his voice.

[imliterallyf7ckin9crazy]

may i request a gi-hun x fem reader running into him after he wins the games? reader happens to be on the street they toss him onto (she’s prob getting a late night snack) she sees him and rushes to help him and invites him back to her place to wash up. maybe she could draw him a warm bath so she can wash the knots out of his hair, lends him some comfy clothes and makes him some tea uwu

(i was rewatching season 1 and i just want to tuck that man into a warm comfy bed after all the trauma)

tysm ^^ 🤍

FUCKING FIREEEEEEEEE

“𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩”

Gi-hun x f!reader

Warnings: established friend(?)ship, angst with comfort, gi-huh tells reader abt the games, f!reader, gi-hun is going through shit.

A/N: fire request. I also recently rewatched season one and my heart longs for fluffy hair gi-hun back. My shaylaa <\3 this is 4 u fine shyt.

———-

You never guessed this is where your life would have lead you. Alone in a shitty apartment. When you were younger you thought you’d be a doctor or teacher- a lawyer at least. Now you had little money and even fewer friends. The only friend you had really made was long missing. And oh did you miss him.

He was a very sweet man, he always came by the food vender with his daughter. You knew he was also poor, sometimes he wouldn’t have enough money to pay for their dinners. And you’d always cover the rest, telling him it was no huge deal. You could tell him and his daughter were thankful. He would come by without his child too sometimes. He would order something small and cheap… then chat with you the rest of the time. Telling you about all the money he won!!!… then the next day he’d tell you how he had just lost it all the same way he got it- gambling

Though it wasn’t your place, you’d tell him to relax on the gambling. He’d tell you he isn’t in too deep and can stop whenever. You hear it all the time from countless people who decide to share their life’s stories with you. But it didn’t make you see him any less, if anything it showed you why you SHOULD care. Why you should look out for those less fortunate because you never know who might need it.

After so many times of him coming in you guys shifted to a first name basis. You greet him with a smile and a “hello, gi-hun! Welcome back.” Or a “hey, it’s been a while since you’ve stopped by, gi-hun” he became a core part of your shift, you’d see him at least three times a week. And he always had some crazy story to tell you while you worked. You listened to him talk about life. His debt, his destructive habits, what happened to his family. You’d give him real advice and listen to him if he needed. Sometimes you’d even share parts of your fucked up life. How you got to where you were.

But it wasn’t always problems he came to you with

Every one in a while he would win big and come in to tell you about it. Leaving a heavy tip with a joyous smile “keep the change” he’d say as you laugh at him. You’d always get a good laugh in whenever he’s around. If not at his jokes then at his goofy situations he’d get himself in. Over all, you had felt you made a friend. You even got his number so you could reach out when needed

Only he’s been gone for a while. He stopped popping in to say hi and buy a snack, he stopped running by to tell you what he’s won and he stopped flying into your shop asking to be hidden in the back to hide from his loaners. He was just gone. And day by day you figured he either got caught up by the people he was running from or he some how moved far away. And it saddened you, you never realized how lonely you were till now. Up to this point you’ve had someone to occupy your thoughts and time, and now that it’s been gone you struggle to see how you made it without those stupid conversations over street food. And you had no clue where your gi-hun went.

You let out a very long and somber sigh, pulling yourself off your dingy discount couch and shuffle to your room before pulling on a sweater and some sweat pants. You checked yourself over once in the bathroom mirror before lazily walking out of your apartment, locking the door. You then descended down the elevator and onto the Main Street. You had a few extra dollars to spare and a rumbling stomach, so you decided to head down to your local convenience store to pick out some food.

The night air was chilly and the stars that hung in the sky were drowned out by the light pollution of the city lights. You clench your hands into fists and jam them into your pockets to protect them from the freezing cold. You picked up the pace and continued to walk, ignoring people and minding your own business the best you could. You turned down this one back street, dangerous at night but a much quicker way to your destination. That was until you were stopped dead in your tracks, mouth agape.

There he was, gi-hun! Your gi-hun!! Stood at the corner of two streets, looking very lost and confused. You could distinguish that messy hair from any distance. Your hunger was forgotten as quickly as it came, and you couldn’t stop yourself from calling out to him. “G-gi-hun?!” You yelled, waving your hands at him. His head snapped harshly in your direction, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. It seemed like he aged 20 years, he looked incredibly roughed up and exhausted. Seemed like he was barely upright, and he carried large bags with him.

It took a moment of him staring at you until it clicked. It looked like he had forgotten you for a second before it all came rushing back. You didn’t get a smile back though, and you dropped your waving hand. Your smile began to fade as you approached him, only he flinched away and took a small step back. “Gi-hun? It’s me, remember? I work down at that corner noodle stand?” You say, gesturing to the general area of your store. He nodded a bit before relaxing, looking around a bit.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask, worry laced in your voice as you close more of the distance. He just looked at you as you inched closer and closer, this look of pain seemingly permanently etched into his face. He looked like he wanted to say a million things but couldn’t find the words. And most of all he looked like he had just crawled through the deepest pits of hell. “Do you need to sit, oh god. Come with me” you say as you lightly reach your hand out to him, beckoning him to follow. He looks at your hand distrustfully, skeptical for a reason unknown to you. “Cmon, I can help you.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding before turning to follow you silently. You were glad for that, you had no clue what the hell happened to him but it was clearly something. And he clearly needed help. Your snack venture was long forgotten as you lead him back to your place, trying to get any information out of him. You asked where he went, what happened, why he was gone for so long, how he got back… every time he tried to say he would tear up, and he’d choke the words back down. Telling you he can’t tell you yet, and even if he could he doesn’t know how.

And that was ok with you. You eventually got back, and you guided him to your couch. He analyzed basically your whole house, eyes scanning back and forth and back and forth, looking for danger. Like something could reach out from the walls and get him. You got him a glass of water which he thanked you for but didn’t drink, instead he just stared into the reflection in the water. Lost in thought. You tapped his shoulder, pulling him out of the reeling memories he can’t express.

“Hey, it’s ok. Look, do you want to take a shower or something? No offense but you look like you need one” you say, half trying to help and half trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t really work though, his lips barely twitched. He would have found that funny a few months ago. He did agree though.

The shower wasn’t long at all, maybe 10 ish minutes. You had set him up with some of the over sized things you have, including a hoodie he had bought you months ago after a winning particularly handsome prize. His gazed softened when he saw those laid out for him. He put the clothes on, happy to finally be in something clean, soft, and comfortable clothes. After taking a long, sad look at himself in the mirror he walks out to you waiting for him on the couch with a brush and some tea. “Come here” you call.

At this point in the night he’s so exhausted and shell shocked he was barely awake. The weight of whatever he experienced weighted down heavily on him and you could see it draining the life from him. He hadn’t even smiled yet, the thing you found you missed the most. He sits down next to you. You slide the cup of hot tea to him across the table with the brush in your other hand. He looks at it suspiciously before you reach your hand holding the brush up, flinching a bit before returning to normal. That’s when you noticed the slight bruising across his face.

“It’s ok if you can’t talk about it yet… I was just so worried about you” you start “I missed you coming to say hi at work” you added, chucking slightly as you moved to brush out his wet hair, careful to not rip it out. “I’m sorry” gi-hun says, voice wavering as tears prick his eyes. “I’m sorry”

Your eyes widen a bit as you rub his shoulder lightly “no no gi-hun, it’s ok. You did nothing wrong”

Though you were trying to comfort him your words of reassurance only fueled the tears to fall. You didn’t comment on them, instead you kept rubbing his shoulders, brushing his hair till it was dry, and listened to him softly cry. Cry over everything that happened, that he had to do, and that he has to do going forward. So much had happened and he’s the only one alive to tell the tale. The only one out of all those people to live. The only one…

Eventually, after much comforting, after many “shhh I know”s and “it’s ok I believe you”s gi-hun was finally able to sleep for the first time outside of the games. Games that no one knew of. But you told him that you believed every word of his story. And you did, saying you’d help him find who he was after, but only when he went to bed. That man slept in your arms, on your couch for HOURS. From the story he told you this was probably the first safe nights sleep in days, and you could tell he needed it.

And you needed him. And now he’s back. Talking about mysterious death games and a sales man with a briefcase, but back none the less. And you were grateful for that.

[theprenderelliepalace]

Invisible

Harry Potter x Reader

Summary: You're somebody Harry's never noticed before, between dragons and dark magic and Quidditch, he simply hasn't had the teenage brain power. But, when you move to number 6 Privet Drive during your 6th year summer, Harry has little choice but to notice you...

Warnings: no use of y/n, gryffindoor!reader, (Harry might be a little ooc, I'll let you decide), trauma, angst, anxiety, some actual plot, fluff, hurt/comfort, slight smut if you squint, guess the timeline this is set in you're probably right... lmk if i missed anything

Words: 1.8k

^~^~^

It was an accident really. A complete mishap in the universe, a cruel joke that made you the unavoidable punchline.

Your parents had split in December, you'd spent your January in tears, and Febuary through to your final OWL in a numb sort of trance. You'd seen Harry Potter around, watched him struggle through the mockery, the disbelieving whispers that roamed the castle halls and the danger that found him at the Ministry before the end of term. But not once had he noticed you.

Why should he? You were invisible. It didn't matter that the Sorting Hat had made Gryffindoor your home five years previously or that you had a massive crush on the Chosen One since First Year, you'd never felt like you deserved to be there anyways or have his attention.

That's why you felt your stomach drop the moment your eyes met his. You couldn't explain why, but for a moment it felt like he recognized you, until you darted behind the old bridge you'd been loitering around. Your heart was in your throat as you bashed through overgrown shrubbery. Twigs smacked against your skin, stinging your cheeks and snagging your hair. You panted against the cool evening air, trying to draw breath that wouldn't come.

You came back up the street, your house almost in view, the shining silver 6 looming over Privet Drive as you raced towards it. You were almost up the hill, hand practically reaching out for your front door, when your felt your door snag against a loose piece of gravel. Your heart lurched as you flew forwards, landing against the tarmac with a hideous, scraping thud.

You groaned as you rolled over, the cloudless sky blinking at you brightly, laughing at you. Your forearms seared with stinging pain. "Woah, wait!" A voice called from over the hill.

You blinked, "Uh, Hey?" You coughed out. Your vision was suddenly clouded with a figure. A halo of messy hair blotting out the nearby streetlight.

"Are you okay?" The voice asked.

You could look at him now, those silly round glasses falling charmingly down his nose, his mop of black hair tumbling into his eyes, those brilliant emeralds gleaming down at you with such fierce concern. Your stomach coiled for a very different reason as your eyes met again. You blushed as he offered you his hand, scolding yourself as you got shakily to your feet.

"That was a pretty epic knockout." Harry Potter teased, genuine concern bubbling behind his glasses.

"Yeah." You grumbled, finding your shoes suddenly very interesting.

"Uh, I hate to ask, but, you didn't run because of me I hope."

"What?" Your head snapped up to meet his startled gaze. "No! I-"

He laughed, the obvious tension in his shoulders falling away. "Are you sure? You kind of spooked the second you saw me-"

"Well yeah! But it's not what you think..." You said, your face flushing so bright you thought it might surpass the streetlight.

"What do I think?" He asked, a brow raising into his hairline. You noticed the subtle quirk to his lips and the glint in his eye and suddenly you were laughing.

"Sorry, that was pretty stupid, huh?" You chuckled.

"The falling and hurting yourself part maybe, the running away, surprisingly, I get." He chuckled with you.

"No! I recognized you, and obviously you're, well you, and you go to Hogwarts and I was spooked when I thought you'd recognized me! I just, I dunno, I ran." You mumbled into the pavement beneath you. Tugging at your shredded sleeves.

"I noticed." He smiled warmly at you. Suddenly he frowned. "Listen, let me help you get that cleaned up." Harry said, glancing at your arms. "I'd feel worse if you said no." He smiled again, hopeful.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, urging you to run the last few steps up your porch and into the safety of your unfurnished home. Then you looked into his puppy dog eyes and you cracked. "I have some muggle first aid in my kitchen. Mum's at the old house packing up." You looked at him through your eyelashes, a bashful suggestion you hoped didn't sound too forward. And then you realized. "No! I didn't mean like that, Merlin, I'm so sorry."

He laughed, a youthful, boyish laugh that left you feeling weak in the knees. "I know, I know. C'mon, let's get you patched up."

The two of you walked up the steps to your new house, it was cold and vacent in the entrance hall, a narrow, bleak, little space that made you feel like you were walking into a dungeon. "Sorry, jus' moved in. Nothing special about it yet." You said humbly. You turned down the corridor into the little kitchenette. "Not sure where I put the first aid kit, uh-" you spun in a small circle, starting to panic as you realized you weren't sure where anything was really. It was all so sudden, so new, it was alarmingingly overwhelming and then...

"Here. This it?" Harry asked, a comforting air to him.

You sighed in relief. "That's the one." You leant against the counter, the lamplight casting weary shadows over your face. Harry unzipped the small case, deftly choosing the wound cleaning solution and the right amount of gauze. "You do this often?" You ask, curious, but also slightly alarmed at his confidence.

"Hah, well, often enough to let you know you're in good hands. Not that I mean, you know." He quickly corrected.

"No." You giggled. "I've got my own hands to worry about I guess." He came over to you, pouring the rubbing alcohol against the gauze.

"Sorry. Might sting a bit." He gently turned your forearm over in his hand. It was so much larger than your scraped up little palms, the thought made you scold yourself again. This was the Harry Potter, in your kitchen, cleaning your stupid wounds because of your stupid deer-in-headlights freakout. Then again, things had been worse.

"It's okay." You gave him a small smile of reassurance. He touched the alcohol to your torn skin as gingerly as he could, you noticed his eyes flickering up to your face every now and then to catch any sign of serious pain. You hissed as he reached one of the deeper cuts.

"S'rry." He grumbled, focused on the pressure he put onto the cut. With your free hand, you allowed your fingers to gently grip his wrist, he stopped, his gaze finding yours.

"It's okay." You breathed, in awe of the boy in front of you. You knew he was handsome but, Merlin. You gulped, your tongue suddenly feeling too big for your mouth.

He was staring at you, something clouded behind his eyes, like he was searching for all these words he wanted to say, instead he said, "Why'd you run, really?" He chastised, knowing you hadn't been totally honest before.

"You looked at me like you're looking at me now and it made me wonder..." He was so close to your lips, your breaths mingled in the cool summer night.

"Wonder?" He urged you to go on.

"Well, it's not possible right? I mean, Harry Potter has better things to do than know I exist." You poked fun at yourself, you didn't know why but he made you feel like you could joke about those kind of things. It felt so refreshing.

"You'd be surprised at what I know and don't know." His eyes never moved from your lips. It felt so easy.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "I ran because you make me nervous." So sensational.

"Why?"

"You know why." You felt so alive.

Just then his lips touched yours, uncertain at first, searching, questioning and then your hands found their way into his mussed up hair and he was yours. His body lit up like a Christmas tree at your touch, his lips on yours, electric. Harry let his hands wrap around your waist, the first aid lost to the depths of the kitchen floor. He pulled you into him, his touch so tender yet so passionate.

This was not a boy that didn't know you existed, this was a boy that imagined this moment a thousand times more than you had and he was alarmingly good at showing you as much. His eyelashes fluttered against your cheek as he deepend your kiss, his hands running up your side sending shivers across your body.

"Harry-" You whispered between breaths.

"You've no idea how long I've thought..." He smiled at you, composing himself. "How's that for knowing I exist?" You laughed.

"Wait you? But you've never even said one word to me!" You gafawed.

"Couldn't if I tried. You're always running away. Thought you hated me."

"I was terrified I'd make a fool of myself trying to put two sentences together!" You were back to laughing.

He smirked at you, that glint you couldn't explain in his eye again. "You did pretty well just now. No sentences required."

You scoffed, "Yeah, well you taught me a valuable lesson Harry Potter." You pulled him close to you again, your smiles twice as wide as each others.

"What's that? Don't run in the dark?" You shook your head at him.

"No. That I wasn't quite as invisible as I thought. And I'm glad, or tonight never would've happened."

Harry chuckled, leaning down to kiss you slowly, ages of pent up passion pooling into one lonely little kitchenette.

You realized, suddenly, even though your family was in pieces, a piece of yourself had been unearthed again today. The emotions you had burried for someone you never thought would see you were soaring to the surface. But the funny thing was, he had always seen you, even when you hadn't seen yourself.

You weren't in number 6 Privet Drive kissing Harry Potter because the universe hated you, you were finding the pieces of yourself you'd lost to your own doubt.

Suddenly there was a commotion so loud it startled you out of your makeout reverie. "HARRY POTTER!" Came the rumbling holler from down the street.

"Oh Godric, who on earth-" You didn't even have time to finish your question before Harry was racing to the front door looking white as a sheet.

"Uncle.Curfew.Sorry.Uh," He paused rushing back to you, he gripped your cheeks in both his palms, pressing his lips to yours in a somewhat humerous goodbye.

"What was that for?" You asked, laughing as he dashed to the door again, you close at his heels.

"Uh, just being neighborly." He grinned.

"Oh, well in that case, don't be a stranger." You took a moment to take him in, his boyish grin, his whole being brimming with the energy of trouble. He was perfect.

"You had me at 'Hey'." He winked. Probably to embarrass you, at which he was succeeding. "I'm not going anywhere for long." With that, he was gone. You watched his retreating figure down the street and into that house of horrors they called number 4.

You closed the door, leaning your weight against it. "What an idiot." You grinned.

^~^~^

Let's pretend Sirius is alive and well. It is my most sacred wish.

Also, should this have been smut? I dunno. I'm a fluffy kind 'o gal, but I guess let me know?

Masterlist

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part two to this story

After Jason's cruel display and your identity of Eddie's admirer being public knowledge, you're sure he will be disgusted. He hates you and your friends doesn't he?

Turns out you're in for a big surprise.

Minors shoo! Angst, fluff, sweet Eddie and reader taking no shit.

If you have any requests then send me an ask. My request rules are in my pinned post ❤️

🎀💌

Hellfire Slut. The words had practically burned into your brain as you tossed and turned in bed. Jason's cruelty was nothing new but you didn't think he'd ever go this far.

It was bad enough that Eddie's best friend had caught you in the act of delivering the notes and the thought he could spill all to Eddie, you didn't expect your secret to come out in such a public way.

The notes that you had poured your heart to Eddie had been clear to see by everyone and you felt sick to your stomach. You didn't care that people knew you were smitten with Eddie, it was the fact that he was probably disgusted that you had feelings for him.

You dreaded going to school but you knew you had to face Eddie and Jason at some point. It didn't stop nightmares plaguing your mind all night about what would happen come first period.

...

Homeroom was the first thing today before any other classes, you try not to draw attention to yourself as you slide into a seat at the back of class. However it feels like all eyes are on you today, Chrissy takes the seat beside you and holds your hand giving it a tight squeeze, it makes you feel a tiny bit better.

Mrs Jones isn't in class yet so chatter buzzes around you incessantly, your skin tingles as you feel Eddie's gaze on you a few times, try not to look up into those pretty brown eyes.

One of Jason's friends called Tyler smirks at you, he's sitting beside Jason and says loudly for all to hear. "So little miss perfect likes a freak in the sheets huh? Who would have thought?" there's a little ripple of laughter that's quelled by Chrissy's vicious glare. She's normally a sweetie so seeing her pissed shut everyone up.

Ignore him. Just ignore him you chant in your head but he still continues. "You know I was going to ask you out but fuck that. You're a dumb little bitch"

There's a collective silence as you hear Eddie's metal lunchbox drop to the floor. To your surprise he's glaring daggers at Tyler, you also notice that his knuckles are bruised. What the hell happened?

"Oooh you're in luck sweetcheeks, maybe Munson likes you back and the two of you can be freaks together"

You're fraying control over being calm snaps. Screw this. You weren't going to sit and let him run his mouth or let anyone like him or Jason make you cry again.

"You can admit to everyone you're jealous Tyler it's okay. We all heard about the little problem you have, Stacy told us all about how disappointing you are" you fake a sympathetic smile at him and his eyes nearly bug out of his sockets.

Jason looks ready to say something but you don't give the satisfaction of listening to the bullshit he says. "I couldn't be less interested in what you have to say Carver, you're a pathetic, nasty little worm"

While sassing Jason you miss the look of awe on Eddie's face. Gareth snorts at Eddie's stunned look.

"Dude, I really do think I'm in love" Eddie murmurs sounding almost reverent. Gareth sighs. Maybe now Eddie knew it was you that sent the notes the two of you could get together and he could get a minute of peace.

Meanwhile you lean back in your seat relieved as Mrs Jones comes in. There's still a question that's nagging at you though.

"Chrissy, why are Eddie's knuckles bruised?"and that's when Chrissy launches into the tale of how Eddie punched Jason after you left yesterday.

Hearing this makes a small bubble of hope build up inside of you. Maybe just maybe Eddie feeling the same for you might not be as hopeless as you first thought.

...

After a few fruitless attempts Eddie manages to track you down as you're coming out of cheer practice with Chrissy. She gives you an impish, knowing smile as she leaves you and Eddie to talk.

Telling Jason and Tyler what you thought about them made you feel a little bit better for a while, boosted your shattered confidence but now Eddie was around and you could feel that confidence crack.

What was he about to say? Was he going to tell you he was disgusted?

"You don't have to be nervous princess" you feel your nerves dissipate at his soothing tone.

"I know you thought the notes were a joke but they aren't Eddie, I've really fallen for you. I was crushing on you for such a long time. That's why I wrote the notes in the first place, I was worried if I told you in person that you would be disappointed" the words all come out in a rush and you feel relieved getting it all out.

He shakes his head. "I mean I would have been surprised but the way you spoke in the notes...how could you ever think I'd ever be disappointed sweetheart?" His words fill you with hope, a warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest.

"You know because I'm from the dark side" you murmur and he frowns. His hand reaches out to hold yours and you wince at the bruising on his knuckles.

"You didn't need to do that Eddie, I don't want you hurt" he shrugs as if it's no big deal.

"It was worth it. You're worth it"

Eddie gently takes your hand and kisses it, "I fell in love with you through what you said sweetheart, I want to know all about you. I don't give a fuck about who you're friends with or if you're part of the dark side. I just want to be with you".

A slow smile works it's way on your face and you lean forward and kiss him, continue kissing him until you're both a little dazed and smiling goofily at each other.

"Uh maybe we could go out for Milkshakes after school, if you want princess?" you nod feeling the bubble of excitement in your belly.

After all that worrying you were going on your first date with Eddie and you couldn't wait.

Maybe happy endings were possible after all ❤️

[kinzhae]

"I liked you back then." "I liked you too."

Kind of HC?, gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader, toji x reader, choso x reader, slightly angst(?), Highschool au!

Meeting with them after a long time you express your feelings out of nowhere.

Gojo Satoru

At a school reunion, Gojo is just as loud and charismatic as always, surrounded by laughter and old classmates. You watch him from a distance until he catches your eye and strolls over, that signature grin on his face.

“You know,” you say, feeling oddly brave, “I liked you in high school.”

His grin wavers for the briefest second, but he recovers quickly.

“You’re kidding,” he chuckles, though there’s a nervous edge to his laugh. “I liked you too.”

The room feels a little quieter, his words sinking between you like a weight. He adjusts his sunglasses, his usual confidence cracking.

“But you’re too late, huh?” he says softly, his tone bittersweet. “We were just kids back then. I wouldn’t have deserved you anyway.”

Geto Suguru

You meet by chance at a bookstore, the smell of old pages making you nostalgic. His long hair is tied back now, and he looks older, more tired but still achingly familiar.

“I had feelings for you,” you admit suddenly, unable to stop yourself. “Back in high school. Did you know?”

He sets the book he’s holding down slowly, turning to face you.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I knew.”

You blink, startled. He looks down, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

“I liked you too. More than I should’ve. But I was already dealing with too much back then. I couldn’t drag you into it.”

His words sting, but there’s also a deep sadness in his voice, like he’s still carrying that regret.

Nanami Kento

You meet at a mutual friend’s wedding. Nanami looks as polished and composed as ever, but there’s a softness in his eyes when he sees you. During the slow dance, you find yourselves reminiscing.

“You know,” you say, your voice trembling slightly, “you were the first person I ever really liked.”

He stops in his tracks, looking at you with an intensity that makes your heart ache.

“I liked you too,” he admits, his voice low but steady.

You stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask.

He sighs, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Because I was too focused on my future,” he says bitterly. “On trying to be the perfect student, the perfect man. I thought I had all the time in the world.”

He meets your eyes again, the regret evident in his expression.

“I didn’t realize how much I’d lose by waiting.”

Toji Fushiguro

You spot him at a small bar in your hometown, his leather jacket slung over the back of his chair. He notices you too, and for a moment, it’s like you’re both teenagers again. You approach, and the conversation drifts to the past.

“You know,” you say quietly, tracing the rim of your glass, “I liked you back then. You probably didn’t notice.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, his voice rougher than you remember.

“Didn’t notice?” he repeats, shaking his head. “You kidding me? Of course I noticed. I liked you too.”

His confession catches you off guard, but there’s a bitterness in his tone.

“But look at me,” he says, gesturing to himself. “Even now, I’m not what you deserve. I wouldn’t have been good for you back then, and I’m sure as hell not good for you now.”

Choso

You’re cleaning out your old high school desk, buried deep in your parents’ attic, when you find a folded piece of paper. It’s a sketch of you, one you recognize instantly as Choso’s work. The memory stays with you until you run into him by chance in the city weeks later.

“You used to draw me,” you say, holding the old sketch out to him. “Why?”

His cheeks flush, but his expression remains serious.

“Because I liked you,” he says simply, his voice quiet. “I didn’t know how else to say it.”

You feel a pang in your chest, regret washing over you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper.

He shrugs, his hands tightening into fists.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “I didn’t think you’d feel the same. And if you didn’t… I didn’t want to lose what little I had with you.”

Ryomen Sukuna

It’s late at night, and you’re walking home when you spot him smoking under a flickering streetlight. He looks almost ghostly, the light casting sharp shadows across his face.

“I thought about telling you,” you say hesitantly, stopping a few feet away from him. “Back in high school. How I felt about you.”

He exhales slowly, the smoke curling in the air between you.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, his voice low and gruff. “I already knew.”

The raw honesty in his tone leaves you speechless.

“I liked you too,” he admits, his eyes burning into yours. “But I was a mess. If I let you in, I’d have dragged you down with me.”

He flicks his cigarette to the ground, grinding it under his heel.

“You deserved someone better than me. You still do.”

[revasserium]

had me at hello

todoroki shouto; 4,082 words; fluff, tiny sprinkle of angst, no "y/n", summer camp, canon-divergent, domestic fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, summer-time romance, self-indulgent as all living fuck

summary: nothing lasts forever, not even goodbye. or, in which todoroki shouto discovers that summer flings really aren't his thing

a/n: chat we are SO back. back on this todoroki brain rot GRIND!!! and as opposed to posting at the last possible second for @pixelcafe-network's challenge friday like i did last time, i'm posting mine first this time to make up for it! the theme was "saying goodbye to a summer love" ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

It was to be a whirlwind summer, one that’s different from every one that came before it. Todoroki had thought, naively, that summer training camp would end up being just that — just another summer thing.

And he’d never been fond of the heat.

But you — you’d swept in like the rain, all bluster and brilliant, summer-thunder laughter. You struck across his storm-ridden skies like a spark of lightning, setting all his forests ablaze.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. Didn’t think much of the volunteers that the Pussycats had brought along to help around camp. Groupies, he’d dismissed, and thought of it no more. But the first night everyone came back, exhausted and sore and sweating in places they’d never thought could produce sweat, you’d been there along with the others (he doesn’t remember their names now, but he remembers yours), passing around cold water and setting up the food for dinner.

“Here,” you hand him a water bottle; he dips his head, his chest still heaving from exertion. He twists off the cap and gulps down half the bottle, feeling a cool trickle escape the corner of his mouth to run down his chin. He wipes at it with the back of his hand just as you cast him a grin before turning around to hand another water bottle to Kirishima.

Todoroki swallows, his palms warm, watching as you laugh at something someone says. He lingers on the gloss in your hair and the ease of your smile. He wonders what kind of quirk you might have; he catches himself wondering, and then proceeds to wonder why he’s wondering at all.

He thinks it’s the heat — fanning himself, he looks away — glancing up at the smoldering sky before sighing and capping his water bottle.

“They must love you at school, huh?” you ask, your voice jolting him out of one reverie and into another. Dinner’s almost done, and he’d wandered toward the edge of the wood for a moment of quiet, of peace or sanctity. He hadn’t noticed you following him, and that in and of itself should have set his senses on high. But, the air is tepid and the humidity heavy, and Todoroki only has time to cock a single eyebrow before you smile and continue —

“Your quirk — keeps you cool in the summer, and warm in the winter. Useful, no?”

He watches you watching him, your eyes huge and full of the dancing flames. He looks back towards the rest of his classmates, all chatting and laughing, grouped loosely with one another, Ashido flitting from one group to the other like the social butterfly she is.

“It’s alright,” Todoroki answers, surprising even himself. He drops his eyes, fixing his gaze on a point just above his own feet before you laugh, the sound drawing his attention back towards you.

“You’re not a very good liar, but that’s okay. It’s not a bad thing.”

You shoot him another grin.

“Your quirk,” he says, clearing his throat slightly as he feels a distinct heat prickling up the sides of his neck, “can I ask what it is?”

You list your head to one side, your expression curiously blank. Before you shoot him a smile that can only be called devious.

You nudge him with an arm before dancing away, but that momentary contact is all you’d needed. Todoroki feels his whole body relax, feels some of the tension drop from his shoulders, the strange nervousness that had been coiling in his stomach unclench.

“Guess!”

Someone calls your name from over your shoulder.

“Coming!”

You give him one final wink before dashing off, leaving him dazed, head reverberating as if someone had rung him through like a bell on a Sunday morning.

The weeks had passed in a strange blur after that, as if some vengeful giant had gone stomping through his memories, dragging a large hand across the vivid scenes, smearing the colors and scrambling the timelines. He remembers the ever-present ache in his muscles, the eternal shortness of breath that had accompanied the first few weeks, but he also remembers your presence in the evenings — always in the evenings, the shadow of you flickering around each and every one of his classmates, mostly asking about their days, but sometimes placing a comforting hand here or there.

He remembers your touch well, the gentle anchor of it, the immediate relief.

“Your quirk… it has something to do with feelings, doesn’t it?” he asks one night, a towel draped around his shoulders from a recent shower, his hair still damp in the early evening dark.

You flash him an enigmatic smile, swinging your feet as you turn your head back towards the liquid moonlight casting pale shadows along the edges of the summer-still leaves.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just…” Todoroki joins you, letting his arm brush along yours, his eyes following your gaze as he too sweeps the now empty campgrounds, the remnants of the barbeque fires still smoldering in their pits, the smoke twisting towards the cloudless sky like so many misty-tendrilled streams.

“Had a feeling.”

“A feeling, huh?” you echo, laughing softly, looking back down.

Todoroki doesn’t push you, but you don’t deny it either.

“You’re not wrong,” you say, after a brief moment of silence, “my quirk — it’s not offensive, or even defensive but… if I’m touching someone, I can… siphon their feelings into me,” and as if to demonstrate, you gently press your leg to his, and Todoroki feels the tired wariness drain from him, the feeling of ease trickling through him like hot water cascading down his skin.

He stifles a soft groan, feeling a blush press up against his cheeks.

You move your leg away, leaning back till your head is resting against the back of the park bench, poised at the edge of the large encampment.

“But that’s…” Todoroki searches for the right word — somehow ‘useful’ doesn’t seem quite right.

“No, you’re right,” you say, giggling even as you save him the necessity of finishing his sentence, “it’s a good quirk to have. It’s… necessary.”

But the way you say that word sounds a little too much like heartbreak for Todoroki to ignore.

“You said siphon…” he says, after a brief stretch of quiet, and he tastes the word on his tongue as if saying it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you say, and longing is too close a friend of his for him not to notice it threaded through your voice like a secret.

“Which means… whatever you take from the person you’re touching… you have to feel it too, right?”

You lick your lips, your eyes flickering down to your hands, palms open.

“Yes.”

It’s a simple answer, but one that lands with a gut-punch of implication. Todoroki swallows, shifting ever so slightly to let his knee rest against yours. He tries his hardest to focus on calmness, to project relief. You turn to flash him a smile.

“You’re sweet,” and he hadn’t meant to blush, hadn’t meant for his heart to kick up like a drumbeat, but does. And he knows, instinctively, that you’d felt it too — passing through from his skin to yours by some strange glitch of nature.

He makes to pull away, but you reach out to rest a hand on his arm.

And almost instantly, he feels his heartbeat calm, feels the heat receding. But it isn’t like before — it isn’t the feeling of having something leave his body, but rather having something pressed in. Like a warm blanket settling over his shoulders, or a cold hand to ward off unwanted heat. Your calm seeps into him like summer rain, cooling his mind until he’s breathing steady.

He blinks down at you, startled.

“It goes both ways,” you say, and he can see the twin glow of warmth high in your cheeks. He spares a moment wondering if that blush had once belonged to him, if you were just holding onto it for a bit longer before letting it go. You move your hand away and he has to fight down the urge to pull it back.

“Oh,” is the only thing he can think of to say.

You are everywhere after that — perhaps not in the physical sense, but Todoroki seems to have lost the ability to not notice you. Or maybe he’s just gained the ability to — to what? Develop a crush? Is that even what this is? He doesn’t know — he’s never had one before to compare it to.

But he can’t help now how instantly his attention snags on the sound of your voice, like a stray thread on a mesh-wire fence, or how an unshakable shiver traces down his spine whenever you’re near. He feels childish, like he did when he was too little to control his quirk. But he’d learned since then, hadn’t he?

Hadn’t he?

“It’s all just hormones!” he overhears Ashido say to Uraraka one night, the girls all clustered together on a single long sofa, limbs against limbs, cheeks pillowed on shoulders, a careless sort of closeness threading them all together. Todoroki’s never thought himself a jealous person, but watching them now, he wonders what it might be like to be able to touch a person with little to no thought at all, for it all to be second nature.

Uraraka blushes something furious, crinkling her nose.

“I — I don’t know…”

“I’m pretty sure whatever Mineta-chan is feeling can’t just be explained by hormones,” Asui says, her eyes huge and dark even as Ashido rolls her eyes.

“Maybe not just hormones, but that’s a large part of it!” Ashido insists.

Dangling on the side of the sofa, one foot tapping to music only she can hear, Jiro glances over and shrugs.

“Boys are weird.”

The girls all make varying sounds of agreement, and Todoroki forces his feet to move, thankful for the thick slab of shadow that had kept him from view of the general common area. He stares ahead as he walks down the long length of hallway, wondering if hormones really are the culprit behind whatever the hell this is.

The grueling days bleed into sweat-slick weeks, and somehow, he finds himself seeking you out more and more often. Sometimes after a particularly hard training session, under the guise of needing some “help” recovering (it had come out that Recovery Girl couldn’t make it so the Pussycats had volunteered you as the next best thing), sometimes without any reason at all, other than the simple want of your company.

He finds himself laughing, finds himself reaching for you — and he blames it on the weather, blames it on the tiredness now eternally sunk into his muscles, the soreness that won’t ever quite go away. He tells himself that it’s just a summer thing, to feel so hot that he gets lightheaded, to laugh until his stomach hurts, to feel the inexplicable itch to graze your hand with his when you’re sitting too close and not nearly close enough.

Thinking back, he’d known it would never last. You’d told him early on that you don’t live in the city. But that it’s not too far, if ever he wanted to visit.

“Camp’ll be over in a few weeks,” you say, lying back on a patch of sun-dried grass, beneath a swirling canopy of stars, Todoroki sitting beside you, his arms propping up his torso as he stares up at the sky alongside you.

“Yeah. I’m surprised it’s been so peaceful,” he says.

You laugh, shooting him a curious look.

“Used to getting in trouble?”

“There… seem to be a few of my classmates that attract trouble. Of all kinds.”

“I don’t mind a bit of trouble.”

“Don’t you?”

You grin up at him as he glances down at you.

“Not one bit.”

You feel him shifting as he lies down next to you, your elbows brushing in the grass. He feels a jolt of electricity snake up his arm, coiling in the base of his belly. For a second, he wonders if its a him-feeling, or a you-feeling. And then, he realizes that it doesn’t really matter — and before he knows it, he’s twisting to his side, leaning over just far enough to press his lips to yours.

In the grand scheme of kisses, Todoroki thinks that it might not have been the most well-positioned kiss, or the most well thought-out. And for all everyone calls him genius, this is one thing he’s never really had the chance to practice. Still, by the time he realizes that he’s kissing you, he barely has the chance to reconcile with the fact that you’re kissing him too. You, pressing up against him and pulling him down all at once.

His lips on yours, and yours on his — an endless echo of this kiss, and this kiss, and just this kiss. He feels his heartbeat like a reverberation, because he thinks he can feel yours too. He loses feeling in all his limbs, and wonders briefly if this is what free-falling might be like — to feel weightless, to be lifted outside of yourself.

You reach up to press a hand to his cheek, and he feels himself being shunted back into his body. He feels each of his limbs like discovering them for the very first time — his fingers tangled in your hair, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you in, holding you close. He does not remember pulling away. But he must have, because he remembers gasping for a breath he’s long since lost to the heave of your lungs.

He feels fire, and ice, and the spinning song of a million overhead stars.

“Is this — are you —” he struggles for words but you just smile.

“I don’t know — sometimes when I’m too —” you swallow, a bit breathless yourself, the head-thrumming heat of it all passing between the pair of you like a whisper, or a secret, “when I’m too excited I — I’ll accidentally make someone else feel it too but —”

You look back up to catch his eyes, and he finds himself smiling.

“It’s not just you,” he says, quiet and sure. Because this, whatever this is, is more than just a quirk — more than just the accidental bleeding of feelings from one body to another. More than simple empathy — it’s entropy.

A chaos of feelings.

Because he’d felt it bubbling inside him, alone at night, staring up at the moon-slatted ceiling. Wondering what it might be like to hold your hand.

And maybe this is what Ashido had been talking about — with hormones and urges and all the woes that come with being a teenage boy. But he doesn’t care; there’s time to worry about that later. For now, he thinks he’d just like to kiss you again.

And so, he does.

Time passes by strangely after that — and though neither of you had intended on it, the budding relationship between the pair of you had become a known secret. No one had ever called it out by name, but no one questions Todoroki either when he wanders off after dinner. No one blinks twice when you press a hand to the back of his neck after morning drills, smiling when he lets out a soft, pleased sigh.

Even years later, Todoroki can’t quite piece together the exact timeline of things. He remembers the late nights, staying up just to talk to you, wandering through the woods, you jumping at a rabbit or a squirrel, and him slipping his hand through yours with a silent reassurance. He remembers telling you about himself — even though he doesn’t remember you asking. About his father, his mother, his siblings, his scar.

He remembers how you’d reached out and held his anger and sorrow and resentment in your upturned palms, how you cradled them like bruised fruit, with delicate fingers and a smile that looked not one bit like pity. How you did not run.

He remembers you telling him about your childhood too, of your quirk being used and abused by careless adults and ruthless children alike. Of how your parents had used you as one might use a bad therapist, like a dumping ground for unwanted emotions. Of how you learnt to deal with the unbearable weight of all those feelings — things that a little girl should never have to learn how to deal with on her own.

He remembers how you held him and he held you, and how you both had allowed yourselves to hold and be held by each other.

But what he remembers most is the ending — the last night of camp, when he knew he’d be leaving the next morning. All the bags are packed, and they’d all come out stronger. It had been an uneventful, tiring sort of camp, where nothing happened except daily training, but for a class full of teens with super-human powers and the uncanny ability to attract life-threatening situations, it could be called a resounding success.

“Excited to be going back to school?” you ask.

He watches you drag a pale pink nail polish over your fingers, one by one, blowing on each finger as you smooth out the color with steady swipes.

“I guess so. We have provisional license exams coming up, so I doubt we’ll get much rest after this.”

“Aww… but I guess no one ever said becoming a hero was an easy thing, right?” you laugh, tossing him a good-natured wink.

He sighs, leaning back against the wall of your camp room.

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.”

“Hm…” you hum, finishing off your manicure and carefully screwing the brush back into the nail polish bottle.

Todoroki turns to find you frowning slightly at your nails.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just…” you press your hands carefully into your lap, “it got me thinking — this was… easy, wasn’t it?”

And he doesn’t have to ask what you’d meant by this. Because he knows. And with a jolt, he realizes that yes. This was easy. It was so easy, being with you, in this secluded place. So easy to laugh without worrying about the outside world, to forget, if only for a while.

Easy to kiss you, to hold you, to push away the thoughts of tomorrows and endings until — well.

“Yeah…” Todoroki breathes, “I guess… I guess it was.”

Silence blooms between you like a plume of smoke.

“But… I mean,” you say, waving your hands through the air to help your nails along, before slumping back into your pillows, “it was never going to be forever, right?”

And this time, Todoroki can’t quite tell if you’re talking about this or perhaps — he can’t help the tiny bead of hope coalescing in his chest — a future where your goodbye is the thing that doesn’t last forever.

“No,” he answers, allowing himself a small smile as he looks down at his own hands, “nothing really ever is.”

You giggle, rolling over to peer at him from your stomach, “You’re so serious.”

But by the time he lifts his head, you’d already crawled over to press your lips to his. It’s a sweet kiss, a simple kiss, and Todoroki feels his chest seize inside him, his arms going heavy with a liquid weight. When you pull away, he notices your eyes are fractured with tears. You wipe them away with a laugh.

“Look at me — I’m so silly.”

Todoroki shakes his head, reaching out to cup your cheeks gently between his hands, the way you’d taught him to with his own jagged emotions. And he feels it then, your sadness, your uncertainty, the stomach-twisting knowledge of endings.

“The beginning might’ve been easy but… this isn’t.”

You hiccup, going still as he holds you.

“So… I guess we were worth it after all, huh,” you say, looking down at the space between you.

Todoroki nods, leaning forward just enough to press his forehead to yours, nudging your nose with his for a second before bringing you in for yet another kiss. He pulls away and tastes salt on his lips.

“That’s how we know — because the ending is hard. That’s how we know it was worth it.”

When the next morning comes, you don’t cry when you wave them all off, though many of the girls are. You catch his gaze and hold it for just a second longer than you’d done with anyone else. Beside him on the bus, Aoyama makes a soft, knowing kind of noise.

“Ah… first love is always such sweet despair,” he says, twinkling in his usual way.

Todoroki clears his throat, leaning back in his seat, a strange stillness settling over him as he thinks about the days ahead.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” Todoroki says, to Aoyama’s dramatic surprise. But he recovers quickly and begins a soliloquy about something or other that carries them all the way back into the city, and to their assigned dorms.

He never forgets you, though there are moments when he’d wonder if that summer had really happened. Years later, when the memories have all gone watercolor-pale, and the edges blurred with time, he’ll still find himself reaching into the part of his mind that feels like the soft, steady weight of your hand on the back of his neck to calm him down, the smooth of your skin as you’d pressed against him and held him close.

And then, the year that he turns 24, it happens — he’d been called out into a small town just outside Shizuoka, for some kind of event that Fuyumi swears would be good for his publicity (as if he needed any more). Even after all these years, it still unsettles him to travel alone to these places, and he subconsciously reaches for the feeling of your palm pressing to his skin.

“Shouto?”

He turns at the sound of his name, and though a part of him assumes it’s yet another adoring fan, the deepest, most honest part of him whispers that it isn’t — that he knows this voice.

“Oh… its you,” the words slip from him like pebbles into a thawing stream.

And there you are, standing feet from him, your arms full of groceries, a red and white muffler strung around your shoulders, looking every bit as brilliant as the you from his memories.

The smile that splits your face is beautiful as heartbreak.

“Well, someone very wise once did tell me that nothing lasts forever… not even goodbyes.”

Todoroki takes half a step closer to you, a smile spreading across his own lips as he reaches out to help you with your groceries, taking the bags into his arms. The movement as natural as coming home.

“Yes but… I was thinking about it the other day and —”

“Oh? Just the other day?” you tease, bumping him slightly with your elbow was you set off down the half-empty street. It’s almost sundown, and the days are getting shorter again. Your breath fogs up the air before you and Todoroki suddenly thinks that winter looks good on you.

Even better than summer had.

“Yeah, but I realized…” he says, casting his eyes up at the cloud-strewn sky, the colors fading fast, the thick velvet of night inching up across the world like a curtain being drawn.

He turns his eyes back towards you, only to find you watching him with an indulgent smile on your face.

Todoroki blushes, feeling suddenly bashful, like the teenage boy he was when you two first met.

“I realized,” he says again, determined to finish his thought this time, “that when we first met… we never really said hello.”

be part of my taglist!

[guiltyasdave]

jana hi me again 🫣 could i have the prompt 28 "No one ever cared about me like you."

with either javi p or joel 🫠❤️🤎

take my hand, wreck my plans

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: 557

summary: Javi seeks out your company after a rough day.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, mention of food, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, idiots in love because of who i am as a person (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: i have once again been possessed by angsty thoughts and somehow, this came out of it. i hope you like this eden @reddedmiller and i’m sorry that it took three months lol. thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics as always because they’re the best <3

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates :)

He knocks on your door at 2 in the morning, all but collapses into your arms as soon as you swing it open, tired eyes and heavy limbs that melt into your embrace.

Your colleagues had warned you when he started coming over to your desk, inviting you out for lunch, about how he would chew you up and spit you out, like he did with half of the female staff at the embassy. You hadn’t listened, waving them off and going out with him anyway. First for a quick lunch break, then for after work drinks, then for dinner.

It was fun, a distraction, something to do and someone to know in this city where everything was foreign to you and where you felt more alone than ever before in your life.

It’s more, now. It doesn’t have a definition exactly, but you both know it. You’re the person he turns to when he needs somebody, and you’ll gladly be that for him.

“Do you have something to drink?” His face is sullen as he slumps down on your couch, like the weight of the world crushed him today. You furrow your brow.

“When was the last time you ate something, Javi?”

“‘M not hungry,” he grumbles, confirming your suspicion that he most likely survived the day solely on cigarettes and coffee.

You lean over the couch, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. His head falls back against you like he can’t help himself.

“I’m gonna make you a sandwich and get you some whiskey, okay?” Inching closer, you press a gentle kiss against his neck, just below his ear.

He sits up a little straighter and turns to you, reluctance in his eyes.

“Querida, it’s the middle of the night, you don’t have to-”

You shake your head and kiss him again, on his cheek this time. “It’s okay. I want to.”

He leans back hesitantly but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fight you on it, so your lips find his face once more before you head for the kitchen.

Watching him all but devour the food has you hiding your smile behind your own glass of whiskey. He already looks a little better.

“Not hungry, huh?” you tease, your voice light.

“Shut up,” comes his short reply, but his lips are twitching.

He has half a mind to stumble out of your flat again afterwards, but you convince him to stay, that it’s really no problem.

He takes a quick shower, mumbling about washing the day away, and you wait in bed, the warm light from your bedside lamp illuminating the room, until he slips under the covers beside you.

You wrap your arms around him again and hold him close, your fingers drawing shapes on his chest. He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles, his voice low in the darkness.

“Of course, Javi.” He tends to get like that, struggling to receive any kind of affection or care when he feels like he has nothing to give back.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, seriously. No one ever cared about me like you. I- thank you.”

You sigh and pull him tighter into you, your face buried in his hair. You’ll care for him as long as he lets you.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make me really happy 🤍

[lostreverb]

chances

(frat!kyle spencer x fem!reader)

content: fluff, angst (if you squint?), mentioned sexual harassment (by frat members)

a/n: not proofread, short drabble inspired by this post, wrote it really fast so sorry if it's not the best (it's my first time writing for kyle too so)! also, the last line is sick I'm aware I'M SORRY RYAN MURPHY POSSESSED ME

when your boyfriend kyle told you that he was joining the fraternity kappa lambda gamma you seriously thought he was joking. kyle was caring, hard-working, kind. yeah, he liked to joke around, but he was nothing like those greek alphabet degenerates you associated frats with. you told him this earnestly. it wasn't just a passing judgment, it was a genuine concern for him. trapped in a house with all those guys? kyle could handle himself well growing up in the 9th ward, but these frat guys were different to the types of people he was used to dealing with. you didn't want to see him to get hurt, or worse... start becoming like them.

when you expressed your feelings to him, kyle (of course politely) brushed your concerns off.

"give em' a chance..." he told you, caressing your head in his lap. "they're not all as bad as ya think. and even some of em' that are a bit.. y'know.. they're good people at heart, i can tell. they just hafta be put in the right direction."

"and is that why you're gonna try and become president?"

"yep! kappa lambda gamma has the potential to be one of the best chapters tulane has ever seen. that, and it gets ya some pretty awesome connections"

he was right.. a lot of past frat members had become pretty successful and kyle could use that to his advantage.

"okay fair... just, be safe okay? stick to what you know- who you are"

"oh i f'sure will" he flashed a knowing smile, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your lips. your hands found their way into his golden curls, drawing him closer for a deeper connection.

as if on cue, the moment kyle pulled away, his phone began to ring. he glanced at the screen, and an apologetic smile appeared on his lips as he answered the call, shifting slightly as if bracing for what was coming.

"whoa, whoa, whoa, ma, slow down. what's going on? i’m at a—" he hesitated, casting a quick glance your way, "—at a friend’s, i told ya already... yeah, i’ll be home soon... what? right now?" there was a brief pause before he sighed. "okay, ma. love you too."

as kyle lowered the phone, you let out a soft sigh, already knowing what was coming. "gotta go, huh?"

"yeah, i’m sorry, baby..." he took your hand gently, lifting it to his lips in one smooth motion, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin before his lips brushed your knuckles. his fingers slid between yours, intertwining, and then he leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "i’ll see you on campus, okay?"

you nodded, trying to mask the disappointment tugging at your chest. "mhm… see you," you murmured, sitting up and watching him leave.

--

"oh my god" your jaw dropped as kyle stepped out of the bathroom. you had gone to surprise him after move-in day, wanting to see how he was adjusting to the frat life. and oh boy did he adjust. he had the blue embroidered polo with the collar obnoxiously flipped up, a white long sleeve underneath it, rolled up to the elbows, even-

"your hair!" you gasped. kyle's once luscious curls you loved to run your hands through had now become flat and side-swept. you silently cursed yourself for ever teaching him how to use a flat iron so he could help you do your hair.

"well y'know you could say hi-" he chuckled, enjoying your reaction to his new look. "like it?"

to be honest, you didn't hate it, as much as you wanted to. kyle had a way of making anything look good. it was more what it represented that made your stomach churn.

"you certainly look the part" you said, forcing a half-smile. "all you need now is a backwards cap and a blood alcohol content of .12%"

he laughed, walking over and nudging your arm. "c'mon babe. open mind, remember?"

you sighed. "right... open mind" you glanced over him again, noticing how the fabric of his clothes hugged his frame in a way that accentuated his muscles. "okay.. you do look really hot i'm just wor-"

"gonna stop ya right there." he gently placed a hand on your arm, giving you a warm smile. "thank you. i'm happy ya came."

"i'm... happy i'm here- well, with you anyway" you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth lift. kyle just had that effect on you.

"..seriously though," you started again, looking into his eyes with a hint of concern.

kyle’s expression softened as he wrapped an arm around your lower back. "i promise it's stoppin' here, alright? all this… it's just surface level. you still have me." he gestured vaguely to his clothes and hair. "this is still the same me."

you held his gaze, trying to believe him, though a small part of you still worried that he may fall in too deep.

"please baby, give em' a chance..."

"what kind of chance?" you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "because i was violated like three different ways just walking up to your room." the words came out half-joking, but there was an edge to your tone that kyle didn’t miss.

he straightened up, eyes narrowing, and his brow furrowed with a fierce protectiveness. "what happened?"

"i'm kidding... kinda. nothing crazy just a few wandering eyes" you waved it off, though the memory of being looked up and down like that made your skin crawl for a second.

"i'll talk to em' about it. if they say or do anything else, tell me. i'll cut their fuckin' balls off" his voice was serious, and though he didn't mean it literally, you knew he would go to war for the people he cared about.

"as long as i get to watch," you giggled, leaning into him a little more.

"...any chance you’ll stop using that flat iron, though?" you asked, giving his new hairstyle a gentle tease, still missing the curls that used to frame his face.

"when i'm dead." he chuckled with a cocky grin.

"we’ll see about that."

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @heartz4peter

[krirebr]

In LBAL when Bambi starts settling and coming into the ~loving Curtis’s job of it all ~ will Curtis give her a new nickname?

Oh, I love this question! And I had some thoughts. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Mob enforcer!Curtis Everett x female reader (from Luck Be a Lady)

Word Count: ~650

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Warnings: Mob AU, references to smut, references to violence, references to criminal activity, light angst All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

You're at the club the first time it occurs to you. You've actually gotten Curtis out on the dance floor, a rare break from holding court with Andy in the VIP section. He's got a beer in one hand, the other snaked around your pelvis from behind, holding you tight as he grinds against your back. "Bambi," he growls into your ear.

You pause your movement as the thought hits you, just for a moment. Bambi. That babe in the woods. Is that really who you are anymore? You look around at the club that's become a second home, the now-familiar guards that pepper the perimeter, the VIP section up above that houses the most feared man on the coast, a man that some days you would go as far as to call a friend. You see the world so much more clearly now. You understand how it all works. The person you were the first time he called you that feels so far away.

But then Curtis's hand drifts a little lower. His grinds become a little firmer. His breathing gets a little heavier. All thoughts about anything but how his body feels against yours fly out of your head.

The next time you think of it, you're kneeling on the bathroom floor in the home you share with Curtis, bandaging up his hand as he sits on the closed toilet seat. He'd split his knuckles open on some thug's cheekbone earlier in the night. He's debriefing with Andy on speaker phone, strategizing next steps. Neither of them are concerned about how much you might overhear. Some scared little Bambi wouldn't do this, would she?

You're collapsed on the bed, Curtis breathing heavily above you, holding himself up only enough to make sure you aren't crushed, as you both come down from your orgasms. He tucks his head into your neck and breathes out, "Bambi," into your skin.

It's only because your brain hasn't fully come back online yet that you ask, "Why do you still call me that?"

He pauses his nuzzling and slowly draws back so he can look you in the eye. "Huh?"

"Bambi. Why do you–" You take a breath. You don't know why you're suddenly so emotional, but this feels important. "Is that how you still see me? You said, that first night, that I was just getting my legs under me. Haven't I done that now? Haven't I shown you? I belong here now, don't I? Haven't I proven that?"

He looks down at you, confused. "What else am I supposed to call you?"

"I don't know, my actual name, maybe?"

He immediately scowls at that and you let out an irritated huff in response. He isn't taking you seriously.

But he clearly sees your annoyance and sobers. He's quiet as he searches your face, gathers his words. "Bambi," he starts, "is what I named you. I did it to show everyone, including you, that you were mine. I did it to show you that you do belong here, with me, wherever I am. It's not something for you to outgrow, or to prove. It's my name for you, because you're mine, only mine. You'll never belong to anyone else, be called anything else. Just my Bambi. Forever."

He carefully leans down to place the gentlest kiss on your forehead, then shifts his weight onto one forearm so that he can use his other hand to stroke your cheek. The look in his eyes is so serious that you don't dare doubt him. As always, it takes your breath away. It isn't just the words he said, but the ones he didn't, too. This name, the act of giving it to you, was a promise, not just that you'd always belong to him, but that he'd belong to you, too. How could you ever want to be called something else?

Tag list

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @midnightramyeoncravings @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @retroqt @travelingmypassion

[starrybl1ss]

burning desire౨ৎ

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stu macher ghostface!abby x billy loomis ghostface!ellie x sidney prescott!reader

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<;> importaint info (please read) Hii! Sooo, the storyline of the fic is abt this part in the scream 1 but i changed it up a bit! ౨ৎ warnings: threesom, mention of blood, murder, smut, fingering, knife play, betrayal??, both psycos eating u outtt, pet names, swearing, trauma, death threats, angst, dead body but not really??? begging

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The night was a total horror, it just all started from the woodsboro murder of casey becker, the girl from your school and now it has turned into a nightmare to you and everyone else.

All the murder that the anonymus serial killer in the ghostface mask has done. Your friends, dead. It's all a tragedy,

The aftermath of the party at abby's is all fucked up. Now your running around for your life inside abby's house, terrified.

Your currently upstairs. Now your running down the stairs, sweat and blood all over you.

Your heartbeat felt like it stopped when you saw dina on the living room floor with blood all over.

You start sobbing. "O-oh my fucking g-god! Dina?!" You yelled while breathing heavily.

You quickly looked up as you heard a noise so your ran as quickly as possible towards the kitchen trying to hide when you bumped into abby.

"Woah, woah you 'kay?" She asked you. You panicked around and finally replied trying to catch a breathe "F-fuck, t-the killer is... is.. is fucking here, Dina's dead we need to call the cops and get the fuck out of here abby!"

You heard a noise and looked back quickly as you saw... ghostface.... standing there. You shrieked "FUCK, ABBY LETS GO!"

"shhh, calm down" she insured you. "ARE YOU MAD? THERES A KILLER INFRONT OF US" you shouted at her getting ready to run.

Suddenly, the killer took off the mask and... and... ellie?! "Suprise babe" she said grinning. "WHAT THE FUCK ELLIE?"

You were in horror. "ABBY WE SHOULD FUCK OFF AND RUN" as abby hugs you from behind, she grabbed something from her pocket, a soundbox...

She turned on the soundbox and began speaking. "Hello, y/n" with the terrifying voice that you have heard so many time through the phone before getting attacked.

"SHIT, ABBY LET ME GO PLEASE" you cried out. abby doesn't answer. Ellie got closer and lifts up your chin. "You thought i could do this fucked up game alone huh?"

Ellie lets out her hand as abby game the voice box to her. She turned the voice box on "wanna play a game..... y/n?" She laughed madly. She sounds like she has lost her mind.

"please.... Just fucking let me go..." you begged. Abby whispers in your ear "how bout we draw a little blood first?"

"god, please no... let me go please" you helplessly sob. Tears falling down your cheeks as ellie whipes them off. "It's okay babe, we'll be gentle" as her sweet caring smile turns into an evil smirk.

"Fucking hell ellie, i thought i trusted you" you said. "I know, i know im sooooo sorry babe" she whispers while holding you. Her left hand on your shoulder and right hand on your hips.

"i should have let you rot in jail until your execution day" you sobbed. "You'd miss me if i was gone doll" ellie said.

"See y/n? Wont you miss her if she was gone? Counting down days until she gets executed and die? You wouldn't want that right pretty?" Abby said still holding you back.

"I would, but now i wish you two were fucking dead" you replied with anger. "What if your the one whos gonna be dead tonight doll?" Ellie walk around slowly around the kitchen.

"Fuck you." You yelled while still trying to catch a breath. Ellie gets closer to your body. "What was that? You don't need to act so bitter babe"

"dont ever call me 'babe' again you fucking bitch!" You shout at her. "Remember i have a knife right? I could stab you and gut out your insides anytime. But i won't"

Ellie pulls out her knife as you try to flee from abbys arm but it was impossible, she was so strong. "FUCK YOU BITCHES LET ME GO!" you screamed.

Ellie drags the side of the knife around your bare stomache as you were wearing tight croptop. You felt the cold sensation of the knife on your skin without drawing any blood but is enough to make you panic.

"you look so pretty like this doll" said to you grinning. You were breathing heavily but her words somehow made you blush.

"Awh, your so cute" she teased dragging the knife lower down your stomache. "F-fuck..." you said as your skin gets cold due to the knife.

"Dont worry pretty, ellie's knife is clean. She hasnt killed anyone with it" abby insured you.

Ellie circles the side of her blade on your lower stomache with you closing your eyes. "Don't pretend that you dont like that" she said teasingly.

She stop and slides down the end of her blade carefully down your shorts without making you bleed. You whimper softly from her actions.

"S-shit dont fucking stop" you said desperately. Abby grabs your chin and starts kissing you as ellie drops her knife on the floor and unbutton your short jeans.

Now your just gonna let two psycopaths to ruin you rather than gutting your insides, enexpected but you enjoyed the thrill of it.

It was like 5 minutes ago that you were screaming, begging and shouting telling them to stop but this time you'll be doing the same but differently.

Ellie takes off your jeans leaving your panties on as abby lets go and sits down. Ellie pushes you like a fucking ragdoll throwing you down on abby's lap as you groan.

Ellie squats down infront of you still in the mysterious black coat. She pulls down your panties to your lower knee as you let out a small gasp.

"Fuck, you get soaked real quick babe" you were avoiding eyes contact from the tense when suddenly you felt her two fingers right in you.

"Sh-shit..." she whispered. She then curled her fingers that made you arch your back "ah- fuuuckkkk!" You groan out.

She pulls out both her fingers out of you. "N-no, no pleaseeee dont stop!" You cried out. "Don't worry babe, im not planning to anyways"

She quickly opens up your legs. Her face got closer to your soaking cunt. She gave you small licks around as you grabbed on to abby's thighs.

Then ellie totally eats you out like she was almost starved to death. "mmphhhh! Fucking hell! Shitshitshitshit- a-ah!" You yelled out.

"Fucking hell ellie, move out of the way its my turn to fuck the living shit out of her" as abby stood up and pushes ellie out of the way.

Ellie drops down and tumbles to the floor. "WHATS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM ABS? IM GONNA FUCKING STAB YOU IF YOU KEEP DOING THAT YOU SLUT" ellie yells at her.

"Yeah, you can stab me later after i fuck the brains out of this stupid girl" abby replied.

Abby starts kissing and making out with your sloppy cunt aggresively. Her saliva mixed with your juices. "ngghh- shoot im gonna fucking cum!" You shouted.

"Fuck this abby, i want her to cum on my stupid fucking face. IM HER FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! MOVE" ellie pushes abby and quickly eats you out.

A loud groan leaves your mouth as you came all over ellie's face making her satisfied. "Okay, now can you move?" Abby asks ellie in an annoyed tone.

"Fine whatever" ellie rolled her eyes and moved back. Abby sudenlly flips your body bruising you a bit. "The fuck abby? Could you be more careful with her?!"

"Shut up" she replied. Abby pulls down her pants revealing her black strap-on. Oh fuck- i mean its so big... if you could see it you'd probably think i wont fit at all.

Without hesitation, abby shoves her strap in you causing a little shock to you. "Fuck abby!" You yelled out.

She went back and forth. Fast, and i mean fast. You felt like she was about to cut you in half. Not like she hasn't tried doing that to you in more brutal way.

Abby looks at ellie. "Won't you just sit on her fucking face?" She said smirking. "Sure she could breathe?" Ellie asked grinning. You managed to choke up some words "Please just fucking sit on me"

"Your so desperate. Getting all nasty to be fucked by literal serial killers" ellie said holding your chin so you could face her. then she kissed your lips.

Abby got off of you and flipped your small body again from the floor.

Ellie took off her coat, her pants.... and her boxers. She went on top of your face, hovering on top of your lips. Your lips are just a few inches from her cunt.

Then she sat on your lips, bumping her clit on your cute nose, huffing. You twirled around her cunt. "Oh fuck..." ellie groaned.

Suddenly you felt someone breathing on your cunt. Thats when you knew abby was already under you, licking your fucking wet cunt.

You moaned into ellie's cunt from the action. Ellie stopped and when off you.

She kissed you on the lips and whispered into your ear "you know we're not done with you right, doll?"

The night would never end. Maybe it will, if the god damn cops caught you getting your brains fucked out by two serial killers.

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KAY THIS WAS NASTYYYY ANYWHO IM SOOO PROUD OF THIS AND SO HAPPY THAT I COULD POST THIS TODAYYYY!!! Lately been sooo obsessed with scream like i wish i watched it sooner!!!!ALSO PLS DONT ASK WHAT HAPPENDS TO DINA NEXT LIKE GIRL GOT STABBED AND IGNORE THE FACT THEY DID A FUCKING THREESOME NEAR DINAS (dead??? Idfk) BODY. LETS JUST HOPE SHES OK😭