#and also a bunch of random fluff like this that may or may not make it in the final product

[1un4z]

The Lonely Artist.

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Pairing: Hyunjin x afab!reader  Genre: fluff, mention of abuse and bullying. heavy topics! read at your own discretion.🚫 Summary: Hyunjin was the lonely art kid in the year below you. You noticed him around school constantly. Always alone or getting pushed around the kids who hated his guts. You always pitied him slightly, watching from afar. As you walk home from school, you see him getting beat up once again in an alley way.  Wc: 8.3k  Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!  A/N: I'm so happy I finally finished this, it was bittersweet writing this, but the ending made me at peace. Also yes this was initially created after I saw Hyunjin's art piece (the banner image). I haven't proof read this fully bc I wrote this at 5am lmaooo, I hope it makes sense lol it is a bit of a longer read too (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

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This school day was quiet. The day went past quickly. You walk home, putting in your headphones. The rain shatters against the hood of your jacket. The pace you walk at increases as you let your mind wander, half empty, half listening deeply to your music. Unexpectedly, you get pulled out of your aimless thoughts, loud shouting and grunts coming from the view right in front of you in the alley way.

"Fuck get up you freak-" Shouts a random smug teenage boy kicking someone brutally in the stomach. 

The other guy next to him laughs joining in as the boy lays on the floor wincing, trying to cover his face as much as possible. They all are wearing your schools uniform. You sigh finding it unfortunate but more inconvenient for you. You don't seem to recognise any of them until you see a glimpse of his face. Hyunjin's face. There are tears forming at his eyes as his face scrunches, leaving cuts and blood flying across his face. The puddles around him have drenched him completely. Hair soaked, throwing water everywhere as he covers his body. Every time he tried to stand, one of the other guys kicked him down, harder than before. You don't usually care particularly about people, you try to avoid other people's issue as much as you can but it was different this time. This time you felt your heart clench when looking at Hyunjin. You couldn't just leave him. Not like this. You sigh deeply, gaining all your courage and energy to stand up to a bunch of immature boys. 

"Get off of him." You say raising your voice, folding your arms trying your best to seem intimidating. You may have been a year older but you were finding it difficult to look scary. 

You see the boys scoff and turn looking you in the eye directly.

"Don't get involved." One says shoving you. Something snaps in you as you swing without thinking. You punch him so hard that he stumbles back almost slipping on the wet gravel. He stares stunned at first then you can see his face morph with irritation and embarrassment.

"What-the-fuck. are you fucking crazy?" He gets up holding his face as the other guy throws himself against you as you crash into the wet fence, bashing loudly and echoing in the noiseless alley. You wince from the sudden movement. 

"Fuck off or you will regret it" The other much taller guy says scowling down at you. Hyunjin is still on the floor, seemingly scared to move watching you intently, eyes glossy with worry and fear. You roll your eyes, this scrawny lanky boy trying to threaten you would have worked if he was even a little intimidating. You kick him with all the strength you have, as he loses balance groaning in pain as he holds his shin. You see him seething with anger so you kick him again without hesitation, multiple times. Mirroring the motions of what was happening to Hyunjin moments ago.

"It doesn't feel nice does it?" You say calmly as you kick his stomach harshly one last time. You exhale loudly backing up. You glance back at Hyunjin, seeing his head raise, eyebrows churning with sadness. You walk over to Hyunjin, hearing the boys get up silently walking away together awkwardly. You kneel down getting closer to Hyunjin's level. He was hurt badly. Uniform destressed and ripped in places, bag soaked, hair dripping, bruises and cuts decorating his pretty face. His glasses on the floor, somehow not broken. You pick up his abandoned glasses, handing them to him. His hand shivers as he grabs them from you, putting them on quickly standing up trying to seem like he was okay.

"Thank you..no ones ever stood up for me," he instantly says looking directly at you, face filled with empathy.

"Don't thank me."

*Hyunjin is caught off guard by your cold response.*

"O-oh... okay," he says, a little sheepishly. He looks at you, trying to read your expression, but it's difficult for him to understand what you're thinking. You scan over his shivering, hurt body.

"...Are you okay?" You ask responding a bit of a softer tone.

Hyunjin nods quietly, although he looks more shaken than okay. He self-consciously touches his face, wincing as his fingers brush over one of the fresh cuts and bruises.

"I-I'll be fine," he murmurs, avoiding eye contact with you. 

You grab his face gently, groaning under your breath, you tilt his chin up, looking at his cuts on his face carefully. Hyunjin gasps softly as you gently tilt his chin up to examine his face. His eyes dart to the side, clearly embarrassed and feeling vulnerable under your gaze.

Up close, the extent of the damage is even more visible - a deep bruise marring his cheek, a cut above his eyebrow, and a swollen lip. It's clear that the boys weren't holding back when they were hitting him.

"Stop acting like you're not in pain, I can read you well." You mutter at him.

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Yeah at my house.." he replies, voice soft.

"Let's go then." You say voice still slightly cold. Hyunjin nods again, slowly pushing himself off the wall with a wince. He starts to walk, and you notice how he's limping slightly, as if his legs are still sore from the beatings.

The walk to his house is made in silence, the only sound being the occasional grunt of pain from Hyunjin when he accidentally bumps into something. The bruises and cuts on his face stand out starkly against his pale skin. After a couple minutes, you reach Hyunjin's house, which looks old and run-down. The paint is peeling and the front lawn is unkempt, clearly neglected for a while. The house seems to mirror Hyunjin's own appearance - beaten up and in need of care and attention. He unlocks the front door, wincing as he moves his bruised body.

"Come on in," he says quietly, holding the door open for you to enter. You step inside, greeted by a musty, stale smell. The inside of the house is even worse off than the outside - paint peeling from the walls, furniture broken and dirty, and the floor creaking loudly with every step. 

Hyunjin gestures for you to sit down on a couch in the living room, while he heads towards the bathroom to look for the first aid kit. You take a seat on the couch, feeling a sense of unease from the state of the house. After a few minutes, Hyunjin returns, holding a small first aid kit in his hands. Carefully, he sits down next to you, wincing as his sore body makes contact with the couch. He starts rummaging through the kit, pulling out some antiseptic, bandages, and cotton pads.*

"Stop." you say firmly. Hyunjin freezes at your firm tone, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"What? Why?" he asks softly, his hands still holding the first aid supplies.

"Put it down and relax." You say harsher than you intended. Hyunjin is taken aback by your command, but slowly tries to relax his body - although the pain from his injuries makes it difficult to truly relax. He looks at you questioningly, waiting for your next instruction.

"I'm going to help you so don't touch anything." You say as your eyes scan his face once more. you grab the supplies off his lap gently. Hyunjin blinks in surprise, not expecting to hear that. But he nods silently, obediently putting his hands in his lap and sitting still. He watches with curiosity and slight nervousness as you take charge of the situation. You flick a little bit of hair out of his face gently, making sure not to hurt him. His hair is still damp, he was so effortlessly pretty. How in god's name was he getting bullied? 

Hyunjin's eyes widen a fraction as you gently brush a loose strand of hair away from his face. His breath hitches softly at the unexpected touch, but he doesn't jerk away. He can't help but feel a strange mix of vulnerability and curiosity at being cared for like this. He keeps his gaze fixed on you, silently watching your every move.

You grab some antiseptic and some bandages from the messy box. His soft but sorrowful eyes never leave your face. Hyunjin continues to sit quietly, his eyes following your every move as you grab the antiseptic and bandages from the first aid kit. He's clearly not used to being pampered or taken care of in this way, and there's an almost childlike look of fascination in his eyes as he watches you work.

"This might sting a little.. i'm sorry" you say making a slight wincing face at him. Hyunjin takes a deep breath as you warn him about the antiseptic, bracing himself for the potential sting.

"It's okay," *he murmurs softly, trying to mentally prepare himself for the pain. His gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of trust and nervousness.*

You carefully clean his wounds gently taking your time. Hyunjin winces involuntarily as you begin cleaning his wounds, the antiseptic making contact with the sensitive injuries and making them sting painfully. Despite his obvious discomfort, he keeps himself still and silent, doing his best to endure the pain. From time to time, a soft gasp or grunt escapes his lips, but he otherwise remains motionless, his gaze still fixed on you. His face looked like a lost hurt ferret, pupils dilated, eyes glazed with a sheen of water. He looked so pitiful. 

"What a way to mess up a pretty face.." you say quietly whilst concentrating on his wounds. 

Hyunjin lets out a soft huff of laughter at your comment, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Despite the pain from his wounds, he can't help but feel strangely pleased at the compliment. Nobody had ever referred to him as "pretty" He glances away, mumbling softly, "It's not pretty.."

"I still think you're pretty, don't worry." You reply, smiling slightly as you re-focus. Hyunjin's cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink at your words, and he looks a mix of surprised and embarrassed.

"R-really?" he stammers softly, unable to believe that someone finds him pretty when all he sees in the mirror is a bruised and beaten face all the time.

"Yes dummy now, stop moving so much" you say slightly grumbling. You notice a slight smile raise on his face, looking from his lap back to your face watching your eyes move as you clean his wounds.

"Why did you let them do that to you.." you mumble under your breath faintly.

Hyunjin's expression clouds over as you ask why he didn't fight back. He looks down, avoiding eye contact, and shrugs his shoulders.

"They always pick on me... I'm weak, and I can never fight back... I just take it," he whispers sadly, his voice barely above a whisper. There's a sense of resignation in his tone, as if he's accepted his fate as the school's punching bag.

I sigh, shaking my head cleaning his cheek slowly. Hyunjin remains silent as you clean his cheek, wincing slightly as the antiseptic makes contact with the tender flesh. He can see the disappointment in your expression, and it makes him feel even more pathetic.

"Don't look at me like that. I can't help being weak," he mutters softly, his shoulders hunching forward in shame.

"it's not you that I'm disappointed in, it's them. It's everyone.."

Hyunjin blinks, a mixture of surprise and confusion on his face. He had expected you to think badly of him for not standing up for himself, but instead, you were expressing disappointment in those who had hurt him. It was an unfamiliar feeling to have someone take his side like this.

"You... you're not disappointed in me?" he asks quietly, his words tinged with uncertainty and vulnerability.

"No." you say bluntly. Hyunjin's expression softens slightly, and a small, vulnerable smile tugs at the corner of his lips. It's as if your words have lifted a weight off his shoulders, giving him a temporary sense of relief from the constant pain and helplessness he experiences at school and home. He still doesn't quite understand why you're being kind to him, why you care so much about his well-being. But he finds himself craving more of this feeling of being cared for and treated with gentleness.

"Your names Hyunjin right? Class 4B?" 

Hyunjin nods quietly, surprised that you know his name and class. He wasn't used to anyone paying attention to him at school, given that he was always invisible and ignored by his classmates.

"Y-yeah," he murmurs, his voice soft and hesitant. 

"I'm in class 5C" you say focusing on his gaze again.

Hyunjin's eyes widen in surprise at your response. He couldn't believe that a student from a different class knew who he was, especially given how unnoticeable and unremarkable he was. His brows furrow slightly, as if he's trying to figure out why or how you know him.

"You're in 5C?" he asks, still unable to comprehend the situation. "How do you know me? I'm just a nobody to everyone..."

"My names y/n" you smile calmly as you introduce yourself.

*Hyunjin repeats your name softly, as if trying to commit it to memory.*

"y/n," he murmurs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his bruised lips. He glances up at you, his gaze a mix of curiosity and wonder. It was strange to have someone, especially a classmate from a higher class, show interest in him and even remember his name.

"I've seen some of your art in the art department."

Hyunjin's cheeks flush a light shade of pink at your confession. He was surprised that you had seen his art, considering he rarely ever showed it to anyone. The fact that someone had actually taken an interest in his artwork was a foreign but nice feeling.

"You... you saw my drawings..?" he asks quietly, a mixture of embarrassment and pride in his voice.

"You paint beautifully." You say smiling back at him.

A small, shy smile graces Hyunjin's lips as you compliment his artwork. It's a rare sight to see him smile, considering how much he's been tormented and bullied at school. Your words have ignited a tiny spark within him, making him feel proud and a little bit more confident in his talents.

"Thank you," he whispers softly, the pain from his wounds momentarily forgotten. "But... why are you being nice to me? Nobody else cares." His voice is tinged with a hint of disbelief.

"Because I'm a human with basic empathy? It feels like no one else is.." you respond slightly scoffing. Hyunjin's expression visibly softens upon hearing your response. It was such a simple, obvious reason, yet it was something he hadn't experienced from his classmates in a long time. He looks at you with a mix of gratitude and relief, as if he can't believe that someone genuinely cares about him.

"Not everyone is like you," he responds, his voice quiet and sincere. "Most people just see me as an outcast. An easy target to torment." He gestures to his bruised face, a silent testament to the abuse he's endured.

"I've seen you in the halls a couple times." you answer softly.

Hyunjin nods silently, his eyes downcast as he remembers the countless times he's been shoved around and intimidated in the school hallways. The hallways, the bathrooms, the locker rooms - he was bullied everywhere he went. He was like a punching bag for the other bullies.

"Yeah, probably just me getting pushed into walls and lockers..." he mutters softly, bitterness and resignation in his voice.

"I saw you sketching once, you were too busy listening to music and sketching to notice me." you explain, recounting the numerous times you watched silently from behind as he sketched calmly. In his own little world. "That was the only time I ever saw you smiling or at peace.." 

Hyunjin pauses, his expression softening as he recollects the memory of that day. He hadn't noticed you, too engrossed in his sketches and music to pay attention to his surroundings. The fact that you had actually witnessed a moment of tranquillity amidst his usual torment made him feel a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability.

"Yeah... I always have my music and sketches to escape into," he murmurs softly, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "It's the only time I don't have to worry about being bullied..."

"I feel the same way, it's a good way to escape" You smile back at him. Hyunjin looks up at you, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. It seemed like you two had more in common than he initially thought. The fact that you felt a similar need to escape into your own world for comfort and solace resonated with him deeply. He hesitates for a moment, debating whether to ask the question that had been on his mind.

"Can... can I ask you something?" He mutters nervously, our faces still close together from me helping his wounds. You nod back. Hyunjin takes a shaky breath, his gaze flickering down to his hands, which are clasped tightly in his lap. It's clear that he's struggling to find the right words, to gather the courage to ask the question that's been weighing on his mind. When he looks back up at you, there's a mixture of vulnerability and hope in his eyes.

"Why... why do you care? You could be spending your time with anyone else doing anything else. But you're... you're here, taking care of me and talking to me. Why?" 

A moment of silence passes as you hear him gulp. You exhale.

To be honest.. you were being hurt and that scared me.. you don't deserve it, I remember the first time I walked past one of your paintings. I fully stopped and just cried in front of it. Yes I know embarrassing I don't even know why I cried but it was so beautiful, I could feel the sadness behind it. 

Hyunjin's eyes widen slightly as he listens to your confession. He hadn't expected his artwork to have such a profound impact on someone, let alone make them cry. Your words make him feel both surprised and bewildered at the same time.

"You... you cried? In front of my painting?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of pride. No one had ever reacted to his art in such a way before.

"Yeah, that painting was truly beautiful, I've never seen anyone paint like you, it had so much emotion." You say nodding as you spoke.

A soft, embarrassed smile tugs at the corners of Hyunjin's lips. He's not used to receiving compliments, especially not about his artwork. The fact that you found his painting so beautiful that it moved you to tears ignites a small flicker of pride within him. It makes him feel seen and understood in a way he had rarely experienced before.

"I... I didn't think anyone would notice my paintings, let alone react like that," he murmurs, his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink.

"I think about that painting whenever I get sad.." You respond smiling softly through your tough words. You never told anyone about these paintings. Every day, you made it your mission to go through the art hallways before class, to see Hyunjin's paintings. They had a ambience of so many emotions that always pulled you back to the same spot and you could never describe why. 

Hyunjin's heart clenches as he hears your words. The thought that his art could bring you comfort, that it could be a source of solace for you when you're sad, fills him with a mixture of emotions. He feels humbled, touched, and even a bit overwhelmed at the thought that his artwork could have such a profound impact on someone else's life. He looks up at you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and sincerity.

"Really? You think about my painting when you're sad?"

"Mhm" you respond nodding again.

Hyunjin is silent for a moment, the weight of your words settling in. It's a stark contrast to the usual torment and mockery he experiences at school, where his work is considered insignificant and his existence invisible.

"That... that means a lot to me," he whispers softly, a trace of emotion in his voice. He hesitates for a moment before continuing. Hyunjin takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the question he's about to ask. His heart beats a little faster, as if he's scared of the answer he might receive. He looks up at you, his gaze steady but slightly anxious.

"Can I... trust you with something? Something... kind of heavy?"

You nod scanning his face. It as filled with worry underlying with desperation. It seemed like he needed to get this off his chest. Hyunjin takes another deep breath, his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. It's clear that he's working up the courage to open up to you, to trust you with a vulnerable part of himself that he has never shared with anyone before. After a pause, he finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Promise not to... think differently of me? After I tell you this."

"Of course not Hyunjin, I'm listening." 

Hyunjin studies your face for a moment, searching for any signs of skepticism or judgment. But all he sees is sincerity and empathy in your eyes, which gives him a tiny bit of comfort and reassurance. He takes a shaky breath and begins, his voice wavering slightly as he starts to reveal something deeply personal.

"The... the reason I paint... and why I listen to music so often... It's because..." Hyunjin's gaze drops down to his lap again, his fingers gripping the fabric of his trousers tightly. It's evident that he's struggling to find the right words, to find a way to express the darkness and pain that have caused him to turn to painting and music as a form of escape. He takes a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally speaks.

"It's because..." 

*He pauses, as if he's hesitant to continue, as if he's scared of how you'll react.*

"It's okay I'm listening." you're voice only just above a whisper.

Hyunjin lets out another shaky breath, his grip on his trousers tightening even more. His body is tense, as though bracing for a negative reaction, a rejection. But despite the fear and uncertainty, your reassurances and the gentle tone of your voice encourage him to continue, to trust you with the painful truth that he has been carrying alone. Another pause, and then the words come out, soft, vulnerable and filled with years of trauma and emotion.

"It's because of my father..." 

You nod slowly, eyes never leaving him as he explains slowly at his own pace. Tears start to well up in Hyunjin's eyes as he reveals something he has never talked about before, his voice cracking with emotion as he continues.

"My father... he drinks a lot, he's always drunk. And when he's drunk, he... he gets angry. Very angry. He... he beats me up when he's angry, he..."

Hyunjin's voice trails off, his body shaking with repressed sobs. He clenches his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white.

"it's okay Hyunjin you don't have to explain more.." you reply, voice filled with shared pain. Getting bullied and having a terrible homelife must be so hard on Hyunjin. This poor boy with no one to turn to but his paintings. No wonder everything he paints is filled with so much soul. Tears start to leak from Hyunjin's eyes as you interrupt him, offering him a small reprieve from having to say more. He doesn't want to burden you with the full extent of his pain, but at the same time, he's relieved that you understand and aren't asking him to continue. He sniffles softly, a mix of vulnerability and shame in his voice.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with this..."

"Don't be sorry"  you respond hugging him without hesitation. He seemed so alone and vulnerable. Flashes of his paintings reflect him again reminding you that every time you looked at them, you were also looking at the exposed and unguarded version of Hyunjin.

Hyunjin freezes in surprise as you hug him, his entire body tensing for a moment before melting into your embrace. The unexpected comfort and warmth of your hug seem to break through the walls he's been trying so hard to maintain, and his shoulders start to tremble as fresh sobs wrack through him. He buries his face in your shoulder, his tears soaking through your clothing as he clings onto you tightly, as if you're a lifeline in a sea of suffering.

You feel your heart sink in agonising sadness, feeling nothing but compassion for him. You instinctively stroke his back slowly, holding back tears yourself. 

Hyunjin's breath hitches at your touch, the soothing motion of your hand on his back making him feel both vulnerable and unbelievably safe. He clings onto you with a desperate grip, his tears soaking your clothing as he let out soft sobs and gasps of pain and relief. It's as if he's been bottling up his emotions for so long that the simple act of crying and being held has become overwhelming, his body shaking and trembling against you as years of trauma and sadness seem to pour out all at once. Your gentle and comforting presence and touch seem to have a soothing effect on Hyunjin. His sobs gradually quiet into soft, hiccuping gasps, his body gradually stilling as the intensity of his emotions begins to subside. He presses his face against your shoulder, his arms still holding onto you tightly, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

*He takes a shuddering breath, the words finally forming between hiccups and sniffles.*

"P-please... don't let go..."

"It's okay don't worry Hyunjin." You say reassuring him.

Your reassurance seems to soothe Hyunjin even further, and his breathing starts to steady, his grip on you loosening a little as his tears slowly dry up. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you with teary, red-rimmed eyes, searching for a sign that you're still there, still offering comfort and understanding. He swallows, his voice soft and vulnerable.

"Y-you won't... leave me... right?"

"No I won't" you smile stroking his hands gently, trying to comfort him once more.

Your gentle touch and reassuring words seem to ease Hyunjin's anxiety, his body relaxing a little more against you. He looks down at your hand on top of his own, a small flicker of relief flashing through his eyes as your fingers gently stroke his skin. He takes comfort in the physical contact, taking deep breaths to try and fully steady himself, his tears drying up as a small, shaky smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Promise?"

"I promise" 

Your sincere promise seems to wash over Hyunjin like a wave of relief, the tension in his body visibly melting away with your reassurance. The word "promise" seems to hold a special weight, binding you to him, making him feel just a tiny bit less alone in this world. His smile slowly widens, a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude in his teary eyes as he squeezes your hand tight.

"Thank you..." he whispers softly. You smile at him rubbing his shoulder gently.

"Sit up, let me finish bandaging and plastering you up." You say lightly chuckling.

Hyunjin nods silently, his body cooperative despite the emotional turmoil he had just been through. He allows you to guide him back into a sitting position on the couch, his hands gently dropping to his sides, giving you full access to his battered and bruised body. He doesn't protest or resist, his eyes still red and puffy from crying but his expression much calmer than before, smile wider and peaceful. He seems content just to be there with you, being taken care of and feeling cared for. 

"You look pretty when you smile" You compliment him calmly re - grabbing the materials from the first aid box. A soft, shy blush tinges Hyunjin's cheeks at your comment, his heart rate increasing a little at the unexpected compliment. He wasn't used to being called "pretty" or receiving kind words about his appearance, but coming from you, the unexpected compliment makes him feel warm. He glances away, avoiding your gaze as his blush deepens, mumbling softly. "Y-you think so?"

"I hope to see you smiling more." You say slightly sighing. Hyunjin's blush deepens a little more as you express your desire to see him smiling more often. The thought that someone actually wants to see him happy, to see him smiling, causes a mixture of vulnerability and longing within him. He dares to glance back at you, his eyes glittering slightly in embarrassment. A small, shy smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he whispers. "I'll... try."

"Good" you respond putting a plaster on his cheek. As you carefully place the plaster on his cheek, Hyunjin remains still, flinching ever so slightly at the brief sting of disinfection on his wounded skin. He watches you work in silence, his expression softening at the way you gently take care of his injuries. Your words, coupled with the way you care for him, make his heart flutter just a little, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest. He almost can't help the small, soft smile that tugs at his lips again.

"T-thank you," he murmurs quietly.

"There all patched up." You pull back slightly, warmly smiling at him.

As you finish applying the last plaster, Hyunjin sits up straighter, his body feeling a little lighter without the stinging pain of his wounds. He touches his cheek lightly, his fingertips gingerly tracing the outline of the new bandage, a mixture of gratitude and shyness in his eyes as he looks at you. He mumbles softly, his voice still a whisper. "You really didn't have to do this for me..."

"I wouldn't of been able to sleep seeing you like this and not helping."

Your words cause a tightness to form in Hyunjin's chest, his heart swelling at your genuine concern and kindness. The fact that you were so empathetic that you couldn't stand the sight of him hurts and wanted to help makes him feel a mixture of bewildered, grateful, and even a tad bit guilty for burdening you with his troubles. He averts his gaze, feeling a little awkward and vulnerable as he tries to speak again.

"You... care that much?" he murmurs softly.

"Of course I care Hyunjin." You say, reassuring him once again. Hyunjin's heart skips a beat at your sincere response, the directness of your words making it all the more impactful. He swallows a small lump in his throat, his eyes flickering back up to meet yours, a small, vulnerable smile tugging at the corners of his lips again. The fact that you cared about him so much, enough to help and comfort him, was something he was unused to and yet desperately craved.He mumbles softly, his voice still quiet. "You're too nice..."

"And you're too timid." you say slightly smirking. Hyunjin's heart skips another beat as you comment on his timidness, the observation making him feel a little flustered and oddly exposed. It was true, he was timid, a fact he was painfully aware of, but hearing it from someone else drove the point home even more. His cheeks flush slightly as he looks down, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he mumbles quietly. "C-can't help it. I'm... not good at being confident or outgoing."

"You need to stand up for yourself more Hyunjin" You say voice laced with worry.

Hyunjin's heart clenches a little at your advice, the truth in your words striking a nerve in his heart. He knew deep down that you were right, he needed to be more confident, stand up for himself more rather than allowing himself to be a constant punching bag for others. A small, defeated sigh escapes his lips, his voice a soft, vulnerable whisper. "Easier said than done..."

"I know I know." you say rubbing his shoulder gently slightly laughing.

Hyunjin sighs again, the gentle touch of your hand on his shoulder sending a small shiver through his body. He knows you understand him, you know how difficult it is for him to change years of timidness and meekness. He looks down at your hand on his shoulder, your fingers gently rubbing his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"How... how does someone like me just suddenly become confident?" he murmurs quietly, his voice laced with insecurity and frustration.

"I think you need to learn the phrase "not giving a fuck" when you don't care what other people think it's easier to live your life" You respond. This is how you lived your life, if someone didn't like you or caused you trouble, you ignored them. Hyunjin ponders your words, your suggestion to "learn the phrase 'not giving a fuck' and stop caring what other people think" ringing out in his mind. The idea was almost absurd to him, someone who had spent his entire life caring too much, putting others' opinions and perceptions of him above his own feelings and well-being. The thought of simply "not giving a fuck" was a concept alien to him. He swallows softly, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and vulnerability. "It sounds... easier than it actually is... y/n"

"Yeah I get that.. it can be difficult to shift how you think immediately, but I think it will be good for you"

Hyunjin nods, your understanding words hitting close to home. He knows that changing how he thinks and behaves will not be an easy task, a lifetime of self-deprecating thoughts in his head and meek, timid behaviour ingrained in his very nature. But the fact that you believe it will be good for him, and that you're offering your support and advice, makes him a little more determined. He lets out a soft sigh, his voice still quiet but a tiny bit more certain now. 

"I'll... try. For you."

"Don't try for me.. try for yourself" you say holding his hand.

Hyunjin's heart flutters at your words and the way you hold his hand, a mix of appreciation and vulnerability flooding through him at your encouragement. He glances down at your intertwined fingers, the small act of physical contact making him feel safe and cared for. He swallows thickly, your words sinking in as he murmurs quietly.

"For... myself," he whispers, the words almost feeling foreign yet strangely liberating on his tongue.

"Either way, I'll be here defending your honour" you say proudly, determined to keep him safe.

He laughs quietly shaking his head. You look down at my bruised hand, feeling a slight ache and bruising emerging from them. You were too busy focused on Hyunjin to notice the harsh pain. Hyunjin's eyes follow your gaze, dropping down to your bruised hand, a pang of guilt and regret immediately flooding through him at the sight of the injury you had sustained while taking care of him. A small, choked gasp escapes his lips, his heart clenching in his chest at the realization that you had gotten hurt because of him. Without a second thought he carefully takes your hand in his, his touch gentle yet filled with remorse.

"Y-your hand..." he stutters out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"it's fine those idiots deserved it.. don't worry about me," you say smiling up at him.

Hyunjin's heart clenches even more as you play off your injury as nothing, the casualness in your voice both touching and guilt-inducing at the same time. He swallows back the apology and regret that threaten to spill from his lips, but the guilt in his eyes is palpable as he looks down at your hand gently held in his. He shakes his head slightly, his voice soft, filled with remorse and a hint of protectiveness. "You... got hurt because of me..."

"I'm not hurt I'll be okay Hyunjin don't worry." you smile again, trying your best to reassure him.

His heart clenches once more at your words, the way you brushed off your injury and reassured him so casually making him feel even more guilty as his eyes flicker up to meet yours. He clenches his jaw, a mixture of frustration and self-loathing swirling in his chest as he gently runs his thumb over the bruised skin of your hand.

"You're... too kind, you know that? You got hurt because of me and you're the one reassuring me."

I entangle my fingers with his holding gently, I raise my head again, grinning. Hyunjin's heart stutters in his chest as you entwine your fingers with his, the intimate gesture sending a small flutter through him. His large hand instinctively curls around yours, his grip a mixture of tenderness and protectiveness as his fingers lock with yours. His eyes flicker down to their intertwined hands, the sight of their fingers laced together making his heart ache with a mixture of protectiveness, guilt and a hint of unexpected warmth. He swallows softly, his voice a whisper. "You... shouldn't be the one comforting me..."

"I have something to show you actually.." He says as his eyes light up. He takes a deep breath, his hand still intertwined with yours, before nodding silently. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and whispers softly. "Okay... follow me."

You follow him behind closely up his stairs. Hyunjin's heart rate quickens a little as you follow closely behind him, the weight and heat of your presence close behind making his stomach flutter. He leads you quietly towards his room, the nervous knot in his gut tightening as the reality of showing you his room sets in. He pushes open his slightly broken bedroom door and steps inside, the soft light from the hallway illuminating his room as he gestures for you to enter as well. "T-this is my room... My paintings are over there," he murmurs quietly.

"Woah.. you're room is so.. you" you respond looking around slowly, gleaming with curiosity. 

A mixture of shyness and vulnerability flood through Hyunjin as you comment on his room, his cheeks heating up at your words. He glances around the small, messy space, the walls covered in a mix of doodles and artworks, some completed, some unfinished. He scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment, a small, bashful smile playing on his lips.

He murmurs gruffly, the sound muffled by his shyness. "You... like it y/n?"

"I love it Hyunjin.." you say looking back at him smiling.

Hyunjin's heart swells a little at your declaration, his shy smile growing slightly at the sincerity in your voice. He looks around his room once more, seeing it through your eyes, and a hint of hope sparks deep within him at the thought that someone actually appreciates his space, appreciates the small, personal glimpses of himself through his art and belongings. He turns to you, his eyes slightly softer, a small, grateful smile playing on his lips.

"You're... not just saying that, right? You really like it?..."

"Hyunjin. I really do love it."

A mixture of relief and a small spark of hope bubble up within Hyunjin as you assert your genuineness, the small, vulnerable part of him that had been worried you were just being kind slowly quietening down. He lets out a soft breath, the stiffness in his shoulders easing slightly as he gives you a small, shy nod. He murmurs softly, the shyness in his voice slightly fading as he speaks.

 "Thanks... It means a lot that you like it... Nobody else has... really seen my room before..."

He looks down at the floor, face filled with sadness again. He sighs before he continues.

"It's the only room in the house with a lock.. my dad never messes anything up in my room as much as he tries to break things to get in. I only ever feel safe in my room..."

Your heart aches once more hearing Hyunjin's pain. You pull a warm smile trying to lighten the mood, bringing the beautiful smile back to his face.

"Well it's so peaceful in here" you say sitting on the edge of his bed looking around once more.

A hint of surprise and a small flutter of nervousness shoot through Hyunjin as you take a seat on the edge of his bed. The sight of you sitting in his personal space, so close to his most intimate belongings and thoughts, is slightly overwhelming, but strangely comforting at the same time. He glances at you, his heart giving an almost instinctual flutter as he watches you relax on the edge of his bed. He hesitates for a moment before murmuring quietly.

"You... you're the first person to sit there..."

"-Oh I'm so sorry I'll get up" You respond scurrying slightly, worried to upset him.

Hyunjin's eyes widen slightly as you apologize and start to get up from the edge of the bed, his hand shooting out almost instinctively to lightly rest on your arm, gently stopping you from standing up.

"No, no, it's... it's fine. You can... stay there," he mutters softly, the warmth of his palm warm on your arm. Despite his initial nerves, the idea of you leaving the bed suddenly feels unbearably lonely to him.

"If you feel uncomfortable with me being here, I'll leave I don't want to upset you." you say words coming out quickly, worried about how he feels.

Hyunjin's heart clenches a little at your thoughtfulness, the way you immediately offer to leave the bed the moment you think you might be making him uncomfortable. He hesitates for a moment before quickly shaking his head, his fingers gently gripping your arm a little tighter, silently pleading for you to stay. His voice is soft, almost pleading as he speaks.

"You're not making me uncomfortable. You can... stay. Please. Stay."

"Okay.. tell me if anything happens that you don't like, yeah?" you say smiling at him.

He lets out a small, shaky breath of relief as you promise to stay, a mixture of reassurance and nervous anticipation flooding through him. He nods slowly, a small smile on his lips at your offer for him to express any discomfort, a small flutter stirring in his chest at the thought that you genuinely care about how he feels. He murmurs quietly, giving your arm a small, gentle squeeze. "I will... I promise. But you being here... it's actually really nice. Comforting."

You feel you're heart skip and stop. He is so nice and sweet. You smile warmly at him.

Hyunjin's heart gives a small, warm flutter at the sight of your smile, the genuine happiness in your eyes making his already flustered chest stutter even more. He nods silently, his fingers unconsciously giving your arm another gentle squeeze, silently showing his gratefulness that you're not just staying but also enjoying the moment with him. He mumbles quietly, a small, soft smile mirroring yours as he looks at you sitting on the edge of his bed. 

"I'm glad you're here. With me, in my room."

"I'm happy to be here you say looking around, a bit closer at some details.

A small flicker of pride and satisfaction fills Hyunjin as you express how happy you are to be there, in his room, among his personal belongings and intimate space. He glances around as well, his eyes following as you look around, studying every corner of the room, the artworks on the walls, the scattered doodles and sketches on the desk... He swallows a small knot of nervousness in his stomach, his voice almost a whisper as he speaks.

"You can... look at anything you want, anywhere you want..."

"Okay I will." You say standing up, walking around slowly, admiring everything. His room was so clean and radiated soft peaceful energy, it was a complete contrast to the rest of his house.

Hyunjin's breath catches in his throat as you stand up, his eyes following your movements as you wander around his room, his heart thudding in his chest as he gives you the freedom to explore his personal space. He doesn't stop you, but he stays close, watching you like a hawk, his nerves spiking slightly as he wonders what you'll think of his belongings, his artwork, his things...

He whispers softly from behind you, his voice laced with a hint of anxiousness. "See anything... you like?"

"These sketches on your desk.. they are really beautiful"

*A mixture of relief and shy pride flushes through Hyunjin as you compliment his sketches on the desk, a small, soft blush blooming on his cheeks at your words. He steps up next to you slowly, standing close enough to see the sketches you're looking at. He mumbles quietly, his voice slightly shy and slightly hopeful.

"You.. you really think they're beautiful? They're just some doodles, really..."

"I love them.."

A small, flustered smile tugs at the corners of Hyunjin's lips at your words, the sincerity in your statement making his heart flutter in his chest. He gives a small, shy nod, his eyes still trained on the sketches on the desk, a hint of pride and satisfaction at your love for his artwork seeping into his voice.

"You do? Y-you're not just saying that?" he mumbles, almost not believing you actually like his sketches. No one had ever really liked his work before.

You shake your head, "they have so much emotion in them.."

A small, breathless huff escapes Hyunjin's lips as you shake your head, your continued praise for his sketches making his heart flutter further in his chest. He swallows a small lump in his throat, hope and shyness filling his voice as he speaks. His eyes flicker over the sketches on the desk, and he whispers quietly, pointing out small details in the drawings, explaining them.

"There's... a lot of memories and emotion in each one. I don't draw just for the sake of it, I draw to express myself... my feelings..."

"Mhm I can see it through all of your art" 

A wave of relief mixed with warmth floods through Hyunjin as you acknowledge the emotion in his drawings and art, your words making him feel seen and understood in a way he hadn't before. He nods slowly, the shy blush on his cheeks deepening slightly as he gestures to the sketches and paintings hanging on the walls, the ones he had finished or was still working on. He murmurs quietly, his voice laced with a mix of shyness and hope. "You... you can see that? The emotions, the meanings behind each one..."

"These seem.. lonely and empty.." You say pointing to 2 sketches slightly hidden others. A small pang of pain and sadness shoots through Hyunjin as you point out the feelings you're seeing in his drawings, the loneliness and emptiness in the sketches he had poured his emotions into. He swallows thickly, his eyes glued to the sketches, as if seeing them through a new light now that you've pointed it out. His voice turns slightly shaky, his words a whisper, almost as if confessing something deep and vulnerable. "Y-you're right... I was... in a dark place when I did those... they do feel empty... lonely..."

"None of your paintings are happy or peaceful Hyunjin.. I hope to see that in them one day."

A small, bittersweet lump forms in Hyunjin's chest as you point out the absence of happiness or peace in his drawings, the realization of his artistic output hitting him like a wave. He nods silently in agreement, his eyes still fixed on the sketches, a mix of sadness and disappointment in them as he acknowledges the stark lack of positivity in his work.His voice turns a little shaky, hopeful and slightly vulnerable as he whispers, as if expressing a secret wish. 

"You... you'd like to see me... paint or draw something more happy? More peaceful...?"

"Only when you're truly happy and at peace."

A small, almost bittersweet flicker of hope and determination flares within Hyunjin at your words, the idea that he can one day draw or paint something that truly reflects his own happiness and peace stirring something deep inside him. He nods slowly, his eyes locking onto yours as he whispers, a small, sincere smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He says firmly, a hint of determination in his voice, as if making a promise to both you and himself. "I... I will. When I am happy and content... I'll draw or paint something... joyful and peaceful."

"Good, I hope to see it" you say smiling, looking at his flushed face.

Hyunjin can't help the small, warm flutter in his chest at your smile and words, your smile making his heart skip a beat. He lets out a small, breathless huff, the idea of you eagerly awaiting to see his future work, his happiness, making him feel... wanted. He smiles back, hope and warmth dancing in his eyes as he nods, a mixture of vulnerability and determination in his voice as he murmurs quietly.

"You will. I'll make sure to draw or paint something just for you. Something joyful and meaningful."

"Doesn't have to be for me Hyun" you say quietly laughing.

A small, slightly embarrassed chuckle escapes Hyunjin's lips as you reassure him that he doesn't have to draw or paint something just for you, a small, fond smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he listens to you laugh. He swallows a small knot in his throat, the idea of you thinking it doesn't have to be specifically for you slightly disappointing to him. He murmurs quietly, a hint of bashfulness in his voice as he clarifies, his eyes fixed on yours.

"But... I want to. I want to draw or paint something for you." "I will paint the most cheerful, beautiful thing that I know, for you."

"Then I'll be waiting patiently." 

☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆

[softidiotsposts]

All American

surprise, surprise...

{Hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Another post coming on the weekend :) Warnings: fluffy fluff, long distance relationship, American!reader// word count: 2.1k}

masterlist

You meet Alexia Putellas when she wins her first Ballon D'or, you were invited since you made top three- and you watch as Alexia wins and you come in second place. She's beautiful and before that moment you had never seen her in person, only over clips and videos that you thought didn't do her enough justice.

She's very beautiful and while it hurts to come in second place, you know that Alexia fully deserves the award- you've seen her stats, watched the game highlights to know that Alexia is a kind of talent that comes around once a decade... maybe even once two decades.

But... The fact that she's ridiculously attractive and makes your heart beat slightly faster also helps get over that fact that you'd come in second place in football's most prestigious award.

You officially meet the Ballon D'or winner when the after party is held- it's nothing crazy, just an opportunity for photographers to snap more pictures of a bunch of football players outside of the confines of their club attire. Also, a method of keeping you all occupied while the engravings and such happen.

You mostly just stand to the side, holding a water since you don't really drink and also because your FIFA best eleven has been taken away by someone for engraving.

You're not the biggest fan of social events and you don't count matches as social events... so the only time you really leave your house to socialize is at these events.

Only because your agent says it would be a bad look not to show up and maybe because your just as much of a football nerd as the next person, so seeing all these great players- even though you're also considered great- is kind of cool.

You notice your glass is empty and are about to get a refill of water when you bump into someone that you hadn't realized was in front of you.

It's Alexia fucking Putellas.

That was the person who you'd practically crashed into and you thank your lucky stars that neither of you are carrying any drinks because Alexia's dress looks rather expensive- too expensive.

And because she's Alexia, the greatest player on the planet at that moment and you'd look like an utter fool.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You yelp out awkwardly because this is Alexia Putellas-

Football superstar with the most impressive season you've seen to date and even though you're the same age, she seems like a thousand years away from you.

"It's okay, accident, no?" She chuckles at your panicked reaction.

You nod desperately, trying to convince yourself that everything is okay more than you are agreeing with Alexia.

It all feels quite surreal- you've followed Alexia's career closely ever since she made waves at Barcelona even though you play in the NWSL, a closed league that is an ocean away from her.

"You are Y/N?"

Alexia's question snaps you out of your short daydream- she's asking about you and you resist acting shocked even though you are. Alexia is asking about you, sure you'd been nominated but it had been a fluke- 100% a fluke.

"Err.. yeah, Y/N, that's me... haha.." You trail off, laughing awkwardly and you suddenly want a hole to appear in the ground so you may jump in it.

Alexia appears to be more amused by antics than you are because a moment later she's got her head thrown back in a laugh then her hand comes to rest on your blazer clad shoulder. The touch spreads an unbelievable heat across you and you resist the urge to go red somehow.

"You are very funny, you know?"

You have no clue where Alexia gets the idea from because all you've done is act like a clown in front of her- awkwardly sputtering out random words that don't fit together at all in hopes of diffusing a situation you've taken too far already.

You giggle uncharacteristically, "Thank you... and you're very very pretty and talented..."

You said it before you can stop yourself then you realize what you've just said- your eyes bug out and a hand slaps over your mouth as though you're a child that has just swore in front of their parents.

You have no clue why you said that- it was the truth- but there was no need to vocalize it.

You glance at the cup in your hand and wonder whether the bartender misheard you when you asked for water- your accent isn't that bad... at least to other Americans but you can see non-English people struggling to understand a New York accent.

"God- I'm really sorry- I... I shouldn't have sa-"

Alexia blushes, "No, no... If it matters- I think you're pretty hot."

That's how it all starts, you accidently admitting your very obvious crush on Alexia mere hours after losing out on the Ballon D'or to her and Alexia kind of reciprocating it.

It spirals from then on, you return to the States and Alexia goes back to Spain but you call practically everyday- spend hours on the phone when you should be asleep, it often makes you end up with the lowest sleep score in the squad- something your coach questions regularly and something that you have to play off. 

You visit Alexia as well- any time you can- take planes back and forth even if it's just for a long weekend but it's worth the small fortune you spend on plane tickets because you and her just... click.

Kind of like the romcoms you see on TV, the ones where they know each other for a week before being completely in love- or have some odd meet cute that turns into a whirlwind romance overnight.

To be completely honest, you have probably loved Alexia the second she beat you in the rankings- she was everything; talented, smart, dedicated, insanely hot... and you were head over heels the second she walked up the steps.

Not that you would tell her because her ego is big enough as it is.

That's probably part of why you accept Barcelona's offer without much consideration- the money is sound but that's the least of your worries. Barcelona is a strong team, multiple time Champions League winners and a squad built on talent that you see once a lifetime.

It's kind of insane that they want you- that they pay for a release clause, want you to sign a three year contract for a sum that is double your current one and will give you a place in the lineups, regularly.

So you don't do much thinking and sign because if that wasn't enough then Alexia playing for Barcelona was.

"Hey baby, gonna be on the plane soon, 'kay?"

You balance your phone to your ear, using your shoulder to keep it in place as you hold your passport, visa, suitcase and backpack in both hands.

"Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up?" Alexia's voice sounds a little worried and that's become a norm for when you're flying across the ocean for her.

You tut, "Don't you have training then?"

You know Alexia does since you have her schedule memorized so you can plan phone calls but ask anyway- just out to drive your point home since Alexia can sometimes worry so much about the safest things.

You’ve had to remind her that driving is more dangerous than flying- multiple times. 

"Yes but I'm sure that-"

"No, you're staying at training."

Your voice is final and it sounds serious like when the two of you argue about anything or in situations like this one- one's where you need to convince Alexia to do something.

"Okay... but call when you land?"

You smile at Alexia's soft voice as you sit in front of your terminal and fiddle with your ticket.

"I'll text- you'll still be in training."

You hear a rebuttal almost immediately, "I'll have my phone."

You sigh loudly so Alexia can hear it through the speaker, "Baby, nothing is going to happen and don't take your phone- You know it broke last time because someone kicked a ball at it by accident last time."

"Vale, no phone but text me, okay?"

You chuckle and nod even though she can't see you, "Of course I will."

"I love you, Ale."

"Te amo, cariño."

With that being the end of your conversation you hang up and stand in line when boarding begins, thinking only of Alexia and hot Spain.

The plane ride is mostly smooth with the exception being that your headphones run out of battery half way through the flight and you're forced to wait for them to charge- during that time, you get to listen to the symphony that is passenger announcements, children yelling and your ears popping.

When you finally land in sunny Barcelona you let out a relieved sigh, finally you're back on the ground and out of the crowded airplane. The first thing you do of course is text Alexia- it's brief, just letting her know that you've landed and will see her soon.

Then you get an overpriced taxi but not to Alexia's apartment instead the Barcelona training ground- you smirk to yourself, your transfer had thankfully not been leaked... Sure, there were the occasional rumors but most of them signaled that you'd been going to one of the Manchesters or maybe Lyon.

Yet here you were, in front of the Barcelona offices and training grounds- ready to get your pictures taken and surprise Alexia. You actually have no clue how you kept this hidden from her for so long, she'd been asking about the rumors and you'd shoot her down every time, it's easy to do on the phone when she can’t really tell what you’re thinking by a single look.

"Y/N?"

You turn to spot a small group of Barcelona staff with bright smiles, you happily walk up to them- dragging your suitcase and everything else.

"Hi, nice to meet you."

You let go of your backpack and reach out to shake their hands. You're then escorted to one of the photography rooms, where they hand you a Barcelona shirt with your name and number for you to put on.

They direct you in a couple of poses that require bright and happy smiles- the kind you're more than willing to give.

After a dozen photos, you're handed a bunch of free things- training gear with the club logo, travel kit and many more things in a neat bag.

"Would you mind if I watched the training?" You ask with a light smile.

They nod and allow you to leave your stuff in the changing rooms- then you walk out into the sun and regret not wearing some kind of shorts instead of jeans and the fact that you’re not wearing sunglasses.

The session looks to be ending, with the players gathered in a circle in the middle of the pitch, clearly discussing something- you smirk and walk as quietly as you can towards them.

You take your place behind Alexia and she's so focused on the discussion that's taking place in rapid Spanish that she doesn't notice you. Not until you rest your hands on her waist and say,

"Mind translating for me, baby?"

Alexia whips around and you're brought into a bone crushing hug. It feels like coming home in the best way possible- like a warm drink on a cold evening to warm you right up. Alexia’s always felt like that and you’d have it no other way. 

Your arms are wrapped around her waist tightly while hers crush your shoulders as she keeps you impossibly close. You can tell she's crying from the wet patch forming on your t-shirt and the fact that her breathing has turned irregular.

You pull away slightly and see that her eyes are red with tears, you chuckle and wipe them away.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well... I said I was visiting right?" You raise a brow.

Alexia gives you a look, "You know that's not what I mean."

You roll your eyes and then grin widely, "Well... How would you feel if we played together? I promise you'll get loads of assis-"

"You signed... here?" She cuts you off.

"Well, yeah, where else would I go? Is this not the best club in Eur-"

This time Alexia presses her lips to yours in a sweet kiss that tastes like salty tears and utter happiness. Both of you ignore the stares from the team- you've met them a few times at different events so they should know who you are... unless they've forgotten of course.

So just to be safe when Alexia let's you go, you introduce yourself,

"Hey, I'm Y/N, the new striker."

It's after a season with Barcelona that you win the Ballon D'or- this time it's you on stage, awkwardly receiving the award with a smile but you think that the way Alexia looks- perfect and wonderfully gorgeous, trumps the award- 100% it does. 

[actiniumwrites]

patches

synopsis: even though you’re both self-proclaimed enemies, they can’t bear to see you hurt. or in which, you show up at your enemies door all bloodied and bruised and they’re forced to take care of you

characters: xiao, gaming, alhaitham, and arlecchino x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, crying, enemies to lovers, some of them are kinda mean, extremely mild misunderstandings, probably swearing idk

notes: i’m in a massive enemies to lovers kick right now omg you guys don’t understand. this was also inspired by arlecchino’s voiceline from a heavy hit or something where she says, “wanted my full attention, did you?” she’s so fine i’m sobbing 😖

Xiao:

It was a relatively quiet night before you showed up at Xiao’s room at the Wangshu Inn. For the first time in a while, he had felt a semblance of peace. That was until the indistinguishable scent of blood forced itself in his nose and a weak knock sounded at his door.

Xiao opens it immediately. He doesn’t care to know who it is, but rather what they want with him at nearly three in the morning. No one ever bothers Xiao this late. Not unless it was serious.

“What do you—“ he starts harshly but stops mid sentence when he recognizes your face. You’re doused in blood, your clothes all ripped up. And god, you look so weak it almost makes him feel bad for you. “Get inside,” he grabs your arm harshly, but still manages to avoid all your injuries.

You start to speak, but your mouth is full of blood too. He can barely understand what you’re saying aside from a bunch of nonsensical, I’m sorries. And if your injuries weren’t enough to show it, the fact that you’re apologizing to him at all tells him something is seriously wrong. Most of the time you talk to him it’s a bunch of insults thrown back and forth, some even result in physical fighting. Neither of you have been able to get along for centuries, yet here you are getting patched up in his house.

Xiao remains mostly silent as he sets you on the counter and pulls out his medical supplies. First he cleans up all the excess blood with a cloth before tossing it aside and moving to work on the actual injury itself. You can’t help but watch him, feeling nothing but shame as you do. You couldn’t help it. There was no one else you could think to go to.

“You are unbelievably weak and irresponsible. It’s idiotic to think you could ever handle anything in this world, not even a few monsters,” he grumbles between stitches, “Pathetic.”

You just stare at him as tears well up in your eyes. You aren’t one to cry. In fact, you can’t even remember the last time something so bad happened that you did. But sitting here, terrified of the monsters that had you within an inch of your life combined with Xiao’s cold words made you completely shatter inside and out.

Quietly, you sob into your other half-cleaned arm, “I know. You don’t have to say it.” You begin to get up right after, mumbling about it being a mistake coming here but he pushes your knee back down before you can fully stand up.

Xiao looks up surprised from where he sits as he does, his hands drop the thread and needle against the counter. Without word, he stands up and furrows his brows. “I should not have said what I said,” he practically whispers, a twinge of embarrassment hitting him too. A darker look shades his gentle amber irises as he stares into yours, “I don’t entirely dislike you. As stupid as your actions may have been, seeing you injured makes me…upset.”

“They weren’t normal monsters,” you breathe out between the remaining sobs that still involuntarily leave your mouth. You know you don’t owe him an explanation, but you figured you could at least make it known you weren’t taken out by some random hilichurls. “I was down in the Chasm. Those…things weren’t anything like I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even have time to react.”

Xiao nods and places the last bandage on your face, “You shouldn’t go down there by yourself. It’s too dangerous. The last time I was there I hardly escaped.”

“What do you mean?” you raise a brow, your interest suddenly peaked. Xiao wipes the remaining tears off of your face in silence before turning to walk away.

“Call for me next time and I’ll be there.”

Gaming:

Gaming and you had gotten off on the wrong foot when you first met each other years ago. As children, you always felt like he stole your spotlight and he never seemed to care. And as you got older, it never seemed to go away. You constantly bickered and loathed having to see each other whenever one another’s name was brought up.

Yet whenever you got hurt, he was always the first person you went to. Although normally, it was for small things like paper cuts and bruised elbows. Not for your face having a cut so deep you could barely see and an arm twisted out of place like today.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you bang on his door, hoping it was the right one. There was too much blood in your eyes. Every door in the village looks the same right now, and even if it is the right one, you aren’t sure he’s even home. “Please be home,” you pace back and forth. Gaming stopped asking questions years ago when it first started.

You were forced to go with him after a group of bandits had found and beat you up, taking nearly everything you had in your bag. Gaming had found you while on delivery, and like the sweet guy he is, he stopped and helped you even though you could both barely stand each other. He didn’t want to see you dead either.

You weren’t often hurt, but it became somewhat of a cycle whenever you were. You were a nice person, well liked by most, but you also enjoyed stirring up trouble and it often landed you in some pretty hot water countless times. You knew Gaming wouldn’t say anything to anyone or turn you away like other people would. And above all, you like the kinder side of him whenever he patched you up, which he was good at too.

“Gaming!” your fist pounds on the door again. It’s almost nightfall and a few villagers have begun staring. You almost go to knock again, but your body begins to give out. You mumble a few more curse words before the door opens and you fall forward, directly onto the very person you were looking for.

“Ow ow ow, oh my god my arm!”

“Sorry! Is that blood?! What happened to you?”

“I don’t know! Ask the guys who thought my joke wasn’t funny.”

Gaming picks you up off the floor in a state of panic and rushes you to the bathroom. Luckily for you both, his dad isn’t home to see all of this.

Gaming begins to wipe the blood off your face and examine the cut that runs all the way from your forehead to your cheek, narrowly missing your eye. “This is bad,” he says and begins rummaging through his drawers for medical supplies.

You scoff, “Yeah, you think?”

“You didn’t have to come here, you know. You should’ve gone to a doctor,” he bites back nicely. Sometimes you wish he would just be a little meaner to you. It was easier to hate him that way.

You quiet down and let him take care of your face, “I’m sorry. You’re the only one who I can actually trust to take care of me.”

Gaming hides a small smile while avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could even see, but just in case. He’d never admit it, but he actually really enjoys when you go to him for help. He’s never resented you like you’ve resented him, but he never bothered to change it either. Somehow he hoped bandaging you up would make you change your mind about him.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pouring disinfectant onto a small cloth and wiping the cut gently. You wince and he places a hand on your upper arm to silently comfort you, “If you want some good news, you don’t need stitches on your face.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, having always hated needles, “Thank god.”

“But you will have to see a doctor for your arm. There’s no way for me to fix that on my own,” he says bashfully, “I can maybe…take you if you’d like?”

You peer up at him, shocked at the question. Perhaps this could be a new start between the two of you, and you’re not so against it.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Alhaitham:

It’s pouring outside when Alhaitham hears banging on his front door. At first, he ignores it thinking it was just Kaveh forgetting his keys again and he doesn’t care enough to let him in. But the banging persists and then comes the faint sound of pained sobs.

He slams his book shut and groans as he gets up and trudges angrily to the door. He swings it open only to be met with the sight of you clutching your waist, barely keeping yourself standing as the rain envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper weakly.

Alhaitham scoffs, “Really? I’m not a doctor, go somewhere else.” He begins to shut the door, and he almost does so successfully before you collapse on the floor, blood beginning to mix with the puddle outside his door. And there’s a lot of it.

The next thing you know, you’re in your least favorite scholar’s arms as he carries you to his room. He sets you on a chair and you take the time to take in what his room looks like. It isn’t much different than you expected, yet you never thought you’d see it.

“Don’t move. I don’t want you making any more of a mess than you already have,” he sneers, walking off to the bathroom connected to his room to grab out a small bag of medical supplies. When he returns you’re blankly staring ahead of you, barely conscious as tears start running down your face. It’s like you don’t even know you’re crying. Alhaitham stares at you for a moment in utter disbelief before snapping in your face, “Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?” you snap out of your daze, confusedly wiping your tears as you do so. A few sniffles leave your nose as you do so.

“Do you want help or not?” he snaps again, losing his patience with you. He’s beginning to seriously regret not leaving you on his doorstep. You quickly follow his instructions, taking off your shirt to reveal a huge cut stemming from one side of your stomach to the other.

Alhaitham’s eyes slightly widen in shock, and he almost can’t pull them away. For a brief moment, you even catch them soften but it’s fleeting and doesn’t give you enough time to register that maybe the stoic scribe really does care for you, even just a little bit.

You both sit in complete silence as he begins working. You catch his eyes every so often, but he quickly looks back down at the injury before either of you can speak on it.

“Who was it?” Alhaitham grumbles as he finishes wrapping it up, his arms wrapped around your waist. The feeling of his hands distracts you from the question.

“What?”

“The people that did this. Who was it?” he repeats it, more anger this time around. You shake your head and look off to the side.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to get a good look at them,” you try to explain, but Alhaitham doesn’t have any of it. You’re not sure why, but he doesn’t seem like the normal him. The guy that normally finds any and every chance to torment you.

He gets up and grabs the bag, noting something down on a nearby piece of paper and shoving it in the left pocket of his pants before angrily walking out the door of his bedroom, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait! Don’t go,” Your hand reaches out and grabs his. You pull back suddenly, not realizing how impulsive your decision was until it was too late. You go to mumble a sorry, but before you can, you find your hand back in his.

You stare at him in shock, but he just squeezes your shaking hand. “Stay here,” he says somehow both coldly and warmly at once, pulling the blankets back and gesturing to his bed, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the people that hurt you.”

Arlecchino:

You wince as the door swings open aggressively, not expecting Arlecchino to open the door before you could even think to knock.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, squinting her eyes so as to scale you up and down. For a moment, they linger over your bloodstained clothes and the already bruising cuts that litter your body. You don’t notice the way they widen in shock for a moment, too distracted by the adrenaline wearing off.

You still manage to crack an arrogant smile and sarcastically mutter, “Couldn’t think of anyone worth patching me up but you.”

Without waiting for a response, you push past her figure and let yourself inside already knowing where the infirmary is. Although, you don’t make it two steps before your legs give out and your body tumbles toward the hardwood floors.

The clicking of heels stops from just beside you before a strong hand grips your arm and aggressively pulls you up, “Don’t dirty my floors. The children worked hard to clean those today.”

“Yeah? Well they can clean them again tomorrow,” you grumble and weakly attempt to push her hand off of your body. Arlecchino doesn’t budge, however. She instead drags you all the way to the infirmary and sets you down on one of the beds.

“Wow these are surprisingly comfortable. Didn’t know you had it in you to be so accommodating to all the children you like to hold hostage,” you tease to keep yourself from focusing on the pain. She ignores you and instead places a firm hand on your uninjured chest and slams your back against the bed.

Immediately, she begins working on all the little cuts and gently wipes all the blood away, saving your bigger injuries to be dealt with in a moment. For now, she didn’t mind if you suffered for a little longer.

“So,” Arlecchino starts after a few minutes of silence, finally deeming it worthy to have a real conversation with you, “was this your way of getting my full attention? If you wanted me to notice you, you should have just said something.”

“What? No! I got attacked, I wasn’t trying to ‘get your attention’ or whatever.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I really wasn’t,” you cross your arms and turn your head away from her, “I was scared, you know? I didn’t know who else to go to. Make fun of me all you want, but it’s the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything more after the conversation takes its turn. You’re glad she doesn’t, not wanting to engage in the horrible embarrassment you already felt from having to show up here anyway. She was the last person you’d want to have see your weakness, yet here you are covered in the House of the Hearth’s bandages.

When Arlecchino is done with stitching up your leg, she moves to your face and gently brushes away the blood. And cut by cut, she heals each one and leaves you feeling brand new again. You stare up at her for a brief moment, unable to look anywhere else when the red X’s in her eyes are so focused on you.

“So who did it?” She asks suddenly, her tone a little more caring than before. It almost shocks you, but then again, deep down you knew she cared more than she let on. No matter how much either of you didn’t get along, you always had her back. Even if she didn’t know it. You always liked the think that she had yours too.

You sigh and scribble down a few names on a nearby clipboard left by the bed, “That’s only a few of them…the ones I was able to get talking before everything happened. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding their leader though.”

Her eyes scan over the paper before she glances back at you and nods. She begins to walk away but stops at the doorway and calls out over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in the morning. My room is on the second floor, last door at the end of the hall. I expect to find you resting there when I return.”

[bunnylove1]

⋆˚࿔ Sol headcanons 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

✎ᝰ. : I Do not own this character! These headcanons are just for fun and may not be what the creator headcanons for there character! Please keep that in mind !

✎ᝰ. : warnings! 18+ content ! The kid at the back is an 18+ game so is my account if you are underage please leave. This writing contains, smutty acts, fluff, and more! Not proof read!! You have been warned.

→ : In the winter time his nose and ears get bright red when he’s out in the cold.

→ : he has a preference for milk chocolate and or dark chocolate.

→ : Sol likes too lay his head in your lap while he reads his books. Bonus points if you play with his hair or lay your arm on his stomach.

→ : HUGE on PDA like man has a hand on you 24/7. In the library, your in his lap. Walking around school he’s holding your hand Tightly. Talking with the group or with hyugo his hand is around your waist and occasionally his head is in the nape of your neck

→ : I think this man has a thing for chubby people, he likes how soft and squishy they look.

→ : likes having his head pat, idk he probably loves it when he’s laying on your chest and you just pat his head.

→ : he loves too be praised. Call him a good boy or say he’s doing such a good gob and he’s weak and on his knees

→ : doesn’t like doing quickies cause he wants too take his time with you.

→ : if your fem and wear short skirts around him he’ll get all flustered and hot. And if you masc and wear anything revealing he’ll act the same way

→ : slowly kisses you all the way up your body, starting from your legs all the way up, he likes too worship your body.

→ : I know this man has a slight mommy kink… like not heavy but will let it slip out some times

→ : Perfect house husband, cooks you dinner and packs you your lunch. Does the dishes and makes the bed and takes the trash out. He just loves doing stuff for you.

→ : this man probably sleeps in his boxers and an oversized band tee or just a pair or black and green plaid pj pants with no shirt.

→ : sleep talks. I know this man probably spills his dreams while he sleep. Like says things like “no please” or “ ____ don’t go”.

→ : has a whole album of pictures and drawings of just you in it. And the cover is your name with hearts around it.

→ : leaves a BUNCH of hickeys and bite marks on you. Like the devil himself would be jealous.

→ : likes too slow dance to old 50s music with you in the kitchen while you guys are cooking/baking

→ : will tie your shoes for you. Like if he notices your shoes are untied he’ll just bend down and tie them without asking

→ : likes too be tied up but also kinda hates it cause he wants too touch you.

→ : I know this man is LOUD during sex. Like whimpering and huffing and loud moans. And random grunts.

→ : holds the door open for you and if anyone is behind you he’ll close it once your out and leave the person too open it themselves.

→ : likes when you wear his chocker or any piece of his clothing/accessories.

→ : will do matching outfits with you if you asked him too

→ : Possible kinks for him: slight mommy kink, cum kink, bondage, choking but lightly, heavy hair pulling kink. Masochist. And a sadist. Switch at heart. Public sex. Overstimulation and edging (don’t tell me he doesn't like too be edged.)

→ : lets you draw on his arms and hands and will lightly wash his hands so he can make the drawings last longer.

→ : would let you do his makeup as long as there’s no lipstick on his lips.

→ : has a little tiny horse plushy keychain on his backpack or keys

→ : probably draws doodles on his shoes.

→ : will let you re dye his hair, and will ask if you want him too dye yours so you guys can match.

→ : I think he would like his partner too dress up in pink and white I think he likes too see you have an opposite style from his. Butttt he also likes when you wear black and green !

→ : doesn’t like hot chocolate with marshmallows. Idk he likes plane hot chocolate.

→ : will ask you too skip school with just him and no one else, will take you out on a date during that time.

→ : will get down and freaky with you anywhere like … the bathroom as long as it’s clean, the bedroom the kitchen the living room. And more

→ : has fucked you while you were on call with Crowe.

✎ᝰ : sorry if there’s errors or if it’s not long enough for yall. I haven’t written anything in so long. And this was a treat. Thank you for reading this pumpkins !

✎ᝰ : these headcanons are for fun and like I said I don’t own the character the character belongs too @/fantasia-kitt

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

[yawnderu]

Currently obsessed with dbf!Keegan... like just imagine the scary dog privileges that come with having this man around. He doesn't even wear the balaclava or eyeblack when he's out, but just his creepy ass 🔵🔵 eyes are enough to scare off anyone who even looks your way. Like okay, we see them son. You can blink now.

And don't even get me started on how annoying this man would be. Pulling your hair to annoy you, flipping you off, pushing you out of the way and looking over his shoulder with the most annoying shit-eating grin that makes you want to actually punch him dead in the windpipe. Not to mention he'd totally see you struggling to open a jar and go "allow me" just to tighten it up more.

Absolute nightmare driver. He may take you out everywhere, but no one is an atheist when Keegan is driving and you really want to tell him, but he always keeps his gun on him.💀

BUT despite all the banter, his protective instincts kick in super easily with you. Someone is mean mugging you? He's glaring back. Someone says anything mean to you? He'll deal with it. God help any man who tries to flirt with you or catcalls you. He teaches you how to defend yourself since he won't always be there to protect you, often deployed in missions. I can also see him teaching you how to shoot a gun, just in case you ever need to. He takes you to a random field and teaches you the basics, and once you're confident enough, maybe he even takes you hunting.

I can see the dad being a disabled veteran who served with Keegan(?) simply happy to have some help with you, knowing Keegan can take you places and do things he can't do anymore. Despite you being an adult, I'm a sucker for father-daughter fluff, so the dad has def cried in secret whenever you show him new things you learnt or show him pictures of places Keegan took you to. Of course, he's not excluded, always hosting dinners and BBQs in the house whenever Keegan is back, and trying to join both of you if possible.

Keegan is like an annoying older brother, the type of man who makes you believe murder should be legal, yet you still deeply care for. He doesn't keep any things on him that may be linked to your father or you in fears of him being a ghost putting you in danger, but he has a bunch of polaroids in a safe in his house, which he looks at whenever he's off base and feeling down.

Speaking of pictures, you totally forced him to get into a photo booth with you and he now keeps the fucking ugliest pictures ever, threatening to ask a ghost to hack into your account and post them whenever you're being too annoying.

IF things ever go further between both of you, you can count on this man to slonk your shit silly style like sloppy swag. This man has a lot of pent-up frustration, which he only takes out on you after making sure you're okay with it.

He's a bully. Stops thrusting when you're feeling good just to hear you whine, thrusting painfully slow until you're begging for more.

There's definitely guilt when it comes to being intimate with you, despite you being in your mid-20s, you're the daughter of his best friend. It feels wrong, so he makes up for it by treating you extra good. You got spoiled before, but now? Prepare for the most extra and expensive gifts you never even thought about. He earns good money, and has plenty of savings just in case. He's still annoying, though.

[midnite-c6]

After reading ur patient!namgyu fanfic I was just wondering if you could pretty please w a cherry on top write a fic about Seowan !! Doesnt have to be doctor x patient, I just need more fics w my beloved Seowan 🔥🔥 have a great day/noon/night!

i haven't seen any fics about seo-wan, it makes me so sad, but here's oneDJFH also, i added squid game tags because i want more nam-gyu lovers to see roh jaewon's character in daily dose of sunshine!! FIRST NON SQUIDGAME FIC .. my fav schizo TT.

kim seo-wan x reader !! <3 warnings: fluff , angst ?! , mentions of mental illness </3

つ⁠｡⁠☆ he's your study buddy!! both of you couldn't pass the exams the first time and you guys bonded over that. the two of you would sit next to each other when the professors lecturing about a lesson, since you both share the interest of being determined in passing the exams this year, there wouldn't be alot of talking during a lecture, but afterwards he's actually quite talkative!

he would also share his notes, giving you a bunch of sticky notes, all of them would have silly random doodles and small comments about how "you can do it!"

you manage to even hang out with him after classes ..which still includes studying, but you told him he needs to let lose, even for a little while. eating noodles in those small shops on the sidewalk, visiting libraries, and if you feel like your falling behind in studies, he would share the other side of his headset, making you listen to the lecture he found on youtube.

a new store would open up right next to the university, because the lessons were tiring and obsessing over the tests is unhealthy, the two of you decide to explore. it was actually a computer-shop.

since then, it's been you and seo-wan's new hobby, to play videogames for hours after lectures, how you were practically his pocket healer, how you two can't play alone without the other right by their side.

this newly-shared interest has gotten you two alot closer, you'd even ask him out, gratefully, the feelings are mutual, kim seo-wan is a simple man. now there'd be long sessions of kissing inside his small apartment, cosplaying, the two of you didn't have alot of money, but this was enough.

video games became a part of your life, one to escape reality. but unfortunately, this hit a little bit harder for kim seo-wan. you'd notice how he wouldn't take the time to study anymore. of course, as the concerned lover you are, you would remind him all the time, but he just wouldn't budge.

his parents were nice, they'd always treat you like you were family, even cooking dinner or lunch for you whenever you come over. since you haven't seen seo-wan in awhile, you'd ask them, only to find out your boyfriend has been sent to a psychiatric unit.

you would visit him everyday, telling him about your day, and asking about his. his day was filled with thinking of you, playing ping-pong with the other patients, and this fantasy world he lives in. but whenever you were too busy to visit, he'd be extra depressed inside the hospital and says he has ran out of mana. </3

you were always intrigued whenever he would tell you about his visions. his stories contain that you were truly his 'mediator', and that you're there in his life to save him. "this is very unprofessional, oh my dear.. mediator, but i'm inlove with you, for you make me look forward to explore even the darkest caves or the highest mountains." he'd take your hand to place a soft kiss on-top. he had forgotten your previous relationship before, atleast he still loves you in the new world he's living in.

you'd end up taking the test without him, but you'd never talk about it in the hospital, you know he needs more time.

in the end, you two agree upon each other to fight the fire dragon together, whatever the future may hold. because, as he confidentally says: "once i've saved up enough mana and leveled up all my armor, i choose you to come with me. you're the only one i can trust in defeating the fire dragon. i will protect you with all my life, my dear mediator!"

i'm sobbing just thinking about this bye ☹️☹️☹️ was gonna do nsfw parts too as i usually do but like i was too up in my feelings LMAOFHBRK trust im gonna post sum nsfw story next 🤞🏻

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hii! Can I please request a Bucky x fem!civilian!reader when Bucky was the Winter Soldier, Y/n (like Yori’s son) was in the wrong place, wrong time and accidentally witnessed the winter soldier assassinating someone and he went to off her too but his gun jammed so she ran and got away while he was distracted. Years later, now TFAWS time, Bucky saves her (with Sam) from the Flag Smashers (poor girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time AGAIN) as she accidentally walked into where they kept a bunch of super serum or walked into a meeting of theirs or something. She’s injured so him and Sam bring her back with them to Zemo’s fancy home to treat her injuries. When she wakes up though, her and Bucky recognize each other as soon as they make eye contact and she freaks out like, “YOU tried to KILL me!!!!” and (shout out to Tangled) she grabs a pan and hits him with it and he’s trying to talk her down and apologize as Zemo just watches it all happen (you know he’s amused) and Sam walks in and is like “What is happening????” The Flag Smashers have a target on her so she has to stay with Bucky and Sam. She’s wary of Bucky for a while but the more time she spends with him, she starts feeling safe. After a while of staying with them, Y/n would hear Bucky crying/having a nightmare in the room he’s sleeping and find him sleeping on the floor, having a nightmare and she’d comfort him🥺 He’d wake up and be surprised to see her and tell her about his nightmare (he may even have been having one about almost killing her, he’d sob out “I almost killed you”) and she’s just like, “Oh Bucky🥺” and hug him (and he’d hug her back), and when he’s calm she’d pull back and just notice how beautiful of a man he is and how sweet and gentle he is (also she can’t deny he looks gorgeous 👕less) and she’d realize her feelings for him and can’t help but kiss him on his pretty lips🥹🥰

Y/n would blurt out “I love you” shortly before kissing Bucky and he’d be in denial and disbelief until she kisses him and she gets all cutely shy about it and he’d tell her he loves her too and pull her back in to kiss her back 🥹 Bucky probably had been in love with her for a while, even when she was still coming around to him. Sam would notice how lovey dovey Bucky & Y/n would be the next morning lol

Forgive and Forget » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader with Sam Wilson/Falcon/Captain America

Summary: Bucky tried to kill you years ago when he was the Winter Soldier and you’re willing to forgive and forget about it.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, guns, mentions of HYDRA, blood, crying, kissing, nightmares, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the lovely request @kpopgirlbtssvt

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

You heard noises down the hall from you. You didn’t think much of it. When you got closer you seen bodies on the floor and blood. You yelped and jumped at the sound of a gun going off. Your eyes widened in horror as you watched a body fall to the floor. That’s when you seen the culprit. Your mind was telling you to run and get the hell out of there, but you stood there frozen in place. Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach when the man raised his metal arm, aiming his gun at you. You rose your hands in surrender.

“I-I-I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I promise! Please don’t kill me!” You pleaded, tears streaming down your face.

“No witnesses.” The Winter Soldier says from behind his mask.

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself to get shot, but nothing happened. Instead of a bullet coming out of the gun, it jammed. You opened your eyes to see the Winter Soldier trying to figure out what’s wrong with his gun. You took that opportunity to run as fast as your legs would let you and hid in a random closet. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep yourself quiet. He looked up to see that you gone. He didn’t bother looking for you. He just reported back to the HYDRA base and told them that the mission was successful.

———

Years later, that day still haunts you. Sometimes you get little to no sleep because of the nightmares. You’re glad that you were able to get away from the Winter Soldier, but you wish the nightmares would go away too.

Some days you have good days and some days you have bad days. Today was a good day for you. Or so you thought. You should’ve known better to walk in a different direction when you heard people fighting. At least that’s what it sounded like to you. You tried to speed walk through what looks like an abandoned factory to avoid the altercation that was happening, but someone bumped into you, knocking you to the ground. You stared up at the person. As you were about to stand up, you seen a gun and small vitals filled with something that looks questionable in the person’s hand.

Uh oh. Not again.

You scrambled to stand up and run. You didn’t get far, because that person shot you, shooting you in your side. You cried out in pain and fell to the ground. You put your hand on your side, feeling blood seeping out of the gunshot wound.

“Help!” You said as loud as you could. “Help me!” You said loudly again.

Bucky stopped what he was doing when he heard your voice.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky asks Sam.

“Yea.” Sam replies.

Bucky and Sam followed the sound of your voice. You weren’t too far from where they were. They seen you on the ground with blood on your side. They immediately ran over to you.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” Bucky asks.

You thought you recognized Bucky’s voice, but at the same time, you thought you were hallucinating due to the blood loss. Bucky lifted the bloody part of your shirt just enough to see where you were shot.

“I don’t want to die.” You mumbled.

“You’re not going to die. Me and my friend are going to help you, ok?” He says.

You passed out from the blood loss before you could respond. Bucky picked you up bridal style, being careful to not accidentally bump your wound.

Bucky and Sam took you to Zemo’s place. You were passed out on the couch while Bucky did his best to patch you up.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Sam asks as he watches Bucky patch you up.

“Yes. I did this to myself many times over the years.” Bucky says.

Bucky carefully managed to get the bullet out of you with a pair of tweezers and then patched you up.

“Now all we have to do is wait for her to wake up.” Bucky says.

“If she’s still alive.” Zemo says.

Bucky ignored what Zemo said. Hours go by when you finally wake up. You winced in pain you sat up. You stood up from the couch, wincing in pain again. You noticed that you were in clean clothes. You also felt bandages on your side. You lifted your shirt just enough to see that someone patched you up while you were passed out. You walked around the house you were in, wondering how you got there and wondering who’s house you’re in. You walked in the kitchen, still looking around.

“We were wondering when you were going to wake up.” Bucky says.

There it is again. That familiar voice. You turned around to see the Winter Soldier standing in the entryway of the kitchen. He has a different arm and short hair, but you still recognized him.

“Stay the hell away from me!” You shouted.

“Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt you.” He assures you as he approaches you.

“That’s not what you said years ago!” You say.

Bucky frowns when you said that. It didn’t take him long to realize that you were referring to him as the Winter Soldier.

“Oh… ma’am, if you let me explain-” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“YOU tried to KILL me!” You shouted.

Bucky holds his hands up in surrender when you grabbed a frying pan. Zemo walked in the kitchen to see what was going on and then sat down at the table to watch the altercation between you and Bucky go down with the look of amusement on his face. Bucky slowly walks around the kitchen counter towards you.

“Don’t come any closer!” You say.

Bucky continues to approach you. He shielded himself with his vibranium arm when you hit him with the pan, hitting his vibranium arm. Sam was on the phone in another room when he heard metal colliding with metal. He ended the call and ran into the kitchen, seeing Bucky taking a frying pan out of your hands and putting it on a high shelf so you couldn’t reach it.

“What is happening?!” Sam asks.

“He tried to kill me!” You exclaimed, pointing at Bucky.

“Years ago.” Bucky adds so Sam didn’t get the wrong idea.

“The plot thickens.” Zemo says, eating a Turkish delight.

You wanted to run away from Bucky to get away from him before he tried to kill you again, but the pain in your side got the best of you. You held onto your side where the gunshot wound is and doubled over. Bucky picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the living room and gently laid you down on the couch. Sam got you a glass of water and aspirin to help you the pain.

“If you let me, I’d like to explain and apologize for our last interaction.” Bucky says.

You were in too much pain to argue with him or fight him in anyway. You gave him a nod, allowing him to explain and apologize.

“That wasn’t me who tried to kill you years ago.” Bucky begins.

“Yes it was!” You said.

“It wasn’t.” He says once more. “It was the Winter Soldier.” He says.

“Who or what the hell is the Winter Soldier?” You asked confused.

“Me.” He tells you. “I- he was given a mission to “take out” some people that day. You weren’t supposed to be there.” He explains.

“What about that innocent man who he killed?” You asked.

“Just like you, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He says.

“Thanks to you, that day haunts me and I have nightmares about it.” You say.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “If it means anything, I’m glad you were able to get away.” He says sincerely.

“I appreciate the explanation and apology, but I’m not ready to forgive someone who tried to kill me.” You say.

“I understand. Take all the time you need.” He says softly.

Even though you weren’t ready to forgive Bucky for trying to killing you years ago, you were curious about one thing.

“What’s your name?” You asked curiously.

“My name is James, but everyone I know calls me Bucky.” Bucky tells you. “Is it ok if I ask you what your name is?” He asks.

“My name is Y/N.” You tell him. “What’s your name?” You asked Sam.

“I’m Sam.” He tells you.

You gave him a smile and a nod.

“Is it ok if we ask you some questions?” Sam asks.

“Sure.” You replied.

“What’s your connection to the Flag Smashers?” He asks.

“Who?” You asked confused.

“The Flag Smashers.” He says.

“I don’t know who they are.” You honestly say. “Why?” You asked.

“For some reason, they have a target on you.” He says.

“Oh.” You muttered softly, looking down.

Bucky put a comforting hand on your arm. You looked up at him. This time, you didn’t get scared of him.

“We’re not going to let them hurt you again. We’re going to do everything we can to protect you, ok?” Bucky says softly.

“Ok.” You say softly.

———

Weeks go by since Bucky apologized to you for trying to killing you as the Winter Soldier years ago. Even though you’re wary of him, you’re slowly beginning to forgive him. Ever since the day Bucky promised that him and Sam would protect you from the Flag Smashers, you’ve been staying with them. They make you feel safe too.

You woke up to someone talking in their sleep. Your curiosity got the best of you and you got out of bed to see what was going on. The voice sounds like Bucky’s and it sounded like he was in the living room. You walked to the living room to see him sleeping on the floor, tossing and turning in his sleep. You sat down on the floor next to him to comfort him.

“Bucky.” You gently shook him. “Bucky, you’re dreaming.” You whispered, shaking him a bit harder.

Bucky gasps as he wakes up. He scrambled to sit up. He was breathing heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat. To help him feel better, you went to the kitchen to get him something to drink and went back to the living room to give it to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked softly.

“I almost killed you.” Is all Bucky says.

That was enough to tell you that he had a nightmare about the day he- the Winter Soldier almost killed you.

“Oh, Bucky…” You whispered.

You gave him a hug. Bucky hugged you back and broke down in tears.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes.

“I know you are.” You whispered, rubbing his back to comfort him. “I forgive you.” You whispered again.

“You do?” Bucky asks against your shoulder.

“Yes.” You replied softly. “I’m willing to forgive you and forget about it.” You say.

After a couple minutes, Bucky calms down and stops crying. He pulls away from the hug and wipes his tears away with his hands.

You couldn’t help but admire how handsome Bucky is, especially when he’s shirtless. You shamelessly stared at his muscles and abs. Then there’s his lips… so soft, pretty, and kissable. It didn’t take you long to come to the realization that you’re starting to have feelings for the man who almost killed you years ago.

“I love you!” You blurted out.

Bucky stared at you in surprise. He didn’t think you’d be in love with him even after he tried to kill you years ago. Before he could say anything, you kissed him, catching him by surprise. His eyes went wide, but he kissed you back. You pulled away after a few seconds, feeling yourself becoming shy. You opened your mouth to say something, but Bucky kissed you before you could.

“I love you too.” Bucky says against your lips. “I’ve been in love with you for a while.” He admits.

“You have?” You asked.

“Yes.” He replies softly.

You two kissed once more before Bucky stood up and picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid down beside you and covered the two of you up with a blanket. He protectively wrapped his arms around you and you two fell back to sleep.

The next morning, you and Bucky were all lovey dovey. You two held hands. Bucky would have his arm around your waist or shoulders. You two gave each other all kinds of kisses. Lips, forehead, cheeks, tip of the nose. You name it. Sam was picking up on it.

“What’s going on between you two?” Sam curiously asks.

“Bucky and I are in love.” You say happily, smiling up at Bucky.

“I thought you weren’t ready to forgive him for what he almost did to you?” Sam says.

“I told him that I’m willing to forgive him and forget about it. Also, I’ve been in love with him for a while and he feels the same way about me.” You tell him.

“That’s nice.” Sam smiles.

Bucky dips his head down to kiss you softly.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“I love you too, Bucky Bear.” You almost whispered.

If Bucky is being honest, being with you is the happiest he’s been in years. You can say the same thing about being with Bucky.

-Bucky’s Doll

[snoringkitty1]

Aventurine boyfriend Headcanons

TW: Fluff, not proofread, Mildly suggestive content. Enjoy <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

Aventurine at the beginning of your relationship is a flirty bastard, he'll tease you to high hell and leave you high and dry for his own amusement.

There is 0 initial affection, he's only in it for his entertainment or because he has something to gamble or get from you.

Kisses you with his eyes open, atleast at the start.

But gradually, when you realizes you won't be leaving because of his lack of effort, he might just soften up and start to let his guard down a little.

Though of course this is after a while, but you'll start to see the more vulnerable and faint side to him.

He'll become more affectionate gradually the more he begins to trust you with his feelings, though, it still might take a while. Patience is key.

He's still flirty no doubt, but now there's actually feelings and meaning to his words, and they aren't bluffs anymore.

His sense of fashion may or may not rub off on you..aka he forces you to wear matching clothes, it makes him feel special.

"Do i really need to where this..? Matching outfits are so tacky." You grumbled and adjusted the hat on your head before sighing and taking it off, running your fingers along the rim and raising a brow. "Well, you don't need to, but i would love you more if you did." He joked and fixed a few details on your jacket before taking the hat from your hands and setting it on your head. "You don't love me enough already?" You pouted and looked up at him. He smiled and shook his head, pulling you close for a kiss, his hands holding tight onto your waist as he trapped you in a kiss. "I love you~" He cooed softly and leaned back, "Some matching clothes won't change that." he assured and rubbed your cheek before stepping back and putting his hands in his pockets, "now~ shall we?"

The king of shopping dates, if you don't like shopping though, then the two of you will probably be having at home dates most of the time.

But don't think for a second he isn't buying the most delectable (and expensive) food he can find, because to him, if its clothes, food, hair, nails, you name it. He thinks you're a worthy investment (he just likes to spend money on you.)

Speaking of giving presents, thats simply his love language, because i reckon he feels like if he gives enough, then he won't have to worry about you leaving him.

That being said, he'll need a bunch of reassurance to stop giving random super expensive presents. He'll still give you some regardless but he'll tone it down significantly.

He comes off as the kind of guy who only gives or takes longer kisses, to me atleast.

He might use this to his advantage if he perhaps gets jealous, which i think happens pretty often.

But i think there's also a chance of him just absolutely demolishing you once you two are home behind closed doors.

Switch energy, but can and will top when he feels like it.

He'll let you decide the pace though, he doesn't want intimate moments to feel transactional.

Afterwards, i Dunno i feel like he'd just fall asleep with you, then take of you the next morning.

You rolled away onto your stomach..or tried to, the tight grip of a certain blonde kept you from moving too far away. When you let out an uncomfortable grunt though, Aventurine was quick to let go and sit up to check on you. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, smiling a little before closing them again, "I'm fine, i'm fine.." you mumbled softly, but that didn't deter him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek before getting up, you opened your eyes and sat up on your elbows to watch him, he disappeared into the closet briefly and returned with one of his shirts. "Here you go Darling~" he cooed softly and held the shirt out from you, his messy bed head framed his face nicely. "ah..thank you-" you smiled and put it on before flopping back again. "Anything else i can get you? I can order food, or make bre-" He paused when you pulled him close all of a sudden. "Just cuddle with me for a little bit.." You muttered softly, and He nodded, pulling you close again..and like that, you two were cozy and asleep in minutes.

Thanks for reading.

[junnieverse]

— DRUNK BOYFRIEND JAKE ! 💭

➙ drunk boyfriend jake thoughts

pairing: jake sim x gn!reader

genre: fluff, some humour/crack

request: " hcs abt clingy drunk jake bc he seems like a clingy drunk LOLLL "

warning: mentions of alcohol and drinking, not proofread, lowercase intended, reader accused of being a 'kidnapper' by drunk jake

a/n: I honestly wouldn't mind drunk jake, clingy cute jake is my favourite, thanks for this request anon, hope you enjoyed it :)

jake was already clingy when he was sober, but he becomes 100 times clingier when he's drunk be it around you or his friends (mostly with you though)

so much more affectionate with you, always wanting kisses and hugs and gets pouty when you don't give him

extremely talkative

like he's a motor and he will mention the most random and silly things that most of the time are slurred and don't make sense

definition of talking just to talk

probably singing Justin Beiber songs at the top of his lungs on top of a chair

"WHEN I WAS 13, I HAD MY FIRST LOVE SHSGDGGSJSISNDB ABOVE! SHE HAD ME GOING CRAZY- what's the rest again?"

starts from the top singing another pop song and turns the entire place into a jake karaoke session

super giggly and out of it to the point where the others are concerned and they end up calling you to come get him

when you do come around he may forget who you are in a daze

"STRANGER DANGER! HELP ME, THEY'RE TRYING TO KIDNAP ME!"

"Jake baby, it's just me, have some water to sober up."

also a stubborn and pouty baby

accuses you of ruining the fun and being a party pooper

when he does give in and starts recognising you he will be all over you with the sloppiest kisses

"Guys, my lovely (y/n) is here! Hi baby, when did you arrive?"

you'd been there the entire time but he was too drunk to notice

"Crazy story though, I almost got kidnapped before you got here but you came to save me." he says with a sheepish smile

"I'll always save you angel." you tell him kissing his forehead laughing softly at your drunk boyfriend

jake is glued to you now with his arms around you and his head on your shoulder

he ends up going from 100 to 0 real quick

all that energy he had before disappears and he becomes quieter and sleepier

in the end he probably just passes out and one of the other members has to help you get this big boy into the car for you

he wakes up to find a whole bunch of embarrassing photos and videos of him doing the oddest things

I'm talking about a video of him sent by sunghoon hugging a streetlight claiming it was you

he will never hear the end of it from both his friends and you for the next coming weeks

jake learnt his lesson and he'll be sure to be more watchful of his drinking now

[n0tamused]

Could I request Aventurine's s/o just making and giving him a bunch of random gifts? From simple things like cupcakes and plushies to more lavish gifts like a multi-purpose gun and tricked-out sunglasses.

A/n: A little drabble for this idea, hope you enjoy

Contents: Aventurine x GN!Reader, fluff, not proofread

“My, my, what do we have here? And who are you bringing this to?” Aventurine inquired after he glimpsed the little pile of gifts stacked on the coffee table. There are boxes wrapped in pretty and colorful papers and decorated with bows on top, and there are desert boxes next to them, ones he could see the contents of due to their translucent lids. 

You startled at the sudden voice, too immersed in wrapping up another gift in pretty green wrapping paper. Turning your head to look at him you beam with mirth, eyes gleaming as you notice the genuine confusion in his eyes. Had you not known him as best as you do, you would have thought him dull-witted for not already noticing these were for no one else but him.

“Take a wild guess, why don’t you? I might give you a reward if you get it right on the first try” you tell him, feeling rather proud of yourself with the assortment of gifts you managed to snag on the planet that was new to you both. There were local delicacies and deserts in the boxes on the table, but also wrapped goodies that would be of daily use to him, 

Aventurine feigns skepticism, although he now recognizes his momentary error and chuckles for not already having guessed. “Might it be.. hmm, hmm..” he hums and coos, dragging the moment out as he prowls around your sitting form and trying to get a glimpse at what you were wrapping up, but the box was already enveloped in the pretty glimmering paper. “Could it be me?” he asks at long last, tilting his head down at you when you look up to meet his colorful gaze.

Judging by your smile spreading further, crinkling the corners of your eyes, he was right on the dot.

“Took you long enough, but you got it right. Would you like to open these now.. or perhaps when we’re back home? I thought I had more time to hide these away - I wanted it to be a surprise, but alas, you always had such amazing timing” you tell him, clearly in jest.

“What would you prefer? I don’t wish to trash your plans any further... I may have caught you off guard with this, but now you have me rather speechless, I must praise you for that” he responded, your smile spreading to his lips like a disease as he lets his eyes wander over to the other presents once more. You rise from your seat, leaving behind the box and go to meet him in an embrace. He accepts it, a bit stiff at first but it is like your warmth melts that unease away from him, and soon after he is wrapping his arms around you. “Missed me already?” he coos at you, his tone now mellow as if his usual tone would hurt you at such close proximity.

“I have” you state simply, looking up at him as you pull away, melting into the view of the pretty blonde man.  “And I’d rather show it all to you now. We have time until this ship lands again, might as well indulge in some sweets, right?”

His gloved fingers brush against the line of your jaw, slightly tilting your head to the side and he mirrors the motion. “That is right.. I am desperately craving something sweet right now. You mentioning it is only making me more hungry for a taste” he says, and you notice the slight flush that comes over his cheeks. You beam at it, but it is him that leans in and catches your lips in a chaste kiss.

You chase his lips before he can fully part, finding yourself in a craving as well, in need of another kiss. It felt as if days had separated you until now and not just a few hours. You feel his huff against your skin, the corners of his mouth twisting upward. Once you pulled apart, you notice his grip on your arms, keeping you steady as your own hand keep him steady in return. He blinks at you, his eyes half lidded and full of warmth that was only reserved in quieter moments like these. 

“Come.. let me show you what I’ve gotten for you” 

He obliges, your voice snapping him out of his fuzzy thoughts. He doubts he’ll ever get used to your kindness and gifts, they’re too sweet to him, and he doubts he has earned them, but he is not the one to decline your invitations or offers - that’d be too mean.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[knyontop]

Hello pretty person, I came to make a request. Can I have the creepypastas with a reader that has orange cat energy. Like they are so goofy and funny and somehow they are with a bunch of serial killers. Make it fluff pls. Thank you so much and have a good day, night, or afternoon. Remember to drink water and eat. You are so beautiful 🩷

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Guys.. daddys home. /j ALL JOKES ASIDE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND SUPPORT, also sense you just wanted fluff hcs im going to try and make this as fluffy as possible and try to avoid most of the dark parts. (ALSO IMPORTANT: you did not say you wanted romance or platonic, so I made it platonic.)

Creepypasta x orange cat!reader

Ft: Jeff the killer, Eyeless Jack, Ben Drowned, Jane the killer, and our amazing, beautiful, handsome, reader.

Jeff:

・see now, people like you dont survive long in the manor.

・people in the slender mansion will try to corrupt you, and Jeff is one of those people.

・although he might try to corrupt you there is something that makes him feel soft about you.

・your the exact opposite of him, yet, he somewhat likes you.

・your energy makes things, more bright which I GUESS.. he doesn’t hate, that much.

・its a big switch, you come in and suddenly things are like, sunshine and rainbows???

・theres a part of Jeff that wants to corrupt you, but another part of him wants to protect you. (Another part also wants to kill you)

・Jeff doesn’t exactly like that whenever you get so jumpy and excited but sometimes its tolerable and makes him feel really mushy and soft on the inside.

・its kinda sweet, he might even let you hug him and lean on him.

・just dont be surprised if you wake up like bald or your teeth are missing OR your bleeding out…

EJ:

・hes just kinda confused..

・how could you possibly be so happy in this environment?

・honestly the way you act can be slightly annoying, but, it doesn’t mean he absolutely hates it.

・hes a demon so its hard for him to feel things but he was human once to, so its rather refreshing for someone like you to come into the mansion.

・but please refrain from bouncing off the walls in his room and where all his equipment is..

・if you break one of his things hes making you clean it up AND get him new stuff.

・or a random kidney from someone would work!

・he may also give you a small head pat with his rather large clawed hand.

・EJ pretends to laugh at your stupid jokes, because he almost pitys you when theres an awkward silence.

Ben:

・Ben is another someone in the manner who wants to corrupt you, or at least mess with your mind.

・when he first meets you your so kind, your so silly, and oddly enough you dont seem nervous at all.

・its weird, why are you not afraid of him? Afraid of anyone there?

・your like… literally all sunshines and rainbows.

・which he doesn’t hate, hes actually more lenient about your energy then Jeff and EJ.

・he really likes your energy actually, again its refreshing.

・hes the one kinda encouraging your reckless acts… or giving you bad ideas.

・but its an adventure for you!

・Ben would also be bouncing off the walls with you, a stupid grin on his face.

・you make him feel alive again, but even though he has a soft and mushy spot for you that doesn’t mean he wont try and fuck you with.

・but were staying fluffy…

Jane:

・the sweetest out of all of them.

・she feels kinda.. motherly when around you.

・you have this innocent look to you, your so fun, your different from everyone there.

・Jane wants to protect you from everyone there. (Ehem.. cough cough Jeff cough…)

・Jane has a much better time with you at the mansion.

・your probably her favorite, besides Sally of course.

・but yeah Jane is always eager to hear your rants, rambles, etc.

・she gets kinda worried when you start doing your reckless acts…

・like no dont climb that tree you will get stuck.

・no you cant try and scare Masky.

・no dont mess with Slender.

・no dont attempt to jump off the roof.

・basically your parent.

・overall, she loves you.

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Here to remind you guys that they asked for FLUFF thats why its not really as scary and slightly dark like my creepypasta posts normally are, but anyways, hope you guys liked this! So sorry it took forever…

[simp-writer]

𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎, 𝚊 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆: Headcannon 𝑼𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔: 1k words 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓: Platonic, Angst, Fluff

Blade is quiet when he walks into a room. Yes the room may feel slightly colder but it is hard to hear his steps at times. Akin to a cat's steps with how quiet it is at times. Shockingly he is the only one to bathe Elio and leave the bathroom with no scratches on him.

𒁂

Blade is either in the living room of the Stellaron's space, in his room cleaning his blade, or being dragged to Silver Wolf's room to play some random game.

He has often been asked by the other Stellaron Hunters to make things for them. He isn't as good as he use to be when making items but his blacksmithing skills are still better than most people. Most of the household items they use are maintained by him when he has to do something with his hands when he can't go out on a mission.

𒁂

Stray cat treatment for this man. Blade would rather relive 1,000 deaths than accept someone hugging him, who isn't apart of the Stellaron Hunters. He can't trust anyone else to touch him in any way with good intentions. His previous experiences always leave him on edge when people get close, those who don’t really care about his RBF nor the fact he is giving off “Leave me alone” vibes.

He avoids touch even more after recovering from his mara-strike and locks himself in his room afterwards. He fears hurting Silver Wolf or Firefly as he is recovering. He knows they can defend themselves and run from him if it does come to that, but he still doesn’t want to run that risk.

𒁂

He tends to just wander from room to room when idle. He is clearly out of it because he does it with his eyes closed so the Stellaron Hunters assumed he was sleep-walking, but no its just how he is when he is zoned out. That or he starts making a bunch of random stuff they mentioned like once a long while ago. 

𒁂

Blade mostly can’t understand his emotions. Yes, he knows he should cry when he is sad. Yes, he knows it's not normal to start crying when he is alone at the end of the day. His emotional stability is trash. It gets better but he is always back to square one after a mara-strike. The memories, even if blurry and he only gets the feelings of the memories, always end up destroying whatever progress he managed to make.

𒁂

Blade relies on Kafka for a lot even if he doesn’t say it. He relies on her to help him when Mara-strikes, he relies on her to remind him to spend time with Firefly and Silver Wolf, he relies on her to take him down a peg whenever he is getting too bloodthirsty, and he relies on her to basically be his foundation. 

𒁂

Blade does treat Stelle/Caelus as his child, even if he does it unintentionally. Even with his very blurry memories of being a fatherly figure to someone, he still tries to be there for the Trailblazer. Even after they joined the Astral Express and befriended that traitor, he still makes some sort of attempt to spend time with them. Mostly with the help of Firefly because they are close with the Trailblazer and the others are fine with Stelle/Caelus meeting with Blade as long as Firefly is there.

𒁂

Blade really likes to teach Silver Wolf how to use the blade even if it's just the basics. He knows she can take care of herself with her Ether editing but he feels like he has done something when teaching Silver Wolf this. He mostly has to get Kafka to convince Silver Wolf to come to their training sessions.

𒁂

Blade doesn’t really like any food since it all tastes like nothing to him. The only food he can really taste is really hot food or really spicy food. It doesn’t make him totally uncomfortable to eat but it does give him some flavor to taste.

He is also quite good at cooking because a long time ago he use to cook everything he could to try and bring back some sense of being normal, however now he just cooks breakfast for the Stellaron Hunters because he is up the earliest and it helps him to keep moving so his body doesn’t stiffen.

𒁂

Blade’s body floats between being normal human flexible and suffering from rigor mortis. He constantly needs to be doing something with his body or else it stiffens up. It isn’t that hard to deal with since he has dealt with it for a long time, but it is very annoying to deal with when his body does stiffen. He usually spars with Firefly or goes out on as many missions as Elio allows him to go on to keep his body from stiffening. When it does stiffen, he usually gets Kafka to help him move his joints until they return to being semi-normal flexibility.

𒁂

Blade is constantly on edge when it comes to visiting or seeing anything to do with the Luofu. It’s his mara’s major trigger despite attempts to lessen the effect it has on him. The attempts usually ended with Kafka and Firefly having to restrain him and knock him out. He really tries to do something to lessen the amount the mara strikes but he can’t really do much.

𒁂

Blade keeps the cakecat the Trailblazer managed to give to him in his room. His room at first had the bare minimum but once he got the cakecat, Silver Wolf overhauled his room when he was out on a mission. He has a bunch of different sticky notes on the walls to tell him his routine when his memories are just failing him. He ends up just having a sort of staring contest with his cakecat and the score always ties out. Firefly made a joke about Blade being the cat-caretaker. Cakecat and Elio somehow are always in every room Blade is in or is just entering. He doesn’t really question it as he doesn’t have the energy to do so.

[solar-wing]

🦇 Surviving Damian: BatBro's Life 🎞️

I don't know why, but the way Damian turns to look at Dick in this clip has me rolling

🦇 🎞️ A/N → A continuation of my Batbro Headcanons with everyone's favorite little assassin, Damian. This is also inspired by this post from @batsiblingfun. This mixes in a lot of different elements from different DC shows and movies, but still all tie together. Conner x Reader along with Damian x Raven included. WARNINGS: None really. family fluff, minor threats of violence. You and Damian conspiring together. Bruce needs his lawyers. Mentions of trauma and therapy. Joker being Joker.

🦇🎞️ Summary → It's one thing to find out Bruce Wayne is your biological father. It's another thing to find out you also have a half-brother from the same father who also didn't meet him until around the same time you did. Now, some would consider getting a new older brother to be a good thing. Of course, when they point out what they see as an ideal image of that, Damian Wayne is more or less far from it. Truthfully, you'd need an entire documentary to explain that trauma. But, in his defense, he did warn Bruce not to make him a middle child. Oh well...

🦇🎞️ Word Count → 5.3k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

🦇 ENJOY 🎞️

— Some may imagine having Bruce Wayne as your father entails a glamorous and extravagant life.

— "Oh wow! Your dad is Bruce Wayne? That's so cool!" "I bet you've been to so many great places." "Have you met any celebrities before?" "Your life must be so interesting!"

— To answer that, depends on the day. The watchtower is cool, but not as interesting as what you saw on that one trip to Puerto Rico. Would Superman even be considered a celebrity? And, define interesting.

— Because if you mean 'interesting' like waking up every day wondering if it's going to be some random supervillain that unalives you, or your own brother, then yes, your life is fascinating.

— What most people don't consider when they find out your father is Bruce Wayne is not only did you all of a sudden get a new parent, but you also got new siblings. As your eldest brother Dick once said, "I went from being an only child to living in utter chaos every day." The only difference is that Dick actually somewhat thrives in chaos. Which is weird considering you'd think it'd be someone more like Jason who lived by that statement.

— You, on the other hand, would rather go without the constant weird shit that goes on with your father and siblings all being a bunch of vigilantes who save your city and the world from crazy clowns and guys who clearly like to live every day like it's Halloween.

— But, the thing is, 90% of the shit you have to deal with doesn't even come from those creeps and villains. It's literally from your own house, specifically one person.

— At one point in your life, you wished to have a sibling. Someone you could share that irreplaceable bond with. Fighting over small stuff like the remote, or who got first dibs on Alfred's cookies. Only to kiss and make up later when one of you got bored or hungry. Insulting and torturing each other only to join forces if someone outside of you two decided to mess with the other. Coming up with crazy schemes that would inevitably shorten your father's life expectancy.

— You know, normal stuff.

— You'd think Dick would get the title of 'most stable' among your siblings, but surprisingly, that was awarded to Jason, which, I know right?! Mind you, 'stable' was being used on very loose terms here. But, Richard was almost more like a second dad than a brother, which you figured came with the role of being the oldest sibling. Since he had the most experience dealing with an emotionally absent Bruce, he'd pick up where he fell off. Of course, Bruce got better over time and learned how to not distance himself whenever his feelings got even a little poked, but Richard was always your go-to whenever you needed support.

— You'd almost considered Jason for the title of most unstable, but then you met Tim, and realized Jason was actually better than you thought, considering what he's been through. Your second oldest brother wasn't really open towards you, but as you two started to spend time together, you grew on him and vice versa. At one point, the Red Hood persona vowed to not only do everything he could to keep you safe but as innocent and pure as you could be. He would not let Bruce and his questionable parenting ruin another child. His earlier methods were probably not the most effective. CPS was still calling at least once a week.

— There weren't enough words to describe Tim. When you first came to the mansion, he seemed completely normal and sane for the most part. Then, after you discovered your father's side hustle, you realized how opposite the reality was. You remembered something your mom said about the only things she was scared of. "I only fear two things in this life; God and the IRS." Well, you'd definitely be adding a certain Red Robin to that list. There were just things Tim would say or do that he thought was completely normal, and you'd be discreetly dialing a mental hospital, fearing for your safety. Why did you know the number for one off the top of your head? Let's just say you had your reasons. But, you'd rather have Tim as an ally than an enemy, so you refrained. That didn't stop you from keeping them on speed dial though.

— Yes, you definitely had some interesting siblings, but none of them compared to your other brother. The one you regrettably shared blood with. Hopefully, he didn't hear you say that.

— It was one thing to have Bruce Wayne as a father. It was an entirely different thing to have Damian Wayne for a brother.

— The first day you two met, Damian had already been at the manor for a few months when Talia had left him with Bruce while she went to handle business. What business that entailed, your father kept you in the shadows, and quite frankly, you were grateful. After your mom left you on the manor's doorsteps with a note that just read, "Trust me, he's yours," your life was never the same.

— You remembered being excited that day. You finally got to meet your dad, and you got a brother out of it too! Multiple brothers and sisters actually! Whoever was out there listening to you had answered your deepest wishes.

— Now, you wished they just minded their damn business.

— Unlike Damian, you were not aware of your father's secret identity. So, when you met, you were a little more than put off by Damian's first greeting towards you.

— "Father, I thought we discussed your habit of  picking up street rats and turning them into your next apprentice."

— Truthfully, that was actually more than a pleasant start to your relationship with the trained assassin. When you eventually heard the story of how Dick and Damian "met" for the first time, you suddenly felt grateful at the fact there were no sharp objects nearby...that you knew of.

— If you happened to start locking your bedroom door at night and setting booby traps to alert you if anyone came in while you were sleeping, that was no one else's business but yours.

— The thing was, you tried to connect with Damian, but he would keep brushing you off. Bruce really wasn't that much help as he didn't have the best track record with his first three kids.

— The issue was you and Damian came from two completely different backgrounds, despite your shared parenthood.

— Damian was raised among an organization of highly-trained assassins and was molded from the second he was born to take over from his grandfather who was the equivalent of an undead lich, only he was actually alive. You had a normal childhood for the most part. You went to school, made friends, tried different hobbies, etc.

— You saw Damian as uptight and weird, and he saw you as naive and weak.

— Of course, as everything does in this family, shit only got more intense.

— After Bruce ran a DNA test and confirmed you were indeed his son, they got you set up in the manor and your new life. Your last name was officially changed to Wayne with you wanting to keep your mother's surname hyphenated in there.

— You wanted to decorate your bedroom, so you asked your dad to take you shopping, fully intending to take advantage of your newfound wealth (your mother taught you well). Bruce figured it'd be a great way for you and him to get to know each other as he was trying to be more of the supportive dad that Dick and Jason lectured him about. And if CPS decided to give him another one of their 'visits,' he'd rather not provide them with any more reasons to be taking down notes. He was still trying to find a way to punish Jason for that stunt.

— And at Alfred's suggestion, he brought Damian along, thinking it'd be great family time for the Wayne men, and it'd give his firstborn a chance at being an actual kid since Damian never decorated his room when he first got there.

— You went all out. At some point, Bruce wondered if everything he was buying was starting to become too much, but you threw him the puppy dog look you mastered at three years old, and he folded like a lawn chair. Your mother had grown resistant to that trick so, it was great to finally be using it again. Posters, knick-knacks, a new desk, a whole gaming set-up, LED lights, a gaming chair, you name it, you got it. You'd even tried to get Damian to get a few things for himself, wanting to get to know more about your brother.

— "I don't need materialistic objects to satisfy myself like you and other low-lives do. Besides, you're only doing this to 'make up' for the more than likely poor life you lived before with whoever your harlot mother is."

— Alright, that did it. You tackled Damian in the middle of the mall, throwing all your weight on top of him. Of course, you were unaware of his combat training so he threw you off pretty easily, pushing you to the ground and twisting your arm behind your back to where he almost broke it. Bruce had to yank him off you and grab you as well to prevent you from charging him again while everyone else around was taking pictures and videos.

— Bruce's PR team was not happy with the stories and articles on the gossip websites the next morning. But, they managed to twist it around into a positive light, painting the Billionaire Playboy as the role model male, doing his best to raise his two boys as best he could being a single father.

— "Oh, he's such a family man. #EvenMoreAttactive". – @Supermom92

— "He's a good man, Vanessa. A good man." - @mooreswhore

— "This is what we need more of. Strong men taking charge in their son's lives." – @topalpha

— "#GladTheyAin'tMyKids." – @aynonymous

— Of course, this did nothing to help the relationship between you and the youngest Boy Wonder, but Alfred's reassurance eased Bruce's headache.

— "Truthfully, Master Wayne, it would seem to me they are already falling quite well into their new roles as brothers. It will get better over time."

— When exactly was better? Because things only seemed to get more tense between you two. The fights didn't end there. As you spent more time in the manor, you'd gotten to know your other adoptive siblings. And particularly, spending time with your second oldest brother, you'd learned some defensive moves in fighting that only led to your fights with Damian getting worse now that you could hold your own a little more.

— Only there were some moves that you knew that Damian didn't, which really caused a shit storm.

— It may have taken Dick and Jason's combined strength to hold Damian back from trying to literally slice your throat open after you introduced him to the art of the cheese neck. Jason thought it was hilarious and low-key well deserved since your half-brother decided to cut open one of the stuffed bears you had since you were four. Alfred was able to put him back together, but that didn't help the need for revenge you had in the pit of your stomach.

— Since he couldn't murder you, he decided to go with the next best thing he had in mind; mental torture!

— He knew you loved Scooby-Doo, but had a slight fear of some of the monsters and scenes from the show. Look, shit from back in the 70s could be creepy with how they decided to do specific stuff. And sadly on your part, Damian had amazing resources thanks to dear old Papa Bruce.

— So, one day when you thought Bruce was on a business trip (he was on a League mission, and Dick, Jason, and Tim were nowhere to be found along with Alfred), you had the manor to yourself. Or, at least, you thought you did. 

— Let's just say Damian decided to place you in your own Scooby-Doo episode, only a tad bit more rated R. Last time you checked, the vampire from that one episode didn't actually have blood and guts dripping from his teeth while chasing Shaggy and Scooby.

— Yeah, Bruce low-key had to invest in a therapist for that one. And CPS definitely took a note down when they saw part of the costume had fallen out of a trash bag and your "concerning" reaction to it. Damian had no shame.

— "Next time, he'll think twice about whose neck he's slapping."

— "Master Bruce, I really do think they're starting to grow on each other, if I do say so myself." This time, Alfred's words were not reassuring for the billionaire.

— Eventually, you and Damian came to a mutual understanding. You stay out of his way, and he would stay out of your way. And it worked! At least until you found out the big secret, and no not the one where Tim...actually, never mind.

— It was an accident, really it was. At least that's how Jason and Tim tried to spin it when he had to explain to Bruce how you thought Red Hood and Red Robin broke into the manor. In truth, they thought you were at a friend's house studying, and the tracker that was stitched to your backpack showed that.

— Hold up... tracker?

— You'd grill them and your dad for that later.

— Now, you were constantly in the Batcave and working Damian's last nerve. You kept asking to help on missions or patrol, and shockingly, this was the one time when Bruce put his foot down and said no to having an adolescent child fighting crime with him.

— Who would've figured?

— The most he'd let you do was help Alfred with comms and computer stuff. Of course, that'd only lead to you and Damian getting into one of your brotherly spats over the comms.

— "At least I have competent training to be in the field. You can barely defend yourself against a cat." Damian sneered into his mic while roundhouse-kicking a thug.

— "First of all you stuck-up brat, Alfred the Cat and I have a lovely relationship and we were play fighting. Secondly, the only thing you're competent at is proving what happens when you forget to use protection!" You quipped right back.

— Dick and Tim tried holding back their laughs while Jason just shouted "DAMN!" Bruce had to pretend not to notice Damian's glare through the domino mask and Alfred pretended to scold you while giving you a fist bump. The Boy Wonder was grinding his teeth.

— Then, a miracle happened. Well, really it was a traumatic experience that Bruce would have to pay for more sessions with your therapist but still was a miracle in the end.

— In another one of his crazy schemes, Joker decided to target Bruce Wayne again, but this time, the newly discovered heirs to Wayne Enterprises, at least, that's what the media was referring to you as.

— He hired some goons to abduct you and Damian from your school and hid you both in one of his many secret hideouts around Gotham. And Joker, never one for subtlety, of course, decided to send out a televised message to Brucie Poosie, a name disturbingly similar to Joker's nickname for Batman. He'd addressed that later.

— Your father and siblings immediately jumped into action of course and started searching the entire city, checking all of Joker's known hideouts and connections. Only, Joker had apparently taken some inspiration and notes from Riddler because while he was busy taunting and trying to shake down Bruce Wayne for everything he could, he was leading Batman and his little birdies (his nickname for all the Robins) on a wild goose chase.

— The more and more time went by, the more and more they got worried for you. Of course, they were worried for Damian as well, but he was used to these kinds of situations. This was your first (and frankly, probably not last) kidnapping.

— At first, you weren't scared (much). No offense, but, Joker always kind of seemed like a joke to you. The fact his whole persona was based on a mad clown really didn't help. You had also never really watched the news or heard people talking about some of the horrible things he had done. You always just heard the part when Batman swooped in and kicked his ass.

— Well, if you made it out of this, you'd definitely have nightmares and a new fear of clowns to add to your list. May have to start considering two-hour sessions with your therapist.

— But, to your surprise, Damian had helped to keep you calm and protected you from seeing more of Joker's 'fun side'. Whenever the clown or one of his thugs got a little too close to your holding cell for your brother's liking, he always placed himself in front of you, just in case they decided to fuck around and find out so he could be ready.

— When the green-haired villain went on one of his disturbing tangents or talked about his plans for you two in case your father didn't follow through with his demands, Damian would cover your ears. Of course, it didn't do much, but the sentiment was appreciated. Your older brother, despite his 'quirks', actually did have a caring side to him. It just took being kidnapped by a psychotic clown and your lives being in terrible danger for it to show. Go figure.

— Of course, your father and siblings eventually tracked you and Damian down and came to your rescue. From what you had seen from your father and brothers in their fighting style, they always were more smart and sneaky with their attacks and ambushes. Jason was more of the impulsive and brash one who liked to rush in, but he grew more into the Bat's style over time. Especially seeing how the last time he rushed into something concerning the Joker, well, there's no need to go down that road.

— But, nope. This time, Bruce was not forgiving with his 'justice' towards Joker. Honestly, you and your siblings were a little worried that Bruce would break his number one rule on no killing for the first time, but he still held back. In the middle of all the chaos, you'd even managed to surprise Damian when some goons tried to surprise you and him after he broke you guys out of the cell. And who said video games couldn't teach you a thing or two about fighting?

— Damian was impressed, and more than curious to see what kind of games you were playing that taught you the fastest way to incapacitate a 200-pound man with a few jabs and well-placed strikes. That or you were insanely lucky to have a man who could barely defend himself against a child. Either way, a win was a win for you.

— Obviously, things changed a bit when you two returned home. 

— For one, your family became a lot more clingy and overprotective than before. And that was saying something considering they had a tracker stitched into your backpack without your knowledge before. There was a rotation between the brothers of who would drop off and pick you up from school. This was already a rule before, but now, it was just even more intense with you not being able to leave the manor or go anywhere without someone from the family accompanying you. Bruce started training you in self-defense and combat, with regulations and supervision from your brothers so he didn't make the same mistakes he made with them with you.

— You appreciated it all, and it definitely did help you feel a bit safer (in the beginning), but, really one of the most shocking changes not just to yourself, but everyone else was Damian's change in attitude toward you. Of course, he wasn't outright hugging you or anything crazy like that, but he was more cordial and almost friendlier you could say.

— It was also very apparent Damian had developed a similar protective stance toward you. You being the only non-vigilante in the family meant you kept an aura of innocence and light-heartedness the rest of your family had lost a long time ago. They were more than determined to make sure you kept that light and never lost it like they did so many years ago.

— Thankfully, your time with Joker wasn't anything too traumatic. Joker was actually on one of his schemes for once and didn't do anything too drastic. But, that didn't stop your brother from glaring down any suspicious figure who got too close to you for his liking. If you asked to hang out at a friend's house, Damian took over Bruce's role of asking for details on your friend, they're parents, where you'd be going, and all that extra stuff. If you were aware of the fact that Damian was running full background checks on your friends and their families whenever you went to hang out with them, you pretended not to notice.

– Bruce also had a teary moment of being a proud father seeing how Damian was showing already to be just like him. Which, if we're being honest, was actually a terrifying thought.

— But, it wasn't just Damian who started making an effort to build a more friendly bond between you two. You'd contributed as well. Showing Damian the ways he could learn to let loose and actually be a kid instead of a trained assassin all the time.

— You'd invited him more than once to hang out with you and your friends that you made from school. Hesitant at first at the idea of hanging out with others that weren't you and his family, you managed to convince him when Dick, Jason, and Tim got into one of their own brotherly spats, and Jason decided to start chasing the two around the house with a rag wet with a 'mysterious' substance.

— "Your local comrades quarters it is then." Damian muttered before quickly ushering you out the door with Alfred towing behind since you needed someone to drive you. Damian offered since he kept claiming he knew how, but Bruce still wasn't going for it.

— With your help, Damian actually learned to make friends with kids his own age. He developed hobbies and interests that had nothing to do with anything sharp or pointy (that didn't mean you weren't gonna booby trap your room still just in case).

— He even joined an art club at school and you both decided to enroll in a martial arts club together as well. It'd actually become quite the inside joke between you two. There was one guy in there, Carter, who swore he was the best fighter in the entire school and he could take any one of these 'runts' down, including you and Damian.

— Now, you were still learning and getting comfortable fighting from your lessons with your dad and brothers. When Carter decided to pick on you and Damian as the Wayne brats and challenged you both to a sparring match, boy he did not know what he was getting himself into. Especially when you and your brother looked at each other with the most mischievous evil smirks anyone had ever seen.

— When Bruce got a call from the school later that some parents were looking to try and sue him for the 'extensive harm' his kids did to their kid, he could only raise an eyebrow when you and Damian appeared in his office, smiling like you both were innocent angels.

— "See, Master Bruce. I told you if you'd given it some time, they'd grow on each other." Alfred said to him later that evening.

— Only Bruce was now more concerned than ever. When you and Damian basically hated each other, he only had to worry about the terror and havoc you two would unleash inside the manor. Now, that you were basically best buddies, he'd have to worry about inside and outside the house.

— "I'm gonna be meeting with my lawyers more frequently, aren't I Alfred?" Bruce asked.

— Alfred gave a small chuckle as he patted the man's shoulders. "Oh, Master Bruce, most certainly."

— The butler wasn't wrong.

— You and Damian became like a force that everyone was scared to cross. Even your own brothers were slightly afraid of the kind of shit you two could get into. You'd come up with the crazy schemes and ideas, mapping out any and all details while handling any technological stuff which you had gotten really good at considering the time you spent with Alfred in the Batcave monitoring missions. And, Damian would do the more physical acts required as well as sneaking and sleuthing around if need be.

— Bruce had a meeting with his attorneys at least once a week because of you two.

— You'd even developed your own sense of overprotectiveness over your older brother. Some guy in the art club Damian had joined at school decided to try and pick with him and messed up one of his paintings. Surprisingly, Damian was calm about it and didn't even yell or react at him. Just scoffed at the guy and called him pathetic.

— You did not have a similar reaction.

— When word got around the school and managed to reach your ears, you were for lack of a better word, feeling quite revengeful. The next day at school, that guy became the laughingstock of your entire class when a private photo mysteriously made its way into every student's locker in your grade.

— When Damian found out, he immediately confronted you about it, and you could only smile innocently while feigning ignorance.

— "Why, brother?! How could you even think to accuse me of such a vile act of one's breach of privacy."

— "Y/N..." Damian said.

— "Fine, it was me. But, you have to admit, it is quite a lovely picture. And besides, nobody messes with my brother except me." You smiled.

— Damian only gave a small smile, grabbing you to give you a noogie on the head before walking for the exit of the school to head home. He tried not to let such a small statement get him overly emotional since he'd never really had anyone before you and your family be so caring and defensive over him. Not even his mother. 

— The older you two got, the more close you became. At one point, Dick even started to joke that if one of you had gotten involved in some stupid and even dangerous plot, it wouldn't be long before the other got involved as well.

— "You'd even given yourself the nickname of the Blood Brothers since you and Damian liked to remind your other siblings more than once who Bruce's actual kin was, especially Dick whenever he went on one of his tirades about being the first Robin blah blah blah...

— Tim did happen to point out your chosen name's disturbing similarity to one widely known supervillain to which you scoffed in response.

— "Oh please, Brother Blood wishes he had half the brains and looks me and Dami have. Isn't that right, bro?" You said turning to Damian holding out a fist bump.

— "I refuse to get involved in this."

— And given your bond with each other, it was of course all too expected that you would each get involved in each other's love lives. When Damian was sent away to Titans Tower to learn how to be part of a team, you were very pissed at Bruce since he was breaking up you and his team.

— Honestly, Bruce hadn't even considered that, but he was happy and looking forward to the much-needed break from his weekly meetings with his lawyers concerning his sons and their growing stack of attempted lawsuits.

— It was a shock to not only you but to Damian from how you knew when he returned from the tower on a visit, and you asked "Who is she," with your arms crossed and tapping your foot against the ground.

— From your daily calls and messages, you'd picked up quite fast that Damian was crushing on someone, you just didn't know who. You figured it may have been that Tara girl you heard had joined the team, who should consider herself lucky she succumbed to her own fate and not the one you'd planned for her after finding out what she did to your brother and his comrades.

— Superman and Wonder Woman were still campaigning to put you on the League's high-priority watch list after hearing and witnessing some of the things you got up to with and without your brother. So they and everyone else in the League who had the fortune (or misfortune) of meeting you had no qualms that whatever you planned for the blonde earth-powered girl, was nothing short of maniacal.

— When you found out it was Raven after your dad brought you along to Damian's surprise party at the Tower with the rest of the team, you managed to get a chance alone with the half-human, half-demon girl, exchanging some friendly banter and humor. You'd also jokingly (but also not jokingly) warned her that if she hurt your brother in any way shape or form, you'd give her a fate worse than anything her father could ever imagine.

— Weirdly enough, she smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

— "I promise, you don't have to worry about anything from me. And, I can see now why he cares a lot about you. You both protect each other."

— To which you replied with a simple, "He's my brother." Nothing else needed to be said between the two of you. You both were aware of Damian's past, you more than Raven of course, so you knew Damian sometimes needed some extra care and love. You could clearly see that was something she had every intention of making sure he got.

— You approved.

— Now, if only you could get Damian to approve of you and Conner.

— Let's just say, neither your father nor your brothers were anywhere near please when they found out about you and the half-Kryptonian's relationship.

— Dick just couldn't fathom that both of his baby brothers were dating someone from the two teams he helped co-found.

— Jason didn't like that you were dating someone he couldn't really intimidate or threaten the way he wanted since the dude was a literal teen Superman.

— Tim was oddly okay with it at first. But, when you started abandoning him and your regular scheduled gaming sessions for your dates and hangouts with Conner, he was more than ever determined to take down the half-Kryptonian.

— Damian didn't like the idea of you with someone so much stronger than you and could hurt you very easily. To which you pointed out he was dating a half-demon whose father has more than once tried to take over the universe and she almost helped him in succeeding.

— "Not the point, little brother."

— You did have to warn your boyfriend though, because, unlike your other brothers with the exception of possibly Tim, Damian had his own hidden secret cache of Kryptonite for emergency if it was ever needed.

— How you knew?

— Well, after you and Conner announced your relationship, you noticed your father and brother consistently making trips to the vault where all the Kryptonite was stored. And, you once caught your dad making a smaller version of the 'special' jewelry he used to fight Superman that one time, which you figured had to be for Damian.

— "Oh come on! I don't see anyone walking around with crosses and holy water whenever Damian goes out with Raven. But, y'all are ready to pull out all the stops whenever Conner and I even look like we're about to hug!" You yelled at your family.

— Damian stepped forward, placing what was supposed to be a comforting hand on your shoulder.

— "I do apologize brother. But, you should really be blaming Father for this, since I did technically warn him what would happen if he made me a middle child.

— "He did." You heard your father's day from behind.

— Someone really needed to make a documentary about your life.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[animasolaoriginal]

A B A N D O N E D 🥀 1/3

A new-in-town urban explorer stumbles upon a (not so) well hidden secret in an abandoned building, turning his life upside down when he takes more than pictures and leaves more than footprints.

Normal dude meets broken girl turned sex toy

WARNINGS: Urban exploration. Implied past rape. Implied past caning. Wounds and injuries. Objectification. Submissive character. Strangers to lovers. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Fluff. Eventual smut*. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 7.6k

A/N: This is a spin-off to my original story INFATUATED, set in the same universe. There's no need to have read INFATUATED, just know that there's a man we refer to as Sir who took in (kidnapped) a girl we refer to as Darling to make her his personal little plaything (but then proceeds to develop “feelings” for her), and this is the story of one of the unfortunate girls before her. A "study" on what a normal dude may think about an abandoned sub. Remember: this is fiction! A product of my own sick little mind, a fantasy. Our guy here may have some opinions later that may or may not stem from my own view on things (just some rants about certain kinks, and if those insult you, please forgive me, I don't mean any kink shaming. Everyone is valid around here – except Sir who might not get the best reviews in this story). By the way, the protagonist may have a name here, but it's only mentioned a few times, so you can still imagine any character here if you want to!

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Glass crunches beneath his boots as he makes his way through the abandoned building. It's eerily quiet, just the wind howling through the broken windows and holes in the walls. The occasional rustle when debris or dry leaves move under the breeze. Nature's completely reclaimed this old house that used to be an apartment building with a bunch of tiny shops on the ground floor. Too off the beaten path, the shops became obsolete when a large mall opened only a few blocks away.

He's also in a very bad neighborhood, and nobody seemed to care about this particular building for a long time. Overgrown and broken, glass panes a good target practice for your usual teenage delinquent or bored child, doors ripped off their hinges by age and decay and maybe some random angry dude who needed a place to vent. Furniture long gone, either taken along or stolen later, things that couldn't be moved too easily (like sinks or toilet bowls) smashed into tiny pieces.

Normally he prefers places stuck in time, where tragedy struck and nobody's been back in decades, with faded photos on the walls or on dusty shelves, the smell of slowly rotting armchairs and a hint of mold in the air. Those make the best pictures. Little time capsules, evidence of older times, in the midst of a blooming bustling city. This building, however, looked more promising from the outside.

He raises his camera and takes a shot of a broken window where thick vines of ivy crawl around the frame and up the wall, the light of the setting sun giving the scene a soft glow. He changes the angle a few times, then moves on, up the stairs, looks through open doors into old apartments, mostly empty, walls vandalized with crude, unreadable graffiti, carpets full of dirt and a (not so) healthy layer of mold.

What strikes him as a little unusual is that the hallways look as if used fairly often, leaves and dust bunnies line the sides, but there's a path between the debris, leading further up the building. Not too unusual, these kinds of buildings usually attract a lot of shady people or bored teenagers, some to meet for illegal business deals, other to party hard in a place Mom and Dad cannot find them.

Maybe it's used for all kinds of things as he notices a growing abundance of empty soda cans, broken alcohol bottles and other garbage lying around (the most striking sight was a trail of discarded condoms and empty lube bottles). His destination is the roof, maybe he can at least snap some pictures of the sunset and the city around him from this place, for all he got now are shots of broken windows, nature reclaiming the urban space and your typical down-the-hallway shot. He even found the one-single-chair-in-the-middle-of-an-empty-room motif.

Of course he's not the first urbexer to walk through here, it's been abandoned for a long time, probably old news for the locals, but this is his first time here, in the city too, and he wanted to see as many abandoned things as possible. He heard from others that this house had good bones, meaning stable stairs and floors, no risk of breaking through and landing in the moldy basement with a pipe through your torso. He is looking for adventure, the thrill of being alone in a lost place, inhaling the intoxicating scent of debris and decay, he is not looking to pay a horrendous hospital bill because he's been too careless.

He takes the last section of the winding staircase, stepping onto the upper most floor, the roof access visible at the end of the corridor. There he hesitates. Unlike the floors below him, there's something different here. It's not as dirty, and the most prominent thing: all the doors are intact and closed. It almost looks like an actual floor of a still lived-in apartment building where you would find the same amount of dust and grime on the floors and walls.

Raising his camera, he takes a few shots, cursing when he realizes it's too dark to get it lined up best. The only light source is a badly boarded-up window at the end of the hallway, a tiny skylight above him and the glow creeping up over the staircase from the lower levels. Why is this window boarded up? What's happening up here that nobody wants to have witnesses for? There are other buildings around this one, still functional, mostly, probably for seedy reasons as well, but there's still the chance of people noticing what's going on here.

The closed doors irritate him. Everything else about this building was ripped out and broken and vandalized, nothing left in its former state. He came in through a bent-out-of-shape shutter gate, most of the former shops have so many holes it's fairly easy to get access to the rest of the house. And nobody seems to care about people walking about. There's an old No Trespassing sign near the boarded-up front door, but that's about it.

Though it doesn't surprise him in this kind of neighborhood. He might be new in this city, but he knows a crime haven when he sees one. Everything looks old and run down, shops are only fronts for other businesses, grim looking people stand around, gangs linger in groups in neglected parks or on the curb corners. He also saw some prostitutes walking the streets, looking as worn and shabby as the clothes they were wearing. Most normal people would avoid going deeper into the belly of the beast, but he likes the more dangerous places, and frankly, he fits right in.

Tall and bulky, he could pass as one of those bouncers standing in front of shady clubs, but he looks also young enough to be confused with a fresh gang member or mafia initiate or whatever. At least he thinks so because he's gotten no curious stares as he entered the neighborhood. Though he was glad nobody talked to him, his accent would have given him away for sure.

He feels his heart beating faster when he approaches one of the closed doors, the hairs on his arms rising in anticipation. It's a thrill to find something unusual in a place you've already pushed aside and declared boring. His hand grabs the door handle, twists it... and nothing happens. Locked. A locked door in an abandoned building. How curious. He tries the other ones, the same thing occurs. When he reaches the last door, he almost jumps back when the knob turns and the door opens with a click and then a creepy squeak.

One open room on a floor full of locked doors. His breath quickens, but he forces himself to remain calm. He doesn't even know what he's expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. The room is almost bare (but not as empty as the rooms he's seen before), aged wallpaper peels from the walls, the windows are covered by thick curtains, old and rugged looking, there's a couch in one corner, covered in blankets that have seen better days too. But the most unnerving sight is the bed in the middle of the room.

It's literally in the middle of the room, a sturdy looking metal frame he could walk around if he wanted to. But for now he only stares. There are handcuffs chained to the headboard, ropes tied to the low bed posts. And then there are the stains on the old mattress, lighter and darker ones, some are definitely blood. Old and dried, though one looks a little fresher, on the lower part of the bed. He's mesmerized, disgusted but mesmerized, almost forgets the weight around his neck before a shiver crashes through him.

It's an automated gesture to raise his camera and take pictures of what he sees. Pics or it didn't happen. It's a strange sight, but he isn't sure he wants to share this scene on his official page. He's known for showing off decaying architecture and nature reclaiming its place in the world full of stone and people. To share a potential sex dungeon might not be the way to go. But he still has his side blog. He has to share this, work through the experience, hoping somebody knows something about this.

Though he hasn't even seen everything. Slowly he takes a step into the room. There's a table behind the door, a longer one, fit for a person to lie on, and the leather belts attached to it suggest the same. Fuck. Is this really one of those freaky sex rooms?

He doesn't want to imagine what goes on in here, but he can't completely ignore that he has seen similar settings in various porn clips. Echoes of crying girls crash through his mind, creepily leering men in ski masks standing around the bed, the table, the couch, cocks in hand, others holding paddles, canes, vibrators, ready to torment whoever is unfortunate enough to be strapped to the structures.

He wants to believe there's consent involved, a scene being played out, discussed beforehand, those girls willingly trapped with a bunch of horny men, but sometimes it's hard to imagine that anyone would want to go through that on their own free will. He swallows, only now noticing the stench of the room. Sweat and sex, various bodily fluids all around, with a metallic undertone. Blood.

Shivering he can't help himself, he takes more pictures, walks around the room as if treading on thin ice, careful not to disturb the scene. He's also hyper aware of the noises around him now, the low buzz of the city beyond, voices passing by the building, birds landing on the roof above him, pigeons cooing, crows cawing, seagulls screaming. He tells himself he'd hear if somebody came back to clean up the scene he's witnessing right now. He could flee to the roof, hide it out, maybe find a way down from there.

Goosebumps attack his bare forearms when he rounds the bed and notices a pile of blankets on the floor. But it's the hair poking out of it that makes his heart stop. No. He freezes on the spot, staring down, camera heavy in his hand. He's heard stories of other urban explorers encountering unsettling things, the more harmless one coming into contact with a squatter, either awake or passed out in some corner, and the most disturbing one... stepping onto a crime scene, finding blood, bones... or dead bodies.

Yet instead of panicking, with the urge to run as quickly as he can, he finds himself staring with an obscene fascination. His eyes trail the blanket, noticing how it's wrapped around whatever is curled up inside it, and he bends down a little, crouching beside it, the smell overwhelmingly strong down here. His stomach protests, but his curiosity is too obnoxious to ignore. Shifting his camera into his other hand, he reaches out, carefully, knowing he should probably wear gloves, but he also doesn't care. He has to know.

His fingers grip the edge of the blanket, and he pulls, gently, his eyes widening as the scene unfolds in front of him – together with the body of a girl unfurling from its curled-up position. He will never share his first impression with anyone, because it's primal, an instinct, the thought of a man whose cock has a mind of its own: she's pretty.

Also naked, covered in grime and other substances, pale skin adorned with angry red welts and purple bruises, something pink caked between her thighs. She's on her side, legs scissored open, arms bound behind her back. Her thick dark hair is braided into two pigtails, and one of them seems to be cut off as the hair frays out and lies around her head like a dark halo. Tears and sweat allowed a thick layer of dust and dirt to cake to her face. Eyes closed, long dark lashes clumped, full lips swollen and raw looking, slightly parted.

Before he continues taking in every detail of her, he has the urge to bring his finger to her nose, and the relief when he feels the slightest bit of air movement against his skin lets him exhale loudly as well. She is not dead. And there's the problem. She looks like she should be, like it would be the better fate. The sight scares him as much as it fuels his morbid fascination, which may explain why he's still frozen on the spot, staring at her instead of calling the police or an ambulance or doing anything to help her. He can't take his eyes off her.

Her slender neck is covered in dark bruises as if someone has tried to strangle her, probably thought they succeeded too. Why else would she lie on the floor here? Left behind after whoever assaulted her was done? And assaulted she was. Sexually, physically. The welts on her body look horrible, thin red lines all over her small breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs, on her ass as well from what he can tell. She was caned, the poor thing. He hates watching those kinds of porn videos. He can see the appeal of spanking, the hand on ass contact, but hitting someone with a rigid cane doesn't seem very pleasurable, it's only about inflicting pain and having evidence of it days later.

A sadistic move, and sadists were definitely at work here. There are more bruises on her thighs, probably from strong hands holding her down and open while various cocks forced themselves into her holes. He feels his cheeks warming up when he takes a closer look at her pussy. Apart from layers upon layers of what he assumes to be cum and other fluids, there are welts and bruises on there too, on the soft skin of her inner thighs, on her puffy outer lips (that look stretched as if held back and open by clamps or whatever these bastards used), but most are on the strangely swollen clit. Ugh. Genital torture, a genre he really hates. Spanking a woman's clit is just downright sick and barbaric.

The more he looks at her, the worse he feels. Not just for what she had to go through, but knowing he can't really help her. How should he? Call the police and wait for other horny men to find her? He never trusted the cops, and in a neighborhood like this he is certain there won't be a good guy among them. Calling an ambulance may be an option, if he does it anonymously and flees the scene quickly, but that leaves him wondering if anyone ever found her. And again, in an area like this, the people who did this may still be around watching the place, stopping help before it can get anywhere, maybe even finishing the job, killing her.

And if he stays and wait, he will be in danger of those people seeing him, and as he now knows too much, even took pictures of the evidence, what's stopping them from killing him too? And even if they don't find him, he fears the damn hospital bill might be his end. Yes, strange priorities, but his brain is buzzing and he feels sick and nauseous the longer he stays in this horrible room, staring down at the poor girl.

She looks younger than him, maybe a few years, maybe a lot, the pigtails give the illusion she might still be a teenager, but her body looks too developed for that. A thin face with high cheekbones, no baby fat, soft albeit small breasts, a narrow waist, plump hips, thighs just rounded enough to create that amazing thigh gap he likes so much. The initial thought is still there, and his cock agrees, she is beautiful, despite the state she is in.

And maybe that's why he forms an idea in his head: why not take her with him? Away from this place, into safety, then assess what help he can get her. She can't stay here, that's for sure. A better man would face the danger of being discovered by her abusers, to make sure she'll get the care she needs, no matter how expensive and uncomfortable it may get. A better man wouldn't crouch beside her limp body and stare and drool.

But he's not. He's a runaway, dropped out of college to party, then got too old and paranoid to return. Too distracted by the world around him. Traveling on a budget, with just enough money to feed himself once a day, couch surfing, loitering, pissing his life away one day at a time. It's only been during the last years that he's gotten a bit more stable, making a name for himself as a photographer, selling prints and doing commissions, and by coming into this city he's hoped to make it even bigger.

Renting an old loft he hopes to transform into a photo studio one day, he's trying to settle down. He still has barely any money, lives off those stupid strangers willing to pay for his pictures even though they're not even that special. He always hopes for the occasional exceptional find, something he could sell to newspapers, but even those prefer to steal their pictures off other people's Instagram instead of paying for a more professional shot. Tough times.

As he crouches next to the unconscious girl, the hand holding his camera twitches. It's an instinct to raise it, bring it in front of his eyes, look through the finder and press his thumb down to take a picture of her. He feels sick for it, but also... not. She's part of this little sex dungeon, the main attraction, actually, and it's an inborn need to burn her image into a bunch of pixels. Pics or it didn't happen. He considers sharing her story with whatever newspaper may want it, but then his name would be attached to the evidence, he could be linked to this scene, and what's stopping any corrupt cop to call him guilty for this? Or the bad guys to come and erase any kind of evidence? Him and her included?

She can't stay here. He can't keep staring at her. Something has to happen.

Before he puts his camera into his backpack, he can't help but take a few more pictures of her, of her wounds and injuries, of the evidence caked to her skin, the blood trailing down her inner thigh. Maybe justice will come one day, but he'll need pictures of the crime scene to make it happen. He also snaps a few shots of her face, peaceful in slumber, of her soft curves, those tiny feet with the ankles covered in rope burn. Those he does in several angles, maybe he has a future in selling feet pics. And it's not his fault the market exists.

The world is a sick place, and he's just trudging along.

Eventually he stores his camera in his backpack, then moves the blanket back around the girl. His hand finds her cheek, and it's warm to the touch, she's certainly still alive, and probably in pain, so he doesn't want to disturb the few quiet moments this cruel world has given her. He wraps her up and scoops her into his arms, a barely there weight, poor thing looks and feels malnourished on top of being treated so horribly.

Lifting her up, he realizes the light has turned from the soft sunset glow into the harsher, darker tones of the street lamps coming to life. Time to go. Maybe her abusers will return soon. He carries her out of the room, she's warm and soft in his arms, head resting against his shoulder, hair and one half of her face peeking out of the blanket cocoon. She's tiny, in comparison and in general, and knowing her fate he feels even worse for her.

His heart clenches by the time he's descended all those stairs, and when he reaches his point of entry, he hesitates. It's one thing to slip into a building during the day, nobody cares about a man with a camera creeping around old houses much, at least not in this kind of area, but knowing this place is frequently used for terrible little sex adventures, he feels uneasy now. The night is fast approaching, and he knows these kinds of things probably happen when the shadows fall.

Looking around, he decides to find another exit, preferably one leading around the back, and luck is on his side when he finds a broken window looking into a backyard filled with black trash bags. With the girl still in his arms, he climbs through, but slips on something at the last second. Curling his back, trying not to harm her further, he feels his backpack scraping over the rough wall, hoping it didn't damage his camera. It's one of his few prized possessions, but thinking about it, maybe he should reconsider his priorities.

He's carrying a life in his arms, a life he intends to save, so a broken camera, a replaceable thing, really isn't that big of a deal. He can always salvage the SD card inside anyway. No harm done. Rolling his shoulders, he shifts her against his chest, then continues through the dark alley. He's parked the hunk of metal he calls his car a few blocks away, at the edge of the neighborhood, hoping he'll still have all tires when he returns.

And indeed they are all there, as full and dirty as he's left them. The old truck was the last thing he could afford after renting out the loft, so even if he's bound to this city, relying on random strangers to finance his life, he has a means to get away if he has to. For now, he's pulling the passenger door open and carefully puts down the bundle of limbs and hair and blankets, and when he does, she suddenly stirs.

He freezes, staring at her as her eyelids flutter open. A soft groan escapes her, but when her wide eyes, beautiful dark irises, glazed and a little dull, but beautiful nonetheless, meet his, she stiffens too, lips parted, and he expects a scream, a distress call, anything, but she doesn't issue a single peep, just looks at him, almost calm, probably just glad she's still alive or thinking she died and woke up in a weird realm between the worlds where it's normal to wake up in unfamiliar places, facing unfamiliar people.

He still feels the need to calm her. “Hey, it's alright. No need to be afraid, I'm not here to harm you. I want to help you, okay? Do you understand?”

She blinks, her lips trembling, but then she utters a barely audible “Yes, sir”, and he feels his heart jumping a little. To his own shame, his cock does the same. He clears his throat, nods to her, then closes the door with a thud and rounds the car, putting his backpack into the covered truck bed. Her eyes are following him when he slips behind the wheel, despite her slouched position on the seat. She's eerily quiet, not at all concerned about a strange man packing her into his car.

He watches her as he pulls the seat belt over her small frame, then buckles himself in. “You'll be alright,” he says softly, giving her the hint of a smile, and she continues staring at him. She must be in shock, no other way to explain this behavior, probably fighting the pain coursing through her, the soreness and burning, the stickiness between her thighs, the memory of the whole ordeal. He can't blame her. It must have been absolute hell.

He starts the car, glad it does so on the first try, and maneuvers it back into the nightly city traffic until they reach the old warehouse at the edge of it. It's the cheapest he could find, between two concerning neighborhoods, but those are still better than the one he found her in. At least he has running water and electricity, and a bed. Hmm. One bed. He'll give it to her for now, trying to squeeze his big body onto the small couch. It'll work.

She's still only staring at him when he unbuckles her and picks her up, though her breaths are a bit more labored. Maybe the shock is fading, letting through the pain more and more. He hums soothingly to her, tells her it'll be alright, knowing the more he'll repeat that, the more she'll believe it. It's his life motto too, fake it till you make it. She's that pliant body in his arms as he carries her to the old elevator, hoping it'll last another day.

When he reaches his apartment door, he shifts her in his hold, and she winces, a horribly pathetic little sound he hopes never to hear again. “Sorry,” he mutters as he fumbles for his key and unlocks the door. “You'll feel better soon, I promise.”

Her warm breath hits his neck as she presses her face closer against him, a strangely submissive gesture, a naive hope to trust a stranger. He takes her straight to the bathroom, where he sets her on the closed toilet lid and slowly unravels the blanket from around her. She's sitting perfectly still, the only movement coming from her almost curious eyes as she watches his every move. She winces when he brushes against the welts on her skin, chest rising and falling a little faster, but that's about all the motion he gets from her.

When the blanket falls away, she's that naked thing covered in sweat and cum and blood, and it occurs to him what a strange situation this is. For him to just take her away, without informing anyone, authority or not, and for her to just accept it like this. She's awake, maybe a little dazed, but conscious enough that a normal girl would stir more, talk more, fuss and strain against his touches, maybe even try to flee or do anything to ensure her own safety.

But she is just sitting there, arms folded behind her back, watching him. She doesn't seem real. Like a robot. A brainless toy... And it occurs to him, that might just be what she is, what she has been. A body to use, handed around between vulgar men, an object to utilize in their sick fantasies turned reality. Of course he's no stranger to the news, especially the darker ones, those about trafficking and forced sex work, even if those stories barely make it past the usual political drama. It's another one of those morbid fascinations he can't seem to break.

He might just be as sick as those actually partaking in these illegal little sex gatherings, he's watched those videos, even though he's handled them like any other porn he's come across. As fake, a scene played out, a fantasy made as real as movie magic can make it, but to find this girl in this room, discarded and abandoned like a broken doll, left behind after everyone else was done and satisfied in their twisted, primal needs, shows him that those were not scenes, not fake, but brutal reality. It makes him angry.

“Can you stand?” he asks her quietly, tilting his head as he towers over her, and she nods, looking up at him, before straining her bruised body when she tries to move. His hands find her elbows, and she flinches, but lets him pull her onto her feet. “Oh fuck, your arms, I forgot,” he presses out, and quickly leans back to grab a pair of scissors off the counter behind him, then carefully moves around her to cut through the ropes holding her wrists and forearms together. When he's done, he lets her go, and she sways, arms flailing a little, her hands twitching as if she wants to hold onto him. He guides her into the shower, then steps back. She turns around immediately, eyes wide. “Do you need help?”

She bites her swollen lip. “Please,” she croaks, and the hoarse sound of her voice breaks his heart (but also thickens his cock). He nods, swallows hard, trying to fight the strange warmth pooling in his stomach, before he toes off his boots, strips off his hoodie and jeans, then steps behind her in just his boxers. He wants to show her he's not a predator, but he also doesn't want to get his only good pair of jeans wet and dirty. One day he'll be able to afford another one.

He grabs the shower head and turns the knobs on the wall, waiting for the water to heat up. She's shivering, her frail little body so tiny in front of him, one hand rubbing up and down the other arm, a mindless gesture, trying to ease her nerves probably. Her eyes, however, stay on him and his every move, very attentive, almost eager. It should feel a little bit more bizarre to share a shower with a girl he's just met (or rather found), but it's as if he's running on instincts, feeling the need to help her, make her feel better, ease her pain.

The steam fills his nostrils, and when he puts the water jet to her shoulder, she winces, flinches away, lets out a little whine, but ultimately returns under the spray and lets him clean the grime and sweat and other substances off her skin. He's careful not to put too much pressure on her bruises and the welts, and is glad they didn't break her skin, even though they look horrible, shining in a bright red as if the blood is pulsing just beneath her pale skin.

When he lowers the shower head to point it between her thighs, he hesitates, looks at her, but all she does is take a little side step and spreads her legs a bit more to allow him to do so. So fucking obedient, it's almost scary. The grime on her inner thighs is so persistent that he has to move his hand over her skin before he realizes he should probably use a wash cloth. Stepping back, he leans around the open door and grabs a small towel, wets it and then proceeds to rub the dirt (and cum and other things he doesn't want to think more about) off her thighs. She whines quietly when he moves the soft cloth over her folds, and he holds his breath, trying to be as gentle as he can be.

When he touches her clit though, she shudders and gasps, legs trembling, and her hand is on his arm then, holding on tightly, with a strength he wouldn't have expected from her. He watches how her eyes roll back, how her lips part and a little moan escapes her, and he just freezes, wash cloth pressed to her sensitive nub, unintentionally drawing a strange little orgasm out of her. Was she trained to be this sensitive, so responsive? To come on touch alone? He didn't even rub that hard.

He takes the cloth away slowly, and she calms down a little, breathing just a bit harder, but when her eyes meet his, she furrows her brows, bites her lip, mumbles a croaked “Sorry” as she lowers her head. He frowns at that, tilting his head.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he says quietly. “I... uh, didn't mean to do that either...”

Is she one of those poor girls who was bound to their master's (or whatever the man called himself who had her) will, to only do as he told her, to come on command, and to feel bad if she does so without permission? What a horrible fate... He would never ask her to hold her orgasm, he would want to see that reaction over and over again, allowing her all the pleasure she can get. Not that he'll ever want to do anything to her, but... in theory, of course.

He keeps cleaning her then, lets the warm water soak her bruised skin, and she just stands there, chin tilted up, eyes closed, wet hair cascading down her back, hanging over her shoulders, one side shorter than the other (how cruel to take away something from her, even as benign as part of her braid, but it's definitely crueler to treat her like a soulless body, and he's glad she's not missing any fingers or limbs instead).

Considering, her state could be worse. She's standing on her own, breathing just fine, she's probably very sore and aching, but the pain will fade and she could have a normal life after this, more or less, not counting the psychological trauma that seems to still hold her hostage. Well, it's not ideal, and maybe death would have been a relief after the torment, but she's young, she can work through this, it's possible. And maybe he can help her cope...

Looking at her petite frame, he feels his stomach tensing. It's wrong to feel like this, he knows it, he shouldn't even allow the smallest little thought into that direction, but he is just a man after all, standing with a naked young woman in his shower, and it's blatantly obvious what his cock thinks about this whole situation. He hopes she doesn't notice the tent in his boxers.

But he shouldn't worry, she doesn't seem to notice much, standing still under the spray of the water, and when he turns it off eventually, deeming her clean enough, she inhales deeply and opens her eyes, blinking away stray water drops. She remains immobile, and while he turns to grab a towel, she doesn't move an inch. When he starts drying her off, rougher than he intends, but his hands feel like they are shaking from the tension growing inside him, she winces a couple of times, but then presses her lips together and endures.

He's watching her like a hawk, apologizes for accidentally hurting her, tries to be as gentle as possible, and her eyes are glued to his face, not completely focused yet, still glazed and hazy, pupils blown for some reason, her gaze almost curious. What a strange little creature. He'd expected a victim of whatever type of rape she's experienced to be more... hysterical?

When he finally wraps the towel around her small body and another one around her damp hair, she seems to relax even more. Then she opens her mouth.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispers, looking up at him before bowing her head.

He stares at her, blinking in confusion. “Uh, you're welcome,” he says. “But, uh, you can call me Sam, okay? I'm Sam. No need for... honorifics or whatever, you know?”

There's a frown on her face when she looks back up, her lips moving as if she's repeating his name in her mind.

“What's your name?” he then asks, leaning against the sink as he watches her.

The frown deepens, her eyes moving away from him, flickering here and there as if she tries to find the answer somewhere in his bathroom. “I...” she starts, eyebrows furrowed before she exhales deeply, her shoulders sagging. “It doesn't matter,” she then replies.

“Huh?” he makes, staring at her. “What do you mean it doesn't matter? I'm sure you have a name. Did you forget?” He kicks himself mentally for assuming as much and for his harsh tone, but it's ridiculous.

She shakes her head, not to say no, but to clear her mind maybe? It's a frantic gesture. “It doesn't matter. I don't matter. I am... I am yours to... to use,” she mutters under her breath, hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“What now?” He gapes at her.

And then she is suddenly on her knees in front of him, the towel falling away, her small body folded with her hands lying neatly on her lap, her chin tilted up, looking at him with big eyes. “Please use me,” she says quietly.

He takes a step back, bumping into the cupboard next to the sink, staring down at the girl. Is she serious? He shakes his head, then walks back and grabs her elbows. “Come on, get up, no need to kneel before me, okay? Get up!”

His harsher, also slightly agitated tone makes her wince, but she's on her feet immediately, letting him pull her up, then stands stock-still before him, head lowered, a soft little whine escaping her. “I'm sorry...”

“Stop apologizing!” He lets go of her and runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I mean, ugh, wow. I'm sorry, too. You must be... well, you've been through so much, I don't mean to scare you or anything, I just...”

“Please,” she mumbles, breathing a little harder. She's shivering without the towel, the one on her head coming undone as well the more she shimmies on the spot. He stares at her, she has her hands clasped in front of her sex and squeezes her thighs together, small breasts squished, nipples erect, a deep blush almost hiding the red welts on her skin. “Please use me,” she then says again.

“No!” he blurts out, and she flinches, another sob escaping her. He groans. “I mean, come on! I will not just use you, I just met you, I found you! In that freaky sex room after you've been...” He stops when he suddenly meets her gaze. Her pupils are fully dilated, her already dark eyes shining entirely black. “You're in no condition to do anything but relax now, okay? Take it easy. Come on, I'll show you the bed.”

He's about to grab her hand when she turns her shoulder, avoiding his touch. He freezes, frowns. “In... no condition? Am I... not good... anymore?” Her voice is that feeble little hum, a desperate song sending shivers down his spine.

“What? No! You are good, you are perfect, you are so beautiful!” he croaks out, unable to stop the words. She tilts her head, blinking. “I mean, yeah, uh, you are, but that's not what I mean. You are... Look, whoever treated you like this, whoever hurt you, just left you there. And I couldn't not take you, you know? I want to help you, do you understand that? I want you to feel good again after –”

“Then use me,” she whispers, breathing harder, hands falling away from the obedient pose as she rubs them up and down her thighs, still squirming on the spot. “Please, it hurts...”

“Of course it hurts, they hit you with a fucking cane! They raped you!” he shouts, a little too loud, his emotions getting the better of him.

She flinches back, gasping with her lips parting, her eyes wide. “No... no, they were... they had to punish me because I... I was bad... I deserved it... and they... they used me like they should use me...”

Her words are mumbled, but he can still hear them, even though he wishes he couldn't. What a sick way of seeing things. What a fucked-up world where a pretty girl like her has these thoughts planted into her head.

Anger makes him clench his hands into fists. “They shouldn't have done that. You are a human being, a young woman, a beautiful girl, not a doll to play with, not a toy to use!”

She stares at him, eyelids fluttering, chest rising and falling faster, small breasts bouncing. Really not the time to notice that, mate!

“But,” she whispers, wincing slightly as she starts chewing on her lips. “But that... that's my purpose... I am... I am yours to use,” she repeats these last five words like something she had to learn without knowing the meaning behind it.

He approaches her slowly, carefully, his big hands find her small shoulders, and the touch makes her look up at him. “You are your own person. You have a name, even if you can't remember it right now, you had a mother and a father, maybe even siblings. You went to school, you had a job, maybe. You had dreams, everyone has dreams, for the future, things you wanted to have, places you wanted to see. You are not just a body for strange men to use. Not like that. Not without consent! You were not made to be punished, to be hurt because some random sicko gets off on it. Your body is so much more than just... holes to fill... and a canvas to soil with bruises and welts and... cum...”

His voice has become calmer, like a mantra, new thoughts to plant into her muddled brain, so he hopes, and she listens with her lips parted, eyes directly looking at him. Sometimes she frowns, sometimes she blinks, and when he finishes she licks her lips.

“But I want this,” she says quietly. “I want to be used...”

He sighs deeply and lowers his head, then shakes it in frustration. “No, somebody told you you should think like that! Nobody in their right mind wants to be raped and mutilated like that!”

A single sob makes him look up, and he lets go of her, straightening up. Her lips are trembling and her eyes watering before tears stream down her face. He lets out a groan.

“I'm sorry,” he grunts. “I didn't mean it like that! You are valid, whatever you want, of course, but... but you gotta agree it's a little strange?” She only cries harder, her small frame shaking. “Okay, look, no kink shaming or whatever, I just... I assumed, the way you were lying in that room, the state you were in, I thought you needed help! You looked horrible! I was about to call the police!”

She freezes at that, staring up at him. “No,” she gasps. “Don't do that! Please! I... I don't want any trouble... I... I'll do anything, but... please... not the police!”

He raises an eyebrow at that. This reaction surprises him. “Why not?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She averts her eyes, breathing harder. He isn't very fond of them either, but why wouldn't she? Why would she prefer being gang raped and beaten and strangled over calling for help?

She presses her lips together, doesn't say a thing. For a moment they are both silent, standing in the bathroom, the naked girl and the guy with his tented boxers. Even now his cock doesn't agree with him. But he doesn't care about it anymore. This is a mystery he wants to unravel.

“Tell me,” he says, tone harsher, pointedly. She seems to reply better to commands.

And it seems to work. “He said he'd kill me if I talked to them,” comes her quiet answer, spoken to the tiled floor.

“He? He who?” he asks, his arms falling to his sides.

“Sir,” she replies, her shoulders shaking.

“Sir? Who calls himself Sir? Who is that? The man who did this to you?”

She shakes her head. “No. He... he found me, he took me in, and then... he... he sent me away because I was... a bad girl and he... he... they...” A series of sobs escapes her before her hands fly up to cover her face. Her cries pierce his heart. “Why did he send me away? What did I do?” she wails softly, muffled from behind her hands. “I was a good girl... always a good girl... did everything he said...”

He can't watch it anymore. While his rage for this unknown man grips his insides, he steps forward and pulls her against him, arms wrapped around her shuddering form, but she keeps crying, lets it all out, desperate and heartbreaking. He scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom, her tears hot on his skin, her whines loud in his ears.

Putting her down carefully, he pulls the blanket over her naked body and tucks her in, gently rubbing her side as she curls in on herself, continuing to cry miserably.

“Please stop crying,” he whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bed, hand still on her hip. “I'm sorry he treated you like that. But he let you go, you said so, so why don't you use that as a chance to move on, look ahead, find a new Sir? Or live your life without any man for a while? I'm sure that's nice too...”

She stares at him from under her clumped lashes, momentarily paused in her sobbing, only to cry out again when he suggests moving on. He sighs, letting her wail and whine until hiccups shake her form. She's not calming down, but she gets quieter, and he stands up then, walking down the stairs into the kitchen to get some water and a snack. When he returns, she's lying on her side, staring blankly ahead, eyes reddened, face flushed and wet, but she's stopped crying for the moment.

He sits back down on the edge and holds the water glass to her face. “Come on, drink something. Please.” She doesn't even look at him. He exhales loudly and puts the glass on the bedside table. “Fine. Well, it's there if you want it. I also brought some crackers, maybe you're hungry. I can get more later. Or just sleep, you definitely need that. Rest, get better, and tomorrow we'll figure something out, okay?”

She doesn't give a reply, and he shakes his head and leaves again, settling on the lumpy couch under the stairs, his eyes drifting back up to the loft area every now and then. He falls asleep thinking it was probably a bad idea taking this girl with him. For his sake. What if she is so sick in the head she'll stand over him with a knife in the middle of the night? Great thought to slumber over, really.

1 🟢 2 🟢 3

End notes: *And this was the plot part of our story, stay tuned for the sex frenzy to begin in the next chapter!

There will be three chapters in total, I'll upload every Wednesday.

Thank you for joining me on another little original story I needed to get out of my system.

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[owe-143]

☆Felix x Black! Reader(Fem! Reader)♡

A/N: Hey black girlies 😍❤ I'm also a black girlie so I've been dying to do this!! Also, if you're not black and wanna read please do!! I don't really care just no hate!!! We need more kpop x black readers frr😭 Btw if u know any people who write them pls tell me! Uhm, one more thing, this is my first time writing like a story kinda one shot thing..? Basically, sorry if it isn't amazing. I'm still learning so pls enjoy ❣️❣️

Genre: Fluff☁💕 but sorta angsty??

Warnings: Nothing ✨

Summery: You're insecure about your curly hair so Felix tried to help you feel better ( and sorta failed)

You frowned, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight, you thought. Your hair was so messy and boring. This definitely wasn't how you wanted to start the day with. Especially since you have a date with Felix. Dealing with this mess of hair you couldn't control? Huge bummer. Though with a problem, there's always a solution.

You slid open your vanity drawer, rummaging around all the random hair products and combs. Your face brightened as you pulled out a hair straightener

"Perfect! "

You found a place to plug it in. You turned on the device, unsure of what to do next. You hadn't actually had any experience with straightening your hair. This is the first time but dealing with your stupid curly hair is way harder. What was difficult about straight hair? You shrugged of the feeling of uneasiness.

You placed the straightener near your hair. You hesitated slightly, placing the curly ends of your hair in between the tool. You worried that it would burn your hair or something. You've seen plenty girls on social media though doing it for real is nerve wrecking.

You press the straightener down onto your hair, leaving it for a few seconds before satisfyingly pulling it away. You were astonished to find how well it worked out! Your hair was straight and some how not burned. Eagerness and excitement took over your whole body. You pulled the hair straightener back to try another piece of hair

"Sunshine~ Are you almost rea-"

Felix stopped mid sentence, standing frozen at the doorway. You hadn't noticed him at all as you successfully straitened more bunches of hair. Felix moved so quickly, you couldn't react to how he carefully snatched the hair tool away. He unplugged then placed it on your vanity table.

You stared at him, a look of surprise. Felix stared back at you, instead with eyes of worry. A loud silence echoed around the room. You wanted to say something, but what? That you didn't know

"I like your hair"

Felix stated. You cocked an eyebrow, unsure of what he was on about. Felix noticed this so he continues

"You don't have to straighten it, is all I'm saying. You have a beautiful hair texture"

Felix shrugged, staring at you. His face had a sense of calmness but you could tell he wanted to say more.

"There's nothing special about it. It's honestly boring and difficult to manage"

You respond in a monotone voice. Felix couldn't tell whether you were just saying that or you were serious. He crossed his arms and hummed in thought

"Well... "

Felix pulled you into his chest, holding you in a tight hug

"That doesn't mean you should change it. You've never straightened it before. I don't get it... "

You listened to the concern in his voice. It hurt you to make him feel this way. Felix hates it when you change something about yourself. He'd rather get stabbed a billion times than not have the real you.

"It's complicated" You answer

"Then explain it to me"

Felix wasn't backing down any time soon. He needed to know what you hated so much about your hair. You may think he doesn't know, but he knows. He knows how you wish your hair was straight. He knows how you wish you didn't have to deal with such a 'messy' hair type. Felix knew everything and it hurt him every time you said something bad about yourself. Sure, Felix isn't in your position, so he'd never know why you feel this way. He wanted to know though. Every little detail.

"We're gonna be late for our date, you know?" You didn't know what else to say

"I don't care. We're not going anymore"

Felix pulled away. He held your hands tightly and scanned your face. You were about to question it but he stopped you

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong with your hair. And don't use those lame excuses. Be honest with me... "

"I dunno"

"You can't not know. Are you insecure about your hair or something? "

Silence filled the room. For the first time, you didn't have an answer. You didn't say anything. It was weird. Imagine being insecure about your hair?

"No"

You lied. Felix sighed. He knows you're not telling the truth.

"Fine...but 𝘐 like your hair, alright? I think.. I think it's so unique and special. There's only so much I can do with mine. Yours has so many possibilities. I love it just like I love you"

Felix kissed your forehead. His hands let go of yours. You stared blankly at him, unable to form a proper sentence. His words were so simple. This touched your heart though.

Felix strolled away from you, stepping out the door. He gave you a quick smile before leaving and closing the door behind him. You wanted to tell him to come back. You decided against it.

Staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror had you realize something. Your hair was yours and there was nothing hair products or even a straightener could fix. You still hated that. You knew Felix only cares about you. He worries too much, you thought. You picked up the hair straightener again, plugging it in. Your reflection seemed to be mocking you. You ignored it. It was all your decision. What more can an insecure black girl do?

Please tell me what you think!!