#and they laughed in surprise (i didn’t say it in a way where I was putting that burden on them in a serious way)

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HEAD OVER HEELS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !!)

SUMMARY: in which drew starkey is head over heels in love with his girlfriend, y/n.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like this anon, you didn’t request a specific plot so i went with this :)

WARNINGS: pure fluff, obsessed!drew but in a cutie patootie way !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

A/N: i promise guys i will sort out making a master list tonight !! for now, click on my personalised tags like #bettys asks !!

WORD COUNT: 1k

THIRD PERSON +

Drew couldn't stop talking about her. His girlfriend, Y/N, that is.

His castmates on the Outer Banks set had long since grown used to it, though they still teased him mercilessly. It wasn't unusual for him to pull out his phone between takes and scroll through pictures of her, showing anyone who would listen. Even Chase joked once, "You know, Drew, we've all met her. You don't have to keep proving she exists."

But Drew didn't care. He loved talking about her. Loved the way her smile lit up his entire day, the way her laughter felt like sunshine breaking through clouds. Y/N was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wasn't shy about letting everyone know it.

"She's visiting today," Drew announced, a giddy grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the craft services table.

Madelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "You've only mentioned that about a hundred times this week."

"Yeah, and what's your point?" Drew shot back, unbothered. He grabbed a bottle of water and opened it, taking a sip before adding, "I just can't wait for you guys to see her again. She's incredible."

Madelyn exchanged a knowing look with Rudy, who was attempting (and failing) to suppress a laugh.

When Y/N finally arrived on set that afternoon, Drew spotted her instantly. She stepped out of the car, her hair slightly tousled from the coastal breeze, and his entire world seemed to pause. She was wearing his favorite sundress—the one he'd told her once made her look like a walking daydream—and he couldn't stop the wide, lovesick smile that overtook his face.

"Y/N!" Drew called out, practically sprinting toward her.

Before she could respond, he had her wrapped in his arms, lifting her off the ground as she let out a surprised laugh.

"Joseph Andrew Starkey! Put me down!" she exclaimed, though she was grinning just as much as he was.

"Not a chance," he replied, spinning her around once before finally setting her back on her feet. "God, I missed you."

"You saw me three days ago," she teased, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"And that's three days too long," he said without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It didn't take long for the rest of the cast to spot her. Chase and Rudy came over to say hi, both of them giving her warm hugs and cracking jokes about how Drew had been "insufferable" without her.

"You're a saint for putting up with him," Rudy quipped, earning a playful shove from Drew.

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly as Drew laced their fingers together. "He's not so bad," she said, glancing up at Drew with a soft smile.

"Not so bad?" Drew repeated, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I'm the perfect boyfriend."

"And humble, too," she teased, nudging him lightly.

The group chatted for a while before Drew pulled her away, eager to have her to himself. He brought her to his trailer, where he'd set up a small surprise for her: a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a handwritten note resting on the table.

"Drew," she said softly, her eyes shining as she turned to look at him. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You deserve it. You deserve everything."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest as she took a deep breath. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

"Not possible," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

For the rest of the day, Drew was glued to her side. He introduced her to everyone on set—again—even though most of them already knew her from her previous visits. But it didn't matter to Drew. He wanted to show her off, to let the world see just how amazing she was.

During breaks in filming, he would find her wherever she was sitting and drape himself over her like an oversized golden retriever. "You comfortable?" he'd ask, despite the fact that he was the one taking up all the space.

"Very," she'd reply, laughing as she adjusted to make room for him.

When it came time for Drew to shoot his scenes, Y/N watched from the sidelines, her eyes filled with pride. He'd glance over at her between takes, flashing her a grin or a wink, and her heart would flutter every time.

At one point, Madelyn leaned over to Y/N and whispered, "He's like this all the time, you know. Completely obsessed with you."

Y/N's cheeks turned pink, but she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "I'm not complaining," she said softly, her gaze never leaving Drew.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the set, Drew was practically attached to her hip. He posted a candid photo of her sitting on a beach chair, the ocean in the background and a soft smile on her face. The caption was simple: My favourite view.

"You're going to make people sick with how sweet you are," she joked when she saw the post.

"Good," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Let them be sick. I don't care."

That night, as they sat on the beach together, watching the waves crash against the shore, Drew couldn't help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

"I love you," he said suddenly, his voice soft but steady.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and a little surprised.

"I mean it," he continued, his gaze locked on hers. "I love you. More than anything."

A smile spread across her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "I love you too, Drew."

In that moment, with the stars beginning to twinkle above them and the sound of the ocean in the background, Drew felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. With her.

Always with her.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet :’) there’s something about guys who are so lovesick and obsessed with their gf’s that just MELTS my heart😫

i’m still working my way through all my requests from oldest to newest (except a couple i got good inspiration for), so please be patient if you’ve recently requested something !! <3

[zhelin-thames]

The Joker was ranting again, his shrill laughter echoing off the walls of the Justice League’s holding cells. Danny Fenton—or as they knew him, the Ghost King—leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a scowl etched on his face. The tension in the room was palpable, the League standing by in case the infamous clown decided to get creative. But Danny wasn’t worried. He’d dealt with worse.

“You think you’re so scary, huh?” Danny muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. The Joker’s grin faltered for a split second before he burst into laughter again, clearly unfazed—or pretending to be. Danny rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. You’re just loud and messy. Real fear doesn’t need a laugh track.”

The room went silent. Superman shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Danny and the Joker. Batman’s eyes narrowed, taking in the Ghost King’s uncharacteristic venom.

It wasn’t that Danny was usually chatty during these encounters, but his utter disdain for the Joker—his unwillingness to engage in anything more than curt dismissal—was becoming a pattern. Everyone noticed it, and no one dared ask. The Joker, for his part, didn’t push further. Something in Danny’s glowing green eyes made even him hesitate.

But when Jonathan Crane—the Scarecrow—was brought in a few weeks later, the mood shifted entirely.

Crane was quiet as he was escorted into a separate cell, his lanky frame hunched but his eyes sharp, calculating. The League had just wrapped up an exhausting mission to stop one of his fear toxin rampages, and they were still on edge. Crane didn’t bother with his usual monologues, which was unusual enough to make everyone uneasy.

Except Danny.

As soon as Danny saw Crane, he snorted. Loudly. The kind of derisive snort that made Wonder Woman glance his way in confusion. “This guy?” Danny said, pointing at Crane with his thumb. “Seriously?”

Crane’s head tilted ever so slightly, his curiosity piqued. “The Ghost King,” he said, his voice low and rasping. “A being of great power and…fear. How delightful.”

“Don’t,” Danny interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, I’ve heard it before. And honestly? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Crane blinked, caught off guard. “Embarrassing myself?”

Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get it. You’re all about fear. Big bad Scarecrow, master of terror, blah blah blah. But do you even know what fear is? Real fear? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a guy with some glorified bug spray.”

The room went dead silent. Flash stifled a laugh. Batman’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering between Danny and Crane. The Scarecrow, however, didn’t seem angry. If anything, he looked…intrigued.

“And what,” Crane asked slowly, “would you consider real fear, Your Highness?”

Danny’s eyes glowed brighter, his voice dropping an octave. “Real fear is the kind that makes your soul ache. It’s the kind of fear that lingers in the dark corners of your mind, whispering that you’re not enough, that you’ll never be enough. It’s watching everything you love slip away and knowing you can’t stop it. It’s the void staring back at you and realizing it doesn’t care.”

He leaned forward, his face inches from the glass separating them. “Your little toxins? They’re cheap tricks. Flashy illusions. A waste of potential. You could actually do something with all your knowledge, but instead, you play Halloween in Gotham like some knockoff horror movie villain.”

Crane didn’t reply immediately. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. The others stared at Danny, half-impressed, half-confused. Even Batman’s ever-stoic expression had a flicker of something resembling surprise.

Finally, Crane chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted. “But fear, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps one day, you’ll see the artistry in my work.”

Danny scoffed again, turning to leave. “Don’t hold your breath, Doc. You’d pass out before you made anything actually scary.”

As Danny walked away, Superman stepped up beside him, lowering his voice. “You’ve faced worse, haven’t you?”

Danny shrugged. “I’ve been worse. That guy? He’s just a waste of scary.”

Superman frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Danny smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Stick around, Big Blue. Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

[ch6rm]

✧ ࣪˖ how angel!reader & dealer!chris met

˖ soph's note yayyy first blurb about this au, it's a bit longer than i intended (oops) but more coming soon i promise <3

the music thudded through the walls, the house packed with people you didn’t know. it wasn’t your scene—not really. your friend had begged you to come, promising it would be fun. instead, it was a bunch of people spilling drinks everywhere and messily making out in every corner of the house. not really your jam, but you made the best out of it.

you wove through the crowd, flashing friendly smiles and striking up conversations with anyone who didn't seem insanely drunk. you had no idea where your friend disappeared to—probably off to hook up with some guy. you figured you might as well make some new friends while you were at it.

after chatting with a couple of people about nothing in particular, you spotted a quieter corner of the house. as you approached, you noticed a guy lounging on a worn-out sofa, a back beanie on his head and a joint resting between his fingers. another guy sitting beside him slid him some cash before getting up and strolling away. it clicked in your head, and you realized they were probably doing some sort of drug deal. maybe you should have walked away, but there was something intriguing about him, and you found yourself walking over.

he looked up, anticipating the sight of someone wanting to make a deal, but instead, he was met with a girl who looked way too carefree for this scene, bright smile cutting through dim light of the room.

"can i sit?" you asked, watching as his eyebrows shot up in slight surprise. you almost expected him to say no, but after a moment he gestured with his hand and invited you to take a seat. you settled down beside him, the worn fabric of the couch slightly rough against your skin. he didn't say a word as you sat, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. you figured he probably didn't want some random girl sitting down next to him, no intention of buying anything he's got, but you couldn't help but steal glances at him, intrigued by his laid-back demeanor.

he finally looked over at you, and there was something in his gaze—a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. “what’s your deal?” he asked. you blinked at him, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question.

“my deal?”

“yeah,” he said, nodding toward the crowd. “why're you sitting here?”

you shrugged, offering a small smile, unfazed by his tone. "why not? i was bored of walking around.”

he hummed, taking a slow drag from his joint. the smoke curled up into the air, mingling with the heavy beat of the music. “so, you sat next to a stranger with a joint and a wad of cash? bold choice.”

you pursed your lips at his statement, before glancing around the room. after a moment of silence, you looked back at him and spoke up. "okay... well, we don't have to be strangers. what's your name?"

he raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. he had expected you to take the hint and leave. “chris,” he replied, the edge in his voice still present. “and you really think it’s safe to sit here?”

you almost laugh at his question, a smile finding it's way to your face. “safe?” you echoed, not missing a beat. “oh, come on. what’s the worst that could happen? you sell me some bad stuff?”

chris let out a low chuckle, clearly amused despite himself. “yeah, that’s definitely one way to look at it.”

“well, i’m not too worried about it. i don't get into that stuff.” you said, gesturing toward the table in front of him. a silence settled between you again, and you realized he wasn't much of a talker. that didn't stop you though. after his lack of response, you spoke up again and told him your name.

eventually, the tension in chris’s posture began to fade away—the edge in his voice disappearing as you began to chat. once you started talking, it was kind of hard to get you to stop. he didn’t offer much at first, but his occasional chuckles and quiet remarks kept the conversation moving.

“are you always this chatty with strangers?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"sure, but aren't strangers anymore, remember?" you say.

he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “guess not,” he muttered, leaning back against the couch and still watching you with that same curious look. "what are we then? friends?" he says, his tone laced with slight sarcasm.

you grinned, "yeah, friends.”

there was a brief silence as chris looked at you, like he was contemplating something. after a moment, he let out a quiet laugh. “alright, sure. friends it is.” he wasn’t one to make friends at parties where he was dealing—especially not sweet girls like you. but, for some reason, the idea didn’t seem all that bad.

as the night dragged on, you checked your phone, realizing it was getting late. “i should probably head out,” you said, standing up. chris looked at you for a moment before he stood up and flicked the ash off his joint, setting it in the ashtray.

“i’ll walk you out.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by his proposition. “don't worry, you don’t have to-”

"it's fine, c'mon," he shrugged nonchalantly, already beginning to walk off. you smiled at his words, immediately nodding.

“okay!”

you both made your way through the house, the noise of the party fading as you stepped outside. the cool night air hit you, and soon, you were standing next to your car.

“well,” you said, unlocking the door. “i'll see you around, then?” you hoped you would—he was the only person at this party you’d actually enjoyed talking to, and you'd even forgotten the part where he was a drug dealer. normally, you’d be a little apprehensive, but with him, you didn’t feel an ounce of fear.

chris gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable as he watched you. "yeah," he said, his voice low. "see you around."

© ch6rm

🏷️ @sweetestpoetic | comment here or interact with this post to be added to my taglist

[scoupsakakitty]

Hiii can i request something like this mingyu's story, so basically a oneshot maybe longer oneshot 🛐🛐🛐 so yeah they meet again maybe mingyu recognize her but she doesn't recognized him until mingyu told her so yeah and the story continues HAHAHAHA

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS6QD4gYn/

Childhood Love | idol!Mingyu x Reader | fluff

The sound of chatter and laughter filled the café as Y/N walked in, her fingers brushing against the strap of her bag. It had been a long day, and she needed a moment to relax. She ordered her usual latte and scanned the room for an empty table.

At the corner of the café, Kim Mingyu froze mid-sip of his Americano. His eyes widened as he watched her. It had been over a decade, but he would recognize her anywhere. The confident posture, the thoughtful way she glanced around it was all the same.

“Y/N…” he whispered to himself, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his lips.

He thought he’d forgotten about her. Life had moved on, and so had he debuting with Seventeen, countless schedules, and fame that had taken him far from the quiet town where they’d first met. But there she was, the girl who had stolen his nine-year-old heart without even knowing it.

Mingyu hadn’t planned to approach her at first. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Maybe she wouldn’t remember him. But as fate would have it, Y/N ended up taking a seat just a table away from his.

“Mingyu, don’t overthink it,” he muttered under his breath, taking another sip of his coffee for courage.

He finally stood up and walked over, clearing his throat softly. “Excuse me, but… is your name Y/N?”

Y/N looked up, slightly startled. Her eyes met his, and she tilted her head, studying his face. “Yes, that’s me. Have we met before?”

Mingyu chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. It’s been a long time. I’m Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. We were in the same class in elementary school.”

Her brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to place him. “Kim Mingyu… Wait, were you the tall kid who always forgot his homework?”

He laughed, a deep, familiar sound that tugged at something in her memory. “Guilty. And you were the class president who always reminded me to turn it in.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization, her lips parting in surprise. “Oh my God, Mingyu! I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” he said with a grin, taking a seat across from her without asking. “It’s really been that long, hasn’t it?”

She nodded, still processing the sudden reunion. “It has. I think the last time I saw you was… when I transferred schools? I was, what, nine?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu said softly. “You just disappeared one day. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

The atmosphere shifted slightly, a wave of nostalgia settling between them. Y/N smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry about that. It all happened so quickly. My parents decided to move, and before I knew it, I was in a new school.”

“I figured as much,” Mingyu said. “But I always wondered how you were doing.”

Over the next hour, they caught up, sharing stories of what had happened since those childhood days. Y/N talked about her career, her hobbies, and how much she missed the simpler days of childhood. Mingyu, on the other hand, hesitated to bring up his fame.

“So, what do you do now?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Mingyu shifted in his seat, a sheepish smile on his face. “Well… I’m in a group. A K-pop group, actually. Seventeen.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Wait, the Seventeen? You’re kidding.”

He laughed. “Nope. That’s me. I guess I grew up a bit from the kid who couldn’t even remember his homework.”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you right away. I’ve seen your posters everywhere.”

“You didn’t recognize me because I don’t look like the nine-year-old kid you used to boss around,” Mingyu teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

She laughed, and the sound sent a rush of warmth through him. He had missed this missed her.

As the conversation continued, Mingyu found himself unable to hold back any longer. There was something he had to say, something he had carried with him for years.

“Y/N,” he began, his tone more serious now. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” she said, leaning in slightly.

“When we were kids… I had the biggest crush on you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and a soft blush crept up her cheeks. “You did?”

He nodded, his smile turning a bit shy. “Yeah. You were always so smart and confident. You didn’t even notice me half the time, but I thought you were amazing.”

Y/N blinked, a mix of emotions flashing across her face. “I had no idea.”

“I figured,” Mingyu said with a laugh. “You were focused on being the perfect class president. And then you left, and I never got the chance to tell you. But now that you’re here… I couldn’t keep it to myself.”

Y/N smiled warmly, her gaze softening. “Mingyu, that’s really sweet. I’m sorry I was too busy being bossy to notice back then.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he said, though his heart raced as he looked at her. “But maybe… we could make up for lost time now?”

Her smile widened, and she nodded. “I’d like that.”

As they left the café together, Mingyu couldn’t help but feel like fate had given him a second chance. The childhood crush he thought he’d lost forever was now walking beside him, and this time, he wasn’t going to let her slip away.

————————————————————————————-

[xoxo-lixie]

Pretty Boy Confessions ᝰ.ᐟ

Paring-Jisung x Reader

Summary- Jisung gets flustered when Y/N calls him pretty, leading to an accidental love confession that she happily returns.

The evening sun filtered through the soft cream-colored curtains, casting a warm golden glow across the small living room. The scent of lavender lingered in the air from the candle burning on the coffee table, mixing with the sound of a soft acoustic playlist humming from a speaker in the corner. Jisung lay sprawled on the plush couch, his head resting gently on Y/N’s lap.

Y/N absentmindedly ran her fingers through his soft, locks, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. She’d found herself addicted to the way his hair felt between her fingers, and by the way his eyelids fluttered closed every time she did it, she knew he enjoyed it just as much.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmured, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Jisung’s eyes snapped open, his lips parting slightly in surprise. A soft pink hue instantly colored his cheeks, creeping up to his ears. “W-What?” he stammered, shifting slightly, though he didn’t move far from her lap. “Why would you say that?”

Y/N tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Because it’s true,” she said, her fingers moving to twirl a strand of his hair. “You’re pretty, Jisung. Deal with it.”

His blush deepened, and he groaned, burying his face into her stomach to hide his embarrassment. “Y/N, stop,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her sweatshirt. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” she teased, laughing softly at his reaction. She continued her gentle ministrations, her nails now lightly scratching the nape of his neck. “It’s not like I’m lying. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“Y/N!” he whined, his voice rising an octave as he squirmed slightly, still refusing to look up at her. “I’m going to melt into a puddle if you keep saying things like that.”

“Maybe that’s my plan,” she replied, her tone light and teasing. She leaned down slightly, her face hovering close to where his head was buried. “Are you hiding from me, Ji?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist like a lifeline. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head in genuine curiosity. Her fingers trailed through his hair again, brushing it away from his forehead. “It’s just me. You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”

Jisung let out a shaky breath, slowly lifting his face just enough to peek up at her with his wide, doe-like eyes. “You’re really unfair, you know that?” he muttered.

“Unfair?” she echoed, grinning. “How?”

“You just…” He paused, struggling to find the words. His gaze darted to her lips for a split second before he quickly looked away, his face heating up all over again. “You say stuff like that so easily. It’s not fair.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers now running through his bangs. “Maybe I just like seeing you get all flustered. It’s cute.”

Jisung groaned again, this time burying his face into her chest instead. “I can’t do this,” he muttered dramatically. “I’m going to combust.”

Y/N’s laughter rang through the room as she gently combed her fingers through his hair again, letting them trace soothing circles on his scalp. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased. “But I love it.”

For a moment, the room fell silent except for the soft strumming of the guitar playing in the background. Jisung let himself relax against her, his breathing evening out as he soaked in the comforting rhythm of her touch. He felt safe here, cradled in her warmth, surrounded by her scent and the sound of her voice.

Without thinking, the words slipped out. “I love you.”

Y/N froze, her fingers pausing mid-stroke. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with surprise.

Jisung’s eyes widened in horror as his brain caught up with his mouth. He sat up so fast that he nearly knocked his head against hers, his hands flying to cover his face. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to— I mean, I did, but not like that— I—”

“Jisung,” Y/N interrupted, grabbing his wrists gently and pulling his hands away from his face. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, his eyes darting everywhere but to hers. “Look at me.”

He hesitated but eventually obeyed, his gaze meeting hers hesitantly. He looked so vulnerable, so uncertain, and it made her heart ache in the best way. “Did you mean it?” she asked softly, her hands still holding his.

“I…” He swallowed hard, then nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I meant it.”

Y/N’s face broke into a wide smile, her eyes softening as she cupped his cheek with one hand. “Good,” she said, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Because I love you too.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, he looked like he was going to cry. Instead, he let out a breathless laugh, his body relaxing as a shy smile tugged at his lips. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “You’re my pretty boy, remember?”

He groaned, though there was no real annoyance in it. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never,” she confirmed with a laugh, pulling him back down to rest on her lap. Her fingers found their way back into his hair, and Jisung let out a content sigh, his eyes fluttering shut again.

“Okay,” he murmured after a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I can live with that.”

[chxnsgirl]

방찬 ─── cracks in the mirror 2

♡ pairing ៸៸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ drama ig, kinda fluff ៸៸ cw ៸៸ mean girl mina , chan is mean but to mina :3 ♡ synopsis ៸៸ chan confronts mina. [ part one ] a/n ๑ i messed up the format please don't laugh at me— this second part is confrontations like requested but if you guys want i’ll write a fluff scene to close the lil series ! [ 1.7k words ] ♡ masterlist

the next morning, chan walked into the company with a clear mission. mina was sitting inside a practice room, scrolling on her phone, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“mina,” chan said, his tone calm but unmistakably firm.

she looked up, surprised at the abruptness in his voice. “oh, hey, chan!” she flashed him her usual sweet smile. he didn’t reciprocate, instead crossing his arms. “we need to talk.”

mina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, adjusting her posture. “oh? what about?” he shut the door and turned to face her.

“mina, i’m going to be straight with you. what you said to y/n yesterday was completely out of line.” her brows furrowed in mock confusion. “what do you mean? i didn’t say anything wrong to her. we were just talking.”

chan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “talking? you called her ‘brave’ for being confident with extra weight. do you really think that’s appropriate?”

mina hesitated for a second but then tilted her head, trying to appear innocent. “i didn’t mean it in a bad way! i was just giving her a compliment. if she took it the wrong way, that’s on her.”

“no, mina,” chan interrupted, his tone sharper. “it’s not on her. you’ve been here long enough to know what’s acceptable and what’s not when it comes to how we treat people—especially our colleagues. y/n has done nothing but work hard, and the last thing she needs is passive-aggressive comments or veiled insults.”

mina’s expression hardened slightly, her facade cracking. “i think you’re reading too much into this, chan. maybe you’re just overly sensitive about her.”

“don’t deflect,” he countered, his voice steady but firm. “this isn’t about me being ‘sensitive.’ it’s about respect. and it’s about creating an environment where everyone feels safe and valued, not judged.”

mina crossed her arms, defensive. “fine. if she’s that upset, i’ll apologize.”

chan shook his head. “don’t just apologize to check a box, mina. think about why this behavior is a problem and how it affects the people around you. if this happens again, we’re going to have a much bigger issue to deal with.”

there’s a moment of tense silence before mina finally nodded, though her expression didn’t suggest much remorse. “got it,” she muttered, looking away.

chan sighed, his disappointment evident. “good. i hope this is the last time we have to have this conversation.”

as mina left the room, chan stayed behind for a moment, running a hand through his hair. he knew he couldn’t force someone to change, but he hoped his words would at least make her think twice before targeting you—or anyone else—again.

later in the day, you were back in the studio, focusing intently on your work. you were determined to push the events of yesterday to the back of your mind. mina’s cruel words still lingered, but chan’s support had given you the strength to move forward, even if only slightly.

the faint sound of voices carried through the hallway as you typed away on your laptop, but you didn’t pay them much attention until the door to the studio opened, and in walked mina. you glanced up briefly, then returned your attention to your work, pretending she wasn’t there.

“hey, y/n,” mina said softly, her tone uncharacteristically subdued.

you didn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to finish typing your thought. then, you leaned back in your chair and gave her a curt nod. “what is it, mina?”

she hesitated, her usual confidence replaced with something resembling awkwardness. “i just… i wanted to say i’m sorry. about yesterday. i think i might have come across the wrong way, and i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you studied her for a moment, trying to decipher whether her apology was genuine or just another act. “is that so?” you asked, your tone as neutral as you could manage.

“yes,” mina said, clasping her hands together and giving you what she probably thought was a sincere look. “i was just trying to make conversation, but i think it came out wrong.”

you let out a soft scoff, turning your attention back to your laptop. “right. making conversation.”

she faltered, clearly not expecting your cold response. “i mean it,” she pressed. “i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

you gave her a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. “funny, because you seem to be really good at saying things that hurt people, mina. so forgive me if i’m not buying this sudden burst of remorse.”

the door creaked open slightly, and you noticed the reflection of two familiar faces in the glass window—changbin and han. they were leaning against the frame, partially hidden but clearly listening.

mina didn’t seem to notice. her expression shifted instantly, the veneer of sweetness cracking. “well, i was just trying to be nice,” she snapped, her tone defensive. “it’s not my fault you’re so sensitive.”

you smirked, though there was no humor in it. “there she is,” you said, your voice low and pointed. “i was wondering how long you’d keep up the act.”

hans’s low mutter of “oh, hell no” barely registered, but changbin's quiet snort did.

mina’s face reddened, her fake apology dissolving entirely. “you know what? maybe i was wasting my time trying to apologize.”

you leaned forward, meeting her glare with unwavering calm. “then maybe you should do us both a favor and not waste your time next time.”

she huffed, crossing her arms. “whatever,” she muttered before turning on her heel. as she opened the door, she froze, noticing changbin and han standing there, arms crossed and faces set in disapproval.

“oh, don’t mind us,” han said, his tone light but dripping with sarcasm. “we were just passing by.”

mina’s eyes darted between the two of them before she shoved past and stormed down the hallway.

changbin let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he stepped into the studio. “wow. she’s worse than i thought.”

han followed, plopping down onto the couch. “nice work.”

you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “thanks.”

you sat in the breakroom, nursing your coffee and trying to shake off the encounter with mina earlier. her fake apology and subsequent outburst had left you drained, though you wouldn’t let her know that.

the door swung open, and you glanced up to see chan. his jaw was set, and his usually warm eyes were stormy.

“where is she?” he asked, his tone clipped.

you blinked, startled by the intensity in his voice. “who?”

“mina,” he bit out, already turning to leave. “i heard what happened. she’s not getting away with it this time.”

before you could protest—or warn him—he was out the door, striding down the hallway. you followed hesitantly, curiosity overriding your instinct to stay out of it.

chan found mina sitting in the cafeteria, scrolling on her phone like she didn’t have a care in the world. he didn’t hesitate.

“oi, mina,” he snapped, his voice carrying across the room.

she looked up, startled, and quickly masked her surprise with a saccharine smile. “oh, hey, chan! what’s up?”

he stopped a few feet from her, his posture rigid. “cut it,” he said, his accent thicker than usual, each word sharp enough to cut glass. “what the hell is your problem?”

her smile faltered. “excuse me?” she said, her voice rising indignantly.

“you heard me,” chan said, his tone low and hushed, as if trying not to let anyone hear. “why do you keep goin’ out of your way to be such a goddamned pain in the ass?”

mina’s mouth opened and closed, clearly taken aback. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.

“oh, don’t play dumb with me,” he shot back, his voice rising. “i’ve heard how you treat y/n. and today? you waltz in with your half-arsed apology, then turn around and throw more shade when it doesn’t go your way. are you serious?”

mina straightened her spine, trying to regain her composure. “i was just trying to be nice—”

“bullshit,” chan interrupted, his accent thick and raw. “you were bein’ a snake, and you know it. nice doesn’t look like what you do, mina. nice doesn’t leave people feelin’ like shit after every conversation. so drop the act, yeah?”

her face reddened, her carefully crafted facade crumbling. “i don’t need this from you,” she snapped. “i was just trying to help, but clearly y/n’s too sensitive to handle a bit of honesty.”

chan took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “honesty? you call tearing someone down ‘honesty’? nah, mate, that’s just you bein’ a spiteful cow. and if you think i’m gonna let you get away with it, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

mina looked like she wanted to retort, but chan didn’t give her the chance.

“you’re done,” he said firmly. “you don’t get to treat people like that and expect everyone to put up with it. especially not y/n. so unless you’re ready to actually grow the hell up, you can’t work for me, or anyone else here.”

the room was silent, and all eyes were on chan as his chest heaved. mina’s jaw tightened, and without another word, she grabbed her bag and stormed out.

chan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair before turning around to see you standing there. his expression softened when he saw you standing there, half-hidden behind the doorway.

“you heard that?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

you nodded, your chest tight with a mix of gratitude and surprise. “yeah. you didn’t have to–”

he offered a small smile, his eyes warm again. “no, i didn’t, but.. you don’t deserve that from her. no one does.”

you walked over to him, taking in his worked up, flushed state. “are you okay?” you asked him, cautiously inching closer. he nodded, sighing. “yeah. but i already know i’m about to get scolded for talking to her like that.” he looked up at you from his fists, his gaze tender. 

you bit the inside of your cheek, steeling yourself. “do you wanna step outside, and go for a walk or something? to cool off?” 

he stood up straighter, nodding. “sure,” he grinned, showing off his adorable dimple. “after you.”

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[ikkyfics]

Drive-In Heartbeats

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: In which Dave discovers that being just a friend was never enough.

Warnings: fluffy, pre relationship, first kiss, no use of y/n, a few fun facts, provocative!reader, suggestive

A/N: I could hardly believe my luck in finding a photo in a drive-in with Back to the Future

and thanks to @lilyypotter1234, I've been feeling a bit unmotivated to write and your message helped me, thank you very much <333

Masterlist

The huge screen of the drive-in displayed scenes from Back to the Future. The familiar soundtrack filled the air with nostalgia, but Dave’s focus wasn’t on the movie. He was sitting in the car, that old model he loved, with a front seat that seemed made for moments like this. You were so close that your shoulders and thighs touched, and that was all he could perceive. The sweet smell of chocolate mixed with the aged scent of the upholstery, and every time you rustled the candy bag or let out a soft laugh, his heart raced.

The movie was halfway through, but your conversation hadn’t slowed down. It was easy to be next to him — comfortable, yet with that tension hanging in the air, like something more was always about to happen.

“Did you know the original ending was completely different?” you asked, nibbling on the last piece of chocolate in your hand. Your voice was soft, but carried the excitement typical of someone who loved those little tidbits.

“Different how?” Dave adjusted his glasses and turned his head toward you, his blue eyes sparkling with interest. He always seemed more alive when the topic was something nerdy.

“In the first draft of the script, the 80’s George McFly would grab an old 1955 newspaper with a photo of Marty at the dance. He’d look at his son and be shocked, saying something like ‘This can’t be… this is the...’” You paused dramatically, smiling when you saw Dave completely focused on you. “And then the movie would end right there, without him managing to say the name.”

Dave blinked, the expression torn between fascination and slight indignation. “You’re kidding? That would be so frustrating! Who ends a movie like that? I’d want to blow up the cinema.”

“And you don’t think you’d blow up the cinema with that ending where Doc shows up out of nowhere saying they have to save Marty’s kids?” you teased, leaning a little closer to him.

Dave opened his mouth to respond, but ended up laughing and shaking his head, surrendering. “Okay, you’ve got a point.” He smiled that shy smile that made the air feel lighter — but at the same time, his proximity made the atmosphere warmer, more intense.

You reached out for the candy bag, only to realize it was in Dave’s lap. Before you could say anything, he grabbed a piece of chocolate and held it out for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, but instead of taking it with your hand, you leaned in and opened your mouth, hoping he’d understand. Dave froze immediately, as if his brain was trying to process the gesture.

“Wait, you... want me to—?” He didn’t finish the sentence, his voice coming out quieter than usual.

“Uh-huh,” you responded, tilting your head slightly and keeping your gaze fixed on him, amused by the way his ears turned red.

He hesitated for a moment before leaning in slowly and placing the chocolate on your lips. But before he could pull his hand back, you lightly closed your lips around his finger, biting it gently and deliberately.

Dave made an indistinct sound, somewhere between a nervous laugh and a surprised sigh. “Did you... just bite my finger?” He blinked, clearly unsure what to do with the moment.

“It was an accident,” you lied shamelessly, the corner of your lips pulling into a mischievous smile.

He kept staring at you, his eyebrows slightly raised behind his glasses. His eyes were locked on yours, as if trying to decipher your intentions, but the heat building between you both said everything.

“You do that on purpose,” he whispered finally, his voice barely audible. He looked away for a second, as if trying to regain control of the situation, but the parted lips and the nervous movement of his fingers gave him away.

“Do what?” you asked, leaning in just enough for your knees to touch his.

Dave looked down, at the almost nonexistent space between you, then back up to your eyes. He was so close you could count his eyelashes, and there was something in his expression that felt more intense than ever. The slight tremor in his breath was impossible to ignore.

“You have... chocolate here,” he said finally, his voice hoarse and low, as if the words were struggling to come out. He pointed to the corner of your lips, but his hand lingered in the air for a moment, unsure if he should move.

You tilted your head slightly, the smile on your face barely hiding the provocation. “Here, where?”

Dave seemed to be fighting with himself internally, but then, as if summoning sudden courage, he leaned in even closer. His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, and his fingers touched the corner of your mouth gently, wiping away the chocolate residue.

The gesture lasted only a second, but it was enough to ignite the air between you. The touch was soft, but the intensity in his gaze while doing it was almost overwhelming. He tried to pull his hand away quickly, but you held his wrist, stopping him from going too far.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice low and heavy with something you knew he understood perfectly. His thumb still brushed your skin, almost involuntarily, and his fingers remained where they were, creating an undeniable connection.

Dave opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. His eyes were locked on yours, as if searching for something — or perhaps waiting for a sign. The silence was as thick as the tension between you, and the movie continued in the background, completely ignored.

You let go of his wrist, but didn’t move your hand. Dave hesitated for another moment before moving again. His thumb slid slowly, almost reluctantly, across the corner of your lips, as if he wanted to be sure there was no more chocolate left. But his gaze said the gesture meant much more.

“All set,” he said, but the word sounded strangled, almost as if he had to force it out.

“Are you sure?” you asked, leaning in just a bit more, your voice soft but carrying that challenging tone.

“I... think so,” he answered, almost in a whisper, his eyes dropping quickly to your mouth before returning to yours.

The space between you was so small now that just one move would bring you together. Dave seemed to be holding his breath, and the way he pressed his hands against his lap showed just how hard he was fighting something. But the way he looked at you — like it was impossible to look away — betrayed that he was holding on by a thread.

You tilted your head slightly to the side, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. “It’s okay, Dave. No need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” he immediately retorted, but the blush creeping up his cheeks and ears told a different story.

“Oh, really?” you teased, your fingers moving to lightly touch his arm, sliding along the sleeve of his sweatshirt almost absentmindedly.

Dave chuckled softly, but didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, as if trying to gather the courage to do or say something. When you stopped touching his arm, his fingers moved almost reflexively, gently resting on yours, as if he wanted to keep the contact.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he murmured, his eyes still locked on yours. There was a desperate tone in his voice, but at the same time, he seemed completely fascinated.

“Maybe,” you replied, leaning in just enough for your faces to be inches apart. “And you?”

Dave blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. All he could do was stare at you, his blue eyes shining with something between desire and doubt. It was as if he were frozen, his thoughts racing at high speed as he struggled to find something to say.

You could feel his breath, short and almost shaky, mingling with yours. Dave’s eyes didn’t stray for even a second, and the way he was so focused on you made it feel like the rest of the world didn’t exist. His chest rose and fell, the nervousness evident in every little movement.

You broke the silence. Your voice came out softly, almost as if the words had slipped out before you could stop them.

“I know we’re just friends...” you started, the phrase hanging in the air for a moment, as if you wanted to make sure he was listening. “But I would kiss you if you asked.”

His reaction was immediate. Dave blinked quickly, as if shocked, and his parted lips froze. He seemed like he wanted to respond, but the words were stuck in his throat. You saw his hands move slightly, as if he were about to do something, but he froze, his gaze becoming even more intense.

“Are you... serious?” he finally managed to ask, his voice hoarse and hesitant. He tilted his head slightly, as if needing to confirm that he had heard right.

You shrugged, a soft, teasing smile playing on your lips. “Looks like you’ll have to find out.”

Dave’s eyes briefly dropped to your mouth before returning to yours, and the way he bit his lower lip made your heart race. He seemed torn, as if fighting against the barrier that had existed between you — the barrier that until now was the certainty that you were just friends.

“I…” he began, but stopped, his fingers absently tracing the steering wheel as if he needed something to hold onto. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I do.” Your voice was firm, but there was a sweetness in the way you spoke, an attempt to reassure him. You leaned in a little closer, enough for your knees to press against his again, and gently placed your hand over his.

Dave held his breath at the touch, and his eyes fixed on your hand for a moment before looking back at you. “I... I don’t want to ruin anything,” he murmured, but the hesitation in his voice revealed that he was on the verge of giving in.

You smiled, a small, confident smile, but there was something vulnerable in it too. “What if it doesn’t ruin anything? What if it’s exactly what needed to happen?”

Dave seemed incapable of processing what you were saying. He was so close now that it would take just a move from you to close the distance between you. And as he stared at you, as if trying to decide what to do, you saw determination slowly rising on his face.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this,” he said, almost in a whisper, the words laden with sincerity and something deeper.

The silence between you was louder than any sound around you. It felt as if the entire world had stopped at that moment, waiting to see what the next step would be. You could feel the tension growing with each passing second, and the proximity was so electrifying that it made your skin tingle.

“Then kiss me, Dave,” you murmured, your eyes locked with his, not looking away. “Unless you prefer me to take the lead.”

He laughed softly, nervously, but there was something more in the laugh. Something that showed he was finally giving in. “You’re impossible,” he said, his voice low, but full of affection.

And then he leaned in, hesitant at first, as if checking if it was really allowed, but the hesitation lasted only a moment. When his lips finally met yours, the touch was gentle, almost shy, but quickly became something more intense, more sincere, as if he were pouring everything he had kept inside for so long into the kiss.

The world around you disappeared completely. All that existed was the warmth of his touch, the way his fingers found their way to the back of your neck, holding you as if afraid you might disappear. And when you leaned in even closer, deepening the kiss, it was as if something had finally clicked into place.

When you separated, breathless, Dave’s eyes still shone with that mixture of nervousness and euphoria. He laughed softly, but it was an uncertain sound, as if he were still trying to process what had just happened. Resting his forehead against yours for a moment, he whispered, almost out of breath:

“So... friends?”

The hesitation in his voice was evident. It was as if he were trying to gauge the situation, figure out how far he could go without crossing an invisible line he didn’t even know existed. His fingers, still resting on your neck, traced a small, nervous circle, as if even without realizing it, he was seeking something to hold on to.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes fixed on his, and raised an eyebrow with a small smile on your lips. The kind of smile that could either reassure him or make him even more anxious.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, your voice low and carrying something that made his breath hitch for a second.

Dave blinked, surprised by your direct question. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, he seemed unsure of what to say. But then you saw something change. Doubt gave way to quiet determination, as if he were finally willing to be honest with himself and with you.

“No.” The word slipped out before he could hold it back, but he didn’t retreat. On the contrary, he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, that’s not what I want.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you let his words hang between you, feeling the weight of them. The silence that followed was almost palpable, but not uncomfortable. It was full of possibilities, full of what you both knew was coming.

“Then what do you want, Dave?” you murmured, leaning in a little more, enough for your lips to almost touch his again.

He swallowed hard, his gaze briefly dropping to your mouth before returning to your eyes. “I want you,” he finally said, his voice coming out as a whisper, but filled with so much sincerity that it seemed to echo in the small space of the car.

His confession made your heart race, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. He seemed so vulnerable, but at the same time so sure, as if he had just laid all his cards on the table.

“And you’ve got me,” you replied, the softness in your voice contrasting with the intensity of the moment.

His eyes softened, but the desire still shone in them. As if to test the waters, he moved the hand that had been on your neck, tracing a slow path to your cheek. His touch was so careful it almost seemed reverent, but there was something in his fingers — a slight tremble, perhaps? — that showed just how much he was feeling.

“I think I’ve always wanted this,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

“And why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice coming out softer than you meant.

He laughed, a short, nervous sound. “Because I thought you’d never see me like this. I mean, look at you...” He stopped, the sentence unfinished, but the look in his eyes said it all.

“And look at you,” you shot back, a smile forming as you leaned even closer. “I think you underestimated how much I see you, Dave.”

He seemed stunned, but before he could say anything, you took the initiative this time. Your lips met his again, and the kiss was anything but hesitant. It was as if all the nervousness, all the doubt, had disappeared. The intensity was palpable, and the way he responded to the kiss, his hands firmly on your waist, showed that he too was determined not to hold anything back anymore.

When you finally pulled apart again, breathless and even closer, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed for a moment. “I don’t want to be just your friend anymore,” he admitted, almost like a confession, but with the firmness of someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

“Good,” you replied, a soft but teasing smile on your lips, “because I don’t want to be just your friend anymore either.”

Dave laughed, the tension easing a little, but there was still an electricity in the air. He gently ran his thumb along the line of your jaw, the touch so soft it almost felt like a whisper.

“Does this mean I can kiss you whenever I want now?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of playfulness and genuine hope.

“It means you should,” you replied, leaning in again, leaving no room for doubt.

The kiss that followed was even slower, deeper, as if each movement was a silent promise. Dave seemed to lose any trace of hesitation, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you firmly but still with that care that seemed to be so characteristic of him. The car, small and cramped, became a space where you needed nothing else but each other.

The sound of the movie continued in the background, but you both no longer paid attention. It was almost comical that Back to the Future was playing in front of you while you were creating a new moment, one that no one but the two of you could witness.

“I can’t believe we paid for this just to ignore the movie,” you murmured against his lips, your voice full of provocation.

He laughed, his forehead still resting against yours, as his fingers slid along your back in distracted touches, but ones that sent shocks through your skin. “I think I’ve never been more grateful for not paying attention to something,” he replied, with a smile that lit up his blue eyes.

You smiled, running your hands along his shoulders, your fingers tracing the outline of the collar of the t-shirt he was wearing. “And you don’t want to watch it after all?”

“Not even a little,” he answered immediately, leaning in to kiss you again, more briefly this time, but still enough to leave no doubt. “I prefer this.”

The heat building between you made the space even tighter, more intimate. He shifted a little, adjusting so you could be even closer, his arm slipping behind you, while your head rested on his shoulder. It was almost ridiculous how natural it felt to be this way, as if you belonged to each other and hadn’t realized it until now.

You looked at him, your faces so close that it was impossible not to notice the rosy tint on his cheeks, the shine in his eyes that said more than any words could. And when he spoke again, his voice was so soft it seemed like a secret.

“I don’t know how it took me so long to figure this out. You... are everything.”

The intensity of the sentence made your chest tighten in a good way, as if something had finally clicked into place. You didn’t need to respond immediately, because his hands were holding yours now, fingers intertwined as if he wanted to make sure you were there, that this was real.

“Dave,” you whispered, the word heavy with emotion, “if this means we’ll have more nights like this... then please, keep taking so long to figure things out.”

He laughed, a soft, carefree sound, before leaning in to kiss you again.

[mon-chef]

Scarves and Scrunchies.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Sydney liked to think she kept her emotions secured tightly behind a steel trap, only letting them free when she had fully processed them. That wasn’t the case. Carmy, observant as he was, especially of Sydney, realized she had a very revealing tell. Her hair.

Sometimes she’d fly into work with her braids swishing quickly around her shoulders and no scarf yet to tamp them down. She’d be kind as she always was, clear-headed and even voiced, but he knew that she’d been zooming frantically around her corner of Chicago all morning. Her usual hairstyle; a ponytail pulled tight with a colorful scrunchie and, an equally colorful and matching, head scarf meant she’d picked out her clothes the night before, she’d gotten “enough” sleep, and she was ready to be a rockstar in their kitchen.

To be honest Carmy liked all of the ways she styled her hair but his favorite was when she piled her braids into a bun at the top of her head with two braids hanging in front of her eyes. He didn’t know what she was silently revealing when she wore this because he was too busy stealing glances at her exposed neck and trying not to get caught staring into her brown eyes. He was rarely successful.

That morning she’d strode into his apartment muttering a quick hello before making her way straight into his kitchen to place the grocery bags down with a heavy sigh. Her hair was in a low, and slightly messy bun. He figured she’d been fidgeting with it anxiously on the train and in one final burst of annoyance she hastily twirled it into a loose ball at the base of her neck so she wouldn’t be tempted to grab at it anymore.

The scrunchie she’d chosen was black, the same color as the long sleeve, she had on under her oversized ‘Earth Wind and Fire’ t-shirt. He noted that she was wearing leggings today instead of her usual baggy pants. He tried his best not to note how her bending down slightly to put the grocery bags on the counter caused her t-shirt to ride up and that he could see the outline of her backside. “Rough morning?”

Sydney crossed her arms indignantly over her chest and fixed him with a hard glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“What? Nothing. You just look—“

“Like shit? Got it. Cool. Thanks.” He took a step away from her, surprised. “How are we already fighting, you just walked in.”

“No, hello. No, how are you—“

“You didn’t give me a chance!”

“Just straight to you look terrible.” Confused he ran a hand through his blonde curls. After which he silently cursed himself for messing up the work he’d done that morning in preparation for her arrival “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to. I read between the lines.” Carmen could feel heat rising up his neck.“Syd I would never say-I- I-I like- I think you’re-” Sydney’s frown faltered, she was trying not laugh. “You’re an asshole.”

“You’re so easy Carm, I had to.”

“No, you’re just really convincing. If you ever get sick of working at the Bear, you should definitely go into acting.”

She scoffed. “Oh shut the fuck up.”

“No, really.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Even if that were true, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll never get sick of the Bear…again.”

“Promise?” His sincerity froze them both in place. He wracked his brain trying to find more words to abate his embarrassment. “I just meant— .”

“I already tried that, remember?” The confusion melted off of her face and that familiar teasing glint came back into her eye. “And look where that got me.” Her loose bun deflated and instead of putting it back up she let her braids free and rolled the scrunchie onto her wrist.

Carmy didn’t know what he was more surprised at. The way she’d immediately thwarted the intimate moment he’d accidentally put them in or the way his breath hitched when her braids fell down to frame her face.

“Lucky us .” he sighed. Sydney grabbed a jar from the table and and handed it to him to put in his refrigerator, he did thankfully to get at least a few paces from the charged atmosphere.

“ You never look like shit by the way. ” He clarified leaning his back against the fridge. He liked having a sort of short hand with his CDC, so there was no way that he was going to give it away and tell her the real reason he’d made his comment but he did want to clarify. “You just seem stressed.”

“I am, a little.” She bit her lip, contemplating. He could see the exact moment she decided against sharing her thoughts with him. Instead she pivoted to a safer topic. “I’m more nervous about this dish though.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, if we fuck it up we can just start again.” She nodded in agreement but still had her teeth pressed into her bottom lip as she surveyed the groceries she’d just lugged up the stairs.

“I think this is everything.”

“Looks like it.”

Carmen placed a quick hand on her shoulder before turning to the vegetables. “Don’t be anxious, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah. We got this.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

They did not ‘have this’. After burning, over salting, and undercooking the two had smartly decided to save their subsequent efforts for another day. Carmy had suggested they chill on his couch while they waited for take-out.

“Oh shit, my scarf. You found it!”

“Oh yeah.” Carmy said sort of glumly watching her yank it from the spot he’d thoughtfully placed it.

“I’ve been looking for this, I thought it flew off when I went to the pier.”

“No, it’s been here.”

“It’s my favorite.” Sydney flashed him one of her big toothy grins, his favorite.

“I know.” You wear it the most, and usually on bun days.

She gave him a look “What do you like keep track of all of my scarves?”

Yeah, actually. Carmy couldn’t think of a quip to whip back fast enough, so he stayed silent. Syd was stifling a laugh when he summoned the courage to look at her. Fuck, had he said that out loud? No. Clearly he wasn’t the only person who could read their business partner’s secret tells. Suddenly he felt transparent, and crimson-discomfort creeped slowly up his body. “Mind if I leave it here? Never know when a hair scarf related emergency might come up. I’d feel safer with you looking after it, since you clearly care so much.”

He rolled his eyes at her attempt to razz him. He should be embarrassed, he was, but not enough to insist she take it back. It was weird how much he wanted it, a piece of her in his apartment, but Sydney didn’t seem to mind, so neither did he.

[h4nj1sunggg]

who? minsung x fem!reader genre: drabble a/n: I'm so sorry for not posting much but my exam session is killing me, I'll be back in two weeks!! wait for me >:)

minsung poly! where y/n is looking for some cat's food in a small shop, talking on the phone with a friend about the crazy idea of being a cat mom in her 20s, totally not expecting to see minsung kissing gin the hall where cat toys are.. and they notice her after, her mouth open wide in surprised like 'what the actual fuck is that', them being confused but then they notice the freaking miso's photo card on your pic holder attached to the bag that you're holding up.

"calling you later," you whispers a the phone, trying to take a step back and going from where you were coming, when a voice stops you, "wait!"

Your heart races as you clutch the phone in one hand and your bag in the other, fully prepared to disappear back down the aisle. But before you can make your grand escape, the voice stops you.

“Wait!” It’s Jisung. Of course, it’s Jisung. His voice is unmistakable—soft yet commanding in a way that sends chills down your spine.

Every instinct in your body screams at you to keep walking, to pretend you didn’t see the two men you’ve idolized for years kissing in the middle of a cat aisle like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But your feet betray you, and you turn around, clutching your phone and bag like they’re shields against the chaos you just witnessed.

“What?” you croak out, your voice shaky. Your gaze is glued to a suspiciously fluffy cat bed on the shelf behind them, absolutely refusing to make eye contact.

“Hey, no need to act like you just saw a ghost,” Jisung says, his tone light but clearly uneasy. “We’re just… uh, hanging out?”

“Is that what they call it?” you mutter under your breath, still avoiding their eyes as your brain replays the scene on loop like a cursed gif.

Minho, who has been silent so far, steps closer, arms crossed, and raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “You look like we’ve traumatized you for life.”

You blink rapidly, gripping your bag tighter. “I—uh—nope, not traumatized,” you lie, your voice an octave too high. “Just… buying cat food. Totally normal day. Nothing weird happened. Haha!”

It’s a terrible attempt at deflection, and they both know it.

Jisung looks between you and Minho, clearly trying not to laugh. “Are you… scared of us?” he asks, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “We’re not gonna eat you or something.”

“That’s what someone scary would say,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. You cringe immediately, heat rushing to your face. “I mean, no! I’m fine. This is fine. You guys do… whatever you’re doing. I’ll just…” You gesture vaguely toward the opposite end of the aisle. “…go that way.”

“Not before you explain this,” Minho says, pointing to the photo card of them hanging from your bag.

Your soul leaves your body. “Oh, that? It’s… uh… it came with the bag?” you try, wincing internally. Minho’s unimpressed stare tells you he isn’t buying it.

“She’s a fan,” Jisung says, grinning like he’s cracked some big mystery. “Right? That’s why you’re so weird right now—you know us.”

“Who? Me? A fan?” You laugh awkwardly, taking a shaky step back. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Minho rolls his eyes, clearly over the theatrics. “You’ve got Minsung’s photo card on your bag, and you’re buying cat food. Do you think we’re dumb?”

You open your mouth to argue, but all that comes out is a strangled squeak. The reality of the situation hits you all over again: you just caught two of your favorite idols making out, and now they’re grilling you in a pet store aisle.

“Nope. Nope, I can’t do this,” you mutter, shaking your head and taking another step back. “I didn’t see anything. This didn’t happen. You guys don’t exist. Bye.”

Minho and Jisung exchange a quick glance as you attempt to bolt, but Jisung steps forward, his hands raised like he’s trying to calm a frightened animal. “Wait, wait, wait! Just… can we talk? Please? We don’t bite. Minho looks scary, but I promise he’s harmless.”

“I am scary,” Minho deadpans, but the flicker of concern in his eyes betrays him.

You freeze mid-step, throwing them a look over your shoulder. “Talk? About what? How you were just kissing in public, where literally anyone could see you? What were you thinking?”

Minho’s jaw tightens. “We didn’t exactly plan on putting on a show,” he says coolly. “It’s not like this place is packed.”

“Packed or not, I saw it!” you hiss, jabbing a finger at yourself. “A fan. Do you know how risky that is? What if I wasn’t—” You stop yourself, realizing you’re dangerously close to spilling your entire identity as a devoted STAY. “What if I wasn’t, you know… normal about this?”

Jisung blinks at you, a little taken aback. “You’re not exactly being normal now, to be fair.”

You glare at him, and his grin falters as Minho nudges him hard in the ribs. “Not helping,” Minho mutters under his breath before turning back to you. “Okay, fine. You caught us. We get it. But you’re not going to, like… shout it from the rooftops or something, right?”

You blink at him. “Shout it from the rooftops? Do I look like someone who’s ready to start a scandal? I’m too busy trying to figure out how to scrub this from my memory.” You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “Seriously, what were you thinking? You’re Lee Minho and Han Jisung, not two random guys in love at a grocery store. You cannot just… make out next to the catnip and hope no one notices.”

Jisung winces, glancing nervously down the aisle. “Okay, yeah, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad,” you emphasize, lowering your voice but still gesturing wildly. “Do you have any idea how many fans would lose their minds over this? You’re so lucky it was me and not some TikTok-obsessed fangirl ready to post a blurry video.”

Minho’s expression shifts to something like mild panic, his cool demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a hint of worry. “Okay, okay, we get it. You made your point. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Why should I?” you counter, crossing your arms. “I’m just saying, maybe next time, don’t risk it. Especially not in a pet store of all places.”

Jisung leans toward Minho, whispering loud enough for you to hear, “She’s scarier than my mom.”

Minho’s lips twitch into a smirk. “She’s got a point, though.”

You huff, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Look, I don’t want to ruin your lives or anything. I just… didn’t expect to see that when I came in here to buy cat food. So if we can all agree to pretend this didn’t happen, I’ll just—”

“You promise?” Minho cuts in, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. It’s not intimidating—it’s pleading.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What, do you want me to sign an NDA or something?”

As you turn to leave, Minho suddenly calls out, “Wait.”

You freeze mid-step, again. Slowly, you turn back around, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “What now? Are you going to ask me to swear on my future cat’s life or something?”

Minho smirks faintly at your sarcasm but doesn’t take the bait. “No. I just think we should… exchange numbers.”

Your eyes narrow. “Exchange numbers? For what?”

“For… secret privacy,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Secret privacy?” you repeat, deadpan.

Jisung snickers beside him, biting back a laugh. “Wow, hyung, that’s not suspicious at all.”

Minho glares at him before returning his attention to you. “Look, in case something happens. You know, if you accidentally let something slip or decide to post about this.” He shrugs. “I’d like a way to contact you.”

You blink, processing his words. “So, what? You’re giving me your number as a bribe to keep my mouth shut?”

“More like insurance,” Minho corrects, crossing his arms.

“Insurance,” you echo. “Right. Because that doesn’t sound shady at all.”

“Hey, you’re the one who saw us kissing in a pet store,” Minho counters, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly in the position to judge.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Jisung chimes in, grinning. “To be fair, he’s got a point. This is all a little… unconventional, isn’t it?”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Give me your number. But if you start spamming me with cat memes or asking for cat food recommendations, I’m blocking you.”

Minho pulls out his phone, his smirk widening. “Noted.”

“Wait, hold on,” Jisung interrupts, eyes sparkling with mischief. “If she gets your number, I should give her mine, too. For fairness, you know. And, uh, backup insurance.”

“Backup insurance?” you ask, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“Yeah, in case Minho forgets to text you or something,” Jisung says with a grin. “You never know.”

You roll your eyes but hand over your phone anyway. “You two are ridiculous,” you mutter as Minho types in his number, followed by Jisung.

“Ridiculous, but memorable,” Jisung quips, winking as he hands your phone back.

You stare at the new contacts saved in your phone, feeling like you’ve just signed up for something you’re not entirely sure about. “Okay. I’ve got your numbers. Are we done now? Can I go buy my cat food in peace?”

Minho nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Just… don’t forget your promise.”

“And don’t forget to text us if you ever need cat advice!” Jisung adds cheerfully, earning another glare from Minho.

You shake your head, turning to walk away for what you hope is the final time. “I’m never shopping here again,” you mutter under your breath, clutching your bag tightly.

As you leave the store, you can’t help but glance at your phone again, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You have the numbers of Lee Minho and Han Jisung in your contacts… and all because they couldn’t resist kissing in a pet store.

[probablysimpledreams]

UA Touya has been on the brain so much lately

Enji refused to get him in on recommendations (and yes he becomes pissed years later when he learns Shoto was admitted on recommendations), so what does Touya do?

He passes the exam with a flawless score, getting into the Hero Course. He’s one of the strongest in his class. He’s so driven and passionate during training. He’s everything you’d want to see in a hero.

However, his attitude plus alternative style plus quirk makes fellow students…weary of him. He’s known to be rude. He only hangs out with people from other schools. He’s covered in burn scars and grafts.

Sadly, this starts many rumors. Shit like “did you know Touya is in a gang?” and “I heard he beats up kids…some hero he will be!” and “That Touya would be better off a villain than hero.” Due to all this plus all his energy focused on becoming a top hero, one no could ever forget, he keep to himself while at school.

So it’s a huge surprise when one day at lunch he finds you standing in front of him. Touya always ate outside in the courtyard where he could blast his music without any teachers yelling at him. He’s even more shocked when you ask if you can join him.

Why was a pretty thing like you talking to him? Didn’t you hear what they all say about him?

He’s suspicious, not sure what your motive here is. You explain that you wanted to eat outside because the weather was so nice for once, and while you were looking for a spot to sit you overheard his music and wanted to listen. His suspicions don’t fade, but he allows you to enter into his little world for the next hour. You two sit together and listen to his playlist, occasionally discussing the song/album before it fades into the next.

This exchange continues for the next few weeks. You both begin really looking forward to lunch everyday. You two begin exchanging songs, homework answers, even phone numbers. You two wave at each other in the hallway, exchanging small “hi”s and smiles. You’re walking alongside friends while he’s always alone. Huh.

One day your friend watches as Touya calls for you in the hallway. You run over to him, excitedly accepting the CD you asked him to burn for you earlier that week. You run back over to your friend and that’s when you learn the rumors. How he’s this big scary villainous guy, how you shouldn’t trust him.

But that’s nothing like the Touya you knew!

So that same day at lunch, you brought up the rumors. He seemed disappointed you finally heard them, thinking it meant his time with you was over. But instead you asked him to answer each question fully honest.

“Are you in a gang?” You laid down. He followed, body laying the other way but head right next to yours.

“Nah,” he chuckled and looked up at the sky. “My friends are just losers and refer to us as ‘The League.’ The only time things get violent is game night.”

You laugh at his answer, making his cheeks go pink and a slight pout form on his lips. You then ask your next question.

“Do you really get into fights with children?”

“Ohmygod it was ONE FUCKING TIME,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Shit wait that sounds bad.”

You laugh harder this time. “Touya what the fuck?”

“Okay okay look my youngest brother can be a handful. I took him to the playground one time and some badass kids made him cry,” he explains, feeling embarrassed at the memory.

“Touya no you didn’t-”

“I didn’t hurt them!! I just showed off my flame and made sure they knew to leave my brother alone….not my fault they started crying.” The look on his face is too cute as his embarrassment is clear. You can tell he’s not use to opening up like this and letting people truly see him. Your heart fluttered realizing you were becoming one of the few people who get to see him like this. Who gets to truly see Touya.

“Okay okay now final question,” you bite your lips nervously. “And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t wanna.” His eyebrow rose at your words, face turning to look at you. “How did you get your scars?”

It’s silent for a few seconds. 10 minutes go by. Then 20. Almost 30 before you speak up again.

“I’m sorry, pretend I never asked that. I just was-”

“It’s pathetic,” his breath is shakey. He’s facing the sky again, hand running through his hair. “It happened when I was a kid. I was desperate for my dad’s attention and overused my quirk a few times. One night I must have really overdid it. I don’t remember much from that day. I just woke up a while later with these gross skin grafts and my mom sobbing. Really haven’t seen the old man since. If he’s around he’s just with Shoto anyways and,” he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Ah sorry I started rambling there.”

He turns to face, examining your face to gauge your reaction to the real him. He’s scanning your face for any signs of disappointment, disgust, dislike. His stomach turned at the idea of you feeling pity for him as well. God he really has to ruin everything didn’t he?

“You must be disappointed to learn I’m such a loser huh?”

But as usual you surprise him, flashing him a sweet smile as you respond, “nah, I like it. I think you’re cute.”

You then learned one more thing about Touya: being complimented makes his cheeks go dark red.

[vodika-vibes]

All Of Me

Summary: When Rex and his Cyare get stranded on a planet far from the core, he decides to make the most of it.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 888

Warnings: Reader is self conscious and shy, reader described as having hair long enough to hang over her shoulders.

A/N: I was in a Rex mood, so I wrote this. Also, my form list changed suddenly, so if I missed anyone in the tags that's why. Stupid google.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Her fingers are gentle as they brush through his short hair. It’s so soothing and relaxing that Rex can’t help but tilt his head back into her hand. Drowsily, he peers up at her, and affection swells in his chest at the soft look on her face, and the gentle smile that lifts her lips.

Rex is lounging in the hot spring, a towel around his waist to shield his modesty (as if it’s needed), and his beloved is sitting behind him on the edge of the pool, a towel wrapped around her body and her hair loose around her shoulders.

Her smile is becoming more and more rare these days. He’s more likely to see a stressed frown or a distracted look on her face recently. And, while he’s not thrilled about the fact that they were stranded here while on a mission, he supposes that there is a silver lining.  

“You’re staring,” Her voice is soft, and musical in a way that his and his brothers will never be. He falls in love with her all over again, every time she speaks to him.

“Can’t help it. You’re stunning.”

She averts her gaze shyly, “The things you say sometimes.”

“I mean every word.”

His beloved has always been self-conscious about her appearance. If he asked what she liked about herself, it would probably take her half an hour to come up with something that isn’t something she does for other people.

Rex, personally, thinks it’s ridiculous.

He could, and can, list ten things he loves about her without even thinking about it. He can talk about all of her good qualities for hours without getting tired, and without even mentioning her appearance.

He might be a little smitten.

It’s fine.

He’s allowed to be a little obsessed with his girlfriend.

A soft giggle pulls him from his thoughts, “You’re still staring, Rex.”

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Yeah? Good things, I hope?” Her fingers still trail through his short hair, and he sighs contently. 

“Only the best things.” He reassures her before he catches one of her hands and brings her fingers to his lips, “I love you, you know that?”

“I know, I love you too.”

“You deserve better than me.” Rex replies. He genuinely believes it. He’s a clone, and she’s an aide to a Senator. She could do so much better than him. But she only has eyes for him.

She just shakes her head, “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

He threads his fingers with hers, “Join me in the water, cyare?” It’s an offer and a plea. 

She looks momentarily surprised, “I didn’t want to crowd you.”

“You could never.” He holds her hand as she stands, and he supports her as she steps into the steaming water. And, when it looks like she’s going to step away from him, Rex doesn’t release her hand. Instead, he tugs her to sit next to him.

The water sits higher on her than on him, and the tips of her hair settle in the water. She really does look like some kind of fantasy princess. Absently, he reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair off her cheek, only for it to fall right back into place again.

“You have so much hair,” He teases lightly.

A smile lifts her lips, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It makes up for the fact that I don’t have any.”

A laugh falls from her, and Rex grins before he leans in to press his lips against hers. The kiss is chaste, little more than a brush of his lips against hers, but when her free hand comes up to wrap around his bicep and his name falls from her lips in a sigh, he’s helpless but to swoop in and kiss her again and again and again.

His hand settles on her hip, squeezing tightly and pulling her closer to his side. She’s not close enough. She’ll never be close enough. She could be sitting on him and still wouldn’t be close enough.

She sighs his name again, and Rex chuckles as he presses his forehead against hers, “You sound lovesick, beautiful.”

“It’s your fault.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Yes, he is smug about that thank you.

“Can I—?” She hesitates, “Um…nevermind.”

“Mm, speak your mind, cyar’ika.”

She won’t meet his gaze, “Can I sit on your lap?”

Rex doesn’t answer, doesn’t have to answer. Because as soon as she makes the request (it wasn’t a request, he knows that, but he’s choosing to treat it as a request) he’s pulling her to sit sideways on his lap, “How’s this?”

She hums a response, her soft fingers moving to trace the starburst scar on his chest, as she lays her head on his shoulder. “Perfect.”

“You never have to ask, cyare. I belong to you. All of me belongs to you.” Rex replies.

She turns her head to kiss his shoulder, “Well then. I’m a lucky lady.”

“I think I’m the lucky one, actually.” Rex kisses the side of her head and tightens his arms around her as he lets the conversation fall. 

Eventually the ship will return and they’ll have to go back to being Captain and Senator’s Aide, but for now they can just be together. And he intends to make the most of it.

@heidnspeak

@adriennelenoir

@omegaprime18

@falconfeather23435

@yoitsjay

@kimiheartblade

@liz-stat

@justiceandwar98

@etod

@cc--2224

@kiss-anon

@0revna0

@mira-loves-star-wars

@cdblake1565

@badbatch-bitch

@bb8-99

@maniacalbooper

@bad4amficideas

@bekah_curlygirl

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@clones-cyare

@lonewolflupe

@silly-starfish

@msmeredithrose

@trixie2023

@rebell-ious

@padawancat97

@sweater-sloot

@bekahcurlygirl

@continous-mistakes

@wax-birds

[heliads]

About the War (Part Two) - Draco Malfoy

Everyone has a part to play during the Second Wizarding War. Your job is to maintain a network of Portkeys for safe passage of the Order of the Phoenix. Later, you get a new role: handling the new spy among the Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy.

part one / masterlist / part three

The revelation consumes you like a madness. Even hours after Draco’s departure, you’re not completely certain that he isn’t lurking out there somewhere, waiting for you to drop your guard for even a second before he swoops in for the kill. Once again, you think about what he asked you– don’t you wonder what your Order has promised me? What would it take for a Malfoy to betray his kin?

What, indeed? You’ve heard rumors of what the old Slytherin families have done during the war. Bellatrix Lestrange alone is responsible for hundreds of deaths and agonies dealt to Muggles and would-be non-combatants just the same as members of the Order. The Malfoys are a little tamer, but they say Draco is the darkest, even worse than his father. They say he ripped people limb from limb to get the locations of safehouses out of them. They say he’s more monster than man. They say you’ll wish for death when you see him, and he won’t give it to you until you can’t even scream for it.

Yet even as you try to remind yourself of this, you still think of the quarter-smile he’d allowed himself to wear when he couldn’t get past your shielding charms. It could be a trick, it could be part of his disguise to get you to lower your guard, but you swear he seemed proud. Impossible, but you’d seen it. Unlikely, but it had happened nonetheless.

The sealed scroll sits on a table in your tent, silently mocking you. Lurking in familiar scrawled ink are the secrets of the Death Eaters, but you’re not the one who’s meant to read them. Instead, you have to wait until someone trustworthy turns up headed back to headquarters, someone who will take this tantalizing secret away from you.

Lupin turns up two days later, and you can only assume that Kingsley briefed him just the same as you because he doesn’t ask a single question when you hand him the scroll. He just nods and sighs like you’ve given him a mountain to carry on his thin, scarred shoulders instead of a simple curl of parchment.

He moves to grab the necessary Portkey, but you step in front of him before he can. “Do you–” Your voice cuts out for a moment. “Do you know the identity of the spy?”

Lupin lets out a quiet laugh. “You’re the one who met our new friend, Y/N. I assume you would know more than I.”

You wave this remark aside. “I’m not asking because I don’t know. I’m asking how many people know who the spy really is, or if it’s a secret.”

Lupin’s expression clouds over. “No, I don’t know who it is,” he says at last, and before you can say anything, he adds, “And I’d like to keep it that way. A spy is rare, and incredibly needed. I know keeping a secret can be a massive undertaking, but you must protect their identity along with the Portkeys. Kingsley wouldn’t have given you this task if he didn’t think you could do it justice, Y/N.”

You nod glumly. “Of course, you’re right. I won’t breathe a word.”

This, if anything, tempts Lupin’s curiosity the most. He hangs back a second longer, and asks quietly, “It’s not anyone– Rumor has it our spy was someone high up, but it’s not anyone too scandalous, is it? If the spy seems unrealistic, then I fear we’re putting you at risk. Do you believe our spy is genuine, or a ploy to draw our attention?”

You watch as Lupin’s fingers tighten instinctively around his wand. He’s still looking at you eagerly for an answer, but you’re not sure that you have one. You force air through your lungs once, twice, then force out, “Yes. We can trust them.”

You have no idea where the answer comes from, but your voice is sure. Lupin blinks in surprise. “Alright, then. I trust your judgment.”

He lays a hand on the Portkey and is gone before you can tell him otherwise. With the scroll of Draco’s secrets gone, you find you can breathe a little bit easier. Maybe you’d lied to Lupin, maybe you hadn’t. You’re not sure that you have a choice either way.

Draco comes a week and a half later. You hear the telltale crack of Apparition somewhere in the distance, and assume you have another half hour of walking before he arrives once more. You debate whether to wait outside of your protective circle for him to show his face, anything to conceal the location of your enchanted barrier. Then again, he’s already seen you emerge from seemingly nowhere. At this point, you have to assume that Draco has every tool necessary to kill you if he so desired. If he wanted you dead and the Portkeys raided, it would have already happened. Plus, no Order members have come back saying that the information you’d handed to Lupin was bogus, so you can only guess that he’s worth the risk.

Sure enough, some time later Draco appears out of the gloom of the forest. He heads straight towards the barrier of the camp. As he draws closer, you watch his steps become less sure, and a furrow deepens in his brow, as if he’s fighting the urge to head the other way, the urge you’d planted in his mind with the intricate layers of your protective enchantments.

If the spells trouble him, though, Draco doesn’t let it stop him completely. He comes to a standstill just outside the outermost edge of your camp again, and folds his arms, waiting. This time, you don’t bother with the formalities and step outside once he’s close enough. Draco is better at hiding the surprise in his eyes when you appear out of nowhere, but his shoulders tense a little all the same.

“Password?” You ask.

Draco scoffs. “If I were anyone else, I would have killed you by now.”

Your face remains neutral. “I might kill you now if you keep toying with me.”

Draco grins. “You’ve never had the stomach to be a killer. That’s why they had to stick you all the way out here instead of out on the front lines, isn’t it? They knew you couldn’t get the job done.”

This time, it’s remarkably harder not to lash out at him. “That’s funny, I was under the impression it was because of my stellar enchantments. Maybe you just can’t see quality when it’s right under your pretentious nose.”

The corners of his lips quirk up into a half smile. “Pretentious? You wound me.”

“I wish,” you remark. “Password?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Saltwater. There. Am I trustworthy now?”

“Not in the slightest,” you counter. “Scroll?”

Despite the fact that you’re certain neither of you want to be here, Draco doesn’t move a muscle to retrieve his much-needed information. Instead, he keeps his arms folded and leans back slightly, considering you as if you were just passing another day at school instead of meeting as dangerous liaisons of a magical and bloodthirsty war.

“You know, this is hardly much of a conversation. Where are your manners, L/N? You haven’t even asked me how I’m doing.”

You fight the urge to groan. “You’re an agent of the enemy currently distracting me from my duty. Your emotional state is the last thing on my mind right now.”

Draco opens his mouth to argue, but you’re distracted when you see something out of the corner of your eye, a bright spark of light beginning to fountain into a large glow. Draco doesn’t respond to it at all because he can’t see past your protective enchantments into your camp, but as the spellcaster, you can, and you know exactly what it is. Someone is coming through a Portkey, and that someone is about to see you and Draco talking together. Either they’ll think you’re a traitor or he is, and you cannot afford either.

You only have a few moments to act. “Hide!” You hiss to Draco, and grab his arm, pulling him behind a nearby stand of trees. The trunks and branches are dense enough to hide both of you from view, especially if the viewer is disoriented from Portkey travel. Draco looks at you, panic and confusion both welling in his gaze, but you only hold a tense finger to your lips, signaling for silence.

Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, and notice that the glow has solidified into the figure of Hestia Jones, who glances around confusedly when you aren’t there to greet her. Your absence isn’t entirely questionable not yet; a few times, you had missed a witch or wizard arriving from a Portkey when you were in town or examining the surrounding woods for Death Eater activity. She’ll just signal to someone that you weren’t there and carry on with her journey, wherever it takes her. 

It won’t become a problem unless you fail to appear multiple times in a row, at which point they will assume you have defected, run away, or been kidnapped or killed. Any of these fates will lead to the same conclusion:  the Node relocated, a new member of the Order assigned to your post. The cycle will continue, and the Order will have their safehouses. All will be well, except, of course, for you.

You watch through the waving leaves as Hestia takes one last glance around the camp before shrugging and laying her hand on the requisite Portkey for her next destination. A flash of light, and she is gone, the clearing once more deserted except for you and Draco.

Draco, of course, does not know any of this. All he knows is that you panicked and made him hide for about five minutes. He continues to look at you suspiciously, even after you relax and tell him it’s alright for him to emerge once more.

The look in his eyes is smart, too smart. Draco has always been calculating, able to see through most lies and excuses without hesitation. It used to drive Harry mad, you remember, how Draco was always onto him so fast. You would laugh over it, mainly, another product of ridiculous House rivalries, but you’re not laughing now. Draco glances between you and the camp he cannot see once more, and you know that he knows. Somehow, he has guessed it. He has guessed all of it.

“Someone was there,” he says carefully, gaze fixed on your every movement to determine your precise reaction and guide his conclusion accordingly. “Someone was in your camp, then disappeared again. I didn’t hear Apparition, though.”

You try to scoff and look away, but your confidence from earlier is quickly failing you. “I have impeccable concealment charms up, Malfoy. You of all people should know that. Do you really think I’d let you hear something like Apparition?”

Draco isn’t put off by this. “With the amount of charms you have up, Apparition should be impossible. That means you’re having witches and wizards traveling out of here by means other than a simple spell. Besides, it would make no sense for them to pass through here at all if they could merely Apparate. You’re part of something else.”

You shake your head beseechingly. “You’re dead set on being proved right, but you’re talking nonsense, Draco. You have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Yes,” he says, looking you directly in the eyes now, “I do. I’ve tortured enough of your people to know. They travel through Portkey networks, and you maintain them. You’re in charge of the–” and here he cuts himself off, snapping his fingers exasperatedly as he tries to remember the precise word, “–now what did he call them exactly, something childish. Not a checkpoint, not a crossing, but a, a– a node, that’s it. You’re a Node maintainer.”

You shake your head again, but Draco cuts you off before you can speak a single syllable. “Don’t lie to me, L/N,” he says, his voice suddenly cold. “I have ways of telling.”

A distinctive sense of gloom settles over you. You had fooled yourself into thinking you could still talk to Draco as if he was your childhood enemy, but his sarcastic demeanor had tricked you. Inside, there is nothing of the boy you knew, only the calculating and murderous Death Eater who has killed so many of your friends. You heard him, didn’t you? He only knows the name of the Nodes because he’d tortured the information out of other members of the Order. It’s what he’ll do to you, because you trusted him, because you told Lupin it was alright. You’re going to know agony beyond your wildest imagination, all because you were foolish enough to believe in someone you used to know at school.

You meet his eyes steadily. “Torture me, then. Get it over with. You don’t need me to confirm anything. It’s hardly fun to play around anymore.”

If this is it, then this is it. You discreetly point your wand at the camp. All you need is a moment, and you can burn the place to ash. They’ll never find the Portkeys, they’ll never get to your safehouses. You can protect them all, even if you’ll die in the arms of the Death Eaters.

“Actually,” Draco says, deliberately moving your wand down towards the ground. “I quite enjoy playing around. This isn’t a double-cross, Y/N. I will not betray you to the Death Eaters.”

You stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he remains steadfast. “Why not?” You ask. After everything that’s happened, it feels like a fair question.

Draco looks back at you. “Why did you hide me when someone came through the Portkeys? No one in the Order knows my identity except you, and I suspect you knew that since you took such care to make sure I was hidden. It would have been easy for you to not move a muscle and let someone see me. It certainly would have given you a leg up, you could have used my identity as blackmail and then we really would have gotten somewhere.”

You make a sound of protest. “I’m not the blackmail type, Draco. We need you. Besides, I suspect that if you thought for even a moment that we had something like that on you, you would have purged half the Order just to make sure it stayed a secret.”

Something like a smile ghosts onto Draco’s lips. “I would have considered it, certainly.”

“There’s no point to me exposing you,” you explain. “Not now. We’ve only just begun.”

“That we have,” Draco replies. “It was a good call on your part. I’ve barely given you anything interesting at all.”

“You haven’t given me anything at all,” you counter. “We’ve spent all this time talking and no scroll is in my hands.”

Draco actually laughs this time. The sound surprises you; you hadn’t thought it was possible for any of you to laugh at all, not like this, not now. In your mind, the laugh echoes around the clearing, swooping up to the sky like a bird in flight. “You nearly revealed me as a spy, then thought I was going to torture you, and your only response is to be impatient that I haven’t yet handed over a piece of parchment? It’s a wonder you manage to survive out here on your own. You don’t know anything.”

Something in his tone makes you straighten up cautiously. “What do you mean, I don’t know anything?”

Draco shrugs, but the gesture is a little too effortless. “You’re out in the middle of nowhere, that’s all. I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes a while for news from the front lines to get all the way out here.”

“No,” you decide. “You know something that I don’t. Something about me.”

Draco doesn’t blink. “The only information you’re getting from me is this,” he says, reaching at last into the pocket of his cloak and pulling out a similar scroll, again hexed in protective enchantments to ward off unwanted readers. He holds it out to you, and even though you’ve been craving that for ages now, it pales to insignificance when you know he’s only using it to distract you.

You ignore the scroll. “Tell me what you know about the Nodes.”

Draco arches a brow. “You should know it all, shouldn’t you? You’re the one that’s stuck in one of them.”

“You’re keeping something from me,” you snarl. “Spill.”

“I remember that temper from Transfiguration,” Draco muses. “You used to hate always getting second to me.”

“I was never second to you,” you argue. “Now, tell me what you know or I’ll–”

The threat falls flat when both of you know you don’t mean it. Draco makes a clicking sound of disappointment with his tongue. “You’ll what, Y/N? Threaten me like you mean it. Of course, it doesn’t make a difference either way. You rely on me for information, for survival. A snap of my fingers and I could have Death Eaters on you in a heartbeat. You’ll take what I tell you.”

You draw your shoulders back, irritated by his casual reminder of how easy it would be to kill you. “If you’re in charge anyway, just tell me what you know about the Nodes. I’ll make it more simple for you to keep me in check if I know how risky this is for me, won’t it?”

“Y/N, you have no idea how risky it is,” Draco chides, and you swear there’s an undercurrent of real sympathy in his words. “Since I’m generous, I’ll give you a hint. How many Nodes did you start out with? Ten? Twelve? All spread out. Careful networks. It was a good idea, I can’t lie. Damn near impossible to track. But we found you out, Y/N. All it took was one, and he spilled his guts. Died begging for us to kill the rest of you if we would only spare him. How’s that for loyalty to the Order?”

Something dark spasms across Draco’s face, and he has to take a moment to calm himself before he continues. “When we had one, we had them all. They fell like dominoes. Most were tricky and destroyed the Portkeys before we could find them, but a few left everything out in the open. I expect you had a few abrupt Portkey changes, didn’t you ever wonder why?”

Your blood feels ice cold in your veins, because you know exactly what he’s talking about, and worse still, you know he’s right. There had been a few instances when Kingsley or Lupin or the odd Weasley here and there had burst into your camp, looking utterly terrified, and incinerating a Portkey or two before giving you new ones and pretending nothing had happened. They had always refused to tell you what was going on, but you’d suspected, hadn’t you? Just a few weeks ago, you’d accused Kingsley of hiding the truth about how many Nodes remained.

“How many are left?” You ask haltingly. 

You know the answer before he says it, but still, it pierces your ribs like the Killing Curse when Draco bites out, “None.”

Bile rises to your throat. “What?” Your voice cracks over the words. You had suspected it for a while now, knowing that when every witch or wizard that passed through your camp eyed you like you were on your way to the grave, it had to mean something, but hearing it from the mouth of the Death Eater who likely killed them makes it so much more real.

“They’re all gone,” Draco says matter-of-factly. “Weeks ago, in fact. We thought we’d crushed out the lot of you for good, but we still haven’t been able to track any damned Apparitions to your safehouses, which had to mean that someone still survived. I hate to compliment the enemy, but your magical barrier is strong. It’s the only thing that saved you. That, and the fact that none of the other Node maintainers knew your name, but they said your rough location about a dozen times over.”

Your fingers curl around your wand so tightly you’re half afraid you’ll snap it. “How long have you known it was me? How long did you suspect I was the last one out here?”

You’re sure of it now, that he knew, that he’s known all along. He was slightly surprised to see you the first time you came, but not enough. The look in his eyes wasn’t true shock, more the slight triumph in being right when one isn’t one hundred percent certain of their answer.

“Two months,” Draco tells you. “Only a few people in the Order have that skill with enchantments like these, and we’d seen most of them fighting before. You were the only one unaccounted for and, well, it made sense to me. I’d had plenty of experience with your magical stubbornness before.”

“So you knew I was the only survivor because you practiced with me in school?” You whisper faintly.

“Congratulations,” he says sweetly, “You’ve made me proud.”

“I don’t need your pride,” you swear at him. “I need you and all of your Death Eater friends dead in the ground.”

“And if that happened, where would you get your information?” Draco asks with mock sympathy. He raises a hand to delicately stroke against your cheek. “Look at you. You’re the last stand in a losing war. Without the promise of my espionage, you would have been pulled to the front lines long ago. I’m all that stands between you and bloody death.”

“Why?” You breathe. “Why save me?”

Abruptly, Draco’s expression closes, and you get the feeling that he has revealed a lot more than he intended. “Consider it a favor I’ve owed for a long time,” he says, then forces the scroll into your hands.

“Take it,” he barks. “Take it, and don’t die until I come back. That, at least, shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

You stare unseeingly at the parchment in your hand. “Why wouldn’t the Order tell me I was the only one left?”

Draco shrugs. “How am I supposed to understand the minds of a few dozen errant Gryffindors? They knew you’d run, most likely. Any sane person would leave if they knew all of their counterparts had been hunted down one by one.”

He eyes you meaningfully, but you can’t discern what exactly he intends for you to do. “Do you expect me to run, then?”

A pause, then Draco answers. “No, actually. I don’t think you will.”

“Why not?” You ask.

He makes a scoffing noise, then looks away towards the waving trees surrounding him. “You’re much too good for them, anyway.”

Without saying goodbye, Draco turns and walks out of the clearing, dark cloak rippling in the breeze. You stand there, not even sure how you’re able to stand, until you remember the grave danger you’re in every moment you remain past the barrier of your camp and hurry back inside.

If you had thought you were distracted when Draco first visited, it all pales in comparison now. Your mind is in knots trying to untangle everything he’d said and hadn’t said. Every one of the Node maintainers, gone. You, the only one left. You’re certain he was telling the truth, and you’re certain you’ve known about it for a while, too, but hadn’t wanted to admit it to yourself. Leave it to Draco Malfoy to force you to face the truths you crave to ignore.

What hurts more is that the other members of the Order hadn’t told you. Didn’t they owe it to you to fill you in on risks that concerned you? If they knew every other Node had fallen, they should have let you know so you could double your charms, maybe even assign you a guard to keep you safe. You could sense the underlying frustration when Draco mentioned that the Death Eaters hadn’t been able to track members of the Order Apparating to the safehouses, so you know your Node is still deeply needed. Yet your own side of the war had failed to warn you.

You expect Remus to come again for the scroll, but instead, you’re surprised to see Kingsley himself appearing out of the Portkey a few days later. After engaging in the usual routine of questions and answers to determine each other’s identity, Kingsley glances around your camp and asks meaningfully if you have anything for him.

You stand up automatically, ready to hand him the scroll and call it a day, but something slows your movements. Instead, you look at him more deeply, trying to tell from his face alone that Kingsley has been hiding secrets about the collapse of the Nodes from you.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” you ask at last.

Kingsley frowns. “Tell you what?”

You gaze at him steadily. “If my Node had fallen, what would you have done? Would you have blamed yourself, or me? Would you have assumed that my spells simply weren’t good enough? Maybe if I checked on them more often, the Death Eaters wouldn’t have found me. Or, maybe if I knew that all other Node maintainers were dead, I would have added even more spells to keep the Portkeys safe. Do you think that would have bothered you when they dumped my butchered corpse on your doorstep?”

Kingsley’s eyes widen in a brief panic before he manages to calm himself down again. “Been speaking to our spy, have you? What lies has he told you, Y/N? Why in Merlin’s name do you think you can trust a Death Eater over us?”

“He wasn’t lying about this, was he?” You ask instead. “And you certainly trust him enough to take his reported secrets back every few weeks, don’t you?”

“We evaluate everything your spy says, and respond accordingly. Always with caution. Always assuming that this is a ploy to gain our trust and then kill us all,” Kingsley chastises you. “I don’t suppose you thought about the possibility that this is all a trick before you accepted everything he told you at face value?”

“Of course I considered it,” you hiss. “I considered it when I realized that nobody was talking to me about the other Nodes. I considered it when he could have killed me a thousand times over and didn’t. Now, tell me it’s true. Tell me you hid the truth just so you wouldn’t risk me walking out on you!”

Kingsley straightens up, folding his arms across his chest and regarding you with a cool expression. “What if I had told you at the very start? What if I told you every gruesome detail about how they found a few of them ripped limb from limb? Would you have appreciated it then, knowing that they tortured those poor souls to the brink of madness and back again? It was your spy who did it, most likely, or they wouldn’t know so much about it. Would it have helped your focus if you knew they all died awfully?”

Kingsley takes a deep breath before continuing again. “I rely upon the Node for the protection of the safehouses. We all do. You know that. If you left, you would have been found, and it would all be over. You have been extraordinarily focused here, Y/N. Why would I risk that by telling you information that would change nothing about your situation here?”

“It would change everything!” You shout, for once heedless of the world outside your camp. “I would have been more cautious. I could have installed more safeguards. I could have mourned my friends that died in those Nodes, but you took that from me because you needed a body here to maintain the barrier.”

“Were they your friends when they sold you out to the Death Eaters?” Kingsley asks, voice booming. “That’s what they all do, you know. It’s what you’ll do, too, if your spy decides to turn. You’ll sell out every one of us, because that is what the pain makes you do, and if not, the Imperius curse. I do not have the time nor the will to tell everyone every secret, no matter how personal, because it will result in the death of us all. Yes, I knew that the Nodes were falling, and yes, I decided not to tell you, because I value the safehouses above the life of one witch. Will you fault me for that, Y/N? Will you tell me I’ve done a bad job? That I’ve been mean? I have to be mean. It’s how we win this damn war.”

You stare at him, rough breaths rippling through you from anger and fear and the utter madness of a war you can never win, then stalk to your tent and grab Draco’s scroll. You slam it into Kingsley’s hand. “Get out,” you seethe.

“You understand why I had to do it, of course,” Kingsley tries to say.

“Get out!” You scream.

He does, and you’re left alone again. Somehow, that’s worse than arguing. It occurs to you that if Kingsley will hide the truth about the Nodes, that he could hide anything from you, and constantly justify it to himself. If something happened with the safehouses, he would simply let the Portkeys expire and never send anyone to refresh them. You would get no new visitors, no news of the outside world. Somehow, he’d signal to Draco that he’d have a new middle man, so you’d stop seeing him, too. You would have no one to talk to, nobody left to share your time, lacking even the fleeting seconds between Portkey journeys.

The war might even end without them telling you, regardless of which side won. They’d forget about you eventually, the last camp that no one was supposed to find. You would maintain your barrier and keep up your stock of supplies, the last stand in a battle that ended years ago. You imagine yourself growing old and dying in this small camp, known by no one, trusted by fewer still. A relic of the Second War. It might begin any day, and you would never know.

You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly cold. The wind that whips through the trees no longer seems friendly, but like a thousand knives drawing blood wherever your skin is exposed to the harsh breath of the air. Your only hope is that Draco will come again and tell you more secrets that your Order has hidden from you. Your only hope is Draco. It’s something that you never imagined you’d say again after you left Hogwarts, but somehow it’s more true than most things you’ve heard since you were assigned to your Node. You can only hope that he will come again, and remind you what it was like when you still felt human.

mini series tag list: @unicornqueen05

harry potter tag list: @blondsauduun, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @with-inked-solace, @lovesanimals0000, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[deezee112]

The worst ending 14 : The Perfect Farewell

The worst ending 13 | The worst ending 15

Yandere!Vil Schoenheit x GN!Reader

A/N : Hey, I'll just say that vil ending was pretty fun Because I just went to see Barbie with my friends. ( We had a lot of fun dubbing it. )

Warning : Depictions of obsessive and controlling behavior. , The story contains a sudden , heartbreaking death. , Emotional distress , grief , and loss. , Psychological tension

Tags:

@iris-arcadia @/sugar-sprinkles ( I can't tag you, sorry. )

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

You found him sitting quietly in the corner of a desolate room. His golden hair was tangled, and his violet eyes were striking yet filled with silent curiosity. He didn’t cry, didn’t speak—just watched you as if trying to understand you.

“ Hey. ” you said softly, kneeling down to his level. “ You need a name. ”

His head tilted slightly, those sharp eyes narrowing in silent thought.

“ How about…Vil? ”

He blinked slowly, then a small smile curved his lips. He nodded once, his movements elegant despite his small frame.

“ Vil it is, then. ”

At first, he didn’t speak. He would gesture or tug at your sleeve to get your attention, but he always watched you intently, as though studying your every move.

Vil grew quickly into a peculiar yet endearing child. By the time he was old enough to talk, he had already developed an air of grace and sophistication that seemed far beyond his years.

One afternoon, as you prepared a snack, he approached you with a frown, holding a small mirror in his hand.

“ y/n. ” he began, his voice soft but firm. “ Your hair is messy. ”

You blinked at him in surprise. “ Is it? I’ve been busy, Vil. ”

“ That’s no excuse. ” he said, his tone almost scolding. “ Sit down. I’ll fix it for you. ”

Before you could protest, he guided you to a chair and began brushing your hair with meticulous care.

“ There. ” he said when he finished, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “ Now you look presentable. ”

You laughed softly. “ You’re quite the little beautician, aren’t you? ”

“ Someone has to make sure you look your best. ” he replied with a small huff.

Vil quickly became obsessed with perfection. He insisted on having tea parties every weekend, where he’d dress you up in elegant outfits and teach you how to lift a teacup “ correctly. ”

“ y/n! You lifted the teacup correctly this time! ” he exclaimed one day, clapping his hands together in delight.

You sighed, smiling teasingly. “ Maybe I’ll get it wrong next time, just to see your reaction. ”

“ I heard that! ” he snapped, his cheeks flushing pink as he glared at you.

As the years went by, Vil’s obsession with perfection became more intense. He would often criticize the way you walked, talked, or even smiled, insisting that you could “ do better. ”

“ Vil. ” you said one evening, exhaustion creeping into your voice. “ You don’t need to worry so much about how I look. I’m fine the way I am. ”

He frowned, his violet eyes narrowing. “ No, you’re not. You deserve to be the best version of yourself, and I’ll make sure of it! ”

Despite his stern words, there was a deep fondness in his gaze. His perfectionism wasn’t born out of malice—it was his way of showing his love for you.

But sometimes, his love felt suffocating.

One day, Vil planned an elaborate tea party in the garden. He spent hours preparing, dressing you in an outfit he had chosen himself.

“ You look beautiful, y/n. ” he said softly, adjusting a ribbon in your hair.

“ Thank you, Vil. ” you replied with a smile, though you couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

As the party went on, you noticed Vil’s frustration growing. A gust of wind had blown a few leaves onto the table, and one of the teacups had a tiny chip in its rim.

“ This is unacceptable. ” he muttered, his hands trembling as he rearranged the table settings for the fifth time.

“ Vil, it’s fine. ” you said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ It doesn’t have to be perfect... ”

“ It does.. ” he snapped, his voice rising. “ You deserve perfection, y/n!”

You sighed, realizing how deeply ingrained his obsession had become.

A week later, Vil insisted on another tea party, but this time, he wanted to set it up on the balcony. He decorated the space meticulously, ensuring every detail was flawless.

As you reached for a teacup, he suddenly gasped. “ No! The angle is wrong! ”

He leaned forward to adjust the placement of the cup, but in his haste, he slipped. You saw it happen in slow motion—his small body teetering dangerously close to the edge of the balcony.

“ Vil! ” you screamed, rushing forward.

Without thinking, you grabbed him and pulled him back, but the force caused you to lose your balance.

“ y/n! ” Vil cried, his voice filled with terror as he watched you plummet over the edge.

The world blurred around you as you fell, your only thought being relief that Vil was safe.

Vil sat in the garden, staring at the table he had so carefully set up. The teacups, the flowers, the perfect arrangement—it all felt meaningless now.

He clutched the ribbon he had tied in your hair that morning, his tears staining the fabric.

“ You deserved perfection.. ” he whispered, his voice shaking. “ And I failed you.... ”

From that day on, Vil refused to host tea parties. The garden remained untouched, a silent monument to the tragedy that had unfolded there.

But no matter how much time passed, he couldn’t let go of his guilt. He would spend hours in front of the mirror, perfecting his appearance, hoping that if he became flawless enough, it would somehow honor your memory.

“ You’ll always be my greatest masterpiece, y/n.. ” he murmured one evening, staring at his reflection with tear-filled eyes.

[i-dared-myself]

ATEEZ x Ninth Member Headcanons

ATEEZ x reader

Slightly NSFW for but not so much so that I’m marking this 18+

Requested by anonymous: OMG YOU TAKE REQUESTS???? YOUR BLOG IS SO PERFECT Ahem- sorry, I got excited !!! Could I please request an ATEEZ 9th member au headcanons??? I've seen the skz one and now you made me want to see the idea with Ateez too!

Ahhh I’m so sorry to people who made requests before this one! I promise I'm still working on those ones, I just got really excited about ATEEZ!!!

•Hongjoon welcomes you to the group with a warm smile. He leads you to meet the others, and you know it will be chaos when you see them.

•You never feel out of place for a moment. They all make you feel welcome, and you try your very best to return that enthusiasm as you settle into the group.

•Your room is off from the others. Sometimes you like it that way, other times you don’t. It really depends.

•You like it on days where San is looking for someone to bother and Seonghwa isn’t around. You son’t like it on the nights that you have terrible dreams thay leave you sobbing into your pillows when you wake.

•When that happens, you push your door open and wander down the dark hallways. Wooyoung is always ready to comfort you, usually by using his body warmth to soothe you to sleep. And he’s not going to say anything if he gets a free cuddle out of it.

•Jongho stays up with you. You don’t mention what happened in the dreams, and he doesn’t press for an answer. Eventually you fall asleep and he doesn’t risk waking you, instead leaving you in his bed.

•Yeosang is always a bit unsure of himself. But then he remembers there’s no cameras around and you need him. So he mutters words of assurance to you and awkwardly pats your back.

•Hongjoon brings you to the kitchen with him. He either makes you a hot chocolate or a tea, depending on your mood. He lets you snuggle up to his side on the couch as you drink it, telling you about his day.

•Seonghwa immediately tugs you into his bed. He covers you in his blankets and coos about how brave you are. Sure it’s a bit ridiculous to be coddled at your age, but you soak up the love regardless.

Yunho listens as you blabber on about whatever it is. You cry into his shoulder as he rubs circles on your back. Eventually you can’t even remember what it is that woke you and doze away in his grasp.

•San groans as you poke him until he wakes up, but is fast to sit up. His brain is too foggy with sleep to really understand what’s happening, but he tosses you over his shoulder before depositing you in your bed and returning back to sleep right there on the floor. It’s the thought that counts, and that helps you.

•Mingi mutters about how he can take your nightmares in a fight, which makes you giggle. He rambles nonsense about how he’s tougher than whatever it is you’re kept up by. He’s silly and makes you laugh when you need it most.

•When your birthday comes around, you barely make it out with your life. You do your live as you were supposed to, and it goes by smoothly. No hiccups or cakes being smushed into faces.

•Then Yeosang calls you into the kitchen, and you’re awestruck by the pile of gifts on the counter, next to the worst cake you’ve ever seen.

•It’s hideous. Your name is scrawled out messily across the top in a colour that absolutely doesn’t match the frosting on the rest of it. There’s a huge crack down the centre, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to cry.

•“I told you it was fucking ugly!” Wooyoung hisses to Yunho, smacking his arm.

•You whisper that you love it, much to their surprise. Hongjoon cuts you a slice before putting it out in front of you. They sing happy birthday to you before you take a bite.

•You’re the only one to eat any of the dessert, because apparently they already ate two entire cakes. They screwed up the others even worse than the one they presented to you and didn’t know how else to discard of the evidence.

•They apologize for not just buying you a cake, and you ban them from ever buying you one. It becomes a yearly tradition for them to bake you one from scratch, and each cake gets better than the last.

•Probably because the first one gives you food poisoning. They apologize numerous times from your hospital bed, but you assure them that you’re fine.

•Your water bottle is covered with stickers. Whenever you travel in the world for a tour, Wooyoung buys you a sticker to remember it. You cry when you lose the bottle, and Hongjoon purchases you a new one.

•The rest of them pitch in to get you a bunch more stickers, until your water bottle is unrecognizable.

•Your room itself was plain when you moved in. The walls were white, the closet was empty, and the curtains were a depressing beige.

•Now, everything is slathered with your favourite colours. Mingi and San help hang the new curtains, while Yeosang and Seonghwa paint the walls. Jongho whines as he pinches his finger putting your new bed together with Hongjoon, and Yunho proudly displays glowing stars on your wall.

•It feels like home in a way you can’t describe, especially when Wooyoung trips and puts a hole in the plaster of your room. Everyone yells at him, and you don’t repair the dent.

•The day Mingi finds a bloody pad in the bathroom garbage is perhaps the most stressful day of your life. Even more so than your auditions and exams.

•He sprints into the living room, waving his arms around. He (thankfully) left it in the bathroom and didn’t touch it. “Someone here is dying!”

Hongjoon jumps to his feet, eyebrows pulling together in concern. He demands to know which member of the group has a deadly disease/alien parasite living inside them.

•You quietly admit it’s your period, and they all freeze. In all their time living with you, it hadn’t occurred to them that you went through cycles. Logically you did, but they never put two and two together.

•Seonghwa (again) coos about what a poor thing you are. You just want to curl up and die as he lifts you onto his lap and announces to the others that you’re so strong and brave.

•To which you tell him you’re not a child and stomp away to your room, slamming the door shut.

•The irony does not escape you.

•They all knock on your door, murmuring about how Seonghwa is an idiot. They promise to make him cook dinner, and anything you desire. Waffles do sound pretty good, so you open your door.

•Seonghwa is shoved closer and says how deeply sorry he is for offending you. San scratches his head and adds that you are so brave and strong.

•They all grown as you slam the door in their faces. They scold him insistently, before Seonghwa and San defend themselves.

•“I’m just saying I would be terrified to find blood coming out of me one day!” San exclaims. Seonghwa murmurs agreement. You peek out of your room hesitantly. He continues, “And having to just go on with your normal life? Yikes.”

•So you forgive them. The waffles you eat that night are fluffy and delicious.

•It’s well-known that ATEEZ is… freaky. They’re wholesome and sweet, but they’re a bunch of nasty freaks (Endearing term). You were shocked the first time Mingi used a microphone as a pretend-dick and jerked it off. That first time San kissed Wooyoung on the lips? You were horrified.

•You’ve grown used to it. You don’t even bat an eye when Jongho thrusts into the air. You’re not quite up to their level, but your face doesn’t heat up at their lewd actions, anymore.

•Although you do get flustered when they drag you into it. You cover your eyes with your hands as Seonghwa’s eyes roll back from where he’s straddled beneath you. You shriek as Yeosang slaps a hand on the wall next to your head, and nearly pass out when Hongjoon’s fingers curl around your throat.

•All of this is part of skits (You’re fairly certain of this, at least) and carefully thought out and planned ahead of time. For the days afterwards, you stay off of social media and ignore your mom’s calls.

•The time you nearly drown is a harrowing event. You take a short walk near the site you’re filming a vlog. You promise Yunho you’ll take security with you before you grab a jacket and follow a trail.

•You’re standing at the edge of a river when you realize your personal guard went on a lunch break. You sigh and turn to return to the group, not wanting to be out without protection.

•Then the dirt beneath your heel crumbles as you tumble into the rushing waters. A scream is ripped from your throat as everything is turned upside down and sideways and-

•You’re pulled onto the riverbank and gasp for air. Your eyes struggle to open, and you hear the panicked cries of the other members.

•“Who’s giving her mouth to mouth?” Yeosang shouts. The others fall into an eerie silence as you try and gather the words to tell them to back the fuck off.

•You manage to peel your eyes open, just in time to prevent San’s mouth from lowering to yours. You push him away before vomiting to the side.

•Hongjoon refuses to do any other filming that day, and brings you back home. Seonghwa cocoons you in blankets and curls up on the couch next to you. Mingi makes you a warm drink while Wooyoung runs his fingers through your hair.

•Jungho is the one to turn a movie on to distract you from your racing thoughts. Yunho dumps a bag of chips into a bowl and places it in front of you, but you’re arms are wrapped up too tightly for you too eat them.

•So Yeosang is the selfless hero who consumes the snack, telling you about how bad they taste and not to worry. When you point out that he could just feed them to you, he conveniently goes deaf from San yelling in his ear.

•And when you have nightmares that night from almost dying, you know you have plenty of people to go to.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝟒

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The move to New York happened faster than you expected. Drew wrapped up his commitments on the film and, true to his word, took some time off to figure things out with you. You found a small apartment in Brooklyn—tiny by any standard but perfect for two people who couldn’t bear to be apart anymore.

At first, it felt like a dream. Drew was there when you woke up, his sleepy smile the first thing you saw every morning. He walked you to the subway on your way to work, insisting on carrying your coffee and kissing you goodbye on the platform.

You introduced him to your favorite haunts—the bagel shop on the corner, the used bookstore where you’d spent countless weekends, the rooftop garden where you went to think. And he brought his world into yours, sharing stories about life on set, showing you his favorite films, and even letting you read an early script he was considering.

But as the weeks passed, the cracks began to show.

Drew had always been confident, charming, and self-assured. But in New York, where you had your own life and your own circle of friends, he sometimes seemed… lost. He wasn’t used to slowing down, to having days without a packed schedule or a clear direction.

One night, you found him sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel… useless. You’re out there working, doing what you love, and I’m here trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

You placed a hand on his knee, your heart aching for him. “Drew, you don’t have to figure it all out right now. This time is about us—about being together. You’ve been working nonstop for years. Maybe it’s okay to take a break.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, but what if I’m not good at this? At being still?”

“You’re not ‘being still,’” you said firmly. “You’re building something here, with me. That matters, too.”

He smiled then, pulling you into his lap. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“I don’t,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “But I know you. And I know you’ll figure this out.”

❥❥❥❥

The next few months were a mix of highs and lows. Drew started auditioning for theater roles, drawn to the idea of performing live, but the rejections stung more than he let on. Meanwhile, your job became more demanding, with long hours and late nights that left little time for the two of you.

One night, you came home to find Drew in the kitchen, a half-burnt dinner on the stove and a guilty look on his face.

“I was trying to make lasagna,” he admitted, gesturing to the mess.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s the thought that counts.”

But as you cleaned up together, the stress of the past few weeks bubbled to the surface.

“I miss you,” Drew said suddenly, setting a plate in the sink.

You turned to him, surprised. “I’m right here.”

“Not really,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re always at work, and when you’re home, you’re exhausted. I get it—it’s not your fault. But I didn’t come here to feel like I’m losing you again.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Drew, I’m doing this for us. To build a life together.”

“I know,” he said, his hands running through his hair. “But what’s the point if we don’t have time to actually live it?”

Silence hung between you, the weight of his words sinking in.

Finally, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want to lose us, either. Maybe I need to figure out how to balance this better.”

“And maybe I need to stop putting all this pressure on myself to figure out my next big move,” he admitted. “I think… I just got scared. Scared that if I’m not enough, you’ll realize you don’t need me.”

Your heart broke at his honesty, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. “You are enough, Drew. Always. This isn’t about what you do—it’s about who you are. And I love who you are.”

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you like a lifeline. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

That night, you stayed up talking, making promises to each other to try harder, to communicate better, to always put you two first.

❥❥❥❥

In the months that followed, you found your rhythm. Drew started working on an off-Broadway production, throwing himself into the challenge with his trademark dedication. You scaled back your hours at work, carving out more time for the two of you.

There were still tough days, moments when the city felt too loud or the pressure felt too heavy. But you faced them together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.

And as you sat in the audience on opening night, watching Drew deliver a performance that left the entire theater breathless, you sat there admiring him, falling in love more than ever before.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303

[amy-rose-xo]

Flower's Reminder || SHADAMY [ONESHOT]

Shadow overhears that Amy loves white flowers. Suddenly, they start showing up everywhere, and out of frustration, he brings her one.

Shadow had always prided himself on his focus, on his ability to stay sharp no matter the situation. Yet recently, something—or rather, someone—had been pulling his thoughts in directions he couldn't control.

Amy Rose.

Her laugh, her energy, the way her emerald eyes lit up whenever she spoke. He’d overheard her once, chatting animatedly with Cream, her voice carrying through the crisp autumn air.

“I just love white flowers,” Amy had said, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “They’re so beautiful, and they go with everything!”

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But since that day, white flowers seemed to follow him everywhere. They bloomed along the edges of the forest during his training runs, grew in clusters near the base where he meditated, and even appeared randomly during his missions.

At first, he ignored them. But as days turned into weeks, they became impossible to overlook. It wasn’t the flowers themselves that frustrated him—it was the reminder of her, the way his mind wandered to thoughts of Amy whenever he saw them. It was distracting, infuriating... and yet, strangely intoxicating.

One particular morning, Shadow was out for a solitary walk when he saw them again: a patch of ivory blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. He stopped in his tracks, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, clenching his fists.

The flowers seemed to mock him, their pure white petals fluttering in the wind like they were in on some joke he didn’t understand. It was as if the world itself was constantly reminding him of her.

In a fit of irritation, Shadow bent down and plucked one of the flowers. He stared at it for a moment, the soft petals trembling in his hand. Why was he letting this get to him? It was just a flower... and yet, every time he saw it, he couldn’t help but think of her, of Amy. If he could just get rid of it, maybe he'd find some peace.

With a sharp exhale, he activated Chaos Control, wanting to get it over with quickly. Once he gave Amy the flower, he could finally focus on more important things. Right?

In an instant, Shadow appeared before the pink hedgehog and her young rabbit friend, who were sitting on a picnic blanket, enjoying their afternoon. Amy and Cream looked up in surprise as Shadow materialized before them, his stern gaze fixed ahead.

"Mr. Shadow?" Cream asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

Shadow didn’t answer. He stepped toward Amy, kneeling down to her eye level, and held out the flower to her with a steady hand. His expression was unreadable, his voice low and sharp.

“Take it,” he said curtly.

Amy blinked, her green eyes flicking between Shadow’s stern face and the delicate flower he offered. “For me?” she asked, her voice soft with confusion.

“No,” Shadow replied quickly, his tone colder than usual. “For me.”

Amy hesitated, a little confused as she looked at the flower in his hand, then back at his intense expression. “But... why?” she asked gently, sensing the unusual tension between them.

Shadow turned his head slightly, not quite meeting her gaze. “These flowers keep following me,” he muttered, his voice low. “They’re everywhere. They’re... distracting.” He trailed off, frustration creeping into his tone. His eyes moved toward her slowly, as if against his will. “And they’re always reminding me of...”

But his words stalled. Their gazes locked, and in that moment, everything seemed to freeze. His heart thudded loudly, and the words he was about to say caught in his throat. He had been on the verge of admitting it—that the flowers reminded him of her, of Amy—but now, with her eyes on him, he couldn’t. A warmth spread across his chest, and for a fleeting second, he felt utterly lost in the depth of her gaze.

His cheeks, ever so faintly, reddened. He quickly looked away, his voice almost a whisper now. “Just take it so I can be rid of them,” he muttered, his tone more strained than usual.

Amy smiled softly, as if she understood more than he’d intended to let on. Her fingers brushed over the petals of the flower in her hands. “Thank you, Shadow,” she said, her voice light and warm.

She raised the flower to her nose, breathing in the soft scent. A small smile bloomed on her face, and Shadow couldn’t help but watch her, his eyes fixed on the way she gently inhaled the fragrance. The sight of her joy, so pure and effortless, made his chest tighten, and he felt an unfamiliar flutter in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t look away.

Amy’s gaze lifted from the flower, unaware of the way Shadow had been silently watching her. When their eyes met, it was Shadow who broke the connection first, his gaze darting away as though the moment had become too much.

Amy’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “This was really sweet of you, Shadow,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made his chest tighten.

“I... I have to go now,” he muttered, standing abruptly, his cheeks slightly red. “Enjoy your picnic.”

With a sharp flash of light and a crackle of energy, he was gone, leaving the faintest ripple in the air.

Amy sat motionless for a moment, staring at the spot where he’d been, the soft breeze rustling the petals of the flower still in her hand. Slowly, she glanced down at it, her smile deepening as she lifted it to her nose, inhaling its delicate fragrance.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy noticed Cream staring at her, wide-eyed with curiosity. The young rabbit’s expression was a mixture of shock and wonder, her little hands clasped tightly together.

“Miss Amy,” Cream began tentatively, “Do you think Mr. Shadow might like you?”

The words made Amy’s cheeks burn, her blush spreading as she let out a flustered laugh. “I-I don't think so,” she said, her voice light but shaky. “Shadow’s just... complicated."

Cream tilted her head innocently. “Well, I think it was really nice of him,” she said with a smile.

Amy's fingers brushed over the soft petals once more, her smile lingering. She stared at the flower for a moment longer, her thoughts quietly drifting back to Shadow. Whatever his reasons, his awkward, unexpected gesture had left an impression.

"Yeah," she murmured, her cheeks still warm. "It was."

[END]

----

Copyrights to Sega for the characters.

2025, Amy-Rose-xo / AmyRose-09

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

----