#it's just really cool being able to feel this way

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James���s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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taglist!! @zowiiiisblog , @kxnnxy , @rainingleaves , @icollectrubberduckies , @elsie-bells

[mocchii-writes]

hii!! i love your work! i would like to request head-canons with a reader who is an ex cop (could be from the same reason as jun ho, as they failed to investigate the mysterious island) but this time, they’re actually able to infiltrate into the games. you can do separate characters for gi hun, in ho, dae ho, thanos, and nam gyu?!

Squid Game Boys if You Were Undercover in the Games

Paring: Seong Gi-hun, Hwang In-ho, Kang Dae-ho, Choi Su-bong (Thanos), Nam-gyu x fem!Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Drugs

A/n: I hope I understood this correctly, Anon, it's a very cool one! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

Hwang In-ho:

This would be very interesting indeed

Since he's also an undercover spy-esc. type, he might not even notice if you act suspicious in that type because he's covering up himself

but he also seems smart enough to figure it out

he would admire your bravery, if so, and originally planned to shut you down once he thought you'd had enough fun

but there was something about the way you looked at him sometimes that made him pause

it took him a while to realise he actually liked you, and the thought didn't exactly comfort him

you guys would play a game of tag in the dark, jumping around the fact that you're on opposing sides of a growing war

and you'd both pretend you knew nothing so you could be friendly guilt-free

he wouldn't hesitate at the chance to save your life, unlike he would for many other "friends"

he's very protective and defensive of you anytime anyplace

if anyone even thought of hurting you, pray for them fr

he's almost ashamed to admit to himself that he cares about you, but the thought hardly crosses his mind when met with false hatred for you instead.

(or what he calls hatred)

Seong Gi-hun (s2):

You knew he could use all the help he could get, and he seemed almost too kind to be in this place

and you knew you could use all the help you could get as well

so you didn't have to think long on it to decide to tell him what you knew

he trusts you, for sure

he's also protective of you, trying his best to ensure your safety even though that's a hard ask

and you protect him too, to the best of your abilities

you both have a common goal, too, and that helps with the bonding

speaking of

you two would bond pretty well imo, sharing your stories and fears with each other at night

he's not very confident in terms of romance, and he'd probably miss most of your hints because he's so used to people never glancing his way

but eventually he would understand

if not your feelings, then his own

and he would probably confess to you by like either exploding a bunch of words out of his mouth that are hardly understandable, or very quietly and clearly, like he's sharing a secret with you

Kang Dae-ho:

If you told him he would be so impressed, let's be honest here

literally star-struck, because an undercover ex-cop is the sickest thing ever??

and not to mention he definitely already admires you

he wants to know everything about your investigation and your backstory

he feels very safe with you, but still holds himself to the standard of defending you if he needs to

you'll probably have to make the first move unless you can boost his ego a little more because like I said, he thinks you're way too cool for him

you would do your best to help him, and he does the same for you

which really makes you two a crazy power couple because when you guys really link up you're unstoppable

I just know yall would devour in the riot omg

he loves loves loves you, and he loves talking to you about all the police stuff you do and his time in the military

Choi Su-bong (Thanos):

It's an understatement to say you were wary of him, and even more wary of telling him your reasons for being here

but it's not like he would notice anything weird, so you'll be alright

you were trying to keep a low profile, but Thanos didn't intend to just let a pretty girl like you get away

He tried his usual charms, and whether or not they worked is... irrelevant... 🤭

anyways

you joined his group because you thought it gave you safety, but that didn't stop Thanos from trying to win you over

after your suspicions died down, he seemed pretty genuine

so you told him your story, and he listened

he told you he'd try to help you, but neither of you know if he could really help that much

but he definitely respected you more after that

and nobody dares to mess with Thanos's girl, but if they did, you know he'd handle it

he thinks of you as a close friend as well, and he trusts you more after you tell him you're undercover

he would want to tell Nam-gyu, but he wouldn't if you didn't want him to

he would think it's hot lmao

he'd be like, "So you're a super secret spy? cool, cool. Where's your earpiece?"

"bro"

"Hm?"

it overall wouldn't really affect how he treats you, but your relationship would sift, probably for the better

Nam-gyu:

Depending on how you met, he would be really gentle with you imo

he's really nice with thanos (though he claims it's for the drugs)

so I think if he liked you he would really like you

we know he's very touchy and probably protective of you

but when you tell him your real story, he's flabbergasted

I mean sure, it makes sense, but what??

his perfect wife? (he's known you 4 days)

he's very proud of it

will probably yap to everyone about it, sadly

you'll really have to hold him back, if you can

he'd say he wants to hear about it but hed probably lose interest lmao

but he'll ask you late at night, and you two will talk for a while about your lives

he'd say he's ashamed of his life currently, and that you have so much more potential

you'd have to comfort him and tell him it's okay

also, please comfort him when he takes drugs from thanos because they make him pretty anxious sometimes

and he just wants to be with you, so hold him ♡

protects you but also knows you can handle yourself, just give him this

Sorry, I'm posting really slow but all the req will be out once I get on that grind ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[fairestwriting]

Octatrio! With a shorter crush that can pick them up easily and does so in a bout of excitement, princess style!

Azul Ashengrotto

He wants you to think highly of him. Like, really wants to. A lot of the time, when you two are talking, that’s what’s in his mind. But much to his dismay — and no matter how clear you make that you find it endearing — he actually gets flustered very easily. He’ll try everything in his power to play it cool, but there’s only so much one can do to try to hide a blushing face.

And he thinks about you a lot, much more than he wants to let on. This includes coming up with ideas of how to bring out that enthusiastic side you have that he likes so much. Azul will remember each and every interest of yours that you mention, then plan out a way to casually bring it up some other time, maybe even get you a gift that’s related to it. There’s always a tailored justification on why you don’t need to pay him back for it too, “kind” enough for you to feel special, but not so much that it feels unbelievable.

The princess carry is a popular trope, and you’re small enough the thought has crossed his mind. Azul might not be the strongest guy around, but he’s definitely not weak, though he’s not really confident enough in his skills to really try, and there’s also things like timing to keep in mind, what even would be the right moment to do something like that— There’s a non zero chance that very thought would be on his mind right when you lift him up, even.

Actually yelps when you do it, drops whatever he’s holding, it’s a whole situation. He doesn’t know how to respond, both because he didn’t expect you to be strong and because you’re carrying him, he won’t even register whatever words you say. Floyd cheers you on if he’s nearby. When you put him down, Azul apologizes for his "unflattering" reaction in a voice that sounds like he’s trying really hard not to faint.

Jade Leech

He did have a feeling you were stronger than you looked, pretty much since you two met. It wasn’t something he guessed right off the bat, and he even doubted it a little bit sometimes, but he watched you close enough to be able to tell. It’s not that hard to notice, if you just look at the way you handle heavier objects and such… or at least that’s what he would tell you.

But of course, thinking you’d be able to lift him was far from what he had guessed. He’s very tall, clearly taller than you, and even though Floyd exercises more, Jade does still have a pretty decent amount of muscle. He’s not light at all! Even a lot of people around his height would have trouble lifting him up, and you just did it like that? So effortlessly? Definitely a way to get a very rare, very wide eyed look from him, that maybe no one has even seen in years.

“Oya, since when are you this strong?” He asks with a chuckle. He’s pretty good at getting it together and putting on a composed look, even when you’re carrying him around in your arms like that, but you’d have to be really oblivious to not notice the underlying shock. Jade will laugh along with you about whatever had you so excited in the first place, but the main thing that’s really in his mind is a reminder to watch you even more closely now. Where does that strength come from, after all? You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you…

Sort of wants you to do it again, but mostly starts to want to be the one to do it to you instead. Maybe it's something like payback. He has good self restraint, he’s not just going to scoop you up into his arms unprompted and carry you off wherever… But if the opportunity comes up, like if he takes you hiking and you comment about your legs being tired, he’s not ignoring it. Smiles slyly at you in a way that makes you wonder if that’s the reason he invited you in the first place.

Floyd Leech

Like Jade, he can tell you’re not weak, but it works completely different with him. He’s not really watching you per se and it’s much more of an instinctive feel. And on top of everything, you’re just so cute and tiny? He didn’t have to think to pick your nickname at all, you couldn’t be anything other than Shrimpy. He would’ve given it to you even if it meant taking it from someone else.

Floyd himself will pick you up a lot when he gets excited, laughing and twirling you around. It doesn’t actually matter how heavy you are, you’re light as a feather to him, his cute little Shrimpy that he could toss around if he wanted— He says that to you, straight up, with a huge cheerful smile on his face. He’ll never be quiet about how cute he thinks you are, doesn’t matter if you only met a few days ago.

If you’re excited about something while talking to him, chances are that he is too. You’ll be happily talking back and forth, sharing whatever comments first come to mind, and it was really just a coincidence you happened to get the urge to pick him up first this time. If you had been even just one second late, he would already have you lifted off the ground.

He’s surprised when it happens, obviously, but honestly a lot less shocked than most people would be? Maybe he just had a feeling all along, Floyd is just like that sometimes. He’s still laughing and joking with you about whatever the topic was before, with a side of "Woah, Shrimpy is so strong!", he doesn’t care how many things he ends up knocking over from getting twirled around by you. Will return the gesture when you put him down, lifting you higher than he ever had before. It genuinely makes him happy that you can do the same. Doesn’t mean he’s ever going to stop fawning over you being smaller than him though, you’re his little Shrimpy no matter what— Maybe even more than before now.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[markleessodalite]

What Scares Them About Love: NCT Dream

Haedcanon: what are the dreamies most scared of when it comes to falling in (or out of) love?

content: mentions of general insecurity, but nothing specific... i don't think there's anything specific to warn about here but lmk if i miss something!!

Mark:

 Mark is scared of being a fool for love. Mark likes to think of himself as a clever guy, quick on his feet, nothing and no one can get the better of him. On the other hand, though, he knows how he gets when he’s in love. Its like any finesse or composure he has flies out the window as soon as that certain someone appears. Yeah, its cute and charming, a usually cool and collected guy suddenly becoming a bumbling, rambling mess– unless a lovesick Mark lands in the hands of the wrong person. Mark knows he’d be so easy, too easy to take advantage of if he’s in love. And he’s terrified of being the fool who gets his heart played with, just because he was too dumb to notice the game.

Renjun:

Renjun is scared of not being enough. So much of his life is already under scrutiny, the very nature of his career is dependent on millions of people watching his every move, every performance, every look on his face at every second. You might think that with him being judged so often, he would become immune to it– but its different when Renjun is in love. People talk about love making you feel light and secure, safe, like nothing in the world could hurt you now. For Renjun, love just makes him remember all the things he’s insecure about, and all the ways someone might be dissatisfied with him. He’s scared of wanting to be everything for someone, but not being able to amount to anything.

Jeno:

Jeno is scared of exposing himself. He’s most comfortable when he can keep others at arm’s length, and there’s a very, very select few people in his life who actually get to see Jeno’s true self. Yes, he’s a member of one of the most popular idol groups, he performs to thousands of people on a regular basis who completely adore him, he posts a selfie that he took two seconds to snap and the comments are flooded with praise and affection. But he's in control of all of that– he knows exactly what to say and do to get the exact reaction he wants from others. When it comes to love, its an entirely different story. He knows that for a relationship to truly grow, he must show his true self to someone. And he knows that when he shows his true self, his most vulnerable insecurities and transparently naked thoughts, he loses all control over how that someone thinks of him. Jeno is so afraid of someone seeing him in such an exposed state, and deciding that they don’t like what they see.

Haechan:

 Haechan is afraid of effort. Not in the sense that he’s lazy– in fact, its the exact opposite. Haechan might just be the busiest man on the planet, and he puts an extreme amount of care and effort into everything he does. He’s constantly moving, constantly thinking, he’s not sure he even knows how to stop moving or thinking. But there’s only so far he can stretch himself without tearing apart at the seams. So really, what Haechan is afraid of is giving what little of himself he has left to somebody, and it ends up not being enough. He doesn’t have enough time, enough focus, enough energy to really give to someone. His biggest fear about love is losing it altogether because the effort he puts in just isn’t enough.

Jaemin:

Nothing about love scares Jaemin. The only thing he’s afraid of is seeing his love story end. Jaemin is a romantic at heart, he loves the very idea of love, and love truly means something very special and important to him. So, he doesn’t give his love easily to just anybody. He’s picky, because to him, his love story is meant to be the only love story he’ll experience, and it’s supposed to last until the end of time. He’s built to love someone until his last breath; he is not built to suffer through love fading, to go through a break up with someone he thought he’d be with forever, to watch everything he hoped and worked for dissolve into dust. When Jaemin’s incredibly high standards prevent him from finding someone, its not because he has an aversion to love. Jaemin is just terrified of what happens when love ceases to exist.

Chenle:

Chenle is afraid of backing down. Chenle is a prideful man, confident and sure. So confident and sure that he’s sometimes uncompromising, and a successful relationship is all about compromise. Chenle is perfectly aware of how important compromise is, yet there’s just something in him that refuses to let go, refuses to give up, refuses to compromise when he knows that he’s in the right. In a way, Chenle knows that a potential roadblock on his journey to love is his tendency to sabotage himself. He’s not just afraid of conceding defeat, he’s afraid that his stubbornness will be the death of his love.

Jisung:

Jisung is afraid of what love might mean for him. Jisung is still so young. Not to mention with how busy he is, how much stuff he has going on in every aspect of his life, how he’s still trying to fit into his own skin and figure out who he is… he just knows that if he were to fall in love at this stage in his life, it wouldn’t last. It would result in some sort of heartbreak that would change him in some way, and Jisung is terrified of what that change could be. He doesn’t want to become someone hardened and bitter, he doesn’t want to be heartbroken and sad all the time. He’s so scared of feeling all the emotions that come with love and the end of it, that for him, it seems better to avoid it altogether.

[kiszjuli]

BREATHING .ᐟ

✸ donghyuck x reader | genre. angst w happy ending | w.c. 1.1k | ╳

"hey...can...can we talk?" donghuck, your ex as of only a month ago stood outside your front door. his breathing heavy; as if he had ran to your house. the moonlight shinning dimly behind him, you stared with parted lips. your heart pounding as you silently step aside letting him in.

when i just want to settle down heavily you approach me like the moonlight and talk to me

you and donghyuck had a hard break up, neither one of you wanting it in the first place. it was fueled by a string of misunderstandings and frustrations with life. he had gotten home late, exhausted from his whole day of working, so he was already not in a great mood. not that you were either, your boss having been on your ass all day. needless to say, you two got into an argument that you had been trying to avoid.

i'm so up and down that i can't stop i am full of unanswered questions

during the heat of the argument, you both said things you didn't mean. you wish you had know what this stupid argument was going to do to your relationship.

letting out a frustrated sigh you stand from the couch. "you don't get it hyuck! you've been so distant lately, and i feel like i'm the only one trying to make this work. i get it, you're busy, but i am too! and when you are here, it's like you aren't even really here!"

donghyuck stands and raises his voice slightly. "baby, i'm trying! you think this is easy for me? i'm working nonstop, and it's not like i don't care about you anymore...but i can't just drop everything to reassure you of that! i'm tired of you making it seem like i don't wanna be with you!"

you feel yourself getting emotional.

"that's not what i'm saying...i just..i feel like you don't have time for us anymore," your voice cracking as you speak.

donghyuck is hurt by your words, but he masks it with his frustrated voice. "what do you want me to do, y/n? you don't think i feel the same way? every day i can't be here? it hurts me too you know..."

there's tense silence before he speaks up again. "i can't keep trying if you keep making it seem like i'm the only one messing up here..."

your head tilts, feeling your emotions take over your words completely.

"i can't do this anymore donghyuck..i don't wanna keep trying if you've already given up!"

this makes him angry. he felt like you weren't even listening to a thing he said.

"you know what, maybe we're better off apart!" he yells across the couch in your living room.

your heart sinks. "..maybe we are!"

"fine!" he storms passed you to the bedroom to grab a bag and some of his clothes.

you follow him, obviously not wanting him to leave. "wait..." you say as you stand in the doorway.

"this isn't how i want things to end, i think we both just need to cool off," he says and walks passed you to leave, afraid if he actually stopped he would stay.

as he walked out of your house, your words died in your throat, being choked up by tears. you didn't see him again after that, nor did you two speak to each other. that whole month felt like hell. everything seemed to remind you of him, haunting you of your immature words that night.

i've been searching for another meaning will we be able to see each other?

which all leads to the reason why you let him in without another word, shutting the door behind him. he steps in, his familiar and comforting smell enveloping you.

you look up at his once so bright and lively face, seeing his beautiful eyes red with small bags forming under them. your heart clenched.

he takes a deep breath trying to steady his voice before speaking. "i don't...know what to say really. i've been thinking about everything, every day. and.. i hate myself for how thing ended. i should've fought harder- i should've said more." he looks up at you with a pained look.

your face softens a little, trying to hold it together. "donghyuck... it’s not just about the words. you weren’t... there. it felt like i was invisible, like i didn’t even really matter."

his eyes fill with immense regret and pain knowing that he caused this hurt for you. "i know. i know i messed up. i got so caught up in everything—my work, my distractions—that i forgot about us. and the worst part is… i didn’t realize it until you were gone... until you weren’t there anymore,"

donghyuck steps closer to you, reaching for your hands slowly. your warm hands in contrast to his cool ones. you squeeze them a little.

"y/n, i- i feel like i don’t have any air without you. i don’t know how to exist without you in my life, without your voice, without your smile. everything feels so... empty without you. i need you.."

your eyes well up with large tears that spill over without being able to hold them back.

you're my last chance to go back i don't have any air without you

"you don't know how hard it was to watch you leave like that..after what i had just said to you about never being here-" you break down.

his heart seems to break all over again and he pulls you into his arms. you immediately wrapped your arms around his middle, tucking your face into his chest.

"i'm sorry baby, never again will i make you feel that way. never, m'so sorry for hurting you..so sorry.." he holds back his own tears, as he tightens his grip around your frame.

"missed you so much," you say between huffs of air from crying.

breathing, inhaling all the air think about you i reach out and hold you, who shined on me in the darkness

he needed you to understand that he would never make you feel that way again. he pulls away just enough to grab your cheeks in his hands, wiping away tears that stained your face. looking deeply into your eyes he spoke firmly. "i swear to you, i will never let you feel that way again. i'll make sure you never feel invisible or unloved again. i'm gonna fight for us, always." he never falters in his words.

"i love you, donghyuck," you mutter looking up at him.

"i love you baby, always."

when i open my eyes i am at the end of a long night it's warm when i feel our hands holding each other's and my heart starts beating

—

🎧 — breathing by nct dream

[jianwon]

i ADORE your most recent fanfic (touch ups and downs) your writing is rlly cool and i was wondering if maybe we could get a part 2!?! where they go on a date and se-mi is still being flirty/teasing as per usual and maaaaybee...they kiss. hehe. i love your writing btw, but pls dont feel pressured to fulfill my request!!! 💗💗

a softer spotlight

sypnosis. a makeup artist’s quiet life takes an unexpected turn when actress se-mi slips them her number. between secret outings, stolen moments, and the challenges of se-mi’s fame, their connection grows into something neither of them can ignore.

part 2 of touch ups and down

content— actress!se-mi x fem!makeupartist!reader. pure fluff. flirting and romantic tension. brief mention of public harassment. mild language. slight emotional vulnerability. mentions of squid game characters.

disclaimer. story is entirely fictional and in no way reflects real events, individuals, or their relationships. characters mentioned are fictional representations based on their on-screen personas.

wordcount. 1.9k

since the day se-mi slipped her number into your hand, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. it wasn’t just the way she effortlessly flirted, or the way her perfume lingered like a gentle reminder of her presence, it was the way she made you feel seen.

you hadn’t reached out yet, overthinking every possible way the conversation might go. would she even remember giving you her number? what if she was just being polite? or teasing?

you debated for days, pacing your tiny apartment as her folded note sat on your kitchen counter, taunting you.

then, one evening, your phone buzzed with an unknown number.

unknown number: you weren’t planning on calling me, were you... artist-nim?

you stared at the message, your heart racing. how did she..? oh. of course, she had your number from the crew information list.

you: i didn’t want to bother you.

se-mi: bother? i think you misunderstand. i was hoping you’d ask me out (īī ^ īī)

the boldness of her words hit you like a lightning bolt, and before you could spiral into overthinking, another message popped up.

se-mi: how about we fix that? are you free tomorrow afternoon?

you froze. tomorrow afternoon? what would you wear? what would you say?

you: i guess i could be free.

se-mi: great! but we’ll need to be careful, meet me at cafe haneul at 3. wear something comfortable and discreet ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

you didn’t sleep much that night.

the next day, you arrived at cafe haneul early, nervously fiddling with your phone. the cozy little café was tucked into a quieter street in seoul, its warm glow spilling onto the cobblestone sidewalk. you wore an oversized hoodie and a baseball cap, hoping it was “discreet” enough.

when se-mi arrived, you almost didn’t recognize her. she was wearing a hoodie too, paired with round glasses and a black face mask that covered half her face. even so, she still looked effortlessly stunning, her presence impossible to ignore.

“artist-nim!” she greeted, pulling down her mask slightly to reveal a playful grin. “se-mi,” you replied, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt.

she tilted her head, studying you. “cute. you really took the ‘discreet’ note to heart.”

you laughed awkwardly, and she grabbed your wrist gently. “come on. let’s walk.”

the streets were bustling, even in the quieter part of the city. se-mi kept close, her hand brushing yours every so often as you weaved through the crowd. the conversation flowed easily. she talked about the projects she was excited about, and you shared funny backstage stories from your work.

but as the sidewalk grew more crowded, you started to feel the press of bodies around you. someone accidentally bumped into your shoulder, and then another person pushed past, making you stumble slightly.

se-mi noticed immediately. without a word, she reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to her side. “stay here,” she said softly, her tone protective.

her hand was warm, her grip firm but gentle. you felt your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t pull away. instead, you let her guide you through the crowd, her presence grounding you amidst the chaos.

when the street finally opened up, she looked down at you, a small smile playing on her lips. “you okay?”

“yeah..” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“good.” she replied, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

the moment felt so natural that you almost didn’t realize she hadn’t let go until she grinned and said, “don’t tell me you’re blushing already.”

“i’m not!” you protested, though the heat in your cheeks said otherwise. she chuckled, tugging you along. “come on. there’s somewhere i want to take you.”

the museum was quiet, its grand halls filled with soft lighting and the faint echo of footsteps. you hadn’t expected se-mi to bring you somewhere so peaceful, but as soon as you stepped inside, you understood why.

“i like coming here when i need to clear my head,” she explained as you wandered through an exhibit of impressionist paintings. “there’s just something calming about it.”

you watched as her gaze lingered on a large canvas depicting a serene landscape. the way her face softened, her usual confident demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable, made your chest ache in the best way.

“do you paint?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

she shook her head. “no, but i wish i did. i’ve always admired how artists can put so much emotion into a single canvas”

you smiled, gesturing to the painting in front of you. “kind of like how you do with acting.”

her eyes widened slightly, and she turned to you with a surprised smile. “that’s… probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“well, it’s true,” you replied, suddenly feeling shy under her gaze. she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

before you could respond, she tugged you toward another room, this one filled with smaller, more abstract pieces. you wandered through the space together, occasionally stopping to admire a painting or share quiet observations. at one point, you caught her watching you instead of the art, her expression unreadable.

“what?” you asked, self-conscious under her stare.

“nothing.” she said, smiling softly. “i just like seeing you like this. you’re so… relaxed.”

you didn’t know how to respond, so you simply smiled back, your heart pounding.

after leaving the museum, you and se-mi wandered into a bustling food street. the two of you shared tteokbokki and small plates of jeon at a cozy food stall, the spicy warmth of the dishes cutting through the evening chill. se-mi kept her hoodie pulled low and her mask in place, glancing around every now and then to make sure no one was paying too much attention.

you couldn’t help but laugh as she struggled with her chopsticks, one slippery rice cake flying out of her grasp and landing on her plate with a small splatter. “a world-famous actress, but chopsticks are your weakness?”

she gave you a mock glare, her eyes narrowing playfully. “you try eating with these things out in the cold and tell me how it goes.”

smirking, you picked up one of the rice cakes with ease, holding it out toward her. “here. let me save you the embarrassment.”

she hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, taking the bite and chewing with exaggerated slowness. “not bad...” she said once she swallowed. “guess i’ll keep you around.”

it was an easy moment, the two of you lost in your own world, until someone walking past slowed to a stop right in front of your table.

“wait… is that—?”

your heart dropped as you saw the man’s eyes narrow in recognition. he looked to be in his early twenties, dressed casually but holding his phone in a way that made your stomach tighten.

se-mi tensed beside you, her hand instinctively reaching for her mask to pull it higher.

“no way,” the man said, stepping closer. “you’re se-mi, aren’t you? from that movie?”

“i think you’ve got the wrong person,” you said quickly, standing up to block his view of her. “she’s not an actress.” the man’s eyes darted between you and se-mi, skepticism written all over his face.

“no, i’m pretty sure that’s her. i’ve watched the show, like, three times. that’s definitely her!”

se-mi looked down, trying to keep her face hidden as she mumbled, “i’m sorry, i think you’re mistaken.” her voice was calm, but you could sense the tension in her posture.

“come on, you don’t have to pretend,” the man insisted, pulling out his phone. “just one picture, please! my friends will never believe i ran into you.”

“no pictures,” you said firmly, your voice shaking slightly. “please respect her privacy.” the man frowned, his phone still in hand. “if it’s not her, then what’s the big deal? why are you acting so weird?”

the crowd around the stall was starting to take notice, a few people pausing mid-bite to glance over. your pulse quickened as you realized how easily this could spiral out of control.

“let’s go,” you whispered to se-mi, gently tugging her sleeve.

she nodded and stood, keeping her head down as the two of you tried to leave the stall. but the man wasn’t giving up so easily.

“hey, wait!” he called, stepping after you. “at least tell me if it’s really you—”

that’s when se-mi turned around, her voice steady but firm. “i’m sorry, but i’d really appreciate it if you left us alone.”

her tone was polite, but there was a quiet strength behind it that seemed to catch the man off guard. he hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for a response. finally, he muttered something under his breath and walked off, still holding his phone but no longer pointing it at you.

as soon as he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “that was… intense.”

“i’m sorry...” se-mi said softly, her voice laced with guilt.

“don’t apologize,” you said immediately. “it’s not your fault. are you okay?” she nodded, though her hands were trembling slightly. without thinking, you reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

“let’s get out of here,” you said, your voice soft but reassuring.

the two of you walked quickly through the streets, sticking to quieter alleys until you were far away from the bustling crowd. when you finally stopped, you were standing in a small, empty park, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement.

“i didn’t mean to ruin the night.” se-mi said after a moment, her gaze fixed on the ground.

“ruin it?” you repeated, stepping closer to her. “se-mi, you didn’t ruin anything.” she looked up at you, her eyes searching yours. “it’s just… stuff like that happens all the time. and i hate dragging other people into it.”

“you didn’t drag me into anything,” you said firmly. “i wanted to be here. with you.”

her expression softened, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away. “you really mean that?”

“of course,” you said, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. “besides, i think we make a pretty good team. i distract the fans, and you handle the dramatic exits.” she laughed at that, the sound light and melodic in the quiet night. “i guess i owe you one, artist-nim.”

“i’ll add it to your tab,” you teased, grinning.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the air between you felt heavy with unspoken words, and when she finally broke the silence, her voice was quiet but steady.

“being recognized is part of the job,” she said. “but… it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t see me as just ‘se-mi the actress.’”

you looked at her, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her words. “you’re more than that,” you said softly. “at least to me.”

she turned to you, her eyes searching yours. then, without warning, she reached up and pulled her mask down, her face inches from yours. “i know.” she whispered.

before you could respond, she leaned in and kissed you. it was soft, tentative, but it sent a spark through your entire body. when she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and she looked almost shy. “i hope that wasn’t too forward...” she murmured.

you shook your head, a dazed smile spreading across your face. “not at all.”

she grinned, her confidence returning as she took your hand again. “good. because i plan on doing that again.”

and as the city buzzed around you, the world felt like it had shrunk to just the two of you. a quiet, perfect moment in the chaos of life.

a/n— a big thank you to anon for the request! please do let me know if you'd like actress se-mi x makeup artist reader to be a series! do request some scenarios that you'd like to see both of them in hehe + is it just me, or do i hc se-mi as an emoticon user rather than using emojis hmm

[thechekhov]

heyo! im in the planning stages of a comic id like to make and im getting way too excited about details haha

do you have any tips on hiding easter eggs and hints in comic form? obviously its far different from doing so in more interactive media like videogames, but itd be cool to hear your thoughts :]

Oh boy! That's fun! :) I love the Planning A New Thing stage, it's always so exciting!

As for tips.... hmmm.

I suppose my tips would be different for Hints (foreshadowing?) vs Easter Eggs.

Effectively, Easter Eggs are just fun details you throw into your story that may mean more upon further inspection, but may also just be For Fun.

Traditionally they're not really tied, chronologically, to Big Reveals that happen in the future of the story.

My tip for Easter Eggs are just - do whatever you want! It's your story, so you can add whatever details you think are fun.

For example, on the soundtrack to Inception the movie, one song is "Non, je ne regrette rien", just slowed down. In the Artemis Fowl books, there's a gnomish script on the bottom of the bottom of the pages that can be decrypted into fun messages. In One Piece (which I have not read nor interacted with, sorry) there's a character called Pandaman who apparently appears in the background shots of crowds constantly. Bluey the children's show does this too - I think they hide some sort of small long dog in the background shots of each episode?

You can add small, fun things like this - things that don't disturb the overall plot but add bits of flavor for someone looking closer. Characters from your other works in large crowds! Or just small objects from your favorite media to fill you characters' room with. OR a secret third thing!

Meanwhile, foreshadowing is specifically things that hint at future plot things. I did this in WD!AU with the jar of 'locally sourced seaglass' that appears in the background of an episode while Steven and Connie discuss Steven being able to make gems.

Obviously this was before Seaglass was discovered - a whole Season prior in fact! So it was a fun bit of foreshadowing, albeit VERY vague.

For me, foreshadowing like this is basically like telling a story that I know the ending to, and muttering to myself under my breath "But little did they KNOW!" with a little grin every time I talk about another plot point.

I do want to say that foreshadowing oversaturation is also a thing. You can't possibly foreshadow EVERY SINGLE PLOTPOINT and you shouldn't have to. Just do whatever feels natural. Sometimes that, if you read it again after knowing the ending, makes you go "AHHHH THAT'S THE THING! THAT'S THE THING THEY DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT BACK THEN, BUT I KNOW IT NOW!"

Basically, my tip is to pretend to be a huge fan of your own story - and ask yourself what you'd love to find when reading for the 2nd, 3rd time.

[baeksqt]

𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 — mapi león

mapi león x reader

(a/n: ugh my first fic for my barça babe ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ finally was able to finish this cause I actually enjoyed writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it too <3)

word count: 1329

genre: fluff

summary: maybe a little chaos wasn't the worst thing, especially when it came with a motorcycle and Mapi's laughter in the wind

You sat at your desk, posture immaculate, eyes skimming over her laptop screen as you meticulously edited your latest feature on the highly anticipated Copa de la Reina. Every sentence was subjected to your rigorous examination, and every word was weighed. In the world of Journalism, reputation was paramount, and you had painstakingly crafted yours through unwavering accuracy, thoughtful balance, unyielding fairness, and a steadfast commitment to professionalism.

Across the small, cluttered living room of your shared apartment, your girlfriend, Mapi lounged on the well-worn sofa, her body sprawled in a way that disregarded any notion of good posture. She flipped through a stack of team meeting notes with an air of nonchalance, the crinkle of the paper punctuating the otherwise quiet space. Her mismatched socks, a vibrant pink on one foot and a dull grey on the other added a touch of whimsy to her otherwise casual appearance. A curious smudge, perhaps remnants of a late-night snack, lingered on her cheek, resembling chocolate, giving her a carefree and slightly messy charm. Meanwhile, you tapped away furiously at your laptop, the rhythmic clattering of keys contrasting sharply with her relaxed demeanour, creating a subtle tension in the air.

“You’re frowning again,” Mapi said without looking up, her voice tinged with amusement, “that means you’re overthinking.”

Not bothering to glance away from the screen, you sighed, “I’m not overthinking, I’m being thorough.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mapi hummed softly, her eyes fluttering as she tossed her notes to the side. She stretched her arms above her head, her muscles arching gracefully. “You’re so thorough that you’ve rewritten that sentence, what, five times now?” She smirked playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her voice. 

“It’s four, actually.” Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you shot Mapi a pointed look.

Your girlfriend’s lips curled into a playful grin, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned closer, completely unfazed by the chaos of deadlines surrounding you. “My bad,” she teased, her voice light and airy. “Still, you really should consider taking a break.” With an effortless grace that caught you off guard, she slid off the sofa and made her way to your cluttered desk, where she perched herself with a casual elegance, nudging your shoulder softly with her elbow. “Why not let me distract you for a bit?” 

You felt your lips twitch in a barely contained smile, the corners wanting to betray your feigned annoyance. “And what exactly do you suggest I do? My deadline is looming just a few hours away,” you replied, trying to sound serious despite the warmth spreading through you. 

Mapi gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart in mock horror. "Oh no, tomorrow morning? That gives you," she glanced at the clock as if it were a ticking time bomb, "exactly twelve hours to indulge in a proper panic!" Her playful exaggeration momentarily made the weight of your workload feel lighter, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“Not everyone can coast through life like you do, Mapi.”

"Coast? Excuse me, I work very hard at being effortlessly cool." Mapi gasped again.

“That’s one way to put it,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Finally, you leaned back in your chair, the tension gathering in your temples prompting you to rub them softly with your fingertips, hoping to alleviate the pressure. Seizing the moment, Mapi leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, just a tiny break. Five minutes. Ten, if you’re feeling rebellious.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You arched a perfectly shaped brow, “I’m not sure I trust you to define ‘what’s worth my while.’”

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Mapi shot forward, grabbing your hand with a playful tug that pulled you out of your chair. “Okay, okay, hear me out: ice cream and a motorcycle ride. Just imagine it—the perfect mix of productivity and relaxation,” she proclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

"A motorcycle ride?" Scepticism etched on your features. "Mapi, the last time I agreed to one of your 'brilliant ideas,' we ended up lost in the countryside with zero signal and a very confused goat."

Mapi laughed, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “Hey, that goat loved you. You have a way with animals.”

“I was bribing it with the granola bar you stole from my bag.” You deadpanned, but there was a hint of a smile playing at your lips.

"Details, details," your girlfriend waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, cariño. It's a gorgeous evening, and I promise this time there will be no unexpected livestock involved. Just us, the open road, and some ice cream."

You let out an exasperated groan, knowing all too well the charm she wielded. “You are impossible,” you said, but despite your words, you found yourself being led away, your reluctance melting under the warmth of her excitement.

“And yet, you love me,” Mapi declared with a hint of mischief in her voice, her eyes sparkling as she interlaced her fingers with yours, sealing the moment with a touch that felt both daring and intimate. A triumphant smile spread across her face, radiating confidence. “Now, let’s get you out of those stuffy, serious clothes and into something a little more...wind-resistant.” She waved her hand toward your impeccably pressed blouse and tailored blazer, her playful tone hinting at a teasing adventure that awaited.

A short while later, you stepped out in a casual leather jacket that Mapi had somehow convinced you to buy months ago. Whistling appreciatively, the footballer looked you once over. “Look at you, a total biker chick. We should get matching helmets.”

"Don't push it." You warned, slipping on the helmet Mapi handed you.

As you set out on the open road, the exhilarating rush of the wind swirled around you, tugging at your clothes and playfully tousling your hair. You found yourself gripping Mapi a little tighter than you had intended, your fingers entwining in a way that spoke volumes, though Mapi offered no protest. The deep, resonant hum of the engine vibrated through your bones, merging with the chaotic symphony of honking horns and distant laughter from the city streets, which slipped by in a vibrant blur of colors and movement.

Each glance outside revealed a fleeting kaleidoscope of urban life, the gleam of sunlit skyscrapers, the flicker of passing pedestrians, and the multicolour banners flapping against the backdrop of a rich blue sky. Meanwhile, the steady rhythm of Mapi's heartbeat pulsed beneath your palm, grounding you in the moment and filling you with comfort. It was an intimate connection, a rare indulgence that stirred feelings within you that you typically kept at bay. In this fleeting experience, amidst the rush and Thrill of the ride, you allowed yourself to embrace that feeling, relishing the sense of closeness that momentarily eclipsed your usual reservations.

As the traffic light glowed bright red, Mapi turned her head slightly, glancing back over her shoulder, a playful grin lighting up her face. “Admit it, you’re having fun,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You let out a mock huff, striving to sound indifferent while your grip on the bike tightened protectively. “It’s tolerable,” you replied, trying to maintain an air of coolness.

Mapi’s laughter rang out, infectious and bright. “I’ll take it! Now, what about ice cream?” she asked, excitement dancing in her voice.

“Fine, but I’m choosing the flavour,” you declared, determined to have your say in the matter.

“Deal,” Mapi responded, the engine of the motorcycle purring to life as the light shifted to green. With a playful twist of the throttle, she surged forward, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Just remember, if you pick vanilla, I might have to reconsider this whole relationship.”

Behind the protective shell of your helmet, a smile threatened to break free. “Too late,” you said, warmth flooding your chest. “You’re stuck with me.”

[matteglaze]

Thinking abt Todoroki Shouto, and how he isn't as dense as he comes across...

When reading fanfics Shouto is always oblivious and dense, and yes, I wholeheartedly agree with that—

But i feel like Shouto also does it on purpose, you know? Like, one day you're both talking, and he's just soo up close to your face. 'He probably doesn't realize' you rationalize inside your head, but no, he's definitely aware of the affect he has on you. Your reactions are cute, he thinks, cute in the way he can't seem to stop teasing you.

I think he'd pay extra close attention to people that are close to him, people he holds dear, so whenever you stutter, or your mind goes and blank and you think 'Oh, I hope he didn't notice that—' he does.

I think that's why I like the idea that he's actually a little menance, but the worst part is that he gets away with it !!

Whether it's saying something so humbling and out of depth— something that many would take offense to but think, 'well, he didn't really mean it that way— that's just how he is', NOPE!! he definitely meant it that way, but not clarifying anything saves him the trouble so why should he care yk...

Though, he mostly (all the time really) does it with you. Getting up in your personal space, saying things like "When we're on a mission together, I feel like I can handle anything as long as you're the one by my side"— and it flusters you sooo badly, but no, this is Shouto we're talking about, clearly he didn't mean it like that, right? Right? (And the entire time, he's trying to bite down a Cheshire grin)

So, yes, in the earlier years of being a hero he wasn't really great at communication and unaware of social cues— but now, he's practically evil with the way he acts around you.

Sometimes you think you see it; you're going to call him out on his behavior. There's no way he didn't know what he was doing when he held your face in his hands on a hot summer day, pulling you close and saying, "Is this cooling you down?" (No, actually, this was just heating you up)

But whenever you do call him out on it—

"You know, you're not that slick." You say one day, ice cream cone in hand as you walk next to him, bumping him with your hip. Your eyes slide over towards his mismatched ones, gauging his reaction closely. If you were anyone else you would have probably missed the slight quirk of his lip; the uplift of his brows. But you don't, and the grin on your face overtakes most of your features. Maybe today will be the day he finally admits it. Instead he doesn't speak, takes one lick of his mint chocolate ice cream and then he turns to you, a silent question appearing on his face. A taunt.

You let out a humourless breath, cone tight in your hand as you point it in his direction. Accusing him of something both of you know you won't be able to prove, but he knows you know, and you know he knows you know. But, it'd be really great if he could just admit it, because it's almost like a game.

A game between just the two of you.

"Don't try and act blonde now!" You chide, biting on your bottom lip to control the smile that tries to force it's way on your face.

Shouto smiles at your antics, leaning in close to you, and all of a sudden he completely invades your senses. The smell of mint on his lips is so close, and yet so far. He stares deeply into your eyes, and just as you thought you were getting closer to the truth— he brings his thumb up to wipe absent mindlessly at the corner of your mouth. He pulls back, looks you in the eyes, and takes a tentative lick at the frosty flavour on his thumb. With a cat-like tilt to his head, he says, "I'm not blonde?"

But, the worst part is whenever he speaks about you to others, he speaks so fondly of you; like one would do about their partner— but you guys aren't together. Sometimes he does it right in front of your face whenever you guys are at a hero gala. Shouto sees you talking to a new and upcoming, young, pro-hero and he immediately comes to your side. With how close he is, and with the things he says to them, "I can never imagine myself without them by my side." It gives people the idea that you're both, you know, a thing.

Little do you know, he's been playing this 'game' ever since high school, and even though the two of you aren't exclusive— it doesn't mean he can't get in his fun.

Todoroki Shouto is not good for your health.

[slushyxcx]

Marlboro Reds [2]

Summary: Hamzah starts to act on his emotions

Chapter 2

All this kissing has made you bold. 

It’s like some dam has broken, now that you have permission to touch Hamzah. 

You pass him in the hallway and brush your fingertips along Hamzah’s lower back like it’s nothing, like he won’t be feeling the ghost of your touch for hours. You all go out to eat dinner together at least once a week, and you really act like it's pure chance that you’re seated next to Hamzah, shifting so your knee presses against his. On the field after pickleball, you’re spread out in the grass like a snow angel, Hamzah leaning against the fence above you, and you reach up to curl your fingers around his ankle, pressing your palm against the delicate tendons. 

There’s a look in your eyes that can only be described as longing. And it scares the shit out of him. 

You’re really good at hiding it. Hamzah probably wouldn’t be able to tell at all, if he wasn’t paying such close attention to you himself. 

“Hamzah,” you say softly, in that way you make it sound like you’re incredibly happy just to see Hamzah, which is stupid as fuck and can’t be true. But that’s how you make it sound, anyway. 

“Hey,” he says, super casually, and then throws his arm around your shoulders in an awkward one-armed half hug. You quickly rotate and successfully pivot his sad attempt into a full hug, a brief one, just long enough for everything to go silent as Hamzah feels himself surrounded by warmth for a moment, taking a greedy inhale of your perfume. Then you pull back and go back to rummaging around in the kitchen, like everything is totally normal, except you’ve got a shit eating grin on your face that is not being well hidden by the cupboard. 

“Be cool,” he chides, once again using your last name.

“I’m cool, I’m cool.” You dispute your own statement by following it with a giddy sort of giggle that makes Hamzah’s face heat up. 

Luckily, Hamzah is saved from saying something incredibly stupid like you’re so cute by the arrival of Mandy, who takes one look at Hamzah’s face and spins to raise her eyebrows at you. 

“Babe, we’ve talked about this,” Mandy lectures, faux-disappointed. “You can’t flirt with Hamzah before 12pm. It makes him all jittery and I’ve got to deal with him for today. I mean look at him, he’s all red now!” 

“Sorry Mandy,” You give her an extremely fake apologetic look, hands tucked behind your back as you rock on your heels. “I can flirt with you too, if you’d like?”

“Excuse you?! She is mine, my wife!” Martin calls out from behind as he walks by and circles his arms around Mandy’s waist, tugging her out the front door without stopping. Mandy reaches out and snags Hamzah by his jacket pocket, so he just gives you a helpless sort of wave as he’s dragged along outside. You blow him a kiss and then wait expectantly until Hamzah rolls his eyes and reaches out to catch the kiss in the air and put it in his pocket. Embarrassing as hell, but worth it to see your pleased little toothy smirk.

Now that he has your touch, he doesn't want to lose it. He’s starting to crave your goodbye hugs, starting to wait eagerly for the chance to feel the brush of your fingertips in the hallway. And it makes him greedy, makes him feel things he shouldn’t feel. Things he never normally feels. Things like- 

Like jealousy.

He first notices it that afternoon when he, Mandy and Martin come back from their grocery shopping for tonight’s video: baking cookies for the holidays.

But of course it ends up becoming a competition. 

The kitchen is a fucking mess. Flour dusts the counters, the floor, even the cabinets. Stray clumps of dough here and there, some of it stuck to the edges of the counter where they absentmindedly scraped it off the spatula. Okay, he’ll be honest, they just used their hands. 

A few of the cookies are lopsided, one side being over-baked and the other still doughy and undercooked. The cinnamon-sugar coating didn’t stick well on most of them, leaving patches where the cookies are bland and pale, while others are overloaded with cinnamon, making them taste more like dry spice than the soft, sweet bite of a snickerdoodle. The texture is all wrong—some are crunchy in spots, soft in others, and far too greasy, the butter not properly incorporated. In the middle of the mess, there’s one cookie that's basically just an unappetising mound of goo, its shape completely distorted by an overly eager hand that couldn’t stop squeezing it too tightly before baking.

“Oh come on! There’s no way, no way, that Martin’s is better than mine,” Hamzah runs hands through his hair, the flour smearing all over his locks. “You only say that ‘cause you guys do things to each other at night.”

Mandy pointedly ignores that comment as she chugs a glass of water to get the rancid taste out of her mouth. She could taste each individual ingredient separately as if they didn’t even bother to mix everything together.

“Okay, well, let’s bring them out! See what they think.”

The sink is a mountain of dirty dishes—a bowl crusted with sticky dough, measuring spoons caked in cinnamon, a spatula completely coated with dough that’s hardened into a thick, sticky layer. The smell of burnt butter lingers.

“Um, look, I know it’s my turn to wash the dishes but, I’m not washing all that.”

Mandy walks over to you and firmly holds your hands, “Hamzah thinks I’m being biased so now you’re the judge.” 

She tugs you towards the table. “No, Mandy,” you plead desperately as she drags and maneuvers you so you’re only just in view of the camera, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’ll do the dishes, I swear! I’ll do anything!” 

“Aw that’s really hurtful,” Martin pouts. “We worked really hard on these.” He pushes the plate of cookies towards you. 

“Ah! Not so fast,” Hamzah interjects, spinning the plate so his side of cookies faces towards you. “You’re starting with mine. I don’t want you comparing this masterpiece to his…attempt.”

Hamzah watches you pick up the first cookie, which, frankly, looks a little better than Martin’s, and take a tentative bite. He figures the texture is at least somewhat consistent. They’re greasy, a little too crunchy on the outside, but inside, they’re edible at least. The cinnamon isn’t as wildly scattered, though a few cookies are definitely overloaded with sugar, giving them a sickly sweet aftertaste.

You catch his eye and he hopes that you can’t see the raw vulnerability behind his attempt to act cool, to act like you picking him doesn’t matter to him, when it clearly does. His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as he waits. 

“They’re… not bad.” You say finally, nodding as you chew. Hamzah’s shoulders relax ever so slightly, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.

“Ha! They said not bad! See? See- OW!” Martin’s obnoxious gloating is abruptly ended by a swift slap to the back of the head.

Next, you reach for Martin’s batch, a lopsided, cinnamon-sugar-coated mess. It looks like something that didn’t make it past the “dough” phase. The edges are burnt, while the middle remains doughy, an inescapable combination of undercooked and overdone. You bite into it, and God help you. The dough is clumpy and sticks to your teeth. The cinnamon coating is an afterthought, uneven and mostly concentrated in one corner. Your eyes water a little from the dryness.

You manage a forced smile. “Hm. Well, Martin, your… your cookies are definitely unique.” you say, trying to keep the edge of your voice light and playful.

“Okay,” you say, dragging the word out, just enough to let the suspense build. You glance at Hamzah, and he knows that you know how badly he is waiting for your approval.  “I think—” You tilt your head, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you now, “—I think Martin’s cookies are definitely better.”

No way.

Now look he’s not the best chef in the world but his cookies were marginally better than Martin’s. And he knows that you know that because Hamzah catches the briefest flicker of a smile across your face before you quickly disguise it as a cough, shifting your gaze to Martin’s loud celebration.

Hamzah clears his throat. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, his tone more hushed than before, “I guess you’d say that.” The words come out like an accusation, but the look in his eyes says something entirely different. It’s a vulnerability he can’t hide, and he knows you love that you’ve managed to push him this far. 

The second time it happens, they’re all hanging out and pregaming for tonight’s party.

Chase shoots him a look when he sits down on the couch. “Oh, he finally decides to grace us with his presence.” 

Hamzah scowls his way. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” Chase shrugs in a not at all casual way, “just you’ve been so busy with your girlfriend lately…” 

Hamzah forgets to pretend he doesn’t know who he’s referring to. “She’s not my girlfriend, asshole.” 

“Clearly, ‘cause Claire is all over her.” 

“What-” Hamzah spins around to see you sitting with Claire and her friends today and goddamn- Claire is practically on top of you, she’s sitting so close, your sides pressed together as you both talk. It makes something hot flare in Hamzah’s mind, the slimy slither of jealousy curling down his spine. 

When he turns back around, the boys chorus an “oooh” and jostle each other like Hamzah has revealed something. 

“He’s jealous!” Martin chimes. 

“I am not,” Hamzah snarls back, looking down to hide the red flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. “They can do whatever they want.” 

“Sureee,” Chase jeers and they’re just fucking around, but Hamzah suddenly can’t take it, can’t deal with this right now. 

“Fuck you guys,” Hamzah spits, and stands up to stalk out of the room, ignoring their calls of surprise behind him. 

The thing is that it shouldn’t matter. You and Claire have started getting close ever since you arrived here. Hamzah has never given a fuck before now. It’s just-

It just feels different now.

Like there’s been… something building between Hamzah and you, these last few weeks, something smoldering and hot. And all of the sudden, he feels unsteady, like maybe he’s been imagining it. Like maybe you don't feel it too. 

Which is stupid, because you haven't done anything different, but now Hamzah can’t stop thinking about it. About every time you give a casual hug to someone, or bunch into Mandy’s backseat with the others, pressed together, or walk hand-in-hand with Claire when you’re both out window shopping. 

He can’t stop thinking about it. He spends all day thinking about it. So when you amble over outside to smoke, Hamzah feels all his emotions rise up. 

“Hey,” you say, easy as anything, because you don't know Hamzah’s spent the last four hours in his head. 

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t say anything-

“Shouldn’t you be with Claire?” Hamzah half snarls before he can stop himself, and fuck. 

Your eyebrows shoot up at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” Hamzah stubs out his cigarette as fast as he can and backpedals. “Forget it. I’ll see you later. Or won’t. Whatever.” 

“Hamzah, wait-” 

He’s so stupid. He didn’t need to say shit, and now he’s shuffling out of the house before you can say anything else, before Hamzah can say anything else that might expose that he’s jealous. 

Him, Hamzah. Jealous. 

And for what? Just because he got a few hugs and kisses, now he doesn’t want you kissing anyone else? It’s absurd. Completely absurd.

And yet, Hamzah can’t help it. Some sick, selfish part of him wants you all to himself. 

And there’s a party tonight, a party Hamzah has no interest in going to, except- 

Well, except what if you are there and someone starts chatting you up?

That’s why he ends up crowded in with a bunch of other people at someone’s house that night, shitty cocktail in hand. 

He’s just building up a comfortable buzz when his eye catches on something in the corner of his vision. Hamzah turns automatically and-

What the fuck?

Just across the room, you and some guy he’s never seen before, looking cosy as hell on one corner of the couch, the guy leaning forward way more than necessary to hear you over the noise of the party. 

Hamzah barely feels the trickle of alcohol down his hands as he clutches his plastic cup so hard it cracks, liquor dribbling to the floor. 

He can’t drag his eyes away. 

You’re in your untouchable mood right now, Hamzah can tell. Mostly because you are dressed in tight black trousers and an even tighter red satin shirt, and your slender fingers are dripping with thin gold rings. 

You are nodding along with whatever the other guy is saying, although even from here, Hamzah can tell you’re not really listening, your eyes distant. Which should be a comfort, because you are obviously not interested in this guy, you are clearly just being polite, but where exactly does this other guy get off, sitting so close to you like that? Smiling at you like he fucking knows you at all, obviously angling himself to try to catch your eye? What the fuck? How fucking dare he? 

Hamzah is frozen in place, stupefied by the audacity. The one consoling factor Hamzah has is that they’re not touching- until the guy leans even closer, his knees bumping into yours, and he puts his fucking hand on your arm. Hamzah feels the fury in his blood heat up by a thousand percent as he watches the guy drag his fingertips along your wrist. 

And then.. 

Your gaze flickers away from that guy and goes directly across the room. Your eyes meet Hamzah’s glare. You raise one eyebrow, the question in your expression clear as day. Not a challenge, not exactly. Just a simple question.

And? What are you going to do about it? 

Hamzah clenches his jaw so hard he can hear his teeth grind. 

“Hold this.” Hamzah shoves his broken cup into the hands of whoever the fuck he was pretending to talk to and stalks across the room, everyone getting the fuck out of the way of the familiar sight of Hamzah on the warpath. When he gets close, both you and the other guy look up, the guy’s expression confused as he pulls his hand back, and you- you are smirking, your teeth bared, your little fang poking out, mocking Hamzah. 

Fuck it.  

Sometimes Hamzah is too far deep in his own head, stuck in a constant feedback loop of second guessing. 

But now Hamzah’s not thinking at all. He’s acting purely on instinct. 

Which is why when Hamzah reaches the couch he, without pausing, pulls your wrist, slinging one arm around your waist for balance, and drops you into his lap.

“Hey.” His hands go to your hips, steadying you, tugging you back so you’re more securely seated, back flush against his front.

You do not hesitate. You wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. Hamzah’s knees knock the intruder out of the way and maybe the other guy says something, maybe he doesn’t, Hamzah wouldn’t know because his attention is 100% focused on you. 

“Hey,” you hum, satisfied, as you tip your head back onto his shoulder so you can make eye contact. 

“You doing alright?” Hamzah’s voice comes out raspier than he means to, because internally every inch of him is screaming at the amount of physical contact that is occurring right now. 

“I am now that you're here,” you say easily, your smile widening at Hamzah’s automatic eye roll and scoff. 

“Does that line usually work?” 

“Mm, I don't usually need a line.” 

And oh yeah, that’s why Hamzah came over here in the first place. 

He looks around to see that your conversation partner has disappeared, storming off in a huff while you and Hamzah were murmuring to each other. His absence means there’s room on the couch next to him now, means that you can get off his fucking lap, but Hamzah makes no move to relinquish his grip on your waist, so you lets yourself lean further back into Hamzah instead, tucking your face against his neck. 

“Hey,” Hamzah repeats, his voice rough, letting his eyes close as he subtly inhales the comforting smell of you. 

Hamzah feels your chuckle rumble through him. 

“Hamzah, are you drunk?”

“Maybe a little,” Hamzah admits, his free hand dropping down to toy with your fingers in your own lap. He’s on fire, every inch of him burning where you touch, and yet he can't get enough, needs more, always more. He hasn't even had that much to drink, not really, but this much physical contact with you is short-circuiting his brain, making it hard to think beyond the yes perfect more safe exactly warm everything yes spiral his mind keeps repeating. 

“You know everyone can see us?”

Hamzah starts to move you off of him immediately, taking your comment as a complaint, but you tighten your grip on his hair, making Hamzah whimper and go still. 

“I don't mind,” you say firmly. “I just want to make sure you don't mind.” 

And maybe the soothing of your touch has made him too comfortable, because Hamzah doesn't stop himself from saying, “Maybe I want them to see.”

He still has his face pressed against your throat, so he can’t see your reaction to his words, but he can feel the quick inhale, the way you move to intertwine your connected hands. That kind of victory is extra sweet, to pull uncontrolled reactions from you, who is normally so careful and contained. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe and there’s something hypnotically soothing about it. Hamzah has the sudden thought that he could stay like this forever. 

It’s hard to even remember why he was so jealous, when the difference is obvious, when you look at him in a way you look at no one else. When you come alive when Hamzah’s close. 

Still, he needs to know-

“Who the fuck was that, by the way?” 

“Hmm?”

“That guy you were talking to.” 

“Oh, I have no idea.”

Hamzah’s jaw drops, pulling his head back again to stare at you incredulously as the pieces fall into place. “Were you flirting with some random guy just to lure me over here?” 

Your answering smile is unrepentant. “Why would that lure you over here?” You reach up and start to twirl a lock of hair around one finger, the picture of innocence. “Do you… not want me to flirt with other people?”

The phrasing of this sentence implies that Hamzah is a person with whom you are flirting with, a thought that makes whatever synapses were still firing in Hamzah’s poor, pathetic brain snap and go silent. Your smirk is wolfish as you wait for Hamzah to reply.

“You’re a menace.” Hamzah manages, avoiding the question. 

“You like it.” 

“I never said that.” 

“So you don't care if I flirt with other people then.”

“I never said that either.” 

You hum, your breath ghosting along Hamzah’s skin. “I’m getting some mixed messages here.” 

Hamzah huffs, his hands still holding your free hand, toying with your rings. “You know how I feel.” He pauses and licks his lips. “... You do know how I feel, right?” 

“Hmm… maybe,” you say, grinning and knocking your head lightly against Hamzah’s own when he won’t look up at you.  

Hamzah grumbles out your last name, pretending to be displeased at this response, although he’s smiling too. 

“Yes, baby?” You press a smile against Hamzah’s hair, as if that will hide it. And shit, fuck, fucking hell, you are too good at this game and Hamzah wasn’t ready, wasn't prepared to hear this term of endearment fall from your lips, so he’s not able to muffle the high pitched noise he makes in response. 

Because you’re still in his fucking lap , Hamzah can feel you laughing, your body vibrating. 

“Fuck you,” Hamzah mutters, no heat behind his words. “Asshole.” 

“That's not what the other guys say,” you say liltingly, your tone light and teasing. 

Maybe he has had more to drink than he thought, because Hamzah doesn't hesitate.

“Well, you’re not in their lap, are you?”

Hamzah can feel the stretch of your smile against the side of his head.

“I’m sorry for saying Martin’s cookies were better than yours,” you pout at him, dipping your head to the side as you run your fingernails through his scalp. 

Hamzah hums and closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “It’s okay, I know mine were better anyway.”

“Barely,” you scoff, slowly sinking your fingers further into his hair and applying a light, but firm, pressure to his scalp, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Oh, c’mon, you know-” 

You take advantage of his open mouth and kiss him, playing roughly with his tongue. Hamzah’s lips chase after you when you pull away. You sit up, grinning at his eagerness, as you place one hand on top of his chest.

“You’re cute,” you murmur, slow and sweet as syrup, and maybe Hamzah would feel more embarrassed if he couldn't tell that you are just as flustered as he is. Despite your steady tone, you can’t hide the way your pupils are blown wide, the way you shiver every time Hamzah shifts against you, your possessive grip on Hamzah’s hair. 

“Am not.” 

“Agree to disagree?”

“Fuck no.” 

[undercvrfan444]

For weeks you felt as though someone was shadowing you. Anytime you went out a feeling of paranoia would settle in your shoulders and make you sick.

Whispers of white would grace your peripheral vision. It was always the same messy movement, gone before you could truly get a look at where the color originated from.

You’d been out all day. A close friend had asked you to come over and help her pack up the apartment she’d been living in for the past few months.

“I’m gonna miss you being around.” You said after taping the last box shut. What you really wanted to tell her was you’d miss feeling like you knew someone in this large city.

Nobara smiled softly at you. “I’m gonna miss you too babe!” A comfortable silent falls between the two of you while large cardboard boxes are squeezed together beside the door.

Lost in your own thoughts you almost don’t feel the petite gand on your shoulder, whipping around out of surprise. “Whoa! What’s going on with you girl?”

A small frustrated sigh pushes from your lips. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know..” Running your fingers through your hair, thoughts race behind your eyes.

“I-I don’t know how else to say this, but…I think i’m being stalked.” Feeling the words come off your tongue left you with a bitter taste in your mouth. To admit something was truly happening to you was to accept the fear that dwelled in your chest when “he” was around.

And possibly the arousal too.

How is it that a person could be stalked and in some sick fucked up way, they could be turned on by that disturbing fact. Your heart rate speeds up as you feel the subtle creeping of heat tickle your cheeks.

Nobara is quick with her response, not letting a single thing slip past her.

“Stalked?” She murmured. “By who? I know there’s a lot of sick fucks out there, but damn.”

“I’m not sure to be honest. Whoever he is, he isn’t stupid. Any time I go out of my house I feel him.”

“Feel him? Babe what-“

“He’s never gotten physical with me! Partially because I think he’s either scared o-or maybe just trying to scare me. I haven’t figured which one yet.”

Thick, uncomfortable silence fills the air. Almost as if “he” could be summoned by a mere whisper of his existence. You can’t be scared. How could you lie to Nobara and tell her you were startled by this person when there was a pool of arousal forming in your panties. It was a sick world you lived in and you were sicker so.

For hours the two of you spoke about your unidentified stalker. You delve into the details of every wispy stray hair you’d see from the corner of your eyes, how his mere presence made you believe whoever he was it was undoubtedly certain strength lies within him. The conversation drew on so long the sun sank and the moon had now rose to show herself.

The cushion your body has been residing on felt as though it melded to be one with your body; signaling your time to leave.

“Y/n I’m not sure you should go home. Wouldn’t you feel safer staying here? I know everything is packed up but at least you would have another person with you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I’ve never been attacked anyway Nobara, i’m sure i’ll be fine going home tonight.”

With that you were sent on your way, multiple opportunities to stay with Nobara were presented and you shot every single one down. Why? Maybe because it intrigued you to think of your stalker finally showing himself to you. You enjoyed the idea of someone caring so much about you that they’d go out of their way to STALK you.

Cool, crisp night air fills your lungs with every shallow breath you take. From behind you footsteps easily mimicked your own. Any other normal person wouldn’t have been able to recognize the sound, but you’d grown to expect the sound. In fact…you craved to hear those perfectly synchronized steps.

The entirety of your walk home, his footsteps echoed behind you. Stuttering heartbeats pounding so hard your ribs hurt. Terror ran rapid throughout your body and eventually morphed into excitement.

Finally reaching your door, you paused for a moment. “Are you still there?” Your small voice was shaky; unsure of what answer you preferred more. The world seems to go quiet around you. Unfortunately there was no sound behind you. No breathing, no steps, no ruffling of clothes, just the breeze blowing past your hair.

AUTHORS NOTE:

so ik this is random but like i’ve got fragments floating in my head and this is one of them

[noc1818]

A Score to be Settled - Chrollo X Reader Fanfic

Hey everyone! I've had this idea for a Chrollo fic swirling around in my head for a while now, where Chrollo wrongs the reader, who's also from Meteor City, during their childhood. This event impacts them so deeply that they’re willing to go to any lengths to seek revenge and settle the score. This chapter is just the backstory leading up to the main plot. If you're interested in reading more, let me know—I’m really enjoying writing it and have a lot more I want to explore! Plus, it’s a fun project to help me get back into writing again. I truly appreciate any support!

Also, this is mostly unedited because I was too excited to share, so feel free to let me know if anything needs fixing!

A few warnings for this piece: Dark themes, death, angst, and intense struggles for survival.

Chapter One: The Debt

Meteor City - Residential Area, 1984

Digging through the scrap was a common occurrence in Meteor City. It was the only way to survive. It always astonished you that people would just throw out and dump some of this stuff without a second thought. Had they never had to scavenge for food or clothes? The idea of having a roof over your head and some form of food security felt like a distant daydream. But that was not your reality. Even at such a young age, the harsh truth of Meteor City was ingrained in your very being.

This had always been the case, at least since you could remember. Your first true memory was when you were five years old, hiding in a broken refrigerator with your little sister, Sumi, who was only two at the time, from some less-than-favorable characters searching the area. That was the reality for all the kids in Meteor City—except for Sumi. She was always a ray of light. Even in the darkest moments, she could spin a positive outlook, which, while uplifting, was sometimes a bit overwhelming.

Recently, she’d been going on and on about a group of kids, she’d met who performed shows for anyone willing to watch. Every day, she came back excited, telling you all about the latest show and its colorful cast of characters. You had promised her that one day you’d go with her to check out the performances. But the reality was that most of your days—hell, your entire childhood—had been spent scavenging and trying to make the best shelter you could for Sumi and yourself.

Still, if you were honest with yourself, your efforts were starting to pay off. You had gathered enough food and non-perishable goods to start a stockpile for the coming winter.

Not only had you been gathering food, but you had been saving Jenny, hoping to accumulate enough to get you and your sister out of the city. At thriteen years old, hidden in your makeshift shack and buried deep within an old metal tea kettle, you had quite a bit saved up. The reality was that it wasn’t much, but to a child with nothing, a hundred Jenny could change a life. Soon, you and Sumi would leave this scrap heap behind and start a real life. You’d be able to give her a solid foundation and a secure future.

As if on cue, scrambling down the narrow paths between the trash heaps, Sumi appeared. She ran toward you in her oversized pink sweater, patched and worn where the fabric had torn over time. She wore frayed blue shorts and dirty old sneakers. As she approached, you noticed her shoes were untied again and made a note to try to teach her how to tie them properly.

Upon seeing you, Sumi immediately called out, “Big Sis!”

Looking up, you gave her a warm smile and a wave. “Sumi, be careful running like that! You might fall!”

Hearing your call, she slowed down and made her way to your makeshift shelter. You had found a space between two scrap heaps, covered with metal sheets that mostly kept the rain out during downpours. You’d draped a cloth over the outside to help keep out the cold and block prying eyes from seeing inside.

Sumi walked over with a big smile, immediately hugging you tightly. “Big Sis, the show today was so cool! They were doing a musical.”

You hummed in acknowledgment of her excited ramblings. Your focus was more on her worn shoes and thinking how you might be able to get her a new pair. But Sumi bright, attentive eyes and her soft call of your name brought your attention back to the present.

“Y/N, are you listening?” she asked, tilting her head with a playful smile.

You nodded, ruffling her hair as you gave her your full attention. “Yes, I’m listening. Tell me all about the play. You said it was a musical, right?”

Sumi’s face lit up as she started rambling in detail about the play, the songs they sang, and the performances. It made you happy to know she had found something that made her so happy and allowed her to still be a kid.

Sumi’s gaze then shifted to the bread rations you’d found and set out for the two of you. She eagerly sat down on the dirt, ready to eat.

“Also, Big Sis, my friend from the play... Can she come over to eat sometime?” she asked, her brown eyes filled with hope.

Typically, you would say no. It was hard enough to feed just the two of you. But this was another kid—another kid from Meteor City—and she made your little sister happier than anyone else could. So, with a reluctant sigh, you nodded, saying, “Sure, but just her, okay?”

Sumi’s eyes widened, and she beamed. “Oh, good! She’ll be so excited when she gets back!”

That last part caught your attention—when she gets back. You wondered what Sumi meant by that, but rather than ask, you focused on the task at hand: getting something to eat. Hunger was often your main drive, having never truly been full your entire life. The two of you ate your bread and chatted the night away until it was time to sleep. You shared a torn-up mattress you’d found one day.

As your sister fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, you found yourself wide awake as always. The night was especially cold, even with the cloth covering the sides of your shelter. The cold air still billowed in, leaving you shivering to your core. Unable to sleep, you quietly got up and made your way outside.

Despite the chill, it was a beautiful night. The full moon illuminated the ruins of the city, casting a soft light on the heaps of metal scrap. The sky was clear—a rare sight since the smog usually made it nearly impossible to see the stars. But tonight, they shone bright and radiant, lighting up the darkness.

Little did you know, that on such a peaceful night, your life would change forever because of one mistake.

The sound of scrap being knocked over in the distance caught your attention. Despite your maturity for your age, your curiosity got the better of you. You crept toward the sound, the noise growing louder with each step. Expecting to find an adult out to cause trouble, you peeked cautiously around a corner. To your surprise, there stood a boy, slightly older than you.

He had his back to you, but you could make out his raven-like hair, which ended just above his ears. He wore a yellow-striped shirt and grey shorts, his sneakers as worn out as those of the other kids in the city. You also noticed his pale complexion. But it wasn’t just his appearance that caught your attention—it was the palpable anger radiating from him.

The boy was frantically searching every crevice in the piles of trash, looking for something—or perhaps someone. When a spot didn’t reveal what he was searching for, he would kick and throw things, sending the scrap tumbling down. But it wasn’t just his actions that struck you. There was an energy about him, an intense, almost suffocating wave of anger and despair that filled the air, making it feel heavy and thick with emotion.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do. You had never encountered such a crushing presence before. The weight of his emotions was almost too much to bear. It took him a while before he realized someone else was there.

He turned toward you, taking a moment to process your presence. Even at his young age, it seemed like he was studying you, trying to figure out who you were. His expression was unreadable, but your silence seemed to provoke him. Without a hint of fear or caution, he started walking toward you. You weren’t surprised—after all, what could a bone-thin girl like you possibly do to a boy older than you?

As he drew closer, you noticed something you would never forget—his eyes. Steely grey, cold as steel, eyes that no child should have. They held a depth of pain, rage, and fear. It was as though his gaze could pierce through you, reading your every thought. The emptiness in them was unsettling, yet beneath that emptiness was an ocean of raw, unspoken emotion.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze remained locked on yours, unflinching. Then, in a voice that matched the indifference in his expression, he asked, “Why are you out here?”

You hesitated for a moment, processing his question. Finally, you answered in your quiet, almost inaudible voice, “I couldn’t sleep... it’s freezing.”

He listened, his eyes still fixed on yours, and after a brief pause, he nodded slightly. His tone remained flat, as if unaffected by the cold, the silence, or even the raw emotions swirling between you. “I suppose it is quite cold tonight,” he said.

You ask him the same question in return. “Why are you out here?”

Without hesitation, he responds, “I’m looking for someone.”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. Why would he be out here, so late, searching for someone? And what’s more, he’s dressed lightly, yet he doesn’t seem bothered by the cold. Curiosity laces your voice as you ask, “Wouldn’t it be smarter to search in the morning, when there’s daylight?”

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, as if that option simply isn’t available. “Not possible. I’ll find her tonight.”

Normally, you would’ve dismissed him, turned away, and continued with your own business. But he’s another Metor City kid, and something in the back of your mind nags at you. He’s not dressed appropriately for the cold, and if he stays out here like this, he’ll get sick. You remember finding a man’s jacket a while back, one that was too big for you or your sister, and you think maybe it’s time to put it to good use.

“You’re going to catch a cold out here like that,” you say, a note of concern in your voice. “Come with me for two seconds, and I can give you a spare coat we have.”

Your tone is free of malice, just genuine care, and that catches his attention. He gives you a curious glance, eyebrows furrowing as if trying to decipher your intentions. Every kid in this city knows that nothing comes without a price, that nothing is truly free. So when he speaks, his words are cautious.

“I don’t need the jacket.”

His dismissal stings more than you expect, and you sigh, visibly irked. You take a few steps toward him, frustration settling into your voice. “Just take it. We don’t need it.”

At the word “we,” he raises an eyebrow. He’s perceptive, you realize. He takes a step closer, and you suddenly feel the suspicion radiating off him. “You have others with you?”

The question catches you off guard for a moment, but you recover quickly. “Yeah, my little sister, Sum.”

He pauses, his face unreadable, before asking, “You’re Sumi’s older sister? You must be Y/N, then.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. How does he know your name? You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ah, my apologies. Sumi talks about you a lot. She’s always at shows with me and the others.”

That explains it. He must be one of the performer kids Sumi has befriended. You smile, relieved to understand the connection. “Oh! You’re one of Sumi’s friends. She never stops talking about all the shows you all put on. I hear about it all the time.”

“I’m glad she enjoys them so much,” he says with a chuckle. “My name’s Chrollo, by the way. It’s nice to officially meet you, Y/N.”

You extend a hand to him, offering a handshake. “Nice to meet you too, Chrollo.”

As you both shake hands, the conversation continues, and you press him once more to take the spare jacket. He doesn’t seem to trust easily, but the fact that you’re Sumi’s sister seems to put him at ease enough to accept the offer. You can’t let one of your sister’s friends freeze, after all. In your world, you cherish the small acts of kindness, especially when life is so unforgiving.

When you lead Chrollo into your home, you notice his gaze lingering on Sumi, who’s still fast asleep despite the chilly draft in the room.

“She sleeps like a rock,” you say with a smile, reassuring him. “Don’t worry, we won’t wake her up.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, then shifts his attention back to you. “Really? She always seems so happy, so it’s not surprising.”

“She’s always been that way,” you reply, a fondness in your tone. “She’s able to find the bright side of things. I’ve always admired her for that.”

“That’s an admirable trait, but a bit naïve,” he remarks, his eyes scanning the room. “And you, Y/N? Which side do you find yourself on?” His intense gaze meets yours, as if he already knows the answer, as if he’s searching for something more.

You hesitate before answering, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. “While I’d like to see things in the best light, it’s not always something I can afford to do. Life is tough, especially in the city. I’m sure you know that. I guess, if anything, I’m just realistic.”

Your words hang in the air, and you meet his gaze. Life hasn’t been kind, not forgiving, and you’ve learned to take things as they are—even if that means accepting a certain darkness. It’s how you survive. It’s how you cope.

Chrollo watches you as you pull the coat from the cooler you’ve repurposed as a storage bin. You turn to hand it to him, but before you can react, he’s right there, standing so close that you nearly jump in surprise.

“Oh, my—” you start, startled. “You surprised me, Chrollo.”

He chuckles lightly. “My apologies. It wasn’t intentional.” He accepts the jacket with a graceful nod. “Thank you for this.”

You watch him pull the coat on. It’s a bit oversized now, but in a few years, it will fit him perfectly. The jacket is a unique shade of royal purple, with white fur lining the neck and sleeve ends—definitely a one-of-a-kind piece.

“Well, Y/N, I have a search to continue,” he says, turning to leave. But before he pulls the sheet up to shield himself from the cold, he pauses and looks back at you.

“I’m also a realist,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “But there’s something so lovely about dreaming, isn’t there? I look at this life from both spectrums. Sometimes, I even think those dreams we chase so desperately can become our reality—if we push hard enough. Just something to think about.”

With those final words, he leaves before you can respond, disappearing into the night.

You stand there, staring at the door as his words linger in your mind. At first, you feel a sharp irritation. He didn’t ask for your opinion, so why did he offer unsolicited advice? And as for his belief that dreams could be turned into reality with enough force—that seemed utterly delusional, especially for kids like you, or anyone from Metor City. Hell, you’d be lucky just to make it to eighteen.

But something about what he said sticks with you, curling into your thoughts like a stubborn seed. You don’t dwell on it for long. You curl up next to Sumi, trying to shake the thoughts away, and drift into sleep. But as you do, you can’t help but wonder… what if, just for once, he was right?

 The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Sumi’s sobs, her distress pulling you from sleep. Instantly, you pull her into a tight hug.

“Shh, Sumi, it’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt? What happened?” Your voice is steady and calm, a skill you’ve mastered over the years, both as her big sister and in moments of chaos. You’ve always had a knack for calming people in hysteria, and Sumi, in her younger days, gave you plenty of practice.

After a few minutes of reassurance and gentle prodding, she starts to calm down. She looks up at you, her eyes wide and teary, her lip trembling.

“Big sis, it’s… it’s all gone. Our food… our money… it’s all gone,” she says, before breaking into fresh sobs.

At those words, your heart drops. What does she mean? Gone? Your stomach twists with dread.

You pull away from Sumi for a moment, moving quickly to the cooler. There’s no way it could be empty. But when you lift the lid, your breath catches. The cooler is completely bare. All the food and supplies you had gathered for months—some even for years—are gone.

Frantically, you move the cooler aside, only to reveal an empty hole beneath it. The kettle where you kept all your jenny, your coins, your savings—also gone. There’s nothing left.

Panic rises in your chest. How could this happen? Who could have taken everything? Why didn’t you hear anything during the night? Your mind races with a hundred questions, each more frantic than the last. Beneath it all, though, a seething anger begins to bubble. How could anyone do this to kids who had nothing?

But then, Sumi’s sobs break through your clouded thoughts, pulling you back to reality. This is where you need to be the bigger sister. You need to calm her down, to give her the reassurance she needs, even if it means making false promises in the moment.

You pull her into another tight hug, patting her head in an attempt to soothe her. “Shh, Sumi. It’s going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. We’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

Your words, however, don’t seem to help. Sumi’s crying only intensifies, her distress deepening.

“No, Y/N, it’s not! It’s almost winter! I may be younger, but I’m not dumb. I knew it took you almost all year to gather what we had, and that was mostly lucky finds. This is my fault!” she says through ragged sobs, her nose sniffling.

“It’s no one’s fault, Sumi,” you reply, your own voice breaking slightly. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, but you fight them back, continuing to hold it together. “We’re going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

But Sumi, seeing the tears in your eyes, crumbles further. “Big sis, you don’t understand. This is my fault! It was my friends at the play. They took our stuff. I shouldn’t have told Big Sis Sarasa where we live. She must’ve told the others. But I don’t know how—she’s been missing for a few days now!”

Your heart sinks, piecing together exactly what’s happened. It was Chrollo. He and his friends took everything. You allowed yourself to be blinded by the fact that he was another kid, someone you thought you could help. But instead, he took advantage of your kindness.

It takes everything in you to hide your shock. You can’t let Sumi see your own pain and disappointment. Instead, you swallow your anger and fear, and lie to her, thinking that protecting her from the truth is what’s best.

“Sumi,” you say, forcing a smile, trying to sound reassuring, “I bet your friends are just borrowing some food from us. Nothing to worry about. They’ll bring it back soon, okay?”

You can see the doubt in her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of hope there too. That spark—the same one she’s always had—begins to flicker. “Prove it, big sis. How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, hoping the lie doesn’t show in your eyes. “I just know, Sumi. I’ll make sure everything’s okay. I promise.”

Even though she doesn’t fully believe you, the fragile hope in her eyes is enough to make you cling to your own false reassurance. For her sake, you need to keep it together, even if it’s falling apart inside.

After Sumi had calmed down enough to be let go, you stood up, needing some space to think and to get some fresh air. You reached for the jacket you had thrown haphazardly over yourself the night before to stay warm, and as you put it on, a small white note fell from the pocket. Sumi, too absorbed in her tears, hadn’t noticed it before.

You hesitated for a moment, but your curiosity got the best of you. You unfolded the note, already knowing who it was from. It could only be one person—Chrollo.

The note read:

Y/N,I am sure you are angry, and rightfully so. It was nothing personal, of course—just my family needed it more than yours. Take this as a lesson and grow stronger from it. Never trust a stranger, no matter what they look like.Best of luck, and do take care of Sumi. Thanks again for your generosity.

As you read the words over again, the initial shock wore off, and a seething anger filled you. That bastard had taken everything—everything—because he could. And now he had the audacity to call it a lesson.

Your blood boiled. You would find him. You would make him pay.

In the midst of your fury, you didn’t notice Sumi, still sitting on the floor, glance over your shoulder and read the note with wide, curious eyes.

“Big sis? What does it say?” she asked, her head tilted, voice uncertain.

You froze for a moment, her question catching you off guard. Then, your mind raced. You knew Sumi couldn’t read—something that, under normal circumstances, would be a problem. But today, it was a relief. More than anything, you wanted to preserve that spark of joy in her eyes, to keep her from losing that innocence and hope.

With a forced smile, you turned to face her and lied through your teeth.

“Oh, it’s just a letter from your friends. They’re gathering more food and are going to bring it to share with us.”

At your words, Sumi’s face brightened. The sadness left her eyes, and joy returned to her expression as she beamed up at you. “Really, big sis? That’s great!”

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile, though inside, your mind was still spinning with your plan for revenge. Sumi spent the rest of the day telling you about the shows and how amazing they were. You listened, but your thoughts were elsewhere, planning the next steps, knowing full well that your reality wasn’t one that relied on hopes and miracles. You would have to be ruthless to survive in this world—and you would.

Meteor City – Residential Area, 1995

Years later, you found yourself standing once again among the scraps of Meteor City, holding a small yellow daffodil. You gazed down at the modest grave, an unreadable expression on your face. Deep inside, though, the wound was still open and raw. The stone atop the grave was crudely carved with the name Sumi. Her grave was one of the few places in this wasteland where life seemed to thrive—a small patch of grass and flowers growing amidst the decay.

You offered a faint, sad smile, thinking that even in death, Sumi brought hope and life wherever she was.

Your mind wandered back to that brutal winter in 1984 when you lost your little sister. After the Phantom Troupe stole everything—your food, your money—you were left with nothing. For months, you scavenged, but it was never enough. The freezing nights and lack of food took a toll, and Sumi grew terribly ill. You searched high and low for medicine, anything that could save her, but the world wouldn’t help two poor kids from Meteor City. Every time you tried, you were chased away or kicked out.

As the weeks dragged on, one night Sumi’s fever spiked too high. You held her until she fell asleep, but then you heard it—those final, shallow breaths. That’s when you knew. Your sister was gone.

Now, standing over her grave, you reached into the satchel you carried and pulled out three items: a ticket to a masquerade ball, a key, and new identification papers. These were the tools you’d carefully acquired through a contact to forge a new identity—a whole new life in Yorknew City. They were your tickets to escape Meteor City, to avenge Sumi, and to strike at the heart of the Phantom Troupe. You couldn’t let them know who you truly were.

You had devoted your life to this, to rebuilding yourself and taking them down—especially Chrollo. He was the one responsible for her death. It was all for greed. But that was going to end now.

Looking once more at Sumi’s grave, you made a vow, your voice firm and steady.

“Sumi, I swear I’ll come back once the debt’s been repaid. After all, we’ve got a score to settle.”

With that, you turned away and walked towards the tinted car that waited to take you to the next step in your journey. The road ahead was long, but it was one you would walk with purpose. Chrollo Lucilfer—the leader of the Phantom Troupe—had no idea what was coming for him. You would make him pay, and you would not stop until you did.

[skimmingmilk]

Hi, thanks again for answering my first ask about Tails and Shadow and Sonic! Similar question here, do you have any headcanons/ideas/musings about Tails and Sharp that you can share? I love their dynamic in the Sharp Edges collection you wrote, and I'm a sucker for any Sonic Prime AU where Tails is the one who interacts with other versions of Sonic. Thanks!

Hi! No problem, I love answering questions where I can and talking things out :)

Ah! I'm so excited you want to know more about Sharp and Tails! :D That's so cool, thanks for being interested! I also really love Tails getting to interact with other versions of Sonic, so I'm happy to do my part to add to it <3

Sharp is (only a little) reluctantly following along with Tails's scheme under the guise that he just needs to make sure the kid keeps a low profile and doesn't end up back on Satine Rouge's radar while they're in Rogue's Row. He can't have his reputation damaged, after all, it's what allows him what little freedom he has to help people. But it's also exciting! Helping Tails on these missions gives him a boost of adrenaline that he's been kinda missing. And he doesn't even have to pretend to kill anyone!

The two of them are very similar to how Nine and Sonic are, they bond quick because they work well together and because Sharp is so similar to Sonic, just a little... sharper. They're also pretty snarky with each other, which they both enjoy, but Sharp will downplay Tails's accomplishments without remorse in a way Sonic would never. Sharp isn't as sensitive to striking an insecure nerve because he doesn't know it's there.

Tails can handle it for the most part, since he's a little more aware of Sharp not being Sonic than Sonic was of Nine not being Tails. He's taken aback occasionally by Sharp's bite, especially when it's anger that's directed at him. He can handle sarcastic quips and even the threats of violence (because he knows he won't follow through), but sometimes things get a little raw and feelings are hurt. But there's still so much Sonic in Sharp that Tails can't help but care about him. Just like it's so easy to forgive Sonic (almost annoyingly so), Tails forgives Sharp as naturally as breathing.

And Sharp's not used to that. It's every rogue for themselves where he's from. And while he's done his best to make sure others have a chance at a fresh start, no one's ever returned the favor. No one's ever cared.

So Sharp and Tails butt heads more than Sonic and Tails do, especially once they leave Rogue's Row to search for more of the prism shards. They're not completely in sync. Mostly because Tails believes Sharp can be more than what he lets himself, and Sharp doesn't want to be told who he is by someone who barely knows him. He also doesn't want to be responsible for anyone other than himself, but is frustrated by how easy it is to want to look out for this lost kid. And how much this kid's opinion of him matters. He tries to resist the attachment at first, but just like Nine found hope and happiness in Sonic, Sharp finds the same meaning in Tails. His bond with him opens him up to become someone that will eventually be the person Nine needs (and Nine's going to get a bit of an extra journey to complement that, too).

Tails will also get to interact with two other Sonics in that AU, too! Drift (from No Place) and Snare (from Boscage Maze), though Snare's name might still change... His bond with both of them is still special, too, but when they meet Sails and Mangey, they're able to bond with them much sooner than Sharp is able to bond with Nine. Sharp and Nine don't really connect until the very end of the adventure, since both of them are too attached to Tails and Sonic, respectively.

Sorry, this totally got away from me! I have so many feelings about my Prime AU and every intention to write more of it if I wasn't so behind on Picket Fence stuff. I'll leave a little snippet of Sharp and Tails chatting though as a treat <3 I can't remember if I've ever shared it before, so sorry if I have, but it takes place a bit after "Keep a Sharp Eye."

Tails sighed at his Prower Paradox Prism Position Predictor Mark 5 when it showed no sign of there being anything remotely like the energy signature of the Paradox Prism nearby. "It's gone." "Told ya it was still busted." Tails ignored him. "But my calculations were precise. Nothing else gives off any kind of energy readings remotely similar. Something had to have triggered it. Or at least had enough of a disruptive frequency to confuse the P.2.5.P." "Weird. Maybe it has something to do with the other you I just saw." Sharp cupped his chin, foot tapping thoughtfully. Tails's attention snapped to him so hard he nearly gave himself whiplash. "What?" "There was another you up in the trees. Right when your gizmo thing stopped working." Sharp twirled his index finger in the direction of the P.2.5.P. Tails gaped at him. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Well, it looked like he was kinda trying to kill you. Like everyone in this city," Sharp reminded him, an edge to voice befitting his name, before he leaned back with a shrug. "Thought it was better if you didn't know you were being actively sniped." Tails could still only stare at him slack-jawed. There were plenty of times Sonic had rendered him speechless over the years, but the dissonance of what he knew about these two versions of his best friend and all their other friends was thoroughly giving his processing capabilities a run for its money. He needed an aspirin. "I thought you said you'd never seen another me in this dimension?" Tails finally ground out. Sharp narrowed his own eyes at his tone. "I hadn't. You're the first you I've ever seen in my life. That guy up there was the second."

[phantom-playdough]

Macaque x GN!Stressed Reader: Fluffy Cuddles

It's been a while since I've written a fic, much less completed one. Especially for the LMK fandom because I've kinda fallen out of the fandom. But I miss writing fics for this show and have been needing a bit of an outlet. And what's more comforting than shadow monkey cuddles? Nothing. That's what I thought lol

Also posted on my AO3: My_inner_phantom

Things have been really exhausting lately. So many things have been pulling at you, demanding your attention that you've hardly had time for yourself. Much less your clingy boyfriend, Macaque. But every time things seem to finally be settling down, something happens that gets in the way of you being able to spend time with him. Needless to say, you're exhausted.

He's been trying his best to be understanding, and he's done a good job so far. Especially by his standards. So, when he finishes training one day, he decides he's sick of sitting around in his hut and doing nothing without you there. It doesn't feel right without you beside him, especially for this long. It's not your fault that you've been so busy, and it's hard for him to be mad at you for long, anyway.

But he misses you.

You've been working so hard lately and have been under so much stress practically every day that it's a miracle you're still holding it together. Heck, if he had to deal with everything you've been coping with, he surely would be doing way worse. But he's sick of being patient when it feels like the universe just keeps throwing things at you. And he'll be damned if he's going to let the universe keep you away from him like this, especially when you both need each other's company.

He lets out a dramatic sigh before dropping into a portal and landing on your couch in your apartment. He can tell you're not home yet, so he decides to lounge on your couch for a bit until you get back. Your scent in the room helps soothe his nerves just slightly, but it also just makes him miss you more. However, he plays it cool when he hears your footsteps enter the building and walk up to your door.

Opening his eye, he peeks over to see you walk inside and kick off your shoes. You don't even seem surprised when you see him on your couch. If anything, you seem relieved.

It's only a moment before you make it over to the couch and face plant into his chest, to which he responds by loosely wrapping an arm around your waist while the other stays behind his head. Despite his casual expression, the way his tail wraps more firmly around your leg is a clear indicator of how much he's missed you.

"Rough day?" You nod into his chest. "Need me to beat anybody up for ya?" He gently offers, which earns a small laugh from you. "Maybe later." You half-joke. His arm and tail tighten around you just slightly, showing clear restraint from pushing you for details or going on a hunt. You appreciate the effort and reward him with a kiss on the cheek, which surprises him a bit.

He'll probably never get used to your affection, and he secretly likes it that way. Every peck on the cheek from you feels like the first, and it reminds him that there's still some good left in this world. In his world.

He smiles after a moment, leaving a small kiss on your forehead in response. If there's one thing you know, it's that he's not going to let you get up for a while.

[27spoons]

travis was a misogynist not a “bitch” and excusing misogyny with “he was 16” is not the move. do 4chan boys get a free pass because theyre still in high school? why cant any of you just admit what he did was wrong and say he grew instead of excusing it with his age 😐

i never said what he did wasn't wrong lmao. I'm a travnat supporter and a travis disliker (idc if they contradict each other)

I HATED his ass in s1. HATED. hell, I hated him for most of s2 as well. it wasn't until my third (I think.) rewatch that I started liking him. once I was able to actually watch the show and think about the characters and their actions... yeah. the way he acted started making sense to me a little.

also... time period. just in general. things were a lot different almost thirty (30) years ago than they are today. the way travis acted is honestly probably pretty accurate for an angsty, hormonal teenage dude for the area.

you guys can argue w me about this but I know for a fact if travis was a chick people would be all "ooooooh toxic yuri uwu" (and I only say that because I would also be saying some shit about toxic yuri. i love toxic yuri.)

low-grade analysis under cut

Travis has done a lot of things I don't like. Let's talk about it.

s1e2 - Nat is trying to talk to Travis about helping Javi. Travis gets all pissy and tells Nat to mind her own business, and then proceeds to leave (and not go help Javi)

s1e3 - Travis forces Javi to spit the gum out by getting him in a headlock. Yes, what he's doing has good intentions behind it. But the way he went about it? Especially considering how young Javi is and all the shit they just went through?

s1e4 - ohhhh boy. This is an episode for travis haters. First and foremost, finding the gun and just taking aim at squirrels (I think idr) for fun, scaring the shit outta everyone.

s1e4 - after nat fucks up her first shot with the gun, he starts saying some shit about "folding laundry and sucking dick", which is super out of pocket considering all Nat has been thus far is supportive of him.

s1e4 - travis points the gun at nat after she calls him flex. which, honestly, was probably just her being a brat in turn for his "folding laundry and sucking dick" comment. either way, SUPER out of pocket.

s1e6 - when they get back to the cabin (holding hands) jackie starts talking shit. travis sits like a submissive puppy in the corner and lets nat talk, when realistically, he's half the problem as well, but he lets her take the attack from jackie. he could have, and should have, stepped up. she isn't the only one responsible for hunting.

s1e6 - the scene where they almost have sex. you know the one. the condom falls out of his pants. the "how many guys have you been with" / "I just wanna know if ("I'm a slut" -nat)". that entire scene pissed me off to no extent. yes, he's been a misogynistic cunt.

same scene - the jason russo comment. "he's a dude", implying that its different for guys, when realistically, it has the same repercussions as it does for chicks. (insert nats speech about vaginas having monologues)

s1e7 - the almost sex scene in the cabin. yeah, he's nervous (and embarrassed), but literally running away????? bruh. not to mention how that whole scenario made nat feel. because, if I was nat? i'd feel like shit. just... terrible. then he spends the next little while just straight up avoiding her????? like????? dude

s1e8 - bobby farleigh. FUCK that scene annoys me. I'm pretty sure I made a post when I was rewatching it last time about how much it pissed me off that travis was acting like that when NAT DIDNT KNOW HIM WHEN SHE SLEPT WITH BOBBY FARLEIGH. SHE DIDNT KNOW HIM. and nat even admits she made a mistake by sleeping with bobby. ("are you seriously gonna ruin this over something so fucking stupid") mind you, what nat said afterwards ("this would have been harder if we actually fucked") wasn't cool either. but she was hurt, and you cant really blame her for her reaction.

s1e9 - him sleeping with jackie. which, you could argue that he was high asf on shrooms, but whatever.

s1e10 - him reacting the way he does when nat just wants to check on him after the events of the previous night. telling her that he got laid (spitefully), snapping when she tries to help him... yeah. he was being a petty ass bitch.

s2e2 - listen. this one isn't on him. i know he was having a whole crisis of faith, but hallucinating lottie while having sex with nat is WILD and makes me so uncomfortable every time I see it (which is why I cant blame sophie thatcher for saying "I've never watched the sex scene" because I cant blame you girl that shit gives me second-hand embarrassment)

Now, let's talk about travnat specifically.

s1e4 - Travis is trying to cut off his dads ring for Javi. he cant do it. nat does it for him. this is the first time they actually have a positive interaction (IMO). nat didn't have to do that. but she did.

s1e4 - the scene in the plane when they share a smoke and talk about their dads. its a trauma-bonding moment. i enjoy that. sue me. they're both able to connect on a level like that because they share similar experiences. both witnessed what happened to their dad. both had a rough relationship with their dad.

s1e4 - that scene where they shoot the buck. nat starts tearing up and having flashbacks. travis is able to calm her breathing down enough to kill the deer.

s1e5 - the scene where they talk about the girls being on their periods. its cute. they flirt and tease. ITS CUTE. sue me. their teasing goes from hostile to playful.

s1e5 - the "magic trick" and the kiss had me giggling and kicking my feet. its cute. nat looks HAPPY. how often is this girl happy anymore? not often!

s1e6 - that plane scene when they're kissing. nat saw that travis was uncomfortable (and likely in his own head) after the tray table thing, and she was able to get them back into the moment without too much fuss.

s1e6 - plane scene with condom. travis was just... insecure. nat realises that after he reveals that he's a virgin. nat reiterates that their relationship means something.

s1e7 - nat asking travis not to go 😭😭😭😭😭 puppy eyes bro. the way travis responds w tears in his eyes...............

s1e8 - nat having the talk w ben about travis. ben saying "I've seen the way he looks at you"...................... ugh puppy love

s1e9 - him sleeping with jackie and saying "but what about natalie?" before they do anything, saying that he thinks he's in love with her........................... if jackie didn't do the whole gaslight thing I don't think they would have slept together. but I think travis felt bad for jackie, travis was also still hurting from his interaction with nat about bobby farleigh, AND the shrooms. it was a bad combination.

s1e9 - nat having her talk w ben about how she thinks she's in love w travis........................ ugh

s1e9 - nat saving travis from shauna right before shauna slices his throat open. travis being #1 priority before she deals w everyone else.

s1e10 - the love confession. (WITH THAT MF ULTRAVOX PLAYING. THAT WAS FUCKED UP. YOU CANT PLAY THAT FOR A MOMENT LIKE THIS AND THE SCENE WHERE WE SEE TRAVIS'S DEAD BODY. FUCKED UP.

early s2 - nat waking up earlier than she normally would for hunting to help travis look for javi. does she have to? no. but she does because she cares about him.

s2e4 - travis being a malewife and helping nat get ready for the competition

s2e4 - travis being the one to pull nat out of the ice and comfort her after they drop the moose

s2e5 - the argument between them about javi being fucked up because travis stopped looking for him after nat planted the ripped, bloodied clothing. i cant blame travis for acting this way. id be pissed if I found out my partner did that too.

s1e8 -the "you're not a bad person, nat. I'm sorry for ever making you feel like one." ugh. traumatized babies.

s1e8 - TRAVIS SAIVNG NAT FROM SHAUNA. TRAVIS SAVING NAT FROM SHAUNA. TRAVIS SAVING NAT FROM SHUANA

s1e9 - the scene when everyone is like pledging allegiance to nat or w/e and travis places her hand over his heart I'm sobbing

anyways. yes. i dislike travis. but i like travnat. i hope i dont regret saying this in the next season, but for right now? i like them. there are more reasons I like travnat than reasons I dislike travis. travis has done fucked up things, but so has nat. their characters and relationship is flawed and I like that. sue me