#now it’s just a running joke between the

[theemporium]

a luke blurb where him and his gf don't show much pda but quin and jack accidentally walk in on them making out? i feel like it would be really funny

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You and Luke were never big on PDA. 

It wasn’t a conscious choice either of you really made. Truth being told, you never really noticed how ‘un-coupley’ the two of you acted until a friend had pointed it out to you somewhere in the first few weeks of college when they were shocked to learn that you and Luke were a couple. 

But it never bothered you. It wasn’t a big surprise considering the evolution of your relationship with Luke was something that changed gradually over time. You had been attached by the hip since day one, each other’s best friend for as long as anyone could remember. You were always together, always found together, would always be together. There was no one in this world that you would consider your bestest friend over Luke Hughes.

It just so happened that somewhere between the years of high school, that friendship evolved into something a little less platonic. But he was still your best friend. He would always be your best friend before he was your boyfriend. Neither of you acted differently after you got together because nothing in the relationship had really changed after the two of you confessed that night, except for the fact you just happened to make out with him as much as you laughed at the stupid jokes he told.

So even though you and Luke had been together as a couple for the better part of six years, you never really acted like one in front of people. 

Which is why Jack and Quinn tended to be so dramatic whenever the two of you did anything remotely coupley. 

“Did you put sunscreen on today?” 

Luke paused, pulling back and slowly blinking his eyes open to look at you with an incredulous look. “Why the hell are you thinking about sunscreen whilst making out with me?” 

“Because your skin feels really warm,” you retorted, unbothered by the way his lip jutted out with a small pout as you poked the reddening skin on his shoulder. The hiss he let out instantly made you snort. “Fucking knew it.”

“You were hogging the bottle,” Luke retorted, smacking your hand away when you tried to poke him again before it returned to its rightful place on your ass. 

“No, you were more focused on putting sunscreen on me to remember yourself,” you corrected with a smile.

“Yeah, well, you whine so much when you’re sunburnt,” Luke huffed, laughing a little when you lightly smacked his chest. “Kidding, babe, love you.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered as you leaned down, pressing your lips against his and letting out a content noise as he squeezed your ass, pulling you further onto his lap before he pushed his tongue into your mouth and—

“OH MY GOD, MY EYES! MY FUCKING EYES!” 

Luke let out a heavy sigh, his head falling against your shoulder as he grumbled under his breath. “Every fucking time.” 

“Gross, guys,” Quinn frowned at the sight of you two on the sunlounger whilst Jack dramatically continued to gag behind him. “So gross.” 

“What happened to the two of you doing a grocery run in the town?” You questioned, making no move to shift off your boyfriend’s lap, though his hands moved to rest on your waist now. 

“We did it and came back already to find you—” Jack paused, placing a hand on his chest as he shuddered. “Defiling the furniture.” 

“Drama queen,” Luke grumbled.

You snorted. “As if you didn’t do much worse three summers ago when I saw you and that girl on the boat—” 

Jack’s eyes widened. “LALALA! SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT SHE IS TALKING ABOUT!” 

Quinn whirled around to look at him with narrowed eyes. “What the fuck did you do on the boat?” 

Luke grinned, turning to look at you as his brothers continued to bicker in the background. “It’s kinda hot when you blackmail people.” 

You grinned back. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “Wanna show me how hot? Preferably in a room with a lock so we don’t have to repeat of the other day.” 

Luke scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Quinn should learn to knock. That is not our fault.”

.

[gpcwsl]

Alexia and r have a 10 year age gap and alexia’s always acting really sweet and boyfriend to r in private but refuses to acknowledge there’s something between them and being cold in public then being apologetic but happy ending please!

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Invisible in the light - adored in the dark

WC: 969

MasterList

Warnings: age gap, ignored? Kiss?

Song: you were good to me - Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

The first time it happened, you brushed it off.

Maybe Alexia didn’t hear you when you called her name. Maybe the restaurant was too loud, or maybe she was too focused on whatever conversation she was having with her teammates.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

In private, Alexia was everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. She held you so close at night that it felt like she was afraid you would slip through her fingers.

She pressed lazy kisses to your forehead in the mornings, whispered sweet nothings in Spanish that you couldn’t yet understand but still loved the sound of.

She traced shapes onto your bare skin, her fingers moving over your back like an artist painting on a canvas.

But in public?

It was as if you didn’t exist.

Alexia wouldn’t look at you. Wouldn’t talk to you. Wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence. She was ice-cold, a stark contrast to the warmth she showed you behind closed doors.

You thought you could handle it. You thought it wouldn’t bother you.

You were wrong.

You’re at a team dinner when it happens again.

Alexia sits at the other end of the table, deep in conversation with Mapi and Patri, laughing at some inside joke you aren’t privy to. You, on the other hand, are stuck in an awkward silence between two of the younger players, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw, pretending that it doesn’t hurt.

But it does.

It’s not just that she’s ignoring you. It’s the way she goes out of her way to do it. The way her gaze dances around you, how she shifts her body away when you try to move closer, how she only speaks in clipped, professional tones if she absolutely has to respond.

Like you’re nothing more than a stranger.

Like you’re not the same person she held in her arms just last night, whispering soft te quieros into your hair.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

You try to hold it in, to swallow it down. But when the team finally gets up to leave, Alexia walking right past you like you’re invisible, something inside you snaps.

The apartment door barely clicks shut before you say it.

“Why do you do that?”

Alexia turns to you, mid-way through pulling off her jacket. “¿Qué?”

“You know what.” Your voice wavers, but you keep going. “Why do you act like I don’t exist in public?”

Alexia freezes. Her brows knit together, confusion flickering in her hazel eyes. “Y/n, I don’t—”

“You do,” you cut her off, stepping forward. “You do, Alexia. You ignore me. You won’t even look at me.” Your voice cracks on the last part, frustration mixing with something more vulnerable.

Alexia exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

There’s a long pause. She looks at you, really looks at you for the first time all night, and her expression softens.

“I—” She hesitates. “I’m scared.”

Your brows furrow. “Scared of what?”

She glances away, lips pressing together. “Scared of what people will think. Scared of how they’ll see me.”

It clicks then. The age gap. The inevitable judgment.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“So what?” Your voice is quieter now, but no less firm. “You’d rather pretend I don’t exist than risk people knowing we’re together?”

Alexia’s eyes snap back to yours, and there’s something raw in them. Guilt. Regret.

“Y/n…” She steps closer, reaching for you, but you don’t move.

“You can’t have it both ways,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t treat me like I’m the most important person in the world when we’re alone and then act like I’m nothing as soon as other people are around.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy.

Then Alexia sighs, shoulders dropping. “You’re right.”

You blink. “I am?”

“Yes.” She takes another step forward, closing the space between you. This time, you let her. Her hands find yours, fingers curling around your wrists. “I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you.”

You swallow. “You were.”

She nods, gaze full of remorse. “Lo siento, mi amor.”

You sigh. “In English, Alexia.”

A small smile tugs at her lips despite the tension in the air. “I’m sorry, my love.”

You hold her gaze for a long moment, searching for any trace of insincerity. You find none.

Then she’s pulling you into her arms, wrapping herself around you like she’s trying to shield you from the world. “I’ll do better,” she murmurs into your hair. “I promise.”

You exhale against her shoulder, the weight on your chest easing just a little. “Okay.”

She pulls back just enough to cup your face, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your cheek. “I love you, Y/n.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. She’s said it before, but never like this—never so openly, so unguarded.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

And then she kisses you.

It’s slow, tender, full of unspoken apologies and silent vows. She kisses you like she’s making up for every second she’s ignored you, like she’s trying to prove with her lips what she failed to show in public.

And you let her.

When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours. “Cuddle with me?” she murmurs.

You can’t help but smile. “Only if you actually acknowledge me tomorrow.”

Alexia chuckles softly. “Deal.”

You curl up together on the couch, her arms around you, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And for the first time in a long time, you feel seen.

Because in the end, love isn’t about the whispers in the dark.

It’s about the way someone chooses to hold your hand in the light.

[deadrobinthoughts]

†  marry me : various.

♦ request: drafted request ♦ beta’d: nope ♦ a/n: none

𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 —

The morning is soft and golden, a lazy warmth curling between you like something that belongs here. The city hums beyond the window, the muffled sounds of Gotham waking, but neither of you are in a hurry to move. Dick is half-asleep, one arm draped over your waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a quiet comfort. His fingers skim slow, absentminded circles against your back, the kind of casual, easy touch that only comes from years of knowing someone by heart.

You’re not thinking when you say it. It isn’t planned, isn’t something heavy or serious, just a thought spoken aloud in the quiet. "We should get married."

For a moment, he doesn’t react. There’s a slight hitch in his breathing, a fraction of stillness in the way his hand stills against you. And then, carefully, deliberately, he opens his eyes. They are softer in the morning, deep blue and a little dazed from sleep, but there’s something else there now, something awake, something searching.

"You think so?" His voice is quiet, hoarse from sleep, but not teasing.

You shift slightly, tilting your head to look at him properly, brushing the edge of his jaw with your fingertips. "Yeah," you murmur. "It just makes sense, doesn’t it?"

Something in his expression cracks. Because it does. Because of course it does. Because there is no version of his future where you are not in it, no reality he would ever want where you are not the person he wakes up beside.

For all his life, Dick has been good at keeping people at arm’s length, at making things light and easy, never too serious. But this? This is real. And he wants it. He has always wanted it. And now, you’re giving it to him like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 —

The night is still clinging to him - bruised knuckles, adrenaline still lingering in his bloodstream, the sharp scent of leather and gunpowder thick in the air. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, methodically wrapping a fresh bandage around his wrist, the movements sharp and precise, muscle memory at this point. He doesn’t look up when you step in, doesn’t acknowledge your presence, but he doesn’t have to. He knows you’re there.

You kneel in front of him, settle between his legs with careful ease, reaching for his hands before he can pull them away. Your fingers ghost over raw skin, over the places that have been broken and healed more times than you can count. He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t flinch, but you can feel the tension in him, coiled tight beneath the surface.

"If I ask, will you run?" Your voice is quiet, but there is no hesitation in it.

Jason stills.

His breath goes uneven, his pulse kicking sharp beneath your fingertips, but he doesn’t move. His eyes flicker over your face, searching for something - for the joke, for the out, for a reason to pretend that this is not what it is.

"You don’t want that," he says finally, his voice rough, something uneven in the way it lands between you. "Not with me."

You tilt your head, your grip on his hands tightening just slightly. "Says who?"

He exhales, slow and sharp, fingers twitching around yours. "Says me."

You let the silence settle, let him sit in it, feel it, face it. And then, finally, you murmur, "I know it's a surprise, but you aren't always right."

For a moment, Jason doesn’t know what to do with that. Doesn’t know how to hold it, how to believe it. But you don’t let go. And he realizes, maybe for the first time, that you aren’t asking him to prove himself.

You’re just asking him to stay.

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞 —

The loft is dim, the only light coming from the pale glow of Tim’s monitors, the familiar hum of a dozen open tabs filling the silence. He’s at his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, head buried in another night of chasing something only he can see. You’re curled up on the couch, watching him in quiet amusement, because for all his brilliance, Tim Drake is painfully oblivious to his own needs.

So you say it.

Not seriously. Not carefully. Just casually, tossed out like an afterthought, meant to be nothing.

"We should get married."

Tim freezes.

Completely, utterly freezes.

You glance up from your phone, biting back a laugh at the way he’s suddenly locked in place, fingers hovering mid-typing, his entire system short-circuiting before your eyes.

"Wait, what?" His voice is flat, stunned, like he just took psychic damage.

"You should have seen your face just now." You grin, stretching lazily. "Classic."

For a long moment, he says nothing. Just stares at you, mouth slightly open, like he’s trying to piece together whether this is real or a glitch in the matrix.

And then -

"Do you mean it?"

And oh.

Because now, he’s thinking about it. Now he’s looking at you like he’s considering it. Like it’s something he could have. Something he wants.

And suddenly, maybe you do mean it.

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 —

You say it to mess with him.

Because Damian is always composed, always measured, always so damn serious. You love to push him, to test the boundaries of that unreadable mask, to see how much he will let you get away with.

So you wait for a moment when he’s distracted—seated at his desk, sketching in his notebook, utterly unaware of you watching him.

"We should get married."

There is a pause.

And then - slowly, carefully - he sets the pencil down.

When he turns to face you, his green eyes are quiet, unreadable.

"I do not jest about such things."

And oh.

Because you were joking.

But he isn’t.

Damian Wayne does not love lightly. He does not give what he is not willing to keep. And now, you have said something that cannot be undone.

Because if you mean this - if you are asking for this - then you are asking for something he will give you completely.

And suddenly-

Maybe you do mean it.

𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 —

It isn’t meant to be a heavy moment. It isn’t planned, isn’t some great declaration, isn’t anything more than an absentminded thought spoken aloud as you lean against the kitchen counter, sipping your coffee in the dim light of early morning.

"You should marry me."

Your voice is light, teasing, barely breaking the quiet between you. It isn’t meant to change anything.

But Bruce stops.

He was flipping through the morning paper, reading one of the latest Gotham articles, already half-distracted by the weight of the day ahead. But now, he isn’t turning the page.

His grip on the paper tightens slightly, jaw locking, but he doesn’t move.

"What did you just say?"

His voice is low, measured, as if he’s giving you a chance to take it back. As if he’s not sure if he heard you right, or if he’s already started imagining what it would be like if you meant it.

You blink at him, sipping your coffee. "I said.. you should marry me."

Silence.

And now he’s looking at you.

Not a passing glance. Not something brief. A full, steady gaze, like you just spoke something into existence that he cannot ignore.

Because Bruce Wayne does not let himself want.

Not like this.

Not out loud.

And now, you’ve given him something to want.

And if you don’t take it back - he will never let you go.

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧 —

Cass has always been careful with words.

Not because she doesn’t feel them - but because she feels too much.

And so, when you say it, when you look at her like it’s the simplest thing in the world, she doesn’t know what to do with it.

"We should get married."

You say it softly, the weight of it sinking between you as you sit together on the rooftop, watching the lights of Gotham flicker below. The wind moves through her hair, strands catching the glow of the neon skyline, and for a long moment, she doesn’t speak.

She just watches you.

Not with shock. Not with hesitation. With something deep and unreadable.

"Forever?"

It isn’t a rejection.

It isn’t fear.

It is a question.

Because Cassandra Cain knows how to be a weapon, how to be a shadow, how to exist in the spaces between people without ever truly belonging.

But she does not know how to be someone’s forever.

And yet - you are offering it to her now.

And if you mean it-

Then maybe she can learn.

𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 —

You don’t plan it.

You don’t think before you say it.

It’s late, too late, and you’ve both been running on fumes, coming back from a long night in the Narrows, the weight of exhaustion settling into your bones. Duke is sitting on the fire escape outside his apartment, one foot resting against the metal railing, head tilted back against the brick wall, eyes closed but not asleep.

And you say it before you can stop yourself.

"We should totally get married."

Duke snorts.

Not because he doesn’t care, not because he’s laughing at you, but because he thinks you’re joking.

And then - he realizes you aren’t.

He opens his eyes, head turning slightly, gaze sharp beneath the glow of the streetlights.

"Are you serious?"

The way he says it - it’s not doubtful. Not hesitant. Just quiet, cautious, like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

Because Duke Thomas has never been the guy people stay for.

Has never been the person someone chooses in the end.

But now, you are looking at him like he is something worth choosing.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

Because if you’re serious - if you really mean it - then he’s already yours.

𝐑𝐨𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐫 — ( bonus )

It happens like a punch to the gut.

Not a soft moment. Not a sweet, dreamy confession. Not a candlelit dinner with an open velvet box.

It happens because Roy Harper doesn’t know how to accept good things without bracing for the pain that comes after.

It happens because you don’t know how to love him halfway.

"We should get married."

You don’t say it softly. You don’t hesitate, don’t cushion the words with humor or give him an easy way out. You just say it, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like it’s obvious, like it’s already been decided and the only thing left is for him to realize it.

And Roy-

Roy doesn’t know how to breathe.

You had been watching him for a while, watching the way he kept his distance without actually leaving, watching the way he smiled like it didn’t hurt, watching the way he always stood on the edge of something without ever stepping forward.

Because Roy Harper does not let himself want things.

Not things like this.

Not things that last.

Not when everything he has ever held onto has slipped through his fingers, burned to ash, or walked away before he could even start to hope.

But now - you are here.

And you are not leaving.

And now, you have said something he doesn’t know how to hold.

So he does what he always does.

He laughs.

A short, sharp breath, more exhale than amusement, because that’s the only way he knows how to deal with things that make his chest ache. He shakes his head, leans back against the kitchen counter, tries to play it off the way he plays off everything that matters too much.

"You know, most people ease into this kind of thing," he says, smirking like it doesn’t hurt, like it doesn’t feel like you just took a knife and pressed it gently against his ribs. "What, no romantic speech? No getting down on one knee?"

But you don’t let him run.

You step closer.

And Roy - Roy flinches. Not physically, not in a way that anyone else would notice, but inside, deep in his ribs, in the part of himself that always expects love to come with conditions.

"Roy." Your voice is steady, grounding. "You know I don’t need all that."

And that’s the worst part.

Because you don’t.

Because you have never asked him to be anything other than what he is.

Because you don’t want the cleaned-up version of him.

Because you want him, just as he is.

And that terrifies him.

Because if you really mean it - if you really want this — then that means you think he’s someone worth staying for.

And Roy Harper has never been someone people stay for.

His mouth feels dry.

His fingers twitch at his sides, his whole body locked in that instinctual urge to move, to step back, to put space between himself and whatever this is before it can sink too deep.

But he doesn’t.

Not this time.

Because you are still looking at him like this isn’t a mistake.

And for the first time in his life - he lets himself think about it.

Not the loss.

Not the inevitable heartbreak he always expects.

Not the way people always leave.

Just this.

Just you.

And maybe - just maybe - that’s enough.

[pepper-potts-in-charge]

Pepper's breath caught the moment Tony moved, and she didn’t need to turn her head to know where he was. There was something magnetic about his presence, something that pulled at her, even now. Even when she thought she had buried it all deep down, when she had promised herself she was done with this back-and-forth, done with playing these games.

But there he was, moving through the crowd, his movements confident and purposeful, the same Tony Stark who had once promised her the world and then taken it away just as easily. She should’ve expected this. She should’ve been prepared for it. After all, she’d felt it the second he walked in—felt the way the room had shifted with him in it.

She didn’t need to look at him to feel the weight of his eyes. She knew him too well, just like he knew her. And even though they had called off the engagement, even though they had both tried to move on, that connection between them didn’t just vanish.

It never did.

Her grip tightened on the glass in her hand, and she couldn’t help the way her heart stuttered in her chest. Not because of the weight of their past. No, it was because of the promise she had made to herself: that this—this pain, this ache—wasn't going to control her anymore. She wasn’t going to let Tony Stark tear her apart with his simple presence, no matter how much he made her feel like everything she thought she knew was falling apart all over again.

And yet, here he was.

She wanted to ignore him. She really did. She wanted to keep her focus on the people around her, to engage in the conversation, to keep playing the part she was supposed to play. But every fiber of her being was screaming at her to turn around. To look at him. To close the distance between them that had always been so comfortable, so easy, and yet, now, felt like the most insurmountable thing in the world.

She knew he was close now. She could feel it, that familiar weight of him just out of her direct line of sight. He was standing in her periphery, right there, and she could almost hear the thoughts running through his head. Was he going to say something? Was he going to make a joke, that half-cocked smile of his lighting up the room, like nothing had changed?

Or was he just here because he couldn’t stand the silence between them any longer?

She was prepared for him to break the silence, but what she wasn’t prepared for was this. She wasn’t prepared for the sudden stillness, the way he seemed to hesitate, almost unsure of what to do next.

It made her heart race, and a quiet part of her wanted to turn and take the lead, but she couldn’t. Not now. Not like this.

Instead, she clenched her jaw, plastered on a smile, and took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink. She let the cool liquid settle on her tongue, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest, fighting to keep herself composed.

But even as she did it, her mind was still on him. On what he might say or, even worse, what he might do if he decided to break the silence. What if this time, he didn't have the words to fix it? What if this time, there was no way to make the cracks between them disappear?

She could feel the tension in the air—thick and pulsing—and it was all too easy to imagine the moment when everything would finally break. When one of them would give in, and they’d both stop pretending.

But not yet. Not yet. She wasn’t ready for that. Not when there was still too much at stake.

Pepper took a slow breath and turned her body just enough to give him a glance, a flicker of acknowledgment without fully looking at him. She had to give him that, just to let him know she was aware of his presence. Just to let him know that she wasn’t completely indifferent. Because even if she wanted to pretend otherwise, she wasn’t.

But that’s all she’d give him.

For now, anyway.

SATURDAY OPEN RP! GOLDEN GALA CHARITY EVENT HOSTED BY EMERSON ENTERPRISES CEO!

The atmosphere within the main ballroom is spectacular with all the golden accents on top of black table clothes. The room is decorated to the nines with everything that could ever be done. James has his staff to thank for that.

The guests start to trickle in slowly but surely. The splendor of it all actually makes some of them gape in awe.

James knows he's going to have to go around the room talking to each one throughout the night, and maybe they will talk to each other. Tonight is about making connections and possible friendships with the people of the city. They have to band together to fight what could possibly come. This is his strategy.

This is just one step of many to take down HYDRA.

But they aren't on his mind tonight.

He greets everyone with a smile when he walks up to them. And they greet him in return when they want to speak with him.

The auction will be towards the middle of the event followed by dancing. He's pretty sure the ones with children won't stay for that.

Mingle and have fun.

Even though there are Anti-Mutant protestors threatening to show up at any moment.

At least Rumlow isn't going to be here.

//OOC Instructions: Mingle, have fun, and make some chaos happen.//

@luna-draven-barnes @wilsonfisk-thekingpin @under0-0s @the1-and-only-peggycarter @thund3randrain @thebestmerc-1 @the-daily-bugle-official-blog @nearthewaters @theoldcapsicleicle

If I missed your tag, I'm sorry, I can't remember everyone that I talked too for some reason (probably fibro brain fog) and anyone is welcome to join!!!

[scarlethexelove]

ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴄᴀʀᴛᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴇx), ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴏꜰꜰ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2095

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴘᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ⚠️ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ⚠️, ⚠️ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ⚠️, ⚠️ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ⚠️, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ (ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ)

ᴀ/ɴ: ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴡᴀʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʙᴜᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴛ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴇᴀʀʟ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪxɪᴇ ᴄʜɪᴄᴋꜱ (ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴄᴋꜱ). ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙɪɢ ꜱʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ @wandamaximoffsbadgirl ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜰɪᴄ.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

A small tear runs down your cheek as you watch Wanda walking away. A suitcase pulled behind her as she starts her new life. A new life without you. Everyone always joked you two were inseparable but now things are different.

An arm tightly grips yours and you quickly wipe your cheek. “Baby it's time to go. You still have me.” Sharon whispers in your ear. You nod, she's right you did have her. She was all you had left and so you clung onto her. Following obediently behind, turning back and watching Wanda until you couldn't see her anymore. A flame within you extinguishing with her.

You and Sharon have dated for a year now.  What you haven't realized is how she has slowly isolated you from all your friends and family. Wanda was the last one to stick around and now even she is gone.

You were curled up on the couch, looking at your phone. When was the last time anyone had talked to you? Wanda had been the last one, but it was before she left...she hasn't messaged since.

“What are you looking at?” Sharon's voice cuts through startling you. “No-nothing.” You shouldn't be scared to look at your phone right. You did nothing wrong so why does it feel like you have. Everything has gotten worse since Wanda left. Things have shifted in Sharon and not for the better.

Sharon comes over, trying to take the phone from your hand, gripping at your wrist just to take it from you. Seeing Wanda on your phone has her grip tightening. She pulls you closer, anger seething out. “Why are you waiting for her to contact you!? She left you! Everyone left you but me! Am I not good enough!?” She says through gritted teeth, mear inches from your face.

It takes everything in you not to whimper as her grip tightens and the fear that runs through you. She's right everyone has left you. She's the only person you have left. On her good days she is the sweetest but those days are few and far between now but you keep your hopes up. Hope that Sharon will go back to the woman you fell in love with. At Least you keep telling yourself you loved her.

The days pass and it feels like more bad than good. Everything seems to be setting her off. You can't do anything right. You can't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore...not with the bruises and the hollow look in your eyes nowadays

Today your phone rings for the first time in forever. You rush out of the bathroom and try to get to your phone but you're stopped dead in your tracks when Sharon picks it up and immediately sends it to voicemail. “Sharon.” You let out in frustration as you try to grab your phone from her. 

“I told you, you're mine.” Sharon grips your wrist. You try to pull your arm away and as you do she lets you go and you lose your balance falling down the stairs. That was finally the last straw and you went to one person you knew would help. Natasha, she helped you get a restraining order and move out. Everything seems to finally be looking up.

You stayed with Natasha for a bit and finally saved up enough for your own place, but you should have known better. You had finally moved in and finally had some semblance of normalcy back. That's until you open the door to your sheer horror of Sharon standing in front of you with flowers in her hands.

You try to slam the door shut, but she stops you. Sharon was always stronger than you and though you still tried to push the door she only pushed back harder, making you stumble and fall back into the apartment.

“Baby please.” Sharon walks into your apartment. 

“Sharon I'm not your baby and I have a restraining order. You need to leave.” You try to sound confident but your voice shakes giving you away.

“I know you were upset baby but I've changed. Give me one more chance baby.” Sharon pleads with you, sounding genuine. You don't know if you should believe her or not. She sounds like she really means it. “One date baby. Please, I'll prove it to you.”

You argue with yourself internally. One date can't hurt. “Fine. One date. I get to pick the place.”

She has a wide smile on her face. “Deal.” So you reluctantly get ready for the date while Sharon waits for you sitting on the couch. You feel like it's a whirlwind as you change and head out to a restaurant. You picked somewhere public so you knew she couldn't try anything

It doesn't take long as you both fall into a comfortable conversation. It feels like before, before all the lies and abuse. You let the wall fall as the date goes on. Things feel normal, natural. You had missed this. Could it be better again? Be like this all the time? You feel her hand reach yours, her thumb brushing the back of your hand so gently. You hadn't felt a gentle touch in so long.

All of your walls fall as the date continues. You both walk and talk after eating, holding hands. As the night comes to an end and she walks you home. As you get there and lean against the door frame “This was nice. We should do it again.” You smile. 

“Why not continue it now?”Sharon says and you shake your head.  

“Not tonight.” Sharon looks upset like she wants to say something. To try and convince you, but you kiss her cheek. “Next time.” You say stopping her with the unexpected affection.

So she lets it go for the night. And is convinced for another date later in the week. When that rolls around it goes great. You get closer again and when you finally feel like everything's perfect it starts again. The good days start getting bad again and you know you should leave, but Sharon convinces you to stay, convinces you that she's the only one who's gonna love her. You can't believe how stupid you feel for giving her this second chance.

It all comes to a head one day when you try to go out for the day. “You're not going anywhere. You have stuff to do around the house.” Sharon’s anger already slipping into her words. 

You sigh. “Sharon please. You said you changed.”

You go back and forth until it turns into a screaming match which then gets physical, slapping your face and then grabbing it. “You don't get to go out. You stay here and do as you're fucking told!” You feel so small when she towers over you, voice booming and hands on you.

Your voice is small as you speak. “P-please Sharon. I ne-need out.” 

Sharon’s grip on your face tightens. “I said no you fucking dumb whore.” Her hand goes up and she backhands you now. By the way this is going you know it's not going to end well so you try to fight back.

You certainly try and it ends up worse than ever. With you in the hospital. A broken nose, busted lip, bruised ribs. Everything hurt so much as you stared up at the ceiling. “How could I be so stupid?” You whisper to yourself while Nat had stepped out and tears run down your cheeks

You hadn't even heard the door open before a familiar soft voice broke through. “You're not stupid.” Your head snaps up seeing Wanda. You viciously wipe your tears. Hissing in pain. “Sweetheart.” She is quickly next to you pulling your hands away and gently wiping your tears away. 

“Why are you here?" Your voice is small. 

“I'm still your emergency contact. They called me first.” Wanda’s voice was soft. Soft as if you were a deer ready to bolt. 

You never wanted her to see you like this. It makes you want to cry more. “Oh...I'm sorry...you were states away...you didn't have to come Wands.” You look up at her eyes still blurry. 

Wanda just smiles down at you. “It was worth it. Anything for you is worth it to me.”

Your lip wobbles as a small sob escapes your lips. You've missed Wanda so much and to see her here now you don't know what to do. Wanda's heart breaks as she slides into the bed next to you being gentle not to hurt you. You grip her shirt as you cry into her. “I'm sorry.” You sob.

Wanda rubs your back, gently humming as she rocks you. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about sweetheart.” She soothes you back down until you're practically asleep in her arms. You want to blame it on the meds they gave you, but she always made you feel so safe. She makes a vow that she won't let Sharon touch you ever again. She hates herself for ever leaving you with her. She has to tell you now how much she loves you, even if it ruins everything.

Wanda takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart?” She asks softly. You look up at her sleepily, vulnerable, she can see it on your face. 

“Hm?” You ask, blinking a few times up at her to get the sleep out of them. 

“I love you. I have for a really long time, but I never wanted it to ruin this, us. I know I should have just said it before, but I just–” You cut her off, pulling her down and kissing her, not caring that it hurt your lip.

Wanda holds onto you as you melt into her. When you finally pull back from the kiss you're slightly out of breath. “I love you too wands.” 

She leans her forehead against yours. “I'm never leaving you again. I'm never going to let her hurt you again. I'll kill her if I have to.” Wanda mumbles between the mixed air.

You melt into her. You feel so safe and loved and protected with her. “That doesn't sound like a half bad idea.” You mumble against her.

“I will do anything to protect you detka.” Wanda brushes some hair out of your face, with a soft smile on her face. 

You know it's genuine coming from her. Nuzzling against her hand and smiling for the first time in months. “I know you would Wands.”

Both of your minds start to wonder about how to get rid of Sharon. Can you actually kill her and get away with it? Once you're out of the hospital the two of you plot a way to do it. You plan it out perfectly. 

Poison is what you both settle on. It would take nothing to convince Sharon to come over so that you execute your plan. You have her come over. A tasteless, odorless poison in her drink. She thinks nothing of it until she's choking and Wanda comes out from the other room. Watching her with a smile as she sputters for air.

Wanda gives you a kiss as she wraps her arms around you. She turns to look at Sharon. “You'll never hurt her again. No one for that matter.” You can't help but giggle and nuzzle into Wanda.

You can't believe you did it and got away with it. Life just felt great now. You never had to worry about it anymore. You were safe with Wanda always.

The cops came by looking for Sharon but it wasn't because she was missing. She had also gotten herself into more trouble than what she had done to you. The cops asked if you saw her which obviously you said you hadn't since the attack.

Of course they believed you. How could they not? With the record she had racked up they assumed she fled the state. As you waved the cops off Wanda's arms wrapped around you from behind. Her chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched from the front porch as the cops drove away

You turned in her hold and smiled up at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Thank you, love.” 

Wanda chuckles lightly. “For what detka?”

 You can help the smile that spreads across your face. “For saving me.” She leans down with a smile, kissing you tenderly, passionately. You knew this was meant to be. You were always supposed to end up with Wanda.

[serenityluvz]

𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙆𝙞𝙙 𝘼𝙣𝙮𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚

(Enhypen Ni-ki x Reader | Smut | Angst | 18+)

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Warnings: Smut, childhood friends-to-lovers, unresolved tension, jealousy, first time, angst, emotional push and pull, Ni-ki being possessive.

Summary: Ni-ki was always just your best friend—the annoying boy who pulled your hair, who cracked jokes at your expense, who promised to protect you no matter what. But now, years later, he’s not that boy anymore. He’s taller, stronger, and looking at you like he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. And when he finally gets you alone, there’s no denying it anymore—he’s not a kid, and you’ve never wanted anyone more.

You never saw Ni-ki as a man.

Not when he was the lanky boy who used to chase you around the neighborhood, laughing as he pulled on your pigtails. Not when he was the teenager who whined about his voice cracking and tripping over his own feet during dance practice. Not when he was your best friend—the boy who promised to protect you but was always too young, too playful, too Ni-ki.

But then he grew up.

Now, standing in front of you, he's all sharp jawlines and broad shoulders, his once awkward limbs refined into something powerful. The mischievous glint in his eyes is still there, but there’s something else beneath it—something darker, something hungry.

You shouldn’t be looking at him like this.

But when he corners you at the party, his body pressing into yours against the hallway wall, you realize you’re not the only one who’s changed.

"You’ve been avoiding me." His voice is deeper now, smooth but laced with frustration.

Your breath catches. "I haven’t—"

"Bullshit."

His fingers trail down your arm, slow, deliberate, making you shiver.

"You act like I’m still some kid, but I see the way you look at me." His lips brush your ear. "Why do you keep running from me, Y/N?"

You don’t have an answer. Or maybe you do, but you’re too afraid to say it.

Because if you say it—if you admit that seeing him with other girls makes your stomach twist, that hearing his deep, grown-up laugh sends heat pooling between your thighs—there’s no going back.

"I’m not running," you whisper.

And that’s all it takes.

Ni-ki snaps.

His lips crash against yours, years of pent-up frustration spilling over as he presses you tighter against the wall. His hands roam your body—possessive, desperate—as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

"You think I haven’t noticed?" he growls against your lips. "The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?"

You let out a soft moan as he lifts you, his fingers digging into your thighs.

"You’ve always been mine," he murmurs, dragging his lips down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "And now, I’m going to prove it."

You don’t protest when he carries you into one of the empty rooms.

You don’t stop him when he pushes you onto the bed, hovering over you with eyes dark with need.

And when he finally—finally—slides into you, stretching you in ways that make your toes curl, you don’t hold back the moan of his name.

Because he’s right.

You’ve always been his.

And now, there’s no denying it.

[traincat]

what's the unreleased uncanny avengers fic 👀 (I love when you do fic that's set at a very specific point in canon, I'm always dying for more of that in comics fandom)

So I have four different Uncanny Avengers fic in this folder, and upon investigation two of these I finished and posted:

Echoes, which takes place immediately post Uncanny Avengers #12, which is the end of its Hanktron plot.

He was having a time.

Keep the Fire Burning, which takes place after Uncanny Avengers #20, where the Red Skull mindcontrolled Johnny and Peter reacted. Strongly.

[Sunset Boulevard voice] We had comics, then.

The other two are also in the Uncanny Avengers #19-22 time frame, because there was just a lot going on. Under the cut! Johnny having a Bad Time, Generally.

Uncanny Avengers #19 fixit fic, based on the fact that the Red Skull makes Johnny hallucinate his family's return and then imagine himself burning them alive. We have fun here. This one was intended to be a get together, but then I think Uncanny Avengers #20 came out and I was like well I have other things to focus on.

***

“It’s that farkakteh team you’re on, running around, getting abducted by psychic Red Skull,” Peter said, pacing the floor in front of Johnny, waving his hands about. “Back in my day we settled for the regular model and we were happy about it.”

Johnny didn’t say anything. Peter sighed, stopping in front of him and dropping his hands to his sides.

“Torch,” he said. “Talk to me.”

Johnny shook his head, the briefest of motions. Peter dropped into the chair across from him, leaning forward a little, until their knees were almost brushing.

"Don't touch me."

It was the only Peter could get him to say, ever since he’d insisted they cut out on the clean-up. He’d swung them both to his apartments in the Baxter Building, Johnny silent and unresisting, clinging to Peter’s shoulders. Peter almost missed that – at least that was contact. Now Johnny sat on the sofa with his head in his hands and his shoulders all hunched up and said "don't touch me" every time Peter so much as thought about reaching out.

It was horrible. All Peter wanted to do was hold him.

“Johnny,” he said, his voice coaxing. He wanted to fix it – wanted to take Johnny out, somewhere high up. Wanted to wrap Johnny up in blankets and keep him indoors. All his attempts at affection always felt so clumsy where Johnny was involved, like it was never what Johnny really needed.

“Don’t touch me,” Johnny repeated.

“C’mon,” Peter said, aware his tone is getting a little tetchy. He knew wasn’t the world’s most patient man at the best of times, and besides, words were cheap, easy, a dime a dozen where he was concerned. He’d always communicated best with Johnny through touch. How could he help if Johnny wouldn’t let him smooth a hand over his back or throw an arm around his shoulders?

Johnny had never shied away from touch before, not once in the fifteen years Peter had known him.

“What’s a little mind control between friends, huh?” Peter joked, inching a little closer, on the edge of his own seat so he could sway a little into Johnny’s space. “We’ve been here before.”

Johnny shook his head slowly. Peter dipped his head, but he couldn’t see his expression. He sighed, restless.

“Hey, buddy, you gotta talk to me here. You’re scaring me a little…” he said, dropping a hand to Johnny’s knee.

He yanked it back before he could make real contact, spider-sense buzzing like he just tried to touch a hot stove. Johnny was blazing -- it wasn’t noticeable, except for a sheer scant inch from his body.

Peter had never really marveled over his control before. “Johnny?”

“You can’t,” Johnny said, voice hitching, “touch me, okay, Peter?”

“Johnny,” Peter said, gentling his voice again. He got up and moved to Johnny’s couch instead, leaving enough space between them that he couldn’t feel the heat Johnny’s putting out. “Hot stuff – literally. What’s going on?”

All he wanted to do was put his arms around Johnny, and Johnny wouldn’t let him.

Johnny just breathed for a few long moments, ragged. Peter had already tried to ply him with water, with coffee, with that one bottle of very old-looking scotch someone else must have put in his kitchen. Johnny didn’t seem to want anything.

“Pretty boy,” Peter cajoled, the old nickname that never failed to get him a pleased smile. “What’s so different about this time?”

“My family came back,” Johnny said, and Peter’s whole being lurched.

“What?” he said. It wasn’t possible – if the Fantastic Four were back, he’d know, surely. And if the Fantastic Four were back, why would Johnny be curled in on himself like this, hiding out on Peter’s couch?

“My family came back,” Johnny repeated, voice a little steadier. He pulled his hands away from his face – his fingers trembled – and slid them through his hair. His eyes were red. He was white as a sheet. “And I lost all control of my powers, and I burned them to death. My family.”

Peter worked his jaw for a minute, speechless. Johnny finally looked at him, eyes all damp. Peter couldn’t stop staring at the dark gold sweep of his lashes, his wet cheeks.

“That’s what the Red Skull made me see, anyway,” he said with a watery, fake smile. It was like a bucket of ice water down Peter’s back. The arm of his chair gave way under his fist, viciously, and Johnny almost jumped.

He reigned his own anger in for Johnny’s sake, buried it deep down where he kept every other injustice he couldn’t do anything about, all the unfair things. He breathed out, slow.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Johnny, still wide-eyed at Peter’s outburst, said, “I know.”

“It wasn’t real,” Peter pressed on, inching closer. His hand hovered above Johnny’s knee, but still there was that blazing heat. It hurt, that Johnny wouldn’t let him hold him. “It didn’t really happen.”

“I know,” Johnny repeated, miserably. Peter hadn’t thought his heart could break for him anymore than it already had.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter said, desperate to take Johnny’s hand in his own. Johnny would never forgive him if he burned himself on him. Peter would never forgive himself if he didn’t try. “It wasn’t real, Johnny.”

(...)

“Hey,” Peter said, inching closer. He can stand the heat, at least for a few minutes. “Lower the thermostat.”

“What?” Johnny said, looking up at him.

Peter made a loose hand motion, rolling his wrist. “An expression, Torch. Johnny, hot stuff – turn it down.”

Johnny shook his head, stubborn. He was tired, Peter could see that now. He needed rest, food – and he wasn’t letting himself have anything, because of something that had never even happened.

Peter knew that feeling.

“I promise you,” Peter said, “you want to turn down the body heat for this one. Johnny, trust me. You trust me, don’t you?”

After a second, Johnny nodded.

It wasn’t how he had wanted to do this. He’d wanted to wait, to do it right – take Johnny out someplace nice, someplace romantic. Let him catch on little by little. He’d wanted to kiss Johnny for the first time with the skyline at their backs, underneath the stars.

On his couch with all the blinds drawn and Johnny so miserable Peter felt like crying too was what it was going to have to be, though. Peter couldn’t think of anything else.

“You’re either going to love this, or I’ve been reading everything wrong,” Peter said, softly. He touched his fingertips beneath Johnny’s chin to hold him steady. “In which case you’re going to have the time of your life laughing at me.”

Johnny’s soft inhale was all the go-ahead Peter needed. The first brush of their lips was quick, testing – Johnny’s lips were soft and full. Peter wondered if he tasted slightly ashen all the time, or only after he’d spent most of the day flamed on. Maybe only when he was sad.

“Peter,” Johnny said, sliding one hand along Peter’s neck. His eyes were closed.

“Yeah?” Peter teased a little, lips just brushing Johnny’s.

“I’m not laughing,” Johnny said.

“Well,” Peter said. He hummed and kissed the highest point of Johnny’s cheek, nosed at him softly. “I guess I need to try harder.”

Johnny nodded, tilting his head. Peter kissed him again, and again, and again, until Johnny’s mouth opened under his and Peter was licking into it and Johnny was making soft little sounds that had nothing to do with being sad at all.

“Is this okay?” Peter asked when they broke apart. Johnny was breathing hard, looking a little dazed. Peter reached up very carefully to brush his hair back.

***

And the Uncanny Avengers post-#21-22 fic, which was established relationship:

Johnny was in his bed again, on his side facing away from the door. Peter sighed fondly, shoulder meeting the doorframe as he leaned in it for a long moment, tracing the way the moonlight illuminated Johnny’s form.

He hit the light and Johnny groaned, dragging a pillow over his head.

“You’re not naked,” he said, climbing onto the bed and palming Johnny’s hip, right over the yellow patch. “<i>Before</i> we got together, I got you naked.”

“You didn’t get me anything,” Johnny mumbled, voice thick. “I got myself naked and you screamed.”

“I didn’t scream, I yelled,” Peter corrected, rubbing little circles, stroking his way down Johnny’s thigh and back up again. He counted out the panels on the yellow patches, walking his fingers up and down. “It was extremely masculine and not a pitch only dogs could hear at all.”

Johnny snorted, grip on the pillow loosening. Peter gave him another moment before he rolled him over, bracing himself over him on one hand.

“Hey, hon,” he said, tracing the dried tear tracks on Johnny’s cheeks. His eyes were still a little red. “Rough day at the office?”

Johnny snorted, reaching up to fidget with Peter’s collar. “Something like that.”

“But everything’s peachy-keen now?” Peter asked. “All Red Skulls safely off the streets?”

Johnny nodded, face pensive. (...)

“The fist bump?” Peter said, sounding amused. “Really?”

“I was trying to play it cool,” Johnny said. “Casual, you know.”

“I have never,” Peter said, kissing Johnny once, twice, three times, “ever bumped your fist before. Not one time.”

"Liar."

[jeizet]

OH Forgot to tag those Himes in the upper corner!

Top right corner it's Mary Poppins Hime

And Top left corner it's a concept I'm working on, Fraction Orihime.

Her story is still a big draft but basically:

During the fight in Hueco mundo between Ichigo and Ulquiorra (the one where Loly and Malory are hurting Hime), Ulquiorra gets tired of Ichigo trying to run off to save Hime, so he goes to Orihime, grabs her and makes her eat one of the boxes that Grimmjow used to trap him.

She is teleported to the middle of nowhere inside of Hueco Mundo, so far away the gang can't feel her.

She starts wandering but after some days she gets starvingly hungry and with nothing else to eat but hollows she had to do it

Eating hollows makes stronger the hollow energy she has as a full bringer to the point she becomes a hollow, with a whole on her stomach like Grimmjow.

Talking about Grimmjow he is the one that finds her! He tries to bully her but the broken and alone Orihime just hugs him and cries on his chest.

Grimmjow tells her he can open a garganta for her to take her to the human world but he still doesn't have enough energy, so Orihime starts healing his spiritual energy and they bond a little.

They go hunting together and actually kind of enjoy it, and he jokes around about how since she is now a hollow and has a hole in the same place as him, she is now hi fraction, and she is actually very happy about it, she feels part of something, less alone and with a clear guide now.

Orihime insists she wants to learn to open gargantas by herself and he teaches her.

The first time she opens a garganta, she goes to the human world, with Grimmjow as protection. She learns that she is now invisible since she is now a hollow, that she was lost and trapped for a nearly a year, and since everything is alright in the human world, that they won the war.

She visits the school since she guesses Tatsuki will be able to see her and indeed she does. Tatsuki sees her through the window and calls for Ichigo, Uryuu, Chad, Keigo and Mizuiro.

She learns that the gang goes every weekend to hueco mundo to search for her, but her presence changed so much now they were never going to actually find her.

They are thrilled to know she is alive until they realize... Ichigo can't see her. He lost his powers and since now she is a hollow they can't see eachother.

Orihime guesses that since she can interact with objects they can become penpals maybe.

They become penpals until Ichigo gets his powers back.

I can't decide if I want this AU to be Ichihime or Grimmhime... maybe Grimmichihime since no one can stop me hehehehe

Orihime Rikka outfits! + Silly Ichihime extra

I've started watching Shugo Chara, crating this was my Canon event. I have no self-control. I was unable to draw ANYTHING unless I finished this shit.

This is the post, just a bunch of Hime Designs

Concepts:

Shun-no: nurse??.

Ayame: wife kind of outfit.

Lily: superhero.

Hinagiku: Superspy, that is an alien, so doesn't know how to dress.

Baigon: samurai??

Tsubaki: assassin

[kittenisstarstruck]

They Lost Their Drunk Partner at a Party

these hotties lost their heavily intoxicated s/o at a party~

id recommend you stay and read until tsukishima at the end, it got me good- i got it soooooo good

Akaashi:

Akaashi wasn’t the type to panic, but right now? Yeah, he was definitely panicking.

The party was crowded, music thumping through the floorboards as people weaved between each other, laughing and shouting over the noise. And somewhere in this chaos, you—his very drunk significant other—had managed to slip away from his side.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he scanned the room for what felt like the hundredth time. How had he even let you wander off? One second, you were clinging to his arm, giggling about something ridiculous, and the next, poof—gone.

He checked the kitchen. Not there. The backyard? Nope. The couch? Just a pile of people deep in a debate about conspiracy theories.

Akaashi exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where are you…” he muttered under his breath.

Then, finally, in the dim glow of fairy lights strung up in the corner of the room, he spotted you.

You were curled up in an oversized armchair, legs tucked under you, sipping on a half-empty cup of what he could only assume was your last drink of the night. Your eyes were slightly hazy, but the second they landed on him, they lit up.

“Keiji!” You beamed, holding your arms out dramatically. “You found me!”

Akaashi let out a soft chuckle, making his way toward you. “You make it sound like we were playing hide and seek,” he murmured, crouching beside you.

You hummed, tilting your head. “Well… weren’t we?”

He sighed but couldn’t help smiling as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You scared me for a second.”

Your expression softened at that, and you wobbled forward slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “M’sorry,” you mumbled against his shoulder. “Didn’t mean to disappear.”

His hands came up instinctively, one resting on your back while the other cradled your head. “Just stay where I can see you next time, okay?”

You nodded, nuzzling closer, and Akaashi swore his heart melted right then and there.

After a moment, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your gaze softer now. “Keiji, you’re really pretty, you know that?”

He blinked, his ears instantly burning. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m right,” you corrected, poking his cheek. “And I love you.”

Akaashi’s breath caught for just a second, but then he exhaled, his lips curling into the gentlest smile. “I love you too.”

You beamed, pleased with yourself, and Akaashi decided that, even if you were a handful when drunk, he’d search a thousand crowded rooms just to find you again.

“Come on,” he said, effortlessly lifting you from the chair. “Let’s get you home.”

You giggled, snuggling into his chest. “You’re the best.”

Akaashi only hummed, holding you a little closer as he led you away from the noise, away from the chaos—back to where you belonged, right by his side.

Kuroo prided himself on being laid-back, the type to go with the flow, never too ruffled by anything. But right now? He was definitely ruffled.

You had disappeared.

One second, you were right beside him, laughing at some dumb joke he made, your fingers loosely intertwined with his. The next? Gone. Vanished into the sea of bodies, swallowed up by the pulsing music and dim lighting.

He had done a quick scan of the house, expecting to spot you near the drinks or chatting with a mutual friend, but when you were nowhere to be found, a pit of unease settled deep in his chest. His mind was already running through worst-case scenarios as he pushed through the crowd, his teasing smirk long gone.

But then—

In a quiet hallway, away from the chaos, he finally saw you.

You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, a dopey, drunk smile on your face as you giggled to yourself. Relief hit him so fast it nearly made him dizzy.

Kuroo sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer. “There you are. I was about to put out a missing persons report.”

You looked up, eyes lighting up the second you saw him. “Tetsu!” you cheered, holding your arms out dramatically. “I found you!”

He huffed out a laugh, crouching in front of you. “You found me? Babe, you’re the one who disappeared.”

You pouted. “Did I? I just… walked away for a second.”

“Yeah? And that ‘second’ turned into twenty minutes of me wondering if I was about to throw hands with some drunk idiot who thought they could steal you away.” He reached out, brushing his fingers against your cheek as if to reassure himself you were really there.

You leaned into his touch, humming contentedly. “Aww, Tetsu, were you worried?”

His fingers twitched, and for a moment, his usual cocky mask slipped. “…Of course, I was,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

But then—before you could call him out on his rare display of vulnerability—he flicked your forehead lightly, his smirk snapping back into place.

“Do you know how embarrassing it would’ve been if I had to tell everyone my incredibly attractive, slightly reckless partner managed to get lost at a house party?” He tsked, shaking his head. “I’d never live it down.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “M’sorry,” you murmured, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Kuroo sighed, his grip on you tightening. “Just… stay close next time, yeah?” His voice was softer now, laced with something real, something unshakable.

You smiled, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. “Okay.”

He exhaled, shaking his head as he hoisted you up into his arms effortlessly. “Alright, lightweight, let’s get you home before you go missing again.”

You snuggled into his chest, sighing happily. “You’re the best.”

Kuroo smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t scare me like that again, trouble.”

But as he carried you out of the party, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, you knew the truth—Kuroo might joke about it, might tease, but deep down, he’d search anywhere for you. Always.

Bokuto had been having a great time at the party—laughing with friends, downing drinks, hyping up strangers like they were long-lost teammates—until he realized something was missing.

You.

One second, you were by his side, giggling at his ridiculous dance moves, your hand clutching his sleeve as you swayed along with him. The next? Gone.

At first, he didn’t panic. Maybe you’d gone to the bathroom or grabbed another drink. No big deal. But when five minutes turned into ten, and then fifteen, his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

His mind started racing—What if you were too drunk? What if you got lost? What if some creep was bothering you?—and suddenly, the party wasn’t fun anymore.

Bokuto weaved through the crowd, his usual loud energy dimmed by the gnawing worry in his chest. He checked the kitchen, the backyard, even peeked into a random closet (just in case).

Then, finally, in a quiet corner near the stairs, he spotted you.

You were sitting on the floor, head tilted back against the wall, a lazy, tipsy smile on your face as you stared at the ceiling. Your drink—mostly melted ice at this point—was resting precariously between your fingers, dangerously close to spilling.

Bokuto let out a deep breath, relief flooding him so fast that he nearly dropped to the floor beside you. Instead, he crouched, placing a gentle hand on your knee.

“There you are,” he murmured, voice softer than usual. “You okay, baby?”

Your eyes lit up the second you saw him, your grin widening. “Bo! I was just thinking about you!”

His brows furrowed, still searching your face for any signs of distress. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, lifting a wobbly finger to poke his cheek. “I was wondering where you went.”

Bokuto huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I was looking for you, babe. You kinda disappeared on me.”

You blinked, like the thought had never even occurred to you. “Oh.” Then you giggled. “Oops.”

Bokuto sighed, running a hand through his hair. You were clearly very drunk, and as much as he wanted to scold you for wandering off, he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when you were looking at him like he hung the moon.

Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours with a dramatic pout. “You worried me, y’know.”

You reached up, tracing the furrow between his brows with your thumb. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a second before pulling back. “Guess I’ll just have to keep an extra close eye on you now.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he suddenly scooped you up in his arms, standing to his full height with ease.

You gasped, arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. “Bo!”

He grinned down at you, any remaining worry melting into mischief. “Since you had me running around looking for you, I think it’s only fair that you pay me back…”

You raised a brow. “And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

Bokuto’s grin widened as he started walking—straight toward the center of the dance floor.

“By dancing with me, of course!”

Before you could protest, he spun you effortlessly, earning a squeal of laughter as he twirled you under the flashing lights. The music thumped around you, the party roaring back to life, but all you could focus on was the way Bokuto’s arms tightened around you, his eyes bright and full of love.

Maybe you had gotten lost, but somehow, you always ended up right where you belonged.

Tsukishima didn’t love parties. Too loud, too crowded, too many people acting like idiots. But he could tolerate them—for you.

He had been keeping an eye on you from across the room, letting you do your thing while he leaned against the wall, nursing his drink. But when he glanced over and saw you stiffen, your expression shifting from tipsy amusement to discomfort, his blood ran cold.

Some guy—some idiot—was way too close, leaning into your space, his hand hovering near your waist like he had any right to be there.

Tsukishima’s grip on his drink tightened. Seriously? He was right there, and this guy still had the nerve?

Annoyance flickered into something sharper, something dangerous as he pushed off the wall, making his way through the crowd with slow, deliberate steps.

He didn’t say anything at first—just slipped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you firmly into his side. His touch was casual, but his grip? Solid. Protective.

“Hey, babe,” he drawled, shooting the creep a deadpan look. “There you are. You ready to go?”

You blinked up at him, relief flashing in your eyes as you quickly caught on. “Y-Yeah.” You leaned into him, and he could feel how tense you were.

The guy had the audacity to scoff. “Oh, this is your boyfriend?” He let out a mocking laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Didn’t think you’d go for the quiet, moody type.”

Tsukishima’s golden eyes narrowed, his jaw ticking. He tilted his head slightly, feigning disinterest, but his next words came out cold, sharp as glass.

“And I didn’t think you’d be so desperate that you have to corner drunk girls at parties. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

The guy’s smirk faltered. “What did you just say—”

Tsukishima didn’t even let him finish. He just arched a brow, looking bored. “You heard me. And unless you want me to embarrass you even more in front of everyone, I suggest you walk away.”

A tense beat passed, but then—like the pathetic coward he was—the guy scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and slinked off.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, already turning his attention back to you. “Come on,” he murmured, steering you toward the back door. “You need air.”

—

The night was cooler outside, the music inside muffled by the closed door. You exhaled shakily, still coming down from the adrenaline.

Tsukishima didn’t say anything—just shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders before leaning against the railing beside you.

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet gesture. “…Thanks, Kei.”

He scoffed, looking away like it was no big deal. “Don’t mention it.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt… grounding. His presence alone was enough to calm the lingering unease in your chest.

After a moment, you leaned your head against his shoulder. He stiffened for half a second before sighing and relaxing into it, letting you stay close.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Better now.”

He hummed, his fingers brushing against yours before—very casually—he intertwined them.

“You really put yourself in the dumbest situations,” he muttered, his tone teasing but laced with something softer.

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Good thing I’ve got you, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way his thumb absentmindedly traced over your knuckles, keeping you right where he wanted you—close.

Always close.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

I'll break it

character: Cho hyun ju X fem!reader

Summary: You manage to stub your toe, and while you think nothing of it...hyun ju is thinking of 99 ways to end that tables life🦑🦑

Warnings: none

You don’t think much of it at first. It’s just a stubbed toe—an unfortunately hard impact against the leg of your coffee table that sends a sharp jolt of pain up your foot. You hiss through your teeth, wobbling slightly as you clutch your foot, waiting for the sting to fade.

Then, you hear Hyun-Ju inhale sharply.

You glance up, and she’s already locked onto the table, staring at it like it personally insulted her entire bloodline.

"I’ll break it."

You blink. "What?"

She doesn’t look at you. Her jaw clenches slightly. "The table."

You stare at her, waiting for the joke. There is no joke. Hyun-Ju is absolutely, completely serious.

"You—Hyun-Ju, it’s a table."

She finally turns to look at you, arms crossed. "And?"

"And… you can’t fight a table."

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she assesses the offending piece of furniture like she’s calculating the exact force required to flip it over. And honestly? You’re a little concerned that she actually could.

"You’re hurt," she states plainly, like that justifies everything.

You sigh, shaking your head. "I stubbed my toe. That’s it. I’ll live."

But Hyun-Ju still looks like she wants vengeance. Like the table has personally wronged her by daring to be in your way.

You can’t help it—you laugh. It starts as a snicker, then a full laugh that has you leaning against the very table she’s about to declare war on. Her expression shifts slightly, the corner of her lips twitching upward despite her attempts to stay serious.

"Stop laughing," she mutters, nudging your arm with her knuckle.

"I can’t," you gasp between chuckles. "You were really about to fight my coffee table."

She huffs, but she’s obviously not mad. "Not fight it. Just... make sure it never hurts you again."

You wipe a tear from your eye, still grinning. "By breaking it?"

"If necessary."

You groan, resting your forehead against her shoulder. "You’re impossible."

Hyun-Ju doesn't argue. Instead, she sighs and—without a word—grabs your ankle, lifting your foot slightly to examine your toe. It’s not swollen, but she runs her thumb over it gently before nodding.

"You’ll live," she confirms, echoing your own words.

"Oh, now you believe me?"

She just shrugs. Then, after a pause, she adds, "But if it happens again, I’m throwing the table out."

You shake your head, still laughing, and lean into her just a little bit more. Hyun-Ju, your overprotective menace.

by daring to be in your way. You can’t help it—you laugh. It starts as a snicker, then a full laugh that has you leaning against the very table she’s about to declare war on. Her expression shifts slightly, the corner of her lips twitching upward despite her attempts to stay serious.

"Stop laughing," she mutters, nudging your arm with her knuckle.

"I can’t," you gasp between chuckles.

"You were really about to fight my coffee table." She huffs, but she’s obviously not mad. "

Not fight it. Just... make sure it never hurts you again."

You wipe a tear from your eye, still grinning.

"By breaking it?"

"If necessary."

You groan, resting your forehead against her shoulder. "You’re impossible." Hyun-Ju doesn't argue. Instead, she sighs and—without a word—grabs your ankle, lifting your foot slightly to examine your toe. It’s not swollen, but she runs her thumb over it gently before nodding.

"You’ll live," she confirms, echoing your own words. "Oh, now you believe me?" She just shrugs. Then, after a pause, she adds, "But if it happens again, I’m throwing the table out." You shake your head, still laughing, and lean into her just a little bit more.

🦑🦑🦑

[tgmsunmontue]

Tracing poetry with your lips - 11/? - Hangster

One juvenile kissing game and two juvenile idiots both convinced they can win the game. (Explicit). Idea from @iprefervillains

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

PART ELEVEN

                “Don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t want to have to chase after you…”

                Jake huffs, but he can’t even argue the point. Still feels like an idiot, an exposed vulnerable idiot who is failing at keeping his cards close to his chest. But if Bradley is going to start the ball rolling he’ll take the out.

                “Spit it out…”

                Bradley shifts, slides closer in the water, like he’s legitimately worried about Jake getting out of the hot tub and making a run for it, despite the fact that he’s naked and he has no transport.

                “Where did you go? I mean, what made you think… you just… fuck. I can’t…” Bradley mutters, clearly can’t find the words to say whatever it is he’s trying to say. He has moved into Jake’s lap though, a direct copy of their position from earlier but this is all about just being close and he kisses Bradley again, can taste the salt of his sweat from where it’s gathered in his moustache and he takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly.

                “Good things don’t…” he sniffs and shrugs, licks his lips and rolls his shoulders, a sense of discomfit washing over him, not used to talking about it, even if Javy’s mom has dragged it out of him on more than one occasion, usually over several glasses of wine. “Good things don’t often happen to me.”

                “Am I a good thing?”

                Jake bites back the immediate snarky reply, swallows against the churning in his gut.

                “You… you might be the best thing…”

                “Jesus Jake…”

                “I… I didn’t think you’d say yes,” Jake admits quietly, because admitting that feels… weak. He doesn’t usually let people know he feels self-doubt. Bradley gives a sharp huff of what he assumes is amusement and he can’t help but be annoyed be it. By him. “What?” he snaps, letting his annoyance bleed through.

                “You’re your own worst enemy…” Jake makes a half-hearted effort to shove Bradley off his lap, but he’s holding fast, fingers curled tight around the edge of the hot tub, eyes watching Jake intently. “I mean it Jake. You have to at least try to not assume the worst. And… I know I said I didn’t want to. But I still would.”

                “What?”

                “Just… if you run I am going to chase you. Know that.” Bradley is staring at him intently, clearly trying to drive his point home and Jake nods, accepts his statement as fact, whispers okay under his breath and lets Bradley brush a soft kiss on his forehead. “I mean, I’d put money on me saying something stupid but maybe just… please try not to assume the worst?”

                “Just assume you’re stupid?”

                “Yeah. Safer bet.”

                He huffs. “Okay. I’ll try.” Seems like the least he can do.

                “But also, why didn’t you think I’d say yes? We’ve been…”

                “Fucking. Yeah. But that’s… Didn’t think you’d want…” he waves a hand the small space between them and Bradley raises an eyebrow.

                “Well. How does it feel to be wrong once in your life?” Bradley asks, and again he stops the immediate sharp reply and considers his lapful of Bradley Bradshaw, looking down at him with his fingers gripping the hot tub sides so he’s effectively caged Jake in. He’s trapped, but there’s also nowhere else he’d rather be.

                “Honestly? Pretty damn good right now…”

                “Good. Like throwing the game. I’m… I’m with you. Only you.”

                “So. Dating,” Jake supplies. He’s dated before. He can do that.

                “Exclusively. Want to call you mine.”

                “You weren’t joking about being possessive huh?”

                “Nope,” Bradley replies, and Jake realizes he’s dead serious.

                “Okay. Okay.”

[graysonfics]

1.

the first time you feel xaden’s shadows is during battle brief. you’re mid conversation with ridoc and you laugh a little too loudly at one of his jokes. your smile fades when you feel the possessive curl of a shadow around your waist, but it’s gone as soon as you register what just happened.

“are you good?” ridoc’s looking at you with an uncertain look. “i lost you for a minute there.”

“i’m fine.” you brush it off, but the glance you steal at xaden when class starts reveals him smirking behind his hand.

2.

it doesn’t happen again for a few weeks, just long enough for you to forget about the battle brief incident. you’re walking with violet and rhiannon to your next class, the tower of books in your hands making your day incredibly difficult.

“do you really need all of those?” rhiannon notices you’re struggling to keep them balanced.

“i stopped by the library this morning and didn’t have time to go back to my room.” you try to shift the weight of the books and nearly drop all of them in the process.

“here, let us help.” violet reaches out to halve your stack, but you aren’t prepared and two books topple from the top your pile.

just as you’re about to pick them up, shadows wrap around their bindings and carefully lift them back into your arms.

as the three of you gape at the books you’re now holding, xaden passes you in the hallway.

“thanks.” you say to him, unable to stop the heat that’s beginning to seep into your cheeks.

“keep your reading light, (y/l/n).” he chastises without stopping, leaving you and your friends to stare after him in utter shock.

“okay, that was hot.” rhiannon’s the first to break the silence and the three of you burst into a fit of giggles as you continue on your way to the class you’re definitely going to be late for.

3.

after your last interaction with xaden, it’s safe to say he’s been on your mind. how can someone so infuriating be so sexy to you? all he has to do is look in your direction and you turn into a bumbling fool.

you fit in fantasising about your wingleader around training for your challenge, and soon you’re stepping onto the mat to face someone who is definitely going to beat you to a pulp.

you try to remember everything rhiannon’s been teaching you, but as soon as the girl launches for you it all flies out of the window. she puts you on your back a few times, but you quickly learn that she isn’t as fast as you. by some miracle, you manage to counter her and slip in between her legs. her surprise gives you time to jump onto her back and force her to the ground with three fingers curled into the pressure point on her neck. she yields in two seconds.

as you try to catch your breath, you feel the caress of a shadow against your blistering cheek. spinning on your heel, you’re met with onyx eyes.

4.

that night, you find xaden in the courtyard. it’s late and there’s a chill in the air, and there’s many reasons for you to go back to bed and pretend you don’t see him sitting out here alone, but you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“you shouldn’t be out here.” he doesn’t bother to look at you.

“how did you know it was me?” you ignore him and sit down.

“my shadows sensed you.” you can’t tell if he’s joking, but you choose not to question it.

“your shadows seem to like me,” you notice that his lips tilt up into a smirk that disappears as quickly as it comes. “they’re always finding me.”

“i wouldn’t know anything about that.”

you snort, shaking your head in amusement. a shiver runs through your body and you try to hide it from xaden, but he’s quick to wrap you up in his shadows. you look down at the dark blanket and smile.

“thanks.”

“don’t mention it.”

you sit with xaden until he deems it’s too cold to stay out. he doesn’t walk you to your door, but he brushes your lips with a small shadow before you part.

5.

“i won’t tell you again, barlowe. but because i’m feeling nice, how about you decide to fuck off before i make you?”

jack mutters something under his breath but knows better than to challenge xaden. he stalks off, leaving you with your wingleader.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you tell him. “i had it under control.”

“did you? because from where i was standing it looked like he was being a dick and you were letting him.”

“why do you care anyway?” you argue petulantly.

“because my shadows like you.”

the smile he gives you almost turns your legs into jelly. he’s about to say something else, but bodhi comes running over and the moment passes quicker than you’d like it to.

it isn’t until you politely take your leave that you feel a shadow kiss your cheek in goodbye.

[charliedawn]

hello hello can I make a request? It's a strange idea that I came up with after watching Pan's Labyrinth, you can ignore it if you don't want, it's basically a nurse with hooves and horns from an alpine ibex or wild goat of the Alps.a

Pequeña advertencia: ten cuidado con sus patadas y cabezazos, duelen muchísimo.

(a small reference photo of what the wild alpine goat looks like)

Oh, I love this idea ! A nurse with hooves and alpine ibex horns ? That’s such a beautifully eerie and folklore-inspired concept. I imagine it would give the slashers wildly different reactions—some would be fascinated, some terrified, and some very into it.

Jason Voorhees

Jason would be mesmerized. He grew up hearing stories about creatures in the woods, and now you’re standing in front of him—real. Your hooves don’t scare him; if anything, they make him feel a strange sense of calm. He’s already a creature of the wilderness, and now you seem like something that belongs in his world. He’d probably start following you around more, just quietly watching.

Michael Myers

Michael would just…stare. He wouldn’t react at first, but he’d be watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve. You don’t move like a normal person—you walk with grace, but there’s a weight to your steps, a sound of hooves clicking against the floor. And your horns ? If you ever catch him tilting his head slightly while looking at them, it’s because he’s imagining how they’d feel in his hands.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms would lose his mind—in the best way possible.

"You—you look like a fairy !"

He’d be obsessed with touching your horns, tracing them with his fingers while murmuring about how majestic you look. If you ever let him, he’d probably wrap little ribbons around them and giggle to himself.

Bo Sinclair

Bo would pretend to be uninterested.

"Horns, huh ? That’s somethin’ ya don’t see everyday…"

But deep down ? He thinks it’s hot.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent would be fascinated. Your horns are so elegant—he’d immediately want to sculpt them. He’d run his fingers over them, memorizing every ridge, every curve, before rushing off to create a marble replica. If you ever catch him staring at you in candlelight, sketchbook in hand, know that he’s already making art inspired by you. Would also take a few pictures of you because he wants to remember every detail of those horns.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy would love this.

"Damn, sweetheart, you’re like a walking nightmare—I mean that in a good way."

He’d constantly make jokes about your hooves, calling you "Bambi" or “Little Devil,” but he’d also be weirdly into it. Something about the way you move—the sound of hooves against tile, the way your horns curve like something out of a dream—it’s got him intrigued. And when Freddy is intrigued ? He doesn’t let go.

Pennywise

Pennywise would be delighted. He hates humans.

"Ohhh, now that is interesting !"

He loves things that blur the line between human and something else, so you ? You’re perfect. He’d circle you, grinning, talking about how you must’ve come from an older world, a forgotten story. Or maybe…another experiment from Maturin before he kicked the bucket. Who knows ?

Penny

Penny would laugh so hard.

"Oh ! You’re like a storybook come to life !"

He’d think you’re adorable—but also incredibly fun. If you ever get annoyed and stomp a hoof in frustration ? Oh, he’s living for it. He’d mimic you, making little exaggerated hoof-clicking sounds just to make you roll your eyes.

Norman Bates

Norman would be unsure at first.

"Mother says things like you are not natural… but you’re still oh so lovely, dear. I believe she may be wrong."

He’d be conflicted, caught between his admiration and his deeply ingrained fear of the unknown. But once he gets used to you ? He’d start associating you with old myths—half expecting you to guide him into some ancient, forgotten world.

Jack Torrance

Jack would just grin.

"Well, that’s a new one !"

He’d immediately start cracking jokes about you being the literal GOAT (greatest of all time). But deep down ? He thinks you look powerful, like something that walked straight out of a twisted folklore tale. And he’s very into that and would take you as a character inspiration for his next novel.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas would be nervous at first. Not because he’s scared—just because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But once he sees you’re just as kind and steady as before, he’d relax. He might even shyly touch your horns one day, running his fingers over them, silently fascinated by their texture.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba would be over the moon. He’d immediately start trying to make clothes that accommodate your horns, worried that normal ones might be uncomfortable. He’d also bring you little accessories—ribbons, beads, anything he thinks would look cute woven into them. He would become a team with Brahms on how prettier they can make you.

Chucky (Charles Lee Ray)

Chucky would cackle the first time he sees you.

"Holy shit, look at you ! You’re like one of those freaky pagan forest gods ! Tell me, did your mom have sex with a goat ? Because that would be awesome."

He’d joke about it constantly, but in a weird way, he respects it. You look like something old and powerful, and that’s kinda badass. If you ever get mad and stomp your hooves ? Oh, now he’s definitely laughing.

Patrick Bateman

Patrick would be intrigued but also deeply confused.

"Horns ? Hooves ? That is rather unusual, but they’re not terribly important to me. I would even say that the horns would fit better purpose to file them off your head and sell them to the highest bidder. Good money could come out of it..."

He’d analyze you like you’re a rare fashion statement, admiring the aesthetic of it before anything else and also the profit he could get out of it because…Patrick. Would he find you attractive ? Probably. Would he also spend hours staring at himself in the mirror, wondering if he should be concerned that he does ? Absolutely.

Lester Sinclair

Lester would be so excited.

"Well, hot damn, Y/N, you look like you walked straight outta one of them old mountain legends !"

Unlike Bo, who would try to play it cool, Lester would be genuinely fascinated by your horns and hooves. He grew up hearing all kinds of Southern folklore—about spirits in the woods, creatures that guided lost travelers—and now he’s looking at you like you just stepped out of one of those stories.

He’d ask a million questions. Do your hooves hurt after standing too long ? Do your horns grow ? Can you scratch your own back with ‘em ? And if you ever get annoyed and huff at him ?

"Aww, c’mon, don’t get all goat-grumpy on me, darlin’ !"

He’d also 100% try to make you a customized hat that fits around your horns. He’d be so proud when he finally figures it out.

"There ya go ! Now you got yourself a proper country look !"

And if Bo ever starts getting a little too interested in you ? Lester would absolutely notice and start teasing the hell out of him.

"Bo, you keep starin’ like that, you’re gonna sprain your damn neck."

Lester’s reaction is just pure happiness and curiosity—he thinks you’re the coolest thing ever, and he wants to know everything about you.

[fourth-wing-stories]

Mirrorball - Part 5

Pairing: Ridoc x OC

Words: 981

Summary: As emotions run high and the tension between them grows, Iris has to decide if she’s ready to risk their friendship for something deeper—or continue keeping her heart locked away.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Masterlist

Tags: @sweetsugarcoffee @lxnvmvrzx

Requests are OPEN, check bio

The next morning, Iris woke up feeling the familiar ache of tension in her chest. She had tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about Ridoc—The unspoken tension between them had grown heavier, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She made her way to the training grounds, where the Riders were preparing for the day's drills. The moment she spotted Ridoc, her stomach twisted. He was sparring with Aaric, his movements sharp and more aggressive than usual. It was clear that something was bothering him.

When their eyes met, there was no playful smirk this time. Ridoc’s gaze was cold, distant, and he didn’t bother to greet her. Iris frowned, feeling the weight of that look more than she expected. She approached the edge of the training circle, watching him carefully.

After Aaric and Ridoc finished their spar, Aaric gave Iris a quick nod before heading off, sensing the tension between the two of them. Ridoc barely acknowledged her presence as he grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his brow, clearly still fuming.

"Morning," Iris said, trying to keep her voice casual, though her heart was pounding.

Ridoc didn’t answer at first. He just kept his eyes forward, tossing the towel aside. When he finally spoke, his tone was clipped. “Morning.”

Iris crossed her arms, tilting her head at him. “You going to tell me what’s up, or are we just going to keep doing this?”

Ridoc shot her a look, his jaw clenched. “Doing what, Iris?”

She rolled her eyes, already sensing where this was going. “You know what.”

Ridoc scoffed, shaking his head. "Well I’m not the one hanging all over Kellan like he’s the last rider in Basgiath.”

Iris blinked, her frustration flaring. “Oh, so this is about Kellan now?”

“You think I didn’t see you?” Ridoc continued, his voice low but sharp. “The way you were laughing at his jokes, touching his arm. You know exactly what you were doing.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed, anger rising in her chest. “Oh, please. Like you didn’t know what you were doing with Jason. Sitting there with him practically in your lap, whispering in his ear. Don’t act like you’re some innocent victim here, Ridoc.”

Ridoc’s expression hardened, and for a moment, they just stood there, glaring at each other. The usual banter, the light teasing—they were both gone, replaced by something heavier, something real.

“You think this is a game, don’t you?” Ridoc’s voice was bitter, the frustration he’d been holding back finally breaking through. “Flirting with Kellan, just to get a rise out of me? It’s always a game with you.”

Iris’s heart sank at the accusation. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure how to explain it, how to tell him that it wasn’t just a game to her anymore—that it hadn’t been for a while.

“If I flirted with Kellan,” she said slowly, her voice trembling with restrained anger, “it’s because you made me feel like I had to. You were so damn cozy with Jason, I didn’t know what to think. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and watch while you flirt with everything on two legs in every room you walk into?”

Ridoc’s eyes flashed with something—hurt, maybe, or regret—but he quickly masked it with anger. “I wasn’t—” He stopped himself, taking a breath before running a hand through his hair. "This is about you and me, and how we keep playing these stupid games, pretending like nothing matters.”

Iris’s breath caught in her throat. He’d never said it so plainly before, never acknowledged the way they danced around their feelings, always testing the boundaries without crossing them.

Ridoc stepped closer, his voice lower now, more vulnerable. “Iris, if you don’t care, just say so. If this is all just a game to you, then fine. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when…” He trailed off, the words hanging in the air between them.

Iris swallowed hard, her heart racing. She wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to lash out, to push him away like she always did when things got too real. But another part of her—the part she’d been trying to ignore—wanted to tell him the truth. That she did care. That maybe this wasn’t just a game anymore. But her words stopped in her throat.

"Forget it" Ridoc muttered, stepping back. His usual lightheartedness was gone, replaced by something more guarded. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "I should never had kissed you"

The words felt like a smack in the face. He didn´t mean it, not really but the words still stung. Her vision blurred for a moment as her eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. Iris felt her chest tighten, watching him start to turn away. Her instinct screamed at her to say something, to stop him. But the fear clawed at her. What if this went wrong? What if she let him in, and he left? She’d lose not just whatever this was—but her friend. And losing Ridoc would hurt more than she cared to admit.

So she stayed quiet.

"I think we should just go back to being friends." His eyes flicked back to her for a moment, as if waiting for her to say something. But when she didn’t, he let out a quiet sigh before walking away.

Iris stood there, frozen, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Had they even ever been just friends? The moment was slipping through her fingers, and all she could do was watch it go. She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to run after him, but fear kept her rooted in place.

It was easier to push people away than to risk losing them. But as Ridoc disappeared from sight, she couldn’t help but wonder if this time, it had cost her more than she realized.

[deadqueerboys]

Thigh Using

Tommy x Ftm! Reader

Plot; Tommy using his thighs to jerk off.

M/n = reader

Reader is on T

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

The world is pointless if he's not here. Tom is a fucking sunlight. His eyes were on his phone when M/n came in with nothing but a baggy shirt and underwear. It wasn't even his underwear. He probably stole one of Tommy's boxers. He was just walking by, trying to get in the kitchen to eat something. His steps were quiet, yet it caught Tommy's attention. He lifts his eyes from his phone, smirking as he sees his boyfriend trying to pass by without being noticed. He tilts his head, taking a good look on his thighs and his legs. It makes him crazy. He wanted to touch him right now. He gets up from his seat, following him to the kitchen.

"Hello, beautiful." Tom said with a huge smile on his face. He leans into the dinner table, his elbows on the table. His eyes run by all his body, taking a look on his precious body. He stares at him like if he wants to take a piece just for himself, just to use how he wishes. He receives a frown from M/n, but he can't help. That's his way of being. He has to be funny and sometimes needy guy. He rests his head on his fists, still looking at him. "Come on, you look handsome with this shirt." His eyes close for a second, imagining how would it be to take his clothes off. His hands would be so quick to make him get naked.

"Not funny, Tom." M/n picks the water from the fridge, taking a sip from his bottle. He looks at Tommy. Suddenly, he realized he wasn't joking. He giggles and comes closer to him. "What do you want to do with me?" He puts the bottle down, walking over to him and looking at his lap. He could sit on it. It's always funny to feel him getting hard under his lap. His eyes narrow, and he grabs his chin, making he look up. Tom sits on the chair, spreading his legs. He clearly was half hard. It was noticeable the bulge on his pants. He follows his lead, sitting on his lap. His thighs quickly feel comfortable, bouncing on his lap softly. He doesn't want to make a big mess. Just play with him a little.

Tommy opens his zipper, pulling his pants and underwear down. His cock slaps against M/n's thighs. It gets in the middle of them as he bounces up and down. His cock is twitching between them, it's like the god stroke around his dick. He moans, hiding his face on his back. He nuzzles on his neck, sniffing his perfume. Tom is pretty sensitive, so it was obvious that he would cum soon. He knows he should stop himself, but it was too good. He could feel his boyfriend's pussy getting wet, his boxers never make a good job hiding it. He knows because he already came on his underwear multiple times before watching M/n play with himself. He uses his hand to stroke his tiny dick (big clit) through his underwear.

He rolls his eyes, moaning and panting on M/n's back. His hands are quick, but it can't compare to the thigh job he is receiving. He just wanted to be good for him, but he knows he's getting pleasure from it too. His stroke turns into fingering, putting his fingers inside of his boxers and touching M/n's cunt. He make circles before adding two fingers at the same time. His hole is open and comfortable around his fingers, it makes him take a moan himself. He needs it. It's his mission to make his man feel good. Tommy goes faster with his fingers, up and out really fast until he feels him cumming around him. He closes his eyes and cries, cumming all above M/n's thighs.

[ningco]

strangers

pairing: hueningkai x reader

genre: romance, angst, slightly suggestive

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄☆

hueningkai wasn’t stupid.

he knew what this was—what you were both pretending it wasn’t.

it wasn’t just casual. it wasn’t just fun.

not when his lips lingered on yours longer than necessary. not when your hands traced his skin like you were trying to memorize him. not when you looked at him afterward, eyes clouded with something deeper than lust.

not when he saw the hesitation in your gaze every time he got too close to asking for more.

and tonight was no different.

the dim glow of your bedside lamp bathed the room in soft light, shadows stretching along the walls. your sheets were tangled between your legs and his, your fingers still resting against his bare chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. he could feel yours too, where your bodies remained pressed together.

but this time, something was different.

he had reached his limit.

“i can’t do this anymore.”

your breath hitched, fingers twitching against his skin, but you didn’t pull away just yet. maybe you were hoping you’d misheard him. maybe you thought he didn’t mean it.

but he did.

kai had let you string him along for too long—letting you have him in every way except the one that mattered most.

his voice was quieter when he spoke again, raw, pained. “i love you.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, your heart screaming at you to say it back. to let him in. to stop running from the inevitable.

but the fear was suffocating.

“kai…”

the way his name trembled on your lips—it almost broke him.

“you love me too,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “i know you do.”

of course, you did. every shared glance, every stolen moment, every time you kissed him like he was the only person in the world—he knew.

but you weren’t willing to risk what you had, even if it meant tearing him apart in the process.

a deep, heavy silence filled the room. you felt kai shift, felt his warmth pulling away, and that’s when you finally opened your eyes.

he was sitting up now, head in his hands, as if bracing himself for your rejection. but you could see it—the hurt, the exhaustion, the quiet plea hidden beneath his words.

“tell me,” he said, voice hoarse, “tell me you don’t want this.” he turned to look at you, eyes dark and desperate. “tell me you don’t want me.”

you wanted to lie.

you wanted to say something that would make this easier.

but you couldn’t.

because you wanted him. more than anything.

your lips parted, but nothing came out. you felt the sting of tears at the back of your eyes.

kai let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “that’s what i thought.”

he stood up, gathering his clothes in silence. you watched him, your chest aching with the realization that this was it. he was walking away.

and you were letting him.

the door clicked shut behind him, and the moment he was gone, the tears spilled over.

because he was right.

you did love him.

and now, you were losing him.

-

the next day at school, you felt it before you even saw him.

the shift. the absence.

hueningkai had always been there—whether it was his lingering touches, his teasing remarks, or the way his gaze always, always found yours, no matter where you were in a room.

but today, he was gone.

not physically, of course. he was right there, sitting with the rest of your friends at your usual table during lunch, laughing at something beomgyu had said. his eyes crinkled at the corners, dimples appearing just as they always did.

but when you sat down across from him, he didn’t look at you.

not once.

your stomach twisted.

you tried to brush it off, to tell yourself you were imagining it, but then soobin made some joke about your shared psychology class, and for the first time in forever, kai didn’t chime in with a teasing remark. he just kept eating, expression blank.

it was so fucking unfair.

just last night, he had been inside you, his body tangled with yours, his voice whispering words into your skin that you had been too much of a coward to return.

but today?

today, he was acting as if none of it had ever happened.

as if he had never held you.

as if he had never loved you.

you felt daniela nudge your foot under the table, giving you a questioning look. you knew she could tell something was off. you were sure the others could too.

still, no one said anything.

no one except beomgyu, who had never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

“kai, you good?” he raised an eyebrow. “you’re kinda quiet today.”

“i’m fine.” kai’s response was immediate, and when he finally glanced up from his food, it was at beomgyu. not you.

you hated how much it hurt.

hated how easily he was pretending you didn’t exist.

a bitter laugh almost bubbled up your throat.

so this was how it was going to be.

fine.

if this was how he wanted to play it, then you weren’t going to beg. you weren’t going to crumble under the weight of your own mistake—not in front of him, not in front of everyone.

so you lifted your chin, plastered on a neutral expression, and acted like you didn’t care.

like he hadn’t held you the night before and made you feel things you weren’t ready to name.

like you hadn’t broken his heart, and in doing so, broken your own.

after school you had found him by the soccer field.

practice had already ended, the rest of the team scattered across the field, collecting their things or joking around near the bleachers. kai stood by the fence, tying his cleats, his posture relaxed—too relaxed for someone who had spent the entire day pretending you didn’t exist.

your heart was hammering in your chest, but you refused to let it show.

you marched straight up to him, stopping just close enough that he had no choice but to acknowledge you. but he didn’t. not at first.

“kai.”

nothing.

he finished tying his shoe, straightened up, and slung his bag over his shoulder. still not looking at you.

“kai, what the fuck?” your voice was sharp now, frustration breaking through. “you’re really gonna act like you weren’t inside me less than twenty-four hours ago?”

that got his attention.

his jaw clenched, his grip on his bag tightening. finally, he turned to face you, and the look in his eyes made your stomach drop.

it was cold. indifferent.

like you were just another person to him.

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he said, voice flat.

you almost laughed. almost screamed.

“oh, i don’t know,” you shot back. “maybe something about how you’ve been ignoring me all fucking day?”

kai exhaled harshly, running a hand through his damp hair. “i wasn’t ignoring you.”

you scoffed. “you didn’t say a single word to me. you didn’t even look at me.”

silence stretched between you. the sounds of the field—laughter, distant shouts—felt muted, irrelevant. it was just the two of you, standing in the wreckage of what you had done.

kai’s gaze hardened. “what did you expect, huh?” his voice was sharper now, edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “you made yourself clear last night. you don’t want to be with me. so what, you want me to just act like everything’s fine? like i’m fine?”

your throat tightened. “kai—”

“no,” he cut you off, stepping closer, his eyes burning into yours. “you can’t have it both ways. you can’t keep me at a distance. you can’t keep doing this to me, to us.”

us.

your heart clenched at the word.

“kai, i—” your voice cracked, and for the first time, you let the truth slip through the cracks. “i’m scared.”

his expression flickered—just for a second. but then, he let out a bitter laugh.

“you think i’m not?” his voice was quieter now, raw and vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache. “you think i don’t know that this could ruin everything? that if we break, i might lose you completely?”

your breath hitched.

“that’s why i—” you swallowed, trying to hold yourself together. “that’s why i can’t do this. i can’t risk losing you.”

kai shook his head, looking at you like you didn’t get it. like you never would.

“you already have.”

and with that, he walked past you, leaving you standing there with nothing but the weight of your own cowardice.

“kai—”

your voice broke as you grabbed his arm, fingers trembling, eyes burning with the tears you refused to let fall.

he stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. not yet.

desperation clawed at your chest, suffocating, unbearable. you couldn’t let him leave—not like this, not when you could feel him slipping away for real this time.

so you did the only thing you knew how to do.

you kissed him.

you poured everything into it—the longing, the regret, the silent pleas you could never voice. your lips moved against his, familiar and desperate, like maybe if you kissed him hard enough, he’d forget the way you had hurt him. maybe if you kissed him like this, he’d understand that you were just scared, not indifferent.

for a moment—just a moment—he gave in.

his lips parted against yours, and you could feel the way he wanted to hold you, to melt into you the way he always did. his hands twitched at his sides, and for a second, you thought he’d pull you in the way he always did.

but then he didn’t.

instead, his hands pressed against your shoulders, firm but gentle, and he pushed you away.

not roughly. not angrily.

just… final.

when you opened your eyes, his were already on you—tired, resigned.

“no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not going to work anymore.”

your stomach dropped.

because you knew exactly what he meant.

it was over. not just the stolen kisses, not just the nights tangled together in sheets and whispered confessions that neither of you could say in the light of day.

you had lost him.

your lips parted, but no words came out.

kai exhaled, stepping back. “i love you,” he murmured. “but i can’t keep letting you do this to me.”

and then, without another word, he turned around and walked away.

this time, you didn’t stop him.

this time, he didn’t look back.

-

you stayed home from school the next day.

your alarm had gone off like usual, your phone buzzing with notifications from your friends asking where you were, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

you couldn’t bear the thought of walking into school and seeing him. seeing kai act like you didn’t exist. seeing him look at you with nothing but indifference like last night hadn’t happened, like you hadn’t kissed him out of sheer desperation, like he hadn’t pushed you away and told you no.

so you stayed in bed, curled up beneath the covers, replaying every single mistake you had made with him.

how long had you been lying to yourself? how long had you pretended that what you had with kai was something casual? that you could touch him, kiss him, let him whisper things to you in the dark, and somehow not fall completely, devastatingly in love with him?

you already have.

his words rang in your head, over and over, cutting into you like a blade.

you had already lost him. and the worst part?

you had no one to blame but yourself.

your phone buzzed again, vibrating on your nightstand. you reached for it with shaking hands, barely glancing at the screen before your heart clenched.

megan: you okay? you never miss school.

sophia: lmk if you wanna talk.

beomgyu: yo wtf where are you??

your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

because you weren’t okay.

and you weren’t sure you ever would be again.

you weren’t expecting anyone.

so when the soft knock on your bedroom door echoed through the quiet of your house, you almost didn’t answer. you had ignored every call, every text—what was one more knock?

but then—

“it’s me.”

soobin.

your breath hitched.

of course, it was him. if anyone was going to show up, it would be soobin. he had been one of your closest friends since childhood, the one person who could always see right through you, no matter how hard you tried to hide.

you hesitated before mumbling, “it’s open.”

the door creaked as he stepped inside, his tall frame nearly filling the space. his uniform tie was loosened, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and the second he saw you curled up in bed, his expression softened.

“you look like shit,” he said flatly.

you let out a weak laugh, wiping at your eyes. “yeah, well. i feel like shit, too.”

he sighed, walking over to sit on the edge of your bed. “i figured. you never miss school unless something’s really wrong.”

you stared down at your blanket, fingers clutching the fabric. “did… did anyone else notice?”

soobin hummed. “everyone did. sophia kept checking her phone, megan was worried. beomgyu was being annoying about it, but, you know, that’s just how he is.”

your stomach twisted. “and kai?”

soobin paused.

that was all the answer you needed.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and exhaled shakily. “so he really meant it, huh?”

soobin didn’t say anything for a moment, then—

“i don’t know what happened between you two,” he admitted, “but… yeah. he looked—different today.”

different.

you knew what he meant. you could picture it perfectly—kai laughing with the others, acting like he was fine, like you weren’t even a thought in his mind.

like you hadn’t been in his arms just two nights ago.

your chest ached.

“i think i really fucked up this time, soobin.”

he didn’t sugarcoat it. “yeah. you did.”

you let out a watery laugh. “wow, thanks.”

he nudged your leg with his knee. “i’m not saying it to be mean. i just—i don’t get why you kept pushing him away. you love him.”

your throat tightened. “i know.”

“so why didn’t you just let yourself be with him?”

“because,” you whispered, voice breaking, “if i lost him, i wouldn’t know how to handle it.”

soobin stared at you for a long moment, then shook his head.

“and now you lost him anyway.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, but it was useless—because the truth was already there, staring you in the face.

you had lost him. and it was all your fault.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

the weight of everything—the regret, the loss, the aching emptiness kai left behind—came crashing down all at once. a choked sob ripped from your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you broke.

soobin barely hesitated.

without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight as you cried against his shoulder. his warmth, his familiar scent—everything about him felt safe, like the home you had known since childhood.

he didn’t say anything. he didn’t tell you to stop crying or that everything would be okay. he just let you fall apart, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back as you clung to him, sobs wracking your body.

“i—” your voice cracked. “i d-didn’t mean to hurt him—”

“i know,” he murmured. “i know.”

you fisted the fabric of his hoodie, struggling to breathe between your gasps. “b-but i did. i hurt him so bad, soobin.”

his grip on you tightened. “yeah,” he admitted quietly. “you did.”

a fresh wave of tears spilled down your cheeks.

“but you love him,” soobin continued, his voice softer now. “right?”

you squeezed your eyes shut. “i do.”

“then fix it.”

you swallowed hard, pulling back slightly to look at him. “what if it’s too late?”

soobin studied you for a moment, then sighed, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “then at least you’ll know you tried.”

you bit your lip, your chest still heaving from the crying, but the smallest flicker of something—hope?—bloomed deep inside you.

because soobin was right.

if you loved kai, you had to fix this.

before it really was too late.

-

you showed up to school the next day with dark circles under your eyes and the weight of yesterday still clinging to your chest, but none of that mattered.

you weren’t going to hesitate anymore.

you wanted kai. and this time, you were going to fight for him.

the hallways were bustling with students, voices overlapping as people rushed to their first classes. you barely heard any of it, your heart pounding as your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for him.

then, you saw him.

kai was standing by his locker, talking to taehyun. he looked… normal. laughing at something taehyun said, his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed.

like he hadn’t spent months tangled up in you. like you hadn’t meant anything.

like he hadn’t broken you just two days ago.

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to move. you weren’t going to run away this time.

kai noticed you before you reached him. his laughter died the second his gaze landed on you, his expression hardening. you could see the conflict flash across his face—the hesitation, the way his jaw clenched—but he turned back to taehyun, pretending you weren’t there.

fine. if he wasn’t going to acknowledge you, then you’d make him.

“hueningkai,” you called, your voice steady despite the way your heart slammed against your ribs.

taehyun glanced between you both, sensing the tension immediately. “uh… i’ll catch you later,” he muttered before walking off, leaving you alone with kai.

slowly, he turned to face you.

his eyes met yours, cold and distant, and for the first time in your life, kai looked at you like you were a stranger.

“what do you want?” his voice was flat. emotionless.

but you weren’t backing down.

“i need to talk to you,” you said, taking a step closer. “alone.”

kai scoffed, shaking his head. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

you swallowed. “please.”

he exhaled sharply, glancing away as if debating whether you were worth his time.

and then, after a long pause—

“fine.”

without another word, he turned and walked down the hall.

and you followed, your hands trembling at your sides.

this was it.

it was now or never.

you led him into an empty classroom, your palms sweating as you gripped the doorknob before shutting it behind you.

this room held memories—of late-night study sessions that turned into stolen kisses, of whispered conversations when no one else was around, of fingers intertwined under desks when you swore to each other that this was nothing serious.

kai stood near the desk where he had once pulled you into his lap, his arms crossed, jaw tight. his whole stance screamed indifference, but you knew him too well. you could see it—the way his fingers twitched, the way he avoided looking at you directly.

he was still hurting.

and it was because of you.

“what do you want?” he asked, voice clipped.

you took a shaky breath. “i’m sorry.”

he let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “for what, exactly?”

“for all of it,” you admitted. “for pushing you away. for pretending like this wasn’t real when it was the realest thing i’ve ever had.”

kai’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing. “you don’t get to do this now.”

you took a step closer. “i know. i know i should’ve figured this out sooner. i was scared, kai.”

he finally looked at you then, and it nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. his gaze wasn’t just cold—it was exhausted.

“i loved you,” he murmured, and your heart cracked. “i waited for you to stop running, to stop acting like this was just some game. i would’ve done anything for you. but you—” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “you kept me at arm’s length, even when i was giving you all of me.”

your throat tightened. “i thought—” you swallowed. “i thought i would lose you if we made this real. but i lost you anyway.”

kai’s lips parted, and for a second, he looked just as broken as you felt.

you took another step forward.

“i don’t want to be scared anymore,” you whispered. “i don’t want to pretend like i don’t love you, because i do. i love you, kai.”

his breath hitched.

silence filled the room, thick with everything unspoken, everything you had been too afraid to say until now.

and then—

“say it again.” his voice was barely above a whisper.

you took his hands in yours, your fingers lacing together like they were always meant to be.

“i love you.”

his walls crumbled.

and then he kissed you.

this wasn’t like the other kisses—the desperate, fleeting ones in the dark, the ones you convinced yourselves meant nothing.

this was different. this was everything.

because this time, there was no hesitation.

you weren’t afraid anymore.

for the first time, you let yourself love kai the way you always wanted to.