#An ending that's also a beginning...! This came out so peaceful and warm!
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Still Alive: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader
Part 2 of Still Life
Synopsis: Delivery complications during the birth of your son leave Jack caught between grief and hope, life and loss. In the stillness that follows, those who witnessed it begin to confront their own silent trauma, navigating recovery, healing and bonding with a newborn.
Warnings: Angst, but also comfort this time; Very graphic descriptions of a traumatic birth, massive blood loss, life support, mentions of maternal death stats, abortion, overall pretty heavy, please take care!!
Word count: 3.4k+
A/n: Can you tell I'm incredibly passionate about reproductive health and bodily autonomy!! This turned a bit political... whoops!
Also, you guys basically held me at gunpoint to write this lmfao… hope you like it!! name and shame special mentions: @florenceivy @bungurus @happyfox43 @pearlofthepitt @angrytimemachineduck @pear-1206 @yousigned-upforthis @blushinginapril @theblackestvalkyrie @csigeoblue @xxemmarldxx @travelingmypassion <3
“You did so good, my love." Jack whispers. "So fucking good.” He wraps a blanket around you both, trying to shield you from the cold, from the storm, from everything.
The placenta came out whole. That should’ve been the end of it.
The start of your little family.
Robby watches the three of you fondly, though his movements stay clinical and focused.
Jack, now fully stepping into the role of husband and father, lets him take charge.
With a calm, gentle bedside manner, Robby cleans you as gently as he can with the supplies he has available, assessing the extent of your perineal tear and preparing to suture.
The aftermath of the miracle of life, raw, exposed, brutal.
You don‘t feel any of it. The world rests on your chest, a warm, perfect weight. Your baby’s tiny breaths brush against your flushed, clammy skin.
For a few peaceful seconds, the three of you breathe in perfect harmony. A beautiful rhythm that creates an unbreakable bond between you.
Your souls tied together by invisible strings.
The emotions, the hormones and the love are overwhelming.
But bliss never lingers. Never long enough.
The surgical blanket between your legs suddenly turns dark.
Then comes the gush.
A wave of blood pours out of your body. And it keeps coming.
To much. Too fast.
Robby reacts instantly, but he can‘t keep up.
Jack’s eyes grow wide, his face goes pale.
Primary postpartum hemorrhage.
You’re not supposed to die giving birth. Not here. Not now.
Not with Jack watching.
But you‘ve seen this before. Too many times.
Women bleeding out on tables.
Partners gripping their hands, helpless, as the world stops making sense.
The devastating truth is, maternal death rates in the U.S. are shockingly high and for women of color, the risk is even two to three times higher.
It‘s bias, delayed care, systemic neglect.
It's a lack of research, a lack of funding.
A deep, persistent lack of interest in women‘s health.
Our pain sidelined.
Ignored.
Normalized.
The system continues to fail women and people with a uterus.
Jack knows that. Robby does too.
That’s why the moment the bleeding starts, they don’t waste time. They’ve seen how fast a name turns into a number.
How a tragedy turns into a statistic, that ultimately changes nothing.
Robby calls out for Jack to assist, before starting a uterine massage to stimulate contraction.
Jack’s eyes flicker to Robby’s, his hand deep inside you. That part doesn’t register until later.
You don‘t respond to the pain. Not a good sign.
You‘re going into shock.
Robby‘s gloves are soaked. Your blood literally on his hands. The massage isn‘t working. Not fast enough anyway.
Robby shouts orders at Dana, voice trembling, then turns to Jack. “Start the IV.“
Jack's trained for this. But he hesitates.
Frozen.
Jack never freezes.
Always calm and collected, even during the most chaotic, traumatizing cases.
Robby knows the feeling. There have been one or two instances where time stood still for him too. Where his body was suddenly not his own, even though others counted on him.
He needs Jack, now.
You need him.
Robby is only thinking in units, how many you‘ve lost, how many you need.
This isn’t a slow bleed. This is the kind that kills people.
Fast.
“Jack!” Still no answer. “Dr. Abbot!“ Robby‘s desperate yell finally snaps Jack back into professional mode.
He moves. Slides out from under you, gently guiding you onto your back, cradling your head.
He rushes to switch out with Robby, now massaging your uterus with one hand, the other pressing firmly on your abdomen.
Robby swiftly takes your boy from your arms, leaving you dazed and confused.
“It‘s okay, he‘s okay.“ Robby’s eyes lock with yours for a second. “We need to stop the bleeding.“
You don‘t hear any of it, your world being ripped from you.
Robby passes the baby through the elevator door to Dana, who cradles him close, rocking gently.
Jack returns to your side, settling at your head again, cupping your face.
Robby works quickly. He inserts a Bakri balloon through your cervix, inflating it with sterile fluid to put pressure on the uterine wall.
You don‘t see any of it.
The world just... stops.
It’s been a week since Jack and Robby fought to save your life.
A week since you bled out on the cold elevator floor.
A week since you took your last breath on your own.
Jack hasn‘t left your bedside, except maybe the odd trip to the bathroom, but otherwise he's been still.
The image of a tube down your throat forever burnt into his mind. Your exhausted body hooked up to machines that he knows keep you alive. That breathe for you now.
As a doctor, Jack knows the truth: one flipped switch and you’d be gone.
But as a partner, as a new father, he clings to the hope that you‘ll come back.
Jack feels paralyzed, fear, guilt and helplessness weighing him down.
The life you have built together is on hold, a deep stillness filling the air.
All he can do is wait for something to change. Either one way or the other. But in this moment, time seems to stand still.
It’s also been a week since your son was born.
Sometimes, Jack has to remind himself of that. That there's a whole new life now, suddenly depending on him.
But ridden with guilt, he finds himself unable to care for your boy in this time of crisis.
Dana brings the baby in sometimes, places him gently on your chest. Skin-to-skin. For the baby and the mom.
Those are the rare moments Jack lets himself feel it. The love. The dream.
A glimpse of what was supposed to be.
Until the sadness floods back in.
He failed you. As a husband. As a doctor.
How could he not save you?
“She‘s so still.“ Jack says under his breath.
“She‘s still alive, Jack.“ Robby‘s voice is kind but firm. He sits across from him on the other side of your bed, watching Jack carefully. “She needs you to believe in that.“
Jack just stares at you. “We‘ve both seen how most of these go“
“I know.“ Robby looks at you then your boy resting calmly on your chest. “But we‘re not there yet."
Robby picks up your son's tiny hand. Instinctively, those small fingers wrap around Robby’s.
“He has your smile“, Robby laughs softly.
Jack‘s frown lines soften. “And her eyes.“
The realization makes Jack smile. Robby gives him a nod, as if he just proved his point.
“Add some silver to those curls, a bit of unhealthy cynicism and a dash of existential dread… voilá!“
That earns a chuckle.
Jack rolls his eyes. “We both know I’m the healthy one.”
“Healthy is a stretch, brother.“ Robby raises an eyebrow. “I have talked you off a ledge or two.“
Jack snorts. "Ditto. Why did I even give you my therapist‘s number if you‘re not gonna use it.“
“What makes you think I haven‘t.“ A smile tugs at Robby‘s lips.
“Get out.“ Jack stares. “Have you?“
“Yes, actually“, Robby’s tone turns proud.
“When?"
He doesn’t need to answer. Jack already knows.
They both look at you.
The irony isn't lost on Jack. He is the one that hasn‘t made an appointment since it happened. Too afraid to leave your side.
When he thought about losing you before - and he has, of course, he‘s seen too much loss, too much death - he always knew he would find himself on a roof not soon after.
But now. Now another life depends on him. Regardless of whether you leave them.
“You know what happened isn‘t your fault, right?“ Jack puts the question out there, though he knows the answer.
Robby just shakes his head. And in that moment Jack realizes the guilt that‘s weighing on Robby too.
He wants to shake him, tell him he couldn’t have done more. But he also understands. Somehow, sharing the guilt makes it all a little more bearable.
“She wants you to be godfather.“ Jack says before he can overthink it. “I do too, in case that‘s not obvious.“
Robby‘s eyes widen in surprise, too stunned to speak.
“I know, I know, first the baby‘s name, now this.“ Jack furrows his brows. “If I didn‘t know any better I‘d be jealous…“
Back in his body, Robby finds his voice. “When you say it like that, he kind of does have my nose…“
“Careful, fruitcake-“
“I swear to god, Abbot, if you call me that again-“
A soft cry cuts through the banter.
Both men go still.
Jack stares at his son.
The frown lines on Jack‘s face, suddenly deep as ever. Jack realizes that he hasn‘t actually held his boy. Not really, apart from the few short moments when he places him on your chest.
And certainly not like a father should.
Whereas Robby has visited the NICU after every shift, occasionally even during his breaks. Checking, caring, guarding.
He's ready to hold him if Jack is not.
Robby's seen it many times. How deeply partners are affected by birth trauma too. It‘s the kind of silent pain that eats away at people.
The guilt, the helplessness. The shame, for even feeling this way, when it didn‘t physically happen to them.
The scars cut deep, even if they aren‘t the ones that carry them.
Their partners are the ones fighting for their lives, so surely they have no right to feel so broken. They have to be strong for the both of them. To hold the family together.
But as doctors, they know that‘s not how it works.
And yet no one speaks of it.
So they suffer in silence.
And even though Jack has all of the practical and theoretical knowledge, he still falls victim to it.
Robby doesn‘t push, he‘s just there.
Still.
But this time, Jack moves first. He reaches for his boy, lifts him into his arms. Holds him against his chest.
The crying fades. Jack’s doesn’t.
Tears fall down his cheeks as he rocks the baby gently.
“We‘ll be okay." He whispers into his son’s soft curls. "You, me and your mommy.“ He exhales, eyes shut. “She loves you so much. And I know she can‘t wait to meet you."
Jack has felt lost since the moment your eyes closed. But now... he finds you again.
In your baby’s eyes.
And he can‘t help but feel a wave of love wash over him.
You made this tiny human together. And he‘s every bit as beautiful as you‘d expect.
All the pain, the sadness and the fear briefly stop for a moment of peace.
Jack stays like this for what feels like hours. Robby was called away for a critical case at some point, though Jack didn't really notice when he left.
He doesn‘t notice Dana standing in the doorway either, until she raises her voice slightly to speak. “You‘re a natural, Jack.“
Her words are kind and affirmative and just what Jack needs.
Dana is perceptive like that. Always knows what to say to make others feel better even when her own life is falling apart.
Even in times of deep crisis, she is the first to step up and help.
And that‘s what she did for you.
When Jack and Robby were working on you, desperately trying to stop you from bleeding out, her helping hands were a safe haven for your boy.
But it also affected her. She was used to compartmentalizing, but seeing her colleague, her friend, on the floor, pale, not breathing and still, left a scar.
And she too feels like this is something she can‘t speak of. Because again, what right does she have.
So she carries it with her. Silently.
She feels it every time she comes into your room to brush your hair. When she moisturizes your face and hands. When she strokes her thumb over your frown line.
She tells you about her day and your boy‘s.
Jack is there too of course.
He never leaves.
It‘s the only time when Jack allows himself to rest his eyes for a bit, a deep trust that Dana's watching over you.
“Want me to take him up to the NICU?“ Dana offers gently.
“Thank you." Jack contemplates for a moment before shaking his head. "I‘ve got it.“
He moves to stand, his eyes flickering to you then back to Dana.
“I‘ve got her“, she assures him with a warm smile, taking a seat next to you.
As he moves towards the door, Dana suddenly stops him. “What the hell did you to her hair, Abbot?“
Jack just shrugs innocently.
Dana scoffs, lightly cursing under her breath. "Men."
Jack returns a small smile, leaving your room for the first time in a week, cradling his newborn.
Like many times before, Robby spends his break in your room.
Dana has just finished your beauty routine. Fixing the mess on your head that Jack clumsily left.
Robby watches the two of you fondly. There are no words needed. Just a silent appreciation of the people in his life. In yours.
He thinks back to when he picked up the phone to call the therapist Jack recommended. He was sobbing, hands shaking, voice trembling, breathing unsteady. Just minutes earlier, he had put you on life support. No time to process.
And of course, it brought everything back. The memory of taking Dr. Adamson, his mentor, his friend, off ECMO. The grief still raw.
So Robby dialed the number and made an appointment. A tiny win in itself. Although, he'd later realize wasn't so small after all.
The therapist was nice enough. Though Robby felt like he was being assessed. Because, of course, he was.
Doctors make the worst patients. Especially, in therapy.
They know too much, often feel they're above being treated. Above being helped.
Physician heal thyself.
Collins' words echo in his mind.
Robby remembers when Heather told him about the miscarriage.
His heart broke for her.
Though he wasn't the father, so was it his place to feel devastated?
Or when she told him she had an abortion, long after they broke up. He wanted to cry. Not because he didn't respect her decision. It's her body and he would have supported her no matter what.
No. Because she was scared and alone. Felt like she couldn't come to him and tell him. To share the weight of her choice.
He believes he failed her.
Like he failed you.
He should probably make another appointment.
There've been a few breakthroughs in the couple of sessions he's attended. His therapist made him start a journal. Write down all the things that plague his mind.
So he does. The words practically pouring out of him.
Robby writes about how partners are mostly an afterthought when it comes to birth trauma.
How they're expected to be strong, to support, to hold down the fort and to move on.
How there are little to no resources for families and loved ones.
How there's no funding, no research and too much stigma.
How much it would help people feel less alone if they could actually talk about it.
How birth trauma doesn't begin and end with the person giving birth.
And mostly he thinks about you in this bed, still, unconscious, far away. How it’s simply to much to bear alone. But he cannot bring himself to translate those thoughts onto paper.
Not when there‘s still hope.
The monitors beep. A sudden change. Something is different.
Your eyes flutter, your muscles twitch, the sound of faint gags fill the room.
Robby rushes to your side, quickly assessing if you're ready to breathe on your own.
You pass the criteria, so he orders Dana to prep for extubation, attempting to calm you down.
You try to inhale, but it’s wrong. Your throat is on fire. Your jaw tight.
A hand finds yours. Dana. "You're okay, honey. You're okay."
But something’s in your throat, a deep panic tears through your chest and you choke, eyes widening.
Someone else is speaking, pleading. "I know, I know it hurts. We’re getting it out. Hang on for me.” The voice is too familiar, but you can‘t place it.
You gag, something slick is pulled from deep inside you. It feels like you're being sliced open.
The second the sharp object leaves your throat, you gasp like you're taking your first breath. Like you've drowned and you're coming up for air.
You cough and cough, terrified and breathless. Eyes heavy.
Then you hear his voice. Again. Clearer this time.
Your eyes flutter open, focusing, trying to find something to hold onto. That makes sense. Anything.
"My love."
Jack.
Jack steps closer, cradling your head, his other palm resting gently on your chest. "You're still here." He says it like he's convincing himself.
Your eyes soften, your breathing steadies. You barely take in your surroundings, your only focus is Jack.
"You're okay." He's clinging to your face now. "God, I missed those eyes."
Your thoughts clear. Memories start flooding back.
Michael. But the words don‘t leave your throat.
Jack studies your face, patiently.
You try again. A whisper.
"Michael."
"I'm here", Robby answers, though you swear he's made that joke before.
You attempt to shake your head, though it's more of a twitch.
"I know you're not talking about me." Robby admits, gesturing to someone in the doorway.
The you hear it. Tiny cooing filling the air.
Your sweet baby.
A fragile sob escapes your lips. You look at Jack, who helps you sit up just enough.
Every muscle aches, every joint throbs, every scar burns, but a sudden energy surges through you. You lift your arms just enough for Dana to place your boy into your waiting arms. Like you found the missing piece of the puzzle. Like you're finally where you belong.
Jack wraps his arm around your shoulders, his other hand steadying yours as you cradle your boy.
"He has your smile", you whisper lovingly, gazing up at your partner.
Robby and Jack share a look and you wonder what that's about. Though it looks like Robby feels very much validated.
"All I see is you", Jack counters, adoration and devotion in his gaze. Jack leans in to press his forehead to yours, your lips quickly finding his in a gentle, needed kiss.
When you pull apart, you turn to Robby and Dana.
"You were there..."
They look at you, unsure where you're going.
“It matters”, you continue. “All of it. So don’t… don’t carry this alone.”
A beat. The room goes quiet.
"You nearly died and you're worried about us?" Dana chokes.
“I want Mikey to know… that the people who brought him into this world are the ones who stood still for us when everything else stopped.”
You take a breath.
“Will you be his godparents?”
Dana nods fast, like she’s trying to keep tears from falling.
Robby stands there, arms crossed, head bowed. Evidently moved by your question, but there's something else.
You groan, narrowing your eyes. "Jack already asked you, didn't he?"
Robby hesitates, scratching his neck and looking anywhere but at you. There's no way to talk himself out of that one, so he confesses.
You drop your head back onto the pillow with a theatrical sigh, then shoot Jack a look. He raises his hands in mock-surrender, a genuine smile growing on his lips.
You turn back to Robby, expectantly.
"Of course", he smiles. "I'd be honored."
"I don't know if I should be glad or offended you didn't ruin the surprise for me too", Dana deadpans, turning to Jack.
Jack scrambles to change the subject. "You know... Robby went to see my therapist."
"You what?" You blink. “Oh my God… I called it. Group therapy is happening.”
Robby tries not to look too smug.
You turn to Jack, still grinning. “Does that make him the stable one now?”
Jack groans, “Don't start.”
There's a refreshing lightness in the air, that none of you have felt for a while.
You know the road to recovery is long and that healing is a process. You'll grieve the time you've missed with your son. The milestones you weren't there for.
But the people in this very room were with you during the worst time of your life and you know you’ll make it through this too.
Together.
You hold your son closer. And Jack holds you.
In that moment, you realize that trauma is shared and that naming it is a kind of healing.
Ok I need to stop, this story already got away from me, didn‘t intend for it to be so long but here we are. Please lmk what you think <3
#the pitt#jack abbot#jack abbot x reader#dr abbot x you#dr abbot x reader#shawn hatosy#the pitt hbo#michael robinavitch#dr robby#jack abbott#jack abbott x reader#dr abbott x reader#noah wyle#dana evans#robby robinavitch
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Squid Game men as dads (+pregnancy HCs)
How they act during your pregnancy, shortly after birth and as a veteran dad!
Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x fem!reader
Summary: Headcanons, scenarios as them as to-be-dads, new dads and veteran dads plus a bonus scenario at the end of each character!
Genre: Fluff, angst
Words in total: 7.1k (Every part is around 1.4k words long)
Note: No baby names or gender are mentioned so everything is up to your interpretation. Also, this took a lot of effort. I hope you enjoy this <3
Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman



( Words — 1.1k )
Your husband was extremely over-prepared for anything and everything during your pregnancy. He seemingly bought every single parenting book that exists on this planet and proceeded to inhale them in a matter of days before internally panicking about if he is capable of being a good dad anyway. You can tell how much everything was eating away at him, even before the child was born. Although he tried his best to never show it.
A way to channel his nervous and stressed energy into something good is by constantly hovering around you. Being near your pregnant glow gives him a peace of mind, resting his head on your stomach and listening to the baby’s heartbeat and feeling a light kick here and there, or having you in his arms while giving you a massage, his lips peppering featherlight kisses over your skin.
Gong Yoo always insisted on cooking for you, no matter the hour of day or night. He is kind of afraid you might consume something questionable again after watching you dip tuna kimbab into chocolate sauce, insisting it tastes really good and almost making him try a little too.
For you and your baby’s health, he fully banned you from the kitchen. No more experimenting with food for you.
˚✧₊⁎-
He was absolutely broken the first time he held your baby. It was so unbelievably small, so fragile, pure and innocent. The embodiment of love and the result of it. Gong Yoo had to bite his tongue and hold back his tears in order to not cry waterfalls onto your newborn because he knows once a single tear drops, his whole facade shatters.
Once the baby came home with you two, the once neat and organised, shared home was transformed into a more warm and homely environment, the floor now decorated with toys, onesies, clothes and small children’s books.
He always gets up in the middle of the night so you can rest, falling asleep in the rocking chair with the baby in arms. Your husband is also mostly the one that stays at home with the baby since his job only requires some recruitment of desperate people once a year, so most of his time can be dedicated to you and his family.
Gong Yoo is also that one dad most of the other moms swoon about when seeing him at playgrounds or in the park, pushing the stroller of the baby, or having his kid hang out in a sling tied to his chest while he went shopping, comparing two types of baby foods with another and showing both to the bean of happiness tied to his chest, cooing and asking which type of baby food is tastier.
Hanging out with the baby is probably the activity that takes 80% of his day and he is not complaining at all. Your husband’s head lays on the edge of the crib while watching the precious thing sleep, cradling them in his arms in the middle of the night, sitting with them in the playpen, completely matching their excitement and energy while playing with their toys, admiring how easily his kid can be entertained.
Although he looks charming and even more handsome out in public, he cares little about his appearance anymore. While he was obsessed with the way his suit looked and hair was styled, now, he considers himself satisfied when he finds a clean t-shirt. His hair gets a little messier and dark circles begin to form beneath his eyes.
˚✧₊⁎-
Even as a veteran dad, Gong Yoo fold together immediately when his kid try to win his favour by saying I love you or making puppy eyes at him. He’s not a pushover though, standing his ground and giving his kid a strict glare whenever they go to far that immediately silences them is not impossible, although he doesn’t like doing it.
He is always afraid of doing something wrong when it comes to parenting, overthinking every decision and everything he says, fearing he’s too strict, too loose, too much of a pushover, too disinterested and blah blah blah.
You had to stop his circling train of thought by soothing your husband by reminding him how he always shower up to every single school event, always sat through the homework and never raised his voice when his child didn’t understand something, instead explaining it in simpler terms without making them feel stupid for not getting it the first time, how he never shamed his child for doing wrong, never blamed them for being just a kid and always did the opposite than his own father did.
It might sound selfish, but becoming a father healed the hole left behind by his own. Oh how he wishes and prays that he does and did everything right. The only thing he wants is for you and his precious baby to be happy and safe, no matter what.
˚✧₊⁎ - (TW: Suicide)
“What’s the matter? Your mind starting to race?”
The recruiter sits across Gi-hum, gun handed over into his hand. The cold metal now feels almost overwhelming when touching his skin, as if screaming at him to turn it around and point it at the man sitting across him and shoot him, end the game here and there.
“That’s right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me… but, I’ll have you admit one last thing.”
Gi-hun’s voice wasn’t even shaking in fear, it was firm with determination.
“You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark and wag your tail for them.
You’re nothing more than their dog.”
The words emitted from the mam sitting across him begin to slice deeper and deeper into his mind, his heart and soul. It’s true what he says, Gong Yoo knows it himself. He is but a small chess piece, a dog, as Gi-hun says, that obeys every order and does what his master says.
What choice does he have anyway? It’s either that or risking his death and yours.
You. A flashing memory of your face from just this morning briefly plagues his mind, the view now feels so utterly distant and unreal.
A small, cocky smile spread on his face, pathetically trying to have his last laugh. He leaned back against the cushion and cocked the gun, pressing the barrel against the underside of his chin. Taking one last breath, his finger pressed against the trigger, not pulling it yet.
He knows you both will be okay. Maybe even better without him.
Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

( Words — 1.5k )
To be very honest, the news of your pregnancy kinda hit him like a truck. It was somewhat accidental and Thanos maybe panicked quite a lot while pacing around his shitty apartment, scared to death about the idea of becoming a dad. Like, have you seen him?? He is supposed to become a dad?!
After loosing his mind and having multiple panic attacks, he pulled himself together and went to the dollar store to buy a onesie, a teddy bear and a bouquet of roses before heading over to your place and ringing the doorbell for multiple minutes until you finally open the door.
He actually sold his apartment and moved in with you, performed a gig every night for multiple weeks on end, even dealing his fair share of drugs in club pentagon. Your boyfriend would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, but having a stable income would be much nicer.
Other than that, your boyfriend took care of you the best he could. Whenever you crave something to eat, your boyfriend will stand inside a gas station at 2 am to buy you the specific type of chips you wanted. If there wasn’t enough money to afford a decent meal for the two of you, you’d get all the food. He promises to be fine and get his food elsewhere, don’t even worry about him.
He is incredibly fascinated by your changing body. Your breasts are bigger, softer and sensitive. Thanos will be poking them all day every day randomly, trying to see if they’ll leak despite you only being three months into the pregnancy. He’ll insist on taking a picture of your belly every day so he can document the process to show it off to his kid one day.
Also, he never smoked, vaped or used around you. Your boyfriend has been clean of drugs for the almost entirety of your relationship but still smoked, but for the health of you ans your baby, he tried his best to get clean on that as well but it proved to be much, much harder, so he instead settled on doing it on the balcony or outside.
One last thing, whenever he had a new ultrasound picture of his baby, he was showing it off to everybody he knows with the biggest grin on his face. Thanos was the proudest dad in the world before your baby was even born.
˚✧₊⁎-
Since your boyfriend was so used to staying up all night and performing, so he doesn’t really mind dragging himself out of bed to feed or cradle the baby in the crack of dawn. Although, doing that for multiple nights on end drains any person, so you two end up playing rock paper scissors after a while to decide who gets up.
Thanos is the type to grab his baby by the back of the onesie and lift it out of the crib, gently throwing it onto your bed for some family cuddles, grinning like an idiot at how his baby giggles in delight and kicks its legs, wanting to fly through the air again and again.
He performs for his kid too whenever he doesn’t know what else to do to make his baby stop crying. Your boyfriend would play with an imaginary DJ board with his hands, his waist swaying left and right as he sleepily raps some random lyrics together to make the crying baby in the crib finally fall asleep after being fed, cradled and having its diaper changed.
Sometimes, if all fails (even rapping), Thanos will climb into the crib in order to finally make the screamer fall asleep. His legs would dangle over the edge of the crib and angled in a weird position, his neck awkwardly leaning against the railing. Despite this clearly uncomfortable pose, he was deeply asleep and snoring alongside his baby sleeping on his chest. Of course, this scene immediately became your new phone wallpaper.
After having the baby for a while, Thanos’s fashion will completely shift from the indie/grungry/rave-whatever-esc he was wearing to whatever is clean and comfortable. He doesn’t care he’s wearing a spongebob shirt right now, he’s busy deciding if he wants to buy a CD of the Beauty and the Beast movie or treat you with some snacks and chocolate.
Your boyfriend also had some serious attachment issues. That man could not stand not being near his baby 24/7 or not being able to have it in sight. If you want to take it out to the park or something he’ll insist on coming with you or else he’ll be stuck bouncing his thigh up and down and switching between social media platforms to pass the time until you come home.
What was kind of fascinating to you was how little Thanos now needs to be entertained. Having his little sunshine on his lap, curiously biting onto his fingers or reaching out to his hair could keep him entertained for hours upon hours.
Sometimes you walk in on your boyfriend lying on his stomach, legs kicking in the air, making some grimaces at your kid and watching how it begins to giggle and laugh, trying to copy their dad’s expression as hard as they can. Although you have to say that your baby has their papa’s signature scowl.
˚✧₊⁎-
As a more experienced dad, Thanos gathered no experience at all. Despite his baby now being a toddler, it’s still like he has had that kid for two and a half days. Sure he knows what his kid likes and dislikes because it’s basically the same to him, both your manchild and child like colourful things and don’t like vegetables, but Thanos still has no idea how to raise a proper human.
Whenever you scold your child for something, your boyfriend just nods in approval. When the kid looks over to their papa for help, he’ll just point at you. “Listen to your mama, she’s smarter than both of us.”
Although he gets more excited every day at how he can do more with his kid now. He likes to fantasise and envision everything they could do together, like his precious sunshine’s first day in elementary school, teaching them how to ride a bike, first time bringing them to the club and show them off to everyone…
You’ll have to listen to your boyfriend fully plan out tomorrow and what he’ll go do with his kid while being cuddled up in your arms, your fingers brushing through his hair. Thanos’ll gesture around while vividly explaining everything in detail, how he wants to go buy some new toys and then maybe go to the park, grab some ice cream, then go choose out their bike to learn how to ride one on. It’ll be fun!
Although fantasising is fun, reality is often a little different. It’s difficult to afford all the things he dreams of thanks to your financial situation but despite everything, you, him and your child are happy.
He’ll make every minute, every hour and every day count, wanting to make as many good memories as possible before they grew too old and annoyed of their over-affectionate and hyper dad.
Also, your boyfriend is horrified of the teenager stage when thinking back to his own and how he first got caught up in the drug mess and whatever else he got himself into, but thankfully as of now, your child has yet to finish kindergarten so they are a couple of years ahead before that happens.
˚✧₊⁎- (TW: Death)
He was trying to stop the blood with everything he has, pressing his hands against the underside of his chin as the warm, metallic blood stickers through his fingers, staining the bathroom tiles below.
Choking on his own blood, Thanos slowly crawled into the corner of the bathroom, trying to escape from the chaos that erupted behind him. His face was scrunched together in pain as he rolled over onto his back.
The quiet sound of gurgling was completely drowned out by the sounds of fighting, yelling and punching as Thanos quietly gasped for air.
Fuck, this wasn’t how all of this was supposed to go. He should’ve just gotten the damn money and voted to leave, get that Nam-su or whatever to vote leaving too so he could go home with the guaranteed money instead of risking to play another stupid childhood game.
Now he is here, on a bathroom floor, drowning in his own blood because of a fucking fork.
His eyes were too heavy to be kept open, his warm blood on his hand weirdly enough made him suddenly feel so incredibly tired, like a large, warm blanket was just draped over him. He should close his eyes for a moment before he’ll continue to fight for his life.
Thanos can survive this, he knows that. How could he not? He has a kid back home, you. He promised to buy you a ring and propose once he had gathered enough money. Imagining you in a pretty white dress, standing by the altar, waiting on him with that pretty smile of yours.
He can’t miss his kid’s first day of elementary school, graduation, first day of middle school, first crush, first heartbreak. He can’t leave his kid alone in this world, they can barely walk. How will they get anywhere without him being there to carry them in his arms? He promised himself to be there for them with every step of the way they may take, with you in hand.
He just has to close his eyes for a second, then he’ll stop the bleeding and get up. Promise.
Dae-ho // Player 388

( Words — 1.5k )
Dae-ho was over the moon and back the moment he found out that you are pregnant. Pregnant, carrying his child! He always wanted a family of his own and you being able to grant him that wish made him fall in love with you all over again.
He’ll do everything for you during your pregnancy, just you rest and look pretty. Your boyfriend will transform into a complete malewife and cook, clean and completely pamper you. Not that he never did that before, he just did it even more now.
Whatever you wished for was provided; massage for your swollen feet? C’mere, put your legs on his lap. You want to combine the worst foods together and inhale that combo like a five star gourmet meal? Sure, he’ll go buy the ingredients, save him a plate!
Dae-ho adored cuddling with you even more during that time than before. He adored laying his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while his large palm gently brushed back and forth over your stomach.
Your boyfriend also takes his time every night to talk to the baby in your stomach. Feathery kisses would be placed all over your warm skin while he sleepily recalls things he did today, trying to get your baby to recognise that the man speaking to it was their dad.
He’ll talk about how he finished building the nursery and how much he looks forward to them seeing it, how you two went to the park today for a small walk, how he watched you ate seven hot dogs and proceeded to ask for his to eat as well.
You can’t help but grin how Dae-ho acts like the baby is already there, can listen and understand to what he is saying and react to it. Your fingers brush through his long hair while he slowly falls asleep with his head resting on your soft chest, his arms draped over your stomach.
˚✧₊⁎-
As a new dad, you can’t help but think about how much of a dilf your boyfriend had become.
His hair is messy and his face tired, yet he has that big grin of his always plastered all over. Dae-ho’s whole demeanour lights up even brighter with his baby in his arms, walking around your home shirtless with his muscles on full display for your shameless enjoyment.
Something extremely important to him is skin-to-skin contact, so you’ll have a half naked Dae-ho laying around on the couch with your baby curled up on his chest. He adores cuddling with you, so having a baby between you is a big bonus.
Even after your pregnancy, he was still in full on malewife mode, but now with a baby strapped to his chest. He cooks and includes his baby in the process so they can stay entertained, offering small tastes of the sauce he is working on or letting them have their own tiny cooking utensils to hold and inspect while he stirs the sauce.
His sisters also come by for a visit a lot so they can see the first offspring of the Kang family. They coo over your baby and congratulate both of you, but scold their brother sometimes for not caring for you well enough, especially after postpartum. Your reassurances that he does plenty fall on deaf ears most of the time.
They often times take your baby in so the both of you can have some alone time and rest. You two planned on taking a small vacation somewhere and treat yourselves to cocktails or something, but you and your boyfriend ended up sleeping and cuddling the full week and barely leaving the bed.
At first you and him enjoyed the peace and quiet, but after a day of naps, cuddles and breakfast at 4pm, Dae-ho suggested the idea of getting pregnant again.
He himself grew up in a big household and sure there were a share of fights over mundane things, but at the end of the day, he and his sisters love each other and have each other’s backs, no matter what. If one of them has problems, the others are there to help and support or bury the body of the problem.
He won’t forcefully push the idea of multiple kids on you though. If you say no he’ll totally understand it. He’s not the one carrying the baby for nine months and bleeds every month when he doesn’t, but Dae-ho will try and sweeten the idea of having a big family to you.
˚✧₊⁎- (multiple kids mentioned in this one)
As a veteran dad, Dae-ho always complies to his little monster(s) demands without complaint. He’s more of the fun dad that lets himself get used as a horse where his kids can hop on and be paraded around the home on his back. He could melt whenever his babies come up to him and ask him to join their roleplay, doesn’t matter if he’s going to be dressed up as a princess or supposed to play a big scary monster.
He’d be down to play all day every day, but once school work and homework comes into play, it’s going to be a little complicated. Dae-ho knows his ABCs and all but quadratic functions? Both him and his kid will be sitting by the table, crying of confusion and stress.
Despite being the fun-dad, he can be strict if he wants to. Sometimes his scoldings hit even harder than yours because of how tolerant he is. He never raises his voice or his hand, nor does he shame his child for doing something wrong. Screaming gets you nowhere, he learned that first hand, so instead he’ll try to understand their behaviour no matter how complicated or hard it may be.
Dae-ho is an incredibly proud dad and he will show it. Every award his kid wins, even if it’s a participation award, will be stored in the living room and somewhere you can admire it in its full glory. Every work of art that was ever gifted to him was kept in either large folders that sorted drawings based on the kid and year or on a shelf in the entrance area.
He also has plenty of pictures of his kids that he is ready to show off to everyone that had the misfortune of asking how they are. He’d spiral into a rant about their recent activities (no matter how mundane they seem, they are very special to him) and just how adorable they are, how they have your nose and eyes but his cheeks… the poor waiter just asked if they wanted a refill on his coke, not knowing about pandora box he opened.
˚✧₊⁎-
His body curled together as he pressed his back against the wall behind his bunk. Right now, Dae-ho wanted nothing more but the concrete to consume him, hide him away and muffle and the gunshots and yelling that was happening above him. His hands were tightly pressed up against his ears and his eyes tightly shut.
He hunched over to hide his face in his shaking knees, trying to hide from the gunfight, to hide form the shame of not being able to force his legs to walk and bring the much needed ammunition. Dae-ho knows he is useless.
“Dae-ho!!”
Player 120 calling out to him violently pulled him out of his trance, making him flinch. He stared up at her, his arms slowly moving off his ears, clearly shaking.
“Dae-ho, what happened?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
She leaned closer to him as he glanced away, lowering his head in shame. His lips pursed together and slowly began quivering as low whimpers escaped him. He felt her eyes literally piercing him.
“The magazines?”
Dae-ho stumbled over his own words, barely comprehending what she is trying to ask of him.
“I-I’m sorry— I-I…”
Hyun-ju glanced down to the hoodie near his cowering form and moved the cloth away to see what was inside. The ammunition magazines. Dae-ho flinched violently and lifted his arms to shield his face as she stood back upright with the ammunition in her arms, casting one last worried glance to the obviously scarred and horrified man before walking off.
The world around him went numb again as he kept repeating quiet “I’m sorry”s over and over, mixed together with broken whimpers.
No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t pull himself together and force his arms to grab a gun and fight for the games to end, but being staying here, with the other players, would be safer. Out there he either could be captured and eliminated, shot in the fight and bleed out, watch others die in front of him, kill other humans. He can’t do that. He can’t. No matter if he was in the marines or not.
Back when Dae-ho left for the games and back when he didn’t know that said games include death and murder, you two talked about it. You warned him about how it’s too good to be true. Playing childhood games in exchange for hundreds and up to millions of won?
You made him promise he’ll keep himself safe no matter what. You made him promise to always keep you and his family in mind, how he has people he needs to come back to.
It seems that his own body and soul internalised that pinkie promise you made him agree to. He has to keep himself safe and alive.
Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)



( Words — 1.4k )
Finding out that you’re pregnant almost made him have an aneurism. He already has a child that he himself doesn’t have a lot/barely and contact with before she moved away to America and even less now thanks to the distance and the want to keep her out of his mess. The mess that are the death games and the mess he now forced you to be apart of.
Gi-hun already felt incredibly guilty for falling in love with you. Anyone being associated with him is now in the line of fire and probably in constant danger thanks to him. Yet you stayed with him and even provided comfort.
He actually apologised for getting you pregnant while standing in a grocery isle to choose some jumpers and sheets for the future nursery crib. It was out of nowhere after staring at you being so excited over your baby, how you couldn’t decide between two pairs of itty bitty socks.
Gi-hun does warm up after a week or two. He catches himself smiling brightly at nothing after thinking back on how round you already look, what you’re doing right now. His eyes soften up every time he walks past the pastel nursery he build himself, fixing the sheets in the crib and folding the baby clothes together for the 100th time. His hands pick up one of the toys and his fingers brush over the surface, feeling the material beneath his skin.
Every time he does all this, it hits him all over again. You’re pregnant with his child.
Since he already had a daughter before and knows how much of a terrible father he was to her, Gi-hun feels a mix of guilt and excitement blooming in his stomach. He knows what he did wrong, both in the department of marriage with his late wife and parenting, so he doesn’t repeat his mistakes again.
The feeling of selfishness always swims around in his mind because it feels unfair to his daughter how he can provide all the things for his future baby he couldn’t for his daughter; proper attention, the financial means, maturity, a good father figure.
Gi-hun rested his head on your stomach, his eyes closed in relaxation as he listens to both your heartbeat and the heartbeat of the growing life inside of you, your hand idly resting on his cheek. Even if he cannot fully fight those feelings of guilt and shame, he swears to be a better father this time. In no means is he perfect, but he will try his best from the bottom of his heart.
˚✧₊⁎-
Right after birth, Gi-hun was incredibly attached to the baby. He was paranoid for a long period of time, things like sudden infant death and all kinds of worst case scenarios always in the back of his mind. He was faster than you in getting up whenever it cried, rushing over to the baby’s side immediately.
He’ll cradle the baby in his arms, silently walking around the home in the dark even long after his child fell asleep. Most of the time, calming his baby is more to calm his own mind of worries.
Sometimes, you two move the crib into your bedroom to stand beside your bed, just so he can feel more secure and less paranoia. It soothes Gi-hun’s mind to have his baby right there in arms reach. His arm drapes over to the crib, his hand weakly holding onto the railing even in his sleep.
But beside his paranoia, Gi-hun is always ecstatic when around his baby. There is always a carefree and soft smile on his face whenever his baby innocently chews on his finger, his eyes intently watching the adorable bean coo and kick around in its crib.
You gifted him a small heart locker with a picture inside. Unoriginal, sure, but something he cherishes with a his being nonetheless. The picture had you and him together, hand in hand, on one side of the locker, a photo that is actually fairly old. It was of one of your first dates and he had a soft smile on his face. It looked hesitant and unsure, but it was one of the first smiles he cracked in a long time.
On the other side of the locker was a picture of your baby in the crib, looking up into the camera with big and curious eyes while chewing on a rubber toy. You dressed the baby in an adorable brown bear onesie, overloading his senses even more.
Gi-hun wears the necklace almost every day and keeps it secure under his shirt, fishing it out and opening the locker to look at the two pictures to remind himself why he is still fighting to stop the games. His fingers brush gently over your face and his baby’s cheeks, a small smile spreading on his face.
˚✧₊⁎-
Since Gi-hun was already had a daughter before, he already kind of knows how to raise a child, although he sometimes struggles with spoiling his child too much.
Thanks to both the guilt he feels for failing to be a proper dad to his daughter and now having such an insane amount of money he doesn’t know what to do with, Gi-hun showers both you and your child with everything you two could possibly want.
So sometimes you have to remind him that just because your kid really really wants that expensive lego set doesn’t mean he should buy it for them, perhaps when it’s their birthday or Christmas or they have done a very good job at something.
You have to teach the oblivious man how to properly manage his money and maybe not buy everything in sight for your kid. Gi-hun will listen to you with those big, sad puppy eyes he always has whenever you scold him about something.
Also, he adores playing with his kid. His favourite thing to do is to have them stand on his feet and put their hand into his, walking “together” through the apartment while loud, childish giggles fill the rooms. He also loves carrying and walking his kid everywhere, despite knowing very well they acted like they were extremely tired just so daddy can carry them for a while.
How can he possibly deny his precious baby?
˚✧₊⁎-
“Here, take this.”
He takes out an ammunition magazine and offers it to Young-il standing in front of him, who was watching him holding the ammo out to him. “You’re going to need it.”
Young-il’s eyes glosses over his hand and up to his face slowly as if not believing his offer. “Are you sure?” Gi-hun nods reassuringly, holding it a little closer to him.
“Dae-ho will be back with more.”
That was the reassurance he seemingly needed before reaching out and finally taking the ammo out of his hand, nodding slightly. “Let’s do this, then. We have to end everything now.” Young-il mumbled, briefly gesturing towards the necklace around his neck as if knowing what was hidden beneath his shirt. “We have to bring everyone back to their families.”
Gi-hun froze for a moment as his head moves back to his ally. Jung-bae glanced over to the two. Seemingly taken back, the man quickly elaborates. “I mean, you have a wife and child, right? I overheard you two talk about it.”
“Doesn’t matter right now, go!!” Jung-bae waved his hand as if to shoo him away. Gi-hun just nodded and spared him one last glance before turning back to the pink guards standing atop of the stairs. Yet he can’t shake the feeling of dread creep up on his neck.
His hand briefly brushed over the locker beneath his cloth, tracing the heart shape with his fingers. Did he ever talk about you or his child back home? Even about his older daughter living abroad? Does Jung-bae even know about his family? Maybe it’s a lucky guess of Young-il.
His brows furrowed together in thought before Jung-bae ripped him out of his thoughts. “Gi-hun? Are you alright?”
Gi-hun flinched slightly before quickly nodding. “Yeah. Yes. Sorry.”
Without wasting another second or a breath, he pulled the gun closer to his chest and aimed it around the corner and at one of the guards and continuing the shootout. Although Young-il’s last remark still was engraved in his mind.
In-ho // Young-il // The Frontman // Player 001

( Words — 1.6k )
The news of you being pregnant actually horrified him to the core for a moment. The last time his love of his life was pregnant she died in the hospital while he fought for his life in the death games. It is safe to say that In-ho has bad memories associated with pregnancy.
Those bad memories fuel his protective streak even further as you cannot find a moment to yourself. Your husband will be there, hovering near you since the first day you know of your pregnancy. He orders you to take a seat in the leather chair of his study with that Frontman-voice of his while he provides food, drinks and entertainment for you.
In-ho also employed a doctor on the island that specifically is there to give you full medical check-ups every week. He cannot risk loosing you or the baby this time, you have his heart tightly trapped within your grasp and he does not mind at all. His heart is yours and yours is his.
Your husband tries to pull himself away from work and planning this year’s games but the VIPs are quite demanding and he cannot afford to disappoint them. Although he is a lot more home than before which you of course enjoy.
Your husband is actually a very good cook and will cook for you as much as he can, but also doesn’t mind when you give into your insane cravings. He will question your choices though, maybe even check your forehead temperature to see if you’re sick or something when In-ho catches you devour a whole plate of cut fruits you generously salted.
In-ho always was more hesitant when it came to showing affection, fearing he might come off as weak or soft and maybe seem unattractive to you. Even if you think quite literally the opposite.
With you becoming pregnant he became more and more sweet with you. His kisses will be more frequent and linger longer on your skin, his hands will always find their way to connect with you and let them run over your waist, stomach, back and shoulders.
Your affection breaks this man more and more as well, your hand cupping his cheek making him melt and nuzzle into your palm like a touch deprived cat, your kiss warming up his soul over and over.
In-ho knew this before but he never fully realised how hard he fell in love with you.
˚✧₊⁎-
You’ve never seen him cry before so the sight of your husband completely breaking down and showering you in praises and kisses right after birth. In-ho pulled you closer against his chest as his tears flowed down to you, his lips whispering broken “I love you”s, “You did such a great job” and “Thank you”s.
You gave birth in a hospital in Soel and not on the island. It was the decision of both of you to spend the first few days after the birth in the old apartment he still owned in the capital city, away from all the death for just a while.
Those days were the most peaceful and pleasant days In-ho had in a while. It was almost like a dream come true, the dirtiest fantasy he ever allowed to imagine: a regular family life with a wife and child. To go to the grocery store to pick up some carrot baby food and the bar of chocolate you have been craving, to have his biggest decision be if the newborn will wear the soft pink bunny jumpsuit or the cozy grey cat onesie. To be a simple man and his only duties to be a husband and a father.
Although after two weeks of rest and peace, the games pulled him and with that both you and the newborn back to the island.
Your husband did set his will through with the VIPs though and worked himself more free time he could spend with you and the baby.
Though he sometimes takes his child with to work by strapping them onto his chest with a baby sling. He knows that the rather violent environment is not the best place to have a baby, so In-ho implemented changes in the control center to make the place a little more child friendly.
The word “eliminated” was a little too gruesome in his opinion, so he made the woman who spoke the first voiceover change it to “lost” or “lost the game”. The blood on the screens will be censored with the colour black and most of the sound will be muted as to not expose his baby to the screams and pleads of mercy and scar that young mind.
It’s quite the bizarre sight, the Frontman standing in the center of the control room, inspecting the new portraits taken of the players participating the games while a giggling baby was attached to his chest, curiously chewing on their own fingers, unbothered by everything around them.
˚✧₊⁎-
As a more experienced dad, In-ho, much to his dismay, found out that his now a little older kid is very attached to the Frontman mask. Sure, they still smile when they see their papa, but they do seem happier and more excited when he wears his mask and talks to them with the voice changer.
In-ho’s parenting style is more strict than lenient, though he does provide a lot of love, encouragement and praise for his child, even his ways to express those things are more subtle. His hands give out light pats on the head while a smile spreads on his face, giving them an acknowledging nod for their work.
Whenever his kid needs to be lectured, his voice is stern but not loud. Raising a hand does nothing but ensue pain, fear and hate, so he never did that anyway. Thanks to his role as the Frontman, he knows how to be and sound incredibly intimidating and menacing.
It’s not entirely his fault, but In-ho is not home with you and the kid most of the time. He is always incredibly busy, especially during that time of the year. He tries his best to compensate for that lost time by pulling himself away from the games and spend time with his family, but it proves to be harder than it sounds.
He has a lot of pictures of you two on his desk and study. Whenever stress gets to him in a moment of weakness, In-ho will take his time to go through every single one. All of the masterful drawings made by your child are also on full display for his enjoyment and you know he’s treating it like a modern art gallery; with uttermost care and interest.
˚✧₊⁎-
“Look closely at the consequences of playing your game.”
In-ho’s voice was deeper, distorted when speaking through the mask. His eyes pierced through the man kneeling in front of him. Gi-hun.
Gi-hun stared back up at him with so much hate, so much despise. It’s almost humorous to In-ho how the same man that seeped of both hate and determination insisted on giving him one of his essential ammunition magazines. Almost.
The Frontman moved and aimed his caliber at the kneeling man beside him, Jung-bae. He slowly moved his head over to his best friend in horror. “Gi-hun.”
Those were the last words he mumbled before In-ho pulled the trigger, executing the kneeling man swiftly.
As Gi-hun screamed and cried for Jung-bae, trying to reach out to his best friend as the pink soldiers pressed him firmly against the concrete floors below, the Frontman swiftly turned around and stepped away to the master control room, sliding his gun into the coat as he walked.
It was pitiful, he thinks. Not the display Gi-hun gave or how he naively trusted him as the played the persona of Young-il to the point of wanting to overthrow the games with him, but how he, In-ho, opened up to the man.
He talked freely about you and how you two met, fell in love and married, how excited and horrified he was when you got pregnant, how he cried for the first time in a very long time after you gave birth. Gi-hun laughed with him when he ranted a little bit about the adorable antics of his child and he comforted In-ho when he voiced how much he missed you and worried about you.
Most of it was planned to get closer to the man and build some sort of connection, to make Gi-hun think of him as a father and husband than a faceless player. It’s just that In-ho enjoyed talking to him so freely.
He doesn’t have friend, no connection to his brother, no people he can confide outside of you and he can’t really talk about his wife to you, can he?
It almost felt normal, like two men complaining about the small things in life like how dry the buns are they ate at breakfast, or compare their children to one another and pridefully gush about how his already knew how to speak both Korean and English at 1 year old and how Gi-hun’s daughter lives in America and goes to a prestige school.
Yes, he’ll miss those couple of days he spend with him. But duty calls. He has to move on now.
💠
Author’s note. Thank you so much for reading!
I wrote this over the course of around three days while recovering from a head concussion, so I apologise for any mistakes! This took a lot of effort but was incredibly fun to write!! This is probably one of my longest work yet but it’s totally worth the effort, I just hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!
Take care of yourselves <3
#💠squid game💠#the recruiter fluff#the recruiter x reader#recruiter x reader#gong yoo x reader#gong yoo x you#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game x y/n#salesman x you#the recruiter x you#squid game thanos#thanos x reader#thanos x you#su bong x reader#dae ho x reader#dae ho fluff#dae ho squid game#dae ho x you#in ho x you#in ho x reader#front man x reader#the frontman#young il x reader#in ho squid game#young il#frontman x reader#dae ho x y/n#player 001 x you#player 001 x reader
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good morning ࿏ wm

summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.
words: 3.9k
warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me
this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.
masterlist.
The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.
Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.
The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.
Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.
The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.
It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.
Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.
And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.
And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.
But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.
Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.
Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.
You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.
It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.
It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.
So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.
The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.
Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.
Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.
Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.
There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.
Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.
She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.
Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.
Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.
Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.
“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.
As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.
Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.
It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.
There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.
“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.
Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.
The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.
A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.
Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.
Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.
You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.
Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.
“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.
“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.
You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.
“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.
Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”
Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.
You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.
“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.
“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”
Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.
“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”
Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”
Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”
“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.
“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”
Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.
The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.
After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.
“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.
Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”
Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#scarlet witch x reader#marvel#lgbt#lesbian#top!wanda#power bottom#subby top wanda#sub top wanda#elizabeth olsen#lizzie olsen#wanda maximoff x f!reader
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little mouse
Silco saved you in the bar a while ago. It was only fitting that you returned that favor.
content: SLIGHTLY suggestive toward the end, talk of weapons, sequel to 'the last drop', tagging a few of the people who asked for a p2, 1825 words
an: happy christmas to all who celebrate! hope you guys like this, enjoy!
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"Hey, Mouse."
You stood up from your crouching position, placing a glass on the bar top. Sevika came in, a lit cigarette on the corner of her mouth as she let out a sigh, plopping down on one of the seats. Over the months, the two of you had became some sort of friends. Now, Sevika was a closed off person to begin with, not trusting you even one bit, but after seeing you work and defend your people, she warmed up to you. Ever since that one moment where you sneaked behind a man to steal back the bottle of booze that he had taken from the bar, she called you Mouse. Silent, but gets the job done.
"Rough day?"
The woman in front of you hummed, inhaling the smoke before turning her head, blowing it back out. Her favorite liquor was already set in a place where it was easy for you to grab. You dropped an ice cube into the glass, filling it up before pushing it her way. She thanked you, downing the entire thing as she groaned.
"Finn wants to meet with Silco today."
You raised an eyebrow, topping up her glass again before screwing the cap back on, placing it on the shelf right beside you. Some of the droplets that had spilled got neatly wiped up with your rag as you tossed it on the counter.
"What does Finn want with him?"
Sevika knew you didn't like the man either. It was something you bonded over. His exaggerated confidence annoyed the both of you, together with his lame attempts on trying to get Sevika on his side, and trying to get you in his bed. You knew not to fully piss the man off though. At least, not without Silco knowing first.
"Can trust you, can't I, Mouse?"
"Sevika," you sigh, "I quite literally cleaned blood off of the tables just so Silco wouldn't know that you beat that drunk guy up. Yes, you can."
She raised an eyebrow, the slightest smirk on her face as she sipped from her cup.
"Heard something about him wanting to overthrow Silco. Wants to be the most powerful Chembaron in Zaun."
It made you roll your eyes.
"He always bites off more than he can chew. He came to you?"
She hummed and nodded, swirling the ice cube in the glass. It made you chuckle as you glanced at the door, seeing the rest of the pub still empty.
"So he is still stupid enough to think you will betray Silco," you sighed, "Finn needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. Not only better for us, but also better for him."
"I just hope he stays away from here. I can't be here tonight - Silco has me out on a job."
You grimaced, squinting your eyes before pouring yourself a glass of water. Silco had told you that you could drink as long as you knew how to handle yourself, but you felt much more confident in being completely sober. You never knew what could happen, not in the Zaun now.
A week ago, Silco gifted you something. He said that it was because you were so good at your job, but little did you know the real reason. The man, though not doubting your skills or confidence, was… scared. With nothing but some glass bottles and a tea towel to defend yourself, he knew you needed something. Thieram had a gun, Sevika had her whole arm, so, for you, he found another weapon. A knife, small and thin, hidden away on your belt. You wouldn't even need to kill someone, no. That was not what he wanted. It simply gave him some peace of mind to know that if something were to happen, you would have something to defend yourself with.
"Thieram and I can keep an eye out," you winked, sipping your water, "Highly doubt you will miss anything."
The small clock next to you made you realize it was already later than you thought. Normally, Silco would have been downstairs right now, sipping a drink before the crowd would get big before disappearing into his office.
"Well, I will see you later, then. Time for Silco's drink."
"Hmm," Sevika threw her head back, gulping down the rest of her drink before wiping her mouth, "See you later, Mouse."
With a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, you walked up the stairs, knocking on the door before you heard a 'come in'. Behind the door sat Silco, annoyed look on his face. On his desk laid a map and a lit cigar rested on the dish that Jinx had painted for him.
"Care for a drink?"
"Gladly," he groaned.
You quietly closed the door behind you, placing the gold-rimmed glass on his desk. Neither of you exchanged words, but it didn't feel necessary. The liquor splattered against the glass as you filled it up, closing the bottle again and stepping back.
"Expecting any guests?"
"Thankfully not."
"Well… If you need another drink, let me know."
He hummed in return, raising the glass to his lips as you left again. It seemed that in the few minutes that you were gone, the bar had filled up, and Thieram had arrived. He was busy making drinks as you greeted him with a smile, placing Silco's bottle back before pouring glasses.
Half an hour. That was how long you were able to just simply do your job. An odd character here and there trying to flirt with you before drunkenly walking off, drinks spilled, Thieram having to scold some idiots. You smiled at the woman in front of you as you handed her the drink, your gaze falling to the door behind her that opened and closed. In walked Finn, his golden jaw shimmering in the dim light. It made you raise an eyebrow - Silco wasn't expecting anyone today.
Instinctively, you looked to the booth to your left before remembering that Sevika wasn't here for the evening. But, what in the hell was Finn doing here? On his own, too. The man was nothing without at least one person by his side. You wiped the counter, your eyes following the figure as Finn walked up the stairs, disappearing from your sight.
"Thieram, I will be right back."
Your hand reached for Silco's bottle, the other one patting your hip to make sure that you had the knife with you. Maybe Finn was just there being harmless, but when has he not tried to pull some tricks? Worst case you have to pour both of them a drink. And so, after pushing yourself through the crowd, you sneaked up the stairs. No trace of Finn.
Stopping in front of the door, you paused. It was hard to hear if anything was being said as the crowd was rather loud, but you could hear the low humming of Silco's voice. Then, a louder voice, one dripping in forced confidence. You slowly opened the door, bottle held in your hands as if a weapon, before peeking in. There, Finn with a blade in his hand, standing right in front of Silco. Your boss must have been sitting down as you only saw his legs peek out from under the desk, but with Finn puffing his chest, it was hard to see anything.
Softly, you closed the door behind again, sneaking closer and closer.
"Today is the day you die, Silco."
You peeked past Finn's legs, seeing Silco sigh before putting his hand on his head. It seemed like neither men had noticed you. Finn tightened the grip on the blade, a sly smirk on his face.
"That's a risk I've known all my life."
With that, you jumped up, raising the bottle high above your head before smashing it down on Finn's cheek. He let out a surprised gasp as he stumbled to the floor, blood trickling down his eye as you slipped your knife out of the holster, holding it against Finn's neck.
"Day you die, Finn?"
Silco, who already had his hand on the holster of his pistol, looked at you confused, though he knew now was not the time. He cocked it, aiming it at Finn. The loud thuds and breaking glass seemed to catch quite some attention as Sevika burst in, metal arm nearly breaking off the door. She had just finished her job, wanting to let Silco know it was all done, stains still on her metal arm.
There, you on top of Finn with a knife to his throat, Silco with a gun aimed at the very same man, and a blade laying too far away for Finn to reach.
"Sevika, perfect moment," Silco pushed back his hair, his shoulders dropping before pointing to the man on the floor, "Surely you can take care of him?"
It seemed like all her dreams came true as she grinned. Oh, she can. She grabbed him by the neck as you stepped off of him, huffing as Sevika dragged him away. To where? You had no idea, but you did not doubt Sevika's skills.
"Well, well, well, little Mouse."
You averted your gaze back to Silco who only looked at you with what seemed to be an amused grin. He placed his gun back on his desk, one hand on his hip before gesturing.
"Quite a spectacle there. Care to explain?"
He moved one of the chairs back for you before sinking down on his own, taking a hit of his cigar. You sat on the chair in front of him, placing the blade right next to his pistol.
"I wasn't going to kill him. Don't think I could, no matter how annoying he is," you sighed, "I just… You said that there were no meetings today, and Finn showing up when Sevika wasn't supposed to be here seemed like much more than a mere coincidence. I didn't mean to come in without knocking, Silco."
"No," he tutted, "No apologies. I believe in loyalty more than a closed door, Mouse."
He swirled the ice around in his cup, looking at the broken glass and spilled liquor on the wooden floor.
"Such a shame we wasted this on an... idiot like Finn."
You snorted, shaking your head.
"Sorry. If it turned out he was here to make peace, then at least I could have poured you both a drink."
"You know, Mouse," Silco hummed, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass, "I never understood why you were called that. Mouse."
He placed emphasis on your nickname, glancing up at you.
"Sevika called you Mouse, and so did I. Surely there had to have been a reason for it. But now, I have seen it first hand," he nodded, "Didn't even see you sneak in. Finn surely didn't expect it."
You looked up at him, tilting your head.
"I can be quiet if I wish to."
"A handy skill indeed," hummed Silco, placing his glass on his desk, "Care to see how quiet we can be, little Mouse?"
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tags: @nottherealamber @sevikashimmerstrap
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RIGHT HERE — paige bueckers



≋ pairing → p. bueckers x danceteammember!reader
≋ song → right here by justin bieber ft. drake
≋ warnings → fluff, angst, another situationship… sorry yall i can’t get enough!, background lore: exes turned friends turned situationship, mentions of sex (not smut), use of y/n, not edited sorry!!
≋ word count → 3.5k
≋ notes → if anyone is reading this i hope you enjoyoyy! oh also heads up all my stories are gonna be black and/or latina coded reader unless stated otherwise!! ngl this was supposed to be longer but I cut off the whole ending section sorry not my best work at allll … anywho love my wife pookie bear paige sm
your head on paige’s chest, her warm protective hold envoloped you as she watched you sleep. you looked so peaceful, which paige loved, because when you first came over to her dorm that evening you had looked the most stressed she had seen you in the past few months.
she was happy that she was still one of the few people you went to when you needed to decompress and vent about your day, as you were hers. she subconsciously drew light circles into your side as her eyes slowly blinked, fighting the craving for sleep that was overcoming her senses.
not long after her quiet snores were heard along with your light breathes. but of course this didn't last for long. almost fifteen minutes later, a repeating series of knocks were heard on the door. paige groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the knocking.
“i know you hear me knocking.” kk’s voice was heard from the other side, causing your eyes to flutter open. your attempts to remove yourself from paige’s hold were unsuccessful as she pulled you in closer—if that was even possible.
“if we ignore her long enough she’ll go away.” paige whispered with her eyes still shut. you lightly laughed at her words. “paige that's mean, i’m gonna go say hi.” you tried to unlatch her arms from around your waist but she wouldn't budge. “no, stay here with me and go back to sleep.”
she pressed your head back against her chest, urging you to go back to sleep which made you laugh. “as much as i would love to keep sleeping on your boobs, i haven't seen kk since the last game.” paige sucked her teeth at your words and slightly opened her eyes to look down at your giddy smile.
“hey kk!” you loudly called out to the girl on the other side of the door. “oh shit, y/n’s here? hey y/n, girl!” she drew out, the smile on her face was evident in her voice. “wait a second, why y'all not answering the door? better not be up to no freaky deaky shit… y'all decent?” paige began to laugh, causing you to finally break from her hold and softly hit her shoulder.
“yeah, wait a minute.” you removed the covers from both of you and got off of the bed, but before you could fully begin moving towards the door, paige pulled you by the waist band of her pajama pants that you were wearing and turned you back around.
before you could say anything, she sat up and fixed your tank top that had ridden down. you thanked her before and proceeding to the door. “ah hell nah, y'all taking too lo-” you cut off the girl standing in front of the door when you opened it. “we were just taking a nap.” you explained while moving to hug the girl.
“well, i’m sorry for waking y'all up.” she stated, taking a minute to fake think before laughing. “i lied, i’m not even a little sorry.” you waved her off and moved back to paige’s bed, sitting down and watching the girl who welcomed herself in.
paige sat against the headboard, her gaze also on kk. “why'd you even come knocking?” the blonde questioned, hands folded against her torso. “i was thinking about going on a target run but didn't want to go alone.” she explained with a shrug, doing the chill guy stance.
you laughed and patted paige’s knee. “you should go with her.” she furrowed her brows, looking you up and down. “you’re not coming?” you shook your head and laid back.
“i’ve been meaning to chit chat with my cutie pie azzi.” you excused, stretching before turning your head to the blonde girl who was side eyeing you. “i’ll be waiting in the living room.” kk called out in a sing-song voice while leaving the room.
paige sighed and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “thank you for letting me vent to you.” you thanked her as you watched her get up from the bed and walk to her closet. “you know you don't gotta thank me for that. plus, my offer still stands.” you laughed at her remark and sat up.
it was almost immediately after dance practice ended that you texted paige and asked to come over. you had been crying and your face was all puffy, but you didn't care at that point. she's seen you look worse.
when you showed up, she instantly took you into a hug and brought you to her room where you the words just flowed out your mouth. today's practice was extra stressful and you felt that the dance captain, emily, was specifically picking on you all practice.
there was a section of a new dance the coach had just started teaching and before emily even fully learned it herself, she started picking at the little mistakes you made. that irritated you, but you let it be.
she kept on making sly indirect comments towards you, but you let it be. it wasn't until after practice when you were grabbing your duffle bag from the corner of the practice room when you heard her talk to the coach, trying to convince her that you needed to be kicked off the team.
that was when you felt your eyes glossing over. you knew you were a damn good dancer, maybe even one of the best on the team, but you also knew the power she had over the coach. her word was stronger than yours.
what also confused you was the fact that she hadn't acted like that towards you until about two weeks ago. paige offered to have her and the girls go jump the girl but you instantly declined. she then offered to just confront her for you, but you turned her down because you wanted to fight your own battles.
“thank you p, but it's still a no.” you replied, watching her skim through her closet to find a hoodie. “i’m just saying at the next game if i see her moving weirdly, i’m gonna say something. i know how you are and you're too nice to tell her all that she needs to hear.” paige casually stated with a shrug, grabbing a green hoodie from out of the closet and throwing it over her head.
you sighed and leaned back on your elbows. “paige, i’m serious, don't do anything.” your gaze followed her travelling figure until she stood in between your legs. “i’m serious, too. she can't just walk all over you like that.” she held serious, yet delicate, eye contact with a tone of finality in her voice.
you let out a dramatic sigh and broke eye contact as it got to strong. “yo, stop looking at me like that.” she let out a boisterous laugh at your words, loving the impact her simple eye contact had on you. “alright,” she hummed before continuing, “were continuing our nap when I get back. text me if you want anything.”
she leaned down, softly grabbing the back of your neck as she laid a few pecks on your smiling lips. you pulled her down for one last kiss, lasting a bit longer before playfully pushing her away. “okay, now go before kk gets bothered by how long you're taking.” you shooed her away, watching her slip on a pair of crocs and grab her keys and wallet with a goofy grin on her face.
she waved goodbye and exited the room. after a few seconds you hear the faint sound of kk saying “finally!” and let out a couple of laughs before getting off the bed. you slid on the slippers paige had for you when you would come over and left the room, making your way down the hall to azzi’s room.
you melodically knocked on the door, leaning back and forth as you waited for azzi to answer. “come in!” you faintly hear from the other side before opening the door. “hey, cutie pie.” you drew out with a smile, walking into the room and draping your arms around the girl who sat at her desk.
“boo bear!” she exclaimed with a smile as she hugged you back. the two of you have always called each other affectionate names like cutie pie and boo bear due to an inside joke.
you unraveled your arms around azzi before walking over to and falling backwards onto her bed, lightly kicking off your slippers. “when did you get here?” she asked, leaving the roblox obby she had been previously playing and giving you her full attention.
“a while ago, but i was with paige.” you explained, changing your position so that you were laying on your stomach, head propped atop your hands as you looked at the girl who twirled her chair in your direction. “oh? how’s that going?” she said with a sly smile, rolling her chair closer to her bed.
you let out a dramatic sigh and shifted your head onto one arm. “to be honest, it’s definitely… going! why? has she said anything to you?” you tried to be casual with your response, but the eager tone slipped through at the end.
“ice and i have been trying to get info from her but she's been so hard to read, so we were hoping to get something out of you…” azzi lengthened her words, lightly poking your cheek and watching you let out a groan.
you watched the curly haired girl get up from her chair and plop down on the bed next to you. “who does she think she is? the riddler? like we do basically almost everything we did when we were in a relationship, but we’re not back together…?” your brows furrowed as you felt yourself growing irritated with the girl who wasn't even present.
azzi rose a brow at your remark, almost instantly causing you to hold a hand up in her direction. “before you even say anything, no, we haven't had sex since we've broken up. she respects my rule and hasn't purposefully tried anything.” azzi let out an understanding hum and nodded.
when you and paige began getting “comfy” with one another again, you had set a rule—which you often found yourself regretting—of not having sex unless you guys get back together. there has been moments where the two of you almost succumbed to the desires, but one of you always pulled back.
when you had first told azzi and ice about the rule during a gossip sesh, ice called you boring for it and azzi said that it was a responsible thing to do. “at this point, just ask her out.” azzi declared, letting out a sigh of defeat at your immediate head shake.
“absolutely not. i was the one that asked her out when we were together and then she was the one who called things off. i will never be embarrassed like that again. if she doesn't ask me out, we’ll never get back together. i’ll just wait it out, i’m a very patient girl.” you retorted in a single breath watching azzi’s eyes roll.
“i’m going to have to smack some sense into the two of you if you guys don't get back together within the next month.” azzi sternly stated but the playfulness was visible within her eyes. you laughed at her comment and rolled on your back.
“oh, so you think i’m joking?” azzi followed up and crossed her arms. “no, not at all.” you quickly responded, wiping the smile off your face. azzi laughed at your switch up and patted your knee.
after a good twenty minutes of being lost in conversation, the two of you heard some knocks on the door. at this point, the two of yo were both laying on your backs, too comfortable to get up. “come in!” azzi called out, both of your eyes glued to the door.
an upside-down perspective of paige came into view as she walked through the doorframe. “i’m here to kidnap y/n for our scheduled sleep sesh.” she announced while walking closer to where you and azzi laid.
you groaned as you felt paige pull you up from the comfortable position you were in. she tapped her foot as she waited for you to fully stand up and put the slippers back on. after doing so she grabbed your hand and led you to the door.
“if you get bored from hanging out with miss snooze fest, you know where to find me!” azzi called out with a teasing smile as she saw paige roll her eyes. “azzi, shut up!” she said in response, causing you to laugh.
“ladies, ladies, there's enough of me to go around.” paige side eyed you as soon as the words escaped your mouth, fully pulling you out of the room and closing the door behind you.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
you angled your phone to capture you and two of your teammates in a pre-game selfie, each one of you posing with one of your white poms. after taking a couple of pictures, a notification from paige popped up at the top of your phone.
you quickly brought your phone down, but not fast enough for your teammates not to see. “oh my god, finally!” you heard one of them, deborah, exclaim, turning to see both of them with wide smiles on their faces.
“we needed the two of you to get back together.” the other one, taylor, followed up with an overdramatized sigh of relief, holding a hand to her heart. you shook your head at their silliness, “we’re not back together.” you turned down their claims, earning dismissive waves.
“whatever you say but your girl wanted to see you before the game.” deborah sang, slightly shaking your shoulders as a smile teased at the corner of your lips. “yeah, and you better go up to her before emily makes a move.” taylor urged with her deadly gaze locked on the girl approaching a certain blonde baller across the hall.
“oh hell no.” deborah looked between your facial expression, which wasn’t expressing much, and the scene at the end of the hall before moving to charge towards them. taylor grabbed her after she took a couple steps and put her behind the two of you.
“y/n, you better go see whats going on over there before deb does it for you.” taylor informed with raised eyebrows, keeping an arm around deborah who was mad for you. you sucked your teeth and put a hand on your hip.
“trust me, emily is not a threat… if there was anything to be threatened.” you promptly followed up with as you watched the smiles slide onto their faces. “okay, period, loving this security in your relationship. but you know how emily is. she won't stop until she gets what she wants.” taylor spoke as you drifted your gaze back over to the two women across the hall.
you ran your tongue against your bottom lip, thinking over your options on what to do in that moment. “i guess it wouldn't hurt to go see whats going on. i mean technically paige wanted me over there anyways.” your two teammates quietly cheered, deborah hopping and taylor clapping.
you playfully shushed them and gave taylor your pom to hold before walking down what seemed to be the longest hallway. once you got closer you could more vividly see paige’s bored facial expression and emily’s hand reaching towards the girl’s arm.
you could almost laugh at the scene, quickening your step until you were right next to the pair. “hey, paige, emily.” you made your presence known, illiciting a genuine smile and a look of relief from paige, but a look of disdain and a feigned smile from emily.
“y/n, hey!” emily dragged out with an eeringly fake bubbily voice, bringing you into a tight hug. you hesitantly hugged back, taking the opportunity to side eye paige who was trying to discretely hide her amused smile behind her hand.
“paige and i were just having a private chat…” she added after you pulled away, her hand moving to touch paige’s arm but the girl simultaneously moved it away, rubbing the back of her neck.
you swallowed the laugh down and moved your gaze between their faces. “don't know about ‘private’, but yeah emma was just talking to me.” paige reworded, purposefully getting the girl’s name wrong.
you couldn't restrain the small curl at the corner of your lips, seeing how emily’s eye slightly twitched at paige’s words. she tried to play it off with a chirpy giggle and run a hand through her hair. “emily, you mean?” you asked paige with a feigned expression of confusion. you knew exactly what she was doing and she knew it.
“emma, emily, whatever is fine.” emily brushed it off, faintly narrowing her eyes as she began to turn toward you. “y/n… are you ready for today? i know how you can get.” she put a hand on your arm, offering a look of concern that the naked eye would believe was genuine but anyone with context would know was fake.
“never been more ready.” you offered her a sickly sweet smile, placing your hand on top of hers that laid on your arm before removing it. “yeah, she got it.” paige affirmed with a toothy smile, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her side.
emily’s smile dimmed as her gaze flickered to paige’s arm wrapped around your shoulder. “cute. didn't know the two of you were… close again.” she shifted her weight onto her other foot, making an effort to keep her poker face.
“mhm, yeah. oh, emily! i think i heard coach was looking for you…” you smoothly lied, causing her to stand up straight. “thanks, i guess i’ll go look for her.” she thanked you before trailing her eyes to paige.
“bye paige, good luck today.” she gave the blonde a sweet smile accompanied by a flirtatious wave, twirling on her feet before walking back down the hall she came from. paige took no time to lead you around the corner into an empty room.
“bye paige, good luck today.” you teased with a smile, resulting in the blonde playfully rolling her eyes and letting out a chuckle. “see how I held back?” she smartly questioned with a brow raise.
you endearingly rolled your eyes and placed yourself in front of the girl. “thank you for that. i know that took a lot in you.” she hummed, crossing her arms and nodding at your words.
“but i promise you, if it even looks like she's disrespecting you at today's game…” she took a moment to comfortably wrap her arms around you. “i know, p. i know.” you saw the way she searched your eyes for any signs of doubt in her innuendo.
“all the dots connected, though.” you informed, watching the confused look that formed on the girl’s face. “she wants you bad.” you enunciate with a shrug, pointing out the obvious. “she told you that?” paige rose her eyebrows in amusement at your claim.
“she didn't have to, it’s so obvious. that's why she's been dogging on me at practice.” you explained, earning a slow nod from paige. “she’s been doing all that just for me not to like her back. insane…” paige drew out with a shoulder shaking laugh.
you let out a small laugh and shook your head. “mhm, and why is that?” you pried, holding eye contact with paige as she slowly swung the two of you side to side. “other than her being a bitch? i got my eye on someone else.” she disclosed with a guileful smile, her gaze flickering down to your lips.
“oh, really?” she hummed a confirmation at your follow up question. “lucky, lucky girl.” the sound of your phone vibrating disrupting the brewing tension that filled the room. with a loud sigh, paige unraveled her arms around you, allowing you to check your phone.
a text from taylor displayed on the notification hub, informing you that your coach was calling for the whole team. “ i gotta go. meet afterwards?” you questioned and paige immediately agreed.
“duh, of course. you better cheer extra loud for me too.” playfully side eyed as you made your way towards the door. “i’ll think about it. drop a calm twenty for me?” you replied with your hand on the handle.
“i was gonna drop twenty regardless, but i guess i could do that for you.” paige feigned a nonchalant tone, grinning at how you blew her a kiss before fully exciting the room.
once the door fully closed she shook her head, the smile still evident as she wiped her hands down her face. its safe to say she dropped twenty-seven points for you.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
#lexi writes ᯓᡣ𐭩#late nights with lex ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ#uconn huskies#uconn wbb#lgbtq#wlw#winners love winning#sapphic#gxg fluff#ncaa wbb#wbb x reader#wbb#ncaa women’s basketball#uconn women’s basketball#paige bueckers uconn#uconn x reader#paige buckets#paige bueckers#paige x reader#paige blockers#black y/n#black reader#paige x fem reader#paige bueckers oneshot#i heart paige#my wife my lover fr#wbb oneshot#wbb fanfiction#wbb fluff#wbb angst
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I GUESS I'M IN LOVE ۶ৎ kim seungmin.


☕ ──── you're everything that i want but i didn't think i'd find ..
⠀ ksm x f reader !⠀⠀6, 3 k.⠀⠀fluff, college au⠀⠀ 𓈀 ⠀⠀ wc.⠀⠀descriptions of social anxiety, getting drunk and kisses. this is based on a personal experience, but it's also based on the love of my life @skzms 's drabble "seungmin in love" which you should check out!
notes.⠀⠀i hope may doesn't mind i bring this back... on her bday <3 (and hour late but let's pretend) happy, happy bday mayy! my lovely teri asked me to post it again because she really liked it, so i saved it for your bday. i listened to i guess i'm in love by clinton kane while writing this btw!
You had never mustered the courage to talk to a boy until university made you come out of your shell.
The morning you had stepped into the lecture hall for the first time, ready to listen to the dean of your faculty give the introductory talk, you had sat alone in one of the front rows—hanging on every word, your heart racing restlessly. You hadn't known anyone among the crowd, and you had decided you would rather focus on the speech, secretly hoping some extrovert would adopt you, than take the first step and start an interaction with a stranger.
But making new friends wasn’t as easy as your high school besties, studying in another town, had made it sound.
You had been shy since you were a child, feeling a sense of panic creeping up your chest at the mere thought of you ending up alone but unable to do something about it, and you were incapable of approaching someone and starting a conversation from scratch. Your fear had always been a prison and the guardian of an anxiety that swirled inside your ribcage, but at college it translated as the number one reason why you had ended up hiding in that lonesome table at the library during all your free hours, instead of hanging out with classmates.
Everyone was new in the first year, most of them didn't know anyone either, but unlike them, you had felt that an invisible wall separating you from them, preventing you from mingling with other students and interacting properly. Not that you wanted to—sometimes you thought you were better off alone, with your music and your inner peace—but there were times when the solitude became suffocating.
Until you met Kim Seungmin. Quiet boy with warm coffee gaze and broad shoulders, usually sitting in the front rows, focused on your professors’ words.
You hadn't spoken to him, at least not at first. You hadn't even realised he existed, at the beginning. You were too scared, mind set on the classes to avoid noticing the silence that clouded your room, and he was just another classmate in the core subjects shared by all those who studied the same degree as you. He smiled softly at the jokes of the teachers he liked, became more serious in the most difficult lectures, and tried not to show his exasperation when the annoying student in the first line of desks made their trademark rancid comment. By late October, you hadn’t even known his name.
But eventually, you found yourself waiting for those little reactions. Like you, he also showed up ten minutes before the first class started, sitting alone, and he also came to school with his headphones on, drowning out all the noise in the corridors with some music. He would arrive with his dark blue backpack slung over one of his shoulders, and a book in his hand—the same one he would read for a while before the professor arrived. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, writing down the titles of his readings, looking forward to the classes you shared with him.
And then you saw him appear for the first time in the library. You were already a regular visitor of the silent place, always at one of the more secluded tables, your back to the wall, your laptop a shield protecting you from the other people in the room. And he had slipped quietly in, ears covered by his black headphones, leaving his backpack on the table in front of yours. For a moment you had stood still, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, the word on your document half-typed, your breath caught in your throat.
And then you had looked away, going on with your work.
It was stupid to react like that for someone you didn't even know.
Right?
But the next day you repeated your little choreography, sitting opposite of each other, in complete silence, a calm and concentrated reflection of your own, right in front of you, as if there was a mirror in the middle of the tables. And the next day, and the next, and the next... For weeks, until it became a habit between the two of you.
You would leave class a little late, too, just because you knew it took him longer to collect his belongings, and you'd follow each other's shadows through the corridors until you reached the library. He would hold the door, a shy gentleman stopping in its tracks to let you in first, and you would smile sweetly at him. You would walk up to your designated table, and when you lent him the book you had used to find out information about a homework topic, he'd return the soft curve in your lips, showing his braces without an ounce of insecurity.
Not a word, but you didn’t need them to feel at ease in each other’s company.
You were comfortable with your dynamic because you didn't think you had any expectations. You didn't think you did. But as the days went by, you started to find him among people even when you weren't looking for him. Your friends, with whom you exchanged text messages, encouraged you to say hello, to introduce yourself, making you think that he could really be interested in you. And you'd let them, flushing at the thought of it. Then exam season had come around, and you had locked yourself in your dorm room to study—realising, in his absence, the impact he had left on your heart.
In February, you returned to your routine. And instead of facing the feelings that had been blooming even before spring, you welcomed back the habits you had implemented with Seungmin, happy to find that the time apart hadn't changed them. You hadn't really made a move, neither of you, but you were alone in your little bubble, and so you continued to meet at your library spot.
But by the second semester, the people around you had already got used to college life. The one you saw in the movies, going out half the nights of the week, hanging out in large groups of friends in the evenings, complaining about professors and gossiping in class. That comfort, you discovered, meant that there were people who would try to make more friends, or seek out a college crush that would motivate them to romanticise their lives.
One of the last days of winter—when the weather got warmer but still rainy— you realised that there was another girl waiting for Seungmin at the end of your class. A more outgoing and prettier one, the kind who always gave the right answers to the teacher and had a bunch of cool friends she hung out with. You heard her asking him if he could explain to her the latest topic discussed in class over a latte in the building’s cafeteria. And your heart sunk in your chest.
You had been waiting for him, like you had learned to do, in the edge of the door—ready to shamelessly accompany each other to the next lecture—, but staying there while the girl flirted with him made you feel uneasy, like you were intruding in the intimacy of her charming smile and casual brushes of her hand on his arm. A creep, in the corridor, witnessing what you couldn’t have. What you would never be able to be like. So you had ended up leaving. Without him.
That had been the first day you had gone to the library alone since your non-arranged meetings had taken place there, and you’d had to open the door for yourself. It had hurt, somehow. Like a dog so used to having a delicious meal when the bell rang that he started to salivate at the sound of it. You had taken the same steps every day, stopped in the same spot and waited for him to open the door for you with that silly bow he always did.
But when you arrived at the door, your mind chose to forget how to wrap your hand around the handle. As if it wasn’t right because he was the one supposed to do it. Dragging yourself to a table that suddenly seemed emptier, you realised that you missed his smile. His steady presence, right by your side.
It hadn’t made sense, the way your heart jumped in your chest every time you noticed someone approaching your table. He was just a classmate. You hadn’t even talked that much, besides a quiet ‘Good morning’ and the usual nods of acknowledgement when you saw each other. Seungmin. The boy attending the same degree as you, another student in the faculty. But somehow you had grown accustomed to him as a constant—especially because there were so many absences in your life, it was easy to notice when he was gone.
And it had scared you. For a moment, thinking you had taken things way too far, that you had let the attachment blossom under your own watch. Wondering if it was unhealthy, the intensity, the muchness you carried with yourself. If you were somewhat broken, unable to keep normal relationships with the people around you, or it was just an illness you had no control over.
You had wished, as it usually happened, that you were braver.
Instead, the next day you skipped class.
A coward, really. You had only missed the class you knew you shared with Seungmin, and you had felt guilty enough. You'd gone to the interactive seminars without fail, your mind scattered and an emptiness in your chest, but you hadn't been able to purposely attend the same class as him. You would have felt compelled to talk to him, to greet him or ask him about the girl from the day before, and at the same time you hadn't felt able to deal with it. So you had spent the day thinking you were an absolute coward, not fully understanding why your brain worked the way it did.
But an afternoon of self-loathing and overthinking, curled up on the sofa in the common room of the dorm一all a wandering gaze and sad music playing softly in your headphones一, made you realise that you had gone numb. Stuck. For a long time, imprisoned in the confines of your own mind, shackled to what people could say about you and the overwhelming burden of failing. To avoid bothering or speaking out, to reduce yourself to a shadow of what you could be so that the people around you could shine brighter.
And it didn't seem fair at all.
So you had muttered a quiet ‘fuck it’ under your breath.
The following day, early in the morning, on the bus一on your way to class一, you had managed to gather the courage to talk to a boy. For the first time, and all by yourself. To that boy.
You had approached him before class, slipping into a seat one line forward of where he was, taking a deep breath of air and exhaling it as you had tried to keep your nerves under control, eyes tightly closed. With your pulse racing, you had turned, resting one of your hands on his desk and catching his attention by waving softly. He had looked up from the intertwined sentences of his book, closing it as soon as he saw it was you addressing him, and you enjoyed a few more seconds of your tender bubble, his brownish gaze all over you, before bursting it.
Your words had been quick and breathy, stammering over possible coffees and shared hours, your eyes anywhere in the class but on his face. Your cheeks got incredibly heated when he responded calmly, a mask of stillness in contrast to the chaos of emotions spiralling inside him, and you had only interrupted the conversation when the teacher finally began the lesson, heart pounding against your ribcage.
But you had done it! Stepping out of your comfort zone, and risking your carefully threaded silence, your convenient and easy peace, just to approach someone. In return, you got the chance to spend time with Seungmin, and the exhilaration of a new achievement.
That was the first free hour of your strict schedule you had disrupted your way to the library in favour of a trip to the cafeteria. You had felt that warmish touch in your shoulder every time his had brushed yours, and a burst of pride inside your chest when you had realised you were finally enjoying something you had worked for—even if it was as silly as hanging out with a not so new friend.
You had heard him order an iced americano with syrup, greeting the lady behind the counter with rehearsed confidence, and waiting—his gaze tracing across the profile of your face—for you to ask for what you wanted. Then he had guided you to one of the tables at the back, letting you sit on the bench with its back against the wall. Almost as if, somehow, he knew that it was what you preferred.
For a moment you had wanted to get your hopes up, to think that he actively thought of you as much as you had thought of him, but it didn't actually make any sense. So you had sighed, setting your bag down beside you, and intertwined your own fingers in a nervous gesture.
You had been the one to propose the plan, but you realised then that you had been so sure he would say ‘no’ that you hadn't planned any further.
You had wandered your gaze in silence, steadily, slowly, trying not to meet his at any point, your shyness forcing stitches of thread on your lips, unable to utter a word. At least until the waitress had appeared with her tray and your drinks, and Seungmin's raspy ‘thank you’ broke through your bubble. You had uttered your own appreciation, no sound actually coming out of your throat, but the beginning of a smile tugged at your lips when he managed to continue a conversation that hadn't existed until then, asking you how you had adjusted to the lectures, to college, and how was life at your dorm.
And then you let loose like a torrent. The stuttering edges of your mouth had tightened, answering in few words and short sentences how your university experience had been going until then, daring even to lock your eyes with his when you returned the question, painfully eager to hear him speak. And as he told a story similar to yours, albeit with many more friends than you had, you had reached your trembling hands towards your cup, taking it and sipping a small amount of coffee.
You had tried not to let it show, but the bitterness of the drink enveloped your taste buds in a flavour you were not used to. Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced, swallowing the thick liquid in one gulp, avoiding triggering your gag reflex, and when you looked back at Seungmin, you noticed he had been watching you like a hawk. He had tilted his head, almost like a puppy would have, and picked up the cup you had just set down, wetting his lips to taste it. He had opened his eyes slightly, almost comically, and muttered what you both were thinking: “This is not what you ordered.”
Then he had gotten up to go reclaim it.
You had felt the heat rise up your neck and settle on your cheeks, unable to believe what had just happened, and watched from your warm seat as the boy spoke to the woman he had greeted earlier. She was surprised and certainly apologetic because of the confusion, and he had shared a complicit grin with you while she repeated the whole process of making from scratch what you had ordered in the first place.
It had been Seungmin's gentle words when he finally returned, treating the porcelain with extreme care so as not to spill the contents, that made you suppress the apology you had had at the tip of your tongue. Perhaps he had decided that it was his responsibility—that the barista had mistaken the order—, but he had stood up for you because he had wanted to. You could read it on his face.
“Thank you so much,” you had said, a shy smile curving your lips, brushing his knuckles with your fingers as you took the new mug. You had closed your eyes to smell the sweet, thick hot chocolate you loved so much, sighing dreamily against it. “You didn't have to.”
Spring was coming to an end, but the mornings were still tinged with a freezing air that bothered you, because you never knew what to wear to class—when you got out of the dorm it was cold, but as soon as midday struck, the sun heated more than usual. So you had told Seungmin when you had opened your eyes and realised that he had been watching you again, but you tried not to retreat into the bashfulness that had kept you from interacting with him for so long.
You had been ready to get out of your comfort bubble once and for all, and having a conversation with someone who in your thoughts was no longer a stranger seemed like the natural option.
After that moment, it had been relatively easy. The words had flowed between you, asking each other about your lives and replying with more questions, exchanging anecdotes, dropping little jokes that elicited laughter, lost in each other’s gaze. As easy as breathing, the minutes passing by on the clock without even being aware of it, learning to read a new language—a new person—, through what you told each other. Opinions and experiences, comments and compliments, engaged in a dance that only you knew, until the alarm on your phone had started ringing, and you had realised you were late.
You had apologised with hurried syllables, quickly packing up, waving goodbye, and heading hastily towards the counter to pay for your drink. You had been surprised when the woman indicated that Seungmin had already taken care of it, and you had looked back for a few seconds to give him a beaming smile. He had mirrored it, leaning against the table you had been sitting at, and waved his hand in response. It had been when you got into the bus, on the way to the restaurant where you had agreed to meet your sister for lunch, that you had realised you hadn't asked him for his phone number.
Apparently, you hadn’t been the only one to think so.
The morning after your disaster of a first conversation, you had arrived early. You had sat in the third row, the fourth seat, just like you always did. And you had begun to doodle in your notebook, deep in thought, until you heard someone clearing their throat next to you. You had looked up, startled, until Seungmin made an exaggerated gesture of asking if he could sit next to you, and you managed not to burst out laughing at his antics when the teacher had come through the door to start the class.
And it had been when you had barely been able to keep your eyes open, the teacher's voice lulling you into a light sleepy state, that you noticed the tip of Seungmin's finger brushing your arm. You had turned slightly, ignoring the shiver that ran down your spine, and instead of questioning what he wanted, you found a sheet of paper folded over the pen that had slipped from your hand. You had opened it discreetly, glancing at Seungmin out of the corner of your eye, curious, and didn’t even bother to suppress the grin that curved your lips as you read a tight “Can I have your phone number?” in his collected handwriting.
You had written it down quickly, going over each digit twice to make sure there could be no confusion, and slid it across the table for Seungmin to tuck it away. You had nodded goodbye to him as the bell rang, parting ways, him going to the opposite side of the corridor, to another class. You had grabbed your bag, and sighed, not so keen to attend your remaining lecture.
At least until twenty minutes into it your phone screen lit up, receiving a new notification.
from: unknown number: hey, is it true that mr choi’s classes are soo boring? or my contact in his classes has shamelessly lied to me?
The contact in Professor Choi's class was you, because you had complained the day before about his classes to Seungmin, and the unknown number had to be him. You put the phone under the table, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice, and typed in the answer:
from: me mmm, you shouldn’t trust your contact they wouldn’t be boring if you were here
from: seungmin 🫶🏼 naah, i bet my classes wouldn’t be boring if my contact could attend them
from: me you can't use my own sentence as an answer that's like cheating
from: seungmin 🫶🏼 would it be cheating if i bribe you with another cup of hot chocolate?
from: me whatever you say, lover boy
You had tried to imagine Seungmin’s reaction, your subconscious tricking you with images of him blushing in the middle of his class, and left the phone in your bag. That interaction had made your entire day.
From then on, you continued to develop your friendship, intertwining yourselves like a tangled vine, unable to separate from each other. You shared more hours in the library, actually talking in between classes—in between and during classes—, and even hanging out together in some afternoons, when the summertime was closer and you ignored the upcoming exams with his guitar and iced tea in the park.
You too learned to enjoy the revising period leading up to the finals season, by exchanging knowing glances and turning boring lessons into jokes. You left your quiet table for the privacy of your dorm room, and he became comfortable enough to stop acting shy and feel like in his own home. You helped each other take breaks when the stress got too much, and explained what you knew better if the other one couldn’t quite understand the subject. He was the perfect study partner, and it had reflected in your grades, none of which had dropped below a C.
At the end of finals, once you had finished your second term and the beginning of your degree at college, Seungmin had invited you to one of the pubs his friends had shown him. He wanted to properly celebrate a successful academic year, and excused himself for not inviting them—he wasn’t ashamed of you, he just hadn't wanted them to say anything stupid in front of you.
But you hadn’t missed them, and neither did he. With a glass in his hand, he had followed you to the dance floor every time you had asked, his neck flushed and his eyes shying away from your figure when he realised the alcohol had disinhibited you enough to move your hips freely, flirting non-stop. It had been a memorable night, though you hadn’t kept a lot of memories, just inebriated snippets. When three in the morning struck, he was the one who escorted you to your dorm, just to make sure you got there safely, and you had been the one who drunkenly begged him to stay with you.
He woke up in the same bed as you, limbs intertwined, and almost dizzy at the softness of your skin against his.
The following summer break had distanced you a bit, each enjoying a couple of months of relaxation back with your family, although you did text weekly to each other with updates about your lives. But September started, and when the second semester began, it did so with many hours of late arrivals to class—something you hated, but which was certainly more bearable in his company and because of him.
You would gather together as soon as you arrived at the faculty on one of the benches by the entrance—him sitting comfortably with his ankle on his thigh, you with your knees against your chest, jumping from conversation to conversation until the bell started ringing. It always startled you, the high pitched, thundering sound, and you would always run up the stairs together, to get to class before the teacher.
You had learned to cope with it because somehow the stress of being late was compensated by the way Seungmin would touch you so he wouldn't lose you in the corridors. Hovering behind you, like a guard dog, guiding you to your class with his hand resting on the small of your back, making sure you got in before he wandered off into the crowd in search of his own, in case you didn't share it.
And in the free hours you had gotten to know his friends, or at least some of them. The first time had been in a class that had been cancelled last minute, on your way to the library, when you had seen Seungmin’s silhouette in the cafeteria, his broad shoulders framing the back of the chair. You had felt a little bit awkward at first, but still greeted them both—the short boy and the narrowed-eyed one—with a bashful smile, before asking them if they would let you sit in the chair by Seungmin’s side.
You had seen the knowingly smirks, and also their suspicious gazes, but they had made you feel like a long time friend of theirs, so you had shaken the creepy feeling out of your body. You had stayed silent most of the conversation, listening to their jokes and anecdotes, smiling upon the fact that they treated Seungmin like a brother—teasing him to death. And from then on you had always found a free seat by his side in your gatherings.
Your easiness with them, with Changbin and Jeongin, had solidified at about the same time you accepted that Seungmin just saw you as one of the group, and you had tried to stop getting your hopes up. Throughout the academic year, you had begun to participate in more conversations with his friends, becoming a little bit more social around them, and even actively participating in class, interacting with classmates and getting to know some girls with whom you thought a friendship could develop.
You had noticed Seungmin had been turning somewhat distant, but with your mandatory Friday movie nights and your weekly coffee dates—hot chocolate for you, he made sure they didn't mess it up again—, you assumed he had simply decided that he had more priorities, or had found himself so comfortable in your presence he didn't feel he had to contact you every second of his day. You were fine with having any part of him he decided to share with you.
At least until the beginning of your third year, the night of Minho’s birthday celebration. That October night you arrived late to the restaurant where the group had decided to hang out in, and the place where you normally sat, to Seungmin's right, was occupied by a freckle-faced blond you had seen around the dorm on some occasion. You greeted Seungmin with a quick kiss on the cheek, giving a high five to Jeongin, and went straight to the birthday boy, to congratulate him with a tight hug.
You had spent the whole week crocheting cute fruit-shaped hats for his cats, just because of a joke you two had, and Minho’s genuine reaction to the gift was to stand up, take you in his arms and turn you around, both of you giddily giggling.
You remembered that he had told you he couldn’t wait to get home to try them on his babies, and you commented that it was a crime for him to be all alone at the end of the table on such a special day. With that excuse, you sat next to him, leaning like two old oaks so that you could hear each other over the music, your knees touching and his arm over your chair, keeping you in his embrace.
At one point, after the whole group had gathered, during the dinner, when you followed Minho’s unfocused gaze directed at Seungmin, you discovered such a hard acrimony in his usually warm coffee eyes that you thought you had done something awfully wrong.
After that weird, tense moment, he didn't approach you during what was left of the night, not even to accompany you home, like he usually did.
You tried to talk to him about what had happened the next day, texting him when you woke up in your bed and he wasn't by your side. Seungmin, who normally would have been curled up against one of your pillows, didn't even bother to answer your message.
When you asked him again in the middle of the corridor, at the faculty, before a class you two didn't even share, you got no answer. You saw him building up anger and complex emotions inside, his narrowed eyes as transparent with his emotions as he usually was, but he refused to utter a word, leaving you to attend your lecture.
The absence of that trust you had thought you shared broke your heart.
And yet, that very same night he showed up at the university party night that Jeongin had organised—Thursdays were his favourite days to go out—still frowning. He arrived at the pub without even looking at you, as if it pained him to see you, deliberately sitting at the other end of the table.
That was the second time since the two of you had met that you weren't next to each other. You thought you shouldn't have been so sickenly desperate for his attention, so instead of begging for it, you just ordered a drink.
After the first sip, they just kept on coming.
You pretended not to care. For a few hours, you managed to make it seem real. But then that boy approached you, with the soft look Seungmin always gave you, and the same wide smile he reserved just for you… So you decided that knowing that you were willing to lie to yourself, at least you should get something out of it.
He took you to the dance floor, his polite hands sticking to holding you by your waist, and swayed to the rhythm of the music, his body pressed to yours. You pretended, again, it was him, and not this boy you couldn't even remember the name of. He was nice and gentle, and you had drunk a little bit too much, so when he slid his hands to your hips, and his mouth hovered dangerously close to yours, you couldn't help but allow it.
You exhaled a laugh over his lips, beaming smile under the coloured lights of the pub, and even though his body didn't feel right pressed to yours—it wasn't Seungmin's—you opened your mouth unders his when he kissed you, messy and hungry, and you kissed him back just as eagerly.
But the spell melted on your fingers as you parted, and you found all the details in his face that made him so different from Seungmin. He really wasn’t him, even if you had tried to pretend it did, and all the suppressed feelings flooded off you, eyes drawing in unshed tears.
You had apologised to him, again and again as you escaped his embrace, wandering around the dance floor until you collided with Changbin. He gave you a bright smirk, asking you how you were doing with Wonwoo, but the tragic pout that formed on your lips made him react, taking you by your shoulders and interrogating you about the guy, Wonwoo, trying to understand if he had crossed a line with you, if you were okay.
All you had managed to do was deny, before drunkenly asking him to take you home.
It was a terrible night. For you, crying for a certainty that felt heavy in your heart, throwing up until the first lights of dawn, and for him, who stayed and nursed you to sleep. And it was also terrible to wake up, when you realised you were alone in your flat. Alone, tangled in your sheets, and the alarm clock ringing, reminding you that you had a schedule to follow, and you had to go to class.
Seungmin was not on your self proclaimed bench when you arrived, as he hadn't been since Minho's birthday, but you sat down to wait for him anyway—just in case. And when the bell rang you walked up the stairs, slowly, hungover, like a ghost wandering the corridors of the faculty, ignoring the professor's disapproving face when you interrupted his speech by opening the door of the class. You paid no attention to his words, sitting down and doodling on your notebook, enduring as best you could the hour that lasted, leaving as soon as it was over.
You skipped the next one. It wasn't responsible, you knew, but it hadn't been responsible either to go to a pub on a weekday, and you had still attended to Jeongin's invitation. If the consequences to your actions were going to be going back to your dorm to sleep some more, you were glad to comply.
The quietness of the library sounded good, too, but it held too many memories.
So you put on your headphones, drowning the background noises to nothingless. And you wandered back to your dorm, weighted steps over the pavement, gaze sliding around the landscape… Until you saw him.
With his navy blue backpack slung over his shoulder, and the brown sweatshirt you had stolen from him in some chilly afternoons. He was going to class, you supposed, when you made eye contact with him. But you forced yourself to ignore him, continuing on your way.
You couldn't face him. All you could think about was the way he had avoided you, even when you had asked him why, and how you had kissed another boy just because it looked like him. You went upstairs in your building, the necessity to get as far as possible from him bubbling in your chest, walking through the doors of the elevator.
You knew he had followed you, but you wanted to be able to ignore him too.
Until you heard him.
“I love you,” he whispered, and you stopped dead in your tracks, paralysed. He then repeated it, this time louder. “I love you, I’m so sorry but I love you.”
Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned around slowly, utterly convinced that it was your imagination.
You took your headphones out, letting them rest around your neck, and looked at him—watched his expression. But his kicked out, glassy eyes were a reflection of how you actually felt, the waterline of his pretty eyes covered by a bubble of unreleased tears, and brows pitched.
You didn't feel as hungover anymore.
‘Ding!’
You reacted before the doors of the elevator closed, pressing the button on the panel, and took a trembling step out of it, into the hallway.
He looked tortured. His cheeks were coloured red, flushed with the shame that let you know everything you could think was true. Still, he was looking at you with a devotion you doubted he could feel towards you, like you hung the stars in the sky. But you had heard him.
Had you?
“What do you mean you love me?” you asked, and you hated the way your voice quivered.
“Don't—” he said, and he paused, like he knew he could mess everything up in seconds. “I love you. I hadn't realised, or maybe I did, but I hadn't accepted it until a couple of weeks ago.”
“What—”
“I love you, and I'm sorry because I've been an asshole about it, and you didn't deserve it,” he added, interrupting you. You shut your mouth, trying to understand what he was implying. “I got so jealous… When—You spent the whole night with him, and he did it on purpose, and I couldn’t—And then you kissed him and I—I didn't know what to do with what I felt about it—About you.”
He locked his eyes with yours, and he looked so broken it was almost tragic. But you were putting together the pieces of his improvised, chaotic speech—he was talking about Minho, about you, about you two—, and you couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips.
You nodded, taking a step towards him.
He seemed frozen in the middle of the hall, frozen as you approached him, air caught at his throat as you slid a hand over his shoulder, like you always did before hugging him. You looked up, innocent beam in you eyes, and whispered into the shell of his ear:
“I love you too.”
His breath hitched, your mouth close to the corner of his lips, and his heartbeats quickened under your hand as you rested it on his chest, mirroring yours.
And then you kissed him. Eyes closed, devouring his sweet sighs as he pressed you to his body, backpack long forgotten on the floor. You kissed him, and his relieved smile, as you grinned into his mouth, sliding your hand up until you buried it into his hair. And he took you by your waist, and he hummed into you, and you breathlessly giggled when he pushed you into the wall at your back.
“I love you too,” you repeated, kissing him again and again, and you couldn't understand his answer but his lips were over yours again, carving those three words into your mouth.
ㅤㅤwith love , © mars. do not copy, translate, repost, share this work as yours on other platforms or feed it to the ai ! 🔭 ˚. ⋆͏
#WRITTEN BY⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀@ 𝑘now𝑏ites.#𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ 💻 oneshots.#[ 📁 . kim seungmin ]#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabble#stray kids fluff#kim seungmin#seungmin#kim seungmin x reader#seungmin x reader#kim seungmin imagines#seungmin imagines#seungmin fluff
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𝖈ross 𝖙he 𝖑ine ⸝⸝ 𓂃₊ ⊹

⋆˙⟡ — non idol!minji x fem!reader
♯ 𝖘ynopsis : you and minji were always just friends—the kind who held hands without thinking, who shared beds without question. but when feelings begin to stir beneath the surface, you’re forced to face the one line you swore you’d never cross.
𝖈ontains : friends to lovers, theyre both oblivious, and also lwk in denial, just a whole lotta fluff with like the smallest smidge of angst (but its only cuz theyre—again—in denial), hanni is in the middle of everything
𝖜ord 𝖈ount : 5.0k
𝖆uthor's 𝖓ote : requested by anon here! when anon requested a minji fic to “feelings” by lauv i fear they cooked with the idea… i tried my best bringing this idea to life and i kinda tweaked like a few things… 😓the ending is also lwk a LILL rushed
. ♬ ݁˖ 𝖓ow 𝖕laying — feelings by lauv

the day started like all the others did, with sunlight spilling lazily through the blinds and minji’s voice in your ear. she was talking about something—maybe breakfast, maybe the dream she had about being chased by a giant toast—but you weren't really listening. not because you didn’t care, but because you knew this version of peace only came with her. it was in the way her laughter curled into the air like steam off morning coffee. it was in the way she reached out, absentmindedly fixing your sleeve like she always did.
you’d been friends for years now, and in that time, you’d become something like a rhythm—so in sync, people hardly bothered asking if you’d show up together anymore. where minji was, you were. it wasn’t planned or forced. it just happened, like gravity.
your friends joked about it constantly. hanni, especially, would nudge minji with a grin and say, “you’re basically married, you know that?” and minji would laugh, the kind that always made your chest feel warm.
“nah,” she’d reply, ruffling your hair. “we’re just close.”
close.
you’d memorised that word by now. tucked it into your heart and let it sit there, heavy and quiet.
some days it was enough. most days, it wasn’t.
like when she called you late at night, her voice soft from sleep, asking if you could come over because her room felt too quiet. and you did, of course you did, every time. and she’d curl up next to you like she belonged there, like your shoulder was made just for her to rest her head on.
or when she texted you just to say she missed you—even if you’d seen her that morning. your heart would skip, flutter, fall. but then she’d send another message right after: “also can u bring snacks i’m starving.” and you’d laugh and tell yourself to get a grip.
because she didn’t mean it like that. she couldn’t.
still, there were moments—tiny, trembling things—that made you wonder.
like the time she fell asleep with her hand in yours on the train, and even after she woke, she didn’t let go. or how she always waited for your reactions first, before anyone else’s, like your opinion meant more. like it mattered most.
and it did, didn’t it?
minji meant everything to you. in the quietest way possible, she’d become the center of your world. and you… you were just doing your best not to drown in the ache of it all.
“hey,” her voice pulled you back. you blinked, looking up at her. she had that look again—gentle, concerned. “where’d you go just now?”
you smiled, shaking your head. “nowhere. just thinking.”
she leaned closer, propping her chin on your shoulder. “thinking about what?”
you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. instead, you reached for your drink, pretending not to notice how close her lips were to your cheek.
“you’re weird,” she said, teasing.
“takes one to know one,” you shot back.
she grinned, and your heart did that stupid fluttering thing again. you wished it would stop or at least stop hurting so much.
later that evening, as the sky turned the color of old peach skins, you sat side by side on her bedroom floor, folding laundry while music played low in the background. she hummed along to the melody, not quite in tune but beautiful all the same.
“can i ask you something?” she said suddenly.
“sure.”
“do you think i’m… clingy?”
you looked at her, startled. “what? no. why would you think that?”
“just wondering. hanni said we’re always together. made it sound like i’m too attached.”
you laughed, though something stung beneath it. “we are always together.”
she shrugged. “yeah, but… it doesn’t bother you, right?”
you paused. your hands stilled over a pair of her socks. you looked at her—really looked—and saw that tiny furrow in her brow, the one she got when she was unsure.
“min,” you said softly, “i like being with you. it doesn’t bother me.”
her smile then was slow, sweet. “me too.”
and maybe it didn’t mean anything. maybe it was just a simple exchange between best friends. maybe she’d forget it by tomorrow.
but you wouldn’t. you never did. because every time she said “me too,” it felt like a promise.
and every time, you wished she meant it in the way you did.

the sky outside was painted in soft watercolors—clouds trailing lazy streaks of white over a pale blue canvas. minji sat by the window of your favorite coffee shop, the same one with the peeling brick walls and mismatched mugs, her fingers wrapped around the warmth of her cup.
hanni sat across from her, scrolling through her phone, legs crossed, eyes occasionally flicking up with something suspiciously close to amusement.
“you’re fidgeting,” hanni said eventually, not looking up.
“am not.”
“you are,” she said again, sing-song. “like a nervous wreck waiting for their crush.”
minji rolled her eyes. “you’re being ridiculous.”
“and right.” hanni leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “so… what’s the deal with you and y/n?”
minji blinked. “what?”
“don’t play dumb.” hanni gave her a look. “you’re always together. like, always. people joke about it. you're basically conjoined. you do everything together, talk in code, wear each other's clothes—min, come on. if i didn’t know you, i’d think you were dating.”
minji laughed, but there was something off about it—too quick, too sharp. “we’re just close. that’s it. i don’t like her like that.”
hanni’s brow lifted. “you don’t?”
“not in a romantic sense.”
“mhm.”
“and she doesn’t like me like that either,” minji added, as if to make it clearer. “we’re just… we’re good friends. we just get each other.”
hanni tilted her head, unconvinced. “right. so you’re telling me you share your fries, your hoodie, your bed, and your deepest thoughts—but there’s nothing going on?”
minji fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater. “yes.”
hanni sighed. “minji.”
“what?”
hanni sighed, leaning forward with her chin in her hand. “i love you, but you’re in denial.”
minji scoffed. “you’re reaching.”
“you’re repressing.”
minji scoffed. “i am not.”
“you are,” hanni said gently. “and that’s okay. it’s scary. love always is. but you don’t get to tell me you don’t feel something when it’s all over your face every time y/n’s name comes up.”
minji looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. her coffee had gone cold.
“even if i did,” she murmured, “what’s the point? she doesn’t feel the same. and i’d rather have her in my life like this than lose her completely because i was dumb enough to say something.”
hanni’s expression softened. “have you ever actually asked her?”
minji didn’t answer.
before hanni could push further, the bell above the door chimed, and minji’s head turned instinctively.
you walked in, hair a little wind-blown, hoodie sleeves too long, eyes scanning the café until they landed on her.
“hey,” you said, making your way over. “sorry i’m late. i had to chase down a bus, then realised it wasn’t even the right one.”
minji grinned. “sounds like you.”
“i’m lucky i didn’t get kidnapped,” you added, sliding into the seat beside her.
“you’d probably befriend the kidnapper,” minji teased.
“and ask for snacks,” hanni chimed in, laughing.
you rolled your eyes and leaned on the table, your arm brushing minji’s. she didn’t move away. she never did.
a few minutes passed as they settled into the warmth of each other’s presence.
then a barista approached with their drinks—a new girl, unfamiliar, with a practiced smile. she placed each order down carefully, but when she set minji’s down, she lingered.
“hope you like it,” she said, gaze fixed on minji. “it’s my favorite.”
“oh?” minji blinked, smiling politely. “thanks!”
the girl smiled wider. “you’ve got great taste.”
with one last glance, she turned and walked away.
hanni raised a brow. “well that wasn’t subtle.”
“what?” minji blinked. “she was just being nice.”
“min,” hanni deadpanned.
you snorted into your cup. “she was basically batting her lashes at you.”
“she was just being nice,” minji said, entirely genuine.
hanni shook her head. “min, you’re hopeless.”
“tell me about it…” you mumbled under your breath, eyes fixed on the foam in your drink.
minji didn’t hear it. but hanni did.
her eyes darted between the two of you. her lips curved into something knowing, something quiet.
the conversation shifted then—something light, something forgettable—but the weight of those earlier words lingered, tucked between sips of coffee and the spaces your fingers nearly touched.
and minji, who didn’t think you looked at her like that—never once noticed the way your eyes refused to look anywhere else.

the sky outside was still bright, though the air had cooled into something gentler. you and hanni stood just outside the coffee shop, the door shutting behind you with a soft chime as minji slipped back inside to grab a pastry for the road.
you hadn’t said anything yet. not really. just shared a long look, the kind that passed between people who both knew what wasn't being said.
hanni was the one who broke the silence first.
“so,” she said, sipping her drink, “how long have you been in love with her?”
you choked on your straw. “hanni.”
“what?” she shrugged, lips twitching. “someone had to say it.”
you looked away, your fingers tightening around the cold plastic of your cup. the words came out without much thought, raw and slow and aching.
“she gives me whiplash,” you said, voice low. “she’ll hold my hand like it’s nothing. she’ll fall asleep on me like i’m the safest place in the world. and then she flirts with someone else like it’s just air.”
hanni didn’t look surprised. she just leaned back against the wall and stared at you like she was finally seeing what had been obvious all along.
“she’s clearly into you,” she said.
you scoffed, but it sounded more bitter than amused. “if she is, she’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“you don’t see it, but she’s always looking at you,” hanni said, matter-of-fact. “like she wants something but doesn’t think she deserves it.”
you blinked. your chest felt too tight. “she told me she doesn’t believe in love. that it always ends in a mess.”
“what if she’s scared?”
“then why does she keep holding me like she’s not?”
hanni didn’t answer. instead, she reached into her bag, pulled out a pen, and started doodling on a napkin she’d saved. something small, a flower maybe. a heart cracked down the middle.
then she asked, voice soft and sure:
“do you love her?”
you froze.
you hadn’t said that word yet. not even to yourself.
“i don’t know,” you whispered. “maybe. probably. it feels like—like it’s in my bones already. like it’s been there for a while and i’m only just now realising it.”
hanni didn’t tease. didn’t grin or poke fun. she just nodded, slow and understanding. it was like she knew the feeling too well.
“you should tell her.”
you shook your head. “she’ll run. she’ll say we’re better off as friends. and then i’ll lose her.”
“but aren’t you already kind of losing her, every time she looks at someone else?”
your eyes dropped to your cup, where condensation had pooled like tiny rivers. you hated how true it felt.
the thing was, you could’ve lived with the friendship. you really could’ve.
but only if the lines were clearer. if she didn’t brush your hair back like she was memorising your face. if she didn’t text you goodnight with little hearts when she was tipsy. if she didn’t make you feel like maybe—just maybe—there was something unsaid between every touch, every lingering glance.
you didn’t mind loving her quietly. you just didn’t know how long you could survive the confusion.
“you think she really feels the same?” you asked, almost a whisper.
“i think she’s trying really hard not to,” hanni said. “but feelings are like fog. you can’t run from them forever.”
you sighed. the ache in your chest felt old and familiar by now.
“you think she’ll ever see it?”
“she already does,” hanni said. “she’s just scared to say it out loud.”
you stood in silence after that. not a heavy one, but soft and slow. a silence that wrapped around the both of you like a blanket.
then the door creaked open, and minji stepped out with a grin and a paper bag in hand. the top was folded neatly, and on it, scrawled in thick black marker, was a phone number.
hanni squinted. “is that a number?”
minji looked down, and her smile widened, sheepish and amused. “yeah. the barista. she, uh… she gave it to me.”
you blinked, words catching in your throat.
“so she was flirting,” hanni said, elbowing her. “what happened to ‘she’s just being nice’?”
“okay, okay,” minji laughed, lifting the bag in defense. “i didn’t know at the time! i’m just—i don’t know. i’m oblivious, apparently.”
hanni arched a brow, clearly holding something back. her eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to minji.
minji met her gaze, then shot her a look—playful but pointed. like she was saying see? i don’t like y/n without having to say it out loud.
“you’re hopeless,” hanni muttered under her breath.
minji slung an arm over your shoulder casually, like she always did, like it was second nature.
“come on,” she said. “let’s go eat this before it gets cold.”
you forced a smile and nudged her side. “wow, getting phone numbers and pastries. who even are you?”
“minji the irresistible,” she said, with a grin that made your heart twist.
and as the three of you walked down the street together, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could pretend the ache inside you was just part of being friends.

minji arrived at your door like she always did—without warning, without needing to ask.
“i bring gifts,” she announced, holding up a plastic bag full of snacks like some wandering hero returning from battle.
“behold. ramen, choco pies, your favorite seaweed chips, and,” she paused for dramatic effect, “one overpriced convenience store cheesecake.”
you leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. “you trying to win my heart or rot my teeth?”
“both,” she said easily, brushing past you with a smug grin. “multitasking.”
you closed the door behind her and watched her kick her shoes off like she lived there, like this was just her other home. she knew where everything was—where you kept the extra pillows, the charger cable tangled behind the couch, the specific mug you used when drinking tea.
and it never stopped being strange, how something so ordinary could feel so intimate.
“pick a movie,” you said as she dropped onto the couch, legs sprawled out like a cat basking in the last bit of daylight. “but no crying tonight, please. my heart’s too tired to carry your emotional baggage through another sad indie flick.”
minji gasped dramatically. “i’ll have you know my taste is refined. cultured, even.”
“traumatic,” you muttered, grabbing the remote and handing it to her anyway.
she stuck her tongue out at you, then began scrolling. “fine. something light. maybe that dumb rom-com with the guy who keeps falling over everything?”
you smirked. “so, you mean the story of your life? got it.”
she swatted your arm, giggling. “rude.”
you made popcorn in the kitchen while she set up the film, the scent buttery and warm and almost enough to distract you from the way your heart clenched every time she laughed like that—freely, without walls.
when you returned, she was already nestled into your couch, blanket pulled over her lap and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“your spot’s waiting,” she said, patting the cushion beside her.
you sat down, close enough that your knees touched.
“you know,” she said, not looking at you, “if people saw us like this, they’d probably think we were together.”
your heart did a somersault. but you didn’t let it show.
“yeah,” you said softly. “they’d be wrong though… right?”
minji turned to you, eyes unreadable in the dim light. “yeah,” she echoed. “very wrong.”
but she didn’t move away.
and when the movie started, her head found your shoulder, slow and gentle, like maybe it was exactly where it wanted to be.
“you comfy?” you asked.
she hummed. “too comfy. might fall asleep and drool on your hoodie.”
“it’s your hoodie,” you said.
“borrowed. indefinitely.”
you didn’t reply. your hand moved on its own, fingers brushing through her hair like a habit you’d picked up from another life.
and minji didn’t stop you.
halfway through the film, you looked down at her, her cheek pressed against your arm, her lips parted slightly, eyes fluttering with sleep.
she looked so small in that moment. so breakable.
you wondered if she ever looked at you the way you looked at her—like she was some kind of miracle.
your chest ached with the weight of everything you couldn’t say.
“you okay?” she murmured, half-asleep.
you forced a smile. “yeah.”
she blinked slowly. “you’re quiet.”
“just thinking.”
“dangerous.”
you chuckled softly. “probably.”
the movie played on, but you couldn’t focus. not with the warmth of her pressed beside you, not with the way she sighed in her sleep like she belonged here, in this exact moment, with you.
and when it ended, you stayed there, neither of you moving, the silence stretching between you like a secret.
eventually, she stood and stretched, yawning. “sleepover?”
you nodded. “duh.”
“you say that like it’s not a privilege.”
“it’s not. you’ve basically moved in.”
“you love it.”
you didn’t deny it.
minji changed into one of your old t-shirts and a pair of shorts she left in your drawer weeks ago. you brushed your teeth side by side, bumping shoulders, laughing when you accidentally spit toothpaste on your own shirt.
and then, just like always, you ended up in bed—her on one side, you on the other, back to back but close enough that your feet touched beneath the blanket.
“goodnight,” she whispered.
“night, min.”
but neither of you slept. not right away.
you could feel her breathing. you could feel the warmth of her skin, the steady beat of her heart.
and somewhere in the silence, her fingers reached for yours under the blanket—just a brush, a moment, a whisper.
you didn’t pull away. you never did.
you closed your eyes and let yourself pretend, just for tonight, that she was yours.
and she let you.

the morning light slipped in soft and golden, brushing across the bed like a quiet apology for interrupting the peace.
you woke before her.
you always did when she stayed over.
minji was still curled beneath the blankets, one arm flung across your pillow, her hair messy and tangled like the petals of a dream left half-bloomed. her face was calm, softer than she ever let the world see. her lips parted slightly, breaths falling slow and even.
you propped yourself up on one elbow and watched her, heart caught somewhere between awe and ache.
how was it possible that someone could look like this—so warm, so close—and not know what they did to you?
her presence filled the room like music with no lyrics. and you? you listened.
you thought about how easy it was, this rhythm you shared. the laughter, the sleepovers, the way her clothes hung in your closet like they belonged. the way she stole your hoodies and your blankets and, without meaning to, your heart.
she shifted in her sleep, brow furrowing slightly as if something troubled her even in dreams. instinctively, you reached forward and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, fingers light, careful.
your chest tightened.
god, you wanted her to wake up and see you. really see you.
you slipped out of bed gently, as quietly as you could, but the moment your feet touched the floor—
“don’t go,” she mumbled.
you froze.
minji’s voice was thick with sleep, eyes still closed as she reached out blindly and caught your wrist.
“stay,” she said, tugging you back toward the bed.
you turned, heart stuttering. “minji, i was just gonna—”
“five more minutes,” she whispered.
you hesitated. “we’ll waste the whole day.”
“then let’s waste it together.”
you didn’t argue after that.
you let her pull you back beneath the covers, her arms loosely wrapping around your waist as if this was the most natural thing in the world. her head found your chest, and your hands found her back.
the world outside the window didn’t exist. just this bed, just this moment, just her.
you stayed like that for longer than five minutes. who knows how long.
eventually, the hunger crept in.
you both stretched and stumbled your way out of bed like a pair of old souls in a new morning, brushing teeth in sync, bumping shoulders, sharing sleepy smiles.
minji pulled your sweatshirt over her head. “i’m stealing this again.”
“not stealing if i let you,” you said.
“so you admit you like it.”
“i didn’t say that.”
“but you meant it.”
you rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you with a smile.
the kitchen smelled of warmth and the weekend as you flipped pancakes in your old pan, minji perched on the counter like a queen in her kingdom, watching you.
“you know,” she said slowly, swinging her legs, “i agreed to go on a date next week.”
the spatula paused in your hand.
you turned, heart dropping like a stone.
“what?”
“mm.” she nodded. “you remember the barista? she asked me out yesterday and i figured… why not?”
you tried to keep your face still, tried not to let the hurt show in your eyes.
“but,” you said quietly, “weren’t you the one who said love always ended in a mess?”
she shrugged, looking away. “maybe i just said that to sound smart. maybe i was scared.”
you forced a laugh, but it came out flat. “so what changed?”
minji smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“i guess i thought it was time to try. open myself up a little. and i needed to prove hanni wrong”
the pancakes were starting to burn. you didn’t care.
“prove her wrong on what?” you questioned.
minji shrugged as she muttered a “nevermind” and picked up her phone from the edge of the counter.
you turned back to the stove, trying to hide the way your hands trembled.
you wanted to ask her—why not me? why not us? but you didn’t. you just flipped the pancake and said nothing at all.
behind you, minji swung her legs and stared at the floor. her voice was quiet when she said, “you’re not mad, right?”
“mad at you?” you smiled softly like your heart wasn’t shattering.
“never.”

you got there just after noon, letting yourself in with the spare key minji gave you months ago. her place was warm with the scent of citrus shampoo and fabric softener, a quiet kind of chaos unfolding in every corner—clothes thrown across the bed, curling iron plugged in, a half-bitten apple forgotten on the counter. it looked like her. it felt like her.
and in the middle of it all stood minji, hair half-dried and shirtless save for the sports bra she always wore when she was trying on outfits. she turned to you like you were her last hope.
“thank god,” she said. “i was two seconds away from cancelling just out of wardrobe-related stress.”
you laughed, not quite because it was funny, but because it was her. “you’re the one who wanted to give dating a shot.”
“yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, rifling through a pile of neatly folded shirts and then promptly unfolding them. “remind me again why i thought that was a good idea?”
you stepped in and gently swatted her hand away from the shirts, holding up a few options yourself. “because you said it was time to be open. and that you wanted to ‘prove hanni wrong’ or whatever. ”
she groaned. “ugh. me and my big ideas.”
but she took the shirt you held out—a dark navy button-up that brought out the depth of her eyes—and disappeared into her closet to change.
you stood in the center of her room, surrounded by the familiar. her polaroids pinned to the wall. a hair tie left on her nightstand. the book she was halfway through with your bookmark inside it.
“okay,” she said, stepping out, “how’s this?”
you turned—and felt your heart skip.
she looked beautiful. not done-up or overly fancy. just her, in that natural, easy way that always knocked the air out of your lungs.
“you look good,” you said.
“just good?”
you smiled. “you always look good.”
she smiled back, that soft, pleased kind of smile, the one that made her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. you wished it meant more than it did.
she sat down on the edge of the bed, tugging on socks, and you knelt beside her to tie her laces. she didn’t ask you to—you just always did. it was one of those little things. one of a hundred tiny acts that built a life together without either of you saying so.
“you’re too good to me,” she said, watching you double-knot the shoes.
you didn’t answer. just looked up at her and gave a lopsided smile. “i know.”
she laughed and nudged your shoulder. “cocky.”
you stood up, brushing your hands on your jeans. “you nervous?”
“terrified,” she admitted. “but… kind of excited too. she seemed nice at the coffee shop. funny.”
“that’s good,” you said, voice steady though your stomach twisted.
you didn’t know why this moment felt like a countdown. like something irreversible was about to happen.
she walked over to the mirror and started fussing with her hair. “do you think she’ll like me?”
you shrugged, fingers playing with the edge of her pillowcase. “what’s not to like?”
and you meant it. but it hurt, saying those words like you weren’t the one holding every soft piece of her in your hands.
you wanted to be the one she was getting ready for.
you watched her in the mirror. the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. the way she adjusted her necklace and tilted her head to the side to check her angles.
and something in your chest clicked. or cracked. or maybe it had been cracked for a while now, and you were just now noticing the pieces.
you didn’t want her to go.
you wanted to be the one she dressed up for. the one she texted when she got home safe. the one who’d sit beside her on the subway ride back, legs pressed close and hands brushing just barely in the dark.
you wanted to tell her.
she turned around with a grin. “okay. i’m almost ready.”
you nodded slowly.
and maybe it was time for you to be ready too. ready to cross that line you both danced around.

minji stood before the mirror, fingers lightly tugging at the collar of her navy shirt, smoothing down wrinkles she wasn’t sure were even there. through the glass, her eyes caught yours—eyes that didn’t look quite like themselves tonight. they were distant, caught in a quiet storm you hadn’t seen before.
you sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded loosely in your lap, the weight of something unspoken pulling your gaze away from her reflection. when minji turned, her smile was quick and easy, but there was an undercurrent of concern hidden beneath.
“hey,” she said softly, ruffling your hair with that familiar, teasing touch, “are you missing me already? what’s up with the look?”
you tried for a smile, one that might reach the corners of your eyes, but it faltered, a fragile flicker in the dim light. “me? miss you? in your dreams.”
minji didn’t brush it off. she tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully but with a seriousness you couldn’t ignore.
“you okay?” she pressed gently.
“i’m okay,” you whispered, voice steady but quiet, like you were afraid to break the fragile moment.
minji shrugged, a small, uncertain movement. “if you say so.”
she stepped back toward the door, ready to leave for her date. the air hung thick with all the words you didn’t say.
but then you moved. slipping from the bed, your hand found her wrist, holding it softly but firmly—an unspoken question, an invitation. your grip was gentle, offering freedom and restraint all at once.
minji didn’t pull away.
she turned back to you, a nervous grin curling her lips. “hey, what’s this? you know, if you want food from my fridge while i’m gone, you don’t have to ask. just take care of my place.”
her joke floated between you, but it landed nowhere.
you met her eyes, vulnerability laid bare in your own. “minji... stay.”
the words were soft, fragile, like a whispered prayer.
“stay,” you repeated, voice breaking just a little, “don’t go on that date.”
minji’s brow furrowed, confusion and something deeper flickering in her gaze. “why?”
you took a breath, heart pounding loud enough to fill the silent room.
“because i can’t keep pretending this isn’t love. because i’m tired of waiting for maybe’s and almosts. because i want to be the one you look at like you’re home. and if that scares you, i’ll wait. but i don’t want to lose you tonight.”
her eyes softened, and the walls she built around herself started to crumble like morning mist.
“then,” she said quietly, “maybe we don’t have to go anywhere.”
you exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.
and with a small, shy smile, she stepped closer—closing the space between almost and forever.
there, in the quiet flicker of her bedroom light, love was no longer a question or a fear. it was simply everything.

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who we carry
chapter 6 of willow & whiskey
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
summary: You, Joel, and Ellie slowly make your way toward Jackson, and each mile slowly begins to heal your heart little by little.
warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, tooth-rotting fluff
word count: 4.5k
series masterlist
Somewhere outside Lincoln, Nebraska – 2 weeks after the events of Kansas City
Henry and Sam’s deaths haunted you long after you buried them in Missouri. Every time you shut your eyes, you saw Sam’s lifeless body on the floor of the motel room, blood pooling by his head. You saw Henry, his wide, desperate eyes locked onto yours as he muttered a broken apology – then the sharp crack of the gunshot that followed.
That moment never faded; it had carved itself into the marrow of your bones, settling deep in your chest like an ache that refused to heal.
You tried your best to push through it, for Ellie’s sake. She wasn’t handling it well either – wasn’t eating much, wasn’t as chatty. Every day, as you inched closer to Jackson, her small hand clutched yours, gripping tight for hours on end. At night, she shuffled closer to you as she ate dinner; stuffed herself in your sleeping bag, head curled deep into your chest as if the steady rhythm of your heartbeat could somehow protect her from the weight of grief.
You were thankful she slept.
You weren’t so lucky.
Rest came only when exhaustion finally forced your body to surrender. On the rare nights you managed to drift off, it never lasted long. You’d jolt up in a panic, heart pounding, disoriented and breathless.
Joel noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He didn’t get much sleep either. He spent many nights sitting near the fire, keeping watch – for intruders, sure, but mostly for you. He saw how your hands trembled when you drank water to calm yourself, saw the way your eyes began to dart toward him before quickly abandoning their endeavor. He knew that look on your face. He’d worn it himself for years.
You pretended not to notice his gaze – pretended not to see the way his brow furrowed, and his grip on his rifle tightened like he wanted to physically fight off what haunted you.
You thought ignoring it would spare him the worrying, but in reality, it only made him more restless. He wished you’d just look up at him once, with those big, warm eyes of yours. Wished you’d let him help.
After two weeks of this, he decided he was done wishing.
One night, the three of you camped on an open hilltop just outside Lincoln, overlooking the plains. On any other night, in any other world, the view of the vast emptiness could’ve been beautiful – in fact, in this one, it was, but it was also unsettling.
Joel, as always, took “first watch” – which, realistically, meant he’d take watch for the entire night, wanting you two to get some sleep.
As you shuffled around in your shared sleeping bag with Ellie, you could feel the air starting to get colder – autumn was on the way; you wouldn’t be able to sleep outside for much longer.
So, you tried to enjoy the night sky for as long as you could tonight. With no city lights, the stars were incredibly bright, creating a rare peaceful moment for you as you traced constellations with your tired eyes.
At some point, your body betrayed you, pulling you into an uneasy sleep.
It didn’t last long.
You gasped awake, heart slamming against your ribs.
Immediately, you could tell this time felt different from the others. The usual tricks––deep breaths, drinking water, staring into the fire––did nothing. Your skin felt too tight, your lungs too small. Even Ellie stirred beside you, as if she could sense your distress.
Helpless, you turned to the one person who you knew would be watching.
When your gaze moved over Joel’s face, his eyes were already locked on you. You quickly shuffled out of the sleeping bag and made your way over to where he sat, and climbed into his lap. You burrowed into him, seeking warmth and comfort.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with worry in a way that made a lump form in your throat. He wrapped his arms around you. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
His hand ran slowly and steady along your spine, grounding you, pulling you back to the present. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, pulling his jacket tighter around you. The scent of leather and pine filled your senses and you clung to it like an anchor.
Your breathing eventually evened out. The night settled around you again.
After a moment, you lifted your chin, gaze drifting back up to the starry sky, now finding your favorite constellation – bright and unwavering.
“What are you lookin’ at?” Joel softly asked.
“Andromeda,” you pointed out. “She was chained to a rock as a sacrifice to a sea monster. On his way back from slaying Medusa, Perseus––of all people––rescued her, just in time.”
You snorted humorlessly to yourself. “It’s funny. She was trapped, bound to something she couldn’t escape from, waiting for someone to save her…”
Like you.
Chained to your grief, to your guilt, to the memories that wouldn’t let you go.
And in some ways, Joel was Perseus. Scarred and weary, a man who had lived through unspeakable horrors and yet continued to move forward.
“Guess it’s a good story,” you said softly, leaning against his shoulder. “At least some people get saved.”
The silence between you stretched, heavy with the things you didn’t say.
Joel's voice was quiet but firm when he finally spoke.
“Yeah, and some people fight their way out.”
His lips pressed against your temple, gentle and lingering. A silent reassurance. A reminder that he saw your strength even when you couldn’t.
You swallowed hard, fingers absentmindedly twiddling with the rough hem of his jacket.
“I had a dream about Henry,” you whispered, barely audible, before correcting, “I had a nightmare about Henry.”
Joel didn’t press. Didn’t make you meet his gaze. He just waited.
“I hesitated,” you coked out, “ – and I – I could’ve saved him, I could’ve saved them both if – ”
The words felt like glass in your throat, each one sharper than the last.
Joel’s hand tightened on your back, warm and steady. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”
Your voice cracked. “Then, why do I keep replaying that moment over and over? It’s all I can think about…”
A long pause. Then, his voice, low and certain, said, “You did all you could… Ain’t ever gonna feel like enough.”
Something in his tone made you lift your head slightly. He wasn't just talking about you.
Your breath hitched, but you nevertheless nodded. The weight in your chest shifted, just slightly.
You exhaled, long and slow. “Then, how am I supposed to stop feeling this way?”
Joel’s arms tightened around you. “You will,” he promised. “Time heals all wounds.”
You almost scoffed, almost told him that felt like bullshit – but then he added, “And, you have me and Ellie. We’ll get through this… That’s what families do.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
Family.
The word settled in your chest, filling the hollow space where the grief had made its home.
For the first time in two weeks, you felt something other than sorrow. Something lighter, something safer.
You didn’t answer, just let yourself sink into Joel’s warmth, let the stars blur above you as sleep finally started to take hold.
This time, it felt different.
This time, you didn’t fight it.
Near the Rocky Mountains – 5 weeks after the events of Kansas City
The unforgiving torrential downpour slammed against the asphalt as you, Joel, and Ellie sprinted toward the only building in sight – a rundown farmhouse crouched in the a valley, surrounded by mountains on either side.
You didn’t know how long the storm had been building behind you until it was suddenly everywhere, soaking your clothes and whipping your hair into your face as thunder angrily cracked above.
By the time you stumbled into the foyer and Joel hurriedly shoved the door shut behind you, you were drenched. Rain dripped from your clothes onto the worn hardwood floor, but your senses were focused on the sudden stillness inside.
The storm had blanketed the house in a dark, gloomy gray tone. Only the occasional flicker of lightning brightened the house, illuminating old, broken furniture, worn wallpaper, and a fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades.
By the time you and Joel had cleared the house and secured the doors, Ellie was yawning and dropping her pack with a thud, murmuring something about a real bed before vanishing up the stairs and passing out on the dusty mattress.
You couldn’t even blame her. After weeks of sleeping on forest floors and cracked linoleum, even the sagging, moth-bitten mattress probably felt like a cloud. You lingered near the front window, peering through the glass at the storm that trapped you here. You should’ve felt unsettled, seeing as you couldn’t make anything out further than five feet in front of you. Instead, you somehow felt still, in a good way.
You weren’t even that tired tonight. Lately, miraculously, you’d been sleeping decently – well “decently” meaning not waking up every single night from nightmares. And you knew the reason for it.
It wasn’t time. It wasn’t healing.
It was Joel.
Now, across the room, he moved quietly, methodically checking the window locks. He hadn’t said much since coming inside, but he didn’t need to.
What happened in Lincoln had changed things. He’d become quietly protective over you. In ways that weren’t obvious unless you were looking.
When he handed you dinner, you noticed he always made sure to give you the warmest portion, or the piece with the most meat. When you hiked, his hand was a constant – guiding you up tricky inclines, steadying you with a brush of fingers at your elbow. At night, when you shifted in your sleep, it was his jacket that was draped over your shoulders.
Now, as you sank onto the couch near the fireplace, the change felt noticeable. Heavier, harder to pretend it wasn’t happening.
Joel knelt in front of you, undoing the laces on your boots with slow, sure hands.
You arched a brow, teasing, “Are you obsessed with me?”
Joel turned to you, brows furrowed in curiosity, not confusion. No, he wasn’t confused because this wasn’t coming out of nowhere. He was intentional with his touches lately, and even he couldn’t ignore the way Ellie had snickered, “You guys are like an old married couple,” when he had leaned forward during the hike to adjust the strap of your pack on your shoulders. You’d nudged him with your shoulder when you continued walking, expecting him to push back, but he just let the touch linger.
The fire before you now cracked low in the hearth, Joel having brought it back to life. It cast a soft light over the ruined living room, and you hesitantly grabbed a blanket before pulling it over your lap, finally relaxing for the first time all day.
Joel settled in beside you, arms folded, gaze glued to the flames.
For a while, there was only silence. Then, he spoke, voice low. “You been sleeping better,” he noted. You hummed, nodding. “What changed?”
You chewed your lip, then finally admitted, “You did.” Joel didn’t move, but you felt the shift in the air. “It’s easier… when you’re around. Like I’m not carrying it all on my own.”
He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, it was soft. “S’cause you’re not.”
The words buried themselves deep in your chest, forcing you to realize how much you needed to hear someone say it – how badly you needed to hear him say it.
You exhaled deeply, leaning your head on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch, didn’t tense. Just let you rest there, warm and quiet and safe.
“Feels weird,” you murmured. “Letting someone else help. I’m used to taking care of Ellie myself. Doing everything myself.”
Joel’s hand settled over yours on your lap. “Yeah,” he agreed, feeling that same change in his own life. “It does.”
You glanced at him, eventually feeling your body catch up to your mind. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the combination of the fire, warmth, and Joel’s steady presence made it impossible.
You drifted off with your head on his shoulder, the sound of rain tapping on the window like a lullaby.
When you blinked awake hours later, morning light flickered through the warped glass, soft and golden. The storm had passed.
Joel was still beside you, arm loosely draped around your back, breath slow and even.
You looked up at him. He cracked an eye open and gave you a sleepy grunt. You gave him a questioning look and revelled in the fact that, though he shrugged, his ears turned pink. Yes, it was a big deal.
You smiled, resting your head against him again, letting the silence say everything.
Outside, the mountains loomed in the distance – tall and vast and daunting. But you didn't feel scared. Not anymore.
You had help now.
Somewhere in Central Wyoming - 2 months after the events of Kansas City
It was officially too cold to sleep outside comfortably.
Your breath fogged in the morning air, fingers stiff around the straps of your pack as you trudged along the frostbitten road. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, but the wind had a bite to it now – sharp and unforgiving. Still, despite the numbness creeping into your toes, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Not quite back to happy as usual, but something close enough to it that you didn’t question the lift in your chest.
Winter had always been your favorite season. Something about the way the world seemed to soften under fresh snowfall, how quiet and peaceful it all became. Like even the apocalypse had to slow down and take a breath.
And then, of course, there was Christmas.
You knew it must’ve seemed silly to others––maybe even naive of you––but the thought of it still stirred warmth in your chest. Not the mediocre gifts you and Ellie exchanged, necessarily, nor the poor attempt at festive decorations. Just the idea of it. Joy for the sake of joy. An excuse to show people they mattered.
So when you asked Joel what he wanted for Christmas, it wasn’t a joke, but he seemed to take it as one.
He gave you a look like he hadn’t even heard of the holiday. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Christmas,” you repeated, keeping your tone light. “You remember Christmas, right? Presents under the tree, string lights, big fat jolly fella?”
Joel scoffed, the corners of his mouth twitching with reluctant amusement. “’Course I remember Christmas. I was celebratin’ it before you were born.” He winced slightly, and you could tell he was doing the math. “Why’re you askin’?”
“Because it’s almost time to celebrate,” you said simply, letting your fingers brush through the brittle tall grass as you three followed signs for the town of Casper.
He glanced between you and Ellie, who was skipping a few paces head, before shaking his head. “Let me get this right – you two still celebrate Christmas?”
“Why would we stop?” Ellie asked, furrowing her brow like he was the one not making sense.
Joel huffed. “Cause the world ended?”
“So?” you shot back. “Did the idea of presents end, too? Or showing people how much they mean to you?”
Joel didn’t respond. Just pressed his lips together like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Like maybe it had, once, and he’d burned his mind of the thought.
“What’d you get each other last year?” he asked after a pause.
“I got Ellie a guitar.”
That seemed to jolt him a little. His eyebrows rose. “Y’know how to play?” he asked Ellie.
“I tried,” Ellie muttered, eyes meeting yours. “But the person teaching me – I mean… I didn’t really have anyone to teach me. Not many books, either. I had to leave it behind at the apartment.”
Joel was quiet for a long second. Then, he said, “When we’re done with all this Firefly business, we’ll find another guitar. I’ll teach you.”
Ellie’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“You know how to play guitar?” you asked, genuinely surprised. Joel shrugged, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “Keep surprising me, Miller,” you muttered under your breath.
Joel looked over at Ellie, then gave her a small nudge and nodded towards you. “What’d you get her?”
Though you only hesitated and misstepped for a single second, Joel caught it. Your smile dropped. The breath in your lungs froze somewhere in your chest. You looked at Ellie, and for a moment, she looked like she might answer honestly. But you shook your head – just barely.
“Nothing important,” you said quietly, clearing your throat. “Now, are we planning on making it to Casper today or you two need another break?”
Ellie groaned. Joel muttered something about his back. But they followed you, and you kept your face forward so they couldn’t see the sudden tightness behind your eyes.
Casper wasn’t what you expected. It was one of the bigger towns you’d come across since Kansas City, for one. A once-bustling downtown now laid half-ruined, skeletal buildings casting long shadows across the abandoned streets. But the bones of the city were still there – road signs, cracked pavement, a few intact storefronts. It felt like stumbling into a shell of a world that had only just slipped away.
The three of you scavenged in mostly silence. Joel found clean clothes for all three of you, Ellie found canned peaches and made a war cry over it like she’d just slain an enemy, and by sheer luck, you had miraculously found a motel where the hot water was still running.
The sign was barely legible, half-hanging from its frame, but the doors to the rooms were unlocked.
“This is amazing!” Ellie yelled from the bathroom, voice echoing over the sound of the shower. “I’m never leaving!”
“Leave some hot water for the rest of us!” you begged, sitting on the bed and peeling off your jacket.
Joel came to sit beside you, legs stretched out, head tipped back against the wall. For a moment, the only sound was the running water and the occasional creak of the old buildings settling all around you.
You turned to look at him, watching the lines on his face.
“You seriously haven’t celebrated Christmas in twenty years?”
“Haven’t celebrated my birthday, either,” he admitted, glancing down at his wrist for a millisecond.
“Do you miss it? Normal life?”
He took a moment to answer. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
You nodded. “Me too.” A quiet blanketed over the two of you for a moment, and it ate at you until you were saying, “Look, back on the road earlier… when you asked Ellie what she got me for Christmas – ”
Joel was already shaking his head, staring at you with those big, warm, understanding brown eyes of his. “You don’t have to explain.”
He was giving you space, in that quiet, steady way of his. And as much as you appreciated it, you found yourself wanting to share, for the first time since it happened.
You exhaled slowly, reaching into your shirt to pull a necklace out.
“This is what she got me,” you said after a beat, clutching at the pendant hanging. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a gold chain that probably cost her way too many ration cards, sold by someone at one of those market stalls…”
Joel’s gaze flickered to your chest, and you slowly uncurled your fingers, letting the little star pendant show.
“I never take it off,” you added, softer still. A faint smile tugged at your lips, but it faded just as quick. “She was so proud to give it to me. Said Nate helped her pick it out.”
Joel shifted slightly. Oh.
“And his Christmas present to Ellie was to teach her how to play that guitar,” you revealed, and suddenly all the pieces fell into place for Joel. Why both you and Ellie acted put-off by the topic.
You gulped, before finishing, in a whisper, “He, uh – he didn’t get a chance to… And, when we were talking about it – it just hit me all at once. The necklace, the guitar, the fact that he should been here… teaching her. I didn’t want to say it out loud, I guess. Didn’t want to make it real.”
Joel exhaled quietly, deep frown matching yours. “I get it.”
“I’m… I’m glad for the pain, in a way, you know? It’s a reminder. I think I’m just scared of when it won’t hurt anymore.”
Joel just nodded slowly, like he understood that, too. He didn’t answer right away, letting what you said sink in. Then, he held his wrist out to show you his broken watch.
“Sarah got me this,” he revealed. “It broke on Outbreak Day. But I never took it off. Never tried to fix it, either.”
Your eyes were glued to the broken watch, throat thick.
“I don’t think it’s about forgettin’,” he continued. “It’s about carryin’. What we carry – who we carry – and who we let go… It’s okay if you’re not ready to let go. I’m not, either.”
You swallowed hard, nodding and brushing away your tears before they had a chance to fall. “What if I want to carry him with me forever?” you asked quietly.
His hand came to rest reassuringly on your shoulder. Steady. Grounding.
“That’s okay, too.”
50 miles outside of Jackson, Wyoming - 3 months after the events of Kansas City
It was almost Christmas.
The snow outside blanketed the woods in a thick silence, flakes drifting lazily from the gray sky as you watched from the window of a small hunting cabin you’d stumbled upon two days ago.
There was a stillness here, a kind of peace you hadn’t really felt since Kansas City. Maybe it was because you were getting close to Jackson. Less than a hundred miles away now. Your adventure would be over in a few days and whatever was in Jackson would be awaiting your group.
The fire crackled softly behind you, warming the cabin’s single room. Pine-scented air drifted through the poorly-sealed window panes, mixing with the sharp bite of winter. You pulled your coat tighter, getting comfortable.
Behind you, Ellie snored in her own sleeping bag, the corner of her mouth slack and blissfully drooling. Joel laid beside you in your shared sleeping bag, already awake but clearly pretending not to be. His eyes flickered open the second you sat up.
“Sleeping in, old man?” you asked, voice heavy with sleep but light with affection.
He cracked one eye open. “Didn’t realize sunrise was considered sleeping in.”
You smirked and turned around, nuzzlign deep into the crook of his neck as you mumbled, “It’s your turn to make coffee.”
Joel grumbled something about “It’s somehow my turn every damn day,” but he sat up anyway, slowly stretching with a groan before getting up to prepare the brew with the last of the grounds Ellie had scavenged in the last town.
You turned in the sleeping bag to watch him, head still resting on your pillow. The snow outside reflected a cool light across his face, outlining the soft gray in his beard and the soft cut of his jaw.
You’d gotten used to watching him like this. It was easier now – no longer full of longing or guilt, but something quieter. Steadier.
He glanced back. “You’re starin’ again.”
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m admiring? There’s a difference,” you shot back.
His lips tugged at the corner, and a smile ghosted over his face. “Liar.”
He came back over, squatting to hand you a tin mug with practiced ease. You took it, fingers brushing his.
Ellie stirred then, grunting, “It’s like seven in the morning. Are you really going to torment me with the flirting this early?”
You grinned, and Joel was quick to point out, “S’one-sided.”
You snorted at that, and Ellie rolled her eyes, not believing him either. She tugged her sleeping back over her head.
You took a sip of the coffee, wincing slightly at the bitterness. You really would never get over the taste. Still, it kept you awake, so you couldn’t have asked for much more.
After a quiet breakfast and a short trek to check the perimeter, Joel returned to the cabin, fiddling with something behind his back. When he caught your eye, he paused awkwardly, clearly caught in the act.
Your brow quirked. “What’re you hiding, Miller?”
He grumbled, “Ain’t hiding anything. Sit down.”
You did as asked, and Joel stood in front of you, reaching into his jacket pocket. He held something in his hands, face unreadable.
“I know it’s not exactly Christmas yet,” he muttered. “But… I got you somethin’.”
He pulled his hand out, revealing his palm. Inside, a small bundle, wrapped in what looked like torn flannel and tied with a shoelace. Carefully, you unfolded the cloth and gasped.
It was a small fox, carefully carved out of wood.
“Foxes remind me of you – clever, quick-witted, protective. Playful.”
Your eyes softened as you carefully picked the tiny fox up, observing it. You’d seen Joel carving little things for a while – while you were meant to be asleep or on watch. He’d been practicing on scrape, but this is the first one that felt good enough to give.
“It looked like you, too, ’cept the ears were smaller.”
You rolled your eyes, smile widening as you brought the fox, wrapped in your hands, to your heart, cherishing it. You looked back up at him, eyes wide and full. “Joel.”
He shrugged, like it was nothing, but there was a flicker of nerves beneath his calm. “Y’like it?”
You blinked against the sudden sting in your eyes. “I can’t believe you made this… for me.”
“Who else would it be for?”
Your chest ached. Not in the way it used to––with grief and regret––but with something blooming. Something real.
You clutched the fox in your hand and rose to your feet, wrapping your arms around Joel and pressing your forehead against his shoulder. His hand came up to your back without hesitation.
Behind you, Ellie groaned dramatically from her sleeping bag. “You guys are the worst.”
Joel snorted. “Can’t be worse than you, waking up this late.”
“Can’t wait till we get to Jackson and I can bunk with literally anyone else,” she grumbled, though a smile found itself on her face.
You matched it, grinning into Joel’s chest, feeling the way his laugh rumbled beneath your cheek.
Tightening your hold on the fox, you came to the realization that whatever lay in Jackson––whatever about it that had your stomach grumbling––you’d survive, as a family.
.
.
.
taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz @victoriaholland @xodilfluvr @ilovetoomanymen @21tao @mystickittytaco @keileighr @buckyandlokirunmylife @deesparticus
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submitted to you
none of my works are ever proofread!
cw: none, angst ig?, it’s mostly fluff, talks about a panic attack once so skip the first paragraph if you don’t like that



carl loved to submit to you.
not in a sexual way, he actually hated to give up control in the bedroom. the first time you tried to top him in bed, he nearly had a panic attack. there was a long talk about what happened to him before his arrival at alexandria, what consent meant, and safe words that night.
carl submitted during your day to day life. and he had no shame, willingly doing so in front of anyone. he lost count of how many times he came home after a long day and dropped to his knees in front you, laying his head in your lap and slumping against you where you sat on the couch or armchair, not caring that his family was also in the living room.
other times he’d come home, drop his boots at the door, and walk silently upstairs. if you weren’t in the kitchen following him up the staircase your were in his bedroom, waiting with open arms. he’d fall into you, and you’d wordlessly slip your hands under his shirt. you knew he’d be coming home soon and already started a warm bath with peach scented bubbles. you’d gently pull all the clothing from his body, quickly ridding yourself of your own, before holding him close in the tub. mumbling soft praises into his ears you’d hold him, not even a little surprised when he falls asleep.
it wasn’t just him submitting though, it was the subtle acts of dominance you did for him. it was the way you’d lay out his clothes for him the night before he had to meet with a new group. the way you’d get up with him when his alarm went off earlier than usual, slipping quietly downstairs to pack a lunchbox for him, slipping a sweet note inside. the fact that you went out of your way to find the materials to craft him the softest eye patch you could. the way you cared for him in ways he didn’t even know he needed.
you were the only one he let cut his hair after his mom passed. it had been a couple months after he lost his eye. the way his hair was constantly being pulled on by the bandage bothered him to no end. one day he got tired of just dealing with it. once his shift on watch was over he ran home as quick as he could, pushing past his family and marching upstairs to his bedroom.
you were on the bed crocheting a blanket for judith when he walked in, the sight of you so comfortably doing such a motherly task while only wearing his flannel nearly made him forget why he was there. but his watery eye and red checks made you question him immediately, concern flooding your senses. carl explained as quick as could, desperately trying to get you to understand that he couldn’t handle the bothersome strands of hair in his face anymore.
after a few minutes of calm conversation, you reassuring carl that you wouldn’t cut too much and him reminding himself that it was okay to be vulnerable with you, you walked to the bathroom hand in hand. he’d sat on the toilet seat fidgeting with his hands, and you calmly began trimming his hair. you didn’t cut much off, just enough to get it off of his shoulders and out of his eyes, but it was still a lot for him.
you’d sat in that bathroom together for 30 minutes after your finished with his hair. his arms wrapped tight around your waist, face pressed into your tummy where you stood in front of him, silent but peaceful tears slowly spilling down his cheeks. his family was delighted to see his new look once he’d made his way downstairs, and even more delighted once they realized just how good you were for their boy.
you’d done so much for carl since the beginning of your relationship, and he’ll never understand why. all he knows is that he’s never gonna let you go.
#the walking dead#carl grimes#twd#carl grimes twd#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes fic#carl grimes fanfiction#twd carl#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes angst#sub!carl
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night lounge - cbg



☆ summary: the nights spent at your favorite night lounge are everything you could ever need. until one night, you stumble upon a man that makes you rethink.
☆ wc: roughly 4k
☆ content: slow burn smut, beomgyu is a gentleman in a jazz band, light bondage (he uses his tie to fasten your wrists), light drinking, cursing, unprotected, lots of kissing :p, fluffy ending, he’s dominant in this <3
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
your favorite late-night lounge lies hidden in the underground of a ritzy hotel amidst the city; candlelit and cozy, black silk sofas and a bar equipped with all the drinks for a perfect night.
it'd been your nighttime getaway ever since you discovered it accidentally one night. you haven't found a place quite as unique as it.
you just can't get over the smooth jazz band that plays in it's designated corner every saturday night at sundown when you arrive. the blend is perfect to the ear; smooth saxophone, soft drums, pretty piano, and sometimes a bassist who would join in at midnight and play well into 3 a.m. which is usually when you decide you're satisfied with your night and head home. which to be frank, it's hard to decide when to leave when it's your comfort place. it simply couldn't get better.
or so you thought.
you sat at the usual velvet barstool under the star-shaped chandelier, taking in the ambiance of the dreamy lounge as always. the subtle murmur of guests and clinks of glasses filling the room, dim with dainty light fixtures and flicker of candles in small glass jars at every table.
dried flowers, fairy lights, and classical paintings adorned the walls in such a beautiful way that made you feel nostalgic. like a museum in paris had been turned into a swanky hangout.
if you could describe the place in one word it would be; classy. no, elegant. no.. dreamy. there were just so many attributes to describe your favorite place, you couldn't begin to put your finger on one.
the peace you felt here while sipping red wine or a cocktail while listening to the smooth blend of instruments from the live ensemble was unmatched to any other place ever, like your own little neverland that you escaped to at nightfall.
the bartender you knew well had just placed a tall glass of chardonnay in front of you, setting tonight's mood as you relax under the liquid's musky yet enjoyable flavor.
cozying into the velvet seat, you shifted your attention back to the band, also paying mind to the people subtly beginning to fill the lounge as the night commenced; observing different groups of friends or couples who entered in intricate outfits, most faces familiar to you. admittedly, people watching was a pastime you fairly enjoyed.
but suddenly there appeared the face of a man you had yet to see, noticing his tall figure immediately as he came down the steps with a certain presence that radiated nothing but confidence and poise.
maybe it was the all-black suit he wore or the way his feathered ebony hair parted over his eyes in such a way that made you stare, following his every step into the warm glow of the lounge.
you wondered if he'd come here all along, or if he was simply a figment of your imagination after only two sips of your glass.
he's here for the same reason as you, it seems, as he briskly makes his way over to the bar.
noticing his approach you try your best to disregard him, acting as if you hadn't just watched his entire procession into the lounge.
"anyone sitting here, miss?" a sudden deep and breathy voice calls out from beside you, a dull pang at your stomach when you turn towards the man and realize how much more handsome he is up close. the way the dim light encapsulates his face, noticing the subtle gloss over his skin.
"you." you keep your wits about you, noticing the way the corner of his lip tugs upward when he nods toward you. swiftly taking the seat.
you turn and face the jazz ensemble again, tongue in cheek as you can feel his warmth beside you, trying your best to seem unfazed by his presence.
although your eyes are on the band, your ears are keen to his thick voice as he orders; a gin martini on the rocks and a side of lime, please. oh and put the jazz band on my tab while you're at it.
you nearly whip your head around at the sound of his request to put the jazz band on his tab. regardless, there were only four members but still...you were in shock and mostly intrigued. it isn't an act of kindness you'd usually hear at the bar.
the waiter gets to work on his drink and your eyes drift to him like a magnet drawn to metal; his mystery, you just wanted to freeze time and observe him.
once your eyes were on him you just couldn't resist the question that lingered on the tip of your tongue.
"do you know the jazz band?" you circle the rim of your glass with a finger, his chocolate eyes immediately boarding into yours along with all of his attention.
"i do. or else there wouldn't be one," his smile slowly grows as yours does, sipping his drink as it arrives. keeping his eyes on you all the while. he's only spoken two sentences to you but you swear there is something about his aura you just can't get enough of.
although he kept his response short and sweet, you put two and two together and concluded that he founded the band or something of the sort. either way, you just couldn't take your eyes off of him.
"well then today is my lucky day," you bring your glass to your lips and he lets out a deep chuckle, setting his glass down with a smirk at you. eyes still glued to his while he briefly looks away to set his glass down, you try taking him all in; the tiny freckle on his cheek, the silver ring in his earlobe, his long eyelashes. he was almost unreal.
"choi beomgyu," he holds a hand out to you, impressed with how much of a gentleman he's been in not even the five minutes you'd spoken to him. sad how low your expectations were after how many royal douchebags you'd come across at this bar.
you state your name in response, taking his warm hand and resisting the urge to smile too big when he slightly bows his head toward you, eyes never leaving yours as he gently shakes your hand.
that wasn't until he brought the back of your hand to his lips like a prince to a princess, that your heart nearly beat out of your chest; simply carried away by his charm. you’d never been greeted this way.
"i take it you enjoy my band," he slowly releases your hand. "rare to see someone just sit. listen. enjoy the music." he slightly reclines, bringing his glass back to his plump lips with those deep brown eyes on you.
"saturday nights are always my favorite." you nod, slightly reclining in your seat too, mimicking his body language.
"i know." his smile slightly grows behind the rim of his glass, wondering how the hell he knows if you'd never met him in your life.
"and how is it that you know that?" you slightly tilt your head, crossing your legs toward him and narrowing your eyes in await for a response.
"velvet chair at the end of the bar under the star-shaped chandelier. it's your seat. how could i not know where the most beautiful woman in this place sits?"
you're good at not showing how flustered you are; legs tightly crossed together, cheek caught in between your teeth, biting back the biggest damn smile.
"saturday nights are my favorite too," he looks over at the band and it isn't until he makes a bass-playing gesture with his fingers that the puzzle pieces click.
he's the bassist that comes on the stage when the lights go dark at midnight with only candles and fairy lights left to illuminate the room as people slow dance. you thought his silhouette might have looked familiar when he came down the stairs, considering that was all you ever knew of him.
he chuckles at your reaction to it finally clicking within you, truly appreciating your deep love for his performances, as no one usually cares much.
you and choi beomgyu continued chatting the night away, and he can see deep in your eyes that you're passionate about what you talk about. he loved finding out that the girl he always keeps his eye on when he's on stage secretly always admired him and his work.
when the bartender comes around with refills, beomgyu only orders water, finding it rather refreshing that a man can control himself and find satisfaction in only one drink as you usually do.
at midnight when the lights dim, beomgyu leads you hand in hand to the front row of the stage, getting to watch his performance front and center. he loves seeing you so close, usually having to deal with watching you from afar when you sat at the bar.
he performs dried flower, your favorite song preformed by the band. you watch his fingers caress the strings, long and dainty, pretty fingers. clad in expensive rings. wrist dangling with dainty charm bracelets. he has a certain class that is hard to find in men, and you feel yourself falling for him every passing second.
hes so passionate when he plays; eyebrows slightly furrowed as he instinctively plucks every note just perfectly. you’re also keen to every woman staring at him when his solo comes, whispering and giggling amongst one another. you grin.
after, he steps down and joins you in the crowd, asking for your hand and the two of you slow dance to the soft jazz, your head in his chest as he carefully steps with you. he smells of soft cashmere, and that’s the last thing you take note of before you’ve fallen completely head over heels.
the lights dim a bit more, his face barely lit by the candles but you can still see the sparkle in his eyes. his gaze is soft, yet intense and your heart stops as his face inches closer.
before you know it, your lips are touching what feels like velvet pillows; his lips. your heart races, blood rushing to your face and he pulls you closer, feeling his chest press against yours.
his sweet kiss lingers on your lips. you must have a sweet tooth, because you’re craving more.
“how about we get out of here?” his eyes are so intense on yours, realizing your fingers had interlaced into his long ago as you slow danced.
your eyes say it all; both of your body language says it all. you can practically feel your body heat radiating through your silk dress. cheeks flushed as he guides you through the crowd and out into the cool night air.
the taxi ride to his place is tense as you sit hip to hip, his fingers tracing your palm and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of one another. the taxi driver is the only thing keeping him from saying some not so appropriate things out loud, so instead he whispers them in your ear and you’re a giggling mess.
his high rise apartment is classy like him; low lighting and wooden accents, a baby grand piano in the corner under a chandelier, record player and a vinyl collection. an array of basses and guitars adorning the living room. it reminds you of the lounge, in fact; classical paintings and candles and dried flowers on the dining room table.
the tension only builds and builds, until it snaps.
he does so much as put a record on and offer you a glass of wine before your lips are on each other’s again. messy makeout, fingers intertwined in hair. his fingers precisely unbuttoning his suit before sliding under your silk dress.
the two of you stumble toward his king bed and you help him loosen his tie but he ushers your hand away, swiftly removing it from himself.
you fall backwards on his bed, feeling the silk sheets fluff up around you, cold against your boiling skin. he stands between your legs, pulling you toward the edge of the bed toward him with hands hooked underneath your thighs.
“hands above your head,” his voice is husky, eyes dark as he towers over you. dark brown hair messy and fluffed over his forehead.
his demand makes you twice as soaked and you swear a puddle has formed between your legs. you do as he says, feeling the cold air waft against the sensitive skin of your under arms and you’re pelted with goosebumps.
“good girl,” his voice is low, eyes dark. his cock twitches in his pants as you had done what he said, leaning down to hold your hands in place. your eyes widen when he uses his black tie to begin tying your hands together above your head.
“is this okay?” he focuses intensely into your eyes as he makes several concise knots, his voice tender and genuine as you bite your lip. it’s more than okay.
“mhmm,” you moan into his lips as he kisses you, pressing his hips against your clothed heat, legs spread, wrapping around his torso.
you didn’t know what to expect from this choi beomgyu guy, but you could tell he was amazing in bed since the moment you met. he’s had you on edge, turned on since the moment he spoke. he really knows how to turn you the fuck on.
you’re completely out of control now, your wrists fastened tightly together by his tie but you love the feeling more than you ever expected.
he starts slow but increasingly gets more feral. starting by kissing your neck softly, he slips your silk dress off and blood rushes straight to his dick.
you’re wearing a lace bra, extremely see through so that he can see that your nipples are hard and poking out him. but what makes him nearly salivate; you’re not wearing any underwear.
well, you were wearing underwear earlier tonight at first arriving to the lounge, but you’d taken them off somewhere along the night.
“check your pocket,” you eyed the front pocket of his suit jacket and when he stuck his hand in it to discover a pair of lacy underwear, his tongue darts to wet his lips. he fought the urge to absolutely fuck the shit out of you right here right now.
“such a sneaky girl, hm?” he cocks his head to the side, the hint of a sly grin on his lips as he slides his suit jacket off, leaving him only his white button up shirt, yet it’s unbuttoned so that you can see his bare chest and torso peeking through. he pushes the sleeves up and runs his fingers through his feathered hair to expose his forehead briefly. he’s so unbelievably sexy.
his hands are a bit rougher on you now, gripping the fat of your hips as he tongue kisses you, so messy and wet and hot. trailing his lips all over your chest, he bites your nipples softly through the lace and it feels so fucking good. he makes a mess of his spit, kissing your body until his reaches your bare pussy, already drenched for him.
“already so fucking wet and i haven’t even done anything,” he groans at the sight of your wetness dribbling out and onto his sheets. he really can’t believe his eyes at how soaked you are, can’t stop thinking of how good you’re going to feel when he fucks you.
his lips are level with your lower ones and he stares up at you through fluffed bangs over his thick brows. you anticipate what his tongue will feel like inside of you, shuddering when his hot breath wafts against you. you’re so sensitive.
he supports your thighs with his hands, setting each of your feet to rest on the tops of his shoulders. you’re spread wide open for him so that he has the best view of your entirety.
he hasn’t even fucking done anything and you moan out, a deep chuckle rumbling in his throat. just the air exuded from his nose when he breathes brushes against your clit and stimulates it.
his tongue finally traces over your bud and you whip your head back onto his memory foam mattress. you can’t do this; no, there’s far too much pleasure. you’d never been this sensitive with anyone in your life. you'd never been this turned on by anything.
when his lips attach to your clit and suck, your hands shoot into his soft hair, grabbing handfuls of it as you whimper loudly; slurping sounds and moans echoing throughout his bedroom. your sounds egg him on; cock twitching violently in his pants with every single one of your sweet sounds.
when he inserts two long fingers into you and curls them up to your g-spot, it’s over for you. it only takes about four strokes of his fingers until you’re spasming, fluttering intensely around his fingers and grinding yourself into his face. his moans vibrate against you. no one had ever made you finish this fast.
“god beomgyu you’re- so fucking good-,” you huff out of breath between words, heavy head thrown back, chest heaving. his ego is stroked yet again.
the recovery from your orgasm is fast as he is quick to kiss you, need prevalent in his veins as you feel fire in him with the way his lips devour yours.
you clench around nothing, squeezing his arms tightly as nervous shudders course through your veins. you need him.
“choi beomgyu,” you whisper against his lips and his hungry eyes board into yours, lips puffy and glossy; he’s looks way too hot right now. you lean up to whisper in his ear.
“fuck me,” your voice is quiet, desperate. hot breath seeping down his neck. he is done for. he's kept his composure this long. but there is always a point where he absolutely loses it.
he can’t wait any longer, swiftly unbuckling his belt and dropping his perfectly ironed black trousers down to his knees along with his boxers.
when his cock springs out, it slaps up against his abdomen with a heavy thud and your eyes widen. he’s got a big fucking dick. your throat bobs as you swallow down a bundle of nerves.
“holy shit,” you say under your breath but he hears you; dark smirk spreading across his lips. he looks down at himself, spreading the ooze of precum around his tip; a darkened pink shade with all of the blood flowing up to it.
since the moment you saw him walk through the door at the lounge tonight, you’ve wanted to fuck him. but the moment he saw you for the first time; oh he’s been wanting to fuck you for months.
"what was that darling?" he leans down to look into your eyes, tender touch against your cheek as he snakes a hand around your thigh and pulls it up so that your knee is up against your chest.
"hm?" his lips are inches away from yours, eyes dark and flicking down to your lips and back up into your eyes repeatedly. he throws your leg over his shoulder.
your heart strums against your ribs as you're anxious to take him, yet you can't wait.
"you can take me, right gorgeous?" he tilts his head and you can't process how beautiful he looks right now; soft, chandelier lights of his bedroom reflect from his big, brown doe-shaped eyes. your mauve lipstick smeared across his lips and chin. hair tousled back, revealing his perfect eyebrows and forehead. the sheen of sweat glimmering from his skin.
"i can take you," a small grin is on your lips as you fiddle with the end of his tie around your wrists, realizing that having your hands tied above your head has made you way more sensitive than normal.
looking down at the space in between the two of you, he rubs the tip of his cock up and down your folds, causing you to shudder. he places small kisses to your knee, as it's resting by his cheek.
you suck air through your teeth when you feel a slight stretch as he guides himself into you, going slow enough to get you adjusted to his tip. you keep your eyes locked as he slides the rest in little by little, moans growing louder as the stretch intensifies. looking down, you realize he's only half-way in and you look up at him, lip caught between his teeth.
the stretch is so intense, but not as intense as his eyes on yours, searching deep into your soul. his hands come up to fiddle with the knot of his tie around your hands, suddenly feeling it loosen and your hands are free. immediately, they fly into his hair, thumbs soft over the sides of his face. he untied them for this exact reason; to feel your intoxicating touch all over him.
suddenly, you feel his hips meet the back of your thigh, and that's when you know he's all the way in. your mouth is agape as he slowly begins moving in an out of you, crashing your lips back to his as the skin of his thighs begins to slap against yours.
his hands are busy on you; one palming your tits as the other hooked under your thigh to keep your leg situated atop his shoulder.
taking him raw feels so wrong but so right; the edge of his tip feels fantastic against your g-spot, thick veins massaging you just right. your arousal leaves a milky white ring around the base of his cock as he slams into you. he collects some, bringing it to your mouth, followed by crashing his lips to yours again so that you can both taste it together.
“you feel so fucking amazing,” he breaks the kiss to speak to you, followed by a moan as he slams as deep as he can into you. you’ve ajusted well at the is point that the pain has turned into pleasure. his soft whimpers in your ear were enough to make you even wetter, easing the process of being stretched out.
he shuts his eyes as you’re sucking him i’m so perfectly, so turned on by the squelch of your pussy every time he enters you. he fights back the urge to cum, but it’s so hard with how beautiful you look right now.
your face is contorted in pleasure, hair sprawled out all over his bed, shimmery sheen on your skin from a mixture of sweat, tits bouncing with every slam of his hips.
“god you’re taking it so well,” he groans against your neck, lifting your other thigh so that both of your legs are swung over his shoulders. he’s impressed by your flexibility as his chest is pressed against yours, realizing just how far he is leaned down against you.
his hips are rhythmic against yours, grinding himself into you, a good tactic to stimulate your clit with this pelvis. it’s like he’s a professional.
his name along with a mixture of curses leave your lips in drawn out moans as your nails dig into his back, the sound of his name nearly drives him insane and he fucks you harder.
you feel the familiar ache in your core with every thrust, and he already knows you’re close because of how much tighter you’ve become around him.
he’s a moaning mess, deep voice like honey in your ear as you suck him in even tighter now. he reaches down to thumb at your clit and you’re right there, right on the edge.
“harder beomgyu, fuck me harder!” you bite down on his shoulder, his hips slamming at a pace so fast that his bed is creaking so loud. your moans probably audible from outside his apartment at this point.
“you gonna cum for me? yeah? cum all over my cock sweetheart c’mon,” his voice is loud yet deep and husky. his eyebrows are furrowed together in pleasure, sweat dripping from his neck and onto your chest.
the slapping of skin is so loud now, and he gives you three precise thrusts before you completely combust.
your sporadic moans are not what tells him you’ve just finished, it’s the absolutely insane convulsions that he feels inside you, fluttering around him at what feels like 200 miles per hour.
it’s enough to push him right over the edge in an ínstense orgasm. he pulls out immediately, busting all over your tummy and angling it to get some on your chest and face. milky white all over you, and there’s a lot too.
he’s so god damn vocal as he cums, his head thrown back so that you can see his addams apple in full glory, bobbing up and down as he moans.
you wipe your chin of his cum and lick your fingers clean, addicted to his salty-sweet taste.
he looks so exhausted as his chest heaves, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. but he doesn’t lay down on the bed just yet; instead he walks to his bathroom, getting a towel to clean you up first like the gentleman he is.
he wipes his fluids off of you with a warm wash rag, tender eyes on your skin as he softly cleanses you. there is a soft quietness about the room, not awkward, soothing actually.
he helps you under his silk sheets once you’re all cleaned up and he snuggles under with you, propping his head up on his hand as he rubs small circles on your shoulder.
“i look forward to seeing you at every show,” his voice is soft, a tender smile on his lips. you love how calm he is, how respectful, how tranquil. almost like he’s healing something deep within you.
“always,” you smile in return. you talked about anything and everything, in love with the way his eyes were attentive to you, keen to every single thing you had to say.
finding his hand under the sheets, you fiddle with his fingers, imagining all the things the future has in store for the two of you. you just knew this was the start of something special.
you hear the record player in his living room echoing with your favorite song, dried flower.
“can i have this dance?” he squeezes your hand under the sheets, smiling. and although you’re both tired, you each slip on a robe and walk hand in hand to his candle-lit living room.
it feels like you’re meant to do this with him, like you’ve done it together before in a past life.
you thought nights at your favorite lounge were everything you could ever need. but that wasn’t true. because tonight, meeting the love of your life proved you wrong in every single way.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
note: here is a gyu fic!! tysm for continuing to support my works while i've been gone. i'm currently vising japan and i've been here for a few months :) i'm happy to announce i'm working on a tokyo part 3 for those who enjoyed tokyo and the sequel!!! i plan on releasing more fics in the mean time. i hope you enjoyed this one<3
#Spotify#txt beomgyu#beomgyu#choi beomgyu#beomgyu scenarios#beomie#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu x y/n#beomgyu x female reader#beomgyu smut#beomgyu fluff#beomgyu fluffy smut#beomgyu ff#beomgyu fic#txt#txt reader#female reader#txt imagines#txt fic#txt post#txt fanfic#txt fluff#txt smut#txt scenarios#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#gyu<3#beomgyu hard thoughts#beomgyu hard hours
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“I’ll watch over you.” (C. Novak)



Summary: A harmless invitation turns out to be very enlightening…
Contains: Fluff, Dean being a little mean, pining, GOD the pining, sleeping, reader sleeps easy bc she isn’t traumatized, accidentally and hopelessly in love secretly, dreaming, kissing, reader wants to kiss a few people, Dean and his stupid bets, unsolved emotions with everyone’s favorite angel baby
A/N- this is just the beginning. Im obsessed with him and I will be a fiend about it.
There was something so serene about it. The stillness, the silence, how the body warms while you’re completely at peace. Soundly sleeping.
This was something he couldn’t do with Dean.
He didn’t like when the angel watched him during unconsciousness and he wasn’t particularly keen about upsetting boundaries so when either brother would tire, he’d go occupy himself elsewhere. It wasn’t until you came along where he found not all people minded. It was also where he found a strange warmness in his chest, fuzzy and new.
The leads to the creature you were all hunting had been successful though more research had to be done and that would take time but since it was late enough, you all returned to where you were staying and begun to settle in. Sam was set up in the kitchen with his laptop and Dean got ready for his “4 hours” on the couch while he stood in the middle of the room. As he kicked off his boots, laying down Dean rolled to face him, pointing a finger in warning.
“I better not wake up to you watching me. You remember our talk? S’ creepy.” He shudders at the memory of all the times he woke in a start to just that. Castiel sitting quietly in the darkness with his eyes on him.
The angel nods, holding back a small sigh. He truly didn’t think it was a concern. Humans sleep, angels watch them. He personally felt it also helped to keep you all safe- him watching and guarding your mind- especially in your unconscious subconscious. He prepares to go somewhere else when you stroll by, making his heart pause in that curious way it does around you as you pull his tie on your way towards the room.
“Hey, just so you know- I don’t mind you watching me while I sleep.” His eyes widen and Sam’s stopped typing, looking up at attention, he exchanges an amused look with Dean. Castiel struggles to find a response for a beat, eventually coming up with;
“You don’t?” And your eyes seem to sparkle as you spin on your heel, turning your head over your shoulder, shaking your head as you smile. At him.
“Not at all.”
He watches you nudge the door open with your foot at the end of the short hallway before turning to him again.
“You coming, angel baby?” The room feels a bit different now and not just because he can feel the brothers grinning for some reason. Angel baby was your special alternative name for him that came from a song that you favored. You favored the song and he favored the name because he favored you. This time he actually is quiet, simply nodding and you go into the room to prepare yourself for sleep and he stands motionless. Almost hypnotized. Quietly processing until Sam coughs into his fist, Dean chuckling.
“Well? That’s your cue, go get ‘em tiger.” He furrows his brows in confusion because he wasn’t getting anything. Regardless, he follows after you. The door closing behind him with a soft click.
Inside, the room is dark and quiet. Curtains closed with your form laying still on the bed before you turn your head in his direction and pat the space next to you.
“Sorry in advance, my dreams are a real party sometimes.” Your soft voice whispers and he follows the call, bed dipping as he sits beside you and like always, you turn your head to find his eyes- even in the darkness you seek his face. It’s honestly a habit. Since the day you met Cas, you’ve been drawn to him. The pretty blue eyed angel Dean managed to charm down from heaven and onto his shoulder.
“That’s fine. I’ll watch over your parties as well.” You bite your lip and sigh. It comes out more longingly than you’d prefer but he sounds so sincere- like watching you was serious business. Snuggling deeper into the covers, you let the natural exhaustion of the day wash over you and close your eyes, breath evening out as intense blue eyes silently but softly watch. A witness of your easy decent to sleep.
It’s quiet. So quiet but there’s something about the quiet that comes so serenely- it’s utterly beautiful. Your every inhale is like a prayer. There’s a clench in his chest; a fondness he’s beginning to associate with you. Your back rises and falls as he listens and keeps count of your heartbeat while you breathe, eyes softening at the slow tempo and the way your expression could only soften this much during sleep and sleep alone and you were sharing this vulnerability with him. The vulnerability of that part of your mind where it was beyond consciousness to conceal.
It means more than you know.
True to his word, he does watch your dreams; shielding the unpleasant ones from entering and observing the ones that stayed. Small scenes and scenarios that became more detailed and vivid the longer you slept. They were very random too. One would start and seemingly have a plot before an entirely new one would begin. He recognized some of the people in them and others were stranger. Most had you in various roles. A florist, an ice skater, you with your siblings when you were smaller- he smiles at that, seeing your young life through gentle unbiased bright eyes- or one where you were wearing matching black suits with Sam or hanging around Bobby’s. There’s even one where you dream of you and your life as an angel but the more dramatic version with huge wings and white eyes. His eyebrow raises as he watches one where you and Pamela kiss. Hes noticed you always seem somewhat stricken by her when she comes around but you’d always insist it was because she was “just really cool” not because you “have it in” for her and he trusts you but the subconscious was telling.
You shift, breathe catching lightly before evening out again and your lashes flutter against your cheeks where they’ve fallen closed. On impulse and before he can truly comprehend the why of it, he strokes a finger down your cheek, the skin soft and warm from sleep and he’s rendered breathless by how effortlessly you captivate. Him, especially. He’s seen beauty everywhere as everything came from god and thus was made in his image but you…from the arch of your eyelids to the slope of your neck- the kind of loveliness you were made in made a hopeless fool of him.
You, yourself were a very open person. Not going out of your way to hide things about yourself and encouraging others to do the same. So, it wasn’t a surprise that you welcomed his odd habits but to him it was. A nice surprise, however.
In your next series of dreams, he sees himself. And there’s you. He freezes at how much closer you two are in the scene, the intimacy displayed being so casual and easy. Holding hands then sitting so close that you’re almost in his lap and his hands are low on your back and you’re talking before this time- it’s you and him that kiss.
The warmth in his chest is hotter now, coming in with an edge and something else he can’t accurately place but it isn’t unpleasant. After that, the scene changes completely and he’s seeing a lot of himself through your eyes. He doesn’t realize his lips have turned up but he’d get back to that later. The current focus being-
You think of him. Often.
His eyes widen as the next dream comes softer but this time it’s you and you alone- praying. Your mouth moves but your voice is light and he’s able to make some of it out but what’s clear as rain is; “…Castiel..”
You not only thought of him- you pray to him. He’s sure it’s more than fondness he feels for you. The way you think of him; your eyes and fingers as pens as you memorize him in every alphabet in every language and memorized your memories until they multiplied…
He suddenly misses you.
Yes, you’re right there but you’re somewhere not present with him and he doesn’t want to wake you since it’s only been a few hours, time passing by as he watched over you.
Now he had to decide to continue to watch over you or wake you. It would wait, though. Humans needed their rest and your wellbeing meant too much to him to disturb it. Besides, he had much to think on himself while you slept.
Starting with you.
+
+
+
Meanwhile outside with dumb and dumber:
“It’s awful quiet in there..”, Dean gruffs out in the quiet space to Sam after getting only 3 of his 4 hours who just hums, flicking his eyes over to his brother with a ‘duh’ look on his face.
“What did you expect? It’s Cas, Dean. She told him he could watch her sleep not watch her-“, he cuts himself off because he was not going there but the mischief in deans voice lets him know he has every intention of going there.
“Right but cmon look at her. She’s gorgeous-“,
“Dean-”, he warns but he doesn’t pay it any mind.
“And you know it too-”,
“Yeah but-”
“She could tempt the robes off a priest-”
“DEAN!” Sam exasperates and Dean throws a hand up in defense.
“I’m just saying a woman like that invites oblivious lover boy to watch her sleep…”
“And?”
“And it writes itself!” Sam scoffs, taking a sip of your vitamin water that you left on the table.
“You think they’re gonna get together or somethin’?” Dean lets out a sharp whistle, snapping before he points at him.
“Absolutely. In fact, let’s bet on it.”
“…alright. I’ll bite. How much?” Dean hums,
“200. A hundred for both.” Oh boy. Here they go again.
“You really are sure. So 200$ says they’ll get together-“
“Or kiss”, Dean cuts him off and he rolls his eyes.
“Right. Or kiss and if they don’t you gotta pay up?”
“Yup. If she and Cas or she and you don’t end up kissing eventually then you can make my pockets hurt.” Wait. Sam looks around in confusion, brows furrowing as he jerks his neck back.
“What- wait, why me??” Dean gives him a look that makes him feel like he missed something significantly obvious.
“Remember the black suit you wore when we went undercover 2 weeks ago? Should’ve seen the look in her eyes-”
“Alright alright,” Sam cuts him off, feeling the back of his neck warm as he fights a flush.
“Deal.”
Yeah. Here they go again.
#i like them so much#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#castiel x reader#supernatural x reader#supernatural fluff#sam winchester x reader#possibly#misha collins#misha fucking collins#misha collins x reader#castiel fluff#castiel supernatural#spn#shaking the bar of my cage#I LOVE HIM#LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME
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offseason
caitlin clark x reader
warnings: none
the offseason wasn’t something caitlin had been particularly looking forward to this year. after all the hard work, she had high hopes for her rookie season in the WNBA. while she was upset about not going further in the playoffs, she was excited to have some much needed down time and more importantly-to spend time with you.
she had kept a brave face in front of the cameras, but you knew how difficult it was for her to be the center of attention. for a while, she’d been distant, trying to shake off the frustration of not being able to take her team further.
but now, a few weeks into the offseason, things were different. you had her all to yourself, and despite everything, caitlin was beginning to embrace the break.
you were curled up on the couch together, the soft glow of a candle flickering on the coffee table. caitlin had her arm wrapped around you, and her long legs were stretched out across the cushions. she lazily scrolled through netflix, trying to pick something to watch. you could feel her body relax against yours, the tension she’d carried for weeks finally melting away.
“this one?” she asked, pausing on some random rom-com. you shook your head, and she grinned. “okay, how about this?”sShe pointed to a cheesy action movie. you rolled your eyes playfully, but caitlin chuckled and pressed play anyway. “you’re stuck with me,” she teased, nudging you gently.
“i’m not complaining,” you said with a smile, resting your head against her shoulder. “this is actually nice.”
she turned to look at you, her expression softening. “yeah… it is.” for a moment, her eyes lingered on yours, and you could see the shift in her. the competitive edge that always surrounded her was replaced by something softer, something more at peace.
“are you okay?” you asked gently, brushing a hand through her hair. “i know you were disappointed about the season ending.”
caitlin sighed, her fingers tracing slow, absent-minded circles on your arm. “i was. I still am, a little. I hate not being out there.” she paused, biting her lip. “but… i also kind of love this.” she gestured to the two of you. “spending time with you, not worrying about practice or games… it feels good.”
you smiled, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “i love it too. but you’ll be back out there next season, stronger than ever. And for now, you get to just relax.”
caitlin grinned and pulled you closer, resting her chin on your head. “you always know what to say, don’t you?”
as the movie played in the background, neither of you paid much attention. caitlin’s hand slid down to intertwine with yours, and the warmth of her skin made you feel safe. you spent the next few hours in a blissful bubble of nothingness—ordering takeout, laughing at the terrible dialogue in the movie, and just enjoying each other’s company.
at one point, caitlin got up to grab snacks from the kitchen, and when she came back, she had that familiar spark in her eyes. “alright, i’ve been resting long enough,” she said with a mischievous grin. “let’s go shoot around in the driveway.”
you laughed. “cait, it’s dark outside. And aren’t you supposed to be relaxing?”
“i am! but come on, just a few shots,” she pleaded. “i promise i’ll take it easy.”
you gave in, pulling on your shoes and following her outside. caitlin grabbed a ball, and even in the dim light, you could see her come alive again. she wasn’t the same fierce competitor that you saw on the court during the season—she was playful, teasing you as you tried (and failed) to make a few baskets.
eventually, you both ended up sitting on the cool driveway, caitlin draping an arm around your shoulders. for a moment, everything felt right.
“i guess the offseason’s not so bad,” caitlin said softly, her voice warm with affection. “not when I get to spend it with you.”
you smiled, resting your head on her shoulder. “not bad at all.”
#caitlin clark x reader#caitlin clark#wbb imagine#wbb x reader#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#wnba imagine#wnba x reader#caitlin clark imagine
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She Must Pay the Price, or A Drop of Mercy :: A Rayla and Leola Meta
Quick:
You're a young elven girl, and you show mercy and compassion to a human that you definitely weren't supposed to. When it's found out, you're punished, with elves even calling for your execution (6x09, book 1 novelization). Your father does what he can, but there's only so much. You're put on trial. You're found guilty regardless of intent, and only by association. You die for this; you die for them. You're a star. A guiding light. There's even a Great Fall off a precipice (though only one of you hits the ground).
Your name is Leola, or Rayla.
You're the beginning and the end, respectively.
So let's talk about it.
Tests of Love
For years, I had wondered where Aaravos' assessment of "Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear" (2x09) came from, cause you don't drop in a line like that if it's not going somewhere. It's quite a statement and worldview, after all. Now, with Leola's trial, it seems we know.
We can see, then, perhaps that Leola's gift giving was the first test of love — are you willing to break the Natural Law, the Natural Order of things? — to help another? To show another a source of power in order to share, to be compassionate, and in Rayla's case, to be merciful (though we'll get more to that in a minute).
We also know that the love Leola had was powerful and all encompassing:
She didn't care to follow the order set in the stars. Though she was born an immortal being from the Heavens, she loved this world... and all its flaws. Her heart was warm and open.
And she befriended mortals. Animals, elves... and humans.
ETHARI: Who I love, where I love, what I love, are all specific. But to Runaan and those like your parents... love is rooted in all families, all creatures. Souls like that feel called to protect everyone as fiercely as those they hold close. (Bloodmoon Huntress)
Okay, so Leola and Rayla both have big compassionate hearts and befriend creatures from all over the place. So what? So do Callum, Ezran, Soren, and most of our other main good guy characters. Even Claudia to a degree (though she could work on not using magical creatures for spell parts).
Well, specifically, it's because of how they intersect currently more with anyone else on the concept of
Mercy
KOSMO: Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled. (6x05)
Rayla sparing Marcos, as noted in multiple interviews by the creators and by myself in previous metas, is ultimately the inciting incident / lynchpin of the entire series. Without it, there would've been no soulfang proposal or Ez running away to find the egg or any of the number of other elements that had to come together to make achieving peace possible.
While we still have details to discover regarding Aaravos' Fall and development of dark magic, we know that a lack of mercy was ultimately what sent him on his path of vengeance. Leola was not shown mercy, and while it seems there were already "flaws" for an imperfect world, things were (probably) better than they currently are in Xadia in a variety of ways. Then, to kick off the entire Saga, we have Rayla sparing Marcos in a soundtrack literally titled "Mercy" and have Kosmo, seasons and seasons later, spell out directly what a big deal this was for well, the ocean of time.
None of this is to say Rayla can't act out of revenge — she did ("when I first came here, I was on a mission for revenge") and she has ("but I became so obsessed with revenge"), much like Aaravos ("he isn't doing anything out of love, he's doing it for revenge") — but that her general compassion and love for others has always been stronger than her grief or rage, and that even when she had every social and personal reason to, she was and is fundamentally unable to hurt someone innocent.
Even when she's shamed or punished for it by herself or by others. RAYLA: The human looked up at me, and I saw the fear in his eyes. RUNAAN: Of course he was afraid, but you a job to do! (1x01)
EZRAN: Yeah, but then you saw he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you. RAYLA: That shouldn't have mattered. I had a job to do. (1x08)
The Cosmic Council — and to a degree, the Silvergrove — say that the reasonings or motivations, the intentions, behind Leola and Rayla's actions do not and should not matter when it comes out to doling 'Justice'. So Leola faces her justice, being literally killed in the one manner that can kill a Startouch elf, and so does Rayla, being metaphorically Ghosted / 'murdered' by her community, regardless.
Neither are enough to ultimately quell their light or their love/power, however.
A Star
RAYLA: That beautiful shining star you just pointed out? We call it Leola's Last Wish. (5x02)
So both Leola and Rayla are stars in season 6, literally and metaphorically respectively. Leola's is more self-explanatory, whereas Rayla's is mostly about the role she has in Callum's life as a guiding light and star. I don't think it's a coincidence, though, that just as Rayla placed Callum on his path of being a primal mage, though, that Leola did the same for humanity. I also don't think it's a coincidence that Callum's love for Rayla restores Callum's own light and agency amid Leola giving humanity the same through light and fire.
It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. (TDP shorts, Ripples)
In this way, we see the manifestation of a repeating parallel of Rayla representing Leola, a gift giver of life, magic, light, unjustly punished/killed, and Callum representing humanity, looking to the kindest brightest star for guidance, magic, restoration, and salvation if he's just given the chance to grasp it. After all, presumably, Leola's last wish would have something to do with primal magic and humanity, and who represents that better than Callum, with two arcana under his belt and possibly more on the way? With that in mind, I want to return to another quote from earlier but with a different focus on
Ripples
Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled.
The wisest of the humans looked upon the water. His own reflection smiled back at him, and he dared to imagine what such power would feel like in his own hands, should he be allowed to hold it. Imagine, he thought, if I were more than what I am. With a trembling hand he touched the surface of the water. Ripples spread from his fingertips. [...] I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand. In this, the humans taught me another lesson. And so I touch the surface of the water. I watch the ripples spread.
Water in TDP is a strange beast, symbolically speaking. There are some more straight forward motifs (reflections, "don't try to control where the river [of life] goes, there's one thing you can know and control: yourself"). For Aaravos, it's connected to deep loss but also his own sense of patience in playing and winning his game, as illustrated above. For Rayla, it's linked to shame, self-reflection, bravery, and loss. Aaravos weeps and creates a sea upon losing Leola; Rayla says goodbye to her family by the lotus pond times three.
We don't know what water represents for Leola. Not distinctly, anyway. The best we can figure though, is that by following the through line of the Rayla and Leola parallels, that the ripples Leola wanted to send out or did send out — not the distortions caused by her father and his grief — are ones that Rayla received, and then continued.
Rayla has always been a foil to Aaravos, and this hasn't changed. She is the one who set Callum on the path initially of being a mage, which put him in Aaravos' machinations as prey; she retrieved his Key; and she's the reason Callum's done dark magic, twice. At the same time, much like the moon, Rayla carries Leola's light as much as she shoulders Aaravos' dark. She literally represents light in Callum's life, helps lead him through the darkness, and him being a primal mage and it's possible growth to other humans is the best possible thing that could've ever happened to Xadia.
Sol Regem says that "no one can save" Xadia or fix what is deeply broken. The Cosmic Council said that Leola had broken the Cosmic order and had to pay the price. Rayla has repeatedly been willing to pay the price for both hers and other's actions in hopes of making things right, of sparing others' pain. Sometimes to her detriment, but—if Rayla as Callum's one Truth could fix the darkness within him, if she's the lynchpin for breaking the Cycle, for bringing back Runaan and fixing her family's souls, in opposing and presenting mercy amid the Council's lack of mercy, in the face of Xadia's violence—
Then Rayla's act of mercy in 1x01, and potentially beyond in S7 with Callum, will be what fixes Xadia.
Leola's gift of magic is what 'broke' Xadia, and her execution is what literally did so, leading to the division of the continent. She wrongly paid the price in the absence of mercy and love. Rayla is therefore her thematic successor — welcomed this time as Light and Truth — as the carrier of Mercy and Love, and she will 'fix' Xadia through her ripples and dynamics. She will mend them back together. There will, at last, be no price to pay.
Misc. Thoughts / Predictions
One thing I was always curious about going forward into future seasons was the prospect of a 'trial' or reunification of the Silvergrove. It felt like a no-brainer the Silvergrove would have to change in order to reflect Runaan's character arc, much the way we see Katolis and the Sunfire elves change to better accommodate the new, more compassionate world order. Pre-S4 a trial felt a little strange as an idea, though post-S4 the parallels it could provide to the Lucia tribunal made more sense about why include either (or both).
However, Leola's trial seemed to hammer home the almost necessity (as this is still a prediction, after all, that may not happen) of Rayla and/or Runaan saying their peace to the Silvergrove leaders. This would be a great opportunity to provide a contrast to the Cosmic Council, reaffirming that Xadia is ultimately better than them because the Moonshadow elves and everyone else can change, and the Cosmic Council seemingly cannot or will not. But I guess we'll have to wait for S7 or beyond (#GiveUsTheSaga) to find out if this'll come to fruition or not.
I also wanted to touch on what we see with Leola ("I'm so scared!") and the repeated emphasis on "recognizing fear as a moment of empathy and personhood" and the horror that can come if you don't have that moment of recognition. This is something I've touched on before most notably as a striking difference between S1 Rayla and S5 Claudia, but I thought it was worth mentioning as S6 added to it specifically with Viren towards Soren and Lissa. This is another point in the "Rayla is an inversion of the Council's lack of mercy" column, as Leola's — a child's fear, and Aaravos willing to pay the price and take her place — earns her no mercy. Rayla, meanwhile, sees someone innocent that she has 'every right' to execute is afraid of her, and that strays her hand; it steadies her sword, and she spares him. Because if someone is afraid of you, it's worth asking yourself why, and what you might want to do instead.
Last but not least I wanted to talk about Leola's parallels to Callum and Ezran as well, since they are very much there (though yet not perhaps to the same extent).
Ezran has Leola's friendliness to animals and soft heart. He too is a child whose death is called for as a means of Justice, and he is granted mercy through Rayla and the discovery of the egg, able to live and grow and help usher in peace. He is, I think, what Leola might've been allowed to be if she'd lived in different times. Callum, meanwhile, carries the gift giving motif through his cube, staff, and tokens he both gives to (moon-phoenix bracelet) and receives (the moon opal necklace) from Rayla, and previous 'human-Leola' magic dynamic. Callum being able to break free fully from Aaravos' and dark magic's control in S7 and turn his eye instead to primal magic will be what helps bring true justice to Leola and hope for humanity / Xadia in righting the Cosmic Council's fundamental wrongdoing. Hopefully, anyway.
Conclusion
I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into some parallels and potential narrative goings-on between Leola and Rayla as characters. TDP loves its historical and ironic layers in TDP (Ez and the Orphan Queen, Viren's arc from S1 to S6) and I think this layered thematic dynamic between the two merciful young girls was a good, brilliant choice by the creative team. I'm excited to see where this thematic thread goes in the future and how it may continue to be woven into the story. As always, thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next one.
#tdp rayla#tdp leola#tdp meta#tdp spoilers#the dragon prince#she must pay the price#s6 spoilers#multi#arc 1#arc 2#s6#analysis series#analysis#parallels#rayla#leola
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I'll Crawl Home to You
~ Azriel X Reader
Summary: After barely escaping his last mission, Azriel realizes he has one regret in life. Not telling you about the undying love which he held for you. His brush with death allowing him to realize that he can't live another day without you by his side, Azriel wastes no time in telling you exactly how he feels.
Warnings: Angst. Talks of death and injuries. Nice cute ending though :)
Azriel had always assumed that when the time came for death to greet him, he would welcome them like an old friend.
Gladly taking the specter's hand and allowing them to guide him to the afterlife, satisfied with the centuries of a blessed life he had been gifted by the Mother.
Azriel had never feared death. Instead he imagined that when the sweet embrace of darkness finally surrounded him, he would be able to rest at last. A mercy that he could finally be at peace, no worries crossing his mind as he knew that one day his brothers would also join him in whatever afterlife he was sent to.
Which is why he couldn't understand why he was panicking now as death's black cloak began to wrap around him. Rather than the warming comfort he had always imagined it would hold, the incoming blackness felt bitterly cold. Like his body had begun to freeze over like a lake in winter, the last dregs of his life being sucked from him.
Azriel found himself fighting back. His weak hand outstretched as he attempted to push away the approaching claws of death which were slowly advancing. Teeth grit together with effort as he tried to ward them off.
"No" the desperation in his hoarse voice was palpable, words catching in his throat as he flinched away from the foreboding figure of darkness. A painful spasm tearing through his body, originating from the wound on his chest where an unwelcome dagger had found its home.
"No i'm not ready yet please. Please don't take me . . . No please!"
His speech was slurred, vision dotted with masses of growing black spots. Yet Azriel didn't allow his hold on reality to slip for a single second. Not if it meant dying.
Not if it meant never seeing you again.
And so he resisted death's sweet siren song, too stubborn to allow himself to give in.
"I will not die today."
Azriel hissed the words through his pain. His fierce amber eyes meeting the cool sharp gaze of death's.
A gaze so intense that Azriel was sure it was enough to drive anyone to insanity. The well of darkness which swirled in death's icy orbs was never-ending. Azriel allowed himself to swim in them deeper and deeper, searching for a way to escape from their clutches. Following the glistening golden rope which shimmered enticingly, as though begging Azriel to take hold of it, promising that life would be at the other end of it.
It was agony. Sharp spikes of pain coursing through him as his limbs grew heaver and heavier the deeper he dived, skin beginning to burn and blister as a feverish sweat settled on his uncomfortable skin.
But Azriel didn't let up. Never lessening his grip on the golden rope. Allowing his memory of you to give him strength in the face of his adversity.
He never let go. Not even when death itself began to fight back.
Terrible visions of the horrors of his past appeared before him as he swam. Bubbles which contained the callous faces of his half-brothers floated by his face. Sinister smiles upon their lips as they stared at Azriel, deaths alluring voice slipping from their lips, "Come now Azriel, don't fight it. The rope leads to nothing. Let go. Close your eyes, I've got you. You can rest now."
Yet Azriel didn't look to the floating forms of his cruel brothers. He kept his stern gaze ahead, chasing after the end of the rope. Chasing after you.
It was almost as if you were there. If he squinted hard enough he could see your ethereal form at the end of the tunnel, a gentle hand held out for him to take.
It wasn't death. He knew that much. Your glowing figure radiated life, the promise of a future.
There at the end of the golden rope was you. Patiently waiting for him to greet you so you could return him to the land of the living. You were his salvation. You had come for him.
He allowed himself to become deaf to the enticing whispers of death. Continuing his pursuit forwards, towards you, leaving the dark memories of his past behind as he turned his full attention to swimming towards his future.
His scarred hand reaching out towards yours, the tips of his fingers brushing against your soft palm as he connected your hands. Entwining your fingers as he used the warmth you radiated as an anchor.
And then instead of darkness, there was only light.
~~~~~
Soft whispers stirred Azriel from his slumber. Through his closed eyelids, Azriel could see the sweet familiar orange glow of sunlight. The heat of which warmed his skin, energy flowing through his body as though the sun was replenishing his source. Enabling him to slowly flutter his eyes open, sight focusing on the blurred figure in the chair next to him.
Azriel rushed to sit up, Cassian's steady hands shooting out to stop his erratic movement, hushing the shadowsinger as he helped to rest him up against the pillows on the bed.
"Careful," Cassian grinned, pleased to see his brother awake, yet his smile did nothing to hide the concern which failed to leave his eyes, "you had us all worried for a moment there Az. We thought-" Cassian's voice broke as he swallowed back a cry, ". . . We thought we'd lot you."
"How did I get. . .? Y/N. She found me!"
Azriel struggled to put together the pieces of what happened after he was stabbed.
There was darkness, an impending sense of doom, and then a sudden burst of light. But there, somewhere in between his jumbled memories, Azriel had seen you. He was sure of it.
"Y/N?" Cassian questioned, brows furrowing in confusion as his concerned gaze swelled deeper, "They weren't there Az. You travelled here with your shadows. Gave me a fright, you appeared right in front of me covered in blood and barely breathing."
"No. . ." Azriel murmured, that couldn't have been right. He saw you. He was sure of it.
"They came to visit you a few times once Madja had you stable. Maybe you're thinking of that?" Cassian reasoned, trying to reassure himself more than Azriel, preying to the cauldron that his brother hadn't gone senile.
"Yeah" Azriel lied, flashing his brother a crooked smile to soothe his worries, "Yeah you're probably right."
No amount of convincing from his brother would allow Azriel to believe anything else other than the fact that you were there to save his life. To bring him home.
But if Cassian was somehow right . . . If you really hadn't been there. Then that meant Azriel had dreamt about you. This wasn't a new occurrence, there were many nights where Azriel welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep so only to see your smiling face in his dreams. Yet his mind, in what could have been his final moments alive, thought only of you.
Of your beauty and grace. Of your welcoming nature and the sense that in finding you, Azriel was home, even when death had came to claim his soul in the wilderness of Illyria.
He liked that. The knowledge that his home wasn't a place, but a person. That wherever he was, he need only to think of you and he can allow himself to be happy.
Though despite this realization, Azriel found that he couldn't be happy. Not when he had felt this strongly about you for years and had just almost died without confessing this to you.
Nausea crawled up his throat at the prospect that he had almost left this world without knowing if you felt the same way about him as he did you. Angry at himself for pining after you for so long and making no move to show you his the true nature of his emotions.
He had been a silent admirer. Yet Azriel found himself wanting to be silent no longer.
"Did you say they were here?" he rushed the words out, the intensity of his question causing the General to sit back in shock, "where are they now?"
"Uh, I think they went to their room for a bit. I told them I'd watch over you for a bit."
Azriel wasted no time in jumping up from underneath the covers. Having learnt firsthand how precious his time really was, he wouldn't allow himself to wait another second without telling you of his devotion.
So he ran, blind to the flash of pain which coursed from his still tender wound. Unable to feel the uncomfortable twinge in his chest due to the heavy pounding of his heart.
Azriel felt no nerves nor anxiety. He was driven by his need to speak to you. A confidence settling in his heart that this was right - that everything was happening the way it was supposed to.
Every step closer to your bedroom was a step closer to his home.
So consumed by his desire to see you, Azriel neglected to knock as he entered your room. Wild eyes searching your chambers until they finally landed on your shocked expression.
~~~~~
"Oh cauldron Az, you're alright!"
A cry of relief tore from your mouth, as you closed the distance between you and the male, gently throwing your arms around him, careful not to embrace him too tightly for fear of upsetting his wound.
But Azriel didn't care. Not when he had you in his arms. So he pulled you tighter and tighter to his chest, until he could feel the gentle beat of your heart alongside his own. Needing reassurance that you were real. That he really was alive.
Once you had basked in each other's presence for long enough you pulled away, hands clasping his biceps as you moved him back to allow yourself to cast your eyes over him, ensuring that the male was actually ok.
"Should you even be out of bed? Az you need to rest!"
You made to pull him towards your own bed so he could lie down, but Azriel stopped you, holding your hand tightly to prevent you from moving from where you were stood.
"I've rested long enough" he stated with a shake of his head, consuming gaze meeting your own.
"Azriel you almost died" you argued, amazed that the male was even standing.
"I think I did die" Azriel replied, his words being enough to silence you, silvery tears lining your eyes at the thought of you almost loosing the shadowsinger.
"I think" he repeated not wanting to confirm the words which he knew out of fear of upsetting you, "I saw them. Death. They wanted to take me but . . . I couldn't let them. So I fought back. I fought and fought until I saw you. You saved me Y/N."
"Me?" you gasped in disbelief. You had heard the tales of warriors who had narrowly escaped death, swearing that they had seen the gracious form of the Mother as they were brought back to life. Yet none of them ever claimed to see a person who was real.
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you" he concluded. If it weren't for your captivating presence drawing him towards you Azriel would have drowned in the inky orbs of death.
"I couldn't" tears had now began to fall from Azriel's own eyes, silver pearls trailing down his cheeks, "I couldn't leave. Not without seeing you again. Not without saying goodbye. It's all I could think about."
A sob broke from your lips, amazed that Azriel's last thoughts before death were only of you.
"I didn't care how badly wounded I was" he spoke truthfully, hands still clinging onto yours as if they were a lifeline, "They could have stolen my wings. Taken my sanity. Broken my spirt. But none of that would have made a difference. None of that would stop me from crawling home to you. No amount of ropes and chains could hold me back, not when it meant seeing you on the other side."
It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming surge of love at the sincerity of his words. At the desperation which flooded in his eyes, begging you to believe him. Pleading for you to feel the same way.
"My love for you knows no bounds. Life or death, you are always with me, and I will never fail to find you" he promised. Certain that if he could conquer death with only the desire to be at your side, he would be able to fight anything.
"You did it Az" you beamed, hands dropping his only to come and rest on his dampened cheeks, "You came home to me. Our love transcends all worlds. Heaven, hell, purgatory, we'll find each other in every single one of them I promise. Because I am never letting you go again."
You couldn't. Not when you had already almost lost him. You would never lose Azriel again. Yet you could be happy with the thought, that if the situation were to ever happen again, that you could be his guiding beacon. Leading Azriel back to you. Leading him back home.
#acotar#fanfic#acotar imagine#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#azriel x reader#azriel imagine#azriel#azriel oneshot#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar
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🌹 hii! Any Marvel content?
Btw the Rot snippet!! Amazing!
Aaah, thank you ❤️ And I thought for sure I had some Marvel-writing laying around, but I couldn't find it so I decided to act on my impulses and write this little thing I've had in the back of my mind for a while. It went slightly beyond a snippet, but I am who I am unfortunately. also I headcanon that xavier does not read minds unless permitted, which is in line with how this movie ended originally. paring: logan | james howlett/reader cw: fem mutant!reader, no use of y/n, set after days of future past, implied memory loss or time travel shenanigans, profanity, no smut wc: 1.9k
The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
It is considered cliche to start a story with someone waking up, but that is nonetheless where this story begins. When everything you knew or thought you knew about the world changed. And out of every way your life could be turned on its head, you never thought it would be to the soothing tones of Roberta Flack playing on the radio. From the depths of your subconscious rose a tiny voice asking a question. What radio?
Roberta’s voice overpowered your internal one and became the first thing to wake you from a deep and comfortable slumber. Too deep and too comfortable, perhaps, compared to what you were used to. The same went for the bed — too soft and too warm and too nice smelling. A part of you tried to piece it together and failed. What bed?
For several long seconds before you fully woke, you pondered if you had died sometime during the night and woken up in heaven. More and more of your body stirred, though, indicating vitality. Including your eyelids that blinked open only to immediately squeeze shut at the incessant sunlight streaming in through the window. Faint alarm bells chimed in the back of your groggy mind. What window?
Still, not enough to break through to the rational part of your brain, you settled further into the fluffy pillow and closed your eyes again. A slight breeze tickled the back of your neck though and you twitched in annoyance. You twisted your head this way and that, but the tickling continued so you tried turning around to pull the covers up over your shoulder. Except you found yourself locked in place by something warm and heavy. Someone warm and heavy whose breath continued to tickle the back of your neck.
Your eyes burst open, and your entire body froze, not daring to even breathe. Your mind finally caught up to the unnatural warmth that came from the way your body slotted together with someone else’s in the large, comfortable bed you had never seen before. In a room you had never seen before. You twisted your head to peek at the person behind you, the one pressed flush up to your backside. With their hairy legs entangled with yours, with their scruffy face nestled into your neck, and with their muscular, heavy arm splayed over your midriff.
First, you saw nothing but large tufts of dark brown hair, but your movement must have woken him. Definitely a him. Sun-blessed skin, a solid, rugged jaw covered in something that went way beyond a five o’clock shadow, and deep-set, weary eyes that remained closed for now. He grunted and groaned as if wordlessly admonishing you for disturbing his peaceful sleep, and his arm around your waist tightened. Much like yourself, he squeezed his eyes shut first and rubbed his face back down into the pillow and your neck, scratching his scruff onto your bare skin. Shockwaves spun through both your mind and nerve endings when he absentmindedly placed a kiss on your exposed shoulder.
“What the fuck?” you whispered, not really sure why you had not bolted from his grip. It was almost like that even if your mind could not comprehend what you were doing in this strange bed with this strange man, your body had no qualms about it. “What the fuck?”
“Hng?” the man grunted again and took several tries to blink his tired eyes fully open. Unfamiliar hazel eyes stared at you, and you stared back, watching his lip curl in irritation and his heavy eyebrows pull down to a scowl. Somehow, the sight of you did not seem to disturb him, quite the opposite, in fact, as he leaned over with eyes half-closed and kissed you right on the mouth. Soft, chaste, warm. Familiar in a completely unfamiliar way and gone before you could even comprehend what had happened. A sound vibrated through the man’s chest, almost a growl before he promptly closed his eyes and laid back down. “Hrmm.”
Every part of you burned, a hot blister running everywhere you still touched and where you had touched. Your mouth hung open from where his kiss had landed, a hint of wetness on your bottom lip that chilled in his absence. Both the intimate act itself and the strange nonchalance with which he did it made you want to implode.
You held your breath, unable to either inhale or exhale, with your head reeling at the idea of being kidnapped by some weirdly cuddly pervert before his grip on you tightened and his eyes snapped back open. The confusion shone off of him, and you stared at each other, both unblinking and unmoving.
His voice came gruff and heavy with sleep, “Who the hell are you?”
“Who the hell are you?”
His focus danced around the room, not settling on either you or the interior. He tilted his head backward in the direction of the radio but did not fully turn, probably because you pinned him down with the way you lay. “What year is this?”
“What year is this?”
Now he did turn around, flipping over so you fell back onto the mattress. The movement tugged down the covers, revealing his hairy muscular chest that your fingers itched to run your hands over, and you dug your nails into your palm instead because what the fuck? You didn’t even know this guy, and even so, you could feel the way your stupid body pulled toward him.
For some reason, the man stared at the fancy radio that declared it was playing ‘Golden Oldies’ on the holographic display and let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Twenty-twenty-three?” he asked you as if that was the most important question where you lay half-naked in bed together. “Is this twenty twenty-three?”
The earnestness of his question made your own take the backseat for a spell. You sat up, noting how you had on an unfamiliar black t-shirt, and rubbed your face. “I thought it was, but with the way you’re asking, I’m not sure anymore.”
“Is everyone,” he swallowed, and you noted the way his throat moved, “alive?”
“Define everyone,” you mumbled, but something glinted on your hand, and you pulled it away from your face to look at it. That had not been there last night, either. A ring. A simple, nondescript golden ring. Almost like a wedding ring. “What the fuck is this?”
The man raised an eyebrow, seeming unconcerned, and ran a hand over his scruff. “Hey, no judgment.”
Ignoring him, you pulled off the offending object and gave it a critical glance. “Who the fuck is,” you squinted at the tiny text, “James Howlett?”
“What?” His panicked tone spoke volumes, and you turned to stare at him. Was he James Howlett? When you said nothing, his voice grew tighter. “What did you just say?”
He had frozen with his hand still up by his face, and you both noticed it at the same time. The disturbingly similar ring on his finger and you wrenched it off him before he could protest. It was the same cut as the one you had, just larger and thicker, and with a different engraving, this one containing your name.
“What the fuck?” you snapped and tore out of the bed, mind overriding your meddlesome body as you hurled the rings at him. Then followed with the books from the overfilled bookshelf by the window. “What kind of disturbed, twisted, pathetic loser are you? You kidnapped me to live out some—”
He dodged the incoming projectiles, sounding more weary than angry. “Hey. Hey! Calm down!”
“—stupid handmaid’s tale bullshit fantasy—”
The man grabbed a book from mid-air and yelled, “Hey! I didn’t drug you or kidnap you, okay? I’ve never even seen you before!”
“Right! Sure! You just happened to have a ring lying around with my name on it in case I happened to wake up in your bed for some reason? You’re sick, mister! Sick!” You reached for another book but grabbed hold of a picture frame instead and were about to fling it at him. Except you caught sight of the picture, eyes widening to an unnatural degree, and held it up. “What in the ever-loving reverse Stockholm syndrome is this?”
The picture showed you, in a wedding gown, next to him, in a suit. Remarkably realistic, down to the genuine smiles on both your faces and the flurry of confetti that rained down over you from beyond the frame.
“Whoa, hey, I’ve never seen that before. Lady, listen to me, last thing I remember, I was in 1973 trying to fix the future.”
“Oh my god, you’re insane. You’re completely out of your mind! I’m leaving and so help you god or anyone else if you try to stop me! I’m a mutant, you know; I can kick your ass seven ways to Sunday!”
The man’s face locked somewhere between confusion and amusement from where he sat in the bed, surrounded by books and messy covers. It did not occur to you that you should have been scared of him before you strode across the room, heading for the door. Almost as if your body overrode that particular feeling, as if deep down you knew this man would never hurt you.
Your brain was fully onboard with the getting-the-hell-out-of-here-plan, however, and you tore the door open only to reveal a hallway you had never seen before filled with kids you had never seen before. All kinds of kids, really, some of them obviously mutants and some at least human-looking. The myriad of noises and displays of powers momentarily distracted you from the bald man in the wheelchair right outside the door that you were sure you had seen before.
“Good morning,” he said with a polite smile, fingers steepled in front of him. “I’ve come to inform you that we’ve regretfully had several students complain about noises from your room. Again. I must ask you, again, to please keep it down as long as you are staying here near the dormitories. I know this is an inconvenience, but the refurbishment of the teacher’s lodgings is expected to be completed within a few more days. We have, wisely as it seems, included several layers of soundproofing.”
“Charles?”
“Holy shit, you’re Charles Xavier.”
“Language, Professor Howlett,” Charles fucking Xavier said with a raised eyebrow. To you. He called you Professor Howlett and you could not even think of a reply while he raised a wrist to check his watch. “Speaking of, don’t you both have classes to teach?”
You only stared and let out a strained whispered, “What?”
“Charles,” the man behind you — presumably James Howlett — repeated, and you heard the rustle of cloth as he got out of bed. He sounded breathless when he said, “You did it.”
“Did what, Logan? ”
Okay, maybe the man was not James Howlett? Either way, he came to stand next to you but paid you little attention from where he stared at Xavier. Open-mouthed, in awe, relieved, happy?
When Logan said nothing, Xavier gave you both a short nod. “Just keep it to an acceptable volume, please. Everyone knows you are happily married; there’s no need to remind everyone quite as frequently as you are. And get dressed, please! Class starts in five minutes.”
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#wolverine x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine#logan x reader#logan x you#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#logan#marvel#logan howlett#logan howlett imagine#marvel imagine#wolverine imagine#x men#x reader#imagine#reader insert#i stole these tags#drabble#my writing
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REMY LEBEAU X LITTLE!READER
⊹ ࣪ ˖🂱 ⋆˚⟡ BROKEN RULES : 840 WRDS
<RATING: PG, FLUFF, CRYING, AGERE>
A/N : “Bamb can we please get content other than X-Men agere?!” Not yet!!!!!! Please!!!!! My only CGs are fictional!!!! And I’m also in the process of writing a Wolvie request, Rogue headcanons, and tons of other stuff… ANYWAY uhm this is based off of one of my CG!Remy headcanons, so I hope y’all enjoy :]
<SFW INTERACTIONS ONLY, MDNI/18+ ONLY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED>
Remy has been watching you all day. From the moment you came running to him because you had a nightmare at almost three in the morning, making you breakfast, watching Saturday morning cartoons, coloring with you, listening to some music, and playing card games with you. He was so tired right now. He tries his best to keep himself awake while being slumped against the couch. His hand absentmindedly runs up and down your back. You’re snuggled against his side with the back of your head pressing his chest. You kick your feet a bit off of the couch. Everything is so peaceful right now: Remy’s touch, his soft humming, your favorite movie on the TV, the sound of your legs moving against the fabric of the couch. You wouldn’t have it any other way.
Remy yawnes loudly, unable to contain his sleepy demeanor any longer. He moves his arm from your back to rest against your shoulder, his thumb reaching up and rubbing your cheek. “Gambit’s sorry, cher. I’m tired right now. I can barely keep my eyes open,” he mumbles while looking down at you with a tired gaze. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying considering how focused you are. Once you get a second to take in what he said, you pout softly. You paw at his chest and give him a pitiful look while whining. He lets out a sad huff. Remy hates it when you’re sad. He doesn’t get angry; he just gets sad too. You’re his favorite little kid. He can’t let you be sad.
“Stay awake a little longer. Please, papa. I don’ want you to go to sleep,” you whine to him. Remy nods in understanding to your gentle pleading. “I know, mon chéri. But I can’ stand to be awake much longer,” he tells you. He displays an odd look on his face as he attempts to come up with a compromise. When he does, he kisses your forehead out of pure joy for thinking of such a good idea. “How ‘bout this? You an’ I go upstairs an’ cuddle. You can stay wit’ Gambit and he can stay wit’ you, cher,” he suggests with a sure smirk. Despite his confidence in his idea, you shake your head no. Remy bites the inside of his cheek nervously in response. He subconsciously holds his breath as worry begins to set in. He can’t let you go unsupervised or not be by his side. You and him have to be practically attached when you’re regressed. The last thing he wants is for you to end up lonely or anything worse. You go back to focusing on your movie, and Remy trusts himself; he could take a little power nap. Nothing too long, right?
He may have been a little far off. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up to a startling clanging and the sound of your feet quickly padding along the floor. He rubs his eyes and cards through his messy hair while looking around. The second he hears you crying, he goes into complete panic. “Oh! Mon chéri! Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asks out loud while getting onto his feet and trying to find you. You’re cowering in fear behind the couch, terrified that Remy is going to yell at you or punish you. However, when he finds you, he gives you the most genuine smile ever. He squats down and holds his hands out to you. “C’mon. Gambit ain’t mad. He is worried t’ough. He was scared you were hurt,” he explains to you while motioning for you to come into his arms. You nod your head and try your best to get to Remy your vision blurred by tears. “Dat’s it, mon chéri,” he praises as he pulls you to his chest. He wipes your tears and gently pets the back of your head with his warm hands.
“Now, care to tell Ol’ Remy what happened?” he asks sweetly. You nod your head against his chest slowly. You point over to the curtain rod that had fallen on the floor. Remy looks over with wide eyes and winces at the idea of every possibility of what could’ve happened. “I was walkin’ by the window and I slip on the curtain. I didn’ mean to make the metal thingy fall. I’m sorry, papa,” you explain, your voice quivering as you start crying again. “No, no, no. Dat ain’t no reason to be sorry. I promise. I don’t got any reason to be upset with you either. Long as mon chéri is safe,” he assures you, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of your palm. You giggle through your tears when he gives you the gentle kiss. Remy wipes another tear from your cheek and looks at you endearingly. “Dat’s it. Show Ol’ Remy dat adorable lil’ smile,” he coos. Out of impulse to do so, he pinches your cheeks softly, only resulting in more happy noises from you.
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