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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 days ago

Text

Misjudged

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst, car accident, getting hurt by car accident, almost dying, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A confrontation at a party sends you racing back home in anger. Dean follows behind you and watches the unthinkable happen. Now it’s up to him to save you.

Square Filled: enemies to lovers (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

Normally, you love a good party. You love getting loose and forgetting what a shitty week you’ve had, but tonight is different. You’re on a mission and you’re not going to stop until you get what you want. Luna called you twenty minutes ago crying because she wanted to get picked up, and you immediately rushed over at the thought that someone hurt your little sister. She’s newly eighteen but she shouldn’t have been at this party in the first place. She’s too nice and naive for her own good, so you do your best to look out for her.

Too many bodies litter the living room holding homemade drinks and joints, causing the room to stink of stale marijuana.

“Luna!!”

There's no point in yelling when the music is enough to deafen a person, but you still try in hopes she’s close enough to hear you. Once you get past the mosh pit, the room becomes more open with fewer people. On the other side of the room is one person who makes your blood boil in rage.

Dean Winchester.

Of course, he’d be here. Suddenly, the thought of Dean making your sister cry is the only thing you can think about so you stalk over to him. He’s playing pool against his friends and winning, but not for long. You swipe your hand over the pool table, messing up the balls and Dean’s shot.

“Hey!” Dean whips his head to face the culprit and smirks when he realizes it’s you. “Oh, hey, sweetheart. Come to play?”

You bring your open palm back and slap Dean across the face. His friends go still with shock, and Dean moves his jaw back and forth as he processes what just happened.

“How dare you bring Luna here after I told you not to!”

Dean sets his pool cue on the table but otherwise doesn’t react to you slapping him.

“How do you know it was me who brought her here?”

“You’re our neighbor, Dean. She heard you talking about the party and you offered to bring her here.”

“She wanted to come here, Y/N. I was already on my way when she asked me to drive her. I didn’t see the big deal.”

“The big deal is that this party is full of drugs and alcohol and men with granny hands.”

“Last I checked, she’s eighteen. She can think for herself.”

“Last I checked, she’s my family, not yours. Stay out of my goddamn life and out of my business. You don’t see me going to your house and bringing Sam here.”

Dean tips his head back and laughs. “Good luck trying to get Sam over here. This isn’t really his scene.”

“I don’t care. Don’t ever go near Luna again.”

“Damn, man, you need to have a drink. Unwind,” one of Dean’s friends comments.

You lunge toward his friend but Dean wraps his arms around your waist to prevent you from attacking. For a split second, you like having his arms around you. They feel strong and safe but then reality sets in and you push Dean off you.

“Let go of me. Where is Luna?”

“I don’t know. It's a big party.” Dean sees the glare on your face and fights back a smirk. “Relax. I saw her on the phone with you so I told Cas to give her a ride home.”

“Oh. Good.”

Castiel is a good guy so you’re relaxed at the thought of Luna being in his care. It’s the only part of Dean you tolerate. Castiel keeps him in check. With that, you turn on your heels and start to head toward the front door. Dean abandons his pool game to chase after you.

“Why don’t you stay?”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

You push through the crowd and leave out the front door. The ground crunches underneath your feet from how crispy the ice makes the grass. You press the button on your car which makes it unlock, and you sigh when you hear Dean still chasing after you.

“Wait, Y/N!”

“Leave me alone, Dean. Go away.”

“I don’t get why you hate me so much. What did I ever do to you?”

You spin on your heels to face him and he stops right before he collides with you.

“Hate you? No, I don’t hate you. You piss me the fuck off. Do you really think you can flash that smile of yours and call me sweetheart, and I’ll forget what an arrogant bastard you are? Not going to happen.” You open your car door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

“Wait. Let me drive you. It’s icy out there.”

“That’s nice of you to care, but I don’t need you, Dean.”

You get into your car and turn it on. Dean curses when you back out of the crowded driveway and start to drive away. What kind of friend man would he be if he let you drive off into the icy night?

Dean curses when he sees your tail lights disappearing around the corner, and he runs over to his shiny black Impala that he often catches you checking out. Wherever he goes, it’s a chick magnet but he only wants one chick in there.

You.

He leaves the party and follows you down the road, stepping on the pedal to keep up with you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened while driving home, and he didn’t know about it.

Yes, the roads are icy and it’s dark in these mountains and your headlights don’t really work well, but you’re doing fine. There isn’t any ice that you can see so as long as you continue at the speed you’re at, you should get home safely.

Key word: should.

Your phone rings but instead of taking your eyes off the road to answer it, you blindly swipe the screen until the call connects. Before you can say anything, Dean’s deep voice comes through the phone.

“Slow the fuck down, Y/N.”

You look in the rearview mirror and see the sleek headlights belonging to the Impala right behind you. For some reason, you’re in a mischievous mood that wants to piss him off.

“You want me to slow down?”

Instead of doing what he wants, you press down the gas pedal.

“Y/N—”

“I know how to drive, Dean. I’ve been doing it since I was sixteen.”

“You’re going to fucking crash. Slow down.”

“Bite me,” you growl and hang up on him.

Just to piss him off, you go faster on the slippery mountain roads. You’re not going to admit this to Dean, but you’re kind of scared. With going downhill, you’re finding it harder to slow down. Your brakes work but the ice on the roads makes it hard for your tires to grip anything. Dean would only rub it in your face that he was right and you don’t want to hear it.

You’ve driven these roads all your life in worse conditions, but there’s something about this night that makes it more dangerous. The news has been warning residents of black ice on the roads, more so in the mountains than anywhere else.

Dean keeps a steady distance behind you which is a comfort because if something happens to you, at least you’ll be found. You press on the brakes only slightly but that causes your tires to swerve, and you grip the steering wheel with a deathly grip.

The deadliest part of black ice is that you don’t know you’ve hit it until it’s too late, and it’s too late for you. Your car starts skidding on the icy roads, and you try your best to get out of it by turning your wheel toward the direction the car is going in. That doesn’t seem to help, and your eyes widen when your headlights catch something.

A tree. You’re not wearing your seatbelt.

In the blink of a second, the front of your car smashes into the thick tree trunk, causing it to spin out of control. The side of your head smacks against the hard ridge of the window, and you lose your grip on the steering wheel as the car skids closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. You press down on the brake as hard as you can but that doesn’t seem to help.

Either you’re going to die by falling off the cliff or by plunging into the icy waters below. Your car comes to a stop right before you fall off the cliff’s edge, but the front half of the car is teetering over the edge. One false move and you're going to go over. You’re still-shocked and gripping the steering wheel with a deathly grip, afraid to let go. Tears roll down your cheek that mix with the blood coming from your forehead. Silence and then you hear his voice.

“Y/N?”

“Dean?” you cry.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“I’m so scared,” you whimper.

“I’m right here. I’m not going to let you fall.” The back window was shattered when it hit the tree, so he is able to climb inside if he wanted to. “Can you get your seatbelt off?”

“I’m not wearing one.”

“Fuck. Okay, when I get you out, we’re going to have a serious conversation about proper car etiquette.”

The car starts to spin but Dean doesn’t say anything about it which makes you realize it’s your vision that’s spinning. Your head throbs in pain and black spots enter your vision.

“Dean, I hit my head. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. I need you to stay awake for me, okay? Can you turn around?” With slow movements, you look back at Dean. He doesn’t shine the flashlight directly on your face but he can see the river of blood on your face. He’s fucking scared but if he starts to show it, you’ll start to panic. “I’m right here.”

Dean removes his jacket and lays it over the edge of the window where it broke to prevent glass from sticking to his skin. He keeps one leg on the ground and puts his other leg inside the car to get closer to you. He leans in as far as he can and stretches his hand out to you.

“Grab my hand and I’ll pull you out.”

“What if I fall over?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of never seeing your family again. “Please tell my mom I love her. Tell Luna that too. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you’re going to be fine. Just grab my hand.”

“I’m scared,” you cry.

“I know you are but I need you to be brave right now, okay?” You nod shakily. “I can’t go any further so you’re going to have to climb over the seat. No sudden movements.”

You slowly rise and put both feet on the clothed seat. You grab the back of the seat and turn to Dean who is patient and calm. You know he’s freaking out so you appreciate him keeping a calm head. You sling your leg through the small gap over the center console and the car starts to sway lightly. You halt your movements and calm down when the car doesn’t fall over the edge.

You slowly lift your other leg over the center console but you step on one of your dogs’ toys that squeaks. Your foot slips and you slam into the back of the driver’s seat. The car immediately tips over and you jump to grab Dean’s hand. He pulls you out of the car just as it falls over the edge. You gasp and clutch onto his hand with a death grip because not only did the car go over the edge, but you did as well.

Dean is the only thing keeping you from certain death.

Dean uses his God-given strength and pulls you up from the edge and onto the safety of solid ground. You fall into his arms and cry, the adrenaline already starting to wear off.

“You’re okay,” Dean mutters. He strokes your hair to not only calm you but to calm himself. “You’re okay.” You pull away from him and he finally can see the damage done to your head. “You’re bleeding.”

“You saved me.”

He tucks a strand of bloody hair behind your ear. “I’ll always save you.”

You look down at his lips. Maybe it’s because of what just happened or maybe it’s because your emotions are all out of wack but you’re seeing Dean in a new light. As much as he wants to kiss you, you have more pressing matters.

“I’m not a doctor and you need to get that checked out. Come on.” He helps you to your feet and wraps a strong arm around you. “I’ll call your parents from the car.”

What would you have done if Dean didn’t follow you? How long would you have been out here for? Would you have died? He could have let you go off that cliff but he didn’t. Maybe you’ve misjudged him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s not as bad as you make him out to be.

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst

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honeysorwell · 2 days ago

Text

all of it (all of you)

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: there is a line for people who want to kiss Mel's burn hand, and I'm the first in it.

Words: 5,7k

The comments and compliments I received for this work caught me completely unprepared. Guys, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

Fifteen people have complimented Melissa's hair in the last twenty days.

In theory, everything was done the same as usual, but by someone else's hands. However, the universe decided to make the redhead feel even more guilty about everything that happened on her last visit to the salon.

First, it was Barb. The older woman touched Melissa's red hair tenderly in the teacher's breakroom, without any apprehension or concern about the second-grade teacher's reaction, and complimented the way it was colored, saying it looked brighter than before.

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

Ava asked if she did anything differently, and the principal did so while telling a flattering joke asking where her Roger Rabbit was, which even made Barbara laugh softly. Next, it was Janine and Jacob who also complimented her hair, with a shy Gregory by their side who just nodded.

Then more and more parents of students joined the complementary wave of affection towards her. And then Melissa was hearing compliments from Abbott’s new stocker and vending machine operator, a handsome man with hair that was too long for her taste named Julian who now shares the heavy workload of the truck with Gary (causing the bald man with the mustache to blush before he softly agrees with his new co-worker).

Then there are a few random teenagers, grocery store clerks, who stop her to tell her she looks hot, quickly finishing the sentence with a “respectfully” before Melissa even has time to respond to them.

Normally Melissa would love all of this attention, and in another scenario, the compliments would have encouraged her to go out after work on some random Friday night looking for someone brave enough to try something more than a compliment. But this time the Italian woman felt her heart clench and her mind race a thousand miles an hour as she thought about the hairdresser who did that job every time someone complimented her.

So she actively swallows her pride and visits the Riverfront Roots Salon once again. Melissa would truly rather die than apologize or admit she was wrong. She memorized this from her family and she carries this learning throughout her life, but even someone like the redhead needs to admit that nothing can be applied in life without at least one exception.

That's why Melissa makes this visit to the salon on a Tuesday, after the school day is over since the darkness of the night could allow a little more privacy between her and Y/N.

As she parks her car in front of Riverfront Roots, the redhead convinces herself that it doesn't hurt to make sure that only the minimum number of people witness this display of vulnerability coming from a Schimmenti as she watches what seems to be the last customers of the night saying goodbye to the receptionist before leaving.

What will she say?

She has no idea.

But everything goes down the drain when the redhead's idea goes wrong. So when she returns home at night, unable to even talk to the hairdresser to replace the image of discomfort written on Y/N's face from her memory with an apology, Melissa decides to call her confidant and arrange to meet her the following weekend, using the next few days to gather courage and ask for advice from the one who never failed to give her the best of them whenever the teacher needed it.

“Oh, Melissa. How are you, dear? Don't get me wrong, cuz I figured I'd get your call, just not exactly as an invitation for coffee...”, Andrea's voice rings out as Melissa enters her favorite coffee shop, sounding happier than the last time the teacher saw her, and the redhead imagines that this is the result of the free time resting that the Italian woman must now have in abundance thanks to her retirement.

“What? Can't I invite my friend for coffee and ask her how her days are going without the sound of the hairdryer making her deaf?”, her voice sounds playful above all, which makes the answer she receives from Andrea come along with a laugh.

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

And so they talk for several hours, drinking coffee after coffee and hardly caring about how electric their bodies will be after ingesting so much caffeine while sharing pieces of their current lives. At first, it is strange to look at the woman in front of them and not see their own face next to that one, sharing a reflection in the mirror, but it is fine and the two women quickly get used to the new arrangement.

“Of course, you knew I would miss you,” Melissa says with a laugh, chewing gently on one of the best butter cookies she has ever eaten after taking another sip of her particularly hot coffee.

“Oh, I knew that. But, that’s not exactly what turned on the light bulb in my head,” the older woman says with an air of wisdom that only someone who has ever lived in the world enough to know too much can have, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “You see... Y/N called me a few weeks ago asking for permission to pass on the mix recipe I developed for you to another hairdresser... So, even though she didn't give me any details, I figured something had... happened.”

Melissa felt that the blood under the skin of her face was truly burning with shame.

The redhead thought about swallowing the coffee in her cup in one go, hoping it would burn her tongue with how hot the liquid was, and thus be able to escape from answering what Andrea clearly wanted to know.

She knew she was cornered and had been caught, with no intelligent way to escape. Shame and guilt mixed together, creating a bitter taste in the teacher's mouth even with the memory of the cookie so fresh on her tongue.

But, Melissa's usual response to these situations, loud and ready for a fight, doesn't happen here. Not with Andrea. Never with Andrea.

“What a big mouth... Jezz...”, is how the teacher responds, mumbling as she looks away from her friend in front of her.

“Something tells me yours is too.”

“I just... I was angry, okay?”, for the first time the redhead is honest even in the midst of murmurs, “And she’s different, and she kept talking so I... I freaked out and said what I shouldn’t have.”

Andrea remains silent, just observing the discomfort of the one in front of her with affection and understanding, and it’s this look that makes Melissa continue to speak.

“I know I crossed the line... But she did too!”, the words come out of the teacher’s mouth accusingly before she shares the whole story with Andrea, who smiles and shows surprise at every bit of her student’s encounter with Melissa shared with her, especially with the scissors.

“And what do you want to do now? I even know other hairdressers, but–”

“No! I just... I don't know exactly how I should apologize... Don't get me wrong, I don't want to apologize, but I really know I need to.”, honesty and vulnerability continue their journey between Melissa's mind and tongue as she speaks, “I stopped by her salon but they didn't even let me see her, they just gave me a paper with how many grams of each dye I need for my whole head and sent me away. But since you told me she was your pupil... Well...I thought that maybe...”

“Oh... I see.”, Andrea's voice has the most suggestive tone Melissa has heard in years, and thanks to the look the older woman gives her, full of knowledge, the redhead's cheeks blush.

“Please Andrea, it's not like that.”, the sentence escapes her lips just as her neck also begins to blush, with a speed that would be justified if Melissa were being tortured, trying to prove her innocence of a crime that the teacher definitely did not commit. But maybe she thought about it.

Or if she had enjoyed many generous sips of her coffee, even though she knew how hot it was.

“I didn’t say anything, dear. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Andrea can sense Melissa’s embarrassment, so she diverts her attention to the bigger picture, even though her knowing smile never leaves her lips, “Look… You know you’re a good cook, and you’ve gotten your fair share of favors that way. Maybe it’s worth trying your luck.”

After that, the subject goes back to where it was before, and the teacher actually tries to focus on Andrea saying that she’ll be spending next summer in Europe, but Melissa’s mind starts working in a completely different way. She silently goes over (in her memory) the most beloved dishes from the cookbook she inherited from her grandmother while listening to Andrea talk about how it would be a pleasure to have Melissa over if she decides to run away from her family for the upcoming holidays. And when they pay the bill for the coffee, Melissa knows what to do.

“And Melissa… Cut off an inch when you get the chance, my dear. It's getting a little.. uneven.”, this is the end of Andrea's farewell to the redhead after a tight hug and a sweet kiss on the forehead, but the words are said in a maternal tone, of genuine care for the teacher that makes Melissa, even without thinking, respond to the older woman with just an affirmative nod and a loving smile.

And, as she doesn't want to think about what happened when someone else suggested the same thing, at least not now, Melissa goes home with only that feeling in her chest.

When the moon took over the sky that night, Melissa was lying under the covers of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room and completely giving up on falling asleep, while her mind went over and over her conversation with Andrea. The older woman was right, as always.

She could cook something for Y/N.

Cooking has always been her passion since she was little, and that was one of the things that made the redhead and her grandmother even closer. The fact that Melissa was very good at it only helped her cause of being her grandmother's favorite.

Most of the time the redhead cooks as a thank you, rather than an apology, but the change is small. And so, the fact that the idea of cooking to apologize has not left Melissa's mind honestly shocked her.

Most of her guys are just people from all over Philadelphia who work in different places and when they hear about how good her food is, they actively choose to seek her out, willingly offering services (sometimes illicit) that the redhead might be interested in in the long run in order to have the opportunity to taste her seasoning, thus forming an alliance.

It's impossible not to take advantage of this after a few years.

Finding out and memorizing what her most skillful guys' favorite dishes are. Doubling or even tripling the size of recipes that were previously made for only ten people, making her thanks become something shared with more and more potential “guys” (thus increasing the number of guys offering their services to her) so often that the redhead has forgotten how to cook for just two people in the last twenty years.

Cooking is a gift that, unlike her job as a teacher, the redhead didn't have to choose. It was flowing through her veins.

Melissa knows that this is one of the simplest ways to get what she wants. And maybe that's what made her block this possibility until now.

There was a voice inside her head, not the part inflated by her ego for always getting what she wants thanks to how good her food is and how everyone who knows about her talent wants to appreciate it, but the insecure and confused one that whispers in a soft voice that Melissa wants to manipulate Y/N.

And for the first time in a while, she’s not bragging about doing it. In fact, she doesn’t want to do it.

For some reason that Melissa still doesn’t know but keeps scratching her insides, she wants to earn Y/N’s apology, not demand it with her food.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since Melissa apologized to anyone.

Knowing that she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon and taking advantage of the fact that tomorrow will be Sunday, the second and third-grade teacher gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, wondering what she should cook.

It’s already the middle of the night, and she has a lot of grading to do for her students’ tests tomorrow, but Melissa knows she won’t be able to concentrate if she doesn’t do that first.

Wrapped in a dark blue robe and hoping that Jacob won’t come to check why she is up so late at night, the teacher carefully opens the refrigerator and checks the ingredients she has and the ones she bought the last time she went to the farmer’s market.

Orange juice... Half a bottle of wine... Milk... Eggs... Fresh mascarpone?

When her eyes focus on the sweet cream-colored cheese, a train of thoughts runs through her head. Melissa knows less than little about her new hairdresser – which is her fault, really – but who doesn't like a sweet treat after a long day of work?

The redhead has dark chocolate in the pantry. Coffee is always a must in a teacher's house. And her cousin gave her a cocoa powder so rich and velvety last Christmas that it could melt in her fingers.

So tiramisu it is.

It was a simple yet sophisticated dessert, full of layers of flavors and textures that the redhead hoped would be enough to convey the care and effort she had put into the dessert. And that would certainly be worth more than a few words, right?

When Melissa goes back to bed, she knows that this is a good idea, and, bathed in this certainty, the redhead can finally see herself falling asleep as she climbs back to bed.

"Perfect," is the word Melissa whispers softly to herself, as she finally gets the thing that was preventing her from sleeping off her chest.

The next morning, the redhead took a quick shower and went downstairs, deciding to organize everything she would need to grade her little eagles' work on the dining room table before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen.

She hadn't made homemade Savoiardi in years, always using the ones from the Italian bakery that sold her favorite cannolis. But today was different. Today, cooking would make her put her feelings in order, perhaps even directing her mind to a light that would clear her ideas for what the teacher should say when giving the dessert to Y/N the next morning.

The redhead begins to separate the ingredients she will need to bake the cookies quickly, already deciding that it would be smart to have the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter even before she finishes making her coffee. Anticipating the company she will have when she hears the sound of lazy footsteps coming from the stairs, Melissa fills one more cup than she would if she were alone with the dark liquid and begins to grab her frying pan to put it in the stove and prepare what she's going to eat.

"Good morning Mel-Mel!", Jacob sounds as he enters the kitchen, hoarse and sleepy, leaning softly against the kitchen counter and observing the ingredients that are displayed there.

"Morning Jacob. There's coffee ready.", Melissa answers softly, pointing to the coffee cup next to hers, still full and steaming, waiting for the younger teacher.

"Thank you.", the smile Jacob gives her is initially full of gratitude, but quickly turns to curiosity when he continues, "Oh... what are you cooking?"

The teacher isn't sure what exactly this question refers to, but considering how curiously he was looking at her ingredients just a minute ago, Melissa gives Jacob two simple answers.

"Eggs, and then baking."

"That's cool. Let me finish this, you already made me coffee.", Jacob says as he gently takes the spoon from the redhead's hand, then grabs four eggs from the fridge and takes her place in front of the stove.

After he moved in with Melissa and this new and sweet idea of friendship was born between the two teachers, what had previously been just a few cooking lessons here and there turned into an intensive course. But the younger teacher loved every second of it. Jacob learned so much about everyday food living with the redhead and even managed to succeed at it, making moments like that more and more natural in the Italian woman's kitchen.

Taking advantage of the softness of her replacement in front of the stove, the redhead begins to gently check if everything she needs to bake is there until Jacob's voice sounds again.

"Did you know that astronauts can bake bread in some space stations?", the man says the words with childish excitement, but still with his eyes attentive to the eggs he is stirring gently on the stove, exactly as the redhead instructed him weeks ago, "Wouldn't it be nice to eat warm bread while you watch the earth from afar?"

"First, I'm not baking bread. But yes, it does sound good to them, kid.” Melissa’s response is simple and sweet, not irritated like she usually would be when she hears silly things like that at work.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Melissa knew Jacob was going on a date that Sunday, so from the moment she woke up to the moment she heard Jacob singing in the upstairs shower before he began to get properly dressed for the lunch he would share with Avi, the paramedic at the local Philadelphia fire station, everything was going according to the plan the teacher had until she started baking.

Melissa tried to focus on the methodical rhythm of her task. Crack the egg, pour the white into a jar, pour the yolks into the mixer bowl, and repeat. But her mind insisted on going back to what she had done a few weeks ago. The words she had said to Y/N were sharp and thoughtless, but what weighed on her like a stone in her stomach was the change in the hairdresser’s expression. "She may have already forgotten...", Melissa muttered to herself, trying to calm her mind. But she knew it wasn't true.

She knew Janine didn't mean to say that she was a bad teacher when Courtney was transferred to her class, not really. It was just the younger teacher's ego and naivety, both screaming and destroying Janine's judgment for having been actively chosen.

But Melissa also couldn't deny that her mouth turned bitter the moment she heard her colleague's words, even if they were whispered.

She would never say it out loud, not even to Barb, but that first night, after hearing that unexpected insult, the younger teacher's words remained too vivid in the redhead's mind when the lights in her room went out and she had to go to sleep.

Maybe I'm not a bad teacher. Maybe you are.

She really didn't deserve that.

The memory flashed through Melissa's brain so quickly that the teacher even lost her rhythm as she added more ingredients to her mixture, but she recovered enough to start beating the egg whites. However, the continuous noise of the mixer only made her remember how much she had thought about it, lying in her bed watching the sun rise through her window when she woke up before her alarm clock.

A bad teacher.

Sighing, Melissa thinks about how much it took for her to understand what was going on in the mind of the younger teacher back then, and then turns off the mixer and begins to mix its contents with the few that were missing.

As she spread the molds she would need on top of her table and, with the experience and speed of a chef, the redhead put the freshly mixed dough she had in her hands in a pastry bag and continued without even blinking as she remembered that little clash in Abbott.

When Janine got upset about being described as an inexperienced teacher in the teachers break room, the redhead hadn't even blink, and that was why she started teasing the younger woman.

Because, to the redhead, it was obvious that she was a more experienced teacher.

If Melissa, a teacher with over twenty years of experience, wasn't more experienced than a teacher with only three, then Melissa was doing something very wrong not only with her life but also with the lives of the children she taught. The fact that the two woman had different times to prepare and perfect themselves to where they were now, both in the same place (teaching Abbott Elementary as second-grade teachers at the same time), had nothing to do with Janine's qualities as a teacher.

Eventually, she managed to explain this to the younger teacher.

"Thank God.", was the muttered thought that Melissa let slip between her lips as she put her Savoiardi in the oven after sprinkling them with her mixture of sugar and cornstarch, automatically starting the timer.

Melissa forgave Janine because she knew she didn't mean it with all her heart. The younger teacher was foolish but not cruel. She couldn't be cruel even if she tried.

Melissa knew. But Melissa knew this because she knew Janine.

The problem was that... Y/N didn't know Melissa.

So what the hell was she going to do if the hairdresser didn't accept her apology?

And so it was over. Her mind was just taking away the possibility of a peaceful morning for Melissa. Because not even her grandmother's collection of favorite Italian songs would be fair competition for what was starting to form in the redhead's mind.

The redhead isn't someone who has a problem with someone she barely knows not liking her. Melissa sometimes even triumphs over this idea of being disliked by people close to her, so someone she doesn't know should simply mean nothing.

When Uncle Archie says she's his least favorite in the family, it doesn't mean anything. It's an honor, really, and the words of her mother's brother would never keep her awake at night. And he is family.

Now among people she knows, Schimmenti loves the idea of being seen as unreachable, distant and unsociable. But there is something about that hairdresser...

With a huff, Melissa simply grabbed a cloth within her reach and began to clean the counter of her sink, ignoring the insistent sound of the timer that finally went off, still lost in all these thoughts.

Maybe it's because the hairdresser really didn't deserve those words... Maybe it's because the poor woman was just doing her job... Maybe it's because the hairdresser is connected to Andrea... Or maybe...

When the smell of sugar began to intensify, Melissa finally realized that the time had passed. With a start, the redhead opened the oven, letting out a wave of heat so intense that it made her eyes water. The teacher hurriedly pulled one of the baking sheets out of the oven, her bare fingers touching the hot metal before she realized her mistake.

"FUCK!" she groaned loudly, backing away quickly, knocking the tray onto the counter. One of the cookies fell to the floor with a dry, crunchy sound, while her instinct forced her to hold her hand against her chest, her eyes watering.

The burning heat pinked up her palm like an immediate punishment, and defeated Melissa finally turned on the kitchen faucet, placing her red hand there.

"MELISSA??" Jacob's shrill voice sounded faster than she imagined. And more desperate too.

For a moment, the older teacher stood there, staring at the cookie on the floor and feeling the buzzing in her throbbing skin as she felt the flow of water. The pain was real, but it served only as a reflection of something greater: guilt.

“I’M FINE, JACOB!” the redhead yells back at her roommate, even though she knows that from the sounds she hears upstairs, he must be desperately putting on the first piece of clothing he can find and then coming to check on her.

By the time he appears in the kitchen, as out of breath as Janine had been running around in her early years as a teacher, the pain has already subsided. But the younger teacher doesn’t care about that, or the fact that Melissa honestly tells him that she used to get burned all the time when she was younger and that heat tolerance is in every Italian woman’s blood, as he gently rubs some burn ointment from his personal first aid kit onto her burned fingertips.

After repeating what she imagines to be a thousand times that she is fine and perfectly capable of being alone, Jacob finally leaves her alone and goes on his date, giving Melissa the space she needs to sit at the kitchen table. She doesn't want to sound insane, but the savoiardi, perfectly shaped but with some slightly over-brown, seemed to judge her silently.

With a fork and using her non-dominant hand, Melissa tried to transfer all the cookies she baked to a covered container as soon as they cooled and went to her living room.

Finishing the corrections of her students' tests with her non-dominant hand takes longer than she imagines, taking up most of her morning and afternoon. But at least she is back in the kitchen when Jacob returns from his meeting, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, a sweet smile and lost eyes as he asks her if her fingers still hurt.

She softly denies it, with a smile on her face and thankful for Jacob's concern written in his eyes. He understands even the words she doesn't say, and she is also thankful for that as she grates some of the dark chocolate she will need to finish her recipe the next day and puts it in a covered container.

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

If asked, she would say that she set her alarm to wake her an hour and a half earlier, but the reality is that her nerves did the job without the help of technology.

Calmly, Melissa took the mascarpone from her refrigerator and began to make the cream that would bring the entire recipe to life. She beats the egg whites with the egg yolk, and uses the mixer to first mix the sugar, then the mascarpone and finally the carefully beaten egg whites.

When everything was ready, the redhead took a deep breath and, next to the precious dish she had chosen, arranged on her counter the Savoiardi cookies made the day before, the grated chocolate, the mascarpone cream and began to assemble the dessert. She dipped the cookies in a little room temperature coffee, one by one, taking care to make sure they were just the right amount of wet so that she could arrange them on the bottom of that precious glass dish, creating an even base and trying to ignore how much she wished the hairdresser could see the care she put into it.

When Jacob finally came downstairs, she was already spreading the fourth layer of the mascarpone cream, smoothing it with a spatula to ensure that each part of the dessert was perfect. When she finished, the redhead noticed that it was exactly ten minutes before the time she and the younger teacher left the house every day, so the redhead took her time sprinkling cocoa powder on top delicately, as if she were drawing an invisible message to Y/N.

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

But what she knows for sure is that Jacob is practically melting with curiosity in his passenger seat as he holds the dessert in his lap.

The Italian woman wanted to rest the tray on her back seat, as she always does when she needs to take something important to school. But he asks so genuinely to carry it that Melissa doesn't have the heart to tell him to take the bus that day. Especially after his ointment worked wonders by almost completely healing the burn on her hand.

At least not inside the car, since she takes the tray from the younger teacher's hand and is the one responsible for putting it in the refrigerator in the teacher's break room.

"Oh. This is a...”, Janine's voice is uncertain as she inspects the tray that prevents her from storing her sandwich on the common refrigerator shelf, already stretching her fingers to get a better look at what it was.

“It's mine. Do you have a problem with it?”, Melissa says rudely just so that there are no additional questions, but, as usual, Janine doesn't get the hint.

“That's beautiful. But can I—”, Janine starts again only to be interrupted.

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

After that, a heavy silence takes over the break room for a few moments.

“She spent the whole day yesterday making it... and she even got burned and then she was putting it together this morning.”, the youngest man in the room mumbles to his friend, not as quietly as he imagines he did since everyone in the room hears Jacob's words even with the news on the television.

“Did she give you a piece?” Janine mumbles back to Jacob, now curious. He shakes his head at the younger woman, purposely leaving out the fact that Melissa left a fair amount of the cream she used for that tiramisu in a small bowl, next to some of the homemade cookies just for him this morning. And that’s why Jacob gets a slap on the arm from the redhead along with an irritated look as he passes her on his way to the coffee maker to refill the dark liquid in his cup. Finally, intrigued by the younger man’s groan of pain, Barbara looks at the refrigerator that Janine still has open, trying unsuccessfully to put her lunch inside, and sees the reason for everyone’s commotion. A big tiramisu. But she also sees something that no one else does.

Something that cannot be questioned is that, out of everyone there, Barbara knows Melissa like no one else and is able to figure her out without even trying. And, with a small look at the glass dish in question, she had already figured her friend out.

That was one of a set of five glass dishes that Barbara Howard had heard about and only seen from a distance. Before her third year of marriage, the redhead's ex-mother-in-law, who was battling lung cancer although she still refused to give up smoking, distributed her most precious possessions to her family. And among them was that set that had been desired by all the women in Joe's family for many years.

As expected, four of the dishes were divided among Mary Alice's four daughters, but, surprising the redhead in a way she never imagined possible, Melissa was given the last one of the set, much to the despair of Joe's older brother's wife. Melissa's ex-husband's mother told the teacher that her talent for cooking would give a better destination for the last piece, unlike the idiotic fight that the sisters would probably start over the unequal number of the set.

Even after the divorce, the heartwarming gift was never claimed by Joe.

So Barbara knew that the tiramisu in question, taking up a huge space in the refrigerator of the teachers' break room on the first floor of Abbott Elementary, was not like any other.

"Girlfriend?" Barbara says softly to get the redhead's attention, speaking again only when Melissa's green eyes are looking directly into her dark ones, "Don't get involved in anything dangerous, please."

"I won't..." Melissa's voice no longer has the bite it had when she spoke to the other teachers, "I swear! It's just... an apology."

"For Joe?", the first-grade teacher knows she might be pushing, but she can't help but ask.

"No!", it's almost a scream, the redhead's tone of voice sounds scared and indignant, but it calms the teacher next to her.

And that, for now, is enough.

At the end of the day, with the tiramisu neatly packed and in her passenger seat, Melissa got into her car and drove to the salon where Y/N worked. The teacher's heart was beating fast as she parked and walked to the entrance, holding the dessert tightly even though her hands were sweaty. As she entered, the sound of scissors and the buzz of conversation seemed to fade in her mind. Her eyes searched for Y/N, who was distracted by a client and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The last time she tried to talk to the hairdresser, Melissa gave her name right at the entrance and the receptionist automatically started searching through her notes for the note addressed to her, but now the redhead knew better.

"My name is not important. Just say that someone really wants to talk to her."

"Y/N!" the receptionist shouts the hairdresser's name loudly, using her vocal cords without any remorse, "There's a redhead who wants to talk to you."

“Is she hot?”, the sound of Y/N’s voice rings out from a distance to Melissa amidst a laugh, at the same time that her rhythmic footsteps echo on the floor of the salon, as if the hairdresser wasn’t exactly running, but in a kind of hurry and curiosity to know what was waiting for her at the reception.

When the Brazilian woman turns the glass corridor and finally appears in front of the redhead, with a soft smile on her face, Melissa can’t help but think that Y/N is even more beautiful than the first time she saw her.

But that smile doesn’t last long because, the moment the hairdresser’s eyes meet Melissa’s green ones, Y/N’s soft face turns into a frown as she asks harshly:

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti imagine #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfics #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter imagine #lisa ann walter x reader

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little-forest-goblin · 3 days ago

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The Art of Valentine

❤️ Valentines day special ❤️

Synopsis: Five had you as a coworker at the CIA. You guys could be described as work wife and work husband by other coworkers and also because everybody can feel the unspoken desire, wanting, love and care. Eventually this all boils over.

Note: this story is in season 4 but there is no forbidden relationship (AKA five and lila) and the universe did not reset. The cleanse was just a cult of crazies.

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Five had a crush that he completely thought qas hopeless. HOPELESS. He kept telling himself to stop dreaming of her when you know that it wont happen! Sadly his ass was not cooperating with his logical albeit twisted logic. Either way he liked you.

You and he were described as a work wife and husband to everyone. If I went up to them and asked about the two of you it would be that exact description. Some coworkers found it annoying while others found it kind of adorable and were betting on the two of you ending up together

God five was hoping the same thing and little did he know you did too.

It was a normal office day. Five going through files on the newest case. After finding out that the director was a part of the cleanse cult they obviously replaced him and just so happened to replace him with five.

They found that five were more than qualified for the job of CIA director. He did appreciate it because he got quite a hit of money and it was quite an achievement.

You came into the office with a new file for the case they were working on. “Well hello handsome. I have the file you asked for”

he looked up and sipped his coffee and smiled setting it down “You keep talking like that and you might get yourself in trouble”

you chuckled and walked over to the desk setting the file down “Maybe i want to be in trouble”

he smirked and leaned forward towards you. Your breaths mingled and his body even though you didn't touch yet was warm. “Don't make me spank you, honey.”

you blushed and moved back “w-well than i guess i should behave” you turned and moved to walk out.

he swallowed and his eyes trailed down your body. His heart was pounding. Once you left he was in a panic. He let out a strangled breath his hands on his desk and his heart pounding he was sure he was dying

“I'm dead this is it. Her beauty has killed me. Her wit has killed me. A MURDER!!!”

Meanwhile, outside the office a few coworkers heard him yell after you left. One of the coworkers that had a mug of coffee was talking to one leaning against the wall “You think he has a photo of her in his wallet she doesn't know about?”

the coworker leaning against the wall nodded “Probably”

Meanwhile five was having a heart attack induced by you. Good god save him now. He took a shaky sip of coffee.

“God save me now”

Soon after he needed more coffee and sadly he didn't have a coffee machine in his office which meant he had to go outside and possibly interact.

He left his office making his way to the break room as quickly as possible without distractions or unnecessary conversation. He got into the breakroom and sighed where there were only a few girls talking in the corner on their breaktime.

He headed to the machine and was pouring himself a cup and maybe he was eavesdropping…a little.

“Oh my god i didn't even catch that it was february! I am not looking forward to this.” one of the girls said with a annoyed sigh as she sipped whatever was in her mug

Another girl who had her hair done up in a messy bun and looked far too tired to be working nodded “I agree. What's the point of valentines if you dont got one” the other girl agreed

Another girl who was enjoying a complimentary bag of chips that were usually in a little wicker basket on the counter looked at them like they were crazy “What? you guys don't like valentines? That's crazy.”

the same girl who started the conversation about february playfully rolled her eyes “Well cassie not everyone has a girlfriend like you to share the month with”

the girl who was supposedly named cassie blushed “Hey! don't go yelling that! What if the wrong person hears I keep my life private you know!”

They chuckled and headed out of the break room once it was up. Five was left there with a pit in his stomach. Its february which means valentines day.

He rushed to the office and checked his calendar. Oh fuck…

He hated Valentine's Day but it still made him so nervous. He hated it because he would get a valentine from people he didn't want and never from the person he did but his hopes were always up that maybe he would get one. His heart would hurt every single year you’d think he would forget.

he didn't care much for valentines after the first apocalypse but once he got back and experienced holidays like valentines all over again he was smitten with a lot except for valentines day.

his family tried to encourage him to meet people and actually find love or a valentine. He sat in his office chair thinking. Maybe he should try this year.

And so he set a plan. Multiple plans actually. Plan A’s and B’s just in case one didn't work.

~Timeskip~

None of them worked. He failed. He got cold feet. He knew he shouldn't have. He used to be an assassin but you brought out that side of him. You made him nervous. All the flirting and your genuine care and the fact that you would listen to him and engage in deep thought it was…nerve wracking.

He thought all hope was lost. He would be destined to be alone because he can't crawl out of the shell that he perfectly built and well…perfected.

He walked down the hall just needing a minute away from his work and stuffy office and from the file. He must’ve not been paying attention because he bumped into somebody that he learned was you.

“Oh shit!” you yelled as you fell right onto your ass

he turned around, his eyes widening. He was mentally cursing himself and his entire biological bloodline. “Oh god, y/n I'm so sorry. I was not paying attention.”

you stood dusting yourself off “No no it's alright it seems you're out of it.”

he chuckled nervously pink dusting his cheeks. If he wasn't so nervous maybe he would notice your own pinkened cheeks. His mouth began running faster than he could think and before he could think of the possible consequences he blurted out:

“Would you be willing to go on a date with me?!” his eyes widened along with yours.

He just asked you out right? That wasn't you just dreaming right? before you could talk he blinked away. he was gone within a flash. You were left speechless. You looked down each end of the hall hoping to see if you could catch him but sadly he couldn't.

you sighed and leaned back against the wall. Your head hit the back of the wall and you sighed. Once you were ready after a quick debrief in your head you saw a wallet on the floor left where he was. Your eyebrows furrowed ans picked it up. Surely it wasnt fives right?

You opened it and saw his Id and license in the pouch. You were gonna close it till a paper fell out. You quickly picked it up. Now you knew you shouldn't snoop through his things but you couldn’t help it. You flipped it over and saw it was a photo of you.

your eyes widened a blush forming. You…he had a photo of you. You thought he wouldn't like you like that. A really long time of pining over him and he…he liked you back. He sounded so nervous.

You opened your phone and saw the date. February 13th. Perfect.

>Next day<

five got to his office feeling miserable. No valentines for him once again and he blew it. He opened his office and set down his briefcase on a side table by the door. He flipped on the lights.

What he saw made his eyes widen. On the desk was a bouquet of flowers. A beautiful bunch of roses with dark green ferns in it. It was gorgeous.

Inside he saw a card. He picked it up and opened the card. Inside read

“To Five hargreeves.

You left your wallet in the hallway when you blinked away. I returned it to you. It is in your front desk drawer. Also about that date, id love to go. How does at 8 tonight sound? See you then lover boy.

Love, y/n l/n”

His eyes widened and his heart pounded. The card was from you. He held the flowers close until he sat down and set it down on the desk. He opened the front drawer and there his wallet was.

He picked it up and opened it. He saw a new piece of paper that he had never seen before. On it had writing it read

“I saw the photo of me in your wallet. I decided to give you a better one. A personal favorite of mine”

he flipped it over and saw it was a photo, obviously. A more precious one. One of you and him laughing at a table together over an inside joke you two made.

As he sat back in his desk looking at the photo of you two laughing at the joke and your legs under the table were slightly intertwined, you and him were close and intimate but far enough that distance didn't seem so little anymore.

That's what made it all the more special.

———————————————————————

Hi guys! I know some of you might be looking for a valentines smut story but i decided not to do that but i can create another if you want just give me some time! I love you guys please be safe out there ❤️

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ssentimentals · 19 hours ago

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hi nini!! hope you doing great today 😊 saw your prompt list for your 1.7k followers celebration (HAPPY 1.7K FOLLOWERS NINI!! 🥺💐). could i possibly request svt woozi x oc/reader with prompt no. 8 pls? thank you so much!! been reading your works since last yr and all of it are so amazingggg ><

hi anonie! ahhh thank you so much!! i'm so happy you're enjoying my works :') and of course you can request, thank you for doing so! 💜

prompt: 'who did this to you?'

'baby, i'm home!' you announce, closing the door behind yourself. quickly taking off your hat and scarf, you start unbuttoning your coat, talking loudly: 'god, it's freezing outside! please tell me that you managed to fix our heater, this zero degrees situation is frankly ridicilous. oh and i also got us tacos cause it's friday and we deserve tacos!'

you stumble into the living room with wide smile and bag full of said tacos in your hands, pausing at the sight of an empty room with your boyfriend nowhere in sight. jihoon always makes a point of greeting you from work, has this whole routine of coming over with gentle smile and even gentler hands that instantly pull you close for a hug. the silence in apartment is suspicious and you paddle slowly to the kitchen and then to the bedroom. you call his name again and when instead of a usual 'hey baby' you get 'don't come in!' from him, you start getting nervous. 'what's happening? why i can't come in?'

'uh- nothing, it's all good, you can enter the bedroom just not our bathroom, okay? i'll be out in a second.'

jihoon's voice sounds strained and it lacks usual warmth that he always has reserved for you. without thinking twice you enter the bedroom and make a beeline towards the bathroom, leaning on the door but not opening it, not yet. 'what is going on?' you ask carefully. 'i'm getting anxious here, ji, don't do this to me.'

jihoon knows how bad you are with situations like that, knows that your anxiety skyrockets when you have no idea what is happening. last thing he wants is to make you worried though, so with a sigh he unlocks the door, letting you in. he saw his reflection in the mirror and is aware of how black eye contrasts with his pale skin, but when he catches look of pure shock on your face, he thinks maybe he underestimated his skills of using concealer. 'um,' he starts unsurely. 'sorry, i don't have my own makeup so i took your concealer without asking first.'

that brings you back as you sputter, stepping closer to him with worried eyes. 'wha- you think that's what i care about right now?' you ask indignantly and with careful hands you take a hold of his face. 'baby, what happened? who did this to you?'

jihoon doesn't really want to answer this question. he knows it's very justified but he can't tell you that some guys at work were making stupid jokes about his relationships and one of them took it too far. he normally can't care less of what people think but not when it comes to you; he's not proud of how he handled it, but he doesn't regret sticking up for you against others. looking at your eyes that are slowly starting to fill up with tears, jihoon knows that he'll fight however many guys on this planet because you are his diamond and he won't let anyone speak badly about you. out loud he says only: 'you should see the other guy. this,' he motions to his black eye, 'is nothing compared to how he looks now.'

it's not enough to ease your worries but it does make you laugh and spal his shoulder. 'jihoon!' you shake your head. 'don't even try to cover it up with jokes. oh god, it looks horrible,' you lean closer, inspecting his face. 'oh baby. what happened? are you okay? should we go to the hospital?'

your sweetness washes over him and jihoon smiles, tugging you closer. 'no need, i'm good. just got this black eye and that's it. and we just- misunderstood each other.'

you raise your eyebrow at this. 'you're not type of guy who punches first and asks questions later. what happened, baby?'

jihoon glances at the bag on the floor and smiles. 'did you got us something on the way home?'

you turn, smiling. 'yeah, tacos from our favorite place. wait, don't try to distract me mister, tell me-'

'i am starving,' jihoon interrupts and leans in, pecking your lips. 'you know what can really help me right now? will make me feel better? you on my lap while we're eating our favorite tacos. hm? can we do that, angel?'

jihoon knows that you're tactful enough to know when not to push, but he can see battle happening in your eyes. at last you decide to let it go for now, letting him pull you to the kitchen. jihoon easily wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you on his lap, ignoring your squeak of protest. 'thank you for the tacos, baby,' he mutters, kissing your shoulder. 'you're the best.'

'mhm,' you turn to him, wiggling a little until you get comfortable. 'we will talk anyways, ji. just not now.'

jihoon nods. not now is enough. he was so distraught when he came back home that having you like this is truly the only thing that can make him feel better. he hugs you tighter and leans with his forehead on your back. 'tell me about your day, baby. please,' he asks quietly.

your hand finds his and you giving it a squeeze before starting to recount everything what happened with you today. jihoon feels tension leave his body at the sound of your voice and your body close to him. when you absentmindedly start caressing his hand, he smiles. yeah, he's very okay with getting into fights on your behalf. you deserve it.

a/n: hopefully you liked it, let me know! <3 - nini

request your own here

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nick-writes-stuff · 2 days ago

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Luck Runs Out

Seong Gi-hun x gn!reader

summary: You've been by Seong Gi-hun's side through all of it, and despite his best efforts, you stuck with him even after his usual demeanor hardened from the traumatic experiences in the games. As he prepares to infiltrate and end the games once and for all, both of your feelings for each other emerge. (~7.6k words)

!warnings: canon-typical violence, implied suicidal throughts/actions, verbal arguments, use of y/n, mega hurt/mega comfort

a/n: i'm actually really happy with this one, guys. no clue what the next fic will be yet. if you have an idea, send me a request, and i'll see what i can do! ily all and hope you enjoy <33

You have always joked with your friend Seong Gi-hun by saying that he is the luckiest man in the world. This was entirely sarcastic most of the time. Misfortune seemed to be woven into his DNA. Nothing ever went his way, and the few times that things worked out for him seemed to be a sign for more hardship to come.

Things changed in his life quite often. Money came and went. Jobs were often short-lived, and the one that did last a long time ended in a deadly strike. He got married and had Ga-yeong, and it seemed like things were going well, and then the divorce happened and he lost custody. He had to move back in with his mom because he couldn't afford both his rent and his gambling habits.

The one constant had been you. You had been close friends with him and Sang-woo growing up, but you hadn't moved away to university like the latter. You stayed local and worked a fairly steady job. You lived comfortably but definitely not as wealthy as the pride of Ssangmun-dong was. (Well, at least not as wealthy as you thought he was.)

Gi-hun definitely took you for granted sometimes. He asked you for money more often than he'd like to admit. You tried to help him when you could, but sometimes you had to give him the hard truth. It annoyed you sometimes that you knew the money you gave him was likely going right to the horse races, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt because you wanted to believe your friend could turn things around.

And it wasn't like he was just using you for your money. He was genuinely a great friend who was trying to make up for his faults. He'd always try to do something for you to metaphorically repay his debt to you. Sometimes, it would be as simple as bringing you some snack or trinket when he stopped by to visit, likely something he stumbled upon rather than an actually planned out gift. Other times, he would insist on doing something for you, like running errands or trying to fix the valve you had been complaining about. Sure, it didn't repay the actual money, but it was the principle of his actions that you found endearing.

You would be lying to yourself to say that your feelings for him were purely platonic. You'd been smitten with him since you were kids. You assumed he just thought of you as a friend, which is a fair assumption seeing as he married someone who wasn't you. You admired his compassion. He would give someone the shirt off his back if he was able. He was selfless and kind and funny. He had some rough edges, but you couldn't fault him for that.

He also recognized you as a constant in his life. When so many other things were changing rapidly, he could rely on you. Even when everything else seemed to be against him, when everyone else seemed to have moved on without him, you were there for him when he needed you.

His feelings for you were a bit more complicated. He always felt very close to you, but that's normal for friends, right? When they were younger, Sang-woo was quick to notice Gi-hun's adoration of you, but he always insisted you were just friends. There were a few times that he did consider testing the waters and ask you, but he always chickened out before he could. Plus, you deserve someone better than him. Someone without his faults. So he started seeing Eun-ji. She was nice, thoughtful, and pretty. But she wasn't you. He pushed any feelings for you into the deep recesses of his mind, and they only presented themselves in the dark of night when he couldn't sleep.

Despite being two idiots in love who didn't realize it, you stayed close through the years. But not close enough to recognize the elephant in the room.

Your feelings for him finally resurfaced shortly after Gi-hun had left for the games, although you hadn't known that was what he was doing. You were worried that he got himself into trouble with his loan sharks, and something happened. You were even more worried that he ran off, never to be seen again.

You learned of his disappearance from his mother calling you. She asked if you had seen him recently and you realized that you hadn't. She requested that you run an errand for her as she wasn't feeling the greatest. You had the free time, so you did. You arrived at their apartment to find her unresponsive. She was alive, thank goodness, but she was in rough shape. You got her to the hospital, using whatever money you had to spare to pay for the ambulance ride.

While she was getting treated, you were pacing in the waiting room, trying to get into contact with Gi-hun. Calls and texts left unanswered. You tried to call as many of Gi-hun's friends as you knew and had contact information for. Jung-bae hadn't heard from him in days. You even tried calling Sang-woo in hopes he would have answers, but that too was unanswered.

At one point, a nurse stepped out into the waiting room. “Are you Ms. Mal-soon's next of kin?” She asked gently.

The question caught you off guard for 2 reasons. Firstly, you were so invested in his mother's wellbeing that you were assumed to be her next of kin while her own son was off doing God knows what. But more importantly, hospitals don't usually inquire about that without something being seriously wrong.

You shook your head. “No, I'm just a friend of her son's.” You said.

“Do you have a way to reach him?” She asked.

You sighed. “Yeah, I've been trying to call him. Do you have something you want me to tell him?” You asked.

She nodded. “Tell him to get here as soon as he can. She's trying to refuse treatment, and I hope he can talk some sense into her.” She said, sounding somewhat exasperated. You gave her a knowing look. Mal-soon was a stubborn woman.

“I'll let him know. Thank you.” You said, giving her a slight bow. She turned and left, so you continued your efforts to call Gi-hun.

It was another 20 minutes before he answered the phone.

“Gi-hun, thank God. What were you doing that you couldn't answer?” You asked.

He sighed. “It's a long story.” He dismissed that line of conversation. There was no way he could explain that to you right now. “What's going on?” He asked.

“Your mom is in the hospital right now. I can explain more later, but you need to get here.” You said.

You heard him curse on the other end of the line. “I'll be there in ten.” He said. before hanging up the phone.

It was more like 20 before he made it to the hospital. You didn't leave until you knew he was there. While he was talking with the doctor, his mom left the building. You got a call from him later that evening.

You didn't let him get started on any small talk. “Where the hell were you?” You asked. You were stern but also concerned.

He sighed. “That's not important right no-”

“Not important? Really?” You interrupted. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down. “You scared the shit out of me, you know that, right?” You weren't angry, just worried.

He knew you were just concerned for him. So his answer was only going to make you more worried. “Listen. Remember when I told you about that business card?” He asked.

“Oh my God, don't tell me you actually went there.” You said.

“I did.” He admitted. He didn't want to explain further. He didn't need to burden you with that information. How do you even explain that to someone?

You could tell from his tone that it hadn't gone well there. He sounded so defeated.

“Y/N, I hate to do this but-”

You scoffed. “Are you serious?”

“I know, I know. But she needs treatment, and we can't afford it right now.” He said. He didn't even know why he was asking you. You didn't deserve to be treated this way.

“Gi-hun.” You started. You tried to keep your voice from breaking. You didn't want to say no. You knew he always felt like a scumbag anytime you had this conversation. You hated to say it, but you stood your ground. “I wish I could help, I really do. But I can't. I already used what I had to spare to pay for the ambulance.” You said.

This was new information to him. “You did?” He sounded in disbelief. How could you care so much for them when he treated you like this?

“Of course I did.” You said softly.

He laughed. “I don't deserve a friend like you, y/n.”

You flinched upon hearing his words. It felt like they pierced through you. You'd always be just a (friend), wouldn't you?

The second he said the words he wished he could take them back. It felt wrong to say for some reason.

The line went quiet for a moment. “I'll see what I can do.” You said softly.

“Thank you.” He said.

You hung up the phone, taking a few deep breaths before going about your evening. Later on, you got a text from him:

Hey. I've decided that I'm gonna go back to play those games. Can you check on my mom while I'm gone? I'll make it up to you, I swear.

You sighed, staring at the words as you tried to assess your feelings about this situation. It was complicated, to say the least. You desperately tried not to feel used. You were just covering for him while he ran off to do something that would probably be more trouble than it's worth. But he was your friend. That's what friends do, right?

You typed back: Yeah, I can stop by when I get a chance. How long will you be gone?

His response was fast. Not sure. It might be a few days.

You had plenty of questions about this. How was he going somewhere to play ddajki for a few days? You didn't get a chance to ask before he started typing again.

He was thinking of how to address the elephant in the room that you had no way of knowing it existed. How do you tell your best friend that you might not come back? How does he tell you he might die in pursuit of the money he desperately needed? If he told you, you would try to talk him out of it. And he knew himself, you would definitely convince him to stay. But if he didn't tell you and he died, you would assume he walked out on you like he does everyone else. The last person in the world who still saw the good in him would see the truth.

He stopped typing. He had to do this. There was no other way.

You furrowed your eyebrows as the tiny message bubble disappeared. You replied: Keep me updated if you can. Good luck with the games :)

He smiled slightly, but it was fleeting.

Thanks, I'm gonna need it.

He really did need it. He felt like nothing had gone how he expected it through the entirety of the games. He picked the hardest shape in dalgona, faced one of the strongest teams in tug of war, and paired with his closest ally in Marbles. Overall, a few hundred people died in his attempt to survive. Most were not by his own hand, but he still felt the overwhelming guilt of every life lost like he was at fault. He made it through all of this, but it never felt like he had a say in any of it. He felt like the universe was stringing him along to see what other hell he could be put through.

You kept to your word. You tried to stop in to see his mother once a day. You made excuses to see her. One day, you made too much food and gave her the leftovers. The next, Sang-woo's mother asked you to deliver something to her. She seemed somewhat suspicious with your intentions, but you could tell deep down that she appreciated your concern. She seemed mostly fine. She was more tired than usual and a bit less lively, but you hadn't thought that her condition was worsening.

At one point, she even asked you, “How come you seem to care about me more than my own son?”

The words tugged on your heart. “Gi-hun cares. I'm sure he's trying his best to be able to pay for your treatment.” You said. You weren't lying. He was trying his best. Unbeknownst to you, he was putting his life on the line for her.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Then where is he?” She asked. You didn't have an answer for her. “You have too much faith in him. The quicker you see the truth, the better.”

You should have defended him. You wanted to. But you just couldn't. He'd been gone for how many days without a word. Was she right? Were you just too naive? Maybe he really did skip town and leave you behind. You didn't want to believe it, but you couldn't find a different explanation at the moment. You made your excuse to leave as soon as you could.

You tried to cling onto hope as long as you could. It all came to a head one night when you stopped after you had a double shift at work. You knew it was late, but you wanted to stop by since you hadn't been able to all day.

You knocked on the door. No answer.

You knocked again. Nothing.

“Mal-soon?” You called.

You strained to hear inside. You could hear something. Almost sounded like crying.

You tried to open the door. It was open. You decided you had the right away to check on her safety. You felt a pit in your stomach as you swung the door open. You took a few steps in to find Gi-hun on the floor holding his mom. She isn't breathing. He hadn't noticed you.

“Gi-hun?” You asked.

He didn't react. He was distraught. Rightfully so, of course.

You knelt down. “Gi-hun!” You called. You reached out to touch his shoulder, and he flinched away violently from your touch. His eyes looked wild, like he had expected you to hurt him.

Your breath hitched as you yanked your hand away. Your eyes were wide. “Hey, it's me. It's just me.” You said softly.

He looked up at you, and the second he recognized you, he threw his arms around you.

You froze for a moment before wrapping your arms around him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't the time for that.

You didn't know how long you sat there with him. You just sat and comforted him. Your fingers carded through his hair. You didn't say anything. How could you? What would you even say? There are no words in this scenario. You shed tears as well. You have been seeing her so often recently. A part of you blamed yourself, but you didn't voice it. Maybe you missed a sign. You should have come here on your break so you could have prevented it.

Eventually, he confided in you about everything that happened. The games, the death, the violence, the money. Telling you about Sang-woo was the hardest part. You couldn't believe it. You didn't even know he was struggling for money. You didn't even get to say goodbye. He was gone. You'd later see the media expose him for various financial crimes, but he was “evading arrest” according to the police.

The next year of your life involved trying to live with the shell of the man who was left. He hardly did much of anything. He moved into your apartment for the time being. He paid your rent in full, but he refused to touch any more of the money. He hardly ate, hardly sleeping. It was hard to watch your best friend succumb to the demons in his mind, but you stayed with him through it all.

Then, one night, he wasn't home when you arrived home after work. It freaked you out beyond belief. Considering his emotional state, you feared the worst. You tried calling him but he didn't answer. You didn't even know who else to call. You were pretty much the only person who knew he was still here. It probably seemed like he skipped town to everyone else.

But when he came back, there was something different about him. Literally and metaphorically. He had gone and got a goofy haircut. It was cut shorter and dyed a candy apple red. But more than that, he seemed to finally have the spark he once had. You could see your friend through the cracks of his once hardened exterior. He was himself again.

God, you missed him so much despite the fact you had been under the same roof for over a year. You missed the way the skin around his eyes creased when he smiled. You missed the sound of his laugh. You missed the joking and lighthearted teasing. You missed the random acts of kindness he would do when he felt he owed you something. You finally had your friend back, and you couldn't be happier.

He had some business to attend to. You weren't entirely sure what it was, but he assured you it was nothing dangerous. And then he decided he was going to go over to the US to be near Ga-yeong.

It was a bittersweet feeling. You knew it was something he really wanted. Of course, he wanted a chance to be in his daughter's life. You obviously wouldn't try to stop him from doing so. He had every right to go.

But a part of you felt betrayed. His family hadn't even tried to contact him once in the past year. Maybe Ga-yeong wanted to and wasn't allowed to, but as far as you were aware, they didn't even bother to check in with him. Even after his mother died.

But you had stayed with him in his darkest hours. You made sure his daily needs were met when he didn't have the energy to sustain himself. You talked him down from trying to end his suffering. You were woken up by the screams he would let out as he had nightmares. You stayed with him through all of it, and now he was leaving.

You made no attempts to stop him, but you felt a piece of your soul die every time he mentioned it.

He could sense there was something bothering you, but he couldn't find a way to start the conversation about it. He knew you were probably upset about him leaving, but he also knew opening up that line of questioning wouldn't be helpful. Because you both knew there was nothing you could do to stop him, and it would likely just end in an argument. Ignoring it felt like the easiest option for both of you. The path of least resistance.

So you said goodbye. You allowed your best friend, your only friend, leave you. He would probably be happier that way.

He cracked a joke as he left, and you laughed weakly. He closed the door behind him. You were trying to hold yourself together. He lingered outside the door for a moment. You knew because you didn't hear his footsteps leaving the hall.

He was second-guessing his decision as he stood. Were you going to stop him? Maybe you would follow him out and beg for him to stay. You would be able to convince him. He'd give in with little resistance just to be with you.

You didn't open the door.

He waited for a minute or so before walking away, looking somewhat dejected.

When you heard his footsteps fade into silence, you broke down.

He was gone.

You were shocked when he arrived back at your apartment 2 hours after his departure time with dried blood in a trail running down the side of his neck.

“What the hell happened to you?” You asked, stepping back to let him into your apartment.

There was a hint of that panic inside him. The panic you saw in full force the night his mother passed away. But there was also a deep-seated anger. You could see it in his eyes.

“I saw the salesman in the airport terminal.” He said without elaboration.

You had been getting a wet paper towel for him to clean off the blood as he said it. You turned around and gave him a confused look. “Am I supposed to know who that is?” You asked.

“The man who recruits for the games.” He said.

Your eyes went wide. You handed him the towel. “Did he say anything to you?”

He shook his head.

“Why did you come back?” You asked.

He sighed. “I can't just sit by and allow the games to continue. If I did, it would be a slap in the face for all 455 of the others who died. I need to find a way to stop them.”

You were still confused. “Okay, but what's with the blood?” You asked. He hadn't explained, and you wanted to make sure he was okay.

He seemed puzzled until he realized what you were talking about. “They had a chip in me. They were tracking me.” He said.

“Holy shit, why did you cut it out yourself?” You asked, a slightly scolding tone in your voice.

He didn't have a satisfying answer for you.

You left the room to grab a first aid kit to help patch him up. You both felt sparks fly whenever your fingers would graze his skin.

When you dabbed the wound with an antiseptic, he instinctively tried to pull away. You moved your free hand to lightly grab his jaw to hold him in place. You could feel his shoulders shake as his breath was caught in his throat. You assumed it was due to the pain, but in reality, the sudden contact flustered him a bit.

You bandaged him up the best you could with the supplies you had on hand. He probably should have gotten a stitch or two, but you managed to stop the bleeding yourself.

“Promise me that next time you will leave the exploratory surgery for the experts.” You said softly. You phrased it jokingly, but you were dead serious. That could have been dangerous for him if he had nicked something.

He laughed. “How about there's just no next time?”

You smiled, but you had a gut feeling that this wouldn't be the last time this would happen. He displayed almost a disregard for his own safety and it scared the hell out of you.

You once again saw your friend change drastically, but this time, you weren't sure if it was for the better or for the worse. He tried to keep you at an arm's length, likely due to the fact he had seen so many people close to him die.

Even more troubling, he dedicated himself to taking down the games at all cost. He bought a motel to conduct his operation from. It would be his war room. He tried doing it alone for a year or two, but he soon realized this was going to take more work than he could do himself (although you helped when you could).

He started working with Mr. Kim and his lackeys, hiring them to patrol the city to find any activity of the games. Suddenly, every subway station in the city had two men watching over it at all hours of the day. He made them document their patrol and controlled everything from his car with a dozen different electronics to monitor.

You felt like he was making his own game in a way. Stringing along people who are desperate for money, tracking their every move, dangling elusive prize money over their heads if they disagreed. You would never tell him that, but you couldn't get the thought to leave your mind.

He did everything he could. Even if it wasn't entirely legal. He had been getting way too many weapons too quickly for it to be above board.

Deep down, you thought this was a fruitless endeavor. The people who ran the games managed to be completely untraceable for years. They had the money and resources to own an island, a small militia, and a massive crematorium. And Gi-hun was just one man obsessed with taking them down, with a few dozen loan sharks and petty criminals doing his bidding just because of the money that got sent their way.

You tried to support him as best as you could. You often brought him meals when you knew he was working especially hard. He often didn't even remember the last time he ate something, so you figured if you were already making food for yourself, you might as well make him a portion as well.

That's what you were doing when you heard the single gunshot. You had been using your key for the motel door when you heard it ring out. You started panicking, suddenly having difficulty with the lock as your hands trembled.

You feared the worst. A single gunshot isn't typical of a confrontation. It implies intent to kill. And you knew there wasn't supposed to be anyone else in the building.

You eventually got your hands to work to remove the chain. You swung the door open, barely remembering to close it.

You called out his name. Heading toward the back room where he usually stayed, you couldn't stop yourself from getting panicked. You didn't even want to go in the room. You didn't want to see it. You didn't want to walk in to see his body, your best friend dead.

Luckily, that isn't what you saw. Gi-hun was sitting at a table, just staring over the body of another man. The man was slumped over onto the table. You could hear the pattering of blood dripping onto the tile floor.

“Gi-hun, what happened?” You asked, stepping closer to him. You tried to keep your gaze focused on him. The sight of the man in front of him was ghastly. You could smell the metallic scent of his blood in the air, and it made you queasy.

He hardly reacted to your presence, only murmuring a soft, “He lost the game.”

(And reader, you too just lost the game 😉)

Your brain was putting together the pieces of the situation, and every piece of the puzzle only fueled the anger and fear within you. “Please don't tell me you were playing Russian Roulette.” You said. There was a desperation behind your words. You were almost begging for it to be true.

He didn't understand your concern. “Why does it matter? I won anyway.” He said. He carried little regard for his own life at this point. He saw this as a win for the cause. He just killed their recruiter, the man who reaches out to the desperate people to take advantage of them. This was a victory. Why didn't you see that?

You stood there in shock at his words. “What do you mean ‘Why does it matter?’ You could have died.” You said strongly.

“I did what I had to do!” He said, raising his voice at you. Your breath caught in your throat. You tried hopelessly to see your best friend in the man who sat before you. The games really changed him, but that didn't mean you didn't care about him.

“Really?” You countered, “You had to put the gun to your head and pull the trigger? Did he force you to?”

He scoffed. “You don't get it.”

You laughed. “I don't get it? Go on, enlighten me then.” Your sarcasm was just a way to disguise your fear and concern.

He rolled his eyes. “That's how things work with them. The game has to be-”

“Fuck the games!” You cried out. He seemed to sober up a bit at your outburst. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. You didn't mean to yell at him. You were just so scared.

“If you are trying to take them down, why do you care about the rules? You could have just shot that man and been done with it.” You said, trying to reason with him.

He didn't say anything in response to your question. He wasn't going to be convinced of anything you said, and he knew he wouldn't be able to explain his thought process. It wasn't worth the argument. He had to follow the rules because that's how things work. He needed an opening to get back into contact with them, and while the game of Russian Roulette killed his only lead, it was the first lead he had in years. He was close.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you.” He said sheepishly.

You sighed. “Me too.” You said softly. You paused for a moment. “Just don't be so reckless, okay? Plus, hearing a single gunshot while you were alone was terrifying.” You said with a light chuckle.

You saw the look of realization on his face when he finally understood why you were so freaked out. “Oh, you thought I-” He started.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You cut him off.

There was an awkward silence before Gi-hun spoke up. “So what did you bring me?” He asked.

His nonchalance about sitting across from a dead man was concerning to you, but unfortunately, it made sense to you since he was probably desensitized after his time in the games. When you've seen enough doom and gloom as he had, you have to be able to laugh, or you'll drive yourself to madness

“Your favorite.” You said, setting the bag holding the food onto the reception desk. “More importantly though, what are you going to do with…” You trailed off, gesturing to the body, “him.”

He sighed. “I haven't the slightest idea.”

You never did find out how he dealt with that situation. You had a busy few day stretch at work, so you hardly had time to stop by the motel. October had always been a busy time at your workplace, but you had managed to get the holiday off. You found yourself at the motel once again. Gi-hun had mentioned that there was going to be their next step on Halloween, and while you were hesitant to get involved, he convinced you to sit in on the meeting. But you were convinced it was just so you could make something for the men to eat, since he always said that your food was “simply the best.”

You sat in the back of the room, just observing the surroundings. You really only recognized one other person, Choi Woo-seok. You frequently used the subway station that he was posted in with Mr. Kim. Your conversations had never gotten much farther than small talk, but even if they had, he seemed to have changed so much after the death of his boss. He was clearly committed to the cause now, with or without the money.

There were also some mercenaries Gi-hun had hired. Something that you doubted was legal but never mentioned. And there was another man as well. You hadn't seen him before today at all, but he seemed to be someone who Gi-hun trusted, seeing as he was so close to the investigation.

You were really only half paying attention, idly fidgeting with the bracelet you were wearing. You knew that you weren't going to be involved in the actual operation itself, so you didn't have that much of a need to listen. But when you did tune in, you felt like you got punched in the face.

“So what is your plan when you meet with the man in charge?” One of the mercenaries asked.

Gi-hun answered, “I'm going to ask to go back into the games.”

Your head shot up to look at him. You wished you misheard him, but you knew you didn't. He didn't look at you, almost like he was ashamed that you heard it. But he knew what he was doing. He invited you intentionally so you knew what was going on, but he was hoping to leave as soon as they were done with the meeting. As much as it made him feel like a deadbeat, he knew he couldn't bear to face you after you learned of the plan.

Unfortunately for him, you were stubborn as a mule.

While they were getting things ready to leave, you made your way over to him. “May I have a word with you?” You asked. Your voice was soft, but your tone was less like a question and more like an order.

He unwillingly followed you out into the hallway, shutting the door behind you both.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” You asked the second the door shut.

He rolled his eyes slightly. “How else will I get to the island? We can't even find it. If I go in as a player, it'll be easy.” He said.

You scoffed. “Yeah and what happens when the games start?”

“I'll have the tracker so the guys can find me. Plus, I've played the games before, so I'll know how to make it through them this time.” He said.

“What makes you think they'll follow their own rules?” You asked.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. “The rules are of high importance to them. They wouldn't break them, trust me.” He said.

“That was before you were hell bent on taking down the regime. They could just kill you. I don't know why you aren't getting that.” You said. Your voice was starting to waver slightly as your emotions rose. You couldn't even begin to identify the feelings swirling around in your brain.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Then that's a risk I'm willing to take.”

“Why?!” You asked loudly. He looked like a deer in headlights. “Is this really that important to you that you'll throw your life away for it?” You asked.

“How many lives were thrown away because of the games? Something needs to change.” He said. You could hear the determination in his voice, but to you, it sounded like blind faith.

“I understand that, but is it really worth dying for? Not seeing your daughter?” You asked. The words ‘not seeing me’ were left unsaid.

You seem to have struck a nerve, but he didn't respond with anger. “I'm the only person who has a decent shot in pulling it off. I know what I'm doing.” He sighed.

You fight off the tears forming in your eyes. “What happens when your luck runs out? You're staking your life on blind faith.” you asked quietly. You met his eyes to see that his were glassy as well. You wrapped your arms around your torso, hoping to soothe yourself to an extent.

After a moment of silence, you continued speaking. “I'm just so fucking scared, Gi-hun. I can't lose you too, I can't.” You said, voice becoming more frantic. The second a tear rolled down your cheek his arms were around you, engulfing you into his embrace.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed your back so gently. He didn't know what to say to comfort you because the only thing that would calm your fears would be him deciding not to go, and you both knew that wasn't going to happen.

You felt him take a deep breath, his shoulders shaking slightly. He was crying at this point, too. He felt so bad for you. He knew he was causing you pain and distress, but he knew that he needed to do it. Why did he have to hurt everyone he loved? You were the one person he had left in his life, and he was walking out on you again. You understood his reason, but it still hurt you.

After a few moments, Gi-hun spoke. “I love you.” He said softly. It was his first time saying it, but it was a fact he had known for years. He had always been too afraid to say it. He ended up pushing everyone he loved away, and he didn't want to lose you, too. But leaving it unsaid and keeping you at an arm's length was doing the same. He realized that now, and since he was walking into danger again, he wasn't going to make the mistake of not letting you know. You had to know. He hoped his show of devotion could give you hope that he would do anything necessary to make it home to you.

You didn't pull back to look at him. You just hugged him tighter. “I love you too. I always have.” You replied. Those words had been caged by your fear of ruining your friendship, but now they were let free. It felt like a weight off your chest.

“I promise, I'm going to make it out of there, okay?” He said. He meant it wholeheartedly, but you both knew that the promise could very well become empty.

You pulled away from his embrace. “You better. If you don't, I'll kill you myself.” You said with a slight smile across your face. He laughed at your contradiction.

You just looked up at him, contemplating leaning in to kiss him, but the door to the hall swung open. You both turned to look at the noise, and Gi-hun cleared his throat awkwardly. Woo-seok stood in the doorway. “We should really get going.” He said.

You both met each other's eyes again. “Good luck.” You said.

He gave you a slight bow of his head before leaving. You tried to push down the fact that this might be the last time you saw him. Repressing it seemed to be the easiest way to continue functioning.

You had stayed in the motel until the rest of them returned, sans Gi-hun. You tried to ignore the pit in your stomach that grew as you realized there was no going back.

You exchanged phone numbers with Woo-seok and the other man you didn't know until then, Hwang Jun-ho. You asked them to send you updates when they could.

For the next few days, you tried to keep yourself as busy as you could. If you were working, your mind couldn't wander. You couldn't think about the fact your best friend might never come home. The man you loved might be gone forever. There's nothing you can do anymore.

This need to be busy only intensified after Jun-ho had told you that they found the tracking chip in the bait of a fisherman. The gamemakers ruined the one way they definitely would be able to bring Gi-hun home. There was no telling where he was anymore, although the men went with the boat captain to search the sea regardless.

You worked as many shifts at work as you could. You were only home long enough to pass out for a few hours before you had to get up to do it again.

That was until you passed out at work. Your boss wanted to take you to the hospital to be checked out, but you refused. You knew it was probably because you were dehydrated and not eating regularly. Your boss gave you a few days off to rest, and there was no convincing them otherwise.

Being at your apartment was basically torture. You could only do so much to distract yourself there. Plus, you found little reminders of Gi-hun's presence (or lack thereof) in your home. And being at the motel was worse. It, too, was empty for most of the time. There were two mercenaries stationed there, just in case something would happen. They had plenty of resources needed for the cause there, so Gi-hun wanted to protect it. Plus, the two men left behind weren't sociable at all.

So you stayed home. Most of your time was spent on the couch, sitting idly while reruns of some TV show you'd never seen before played in the background of your anxiety-ridden thoughts. Sometimes, when you needed to be actively doing something, you kept your apartment spotless in an attempt to keep yourself busy.

You didn't know how long they should expect him to be gone for. You knew that back during his first games, he had been gone for maybe 5 days after he told you he was going back to the games.

As it neared two weeks of waiting, you started to accept that he was probably dead. You weren't being given updates anymore, probably because there weren't any to give. There was no way to get leads when every plan had failed so far.

You were once again zoned out on the couch. It was nearing the time most people would eat dinner, but you didn't feel like eating right now. It was hard to eat when the pit in your stomach felt like it was swallowing you whole. You were sitting on the couch, unfocused gaze watching the TV screen while your mind was elsewhere.

Until you heard a knock at the door. You heard the noise, but you hadn't realized what it actually was. Maybe it was in someone else's apartment. Maybe you were just hearing things.

The knock rang out once more. You recognized it was at your door, but you were trying to get yourself the motivation to go see who it was. When it happened a third time, you finally got up. You ought to give them a piece of your mind for disturbing you. You weren't expecting anyone. It was probably a traveling salesman or some American missionary or something.

You twisted the handle. “What do you wa-” You started to ask as you opened the door, but your words got caught in your throat at the sight.

It's him. It's really him.

Your arms were around him within milliseconds, pulling him into a hug a bit more roughly than he was expecting.

He chuckled softly. “Easy there.” He said jokingly. He slowly helped to move you back a step so he could shut the door behind you both before he embraced you once again.

You were crying the second you laid your eyes on him. Happy tears this time. He's back. He's really back. Your fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, shoulders shaking with your sobs.

He'd be lying if he claimed he hadn't shed a few tears. He was exhausted, but he was just so relieved to be back. To be here with you. To have you in his arms again.

He stood there in your embrace, comforting you with infinite patience. He rubbed your back gently. He occasionally murmured something to remind you he was here. He's not going anywhere. He loves you so much, you know that, right?

You stopped crying, instead turning your head so your ear was against his chest. You listened to his heartbeat like it was a prayer. He's alive. He's alive and back home with you, and listening to the steady rhythm helped you realize that.

Even after you calmed down, neither of you wanted to let go of the other. You both had feared you wouldn't get to do this again, so you wanted to savor the moment for as long as you could.

You were the first to pull away. You wanted to ask him about what happened. But there was something else that Gi-hun had feared he would never get to do.

Before you even had a chance to speak, his lips crashed into yours. You were in shock for a moment, but it didn't take long for your brain to catch up and kiss him back. It was full of desperation and longing and love, and it felt incredible. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers idly toying with hair.

Eventually, you both pulled away for air. You laughed breathlessly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to do that.” He said quietly, only making the blush on your face more obvious.

You cleared your throat. You tried to stutter out an agreement, but you couldn't form the words. Instead, you nodded vigorously with a soft “Y-yeah.”

He laughed at your flustered demeanor. Knowing he was responsible for that made him stirred butterflies in his stomach.

You interrupted his laughter with another kiss. You smiled into it, slowly trailing your hands from his neck to his chest. You felt his breath hitch at the movement. This kiss was softer and sweeter.

When you pulled away, you looked up at him. “You're probably starving. Go get yourself cleaned up, I'll start working on making something to eat.” You said.

“You're the best.” He said, a smile creeping onto his face.

You smirked. “I know.” He rolled his eyes slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading off down the hallway.

You know, you should have assumed there was a larger depth to your relationship once he had spare clothes in your apartment.

After he walked away, you couldn't wipe the stupid smile off your face. You were just happy. For the first time in a long time, you were happy. Happy he was safe, obviously, but also relieved that your previously unrequited love wasn't really unrequited. Having it out in the open was freeing, exhilarating even.

You started working on preparing a meal. His favorite, of course. As the food started cooking, you suddenly realized how hungry you actually were. The apartment was quiet, except for the running water, and a sound that you swore was Gi-hun humming in the shower.

After a while, he must have left the hallway without you seeing him. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, the sudden contact making you jump.

“Fuck you.” You said with no malice.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How much longer do you think?” He asked.

You sighed in mock annoyance. “It would probably go faster if I didn't have you clinging onto me like a koala.” You said.

He didn't let go, instead burying his head into the crook of your neck. He was mentally scolding himself for not having the guts to accept his feelings until now. He also regretted every time he took you for granted. Every time he gambled the money that you were able to spare. Every time he kept you at arms length in order to save himself the pain of losing you like he had everyone else.

Ultimately, all of those decisions led him to this moment. Fate, luck, destiny, call it whatever you want. All of it led to this. And this was fucking amazing. While holding you in his arms, he started to believe he really was the luckiest man in the world.

#nick writes stuff #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #gi hun x reader #seong gi hun x reader #gi hun x you

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runninriot · 1 day ago

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Another Love

written for the @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up event It's Complicated

wc: 1.966 | rated: M | tags: past friends with benefits Eddie/Jeff, newly established Steddie, unrequited love, complicated feelings, mild hurt/comfort, friendship | also on ao3

“Guys, this is Steve. Steve, these are the guys. My best friends, who will not embarrass me today. Right?”

Eddie laughs, tries not to let his nerves show by making a silly grimace in the direction of Gareth, who lovingly scoffs and rolls his eyes, says ‘You don’t need us for that, you’re pretty good at embarrassing yourself‘, just to be a little shit. And maybe that’s good, because it means they’re not pretending to be something they’re not. There’s no need to mask who they are in front of Steve, Eddie knows that.

He knows that, once they’ve warmed up to each other, they’ll get along just fine. But still, he can’t shake the funny feeling in his gut.

This is a big deal for him, finally introducing his boyfriend to the people who, apart from Wayne, mean most to him in this world. He wants, no, needs them to accept this new person in his life, because there is one thing he’s absolutely certain of – Steve is here to stay.

Gareth and Doug, being the lifesavers they are, immediately start wrapping Steve up in a conversation and it helps ease Eddie’s nerves a bit. But out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the tension in Jeff’s shoulders. Can sense his resentment of the situation even if Jeff is obviously trying his best not to show it.

He stands off to the side, pretending to tune his guitar which he’s definitely not. Eddie knows he’s already done that before even coming to the venue. Out of all of them, Jeff’s always been the closest to a professional.

It’s something Eddie admires, one of those things he loves about him.

Jeff and Eddie go way back, met long before Gareth and Doug entered the picture. They’ve been friends forever, through thick and thin, always together against the rest of the world.

He’d never admit it out loud but Jeff’s opinion matters most. And that’s not only because he’s his best best friend. It’s also because he doesn’t know what he’d do if Jeff didn’t give him his blessing. There’s so much at stake here, so much to possibly end in ruins. This is so much more complicated than just wanting his friend's approval - there's more to consider. More to fight for. So that's what Eddie is willing to do.

“Hey, man,” Eddie claps Jeff on the back trying to act casual, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach. “Can we talk?”

“If it’s about your boyfriend, then no.”

Jeff takes a big swig from his beer, the look in his eyes unusually cold and distant.

“Come on, man. I thought we agreed that-”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind. Look, Eddie. I’m happy for you, I really am. But you cannot expect me to put on a brave face and pretend that this doesn’t fuck me up.”

His words slice through Eddie like a knife, sharp and quick, no mercy on his heart.

Eddie probably deserves it for thinking he could ignore the giant ass elephant in the room and simply wait it out. Wait for the problem to solve itself, for everything to go back to normal, back to easy. Because truth is, there is nothing easy about this.

Eddie knew from the start that this would be complicated, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t. He knew and yet, stupid as he is, he still hoped they could just... move on. Not forget but maybe lock up the memories of a different time and go back to how things were before. When they were just friends, no feelings involved. At least not those kind of feelings.

“I’m sorry, Jeff,” he says, head tilted down to avoid his friend’s piercing gaze, “I know it’s-“

It’s what? Hard? Unfair? Well, yeah, obviously. At least from Jeff’s point of view. But what is Eddie supposed to do? He didn’t choose to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have feelings for Jeff, only they’re different now. Not that he ever-

It’s a cruel thought, even though it’s true. They both know it because Eddie never pretended to be in love when he wasn’t. Was he attracted to Jeff? Oh, absolutely. Otherwise they wouldn’t have ended up in bed together. More than once. And it wasn't just the prospect of easy sex that had Eddie coming back for more - it was the thought of falling asleep in Jeff's arms. To be held by someone who makes you feel safe and cared for. He loved the kisses and giggles and how okay it was to be vulnerable and open because there's nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide because Jeff already knows everything about him.

The problem is, while it had all started out as casual fun between mates, something changed over time. Something Eddie noticed too late or he would’ve ended it sooner. Jeff never told him about his feelings, so that’s on him, but it is just as much Eddie’s fault because- he should’ve known anyway. Should’ve noticed the shift. But he hadn’t. Or maybe he simply refused to acknowledge it. Selfishly ignored it until he couldn’t anymore.

When he met Steve, he instantly knew he needed to put his cards on the table and come clean about what this would mean for him and Jeff. Told him about this guy he likes – ‘Don’t know if it’s mutual but I’d like to give it a shot, see where it’s going. Maybe it’s nothing but maybe- I think he could be the one.’

And at first, Jeff seemed to be fine with that. Said he understood that they couldn’t hook up anymore. Said he’d miss the fucking but ‘Eh, whatever.’

Only it wasn’t whatever.

But Eddie was so lost in his own head, so caught up on Steve, Steve, Steve that he didn’t see what it was doing to Jeff. Didn’t notice him pulling away more and more until Gareth mentioned it. Asked if something had happened between the two because they were acting weird.

So, when he finally confronted Jeff, things seemed... okay. Better. At least that’s what he thought when Jeff told him he’d get over it, that he just needed some time to adjust. Promised Eddie that nothing had changed when it came to their friendship but right now, Eddie isn’t so sure about that anymore.

And it kills him.

Makes him lie awake at night because he can’t stop thinking about all the worst possible outcomes. What if this breaks up the band? What if Eddie loses his best friend?

“I don’t want to lose you, Jeff.”

You’re up in five, someone calls from the side of the stage and Eddie knows this is the worst possible timing for a heart-to-heart. They should be getting ready, he should be talking to his boyfriend who he abandoned and left with people he doesn’t really know, in a place he’s never been to before. But he can’t step away, can’t leave it like that, not when Jeff still hasn’t said anything.

“I need you. You’re my best friend and I- I love you.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, to use this word, this feeling that is the cause for this mess and the reason for Jeff’s pain. But it’s the right word nonetheless, because it’s the truth. Eddie loves him. Maybe not like he loves Steve but different from the way he loves Gareth and Doug. This love goes deeper than friendship, soul-deep.

“I love you. You’re important to me and I know- I know you're hurt and I am sorry but I can’t change that my heart belongs to Steve.”

Eddie can’t stop, knows he should because right now, he’s only talking himself deeper into the hole he dug for himself. But he refuses to lie, refuses to try to appease Jeff with false hope – he needs to know where they stand. And if that means Jeff will tell him to fuck off, if that will be the end of their friendship, then-

“I hate you.”

Eddie’s heart stops at Jeff's words, eyes filling with tears as he braces himself for the biggest regret he'll ever have in his life.

“I hate you so much for even thinking you could ever lose me!”

They’ve got eyes on them now, Eddie can feel it, but he doesn’t care. Can’t, not when Jeff moves closer, taking one of Eddie’s hands to place it on his chest, right above his heart.

“It hurts. It fucking hurts. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, just sniffs and blinks away the tears blurring his vision.

“It’ll take some time for me to... get over this. But you and me, we’re bound for life, man. So don’t you ever think you’re getting rid of me. You hear me, asshole?”

Jeff smiles at him and even though there’s still sadness in his eyes, Eddie can feel that he means it.

“Uh... sorry to interrupt but, um, they said you’re up next so I-“

When Eddie turns to the voice coming from behind, he finds Steve standing there, hands in his pocket, nervously looking to the side.

“I’ll be down there somewhere. Have- have fun.”

Steve’s about to turn around, ready to step away but Eddie can't let him go like that, so he stops him.

“Baby, wait!”

He looks back at Jeff, hoping, praying to find what he’s searching for in the other man’s eyes.

“Go on, your boyfriend looks like he’s waiting for a kiss. Would be rude to leave him hanging.”

“Are you gonna be mad at me if I do?” Eddie’s not asking for permission to kiss his boyfriend, not really. But he’s willing to tone it down around Jeff if that’s what it takes.

Jeff scoffs, lets go of Eddie’s hand and takes a step back.

“So mad. But I’ll get to have you all to myself for the next 40 minutes so I guess it’s fine,” he jokes and it feels like a peace offering. Like maybe it’s the first step to better, before hopefully they can go back to how things were when everything was good, not complicated.

“I love you,” Eddie says again just because.

“Love you too, man. Now go take care of your man and then let’s get this fucking show started.”

Eddie nods, taking another moment to look at his best friend before walking over to Steve.

“Everything good with you and Jeff?” Steve asks quietly as Eddie wraps his arms around his middle to pull him close.

“I think it will be, yeah.”

Eddie's glad he never made a secret out of his past with Jeff, couldn’t bear withholding something so crucial from Steve. He needed him to know that no matter what, Jeff will always play an important role in his life. That if Steve wanted to be with him, he’d have to accept that there will always be a place in his heart that’s occupied by someone else.

Steve throws a look over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles to himself before leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Is that all?” Eddie asks when his boyfriend pulls away, leaving him longing for more.

“For now,” Steve confirms with a wink, “Your friends are waiting.”

With that, he wanders off into the crowd and Eddie, for the first time in weeks, feels a weight lift off his shoulders and heart.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated.

Maybe it just needs time and trust and mutual understanding.

He’s willing to try, willing to do everything to make this work

Because what he’s definitely not willing to do, is to give up one love for another.

#corrodedcoffinfest #pop up events #it's complicated #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #steve harrington

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bvrnesher · 9 hours ago

Note

Hi! I hope you day is going well, could you do headcanons for Leo Valdez? Like, if he was Spider-Man and he had a crush on the reader please?

sure thing, babe!

SPIDER-MAN ! LEO VALDEZ

cw: none.

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ🌙ㅤ˳ 𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳 ! 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

﹙𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆! ﹚ꪆ

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔?

Leo Valdez as spider-man would be chaotic. Chaotic Neighborhood Hero – If anyone thought normal Spider-Man was chaotic, they clearly haven’t seen Leo in action. He’s web-swinging upside down, making fire-powered aerial flips, and cracking way too many jokes mid-fight. Villains either get mad or give up from sheer frustration.

Leo Valdez who Flirts While Crime-Fighting – If you happen to be around when he’s in costume, he’s ten times more dramatic.

“Don’t worry, citizen! Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man has got this.”

“I know I look cool right now, but please, try not to fall for me.” (He totally hopes you do fall for him.)

Leo Valdez is like... Leo vs. His Own Secret Identity – He wants to tell you he’s Spider-Man, but also, he definitely wants to impress you as himself, too.

He’ll do stuff like accidentally mention something Spider-Man did, then awkwardly try to cover it up.

“Oh yeah, Spidey totally took down three guys in an alley yesterday—uh, I mean, I heard about that. From a...news thing. Haha.”

Leo Valdez who swings past your window every single night, even when he has no reason to be there. He’ll make up some excuse like “Just doing my patrol!” but he’s really just hoping to see you.

Leo Valdez who saves you once and is so smug about it.

“No need to thank me, mi amor—wait, actually, do thank me. Maybe with a kiss?”

Leo Valdez who panics every time you mention thinking Spider-Man is cool. Like, “Cool how? Cool in a ‘wow, I wanna date him’ way? Or cool in a ‘he’s a neat guy’ way?” Please clarify. It’s for science.

Leo Valdez who tries to act smooth around you but trips over his own webbing. One second, he’s flirting. The next, he’s flat on the ground, groaning. “You saw nothing.”

Leo Valdez who builds his own web-shooters and casually adds a mini flamethrower just because he can.

Leo Valdez who absolutely shows off whenever you’re around. Swings upside down, does unnecessary flips, probably almost crashes into a building because he’s too busy flirting with you mid-swing.

Leo Valdez who “casually” webs your hand so you have to hold his, and when you call him out, he just grins, “Oops. Guess we’re stuck like this forever.”

Leo Valdez who leaves you dumb, flirty notes written in webbing. You wake up to see “Good morning, beautiful ;)” webbed to your wall, and you have no proof it was him.

Leo Valdez who gets jealous of… himself. If you mention Spider-Man is cool, he plays it off like “Yeah, I mean, he’s alright.” Meanwhile, he’s internally screaming because yes, he is Spider-Man, but you don’t know that and it’s killing him.

Leo Valdez who literally forgets how to speak when you kiss him while he’s still in the mask.

His brain just short-circuits. Stands there, completely frozen, before finally stammering, “…Uh. Can you do that again?”

Leo Valdez and superhero Dates (Without You Knowing) – Since he’s not technically allowed to tell you, he still finds ways to protect and impress you as Spider-Man.

Walks you home while swinging overhead, just to make sure you’re safe.

If it’s raining, he accidentally webs an umbrella to you from above.

You keep getting “lucky” when bad guys show up, because Spidey just so happens to be nearby every time.

Leo Valdez who saves little bits of web fluid so he can make you cute, tiny web sculptures. (They don’t last forever, but he makes you new ones all the time—little hearts, flowers, or tiny robots just for you.)

Leo Valdez who literally melts when you tell him you already knew.

(“WAIT, YOU KNEW?! AND YOU LET ME EMBARRASS MYSELF FOR MONTHS?!”)

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒔.

#bvrnesher #‧₊˚✧ s. posting !#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #riordanverse x reader #pjo x reader #pjo series #hoo #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #spiderman #headcanon #pjo headcanon #pjo hephaestus

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momentomori24 · 3 months ago

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[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #do not come for me curly fans i'm one of y'all i promise. kinda #if i had a nickle for every time i made a post dragging a blond man i'd have three #which isn't a lot now but that number will likely increase in the future lmao #seriously tho i'm so sick of seeing people be all “there's no evidence that he's an enabler” and “he did all he could” like screw you guys #the point of the whole story is that his inaction is what allowed for everything to happen #that his willingness to do nothing put him in a state where he can only watch the horrors without being able to do anything if he wanted to #it's about TWO captains who kept going on about taking responsibility and did anything BUT that #he's not as horrible as jimmy obviously but he doesn't need to be to do damage and be awful #you know what i very well may just be a lot meaner and uncharitable to him than i should be here #but i guess tumblr can be the judge of that. i still rest my case. now time to continue avoiding curly discourse like usual XD #normally i wouldn't care enough to make a post about the way the fandom treats him because it's nothing unique or anything #but something about this game and him being blond specifically made me unable to resist. i just can't be nice to him for that alone #pardon the typos i whipped this up in a hurry and am too lazy to go over everything right now #momento rambles

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