#and the second one he asks her to come and reaches out his hand for her to grab

[prettycopperpennies]

Falling Walls | Kang Dae-ho (Player 388) x F!Reader Oneshot

Description: If Dae-ho thought you would be an easy ally he had another think coming. (golden retreiver x black cat type shit. Slow burn)

Warning: Cursing, Toxic Ex (not Dae-ho), no gore but the setting is squid games.

Dae-ho x Female Reader

Player 456 was telling the truth. You were in shock as you saw people falling to the ground out of the corner of your eyes. You listened much closer the second time Player 456 ran to the front of the group and yelled out instructions.

“Get behind someone bigger than you,” he said, his last command before the massive doll turned its back to the rest of you.

Suddenly you were being maneuvered. Player 388 had stuck out a strong arm and swooped you behind him. You were surprised by how quickly he jumped into action, but your incredulity only lasted a few moments. With a huff you stepped out of his shadow. You made it a few steps before you had to freeze again right beside Player 388.

“Didn’t you hear what he said? ‘Get behind someone bigger’,” he said, clearly surprised by you overtaking him. You glared ahead, not daring to move. 

Dae-ho was completely lost. He had moved out of his way to help you, and it’s not like he expected you to be worshiping the ground he walked on for it, but he definitely did not think you would be annoyed. 

As soon as the song began again you turned your head in his direction and said, “Didn’t you hear what he said? If you’re going to talk when we’re not supposed to move then you had better cover your mouth.”

Dae-ho’s mouth was agape, not sure how to respond. Lucky for him he didn’t have to think up something to say; you were already moving far past him. He could have easily kept up with you, but an older player had taken your place behind him. He couldn’t leave a defenseless old woman behind so his only option was to watch you as you made your way across the field.

You turned around when you crossed the finish line watching with bated breath as the other players tried to cross in time. You exhaled when Player 456 and Player 120 just barely dragged an injured man across the line, but as soon as they crossed over the hurt player was “eliminated”.

You jumped when you heard the gunshot ring out, and jumped a second time when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s because that player was supposed to be taken out of the game earlier. I don’t think they’re just attacking random players now, it’s okay,” a voice said.

You turned your head to see it was Player 388.

What is his deal? you asked yourself as you shrugged off his shoulder.

“I know that,” you said curtly, turning on your heel and walking towards the opening doors. You wanted to get away from the now blood soaked playing field, creepy doll, and the annoyingly friendly Player 388 as soon as possible.

What’s her deal? Dae-ho asked himself as he watched you walk away. He couldn't figure you out, but unfortunately for you he was determined to.

1 YEAR EARLIER

You were sitting on the couch, surrounded by tons of papers. Receipts, debt notices, loan statements, threatening letters, and an eviction notice. The lines of letters and numbers (way, way, way too many numbers) started to blur as you began to well up with tears. 

You heard the door open but never close, and you looked up to find your boyfriend frozen in the door frame. You grabbed fistfuls of paper; not even making a dent in the haphazard stacks around you. Your boyfriend flinched as you held them up for him to see.

“When were you going to tell me about… all this?” you asked.

He didn’t answer and instead took a few tentative steps towards you.

“Don’t,” you warned, trying to sound intimidated as your voice quivered.

He didn’t listen to your one word warning as he slowly closed the space between you with each step.

“I’m so serious. I’m not just going to forgive you,” you said.

He was close enough to reach out a hand, cupping your tear stained cheek with his palm before saying, “I don’t expect you to. I fucked up-”

“Yeah, you did,” you said. Your tone was stern and unforgiving, but you still hadn’t brushed away his hand.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said.

“We’re getting evicted,” you said, tears now freely running down your face. He sat down next to you pulling you into a tight hug. You folded into it. Even though it was all his fault, he had always been the one to comfort you.

“I’m going to fix this, okay?” he said, “You don’t need to worry. It’s my fault. I’ll fix it.”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head, “This is a partnership. I don’t care who’s fault it is. We get through this together.”

“Really?” he said with relief as he pulled out of the hug to hold your cheek in his hand once again.

“You would do the same for me,” you said.

“Of course I would,” he said. 

You sighed, feeling a glimmer of hope. You could always count on him to help you feel better about anything, no matter how hopeless it seemed before.

PRESENT DAY

Everyone in your vicinity started to cheer, but you stayed stoic. Yes, you had just won the vote, but you weren’t elated. It was simply a pragmatic decision on your part. It was not like you wanted to stay. You simply had no other choice.

As you walked back towards your bunk you saw the player who kept trying to help you during the first game. You were surprised to see he had voted O. You figured he would want to end the games immediately before anyone else got hurt. His own eyes went over the crowd and landed on you. You quickly looked away, hoping against hope he hadn’t noticed your staring.

“There is no way we both showed up wearing the same thing,” a familiar voice said. You rolled your eyes before turning to face Player 388. He was sporting a sarcastically shocked expression, looking between your outfit and his.

He pointed to your blue O patch and his before saying, “I mean, it’s down to the accessories and everything. What are the chances?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. There was no way in hell you were about to crack a smile over such a cheesy joke. You scoffed before heading in the direction of your bed.

“What I was trying to point out was we both voted O. Let’s be allies,” he said, easily keeping up with your quick pace.

“I don’t need an ally,” you said curtly. You were suddenly stopped in your tracks as he stepped in front of you.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked before gesturing with a nod to the other players.

You looked around realizing a lot of people were already forming groups. This did not bode well for you. You had meant what you said: you didn’t need an ally… Or, maybe it was more like you didn’t want an ally.

As you looked around the room Dae-ho noticed your nervous expression. He felt guilty when he saw how his point had stressed you out. He mentally kicked himself for inadvertently freaking you out.

He leaned towards you, dipping down a little to bring you closer to eye level.

“I don’t think it’s actually a big deal,” he said in a much quieter tone, attempting to make up for his comment moments earlier, “It’s more like I need an ally, you know? I’m sure you’d be fine on your own.”

You were taken back by how gentle this seemingly boisterously energized player seemed. You turned back to face him only to realize how close the two of you were.

“I know I’ll be fine,” you said, but this time you couldn’t quite manage to sound as vexed as usual.

“No, I totally agree. You seem like a badass,” he said. If jokes didn’t work in breaking down your apathetic facade maybe compliments would.

Or maybe not, Dae-ho thought to himself as you openly rolled your eyes. You side stepped around him. This time Dae-ho stayed back as you stalked off to your bed.

“I’m around if you change your mind,” he called after you.

“I won’t,” you said over your shoulder, determined to figure out a way to make your way out of this on your own.

You ate by yourself. You were one of the few people who had not seemed to find their own group of people to buddy up with. Player 388 was talking across the room to a group of men that included Player 456. He seemed completely at ease, and you found yourself almost jealous of his outgoing personality. He caught your eye once again, giving you a small wave. You did not return the gesture instead moving your eyes off him as quickly as you could.

I’ll be fine, you said to yourself, repeating the phrase once again. This time though you struggled to believe it.

SEVENTH MONTHS AGO

You were packing as fast as you could trying your best to ignore the many excuses your boyfriend was telling you.

“She’s just a friend,” he insisted for the millionth time.

“Very good friends apparently,” you spat back, wrestling with yourself to keep your tears back. This asshole was not about to make you cry.

“Y/n, it didn’t mean anything,” he said.

“To you, maybe!” you said.

“I don’t care what it meant to her. Really, I don’t. You matter so much more tha-”

“Shut up! What do you think seeing her and you together meant to me? How it felt?” you asked.

“Babe, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Don’t call me babe. And don’t apologize. I don’t want to hear it,” you said. It wasn’t exactly true though. You couldn't help it. You still found yourself caring about him a little, and hearing him say sorry sent a squeeze to your heart no matter how much you wished it didn’t.

“I really am sorry,” he said as he reached out his hand.

He used his classic move, gently cupping your cheek as he apologized for whatever new fuck up he did. You paused for a moment, shaken by how close it was to working, before you shoved his hand away.

“I’m leaving,” you said, grabbing your bag.

“Wait, don’t go. Let’s talk, please,” he said, the words coming out quickly as he followed down the hall. You quickened your pace knowing any second now he could break your resolve. It didn’t matter how bad he hurt you, you always seemed to forgive him. But not this time.

PRESENT DAY

Your mouth went dry as soon as the voice announced over the loudspeaker to form groups of five. It was as if the universe was hell bent on proving you wrong and Player 388 right. It seemed like everyone else was making groups with ease, basically already having a group already made thanks to the previously forged friendships.

Dae-ho was giving you the space you wanted, but he couldn’t help but notice the nervous expression you wore when he spotted you in the crowd. He wanted nothing more than to go over and offer you a place on his team, but he stopped himself from going over and giving you a helping hand. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to help you; it wasn’t what you wanted. His shoulder relaxed, which he hadn’t even realized he had been tensing, when you found a group just in the nick of time.

You ended up with a group of men led by Player 100. He was surly off the bat and not at all interested in making friends which was fine by you. It wasn’t a problem till it came to choosing who would play which game. 

“And you can play Jegi,” Player 100 said, assigning you a game.

“I’ve never played Jegi,” you told him.

“Then you had better find a way to practice! If you mess up, we’re all dead,” he said with a huff like it was somehow your fault for never playing.

“How would I practice?” you asked.

This is exactly why I don’t need an ally, you thought spitefully to yourself.

“There’s pebbles all over,” he said, pointing at the dirt ground you all stood at, “Pick some up. And. Practice.”

“Is everything okay over here?”

Player 388 was walking up to your team. His expression was one you hadn’t seen before, and it was surprisingly intimidating. But he wasn’t looking at you. Instead he was glaring down Player 100.

“Go back to your own team. We’re fine here,” Player 100, waving him off.

But Player 388 didn’t seem so easily scared off. He stepped between you and the old man, clearly not planning on leaving any time soon.

“Look, it’s not my fault she’s refusing to play Jegi,” Player 100 said, not backing down either.

“Are any of you good at Jegi?” Player 388 asked the rest of your group.

One member timidly raised their hand, trying their best to avoid the glares from Payer 100. Suddenly another member spoke up saying they much preferred Djaki over Spinning Top. That opened up the floodgates, and all three players on your team quickly started to admit they’d like to switch games. Player 388 looked at you with a much kinder expression (one you were used to seeing him sport).

“Which do you want to play?” he asked.

“I’m alright at Biseokchigi,” you admitted. You couldn’t tell if he was actually starting to wear you down or it was thanks to his earlier moment of intimidation, but your usual cold shouldering demeanor was momentarily dismantled.

 He nodded before looking over to your other group members, one of whom was happy to switch spots with you. Player 100 openly scoffed at his team's betrayal, but his attitude was somewhat quelled with Player 388 gave him another look.

“What game is left over?” he asked the team without ever taking his eyes off the old man.

“Spinning top,” you said.

“Alright, then you’ll have spinning top,” he said, assigning Player 100 a game in a very similar fashion the man had assigned your game to you. You waited a moment for Player 100 to disagree, but he knew when he was beat. Without argument he took a seat on the ground, and your other teammates followed suit.

Player 388 turned to you and asked, “Are you good? You know, maybe they’ll let you switch teams.”

“I’m good,” you said, moving towards the end of your team’s line to take a seat.

“Let me help you,” he asked. You were taken aback by the earnest desperation in his voice, but you managed to shake it off before responding.

“I don’t need your help,” you answered curtly.

He groaned in frustration, but left you to your own devices as he went back to his own team. You had gotten your way, and yet there was a part of you that was a little sad to see him go.

“Lucky you know Dae-ho. I would kill to have a marine as an ally,” your team member sitting next to you said.

“Who’s Dae-ho?” you asked.

“Player 388. I thought you two had formed a pact or something,” they said, their eyebrows raising with surprise.

“Oh. No, we haven’t,” you said.

Dae-ho managed to cheer louder than anyone else for your team, which wasn’t an easy feat considering how loudly everyone was yelling. As soon as you crossed that line relief flooded through you. Of course, there was one person in particular who caught your eye mid celebration.

When Dae-ho saw you smiling at him he felt his knees start to go weak. For the past few days he’d only been getting eye rolls and frowns, but he hadn’t expected you to look so beautiful when you smiled. As soon as you looked in his direction he started to whoop even louder, giving you a grin. He swore he could see your demeanour brighten even more as the two of you locked eyes. But, as much as he wished the moment would last, you and your team were soon swooped out of the room.

Your eyes shot to the doors every time you heard them open to let in a new celebrating group. A tinge of disappointment jabbed at you as each group passed and it was missing one familiar face. You tried to distract yourself, making and remaking your bed countless times.

Why is there literally nothing to do here, you thought to yourself.

You were trying to convince yourself you were bored, not worried for one very specific player who had somehow started to worm his way into your heart. Whether you were willing to admit it or not, the fact that he stood up for you meant something to you.

Your bed was in the midst of being made for the hundredth time when the doors opened once again. You had almost given up hope, but still you chanced a look. Against all odds you saw a familiar ponytailed tall frame. Without thinking you rushed down the steps with relief fueled adrenaline.

Dae-ho stopped mid conversation with his team as soon as he saw you standing just a few feet from him, breathing heavily. He bit back a smile at the uncharacteristic situation you were in. It wasn’t until you were face to face with him that you realized exactly what you were doing. You were so happy he had made it, fully terrified for the past half hour he wasn’t coming back through those doors, that the second you saw him your brain turned off. But now, with Dae-ho’s eyes looking into yours, the switch had been flipped and your mind was racing once again.

What am I doing? you internally screamed at yourself. You thought about just turning around and walking away, but he had already seen you (of course he did, you had ran directly up to him).

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“What? Yes,” you said, trying and failing to sound apathetic, “I ran down the steps just now.”

“Any reason why?” he asked.

“I… really have to go to the bathroom,” you said.

It was a shitty lie. You both knew it. You internally cringed, but Dae-ho was all grins. At a feeble attempt to prove your claim was true you started to head in the direction of the restrooms.

“I’m not letting you off that easy,” Dae-ho said.

“What are you even talking about?” you asked, feigning confusion.

“That’s actually so weird,” he said.

“What’s so weird? Me having to pee? I hate to break it to you Dae-ho, but everyone does it,” you said.

“Nah, I’m talking about you being a terrible liar. I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years,” he said.

“I’m not lying,” you said, stopping to glare him down. Your attempt at intimidation was completely undermined by the “I’ve totally been caught” blush blooming on your cheeks.

“Relax. That just means you're a good person,” he said.

Somehow that comment had shot through a crack in your walls and hit your heart straight on. You didn’t want to admit how much it meant for this absolute golden retriever of a person to think of you as a good person.

Dae-ho noticed your silence and it stung. He didn’t like how simply telling you you were a good person totally knocked you off your feet. He knew what he said was true, and it hurt him to think hearing it was something special. He didn’t think a compliment like that should be something foreign to someone like you.

“You really are a good person, you know,” he said, repeating what he had said before.

You were surprised to feel a burning behind your eyes. The earnest tone in his voice, what he was telling you, it was all about to bring you to tears. The walls you so carefully crafted weren’t cracking, they were crashing down. You couldn’t stand feeling so vulnerable and instead of shooting back some quippy comment you took off before he could see a single tear slide down your cheek.

Dae-ho watched you rush off to the bathroom, leaving him feeling heartbroken for the distant girl he had undeniably fallen for.

3 MONTHS AGO

You rubbed your forehead in frustration as the elevator music played from your phone. You had been on hold for three hours and were about to lose your mind.

“Hello Miss y/n,” a voice said, finally bringing an end to that cursed generic tune.

Your fist clenched tightly around the phone, more than a little relieved to finally hear a human voice, “Yes, hello! I’m here!”

“So we looked through your records, and it seems like the best course of action for now is to suspend your account and get a new card,” the voice said.

“But I’ve already done that,” you said with a sinking feeling.

“Oh… Ah, yes I see that,” they said.

“So, you see why, right?” you checked, hoping for some sort of solution in the midst of the worst storm you had ever found yourself in.

“Um…” the voice trailed off, clearly trying to find what you were alluding to in some sort of file.

“It’s my ex. He had my credit card info and used it to pay off his loans, but I can’t pay any of it back. I’ll be put into debt,” you explained, running a hand through your hair in stress.

“I see. Well, perhaps we can cover some of that. I believe if you report him-”

“I tried, but that…” you bit your tongue, stopping the “asshole” just on the tip of it from falling out, “He’s currently seeing someone pretty high up the ladder in the force, so...”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it really didn’t seem like a productive phone call,” you admitted.

You quickly brushed away the frustrated tears falling down your face as if this person was standing in front of you. Of course, they had no idea, but even now you couldn't even stand the thought of someone simply being on the phone with you while you were like this.

“Listen, he stole my identity, took out credit cards in my name, paid off loans with my money, took out more loans in my name, and I need to figure out a way to fix this,” you said, praying they couldn’t notice the quivering in your voice.

PRESENT DAY

You were standing on the raised circular level a little nauseated by the hypocritically cheerful carousel motif. You tried to focus your head, but it was admittedly hazy. You had spent the last twenty four hours trying desperately to tamp down thoughts of two men in your life. Once from the past and one you were all too aware was very much in your present. You were completely unsuccessful in your attempts, and instead you had been tossing and turning all night and completely unable to eat at mealtimes.

Dae-ho glanced in your direction, knowing he wouldn’t catch your eyes no matter how much he hoped. He hated seeing you the other day leave the bathroom with red rimmed eyes. Clearly you had been crying. All he wanted to do was give you a hug and tell you it was okay. It was okay to cry, to be sad, or mad, any of it was okay. But if he thought you were distant before then this was a whole other level. Ever since your conversation after the last game you were avoiding him even more than before, which was saying something. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from watching out for you as the horribly familiar voice echoed across the room as it explained the rules.

You had managed to stumble across some much deserved luck. You choosing to stay ally-less seemed to be an advantage for Mingle. Everyone had their previously forged groups, but as the numbers called out by the voice fluctuated there was always people needing just one more person to join their group.

You and Dae-ho seemed to be playing your own separate game: how to look at each other without the other person noticing. Despite your resolve to completely forget him you could not stop yourself from scanning the crowd after every round. You would always feel relieved every time you saw his tall figure among the crowd. Dae-ho was doing the same, making sure you always had a group before he went into his own room. He was starting to worry as the game went on. You had seemed tired before the game even started, and as it continued he could see the exhaustion start to set in.

As soon as the voice said “Two” you tried to keep your head in the game, but the rush of bodies around you already had you stumbling. You couldn't even find someone to pair up with, and the rooms were quickly filling up. With a deep breath you accepted the failure that was approaching. But then a hand grabbed your own and pulled you towards one of the few empty rooms. You saw the number 388 on the back of your savior’s shirt.

Of course, you thought to yourself. Despite being so sure of your fate just moments ago you were hardly surprised Dae-ho saved you just in time.

He closed the door behind the two of you, and suddenly the hectic world was shut out. You both stood, frozen, looking at the other. You couldn’t find what to say. You had kept yourself closed off for so long, and so severely, opening up was suddenly an impossible task. Dae-ho was of course the first one to break the silence.

“Sorry. I know you’ve been keeping your distance for a reason, but-”

“Did you just apologize for saving my life? God, that is so…you,” you said, and despite everything you felt an exasperated smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

He paused for a moment before giving you a feeble laugh. You bit at your lip in nervousness, knowing what you were about to ask and it terrified you. Dae-ho noticed your stress and assumed the game, and how close you both just came to losing, had really shaken you up. He wanted desperately to offer you some sort of comfort; to say something or just hold you. But before he could do anything you were speaking up once again.

“Want to be allies?” you asked.

He gave you a soft smile as he took a step towards you with a nod, “Of course.”

“Okay,” you said, trying not to sound so overly relieved.

“I mean, I had never even thought about it before, but it seems great for a totally random idea,” he said, and you let yourself laugh at his little joke.

Dae-ho’s chest puffed up a little as you giggled, practically on cloud nine to not only get you to smile but actually laugh. He wanted to do it over and over again for as long as you would let him.

1 WEEK AGO

You turned the card over and over again in your hand. Your cheek was still stinging from the odd interaction in the subway. But at the end of it all you were given the very card you were holding now. You hadn’t been able to crawl out of the hole your ex made for you. You had no other answers.

With a deep breath you dialed the number on the back of the card.

PRESENT DAY

You waited nervously on your bed as gunshots rang out from floors above you. You thought about going too and helping them, but when you admitted you didn’t know how to use a gun they told you it might be best for you to stay behind. You still felt bad. Dae-ho and you were officially allies now, and you couldn’t help but feel you were letting that partnership down.

When Dae-ho stumbled into the room, you sat straight up. Something about him didn’t seem right. He seemed totally out of it as he rifled through pockets of jumpsuits. You quickly crossed over to him, kneeling down next to him.

“Dae-ho, is everything okay? Are you okay?” you asked.

Your voice pulled him out of the barrage of intense thoughts and images flashing through his mind. He was shutting down, but hearing you suddenly brought him back. He looked at you; a buoy in the storm.

Your heart broke for him as you saw his eyes start to well with tears. Instinctually you reached out and pulled him into a hug. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his shoulders start to relax. Neither of you had been that physically close till this point, but even in this heightened situation it seemed so natural.

“I… I can’t go back. It’s too much like…” he couldn’t finish his train of thought, but you recalled what another player had told you during the second game about Dae-ho being a marine.

“It’s okay,” you said, rubbing calming circles on his back before helping him get on his feet. He grabbed your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his, needing to stay close to you in this moment. You let him pull you to sit next to him as he sat on his bed, and you wrapped a protective arm around him.

“I don’t know what to do, y/n. They need help, but I…” he started, struggling to finish his sentence once again.

“You stay here, okay?” you told him. You moved to get up, but he wouldn't drop your hand from his. Instead, he looked at you with wide-worrying eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’ll be alright. I’ll take them the ammunition,” you assured him, once again attempting to get up. He stopped you once again, pulling you close. Your breath hitched in your throat as he brought his hand to your cheek. It was a feeling that should seem so familiar, but somehow as Dae-ho gently held your cheek in his hand it couldn't feel further from your ex. Just like everything else Dae-ho did, this was real and not some “move” to get you to do something for him.

“I can’t be the reason you are put in danger, y/n,” he said, proving you right. He was not trying to make you forget any mistakes or to fix anything for him. He just wanted to hold you close.

You subconsciously leaned in, and it only took a half of a moment for Dae-ho to meet you in the middle. The kiss was gentle and full of care. You naturally leaned into his palm as he cupped your cheek.

“I’ll be alright,” you said, breaking the kiss.

He moved his hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck, guiding you so your forehead rested against his.

“I’m not going to let you risk everything for me, okay?,” he assured you.

Player 120 entered the room, and the both of you moved away from each other. He tried over and over again to apologize while she grabbed the ammunition he had gathered, but then she was stopped by one of her own allies. All of you snapped your heads to the sliding doors as guards entered the room. Player 120 and her friend quickly and quietly hid the ammunition she was currently holding.

Dae-ho grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. Neither of you knew what was coming, but it seemed like it would be alright as long as you had each other.

[iamsebastiansstan]

like one of your girls - NAC x fem!reader

summary - “Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in.

wc - 6k - MINORS DNI !

warnings - lots of dirty talk as always, crying during sex, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f), creampie, aftercare 🥹

A/N - I dedicate this chapter to @hoffmansgirl because he's literally doing it rn girl like literally !!! anyways, this update was fast but I probably won't be writing much for the next few weeks, I GOTTA STUDY lmao come tell me what you thought of this, any and all feedback is appreciated <3 enjoy!

taglist - @blackynsupremacy / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby /

PART 1

Waking up next to him is like a dream she never wants to wake up from. She’s watching him as his eyelids flutter open, his nose scrunches up, as he stretches his strong arms above his head and groans adorably while looking at her through squinted eyes. 

“You been awake long?” he asks her, and she shakes her head no. 

He’d spooned her last night, she remembers, they both needed that closeness without crossing too many lines, and already she’s feeling withdrawals, missing having his body heat along her back. It isn’t awkward now, but the tension can definitely be felt in the air.

“Good. When do you need to get back to New York?”

She thinks about it for a minute, heart beating fast. Is he asking to be polite or is he asking so they can make plans to see each other? She hopes to God it’s the latter.

“On Wednesday. I made plans with some friends to hang out while I’m still here.”

He hums, scratches the back of his shoulder. 

“Wanna give me your number? I’d quite like to see you again.”

Trying hard to keep her screaming internal, she reaches over to the bedside table and hands him her phone, watching as his nimble fingers type in his digits before pressing the call button. 

“Think my phone’s dead but the call should’ve gone through. Now we can text each other.”

She smiles warmly. “I’d like that.” 

They don’t keep their eyes off each other as they get dressed, him slipping into last night’s clothes and her into some fresh ones, and she can feel the want for him pool deep in her stomach, bitter at everything they didn’t get to experience yesterday, glad about what they did get to do.

“Hey, just one second, (Y/N),” he stops her as she’s about to leave the room and she turns, looks up at him when he steps close. “I’m gonna take the advice you gave me yesterday, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re a second option, a rebound, anything like that. I enjoyed yesterday immensely.” 

Her heart flutters at his consideration, but she only smiles and puts a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin softly. 

“I’m not here to make your life more complicated than it needs to be, Nicholas,” she assures and means it. “I enjoyed it too, and I’d love to see you again if possible. If not, then no hard feelings. We can be honest with each other. Friends get to do that, no?”

His nod is slow, the relief basically radiating off of him as he grabs her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles before opening the door for her, following her out.

Nicholas doesn’t stay for breakfast, but he kisses Cooper’s cheek and thanks him, hugs her with a quiet promise to text her, and soon enough she’s perched on a bar stool at Cooper’s kitchen island, spooning cereal into her mouth and doing her best to dodge his suspicious looks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says through a mouthful.

“Not looking at you like anything.” 

She levels him with a look, unimpressed.

“Ask what you want to ask or shut up entirely, Coop.” 

A slow smile spreads across his face, seemingly shy but his blazing eyes betray him as he asks, “Did you fuck him?”

She expected this, so she answers calmly. 

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The question makes her stop for a moment, unsure how much she’s allowed to say.

“I think you know why. Are you mad?” 

He rolls his eyes, takes her hand in his.

“No, of course not. I’d be happy for both of you. But I know that you’re both,” he shoots her a meaningful look that she expertly ignores, “in a rough place in life right now, and I’d hate to see you take it out on each other.” 

She nods, understanding where he’s coming from.

“Is Nick going to get the same speech?” she asks, only half joking.

“A much stricter one, I can tell ya that!” 

She laughs as she gets up along with him to clean the mess from their breakfast up before she goes to meet with her aforementioned friends, heart fluttering the entire time at the prospect of Nick messaging her. 

*** 

She’s sitting in the park and sipping on her smoothie when she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Tuning out her friends’ laughter for a minute, she takes it out to see that it’s from Nick, making excitement bubble up in her chest. She opens it immediately, not expecting anything, when suddenly the words make her want to choke on her own spit.

not to be too forward but I just made myself come to the thought of how tight your throat would be around me. I’ll be thinking about that for a long while.

Two seconds later:

hope you’re having a wonderful day. 

Trying not to seem like the mess he’s turned her into within seconds, she does her best to fight off the mental image his message is creating in her mind and reply somewhat coherently. 

You’re a fucking dickhead, do you know that? I’m out and about and now I’m dripping. Thanks for nothing.

His reply doesn’t take long, has her taste blood from where she’s gnawing her bottom lip open. 

that’s how I want you baby, all the time. see you soon. 

She’s distracted for the rest of the day but when her friends ask her about it, she chalks it up to her stressful college courses and tight deadlines. Despite the butterflies dancing in her belly, she’s had a nice time, and when she walks into Cooper’s house later, she’s got a beaming smile on her face. 

“Honey, I’m home!” she shouts, taking off her shoes and hanging up her handbag by the door. 

“Honeys, please!” comes Stuart’s voice from the living room and she grins as she walks in, presses a kiss to the tops of their heads. 

“Missed ya at the party yesterday,” she says and plops down on the loveseat across from where they’re cuddled up on the couch. 

Friends is on. She hates that show.

“Yeah, I was sad I couldn’t make it, but Cooper is throwing a pool party tomorrow, so I’ll still get some fun in.” 

She’s surprised at hearing about yet another event, but she’s not complaining. 

“And drinks,” Cooper reminds him helpfully. “Lots of drinks as well.” 

They chat a little, watch a small part of some movie that’s on when Stuart switches the channel, stay up until it’s hard for her to suppress the yawning. Bidding them goodnight, she stands up to go into the guest room when Cooper calls out her name.

“He’ll be there tomorrow,” he lets her know, a kind little smile on his face, and she nods gratefully before ascending the stairs, ready for sleep.

The next morning, she doesn’t overthink it, mainly because she refuses to give up so much power so soon.

It’s just her usual routine; the shaving, the skincare, the comfy bikini, a midi dress over it. No make-up, just her necklace, she refuses to get dolled up for a pool party. From what she knows, it’ll be a much smaller affair than Friday’s party was, and she’s looking forward to it.

“I’ll handle the BBQ, could you just make the salad dressing and carry these out to the patio, (Y/N)?” Cooper asks her, and she obliges gladly.  

They set everything up rather quickly, the guests start arriving soon, and she tries her hardest not to stop in her tracks when she sees Nicholas walk out through the glass doors of the living room, hugging everyone he knows before he spots her. The way he rakes his eyes over her body before settling on her face makes heat creep up her neck, and she knows that it’s got nothing to do with today’s temperature. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greets her, wraps his arms around her to give her a good squeeze.

“Hey, you,” she smiles, inhales his fresh scent, enjoys having him in her arms again. “How have you been?” 

The breath he exhales as he pulls away is deep, it lets her know that things have gone down, but the private smile he gives her makes the oncoming worry in her mind disappear. 

“I’ve been alright so far, I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

She nods, cheeks warming. “Okay. Come find me.”

She allows herself to be open, truthful in her wants, and he chuckles at that, squeezes her shoulder.

“Always.” 

They don’t sit next to each other during lunch, but they keep glancing over the table and finding each other’s eyes, and every single time it happens, it makes the heat coil tighter in her stomach. He looks fucking good today, ruffled hair and a loose button-down that he keeps open, muscular chest flashing at every turn. At some point he puts his sunglasses on and turns his head straight in her direction, but she can’t tell if she’s being stared at or not, faltering during the conversation she’s trying to have with one of the girls at the party. 

When they’re all full and satiated, they go and find their own things to do: some go to swim a few laps or just cool off in the pool, some go to lounge by the grass and read, some stay at the table and keep drinking and chatting. She decides to walk over to the big tree at the back of the garden, finding a comfortable spot on the outdoor sofa under it and laying down, head comfortably resting on a small pillow. It’s not like she’s hoping he’ll find her there; she knows he is going to come and join her eventually. She just needs a little breather yet again, getting easily overwhelmed in big groups of people.

“And here you are, sneaking off again,” she hears his voice after Lord knows how much time has passed, and she can’t help the slow smile that spreads across her face. 

“My social battery empties quickly,” she starts to explain as she watches him sit down at the end of the outdoor couch, but what she doesn’t expect is for him to grab her legs and drape them over his lap, rubbing up and down one foot lightly.

“D’you mind?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

“No, ‘s comfortable.” 

They sit in silence like that for a little, just looking at each other, and she can feel a lump grow in her throat. Never has she wanted somebody as badly as him, and the restraint she has to show is otherworldly at this point. 

“What happened, Nicholas?” she dives straight in, direct as always, watches him exhale deeply.

“Well,” he laughs, no humor behind it. “I had that conversation with her yesterday.” 

“Yeah? How’d it go?” she asks, heart in her throat. 

She thinks back on what he told her, that he’s scared to give in to his ex, that he might let her convince him to try one more time, one more moment, one more fuck, and she feels pathetic for how scared she is that he’ll tell her that this is it, it’s over between them before it even started. 

“She took it well. I hate hurting her, I really struggled, but she… she didn’t put up a fight,” he explains, and a wave of relief mixed with guilt washes over her, has her breathe easier. “She knows, I think. We both do.” 

“You still love her, though, don’t you?” she presses, winces when he grabs her foot and digs in, massages at a sore spot.

His smirk tells her he isn’t sorry.

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t mine to have anymore, and I am so okay with that.” 

“Do you feel bad about Friday night?”

He scoffs, pulls her foot up to his mouth and presses a kiss against it, has her gut clenching from the motion, so intimate, so familiar. 

“There’s nothing I’ve felt better about in a while, I’ll be honest.” 

She nods, at a loss for words. Wanting to jump him right here, but cautious considering their surroundings. Wanting to have him but wanting to keep building the tension to see what happens when he snaps. 

It’s hard having a filter in his presence, so she blurts out, “How many more times have you thought about me having you down my throat since you texted me yesterday?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas chokes and throws his head back, eyes shut as if it’s hurting him to think about it.

“I need to know, Nick.” 

“Last night again… then this morning, as I was getting ready to come here.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Last night before or after you went to see her?” 

His brown eyes are wide when she looks into them, they’re honest and sincere, which is why it hits so much harder when he tells her, “Both.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, sits up and pulls her legs to her chest, needing to collect herself. “You’re a bastard, Nicholas.” 

“I can’t help it,” he smirks, reaches out to lay a hand on her knee but not moving closer. “What about you? Did you have to help yourself out at all?”

She nods dumbly, unable to look away from his face.

“Last night, as well. Three times. I couldn’t sleep without it.” 

A bite to his lips tells her he’s imagining it, thinking about it.

“Did you give yourself any fingers? Or did you only play with your clit?”

“M-my clit, didn’t put anything inside of me.” 

She feels the increase of her pulse, feels the tingle in her core at the way he looks at her, devours her with his gaze.

“Why not, little girl?”

“I want the next thing to fill me to be you, Nicholas,” she confesses, lays herself bare and relishes in the devastation her words cause him, the way his jaw drops, his brows raise. 

It’s safe, she reminds herself, he’s safe. She can be vulnerable with him, can let him throw her against the wall and trust that he’ll pick up the shattered pieces to put her back together. 

“You’re killing me, do you know that? The things I wanna do to you…” he trails off, stares into the distance for a moment. “I’ve never wanted to do them to another person. I don’t even fucking know you.”

“No, but you see me. And I don’t need to know what those things are, Nicholas. I feel them. And I want them, too.” 

A harsh puff of air leaves his nose before he’s leaning back, gazing at her, face resolute.

“Go to the room upstairs and wait for me there, will you?” 

She nods, mind and heart racing, does as she’s told as she gets up on shaky legs, knees nearly buckling. Making sure her walk isn’t too fast as not to rouse suspicion but fast enough to show him that she wants this, so he can see- and he certainly is watching her ass as she’s leaving- that she’s on board with what he’s trying to do.

She meant what she said: she doesn’t need to know, she feels it. 

Arriving in the guest room, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, nerves getting the best of her and leaving her nearly dizzy. She splashes some cold water on her face before cupping her hands and letting the water from the tap fill them, bringing them to her mouth and swallowing mouthfuls before she turns it off. The image that greets her in the mirror is one she hasn’t seen often: a woman delirious with lust, eyes glazed over and cheeks blotchy. 

A sound from the outside makes her dry her face off quickly before stepping out, seeing Nicholas shut and lock the door, eyes dark.

They say nothing as he stands across from her and puts a hand on her cheek, runs his thumb across her lips, smiles when she takes the very tip of it between her teeth and bites down gently.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” he asks, and she nods as he pushes his finger deeper into her mouth, presses down on her tongue and leaves it there. Her hands find his torso, his chiseled muscles to hold on to lest she loses balance, and she sucks his digit into her mouth deeply, hollows her cheeks as they keep staring at each other. “You’re a good cocksucker as well, though, hm?”

She shrugs cheekily, smiles around his finger when he chuckles. She pulls away, then, kisses the tip of his thumb. 

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” 

The way he rolls his eyes playfully is so sexy, takes away some of the suffocating seriousness that has crept into their dynamic without breaking the tension, without diminishing the spark they have. 

Large palms frame her face as he looks at her deeply, anticipation forcing her mouth to open in a gasp, and that’s when he takes his chance, claims her mouth in a kiss so sensual that it has her moaning into his lips. It doesn’t take long for his tongue to find hers and he licks at her muscle, lets her in and deepens the kiss, makes it dirty but so full of lust and devotion that she can’t help but stand on her tippy toes to chase after that sensation. 

His hand finds her throat, grips it lightly yet makes her feel breathless, a dirty chuckle against her lips breaking their moment.

“You’ll let me in there, won’t you, baby?” he rasps, drives his finger down the front of her throat. “All the way inside?” 

She nods, stupid with want. “Yes, please let me. I need to taste you, Nicholas, fuck.” 

He kisses her again, then, toying with her mouth as his hands unzip her dress, pull it off her body, leaving her in only her bikini.

“Kneel in front of the bed, with your back facing it,” he instructs, burying his head in her neck and nibbling lightly, grinning at her gasp.

She does as she’s told, has little control over it, kneels obediently and looks up at him with a wet pout on her lips. Remembering what he told her last time, that no woman could ever take his cock down here throat, believing him. Despite its length, what probably causes trouble is the veiny thickness of it, the very thing that makes cunts drip for him being the reason for locked jaws and hurting lips.

The walk over to her is deliberately slow, he’s letting her stew in her desire for him, but she can’t even complain, not when she gets to observe even his most miniscule movements uninterrupted. The first thing she does when he’s right there is fall forward and bury her face in his crotch, over the material of his linen shorts, inhaling deeply. His clothes smell clean but there’s a musky undertone, something so distinctly man that it has her mouth watering.

“Shhh, there you go, get your fill,” he whispers, drives his hands through her hair and she’s so grateful he’s letting her express her desperation how she needs to. 

The balance of her body barely allows her to get up on her knees, but she manages, presses open mouthed kisses along his torso, as far up as she can reach. She licks into his navel, kisses down his happy trail, moans as she traces her tongue along the waistband of his briefs.

“Fuck, I’m so hungry for it,” she breathes, “please give it to me, I need it so bad.” 

Nicholas chuckles, a sound that hits her right in the chest, and untangles the strings of his pants. She’s glad he’s decided to take his shorts off completely, wrapping her hands around his thighs as soon as he’s stepped out of them and mouthing at his hard cock through his briefs, tongue tasting a salty wet spot and groaning into it.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re like a woman possessed,” he growls, all pride and no disgust, and it spurs her on to reach up and pull his cock out, get his underwear out of the way so she can really revel in everything his manhood has to give.

He discards his shirt as well, then, and there he is: her personal Greek God in all his glory, naked flesh for her to devour. 

A tear makes its way down her cheek and she’s done with waiting, needs for him to own her. 

“Please,” she breathes and smiles wickedly as he grabs his cock, pumps it once, twice before holding it by the base and- 

And slapping it across her face, the hit harder than she anticipated, making her cry out with nasty hunger.

“Again,” she begs, and he obeys with a wide-eyed stare, slaps her one more time, two more times before hooking his thumb in her mouth and pulling it open, praising her when she automatically sticks her tongue out.

Nick traces the leaking head of his cock over her tongue, and she could cry when the salt hits her tastebuds, the warmth of his flesh mixing with the wetness on her muscle.

“This is what you were made for, baby,” he says, praises her, talks as if he’s far away. “You’re so fucking beautiful, just waiting for me to ruin you, huh?” She nods her head before shaking it, making sure his precome coats all of her tongue, moans when he orders, “Suck this cock, sweetheart.” 

Not needing to be told twice, she engulfs the thick tip in her mouth, sucks on it as she moves her tongue down to coat his length in spit, to ease the way, to make it easier for him to claim the depths of her throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses above her, hands not ceasing their movement in her hair, and she sees it as motivation to keep going. The louder he is, the louder she wants him.

Some men like a mix between a willing mouth and two skilled hands, she knows, but today she wants to show him just how hungry she’s been for his cock since she met him, so she works her lips around him, determined to not need her hands for this. She sinks deeper and deeper, lets the accumulated spit from her mouth coat him, doesn’t mind the strings of it escaping and dripping down her chin, makes sure she keeps her eyes wide and on him as he’s struggling not to squeeze his shut.

“Halfway there, baby, you’re so fucking good f’me,” he moans, “Messy little girl, just like that.”

She lays her tongue out and takes a deep breath before pushing down stubbornly, eyes screwing up as he goes deeper and deeper, watching his slack jaw and wide eyes marveling at something he’s always wished to experience but never could, not with the women he’d been with before. Relaxing her throat and feeling him push through that last bit of resistance as she fights against her gag reflex, fights to keep it deep within her chest, fights through the pain it brings her not to openly cough at the intrusion in her body. She can’t stand it, not for long, and she has to pull away with a chest-wracking cough, trying to collect herself but delirious with the need to prove her devotion to him.

“Baby, that was amazing, just-“

“Fuck my throat, Nicholas,” she rasps through the tears, gets in position again and takes his cock in hand this time, jerks him a little until she gets herself under control again.

“(Y/N), are you sure? Once I start, I won’t be stopping until you give me a signal, no matter how much you cry, okay?”

Jesus Christ. She nods, determined. 

“I’ll tap your thigh twice if I need you to really stop, okay?” 

He bends down and kisses her deeply, wipes at the tears on her cheeks.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers before straightening back up, gripping her by the hair and growling, “now open that fuckin’ throat for me.”

It’s animalistic, the way he takes her mouth, pushes his cock deep and keeps snapping his hips up, moaning loudly as she chokes, as she holds onto her own thighs just to have something to grip while he uses her. Inch by inch he fucks himself deep, groans her name, “My good girl, that’s right, show ‘em how it’s done,” knowing exactly how to spur her on, how to give her the strength to fight through her body’s struggles.

She’s gargling out spit, face wet and messy, when he finally, fucking finally manages to bottom out, bury her nose in his trimmed pubic hair, almost doubling over when she then sticks her tongue out until the back of her throat starts burning to lap at his balls with the tip of it, just to show him that there’s nothing stopping her from satisfying the hunger she has for him. 

“Ho- oh my fucking- ugh,” he moans, the tightness of her sending him into overdrive, the way her choking and swallowing around his cock stimulates his sensitive head making tears spring to his eyes. 

He grabs her by the hair and rips her back roughly, letting her breathe heavy for a minute before diving down to claim her lips in a bruising kiss, in awe at this woman kneeling in front of him.

“Fuck, that felt good,” she laughs manically against his mouth, tears and snot dripping from her face, but they don’t care, they’re reveling in the way they can mess each other up.

“You okay, baby? Your voice is fucked,” he smiles as she nods eagerly, clearing her throat.

“More, please, fuck my face just a little more,” she begs, watching his eyes widen at her request, but she doesn’t care. Now that she’s gotten a taste, she wants more. 

One hand in her hair and the other one on her jaw, he pushes between her lips again, keeps pushing until he’s in all the way and pulls her off again, watching her splutter and cough for a second before reeling her in again. Nicholas seems to enjoy that, watching her struggle with her throat full, struggle to catch her breath after, but whenever her eyes meet his in a silent plea, she sees the fire in his gaze burn that much brighter before he goes in to fuck her face again.

“No more,” he pants, grabs her by the arms and pulls her into a standing position, steadying her as her legs give out from having knelt for so long. “Fuck, I almost came down your throat.”

“Why didn’t you?” she pouts, face a total mess but causing him to smile at her warmly regardless.

“Don’ wanna, wanna shoot my load inside of you,” he mutters, makes her cheeks heat up.

“Next time, though?”

He laughs, kisses her swollen mouth.

“Promise, baby.”

Nick makes quick work of her bikini and gets her naked and sprawled across the bed in record time, writhing under his heated gaze as he just stands here, cock hard and dripping with her spit, watching her.

“Spread your legs for me,” he instructs, eyes raking over her form, and with a shy bite to her lip she obliges, parts her legs and lets him look at where she’s sloppy wet for him. 

“Need you so bad, I’m all swollen,” she whines, watches as he positions himself between her legs, kisses along her stomach up to her tits.

The first nipple he takes into his hot mouth gets a quick bite shortly after, making her hiss, before he moves over to the second, giving it attention while she rakes her hands through his hair, lost in sensation.

It’s all she’s ever wanted and more, the fucked-out state of arousal that has her mind feeling honey sticky and slow, completely out of her own body. She focuses on his weight on top of her, the way his spit on her nipples paired with the cool air in the room gives her gooseflesh, and soon enough she’s whimpering as he trails his kisses in the direction of her center.

“Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in, licks her in broad stripes and has her throwing her head back in ecstasy.

All the blood rushes to her center and despite not even having been touched properly, the tension burns, makes her clit tingle where it’s being loved on by his clever tongue, and she can’t help but bury her hands in his hair and push her hips up into his awaiting mouth. Nicholas eats pussy like it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever had, like it melts on his tongue, the way he pushes between her inner lips and slurps at the very source of her arousal. By now he knows how much she loves the attention on her little nub, so he sucks it into his mouth, taps his tongue against it until she’s arching off the bed, only being held down by his bulging arms. 

“N-Nick, fuck, fuck no-,“ she’s trying to push him off, the buildup of her climax making every limb tingle, but he holds on, holds her steady until she’s crying, begging, “please, let me come for you, please, please, pl- fuck-“

A hum of confirmation, the vibration of it hitting her core, is all it takes before she’s coming hard, pulling his head closer and trying to bat him away at the same time, and the minute her high decreases and her muscles relax he’s on her, kissing her lax mouth, pushing his tongue deep and letting her taste her pussy on his sinful lips. 

“Y’taste sweeter than I could’ve imagined,” he’s breathing hard against her mouth, “sweetest pussy just for me to take, ain’t it? Fuck, I need to be inside of you.”

The “Please,” punches out of her, already wrapping her legs around his torso so he’d slip in easier, giving him all the access and shouting into his shoulder as he slides his cock into her in one go, fills her up until she can feel him in her lungs. She pushes at his chest so he’d pull away, look at her, grabs him by the face and hisses “What the fuck are you, who the fuck- what are you doing t- to me?”

Nicholas’ laugh is amazed, top lip curled over his perfect teeth as he focuses on drilling into her hard, watching her lose her mind under him, watching her give herself over to him without a care in the world. He angles his hips just so, pelvic bone brushing against her clit with every thrust, making her see stars.

“You’ll come for me like this,” he promises, voice shot, “you’re so gorgeous, fuck. Look at you, can’t believe you’ll come for me again, I’ve got you-“

“Nick, please,” she cries, terrified of what her mind is making her body do, “I can’t-“

“You can and you will,” he snaps, grabs her by the face and pulls her close, kisses her pouting mouth. “Come for me, (Y/N), I wanna see you lose it.” 

She doesn’t pass out this time but she kind of wishes she did, because the groans and moans and pathetic whimpers that rip out of deep within her are sounds she’s never going to unhear now. If it were with anyone else, she’d be mortified, but he just talks her through it with pride in his voice as if she were his girl, his to coach and use and fuck and lo-

But isn’t she? She sure feels like it. 

“Atta fuckin’ girl, that’s right, oh I’m gonna come, baby-“

“Fill me up,” she whispers, lax now, letting herself be used and moved like a rag doll, “I wanna feel you dripping out of my pussy for days.”

“Oh shit, (Y/N)-“ and that does it for him, apparently, as he pushes in impossibly deep and spills inside of her, moaning into her neck and holding her close, filling her body and mind and heart, and dear God, she’s a fucking goner. 

The room smells like their sex, like musk, heady and dazed, makes her head spin where she’s laying under him and wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Nicholas’ breathing is labored but he’s still pressing lazy kisses against her temple, arms still around her spent body.

After a moment, he peers down at her. 

“You okay, baby?” he whispers, like the atmosphere is something fragile.

She doesn’t trust her voice, so she just nods.

“Was it too much? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head no.

He chuckles deeply, leans down to kiss her mouth and she can’t do much more than to let herself be kissed, can’t reciprocate.

“Talk to me, love, c’mon,” he requests gently, and when she hears that little nickname, hears the care in his voice, her lip starts wobbling and her tears start running freely down her cheeks. “Oh, baby,” he soothes, lets her cry in his arms, holds her through it.

She’s heard of people crying after sex, especially after intense sex, but it has never happened to her. Laying here, though, on these ruined sheets, face and body and her fucking insides sticky with him, after having been used so mercilessly and still having him hold her like she’s something precious, talk to her like she’s something to be cherished? She can’t take it, the turmoil of the last few days, the last few weeks, paired with the experience of his mere existence sending her into overdrive. 

“Let it out, I’m here f’you,” he whispers, shushes her, kisses her head, and soon enough she runs out of tears, only sniffles where she’s hiding in his neck. 

Nicholas pulls away, props himself up on one elbow as his other hand keeps stroking her hair, her face, anything he can reach. He’s got a small smile playing on his full lips as he looks at her, and she smiles back, exhausted but satiated.

“’m sorry for this,” she croaks, voice barely there.

Before she can say anything else, he interrupts her, shushes her with his thumb on her lips. “Please don’t,” he says, eyes kind, “I’m so honored that you trust me enough to fall apart like this. Seriously, (Y/N), this is not a small deal.” 

She clicks her tongue, eyes welling up with tears again.

“I know,” she whimpers, takes his hand in hers and kisses it. “I know it isn’t, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with this. I- Nicholas… What the fuck?” 

He brings her to his chest, holds her close, kisses the crown of her head.

“None of that now, baby,” he whispers, “Now I gotta give you some good aftercare and then we’ll clean up, okay? We can talk later, when we’re both in our right minds. That sound good?”

She nods, says, “I don’t wanna go back to the party,” but it’s muffled against his full chest. 

He hears her anyways.

“We don’t have to; we’ll just stay here." 

Cleaning up is a quiet affair, they keep each other close at all times, standing under the shower together and just washing each other, hands trailing across the other with no intent to take it further. It’s intimate, it’s connecting, and it’s exactly what she needs to come down from the rollercoaster he’s put her through. Nicholas rummages through the closets on that floor until he finds clean sheets and changes them while she stands next to the bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, watching with a small smile as he wrestles with the fitted sheet.

“Too many workouts today,” he grumbles as he pulls it over the corners of the bed, “I haven’t consumed enough calories today for this level of exercise.” 

She giggles at his silliness before she lets herself fall onto the bed, holding her arms open for him to crawl in, settling his head on her boobs.

“Naked cuddling is my favorite,” she whispers to him conspiratorially and he nods eagerly, agreeing.

“Same, don’t nearly do it often enough.”

She’s ready for a nap, she realizes as she lets her eyes fall shut, and soon enough she’s slipping away softly, clutching him tightly.  

Unsure if she's dreaming or not, she hears a soft, "I've got you, my sweet. Always got you."

[isaadore]

YOURS TO KEEP CONNOR BEDARD

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing connor bedard x reader

SUMMARY connor has always kept his personal life private, but during a blackhawks family skate, he surprises his teammates and the media by introducing you as his girlfriend. word count 0.9k

warnings fem!reader, use of y/n, fluff, established relationship, teasing

note requested by anon <3 i'm sorry i made connor seem so tall; he definitely isn't… (he's only two inches taller than me)

CB98 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

CONNER WASN’T ONE to draw attention to himself off the ice. He kept his head down, focused on hockey, and left the spotlight to the bigger personalities. It’s not that he was hiding anything—okay, maybe one thing.

You.

You’d been together for years, long enough that Connor’s rookie season with the Blackhawks wasn’t your first brush with the hockey world. But he had always kept your relationship private. There were no Instagram posts, no public outings, and no “soft launches.” He didn’t see the point in inviting unnecessary attention.

Then, out of the blue, he brought it up over takeout one night.

“So, there’s this family skate coming up,” he said casually, too casually, as if he hadn’t been rehearsing the line for days.

“Okay…” you said, raising an eyebrow as you speared a piece of broccoli with your fork.

“I was thinking, maybe you’d want to come?” He said it so fast that it almost sounded like one word.

You froze, mid-chew. “Wait, are you serious? You want me to meet your teammates?”

He shrugged, trying—and failing—to look unbothered. “I mean, yeah. It’s no big deal.”

You stared at him, a slow smile spreading across your face. “Are you blushing?”

“Just forget it,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

“Hey, no! I want to go,” you said quickly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“I do,” he said, quieter now. “I want you there.”

A few days later, you found yourself at the United Center, lacing up your skates while Connor hovered nearby. He was fidgeting with his gloves, glancing toward the ice, then back at you.

“Are you nervous?” you asked, half-laughing as you tightened your laces.

“No,” he said immediately, then paused. “Maybe. I just… I don’t do this stuff.”

“Connor, it’s a family skate, not a press conference.”

He huffed a laugh but didn’t look convinced.

The second you stepped onto the ice, Connor was right there, his hand in yours, steadying you. It was sweet how he acted like you might fall at any moment, even though you’d skated plenty of times with him before.

“You good?” he asked, glancing down at you.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling up at him. “Are you?”

Before he could answer, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. A group of his teammates was gathered near the bench, and they were definitely watching.

“Wait a minute,” Lukas said, his eyebrows pulling together as he looked between the two of you. “Who’s this?”

Connor stiffened, his fingers tightening slightly around yours, but he didn’t let go.

“This is… uh, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady despite the blush creeping up his neck.

The group fell silent for half a second, then erupted all at once.

“Shut up.”

“No way.”

“You’ve been hiding her this whole time?”

Taylor skated closer, eyeing Connor with disbelief. “You’ve been holding out on us, man. How long has this been a thing?”

Connor shifted awkwardly, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “A while.”

“A while?” Alex said, his mouth falling open. “That’s all you’re giving us?” He turned to you, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “How do you put up with him? He’s, like, the least talkative guy on the planet.”

You laughed, shooting Connor a playful look. “He’s not so bad. When he talks, it’s usually worth listening to.”

A few of the guys laughed at that, while Connor just muttered, “Real funny,” under his breath, though he couldn’t quite hide the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

By the time the group had mostly dispersed, Connor was still at your side, his hand brushing against yours every so often, as if he needed the reassurance.

At the end of the skate, the team gathered at centre ice for a group photo. The team photographer directed everyone into position, and Connor stood with you off to the side, watching.

“C’mon, Bedard!” Lukas called out. “Bring her in, too. It’s a family skate, isn’t it?”

Connor hesitated, glancing at you. “You okay with that?”

You nodded, smiling. “Of course.”

Without another word, he led you into the group, sliding his arm around your waist as you both smiled for the camera. It felt natural, like you belonged there.

The photo was shared on the team’s Instagram later that evening, captioned: Family Skate Day ❤️

Almost immediately, fans noticed the small detail that sent the internet into overdrive: Connor Bedard, standing with his arm around a girl.

The comments section exploded.

user01 WAIT WHAT

user02 who’s the girl next to bedard??

user03 No idea but it should be me

user04 user03 preach

user05 wake up this is not a drill connor has a gf 💔

user06 Oh my day is ruined

user07 talk about a hard launch

user08 she’s so pretty stoppp

Connor didn’t notice the post until his phone buzzed with a flurry of notifications. He frowned, pulling it out of his pocket.

“Uh,” he said, staring at the screen. “I think the team might’ve… posted something.”

You leaned over to see, a soft laugh escaping as you read the caption. “Clearly.”

Connor sighed, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “This is why I don’t do social media.”

You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’s not so bad. They’re just happy for you—for us.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

You smiled. “I am. Are you?”

Connor hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft. “Better than okay.”

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ CB98 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[pankowcrumbs]

The Set up X Joseph Quinn (Requested)

The smell of rosemary and garlic hit me the moment I stepped into Fred’s house. It was cozy, with warm lighting and the kind of eclectic decor that could only come from someone who spent half his life traveling and the other half collecting oddities from every corner of the world. I slipped off my coat, hanging it on the rack by the door, and smiled at Victoria, who was already perched on the arm of Fred’s well-worn couch.

“Y/N!” she beamed, rushing over to wrap me in a hug. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, pulling back. “Though I still don’t understand why you were so insistent.”

Fred appeared from the kitchen, his apron dusted with flour, a mischievous grin on his face. “Because, dear Y/N, this is not just any dinner party. This is an experience. A culinary masterpiece. A—”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, laughing. “I get it. You’re very proud of your cooking.”

“Fred takes his dinner parties very seriously,” Victoria added, rolling her eyes fondly.

Fred gave her a playful glare but then turned back to me. “Anyway, drinks are in the kitchen. Help yourself. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I nodded and made my way to the kitchen, which was bustling with activity. A few of Fred’s friends were already mingling, chatting over glasses of wine and plates of appetizers. As I reached for a glass of white wine, someone stepped up beside me.

“You’re Victoria’s sister, right?” a warm, slightly raspy voice asked.

I turned, and there he was—Joseph Quinn. His curly hair was a little messy, and his dark eyes sparkled with curiosity. I froze for a second, my hand hovering over the bottle of wine, before quickly recovering.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, pouring the wine and offering him a small smile. “And you are?”

“Joe,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fred and I worked together on Gladiator 2.”

My eyebrows shot up as I shook his hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Oh, right! Victoria mentioned Fred had been working on that. I’m guessing you’re an actor?”

“Guilty as charged,” Joe said with a grin. “And you? Are you in the industry too?”

“Nope,” I said, laughing lightly. “I’m the boring one in the family. I work in publishing.”

“Publishing?” he repeated, tilting his head. “That’s not boring at all. Books are far more interesting than movies half the time.”

We ended up chatting for a while, standing by the kitchen island as the room filled with more guests. Joe was easy to talk to, with a quick wit and a knack for making me laugh. I didn’t even notice Fred hovering nearby until he cleared his throat dramatically.

“Well, well,” Fred said, a sly smile on his face. “I see you two have met.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he just grinned wider. “Fred,” I said slowly, “why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”

“Who, me?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just thrilled my two favorite people are getting along so well.”

Joe looked equally suspicious, but he didn’t say anything, just sipped his drink and glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.

Fred disappeared into the dining room, and I turned to Joe. “I think we’re being set up.”

Joe chuckled, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “It does feel a bit... orchestrated.”

Before I could respond, Victoria called us to the table. Fred had outdone himself, the dining room table laden with dishes that looked like they belonged in a magazine. We sat across from each other, Fred and Victoria on either side of us, and the meal began.

Throughout dinner, Fred’s “subtle” comments only grew more ridiculous.

“So, Joe,” he said at one point, leaning back in his chair. “Y/N loves art. Do you?”

Joe glanced at me, his cheeks pink. “Uh, yeah. I do, actually.”

“Perfect,” Fred said, clapping his hands together. “You should take her to that gallery downtown. It’s amazing.”

Victoria shot him a warning look, but it didn’t stop him. Every time Joe or I spoke, Fred found a way to twist it into some kind of romantic hint. By dessert, I was half tempted to kick him under the table.

Despite Fred’s antics, I found myself genuinely enjoying Joe’s company. He was charming without trying too hard, and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed was undeniably endearing. By the time the evening wound down, I was reluctant to leave.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Joe offered as I grabbed my coat.

“You don’t have to,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly protesting.

“I insist,” he said with a smile.

We stepped outside into the cool night air, the city quiet around us. My car was parked just across the road, and we walked in short comfortable silence until we reached it.

“Well,” I said, turning to face him. “Thanks for walking me.”

“Of course,” he said, his hands in his pockets. He hesitated, then added, “I had a really great time tonight. Even with Fred’s... matchmaking.”

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me despite the chill. “Me too. You’re not so bad for a setup.”

He grinned, taking a small step closer. “Not so bad, huh?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I teased, but my voice was softer now, my heart pounding as he leaned in.

And then, his lips were on mine, warm and soft and perfect. I melted into the kiss, my hands resting lightly on his chest as his arms circled my waist. It was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away, leaving just the two of us in the glow of the streetlights.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I glanced toward Fred’s house and froze.

Through the living room window, Fred and Victoria were celebrating like they’d just won the lottery. Fred pumped his fist in the air while Victoria clapped her hands, both of them grinning like maniacs.

Joe followed my gaze and laughed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

I couldn’t help but laugh too, the sound bubbling out of me as the ridiculousness of the situation sank in. “Well,” I said, looking back at him. “I guess they got what they wanted.”

“Maybe they did,” Joe said, his voice soft as he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” I admitted, smiling up at him.

He kissed me again, slower this time, and I knew, without a doubt, that this was just the beginning.

[oracleophelia]

BS: Work For It [Caleb x Fem! OC 18+]

A/N: Yes my first writing back is smut. Can't write reader insert or vague MC so its with my usual girlie but theres not really anything too descriptive, just her name. This is actually a chunk from a bigger smut, i couldnt get it all out of my brain so it is less than 1k but wanted to post something so the prequel will come later. <3 Not proofread, don't point any mistakes out thank yooou

Summary: Caleb wants you to work for it after doing most of the work in bed on date night. Warnings: overstim, p in v, creampie, squirting, pinning down Petnames: pipsqueak, pip, sweetheart, princess Words: 782

Caleb pinned Ophelia’s hands above her head and stilled his thrusts, staying inside her. Ophelia let out an exasperated, unsatisfied sigh. He'd brought her to the twice now and stopped right before each time.

“Go on, pip-squeak, why don't you work for it a little more?” He smirked down at her, his hand went to the pillow underneath her.

Ophelia tried to put her feet on the mattress on either side of Caleb's calves as he knelt in front of her on the bed. She huffed slightly as he brought his hands to her hip, preventing her feet from reaching the mattress. Caleb laughed. 

“There you go.” He grinned as her feet settled in the back of his calves. “Good girl.”  He smirked as he  leaned over her, the head of his cock pressed against her cervix. Ophelia just about saw stars.

Caleb kissed her as she whined. Ophelia went to put her arms back around his neck but he used a single hand to pin them back down to the bed above her head.  He broke their kiss, letting out a soft groan as her pussy twitched around him slightly. 

“Go on, get to work, sweetheart.” He chuckled and  pulled the pillow out from under her ass so she had to keep her hips up herself. 

Ophelia rolled her hips a few times. Caleb stayed exactly where he was, biting his lip as she grinned against him. She started to move a little faster, moaning as she found a good pace. 

“That's it, princess.” Caleb groaned. “Ah, fuck.” He let out in a pant as she clenched around him slightly. 

Caleb watched Ophelia squirm against him, taking in the marks he’d already left all over her body. Her breathing was getting heavier and her moans and whines louder. He chuckled softly and reached between them, starting with a soft touch with the pad of his index finger against her clit. He swirled it around once, the back around once more. 

Ophelia’s thrusts up against him got more desperate and uncoordinated as Caleb played with her clit, his eyes going between her face and his fingers. He felt her pull away from his cock slightly again and smirked as he met her thrust back to the base of his cock with one of his own, pushing just slightly more against her.

Ophelia cried his name, broken between her whines and moans.  Her hands above her head curled to grip the one Caleb was holding her hands down with, only managing to curl her fingers around a few of his fingers as she came. Caleb let out a short chuckle as he felt her gush against his hand and skin of his lower body. 

“What?” He asked and pulled his hand away from her clit. “Do you wanna hold my hands, pip?” He asked her, shifting forward. 

Ophelia gasped as he pressed into her more, almost folding her in half now. He smirked and intertwined their fingers, keeping her hands pressed against the bed above her head. She tried to drop her hips back down to the mattress but he had her pinned between him and the mattress now. 

“We aren't done yet.” He stated, following his words up with a kiss. He pulled out for a second, not all the way before thrusting back into her hard. 

Ophelia shuddered up another moan and tears streamed down her face as Caleb continued to thrust into her. 

“Too...” She exhaled sharply as he pulled away from her lips. “Too much, Caleb. She turned her head to the side as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Mhm.” Caleb grinned and shook his head, not stopping his thrusts. His grip on Ophelia’s hands tightened. “You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.” He picked up his pace and pulled a loud string of moans from her. “Oh, fuck.” Caleb groaned as she came around him again. 

Caleb was getting closer and as Ophelia came out of her own bliss, she felt his control slipping as he started grunting and moaning more and more. She squeezed his hands. 

“Cum, baby.” Ophelia breathed out. “Please.” 

“Where?” He muttered in between his groans, thrusts getting sloppier. 

“Inside again.”  She grinned and moaned against his lips as he kissed her haphazardly. 

Caleb groaned against her lips as the first spurt of cum started to fill her, he gave a few more stuttering thrusts as he emptied into her. Ophelia hummed as he stopped, his grip loosened on her hands as he pulled away from her lips again. He pulled one of his hands away and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ophelia smiled at him. 

MDNI banner : @/cafekitsune Apple banner: @/thecutestgrotto

[lemon-berri]

Perfume (pt 3)

There's that floral smell again. It's the first thing you notice, like a hand reaching out to you from reality. You take it, holding on tight. You're ready to come home.

Your other senses follow suit. There's a soft mattress below you, a cover like a cloud covers you. You're warm, in a cozy kind of way, and the covers beneath you rustle softly as you attempt to move- a gasp follows. You try and recognise the voice but can't seem to concentrate right now.

Finally, you open your eyes, and the real world comes into focus again. Blurry light immediately floods your vision and you have to squint. But soon you start to make out familar shapes, colour floods your world.

You're surrounded by flowers. Bouquets of your favourites flood every visible surface, and you might've thought you were in a meadow were it not for the familiar bed and furniture surrounding you.

You're in the medical rooms of Jujutsu Tech. That's right. You were on that mission, and then the wretched cursed spirit managed to trap you in your mind. There's a sinking feeling in your stomach as you realise you must've worried everyone.

When you try and move your limbs they feel weak, almost foreign to you. Your entire body feels stiff. Just how long were you out for...?

Someone's calling you name.

"Hey... hey can you hear me? Are you alright?"

You move your head slightly to find Shoko by your bedside, examining you with a concerned expression. Your heart clenches at the worry in your friends eyes.

"Sho...?" you croak out. Your own voice is a foreign thing.

She only chuckles, shaking her head slightly. "I knew you'd come back."

You try and speak again, but this time no noise comes out. Your heart races, why can't you move? Why can't you talk?

You felt like you were out for a day, possibly two. But then why can't you control your body? Just how long were you out?

"Don't put unnecessary strain on yourself." Shoko tells you. "I know you're confused, it will pass. You'll regain control of your body gradually." You watch her put a hand on your shoulder, but the sensation of touch takes a while to register. You feel even more afraid now.

"I'll help you every step of the way, okay?"

She's saying something else now, but you can't hear her anymore. Your eyelids feel heavy, and though you fight it, the darkness pulls you under again.

Rest. Yes. You need to rest.

The next two days are exactly the same. You wake up, try to move, get a few words out, and then you sleep again. But you're making progress, slowly managing longer conversations ever so slowly.

Shoko kept true to her word, she's been here every time you've awoken, she has not left your side. You've found out from her that you were gone for 3 months. It's still processing in your mind, how you could've missed so much time. It's a sickening, dreadful sort of feeling. One you haven't quite come to terms with.

No one else has come yet. Shoko is probably trying not to stress you. But you've noticed all the cards left for you. Some from your friends, others from your students. And an overwhelming amount from one very important person.

You've noticed his absence of course, but you try not to let it discourage you. You've seen the flowers around the room, the sea of gift bags along the floor. There was a white teddy bear next to you when you woke up, and you noticed you were tucked in with your favourite blanket from home.

There's no doubt he's been here. Clearly he's spent a lot of time here. He hasn't abandoned you.

On the evening of the second day, you finally manage the words to ask Shoko.

"S'toru.. where is he..?" Your voice is getting better now, you're making good progress.

"He was sent on an overseas mission just before you woke up." Shoko explains. She's writing something down in a notebook, you watch her hands move quickly along the paper. "Trust me, it was a massive argument between him and the higher ups. He didn't want to leave. But I've called to tell him you're awake, he's likely already on his way"

That makes you smile, he's coming back. Something burns in your chest. It's the same kind of determination you used to beat the cursed spirit. You'll be better by the time he comes back, you'll make even more progress.

Shoko seems to notice the fire in your eyes, she returns your smile. "Let's try sitting up next, yeah?"

The next day you're reading sentences out loud from a sheet of paper, getting used to your voice again, to forming full sentences. You've managed to sit up by now, and you've been moving your legs slightly- building up to standing again.

There's no one in the room but you right now. Shoko had other things to attend to, she's still at work after all. But you know she's only a call away.

"Dogs are better than rabbits, but rabbits are better than snakes-" You pause, musing to yourself. "What...? Who wrote these?"

That's when you hear a commotion down the hallway outside your room. Two sets of loud footsteps, walking fast. They're talking in raised voices, but you can't quite make out the words.

Your attention is immediately swayed, the earlier task all but forgotten. And you listen carefully as their voices become clearer.

"You have to stay calm or you'll stress her unessersaily."

"I am calm!"

"Sure. Clearly you are. Because this is how a calm person acts."

"I don't have the time for this-"

The door to your room swings open.

Your eyes instantly meet his. And you find yourself enraptured by a stormy blue ocean of emotions. He stops in the doorway, as if unable to move.

Not that you can either. Time stops entirely, and you take him in. Satoru. Your Satoru. He's home.

Your relief is quickly replaced with concern as your eyes trail along his form. His hair is dishevelled, and dark bags have formed under his eyes from a lack of sleep. He's trembling, his uniform is messy and unironed, and he's not wearing a blindfold so his head is probably already hurting.

Tears well in your eyes, for what he must've been through these past few months.

Perceptive as ever, he instantly notices.

"Nonono- Angel, I'm sorry, don't cry-" Satoru moves in towards you, wrapping his arms around you ever so gently. Like you're a porcelain doll that might break at any moment. On your end, you hold him so tight you feel like you might squeeze the air out of him.

Shoko stands at the doorway, making sure you're okay and that he's not causing you trouble, before deciding its safe to leave you alone. There's a gentle sound as she closes the door.

Satoru nuzzles your shoulder, white hair ticking your jawline. He breathes out your name like a prayer, like you're the only thing that exists.

You can't help the tears that flow from your eyes.

"I'm sorry-" you try to say, but it comes out as a sob.

He looks up, meeting your eyes. "Sorry? Why are you apologising?" His hands come up to hold your cheeks, brushing your tears away with his thumb.

"For making you worry..." You mutter out.

"Never-" Satoru shakes his head "and I mean never ever apologise. Okay? I should be on my knees thanking you for coming back."

He starts to crouch down, earning a laugh from you in the midst of your tears. He's always known how to make you smile.

"Please don't do that." You say.

He smiles, straightening up again. "There she is."

Then he's holding you again, tighter this time. You lean against his firm chest, feeling like you're home as you listen to the steady heartbeat you've grown so familiar to.

You're both quiet for a moment. Content with each other's presence. He's your peace, and your warmth, and the steady shelter in the middle of your storm. Your entire world. And you know, by the way he holds you, that you're his too.

"Toru..?"

Theres a pause before he answers. "Hm?"

"Did you have to get so many flowers?" You ask.

"Yes-" He starts to say, but his voice breaks. You don't need to look up to know he's crying. You just let him.

"It's okay... I'm back now, it's alright." You reassure him softly.

"M' sorry Angel..." He breathes out. "Its just... its been too long since I heard your voice..."

You hug him tighter, letting out a calm sigh. Theres a strange scent on his shirt. One that's familiar, but you can't quite place it.

"Well.. you'd better get ready for me to talk your ear off." You say to lighten the mood. Your nose scrunches slightly. What is that smell?

"I'd like nothing more." He says. You finally look up to find red puffy eyes staring back at you. Its unfair, even like this he's still irresistible. His eyes carefully study your features, like he's mapping them to memory. There's a glint of concern in the midst of the azure, and you wonder for the first time what you look like now.

You're probably weaker, undoubtedly more frail from the lack of movement. Does he like what he sees? Does he recognise you? Maybe he doesn't even know what to make of you. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

As if sensing your concern, he kisses your forehead.

"I love you... so much. You know that right? You're everything to me."

You don't hesitate to respond. "I love you too."

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. After all this time, he needs this. But just before your lips can meet, you pull back slightly to ask.

"Toru, why do you smell like my perfume?"

Pt 1 Pt 2

And that concludes Perfume! Thank you so so much to everyone who read it and followed the series! When I started this I didn't intend to write more than one part, but you all inspired me. I sincerely hope you enjoyed the ending 🩵

You already know the drill - not proofread, please don't point out my mistakes.

You're all amazing 🩵

Dividers by @bunnysrph

🌟Tag list ���� @seternic @hel1nn @just-another-idk @moonchhu @kvroomi @ourfinalisation @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee

[jonathancraneswife]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 / Robert Fischer

pairing - Robert Fischer x (fem!)reader

summary - When things at Fischer morrow get out of hand, robert asks for a favour from his very own secretary; you.

words - 2.4k

warnings - MDNI 18+ — oral sex (m! receiving), creampie, quickie, semi- public act, fluff, pleasure uses as relief, handjob.

notes - look who decided to post after almost a decade..imagine this is my first fic of the year wow istg i am coming back into writing, send requests

masterlist

In the fischer morrow, you were known to be the perfect secretary. you didn't just manage schedules and filtered emails

you knew the inner workings of the company better than most of its leaders.

And behind the polished professional demeanor rested a sharp intellect mastermind who calculated her every move with focused precision, you navigated the situation with effortless control leaving no chance of doubt for others to leave behind your work.

People in the company referred to you as a calculated person who was always one step ahead, many times you had received praises from the leaders at the annual ceremony of the company, you had great titles lined up in your office, overall you are the best employee of fischer morrow.

At this moment you stood in your boss’ office, casting a brief glance at your wrist-watch as you tapped your feet continuously on the ground, with every passing second you felt impatient and worried.

your boss. Robert Fischer, was a highly demanding person. rich and arrogant heir who would always throw tantrums at the smallest thing in the company but ever since his father died he has been utterly disturbed.

The man in question, your boss was fashionably late for the deal, for FischerI morrow, this was a crucial opportunity to secure their future, every second of this dealing was meticulously planned.

And if the company leader himself didn't show up, the deal would be called off entirely. you retrieve your phone from your bag and dial Robert's number, this was the twentieth call since the morning.

He didn't pick up the phone, yet again.

Minutes ticked by the absence of your boss, Robert, which became glaringly obvious. your frustration grew. The meeting agenda was tightly clutched in your hands as you glanced at the clock for the fifth time in ten minutes.

you couldn't help but grab the phone to call him once again, your fingers hovered over the keypad. the ring tone reached through your ear, each beep was mocking your anticipation.

“oh, come on” you muttered under your breath, the call went to the voicemail again, you hung up with a sharp sigh, tossing the phone onto the desk and leaning back in your chair.

Glancing at the clock one more time, the meeting would start in half an hour from now, where he could possibly be–?

The void of your thoughts was abruptly broken by the faint creak of the door. your gaze snapped toward it, Robert stepped into the cabin with an air of casual indifference.

The tension that had been building inside your chest finally eased, letting out a sigh of relief, you rose up from your chair. now striding in his direction.

“Sir, everyone is waiting for you. I hope you are aware how important this deal is for you and the Fischer morrow” you say, your tone was strictly professional.

The expressions on Robert's face were shifted slightly. his usually composed demeanor flattered as worry and uneasiness was crept on his face.

“Well aware” he muttered, his usual defiant tone was now laced with tension, his eyes darted towards the clock.

“Great, now we have to move things for the meeting quickly. We don't have enough time left” your voice was toned in annoyance and irritation.

you turn to the door, hurriedly your steps were determined to leave for the meeting

but before you could take another step, Robert’s hand wraps around your wrist in a tight hold, his desperate grip pulled you back in your place.

The warmth of his touch contrasts with the cold air in the room, confusion stirred up in your mind at his sudden actions, Robert’s firm grip on your wrist sends a jolt through your senses, leaving you trapped in chaos of your own uncertainty.

“I need to talk to you about something” Robert spoke, his demeanor was subtly shifted to vulnerability.

Yet another tantrum, you thought. bracing yourself for whatever his arrogant mind has conjured up to say this time, “I am all ears, sir”.

The moment this words left your lips, he grasped your waist closely, pulling you closely towards his body, earning a gasp from you at his sudden actions.

“Listen, t-today is an important day for me, for this company. D-dad has dreamed about this dream since the day he started off to build this morrow”. His voice drops to whisper.

“When he was on his death bed, he called me and said that I-I have to secure this deal, it is my responsibility now, and if I failed this opportunity then he'd be disappointed in me” Robert finishes of with a sigh.

Both of you were caught in a moment of exposure, as his personal assistant you knew how insecure and sensitive Robert was, only you knew under that cold facade rested a man who was deeply hesitant and self-doubting.

“..I know we will secure this deal, you have worked for this day and night, suffering from countless sleepless nights for this one project. they will be worth it” You tell him in a reassuring voice.

He shakes his head, “No- no, my gut feeling says that I am going to fucking lose this, and I cannot bare that loss-”

you cut him of abruptly, “Sir, you are just stressed and anxious about the deal, I believe you can do this, I trust you”.

Trust, a value Robert held above love, tension in his chest eased down at you assuring words, but the storm in his mind remained tugged in his thoughts.

“I-I know you trust me, but I need a favour from you, this is something only you can do” He continues in a low voice, “but this is something we have never done before…”

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, his twisted sentences made you perplexed

“What is it?” you questioned, “you can tell me without any hesitation”.

He sighs again, his eyes remaining on the floor as he speaks, “This is something more intimate, something more than personal” Robert intertwines his fingers with yours, his ocean blue eyes locked into yours sending a shiver down your spine.

"...This is so awkward," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. Robert hesitated for a moment, his eyes avoiding yours before finally admitting, "I-I need you to pleasure me”.

your eyes widened at his unexpected request, shock and uncertainty flashed on your face, For a moment. You weren't sure if you heard him correctly, his words echoing in your mind as you tried to process their true meaning.

His gaze softened as he took in your reaction, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words to ease the tension he had created.

“Please don't deny this, I need this, I need you, right now please I beg you. we can be quick” He pleaded out, his blue eyes sparked with true genuinity while his hold on your hands tightened.

you noticed the way his expressions turned more weak , Robert’s shoulder were hunched signalling lack of confidence. You paused, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, “Alright.”

Robert's features instantly softened, a flicker of relief washing over his face.His eyes, which had previously been shadowed with uncertainty, now brightened with a spark of hope.

He gently took your hand, leading you toward the leather couch nestled in the corner of his office.

Robert settled himself on the leather couch, He spreads his legs widely while his arms rested on the back of the couch, his blue eyes radiating a silent invitation for you to join him.

Once he was settled, you slowly dropped to your knees positioning yourself carefully between his legs, you knelt before him.

you were positioned between his sprawled legs, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Robert's blue eyes burned into yours radiating a silent invitation and a warning for you to hurry up.

slowly, you reached out and grasped his belt buckle, with unsteady fingers, you unclasped the buckle letting it drop on the floor beside you. The zipper to his trousers took an eternity to descend down in the charged silence of his spacious office.

As you pulled down the remaining fabric, his cock sprange free. erect, thick , heavy and the sheer size which was impossible to ignore, his length throbbed before you, The musky scent of his arousal filled your nostrils. you could feel the heat emanating from his skin.

your eyes locked with Robert's as you tilted your head slightly. "Do you really want this ?" you asked, your heart beating faster in your chest.

He nodded instantly, his voice was steady but there was an underlying desperation in his tone, “I need this” His gaze bored into yours, reassuring you with every possible movements.

you swallowed hard, forcing down the lump of fear that had settled in your chest like a heavy weight.

Hesitatingly, you wrap your hand around his impressive size, feeling the pulse twitch against your palm. Robert let out a sharp groan, his fingers curling around the leather couch.

you began to stroke his cock, your hand moving in fast and rapid motion. squeezing his length gently in your hands. the pace of your movements fastened leaving Robert breathless.

Leaning forward, you flick your tongue around the top of his cock to taste him, running it along the underside of his length, The sweetness explodes in your mouth.

you felt the weight of his shaft around your tongue, the thick vein pulsing with each beat. your tongue danced around the sensitive flesh, tracing every contour of his sensitive skin, you swirled around it around the swollen crown.

“Fuck, your being such a good girl today” Robert lets out between shakey breaths, his nostrils flaring as he tries to regain his control.

In the response, you took him deeper feeling his shaft in the right channel of your throat, your head darts up and down with precision, your lips guiding around his thick shaft in a hypnotic rhythm.

Robert gripped your hairs in a fist, urging you to take him deeper in your mouth. you took him in your mouth then inch throbbing by inch, until you could feel his swollen head at the back of your throat.

your head bobs up and down on his massive cock at furious, restless speed. The crude wet squelches and sloppy slurps of your desperate sucking filled the room punctuated with Robert’s grutal and primal groans.

your throat bulges obscenely at each brutal thrust, your neck muscles clenching around his invading grith as you suck his cock with solid licks.

Robert’s grip on your hairs tightened, “right at the spot, I am fucking loving it” he grunts, his voice coming out in pleasureable moans.

your skull slams in his groin at a punishing pace, your lips were tightly sealed around his throbbing shaft. guttural, animalastic groans and grunts tear from his throat as you suck him wild and desperate abandon.

His hand fists in your hair, gathering the dishevelled locks into a ponytail, he uses his grip to bob your head up and down in brutal, reluctant speed.

The head of his shaft brutally bruises the back of your throat making you gag on his cock, you struggle to breath. your lungs sceaming for air as he grinds his hips faster over your mouth.

your eyes bulge, tears pouring down your face while the streaks of mascara paint your cheeks as his cock head was deeply buried in the back of your throat.

The room was filled with the musky scent of Robert's arousal mixed with your stuffed moans and his animalistic groans.

He slams your head down one last time, burying his cock to the hilt in your convulsing throat. His body goes rigid, muscles seizing as his climax crashes over him like a tidal wave.

“I need you to take all of me, swallow every last drop for me” He groans, his voice was raw and primal. His shaft pulses and jerks, swelling impossibly thicker as it unleashes a torrent of hot, thick cum directly in your mouth.

you feel the first scalding spurt hit your throat, His cock twitches and bucks as it pumps out what feels like an endless amount of cum, flooding your inside with his essence.

you swallow greedily, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of his potent release, Some of it backs up, oozing out around his shaft and dribbling down your chin.

The room fills with the scent of sex and orgasam, the air thick and heavy with the musky perfume of his climax. Robert grinds into you, holding you in place as the last weak spurts dribble onto your tongue.

His chest heaves, sweat pouring down his face as he gasps for breath, riding out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. Finally, with a shudder and a groan, he releases your hair, his softening cock slipping from your abused throat with a wet plop.

After the moment, you slowly get up. feeling your cunt clenching and throbbing at the same time, soaking wet through your panties.

You straightened your pencil skirt, smoothing the fabric with trembling hands, and buttoned up your blouse, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the effort to compose yourself.

While Robert, stood by the couch adjusting his tie with one hand while tugging his trousers on his torso with the other hand.

Avoiding his piercing gaze, you cleared your throat and broke the silence. "Sir, the meeting starts in less than ten minutes. We really have to hurry." your voice was steadier than you expected, but your cheeks still burned with the memory of the scene.

Robert nods, the parable tension of the deal still lingered in his eyes. his expressions were vulnerable and sympathetic, he called out your name, “Wait”

“...stay with me during the meeting” his voice was shaken, a rare crack in the armor of his professional cold demeanour.

You nod approvingly , your tone calm and professional. "As your secretary, it’s my responsibility to guide you through the deal and ensure everything goes smoothly.”

Before he could respond, you reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist in a firm yet comforting grip."Mr. Fischer," you said softly but with conviction, "you’re going to close this deal, I believe in you.”

The sincerity in your voice lingered in the air, grounding him in a way that words rarely did. his guarded expression softened, and he gave a slight nod, drawing confidence from your comforting words.

[bullet-prooflove]

The PA: Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

The first time you see Rupert Campbell-Black naked, he’s balls deep in Paul Stratton’s wife, her legs akimbo on his shoulders as she screams his name like he’s the second coming of Jesus. He looks up with a smile on his face as he sees you standing there and you tap your watch to remind him of his phone call with the Prime Minster in 15 minutes.

“You’re not impressed with me are you?” He says half an hour later as he sits behind a desk that’s almost as old as this house he’s rattling around in.

“You are exactly the same as the three ministers I’ve assisted.” You tell him as you stand there clad in black high waisted trousers and white silk blouse he’s love to tear right off your shoulders. He watches as you reach over the desk, the fabric shifting as you pick up one of his cigars from the open box on his desk and ignite it with a gold lighter given to you by Mrs Thatcher herself. “Granted you’re in better shape.” You gesture to his open robe as you huff out a plume of smoke that twirls in the air. “But it gets awfully boring.”

All the other assistants before you, they’re terrified of him. They avert their gaze when it comes to his proclivities, they blush and they stumble over their words. He runs roughshod over them but you…

Oh you take him to task in a way that get’s his dick hard, with a tone that indicates he’ll get a rough spanking if he doesn’t do what he’s told. He can’t count the amount of times he’s fisted his cock at the thought of some of the shit the two of you would get up to together if you just let your hair down every once in a while.

“It doesn’t get you wet at all?” He asks you, picking up his glass of scotch and swirling it around so the ice cubes clink together. “Watching me fuck?”

You tilt your head, taking another drag.

“I’ve seen barn animals go at each other with more intimacy and erotism.” You remark, blowing out a smoke ring between those pert red lips of yours. “You know none of its real and still you chase it anyway, you love to be admired and you hate to be obtained. It doesn’t take a psychologist to work out what that’s about.”

“That’s enough now.” He says, his voice tight and you roll your eyes, stubbing out the half smoked cigar in the crystal ashtray on his desk.

“Alright Mr Campbell-Black.” You say in a tone that drips with a detached professionalism. Honestly your indifference, it shouldn’t get his dick as hard it does but there it is rubbing against the inside of his robe like the glutton for punishment it is. “You know why I’m here, you know what I do. I don’t give a shit who you’re fucking so long as you keep it out of the papers and don’t embarrass the PM.”

The word ‘again’ hangs in the air between the two of you because that’s what brought you into his life in the first place, a naked tennis game and a fight that was more of a running of the bulls at Tony Baddingham’s garden party.

“I know you’re not a normal PA.” He says as he leans back in his seat, drinking you in because you, you’re somewhat of an enigma. It’s clear you have aristocracy in your blood, he can smell that kind of breeding a mile away but instead of being married off you have a clandestine position in the ruling government and the PM’s ear apparently.   “You’re the one she sends to keep the naughty boys in check, although I am very curious about a woman like you goes about doing something like that. It has to be more than you’re capability with a riding crop.”

“You heard about that did you?” You say, placing a hand on your hip and it draws his attention to the light curve of your waist, where his hands would rest so perfectly as he fucked you.

“I heard he still has the scar, right across the back of his hand.” He says, indicating to the exact placement of the mark with his fingertip. “That he yelped like a puppy being kicked in front of the whole hunt.”

“He made the mistake of putting his hands where they weren’t wanted.” You inform him with an iciness that could freeze hell itself. “I’d refrain from making the same mistake if I were you.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dare.” He says, holding up his hand in mock innocence. “Trust me, if I touch you, I’ll make sure it’s very much wanted.”

“Hm.” You say, your lips pursing into a pout that makes his dick leak because the thought of fucking that mouth, well, it’s enough to bring a man to his knees, multiple times. “Keep it that way and we won’t have any problems.”

You are going to be a formidable opponent, he just knows it. Those other ministers they’re child’s play compared to the shit he gets up to, he’s going to enjoy putting you through your paces.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, you and I.” He says, taking a sip from his glass of scotch, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “I just know it.”

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[topzsun]

MISS YOU MORE

── ♡ YUU NISHINOYA

"You heave yourself up a familiar hill that you were sure didn’t take this much energy to reach before. You sit yourself down under the singular tree situated. You keep your posture polite, as if invading the space meant for someone’s ghost. When the popsicle first hits your tongue, you cry."

(i)

Most days, you can shrug off the pain that comes with missing Nishinoya Yuu.

However, when it’s especially sunny out, or you see soda-flavoured popsicles being sold in convenience stores, you are reminded. When you think of your sleepy hometown, you are reminded. When you pass by children aimlessly tossing around a volleyball, you are reminded.

His grin had been infectious. His eyes would crease at the corners and his smile lines prominent. The sun would catch the brown hues of his eyes in time for you to, in that split second, believe you were graced by the presence of a wild deity. However, Yuu is painfully human, as the next minute he bites into his popsicle too quickly and gives himself a painful pause. You can’t stifle your laughter even when he glares at you meaninglessly, because he’s still smiling even at the expense of his dignity. He used to do anything to make you laugh.

When asked, you would say you were still in contact with members of Karasuno’s Volleyball Club. It’s a gross overestimation of the ‘contact’ you still have. They are accounts sitting on your phone, still following with stories unwatched and posts unliked. You were up-to-speed with the fact that Ryuunosuke Tanaka and Kiyoko Shimizu were married. You knew Hitoka Yachi works for her mother’s design company, and that she still meets with Kei Tsukushima and Tadashi Yamaguchi based on pictures together. Asahi Azumane is a rising designer in Tokyo. Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio made themselves impossible to miss, their names and photos circling the internet and live television on every sports network. The point is that you knew where everyone was, and that was a good enough connection as you can manage. You didn’t need to read the messages Yachi last sent you in 2015. You didn’t need to pay attention to the fact that there was an impromptu group meetup with a handful of alumni just a few months ago. You didn’t need to scroll through Yuu’s untouched Instagram account from a decade ago, his last photo had been a grainy and over-filtered selfie with Tanaka and Ennoshita.

Yuu had, for the most part, completely disappeared from your reach. There was the option to message someone who would know where he was, Azumane and Tanaka being the first to pop into your mind. Yet, terror fills you at the notion, an anxiety that leaves you trembling as you blearily thumbed through the interface of the social media app. You always shut your phone before your impulsive thought reached fruition, and you considered deleting the app entirely if it weren’t for the fact you found comfort in knowing where everyone is, as they simultaneously knew nothing about where you were. Most days, however, it was a rude reminder of the bottom of the rung from which you squander, and the heights they have reached since graduation.

Despite your ever-growing list of regrets, not holding onto Nishinoya Yuu had been your biggest one.

“Let’s get married,” He had said under the glow of the setting sun. The apples of his cheeks were a lovely shade of red and your heart danced in tandem with the leaves blowing past gently. The grass underneath you feels more like a cloud, and you’re lightheaded under the weight of Yuu’s declaration. Not now, you tease him, you haven’t even graduated yet. He sits up immediately, eyes wide and shining as a grin graces his lips.

“So you’re saying we can get married after I graduate?” He wiggles his eyebrows comically at you, and you bat his arm where you lay. Maybe, you had said and he followed your response with a series of kisses pressed against your heated, flustered skin while you squirm and laugh.

If you could go back to that summer evening, you wouldn’t have thought twice before following him straight to the municipal office. Anything to have him in reach, kept him where you could still love him.

(ii)

When your morning begins with the ring of your phone, you do not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Your new manager had become audaciously comfortable in abusing your number at every minor inconvenience—“The numbers just aren’t adding up” or “I have a lot on my plate, go teach the new interns”. So you wait until the fifth ring, a small act of rebellion and spite before you inevitably have to answer to a problem above your pay grade. When it’s Kiyoko Shimizu’s name that pops onto your screen, you nearly drop the device. A blurry contact photo of her Tanaka together, her contact name that is unchanged from when you were in your third year, and the way she does not call a second time. It is her, and not a cruel trick of the imagination. You count to three hundred before you hesitantly press on the call-back function. She picks up on the second ring, and her voice doesn’t burst intrusively into your speaker. Dulcet, as you remember it, with a twinge of something more merry in her tone.

She says your name in fondness and it makes your stomach sink, and when she repeats it a second time you can only nervously laugh.

“I’m sorry, I can just hardly believe it,” And that had been the truth. “It’s so good to hear from you,” You weren’t sure if you meant it. She cheekily corrects you when you tactfully greet her as Shimizu-senpai, and you pretend to be awed by her marriage and congratulate her as if the news isn’t laughably old to you. Reminiscent of old behaviours, she jumps straight to the topic after some idle talk. A reunion, she said, to get as many members of the old team together as possible. An overdue meetup. You are submerged underwater and drowning, unable to claw for air as your throat threatens to collapse. Your mind swam with possibilities, of implications, of everything that can and will go wrong. Who will be there, and what will they want to know? Your carefully crafted isolation is gone, all because you never mustered the strength to cut the last cord tying you to Miyagi. Your silence awards you with another concerned call of your name, and you manage to stammer out an excuse in half-lucidity about your work, schedule, train tickets and anything that could placate your lack of answer now. She pacifies you with a passive, understanding response before promising to check in later and hangs up. It leaves you alone with running tap water, and a glass tipped over in the sink.

(iii)

Miyagi greets you as if it had been frozen in time. You view everything from the same hazy, saturated tint as you were a teenager. The breeze feels colder, there is more life breathed into nature than the city you dwelled in, and glimpses of your memory threaten to peek as you note spots that should be familiar to you.

When your eyes scan over a certain signage, your heart sinks. From an outsider’s perspective, the idea of a convenience store overwhelming you with nostalgia sounds pathetic. Yet it is on Sakanoshita Market’s property where everything happened.

He almost forces the popsicle into your hand despite your string of protests. I owe you one, he had said in relation to last week’s cram study. Your notes saved my life, he insisted though you didn’t exactly feel too great about the fact your notes merely helped him scrape by a passing mark. You don’t rain on his parade, so you gingerly pluck the cold treat from his hand and much to your horror, he bites his own. It was like watching a snake unhinge its jaw as he finished the popsicle within two chomps. When he meets your aghast stare, he smiles cheekily. Efficient, he said and so you take extra care in enjoying the treat and he laughs at your stubbornness.

The bell above the door rings as you enter. You are almost disappointed to find that instead of Coach Ukai’s blonde head of hair, you spy a gangly-looking teenager at the counter. He had been reading something under the table, that much was obvious, but upon the alert of your arrival, he fumbles to stand up straight and shove the source of his distraction away. Whatever he finds on your face, likely no recognition of being his boss, appeases him and he relaxes all the while greeting you politely. He doesn’t bother you as you make a beeline through the aisle, stopping at the refrigerator. You pick up one cola-flavoured popsicle. The cashier boy rings it up but eyes you for a split second for your single purchase. He’s likely not used to older people buying snacks popular with school kids.

When you leave, your feet take you through the grass that cuts the street. You heave yourself up a familiar hill that you were sure didn’t take this much energy to reach before. You sit yourself down under the singular tree situated. You keep your posture polite, as if invading the space meant for someone’s ghost. When the popsicle first hits your tongue, you cry.

(iv)

Your hand hovered over the handle far longer than you wanted to admit. It was the final crossroad in which you could back out, but upon silent admission that this would render your motel costs, your nice dressing, and your taxi ride here useless, you finally push down your wave of nausea.

It’s not Kiyoko who greets you, but Tadashi Yamaguchi who had been conveniently idling near the door in wait for Tsukishima. He greets you politely, a high pitch to his voice you recognise from when he would find you before morning practice followed by the term of respect senpai. Even as your vision began to blur under the intensity of the gold lights decorating the ceiling, your attention was drawn by the pair that came to greet you. You can barely breathe when Kiyoko reaches you because she’s as beautiful as in photos, and when her arms circle around you you feel the bile rise to your throat. Too much. All too much. Yet, you muster a greeting with a smile you hoped reached your eyes, and Yachi is next to follow. She doesn’t hug you, and you don’t think you could handle it right now either, but she beams and grasps your hands without a hint of resentment in her eyes despite the fact you had essentially ghosted her all those years ago. You are led to the living room of the Tanaka household, and you manage to blearily pick up the faces of Sugawara, Sawamura and the man of the house himself, Ryuunosuke Tanaka. The teacher and the officer greet you with warm handshakes and squeezes of the shoulder, and while Tanaka has gotten up from his seat he does not go to give you affectionate greetings like the others. You were not surprised, and yet it still made you want to turn to the door and run. Your name doesn’t leave his lips like a slur, and there is no scowl on his face, and yet you know he has not forgotten. Likely none of them did, they are just better at hiding any animosity. It is when your eyes leave Tanaka’s that you finally pay attention to the other man in the room. Tears threaten to spring to your eyes when you see Asahi Azumane, even more so when the man gives you a gentle smile, but you hold back in fear of causing a scene.

“Not now, just—” You turn away from Asahi’s concerned stare as you briskly attempt to out-walk him. “Not now.”

It doesn’t take him a lick of extra effort to reach your pace, and you feel a spike of annoyance akin to blistering fire. You didn’t like this defiant show of persistence, not from somebody who is usually so gutless in the face of confrontation. You continue to ignore him despite the fact the leather straps of your school bag weigh you down like an anchor.

“This isn’t right, you know this,” He keeps his tone even and placid, even in the face of your growing rage. “He cares about you. A lot. This isn’t fair to you or him.”

You finally spin on your heel, causing the man to stumble slightly at your sudden movement. Your tears are hot, burning even, in the ducts of your eyes but you don’t dare let a single one spill. Not in front of Asahi, who will only be further vindicated that you are making all the wrong decisions. Not even for yourself, who will begin to wonder if they are making the right choice.

“It’s because I care about him that I’m doing this,” You snap and he almost flinches under the force of your voice. “I know what type of person I am. I know what I’m going to become. I can’t reciprocate the intensity of Yuu’s feelings. He deserves to have someone who gives him a high like he gives me.”

You don’t realise your heated retorts have died down to near-desperate begging, not until you're digging your nails into your skin, enough to draw blood. Asahi tries to pry your grip away, but you move before he can reach and he lets his hands fall limply to his sides.

“Don’t you dare say he deserves to be stuck with me just because he happens to care. He’ll get over it, and he’ll find someone better. I’m not ruining his life by dragging him alongside the monotony of mine,” You finally meet the brown-haired man’s gaze from when you hung your head, and your glare burns and the fire spreads. “Do you get it now?”

You are seated down, sandwiched between an almost-doting Kiyoko and frantic Yachi as snacks and conversation are passed around. You are asked the expectant questions—How are you, what are you doing, what’s changed? You answer the questions to a degree that should tame any further curiosity, though take care in leaving out unsavoury details. This was only an impulsive trip. After this, you will go home, delete their contacts and finally free yourself from Karasuno, Miyagi, Yuu and all the memories left behind.

The door opens and you suspect Ennoshita or the like to arrive, as Hinata and Kageyama already confirmed their absence due to their busy schedule. Nothing could have prepared you for when Nishinoya Yuu walked in as if he owned the place. It’s the same spiked hair that your hands used to find purchase in. The same slanted brown eyes that would make your heart quake in your chest. Worst of all, the same grin that haunted your memory. When his eyes fall on you after his loud greeting, you can feel the earth cave in.

(v)

The universe, unfortunately, did not end upon Yuu’s arrival. His gaze had quickly shifted from you to the remaining attendees in the house and the lack of acknowledgement made you feel like a first-year again, standing with your back to the gymnasium wall as your sense of person is reduced to dust in the face of much fiercer personalities. You don’t know what you had expected. He wasn’t going to kick up a fuss in the middle of a reunion, and that’s assuming he even cares about you anymore at all.

Which answer would have been more satisfactory? The one where your teenage self got what they wanted—a Yuu who has moved on and no longer cares for them? Or the one present you guiltily wished for—that he cares, that he thinks of you as often you do him, that he hasn’t gotten over you?

With the last guest’s arrival, you all are moved to the dining room, where dinner is prepared. The delectable smell wafts in the air, and excitement grows. You momentarily perk up at the prospect of a homecooked meal that wasn’t your subpar cooking, but you are immediately tense when Yuu brushes past you with a brisk “whoops, sorry.” This is a casual interaction. There is no tremor in his voice, no avoidant glances. It’s akin to two strangers passing each other on the street.

You want to go home. You want his attention. You want to run. You wish he’d say your name again.

The conversation picks up as everyone eats, and you are still kept in between the two ex-managers while Yuu sits on the opposite side but from the furthest vantage point from you. Judging by the passing glances you had gotten when he arrived, you had a feeling this seating arrangement was purposeful. You don’t tact on to the discussions but try to smile and laugh when appropriate so it doesn’t seem like there is something totally wrong with you. At least you managed to gather that Yuu is currently travelling, and you have to bite back your smile when you recall the nights he used to call you and explain his dreams of seeing the world.

Within the hour, ceramic dishes and steel utensils clink together and everyone begins to disperse with the grand idea to watch a few films together over drinks before ending this event. Tsukushima quietly gestures towards his departure with a curt explanation of morning practice when Tanaka hounds him. You realise this is also your only chance at escaping without too much awkwardness. You arm yourself with a list of excuses—sorry, I have to check out early tomorrow. I have a morning work call. I’m still a bit light-headed from the train ride.

Nobody questions you further when you say your general, tentative goodbyes along with an extra minute of gratitude for the Tanaka household’s hospitality (Ryuunosuke’s gaze even seemed to soften when you turned to thank him). You are out the door before you can make selfish eye contact with Yuu, your coat tossed over your figure as you depart with nothing but a sheepish wave.

The night chill hits you in full force, and you shiver as you quickly attempt to find warmth in the rapid friction of your palms. You are not more than just a few steps out the front lawn when your name is shouted, the syllables rolling off a familiar tongue with so much nostalgia it feels sickening. Nishinoya Yuu is broad-shouldered with a sports jacket messily pulled over his figure and calling for you as if you both are seventeen and he’s letting you know one more time that he loves you before walking his half of the way home. You pause where you stand, you let him catch up, and you let him stand close enough that you can recite every minute detail of his face. A decade wasn’t enough, you realise somberly, to shake away your utter adoration for him.

He grins and asks if you want to get popsicles in the middle of the cold. Crazily enough, you agree.

(vi)

He regaled you with stories of his travels under that tree, from when he lost his hotel keycard in São Paulo and had to spend the night on the lounge chair because the staff couldn’t replace it in time, to when had gone fishing in Colorado River and fell of his boat when he got too excitable about his catch. You couldn’t stop your laughs, and he was only encouraged to continue with an eager beam. By the time you catch your breath, you find him leaning back on his hands with a smile so earnest that it makes you feel like you are seventeen and in love again. You grow nervous when he proclaims it's your turn to fill him in on the details of your life and the peace of the moment crumbles under his expectant stare. With the way you left him and the way he’s treating you as if you didn’t break his heart all those years ago, you felt obliged to be honest.

Shuichi Toyama began as your co-worker. He didn’t enter your life in a hurricane like Yuu did, but he did leave behind a disaster once he closed the door.

He asked you out and with you having been off the dating scene since high school, you agreed with some reluctance. The first date turned out fine, better than the awkwardness you first expected, so you let him take you out for a second. Then a third. He asked you to be his, and you agreed without paying note to the premonition behind his wording (Yuu always used to brag that he belonged to you).

It was comfortable. Stable. On good days Shuichi felt like a friend, and that was your first warning that you mistook security for love. He proposed a year later during a fancy dinner date, the restaurant overflowing with patrons. When the pastry chef brought out a slice of cake, moist and carefully decorated with your name, all you could think about was the eyes on you and how much money Shuichi must have spent on this proposal. You agree and something prideful crosses your now fiance’s expression.

A few months after you are wed in a fanciful ceremony with your attire to the decorations hand-picked by your mother-in-law, the cracks in your relationship begin to show. Late arrivals home, heading straight to bed after work, no ‘good morning’ or ‘I love you’ uttered. A year later you catch him in bed with his co-worker he swore to you not to worry about. It’s a sight to see when he struggles to pull up his pants, racing after you as you lock yourself in your car. He keeps a firm grip on the handle as he pleads for you to reconsider. He’s sorry. He didn’t mean for it to happen. It was a lapse of judgement. You listen to the excuses bemused, but you can’t help the tears that sting your eyes. Time with Shuichi had been wasted time, and you could have done so much and been so much without him. Yet, your mind tracks back to Yuu. This must be how he felt when you left, and it comes with a realisation of shame that you were no better than Shuichi. When your neighbour’s young children emerge from the front door to play, you unlock your car and follow your husband back home to spare them the sight of a half-naked man begging in the driveway. Maybe this is what you deserve.

He only kept his promise for two months, then while doing the laundry you find a lipstick stain on his collar that did not belong to you. A normal person would have packed their bags and tossed the stupid shirt at him without looking back. You toss it into the washing machine and go back to the rest of your chores. You don’t bring it up even when he comes back home almost four hours late, drunk and smelling unusually floral. You tell him his food is in the oven, and head to bed.

You let the cycle run its course for another few months until he breaks a plate during an argument about one of your neighbours catching him leaving a woman’s house in the early mornings. You had yelled at him to at least keep his infidelity under warps so that you aren’t embarrassed in the process, and he screams about why you aren’t angry that he’s cheating and more concerned for your reputation. When the ceramic dish hits the kitchen floor and shatters, you go quiet and stare. He’s the one who packs his bags this time, and you don’t implore him to stay. After that, you do not see Shuichi without a lawyer and you eventually lose rights to the house and most of your savings you mistakenly put into a shared account. You quit your job with no available living accommodation and no friends whose couch you could crash on while you try to pick up the remnants of your life. You find a job in another city after several nights at a cheap motel and begin to live in a small apartment in a place unfamiliar to you. Your new job pays less, is more demanding and your coworkers don’t take to you. However, it puts a roof over your head and food on your table. Within the silence, all you can contemplate are regrets.

By the time you are finished, there is a fire in Yuu’s eyes that blaze, fraught with rage. He curses your ex-husband without sparing a breath and you have to bite back a smile because it was just like him to get angry on your behalf.

“That sounds rough, I’m so sorry,” He says quietly and despite his awkward wording, he’s practically melting in sincerity and you only shake your head. You almost wished he felt vindicated by hearing this, but that’s simply an insult to the type of person Nishinoya Yuu is. He is never happy in the face of someone else’s misery, he is earnest and sincere, and he cares for others loudly and passionately. You are free-falling, a pit in your stomach that lurches to reach your throat, weightless and doomed. The words leave you before your mind can catch up.

“From all of this, it’s just a constant reminder I fucked up the moment I left you,” His eyes widen at the sudden confession, lips pressing into a straight line as you gaze at him with glassy eyes. “Yu—Nishinoya, I’m so sorry. I know my words can never make up for my actions.”

“Don’t,” His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale as he closes his eyes, “Don’t call me Nishinoya like that. I’m always Yuu to you.”

Tears now freely roll your cheeks and you know you don’t deserve it when he reaches out to briskly wipe them away with calloused hands. They warm your face and he lets his touch linger longer than appropriate even when your sobbing has died down to quiet sniffles.

“You and I were dumb kids. Sure, back then I wanted to scream and chase you down until you changed your mind,” He moves his hand to grasp yours, intertwining your fingers together as he gives you a reassuring and tight squeeze. “But I didn’t hate you for it. I don’t think I’m able to even if I tried.”

His grin takes on a little more sheepish twinge, a contrast to a teenage Yuu who would have urged you to stop taking things so seriously and to get over it. With maturity, he has the patience to sit down and actually talk with you. However, curtness is integral to his personality so he adds on.

“Even though you’re in the habit of catastrophising everything,” His sly remark earns a look of offended bafflement from you, causing him to laugh loudly in return. He brings you to stand alongside him, tugging you from the hill and onto the street. He insists on walking you back to your motel, and promises to pick you up the following morning. Nishinoya Yuu is cementing himself into your life again. You make sure to take extra care of keeping him.

[flapmemelord]

sonamy (?) .... all the discussion around Ian Flynn's take with Amy in Frontiers and the edits on her character that followed racked my brain in the right ways... I've tried my hand at what kind of mental process Amy would go through to stop chasing after Sonic, while taking account why and how they stayed the way they were for such a long time (and why that made sense for them).

Some symbolism and A LOT OF other thoughts explained below

Sonic holds his hand (warm, familiar) to invite Amy back to their chased-being-chased (romantic subtext-ey?) dynamic in public but in private spending some time together (black knight date i see you), but this time, she doesnt take it.

She would have taken it before, it's safe, it's known, it's been fun - not necessarily always. he comes along with her, and it looks like this could be it, she ignores how deadpan he looks, pushes him around, hopes he relents / takes in stride her playing around / tries to take in stride how annoyed he looks, rolling his eyes. he smiles still, it's easier when he smiles (She's a Fe dom) she probably didnt pick a place to his tastes, but she wanted to try something new at a café today and... it'd be what she'd always known. Maybe this time she shouldn't, maybe it's the doubts, maybe its wanting to see how far she's come too.

Amy wouldn't actually tie him down to a life that isnt his style. She likes him best when he's being this force of nature, true to himself, compassionnate, free. So she asks herself if letting him go is her becoming more like him (her dream isn't to marry him but becoming like him), as in letting him express his need for freedom (note it's a misconception on her part, Sonic is very much free with her, at least much more than SHE thinks he thinks he is).

I think it's easy to project onto Sonic, even if you know him well. Or maybe time got the better of Amy. She probably has faith (devotion to the end of the planet) in him and could not believe wrongs could be done by his hands. And in a sense she's right, because Sonic is a goal to reach as a character rather than one going through developpement rn or whose moral compass is ever really challenged. He's already had his act and it happened off screen (apart from well sonic lost world or other iterations of the character, like prime which target his recklessness). Id' find completely believable if Amy said she'd never think a SECOND Sonic would see her as a nuisance (as in really /neg), but I like it if Sonic is encouraged to speak about how he feels. Though it sounds tough (the boy might be a very healthy ESTP, but trickster Fi is trickster Fi) And I think that's why I like Ian Flynn's direction with Amy (although i like less the repression of her outward femininity, i like boom!amy's design but one of Amy's core strength is how girly she is). Since she's not reaching out to Sonic, it challenges him in another way if he wants to be part of her life.

There's this sense of privacy that these two share in their dynamic too - which I don't think I've noticed with other characters have. As someone that struggles with emotional permanency it took me a WHILE to understand how, why, how, Sonic could still feel something for Amy. Another being he's a boy at heart, and that romance doesnt mix well with that. I don't see them doing more than some (very very sublte and) occasionnal flirting here and there, at most. Even if they make Amy's feelings for Sonic dissapear. Don't mind platonic dynamics Sonamy AT ALL, I'd love to see them close......

[haveihitanerve]

Without Being Haunted By Ghosts

Bruce hadn't wanted to take her in. Take her on. But… well he hadn't had much choice. Not really.

Batman needed a Robin, and as flimsy as the line was, it was true. Robin didn't need a Batman though.

She proved it well enough, venturing out on her own, going the old Robin path someone else had favored too, once. Long ago. He had let her pick her own route. And of course she had picked this one.

The one that went into the darkest parts. The heart of the city. The monster that lurked beneath. Tonight was one of those nights.

She was out alone. Babs was on call with her, watching her back when Bruce didn't. When he couldn't.

He wanted to leave her alone. To leave all of this alone. To go… not to go back. No. It wouldn't help. Wouldn't change. He wanted her gone. Out of sight out of mind. But he was restless. So he went out. 

She was in a fight when he found her. His first instinct had always been to jump in, but that was buried beneath the ghosts before her, so nothing protested as he settled on the roof overlooking the empty lot she was in, and watched. Watched to see why Tim would pick her. Why he had. 

She was nothing like Tim. Where he had been calculated risks and precise hits, she was a flurry of windmilling fists and unpredictable blows. Chaos lined every corner of her figure, as she chose flashy, bold moves that sparred neither her opponents or her knuckles.

He recalled, faintly, how Jason used to grin about it, smirking up at him from where he sat on the sink, letting Bruce patch up his hands, crowing about the satisfying ache of a job well done. Of a life saved. Of a hardship overcome.

The fight ended swiftly, slower than the others, but efficiently nonetheless. She twirled when it was done, brushing off the dirt from her cape, infinitely gentle as she trussed the four men together, hands cradling bruised heads, wiping away smears of blood.

She touched them all, fixing collars and smoothing out foreheads, and Bruce watched in bafflement as she slipped little notes into their pockets, murmuring words too quiet for him to hear.

She straightened when done, spinning on her heels, eyes locking onto him in a second. He lifted a hand in greeting, all she needed before she was running for him, hands and feet finding grooves in the bricks that even Dick had struggled to find, scampering up to land beside him, her legs swinging as she sat.

“Hey Boss-man.” Her tone was achingly chipper, smile bright as her hair.

Bruce grunted in return, but her smile never wavered. She leaned back, hands resting on the roof as she tilted her head up, eyes closing for a second as she caught her breath.

He marveled that about her. She was so trusting. Of him. Trusting that he’d stay. That he’d watch her back. That he wouldn't let her get hurt.

Her eyes fluttered open again a second later, and she straightened, peering down at the men still unconscious beneath them. A smear of blood ran over her cheek, from when she had scrubbed her face a moment before with her gloves. It wasn't hers. She didn't notice. Bruce looked away.

“Come on.” he muttered, the only words he could say. An order. She didn't question, didn't do anything but get up and follow, glancing one last time over her shoulder at her successful fight.

She could keep up, Bruce would give her that. Though her level of skill had never really been a question.

He didn't stop until they reached the roof, the gargoyles standing at attention as always. She was huffing lightly, but followed him with ease, draping herself against one.

He gestured to the space below them. “What do you see?” He asked, quiet. She raised an eyebrow, glancing down to where he pointed.

“Gotham.” She returned dryly. Tim never used such dry sarcasm. Jason had, on occasion, though his was usually more. Same with Dick. She was blunt with it, silent and quick as a viper. It was good.  Something that was solely her, without being haunted by ghosts.

“What else?” He asked. She rolled her eyes, another silent rebuttal none of the others had bothered to use. Not without words.

“Gotham.” She repeated, plopping down at his feet. “The city. My city.” She cocked her head, examining the streets below. But not because she was looking for an answer to his question. Just because. Maybe there was one she wanted to find for herself.

“Our city.” She mumbled finally, after a few beats of silence. Bruce remained standing, and tried to look where her gaze went.

She spoke about it the way he did. The way Jason had. Dick and Tim had tried, they truly had. But they had never understood it. Never been a true part of the city. It was probably why they left, in the end.

“You understand, right?” Her voice was silent, a whisper on the breeze. Her head tilted back, and she blinked up at him, white lenses so terribly earnest. “What this means to me?”

Bruce looked back across his city, their city, then back at the girl sitting at his feet. A small smile tugged his lips. “I think I do.” He returned.

She smiled, leaning back against his legs for a beat before she remembered herself, flushing pretty and pink, looking, for the first time, as young as he knew her to be.

She drew her knees up to her chest, leaning forward again. She was still smiling faintly, as bright as her uniform. He wondered, dimly, if she’d have enjoyed the circus. Her laughter reminded him of roaring crowds, and a time before.

“You hungry?” He asked, gently, his voice betraying him. She glanced up again, a sly smile curling her lips.

He hoped she never dimmed in his shadow. She straightened, pulling herself to her feet. “You offerin’?” She mocked. He knew she wouldn't.

“If you can beat me.” He hummed in answer, and dropped off the roof before she had a chance to respond.

Her outrage cry pierced the night sky, and he laughed, for the first time in a while, waiting, as the wind whistled past his ears, for the familiar sound of a grapple line, before firing his own.

“Keep up old man!” She hollered, Gotham accent peeking between her words as she shot off ahead of him. Batman smiled and followed Robin across the Gotham sky.

[little-riddles]

hope | two

pairing: sirius black x female!potter!reader word count: 4.2k warnings: none

past | masterlist | next

it was a quiet, cold morning in september when james potter awoke to the screaming match coming from down the corridor from him, which seemed to be happening more and more frequently the closer they got to his sister attending hogwarts. he recalled a previous argument after his sister discovered she wouldn't be able to bring her broomstick to Hogwarts.

"what do you mean i can't bring mine with me? why can james then?" an enraged y/n shouted as she flew down from where she and her brother had been playing with a quaffle they'd found in the shed.

"first years can't bring their own brooms. it says so in your acceptance letter if you'd dare to read past the first two sentences." fleamont rolled his eyes, not looking up from reading his newspaper to see the anger written across his daughter's face.

"but that's not fair. i should've been a second-year at this point, so why can't i be the exception?" y/n threw her broom to the ground, regretting it immediately as she heard the snap of the handle.

"childish behaviour exactly like this is exactly why you won't be taking your broomstick to hogwarts. end of discussion." their father didn't break eye contact with his newspaper as he broke the girl's dreams.

"ugh! this is so unfair!" y/n stormed back through the conservatory door, her stomping on the stairs being heard loud and clear from the garden.

"and she wonders why she's going into first and not second year." fleamont scoffed, taking a sip of his cup of tea.

james sighed and pushed himself out of the comfort of his bed, stumbling down the corridor to find his sister's bedroom in tatters as her trunk still remained half-packed with her robes and textbooks. their father stood beside her trunk holding a familiar creature by its tail as a waterfall of the silverware of the house fell in a heap on the floor. with one final shake, their mother's engagement ring finally fell at the peak of the pile.

"i knew you were stealing, you little rat." fleamont gritted his teeth as he dropped the animal without a care for its health and plucked the ring from the scatterings of her floor.

"dad, he just likes shiny things. you know this." y/n whined, scooping up the niffler from the heap he'd left him in and shushing him and Jamie whined in her arms. "and you didn't need to shake him like that. he would've handed it over if you asked nicely. i trained him to."

"i don't care if you think you've trained him, that thing is out of control." he hissed, snapping his fingers for a house elf to come and clear away the silverware."ribly! coopey!"

ribly appeared in the room, followed by coopey, james' personal house-elf, who ran towards james with a familiar envelope in his hands. the lettering of his name was near perfect, a clear sign of the hands of sirius black.

"this one just arrived for you, master james." coopey didn't wait long before he swept up the silverware into a sack and snapped back out of the room with ribly following suit.

"dad, i can keep him in control. he's just bored." y/n sat on her unmade bed, a sign that she had not long woken from her slumber.

"bored?" fleamont asked incredulously, sweeping past his son with a quirked eyebrow. "if he's bored then let him free."

"but he's never been outside before. what will he do if he gets hungry or gets cold?" y/n cuddled the niffler closer to her chest and he, in turn, cuddled his snout against her chin.

"he's an animal, y/n. he'll be fine." he said, finally turning to assess the damage done to his daughter's room. "clean up in here. we'll be leaving early in the morning for king's cross. i don't want to have to clean up after that creature as well as you when we return."

"but i thought jamie was coming with me? professor dumbledore agreed that i could." y/n stood from her bed, already reaching for the parchment that said the same thing.

"i don't care what dumbledore has said, you're not taking him with you." fleamont sighed, on his last straw with his daughter at this point.

"but, dad." y/n pouted, already knowing that she couldn't fight her father on this. "he'll be good. i'll make sure of it. you'll never even know he was there with me. n'll even-"

"y/n cordelia potter! you are not taking that creature with you to hogwarts and that is final!" fleamont slammed the door behind him with such a harsh tug that it rattled the paintings plastering her bedroom walls.

y/n glared at the floor angrily, her hands shaking as she tried to soothe the shivering niffler in her arms. tears streamed down her face as she refused to look into the pitying eyes of her brother who remained motionless by her bedroom door.

"i just wanted to have a friend at hogwarts." she sniffled, standing to put jamie back into his cage.

"but you'll have me, and the boys. and i'm sure lily and the others will accept you into their group." james came to sit on his sister's bed, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest.

"but i'm not going to be in your year, jamie." y/n huffed, throwing her clothes that had become her carpet over the past few days into her laundry basket. "i might not even be in your house."

"what are you talking about, y/n/n? of course, you're going to be in gryffindor." james scoffed.

"but what if i'm not? what if i'm sorted into hufflepuff, or ravenclaw, or even slytherin? i couldn't face mum and dad if i was a slytherin." she shuddered at the thought of the disgust in her parent's eyes if she returned for the holidays.

"well, just tell the hat just that then. just say not slytherin. anything but slytherin." james grinned at his sister, remembering uttering the exact same words just last year.

"and it'll listen to me?" y/n huffed, lifting her head from where she'd been buried in the mass of clothes.

"it will if you actually make it to hogwarts and don't get suffocated to death by all of your clothes." their mother's voice carried through the open doorway she'd popped her head through. "i heard your father yelling. you okay, dear?"

"i'm okay, mum." y/n stared longingly at the sulking niffler in the corner of his cage. "i'm just going to miss jamie whilst i'm at hogwarts."

"you know why he can't go with you, dear. he would just cause too much chaos. it's bad enough with the amount that your brother and his friends cause." euphemia gave her son a pointed stare before starting to close the door behind her. "clean up in here, dinner will be ready soon."

silence once again fell over the room, only the sounds of y/n slowly moving her laundry basket out of the corner of the room where a mountain of clothes was beginning to pile up again. james couldn't help but feel sympathetic for his sister, knowing how much comfort the niffler had brought her whilst he had been away at hogwarts and she had been stuck in a muggle hospital. an idea sprung to his head as jamie's black eyes stared longingly at the freedom of the newly cleared space in Isobel's room.

"does dad actually know which of the nifflers he is?" james tilted his head, approaching the creature to look for any distinguishable features.

y/n could only shake her head as her brother took jamie out of the cage to inspect him closer. his black fur was the same as the rest of his litter, his beady eyes holding just the same amount of mischief as his siblings.

"i don't see any reason for junior not to be replaced by one of the smaller nifflers in the garden whilst you're away." james set the creature back down on top of his cage.

y/n couldn't hold back her grin as she realised how genius her brother's idea was, already knowing which niffler would be the perfect replacement to trick their father. the twins shared a grin as they knew they were going to get away with the mischief.

————— how exactly y/n had managed to both over and under sleep her alarm for the morning had amazed her. she'd spent the rest of the evening before wrangling one of the nifflers from the garden, tommy, into the cage in her bedroom whilst her brother had hidden the real jamie in his owl's cage shrouded in his invisibility cloak. after the excitement had worn off from the acts of mischief, she had collapsed on her bed, forgetting to close her curtains before the sun had begun to rise that morning.

"y/n/n! are you nearly ready?" james knocked tentatively on his sister's door, scared of the chaos that must be going on inside the quiet room. "y/n/n! dad said if you're not downstairs in ten minutes, he's leaving without you!"

y/n shot up from her bed and raced to change into the outfit ribly had steamed and pressed for her the day before. her eyes caught the owl cage she'd been forced to buy sitting in the corner of her room and lugged the heavy metal out into the corridor, where ribly snapped into existence before leaving once more with the cage in tow.

"mum! where's my wand?" y/n rifled through her chest of drawers, remembering having left the wooden stick somewhere in there. "i can't find it anywhere!"

"miss y/n left this in the kitchens. miss y/n must hurry before she is late." ribly hurried into the room, holding out the light-coloured wand in her hands before picking up y/n's trunk and snapping back out of the room.

y/n sighed in relief as she pocketed the wand into her jacket pocket and picked up the final bag from her side table, picking up the worn journal that fell from the bag in her haste. the tattered leather journal held many memories of her childhood, some being the happiest times of her life, but most being the darkest secrets that not even her brother had ever heard. she sighed as she shoved the journal into the depths of her bag for her to deal with at a later date.

"y/n/n, dear. don't forget to close jamie's cage before we leave." euphemia popped her head around the corner, seeing her daughter already closing the door with a note attached to it to remind her parents and ribly when and what to feed the niffler whilst she was gone.

"yes, mum. i was just making sure he had enough food and water until you and dad were back." y/n grinned mischievously at the niffler, tommy, in the cage.

"well, do hurry up. your father is already in the car with the engine running." euphemia rolled her eyes at her husband's antics.

"yes, mum." y/n skipped out of her room, trailing after her mother as they walked down the stairs and out onto the gravel drive. "dad! did ribly bring you my trunk and owl?"

"yes, now get in the car." he nodded his head to where james was already knocked out asleep in the backseat of the car, his owl cage slotted between their seats. "muggle rush hour will make us late at this rate."

"why don't we just fly then? we'll surely be on time if we're not stuck in queues the whole way there." y/n shrugged, her bag dropping to a heap at her feet.

"you know how your mother gets about us being seen." fleamont rolled his eyes, sharing a tired smile with his daughter.

"she'd be even more unamused if we're late though, dad." james groggily said, having been woken by the conversation.

"that is true, dear. i say as long as we don't go the route you took us last time, we can fly and get something to eat from the muggle bakery at the station when we arrive. how about it kids?" euphemia grinned, setting her purse on her lap as they pulled out of the driveway.

"only if i can get the chocolate muffins they had last time." y/n grinned, her stomach already grumbling at the thought of the gooey inside of the freshly baked muffin she was going to receive at the end journey.

"fine. but don't come writing to me and complain about the sugar crash you'll have on the train." euphemia huffed, settling down in her dear.

"no, she'll just come and whine to me about it instead," james grumbled, before immediately snoring as he closed his eyes once more.

"i loath you." y/n hissed at her brother jokingly, huffing as she caught the smirk that graced his face in his sleep.

y/n too slowly drifted off to sleep to the sounds of her parents conversing over their neighbour, mrs finchley's, dog who had been digging up their plants in the garden for the past few weeks. as she came to once again, she found that they were just flying into the country lanes that they often used as a way to transition from flying to driving once more. streams of green slowly turned to grey and red as they entered the main roads that the muggles used.

"how much longer, dad?" y/n yawned.

"with the rate of these stupid muggles, another half an hour, sweets." fleamont sighed, clearly already bored of waiting in this queue.

y/n only hummed as she looked out of the window, seeing a family similar to their own, squashed into the small black car. two young girls were squashed into the backseat, whilst the mother of the family, being asleep like y/n's own brother, had claimed the front seat by their father. the children were bickering over something that seemed to be irritating the owls in the middle of them as they fluttered, irritated in their cages.

y/n couldn't help but giggle, having been reminded of the times their mother was caught in the middle of an argument between their father and james, a very similar grumpy expression on her face as she tried to enjoy the tea that ribly had made fresh for them all. it was only as she saw the car was actually floating slightly, that y/n realised that they were a wizard family (if the owl cages and father's robes hadn't already given away the fact).

"dad! they're floating!" y/n gasped, pointing their father in the direction of the car that had come to a complete stop beside them.

"oh, anderson. what are you thinking?" fleamont sighed, rolling down his window before shouting across the space between the cars. "oi! geoffrey! you might wanna fully turn off the flying engine. muggles are sure to notice a floating car on the motorway!"

"oh, fleamont! cheers, mate!" mr anderson clearly was unphased by the faulty engine of his car, used to it falling short often. "this stupid crap bucket is definitely on its last legs, ay?"

"mum, who is that?" y/n whispered, having never heard her father never heard of a man named geoffrey or anderson.

"mr anderson, he used to work with your father as an auror in the ministry before your father moved departments," euphemia whispered with a smile.

y/n glanced back over to the small black car, only to find it gone. she pouted as she realised she probably wouldn't ever be able to get to know the two girls from the vehicle. they were probably in differing years to her, or at least different houses. the car began to move forward, driving them off the main road and towards the centre of london.

before she knew it, they were pulling up in front of the station, james already leaping out of the car as he spotted a lone sirius standing waiting for him by the main entrance to king's cross. the boy had been long left by his parents, who had walked his younger brother, regulus, all the way to the platform to see him off that morning. y/n rolled her eyes at the sight of the two animatedly talking about their summer, already starting to walk through the entrance of the station without waiting for the rest of the potters to follow.

"james!" fleamont shouted, popping the boot of the car. "your bags?"

james smiled sheepishly at his father, shuffling back over quickly to where fleamont was glaring at him.

"sorry, dad," James smirked at the floor, wrestled his trunk out of the boot and sprinted over to where the luggage trolleys were to grab two. "here, y/n/n. put your trunk and winnie's cage on here."

y/n grabbed both of her trunks and winnie's cage and placed them on top of each other on the trolley. she sighed as she looked up at the clock above the station entrance, pouting as she realised they wouldn't have enough time to stop off at the muggle bakery like her mother had promised. the quartet walked back over to where Sirius had been awkwardly waiting for james to return to his side.

"hello, potters," sirius smirked his signature smile, hasting his pace as they walked through the station towards platforms 9 and 10.

"hello, dear. have your parents already gone through with regulus?" euphemia struggled to keep up with her husband's hastened step in her kitten heels.

"yes, we got here extra early so that regulus could be treated to whatever he wanted from the muggle bakery." sirius rolled his eyes at his parent's clear favouritism.

y/n grumbled under her breath about not having gotten the same opportunity as sirius' younger brother before she giggled to herself at his matching grumpy face.

"ah! mini potter. you ready to finally become a hogwarts student." sirius winked down at her, having grown since she last saw him during the summer break.

"y-yeah." y/n turned shy, an irregularity to her usually bubbly demeanour. "i'm just worried about the sorting ceremony."

"don't worry, me and your brother will be cheering you on when you get sorted. hopefully into gryffindor." sirius winked once more, before running to catch up with the male potters as they had already reached the barrier to the station.

"c'mon, hurry up!" fleamont waved his arm, pushing james and sirius through the barrier one after the other. "train leaves in ten!"

"coming, dad!" y/n grinned, running straight past her father and pushing her trolley straight through the barrier.

she stopped in awe as the ruby-red train finally came into view in front of her. she hadn't gotten a good view of the train when she'd picked james up, having only seen the carriages in her brief visit before. a sense of pride filled her as she saw the hogwarts crest on the side of the train, a grin filling her face.

"y/n, why don't you hand your father your bags? he can get them sorted onto the train for you." euphemia said, already pushing fleamont to carry the heavy trunks over to the train workers who easily lifted them up onto the train.

james and sirius joined the pair, followed by their father who was wringing out his hands from carrying the bags a short distance.

"oh, my dears." euphemia already had tears in her eyes, though her sentiment was cut short as the train conductor announced the train would be leaving in five minutes. "well, you lot better be off then."

"see you at christmas, potters," sirius said to the purebloods before stepping back to allow the family to bid their farewells.

at the sight of her daughter ready to leave the coup and join james, euphemia sobbed and pulled them both in for a bone-crushing hug.

"mum!" the two groaned.

"we going to hogwarts, not going off to war." james rolled his eyes as he freed himself from his mother.

"i can't help it." euphemia wipes her tears away. "my babies are growing up and there's nothing i can do about it."

"well see you at christmas, mum. it's not too long." y/n smiled up at her mother.

"i know, y/n." euphemia patted her head softly. "now, remember what i told you last night. no pranking anyone. not even each other. that's especially to you y/n."

sirius and james stifled a chuckle with a cough as they knew that they were both not going to be following their mother's orders.

"that goes for you too, sirius. i want no letters from dumbledore explaining how you managed to blow up yet another toilet." euphemia sternly spoke, smiling as she knew that both of her kids weren't going to listen to her. "oh, why am i even saying this? you're all going to be in detention nearly every day anyway."

"you know us so well, mum." james smiled cheekily along with his sister.

"just have fun, okay?" euphemia asked, pulling them in for another hug.

"okay." y/n nodded, turning back to father. "see you at christmas, dad."

the pair waved off their parents as their trunks and cages were taken off of them by the train crew. y/n smiled widely as she was finally able to step foot on the very same train she had watched her brother leave on this time last year.

"sirius and i are going to find remus and peter in a compartment. are you alright to find somewhere to sit?" james asked his sister, helping her up into the train carriage.

"yeah." y/n nodded, though she was shyly looking down the hallway for someone who looked to be a first-year as well.

"i'll see you in the great hall later on, okay y/n/n?" james asked one last time.

"ok, now go before sirius or someone comes to find you again." y/n giggled, shoving her brother in the direction that the raven-haired boy had wandered off in.

as she found herself in the train corridor, y/n watched older students greet their friends and enter compartments together. she longed for a friend in her year to stick by in times like these. she walked in the opposite direction than where her brother had gone, finding that most compartments were already filled with students, many years her senior. she passed by one more compartment before she stumbled upon five girls who looked her age.

"hi. umm. there are no other compartments left. can i sit here with you?" y/n shuffled her feet nervously.

"sure." The ginger girl smiled, patting the seat beside her. "i'm grace-aoife young. but just call me grace, most people can't pronounce my full name."

"i'm y/n, potter." she shyly shook her hand.

"i'm josie thomas." josephine grinned broadly, her dimples showing as she moved along the seat to allow room for the brunette girl. "i think i know your brother. he's in the same year as my brother."

"scott?" y/n asked with a tilted head, recognizing the last name.

"yeah! this is so great that we're both in each other's years." josephine laughed, turning her head to the other side of the compartment.

"it's you! from the station last year!" the first twin, said in wonder, nudging her sister to look up from her journal, an identical look of shock on her face as well.

"hi." Isobel waved shyly, remembering the awkward interaction between their parents that had ended their conversation abruptly last time.

"i'm heather." said the first blonde twin who sat closest to the compartment door with a journal-type book in front of her.

"i'm holly." the other blonde twin said, reading the book that her sister had set down between them.

"i told you she wasn't lying." heather pushed her sibling, finally looking past her shoulder to spot the ginger-haired girl in the corner buried deep in her book.

"oi, michelle. you gonna talk or is that book more interesting than our company?" heather grinned, her sharp canines showing under her gums.

"oh, sorry." michelle smiled sheepishly, closing her book. "i'm trying to finish this book that my brother gave me before we get to Hogwarts."

"what book is it?" y/n asked, trying to get a sneak peek at the cover.

"magical theory by adalbert waffling," michelle replied, setting the book into her bag by her feet.

"i haven't even touched any of my books yet." grace rolled her eyes, grabbing some coins out of her coat pocket.

"at least you're not being forced to read them." michelle rolled her eyes, sinking back into her seat.

"you're definitely going to be in ravenclaw with that brain of yours." holly teased, also grabbing coins out of her pocket as the trolley rolled past.

"anything from the trolley dears?" the trolley lady asked the six girls.

the girls began to list off the sweet treats they were craving as they spotted the fully stocked cart before them. the lady passed all of the sweets over to the girls, who all smiled and ripped into the packaging before she had even wheeled away. it was silent in the compartment for a few seconds, before each of the girls began to share their sweets among themselves. and that was how the train journey remained all the way to hogwarts, with a new friendship blossoming between the first years.

[magnificentmiraclenacho]

The sister of the winner

Part 5 = the race

Summary: When gi hun wants to take down the games he faces a lot of problems. But one problem he also has is his relationship with his sister minji ( reader ). Gi hun dosent want to tell her about the games do to her innocent. But what happends when the salesman lores her into the games, and the siblings finds them self fighting for their lifes

----

The sharp clang of metal trays echoed through the dormitory as the contestants finished their breakfast, the air thick with tension. Gi-hun barely touched his food, his appetite gone after the horrors of the last game. He glanced across the table, watching Y/N push around the scraps of rice and broth on her tray. She hadn’t taken a single bite.

“You need to eat something,” Gi-hun said gently, leaning closer to her. He knew that eating is a key thing to survive.

Y/N didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on her tray as if lost in thought. Around them, the guards began to collect trays and usher players away, signaling that the next game was approaching. Jung-bae and Young exchanged uneasy looks before standing up, slowly making their way toward the doors.

Gi-hun stood as well but noticed Y/N didn’t move. She just sat there, her hands resting limply on her lap, her shoulders slumped. Her usual quietness now felt heavier, like something was weighing her down.

“Y/N?” Gi-hun asked, crouching next to her.

She turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see the exhaustion in her eyes. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“What do you mean?” he asked, keeping his tone soft.

“I’ve been up all night, oppa,” she admitted. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The games. The people who’ve already…” Her words trailed off, her throat tightening. She looked at him, nothing but pain behind her beutifull eyes.“I don’t want to die, i.. i don't want to see you die or enyone. Gi-hun. I’m so scared. I just want to go home”

Gi-hun’s chest ached as he looked at his younger sister. He reached out, placing a hand over hers. “Y/N, listen to me,” he said firmly but kindly. “I know this is terrifying. It’s terrifying for all of us. But I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You hear me?”

She bit her lip, her mind calming a little bit. “How can you promise that? You don’t know what the next game is. None of us do.”

“I don’t care what it is,” Gi-hun said with determination. “We’re going to survive this. Together. I’ll make sure of it. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

Before Y/N could respond, the doors to the dormitory slammed open, and a group of guards filed in, their faceless masks as cold and unforgiving as ever.

“Move,” one of them ordered sharply, motioning for the contestants to line up.

Gi-hun cursed under his breath but turned back to Y/N. He squeezed her hand tightly, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, well talk about everything after the game okey” he said, his voice softer now. Ruffeling her hair a little bit “Let’s go. Stay close to me.”

Y/N game a small smile and nodded, clutching his hand as if it were a lifeline. Together, they followed the group into the long, sterile hallway. The sound of their footsteps echoed ominously, and Y/N’s grip on Gi-hun’s hand didn’t loosen for a second.

When they entered the game arena, the sight that greeted them was surreal. The room resembled a giant playground, with colorfull seelings and walls towering overhead. But what caught everyone’s attention were the two massive circles painted on the floor, each one covered in swirling rainbow colors. The vibrant hues were unnerving, clashing against the grim, sterile backdrop of the room.

“What the hell is this?” gi hun muttered, eyeing the circles warily.

The sound of static crackled through the speakers, and the chillingly calm voice of the game master filled the room.

“Welcome to the next game. The rules will be explained shortly. Players, please step into the circles.”

Gi-hun glanced down at Y/N, her eyes wide as she stared at the circles. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. Just stay close.”

She nodded hesitantly, and together, they stepped forward into the rainbow-colored circle, their hearts pounding as the game began.

Y/N and Gi-hun spotted Jung-bae and young il near the edge of the circle, their faces equally tense as they surveyed the playground-like arena. The siblings approached, and the four naturally gravitated toward one another.

“This place is insane,” young il muttered, his arms on his hips. “What kind of game is this supposed to be?”

“No idea,” Gi-hun replied, glancing around at the oversized equipment and the colorful circles beneath their feet. “But whatever it is, it’s not going to be as innocent as it looks.”

“We should try to figure it out,” Jung-bae said, his voice low. “It might give us an edge.”

The group began murmuring ideas, throwing out theories about the equipment or the meaning of the rainbow circles. Before their brainstorming could go any further, the static-filled voice of the game master cut through the air.

“Players, form teams of five,” the voice instructed. “You have five minutes to assemble your team.”

The four of them froze, exchanging quick glances. They were already four, and it was obvious they only needed one more.

“That’s convenient,” Jung-bae said, trying to sound lighthearted despite the tension. “We just need one more person.”

Y/N nodded, but her eyes were scanning the room nervously. “Who, though? We don’t know anyone else.”

Jung-bae suddenly perked up and gestured toward a man standing a few feet away. “Wait, I talked to that guy earlier. He seemed decent. I’ll ask him.”

Without waiting for a response, Jung-bae jogged over to the man and exchanged a few words. Moments later, he returned with a tall, broad-shouldered man with a calm demeanor.

“Everyone, this is Kang Dae-ho,” Jung-bae said, clapping the man on the shoulder. “Player 388. He’s joining us.”

Dae-ho gave a polite nod. “Nice to meet you all,” he said, his voice steady.

“I’m Gi-hun, this is Y/N, Jung-bae you know, and that’s young il” Gi-hun said, gesturing to the others.

“Good to meet you,” young il said with a small smile.

“Do you have any idea what the game might be?” Dae-ho asked, glancing at the circles again.

The group started to discuss possibilities, theorizing about the playground equipment and how it might tie into the rules. The conversation grew more animated as they traded ideas, but before they could make much progress, a young girl approached them hesitantly.

She was small and looked young. Her number, 222, was stitched across her green tracksuit. She stopped a few steps away, clutching her hands nervously.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, her voice shaky. “Could I… could I join your team?”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

“Uh…” Jung-bae started, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “We already have five people. Sorry.”

Everyone looked away, guilt creeping into their expressions. Y/N glanced at the girl, feeling a pang of sympathy.

The girl hesitated, then placed a hand on her stomach. Her voice cracked as she said, “Please… I’m pregnant. I really need help.”

The group’s collective gaze dropped to her stomach, the realization hitting them like a punch.

Y/N’s heart clenched, and without hesitation, she spoke. “You can join us,” she said firmly giving a big and reasuring smile, even tho she was feeling very scared herself. Y/n stepped towards the girl. “I’ll find another team.”

Gi-hun’s head snapped toward her. “No,” he said immediately, his tone sharp. “You can’t just do that, Y/N!”

“She’s pregnant, Gi-hun!” Y/N snapped back. Now looking straight at gi hun “What are we supposed to do, just let her fend for herself?”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. “We can figure something else out. But you’re not leaving this team. End of story.”

“You’re being selfish!” Y/N shot back. “She’s carrying a child, for God’s sake!”

The tension between the siblings thickened as their voices rose. The others stood awkwardly, unsure of how to intervene. Finally, Dae-ho cleared his throat.

“I can switch teams,” he offered calmly, drawing everyone’s attention. “The other groups don’t look as strong. I could help them, and you can take her.”

“What?” Y/N asked, surprised.

“I have older sisters,” Dae-ho explained, his expression softening. “I know what it feels like to want to protect someone. If she’s pregnant, she shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

There was a beat of silence before Y/N nodded, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

Dae-ho gave her a small smile and turned to the girl. “You’ll be fine with them. Good luck.”

He walked off toward another group, and the remaining five watched him go, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt.

“Thank you,” the girl said softly, her eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

With their team now complete, they moved to sit down inside the rainbow-colored circle, their hearts pounding as the countdown to the game’s start loomed over them.

The speakers crackled to life once again, and the voice of the game master filled the room.

“The next game is called the Six-Legged Pentathlon. Each team will compete in a series of traditional childhood games, one after the other. All five players must participate, with one assigned to each game. You have two minutes to decide who will play each game.”

The announcement sent a ripple of murmurs through the room. Y/N’s team huddled together, the urgency in the air pressing down on them.

“Okay,” Gi-hun said, his voice tense. “We need to pick quickly. What are the games?”

The rules flashed on the large screen in the arena:

1. Ddakji

2. Biseokchigi

3. Gonggi

4. Paengi Chigi

5. Jegi Chagi

“okey so they’re traditional games,” Gi-hun explained. “We’ve all played them at some point, right? But we need to think strategically. Who’s best at what?”

Y/N glanced at the pregnant girl, player 222, “She should diecide first ” Y/N said quickly.

Everyone nodded and looked at the girl. " umm i guess the ddjaki. I mean i won the more times than the man in the train station." She said smiling.

“Okay okey, good,” Jung-bae said. “I’ll take biseokchigi. I used to be good at flicking stones back in the day.”

“I can handle gonggi,” Y/N offered. “I was decent at it when I was younger.”

Young il raised a hand. “I’ll do paengi chigi. Spinning tops are kind of my thing.”

“Guess that leaves me with jegi chagi,” Gi-hun said. “Kicking’s easy enough, I think.”

They all nodded, their plan finalized just as the timer on the wall hit zero.

“The assignments are locked in,” the game master announced. “The first team will begin. Teams will proceed one at a time. Watch carefully.”

The room tensed as the first team was brought to the starting area. Guards approached and began tying their legs together with thick cords, binding them at the ankle so they were forced to move as one. It was chaos as the team struggled to balance, and the first player crouched for the ddakji game.

The room erupted into cheers as they successfully flipped the tile, advancing to the next station. With every completed game, their coordination improved, and by the time they crossed the finish line, their celebration was deafening.

But the mood shifted quickly. The second team wasn’t as lucky. They fumbled through paengi chigi and couldn’t regain their footing. When the failure buzzer blared, guards stepped forward. What followed was visible to the remaining teams, and the chilling sound of gunshots echoed through the arena.

“Don’t look,” Gi-hun muttered, turning to Y/N. He placed his hand over Y/N eyes to cover them up. “Just focus on our turn.” he said to her in a calming way.

The room’s energy dimmed each time a team failed. When a team succeeded, it felt like a fleeting moment of hope, quickly overshadowed by the next team’s impending doom. Gi-hun made it his mission to shield Y/N from the worst of it, whispering reassurances and blocking her view when necessary.

Finally, only one team remained: theirs.

The guards approached, their presence cold and unrelenting. “Players, stand up,” one commanded.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood alongside her teammates. Her palms were sweaty, her breath shallow. Around her, everyone looked equally nervous, their eyes darting between the guards and the arena.

The guards began tying their legs together, binding all five players into a line. The thick cords forced them to stand uncomfortably close, their movements already awkward.

“Ready yourselves,” the guard said flatly.

Y/N glanced at her teammates, who wore matching expressions of fear and determination. The weight of survival pressed down on them as they steadied themselves, their fates now tied—literally and figuratively—together.

The sharp buzz signaling the start of the game blared through the air, jolting the team into motion. They began to shuffle forward, their legs tied tightly together, struggling to find a rhythm. After a few wobbly steps, they fell into sync, moving as one toward the first table.

When they reached it, Player 222, the pregnant girl, stepped forward. She picked up the red ddakji tile, glancing nervously at the blue one lying on the ground. The team stayed quiet, watching as she took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and slammed the red tile down with all her strength.

The blue tile flipped immediately, landing perfectly on its other side.

“Yes!” Jung-bae shouted, pumping his fist into the air.

The team erupted into cheers, clapping and encouraging her as they began shuffling toward the second table. Their spirits lifted with their first success, but the pressure only grew as the seconds ticked down.

At the second table, Jung-bae stepped forward. He grabbed the smooth rock, turning it over in his hand as he studied the setup in front of him. Two stones were laid out on the table, and he needed to knock one out of the circle with a precise flick.

“Take your time,” Gi-hun said, his voice calm but urgent.

Jung-bae exhaled slowly, then flicked the rock with expert precision. It struck the other stone perfectly, sending it out of the circle.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, grinning as the rest of the team cheered again.

“Great job!” Y/N said, but as they shuffled toward the third table, the anxiety she’d been keeping at bay began to crash down on her like a wave.

Her palms grew sweaty, her chest tightened, and her breathing quickened. By the time they reached the table, she felt lightheaded.

“It’s okay,” Gi-hun said quietly, sensing her hesitation. “You’ve got this, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded but couldn’t stop the trembling in her hands. She dropped to her knees in front of the table, her breaths coming out shakily.

Young il crouched next to her and placed a hand on her back. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Take it easy. We’ve got time.”

Y/N nodded again, forcing herself to focus. She picked up the small, lightweight gonggi stones and closed her eyes for a brief moment to steady herself. When she opened them, she moved with precision, her hands deftly tossing and catching the stones.

One. Two. Three.

She completed the sequence perfectly on her first try.

“I did it,” she whispered in disbelief, then turned to the team with a wide smile.

“Yes, you did!” Jung-bae shouted, clapping. The team erupted again, their cheers pushing them forward to the fourth table.

There, young il stepped up to take on the paengi chigi challenge. He picked up the spinning top, wound the string around it tightly, and crouched to the ground. He flicked his wrist with practiced ease, and the top spun furiously across the table. It stayed upright, spinning for the required time before toppling over.

“Done!” he said triumphantly, and the team immediately shuffled toward the final table.

The timer on the wall was running dangerously low now, and they moved as quickly as their tied legs would allow.

At the final table, Gi-hun stepped forward, determination etched into his face. He grabbed the jegi—a weighted object attached to a string—and began to kick it into the air.

One. Two. Three.

The team held their breath as he kept the jegi in the air, his movements controlled and precise. Finally, after completing the required number of kicks, he caught it and slammed it onto the table.

“Done!” he shouted.

“Come on!” Gi-hun urged, his voice urgent.

The five of them stumbled and nearly fell, but they pushed forward with everything they had. Their breaths were ragged, their legs aching, but the finish line was just ahead.

With seconds to spare, they crossed the line, collapsing onto the ground in a heap. Relief washed over them as they realized they had made it.

“We did it,” Y/N whispered, tears streaming down her face as she laughed shakily.

The guards approached and began untying their legs. The moment they were free, the team slowly got to their feet, leaning on each other for support.

As they made their way back to the dormitory, every pair of eyes in the room was on them. The remaining players stared with a mix of awe, envy, and fear.

Gi-hun glanced at Y/N and the others. “We survived,” he said quietly, his voice filled with determination.

And with that, they returned to their bunks, their bodies exhausted but their spirits unbroken—for now.

----

Ps : if you want to be tagged say it in the comments❤️

Masterlist=

Taglist=

@space1crow

@ashtrosstuff

@marsyay78

@sorilyae

[xoxoch3rry]

Could you write a twd carl x reader story. The reader is daryl's daughter and is sad because Negative took her father. Could you please write something like that?

𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨 | ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕝 𝔾𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

ᴳᴵᶠ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ~

Word count: 992

────

Carl Grimes x fem!Dixon reader

Warnings: References to captivity and implied violence, Angst, and heavy emotional tones, Minor language use.

Summary: Daryl's daughter, struggles to cope after her father is captured by Negan. Through Carls support, she begins to find solace and hope.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

The atmosphere in Alexandria was suffused with an almost oppressive tension, a weight that pressed against your chest and made it difficult to draw a full breath. You sat hunched on the porch steps of your house, arms wrapped around your knees, your gaze fixed on the road ahead. The surrounding stillness was unbearable, a silence that seemed to amplify the loss you were grappling with since Negan had taken your father—Daryl. Every second dragged on endlessly, creating an illusion that time itself had come to a halt.

Carl approached quietly, his presence heralded by the soft crunch of his boots. Though you didn’t lift your head, you knew it was him. His gait was distinct, slightly uneven yet purposeful, as though he was always racing against an unseen force.

“Hey,” he murmured, lowering himself onto the step beside you.

Your eyes flicked toward him briefly before returning to the ground. Carl had made a habit of checking in on you since Daryl’s capture, though it was evident he struggled to find the right words. The truth was, no one knew what to say. What could anyone possibly offer to ease the kind of pain you were feeling?

“You don’t have to keep checking on me,” you said, your voice devoid of energy. “I’m fine.”

Carl exhaled a soft laugh, the corner of his lips curving into a faint smirk. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smallest hint of a smile betrayed you. Carl had a knack for coaxing lightness out of even the darkest moments, a skill that felt almost magical in times like this.

“It’s just…” you began, your words trailing off as you stared at your hands, fingers twisting together. The thoughts swirling in your head felt too big, too tangled to put into words.

“Just what?” Carl asked, his tone gentle, his gaze steady.

“It’s not fair,” you finally managed, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “He’s my dad, Carl. He’s all I have left, and now he’s gone. I don’t even know if he’s okay. I don’t even know if…” Your voice faltered, the words choking in your throat.

Carl didn’t immediately reply. Instead, he let the silence linger, grounding you with the quiet weight of his presence. Slowly, he reached over and took your hand in his, his touch warm and calloused. The simplicity of the gesture brought a lump to your throat.

“We’re going to get him back,” Carl said, his voice low but resolute. His blue eye met yours, brimming with a determination that was almost contagious. “I don’t know how yet, but we will. I promise.”

You stared at him, the conviction in his voice stirring something deep within you. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the suffocating hopelessness began to loosen its grip, if only slightly.

“You really think so?” you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

Carl nodded, his hand tightening around yours. “I do. And until we do, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

A shaky laugh escaped you, tears welling up and spilling over. Carl reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into the cold, hollow places inside you, offering a fleeting but vital comfort.

“Thanks, Carl,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Always,” he replied, a small, sincere smile tugging at his lips. “You’re family. And family doesn’t give up on each other.”

Something within you cracked open at his words, and before you could think better of it, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Carl didn’t pull away; instead, he adjusted slightly, letting his head rest against yours. The two of you sat there in shared silence, the world around you fading into the background. The faint murmur of voices in the distance, it all seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the quiet understanding that passed between you.

“I can’t stop thinking about what he’s going through,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “I keep imagining him trapped, hurt, alone. And it’s killing me, Carl. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“I know,” Carl said softly. “But your dad’s strong. One of the strongest people I’ve ever met. If anyone can survive something like this, it’s him.”

You nodded, clinging to the hope in his words. You wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. Maybe Daryl’s strength would see him through, just as it had so many times before. But the fear remained, a persistent shadow that refused to let go.

“It doesn’t make it easier,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“No,” Carl agreed. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

His words were simple but carried a weight that made your chest tighten. You turned to look at him, and the sincerity in his gaze was enough to stir something warm and steady within you, something you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, a small smile breaking through the storm of your emotions.

Carl grinned, his expression softening in a way that made your heart flutter unexpectedly. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

The two of you stayed there as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky fading into a canvas of deep purples and blues. The cool night air began to settle in, but with Carl by your side, the cold felt a little less biting. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel entirely alone. It wasn’t a solution, and it didn’t erase the pain, but it was enough to remind you that even in the darkest moments, you didn’t have to face them on your own.

[4lexnilsen]

“abilene hoover!   what is it,  hm?   did someone just tickle you?   could never be me,”   he playfully teases,  feigning innocence even if they’re the only people in the room and there’s no one else to put the blame on.   his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leans against the shower wall,  the last of the pink suds swirling around his feet as warm water continues to rain down on his skin.    abilene’s laughter ringing in his ears,  her voice so light and free,  it makes him forget where they are.   for a fleeting second,  it’s just them —   no arena,  no capitol,  no ticking clock counting down the days until everything changes.   he desperately wants the moment to last,  pestering fingers trying to bother her sides some more even as she threatens him.  

“hey,  that’s so…   oh,  the punishment doesn’t fit the crime!   why don’t you just send me to timeout?   no need to be so harsh and take my boobie privileges away,”   he dramatically protests,  not that he would have the courage to look at her chest even if she asked him to.   “but fine,  fine…   i’m turning around.”   exhaling loudly,  he faces the wall and even covers his eyes with his hands so that she doesn’t accuse him of peeking.   he gives her a moment,  not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable while she’s drying off.   

eventually,  he turns the water off and steps out of the shower as well,  snatching the other towel and wrapping it around his waist.   he’s reaching for his toothbrush,  but the intensity of her words still hangs in the air,  and for a moment,  all the fear,  and guilt,  and love —   it’s all too much.   “brandy and silas…   don’t think i’ll ever forget their names or faces.   i see them in my dreams sometimes,  always wake up wishing i’d done more.”   he couldn’t have,  but that’s the thing about guilt —   it’s not always reasonable.   in less than a week,  they’ll be thrown into the chaos of the arena again,  but this time,  he’ll do everything right.   he won’t let alone hurt the person he cares about.   trying not to dwell on the negative feelings,  his eyes find the boxers still on the counter and he shoots abilene a humored look.   his cheeks heating up,  toothbrush forgotten.   “you leaving them for me or…?   it’s not my last pair,  you know?   we don’t have to share,”   he teases,  pursing his lips together to keep from grinning like a love-struck idiot.

“i can’t believe i cracked your secret code,”   he muses with a laugh,  using a smaller towel to shake water out of his sandy curls,  his grin matching hers as their eyes meet in the large mirror.   “ticklish, huh?   who’d have thought that abilene hoover,  of all people,  had such a simple weakness?”   wrapped in his black shirt,  her locks already curling as they begin to dry…   god,  she’s beautiful.   effortlessly so.   his hand finds hers,  his fingers entwining with hers in a desperate,  almost instinctive need to hold onto her as he admires her,  trying to think about anything other than how she’s wearing nothing underneath.   “you should wear my clothes more often.   they look much better on you.”   the playful banter between them is still hanging in the air.   she’s pretending to be upset about the tickling,  sticking her tongue out at him,  but her eyes are sparkling with that mischievous light that he’s come to love.   it feels so painfully normal,  so real,  that he almost lets himself believe they have more time than they do.   

❛ alexander nilsen ! ❜

abilene squealed when his fingers found her sides . her hands , covered in suds , left his hair instantly to try to push away his hands from her ticklish skin . even though he had only tickled her for a moment laughter and giggles had slipped past her lips and if her cheeks were not already flushed and red they surely would have flushed more . she was ticklish , horribly , horribly ticklish , and she always had been .

❛ just for that i'm gonna make you turn around when i get my towel on . ❜ she joked , hands plastered at her sides to try to ward off any additional ticklish touches from him . ❛ and you're gonna wash that out of your own hair . ❜ she gestured to the pink-tinged suds in his sandy locks with her chin , though her smile was still plastered on her face .

abilene smiled , watching pink suds run down his own shoulders as he spoke about being in love with her from the moment he saw her . they were meant for each other , two souls meeting in the kind of cosmic collision that only happened once a century . ❛ we all did what we had to do , alex . ❜ abilene tried to console him , ignoring the slight sting in her palms from the soap in her cuts . ❛ you're a survivor . brandy and silas . . . ❜ there was a deep pang in her belly when she mentioned those two tributes' names . they were so little . . . it wasn't fair . ❛ that's when i knew that you were a good man . nothing could change that . ❜

once they were both clean , abilene was the first to leave the shower , though not without protectively clutching at her sides . she dried herself off as alex washed the suds from his hair and wrapped her hair up in a towel to dry . she pulled the black shirt he'd given her over her head and eyed the boxers he'd left her on the counter and the pants . before she could decide if she should put them on or not she heard the water shut off .

abilene took her hair down and squeezed out as much water as she could from her dark locks . they were already beginning to curl when abilene began to comb through her hair . ❛ i can't believe you discovered my one true weakness . ❜ abilene teased , sticking her tongue out at alex . it was nice to not think about how close they were to the end , how fast time was ticking on . for this moment it was just her and alex in his capitol apartments and time had stopped . ❛ i've never felt so betrayed ! ❜

[clairesbeauchamp]

2.08 | 3.04