#as in by day 2 they were much more comfortable

[captain-huggy-bear]

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

[kismetlotts]

cw: angst, mentions of sex, best friend Simon Riley, mentions of knives, mentions of hurting yourself but no implications of actually doing so or having done in the past, mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, clueless Simon Riley, crying in each others arms, helping out your best friend, reader is self less

part 2 of Best Friend Simon Riley Angst (I recommend reading part one first to understand certain elements better)

You woke up in the morning, daylight shining through your curtains and you already knew it wasn’t sunshine- bound to be nothing but grey clouds out there, flooding the sky like a polluted ocean. Your nose and head ached in the silent flood of last nights memories, your crying, your actions and worst of all, your best friend.

Oh Simon, what a dickhead you were. Why did you have to come here?

Your body flushed against the cold sheets behind you, a weightless bed, giving you the impression he’d done a runner. Typical him honestly- you wouldn’t be surprised if that was what initiated their breakup; the same breakup that was at fault for all of this.

He was always so forward, front and confrontational within the field. The notorious ‘Ghost’ that installs fear in every enemy he has to face. He’s a fighter at work but ironically, in life, all he knew was how to retreat. Pull away before he can cause anymore damage, pull out before the mess gets bigger.

You flung the covers off you, their pretty, pink, innocent pattern already making vomit surface in your throat. He’d flopped down on that bedding countless times in the past: memories which made it hurt more came to mind. The knives that were already jammed in your gut, heart and what’s seemed as your brain, twisting a little deeper before freezing up in place.

You remembered the times when his body would accidentally fling you around the mattress, grunting and smirking while he settle down and got comfy. You remembered the way his fingers tapped on the cotton as he leaned over to see what you were looking at on your phone. Nosy but never prying in too much.

Imagining how you looked when you watched his hand sweep across the duvet on movie night, pushing every crumb onto your bedroom floor with a laugh and an apology leaving his lips. His hands, shooting into the air as he surrendered in playful shame. Not really paying attention as your voice scolded him for eating in your bed.

Your fingers stripped the bedding from its covers. Tossing them into a pile on the floor beside your laundry basket, the sheets so stained with both of your sweat and dirt from the situation, your nose scrunched up at the sight. You left it there ready to put in the wash later.

Though, a part of you can’t help but wonder if they will ever feel as clean as they did before.

If they’ll ever give you the warm, comforting sensation you got every night before nodding off to sleep. Would you ever hear their soft cries to slip back in bed when you wake up early for work? The covers flopped back in agony, silently pleading for you to come back and have five more minutes?

No. Now they just feel like you never got out of that bed, the duvet still wrapped around your body keeping you hostage and forcing you to go about your day. The weight of everything on your shoulders enough for you to trip and fall on the material.

You’d burn them if they weren’t so big.

The whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, why the fuck did you let it happen anyway? The sex with him wasn’t anything like you’d wished or dreamed of nor would it have never been.

He didn’t love you but something inside you obviously can’t comprehend that. Every chance you get to show or pretend that the two of you were more than what you were- you’d leap for it: eyes sparkling with the same hope a lost kid has.

He used you last night and you let him like the pathetic, lovesick loser you always were. It wasn’t sex, it was nothing more than a mere distraction and waste of time. A waste of his time, more hassle just for him.

Your fingers wrapped around your smooth doorknob as you pushed open your bedroom door, trailing into the kitchen before an aroma of pancake batter and fresh baking gripped you by the throat. Your big eyes meeting Simons, his familiar, large figure pressed against your kitchen counter as he sucked on his bottom lip.

His face was pale and his brown pupils never left the plate of fucked up pancakes, left on a placemat on the table.

You laughed. You laughed because you couldn’t trust anything else to come out- You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t break down crying, that you wouldn’t scream or hurt yourself in front of him, that you wouldn’t wince at this- idiotic gesture.

Was this an apology? Was this all you meant to him? A plate of sweet treats you’d have to force yourself to eat, to swallow down and help you forget everything bad that happened. Maybe, or perhaps it was pure coincidence it summed up his perspective of the night; perfectly.

“Did you make me pancakes?” The tremble and nerves in your voice was apparent and he nodded slowly, gesturing to the massive bag of groceries on the countertop.

“With berries and sugar on top. I’ve got some other things here though, chocolate- all kinds, some syrup and honey and other fruit in that bag if you want any. I just added berries because I know they’re your favourite.” He rambled on.

“When did I tell you that?” Your head turned to the side, twitching in uncertainty as you sat down in front of the plate. Eyes squinting as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You said when we…-oh.”

That’s not her, Simon.

His hand lifted to his eyes, rubbing them to avoid looking anywhere. The rise and fall of his chest grew faster and you just knew how is heart felt, flooding with guilt and embarrassment at his own actions.

Staying mad at him was hard when you knew him so well. Mistakes get made and feeling get trampled on but he wasn’t a bad person. That’s why you fell for him all that time ago.

The knife in your hand cut through the pancakes like butter, your posture up straight and distant from the plate while your appetite warned you not to bite. Your eyes flickered over to Simon again, seeing his hands still firmly placed over his eyes, broad shoulders retracted inwards as his body jolted in silent cries. The metal rattled against the table as you put the knife down and jumped out of your chair.

“Simon don’t do this-“ You spoke comfortingly, lunging over towards his body. Your soft skin met with the roughness of his arm but before you could say another word he shoved your body away from him.

A voice you’d never heard before coming out loud and brute, as you took a step back from his harsh rejection.

“Can you just fuck off trying to make me feel better constantly- I know i’ve fucked up and I know i’ve upset you. Stop acting like everything is alright when it isn’t, you do this every time- i’m not a kid!” His fist clawed at his shirt. Pulling it away from his chest as if he wanted to rip his heart out to stop the torture he was suffering.

Spit flew from his mouth and his eyes looked red, sunken with despair. Your voice died in your mouth, tongue soaking up all your saliva and you tried to swallow.

He was lost. He ruined the thing he needed the most- fucked about and caused chaos with his lifeline. You were his saviour and always had been. He didn’t need for you to fix his relationship or his problems, he needed you to fix him. He didn’t sleep with you to use you intentionally, it was a drunken mistake and a shitty timing.

He inhaled through his mouth, his throat croaking as he gripped the counter for stabilisation. Face was locked down to the floor, glued and staring at his shoes on your kitchen floor.

The drops of his tears on the black leather of his boots and the drops on your tiles reminding him of how pathetic he was being. He was a man, he worked in the military. He had slept with people before, cheated, and ruined relationships but nothing hurt like this hurt. Nothing knocked him down so hard he was afraid to get back up, he was afraid to lose you. Simon was scared.

“I made a mistake and I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I can even do to make it up to you- fucking pancakes- it is stupid I should know better and I should know what to do but I-” The whiteness in his knuckles disappeared as he lessened his grip on the counter. Hands falling to his side as he broke down on the spot.

The hard armour he lived in unraveling like flimsy pieces of ribbon. His wet eyelashes hitting his cheeks as he wiped his nose and face on the back of his wrist.

“I can’t think. I can’t be me without you here and I don’t know what to do, please, i’m so sorry just please come back to me. I know i’ve lost a part of you and I will fight until the end of day to get it back, but for now just let me have the rest back. I need my best friend back.” His hands met your lower back as you flung your arms around his neck, your own eyes dripping with tears of outrage and hurt but above all you needed Simon too.

You sobbed silently into his shoulder as he held you close to him finally getting his breathing back to normal. You bit your lips shut and breathed slowly so he couldn’t feel your body shake for air. You didn’t want him to realise how much you were struggling in his arms- how lost and abused you felt. You didn’t want your emotions to worsen his because he had to come first.

He’d lost the love of his life and he needs someone to be strong for him, help him get on his own feet. Be beside him with wide arms and a welcoming face. It wasn’t him being selfish, it was something you had to understand Simon to understand.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you hesitantly sat down and talked. It was a long talk hidden by cheap smiles and forced laughter but of course, he didn’t catch on. You let him speak, you gave him advice- hugged it out and as weeks passed by, the two of you were back to normality again.

He’d found a new girl quicker than you thought he wouldn’t, pretty girl and ironically she your figure and eye colour. The more you watched them interact the more they seemed to happy together, kissing, hugging, buying each other gifts. It felt just like how it was before.

Back to Simon and his lovesick best friend that will always be there for him even if he’s never there for her. Back to Simon and his awful dating life as he hops from one awful breakup to the next because they all are missing something.

All he wants, is girl with your hair colour. A girl with your eye colour and your smile. All he longs for is a girl that he can hold hands with but can also roll his eyes at when she teases him for being too cheesy. He wants a girl who can laugh and joke with him but still support him and by there for him in more ways than one. Not just a girlfriend but almost as if a best friend at the same time. That’s all he wants and asks the world for but for some reason she just isn’t out there for him.

And until he realises why he looks for you in every girl he meets. Until he steps back and opens his eyelids to everything right in front of him. She won’t ever be.

[honeyhae-svt]

Hello i saw your wonwoo's headcanon when he falls for someone, can u do the same but for Shua pls? Thanks 🫶🏼

joshua's headcanon when he falls for someone (you)

joshua hong x gn!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags / genre: joshua x reader, seventeen fanfiction, slow burn romance, heartfelt confession, mutual pining, slice of life, fluff, soft romance, emotional connection, tender moments, reader insert ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: n/a (just lots of sweetness, soft feelings, and a lot of kisses. mwuahhh) ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 3124 (124-ilyyy) ੈ♡ a/n: 2/13 ! like i said, i will be making one for every member, but if you request it, i'll start on it asap. thankyou anon for requesting ! also maximize that volume of yours and play pretty u rn ! a pretty song for a pretty man whose name is joshua. he's honestly such a darling, i'd melt for him. ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Pretty U (Seventeen) ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

ੈ♡˚ ༘ joshua's headcanon when he falls for someone

when joshua falls for someone, it’s like the warmth of sunlight gently breaking through a cloudy day—subtle but undeniable. he’s the kind of person whose love manifests through his kindness and thoughtfulness, making you feel special without overwhelming you.

joshua has a knack for noticing what makes you happy, and he’s quick to incorporate those little things into his actions. whether it’s remembering how you like your coffee, recommending a song he thinks you’ll love, or bringing you something that reminded him of you, his affection is all about showing how much he pays attention. he’s naturally charming, but when it comes to you, his charm has an extra layer of softness, like he’s trying to make sure you always feel comfortable around him.

in group settings, he’ll make an effort to ensure you feel included, casually steering conversations to your interests or gently teasing you in a way that draws you closer. he doesn’t overdo it; it’s all in the way he lingers just a little longer when you speak, or how his laugh sounds a bit more genuine when it’s you making the joke.

when joshua is in love, he has a way of balancing sweetness with calm confidence. he won’t rush things; instead, he lets his feelings unfold naturally. he’s patient, preferring to let the connection build over time, but that doesn’t mean he’s passive. you’ll find him initiating small, meaningful moments—asking to walk you home, offering to help with something even when he doesn’t have to, or just sitting with you in silence when words aren’t needed.

joshua is a firm believer in communication, but he might hold back on fully confessing until he’s sure the timing is right. he’s a romantic at heart, so when he does tell you how he feels, it’s with thought and intention. maybe it’s under the stars, or during a quiet moment when it’s just the two of you, and he says something like, “i wasn’t sure how to say this, but you’ve been on my mind more than you realize.”

when joshua is jealous, it’s quiet and understated—he’s not one to get possessive, but he can’t help the subtle furrow of his brows or the way he stands a little closer to you. he’s protective in a gentle, non-obtrusive way, always making sure you know he’s there for you without needing to draw attention to it.

with joshua, falling in love feels safe and warm, like coming home after a long day. he’s the type to remind you that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real—it’s in the small, consistent moments, the quiet support, and the way he makes you feel cherished without even trying. when he loves you, it’s steady and sincere, like he’s found something in you he’s never going to let go of.

it was late. joshua sat at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea that he’d barely touched. the light above cast a soft golden glow, and though the room was calm, his heart wasn’t.

you were sitting across from him, cross-legged on the chair, scrolling through your phone with an occasional laugh escaping your lips. joshua glanced at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a fond smile before he quickly looked away, hoping you wouldn’t catch him. it was becoming a habit lately—watching you when you weren’t looking, soaking in the way your presence made the world feel a little brighter.

“josh,” you called, pulling him from his thoughts. “what’s with that smile? did i miss something funny?”

he blinked, startled, and laughed softly, shaking his head. “nothing. just thinking.”

“thinking about what?” you pressed, leaning forward, your curious eyes meeting his.

he hesitated, swirling the tea in his mug as if the answer lay at the bottom. how was he supposed to explain what he was thinking? that the way your nose crinkled when you laughed made his chest feel too tight? or that the way you casually said his name felt like the softest melody?

“just stuff,” he finally replied, his voice gentle but evasive.

you narrowed your eyes at him, unconvinced. “that’s vague, even for you.”

joshua chuckled, setting the mug down. he loved how you weren’t afraid to call him out, how you always pushed for more when you knew he wasn’t being entirely honest. “alright, you caught me,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “i was thinking about you.”

the way your eyes widened and a faint blush dusted your cheeks made his stomach flip. it was a bold thing to say, and he wasn’t even sure where he’d found the courage. but once the words were out, he didn’t regret them.

“me?” you asked, your voice softer now.

he nodded, his gaze steady but warm. “yeah. you’ve been on my mind a lot lately.” he paused, watching the way you fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, the way you looked down as if trying to hide your own smile. “i don’t know how to say this without sounding cheesy, but… i think i like you. a lot more than i should.”

your head shot up at his words, eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, joshua worried he’d misread things, that maybe the connection he felt wasn’t mutual. but then, slowly, you smiled—a soft, shy smile that made his heart race.

“you’re not the only one who’s been thinking about someone,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

his breath caught. “really?”

you nodded, your fingers nervously tapping the table. “i didn’t know how to bring it up, but… i like you too, joshua. probably more than i should.”

the tension in his chest eased, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness. he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. “well, that’s a relief,” he said with a small laugh. “i was starting to think i’d have to spend another hour working up the courage to say something.”

you laughed too, your fingers curling around his. “guess i saved you the trouble.”

the two of you sat there, hands intertwined, a quiet warmth settling between you. for joshua, it wasn’t the moment he confessed that stood out the most—it was this. the way you looked at him, the way your hand fit perfectly in his, and the way the silence felt full instead of empty.

in that moment, he realized love wasn’t something that needed to be rushed or dramatized. sometimes, it was as simple as sitting across from someone who made your world feel a little less lonely, and knowing they felt the same way.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ kisses and cuddles with joshua

joshua is naturally gentle and thoughtful when it comes to physical affection. he’s the type to wait until the moment feels just right, never rushing or forcing anything. he thrives in the little things—the brush of your fingers, the way your shoulder leans against his, or the quiet moments when your laughter makes him smile without meaning to.

one evening, you’re both sitting on the floor in his apartment, surrounded by half-empty mugs of tea and a mess of polaroids and postcards spread out in front of you. the soft hum of a playlist fills the space, his voice occasionally cutting through as he shares stories behind each photo.

you catch him watching you as you laugh at a particularly ridiculous story, his gaze lingering longer than usual. joshua isn’t one to overthink, but there’s something about the way you look so at ease—like you belong in every corner of his life—that makes his chest ache in the best way.

he doesn’t realize how close you’ve shifted until your knee brushes against his, and even then, he doesn’t move away. instead, his hand moves almost instinctively, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of one of the photos near your leg. it’s subtle, but you feel it: the shift in the air, the quiet closeness that doesn’t need words.

"what?" you ask, raising a brow when you notice his silence.

"nothing," he replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. but the way he says it—the soft timbre of his voice—makes you feel like it’s everything.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ the first kiss the first kiss happens when neither of you expects it, but it feels so natural that it doesn’t catch you off guard.

you’re walking together late at night, bundled up against the chill. the city is quiet, with only the occasional glow of streetlights and the crunch of snow under your feet. he’s telling you about something—his words soft and warm like the scarf wrapped around your neck.

when you stop to admire the way the snow glitters under the lamplight, he pauses too, standing just behind you. joshua doesn’t rush to fill the silence. instead, he watches as your breath fogs in the air, your head tilted slightly upward.

he doesn’t think about it too much—he’s not the type to overanalyze. he simply steps closer, his fingers brushing yours before he turns you gently toward him. the way he looks at you is enough to make your heart stutter, his eyes carrying that quiet, unspoken affection he’s always held just below the surface.

when he leans in, it’s slow, as if he’s giving you every chance to stop him. but you don’t. his lips meet yours softly, a tentative but deliberate press, warm against the cold of the night. it’s the kind of kiss that lingers long after it ends, the kind that makes you forget about the cold entirely.

when he pulls back, there’s a faint pink dusting his cheeks, though whether it’s from the cold or the moment, you’re not sure. “sorry,” he murmurs, though the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrays him.

"don’t be," you reply, and he laughs softly, his breath visible in the winter air.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ cuddles with joshua cuddling with joshua feels like wrapping yourself in a blanket of warmth and quiet reassurance. he’s not overly clingy, but he has this way of making every touch feel intentional and meaningful.

it starts small—like when you’re sitting together on the couch, his arm draped casually along the back. as time goes on, he’ll pull you closer, until you’re tucked against his side, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm. he’s the type to hum quietly or ask about your day, his voice low and soothing.

on lazy mornings, you’ll find him lying on his back, one arm stretched out as if waiting for you to crawl into the space beside him. when you do, he’ll pull you closer, his hand resting against the small of your back. his touch is gentle, never hurried, as if he has all the time in the world to savor the moment.

sometimes, when he’s particularly tired or in need of comfort himself, he’ll rest his head on your shoulder, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. he doesn’t say much during these moments, but the way he holds you speaks volumes.

his favorite way to cuddle, though, is lying side by side, your head resting on his chest. he’ll absentmindedly run his fingers through your hair or along your back, his breathing steady and calming. every now and then, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring something sweet that makes your heart flutter.

with joshua, cuddling isn’t just about the physical closeness—it’s about the quiet, unspoken connection you share. it’s in the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in his world, and in the way his presence alone makes you feel at home.

┊ ➶ ｡✩‧₊˚ bonus joshua kisses with intention. everything he does has this thoughtful, deliberate quality to it, like he's not just kissing you—he’s showing you how much he cherishes you. his kisses are gentle yet firm, the kind that leave you feeling warm and safe, like you’re the only person in his world.

the first time he kisses you, it’s under the soft glow of the streetlights. you’re walking home together after a late-night outing, your laughter fading into the quiet hum of the night. joshua’s been stealing glances at you all evening, his usual soft smile lingering just a little longer than usual.

as you stop to admire the night sky, he hesitates for a moment, his hands tucked into his pockets. he stands a little closer to you than necessary, and when you turn to face him, there’s a flicker of nervousness in his gaze.

“you know…” he begins, his voice softer than usual, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

before you can even ask what he means, he steps closer, one hand gently brushing your cheek. his touch is featherlight, and the way his fingers curl around your jaw feels so tender that your heart skips a beat.

when his lips finally meet yours, it’s like the whole world quiets. the kiss is soft and slow, his lips moving against yours with the kind of care that feels almost reverent. it’s not about passion or urgency—it’s about the unspoken feelings he’s been carrying for so long.

as the kiss deepens, his other hand moves to your waist, pulling you just a little closer. his touch is steady, grounding you, as if he’s afraid to let go. you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way his lips linger just long enough to leave you breathless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting gently against yours. his eyes are soft, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks, but there’s a hint of mischief in his smile. “and now that i have… i don’t think i’ll ever stop.”

from then on, joshua’s kisses become a quiet yet powerful expression of his affection.

on lazy afternoons, he’ll tilt your chin up with a finger, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. when you’re feeling down, he kisses your forehead first, his lips lingering there before pulling you into a soft, lingering kiss that somehow makes everything feel okay again.

but when the moment calls for it—when it’s just the two of you, tucked away from the world—his kisses take on a new intensity.

one evening, you’re curled up together on the couch, a movie playing in the background that neither of you are paying attention to. joshua’s arm is draped over your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair. you’re mid-sentence when he leans in, cutting you off with a kiss that catches you completely off guard.

this kiss is deeper, hungrier, but still carries that same sense of care that only joshua can give. his lips move against yours with an unspoken urgency, his hands gently cupping your face as if to keep you close. his thumb brushes against your cheek, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he’s savoring every second.

when he pulls back, his breathing is a little uneven, his cheeks flushed. his lips curve into a small, bashful smile as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with nothing but love.

“sorry,” he says softly, though there’s no regret in his tone. “i just… couldn’t help myself.”

and you can’t help but smile back, because with joshua, every kiss feels like a quiet confession of how deeply he cares for you.

⊹˚. what exactly are you to joshua?

to joshua, you’re not just a person—you're the person. the one who brightens his world effortlessly with your presence. you’re his muse, his source of quiet inspiration, and the reason he finds himself smiling even on the toughest days. to him, you’re someone who feels like home—comforting, warm, and safe, yet exciting in all the ways he didn’t realize he needed.

⊹˚. how joshua falls for you

joshua’s feelings for you come like a melody—soft, sweet, and so natural that he almost doesn’t notice it at first. it starts with the way you make him laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re talking about something you love, and the way you get him without him needing to explain.

for joshua, falling for you isn’t an “aha” moment. it’s a collection of little things: the way you remember his favorite coffee order, the way you unconsciously hum while doing something, or the way you’re always genuinely kind to others.

he’s the kind of person who falls in love through shared moments—a late-night conversation under the stars, a quiet coffee date on a rainy day, or even just a random moment when he looks at you and thinks, "how did I get so lucky?"

example: one evening, as the two of you are walking home together after an impromptu late-night dessert run, you laugh at something he says, your voice echoing in the quiet night. joshua glances at you, the way your hair catches the moonlight, the crinkle of your eyes when you smile. that’s the moment he realizes: this is it. this is where I want to be—by your side.

when joshua confesses, it’ll be thoughtful and heartfelt, but never overwhelming. he doesn’t want to pressure you; he just wants you to know. maybe it’s after a casual hangout, when he walks you to your door and lingers a little longer than usual.

"i’ve been meaning to tell you something," he starts, his voice soft but steady. "i don’t know when it happened, but… you’ve become really important to me. like, more than just a friend. and i just thought you should know."

(ㅅ´ ˘ )♡ when joshua loves, it’s like a warm embrace—a constant presence that makes you feel cherished and appreciated. he’s attentive, always noticing the little things about you, and finding ways to make your life easier or happier.

he’s the kind of person who’ll send you random texts throughout the day, just to check in or make you smile. "hey, i heard this song, and it made me think of you. listen to it when you have a minute." or "don’t forget to eat something today, okay?"

he loves in ways that feel thoughtful and intentional—remembering your favorite flower and surprising you with it, or noticing when you’re stressed and planning a relaxing day for the two of you.

like when you’ve had a rough day, and you find him waiting at your doorstep with your favorite snacks and a playlist he made just for you.

and when you’re with him, you feel it in the way he looks at you—soft, tender, like you’re the only thing that matters in that moment. his love is steady and unwavering, a kind of comfort that feels like it was meant just for you.

his hand always seems to find yours, even in the smallest moments, as if it’s a silent promise that he’s there for you, no matter what. and when he kisses you, it’s soft but full of meaning, like he’s pouring everything he can’t say into that one moment.

joshua’s love feels like coming home, every single time.

ੈ♡ a/n: do check out the wonwoo version over here ! the next few updates will happen if there's a request on it ^^ if you want to know whether there would be any updates, just check out my seventeen masterlist and go to the headcanon section and there you will see which members has this "headcanon when he falls for someone (you)". thankyou and ilysm <3

[oharaslove]

We’ve always seen Grumpy x Sunshine when it comes to Miguel and Reader. Today I present you with Grumpy x Grumpy

Reader who never showed a smile towards anyone in the Society. 

Miguel who notices them in the group meetings. Every Spider has a sense of humour, they smile through the pain, but you didn’t. You were always with a serious expression. You were integrated, at the same time though, you seemed closed off. Not letting anyone come close. 

Miguel who takes interest. There is only one place for a Grumpy person in this lab, and that’s him. Or at least, most people say he is grumpy, not that he believes it 100%. 

Reader who enjoys spending time by herself, recluding to the rooftop of the Society. A place that, weirdly enough, no one frequents. 

Miguel who looks for Reader in the common spaces, but doesn’t have luck. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted with you, but there was something pulling him towards your person. Did he want to be friends? Was he just curious? No idea.

Miguel who has to admit to Lyla what he is doing, having to accept her teases. “Oooohhh Miguel has got a crush” At which Miguel rolls his eyes. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you! How could he have a crush? he definitely has. If it were any other Spider, he would probably not care, but you. You had something. 

Lyla who, after an uncountable amount of mocking, takes pity on Miguel and reveals your location. Miguel who sees you through the security camera, sitting at the edge, dangling your feet. 

Miguel who marches towards your location. No plan in his head. He was just going with the flow. His body guiding him towards what it wanted. You

Reader who is startled by the sudden sound of someone opening the door to the rooftop. Who the hell comes here?. You turned around, spotting Miguel silently watching you from the doorway. You turn around again, rolling your eyes. Whatever. 

Miguel who approaches you. What the hell has he come here for? It’s been a looong minute since he has spoken to a woman, other than work stuff.

Miguel who just stands there, looking off at the distance, while keeping an eye on you from time to time. He was just testing the water, yeah. 

Reader who finds it weird, but let’s it happen. Miguel is the leader of the society after all. Besides, you knew (or at least heard) that he was “grumpy”. Problem, you didn’t know if he really was, or like you, he was misunderstood by everyone. In doubt, better keep quiet. 

Miguel who after a while, decides to go. That was embarrassing enough. But don’t get confused, he would come back, he just needed a plan. 

Miguel who, the first week, just stands there, getting comfortable with your presence, hoping you do too. Until….

“You know you can sit, right?” “Uh… I-” He stutters, not expecting you to talk. You scooch over, even though there is plenty of space. Miguel sits, rather close. He enjoys the view now, but most importantly, the heat emanating from your body. He sighs, step 1 down. 

Days turned into weeks. Now, you two were comfortable. Not yet talking much, but sitting next to each other, enjoying each other’s company while enjoying the skyline. Miguel hadn’t realised how much he needed this, relax. After a day being cooped up in the lab, this was a nice change. You would share food with each other, a lovely and quiet picnic between two friends? A boss and a worker? Co-workers? He had no clue, but whatever it was, he liked it. 

But… he wanted more. He felt the need to know you better. So.. that’s how the conversations started. About whatever, whoever… didn’t matter. What matter was that step 2 was down. 

Step 3 was by far the hardest one. Make you laugh. At least a small giggle or a smile, Miguel would be happy with either one. 

Granted, Miguel wasn’t good with jokes either. He didn’t know how the other Spiders did it. But thankfully, as a man of science, he knew how to achieve a goal. 

Miguel who spends quite some time observing the other Spiders. He never had a reason to, but now, he did. He thought that you would like it if he was funny, like the others. Yeah, surely, why wouldn’t you?

Miguel who writes some jokes and practises how to deliver them, over and over again. Lyla was having a blast. The big, “bad”, “grumpy” leader of the Spider Society, creator of Nueva York, was mad about another person. 

Miguel, nervous af, goes to your spot. After meeting for quite some time, you two develop a routine. Always at the same hour, same place. 

Reader who is already there, waiting. You really enjoyed meeting with Miguel, you felt he was the only one who understood you. 

Miguel who slowly approaches you. He could feel sweat dribble from his temple, down to his neck. 

Miguel checks the paper on his hand. Yeah, these jokes would do. 

Miguel who, after a peaceful chit chat, feels comfortable enough to start trying with the jokes. They were awful, to say the least. 

“How would you describe Spiderman’s perfect home? The world wide web!”

Miguel who after every stupid joke watches your reaction. At first, you are confused, but as jokes go by, he can see you trying hard not to smile. 

“What is–” “What are you doing?” you said, your lips tugging up into a smile. you were so adorable. “What do you mean?” “The jokes” you clarify, your smile widening. “I– I was trying to be funny, like the other Spidermen. People seem to like them. I–” “Don’t” you interrupt, your tone and expression serious. 

Miguel wanted to be swallowed by the Earth. He scrunches the paper and fists it. This was all a waste— “I like you just the way you are” You confess, making Miguel snap his head towards you, eyes wide like plates. 

“You– you do?” He must have misheard you. “Mhh” you mumbled, nodding. “Just,” you bite your lip, debating if you should say it or not. “Just be my Miguel. The one you’ve always been” And you smile as bright as the sun, warming Miguel’s hug. 

“Your Miguel” he repeats in a trance. You nod, biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile that had been printed on your face. Nothing could wipe it now. 

Miguel mirrors you, smiling from ear to ear. He looks at his clenched fist, the paper sticking out. He looks at you and laughs, throwing the paper into the city. “I’ll be your Miguel then” He scooches closer to you, giving you the opportunity to lean on his chest, as he rounds your body with his arm. 

“Yeah, my Miguel” you sighed, closing your eyes and melting into his touch. His warm body and heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

Miguel who kisses the top of your head, before resting his cheek against it. He sighs, step 3 and goal down. 

To the world, you were two Grumpy people. But between you, days were spent between laughs and giggles. Kisses being interrupted by smiles. Just seeing each other made you happy. Life was warm, yellow and red, all together. It didn’t matter how the rest saw you, just that you two were happy and in love. 

[lipstick-and-libraries]

Rainfall and Realizations PT.2

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: A rainy afternoon in Kitty’s and your dorm brings you closer to her charming but flustered friend, Minho. Between teasing remarks, upcoming secrets and an unexpected walk, sparks begin to fly as Minho starts to see you in a new light.

𓋜 Notes:

Hello again!,

I just want to say, I'm so surprised that the first little drabble has reached about 100 people at this point, thank you to everyone reading and leaving a like <3

While I didn't think I'd be continuing the first part, I am very very happy to do so. I have a couple Ideas, so lets see how long this little slowburn is gonna take, but do feel free to give feedback, ideas or corrections :)

Thank you again, and I hope you have fun with this next part, and the newest little secret (Y/N) possibly has

Taglist!! <3: @finnbbl, @literallysza(tysm, ily)

The days following Minho’s first meeting with (Y/N) were…confusing. For someone who prided himself on being the most self-assured person at KISS, Minho now found himself unsettled, distracted, and unusually tongue-tied.

He hated how much he found himself looking for excuses to hang out in Kitty’s dorm, pretending to help with her chaotic plans or offering to grab coffee with her, only to find himself scanning the room for (Y/N).

And then there was (Y/N) herself. If she noticed Minho’s newfound awkwardness, she didn’t let on. She greeted him the same way every time—calm, composed, and polite but never overly enthusiastic. It drove him crazy.

One rainy afternoon, Minho found himself at Kitty’s dorm again. It had become a ritual of sorts—Kitty would ramble on about her latest love triangle (or square, depending on the day), and Minho would half-listen, his attention split between her words and the hope that (Y/N) would walk in.

“…and then she had the nerve to ask if I wanted to go shopping with her,” Kitty was saying, pacing the small living room.

Minho leaned back on the couch, pretending to listen. His attention kept drifting to the door.

“And you’re not even listening,” Kitty said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“What? No, I am,” Minho said quickly. “Shopping with Yuri. Terrible idea. Definitely don’t do it.”

Kitty sighed, flopping onto the armchair across from him. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Before Minho could respond, the door creaked open. (Y/N) stepped inside, balancing a tray of fresh cookies. She glanced at them, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Kitty, I made a little something for you,” she said, setting the tray on the counter. Her gaze flickered to Minho briefly. “Oh. Hi, Minho.”

Minho straightened up instinctively. “Hey.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “Cookies? You’ve been spoiling me lately, (Y/N).”

“It’s nothing,” (Y/N) said, putting a couple of them on a platter for Kitty and sliding it across the counter. “I wanted to take some time to bake something again anyway.”

Minho hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Any left over for me?”

(Y/N) glanced at him, her expression unreadable, before nodding. She prepared another plate and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed briefly as he took it, and Minho felt his stomach flip.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking a bite to hide his reaction.

As the rain pattered against the windows, the three of them settled into a strangely comfortable rhythm. Kitty alternated between brainstorming ideas and scrolling through her phone, while Minho and (Y/N) exchanged occasional remarks about the weather and school.

Minho found himself watching (Y/N) more than he intended. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her plate balanced precariously on the edge of the table. Her hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, and she wore an oversized sweater that looked impossibly soft.

“So,” (Y/N) said suddenly, looking at Minho. “What’s your role in Kitty’s master plan today?”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I’m the…idea guy?”

“Really?” (Y/N) said, raising an eyebrow. “Because it seems like Kitty’s doing all the talking.”

Kitty snorted. “Exactly. He’s useless.”

“Hey,” Minho protested, feigning offense. “I’m providing moral support.”

“Moral support doesn’t count if you’re just sitting there looking pretty,” (Y/N) said, her tone light but teasing.

Minho’s cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment—or was it an insult? He couldn’t tell.

“Looking pretty is a full-time job,” he shot back, recovering quickly.

(Y/N) smiled faintly, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Must be exhausting.”

Soon after, (Y/N) excused herself to work on her writing, leaving Minho and Kitty alone again.

“You’re staring,” Kitty said, not looking up from her phone.

“What?” Minho said, snapping out of his thoughts.

“At (Y/N),” Kitty clarified, smirking. “You’ve been staring at her all afternoon.”

“I have not,” Minho said, a little too quickly.

“Right,” Kitty said, drawing out the word. “You’re so obvious, it’s painful.”

Minho groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not…staring. I just think she’s—”

“Gorgeous?” Kitty supplied.

Minho sighed. “Fine. Yes. But it’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Kitty said, her smirk widening.

The tea that was made to go along with the cookies was long gone, the rain still drumming softly against the windows, and Minho couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in his head. Her words—“Must be exhausting”—had been light, teasing, but there was something about the way (Y/N) looked at him when she said it. Not dismissive, not disinterested. Amused, maybe even intrigued. Or was he imagining that?

“Minho,” Kitty’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to reality.

“Huh?”

Kitty rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Hiding what?” he said, attempting a casual shrug that probably looked as awkward as it felt.

“You, staring at her like she’s some mysterious treasure map you’re trying to figure out,” Kitty said, her smirk firmly in place.

“I don’t stare,” Minho said defensively. “I glance. Occasionally, and don't mention it again, we just talked about that 20 minutes ago!”

Kitty let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re in trouble, I'm just trying to get that into your head”

“I’m not,” Minho insisted, though the heat rising in his cheeks told a different story. “I just think she’s…interesting.”

“Oh, she is,” Kitty agreed. “But don’t think you’re going to win her over by just sitting here and looking pretty.”

“I don’t—” Minho started, but Kitty cut him off.

“Please. I know you. You think a few charming smiles and a well-timed compliment are all it takes.”

Minho scowled, but he couldn’t exactly argue. That had worked for him in the past. “And what, oh wise Kitty, do you suggest I do?”

Kitty tilted her head, considering. “Maybe try talking to her. Actually talking. Ask her about her life, her interests—be genuine for once.”

Minho opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the door to (Y/N)’s room creaked open. She stepped out, clutching her laptop and a notebook, her hair pulled into a clip-up hairstyle.

“I’m heading to the library,” (Y/N) said, glancing between them.

“In this weather?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s quieter when it’s raining,” (Y/N) said with a small shrug.

"Besides, I want to meet up with a guy that needs tutoring, he's hopeless"

"Just some guy, huh?" Minho pauses for a second, watching her every move.

"A random guy that you're bringing some of your cookies?"

(Y/N turns around, facing him with a judging look: "If you really think about it, you're also 'Just a Guy' at the moment"

Minho's brows furrow, and you could almost hear Kitty's low wince in reaction to her statement

“I’ll walk with you,” Minho said, standing before he even realized what he was doing.

(Y/N) blinked, clearly surprised. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Minho said, his tone a little too eager. He quickly added, “I mean, I’ve been cooped up here for hours. I could use some air.”

Kitty barely stifled a laugh, but (Y/N) simply nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

Minho grabbed his jacket, ignoring Kitty’s smug expression as he followed (Y/N) out the door.

The rain had softened into a light drizzle by the time they stepped outside. (Y/N) pulled her hood up, clutching her laptop bag close as they walked.

“So,” Minho began, struggling to find a topic. “The library, huh? Big plans?”

“I just need some quiet to work,” (Y/N) said, glancing at him briefly.

“On what?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “I write sometimes. Nothing major.”

“Like essays?” Minho guessed.

“Not exactly,” she said, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “More like…thoughts. Stories. Poetry, sometimes.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do,” (Y/N) said lightly.

They walked in silence for a moment, the rain-soaked campus unusually quiet around them. Minho found himself stealing glances at her, trying to piece together the puzzle of who she was.

“What about you?” (Y/N) asked suddenly, catching him off guard. “What do you do when you’re not hanging out with Kitty or obsessing over your wardrobe?”

“I don’t obsess over clothes, or only hang out with Kitty” Minho said defensively.

(Y/N) gave him a knowing look: "You cant deny the fashion thing, and you do hang out with Kitty a lot at the moment, you seem to be attached at the hip"

“Okay, maybe a little, but not the Kitty thing! She's nice don't get me wrong, but..” he admitted, stopping his rant when he saw (Y/N)'s expression

“But I do other things. Like…uh…” He faltered, realizing he didn’t have a good answer. “I’m pretty into music,” he said finally. “I play piano.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her tone teasing. “You don’t exactly give off ‘classical music prodigy’ vibes.”

“First of all, I’m not a prodigy,” Minho said. “And second, I’m full of surprises.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” (Y/N) said, her faint smile returning.

They reached the library steps, and (Y/N) paused, turning to face him.

“Thanks for walking with me,” she said.

“Anytime,” Minho said, and for once, he meant it.

(Y/N) hesitated, like she wanted to say something else, but instead, deciding for an alternative.

"Minho?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever get lonely when Kitty's out causing chaos, feel free to stop by anyway, alright?"

Minho and her shared a smile before she nodded and disappeared through the library doors.

Minho stood there for a moment, watching the door close behind her. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, replaying their conversation in his head. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress.

By the time he got back to the dorm, Kitty was waiting for him, sprawled out on the couch with a knowing grin.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well, what?”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “How’d it go? Did you manage to form a complete sentence?”

“Very funny,” Minho said, kicking off his shoes. “We talked.”

“And?”

“And…she’s interesting,” Minho admitted, flopping onto the couch.

She gave him an expecting look, leaning forward towards him

He have her a judgy up-and-down look before asking: "What?"

Kitty groaned and shook her head.

"And? There was something else I know it"

Minho's lips twitched into something resembling a smile before gaining back his facial control

"Well...", he hesitated for a second, "She did indirectly invite me to hang out?"

Kitty’s grin widened. “You’re so doomed.”

That night, as Minho sat at his desk, he found himself scrolling through his phone, staring at the submission screen for the anonymous blog everyone at KISS loved. He didn’t know why he was considering it, but something about (Y/N)’s quiet confidence had gotten under his skin.

Without overthinking, he typed out a message:

“How do you get to know someone who’s completely different from anyone you’ve ever met? Someone who makes you feel like you’re not as put together as you think you are?”

He hesitated before hitting send, then shook his head and closed the app. It wasn’t like she would ever see it.

Or so he thought.

(part 3 coming soon <3)

[nomie-11]

Chase After You - Part 2

masterlist! | part 1 | part 3

synopsis: vi is committed to making you believe in her as a soulmate, but you are having troubling believing in your own limits as her soulmate

pairings: vi x reader, lowkey ellie x dina

After your unexpected (and mortifying) first meeting, you texted Vi just so she could have your number—not because you secretly wanted to hear from her—but just in case. You didn’t expect Vi to follow through on her declaration to get to know you. You thought she’d chalk you up as a lost cause after you bolted like a spooked animal. But instead, she texted you. 

Every day. 

Relentlessly. 

And then she started texting you about meeting up, going out for dinner, hitting the gym together, all of these things that you weren’t sure you really wanted to do with her. And then she offered coffee after rotations, fitting herself perfectly into your existing rotation. 

You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the way Vi’s eyes lit up when you said “fine,” or the near instant relief you felt when your headaches faded around her. Either way, you regretted it almost instantly. 

By the time the next Tuesday rolled around, you were second guessing everything. Caitlyn, however, wasn’t letting you back out. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous,” she said, leaning on the doorway as you grabbed your work bag. “It’s just coffee. You’ve already met her. Plus, she’s been texting you all week like you’re her new best friend.” 

“She’s not my best friend,” you muttered, zipping up your bag with more force than necessary. “And I’m not nervous.” 

Caitlyn gave you a pointed look. “You’ve changed your shirt three times.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just coffee, right? Not a date.” 

“Exactly,” Caitlyn agreed, though her smirk said otherwise. “But if it were a date, you’d totally nail it.”

You groaned, grabbing your jacket. “Goodbye, Caitlyn.” 

She waved you off. “Have fun with your soulmate!”

You ignored her as you left, though her words played on a loop in your mind all the way to the coffee shop. 

Vi was already waiting when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with two mugs in front of her. She looked up the moment the door chimed, grinning as if she’d been waiting for this all day. 

“Hey!” she called, waving you over. “Thought I’d grab you something—hope you like caramel macchiatos?” 

You hesitated, standing awkwardly by the table. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?” 

She nudged the chair across from herewith her foot, her grin widening. “Good guess, huh. Sit, relax. You look like you just ran a marathon.”

You muttered something under your breath but sat down anyway, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. Vi’s presence was… unnervingly comfortable, like you’d known her longer than a week. 

“So,” she said, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand, “how was your rotation?” 

“It was fine,” you replied, trying to sound neutral. “Busy.” 

Vi nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Must be intense, though. I mean, clinicals and lectures? How do you even have time for… you know, a life?”

You shrugged, not sure how to answer. “I have three friends, so not much of a life.” 

Her smile softened, and for a moment, she just looked at you, like she was piecing something together. Then she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, the muscles in her shoulder pulling tight. “Okay, so here’s the deal: coffee, twice a week. My treat. We’ll call it stress relief.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“After your rotations,” she clarified. “We meet here, twice a week. No pressure, no soulmate talk, just… getting to know each other.” 

You stared at her, unsure if you wanted to laugh or roll your eyes. “Why are you so insistent on this?” 

Vi shrugged, her grin returning. “Because you’re worth the effort. And I think you’ll figure that out eventually.” 

————————————

The first time Vi suggested ice skating, you thought she was joking. When she dragged you to the rink on your next ‘coffee date,’ you were certain it was a terrible idea. 

“I don’t know how to skate,” you protested as she handed you a pair of rentals. 

“That’s the fun part,” Vi said, already lacing hers up. “I’ll teach you.”

The first ten minutes were a disaster. You clung to the wall like your life depended on it, glaring at Vi every time she tried to coax you toward the center of the rink. 

“You’re doing great!” She called, skating backward in front of you with infuriating ease. 

“I hate this,” you muttered, taking a shaky step.

“You don’t hate it,” she said with a laugh. “You’re just mad you’re not good at it yet.” 

You glared at her, but her teasing grin was impossible to stay mad at. Slowly, she coaxed you away from the wall, her hands steadying yours as she guided you across the ice. 

You cling to Vi like she was a lifeline, your legs wobbling uncontrollably beneath you. Every time you felt even a hint of balance the ice seemed to betray you, and you found yourself clutching her arms tighter. 

“Okay, okay,” you hissed, squeezed your eyes shut as your skates slipped again. “I’m going to die, and it’s going to be your fault.” 

Vi laughed, the sound warm and genuine, echoing in the cold air. “You’re not going to die, Y/n. I’ve got you. Just trust me.” 

That was the problem. You did trust her—too much, maybe. Every time her hands steadied you, everytime she smiled and said, “You’re doing great,” you felt the knot in your chest loosen just a little. And that was terrifying. 

You stumbled again, and Vi caught you easily, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. “See?” She said, her voice soft. “Not so bad when you’ve got someone to hold on to.” 

You stared at her, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with skating. the pink of her hair stood out against the pale blue lights of the link, and her eyes were so full of warmth and patience that it made your stomach twist. She looked at you like you were someone worth catching. 

And that started you more than anything. 

“Are you okay?” Vi asked, tilting her head as she noticed your silence. 

You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… trying not to snap my ankle.” 

Vi smirked, her hands still warm on your waist. “Don’t worry. If you fall, I’ll catch you.” 

You wanted to tell her that the falling wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the way she made you feel safe, the way she looked at you like you mattered. It was the way your soulmate bond tugged at your heart every time she smiled, like it was pulling toward something you weren’t sure you were ready for. 

But instead, you tightened your grip on her hands and said, “Okay, but if I fall, we’re both going down.” 

Vi grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Deal. But only if you promise to let go of me and try on your own for a little longer.” 

You groaned but nodded, letting her guide you across the ice again. This time, you didn’t fight the way your body leaned into hers, and for a few minutes, you almost forgot why this was supposed to scare you.

Almost. 

——————————————

The rink was cold, loud, and way too busy for your liking when you walked through the doors for the second time. Vi had texted you the night before, practically begging you to come to her game, and just imagining her face when you showed up was enough to get you to come. 

Vi had said for you to come early so she could meet you by the rink before she had to stretch and warm up so she could introduce you to some people. 

Going to the game—not so scary. Meeting Vi’s friends? Terrifying. 

By the time you arrived, your nerves were frayed. The rink was packed with players warming up, families gathering in the stands, and the faint smell of popcorn wafting through the air. You scanned the crowd, trying to spot Vi, your anxiety building with every second. 

Then, you heard her. 

“Y/n!”

Vi’s voice cut through the noise like a beacon, and you turned to see her weaving through the crowd, half-dressed in her hockey gear. Her helmet dangled from her hand, her skate guards clinking as she walked toward you. She had that same easy grin that she normally does, the one that somehow made you feel both at ease and completely overwhelmed. 

“You made it!” she said, her voice warm with excitement. Before you could respond, she gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward a group near the benches. “Come on, there’s people I want you to meet.” 

You barely had time to protest before you were standing in front of two women and a baby. One of them, a tall brunette with a mischievous glint in her eye, was also half-dressed in hockey gear and holding a squirming baby on her hip. The other, a slightly shorter woman with strong facial features and kind eyes, offered you a small, polite smile. 

“This is Ellie,” Vi said, gesturing toward the taller woman. “She’s one of my best friends, and a total menace on the ice.” 

Ellie snorted, shifting the baby to her other hip. “Nice to meet you, Y/n. Don’t listen to her—she’d just mad I’m better at slap shots.” 

Vi rolled her eyes. “Anyway, this is Dina—Ellie’s soulmate.” 

Dina laughed softly, reaching out to shake your hand. “Nice to finally put a face to the name. Vi’s been talking about you nonstop.” 

Your face heated instantly. “Oh, um… nice to meet you, too.” 

“And this,” Vi added, pointing to the baby, “is J.J. He’s kind of the star of the show.” 

J.J. babbled happily, reaching for your necklace. You couldn’t help but smile as his tiny fingers grabbed onto it, tugging gently. 

Oh my god, that is the cutest damn baby I’ve ever seen. 

“You want to hold him?” Dina asked, tilting her head. 

You hesitated, but Vi nudged your arm gently, catching the way your eyes lit up when J.J. aimlessly waved his hands in your face. “He won’t bite, I promise.” 

With a nervous nod, you carefully took J.J. from Ellie, his weight settling gently onto your arms and chest. He looked up at you with wide, curious eyes, and despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. 

“There you go,” Dina said, her tone encouraging. “You’ve got the magic touch. He loves you.” 

Vi watched you with a softness you weren’t used to, her gaze lingering as you shifted J.J. to your hip to make him more comfortable. 

“You’re a total natural,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the loud whistle of the referee cut through the air, signaling the last warning before it was match time. 

“That’s our cue,” Vi said, stepping closer to you. “Dina and J.J.’ll keep you company during the game. You’ll be fine.” 

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. Vi’s hand brushed yours briefly before she grabbed her helmet and jogged off toward the ice, her pink hair bright against the deep blue and gold of her jersey. 

Dina must have noticed your nerves, because she gave you a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s grab a spot. J.J. and I are pros at cheering for these two.” 

Ellie laughed, pressing a kiss to Dina’s jaw before follow off after Vi, leaving you and Dina to make your way to the stands. 

You settled into a seat with Dina and J.J. at your side, the baby happily gnawing on a teething ring while Dina explained the basics of the ame. You nodded along, half-listening, but your attention was on Vi. She was easy to spot—her pink hair stood out even with her helmet on, and her confident stride on the ice was impossible to miss. 

When the game started, you quickly realized why Vi had been so insistent on inviting you. She was good. She was incredible. She was hot. Watching her skate was like watching someone entirely in their own element. She moved with a precision and intensity that was mesmerizing, weaving through players like they weren’t even there, her stick handling the puck with ease. 

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning forward as she darted past three defenders and fired a shot straight into the net. The crowd erupted, and Dina gently covered J.J.’s ears to give a loud cheer. 

“She’s pretty amazing, huh?” Dina said, her tone knowing.

You nodded, not even bothering to deny it. “Yeah. She it.” 

For a moment, you forgot about the crowd, the noise, and the tug of your soulmate bond that always lingered when Vi was near. You just watched her, completely in awe of how effortless she made it look.

Then it happened—as she angled for the puck near the center of the rink, a player from the opposing team with a solid twenty pounds on Vi barreled into her at full speed, shoulder-checking her with enough force to send her sprawling to the ice. 

The moment she hit the ground, pain exploded across your shoulder, sharp and searing. You gasped, clutching at your arm instinctively, the sensation so vivid it made your vision blur. 

Dina turned to you, her expression concerned. “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

You couldn’t answer. The pain was too much, and it was everywhere—radiating from your shoulder to your chest and back. Panic clawed at your throat as you struggled to breathe, your mind spinning with her pain. 

“Y/n?” Dina’s voice was louder now, edged with worry. 

“I—I have to go,” you stammered, standing abruptly. The movement sent another jolt of pain through your shoulder, but you ignored it, clutching the armrest for balance. “I’m sorry—I can’t—”

Before Dina could respond, you bolted, the sound of the crowd fading behind you as you rushed toward the exit. Your vision blurred with tears, your chest tight as you pushed through the doors and into the cold night air. 

You had to get away. 

—-------------------------------

The cafe smelled like freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon as you sank into your usual seat across from Vi. You were both quiet today—a rare occurrence. Your post-rotation coffee ritual had grown into something steady and comforting over the past few weeks. Twice a week, like clockwork, Vi would be waiting for you. 

But today, there was a tension that clung to the air like static electricity. 

“So,” Vi finally broke the silence, fiddling with the paper sleeve on her cup. “Another big game next weekend.”

You nodded absently, staring down at your drink. “Against Noxus Central University, right? I heard they’re brutal.” 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice carrying a faint edge. “Real bruises. Should be fun, though.” 

Your stomach twisted, but you forced a neutral tone. “Fun, huh?” 

Vi raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your coffee. 

She didn’t buy it. “Come on, Y/n. Spill.” 

You hesitated, the words clawing at the back of your throat. “It’s just… you always come out of those games looking like you’ve been through a war zone. I mean—last weekend was brutal. I thought you broke your shoulder, and I’m the one who has to feel it.” 

Her eyes widened, and her hand froze mid-fidget, “Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” You set down the cup harder than you meant to. “I don’t know what crazy pain tolerance you have, but it felt like I was hit by a freight train. It’s a lot, Vi.” 

Her jaw tightened. “You think I don’t feel bad about that? I don’t want you to hurt because of me.” 

“Then maybe you should stop putting yourself in situations where it happens!” The words tumbled out louder than you intended, and you winced at your own tone. 

Vi’s expression darkened, her easy going demeanor vanishing. “Are you seriously asking me to stop playing hockey?” 

“I’m asking you to think about what it’s doing to me!”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping into something sharper. “And what about me, huh? Hockey’s my life, Y/n. It’s not just a game; it's who I am.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” You snapped, the words cutting like a knife even as you said them. 

Vi recoiled, her blue eyes narrowing. “Wow. So that’s what you think of me?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but a familiar voice cut in. “Alright, what’s going on here?” 

You looked up to see Ellie approaching, her gaze bouncing between you and Vi. SHe stopped next to Vi’s chair, crossing her arms. “You guys never argue like this.”

“I’m not the one making unreasonable demands,” Vi muttered glaring at her coffee.

“Unreasonable?” you shot back, your voice rising. “I’m not asking for much, Vi. Just for you to stop throwing yourself in the path of a warm machine. Do you know what it's like to feel like your body isn’t your own because your soulmate tosses herself around recklessly.” 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t intervene. Not yet. 

Vi’s face twisted with frustration. “And do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re constantly apologizing for just existing? For doing what I love? I can’t just stop being me, Y/n. Hockey’s my first love.”

“Maybe I don’t want a soulmate then!” The words erupted before you could stop them, and the moment they left your mouth, the room seemed to freeze. 

Vi’s expression crumbled, and Ellie’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the suffocating silence that followed. 

“Y/n,” Vi said softly, her voice cracking just enough for you to hear. “You don’t mean that. I thought we were past that.” 

You wanted to take it back, you wanted to take it back so badly, but the floodgates had opened. “I don’t believe in soulmates, Vi. I don’t and I never have. And Honestly? This—us—it’s just proving why I was right. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.” 

Ellie stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Y/n, you’re upset. Maybe take a second before you say something you can’t take back.” 

“I already said it,” you whispered, your chest tight. “And it’s true.” 

Vi stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t believe in soulmates? After all I’ve done to try to prove to you that this could work?” 

You stood too, unable to stay still under the weight of her gaze. “You think this is easy for me? It’s not! I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m enough, and now I’m supposed to be enough for you? Someone who’s fearless and— and perfect, and doesn’t need me slowing her down?” 

“Slowing me down!?” Vi’s voice rose, incredulous. “You think that’s how I see you? God, Y/n, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than just… what I do.” 

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one compromising?” Your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. 

“I’m not asking you to change who you are,” she said, her tone softer but no less urgent. “I’m just asking you to please, give this a chance. Stop being so defensive.” 

“And I’m asking you to understand that I can’t keep waking up in pain every time you decide to throw yourself into a fight on the ice!”

Ellie stepped between you, her hands up. “Okay, let’s all take a breath here—”

“No,” Vi said, her voice breaking. “If she doesn’t want this, then fine.” 

“Vi—” Ellie tried, but Vi was already grabbing her jacket. 

“Stop, Ellie,” Vi said, shaking her head as she turned to leave. “Come on.” 

You stood frozen, tears stinging your eyes as she walked out the door, Ellie close on her heels. 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Caitlyn appeared moments later, a confused expression on her face. “Where did everyone go?”

You just shook your head, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. 

Fuck. 

this is the second part in a three part series! read part 1 here! reader part 3 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[tiramisuucakeee]

presenting ˙ . ꒷ 🍰 STRAWBERRY GIRL ᝰ.ᐟ fem reader.

@ ! someone asks jungwon why he eats so much strawberries with chocolate, and he let’s them on the story about a girl who loved them, only much more than he ever will

inspired by: ‘she said hey’ from -D4B1- on wttpd

it was a calm sunny day, the streets of seoul were busy with people, families, workers, students. the middle of the year was always a great time to soak up in the sun, as the flowers bloomed all around, in small flowers pots and gardens.

inside a small café, a group of friends were reminiscing their younger days as college students. all of them had works, families, a home to get back to. it was truly nostalgic for them to be reunited in a setting like this. the youngest of them ordered a small treat first, and so they went down the round table, each ordering their own favorite pastry. once the waiter bubbled away to get everything, they were left alone.

the group was chatting, laughing, and overall having a good time when their food and beverages got there. some of them didn't even spare a word before digging in, not forgetting the small feeling of similarity as to when they ate lunch together in university.

then, something happened, niki, now almost 25 but nonetheless still the youngest, scooped up some of jungwon’s food, and instantly reacted against it.

"oh god, you’re still eating this stuff?" he spoke, the semi-munched strawberry still in his mouth, the chocolate making a splash of sugar to the tongue. jake noticed his discomfort, and let out a loud laugh, booming through their table, making everybody aware of the situation.

"did you just-" jungwon looked at his bowl, where a big portion was missing, and he proceeded to deadpan at the nishimura, who looked like a snail that had been fed salt. for some reason, he despised very sugary sweets.

"geez, how can you handle the sugar?" niki shuddered, "i hate strawberries, and here you are, ordering a whole ass whatever-that-is out of it," he then ate some of his own food, pleased.

"it's alright," jungwon shrugged, eating some more, and then leaned back, "i don't mind the sugar," he said “i got used to it, i mean, after all, i haven’t gotten any cavities.” he smiled wholeheartedly.

"you don't mind?" heeseung asked, "do you really like that stuff that much?" he rose his brows at his friend. jungwon crossed his arms, thinking to himself for a second, before answering, "no, no i don't, i actually hated it for a while, until it didn’t matter anymore," he laughed.

his friends looked at themselves with worry etched on their faces, before sunghoon decided to ask. "why do you eat so much strawberries with chocolate then?" he watched as jungwon was still smiling, now looking down at his plate, as if he was reminiscing some far memory.

jungwon glanced up at his friends, seeing all their eyes on him. leaning back further into his comfortable seat, he then spoke, "let me tell you the story about this girl, who loved strawberries,"

˙ . ꒷ CHAPTERS.

1. looked my way

2. just like you

3. falling too fast

4. you’ll have to miss me

5. hurts to be nothing

6. chocolate strawberries

7. right now

@ masterlist

# TAGLIST open !

[magnificentmiraclenacho]

The sister of the winner

Part 2= The salesman

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 dim kitchen light flickered softly as you and Gi Hun sat at the small table, finishing dinner. The smell of warm rice and grilled fish still lingered in the air, but there was an unusual silence between you two. It wasn’t the easy comfort you usually shared while eating—something felt off.

You took a bite of your food, glancing at your brother. He seemed distracted, his usual bright energy absent. His eyes kept flicking to his phone, then back to his plate, and there was a quiet tension about him you couldn’t ignore.

After a few moments of eating in silence, Gi Hun broke the stillness, his voice low but casual. “I have to leave tomorrow for a few days… business trip.”

You paused mid-bite, looking at him with surprise. “A business trip?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the sudden news made you uneasy. “What business? Since when do you go on trips for work?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, pushing his food around on his plate. “Just something I have to take care of. It’s not a big deal. I’ll be back soon.”

You studied him, unsure of why his words didn’t feel reassuring. There was a weight in the way he said it, like there was more to the story. But instead of pressing him, you just nodded. You’d gotten used to him shutting you out in recent months, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Okay,” you said, forcing a smile. “A few days isn’t that long.”

Gi Hun looked up at you, a small, almost apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. You’ll be fine while I’m gone, right? You don’t need to worry about anything.”

You felt a flicker of frustration rise in your chest. Why does he keep saying that? You opened your mouth to say something, but you hesitated. He was already shutting down—again.

Instead, you swallowed your words, giving him a tight smile. “I’ll be okay, Oppa. You don’t have to worry about me.”

There was a brief silence as he met your gaze, and for a moment, you thought he might say more—maybe explain a little more about why he was going, or at least reassure you in a way that felt real. But instead, he just nodded, his eyes flicking back down to his food.

“Good,” he muttered, his voice softening. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just keep an eye on things, okay?”

You nodded again, trying to push down the unease that crept up your throat. “Sure,” you said quietly.

---

The conversation went back to small talk after that, but the air between you felt thick. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, something he wasn’t telling you. The way he kept avoiding your eyes, the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes—everything about this felt different.

But for now, all you could do was nod and pretend it was normal. Just a trip, just another thing he had to do. And in a few days, everything would be fine again… right?

---

The evening had been quiet after dinner. Gi-Hun had told you that he was leaving for a “business trip” the following day. You hadn’t thought much of it at first. He seemed distracted lately, but that wasn’t unusual. He’d been under a lot of pressure, and you knew it. Still, something in his tone had felt off, like he was hiding something. You brushed it off, deciding not to press him further, though a small knot of unease had begun to form in your stomach.

You settled down on the sofa, mindlessly flicking through channels on the television, but nothing seemed to grab your attention. The weight of the evening hung heavy on you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Gi-Hun’s sudden change in demeanor, his cryptic “business trip” excuse—there were too many unanswered questions.

Minutes passed, and you lost track of time, consumed by the quiet hum of the television and the thoughts swirling in your mind. You couldn’t focus on anything for long. There was this nagging feeling that something was off.

Just as you were about to put the remote down and head for bed, the sound of the front door opening caught your attention. You looked up to see Gi-Hun standing in the hallway, his coat on, keys in hand.

“I’m heading out to see someone. I won’t be gone long,” he said, his voice unusually calm, as if trying to sound casual.

Something about the way he said it made your heart tighten. You’d never been a particularly suspicious person, but now, for the first time, you found yourself feeling unsettled. His tone was too indifferent, too distant. And the way he said he wouldn’t be long—yet didn’t explain where or who he was seeing—set off an alarm in your mind.

A wave of anxiety washed over you, and you couldn’t just sit there anymore. You needed to know what was going on. You stood up quickly, trying to mask the sudden rush of panic, and excused yourself from the room.

You stood in the hallway for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, without thinking, you headed toward Gi-Hun’s room. The knot in your stomach twisted tighter as you approached the door. You hadn’t snooped around before—never had the need—but tonight was different. You had to understand what he was hiding.

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open, not wanting to make a sound. Gi-Hun's room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on his nightstand. Everything looked normal at first glance—his bed neatly made, his clothes folded carefully in the closet—but as your eyes moved across the room, they fell on something that sent a cold chill down your spine.

The closet door was slightly ajar. A glint of metal caught your eye. You hesitated for a moment, but then your curiosity got the best of you, and you walked over, your breath shallow in your chest.

You opened the closet door fully.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the sight before you. Hidden behind a pile of neatly folded clothes were several guns, knives, and other weapons. The metal gleamed under the faint light, and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a step back, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

What is this?

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but none of them seemed to make sense. Gi-Hun had never been violent. He was kind, protective, but this... this was different. A knot of dread settled heavily in your stomach as a sickening thought crossed your mind.

Is he in a gang? No. No he can't be..

But it would explain the sudden money, the secretive nature of his actions. But the idea of Gi-Hun—the brother you’d always trusted—being involved in something so dangerous was almost too much to bear.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your frantic thoughts, but the fear you felt was palpable. Your hands trembled as you closed the closet door quickly, but it didn’t help the sense of panic that was now rising within you. You couldn’t stay in the room, couldn’t breathe in the thick tension that now hung in the air.

You needed fresh air. You needed to clear your head.

Your heart was still racing as you grabbed your jacket, not caring that it was still chilly outside. You needed to get away from the house, away from the thoughts that were spiraling out of control. You didn’t even think twice before stepping out the door and into the night.

The cool air hit your face, and for a moment, it helped calm you, but the unease in your chest refused to subside. You walked down the street slowly, hoping that some distance from the house would give you clarity.

Your mind couldn’t stop racing. Was Gi-Hun really involved in something dangerous? Could he be in trouble? And why hadn’t he told you any of this?

As you walked, the quietness of the night felt overwhelming. Your footsteps echoed in the empty street, and you found yourself drifting toward the nearby park. You had always found solace there, the trees and quiet paths a comforting escape from the chaos that life sometimes threw at you.

But tonight, even the park couldn’t soothe you. The doubts clouded your thoughts, and you couldn’t shake the fear gnawing at your insides.

You sat on the park bench, staring blankly ahead at the empty pathways stretching out before you. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The cool air helped calm your racing thoughts, but the knot in your stomach still lingered.

Gi-Hun’s secret, his weapons hidden in the closet, haunted you. You couldn’t understand why he would hide something like that from you. You were his little sister. You’d always been close, and yet now, you felt like there was an impenetrable wall between you two. He had his own problems, sure, but you had your own fears—fears about money, about not being able to make ends meet. And worse, Gi-Hun had no idea just how deep in debt you really were.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, even though he had done so much for you already. He was stressed enough, with his own burdens. The thought of adding to them felt selfish. But the bills piled up, and the creditors kept calling, sending threatening letters you couldn’t afford to ignore. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending that everything was okay.

The weight of it all pressed on your chest, suffocating you, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you saw him.

A man in a dark suit, walking toward you with a casual yet purposeful stride. You hadn’t noticed him before, but he seemed to appear out of nowhere, his gaze locked on you. For a moment, a flicker of unease ran through you. But then his expression softened, and he smiled as he stopped in front of the bench.

“You look like someone who could use a little company,” he said smoothly, his voice calm and inviting. There was something comforting in his presence, though you couldn’t quite place it.

You didn’t respond immediately, unsure of whether you wanted to talk to anyone. But his smile seemed genuine, and something about him made you lower your guard, even just a little.

“I’m… fine,” you said, forcing a smile, though you knew it probably didn’t reach your eyes. “Just… thinking.” as you sighed.

The man nodded knowingly, as if he’d heard this a thousand times. “Thinking, huh? Sounds like a heavy load.” He lowered himself onto the bench beside you without asking. His presence was calm, almost serene, but you couldn’t shake the odd sense of curiosity that had stirred inside you.

“You seem troubled,” he continued, his voice gentle but probing. “Something weighing on you?”

You swallowed hard, not sure how to answer. Was it that obvious? You’d always tried to keep your worries hidden, not wanting to burden anyone, especially Gi-Hun.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I just… feel stuck, I guess. My brother’s been helping me out a lot, but the debts… they’re just too much. I don’t want to tell him, he’s already dealing with so much. But it’s like no matter what I do, nothing gets better.”

The man’s eyes seemed to sharpen, though his expression remained warm and understanding. “Debt can be a heavy weight, can’t it?” he said, almost like he was speaking from experience. “It can feel like you’re trapped in a cycle, no matter how hard you try to get out.”

You nodded, your heart sinking. That was exactly how it felt. Trapped. The bills never stopped coming, and every time you made even a small dent, something new came up to push you back into the hole. And Gi-Hun—he didn’t know how deep it went. He had been so generous with what he could, but the amount of money you needed to fix everything was far beyond anything he could provide. And you weren’t about to add to his stress by telling him.

The man leaned in slightly, his gaze intent on you. “You know, I’ve helped people in situations just like yours. People who feel stuck, who can’t see a way out. And there’s a way to break free from all that fear, all that uncertainty.”

You looked at him, confused but intrigued. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, almost knowingly. “There’s a way to escape the burden of debt. A way to stop living in fear. A way to take control of your life, once and for all. The only thing you have to do is take a chance.”

“A chance?” you echoed, your brow furrowing. What was he talking about?

The salesman reached into his pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper. He held it out to you, and despite your initial hesitation, you took it from him, your fingers brushing against his as you did.

“It’s an opportunity,” he continued, “an invitation to a game. A game where you can win enough money to change everything. To leave all your worries behind. Money, freedom—it’s all there for the taking, if you’re willing to take the leap.”

You stared at the small invitation in your hand, still unsure of what he meant. A game? How could something like that solve your problems? But the desperation inside you began to outweigh the doubt. Maybe this was the way out you’d been looking for. Maybe this was the answer you didn’t even know you needed.

“What kind of game?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, though your mind was racing.

The salesman’s smile never wavered. “It’s a game that changes everything. It’s not easy, but you’ve got nothing to lose, do you? The money, the freedom—it’s all there. You could leave all this behind. No more struggling. No more worrying.”

He was right. You had nothing to lose. The weight of your debts, the constant fear of not making it through another month—it was all crushing you.

You looked down at the invitation in your hand, diffirent shapes printed across it in simple black ink. The strange promise of money, of an escape, tugged at you. Could this really be the way out?

“I… I don’t know,” you said quietly, uncertainty and fear mixing with a glimmer of hope. “What if it’s dangerous?”

The man’s smile softened, his eyes gleaming with something almost... reassuring. “Life is always a little dangerous. But sometimes, you have to take a risk to get what you deserve. Think about it. The game could give you everything you need. A fresh start. A life without the weight of all this.”

You held the invitation tighter in your hand, the decision weighing heavily on you.

“Think about it,” he repeated, standing up slowly. “The game is waiting for you. You’ll know what to do.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the invitation in your hand, the promise of something better, and a choice that would change everything. You placed the card in you pocket and went back home.

From author= i hope you guys liked it. If you want to be tagged say it in the comments❤️

Masterlist=

[dreamlanderin]

You don't see me, part 2 (Sam x reader)

Summary: Sam gets hurt during a hunt and you have to face a truth. Follows after part 1

Warning: Blood, demons, monsters, angst.

Words: 5.8k

The bunker had never felt smaller. Maybe it was the way the silence had grown heavier, pressing down on your chest, or the way your footsteps echoed louder in the empty halls. You didn’t know when it had started—this slow unraveling between you and Sam. Maybe it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to pull you apart.

The days blurred together now, a fog of old books, flickering fluorescent lights, and the faint hum of the world above. Sam had been distant—more so than usual. At first, you told yourself it was just the weight of another hunt or the endless parade of nightmares he carried like second skin. But it wasn’t that. It was her.

Ruby.

You’d caught them together a few days ago, though "caught" wasn’t the right word. There was nothing secretive about it, no hurried whispers or hidden glances. Ruby stood in the hallway just outside the war room, her arms crossed, her smirk sharp enough to cut. Sam leaned against the wall, his body tilted toward hers.

You’d come around the corner, your boots scuffing softly against the tile, and stopped short when you saw them. Ruby’s voice was low, almost soothing, as she pressed something into his hands—a small, unassuming vial filled with a dark, swirling liquid. You couldn’t hear what she said, but the way Sam’s shoulders relaxed, the faint nod of his head, told you everything you needed to know. She was helping him. Again.

Ruby’s eyes flicked up, catching yours before you could move. Her smirk deepened, slow and deliberate, and for a moment, you swore she could see right through you.

You didn’t stay to hear the rest. You turned on your heel and walked away, your stomach twisting as her laughter followed you down the hall. Sam hadn’t come after you, hadn’t even noticed you were there. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but it did. God, it did.

The days after were worse. Sam barely spoke to you, his attention focused on his laptop or his phone. He was chasing leads, he said, though you wondered how much of those leads came from Ruby. You tried not to think about it, tried to drown yourself in lore and research, but the silence between you two grew louder with each passing day.

Dean noticed, of course. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it, either.

“You two havin’ a spat or something?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe of the library as you flipped through an ancient bestiary.

“No,” you said, too quickly.

Dean raised an eyebrow, chewing on the toothpick that had somehow become a permanent fixture in his mouth. “Right. And I’m the Pope.”

You shot him a glare, but it lacked bite. “Drop it, Dean.”

He shrugged, pushing off the doorframe. “Just sayin’. If you need to vent or whatever, I’m around. Not great at the whole feelings thing, but I can pretend.”

You offered him a faint smile, more out of politeness than anything. “Thanks.”

He nodded, leaving you to the books and the oppressive quiet. As much as you appreciated Dean’s attempts at comfort, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it—not to him, not to anyone. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in research, hoping the pages of ancient lore would dull the ache in your chest: I didn't ask you to wait for me.

In the midst of all this you found yourself reminiscing about certain things. Like how your life was before the boys: I was definitely less dramatic, that is for sure. When you had joined the boys you had made a promise to yourself, to make a difference in the world. You couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere you'd missed that, and a quiet guilt had started to settle within you.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The call came a few days later—a case in Colorado. A string of unexplained disappearances in a small mountain town. The locals were terrified, whispering about shadowy creatures lurking in the woods. The sheriff was tight-lipped, but the pattern was unmistakable. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human.

“Sounds like a wraith,” Dean said, tossing the sheriff’s report onto the table.

“Could be,” Sam agreed, though his tone lacked conviction. He glanced at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. You knew who he was thinking about, who he was probably texting.

“I’ll pack the silver knives, just in case,” you said, standing before the conversation could veer into dangerous territory.

“I’ll grab the UV lights,” Dean added, shooting Sam a look you couldn’t quite decipher. “Think you can peel yourself away from that phone long enough to load the gear?”

Sam blinked, startled, and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. Sorry.”

You avoided looking at him, busying yourself with the bag of weapons in the corner. Still, a little smile tweaked on your face from Dean's comment. Seems you weren't the only one annoyed with them. So much so that the air in the room felt thick, like something unspoken was hanging between the three of you. You didn’t have the energy to deal with it, not today.

The drive to Colorado was long and uneventful. You sat in the backseat, staring out the window as the scenery blurred by. Dean had his music cranked up, Metallica blasting through the speakers, but it did little to drown out the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Sam was quiet, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape. He’d barely said two words to you since the trip started, and you couldn’t tell if it was guilt or indifference keeping him silent. Either way, it didn’t matter. You weren’t in the mood to talk to him, either.

Instead, you focused on Dean. He kept the conversation light, cracking jokes and recounting old hunts in vivid detail. You laughed when he wanted you to, nodding along even when your mind wandered. It was easier this way—easier to pretend everything was fine.

But even without Sam or Dean. There was still that guilt. That selfishness that had started to fester, saying: you were wasted here. That you had not fulfilled that promise. You were not making a difference because of a boy.

Is it...true?

You shook it off, though. Ignoring the little voice.

The first night in Colorado, you got your answer fast enough. The creature wasn’t a wraith—it was something worse. Locals called it a "Shadow Stalker," an ancient spirit that preyed on fear. It slipped through the darkness like smoke, its form shifting and flickering like a dying flame. Victims reported feeling an overwhelming sense of dread before they vanished, their bodies never found.

“This thing’s bad news,” Dean said, flipping through the notes you’d compiled. “How do we kill it?”

“Fire,” you replied, your voice steady. “It’s bound to the forest, but if we can trap it and burn the remains, we should be able to destroy it.”

Sam nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Ruby gave me something that might help.”

Your stomach clenched at her name, but you didn’t say anything. Sam pulled out the vial she’d given him, holding it up to the light. The liquid inside swirled like ink in water, dark and unyielding.

“She said it can weaken spirits,” Sam explained, his tone defensive. “It might give us an edge.”

Dean frowned, eyeing the vial with suspicion. “You sure about this? I don’t trust anything that comes from her.”

Sam bristled, his jaw tightening. “It’s worth a shot.”

You stayed silent, your gaze fixed on the notes in front of you. Arguing with Sam about Ruby never ended well, and you didn’t have the energy for another fight. Still, the thought of relying on something she’d provided made your skin crawl. You couldn’t help but think Ruby was adding something to the table... were you?

The plan was simple: lure the Shadow Stalker to a clearing, trap it with salt and sigils, and set it ablaze. It should have been straightforward. But plans rarely accounted for the chaos of reality.

The forest was dark, the towering trees blotting out most of the moonlight. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves setting your nerves on edge. The Shadow Stalker was faster than any of you had anticipated, its form flickering in and out of sight like smoke caught in a draft.

The three of you had split up, trying to corral the thing toward the trap. It wasn’t ideal, but the forest was too dense to move as a group, and the creature seemed to thrive on dividing its prey.

You heard Dean shout, his voice sharp and urgent, followed by the unmistakable sound of a branch snapping. Heart pounding, you sprinted toward the sound, your silver knife gripped tightly in your hand. The underbrush snagged at your boots, branches tearing at your jacket, but you didn’t slow down.

When you found him, the creature had Dean pinned to the ground, its glowing eyes burning like embers. Its form was humanoid but wrong, its limbs elongated and twisted, its shadowy body shifting and flickering with every movement. Dean was struggling beneath it, his knife just out of reach.

Without hesitation, you charged forward, shouting to get its attention. The creature turned, its eyes locking onto you, and for a moment, you thought you’d succeeded. But it moved faster than you could react, lunging at you with a guttural hiss.

You swung your knife, but it passed through the creature’s body like smoke, offering no resistance. Before you could recover, the thing lashed out, its claws raking across your side. Pain exploded through your ribs, hot and searing, and you stumbled back, hitting the ground hard.

The creature loomed over you, its form shifting and solidifying as it prepared to strike. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, your knife slipping from your fingers as your vision blurred. You thought about Dean, about Sam, about everything.

And then Sam was there.

He came out of nowhere, throwing himself between you and the creature without a second thought. The Shadow Stalker shrieked as his body collided with its form, his momentum knocking it off balance. It turned on him immediately, its claws sinking into his shoulder and chest before tossing him aside like a ragdoll.

“Sam!” you screamed, scrambling to your feet despite the pain.

The creature advanced again, but your eyes fell on the small vial lying in the dirt a few feet away. Sam must have dropped it when he fell. You lunged for it, ignoring the way your side protested, and snatched it up with trembling hands.

The Shadow Stalker was almost on you, its twisted form flickering in and out of focus. You didn’t think—you just threw the vial at its feet, the glass shattering against the ground. A burst of light erupted from the impact, engulfing the creature in a brilliant glow. It screamed, its body writhing and twisting as the light consumed it, until finally, it dissolved into ash.

The forest fell silent.

You turned, your chest heaving, and saw Sam lying motionless on the ground. Dean was already there, his hands pressed against Sam’s chest in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

“We gotta move,” Dean barked, his voice tight with panic. “Help me get him up.”

You nodded, adrenaline overriding the pain in your side as you rushed to help. Together, you and Dean hauled Sam to his feet, his weight heavy and unyielding between you. He was conscious, but barely, his head lolling against your shoulder as he mumbled something you couldn’t make out.

“Hang on, Sam,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Just hang on.”

Please be okay

The drive back to the motel was a blur. Dean drove like a man possessed, the Impala’s tires screeching as he tore down the winding roads. You sat in the backseat with Sam, your hands pressed firmly against the wounds on his chest and shoulder. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and sticky, but you didn’t let go.

“Stay with me, Sam,” you pleaded, your voice barely audible over the roar of the engine. “Don’t you dare pass out.”

Please

His eyes fluttered open for a moment, his gaze unfocused. “You… okay?” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Just hold on.”

He had reached his hand out, seemly wanting to touch you, but it fell down before his eyes closed.

When you finally reached the motel, Dean barely waited for the car to stop before he was out and pulling Sam from the backseat. You followed, your legs shaky as you helped him get Sam inside.

Dean laid him on the bed, his movements swift and precise as he grabbed the first aid kit from his duffel. “Get me some water and towels,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You moved without thinking, grabbing what he needed and returning to his side. Dean worked quickly, cutting away Sam’s blood-soaked shirt to reveal the gashes across his chest and shoulder. They were deep, the edges ragged, and the sight of them made your stomach churn.

“Damn it, Sammy,” Dean muttered, his jaw tight as he cleaned the wounds. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you sat on the edge of the bed, your hands gripping your knees as you watched Dean work. Occasionally handing him something after a barked order. The room was silent except for the sound of his muttered curses and the soft, labored breaths coming from Sam.

For a moment, you let yourself breathe. You’d saved him. That was all that mattered.

Please be okay, please.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The knock at the door came sharp and impatient, like someone who wasn’t used to waiting. Dean shot you a look, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun on the table. You tensed, the adrenaline from the hunt still coursing through your veins as the room went unnervingly still.

Another knock, louder this time.

“Who the hell—” Dean started, but his words cut off as he swung the door open.

Ruby stood on the other side, her arms crossed and her expression set somewhere between irritation and boredom. She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past Dean like he wasn’t even there.

“Of course,” she muttered, glancing around the room before her gaze landed on Sam. “You idiots managed to get him hurt.”

“Nice to see you too,” Dean snapped, slamming the door shut behind her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ruby turned to face him, her dark eyes narrowing. “What do you think I’m doing here? Cleaning up your mess. Again.” Her gaze flicked to you, letting out a scoff “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Dean cut you off. “None of your damn business.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, her hands going to her hips. “Right. Because clearly, you’ve got it all under control. That’s why he’s lying there bleeding out.”

“He’s not bleeding out,” Dean snapped, though his jaw tightened as he glanced at Sam. “I stitched him up.”

Ruby snorted. “And you think that’s enough? This thing wasn’t just any monster, Dean. You have no idea what kind of damage it’s done.”

Her words made your stomach twist, and you looked at Sam, his face pale and damp with sweat. He was breathing, but it was shallow and uneven, his chest barely rising and falling beneath the bandages.

“I can fix him,” Ruby said, her tone matter-of-fact, as though she were offering to change a tire.

Dean took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Why the hell should we trust you?”

“Because you don’t have a choice,” she shot back, her voice sharp. “You want him to survive or not?”

Dean hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides. “What’s the catch?”

Ruby sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was dealing with a particularly slow student. “There’s no catch. I need him alive as much as you do.”

“That’s not an answer,” you said, your voice low but steady. Ruby’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, the room felt colder.

“Look,” she said, her tone softening just enough to be almost convincing, “I don’t care if you trust me or not. But if you don’t let me do this, he’s going to die. So stop wasting my time and move.”

Dean glared at her for a long moment, his jaw working as he weighed his options. Finally, with a muttered curse, he stepped aside. “Fine. But if you pull anything—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll kill me, I get it,” Ruby interrupted, brushing past him to kneel beside Sam. She examined him quickly, her movements brisk and efficient, before standing and turning back to Dean.

“I’m going to need something,” she said. “A specific herb. Should be in one of those backwater shops you like to call hunting supply stores.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “What herb?”

“It’s called witch’s balsam. Ask for it by name,” Ruby said impatiently. “Now, unless you want him to keep circling the drain, I suggest you get moving.”

Dean looked at her, then at you, his expression torn. “You gonna be okay here?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you believed it. “Yeah. Go.”

Dean hesitated for a moment longer, then grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the room, muttering curses under his breath. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone with Ruby.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of Sam’s ragged breathing. Ruby didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she just didn’t care. She moved to the table, rummaging through the supplies Dean had left behind with a look of mild disgust.

“Amateurs,” she muttered, shaking her head.

You stayed by the bed, your hands clenched into fists as you watched her. There was something about the way she carried herself, the way she seemed so at ease in the chaos, that made your skin crawl.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice sharper than you intended.

Ruby turned, raising an eyebrow. “What do I want? I want to keep him alive. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?”

Her words hit a nerve, but you refused to let it show. “Why are you really here?”

She crossed her arms, leaning back against the table with a smirk. “Because he called me. Don’t act so surprised—he always calls me before a hunt.”

Your chest tightened, the words cutting deeper than they should have. “We didn’t need your help.”

Ruby laughed, low and mocking. “Right. Because you were doing such a great job on your own.”

You clenched your jaw, biting back the retort that rose to your lips. She wasn’t worth it. Not now. Not when Sam was lying there, barely holding on.

Ruby must have sensed your hesitation, because her smirk softened into something almost sympathetic. “You know,” she said, her tone quieter now, “you should be grateful. I’m the reason he’s still breathing.”

"No, it's because of me and Dean that he is still breathing"

"Really? And how did you manage that?"

Your eyes flicker away for a second, thinking about that vial. She gave you a knowing smile, the kind you really wanted to slap off her face.

She moved toward the bed, her hand brushing against Sam’s arm as she looked down at him. “You care about him,” she said, her voice low and almost contemplative. “I get that. But here’s the thing—you can't protect him because you don’t know him like I do.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, anger bubbling beneath the surface, but you stayed silent.

“I’ve seen the darkness in him,” Ruby continued, her gaze never leaving Sam. “I’ve seen what he’s capable of. And if you think you can save him from that, you’re deluding yourself.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring you to respond. But all you could do was stare at her, the weight of everything crashing down on you in a way you couldn’t quite process.

Ruby smirked again, satisfied, and turned back to the table, leaving you standing there with nothing but the sound of Sam’s shallow breaths to keep you company.

You didn’t move from your spot by the bed, your fists clenched so tightly at your sides that your nails dug into your palms. Ruby’s words echoed in your mind, cutting deep into every insecurity you had managed to bury until now.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice low but trembling with barely restrained anger.

Ruby turned slowly, the smirk on her face growing sharper. “What do you think I mean? You’re playing house, acting like you’re his savior or something. It’s pathetic.”

Your breath hitched, the venom in her tone hitting harder than you cared to admit. “I’ve been here for him,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “Every damn day. I’ve patched him up, kept him going when he couldn’t keep himself together. You don’t get to walk in here and act like you know him better than I do.”

Ruby laughed, the sound cold and biting. “Oh, sweetheart, you think bandaging him up makes you special? That it makes you important? You have no idea what’s inside him. You wouldn’t last a second in his world.”

“This is my world too,” you snapped, stepping forward despite the icy fear curling in your stomach. “I’ve fought beside him, bled beside him. I know what he’s been through.”

“Do you?” Ruby tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Do you really? Because all I see is someone who thinks they can fix him by sticking around long enough. But here’s the thing: Sam Winchester doesn’t need someone to hold his hand. He needs someone who understands him—who isn’t afraid of what he’s capable of.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” you said through gritted teeth.

Ruby took a step closer, her dark eyes boring into yours. “Maybe you should be.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to back down. “I don’t believe you,” you said, your voice trembling but defiant. “You don’t care about him. You just use him to get what you want.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading into something colder, more dangerous. “And what are you doing, exactly? Sticking around, waiting for him to notice you? Hoping one day he’ll look at you and see more than a tagalong?”

The words hit like a slap, sharp and cruel, and you felt the air leave your lungs. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Ruby smiled, clearly pleased with herself.

“Let me save you some time,” she continued, her voice soft but dripping with malice. “He doesn’t see you. Not the way you want him to. And he never will.”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow even as you said them.

Ruby laughed again, the sound low and mocking. “You think I’m lying? Look at him.” She gestured toward Sam, lying pale and unconscious on the bed. “Even now, he’s dreaming about something—someone—and it’s not you. It’s never you.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You refused to let her see how deep her words had cut. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Because someone needs to wake you up,” Ruby said simply snapping her fingers in your face. “You’re wasting your time. And in this line of work, time is something you don’t have much of.”

You shook your head, stepping back as her words settled like lead in your chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Ruby said, crossing her arms. “I know you’re not strong enough for this. You’re not strong enough for him.”

You felt your knees weaken, your entire body trembling as the weight of her words bore down on you. For a moment, you thought about yelling, about throwing something, about doing anything to drown her out. But instead, you turned away, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“I don’t need to prove anything to you, you're just a demon” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ruby smirked, leaning back against the table with an air of satisfaction. Your comment not having an effect on her, “You’re right. You don’t. But you’re not trying to prove it to me, are you? You’re trying to prove it to him.”

Her words hung in the air, suffocating and unrelenting. You couldn’t stay in the room any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in, the sound of Sam’s shallow breaths and Ruby’s mocking laughter echoing in your ears.

Without another word, you turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you. You stayed in cheap motel bathroom, looking at the mirror.

I didn't ask you to wait for me

You're just a tagalong

Her words seeping deeper into you replayed in your mind, one thought cut through the haze of pain and anger: Maybe she’s right.

You winch, feeling that throb on your side. With all the chaos and Ruby, you'd forgotten that you too were hurt.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The room was unnervingly quiet except for the steady sound of Sam’s shallow breaths and the faint rustling of Ruby shifting as she stood by the table, her arms crossed and her expression one of thinly veiled impatience.

You'd come out of the bathroom a little while ago, still a little riled up from everything. You'd patched yourself up as best you could, luckily it won't scar and it's not nearly as bad as Sam's wounds, the only proof you were ever injured at all was the red stain on your shirt. But overall you'd decided that you didn’t care about her right now—your focus was entirely on Sam.

He stirred, letting out a soft, pained groan as his head shifted against the pillow. His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t wake. Then his eyes cracked open, hazy and unfocused, scanning the room with a confused squint.

You leaned forward instinctively, your chair scraping softly against the floor. “Sam?” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze landed on you briefly before sliding away, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of where he was. “What… happened?” he rasped, his voice raw and weak.

“You got hurt,” you said, keeping your tone steady, though the memory of his body hitting the ground sent a sharp pang through your chest. “The Shadow Stalker… you saved me, Sam. But it got you pretty bad.”

He blinked slowly, his eyes trying to focus on you, his confusion still apparent. “You… okay?” he mumbled, his voice barely audible but laced with concern.

Your heart twisted at the question, and you forced a small smile. “I’m fine,” you said softly. “Thanks to you.”

His lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smile, but his head tilted back against the pillow, exhaustion pulling at him. You watched his chest rise and fall unevenly, and for a moment, the words caught in your throat.

“Sam,” you said, leaning closer. “I need you to stay awake for a bit, okay? Just for me.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he forced his eyes open again. “M’trying,” he murmured.

You exhaled shakily, your fingers tightening on the edge of the chair. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that? Throwing yourself in front of that thing…”

His gaze met yours, and for the first time, there was something clear, something raw in his eyes that made your breath hitch. His lips parted, and his voice was soft, almost fragile, as he said, “You… matter.”

The words hit you like a jolt, your heart pounding in your chest. “Sam…” you whispered, unsure if you were about to laugh, cry, or crumble.

“You matter to me,” he said again, his voice faltering slightly. “Ruby…”

Your chest constricted as his words trailed off, her name cutting through the warmth of the moment like a blade. Your breath caught, and you shook your head instinctively, the ache in your chest spreading like wildfire.

“No,” you said softly, but firmly, leaning closer until he couldn’t look away. “It’s me, Sam. Not Ruby.”

His eyes searched yours, confusion flickering in their depths.

"What?" He was too groggy, too out of it to understand the weight of what he’d just said. His head sank deeper into the pillow, his lashes fluttering as he started to drift again.

You sat back, your chest tightening with a mix of pain and anger. The room seemed smaller now, the walls pressing in around you as the weight of everything settled over your shoulders.

Ruby, on the other hand, looked smug. She didn’t say a word, but the faint curl of her lips was enough to send a fresh wave of anger coursing through you. You turned your gaze back to Sam, your heart aching as you watched him sink deeper into unconsciousness.

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something—anything—but the sound of Dean clearing his throat behind you snapped you back to reality. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Got the herb,” Dean said, his tone clipped as he dumped a small bag onto the table beside Ruby. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ruby stepped forward, taking the bag and inspecting its contents with an air of impatience. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, well, sorry I don’t have a Rolodex of shady suppliers,” Dean shot back, his glare sharp enough to cut.

Ruby ignored him, turning her attention to Sam. “This’ll help,” she said, her tone brisk. “But it’s not gonna be pretty.”

You glanced at Sam, who was already drifting off again, his face pale and damp with sweat. Your hand tightened around the edge of the chair, a mix of fear and helplessness churning in your stomach.

“I’ll handle it,” Ruby said, her gaze flicking to you briefly before settling back on Sam. “You can sit this one out.”

Dean shot her a look but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening just enough to make your chest tighten. “Why don’t you take a break?” he suggested. “You’ve been sitting here all night.”

You hesitated, your eyes lingering on Sam, but eventually, you nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

As you stood, your legs felt unsteady beneath you, the weight of everything threatening to pull you down. You took one last look at Sam, his face etched with exhaustion, and then stepped away, your heart heavier than ever.

You matter to me... Ruby

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The motel hallway was eerily silent, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead the only sound breaking the stillness. You stopped just outside the door, leaning heavily against the wall as your legs threatened to give out beneath you. The weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you, squeezing the air from your lungs and leaving you dizzy.

He’d said your name. He’d said you mattered. But then he’d said hers.

Ruby.

Her name felt like poison in your veins, eating away at every shred of hope you’d held onto. You didn’t even blame him, not really. Not when you’d known all along where his heart lay. But hearing it, having it thrown in your face at your most vulnerable moment—it hurt more than you could have imagined.

You pressed a hand to your chest, as if you could physically hold yourself together. The ache behind your ribs had grown sharper, deeper, with every passing minute. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from the hunt or the fear of losing him. It was the realization that no matter how much you gave, no matter how many pieces of yourself you sacrificed, it would never be enough.

Not for him.

Sliding down the wall, you sat on the worn carpeted floor, your knees pulled up to your chest. The world outside the window was quiet, the stars faint against the inky black sky. It felt like you were the only person left in the universe, alone with your thoughts and the jagged shards of your heart.

You matter to me.

Did you? Were you making a difference with the boys? Like you promised yourself you would when you joined them.

The words played on a loop in your mind, soft and haunting. I never asked you to wait for me. You're just a tagalong. You matter to me, Ruby.

For a moment, you’d believed them. For a moment, you thought maybe he’d finally seen you. But then he said her name, and the illusion shattered.

Maybe Ruby was right. Maybe you were just a placeholder, someone to keep him company while he chased something else. The thought made your stomach twist, a nauseating mix of anger and shame bubbling to the surface.

But no. That wasn’t fair. You weren’t some fragile, desperate thing clinging to his attention. When you first joined them, you wanted to make the world a little better than you had found it. You had stayed because you cared, not because you thought he needed you. But now… now you weren’t so sure. Had you become selfish with Sam? Had your fixation on him cloud your orginal mission?

Maybe all you were doing was hurting yourself.

You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the cracked ceiling tiles as your thoughts churned. You’d spent so much time trying to be what he needed—his support, his anchor, his friend. And yet, here you were, drowning in your own pain while he lay in that room, dreaming of someone else.

You couldn’t keep doing this.

The realization hit you like a cold slap to the face. You couldn’t stay, not like this. Not when every glance, every word, every unspoken promise was slowly tearing you apart. You needed space. Time. Time to heal, to figure out who you were without him. Time to get over this. Over him.

And that meant leaving.

The thought scared you, but it also felt… freeing. Like a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying had suddenly been lifted. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to think about what life could be like outside of this—outside of him.

Would it hurt? Absolutely. But staying here, watching him drift further away with every passing day, was killing you. And you refused to let it.

You wiped at your face, surprised to find tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. Taking a shaky breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, your legs weak but steady enough to hold you. You glanced toward the motel room door, your chest tightening as you thought about the people inside.

Should you tell them first? No... no. Dean would stop you and Sam; with him you'd cave just from seeing him. You'd have to rip it off like a band-aid, without notice.

Dean would understand, eventually. He always did. Sam… well, Sam would survive. He seemed to be fine without you.

You turned and walked toward your room, the weight of your decision settling in. Tomorrow, you’d leave. You didn’t know where you’d go or how long you’d be gone, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was moving forward. Letting go.

You were done waiting. Done being a tagalong. You had spent too long letting others define your worth.

If you stayed, you’d lose yourself. And you weren’t ready for that. Not yet and besides, you’d made yourself a promise, a long time ago. And it was time to keep it.

So you wrote it down in a letter, left it on the nightstand, and let them find it in the empty room the next day. The road ahead was uncertain, but as you started walking—hitchhiking back toward an old friend—you felt a quiet certainty.

You didn’t have all the answers, but you were finally choosing yourself. You did matter. And that, for now, was enough.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

There will be a part 3. (Sorry it was so long; I got carried away)

Hope you enjoyed, Feedback is always welcome.

[jianwon]

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

a softer spotlight

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

part 2 of touch ups and down

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

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

wordcount. 1.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

you: i didn’t want to bother you.

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

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

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

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

you: i guess i could be free.

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

you didn’t sleep much that night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“wait… is that—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[arannellahowlett]

Bruised and Bloody

Note: Who is ready for some Simon Riley angst? I fear he's vastly ooc...my apologies. Part 2 if people like it?

Warnings: angst, mentions of past abuse, Simon Riley hating himself

Summary: Y/N Riley wakes up alone in bed and wondering where her husband is, he's having a rough night and needs some reassurance.

Simon Riley was a complicated man, with a complicated past and most of it was unpleasant. During the day it was easy to keep the memories at bay, he kept himself busy, either on missions, training or with his wife Y/N. Nighttime was the worst. It was during the night that he often found himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling for hours on end as his memories poured, from missions gone bad, all the way back to his childhood. And they were vivid, so much so that he swore he could touch, feel and smell what was happening. There was a sadness which as the night wore on would turn into anger and sometimes fear. It was particularly bad on the nights immediately after returning from assignments. Tonight was one of those nights.

Y/N rolled over in her sleep, reaching for him to cuddle into his side, she was cold, and he was a furnace…except he wasn’t there, and his side of the bed was cold. She blinked rapidly, clearing the fog from her brain and letting her eyes focus and looking at the clock, just after 3 am.  Sure enough, he was gone, and she knew exactly where he would be. She swung her legs out of the bed, pulled on the pair of socks she had thrown on the floor before bed and grabbed Simon’s hoodie from the bottom of the bed, putting it on, it was so big that it covered her knees. Quietly, she made her way downstairs, bypassing the living room and heading directly for their basement. Before she even reached the stairs, she could hear him grunting and the rapid thumping of his fists violently attacking the punching bag he had set up ages ago.

As Y/N made it halfway down the stairs she could see he was sweating, Y/N could see it dripping off his bare back. She could tell he’d been down here for hours just by how exhausted he looked. She could also see that he hadn’t wrapped his hands first, something she’d begged him to do repeatedly. He often said that he was a broken man, a cold-hearted one, all Y/N saw though was a man who needed to be comforted and loved, and she was more than happy to provide it.

Y/N watched him for a few minutes, he had no idea that she was there, completely lost in his desire to beat the absolute hell out of the punching bag. If he was just down here working, Y/N would think it was hot, the mix of strikes, jabs and everything else he is doing, the sight of him without a shirt alone would do her in…But Simon was clearly having a bad night, the sounds of his hands hitting the leather getting louder and more rapid. Y/N had to get him to stop before he hurt himself.

Y/N sighed quietly, knowing better than to startle him. That had happened once and only once, and it had not been pretty. She stayed back by the stairs before finally speaking up, just loud enough that she knew he would hear her.

“Simon? Come back to bed. Please?” She watched Simon freeze in place, his breathing heavy and ragged, fist remaining in the air as he’d been mid-punch, Y/N could already tell that his knuckles were going to be bruised from the relentless abuse Simon had inflicted. He took a deep breath before turning his head to look at Y/N with a look that could only be a mixture of anger, exhaustion and a hint of fear. He didn’t say a word but lowered his hand.

 Y/N took his pause as permission to creep forward, moving slowly towards him before wrapping her arms around him from behind. “You okay?” She asked, her hands resting on his stomach. She felt the muscles tense under her touch, but he didn’t protest or remove them. Y/N’s warmth was comforting against his back. A light in his darkness.

He didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to let silence pass between them before finally answering. “No,” he admitted, his voice lower and hoarser than it usually was. Y/N squeezed him gently, he was being honest tonight, that was a good sign.

“Okay. What can I do to help?” she asked softly. Normally, Simon would say there wasn’t anything she could do, that he was fine, and he was just blowing off steam.

Tonight however, Simon leaned back into Y/N’s embrace, his shoulders relaxing under her touch and he let out a sigh, his exhausted seeping into his voice. “I…don’t know. “He started. “I just need…” He trailed off, he didn’t know how to put into words what he needed, he wasn’t used to expressing when he needed something/ His tough exterior hid his feelings well but in the rare moments like tonight he would allow the cracks in his armor show, but only for Y/N.

Y/N could feel the weight of his emotions, the struggle of a man who had spent most of his life burying his trauma and pain under a normally stoic demeanor. It had always been hard for him to open to people, here right now in the early hours of the morning he was letting his guard slip. He continued to lean against Y/N, seeking comfort in her embrace and craving the connection and comfort that only she could provide him.

Without letting go of him, Y/N maneuvered herself around him so that she was facing him. Slowly she traced her fingers up to his stomach, to his chest and finally rested them on his shoulders, or as well as she could, considering how small she was compared to his 6’4 frame.

 Simon’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, his eyes distant and unfocused. In her new position, Y/N could read his face more clearly, his brows were furrowed, and his lips were in a thin line, his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. He didn’t move away though, instead he leaned into her touch, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out and hold her but held himself back. Y/N trailed one hand down his right arm, all the way until she reached his hand, gently lifting it to inspect the damage.

 She tsked as she saw the angry cracks, blood and bruising of his knuckles. Caressing them gently she looked up at him sadly. “Baby, I really wish you’d at least wrap your hands…”

Simon watched her with careful eyes, wincing slightly as her fingers ran over the sore spots. He knew he’d done this to himself, again, continuing his self-destructive pattern that they both knew so well.

“I know,” He mumbled, his voice sounding raw and gruff. “I just…needed to feel something, anything, just something I could control.” He tried to pull his hand back, not wanting her to see the true extent of the damage he’d caused to himself.

Y/N shook her head. “Please don’t hide from me Simon.”

She watched as his jaw clenched, resignation and frustration clear on his face. He knew she was the last person he should hide from, but the fear of opening and being vulnerable, even to his wife, made him want to make a quick retreat. However, he allowed her to continue inspecting his hand, rough and callused, his hands were a testament to his military career and the battles fought both on and off the battlefield.

Y/N brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles gently before letting go and reaching for his left. She sighed when she saw that he had left his wedding ring on, if his knuckles were anymore swollen, she would have been concerned that it would have to be cut off. She caressed his left hand the same way she had done the right, before kissing it and leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers moving to play in his short brown hair.

“I wish you trusted me enough to come to me on nights like this Simon, I can help. I know it’s hard and you’re stubborn, but I love you.” She said softly to him.

Simon shook his head. “I trust you,” He whispered, a slight crack in his voice. “I just…I can’t lay this all on you Sunshine. I won’t burden you.”

Y/N smiled softly at him. “It’s not a burden Si, I’m your wife, for better or for worse.”

Simon’s eyes met hers, conflict and pain fading from his gaze. Y/N always understood and accepted him, which only made him love her more, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilt for putting her through his often turbulent moods. His large hands moved to her hips, holding her close as if he was scared, she’d disappear. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.” His jaw was tense and his grip on her hips tightened, seeking some kind of reassurance from her. The vulnerability in his eye betrayed the usual façade of strength that he wore as a second skin.

Y/N gripped his arms, staring directly into his shining eyes. “You aren’t going to hurt me, and you certainly aren’t going to lose me. You are stuck with me Simon Riley, in this lifetime and all others.” She promised softly.

Simon was never the sentimental type, but her words struck a chord deep within him. He pulled her closer, his large arms wrapping around her waist tightly as he buried his face in her neck taking a shaky breath and surrounding himself with her warmth like a safe haven. She could barely hear it but she froze when he heard him whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her heart broke a little, it wasn’t the first time that he’d said it, but it was the first time she was letting him know that she heard it. “Simon, I want you to listen to me and listen good yeah?” I moved one hand to card through his hair. “You deserve the world, you deserve to be loved, you deserve to be happy. I don’t care what your bastard of a father told you when you were a kid.”

She watched him close his eyes. “But I’m broken love.” He murmured. “After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve seen…You should be running for the hills.”

Y/N sighed sadly, tugging on his hand and leading him to the bench along the wall. “Sit, you’re too tall for me to do this standing.”

He did as she asked, his body was too tired and aching after his latest mission and now having beat the hell out of the punching bag for hours. Once he was seated, Y/N moved to stand between his thighs, resting her hands on his shoulders. Simon looked up at her, just waiting.

“You are not broken Simon, a little rough around the edges, but not broken.” I murmured. “I will always want you Simon, please never doubt that. You have seen terrible things and gone through so much bad shit. But you’ve also spent your entire life trying to help people. You have saved thousands of lives and get no thanks for it. That takes an incredibly special kind of person.”

Y/N could see him readying himself to argue so she cut him off. “You are my everything Simon, I would be lost without you, and I will spend every day making sure that you know it.”

Simon’s features softened and he reached up to pull her hands off his shoulders so that he could hold them. He had spent so long believing that he didn’t deserve to be loved, but Y/N’s unwavering devotion was a constant in his life now, even after 5 years together it surprised him. His grip tightened, his calloused fingers intertwined with her much smaller and softer one, he pulled her close so that he could embrace her fully.

 “Damn it, I really don’t deserve you, Sunshine.” He murmured, his voice thick with emotions.

 Y/N rolled her eyes and snorted.  “I believe was just went over this, you do, and I will not accept that you don’t, you stubborn man. I can be stubborn too you know.”

Simon let out a soft chuckle. He knew her too well and her stubbornness when it came to him was unyielding. He leaned his forehead against her stomach, a deep sigh escaping him. “If only the world knew how stubborn my wife is.”

She smiled down at him, with one hand moving to his hair. “I have to be to be able to handle you.”

Simon’s eyes closed as he leaned against her, simply enjoying the closeness. He opened them again when she tugged on his hair gently. “Come on Si, let’s go to bed.”

He was exhausted and released the grip he had around her waist, and with a tired smile he nodded, letting her pull him up before he took her hand and led her up the basement stairs before taking the next set of stairs to the bedroom. The walk was slow and silent, Simon’s body was weary, his usual confident stride replaced with a sluggish pace. Once in the bedroom he lowered himself slowly onto the bed, groaning as he did.

Y/N watched carefully, his normally sharp and alert gaze was weighed down by physical and mental fatigue. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with movement. His gaze turned to hers and he patted the spot beside him. “Come on love,”

Y/N slid under the covers with him, immediately settling into his arms, head on his chest, his wrapped around her back. She started drawing small patterns on his chest with her finger. “Si?”

He turned his head to look at her in the darkness, just barely making out the shape of her. “Yes love?” he asked with a squeeze of his arm.

“I love you.”

She felt Simon immediately relax. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he leaned just enough to press a gentle kiss onto her lips. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than you could ever imagine.”

[raayllum]

Summary: Following Runaan, Rayla, and Callum’s journey to the Silvergrove, and then the two weeks they spent there in greater detail. cowritten with @thosefiveadoraburrs, canon compliant a/n: reaching the silvergrove! word count: 4.4k

CHAPTER ONE:

They were set to reach the Silvergrove by the end of the day, so one more short stop to rest felt like the safest option. Runaan, while much improved, was still technically supposed to be recovering, and…

Well, it had been too long since they’d seen the adoraburr meadow, and Callum was always telling her to be indulgent. 

Besides, taking a rest stop here was worth the ever-growing smile on his face alone. 

“I always wanted to come back here with you,” he said as they knelt down to scoop up a few adoraburrs. 

“Rayla used to spend hours here when she was little,” Runaan recalled with a softer smile on his face, letting the adoraburrs latch onto the edges of his boots. “I’m surprised she has not dragged you out here often on your trips to the Silvergrove.” 

“Oh, um...” Callum trailed off, Rayla fighting back a wince of her own, but then the adoraburrs scooted up his arms and sent him tumbling back with the most adorable giggle she’d ever heard. She fell back beside him, the soft grass and adoraburrs cushioning them as she turned her head to look at him, fighting back more giggles. 

This wasn’t the place where she’d first known she’d loved him, but it was the first time loving him had felt comfortable, like something she could—something that she would—do forever. Her heart fluttered when his hand found hers in the grass, giving it a squeeze. 

“Well worth the wait,” he murmured.

Her cheeks warmed.

“You’ll be able to visit here plenty once you reach the Silvergrove,” Runaan said, dusting off his pants. “If we move quickly, we can make it by dusk.” 

[newkatzkafe2023]

I really like what you wrote for my last request. Also, you don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, but may I ask if you could do a part two to that yonder monkey king X real world reader that I had requested but like it takes place during mating season? I kinda like the idea of read her being used to being human so she wouldn’t understand that she’s going through heat and that it’s mating season and so maybe the monkey King would notice what she’s going through and start to understand that she is in her first ever heat and offers to help her with it. Maybe For the movies and game it could take place after the events of The movies and game and for the TV show it could take place either before during or after season five. Again, you don’t have to do this I just thought I’d ask

Tsundere/Yandere Love Part 2😝

(Lmk Wukong) How annoying....Now you know deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep down you loved Wukong and Mk buuuuuuuutttt you can't pretend to like those two right now😒 You body is on fire, your pheromones are all over the damn place and your mood is very foul. Wukong was heartbroken by your behavior until he saw how many of the demons were out searching for mates. He put two and two together and realized you were in heat. Now Wukong had an opening on improving his marriage You had came home with more cup noodles to add to your she shed until you noticed him sitting on the bed, he was shirtless sitting in his boxers he began to gently woo you with back messages and chirps. You were biting your lip upon seeing him like that just being patient and considerate, feeling his hands on your body slowly removing clothes to get to the better parts of you before you both kissed. Let's just say you weren't gonna get better much faster without a lot of fun with your husband, Sun Wukong.

(MKR Wukong) Man, you would remind everyone of an angry cat, and you knew exactly why. Wukong would try to woo you and gave you affection, but you still continuously lash out on everyone, minus fruity being, the only one to calm you down. One day Wukong took one sniff at you and immediately knew that you were in your first heat, and started understanding your hostility (at least half of it😒) Your in your first heat cycle and it's driving you insane, which made Wukong spring into action. Now due to a nasty Strom coming the pilgrims had checked in into an inn till the strom blew over. Of course you took up your own room still showing him and the monk your favorite finger and Strom off to your own place, and that was the night Wukong worked his magic. Wukong snuck into your room with a small back filled body oils and cream to soothe your aching muscles, and it was working as you sighed in relief though Wukong started kissing your neck and shoulders. The next thing you both knew you were shaking the bed, as the strom raged on outside, as Wukong broke another wall on your heart.

(HIB Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh dear, it's bad enough that you're very distant with Wukong and your little family, but your new body is on fire and cramping up. At first, you thought it was your time of the month, but this was a bit more intense, nor was their any blood, but you felt so much heat and exhaustion. Though because of this, you lashed out at Wukong even more, finding him annoying and clingy, as you stomped away from him. Wukong was on his wits end because you seem to strongly dislike him, and you're usually passive aggressive, not this. Though that's when pigsy brought up being alone again in mating season, and it hit him, you're in heat. It was mating season, and females have proven to be far more aggressive during this time, so you can imagine a demoness female's heat cycle. So Wukong went out of his way to make this as comfortable as possible, even giving you a she shed to rest in, though Wukong, of course, offered to join you and slowly kissed you. With how helpful he's been with you, you went on your paws and knees, and he mated you like their was no tomorrow

(NR Wukong) You watched enough natural geographics to know exactly what's going on with you. You were now entered your first heat in your new-ish body(Woooo🙄). This caused you to hit the bottle pretty hard lately it's bad enough that you're trapped in your favorite movie forever, and now it's mating season. Wukong noticed your behavior and how much of a bad mood you were currently in. Wukong knew that mating season was coming up, and it's clearly changing your mood. So one night, Wukong had set up his bed, making sure everything was ready for your endless mating sessions. Also, busting out his favorite bottle champagne, which is also your greatest weakness. When you came home, you noticed Wukong pouring a drink as he asked about your day. Boi did you go off on everything and everyone as you continue to rant about your lousy body and upon other things, then cried about wanting to go home about you not belonging here and other crazy rants. It wasn't long before a drunk you was getting flirted with by Wukong, you finally decided to try him as you were bored and horny. So that night you and Wukong had a very chaotic mating season together, what else's new you know 🙄

(Netflix Wukong) Believe it or not, this will be your first heat together, and your both will be going through awkward and somewhat changes. Lin was the first to notice the changes immediately, mating season made Wukong emotional and submissive while mating season made you aggressive and confrontational. Wukong was whine and cry for your attention and cuddles as he doesn't feel well, as for you....well you look like you eat nails for breakfast terrifying anyone bothering you Mostly Wukong. This immediately had to stop so with the help of dragon king, you both were send to a hot springs to calm your minds. What they didn't consider was you both going at it immediately on the living room couch, starting mating season with a bang. Wukong had made you scream to the heavens from rocking your world into Oblivion turns out your didn't really hate Wukong after what happenedlast time.

(BMW Wukong) Wukong was looking forward to mating season for months, he knew that it was your first heat and wanted it to be perfect. You were gonna have your first heat as his queen and wife, you have been pushing him away for a long time but now it's time that you love and accepted him. Wukong had made the world's most interesting and romantic date in history, you both started off with visiting a play then came the hot springs and Lunch. After a bit of shopping you both came home you more calm and subdued a bit, wiping tears Wukong began to make love in a way soooo romantic you both will never regret it especially Wukong.

(Destined one) MAN YOU HATED YOUR MONKEY BODY!!!! And the Destined one knew that. You were in extreme emotional distress, either crying, laughing, or yelling, and unfortunately, the only way you cope with your situation was to lash out and yell at the Destined one. The Destined one was also aware of your heat which makes the other symptoms understandable, you need his help but he not sure how to present it with out further upsetting you. You were crying your eyes out when you thought he wasn't around steeling the Destined one's resolve. The Destined one such a sweetheart and decided to finally give you the date you deserve, he used some pocket money and brought you an emotional support plush. Now Whenever your having an episode you could just squeeze your plush. The Destined one made sure to overwhelm you with so much pleasure you would forget why you were so angry in the first place.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[therealtomboyfangirl]

The Security breach y/n’s

Sooooo I guess I should start doing head canon stuff I’m ganna start by starting my fnaf security breach story here. It’s a y/n story where hear y/n is different deal with it heh. So this post will be intro ducitng that I guess. They all do join at different time stamps of the pizza plex so note the when the pizza plex opens, before Bonnie’s decommission and after Bonnie decommission as time stamps of how long they have worked there. Also Represention HEH

Sun/moon’s y/n

Janitor (because sun and moon keep destroying janitor bots)

Punk morals

Has lots of tattoos and piercing and looks a bit out of place when they start working their

Gender fluid

Poly/pansexual/ demisexual

Does not understand kids and just treats them like tiny adults not really fully comfortable around them at the start but does warm up to them

always wears a bandana at work

Once their there for a good bit good-luck getting them to be fired they know to much

Their in a Toxic relationship when they start at the pizza plex

Newer staff, arrived after Bonnie decommission

Runs off of energy drinks

Monty’s y/n

Bisexual

Fem

Is strong enough to ligit throw Monty over her shoulder

Mommy issues

Has a strong will

Afraid of dark cramped spaces

Is very gentle with kids but doesn’t put up with shit from anyone

Has a fun little game of stepping on Monty’s tail at least once a day

Been around before Bonnie was decommissioned

Freddy’s y/ns

There are multiple (3 total)

Their all poly and pan or bi

1 fem (y/n #1)and 2 nonbinary (y/n #2&#3)

Freddy has so many due to him being the main star attraction

Y/n #1 is Freddy’s og handler

the leader of Freddy’s handlers.

Headstrong and protective

A situationship that has never been official with Freddy since the first week of the plex being open

Very much mommy vibes

Has a kid

Y/n #2 was Bonnie’s og handler but got transferred to Freddy after Bonnie’s decommission (more info go to Bonnie’s y/n below)

Y/n #3 was Monty’s og handler

They were transferred over to Freddy after being physically hurt by Monty

Monty didn’t know how to handle his temper back then and always took it out on y/n which was the start of Freddy’s dislike for Monty (it does get repaired later on but wayyyy later on)

They have nightmares form that time but are always comforted by the other handlers and Freddy

Chica’s y/n

Bisexual

Ftm trans

He is very tall and strong and quite

He had an intimidating aura about him

Always wears the same leather jacket

Has had issues in the past (won’t put here so they can be surprises)

Amazing lesbian moms

Will punt a bitch

Can’t pick up on flirting

Hispanic and calls Chica chica as a term of endearment

Has a pet bird named Carino

Childhood friend with DJ’s y/n who got him this job

Post Bonnie decommission

Works out for fun

Runs off of energy drinks

Rides a motorcycle

Punk mindset

DJ music man’s y/n

Asexual

Nonbinary

Helped build the pizza plex

The head sound and electrical engineer

Has 3 master degrees all in engineering

The oldest out of all the y/n’s

Runs off of energy drinks

Has access to all the pizza plex servers and software and even helped write a lot of it

Is often in the dj’s area due to the custom speakers he has

Has a prosthetic leg

Orphan

Roxy’s y/n

Lesbian

Mtf trans

She is a get shit done type of person

She sasses back to Roxy which starts their friendship

Uses a cane as a mobility aid

Wears a lot of pink and red

Is one of the few people that can do Roxy’s hair

Post Bonnie decommission

Orphan

Runs an online blog exposing big corporations and politics stuff

Foxy’s y/n

Genderfluid

Pansexual

Used to work as a bouncer before the plex

Has a generally bubbling and kind personality

Has close to same physical strength at Monty’s y/n

They and Monty’s y/n often pull Monty and foxy away form fights

They are the only handler foxy has ever had

Post Bonnie decommission

Is a hugger

Plus sized

Is the easiest to get to cry

Bonnie’s y/n

Nonbinary

Bisexual

Is currently Freddy’s second handler Bonnie’s og handler

Was always nice to Bonnie and they had a situationship

Before Bonnie was decommission Bonnie pushed them away which they were suspicious of

They say Bonnie was decommissioned Bonnie trapped them in a closet

#sucial Bonnie

Bonus character : little Timmy

A little shit

Karen mom

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 12

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: injuries (to an animal), non-explicit sex

Chapter word count: 4k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

Chapter 12

As they made their way back to the hills, Daphne wondered, for the second time, if she was making a mistake bringing Romulus home with her again, though this time, the uncertainty was not about him but about her own heart. He was never going to stay, she tried to remind herself. He was always going to be just a diversion, not a constancy.

In the following days, they went back to how things had been. She busied herself with her garden, started harvesting herbs for her potions and salves and tinctures, and made her usual rounds in the village. Romulus helped her with what he could around the house, while still taking care to stay hidden.

Something had changed in Romulus after the trip to Adala. Before, there had been a dark restlessness in him, like an animal lying in wait for its prey. She had witnessed its release when he attacked the robbers, and although it had been for her protection, his savagery had frightened her a little. At least he'd stopped when she told him to. If he hadn't, she might not have brought him back with her. But now that darkness seemed to have been drained out of him. He was quieter, less irritable, but also morose, bewildered, like a lost child who had given up all hope of ever being found. She supposed the news of the war ending and the former emperor's death had affected him more than he let on. Sometimes, as she came back from the village to find him sitting in silence at the door, his eyes watching the hills with a desolate look, she wanted to reach out and hold him, comfort him, but the uncertainty in her heart would stay her hands, and she would turn away.

But when he came to her in the middle of the night and touched her wordlessly, she never turned away. She gladly took him into her arms then, though after they were finished, he always returned to the bedroom, leaving her on her little cot. She tried not to mind it. She tried to tell herself that it mattered little to her, this furtive intimacy they shared in the dark. It was purely physical, a primal, simple need, like eating or breathing. But no matter how much she tried to tell herself that, it was no good. When he left her, she felt alone, and lonely. She longed for him to come to her not just for her sex but for herself, longed for his arms around her, for him to hold her just like he had after their encounter with the robbers, like there was no one else in the world but her. She hated herself for wanting him when he had no regard for her, and felt guilty about wanting him when she thought of Galen. Why should she feel guilty about Romulus, when she hadn't felt guilty about any of her other lovers, she didn't know. She vowed to turn away the next time he came to her, but she never did. She hated herself for that too.  

One morning, a few days after their trip to Adala, Daphne noticed one of the goats was missing. In the summer, she let them roam free, but Amalthea was very good about coming back to be milked in time. Now Daphne saw her trotting toward the house with her white kid in tow, but the black one was nowhere in sight.

She quickly called Romulus for help. A frantic search up and down the hillside yielded nothing, until a faint bleat led Daphne to a bush near the cistern. There she found the little goat, lying on his side, his back leg bent at an unnatural angle, with a bite on it that was still oozing blood. She scooped him up.

"A jackal must have gotten him," she said to Romulus. "Then perhaps he managed to break free and hide in the bush... Poor mite." She smoothed down the black fur on the goat's head and neck to calm him, but the little thing was too tired to move. He had stopped bleating and was lying limp in her arms; even his breathing was weak.

"What can we do?" Romulus asked, hovering anxiously by her elbow.

Daphne sighed. She had seen this plenty of times before with her grandmother's goats. Life was tough for the little ones; either they fell ill or a wild animal caught them. She was used to it, but it didn't make it any easier. "There's not much we can do, I'm afraid," she said. "The wound is severe. The best we can do is to put him out of his misery."

She started walking toward Ione's farm. Her grandmother had taken care of these things herself, but Daphne had never had the stomach for it. Ione's father would do it for her. Amalthea, sensing her kid's distress, trotted after her, so Daphne quickened her pace. Best not to let the mother see this.

"Where are you going?" Romulus asked, panic in his voice. "What are you going to do?"

"It is kinder this way," she said. "Even if he lived, he would be lame in one leg and always be weaker than the other goats..."

Horrified understanding dawned on Romulus's face, his new, boyish, vulnerable face, without the beard. "No!" he screamed, grabbing her arm to stop her. "You've healed wounds worse than this. You've healed me. Why can't you heal him?"

She stared at him. "You're human."

"And that makes my life worth more?"

"Of course." Even as she said it, Daphne realized how cruel that sounded, but she didn't know how else to explain it. It was the way she had been taught growing up. Life is hard, and there is no sense in mourning those who cannot survive it.

A strange look came into Romulus's dark eyes as he stared at the goat. "If you won't heal him," he said, "then I shall." He snatched the animal out of her arms and marched back to the house.

Following him inside, she found him searching her shelves for bandages, making a mess of all the jars and packets she had painstakingly labeled and organized, while still holding the goat with one arm.

"You're just going to get your heart broken if he doesn't survive, you know," she said gently.

"He is going to survive. I will make sure of it."

There was no stopping him then. With a sigh, she went and found a straight branch to serve as a splint, and helped Romulus wash and dress the wound on the goat's leg. She didn't know why she did it. Perhaps she had seen, in Romulus's concern for the goat, something of herself. Or perhaps it was for the same reason that she'd pulled Romulus out of the stream, the same reason she'd brought him home and let him stay against all sense and wisdom. Or it was because she was a healer at heart, and when she saw a wounded thing, she would try to heal it, any way she could.

"Why didn't you name these goats?" Romulus asked, once they had splinted and bandaged the kid. "You named their mother."

The question took Daphne by surprise. "I don't usually keep male goats," she explained. "When they're big enough, I would trade them with another herd, so—"

"It's easier to give them up if they're not named?" he said.

The thought had not occurred to her, but now she nodded. "I suppose, yes."

"I think I'll name this one Achilles," Romulus said, turning back to the goat. "Or Vulcan. On account of his leg, you see."

"Achilles died, didn't he?" she reminded him.

"Oh." He gazed at the goat, now lying quietly on the earthen floor. "Yes, I suppose it would be bad luck to name him after a hero who was killed by a bad leg. Vulcan it is then."

Daphne wanted to tell him to stop being so strange and contradictory, infuriating and frightening one moment, and sweet and kind the next. Her heart was confused enough. But she said nothing and only went out to bring back an armful of hay and spread it in a corner of the hut, to make a bed for little Vulcan.

***

Geta sat on the floor, watching Vulcan breathe laboriously on his bed of fragrant hay. Every breath the goat took was like a cord twisting Geta's insides. The poor thing was weak, so weak. It had been five days. Even though the wound had knitted, the little goat remained on his side, not eating the fresh new grass that Daphne had foraged for him or the grains she had soaked and softened. Following Daphne's instruction, Geta tried to get Vulcan to stand as much as he could, but the moment he removed his hands from under the goat's belly, the poor thing would collapse again. If it hadn't been for the honeyed water that Geta dribbled into his mouth, the goat might have perished long before this.

Behind him, Daphne finished stoppering the jars of aromatic salve she had concocted from herbs and oil and beeswax, and stood up from the table with a weary sigh. "Go to bed, Romulus," she said.

Geta didn't move. He was afraid that if he went to bed, his charge would be snatched away by Thanatos. Would Death deign to come for just an animal, or would the goat just simply cease to be?

"You sitting here all night won't help him heal faster," Daphne continued.

She had been rather short with him ever since Vulcan's injuries. At first, Geta had thought she was simply cross at his stubborn refusal to let the goat die, but then he realized it wasn't mere annoyance. It was as if she was building a wall around herself and keeping him out, yet he couldn't think of what he had done to offend her. She had brought him back of her own volition, hadn't she? He hadn't forced her to shelter him or take him into her bed every night. So why was she giving him the cold shoulder now? Women really are the most exasperating creatures.

He turned his attention back to Vulcan, to something more urgent and more comprehensible. Yet here he was faced with a confusion of thoughts as well. He didn't know why he had insisted on saving the goat. Surely Daphne had been right, surely it was foolish to waste so much effort on such an insignificant creature. Back in Rome, he had seen so many animals slaughtered in the Colosseum for entertainment. During his campaigns, he'd seen draught animals being pushed to the point of exhaustion and death, and thought nothing when a lame war horse was put down. Yet now, it was vital for him that this little goat lived. He wanted to prove—to whom? To those fools at the tavern in Adala? To Daphne? To himself?—that he was no tyrant, that he could be kind when he wanted to. He'd thought that the gods had spared him so he could strike down his enemies, but perhaps this was what he was meant to do—become a just and benevolent ruler.

"Do you think me cruel?" he asked suddenly.

Daphne, who was putting the jars of salve on the shelf, paused. "No," she said, sounding surprised. He noticed that she'd said it quickly, without thinking. 

"But I've done—terrible things."

She sat down next to him. "You're a soldier," she said. "You only did what you had to do."

He looked into her eyes, wishing more than anything in the world to believe her. Of course, she didn't know, but he clung to her words nonetheless. Yes, what he'd done, he'd had no other choice. He'd had to do it to survive. But this, this saving of a helpless creature? He did it because he could. He returned his gaze to Vulcan, following the rise and fall of the goat's flanks.

Daphne looked at Vulcan thoughtfully. "Tomorrow I'll make him some bean cakes," she said. "If he eats that, then there is hope for his recovery yet." She gave Geta's shoulder a brief squeeze. "Now go to bed," she said.

Geta brushed his hand gently over Vulcan's head one more time, before blowing out the lamp and retiring to the little cot—he had switched rooms with Daphne so he could keep an eye on Vulcan and not disturb her sleep. Daphne lingered at the door to the bedroom. Geta could feel her eyes on him, watching with a strange expression, just as she had the night they'd first slept together, searching for something only she knew.

Then she crossed the room, her tread light and quick, sat down next to him on the cot, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you don't have to leave yet," she murmured, her lips brushing soft against his neck.

Her touches, her voice, and her words went through him like the sweetest, most tender arrow from the bow of Cupid. It inflamed his blood and settled in his heart, the heart he hadn't known he still possessed, making it ache with longing. He pulled her down onto the cot with him, hoping to ease some of that ache.

Yet he didn't push into her immediately, as he usually did, although every fiber in his entire body was screaming for her. With a tenderness that surprised even himself, he lifted a hand and caressed her cheek, lingering at the scar on the side of her face—the scar that he himself had given her.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said, her voice quieter still, like a whisper, her eyes never leaving his. "Not anymore." She reached up to touch his face as well, her finger tracing the line of his lips longingly. He grabbed her hand and put it away, almost instinctively. The light in her eyes dimmed a little.

"Why won't you kiss me?" she asked.

"It's nothing to do with you," he said. "I just don't like it."

"Can I kiss you then?"

He looked at her. She shifted slightly, pressing that lithe body against his. He felt himself teetering on a precipice, and the descent was so, so sweet. "Not on the mouth," he said. If he let her kiss him on the mouth with those lips, it would be all over for him.

She grinned at him, a wicked little smile that he'd never seen on her, a smile that sent his blood pounding through him. Turning her head, she kissed his hand, just a gentle brushing of her lips. Then, with a quick twist of her body, she spun them around and dropped little kisses down his neck, his torso, getting hungrier and hungrier the lower she went. The feel of that mouth on his skin was more than he could bear. With all the strength of his mind, if not of his body, he pushed her off.

"Enough," he said through gritted teeth. "No more."

Daphne looked hurt for a second, but she didn't move away. Instead, she slid a hand under his tunic and started caressing his bare skin. "But this you don't mind, do you?" she asked.

No, he didn't mind it. He just didn't want to waste time with it. His sexual encounters had always been quick, anonymous, no matter with whom—slaves in the palace, whores in the cities, camp followers on his military campaigns, or even highborn women brought to him during his provincial tours. None of them ever expected anything from him. They served him, and it was a privilege to serve the emperor, so there was no payment, and certainly no tenderness or affection. Yet when Daphne took his hand and guided it to where she wanted, her breath quickening, he followed her, matching the movements of her deft, gentle fingers on him with touches of his own. A cry of ecstasy escaped her. Quickly, impatiently, he found her center, just as luscious and warm as her mouth. He tried to turn her on her back, but she held fast to him, pinning her thighs around his waist, keeping his hands on her lips, locking their bodies together.

Their eyes met, and his breath hitched. In the silver light of the moon streaming through the window, her eyes were like two green pools. She had looked at him like that in the cave when she saved him, gazing down at him with affection and care, even before she knew him. His self-control crumbled in those eyes. In bed, he had always been a taker. Yet now, with her body moving so seductively above him and her eyes looking at him, hazy with desire, he found himself wanting to give her everything he had. His thrusts into her came harder, faster, and faster still, driven by a force outside of himself, a passion he could not rein in. When she threw her head back with another trembling cry and collapsed on top of him, he couldn't help following with a whimper of his own, as he enfolded her in his arms, never wanting to let go.

As his breath and his pulse returned to normal, his mind also cleared, and he eased off his embrace, embarrassed at how close he'd come to losing himself. Daphne, with her head on his chest, didn't notice the change and only snuggled closer to him.

"Was that good?" he asked, trying to gather up the tattered remnants of his old self.

Daphne lifted her head to smile at him. "You're getting there."

Her half-shy, half-satisfied grin assured him. Perhaps he could still regain some control after all. "I wager that husband of yours never gave you anything like that, did he?"

The moment those words were out of his mouth, he knew it had been a grievous mistake. Dapne's smile disappeared. She sat up, her eyes hardening. "Don't you dare mention my husband," she snapped, her voice harsh like a whip. "You're not half the man he was!"

She stormed out of bed. Something made Geta reach out and stop her. "Daphne, wait!" She pulled against his hand, savage as a trapped animal, but he held her tight. "That was foolish of me," he continued. For a confused moment, he tried to remember the last time he admitted guilt, but couldn't. It did not matter. He only knew that the thought of being alone after what they'd just shared was unbearable. And so he uttered the words he had never said in his entire life, "Forgive me." He pulled her closer. "Stay. Please."

At the contrition in his voice, the cold fire in Daphne's eyes died away. "You told me you disliked sharing a bed," she said in a softer voice.

"Not when it's with you." He laced his fingers through hers, and repeated, with sincerity, "Stay with me. Please."

"You fool," she said, not with anger but with gentle mockery and perhaps—dare he even hope?—affection. "If you ever say something stupid like that again, it's back to Adala with you, you hear?"

"Yes, Domina," he said, calling her by the most respectful form of address, only reserved for Roman matrons of high status.

Daphne may not understand the Latin word, but she understood his tone well enough, and she let him draw her down onto the cot with him. Soon she was fast asleep, curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder, one arm tucked against her body, the other draped across his torso in a posture that was both possessive and protective.

What had possessed him to utter such an idiotic thing to her? Was his manhood so threatened by tenderness that he must push it away and stomp on it and act the tyrant whenever he felt it? And just when he was trying to prove himself to be the opposite!

With a start, he realized this would be the first time, in all twenty-eight years of his life, he'd be falling asleep next to another person, a woman. All the women he took to bed were sent away immediately after he was finished with them. He looked at Daphne again. It struck him as rather ironic that he had sent those women away for fear of assassination, yet it was only after he had been assassinated that he'd learned to trust a woman enough to share her bed.

As he had done once before, he reached out and lightly ran the tips of his fingers over her features, over the frown lines between her brows, now smoothed out by sleep, over the long lashes casting shadows on her cheekbones, and over the soft, plump mouth, wondering what it would taste like. Daphne didn't open her eyes, but she must have sensed his touch somehow, because when his hand reached her mouth, her lips opened and closed around his fingers like a kiss. Then she grabbed his hand, pillowed it under her cheek, and slept on. He was trapped now. He couldn't get up without withdrawing his hand and waking her. But such a tender trap it was, and he didn't mind.

"Sleep, my sweet laurel," he whispered, and fell asleep himself.

***

The next morning, Geta woke to find himself alone on the cot. The front door was ajar—Daphne must have gone out to see to the chores. Out of habit, he cast his eyes to the pile of hay in the corner, and his heart dropped.

The hay was empty. There was no sign of Vulcan.

Geta leaped out of bed and ran outside, calling for Daphne as he went. Please, Jupiter, Minerva, and Mercury, he prayed, don't let me find her burying the poor little thing. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw her shaking the olive trees to water the garden, as usual.

"Where is Vulcan?" he asked.

"Was he not inside?" replied Daphne. "He was when I woke."

"You didn't close the door?"

"No." Daphne usually left the front door open in the morning, to let in some cool air.

Helpless fear gripped at Geta's chest. Could some wild animal have gotten into the hut and dragged Vulcan away?

As they looked wildly about, searching for some clue as to where the goat could have gone, a small bleat caught their attention. Both turned to each other, eyes widening. Following the noise, they came upon Amalthea and her white kid by the garden, breakfasting on the grass growing at the bottom of the stone fence. And next to them was Vulcan, still limping a little, but standing on his feet, contentedly munching on the grass with his mother and brother.

At the sight of the goat, Geta's heart soared.

"He lives!" he shouted, elated. He picked Daphne up and twirled her around, heedless of his old wounds, startling a laugh out of her. And then he laughed as well, rejoicing in the miracle of nature, before remembering that he was still holding Daphne clear off the ground. He gently set her down and would have gone to check on Vulcan, but Daphne held on to him, her hand on his cheek, eyes gazing into his. This time there was nothing severe or critical in her gaze, only tenderness, and he basked in it.

Then, abruptly, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Unlike her scorching kisses the night before, this was sweet, almost chaste, yet the warmth of it still burned him to his core.

"I must see to the garden," she said and hurried away, leaving him with a lingering memory of her lips. Somewhere deep inside him, the ache he'd felt the night before stirred again, a gentle reminder that he still had a heart.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[littlejoyss]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖊 (𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1)

Stray Kids - Non-Idol!Bang Chan x Reader

Warnings: Gore, violence, zombie apocalypse, g*ns, suggestive, blood, swearing, needles, death

Part 1 Total Word Count: 8.4k

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 4

Han led you down a narrow hallway towards a quieter section of the base. The dim light flickered overhead as you passed makeshift rooms. The base was functional, but it felt more like a patchwork of survival rather than any real comfort.

You decided scavenging was a good fit for you for now. The leaders made it clear you were able to switch teams once you got more settled into the group.

"This is where you'll be staying for now," Han said, pausing in front of a small, empty bunk in the corner of the room. "It's not much, but it's safe, and you've got a roof over your head."

You nodded, grateful for the space but still hesitant. The community was far bigger than you'd anticipated. Still, the room offered a sense of relief that you hadn't had in months.

"Appreciate it," you said, your voice quieter than you'd meant.

Han gave a small smile. "We're all in this together, for better or worse. You'll get used to it."

"Understood."

"Good. Now get some rest. The scavenging team leaves early in the morning. You'll need to be ready. And don't worry, Minho will make sure you know what's expected of you."

With that, Han turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the bunk. You sat down on the edge, your mind still racing with everything that had just happened. You had a place to sleep, food to eat, and a chance to prove yourself.

You lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. There were still so many unknowns here, but one thing was for sure, you had a higher chance of survival.

━━

The sharp sound of Minho's knock on the wall jolted you awake, and you sat up, disoriented for a moment before the reality of where you were came rushing back.

"Rise and shine," Minho's voice came through, unmistakable even through the thin wall. "Team's leaving in an hour. You better be ready."

You groggily rubbed your eyes, pulling yourself out of bed and quickly gathering your things. The room was still dim, and the distant sound of people moving around the base indicated that the rest of the group was already up and getting ready for their day.

After a few moments, you hurriedly dressed, throwing your pack over your shoulder, and made your way to the designated meeting area. Minho was already there, standing near the door with a clipboard in hand and a slightly impatient look on his face.

"You look like you barely got any sleep," he remarked, raising an eyebrow as you approached. "You won't make it long if you don't start sleeping better."

"Thanks for the advice," you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Minho ignored your sarcasm and handed you a small map. "We're hitting an old grocery store today. It's been cleared a couple of times, but there's always something left. Stay close, keep quiet, and don't wander off. Got it?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of the pack settle on your shoulders as you followed the group out of the building. The early morning air was cool, and the streets were eerily silent.

The grocery store wasn't far, but the walk felt like an eternity. Every creak of old buildings and every rustle of wind through the trees set your senses on high alert. You hadn't realized how much you'd grown used to solitude in the past few months and now you felt strange.

When you finally reached the grocery store, it was run down. The windows were cracked, the doors barely hanging on their hinges. Minho motioned for everyone to take cover.

"Scavenging team, we're in. Stick to the plan. We sweep through, find what we can, and get out fast. No heroics," Minho instructed, his voice low but commanding.

He handed you a pistol with a stern look. "You know how to use this?"

You hesitated for only a moment before taking the weapon from him. You'd never been the best with firearms, but you'd had enough encounters to know how to use them.

"I'll manage," you replied, gripping it firmly.

Minho nodded, satisfied. "Good. Stay alert. Chan will want a full report when we get back. We don't want to leave anything behind that could be useful."

With that, the team split into smaller groups, each taking a different section of the store.

You moved cautiously, your eyes scanning the surroundings rapidly. Every crinkle of plastic, every distant thud, made your heart race.

The first few minutes passed without any trouble, and you found yourself picking through dusty shelves, grabbing whatever seemed useful. A few cans of food, some bottled water, and a box of medical supplies. You didn't hesitate to take it all. Everything could be used.

But then you heard it. A low groan, distant but unmistakable.

You reached for the gun at your side.

You scanned the area, looking for the source of the sound. It came again, louder this time. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. There were also sounds of shuffling like footsteps dragging across the floor.

Definitely an infected.

Keeping to the shadows, you moved toward the source of the noise, your eyes darting around. The aisle stretched out before you, and as you rounded a corner, you saw it. An infected moving in the dim light. It was slow, but there were more groans coming from deeper within the store. More were nearby.

You cursed under your breath. You didn't know how many there were, but you couldn't take any chances. Your fingers tightened around the grip of the pistol, and you crouched low, moving into position.

The infected hadn't noticed you yet, but you didn't wait to find out how quickly they could. You had a job to do, and the last thing you wanted was to make noise.

With a deep breath, you aimed, your hand steadying.

Before you could pull the trigger, a voice whispering behind you broke the silence. "Don't shoot. You'll draw them all in."

You whirled around, startled. There, standing just a few feet behind you, was Minho. He motioned for you to lower the gun.

"Get down," he whispered urgently, ducking low and pulling you behind a nearby shelf.

Your heart was pounding, but you did as he said. You peered over the edge of the shelf, eyes widening at the sight. The infected were still moving aimlessly. There were too many for just the two of you to handle quietly.

He sounded angry, "You can't get too close. You need backup. I don't know what you were thinking."

You shot him a glance, "I've killed many of them myself."

"I'm sure you have. But this isn't a solo mission. You don't take risks like that here. Not without backup."

You swallowed hard, a mix of frustration and determination bubbling up inside you. The old instinct to fight, to survive on your own, was hard to shake off. But you knew Minho was right. There was no room for reckless behavior when you were part of a team.

"I know," you muttered, keeping your eyes on the infected, watching their movements carefully. "I'll wait for backup."

Minho gave you a quick nod before turning his attention back to the situation at hand. He motioned for you to stay low as he crept closer, signaling to the rest of the group.

The others began to quietly maneuver into position, each taking their places without making a sound. You could barely make out their silhouettes in the shadows of the store. They were all moving with practiced precision, like machines. You were starting to realize just how tightly knit this group was.

Minho gestured to you, signaling that it was time. You took a deep breath and nodded, following his lead. You crept forward, staying low and as silent as possible.

He moved with fluid precision, raising his weapon and taking out one of the infected before it could react. The rest of the team followed suit, picking off the others with their guns. You took out one more yourself, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the weight of the gun steady in your hands.

Within seconds, it was over. The infected were all down, scattered across the floor like lifeless dolls.

Minho lowered his gun and glanced at you. "Good. You followed orders. That's all I needed to see."

You didn't reply right away, still processing everything. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, and you felt a strange mix of pride and relief. You were starting to get the hang of this team dynamic.

"Let's finish up," Minho said, turning back to the rest of the group. "We've got supplies to grab and a report to make."

━━

It was now evening time, and the team had changed into their casual clothes. As you change yourself, you realize you forgot to turn in your pistol to Minho. You groaned and set the gun on your nightstand as you finished dressing. You knew he was currently giving the mission report to Chan, and you could probably find him in the command room.

You grabbed the pistol, feeling the cold weight of it in your palm once more. With a sigh, you exited your room and made your way down the hallway toward the command room. You noticed that most of the team had already settled into their routines for the night.

You knocked gently on the door to the command room, not wanting to interrupt if they were in the middle of something important. After a moment, Chan's voice called out.

"Come in."

You pushed the door open, finding Minho sitting at a table with Chan. Maps were spread out in front of them, and the conversation seemed to be winding down. Minho glanced up, his eyes flicked to the pistol in your hand.

"You remember it?" He asked.

"Yeah," you said, walking over to the table and handing it to him. "I forgot to turn it in earlier. Sorry about that."

Minho took the pistol, his fingers brushing against the metal for a moment before he holstered it. He gave you a small nod. "No big deal. Just don't make it a habit."

You nodded, feeling a little awkward but relieved that he didn't make a bigger issue of it.

Chan looked up at you, "You should get some rest like the others." His tone was as monotone as always.

You nodded again, taking a small step back toward the door. "Yeah, you're right. I'll head to bed."

As you turned to leave, Minho's voice followed you. "Good work today," he said, his tone far softer than it had been earlier.

You turned back slightly, offering him a quick, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Minho."

He gave a small nod, his eyes already back on the maps in front of him, while Chan, still focused on his own work, didn't say anything more. It was clear they were finishing up their debrief.