#i will try my hardest to that is for sure

[libraford]

Ok. It's day 2 of recovery from my hysterectomy so I thought I'd tell yall about it.

It sucks. Ooooh lord am I in a lot of pain. But the pain is predictable, unlike menstrual clots the size of my fist.

A bunch of yall are interested in getting a hysterectomy for yourselves. I think every experience is somewhat unique, but here's what happened to me.

You will get phone calls from billing. You do not have to pay over the phone. But they will ask your demographic information and contact info for anyone that's going to be in the waiting room.

You are not allowed to eat or drink after midnight prior to your surgery. This includes water. Plan to wear loose clothing- I wore a tank dress and drawstring pants.

You will not be able to drive. Someone needs to drive you to and from the hospital. If your surgery is at 7:30, they want you there at 5:30. They will ask you your demographic information again. They will give you a big sheet of stickers with your name on it. The staff will trade these around and put them on everything related to you. You get a bracelet with your sticker on it.

Once you're at intake, expect the usual medical stuff. They will take weight, height, urine sample, blood sample, blood pressure, check you're heart and lungs. You will put all your clothes and shoes in a bag with your name on it. I left my phone and wallet with my girlfriend. You will get into an uncomfortable hospital gown. They will hook you up to an IV.

And then you will wait. For a fuckin long ass time. In this time, you will be visited by three doctors- your RN, your anesthesiologist, and your surgeon. You may also be visited by various interns, which makes you wonder just how many people are here to gawk at your fibroid. You are allowed to have a visitor.

You will eavesdrop on conversations happening outside your prep room. You have no choice in this.

Your surgeon will arrive and hand you a waiver basically saying 'I give you permission to cut into me with lasers.' You've signed this before, but now they are making sure. My operation was supposed to be laparoscopic (removed through the vagina) but I was informed that if the fibroid is bigger than they expected, they may make incisions near the bikini line or near the bellybutton. I gave them permission to do what they needed to do this safely.

Then your anesthesiologist comes back, puts something in your IV, it feels cold, and pulls up the bars on you bed to wheel you into the operation room. You are greeted by every person that came by your prep room.

I konked out when they put the oxygen mask on.

And then I woke up.

It was supposed to be only 2 hours, but I woke up 4 hours later in a separate room. Brand new nurse, checks your vitals, gives you some reassuring words, and then instructs you to, at your own pace, get up and move to a wheelchair. It's fucking freezing in this room.

You have zero core strength right now. Getting up is the hardest shit ever. She instructed me to take a half breath in, sit up on the slow outbreath, and then do it again while standing, then again to sit back down again.

They wheel you into a waiting room and call your family in. I had a burning desire to tell my girlfriend she's intensely beautiful.

My skin had a reaction to the hair net they had on me, so I have a rash on my face. They put a catheter in your throat to help with breathing, which gave me a sore throat, but I think they also gave me a cut in the back of my throat, which is annoying because it's affecting things like swallowing and drainage.

It was supposed to be three incisions. It's actually five. My girlfriend tells me that my surgeon indicated that the fibroid was the size of a cantaloupe, rather than the original suspected size of a grapefruit and now I want a fruit salad.

Once you are settled, the nurse will try to get you to stand again and she will try to get you to use the bathroom to check your stool.

Once that's cleared, she'll hand you your clothes and you can slowly get dressed. Do not rush this, pants are hard.

I sent my parents to get my meds and my girlfriend to get the car.

Nurse wheels me out to the curb, one two three half-breath, breathe out, stand, get in the car and go.

They gave me ibuprofen, Tylenol, and oxycontin. I'm told to take the oxy at night so it knocks me out, and switch pills every six hours. Oxy will make you constipated, they gave me miralax. You can eat whatever you want, but oxy does reduce your appetite.

When it comes to recovery, oh God does it hurt. You will have vaginal bleeding but it's not very much, at least compared to my typical period and there was no blood the next day.

You are encouraged to rest, but not to be in bed the whole time, so find some things to do while sitting upright. When you're in bed, make sure your head and back are supported. It's hard as fuck to go from laying down to sitting up if you need to go to the bathroom.

In preparation for having zero core strength for awhile, I bought a walking cane and a walker. The walker is for helping me lower down to the toilet.

But I'm on day 2 of recovery and I'm feeling better than I was yesterday. I can already feel a difference in my bladder control now that I don't have the fibroid pressing down on it.

Looking forward to feeling normal again.

[revelboo]

I know its not ENTIRELY the case but I love how Waspinator's like "Dating? Got it. I can do dating. Im gonna be the BEST at dating. And then, i will have unrestricted access to Nap Lap, the most coveted place."

He’s trying his hardest

Worker Bee Pt 17

Waspinator x Reader

• Sprawled face down on your bed, you’re immediately awake when you hear and feel the bed shifting and creaking. He’d stayed in the living room watching cartoons with the rapt focus of a toddler for the bright colors and let you sneak off to bed alone last night. Apparently, he’d finally noticed you’d abandoned him. And you groan when his heavy weight comes down partially on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs. “You’re too heavy,” you groan, squirming to wiggle out from under him and he settles for just his head and an arm against your back. And a leg kicked out across yours. Sighing and resisting the urge to grab a pillow to beat him with, your nose wrinkles. Why does he smell like freshly turned soil? Has he been digging in your yard? He’s behaving at least and you’re too sleepy to care about holes in your yard.

• Venting against you, he’s alert until your breathing evens out and only then does he allow himself to recharge. Had checked the perimeter of his hive after returning to make sure all was well. Hadn’t been able to find any pretty flowers with the snow, but he’s pleased with what he had found to offer you. Sure that you’ll be impressed with him and accept his courting gift. And food? He’s seen you prepare your weird smelling food from the tall, cold box and the small beeping box. Simple enough.

• “Little friend?” What time is it? Ignoring as he croons at you, the mattress shifting when he moves over you. If you ignore him, he might go away and let you sleep. “Little friend.” Feel his mandibles slides through your hair and against the back of your neck to make your skin crawl. And then his wet glossa slides behind your ear and there’s no pretending you’re not awake anymore when you shriek and nearly elbow him in the face. “Awake?”

• “What’s have I said about licking me?” You growl, words becoming a wheeze when he slumps against your warmth to vent against your skin. “Can’t breathe.” Hooking an arm around you, he rolls so you’re sprawled on him, his wings flared out under him. And your eyes narrow when you look around. “There’s mud in my bed,” you say, voice that carefully neutral tone you use right before you get angry with him. And he whines when you sit up on him to stare at the mud smeared on your skin from him. Clawed servos resting on your hips, he’s afraid to move in case you bolt. “Why is there mud everywhere?” Knows how dangerous that calm tone is. That his little friend is about to yell at Waspinator most likely.

• “Waspinator’s little friend very lovely,” he manages and that is the last thing you expect from the big idiot. Startling a snorting laugh out of you, because if he thinks that’s going to get him out of trouble, he’s gravely mistaken. “Little friend’s frame very soft,” he adds and now you are laughing, because he’s so terrible at whatever this is? Painfully awkward flirting? That thought sobers you, because no. There’s no way he’s flirting. “Pretty scent.” Yeah, nope. This is getting uncomfortable now.

• “I smell like dirt right now, but thanks,” you mutter, sliding off of him to make his frame strain and another buzzing whine escapes him. Rolling onto his side to watch you purse your soft lips and examine the room, his antenna go back when you smile. “There’s more dirt, isn’t there?”

• “Prepared food for little friend,” he says, words a bit too quick as he rolls off your bed and follows you down the hall. How is there mud on the ceiling? Squinting back at him, that he’d fixed you food is especially horrifying. Bug breath eats silverware. And he bumps into you when you stop short at the living room. Is that an azalea bush? Roots and all? And what is that stink? “Flowers for little friend. Dating.” What are the symptoms of a stroke, because you can’t breathe right now, staring at the mess. Dating? What does he mean dating? And the fire alarm chooses right then to start screaming.

Previous

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Hey there!

This month felt endless, am I right? Can’t believe it’s finally over.

This is a list of all the fics I read in January, I started writing it at the beginning of the month so they are in chronological order based on when I read them.

There’s a lot of stories but I still feel like I haven’t read enough lol

I loved every single work on this list so I highly recommend for you to read them and give some love to authors! They’re unbelievably talented and bring so much joy to this fandom, someone even in my life but this is another story.

I put the link to the Masterlist for series, so you can see all the chapters, some of them are ongoing and some are finished.

Please mind the tags and warnings to make sure a story doesn’t trigger you and makes you uncomfortable, I’m not responsible for what you choose to read, only you are.

Happy reading!

❋ Consume - @sunshineispunk

Stepdad!Joel x reader , DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

❋ Liquid Gold - @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Joel Miller x f pregnant!reader x Tommy Miller

You are super pregnant and currently miserable after a third trimester issue crops up. You don’t know how to fix it, and Joel is determined to make you comfortable again. Will he come up with the right solution or are you going to spend the last few weeks of your pregnancy in awful pain? (Lactat!on kink)

❋ The First Time - @fettuccin-e

Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Size kink

❋ Mouthful - @pedgito

Joel miller x reader

Joel finds the perfect way to keep you quiet while he showers you with compliments.

❋ Holiday Heat - @baronessvonglitter

Joel Miller x f!reader

Only one bed trope, grumpy x sunshine, age gap, strangers to lovers

Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

❋ The Warden - @arcanefox207

Joel Miller x f!reader - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Your hike into the woods doesn’t go as planned when a depraved Game Warden catches you breaking the rules.

❋ Quicksand - @javier-pena

Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

You meet a stranger at a party

❋ Borrowed Time - @aurorawritestoescape

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel and you are enjoying an ideal vacation together. Warm ocean, white sand, soft kisses, and hot sex make it feel like paradise. But as your time here is running out, the thoughts that you‘ve been trying to keep at bay start eating at your soul.

❋ After hours - @mssalo

Sub!Joel x Dom f!reader

❋ Wandering Hands - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

Javi can't keep his hands off you during a dinner with some friends.

❋ Strangers - @joelmillerisapunk

Stripper!Javier Peña x f!reader

you meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

❋ Law of Attraction - @baronessvonglitter (Series Masterlist link)

Dave York x f!reader - Romcom AU

Dealing with emotions is difficult when you and Dave realize how you really feel about each other. When a night in turns sour, you seek help from an unexpected source.

❋ Easy - @slowdivinqs

Joel Miller x f!reader

waking Joel up in the best way possible.

❋ Bad blood - @aurorawritestoescape (Series Masterlist link)

you want your stepdad and your step uncle offers to help

step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

❋ Never have I ever - @wannab-urs

Dieter Bravo x afab!reader

You and Dieter play never have I ever and it gets spicy.

❋ My paramour, my evermore - A Joel Miller Story - @schnarfer (Knights and Kings AU)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller is the loss of your life

❋ Let's Go - @thundermartini DBF!Joel x f!reader

you decide to channel your inner party girl on this Friday night. But things won’t go as planned. You’ll get even more from this night than a dance in a club and free drinks from strangers. (Or, I just wanted a pretext to imagine bouncer!joel railing me in the back room of a club.

❋ Yes ma’am - @sizzlingcloudmentality

Dave York x dominatrix!reader

life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

❋ Untitled - @aurorawritestoescape

Joel’s twin x f!reader || 500 words

❋ Girl Dinner - @slimybeth69 Dead dove do not eat (Series Masterlist link)

Joel Miller x f!reader

After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

❋ Foxglove Downs - @whocaresstillthelouvre (Series Masterlist link)

Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucius Verus

In the exclusive realm of elite show jumping, where wealth stretches as far as the polished estates, Marcus Acacius and Lucius Verus are locked in a fierce competition that reaches far beyond the arena.

❋ No strings to hold me down - @baronessvonglitter

fwb!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Enjoying the freedom of being friends with benefits with Joel Miller, a new emotion flares when you see him out with someone much younger.

❋ What’s a Tomdaya? - @604to647

Modern!Pero Tovar x fem!reader

Pero regrets getting into a group chat with your friends

❋ Prisoner - @almostempty

f!reader x Din Djarin

this time our fav bounty hunter is the bounty and you're on a mission to capture him and claim your reward

❋ Final part of the neighbor series - Masterlist - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

❋ All the good girls go to hell - Masterlist - @aurorawritestoescape

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader

you can't stop thinking about your stepdad so you do something risky to have a little more of him. But Joel is not the "little more" kind of guy.

❋ Close-up - @milla-frenchy

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you

❋ El cumpleañero - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

❋ Reincarnated - @joelmillerisapunk

Joel Miller x f!reader

A late-night text from an unknown number stirs up memories you thought you’d buried. It’s been years since Joel walked out of your life, but now he’s back. Old wounds resurface, boundaries blur, and the question lingers: is this a second chance or just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

❋ Leather and Lace - @probablyreadinsmut

Javier Peña x f!reader

Javier Peña is back in Loredo after retiring from the DEA. He's horny and looking for something new. That's when he finds you.

❋(Un)faithful - @probablyreadinsmut

Rbf!Javier x Married!Reader

Your marriage is lackluster, your sex life even more so. When your best friend Javier finds out, lines are crossed and lives are changed forever.

❋ some thoughts on hbf (husband's best friend) joel @baronessvonglitter / Drabble

❋ BDSMaid - @mountainsandmayhem (Series Masterlist link)

After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

[readychilledwine]

Call My Name

Nightmare Prompt Drabble -“How long have you been having nightmares like this?”

Summary - War leaves a last mark on all who see it.

Warnings - Mentions of loss and death, mentions of war, reader is spiraling in secret.

A/N - My heart is so sad because I got bumped while drafting this and accidentally deleted the anon 🥺

So, if this is familiar to you and you sent me this, losing someone you lose to cancer is one of the hardest things to live through. I am so sorry, Anon. I wanted this to be perfect and warm. I wanted it to be filled with comfort. I held onto it for a while because I was worried about it not filling that need, but as someone who can sympathize with that loss, it hits where I think it needs to in a very short and sweet way.

🦊Lucien Masterlist🦊Master Masterlist🦊

The feel and scent of blood was still so real as you calmed yourself and strong hands helped you sit up. It felt as if a weight was on your chest, closing in and seizing the very breath from your lungs.

“You're alright,” a voice deep with sleep stated. “Breathe. Take a deep breath. Breathe.” Lucien sat in front of you, his normally perfect hair a mess, his pajama pants wrinkled from moving as he slept.

“Lu?”

“You were screaming,” even in his sleepy state, his voice was like a silk that soothed your fears. “I could hear you from my room. I think we could all hear you, actually.”

Shame filled you. You normally could contain your nightmares to your own space, warding and shielding out the world from the visions that haunted your mind. “I apologize. I try to keep it in here,” you motioned to your room. “Rhysand taught me to shield, and it appears they failed me tonight.”

He shook his head. “Never apologize to me for being afraid. You are young and have already lived through so much. You have seen far too many things,” his voice was soft with sympathy as he settled down in your bed, pulling you to lay beside him. “How long have you been having nightmares like this?”

That sentence, one no one else had bothered to ask, opened the floodgates. “Since the war. Since-” You could finish, couldn't allow your mind to slip into that haunted place.

“I understand,” he stopped you as if he did not want you to bear that pain. Soft hands moved to your face, stroking your cheek bones. “I know that feeling. That piece of you leaving this world yet lingering in your nightmares and dreams. It makes you feel trapped. Like you can't move on no matter how desperately you try, and the hardest thing is no one has real advice.” He made sure his eyes found yours, the soft moon highlighting his own jawline and cheeks. “Other fae will tell you time heals all wounds, but I've learned that isn't always true.”

“Wounds like this fester, my spark. They infect and slowly kill. They rob you of your joy, your safety and security, your light,” his voice broke. “I cannot stand the idea of you losing your light. Not so young. Not so fresh to the magic of our world."

He waited for you to breathe before he spoke again, "I know it is hard, but you need to talk to someone. Me, Rhysand, Nesta. Any of us. We may not be able to replace them, but we can help you as you reshape your world around this loss. We can help you find another kindling to keep your flame alive."

You could only give a whimper as tears began to fall freely. You had not felt so seen, so safe, in months. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his warmth and scent. “You don't have to decide now, but we will speak again in the morning. Sleep, my dear, I'll keep you safe tonight.”

[iamquiantrelle]

THE NEW WAG IN TOWN (chapter 1)──iamquaintrelle

# pairing: william saliba x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# wc: 11.2k

# tags: @formulafortyfour @kennasutopia @saleeba @anifffff @jessnotwiththemess @irishmanwhore @snowseasonmademe @oceanfanatic06 @ibouchouchou @haartemis @judectrl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @eriks-girl

# summary: yasmin thought that dating wilo would stay private - until someone caught them at tesco and posted it online. now she's gone from quiet grad student to arsenal wag overnight, with thousands of new followers and wags begging her to join their brunches. all she wanted was to finish her degree and date her defender in peace, but as the spotlight grows brighter, she wonders if their private world can survive in this public circus.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ masterlist

Three days had passed since a Dairy Milk craving changed everything. Three days of Yas's phone vibrating itself into oblivion, of her twist-out staying in a messy pineapple because clinical rotations were kicking her ass, of trying to pretend she wasn't all over Arsenal Twitter because she'd dragged a sleepy Wilo to Tesco at midnight. The TikTok was everywhere now - her 5'5" frame drowning in his Arsenal hoodie while his 6'4" self reached for top-shelf chocolate, both of them clearly caught up in their own little world until a fan's "Can I get a picture?" turned into way more than they'd bargained for. The original tweet sharing the TikTok already had more than 50k likes: "SALIBA GOT A GIRL?? Caught at Tesco late night shopping 👀 Who is she??" and it was only getting worse.

At least she had Jamie, her clinical partner at King's College London's PT clinic, to keep her sane through it all. Jamie, who was currently failing to hide her grin while updating patient charts.

"Your boyfriend's coming in for his knee check today, right?"

"Stop calling him that at work," Yas hissed, but couldn't help smiling. The whole thing was still wild to her - meeting Wilo four months ago at Dishoom, that Indian spot all her classmates insisted she try when she first moved from Chicago. She'd been struggling with the menu (why were British-Indian portions so different from American ones?), and this tall guy with the deepest French accent she'd ever heard offered to help. She didn't even realize who he was until her friend kicked her under the table and frantically texted "THAT'S WILLIAM SALIBA" while Yas was busy trying to understand his accent.

She was checking her schedule when Wilo appeared in the doorway, and honestly, it should be illegal how he managed to make ducking through standard-sized doors look graceful. His training gear hung perfectly on his frame, and Yas had to remind herself that she was a professional who definitely wasn't thinking about how that same frame had been pressed against her in the Tesco snack aisle three nights ago.

"Bonjour," he said softly, his accent thick as honey as he sat on the treatment table, those long legs dangling. "Comment ça va?"

"English in the clinic, remember?" she teased, going through her standard range of motion checks. Her hands stayed steady even when his skin was warm under her touch. She'd practiced these movements hundreds of times, but somehow they felt different when it was Wilo watching her with those dark eyes. "How's the knee feeling after training?"

"Better with your exercises," he replied carefully, concentrating on each word in that way he did when he wanted to make sure she understood. His accent always got thicker when he was trying his hardest with English, and god help her, but it was adorable. "But you… are you okay? These past days…"

"I'm fine," she assured him, testing his knee stability and definitely not thinking about how her tiny hands looked against his leg. "Just focusing on my patients. And trying to keep up with your accent when you talk too fast."

"Me?" he laughed, the deep sound filling the small treatment room and making her fingers tingle where they pressed against his knee. "You are the one speaking like…" he paused, reaching for his phone to translate something, and she had to bite back a smile at how predictable he was.

"No phones during treatment," she reminded him, gently pushing his hand down. "Now tell me if you feel any discomfort here…"

Jamie wasn't even pretending not to watch them from the charting station anymore. Yas could feel her friend's amused gaze as she went through the motions - professional PT student Yasmin, definitely not thinking about how this same man had sleepily followed her to Tesco just because she'd played the girlfriend card. Her hands stayed clinical and precise while Wilo watched her with that soft look he got whenever she went into healthcare mode, the one that made her heart do stupid flips in her chest.

"Flex and extend for me," she instructed, her professional tone slipping when he purposely moved extra slow, those dark eyes twinkling. "Stop being difficult."

"I am following instructions," he protested, his accent getting thicker with amusement, wrapping around the words like warm chocolate. "You say slow and controlled, non?"

"I didn't say glacial," she muttered, but her hands were gentle as she checked his range of motion, careful with this man who could body strikers on the pitch but acted like her PT sessions were torture. "How was training this morning?"

"Arteta made us…" he paused, frowning as he searched for the words, and she had to resist the urge to smooth the crease between his brows. "Comment dit-on… extra drills? Because Luton Town this weekend."

"You better not be overworking this knee before a match," she warned, pressing slightly on a tender spot that made him wince. His leg was solid muscle under her hands, a reminder that for all their playful moments, he was still one of the Premier League's top defenders. "See? Still tight here."

Jamie's poorly hidden laugh echoed from the charting station. Everyone at the clinic had seen the TikTok by now but watching them here, you'd never guess they were trending. They were just... them. Yas with her clinical precision masking how her skin tingled wherever they touched, and Wilo with his accented teasing that got thicker whenever he was trying not to smile.

"Your stability's better," Yas noted, switching to her assessment voice even as his warmth seeped through her professional walls. "But you need to ice after training, I can tell you haven't been."

"Too cold," he complained, and the way his accent wrapped around those two simple words shouldn't make her stomach flip like that.

"Too bad. Doctor's orders."

"You're not doctor yet."

"Almost. Now do your hamstring stretches and stop arguing with your PT."

Jamie's pager went off like a lifeline through the tension that was building in the small room. She threw Yas a knowing look before heading out to help with exercises in the main room, leaving them alone with all their unspoken moments.

Wilo waited until the door closed, that heavy silence settling between them. "Gabriel keep asking about you. Want to know if you're coming to dinner at his place tomorrow."

"I have clinic notes to finish," Yas said, focusing on stretching his hamstring and not on how his muscles flexed under her touch. "And that thing with your knee isn't going to document itself."

"I tell him you're busy being smart," he smiled, then winced when she hit another tight spot. "Aïe! Doucement..."

"Baby," she teased, even as her hands gentled automatically. "And here I thought defenders were supposed to be tough."

"Only on pitch. Here?" He gestured to the treatment table, his dark eyes dancing. "I am delicate patient."

Before she could process it, his arm was around her waist, pulling her between his legs where he sat on the table. Even sitting, he was nearly at eye level with her standing. "You sure you okay though? No crazy people following you to work?"

"I'm fine," she said, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even as his hands settled on her hips, warm through her scrubs. The clinic suddenly felt too small, too warm. "The school's pretty good about security."

"Mm," he hummed, accent getting thicker as he leaned closer, and god, he knew exactly what that did to her. "Maybe I should come to more... what you call them? Clinical hours?"

"Pretty sure that's not what you meant," Yas laughed, not needing any translation app to catch his tone. Her hands rested on his shoulders, forgetting all about PT protocols. "And you're supposed to be doing your exercises—"

Her words cut off in a yelp as he squeezed her ass, the sound hanging in the air just as Jamie walked back in.

"Dr. Morris wants us to– oh!" Jamie stopped short, fighting a grin as Yas jumped away from Wilo, her face burning. "She needs us to shadow her on a shoulder manipulation."

"Coming!" Yas said quickly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back, straightening her scrubs with as much dignity as she could muster. "Behave yourself and ice that knee."

Wilo just grinned, all innocent eyes and devastating smile as he slid off the table. "Bye Jamie," he called out, throwing Yas one last look that promised this wasn't over before ducking out the door, taking all her professional composure with him.

"So," Jamie drawled as they headed down the corridor, her voice dripping with amusement. "That's what professional PT looks like these days?"

"Shut up," Yas muttered, adjusting her scrubs and trying to will away the heat in her cheeks. "We were just–"

"Just doing some hands-on therapy?" Jamie wiggled her eyebrows. "Very hands-on from what I saw."

"I'm not above tripping you in front of Dr. Morris."

"Worth it. Also, you've got a little…" Jamie gestured to her own lips, and Yas quickly wiped away the ghost of her goodbye kiss, shooting her friend a death glare that only made Jamie grin wider.

The rest of her clinical hours dragged by in a blur of patient assessments and charting, her phone occasionally buzzing with texts from Wilo - mostly French words she had to Google Translate, each one making her bite back a smile. By the time she finally finished her notes, the London evening had turned that particular shade of grey that meant rain was coming.

Her phone lit up just as she was packing up.

"You still at clinic?" Wilo's accent was somehow even deeper over the phone.

"Just finished. Why?"

"Look outside."

She peaked through the clinic windows to find him leaning against his Range Rover in the parking lot. A few students were trying (and failing) to subtly take photos, but he seemed focused only on watching the clinic door.

"You're supposed to be icing that knee," she said as she walked out, trying to sound stern even as her heart did that stupid flutter thing once more.

"I did ice." He pushed off the car, closing the distance between them in those long strides of his. "For ten whole minutes."

"That's not–" but her professional PT lecture was cut off as he pulled her into him, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other settled on her waist. She had to tilt her head all the way back to look at him, and his eyes were soft as they traced over her tired features.

"You look exhausted, mon cœur."

"Clinical hours are no joke." She let herself lean into him just a bit. "Not all of us get to play football all day."

His laugh rumbled through his chest where she was pressed against him. "Non? You want to try defending for Saka this weekend?"

"I'd rather do another eight hours of charting."

That earned her another laugh, and then he was bending down to press his lips to her forehead. "Come, I take you home. Maybe stop for more chocolate?"

"Don't even joke about Tesco runs right now," she groaned, but let him guide her to the passenger side, his hand warm on her lower back. "I still can't believe that girl posted the video."

"Mm," he hummed, helping her up into the seat even though they both knew she didn't need it. "But now I can do this whenever I want, non?" And he leaned in to kiss her properly, slow and sweet, before pulling back with a grin. "No more hiding in snack aisle."

"You're impossible," she muttered, but she was smiling as he closed her door and rounded the car to the driver's side.

The Range Rover hummed quietly through London's evening traffic, some French rap playing softly through the speakers. Yas had gotten used to Wilo's driving habits by now - how his huge frame somehow managed to look graceful even behind the wheel, one hand on it while the other alternated between the gear shift and her thigh. He drove like he played, confident and smooth, those long fingers tapping against the leather steering wheel to the beat.

She was half-dozing, lulled by the warmth of the heated seats and the familiar mix of his cologne with that fancy car freshener he used, when she realized they weren't heading toward her flat and was rounding the corner to his building.

"What are you doing?" She turned to find him wearing that particular expression she knew too well - the one he got when he thought he was being slick, the one that usually preceded with her scrubs ending up on his floor.

"Taking you home," he said innocently, but his accent had that particular thickness to it that had nothing to do with language barriers.

"I don't live here, Will." But they both knew she had more clothes in his drawer than she'd admit to, and her favorite coffee mug had somehow migrated to his kitchen cabinet.

"Sometimes you do…" he smirked as he pulled into his private parking spot. "And I figured we could… finish from what happened at clinic?"

"I'm still on my period, or did you forget the main reason we even visited Tesco in the first place?" The same Tesco run that had blown their private bubble wide open, though looking at him now, with that glint in his eye, she could almost laugh about it.

"A little blood–"

"Don't you even dare," she threatened, pointing her finger at him which he playfully tried to bite, earning himself a smack on the chest. "You're gross."

"I'll just put down a towel. The least I could do since you got the period," he huffed, and she realized with a start that he wasn't entirely joking. Ever since they'd made things official, he'd been more… careless. Dropping comments about knocking her up - which, okay, was hot as hell in the moment, but outside the bedroom? Major yikes.

"William, no babies until a ring is on this finger and I'm finished with my program." She waggled her bare ring finger in front of his face for emphasis, trying not to think about how his eyes tracked the movement. "We're too young to even talk about babies anyways. Like what is the reason?"

"We'll make pretty babies," he said with that devastating smile of his, the one that made her forget she was supposed to be the responsible one here.

"No shit."

"But?" His eyes were twinkling now as he killed the engine, the sudden silence making everything feel more intimate.

"But you know the rules. No more talk about this please. You're giving me a migraine."

"You know what could help with migraine?" He was fully grinning now, one hand already reaching for her seatbelt while the other played with the ends of her twist-out.

She couldn't help but scoff at him, even as her body betrayed her by leaning into his touch. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Impossible? Non," he murmured, his accent getting impossibly thicker as he leaned across the console. "Just... what you say? Determined?"

"That's one word for it," Yas muttered, but didn't pull away when his fingers traced down her jaw. "Will..."

"We don't have to do anything," he said softly, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. "Just... stay. Watch a film. Let me make you dinner."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean let me watch you struggle with UberEats for twenty minutes?"

"So mean to me," he pouted, but his eyes were dancing.

"No I’m not."

"Come on, mon coeur." His hand had moved to the back of her neck now, playing with the hairs that had escaped her pineapple. "Your flat is cold and empty."

"Because someone keeps stealing my hoodies."

"You steal mine first!"

"That's different," she protested, even as she was already reaching for her bag. "I look cute in yours. You stretch mine out with your giant... everything."

His laugh was deep and warm in the confined space. "Giant everything, eh?"

"Don't make me hurt your knee again," she threatened, but they both knew she was going to follow him upstairs. She always did, especially when he looked at her with those soft eyes that made her forget about clinical hours and Twitter drama and everything else.

"You wouldn't," he said confidently, finally pulling back to get out of the car. "Who else let you practice your PT stuff?"

"I have other patients, you know."

"Oui, but are they as pretty as me?" He was already at her door, opening it with that stupidly charming grin of his.

"You're so–" but her words cut off as he helped her down, using their height difference to pull her flush against him. Even after months, it still made her breath catch, how easily he could maneuver her smaller frame.

"So what?" he whispered, bending down so his lips brushed her ear. "Tell me, docteur."

Yas immediately stepped away. "Annoying."

The private elevator ride to his penthouse was torture - not because of the height (though Yas still wasn't used to the way London sprawled out below those floor-to-ceiling windows), but because Wilo had her pressed against the mirrored wall, one huge hand spanning her waist while the other played with her edges.

"You're messing up my hair," she complained halfheartedly, tilting her head back against his chest.

"It's already messy," he murmured, accent thick with suggestion. The elevator dinged open to his floor before she could reply, and he guided her out with that hand still firmly on her waist.

His penthouse was exactly what you'd expect from a 23-year-old footballer - all clean lines and modern furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city lights coming alive in the dusk.

"You really need to do your dishes," she said, trying to maintain some semblance of responsibility even as he walked her backward toward that ridiculous couch.

"Later," he promised, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her forget about dirty dishes and clinical notes and everything that wasn't his hands sliding down to her hips. "First..."

"Will," she warned, but her body was already betraying her, melting into his touch. "I told you–"

"Just kissing," he assured her, but that smirk said otherwise. "Unless..."

"Don't even finish that sentence."

Her warning lost some of its effect when he stepped closer, backing her up against the back of that massive sectional. The city lights sparkled behind him through those floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows across his features that made him look unfairly gorgeous. Sometimes she still couldn't believe this was her life now - Arsenal's star defender looking at her like she hung the moon, all because she couldn't figure out Indian food portions four months ago.

His hands found her waist again, and the height difference meant she had to tilt her head all the way back to maintain eye contact. That soft smile he reserved just for her played at his lips, and really, clinical notes could wait, right?

"Fuck," Yas breathed as his lips found that spot behind her ear, his hands steady on her hips. "Will, I swear to god–"

"What?" he murmured against her skin, all fake innocence even as he guided them down onto the sectional. "I'm being good."

"You're being something," she managed, but then he was kissing her properly, and honestly, clinical notes could wait. Her fingers found their way into his hair as he settled over her, careful to keep most of his weight on his forearms.

"Still have headache?" he teased between kisses, and she could feel his smile against her lips.

"Shut up," she groaned, tugging his hair in retaliation. "You're so annoying."

"Mm, but you like it."

"Sometimes I don't know why."

His laugh rumbled through his chest where it pressed against hers. "Because I'm your favorite patient."

"You're my most difficult patient," she corrected, but then his mouth was back on her neck and she lost whatever else she was going to say. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, earning a low sound that she felt more than heard.

"Will," she warned as his hands started wandering. "I told you–"

"I know, I know," he sighed, pulling back just enough to look at her with those dark eyes. "Just kissing. But tomorrow..."

"You're impossible."

"You keep saying this word. I don't think it means what you think it means."

She blinked up at him. "Did you just quote Princess Bride at me?"

His grin was devastating. "Maybe I pay attention when you make me watch your American films."

"Oh my god," she laughed, shoving at his chest. "Get off me, I can't believe you just–"

But he was kissing her again, swallowing her laughter, until she finally pulled back with a sigh. The look in his eyes was nearly enough to make her forget about her cramps. Nearly.

"Fine. Go get the towel."

His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Really?"

"Before I change my mind." She could already feel herself blushing at how eager he was about this whole situation.

"I can't wait to cum inside you," he breathed against her neck, and she actually had to pause, her hands frozen where they'd been playing with his hair.

"What the fuck, bro?" She squinted at him, torn between laughing and being genuinely concerned about his sudden breeding kink. But he was already jumping up from the couch with entirely too much enthusiasm, nearly tripping over his own long legs in his haste.

She could hear him rummaging through his linen closet, muttering in rapid French that she was pretty sure she didn't want translated. This man really was going to be the death of her - all 6'4" of pure ridiculousness, Arsenal's fearsome defender reduced to excitedly hunting for towels.

"I'm ready, sweetheart!" his voice called from somewhere down the hallway a few seconds later, accent thick with anticipation.

Yas shook her head, fighting a smile as she got up to follow him. These football boys really were something else. She started undoing her scrub top as she walked toward his bedroom, wondering how exactly this had become her life - sneaking around with William Saliba, letting him convince her into period sex just because he looked at her with those puppy dog eyes.

"The things I do for you," she muttered under her breath, but she was smiling as she pushed open his bedroom door.

The morning sun filtering through Wilo's floor-to-ceiling windows was entirely too bright, and Yas's lower back was complaining about last night's activities. She could hear him in the kitchen, his deep voice rapping along to some French song while pots clanked suspiciously.

"Never again," she groaned into his ridiculous Egyptian cotton pillows. Her scrubs from yesterday were scattered somewhere on his bedroom floor, mixed with the towel that was definitely going straight into the wash.

"Mon coeur?" His voice carried from the kitchen. "You want eggs?"

"I want ibuprofen," she called back, finally dragging herself out of bed. She pulled on the pajamas she'd left here last time after their little fun - one of his old Arsenal training shirts that hit mid-thigh and some shorts she'd had to tie extra tight to stay up.

The shower in his ensuite was heaven, hot water beating away the soreness while she tried not to think too hard about last night. The sound of Wilo's terrible singing mixed with the smell of what she hoped was breakfast and not another kitchen disaster.

His expensive body wash made her skin smell like him, and she couldn't help but smile at his array of hair products. For someone who kept his hair cropped short, he sure had a lot of opinions about conditioning.

"Is something burning?" she called out as she wrapped her hair in one of his towels.

"Non! Maybe. Come see!"

God help her, she actually loved this ridiculous man.

Yas padded into the kitchen after pulling on another one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings, finding Wilo attempted to flip an omelette, his large frame making the spacious kitchen somehow feel smaller. He was shirtless, just wearing low-hanging sweats, still rapping along to whatever French artist was playing through his expensive sound system.

"You better not mess up my eggs," she warned, leaning against the counter.

"Non, non. I am professional." He turned to grin at her, and her breath definitely didn't catch at how his eyes darkened seeing her in his shirt. "Sleep good?"

"You're not slick. And we're never doing that again."

"But–"

"Never. Again." But she was fighting a smile as she stole a piece of bacon from the plate next to him. "I can't believe you convinced me."

"I am very convincing," he smirked, then cursed as some egg stuck to the pan. "Merde–"

"Move," she hip-checked him away from the stove. "How are you this bad at cooking when you live alone?"

"I have you now," he said simply, but the way his hands settled on her waist from behind made it sound like so much more. "And UberEats."

"William."

"Mm?" His chin rested on top of her head, and she could feel his smile.

"You're distracting me from saving your breakfast."

"Good. Maybe we can–"

"If you suggest what I think you're about to suggest, I'm burning your omelette on purpose."

"I was just going to say maybe we can have breakfast in bed," he protested, but his hands were wandering again.

"You're the worst liar." She expertly flipped the omelette with one hand while swatting his wandering fingers with the other. "Don't you have training?"

"Later." His lips found that spot behind her ear. "Arteta won't mind if I'm little late."

"Arteta absolutely will mind." But she was already tilting her head to give him better access. "Will, the eggs–"

"Let them burn."

"I'm literally holding a hot pan right now."

He reached around her to turn off the stove, then spun her to face him in one smooth motion. Sometimes she forgot how strong he actually was until moments like this.

"No more period sex," she said firmly, even as her hands settled on his chest.

"But–"

"But nothing. My back is killing me."

His grin was absolutely wicked. "Worth it."

"I hate you."

"Non, you don't." He bent down to kiss her, morning breath and all, and okay, maybe she didn't hate him that much. "You love me."

"I love when you're not burning breakfast," she corrected, pushing him away. "You're going to be late." Yas plated the rescued eggs while Wilo scrolled through his phone, still pressed against her back.

"Bukayo just texted. Practice pushed thirty minutes." His accent was muffled against her neck. "More time for–"

"More time for you to actually eat breakfast." She twisted out of his grip, grabbing both plates. "And I need to go home and change before clinicals."

"Skip them."

"Some of us can't just tell our boss we're taking a personal day." She settled at his massive kitchen island, watching him pout as he finally let her go. "Besides, don't you have that big Luton Town match this weekend?"

"Oui, which means I need my PT check today too…"

"Your knee is fine. Jamie can do your check."

The look of betrayal on his face was almost comical. "You would let another woman touch me?"

"I would let another PT student assess your perfectly healthy knee, yes." She took a bite of eggs, raising an eyebrow at him. "Unless you're saying you only come to the clinic to see me?"

"Maybe."

"That's unprofessional."

"Says girl wearing my shirt."

"Speaking of which," she glanced at her phone, "I really need to go home and change."

"Stay," he said, suddenly serious. "Just… five more minutes."

"Five minutes won't get me to clinic on time," she said softly, but shared her eggs with him anyway when he opened his mouth expectantly. "You're like a baby bird."

"Your baby bird," he grinned, then disappeared down the hall to deal with their mess from last night. She could hear him humming as he tossed the towel and her scrubs in his washer.

The drive to her flat was quiet, London morning traffic crawling by while some French podcast played softly through the speakers. His hand found its way to her thigh, thumb rubbing absent circles.

"About Gabriel's dinner…" he started.

"Will–"

"Just think about it? And maybe…" he glanced at her quickly before focusing back on traffic. "Come to match this weekend?"

"They'll take pictures," she said quietly. "I'll be all over Twitter again."

"So? Let them." His accent got thicker, more urgent. "I want you there. Want to see you in stands."

She played with his fingers on her thigh, considering. "Maybe. If I finish my coursework."

His smile was brilliant. "A year left, non? Then you're properly doctor."

"Doctor of Physical Therapy," she corrected automatically, but she was smiling too.

"Still doctor. Still proud of you." He lifted their joined hands to kiss her knuckles. "My smart girl."

The Range Rover purred to a stop outside her building, morning sun catching on the tinted windows. Wilo killed the engine but kept his hand on her thigh.

"Give daddy kiss," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows in that ridiculous way that shouldn't be attractive but somehow was.

"Don't get punched in the face today," she said, gathering her bag from where it had fallen between her feet. Her scrubs from yesterday were safely in his washing machine, which meant she'd have to see him again soon. Not that either of them was complaining.

"Kinky," he smirked, and the way his accent wrapped around the word made her cheeks heat.

She rolled her eyes but leaned over anyway, meaning to give him a quick goodbye peck. His hand caught the back of her neck though, fingers tangling in her hair as he tried to deepen the kiss. She could feel his smile against her lips when she pulled away laughing.

"Go to work, you menace."

His eyes stayed on her as she climbed out, that dark gaze following her all the way to her building's entrance. She could hear his music start up again - more French rap that she'd probably find herself humming later during clinic hours. Her face hurt from smiling as she headed inside, already thinking about his match this weekend and how public their little bubble was about to become.

The doorman pretended not to notice her obvious walk of shame, but she caught his knowing look. At least she wasn't in yesterday's scrubs - small mercies. Her phone buzzed just as she reached the elevator:

"Miss you already x"

Impossible man.

Her flat felt extra quiet after the morning at Wilo's. She pulled on her dark blue scrub set, the material still crisp from its last wash. Her hair was a mess from last night, so she opted for a slick bun, carefully laying her baby hairs with edge control before grabbing her white clinic shoes.

The kitchen was looking sad. She'd been putting off grocery shopping, caught between clinicals and trying to keep her relationship private. Fat lot of good that did now.

Her phone buzzed while she was staring into her empty fridge:

"Check your Monzo x"

She clicked the notification to find £500 from 'william s.' had landed in her account. They'd fought about this before - she hated feeling like a WAG, and he hated seeing her struggle when he could help. But right now, with three weeks until her next stipend…

"You don't have to do that," she texted back.

"Buy food. Doctor needs eat."

"*future doctor"

"Same thing. Get snacks too."

Her tube ride to the clinic was crowded as usual, London's morning rush pressing in. A teenager across the car was watching Arsenal highlights on his phone - there was Wilo, all graceful power as he tackled some striker. Hard to believe that was the same man who'd been whining about eggs this morning.

Another text:

"Think you wearing my shirt to clinic?"

"Think you should focus on training."

"Think about you instead."

Impossible man. But she was smiling as she swiped through to her grocery delivery app. Maybe she'd order something nice for dinner - she had the money now, after all.

The clinic was already buzzing when she arrived, her ID badge swinging against her dark blue scrubs as she made her way to the staff room. The dual-degree PT program at Northwestern University and King's College London was no joke - three years of intense study, clinical rotations, and practical exams. Sometimes she still couldn't believe how perfectly everything had aligned. A PT student specializing in sports medicine dating a Premier League defender? It was practically cheating when it came to understanding athletic performance and injury prevention.

Wilo's knee might be technically fine, but having access to an elite athlete's biomechanics was invaluable for her studies. She'd basically written her last case study about his post-match recovery routine (anonymized, of course). Her professors had been impressed with her detailed analysis of high-level football injuries - if only they knew she'd gathered that data between kisses and training sessions.

Her phone kept lighting up with Instagram notifications. She'd always kept her account private, just study updates and occasional selfies documenting her natural hair journey. The few photos she had with Wilo were deliberately subtle - his hand in frame during dinner, maybe, or just their shadows on a walk. Most of her posts were about PT school: her notes laid out perfectly, advocacy for more Black women in sports medicine, the occasional stress-relief dance video in her scrubs. But now everyone wanted in, wanted to see Saliba's girl, wanted to analyze every post for hints about their relationship.

"Ready for rounds?" Jamie appeared at her elbow, already pulling up their patient list on the clinic's tablet. "You look tired. Late night with tall, dark, and French?"

"Long night of studying," Yas lied, ignoring another wave of follow requests. An Arsenal fan account had somehow found her private profile and shared her handle. Her follower count was still at 900 but there was nearly 15,000 pending requests in just three days.

The Luton Town match loomed in her mind as she checked their first patient's chart. Wilo wanted her there, and part of her wanted to go - wanted to support him properly, not just catch highlights on her phone between patients. But the cameras, the attention, the scrutiny… she hadn't signed up for that part. Being a WAG meant being perceived, being judged. Her entire career could get overshadowed by who she was dating. One wrong outfit choice and she'd end up on some Daily Mail sidebar.

Her phone buzzed again - another text from Wilo, this time a photo of him pouting at training. Arteta's tactics board was visible in the background, and she quickly typed back: "Delete that before you leak the whole game plan."

His response was immediate: "Only leaking my heart to you x"

God, this man was going to be the death of her professional reputation, but as she slipped her phone away and grabbed her first patient's file, she couldn't help but smile. Let them talk - she had clinicals to focus on and a doctorate to finish.

Her first patient was an elderly man recovering from hip replacement. As Yas guided him through his exercises, she caught glimpses of people walking past the clinic windows, phones raised. Word must have gotten out about where Arsenal's new WAG worked.

"My granddaughter says you're dating that French boy," Mr. Peters said as she supported his weight during gait training. His knowing smile reminded her of her grandfather back in Chicago. "The tall one who plays defense?"

"Focus on your steps, Mr. Peters," she managed, grateful her dark skin hid most of her blush. The last thing she needed was her patients gossiping about her love life.

Jamie appeared like an angel in blue scrubs, tablet in hand. "Dr. Morris wants us in Room 3. ACL reconstruction needs assessment."

In the quiet of the hallway, her phone lit up with Wilo's name:

"Gabriel asking if you vegetarian. For dinner."

"Focus on training," she typed back, trying to ignore how her stomach flipped at the thought of meeting his teammates properly.

"Focus on answering question. He cooking."

She paused at the supply cabinet, fingers hovering over her phone. Going to Gabriel's meant officially entering the WAG circle. Dinner parties, couple photos, Sunday brunches - the whole circus she'd been avoiding. No more hiding in Wilo's kitchen or sneaking kisses in PT rooms.

"Tell him I eat anything," she finally replied, then added, "But I haven't said yes yet."

"But you will," came his immediate response, followed by that damn smirking emoji that she could picture perfectly on his actual face.

Room 3's patient was already waiting, and she tucked her phone away with a sigh. Time to be Dr. Robinson (almost), even if her Instagram kept lighting up with notification after notification.

The ACL patient turned out to be a Chelsea fan, which was almost a relief. He was more focused on his knee than trying to get Arsenal gossip, and Yas lost herself in the familiar rhythm of assessment and treatment. This was her world - proper form, careful touches, the satisfaction of watching someone heal under her guidance.

Her phone stayed quiet through lunch, which meant Wilo was probably actually focusing on training for once. She picked at her sad vending machine snacks in the break room while Jamie scrolled through Twitter.

"Oh my god," Jamie snorted, turning her phone screen. "They're trying to figure out where you got your scrubs from. Apparently you're starting a WAG fashion revolution."

"They're literally standard issue scrubs."

"Tell that to ArsenalWAGStyle. They want to know if the color is 'midnight navy' or 'classical blue'."

Yas dropped her head onto the break room table with a groan. "I have three more sets exactly like this one. They're just… blue."

"Wait till they see you at the Luton Town match."

"Who says I'm going?"

Jamie just looked at her. "Girl, your man just got exposed. You really think you can keep hiding?"

Her phone chose that moment to light up again:

"Miss your hands on my knee x"

"That's so unprofessional," she typed back, but she was smiling.

"Come inspect it at Gabriel's tonight?"

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Jamie was right - she couldn't keep hiding. And maybe… maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being properly part of his world.

******************************************************

Gabriel Magalhães' townhouse sat in one of those stupidly expensive London neighborhoods where every building looked like it belonged in a period drama. Yas had done her best with what she had - her curls were actually cooperating for once, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, and the Meshki jumpsuit she'd scored on sale hugged her curves in all the right places. The square neckline showed just enough skin to be dinner-appropriate while still letting her feel like herself.

Clearly Wilo approved, given how his hand hadn't left her ass since they'd stepped out of his car. His fingers kneaded appreciatively as they waited at Gabriel's door.

"Mon coeur, tu es si belle ce soir," he murmured in her ear, voice dropping low. "Je veux te baiser… si serrée pour moi… faire te jouir…"

She only caught 'fuck', 'cum', and 'tight' in that string of French, and honestly, she was grateful her language skills weren't better. But before he could get any filthier, the door swung open.

Gabriel stood there grinning, all six foot three of him making Yas feel even tinier than usual. The boys did that complicated handshake thing all footballers seemed to know instinctively.

"Ayy, my brother!" Gabriel pulled Wilo in for a quick hug before his eyes landed on Yas. "She's so short!"

Yas frowned. Of course, that would be the first thing another giant footballer noticed.

"But good job Wilo, she's pretty," Gabriel continued with a wide smile. "Nice to meet you, Yasmin." He extended his hand.

"Yas is fine," she said, shaking it and trying not to feel like she was being assessed.

The living room was filled with the sound of multiple conversations in various accents - Portuguese, French, English all mixing together. Bukayo was sprawled on one of Gabriel's expensive armchairs, his girlfriend Tolami perched comfortably in his lap. She brightened when she saw Yas.

"Finally! Another normal-sized person," Tolami called out, extracting herself from Bukayo to come say hi. She was wearing the kind of outfit that probably cost more than Yas's rent, but her smile was genuine. "I'm Tolami. Please tell me you're as tired of looking up at these giants as I am."

"God, yes," Yas laughed, instantly warming to her. "My neck hurts half the time."

"You get used to it," Tolami grinned, then dropped her voice. "Saw that Tesco video. Welcome to the madness."

Wilo's hand was still possessively on her lower back as more introductions were made. Gabriel's wife kissed both her cheeks, speaking rapid Portuguese that Gabriel had to translate. Ben White's wife, Milly, gave her a knowing look that said 'we'll talk later.'

It was surreal, standing here in her sale-rack jumpsuit while these women wore designer everything. But Tolami grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen.

"Come on, help me get drinks. These boys can entertain themselves for five minutes."

Wilo's protests were drowned out by Bukayo's laugh. "Let them bond, bro. You can survive without touching her for two seconds."

Gabriel's kitchen was all sleek marble and stainless steel. Tolami hopped onto the counter like she'd done it a hundred times before, watching Yas look for wine glasses.

"Other cabinet," she pointed. "So, PT student? That's different. Most WAGs are like… influencers or something."

"I'm not a WAG," Yas said automatically, then caught Tolami's raised eyebrow. "I mean–"

"Girl, your man's hand hasn't left your ass at all. You're a WAG." She grinned. "But like, a cool one. With an actual career."

"Trying to have one, anyway." Yas found the glasses. "How do you deal with all the attention? The Tesco thing is driving me crazy."

"You get used to it. Plus, Bukayo's worth it." Her smile went soft. "Like how Wilo looks at you when you're not watching. Man's got it bad."

"We've only been together four months–"

"Please. I saw him checking his phone all through training today. Saka says he won't shut up about you."

From the living room, they could hear the boys arguing about the Luton Town match. Wilo's deep laugh carried through, followed by what sounded like Bukayo doing an impression of him.

"They're like children," Tolami rolled her eyes fondly. "But they're our children. Speaking of…" She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Heard Wilo's got baby fever?"

Yas nearly dropped the wine bottle. "How do you know about that?"

"Bukayo says Wilo's been googling baby names during team lunch." Tolami swung her legs, designer heels clicking against the cabinets. "Like, French-American baby names specifically."

"I'm going to kill him."

"It's cute! Saka's the same way sometimes. Think it's the age - they're all getting to that settling down phase."

"We've barely settled into dating publicly," Yas muttered, pouring the wine maybe a little too generously. "I've got a year left of my program, I can't be thinking about–"

"Ma chérie!" Wilo's voice carried from the living room. "You get lost?"

"Your man's getting separation anxiety," Tolami grinned. "But seriously, stick with me. These WAG events can get intense, but we normal girls have to stick together."

"I heard there's like… brunches? And stuff?"

"Oh honey." Tolami hopped down, grabbing the other wine glasses. "Wait till you see the group chat. But don't worry - I'll help you navigate. Just… maybe wear something Arsenal-colored to the Luton match? The fans eat that shit up."

"I haven't said I'm going yet–"

"Your man's starting defender and you just got exposed. Trust me, you're going." She started toward the door, then paused. "Oh, and heads up - some of the other WAGs might be a bit… much. But they mean well. Usually."

They walked back into a heated debate about the Luton Town lineup, Wilo and Bukayo arguing in that mix of English and French they seemed to slip into during training. His eyes found her immediately though, that soft look crossing his face before he made grabby hands for both her and the wine.

"Come, mon coeur," he said, pulling her down next to him on the couch. She ended up practically in his lap, his arm curling possessively around her waist while Tolami resumed her position with Bukayo.

"You good?" Wilo murmured against her hair, somehow making those two words sound filthy in his accent.

"Behave," she whispered back, very aware of how his fingers were playing with the hem of her jumpsuit.

"Never."

Gabriel emerged from somewhere with plates of food that actually looked edible, his wife trailing behind him with more wine. Ben White was telling some story about training that had everyone laughing, but Yas was distracted by the way Wilo's thumb was drawing circles on her hip.

"You're not subtle," she muttered as everyone else focused on serving food.

"Don't want to be," he replied, pressing a kiss below her ear that definitely wasn't dinner-appropriate. "Want everyone to know–"

"If you two are done being horny in my living room," Gabriel called out, "food's getting cold."

Yas felt her face heat as everyone laughed, but Wilo just grinned, completely unashamed. "Can you blame me? Look at her."

"Oh my god," she groaned, hiding her face in his shoulder while Bukayo made gagging noises.

"Young love," Milly sighed dramatically. "Remember when we were that bad?"

"We still are," Ben winked, and everyone groaned.

Dinner with footballers was apparently a loud affair. Gabriel's food was surprisingly good - some Brazilian dish he'd learned from his mom - and the conversation flowed easily between match tactics and relationship gossip. Yas found herself relaxing despite Wilo's wandering hands.

"Yo Yas," Gabriel grinned over his wine glass, "did Wilo tell you how hard he was stalking your Instagram after you accepted his follow request?"

Wilo stopped mid-bite, shooting his friend a betrayed look.

"We caught him during training," Saka added. "Looking at videos of you bending people at the clinic."

"I was... researching," Wilo defended, accent thicker with embarrassment.

"Researching for what?" Tolami teased.

"For... football reasons," he muttered.

Yas raised an eyebrow at him. "Football reasons?"

"Your form is very... professional," he tried, but his hand was creeping up her thigh under the table.

"You're such a stalker," she said, but she was fighting a smile.

"Only for you, mon coeur."

"If you two start making out at my dinner table," Gabriel warned, "I'm spraying you with water like cats."

"Speaking of clinic videos," Tolami smirked, "there's a new one of you circulating."

Yas froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. "What?"

"Some patient recorded you doing his knee assessment," Bukayo explained, scrolling through his phone. "Got like fifty thousand views already."

"That's literally against HIPAA," Yas groaned, but Wilo was already leaning over to look at Bukayo's screen.

"You look cute in this one," he said, then pouted. "But why you never touch my knee like that?"

"Because you're not actually injured."

"Could get injured. Just for you."

"William Saliba, if you deliberately hurt yourself–"

"There they go again," Gabriel sighed dramatically to his wife. "This is why I seated them at the end of the table."

"It's sweet," Milly argued. "Remember when you used to get all possessive like that?"

"I still am," Ben protested. "Just last week–"

"No sex stories at dinner!" Gabriel threw a napkin at him. "We have rules!"

"Rich coming from Mr. 'Let Me Show Everyone My New Hickey' last season," Bukayo called out.

"That was different–"

"How many strikes is that for the swear jar?" Tolami asked innocently. "Because I'm pretty sure talking about hickeys counts."

"There's a swear jar?" Yas whispered to Wilo.

"Oui. Gabriel's wife’s idea. I owe…" he paused, counting in French under his breath. "Maybe two hundred pounds?"

"How–"

"You make me curse a lot, mon coeur."

By the time they said their goodbyes, Yas had three new numbers in her phone and an invite to the WAG group chat. Tolami hugged her tight, whispering something about shopping for the next match that made Wilo's wallet probably cry in advance.

"That wasn't so bad," she admitted as they walked to his car, his hand somehow finding its way back to her ass.

"Non? Ready for more then?" His voice had that dangerous edge to it. "Starting with getting you out of this jumpsuit..."

"Will, I told you - no more period sex."

The look he gave her screamed 'challenge accepted' more than any words could, and she knew she was in trouble.

*******************************************************

Saturday felt surreal. Yas stood in front of her mirror, heart racing as she adjusted the Arsenal jersey with SALIBA stretched across her shoulders. The black jeans hugged her curves perfectly, and the heeled boots added enough height that maybe she wouldn't feel completely tiny next to the other WAGs. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking as she touched up her edges, making sure they laid just right.

Being at the Luton Town match meant no more hiding. No more pretending she was just another PT student. Everyone would know exactly who she was - William Saliba's girl. The thought made her stomach lurch. Her phone had been blowing up since she posted a mirror selfie that morning - her first public acknowledgment of dating Wilo. The comments were mostly supportive, but she'd already muted her notifications twice.

A knock at her door made her jump. "Ready babe?" Tolami's voice called through. "Car's waiting!"

Just seeing Tolami's familiar face helped settle her nerves. She looked effortlessly gorgeous in her own Saka jersey, designer bag hanging from her arm.

"The first match is always the scariest," Tolami assured her, linking their arms together as they headed toward the car. "Wait till you see how many blogs analyze your outfit tomorrow."

"That's not helping."

"Just wait - you'll be getting free clothes offers by Monday. Though that jersey..." Tolami grinned wickedly. "Wilo's definitely going to lose focus during warm-ups when he sees you in that."

They made their way through the VIP entrance at Emirates Stadium, past security and up to the family section. Phones turned their way, whispers following their path. Yas caught fragments of conversation - "Saliba's girlfriend" and "the one from the Tesco video" - but Tolami kept her moving, chattering about some drama with another WAG's Instagram story.

The family box was intimidatingly posh, all plush seats and champagne service. But as they found their spots, Yas couldn't help but smile at the mix of accents around them - Portuguese, French, English all blending together just like at Gabriel's dinner.

"Think it's too much?" Yas tugged at the jersey hem nervously. "The whole... branded girlfriend thing?"

"Girl, please. Watch - he's going to spot you during warm-up and completely forget about football. Plus," Tolami lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Saka says he's been insufferable all morning, checking his phone to see if you'd posted any hints about coming."

Below them, the players were starting to file out for warm-ups. Yas's heart definitely didn't skip when she spotted number 2 jogging onto the pitch, his tall frame unmistakable even from this distance.

It happened during stretches. Wilo's head turned toward the family section like he could sense her presence, and even from this distance, she could see the moment he spotted her. His whole body froze mid-stretch, those dark eyes locked on her in his jersey.

"Told you," Tolami whispered, nudging her ribs. "Look at his face."

Wilo had completely forgotten about his warm-up routine, earning a shove from Gabriel to keep moving. But his eyes kept finding her between drills, that devastating smile making her cheeks heat even from fifty yards away.

Her phone buzzed:

"You wearing my name."

"Focus on your warm-up."

"Can't. Too busy thinking about taking that jersey off later."

"Saliba!" They could hear Arteta's voice carrying across the pitch. "Less texting, more running!"

But Wilo was still grinning, jogging backward so he could keep looking up at her. He pressed his hand to his heart, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like 'mon coeur' before Gabriel physically turned him around.

"God, you two are disgusting," Tolami laughed. "I love it."

The stadium hummed with energy as Yas tried to focus on breathing. From the family section, everything felt more immediate - each tackle, each sprint, each time Wilo went up for a header. She'd watched plenty of matches on her phone between patients, but this was different. This was real.

Ben White's wife - Milly, she'd learned at dinner - leaned over during a water break. "The first match is the worst. I threw up before mine."

"I almost did," Tolami agreed, squeezing Yas's hand. "But look at our boys now."

Ødegaard broke through in the thirty-fifth minute, a beautiful shot that had the stadium exploding. She spotted Wilo lifting their captain in celebration, his smile brighter than the stadium lights.

During halftime, she checked her phone to find she'd gained another ten thousand follow requests. The camera had caught her a few times, apparently - her in Wilo's jersey, cheering with Tolami. Twitter was already analyzing her outfit, her hair, her friendship with Saka's girlfriend.

"Ignore it," Tolami advised, passing her a water bottle. "Focus on the match. Though that clip of Wilo staring at you during warm-ups is kind of cute."

When Daiki slotted in the second goal after halftime, Yas was ready for it. She screamed with Tolami as the Japanese midfielder was swarmed by his teammates. The rest of the match was a defensive masterclass - Wilo and Gabriel keeping Luton from any real chances. Her PT brain couldn't help but admire his form, the way he used his height to his advantage.

2-0. Her first match as an official WAG, and they'd won. The final whistle had barely blown before her phone started buzzing with notifications.

"He's looking for you," Tolami nudged her, and sure enough, Wilo's eyes were already on their section. That soft smile spread across his face as he tapped his heart.

Milly was saying something about celebration dinner plans, but Yas was distracted by her phone lighting up:

"Dinner to celebrate? Or straight home to take that jersey off?"

"Behave," she typed back. "You have press duties."

"Worth being late to see you in my name."

"Your man's whipped," Tolami laughed, reading over her shoulder. "But seriously, you coming to dinner? Traditional after home wins."

Before Yas could answer, another text:

"Please come? Want to show you off properly. My girl in my jersey x"

*******************************************************

The restaurant in Mayfair screamed old money, all crystal chandeliers and waiters. She felt slightly underdressed in Wilo's jersey, even after tucking it into her jeans, but the team had a regular private room here after home wins, somewhere they could be loud without bothering other diners.

Wilo hadn't stopped touching her since they sat down - hand on her thigh, playing with her curls, finding any excuse to lean into her space. The win had him buzzing with energy, though his eyes kept dropping to his name stretched across her chest.

"To clean sheets!" Gabriel raised his champagne glass, and everyone cheered. The conversation flowed between match analysis and relationship gossip, but Yas noticed Wilo getting more restless with each passing minute.

His hand crept higher on her thigh under the table. "You look so good in my jersey," he murmured in her ear, low enough that only she could hear. "Can't stop thinking about–"

"If you finish that sentence in public, I'm never wearing it again."

Across the table, Bukayo was telling some story about training, but Wilo wasn't even pretending to listen anymore. His fingers traced patterns on her leg that made it hard to focus on her own food.

"You're not even listening," Bukayo laughed, throwing a napkin at him. "Bro's too busy staring at his jersey."

"Can you blame me?" Wilo didn't even look away from Yas, his accent getting thicker the way it did when he was worked up. "Think we'll skip dessert. Need to see how that jersey looks on my floor."

The boys erupted in whistles and catcalls, Gabriel yelling something in Portuguese that made his wife laugh. Even the other WAGs were giggling now, used to these displays of footballer dramatics.

"William," Yas hissed, mortified but also fighting a smile. "I swear to god–"

But before she could finish, he'd scooped her up and thrown her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, one hand firmly on her calf to keep her steady. The champagne was definitely hitting her now, blood rushing to her head as she dangled over his shoulder.

"Put me down!"

"Non." His satisfaction was clear in his voice as the team hooted louder. She could feel his laugh rumbling through his chest where she was pressed against him.

"Go make that baby, Wilo!" Saka called out, earning himself a smack in the arm from Tolami.

"I hate all of you," Yas declared to the upside-down crowd, catching glimpses of amused faces and raised champagne glasses as Wilo headed for the exit.

"No you don't," he said cheerfully, not even slightly winded from carrying her. "You're wearing my name."

The last thing she heard before they left the private room was Tolami's voice: "Twenty pounds says she's pregnant by Christmas."

Wilo finally put her down when they reached his car, but kept her pressed against the passenger door. The London night was cool against her flushed skin, his jersey riding up where his hands gripped her waist.

"You're impossible," she breathed, but tilted her face up to his anyway.

"Says girl wearing my name." His accent was thick, wrapping around the words like honey. "Know what that does to me?"

"The whole restaurant knows what it does to you."

His laugh was warm against her neck. "Don't care. Want everyone to see."

The drive back to his place was torture - his free hand on her thigh, her body still buzzing from champagne and victory celebrations. London streets blurred past as he took corners maybe a little faster than usual.

"Careful," she warned when he nearly missed a light. "I need you in one piece for your next match."

"Then stop looking like that in my jersey."

"It's just a shirt, Will."

The look he gave her clearly said it wasn't just a shirt, but he managed to get them back to his building without breaking any traffic laws. Barely.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, he had her backed against the mirrored wall, hands reverent on the number 2 stretched across her chest.

"My girl," he murmured. "In my name."

"Your girl needs to breathe," she laughed, pushing him back slightly. "And a shower."

His grin was devastating. "Can I shower with you?"

"Impossible man."

Wilo just smirked, because they both knew the answer. The elevator dinged when they got to his floor and when he unlocked his front door, he didn’t even let her step away, hands already slipping beneath the hem of his jersey to help her out of it. She let him, raising her arms so he could strip it off, leaving her in just her underwear. His fingers traced over her skin, his gaze darkening as he drank her in.

"You gonna stare all night or actually help me get clean?" she teased, though the way her breath hitched betrayed her.

"Can’t help it," he murmured, tossing the shirt aside before unclasping her bra. "You’re too damn pretty."

Her stomach fluttered at the way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was just a fact. His hands were warm as they skimmed her sides, down to her hips to pull off her underwear before he guided her toward the bathroom.

"Still on your period?" he asked, voice casual as he reached for the light.

She hummed. "Barely. It’s light."

"Great." His eyes flashed as he grinned.

The way he said it sent a rush of heat through her, but before she could respond, he was already reaching for his own clothes, stripping off his hoodie and t-shirt in one smooth motion. She had to take a second to just… appreciate.

Because, damn.

She would never get used to how fine her man was. The way his muscles flexed as he unbuckled his jeans, the sharp cut of his abs — it was almost unfair.

He caught her staring as he stepped out of his boxers, smirking as he grabbed a shower cap and pulled it over her head with practiced ease. "Like what you see?"

"Obviously," she shot back, rolling her eyes but smiling.

The shower steamed up around them as he turned on the water, the low hum of the spray filling the space. He kissed her then, slow and deep, his hands coming up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. A quiet moan slipped past her lips as he squeezed, kneading them like he had all the time in the world.

"Come on," he murmured, guiding her under the stream. "Let me take care of you."

The warm spray cascaded down their bodies, steam curling around them as Wilo ran his hands down her back, over the curve of her hips, before gripping her ass. He pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her neck, his breath hot against her damp skin.

"Been thinking about this all night," he murmured, voice thick with want.

She shivered as his hands spread her apart, his fingers trailing between her thighs, teasing her entrance. Even with the shower running, she could hear how wet she was for him.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his other hand coming up to grip her waist.

"Yes," she breathed, pushing back against him, her body aching for more.

A low groan rumbled from his chest. "Yeah? Then bend over for me."

She let him guide her, turning her around, her hands pressing against the cool tile wall as he nudged her legs wider. The marble bench was just the right height, and when he ran his fingers through her folds, she gasped, arching into his touch.

"Still so tight," he muttered, positioning himself at her entrance. He dragged the tip along her slit, teasing, making her squirm. "Always so good for me."

"Will," she whined, trying to push back onto him.

"Patience, love." His voice was deep, teasing, but when he finally pushed in, it was anything but gentle.

The stretch of him burned in the best way, and her mouth fell open on a moan as he bottomed out, filling her completely. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, holding her in place as he pulled back just enough before slamming back in.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel perfect, always so perfect for me."

Her nails scraped against the wall as he set a relentless pace, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through her spine. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the shower, mixing with their heavy breathing, her soft cries, his low grunts.

"Regarde-toi, bébé," he rasped, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. "Tu aimes ça, hein? You love it when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes — fuck, yes," she gasped, her thighs shaking, struggling to keep herself up as the pleasure built inside her.

Wilo let out a low, dark chuckle, his large hands gripping her hips before delivering a sharp slap to her ass. The sting sent a shudder through her, making her clench around him.

"Merde," he groaned, squeezing the flesh before giving it another slap. "Throw that ass back on me, bébé. Show me how bad you want it."

She obeyed, pressing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with desperation. His grip tightened, one hand slipping up to wrap lightly around her throat, tilting her head back so he could press a messy kiss to her cheek.

"Look at you," he murmured, his breath ragged. "Taking all of me, like a good girl, like this pussy was made for me."

Her walls fluttered around him, and he hissed through his teeth. "Fuck — you gonna cum for me?"

She nodded frantically, moaning as he reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles that sent her spiraling.

"Come on," he urged, his thrusts turning erratic. "Cum for me."

With a sharp cry, she shattered, her body clenching around him, dragging him into his own release. He groaned, spilling into her, his forehead pressing against the back of her shoulder as he shuddered through the aftershocks.

For a moment, the only sound was the steady stream of the shower and their ragged breathing.

Then, Wilo chuckled, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. "Tolami might be onto something, you know."

She let out a breathless laugh, still coming down from the high as Wilo slipped out of her, his hands smoothing over her hips before giving her ass a playful squeeze.

"And what exactly is she onto?" she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him.

His grin was all mischief as he spun her around, pulling her into his arms. "That you might be carrying my baby by Christmas."

She rolled her eyes, resting her palms against his chest. "You really think you're that good?"

He smirked, pressing a kiss to her temple before trailing his lips down to her neck. "Babe, I just fucked you so good you didn't even care if I had a condom on."

Her breath caught. He was right.

"We need—"

"Relax," he murmured, nipping at her jawline. "I'll get you Plan B later tonight."

That didn’t stop the tiny flare of panic from creeping up her spine, but when his lips found hers, soft and slow this time, it melted away just as quickly.

"I wouldn’t mind it though," he admitted against her lips. "Getting you pregnant."

Her heart stuttered at the confession, at the way he was looking at her — like he could already see it.

"Wilo, we cannot—" she started, but he just kissed her again, deep and lingering, as if sealing the thought between them.

"We can talk about it later," he said, reaching for the body wash. "For now, let me clean my girl up."

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully but let him lather her up anyway, his hands gentle as they roamed her body. His fingers traced over the bite marks on her shoulder, the bruises forming on her hips from his grip.

"Did I go too hard?" he asked, voice softer now, more careful.

She shook her head. "No. It was perfect."

His smirk returned, a little smug, a lot satisfied. "Damn right it was."

She swatted at his chest, and he just laughed, wrapping her up in his arms again as the hot water cascaded over them.

..................tbd

[devixncy]

could you do a dae ho fic please? Like the reader was a barista he has a crush on but never had the courage to ask out previously to the games. And then once they get into the games he protects her and she reveals she always found him cute as well. Thanks :)

so, i may have gotten carried away while writing this one. pretty sure i typed out wayyy too many unnecessary details oops! (but i can't help it i'm sorry). anyways, i love dae-ho so so much like <3333 such a cutie

✧ pairing: kang dae-ho x fem!reader

✧ summary: dae-ho happened to be a regular at the cafe you worked at as a barista, and you had started to grow feelings for him over time. when you find yourself in the games, he ends up there as well and ultimately saves your life. fearing for your life and the fear of the unknown leads to late night confessions.

✧ content: typical squid game violence, mentions of death, i think that's it. literally just straight fluff

✧ word count: 4.8k

Your life was quiet, but you enjoyed it that way. Being a barista was the perfect job for you, it was relaxing and there was nothing you loved more than interacting with customers, especially the regulars. Unfortunately, while you loved your job, it wasn’t enough. You lived in a cramped apartment that was cozy, but your job just barely covered the rent. On top of that, you couldn’t cover your debt. You were swimming in debt, trying your hardest to help pay for your younger sister's medical bills. She was ill, and constant hospital trips and stays started building up fast. It was just the two of you, your parents having passed a few years prior. You would do anything for your sister, but having the loan sharks breathing down your neck constantly was beginning to drive you insane. You needed more money and fast.

Lost in thought, you absentmindedly drew shapes into the counter with your fingernail. The cafe was quite slow, but with the gloominess and light drizzle outside, it made sense. The bell above the door rang, signaling that someone had entered. Looking up, you immediately began to smile. One of your favorite regulars, Dae-ho, had stepped inside.

His eyes immediately met yours and he smiled at you, making your heart flutter. Dae-ho was the most kind, genuine soul you had ever met. He never failed to light up your day, even just by being in his presence. He truly was a gentleman, most likely thanks to growing up with four sisters.

“Just the usual?” You asked as he walked up to the counter.

“What, no ‘hello Dae-ho, how are you’?” He asked teasingly as you rolled your eyes.

“Hello Dae-ho, how are you?” You feigned annoyance, however you truly did want to know how he was doing. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t developed a crush on the man in front of you. He was incredibly sweet to you (and incredibly handsome), so how could you not fall for him?

“I’m great, (Y/N). And yes, I’ll take my usual.” The grin on his face was contagious, and you smiled, nodding as you began to make his order. He was a man of simple taste, ordering an Americano every time he came in. While you made it (and grabbed him a free pastry), you could hear him ask how you were doing.

“Oh, you know. Same shit different day. Just trying to get by,” You replied as you snapped the lid on his drink. Turning around, you slid it across the counter along with the bagged pastry. Dae-ho furrowed his brows at the sight of the pastry, looking at you questioningly. You shook your head before he could say anything. “Just take it, Dae. It’s on me.”

His cheeks turned a little pink at the sound of the nickname, but he nodded gratefully. He placed his money for the coffee in your hand, your skin tingling as his fingers brushed yours. You took the money and put it in the register, handing him back his change. Of course, he took his change and put it in your tip jar.

Before he picked up his items, he looked at you as you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were so full of life, the smile on your lips making his heart thud. But he could see the exhaustion in your face, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Without thinking, he leaned over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed against your jaw gently. Eyes wide, you looked at him, cheeks starting to burn. He smiled softly, dropping his hand and picking up his coffee and pastry.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked, even though he knew your work schedule like the back of his hand. You nodded, still dazed, as he chuckled and walked off with a small wave.

Once outside the shop, he cursed to himself. Oh, how he wishes he were bold enough to ask you out. Every time he thought he could do it, he backed out, fearing rejection. He didn’t want to mess up the friendship the two of you had. One day, he promised himself.

— Once you had closed up shop for the day, you locked the doors to the café and headed towards the subway.

You sat down on a bench, placing your bag directly next to you. While you waited, you stared at the ground in front of you as you absentmindedly picked at your cuticles. When you weren’t working and keeping yourself distracted, the stress started to take over.

Your body tensed as someone sat next to you. Turning your head, you saw a man dressed in a nice suit, a briefcase by his side. Sighing, you scooted away a little bit more. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m definitely not interested.”

“I’m not selling anything. In fact, I would like to let you in on a great opportunity. Would you like to play a game with me?”

You frowned, confusion evident on your face. A game? Seriously? Turning towards him, you studied him for a moment. Something about this man was off putting. As you were about to open your mouth to decline his offer, he opened up a briefcase. The words died on your tongue as you saw the stacks of money.

“I’m sure you’ve played ddakji before, yes?” He asked as he picked up the red and blue squares. You nodded slowly. “Play a few games with me. And each time you win, I’ll pay you a 100,000 won.”

You stared at the money as you pondered. You needed this. A couple games of ddakji couldn’t hurt, right?

And you played. You had won most of the rounds, earning a couple of slaps in the face when you didn’t. By the time the game was over, you had accumulated a decent amount of money. Of course, not nearly enough to cover what you needed it for. As you sat there counting the money, the salesman began to speak.

“You know, miss. There are more games like this where you can win even more.”

You paused, looking up at him. It sounded too good to be true. As you were going to decline, he began to list all of your personal information. He knew your name, your occupation, the amount of debt you had accumulated. Your mouth dropped, unable to get a word out. He smiled smugly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. He handed it to you, and you snatched it.

“We don’t have many spots left.”

Those words resonated with you as you sat in your apartment. Taking a deep breath, you called the number on the back of the card.

“Do you wish to participate in the game? If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate.”

Next thing you knew, you were standing on a street corner in the dark. You rocked back and forth on your heels anxiously as you waited. Soon enough, a car pulled up next to you, rolling down the window. A masked person donning a pink suit turned his head in your direction.

“Ms. (Full name)?”

You nodded, following up with the password they had given you over the phone. The back door slid open and you climbed in, noticing the other people in the seats who were seemingly asleep. You shook off the uneasiness, trying to get comfortable in the seat. Seconds later, steam began to fill the car, making you cough. And then the world went dark.

~

When you awoke, your brain felt fogged and you were incredibly groggy. You screwed your eyes shut as the overhead lights threatened to blind you. Classical music filled your ears, and you groaned as you sat up. Opening your eyes, you scanned your surroundings. Numerous people were getting out of their beds, all wearing the same green tracksuit with numbers plastered on the back. Quickly looking down, you saw that you wore the same thing. Then you noticed your number in bold white, 301. You got out of the bed, making your way down the stairs the same way everyone else was. As you were taking it all in, the doors at the front of the room underneath the screen opened. Multiple masked figures stepped out, walking forward. The one in the front began speaking.

“I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. Everyone here will participate in six games over the course of six days. Those who win will receive a handsome cash prize.”

Players began to speak up. All made good points, and you agreed that you all being basically kidnapped and the masked guards were a little strange.

Then, you gasped as multiple players were shown on screen playing the game of ddakji, announcing their names and how much debt they were in. Thankfully, your name didn’t come up.

When it came time, you got in line and signed the consent form. You didn’t bother reading it, you were just here to play some games after all. You were sure it was just some dumb fine print that didn’t really mean anything.

Soon enough, yourself and all of the other players filed into a multi-colored room. There were stairs leading up, and as you looked around you noticed multiple guards stationed in different spots. Shaking off your unease, you stepped up to the photo booth and turned to face the camera. Upon hearing the ‘smile!’, you mustered up a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“The first game will begin momentarily. After having your picture taken, follow the staff’s instructions and proceed to the game site.”

You followed behind the other players up the stairs, coming up to a large door where everyone was filing into.

“Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field.”

You entered the large clearing in front of you, squinting as the sunlight hit your eyes. As your eyes adjusted, you looked around at the four large walls and the comically large doll with the tree directly ahead. There were two guards standing on either side of it.

Suddenly, the three large doors slammed shut behind you with a loud clank. You gasped and turned around, as did many others.

“The first game is Red Light, Green Light. Cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. If you do, you pass.”

Suddenly, someone pushed past you to get to the front of the group. He seemed frantic, turning towards everyone.

“Everyone!” he shouted, waving his arms in the air. He had your full attention now. “Everyone listen up, pay attention!”

“This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!”

Your breath caught in your throat. There’s no way he was serious, right? How could you possibly die playing a children’s game? Others seemed to think the same thing, as someone asked him what the hell he was talking about. “We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” someone asked with a scoff.

“Yes, that’s right! If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere! Stay on your toes. That doll’s eyes are motion detectors!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, no one seeming to take his word for it. Many were voicing their thoughts that this was just some ploy to get all of the money for himself.

“You have to believe me!” His voice was laced with desperation. As he finished his sentence, the doll began to whir to life, turning to face the tree. Its arm raised up, placed against the tree. The man, player 456, whirled around, panic evident in his movements.

“Do not be alarmed or panic! No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!”

Your heart began to hammer in your chest. Something in your gut told you to believe him. He seemed way too genuine to be making this all up.

“Let the game begin.”

The timer across the room flickered to life, displaying a red five minute timer.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to move forward, freezing as the doll whirled back around and player 456 held up his hands. “Freeze!” He yelled out. Everyone stayed as still as a statue.

“Well done! You just need to stay calm like this!”

Once the doll turned again, you started to run forward, freezing again moments later. The doll's head turned, its eyes calculating everyone’s movement. Player 456 continued to yell out instructions, and so far everyone seemed to be listening despite calling him crazy.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to run forward again, stopping dead in your tracks along with everyone else. This continued successfully for a couple of cycles. For a moment though, while you were all paused, someone began to scream. Yourself and many others side eyed the girl in shock.

“Crap. I just moved.” And with that, moments later, a gunshot rang out. Your eyes widened, unmoving, but terrified.

“NOBODY MOVE!! You must not move!” Player 456 shouted frantically, not wanting panic to ensue. Unfortunately, it was far too late for that. Multiple gunshots began to follow the first, people dropping around you left and right. Blood began to cover the field. It seemed non-stop. Your body began to tremble, feeling nauseous as the chaos unfolded around you. Player 456 was screaming at this point, trying to save everyone that he could.

“Let me repeat. You can move forward while the tagger shouts ‘Green light, red light’. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

After the announcement, the game resumed. This time, nobody dared to move from their spot. Once the green light was given again, the only person to move was player 456. And then again, he was the only one to move. Everybody was glued to their spot, too terrified to move. He began to shout instructions again, telling everyone to get behind someone bigger than you. That’s exactly what you did at the next cycle, getting behind players 120 and 124. You stayed close behind as they moved forward, trying to make sure your movement was minimal. This continued until you were almost at the finish line.

“LETS GO!” Player 456 screamed, everyone beginning to push forward as fast as they could. You did the exact same, until your foot slipped as you were trying to come to a stop. Fear coursed through your body as the ground got closer, the doll about to turn around. Everything was moving in slow motion. This was it, this was how you were going to die. Your eyes screwed shut, waiting for the impact from the ground and the bullet. Suddenly, though, you weren’t moving anymore. The back of your jacket was held tightly by somebody behind you, right as the doll said red light and turned. Your eyes flew open in shock, not daring to move a muscle. It was the longest moment of your entire life, praying whoever had their grip on your jacket didn’t lose it. As soon as the doll turned back around, whoever was behind you instantly pulled you back up. Your arm was grabbed and you were hastily pulled towards the red line, being shoved over it as the doll said red light. You stumbled and fell to your hands and knees, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath. Then you paused, whipping around to see who it was.

And there he was, standing mere inches from the finish line. You stared at him, mouth agape. Dae-ho was standing right in front of you, the number 388 plastered to his jacket. Your heart thudded in your chest, your ears ringing. You couldn’t even process it, that he was in this mess just like you were. Moments later, he crossed the line, running straight to you. He crouched down next to you, gripping your face in his hands like he was making sure you were real. Your lips parted, but words refused to come out. He had just saved your life and there you sat trembling like a leaf, not even able to muster a ‘thank you’. However, he didn’t say anything either. His eyes said it all. He was completely terrified.

“Dae-ho…” You whispered, your voice shaking. Before he could respond, everyone’s heads shot up towards the sky. A retractable roof was closing over the top of the arena, closing you all in like animals in a cage.

Before he could say anything, you were all being herded back to the main room. The guards gave you no time to process anything, forcing you to get moving. Dae-ho stayed right next to you, a gentle grip on your upper arm. The atmosphere entering back into the main room was dark, the obscene amount of death and bloodshed looming over everyone’s head like a dark cloud. You sat next to Dae-ho, silent as a mouse. Everyone was silent. What could possibly be said after what you had all just witnessed? Your gaze bore into the ground in front of you, knees tucked into your chest with your arms wrapped around them. Dae-ho was lost in thought, his side pressed up against yours. The touch kept you somewhat grounded, though just barely.

Suddenly, the bright overhead lights flickered to life and the door opened. Everyone's attention turned towards the guards that stepped into the room. Upon seeing them, everybody scrambled back further, clearly terrified. You were no exception, pushing yourself backwards up the stairs behind you. Dae-ho did the same, a protective grip around your body.

“Congratulations for making it through the first game. Here are the results from the first game.” The board above them began to change, the number 456 changing to 365.

More chaos began to ensue. People begging for their lives, the promise of a fair voting process. The voting process was anything but smooth, tensions beginning to rise between the players. You chose X with no hesitation. While you needed the money, you had to be there for your sister. You couldn’t help her, the only family she had left, if you were dead. Dae-ho had voted X as well, much to your relief. Unfortunately, your relief was short lived, as you lost the vote to leave by one. You were devastated, wanting nothing more than to curl up and cry. Showing weakness may not be the greatest idea, though. Not in a place like this.

Once it was meal time, you sat on the stairs with your tin of food in one hand and water bottle in the other. You had zero appetite. Dae-ho, who was sitting next to you, wasted no time in digging into his. You turned your head towards him and he paused.

“What?” He asked halfway through shoveling food into his mouth. You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You need to eat something too, (Y/N). You can’t let yourself go hungry, gotta retain your strength. Here,” He said, scooping some of his onto his spoon and putting it up to your mouth. Your lips tightened into a thin line, silently refusing. He frowned. “I’m serious-”

“What are you even doing here, Dae-ho?” You cut him off, turning towards him a little more. He swallowed, frown still on his face.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His tone was completely serious now, setting his tin down next to him. You set yours down as well, refusing to meet his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both in this mess, and now we both have to somehow make it out alive.” You hoped you didn’t come off as hopeless as you felt. Dae-ho decided not to press any further. He nodded in agreement. There was nothing the two of you could do about it now.

“We’re going to get out of here, you and I. Together. I swear to you,” He grabbed your hands in his, running his thumb across your knuckles. That was his typical positive attitude coming out. You sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “Now come on. I was serious before, you need to at least try to eat.” He said, his usual grin returning to his face. You couldn’t help it, your lips twitched up into a smile. If it were possible, his smile got even wider, gently pinching your cheek with his fingers. “Aha! There’s that smile that I know and love.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a light shove. He laughed, and you gave in, picking up your tin. You ate in small bites, finally realizing how hungry you truly were. Dae-ho resumed eating, scarfing his down before you were even a third of the way done with yours. He patiently waited until you were finished with yours, taking your tin from you and setting it aside.

After meal time, you and Dae-ho had begun conversing with player 456 and player 399 who were nearby. As it turns out, player 399 whose name you found out to be Jung-bae, was a former marine just like Dae-ho. They saluted each other, their interactions causing you to giggle, letting some of the tension leave your body. Dae-ho’s eyes lit up at the sound, warmth spreading through his body. The rest of the night went as smoothly as it could save for the scuffle that occurred between players 230, 124, 333 and 001.

Then, it was time for lights out. Most players were fast asleep, but you laid in your bed, staring up at the glowing piggy bank. Alone with your thoughts, your mind was racing. There was no way you could sleep. Your head was pounding and you sighed as you turned onto your side. Lucky for you, Dae-ho’s bed was right next to yours. Realistically, he had claimed it as soon as he saw it was empty, assuming the person who was there previously was eliminated. From what you could tell, he was fast asleep. However you really needed some company and reassurance at the moment.

“Dae,” You whispered. He didn’t budge. Of course, you thought as you rolled your eyes. He would be a heavy sleeper. “Dae-ho!” You whisper-shouted, hoping you didn’t have to say it again. Thankfully, you saw him starting to stir. His eyes fluttered open, opening completely as he realized it was you who had awoken him. Quickly, he sat up.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He whispered, concern gracing his features. You shook your head, starting to feel a little silly for waking him.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up. You can go back to sleep.” You whispered back, realizing he was probably exhausted.

He shook his head, getting up from his bed and coming over to yours. He knelt down next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt pitiful.

“Will you lay with me?” Your voice came out as barely a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear. His heart skipped a beat, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Of course, love. Scoot over.”

You blushed at the nickname but immediately moved over to make room for him. Without hesitation, he hopped into your bed, laying on his side so that he was facing you. He cupped your face gently, running his thumb over your cheekbone. You didn’t say anything, but he read you like a book. “What’s wrong?”

You could feel a lump forming at the back of your throat, and you stared into his eyes. Truth be told, you were so terrified. This was a fear you had never felt before in your life. If it wasn’t for the man next to you, you wouldn’t even be alive. How did you go from casually flirting with each other in the coffee shop, not a care in the world, to arriving at death’s door together? Tears burned at the back of your eyes, threatening to come to the surface.

“I’m scared, Dae-ho. I’m so scared,” Your voice cracked, tears spilling over your eyes slowly. Dae-ho was quick to wipe them away, his heart breaking. “I just wanted to save my sister. I thought that if I joined the games and won some money, I could take the stress off of both of us. I wouldn’t have to worry about the medical bills, or the loan sharks, or anything. I would be able to work without having the weight of the world on my shoulders, and it would just be us in the cafe, and nothing else would matter. You and my sister were the only things keeping me going, and now you and I are both here and one or both of us could die.” You cried quietly as Dae-ho looked at you sadly. He pulled you into his chest, shushing you as you wept into his shirt. He let you cry it out, not saying anything as he rubbed your back. Eventually, when you became silent, he pulled back so he could look at your face. Your eyes were red, cheeks tear streaked.

“(Y/N), listen to me. As long as we’re in here together, I won’t let anything happen to you. Truly, you’re the light of my life and if something happened to you I don’t think I could forgive myself. You’re my anchor, especially in a place like this. I have something here to keep me going, you know?” He murmured. You sniffled and nodded, but he kept going. “The moment I saw you in that cafe I knew I was in trouble. I thought you were the most perfect thing to grace this earth, and if I wasn’t so stupid, I would’ve asked you out a long time ago.”

Your eyes widened at that, looking at him as he smiled at you. “You really mean that?” Your pulse quickened at the confession.

“Every word,” He chuckled as he drew shapes into the fabric of your jacket. “This is gonna be awkward for me if you don’t feel the same.” At that, you gave him a light shove and he laughed.

“Of course I feel the same, you idiot. Why do you think you were getting so many free pastries?” You joked, then became serious. “Seriously though, Dae-ho. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. I wish you would’ve asked me out a long time ago, I’ve had a giant crush on you for a while now. I thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious,” you rolled your eyes at that. “I was just too scared to do something about it. I didn’t wanna mess anything up between us. And now here we are, in the worst possible situation, and I’m finally confessing this to you.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes as he thought about the circumstances. “How about when we get out of here, I take you out on a date, yeah? We’ll go somewhere nice with my share of the money.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, Dae-ho. As long as I’m with you it doesn’t matter,” You said sincerely, a small smile gracing your lips. “But I would love to.”

He grinned at that, his entire face lighting up. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You grabbed one of his hands and he gave it a gentle squeeze. To his surprise, you craned your neck up and placed your lips directly onto his. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you could feel him smile against your lips as he moved his free hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He pulled away after a few moments, before leaning back down and placing another quick peck to your lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.” He teased, excitement present in his voice. You giggled, feeling over the moon with happiness even if it was just for a moment. Dae-ho shifted to lay flat on his back, pulling you with him. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He had his arm around you and you threw your leg over the top of his, making yourself comfortable

“Thank you for saving my life earlier.” You spoke quietly as you wrapped your arm around him, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest. He was quiet for a moment.

“I would do it all over again. I’m not leaving your side so long as we’re still playing these games.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear, shutting your eyes as you finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber as you could feel him pull the blanket over the two of you. For the first time in a while, your body felt at ease. You felt safe, like there was nothing in the world that could harm you. Even if it was just for the night.

[diekleinesuesse]

Being best friends with Felix:

Being best friends with Felix would be an absolute dream. It wouldn’t just be about the fun, bright moments though there would be plenty of those. It would also be about the quiet, comforting presence he brings, the way he makes life feel a little warmer, a little softer, even on the hardest days.

The Beginning of the Friendship

At first, Felix might be a little shy, especially if he doesn’t know you well yet. He’d be polite, kind, and considerate, but there would be a sense of caution until he starts feeling comfortable. Once that happens, it’s over for you. He’s going to attach himself to you like a koala and never let go.

Felix is the type of person who forms deep emotional connections, so becoming his best friend wouldn’t be a casual thing. He’d be all in investing his time, his love, and his energy into making sure you feel valued. He’d remember the little things you like, send you pictures of random things that remind him of you, and always check in to see how your day is going.

The Daily Life of Being Felix’s Best Friend

Felix is someone who thrives on making others happy, so expect a lot of cute gestures. If he hears you had a bad day, he’s immediately showing up with your favorite snack, a playlist of songs to cheer you up, and probably a warm hug. He loves baking, so you’d get to try all his homemade treats first, whether they’re perfect or a complete disaster.

“Try this one! I think I messed up the sugar, but it’s still edible, right?” he’d say, watching you closely as you take a bite. If you pretend it’s bad just to mess with him, he’d dramatically gasp and pretend to cry.

Felix would be the type of best friend who constantly hypes you up. If you’re feeling insecure, he’d shut that down real quick.

“What do you mean you’re not good enough? Do I need to fight you? Because I will,” he’d say, crossing his arms, his freckles scrunching up as he frowns.

But more than anything, he’d make sure you know how much you mean to him.

The Chaos of the Sunshine Energy

Felix has a soft, comforting side, but let’s not forget he’s also chaotic. If you’re his best friend, you’re not just getting cozy, warm Felix; you’re also getting the Felix that dances like a maniac to random music, who suddenly starts singing in a deep voice just to freak people out, and who laughs so hard at dumb jokes that he ends up on the floor.

“Did you see that meme I sent you at 3 AM?” he’d ask, as if that were a normal thing to do.

“You mean the one with the cat wearing sunglasses and breakdancing? Yes, Felix. I saw it.”

“And?”

“It changed my life.”

Felix would 100% drag you into random challenges, whether it’s trying to learn an impossible TikTok dance, doing “rock, paper, scissors” with the punishment of eating something disgusting, or making an overly dramatic music video to a song you both love.

And if you ever prank him? Oh, he’s coming for revenge. Be prepared for unexpected jump scares, your phone mysteriously disappearing, or waking up to find a ridiculous filter added to all your photos.

The Deep Conversations

For all the silliness, Felix is also incredibly introspective and deep. He’s not afraid to have emotional conversations, and if something is bothering you, he’d be the first to notice.

“Talk to me,” he’d say, voice gentle, sitting next to you even if you don’t feel like speaking.

He wouldn’t force you to open up, but he’d make sure you knew he was there. And if you ever needed to cry? Felix would let you, holding your hand or hugging you tightly, whispering soft reassurances.

He’d open up to you, too about his struggles, his fears, his dreams. And when he does, you’d realize that for all his sunshine and warmth, Felix also carries a lot on his shoulders.

“I just want to make people happy,” he’d admit. “But sometimes, I wonder if I’m enough.”

And that’s when you’d remind him, just like he always reminds you, that he is more than enough.

The Protective Side of Felix

Felix is a softie, but don’t let that fool you he’s also fiercely protective. If someone ever upsets you, he’d be ready to throw hands.

“Do I need to go talk to them? Because I will,” he’d say, eyebrows furrowed.

If you were nervous about something like an important event or a big decision he’d be right by your side, holding your hand (literally or metaphorically) and telling you you’ve got this.

Felix wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, not even yourself. If he hears you being too hard on yourself, he’ll shut it down immediately.

“Hey. My best friend is amazing, and if they don’t see that, then they don’t deserve to be around you.”

Spending Time with Stray Kids

Being Felix’s best friend would also mean getting close to the other Stray Kids members. They’d tease Felix endlessly about how much he talks about you.

“Felix, do you have any friends besides [Your Name]?” Han would joke.

“Nope,” Felix would reply shamelessly.

The members would treat you like family, and Felix would love having you around during their schedules. You’d get to watch their rehearsals, joke around with them backstage, and be part of the fun.

And let’s not forget game nights at the dorm. Felix would absolutely drag you into Mario Kart battles, Just Dance competitions, and chaotic board games. If you beat him, he’d dramatically fall to the floor, claiming he’s been betrayed.

A Forever Friendship

At the end of the day, being best friends with Felix wouldn’t just be about the fun and chaos. It would be about unconditional love, support, and knowing that no matter what happens, you have someone who will always be there for you.

He’d be the kind of best friend who never lets you forget your worth, who makes life feel like an adventure, and who reminds you that even in the darkest times, there’s always light.

Because that’s who Felix is. A sunshine personified, a best friend anyone would be lucky to have.

[nthspecialll]

Sorry if this is too out there, and if it is, feel free to ignore it!

How do you think the gang would react, in a zombie apocalypse AU, if Arthur got bit if they found out? I have a little zombie AU that I’ve made, where I try and keep the story the closest to canon as I can while making it zombie apocalypse instead of Wild West, (tlou and rdr2 are my biggest special interests right now, lol) and I’ve decided that at the end, Arthur ends up getting bit, (it’s Micah’s fault, not his), and I’ve thought about him telling Charles, and maybe Sadie, and asking them to help get John and his family as safe as they can before he potentially turns, but it just feels out of character for some reason? It’s probably because I’m trying to make the story go in a way different direction, though.

If it helps you any, see the bite as a substitude for TB and the appocolypse as a substitude for the downfall. He does tell Charles about TB, he does ask Sadie to help him get John to safety. It is absolutely in character because he does it.

As for how they would react, John we already know through undead nightmare, he just wants to save his family, he isn't too annoyed.

Dutch's stress is likely THROUGH THE ROOF, Hosea's patience will be far far shorter, Charles will be overworking himself, Lenny likely will too as he has expressed liking guard duty. Karen and Sadie will be at arms at all times, Susan will be herding the girls far more, making sure the camp is safe. Jack is scared and Abigail is trying to take care of him. Kieran is either going to try to keep the camp safe too, or try to make everything within it work while everyone else stresses over zombs.

Their advandages will however be that they are used to being raided, they are used to hiding and they are used to moving, they are not bound to one place and they know how to survive off the land. Hosea can make medicine, Kieran can make some too, Charles is a good hunter and Javier can make posions and... Someone can make firearrows, was that Charles too? I feel like that was Charles.

Uncle would also step up his game, we see that in Chapter 5 too where he is on guard duty and Reverend might actually use this crisis to get back to god, which is needed because several of the in game characters are religious and might need that guiding hand. Strauss would however be very useless unless he starts loan sharking in food rather than money but I got a feeling no one would trust him enough for that.

The first breakout would be the hardest, trying to find out what is going on, how to identify a zomb and so on, but after that they would be fairly okay. They don't need to worry about being poor because now they are rich, they have the skills and capablities to survive a zomb appocolypse.

[saltminerising]

Coming from someone who used to be a moderator for a different site; Moderating is a thankless job. It's a lot of trying to word yourself right and stepping carefully so you don't piss anybody off. No matter what you say or how you approach the issue there will always be someone complaining about you behind your back. It's exhausting

Not that this means moderators are exempt from criticism but I don't think people understand just how much of a nightmare it can be. They're not people in some kind of high position of authority "censoring you", they're people who make sure things don't get out of hand on forums or games or whatever else. It's tiring to have people calling you mean or cruel or overbearing when you're doing the best you can and try your hardest to not make anyone perceive you that way

Anyways my point is that some of you need to just stop getting up in arms about an ultimately harmless conversation. If you saw some of the shit I've seen moderators on other pet sites say you would have an aneurysm

[ihearteijirokiriiishima]

dating iida headcanons ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱

warnings: fluff, not proofread so sorry for any mistakes!

-it takes him awhile to actusly realise he’s dating you in terms of being affectionate

-tries his hardest to keep up his formalness but he’s always blushing around you and its somewhat obvious he actually has romantic feelings for you

-but actually he would be the sweetest boyfriend always sending you gifts and buying you things

-you want snacks? he already ran to the nearest convenience store and bought ALL of your favourites

-he definitely gives amazing cuddles hes so muscular which means his grip on you is perfect and you can just lay your head on his chest (which he loves btw)

-if you help him wrangle the class ahahhshsha he loves you even more than he already does

-though sometimes its hard for him to show affection withoht being so professional or uptight he likes having his hair played with

-the feeling of your fingers in his hair sends him to sleep like almost instantly he loves it sm

-hear me out on this one but i also think he likes to be the little spoon on some occasions

-surprises you with those fancy flower bouquets especially if you have a favourite flower

-and if you ask him why he says ‘because i love you’

-and he will be very straightforward about how he loves you regardless of whether he sends you a gift or if he will just make it clear that he loves yoy

-quite romantic on dates (holding hands and again the flowers)

-always congratulates you if you learn a new move in training!!

-literally the best at giving compliments and don’t try to change my mind

-you would catch him staring at you and if you call him out on it he will not deny it and say that he likes your hair or how pretty your eyes are

-strict on looking after yourself

-he always checks up on you because hes so cute 😖

-and when you’re sick OH BABY he is taking care of you the whole time until you’re better and does everything for you

-(if you get periods) he will a,ready know and why? becuase obviously he has a tracker and is already prepared with everything you could possibly need

-at least once he dragged you along to go on a run with him but he makes sure to go slower with you!!

sorry if they werent that good i didnt really know what to write for him!!

[villanious-gay-ghost]

I think I've figured out how to let go

(originally posted on Reddit by me, but I thought I'd share it here as well)

Doesn't apply to everyone!!! We all have different journeys and different things that work for us! These are just some thoughts, take them with a grain of salt. If it doesn't resonate with you, then it's not for you.

I've been thinking a lot about this recently because I felt like I'm trying to control too much of my DR to the point that it has become an obsession. For almost three years, I've been doing the same thing over and over again. I create myself a DR with the perfect life, perfect backstory, perfect S/O, perfect family, etc. It's all so perfect and planned out that it has no room for growth. When you have everything, that's just not fun.

Then when all the planning and scripting is done, I lose interest, and it's not getting me anywhere. No matter how perfect these DRs are, they feel distant, unrealistic, and unreachable. They're just too good to be true. I'm sure that such realities exist, but for me, it's not a realistic goal YET because I'm clearly struggling to get there. And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way and I'm trying to come up with a solution for that.

So if my DR is already perfect, then what else is left to do? Nothing. It's not an authentic experience anymore. Perhaps the hardest part is admitting to myself that I don't want the perfect DR or an ideal version of myself because that's what I've been chasing the entire time. The easy way, where I have everything, but it's just not what I want.

I want the human experience where I can find true immersion, where I have no knowledge of the outcome. I want to live, to exist.

Shifting is life. You're not an actor trying to act out a script. It's not just some fantasy, we're talking about reality. But life isn't something that you can plan, is it? There's always something that we can't predict because that's just how it is.

So what is letting go?

Letting go is when you specify only the basics in order to create a grounded reality. You define who you are, where you want to go, create a general idea of your life, maybe who your parents and siblings are, but you let the rest naturally unfold. You don't stress about the little details, you don't make a 20 pages long script.

Put that script aside for a bit. You don't plan your younger brother's personality, you don't plan your neighbor's eyebrow color, you don't plan how many bathrooms your house has, the types of plants your high school biology teacher kept in her classroom, you don't plan your number of friends, or the brand of your first car. You don't plan. You absolutely can do all those things, and having a script doesn't necessarily mean that you're obsessed with control. But if you're like me and that's not working for you, then maybe try considering going back to basics. You don't need specifics to connect to your DR.

It's hard, I know, because we want to be in control and all that. But you're letting go by not trying to control every aspect of your DR. Trust yourself, trust the universe, trust shifting, trust whatever you believe in and let go of your limitations. Create a reality for yourself, a place where you genuinely want to live.

But if you only have the basics, then how do you shift? That doesn't seem enough, but, in theory, it should be. True, you don't have specifics, but you still have the key, the most important thing that you need in order to shift: yourself.

Just lay down, relax, focus on your breathing if that helps. Let go of the details, don't think about them because they're only holding you back. Focus on the idea, the concept of a better reality where you're safe, cared for, and happy. You don't need a method, you don't need to visualize. Just feel and trust that it's happening. Feel the peace and feel the shift pulling you in.

Hope this helps someone. Start open and go living!

[innocentcurse]

"Hey," Evangeline began, speaking softly. "I don't think you're whiny, I think your feelings are completely valid. Just because your family loves you, and because you love them, that doesn't mean that you can't find discomfort or upset within the family. Particularly when your identity is different from a majority of them." Evangeline didn't know if she could find the words to soothe Ocean's mind more, unsure if those words even existed, but she knew for sure that she would always try her hardest for the sake of her anxious friend.

"Nothing sounds better than catching up with you," Evangeline beamed, and in the moment, her words were nothing but the truth. She hadn't at all been expecting to find her old friend there in Cardinal Hill, and so she was still absolutely buzzing over the discovery. "I have absolutely nothing on my schedule for the rest of the day," though even if she had, it was likely that Evangeline would have rearranged the schedule to fit Ocean in. "Are you hungry? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat."

Despite being so happy to see Evangeline, Ocean felt self-conscious now. He wished that he hadn't talked about the way he felt being non-magical in his family, and he blushed, apologizing, "I'm sorry to be so whiny. I know, I've got a family who loves me, and that should be enough. And it is, you know? But..." Ocean didn't quite know how to articulate what he felt, not without sounding like he was being a baby, which he'd already done enough of. You were right, he thought. It was only a matter of time before you started overanalyzing everything. That was the kinder of the voices in his head, though it wasn't always nice to him, especially these days. And then the cruel voice inside him hissed, She sees you now. She knows you're nothing but a huge loser. Ocean wished they'd gotten a little longer before he'd started showing that side of himself to his old friend. Sure, Evangeline was saying such nice things to him, and they made him smile, but Ocean thought his friend was likely only saying them to be nice. So he just shrugged and said, "Thanks," offering Evangeline a soft smile.

Wanting to push past this moment, Ocean said, "Do you want to do something? We can hang out and catch up? Unless you have better things to do." Of course she does, both voices inside him said. And then one of them whispered, Anything is better than spending time with you. And Ocean wasn't sure which voice that was, an occurrence that was becoming more and more common; those voices were starting to sound so alike.

[blueofthesun]

seeing people happy about their eu tour tickets is making me 🥹🥹🥹💗💗💗

[ningadudexx]

peng… ❤️ they bird on my word till i bird bird bird bird is the word

.

Im sorry i havent been able to open commissions this spring break :( i have been sick with a fever and im not sure if ill be able to open commissions yet 😿 im sorry for all the trouble!! I have work and schoolwork after this week, but i will try and look for a time period when i can open comms <_( ; *_*)_>

[2boldlyqueer]

Listen, I know we're all exhausted, but we gotta get better about adding image descriptions to disability related stuff. Everyone should be IDing everything anyways, but there's a particularly cruel irony in disability related stuff not being accessible to folks with low/no vision.

[khaopybara]

but if you let me help, maybe you can go beyond your limits.

JOONG ARCHEN as FADEL episode 4 of THE HEART KILLERS