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smokingsoothesthesoul · 3 months ago

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# DREW STARKEY — LIVE TALK SHOW

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ ────୨ৎ──── drew’s first time on a talk show, which just so happens to be jimmy fallon’s and he’s known for scheming. he surprises drew starkey with his celebrity crush. which just so happens to be you.

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ — pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey !

author’s note: please show some love, also this is my first time posting on here, and i don't know how good my one-shots are. enjoy!

word count : 1.8k

you were known for being one of the most famous actresses sought after. they’d been right for it, your acting was phenomenal. as much fame as you had, you never really let it get to your head, knowing where you had come from was the most important thing to you.

not only that but you were also known for the activist and humanitarian organizations you’d created or supported alongside other celebrities, like angelina jolie, phoebe tonkin, daniel craig, etc.

so when daniel craig’s managers reached out to you it wasn’t a big surprise, apparently they had been reached out to by a talk show if they could invite you along as well. knowing daniel was more than glad to pass the invitation along, you accepted.

you wondered why they’d want you there seeing as queer had just premiered, and that had nothing to do with you

—

drew had been nervous, he’d be on a talk show, but nonetheless he was a wreck. it took him forever to decide what he’d be wearing, ultimately deciding on a charcoal grey, and white tux with a black tie. he hoped his outfit would be fine for the show.

as he waited backstage for his introduction he paced around nervous, spinning his gold ring on his finger, an anxious tic he had.

before he knew it, he heard jimmy fallon, “ladies and gentleman, let’s welcome the man everyone's been talking about, he’s rising to fame, the one and only drew starkey!” he announced as drew walked out and shook hands with the bodyguard on his way to the main set.

hearing the loud cheers and roars of everyone was amazing and he couldn't help but be shook to his core, never in a hundred years would he have expected this.

he waved to everyone as he made his way over to jimmy and shook his hand, before he proceeded to sit down in one of the couches.

“so drew we’re glad you accepted our invitation, isn’t that right?” jimmy asked the audience, before they all roared in agreement.

“i’m honored, thank you for inviting me.” drew replied confidently, knowing he was nervous inside.

“so we know you’ve been chasing gold for about four years, and now you’re in a queer relationship with daniel craig, james bond, which has premiered if i’m correct?” jimmy asked, knowing the answer but trying to build up the conversation.

“yes, out in theatres about a week ago.” drew replied.

“how did that transition work, you know, from filming a show where you don’t really have a romantic relationship until recently to a full blown queer relationship?” jimmy asked curiously.

“honestly, a bit overwhelming and a lot of anxiety from my part. not more so because of the transition but just because i knew i had to ace this role. getting the opportunity to work alongside daniel craig and for luca guadagnino was truly the opportunity of a lifetime. whatever time it was, i knew i had to give it my all. sometimes i doubted my performance but daniel helped me and gave me advice whenever i needed it,” drew replied, while he felt himself relaxing a bit as he got comfortable enough to share personal details.

“there was even a time where,” drew began before lightly biting his lip amused at the story daniel shared with him, before continuing, “daniel told me of an experience he had with another co-star. basically when you first film scenes and most of all when they’re scenes like we were filming, the first day on set really is just practice. not reading lines, but actually practicing how certain scenes will go. in our case mature scenes were what we focused on at the beginning seeing as we’d be testing out our chemistry.”

“anywho the point is that once we were literally in the middle of a bed scene, nothing too explicit, and daniel chuckled when i fucked up a line because instead of saying ‘we can’t be doing this’ i said ‘we shan’t be doing this.’ he literally rolled out of bed and said he had to take a breather, i was confused, i mean we fuck up lines sometimes but never enough to call break,” drew explained.

“yeah normally that doesn’t happen, i would’ve been nervous,” jimmy commented.

drew laughed and nodded his head, before continuing, “i was dying of anxiety in the inside, i was like did i fuck up this badly. and i guess daniel could see it written on my face, which is when he walked over and explained how in his last role the same thing had happened with his co-star. and i couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief and literally said, ‘thank fuck’ to which he laughed at as he walked away to get a water.”

jimmy let out a chuckle at the ending of his story, and said, “oh my god i would’ve died of laughter too.”

drew nodded as he swiped his backhand on his nose, a reflex of his, before replying “yeah i definitely would’ve too but honestly i was too nervous at the time, now i think back on it and laugh about it.”

“actually there was something i was looking forward to, with you here, let’s show this clip,” jimmy said motioning towards the tv for the audience.

before they knew it, drew was being interviewed by a reporter who asked who his celebrity crush was, ‘y/n y/ln’ he answered without falter.

as the video ended drew couldn’t help but let out a chuckle and turned to jimmy while he began, “is that still true?”

drew knew the answer to that, and nodded, “yeah it is,” he replied confidently.

“we have a surprise for you if you look at the monitor,” jimmy said before motioning towards the tv.

if the world could swallow drew up whole, he’d let it. at that moment. because then and there on the tv, where times he’d stated his celebrity crush was y/n to interviewers and it was playing in chronological order.

as the video ended jimmy looked at him and playfully asked, “anything to comment?”

drew couldn’t help but cover his mouth with one hand before sliding it down to reply, “genuinely that’d be mine if i could somehow reach her.”

“well who knows maybe one day you will,” jimmy commented supportively.

“unless i get the courage to actually dm her, it’ll be a pending matter,” drew replied.

“why the need for a dm? i’m right here,” you said after making your way quietly behind him signaling the audience to not spoil it.

at that moment, drew froze up, and instantly rose up from his seat but slowly turned around, not knowing if it was real.

as he slowly turned, you waved at him and slightly giggled at his nervous reaction. you waited for him to say something before you said anything else.

as you stood there waiting, drew finally caught a grip and let his charm play out even if he was a train wreck inside.

“i’m drew starkey,” he introduced, stammering quite a bit.

“i know,” you replied smiling.

hearing that drew’s brows rose in confusion, he didn’t expect that. he was a nobody and you were everything.

“i was invited to your premiere but i ended up in the er or else i would’ve been there, apologies,” you said, genuinely honest.

drew was lost for words, yet jimmy asked him, “drew you still there or are you too starstruck?”

“mhm,” drew nodded, not necessarily indicating which one but they could all guess.

he couldn’t get over the fact you’d just apologized for not attending his premiere, gosh he was literally about to faint before he talked to himself in his head ‘get your shit together before you scare her’ which he proceeded to do, and extended his hand for her to shake.

“none of that, my mama taught me better than that” you replied before walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

drew couldn’t believe this was happening but reacted fast enough to not make it seem awkward for the audience, at least that's what he hoped and reciprocated the hug. wrapping his hands around your body.

as they pulled apart, you walked up to jimmy and shook his hand seeing as there was a literal desk between you both and greeted him.

“jimmy it’s been a while,” you commented.

“glad to have you back on here,” jimmy replied genuinely.

“now that we’re dealing with a starstruck man, we actually have a few live questions, if you don’t mind answering them?” jimmy asked.

“of course, ask away,” she replied amused, wanting to know what was being asked.

jimmy read from his phone, “how does it feel to be drew starkey’s celebrity crush?”

“well honestly, and i quote, from the man himself, ‘i’m honored,’” you replied knowing drew was known for his replies of being honored.

next to you drew couldn’t help but smile amused knowing he said that quite a lot, he hadn’t been lying he really was honored. but to hear that you were honored he thought of you a certain way, well that was the most fucking honored he’d be in his life. before, now, or after.

“what do you think of drew starkey and his roles?” jimmy asked, reading off the second question being asked by the audience.

“well honestly, i’m definitely an outer banks fan. i’m glad he’s finally getting the recognition he deserved, i’ve been there since season one, people now are barely catching on,” you started.

as you replied, drew couldn’t help but feel touched at what you were saying. he really had just risen to fame this past year, with the new season of outer banks even though he’d been there since day one of the show.

“i’ll admit this new season and the past one that came out, i couldn’t help but feel a tad bit jealous that our local psycho was tied up and locked in with someone,” you admitted lightly, chuckling amused.

“for me this is a situation where i love the actor but hate the character unfortunately, because rafe deserved better, in this season four that came out. sofia betrayed him and genuinely frustrated me,” you explained.

drew couldn’t help but feel touched at how you were talking about his character, because it was something he’d poured his heart into.

“one last question for both of you before we go,” jimmy asked before a drum roll sound came on to build anticipation.

“have we created a successful cupid match?” jimmy asked, to which the audience cheered, curious as well.

at that moment both drew and you gazed into each other's eyes, “only time will tell,” you answered truthfully, ‘but maybe we’ll get there’ you tried to communicate that through your gaze with drew.

the cameras cut and now there was a rising to fame actor, holding out his hand for a famous actress to take.

and that she did.

#drewstarkey #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey queer #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey imagine #celebrities #celebrity x reader #celebrity fanfic #drew starkey x female reader #smokingsoothesthesoul #smokingsoothes

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fastandcarlos · 5 months ago

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Unexpected Pregnancy : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: your heart sinks as the positive sign appears, terrified to tell charles your unexpected news

Everything felt as if it was crashing down around as your eyes landed on the positive mark in front of you. Immediately your mind thought of Charles, your stomach dropping as reality very quickly set in for you.

A baby was the last thing that the two of you needed with how busy you were. Most weeks you were barely in the same country, your careers were in two completely different spots, and how you were ever going to be able to come together and raise a child was a question you couldn’t even begin to answer.

You couldn’t help but worry about how Charles would react, terrified of what might come your way. Your heart raced as you heard him walking through the apartment, knowing you were about to deliver either the best news of his life, or the worst news.

A gentle knock at the door pulled you away from your thoughts, Charles calling through to see if you were alright. He didn’t know what was going on, but as time continued to pass, he couldn’t help but worry that something was going on with you.

“I’m just coming,” you sighed, placing the test into your back pocket before walking out, taking a hold of Charles’ hand and leading him over to the sofa.

“What’s going on? What’s with the rush love?” Charles questioned, barely able to keep up with you as you hurriedly sat him down, deciding to sit with a little bit of distance between you both.

It took you a moment to find your composure, unsure of the right thing to say or do. However when Charles rested his hand against your shoulder, you finally looked up and across at him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as Charles’ brows knitted together, eyes narrowing in on you in confusion as to what was going on.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, you’ve not done anything to hurt me, have you?”

The silence that followed was worrying for Charles, beginning to fret. He couldn’t think of any reason for you to say sorry, frightened that something had happened though that he knew nothing about.

“Talk to me, we can sort whatever the problem is,” Charles encouraged, his eyes desperately searching for yours in an attempt to reassure you.

The confidence you originally had to tell Charles had well and truly disappeared, fighting with yourself as to whether you were doing the right thing anymore or not.

You were unaware of the affects you were having on Charles either, his heart racing as he overthought everything. It was clear to him whatever was going on had had a huge impact on you, desperate to help try and fix whatever it was that was troubling you.

“Love, I promise me you could tell me absolutely anything and we’d be able to get through it,” Charles calmly spoke, shuffling along the sofa that he was sat right beside you. “It could be the worst thing in the world, but I’m sure that we can work it out.”

Your head shook back at Charles, “it’s not as easy as that Charles, I don’t know whether you’d even want to be with me after I tell you this.”

“What?” He chuckled, “whatever it is, I’m still going to want to be with you.”

Your free hand reached back, taking the test out and placing it on the table in front of you. “I’m pregnant Charles, we’re going to have a baby,” you muttered.

“A baby?” Charles replied, his voice sounding full of enthusiasm. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been sat there thinking that I’ll leave you because you’re pregnant.”

It was the complete opposite reaction from the one you were expecting, glancing to your left and seeing a wide smile on Charles’ face. He reached forwards and picked up the test, making sure that he got a good look at the positive mark for himself.

“Why would you ever think I’d be upset about this?” Charles asked you, chuckling away to himself. “You know how much I want to have children with you.”

“But it’s so much earlier than we wanted to,” you reminded him, “and we’re both so busy, you’re racing around the world, there’s so many things to think about Charles.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t do it.”

“You think we can?” You quizzed, almost sounding doubtful as to how you would make it work. “I’m worried Charles, I don’t want this to end up getting in the way of your career.”

Admittedly, you might be settling down together sooner than Charles imagined, but Charles was confident you could make it work. He’d planned how a family would work out so many times in his head, thinking about all possible scenarios so when the time came, he was on it.

“I get that it’s a bit scary suddenly finding this out, but we can do it,” Charles told you, squeezing against your hand. “I’m not mad, I’m excited, it’s going to be difficult, but we’ve never exactly made life easy for ourselves, have we? We’re used to doing things the tricky way.”

“I don’t want to end up doing all of this alone though Charles, when you’re at work.”

His head shook, refusing to let you panic about such a thing. “You’re my priority from now on, you’re having my baby after all. I’m going to be here for you every second of the way, whether I’m here or on the other side of the world, I will always find a way to make sure I’m here for you.”

It wasn’t just words of reassurance from Charles, you knew him well enough to know how much he meant it too. He didn’t care who he upset, he always did what he needed to do, and that was especially the case now that he knew that you were having his baby too.

“I think I’m just in shock, I never imagined this happening so suddenly.”

Charles nodded in agreement with you, it was a shock for him too, but he was sure that you would be able to do it once the shock had subsided.

“Whenever you’re worrying or scared, I want you to tell me,” Charles smiled, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “The last thing that you should be doing is going through this alone.”

“I promise I’ll talk to you,” you replied, resting your head down against Charles’ shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you panic a little about what was going on. I just couldn’t find the words, and I was terrified as to how you’d react about it too.”

Charles’ arm wrapped around your frame, “I get it, I’d be exactly the same. I’m just glad that you weren’t about to break up with me.”

“I don’t think I’d ever be stupid enough to break up with you, even if I had the worst news in the world. I’d have to be out of my mind.”

Charles chuckled as you spoke, “well, you know what they say about pregnant women and hormones, who knows what you’re going to be capable of over the next nine months.”

“You sound scared to live with a pregnant woman.”

“Oh, I am absolutely terrified!”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋��𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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vettelsvee · 8 months ago

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ALMOST CAUGHT | Oscar Piastri

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

oscar piastri x gf!reader

word count: 1151

summary: oscar and his gf get a little bit horny, but they need to do things quick before someone catch them having sex

warnings: +18, smut (p in v, protected sex), dom!oscar, risk of getting caught

a/n: idk how this turned out because i don't think i'm good writing smut. however, i'll try to improve! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

You were lying on the sofa, in your living room, watching a movie as your family had gone shopping at the local mall. Oscar wasn't there either because he had taken Blueberry, the puppy you both recently adopted, for a walk. You had decided not to go because you weren't feeling well. Nevertheless, you were lying on that sofa, eating M&M's and watching a Turkish TV show out of sheer boredom, where the newlywed couple protagonists argued about who would do the shopping.

"When will you be back, Piastri?"

Just as you were thinking about that, Oscar sent you a video of himself and your pet along with a message:

"I might have a little surprise for my girl :)"

You didn't know what he meant, so you asked him what for. Minutes later, he replied that he was saying nothing until the correct moment. Despite your desperation to know what the Australian man had planned, you resisted the urge to keep asking him.

You fell asleep and didn't even realize it, so it was the sound of the front door opening that woke you up. Then, you noticed how small but quick steps were moving back and forth. Alongside them, larger steps slowly approached the couch where you lay.

"Hello, love," you composed yourself a bit from sleep and noticed it was Oscar. "Are you okay?"

"What... what time is it?" you asked curiously. You had completely lost track of time, and you didn't know when you had fallen asleep or how much time had passed since then.

"It's eight twenty-five," the brown-eyed guy replied with a smile.

You noticed he kept smiling, so you kissed him. It was a short but passionate kiss, in which both of you realized that every day you were more in love.

"And what's that about?" Oscar smiled again and positioned himself on top of you, while you couldn't stop telling yourself that he was perfect for you and wondering what you had done to deserve him.

"I'm waiting for the surprise you were going to give me."

You were giving him a too enticing look, and slowly he was starting to get aroused. He wanted to have sex, just like you, and both of you knew each other's thoughts as if they were your own.

"You'll have to wait, darling, but I think we can do something else while you wait."

As soon as Oscar answered, he began kissing you, something that as it progressed became faster and more desperate. You followed along with your tongue, but you were worried that your parents and siblings might appear at any moment.

You decided to stop. Or at least try to.

"Oscar…," no matter what you said, he kept kissing you, now going all the way down on your neck, making you release small moans every time you spoke. "Piastri..., stop..."

Seeing that he wasn't going to stop, you forgot about the possibility of your family catching you having sex and that became the least of your concerns.

With a quick change of position, now you were the one on top of your boyfriend, making movements to further provoke his excitement. Meanwhile, he began to remove your shirt, leaving only a pink bra with blue teddy bears exposed. You knew that wasn't the best attire for situations like the one unfolding, but at that moment you didn't care because there was enough trust - besides, there would be other moments to wear better lingerie.

His kisses trailed down your neck again, but with the main difference this time being that he was leaving marks. You removed his sweater, but it wasn't enough for you: you wanted more, so you didn't hesitate to unbutton his pants, struggling a bit to take them off.

You immediately started playing with the waistband of his boxers, and both of you felt the nervousness growing, although you didn't pay much attention to it. In the end, it wasn't the first time you risked getting caught, and to be honest, you got very horny at that thought.

He removed your pants just as you had done to him earlier, taking the opportunity to position himself on top of you. You knew it was about to begin when he took a condom from his pocket.

You were eager for him, so you removed his underwear, leaving him completely naked, while you remained in your underwear.

"This can't keep going on like this, babe..." the boy said, eager to enter you.

He started removing your bra, immediately moving down between your legs, where he began to touch over your underwear before taking it off.

"Oscar..." you moaned once again.

"For God's sake, shut up already," he demanded, which only aroused you more. "I need you to stay calm, not acting like a desperate whore. I thought you were better than that."

At his words, you got absolutely in shock, but in some way it turned you on hearing Oscar speak like that.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Will you stop acting so desperate if I enter you this quick? With no previous games and…"

"Of course. You better shut up now and start fucking me," you interrupted him, answering without hesitation.

Once again, and as if he didn’t kiss you on the forehead and began to insert himself into you.

At first, he was going slow, but as the minutes went by the speed increased. Unfortunately, you tried to control your moans, something that Oscar seemed to do perfectly just in case your parents arrived, but you couldn’t hold them. It was great, and you didn’t want it to end.

"Damn it, Oscar!" you screamed, but you still hadn't reached orgasm.

"Wow, I didn't know I was that good at sex," he said proudly, surprising you. "I thought you always faked your moans."

"Shut up and keep going," you answered with a voice slightly interrupted by Oscar’s moves. "I'm close."

A few minutes later, both of you were lying on the sofa, after cumming without much difficulty.

However, your post sex kisses and talk ended as soon as, after getting dressed, you saw you twins brothers standing next to the living room door, seeing you both in absolute shock.

"Come on, you gotta be kidding me!" Louis, one of the twins, yelled, while you kept signaling him to be quiet.

He started running up the stairs quickly and shouting without hesitation while Liam, your other brother, was sending a voice message to his best friend telling him that he caught his sister and her boyfriend having sex.

"I guess we won’t be having any more surprises at home for now, love," you said, seeing the commotion you had caused in a moment. "I hope they don’t tell my parents, because if they freak out…”

“We’ll freak out, I know,” Oscar said. “Really, I get it, Y/N. I guess I’ll have to take you to Disneyland to fuck you in one of those Marvel hotel rooms full of Spider-Man merch. Maybe we could try something with some kind of costume on and...”

“You’re taking me to Disneyland?!” you screamed, interrupting him fully surprised.

“I couldn’t keep it anymore so… surprise, babe? Any ideas on what I have just said to you?”

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 months ago

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Mo' Money Mo' Problems

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: Asking for help has always been hard for you, but when you aren't left with another option, your recently drafted NFL boyfriend comes to your rescue

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested: by a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Erin looked at you as you sat down across from her and sighed. This had been going on for the past week and you had now given yourself a headache trying to figure out what you were going to do.

“Call your boyfriend.” Erin told you as she threw your phone for you to catch it, but you quickly shook your head no as you caught it before it hit the floor.

“I am not calling him.”

“And why NOT?” She exclaimed and looked at you as if you were crazy.

“Because this is my problem and I'm going to deal with it. I don't have to run to him for every little thing.”

“YOUR BOYFRIEND PLAYS IN THE NFL! AS A QUARTERBACK! Or did you suddenly forget?”

“Just because he plays in the NFL doesn't mean I’m going to take advantage of that.” You said as you crossed your arms.

“Bestie, I love you but you fucking annoy me so much sometimes. So let me ask you this, Joe doesn't have a problem asking you for sex correct?”

“What in the world are you getting at?”

“Answer my question.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“And he fucks you raw simply because you had a fucking pregnancy scare two semesters ago when he won the Heisman.”

“Erin, get to the point already. I was scared out of my damn mind.” You replied as you rolled your eyes.

“My point is that you shouldn't have a problem asking your boyfriend who fucks you raw for money. At the very LEAST like bare minimum he can give you a little cash.”

“I get it but..”

“Uh no you obviously don't. And you know how he is. First thing out of his mouth is going to be why didn't you tell him. I'm convinced that man would drink your bath water if you let him.”

“I swear you get on my nerves.”

“Welp been doing that since we were three and that's not changing any time soon.”

“I don't know. I feel kind of weird asking people for anything. Like not just him and I’ve always been like that.” You said as you got up to go into your kitchen with Erin following close behind.

“It's not like he's going to want you to pay him back. I guarantee you that he'll give it to you without a second thought. You never know unless you try. Surprised he hasn't put your name on the bank account yet.”

“Something is wrong with you.”

“Bitch, don't act like he's not going to put a ring on your finger. Surprised he didn't do it our first semester.” Erin told you as you turned to look in the freezer for ground turkey to make homemade burgers for the two of you.

“Yes, obviously but not yet.”

“He is literally just waiting for you to graduate to do it.”

“And how do you know all this?” You asked as you began to cut up red onion along with some green bell peppers.

“I just do and like I said, he would drink your bath water.”

“Ew, Erin that's nasty.”

“Just calling it like I see it. But if you don't fix this in 48 hours when your rent is due, I'm calling Joe.”

Twenty four hours later you were finally lying down in your bed after a long and exhausting day, your phone rang indicating a facetime call coming through and you rolled over onto the other side to answer it. When your boyfriend's face came into view, you instantly smiled.

“Hi my love.” You quietly said and wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets that were covering you while propping up your phone.

“Hey baby doll. How was your day?” He asked while it looked like he was sitting up against the headboard.

“Hmm, long. I've been up since 4 in the morning. But you know I never pass up an opportunity to talk to you. I miss you.”

“I miss you too and Erin called me.”

“What? Why?”

She literally only gave you 24 hours and not 48 like she promised.

“You tell me. Something going on that I should know about?” Joe asked and you continued to look at him confused.

“Uh, not that I can think of.”

“Let me ask you this then. Have you paid your rent this month for your condo?”

“No and I have no idea why she called you. I told her I would take care of it.”

“Because you miscalculated your bills for this month and they added a whole bunch of fees and you decided to suffer instead of calling your boyfriend for help.”

“I…”

“Is that it?”

“I didn't want to bother you.” You quietly said and Joe just looked at you.

“Seriously? When are you ever bothering me? I have another question for you.”

“Yes?”

“You plan on being with me for a long time, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know that I'm going to take care of you right? Especially when you graduate and move up here.”

“Yes.”

“So, why wouldn't I take care of you now?”

“I know you will, but if I can do it on my own, I'm going to try to.”

“But I'm here and you don't have to. Aren't you a WAG now?” Joe asked as he smiled at you.

“I want to be the W and not the G.” You replied without skipping a beat.

“Who’s to say that I don't already have your ring?”

“Well, my finger is still bare so? What does that do for me?” You told him as you held it up so he could see your hand.

“Touché, princess.” Joe told you as he smirked.

“Mm hmm, that's what I thought.”

“But next time you come up here we're picking out a house.”

“I…”

“Me and my future wife along with my future kids need a place to live so we can start looking. Or we can have it built, your choice."

“And a new car, mine is on its last leg.”

“Name it and it's yours. That goes for whatever else you want to.”

“NO! I'm going to get it! You are not going bankrupt buying someone who is not even your wife expensive things.”

“You ARE my wife; it's just not on paper yet.” He told you as he shrugged while your cheeks began to heat up.

“Babeeeee.”

“What? I'm not saying anything that isn't true. And besides, I'm not spending any money from my contract. Just my endorsement deals. But back to our original problem, you're good for the rest of the year.”

“I… JOEY! That was like 4,000 dollars!”

“Money is not a factor when it comes to you. If you need it, I'm getting it. So can we move on?”

"Fine, while I have you in a giving mood, I want an elephant." You replied and Joe simply gave you a blank stare.

"Best I can do is the Cincinatti Zoo, you gotta work with me here."

"Well, you said 'name it and it's yours'."

"Baby, I meant within reason and an elephant is not within reason."

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe shiesty #nfl imagine

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bitchimasnake-sss · 1 year ago

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from me to you ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: anon asked me to write angst :) 32 year zoro had lost you two years ago. but when he finds himself back in time, face to face with a 22 year old and and alive you, what will he do?

warnings: none, just some good ole angst; not proofread at all :/

"how did you get that scar then?" chopper asked, tracing another deep scar on the older man's shoulder.

"i was fighting a warlord." the older zoro shrugged, finding comfort in the way the young reindeer marvelled at his story.

"did you win then?" ussop asked next.

the younger version of the swordsman cut in, "ofcourse he did. he's me."

"not to credit you," the older version bickered, "but yes ofcourse, i did win."

"what do you mean 'not to credit you'. i am the reason you even got to that point-"

"yes but you didn't fight the warlord, i did."

"I AM YOU-"

"oh my god, stop bickering with yourself" nami groaned, "when will the rest be back? im growing so tired of looking after you children."

"i am a decade older than you." the older swordsman answered back.

the rest of the crew was out exploring the port town where the sunny was docked. it was about to be sun-down and the two zoros, nami, ussop and chopper waited for the others to return back.

hours passed and the older man had found himself walking around the ship, reminiscing in the old times. somehow, for someone as much of a shitty memory as him, he could recall every stain, every dent. he could recall every place ussop fucked up or luffy damaged or you-

you. you. you.

and now he could hear footsteps on the deck. more importantly, he could hear you. so, his feet moved to their own accord. he navigated through the ship easily, muscle memory taking ahold of his body. taking him to the deck, taking him to you.

the older swordsman stepped out onto the happening deck and there you were.

you - along with the rest of the crew - turned your attention to the green-haired man that had materialized on the deck. and then, the entire crew erupted into chaos. the younger version of luffy comically looked from one zoro to another, sanji stood with his mouth wide apart and robin looked slightly alarmed.

but none of that mattered.

none of them were you.

the twenty-two year old version of you was looking at the older man, mildly amused. you giggled and then poked nami, saying something along the lines of "he looks like a dilf" or something. but the older man didn't care, or more so he couldn't.

it was night yet he could point out every wayward freckle across your cheek. you shivered and he held back from giving you his kimono. you walked over to his younger version and that green-haired boy pressed a kiss to your forehead the same way he wanted to.

you were there.

in flesh and blood, you were there.

and maybe that's why he turned his back on you and walked into that old cabin of his. maybe that's why he locked the door and slumped against the wood with a heavy sigh. maybe that's why he covered his eyes with his palm and tried to blink the tears away.

you were gone. you had been, for the past two years. and he had learnt to live with that absence. learnt to swallow down any memories of you that came creeping up like bile. learnt to only smile in his dreams when he saw you again.

shouldn't he be happy he saw you again? shouldn't he be glad you smiled at him again? he should be, right?

then why wasn't he? why did it hurt him more to see you laughing that it did when he saw your cold corpse?

"uhm-" your voice called from outside, unsure, "zo- zoro? are you in there?"

he pressed his palm flatter against his eyes and sighed, "i'll be out in a minute, please wait"

"are you okay?" you asked softly and when he didn't reply, you asked again, "can i come in?"

wordlessly, he turned around and opened the door. and wordlessly, you crashed against him, hugging the older man.

letting go of whatever restraints he had, he held you against him tightly. he closed his eyes, relishing in the way your warmth felt against him, the way your cheek was resting against his chest, the way your tresses tickled his skin.

"you looked like you could use a hug." you mumbled against him, "it must be insane, to go through this time travel thing right?"

but the older man just pursed his lips tighter, trying to hold onto the love of his life as long as he could. he tried to fight off the welling tears as you let go of him and looked up at him.

"you smell nice. looks like you're actualy showering huh?" you laughed, "and i can't believe you got even more tall. i look like a child in front of you!"

zoro smiled despite himself, "hate to break it to ya, but you stay this size your entire life."

"what?! no!" you laughed again in disbelief, "really??"

he just nodded and you hit his chest playfully. then you said, "well i have so many questions for you. should i ask? please please pl-"

"anything for you." he replied mindlessly.

"look at you, such a romantic. your younger version could learn a thing or two." you paused, "my future version must be really happy with you, huh- wait, we're still together right?"

zoro was silenced. then, he put on a smile, "yeah, we are. and i guess she's pretty happy."

"are you?"

it was a simple question and yet, zoro felt like his being was set ablaze by just those two words. though his mouth felt like it was full of tar, he managed to say, "yeah, more or less"

you cocked an eyebrow, "you know you're a terrible liar."

"i-" he gave you a tired smile, "things have just been hard for the past few years, that's all."

"oh," you gave him a nudge, "but as long you've got me, things will be okay, yeah?"

he scoffed, as if rejecting your suggestion. you met the older man's gaze with confusion, as if asking him if you said something wrong.

his eyes softened, voice barely audible. he asked you, "and what if i lost you?"

"dumbass, you can never lose me. i'm with you, always."

"what if?"

"then..." you pondered for a second. finally, you raised your wrist to the green-haired swordsman's eyelevel. the silver charm bracelet shone dimly in the lit room. you shook your wrist and the soft melody of the charms filled the room, "you can keep this, to remember me."

zoro's gaze was transfixed on the charm bracelet, his eye catching each miniscule metallic movement, "you- you lost this bracelet."

"i did?" you tilted your head.

"i mean- in a couple years you will. we had docked on a summer island and you lost it while exploring the town."

you watched the way the man stared at your wrists and you made your decision, "take it."

"but it's your favourite jewelry-"

"well, if i'm gonna lose it anyways-" you took off the bracelet with little trouble, "then i think you should keep it."

you gave him another smile, delicately placing the dainty bracelet in his calloused palm, "maybe you can give it back to my future self when you're back in the present. i am sure she'd like the surprise of having it back."

before zoro could protest, his younger version barged into the cabin. the younger boy hissed at the older man, "give me back my girlfriend, oldy."

the older man didn't ignore the way you laughed. you took languid steps to reach the younger boy and then you melted in his arm as you laughed.

he loved you then, he loved you now. he knows he would love you beyond this.

and that's all that matters.

roronoa zoro, aged 32, had disappeared for three days. he refused to tell anyone where he had gone. but when he returned, he sported a new chain round his neck with old charms. nobody on the crew bought the chain up, they didn't need to.

because for the first time in two years, the swordsman could crack open a smile when he greeted them.

and that's all that mattered.

💗a/n: definitely gonna be posting sanji's part as soon as im done with it! sanji's part

#one piece #opla #op #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro fluff #zoro fic #one piece imagines #one piece angst #zoro angst #roronoa zoro x reader

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stevieschrodinger · 7 months ago

Text

Part One Eighteen

Eddie looks up, towards the front of the house, “car.”

It’s a good count of five before Steve hears a car pulling up onto the drive, “do you want to get it? Surprise Robin?”

Eddie just shakes his head, suddenly shy. Steve remembers how loudly she had shrieked over the phone, “yeah, that’s fair.”

Steve waits until the bell is rung, and Eddie does come and stand in the hallway, half hidden in the lounge doorway, watching as Steve gets the door. Just as he’s opening it he realizes just how uncharacteristically polite she’s being; normally Robin just barges in.

He gets his answer a second later; it’s not just Robin.

She does cross the threshold first, hugging Steve and then clearly spotting Eddie, Steve grabs her, “do not be loud.”

“Okay, okay,” and she goes in.

Joyce is next, carrying a big pot with a lid, she leans over to kiss Steve’s cheek, Jon and Nancy follow, both equally laden down, Nancy holding what looks like a cobbler in a large dish, with a grocery bag hanging precariously from each wrist, “we didn’t have many left overs, so mom put together a quick dessert, it’s only canned filling, hope that’s okay.”

“That’s...so great of you Nancy, she didn’t need to-”

“Hush, Steve,” and she goes in, Hopper, Will and El bringing up the rear. Everyone has their hands full.

“Okay, lets move along, we need to get all this warmed up,” Joyce says to clear the blockage of Eddie gawkers in the hall. Steve watches as Eddie nods at people, looking on curiously, as they all move past.

“Jon, bring through the kitchen chairs honey!”

Joyce has completely commandeered Steve house, and he’s totally okay with it. Jon and Hopper move the chairs so there’s enough seating around the dining table. They might be elbow to elbow, but Steve wouldn’t really have it any other way.

“We brought what we had honey,” Joyce tells Steve, passing him a bowl with a cucumber, a lettuce and some apples in it, “I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

Steve’s heart melts, “he actually might try a meal.”

Joyce absolutely lights up, and she takes the bowl back, setting it on the kitchen counter, “then lets get him a Christmas dinner. Can you deal with the roast please Hop, I’m bringing the rest out now,” and like a sergeant major directing her troops, Joyce calls on people to fetch and carry as she plates things up, “El honey, take all the cutlery please. Will, jugs of juice, thank you.”

Steve just smiles and watches it happen, “better be a beer in it for me,” Hopper grumbles from behind Steve.

Eddie’s been half watching from doorways, occasionally retreating to the couch and then coming back again, but he seems to be drawn by the smell of all the food. “Come on, come and sit at the table.”

“Table,” Eddie repeats, following as Steve leads him by the hand into the dining room.

Eddie sits, and Steve sits next to him.

“Well, Merry First Ever Christmas,” Joyce says to Eddie, before she’s distracted again, “Will, vegetables please.” Will huffs over his plate of meat and potatoes.

“What do you want baby?” Steve whispers to Eddie while everyone helps themselves.

Eddie shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the spread Joyce has put on. Steve smiles reassuringly, giving his thigh a squeeze before he makes him a plate with a little of everything. While he’s occupied, Steve is vaguely aware of El saying, “I love your hat.”

“Eddidie hat?” Eddie replies, “thank you, El.”

Eddie likes meat. He also still really likes his vegetables; he just likes them hot.

Once everyone’s eating the conversation dies down, Eddie uses a combination of claws and his fork to eat, and Steve doesn’t think he’s doing too badly for his first proper sit down meal, when Joyce asks, “Eddie, do you like the food?”

Eddie nods, “good good. Many good.”

Joyce smiles, “and how are you finding having legs?”

“Good, not different Stee.” Joyce seems to get the drift of what Eddie kind of means. This clearly gives Eddie an idea though, turning to Steve he asks, “Eddidie work? One dollar bill gro-ser-ees.”

“Uhm,” Steve chuckles, “maybe. Need to work on a few things first. Maybe.”

“Eddidie car?” And Eddie mimes turning the steering wheel back and forth.

“Need a license first,” Hopper interjects from the other end of the table.

“License first?”

“A drivers license,” Steve clarifies, or tries too, “so you can drive the car.”

“He’s going to need a birth certificate and all that,” Nancy adds.

Joyce elbows Hopper, “I’m sure Hop could help there.”

“Yeah, like I don’t have enough-” Joyce elbows him again, “yeah, okay. Watch it woman, your elbows are like knives.”

“Eddie,” El starts in, “your birth certificate is important, you can choose where you were born.”

“That’s not actually how it works for the rest of us,” Will whispers to her, smiling.

“I got to choose,” she tells him, “I chose Hawkins.”

“Eddidie born?”

El nods, “where you’re from.”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie announces with some confidence, raising a round of, maybe slightly weirded out, chuckles from around the table.

El shakes her head, “no, where are you from now?”

Eddie nods, grasping that part, “Hawkins Indiana. Pool,” and Eddie points, back through the house at the yard, just to clarify. Steve hides his laughter behind his hand.

“Might want to loose the ‘pool’ part,” Hopper adds, helpfully.

“No no,” Jon suggests, “if you make him like, from another country, it’ll explain the language barrier.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Joyce muses, “where would you suggest?”

“Well, there’s only one obvious place, right? Fin-land.”

Everyone groans, and John gets balled up napkins thrown at him.

“In all seriousness kid, going to need a full name and date of birth,” Hopper tells them.

“Oh! Christmas Eve! That would be a lovely birthday for Eddie,” Joyce tells him, excited.

Hopper hums, “uh hu, what year? And a surname, write it all down for me kid.”

“Obviously Harrington,” Steve says before he can really think about it.

Hoppers eyebrows are in his hairline, “so...brothers?”

Robin nearly chokes on her drink.

“Okay, time for gifts, and then dessert after,” Joyce says as she shoos everyone into the lounge, “the boys can do the dishes later.”

Jon and Hop share a look, and Steve knows instantly it’s a look they’ve shared quite a few times.

Everyone spreads around in the lounge, El putting on the Christmas tree lights with a little frown of concentration.

“Okay, me first,” Joyce says, getting up, and she gives Steve and Eddie a wrapped gift each.

“Joyce, you don’t have to, I didn’t get chance to-”

“Don’t worry about any of that honey,” she waves him away, sipping her drink, “just open them.”

Eddie looks perplexed by the thing he’s been handed, just turning it over and over in his hands, “here, watch,” Steve says, and carefully tears into the paper on his own gift.

Eddie seems to be delighted by this turn of events, and uses his claws to easily tear into the paper.

Matching knitted material unfurls onto both of their laps, Steve unfolding his to find a red and green knitted sweater; clearly home made by Joyce.

Eddie holds his up, “sweater? Gift?”

“Yeah, look,” Steve holds up his own.

They are a little different; while the sleeves of Eddie’s are the same as Steve’s, the middle is a hell of a lot shorter, and it takes a second for Steve to realize why; it would stop it from dragging on the ground.

“Stee Eddidie not different!” Eddie says, all excited, just as Steve looses his battle and starts to cry.

A little less than twenty four hours ago, the deepest parts of Steve were convinced that Eddie was dead in his pool. Before that, days of...of torture, knowing that Eddie could very well be dying in the black water. The sleepless nights. The slow erosion of Steve’s hope, and the guilt that came with it, all seem to hit Steve all at once.

Eddie could have died, and now they’re here, sitting on the couch together, holding matching Christmas sweaters. They got insanely lucky.

Steve’s tears come harder, and a sob escapes him, “sorry,” he chokes out, excusing himself and heading into the kitchen.

“Stee?” Eddie creeps in quietly after him.

“Hey, I’m okay.”

Eddie frowns, following Steve across to where he’s leaning against the counter, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, “no.”

It does make Steve laugh a little through his tears, and he lets Eddie carefully wipe his face before he licks the moisture off his fingers, “called?”

“Tears. I’m crying. I got upset.”

“Stee ow? Tell Eddidie.”

Steve swallows thickly, but his tears abate in the face of Eddie’s clear concern, “when you were in the pool...I had to wait. Days. And I was...so frightened. Scared. That you were dead.”

“Eddidie not dead.”

“No,” Steve huffs, “I know that now,” and he wraps his arms more firmly around Eddie’s middle, “I missed you.”

“Called missed?”

“I was sad, Steve ow, Eddie wasn’t here. You were gone. In the pool.”

“Eddidie no missed Steve. Sorry. Eddidie…” he taps the side of his head, the bobble wobbling as he cocks his head in thought, “no TV. TV inied. Together now. Many tomorrow.”

“All tomorrow?” Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie nods, his bobble rocking back and forth furiously.

And then he leans forward the scant inches between them, and kisses Steve. It’s slow, gentle. A soft brush of lips before Eddie shifts on a sigh. The gentlest, barely there sucking of Steve’s bottom lip; the softest of scratching claws against the back of his head, Eddie’s hand sliding into his hair.

“Oh!” Eddie pulls apart, but not away. If anything he instinctively holds Steve tighter, “I’m...I’m sorry,” Nancy says, wide eyed from the doorway, before she backs back into the lounge.

Steve sighs, “cats out of the bag now.”

“Cat? Lion. Tiger? Called bag?”

“I’ll explain that one another time, okay?”

When they sit back down on the couch, Steve has a fuck it moment and holds Eddie’s hand. He has to keep letting go so Eddie can open his gifts, but still. It doesn’t take long for Hopper to notice, and then he says, “oh, Harrington,” in the most unhelpful way ever.

Steve looks down at their linked fingers, and it suddenly occurs to him exactly which finger it is that next to the pinky finger. Oh. Oh, well. Eddie doesn’t understand what it means...and it’s not like Steve isn’t all in anyway at this point. Not that they can even get married but...he looks up, happening to make eye contact with Robin, who has the most ‘what the fuck?’ look on her face Steve’s ever seen.

Steve eyes her back, ‘not now.’

He gets some world class shit eye in return.

All of Steve’s gifts are...standard. Fairly thoughtful, but mostly just...standard. The toiletries he likes. Some cleaning stuff for his car. Another, not home made, new sweater.

Eddie on the other hand, makes absolute bank. Notebooks, coloring books, pencils and pens. A nice case to keep all of his stationary in. A four pack of fancy beer from Hopper of all people. Plus books, granted, they’re all kids books, but they’re perfect. Steve figures Eddie isn’t that far off learning to read, he has been nailing the alphabet for a little while now.

One of Eddie’s gifts from Robin is a calendar; it’s full of pictures of month appropriate trees. Steve sees cherry blossoms and ripe apples and snow covered firs as Eddie flicks through, reading the months out loud. “That’s a whole year,” Steve tells him, once Eddie has haltingly read out, ‘December,’ “we can write important things in there.”

Eddie perks up, “Eddidie Birthday?”

“Yeah, you want Christmas Eve?”

Eddie nods, and once Steve finds the right box on the right page, Eddie uses one of his new pens to, very carefully, write his name in the box. “Birthday?”

“How to spell birthday?”

Eddie nods, “letters.”

Steve tells him, one slow letter at a time, as Eddie writes it out, showing everyone proudly once he’s done.

Eddie insists on inspecting every single gift thoroughly, and saying thank you, before tucking it all around himself on the couch, like a little dragon with his tiny hoard.

Steve sighs when Eddie unwraps a VHS of ‘Splash,’ from Jon. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m hilarious,” Jon replies, deadpan.

Part twenty

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature

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bring-forth-his-sac · 6 months ago

Text

ok so I saw this mouth watering gif and wrote a small drabble for it but with Negan instead of Jason Crouse

(warning: kinda nsfw)

“What are you reading?!”.

You stand in the doorway of the bedroom, mouth agape at the confusing sight you’re met with. In front of you is Negan, still in bed after your morning romp, but with an old newspaper in his hands from when the world still worked.

Negan gives a slight shrug. There’s a mischievous smirk on his lips that tells you he’s pleased with your reaction.

“What?" he replies innocently, pretending to not understand your surprise. "I'm just keeping up with what’s happening in the world, Sweetcheeks" Negan casually flips to the next page, acting as if the newspaper isn’t at least a couple years old.

“But where did you even get that?” you question, coming closer to the bed “Do you have a stack of old newspapers just laying around?”.

Negan adjusts his glasses as he responds, "One of my men found it on the last supply run. Why, you interested in giving it a read when I'm finished?".

You decide to play along, lounging across the end of the bed and propping your head up with your elbow. "Anything interesting in there?" your tone is one of mock curiosity.

Negan thinks for a moment, skimming the contents of the page in front of him. “The Yankees won again, a murder here, another war there,” he says uninterested before slowly trailing off “and… oh shit…”.

As much as you don’t want to give him the satisfaction, your head perks up as he hesitates.

Negan's gaze slowly shifts from the newspaper to you, his expression growing sombre. In a quiet voice you ask, "Yeah... what else?". Your question hangs in the air, a few beats of silence passing before Negan answers you.

“... Stock market’s down”.

You immediately scoff, realizing you've been duped. "Well, damn. I fell hook, line, and sinker for that one," you mumble, shaking your head.

"I don’t know how I’ll go on," Negan declares dramatically, fully committed to maintaining his facade. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you, unable to hide the amusement in his eyes.

You stretch out before slowly crawling closer to him, a teasing smile on your lips. "I’m guessing you’ll need some time to properly process this heartbreaking news, huh?" you quip, moving towards him with a hint of playfulness.

"If only I had some kind of distraction..." Negan laments, pretending to be lost in thought as he continues “Some kinda hot distraction that has a nice ass…”

Acting quickly, you straddle him and swipe the newspaper from his hands, tossing it aside onto the bedroom floor. “Stock market might be down but I can definitely feel something else coming up” you grind your hips against him, feeling his stiffening arousal.

Negan grins widely as you continue to move against him. "You think this is gonna make the headlines?" he teases, his hands cupping your ass and slowly kneading the soft skin.

You roll your eyes, already anticipating the barrage of puns that are sure to come. "Don't even," you warn and before he can speak, you lean in and kiss him passionately, effectively silencing any further attempts to make a joke.

Negan eagerly returns the kiss, savoring the sensation of your lips. Without hesitation, he cunningly slides his tongue into your mouth, the taste of him making your body ache for more.

As you bring your hand down to grip him, Negan resists the temptation to make another pun just yet. Instead, he decides to hold off on the inevitable one-liners until afterwards, unable to stop himself from giving you his full attention.

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heaven4lostgirls · 4 months ago

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Can I request a Regulus x Reader where they both get into a fight and he starts saying something in French which, normally ends the fight but, she's extremely pissed and instead of the argument ending she retorts back and continues on in another language(preferably Russian), while crying (bc she gets worked up easily) and he doesn't think anything of it bc she does this quite often, and at the end of pouring her heart out in another language she storms off. Regulus is shocked but, doesn't think much of it till he can't find her for several days which turns out, she's avoiding him bc she's genuinely upset. He gets a hold of her in the library a week later and talks things out with her calmly and she does end up breaking down again but in his arms this time.

I don't have a specific thing that the argument if over but maybe something along the lines of him lying/being secretive to her or maybe him not being completely open and kinda cold which is making her feel bad and slightly unloved.

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

summary: request above!

warnings: mentions of blood purity, sirius running away and regulus being traumatized, also all translations were done using google translate (sorry)

word count: 2.1K

a/n: loved this ask, hope it measures up to what you wanted!

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“Why won’t you just talk to me!” you plead as you rush after Regulus. Something had been off the past couple of days, he was pulling away from you and you had no idea why.

You knew what Regulus was like when he self-isolated, and this was exactly that. He was closed off, cold and frankly not the boy you knew.

He seemed to start walking faster at the sound of your voice as his hands clenched around his textbooks.

“Regulus!” you pleaded as your grasped onto his robes to pull him to stop outside of the Slytherin common room.

“Don’t touch me!” he spun around and hissed at you. You gasped in shock at the cold glare on his face as you pulled your hand back shakily.

“Sorry” you murmured as you looked at your feet, “I needed to get you attention” you added.

You could see a flicker of pain pass through his eyes before his emotionless mask was put back in place.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” He simply stated and you just blinked at him.

“…Okay.” You acquiesced before looking at him straight, “Why?”

He fixed you with an unbothered upturn of his chin, “Why? Why what?”

You took a deep breath before answering, he really was staring to piss you off.

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“I’m busy” he replied impatiently, and you couldn’t believe it.

Busy? Since when? He hadn’t spoken to you in over 3 days and his only reply was that he was ‘busy’. Bullshit.

“Bullshit.” You scoff and watch as shock graces his features.

“Too busy to let your own sodding girlfriend know you’re alright?” you ask as you jab a finger into his chest.

He only maintains his unbothered façade as he watches you uninterestedly.

“Fucking say something then!” you yell.

All he can do is roll his eyes.

“You’re being emotional Y/N. it’s unbecoming of a pureblood lady, did your mother teach you anything?” he scoffs snidely, and you can feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“You’re being mean Regulus.” You say with a quiver in your voice and watch as his face falls a bit at the tears in your eyes.

“Mon amour-” Regulus starts as he lifts his hand to cup your face, but you can only shake your head as you push him away as you wipe your own eyes.

Regulus’ heart aches at the sight of your tears and you refusing his affection, so he reverts to his roots, something he knows you have a weak spot for.

“Désolé mon amour, pouvons-nous en finir avec ça s'il te plaît ? Je n'avais pas l'intention de te faire pleurer.” Regulus says softly and waits for your tears to dry and for you to lift your head with that shy smile he loves so much. [I’m sorry my love, can we be done with this please? I didn’t mean to make you cry]

Only, you don’t. You seem to freeze at the sound of his French and your gaze grows cold and despondent.

You drop your hands from your cheeks as you straighten and look at him. The anger in your eyes has him double checking, he’s so used to his French being able to get through to you.

You always enjoyed the fact that the both of you were bilingual, a commonality between each other that was cherished.

But you had grown tired of Regulus using it against you to sweet talk you into forgiving him for every misgiving.

“Иди на хуй” you hiss and watch as shock spreads over his features. [fuck you.]

“Ты не можешь просто так сидеть там и сладко разговаривать со мной по-французски после каждой ссоры. Особенно после того, как я провела последние три дня, думая, что ты всё еще меня любишь. Ты не имеешь права мне в лицо говорить, что я чистокровная. Кстати, спойлер: ты тоже! Не думай, что я твоя песочница, которая будет молчать и терпеть твои истерики только потому, что ты Блэк.” You speak sharply and unwavering as he looks at you dumbfoundedly. [You don't get to sit there and sweet talk me in French after every argument. Not after I've spent the last three days wondering if you still love me. you don't get to throw it in my face that I'm a pureblood. which, spoiler alert! so are you! Don't mistake me for one your lapdogs that will sit back and take your temper tantrums just because you're a Black.]

He tries to reach for you but all you can do is push him away as you walk through the door of the Slytherin common room and into your dorm where you lay in your bed and sob.

The following days are monotonous at best, you get up, go to your classes, avoid Regulus at any given chance and go back to your dorm.

People have clearly picked up that something had happened between the two of you. Besides the fact that Regulus had tried looking for you anytime he was outside of his dorm, asking everyone you knew if they knew where you were, Barty and Evan had stopped by your dorm to ask why they had stopped seeing you around.

You had politely told them a shortened version of what had gone on and waved them out of the dorm before they could utter another word, only catching a glimpse of their sympathetic expressions.

Regulus had thus figured out that you were ignoring him, purposefully. Barty and Evan had given him shit as soon as they had walked into the dorms that same evening after having talked with you.

They watched in live time as Regulus’ already deathly pale face drained even more. Sure, he thought the fight was bad, but he had never not been given the chance to apologise and make it right with you.

The fight hadn’t really been weighing on his mind until now. Most couples fought, and this fight was just another one your lovers’ spats right? He’d apologise and you’d forgive him, like you always did…right?

That also proved wrong as Regulus couldn’t seem to find you anywhere for the next days, and by Merlin did he try. He waited outside of your classes until he had to be threatened by professors or prefects with detention.

He tried to catch your gaze during lessons, but you had pointedly decided to not look away from your textbooks.

He had tried to walk up to you and your friends at lunch but had been met with multiple wands to the face and threats of hexes he doubted were actually real the more he thought about it.

All until it finally culminated to the highest form of desperation, asking his brother for help. To the shock of Regulus, his brother had actually been somewhat of a genius as he leant Regulus two very invaluable items.

“Of course, you have one of the deathly hallows” Regulus sighed as he grasped the cloak Sirius held out to him with a shit eating grin as he opened his mouth to begin to explain.

“I do not care to know of where you got it from, I only care that you have it and that it helps me accomplish what I need” Regulus says simply and watches delightfully as Sirius’ smile drops into a pitiful pout.

Regulus tilts his head towards the blank parchment in his brother’s hand which brings back the smile on his face as he shows Regulus how the map works.

Regulus is unfortunately impressed with the magic, not that he would ever admit it. He haphazardly expressed his gratitude in a simple “Thank you” and a hug that lasts too long in Regulus’ opinion.

He uses the map the next day to find you in the library, fortunately alone and in a secluded section. He quickly throws the cloak over his form as he walks briskly towards the library.

His exhales shakily as he glances at the map multiple times to make sure you don’t leave.

As he reaches the door to the library, he waits for a student to walk out as he sneaks past and towards the seating area where you sit.

His heart flutters as he catches sight of you, even focused and clearly sleep-deprived he thinks you may be an angel sent just for him.

He walks quietly towards you as he stops right behind you. He takes a quick look around and notices everyone else in the library conveniently far enough away that they would not be distracted about his next actions.

In an uncoordinated movement he grasps your hand and tugs you out of your chair. You yelp and try to tug your arm out the invisible force holding you captive.

“Merlin and Morgana both!” you hear being hissed in front of you as you’re pulled towards a secluded corner in the library by the force. You push your heels into the carpeted floor of the library and hear a grunt and what sounds like a “fucking hell” before you reach the corner.

Regulus quickly whips the cloak off his body and watches as shock passes through your face before you compose yourself and turn to walk off.

“Wait!” Regulus pleads and tugs at your hand again. You turn back to fix your gaze on where his hand rests and he pulls it off immediately.

You turn back to him and make a motion with your hand for him to ‘get on with it.’ He nods before starting to talk.

“I wanted to apologise, I didn’t realise I had hurt you- no, Well I did. I just didn’t really care- Wait! That’s not what I meant, I just meant that I’m a dick, and I hurt you which is not what I meant and I understand that you’re upset-” he rambles and you have to conceal your snort of laughter with a cough as he looks up in embarrassment

“Regulus” you interrupt him, and he stops immediately, back straightening and looking at you with a kicked puppy expression.

“What are you doing?” you sigh.

He looks confused, “Apologising?” he asks.

You shake your head, “do you even know why I’m upset?” you ask tiredly.

“I was being rude to you which, okay, yes but-” he starts again, and you can only shake your head again.

“I’m upset because you made me feel unloved” you state and watch as he gapes for a bit before shutting his jaw with a click.

“What?” he asks.

“You were ignoring me” you start, and you can feel your eyes beginning to burn again as you look up and try to blink your tears away before continuing.

“You stopped talking to me Regulus. I spent three days waiting and waiting and waiting for you to come to me, I kept asking you to talk to me, to tell me what was wrong you just didn’t” you say helplessly as tears fall down your face.

You wrap your arms around your middle as you watch him look at you with a heartbroken expression.

“Y/N” he pleads, and you can only shake your head.

“Y-you threw my blood purity in my face when you know it doesn’t matter to me. You were so cold, and so m-mean” you sniffle and wipe your tears as they cascade down your face.

Regulus lets out a wounded sound and goes to wrap his arms around you before thinking better and letting them fall limply to his sides.

“You were so mean; I was just trying to help, and you made me think I was stupid for caring about you!” you say, and you watch as tears well in Regulus’ eyes.

“So yes you were rude” you say with a sniff before adding, “but you made me feel so inferior” you whisper as you cry.

You don’t hear Regulus move but when you start to blink blearily, there’s Slytherin robes in front of you and the smell of Regulus’ expensive cologne in your nostrils.

“Can I hold you?” he whispers, and you throw yourself into his arms as you cry into his sweater.

He holds you tightly as he runs his hands through your hair, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he murmurs into your hair as he rubs your back.

As your crying reduces to small sniffled, you pull back with an embarrassed smile.

“Hi love” Regulus murmurs as he cups your face, you go to speak but Regulus just shakes his head, “my turn now, please?” he asks softly and all you can do is nod.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I was having a bad day- week, rather- but that doesn’t excuse how I treated you, I’ve never had someone to talk to, especially since, well, since Sirius left home really. It’s always been easier to shut down and isolate than talk about what’s going on, and I guess Barty and Evan have never been those friends to talk about emotions either so I never realised that I could with you?” he says ashamedly and all you can do is nod softly.

“I’ll do better, I promise, I’ll try to talk to you, it won’t be easy but I need you to know that I’m willing to try if you’re willing to let me make it up to you?” he asks hopefully.

You smile softly before letting out a small, “Yeah”

He opens his mouth to talk again and all you can do is hug him.

“It’s okay, well, not how you spoke to me, but us, we’re okay” you murmur into his neck, and you can feel his smile as he squeezes you tighter.

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

“yeah” you reply as you snuggle into him.

“You’re still a bitch for sneaking up on me though” you add.

#juliwrites #marauders #harry potter #regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x reader angst #regulus black angst #regulus black hurt/comfort #regulus black x fem!reader #regulus black drabble #regulus black and sirius black angst #black brothers angst

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baestruly · 1 month ago

Text

the difference between calls ━━ peter sutherland

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ) peter sutherland x fem!reader

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ IN WHICH there’s an obvious comparison between peter’s first call from you and a call he receives when you are together. when it comes to your safety, peter doesn't play.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - hurt/comfort, panic attacks, kidnapping, reader is rose's sister

𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 ━━━━━━━━

Peter sat at his desk, the pen tapping rhythmically against the worn wood. A mountain of paperwork loomed over him ━━ shit, he was behind on that, he never got much sleep, figuring it could wait as he stared blankly at the moving pen.

The sharp sound of ringing made his heart skip a beat. There was no covering the fact peter strived and wished he had a little more than just a desk job ━━ answering calls, more specifically ━━ he lived for the thrill. It was evident from his heart thundering in his chest. answering the night agent's phone was a step up from being a 911 operator, at least.

Until━━

“Go ahead.” He said smoothly, his pen turning in the same hand as he rested his elbow on the desk.

“Um━━uh, night action! night action━━”

The frantic voice on the other end made Peter stiff. The pen stopped twirling between his fingers.

“Yes, hello. Code, please.” He replied, like countless times before. Peter grabbed his binder out from under the desk on the shelf and opened it in front of him, flipping through the pages with his one free hand.

“Please, you have to help up━━oh my god, my sister━━me━━they’re coming after us!” If even possible, the voice was more frantic, gasps heaving in and out from what Peter recognized as a panic attack or something along the lines.

This didn’t seem like his usual business toned atmosphere once he answered. It sounded like they had got the wrong number, he never dealt with situations like this, especially from people who didn’t seem like they knew what to do with the number and him across the line.

“Ma'am, if you don’t have a code━━it seems like you have the wrong number━━”

“No! I have ur flippi━━I have the code gimme a second.” The girl spat. Peter bites his cheek as he hears whispering on the phone━━likely the woman’s sister. “Okay! It’s table, clock, water, fire. You got it, did you━━”

“Yes, I got it.” Peter interrupted, eyes flying through pages in a matter of seconds. Settling on the 80th page, he looks at the code that was given to him. “Is this Benwire or Ramese?”

“What? What even is that?” A pause followed, filled with nervous energy. “They just told us to tell you the code; I don’t know who these people are?”

More whispering ━━ frantically. Peter’s chest tightened as he heard sobbing in the background. This sounded like something 911 would have to deal with.

“What street did your friend Morsese live on?”

The question just seemed to make the hyperventilating worse.

“Maam, are you okay? I can dispatch you to 911 if you’re in any dang ━━ ”

“No, they told us to call you ━━ this number, they made sure of it! God knows they’re probably fucking dead.”

“Whose they?” Peter sat up straighter, urgency sharpening his instincts as he abandoned the paperwork

“Our aunt and uncle, Emma and Henry. Campbell. Emma and Henry Campbell.”

Peter bit his cheek more, holding the phone in a wave of silence. It was clear this girl was probably on the brink of passing out; she wasn’t breathing right. But she wasn’t the only one clueless, Peter had no idea who she was talking about either.

Peter always had his protective instinct towards others in danger ━━ it came in hand with him working in the FBI. If this girl's aunt and uncle told her to call the line it could have some relevance in later reports━━but he wasn’t going to hang up on her yet.

“Hello━━?”

“I’m here. Run me through what’s happening, who’s after you?” Peter asked, his tone less harsh, preparing to do what he thinks he’s always done best ━━ just like on the metro ━━ save people.

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 ━━━━━━━━━

There was something Peter should be used to ━━ but now, with you in his life ━━ he never could be. It was the constant stress he was under, with you being associated with him and not knowing the minute something could blow up and ruin everything.

Ruin your life.

It’s why Peter has such a hard time leaving you in your guy’s apartment every day so he can go to work. In that shitty basement when he would much rather be spending every growing second by your side, ready to jump at anything that could put you in harm's way.

Everything in the white house was total shit ━━ no one could trust anyone. But it’s been a few months since the attack at Camp David. Peter was offered a job as a night agent to serve in the field ━━ but decided to keep it safe, taking smaller jobs in the white house assigned by the president after what seemed like an ongoing thank you ever since he helped save her from the bombs.

But he had no complaints ━━ and neither did you. He’s looked happier than he ever has, coming home and wrapping his big arms around you was his favourite part of the day, inhaling the soft vanilla scents of your (y/h/c) hair, bringing him to the present and the reality of it all, how the world brought him to you ━━ even in the worst circumstances.

Peter had no idea that these circumstances would repeat themselves.

After kissing you goodnight, he headed out, waiting the usual time he did outside the office door as the clock hit midnight.

Peter nodded to his coworker in a firm greeting before entering and closing the door. He wasn’t sure how much time passed once he sat in that seat ━━ but the calls were quiet as they had been for the past few days. He didn’t work as much time on the phone as how Diane assigned him ━━ he got to get out a bit and work on other things, too.

Then, after not hearing the old ━━ but familiar ring for a while, Peter’s head snaps towards it as it shakes once. He grabbed it quickly, unable to stop himself from imagining he could be on the other end.

“Hello━━”

“Peter Sutherland.”

Peter’s brows snap together in alert and confusion, blinking a few times before shifting and resting his elbow on the table.

“Code, please.” He’s said it many times before.

“This is going to go very differently.” But he’s never heard that.

There’s a muffled scream.

Or that. Was it━━

Fuck, he was not doing this, not today. Immediately, he jumped up, his chair flying back and almost hitting the back grey wall.

“Who the fuck are you ━━ if you do anything to her ━━”

“Yes, yes, I've heard that line many times before, during your whole night agent spiel a few months ago…you guys are really cute, the perfect partners in crime.” He laughed, it sounded awful, painful even. Peter’s head was racing, which seemed to match his heart. “Even recognized your scream right away, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

That was it. Peter pushed the chair out of his way as he paced around the room, fists balling together. He could hear your cries in the background, and his mind brought him back ━━ when you had been so scared, being prone to panic attacks under stress.

And he couldn’t do a single fucking thing right now because he wasn’t already there.

“Just tell me what you know about what happened with your dad, and then━━”

“Fuck you.” Peter spat, hands angrily raking through his hair ━━ he hated how the caller knew how to get under his skin but he wasn’t going to let his guard down when it came to you, he needed to think ━━ he had to.

“Ooh! we’ve got a bite. That’s not what the lovely lady wants to hear as her last words, I'm sure.”

There's more shuffling.

“Peter━━Peter,” your voice cracks, twisting into a desperate whisper, raw and fractured. “Please come back.”

Peter’s heart stops hearing your voice in such a state, eyes widening with stress and concern. He can’t even picture you right now or he might have to sit down. He knew he could stall the caller to buy them some time so they could get to you without alerting him.

“Hey ━━ hey, baby, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, and I'm going to be there, you gotta hold on for me, I know you can.” Peter abandons his usual name for you after that sick man used it as a taunt towards you, he couldn’t cloud your vision and get his voice mixed up with the callers in your already jumbled brain. He knew how terrified you were because he’s seen it through the countless sleepless nights and panic attacks. But it was all coming true, and Peter wanted to curse himself for letting this even happen, your worst nightmares that he promised so deeply to protect you from.

A sniffle escapes from your end, the silence hanging heavy, a chilling agreement that doubles as a ticking clock. Peter thinks before hearing an even quieter whisper, barely heard.

“He’s got a gun━━took down both guards, but I think he’s planning on jumping out the big window, his buddy is coming in his truck.”

Your voice is extremely shaky, but Your words shake him to his core. Peter steadies himself, whispering, “Okay.” Stopping his frantic pacing, he speaks as clearly as his racing heart allows. “(y/n), we’re coming for you. The FBI will surround the house, but I need to hang up and alert everyone. Just nod like you’re still on the phone with me until he takes it, alright, baby?”

Your voice quivered in return with a sniff, yes. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and slammed the phone down without a second thought, running to the conference room to get someone to immediately track the call in case he kept the phone on him if they got to the truck ━━ shit ━━ before they could. If anything, they could trace the calls or texts he’s made to his buddy.

He was running like a madman ━━ alerting the night agent team members. It was all a blur once he grabbed his gun and vest and drove out of there, police sirens going off everywhere and other agents' SUVS speeding close behind him.

Peter jumps out of the car, barely having time to slam his car door closed as he’s already looking at the fifth-floor windows ━━ wondering what the fuck you meant by jumping out the fucking window into his buddy's truck? Because if you had anything to do with being entangled in that escape, this man would never see the end of it. He would hunt him down ━━ but he wouldn’t kill him. He’d make him live with horrible bruises and broken bones, and once he goes to the hospital, he’s taken to jail for not only assault but for interfering with private information and everything that happened with his father.

This man would never see the fucking light because of how many times Peter would knock him flat out.

Raising his gun, he carefully follows behind many other agents dressed in all black, whipping his gun in all open doors as he runs down the hallway and up the flights upstairs ━━ orders being yelled in the background.

His legs were outrunning his brain, screaming at him to stop running because of how exhausted he was ━━ but finally, he reached the door. “FBI, OPEN THIS DOOR━━”

“Peter!” Your panicked scream breaks through the noise, the sound driving him to force the door open, gun at the ready, prepared to confront whatever horror lay inside.

But then he sees you.

In an instant, his gun drops to his side as he looks down at you, arms tied around the banister in the middle of the kitchen and living room. You know you must have looked like total shit as he abandons any proper FBI protocol and falls beside you, concerned eyes locking with yours as if they’re holding onto you for the only source of comfort while his hands untie yours quickly.

Your glossy eyes, stinging with tears and probably drugs from how drowsy you were feeling for the past hour, started pooling with tears. It definitely wasn’t because of the drugs.

You choked out a sob, one that's been buried in your chest for what feels like forever, as you startled into a coughing fit once Peter immediately wrapped his arms around you, staying kneeled on the ground because you had no energy to even attempt to stand, you were too shaky and would probably collapse the moment you put any weight on your legs.

“You’re here; you made it back.” You whisper into his shoulder, already soaked with tears, breath hitching as your body trembles against his.

You could feel Peter’s relieved smile. “I know, I’m here. I’m so sorry this happened sweeth━━”

He paused as if something shocked him.

“Peter, it’s okay━━”

“No ━━ no, it’s not.” He was still knelt, now facing you once you pulled away, hand rubbing his temples. “You’ve been traumatized enough, and me not taking the night agent job ━━ I could’ve been here, protecting you. But I left you, now he’s messed with your head, I can tell.”

You shut your eyes tight, a quiet sigh escaping you, and that sigh only serves to unleash a fresh wave of tears, cascading down your cheeks. Despite Peter’s stressed state, he softly wiped them away.

“You’re perfect. Your head, how you think ━━ everything about you, (y/n), and when somebody messes with that, it messes me up because I cannot physically allow myself to let that happen to you.” He takes your hands in his gently, turning them first and looking around your body for any signs of harm. You hated how he beat himself up for not being able to protect you. But he did help, he found you, and his idea about staying on the phone bought the other agents some time to track him down.

You wince to yourself upon noticing he’s looking at the ━━ what are probably now ━━ agonizing bruises on your jaw and throat. You’ve taken punches before. It wasn’t anything new, they hurt like a bitch, though.

Peter’s thumb glides against the tender, purple skin as his other fingers come to the back of your head in your hair, just behind your ear, and you lean into his comforting touch. “I’m sorry.” He wretched, keeping his hand in your hair and bringing your head to his chest.

The two of you sit just like that, grounding yourselves through each other's mangled breaths.

The right people can cloud right judgement is what Peter’s father always said. It makes your job harder when you have someone to lose. Peter made a promise to himself that night as you both lay under the covers, his thumb running circles over your knuckles.

He promised himself he wouldn’t work behind that shitty desk again.

Then, he would visit that sick man behind bars.

masterlist peter sutherland masterlist

ty for reading!

#imagine #peter sutherland #peter sutherland x reader #peter sutherland x you #peter sutherland x y/n #peter sutherland imagine #peter sutherland oneshot #peter sutherland imagines #the night agent #the night agent imagines #the night agent fanfic #fanfic #oneshots #writing #hurt/comfort

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luxerians · 2 months ago

Text

The Last Mask (09)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 09 - Purpose

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 10

PREV : Chapter 08

For a moment, you felt yourself drifting, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Or maybe you were already asleep. But then, after what felt like twenty minutes, you heard movement. Someone stepped cautiously on your mattress, careful not to touch you, and Jun-hee’s voice broke the quiet.

“Mr. Seong, I need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s too dangerous to go by yourself,” Gi-hun replied immediately.

You stirred, sitting up slowly with groggy eyes. “I’ll go with you.”

“It’s okay, big sis,” Jun-hee replied, sounding a little guilty for waking you.

Shaking off your drowsiness, you carefully got up from the mattress.

“I needed to go to the restroom too, actually,” you said which was a lie. You just wanted to accompany the pregnant Jun-hee.

Jun-hee hesitated for a moment before nodding. With that, Gi-hun stepped aside, giving you both room to pass as you headed toward the door to the ladies’ restroom.

“Oh, we can go together,” a voice chimed in.

You and Jun-hee turned to see player 149 – the mother – walking over with a wide grin. She moved toward you two with a relaxed stride through the open area of the dormitory. Both you and Jun-hee bowed your heads politely as she joined you.

The three of you reached the restroom door, and Jun-hee knocked softly. When there was no immediate response, she knocked again, a little louder this time. Finally, the circular window on the door slid open, revealing a triangle-masked guard who peered out at you all in silence.

“We need to use the bathroom,” stated Jun-hee.

“No,” the guard answered solemnly. “Entry and exit are restricted at this time.”

Jun-hee added, “Please. I’m not feeling very well.”

The guard repeated, “No. Entry and exit are restricted at this time.”

Player 149 rushed to move in front of Jun-hee, deciding to talk to the guard herself. “Look. Mr. Triangle, even though you’re wearing a weird mask, you’re still human, aren’t you? In the outside world, you might have a sister like them and a mom like me. When ladies say they need to use the bathroom, it’s for reasons they can’t tell you.”

You and Jun-hee rapidly nodded your head.

“If you can’t understand that, you shouldn’t even call yourself human,” said the mother. “You really shouldn’t.”

Suddenly, the guard closed the window without a word, shutting the three of you out.

The mother’s voice broke the silence, frail and filled with emotion. “Listen. Ever since I entered my 60s, I’ve had bladder control issues. I can’t go out without wearing a diaper, but I couldn’t bring any of the things I need here. Do you really have to make me wet myself?

“Imagine if I was your mother, Mr. Triangle. You wouldn’t do that to your mother. I came here because of my son’s debt. I should at least get to pee when I want, shouldn’t I?”

Her voice rose as she cried out, “What did I do in my previous life to deserve—”

Before she could finish, the door swung open, revealing a triangle-masked guard holding their weapon. The mother’s face lit up with gratitude as she grinned appreciatively.

As the three of you stepped past the door, another presence approached from behind. You turned to see player 120.

“Can I come too?” she asked the guard directly.

Jun-hee gave her a long stare but the mother quickly spoke up. “Oh, that’s okay. She’s a woman. Her name is Hyun-ju.”

She’s the one I was hiding behind during Red Light, Green Light. So her name is Hyun-ju, you thought.

The four of you were guided by another triangle guard to the ladies’ restroom. Along the way, the mother walked close to Jun-hee, gently asking about her family and if her parents might be worried about her.

Jun-hee’s reply was distant. “I don’t have any. I have no parents.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. The mother’s concern didn’t waver. Once inside the restroom, she turned to Jun-hee again. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.”

Jun-hee hesitated before she said, “It’s okay.”

She turned and entered the cubicle. You couldn’t help but notice that Jun-hee seemed comfortable with you but kept a distance from player 149. Her earlier words played in your mind, and you figured she’d never experienced a mother’s love. Having someone act so caringly toward her must have felt strange, maybe even overwhelming. It was no surprise she’d pull away.

“Is she sick or something?” Hyun-ju asked lowly, glancing between you and the mother.

The mother stepped closer to her and whispered, “She’s pregnant.”

Hyun-ju’s jaw dropped, her gaze snapping to Jun-hee’s cubicle. The mother added, “I think she’s almost due.”

She then turned her attention to you. “Did you know?”

You nodded. “She told me and the others. We took her in instantly.”

The mother sighed, a look of relief crossing her face. “I’m glad. I can see you and the other guys have been taking good care of her.”

Her tone shifted, growing more urgent. “If you notice anything wrong with her, like she’s sick, unwell, or if her water breaks, please let me know. I’ve handled childbirths a few times in the past.”

You smiled warmly and nodded. “I will.”

The mother returned your smile, hers even warmer, before she headed into a nearby cubicle. You glanced at Hyun-ju, who was still staring at Jun-hee’s cubicle. Her expression was hard to read, but you couldn’t help but think she looked a little shocked, maybe even guilty. Perhaps the thought of voting for O, knowing there was a pregnant girl among the players, was weighing on her.

After finishing your business, you stepped out of the cubicle and noticed Hyun-ju at the sink, washing her hands and face. You joined her, standing side by side as you began to wash up as well.

The silence between you felt heavy, even though you were only inches apart. You wondered if she was distant because of her recent experiences after transitioning. It seemed like she only trusted the teammates she’d worked with during the Seven Legs Hexathlon. Maybe she was wary of you too.

Player 149 emerged from her cubicle and went to wash her hands. As she finished, her gaze shifted toward Jun-hee’s cubicle.

“Is she still in there?” she asked.

You and Hyun-ju both nodded. “Yeah.”

That’s when you realized Jun-hee had been in there for quite a while. Concern began to settle in. Stepping away from the sink, you watched as the mother approached the door and knocked gently.

“Miss? Are you alright?” she called. When there was no response, she knocked again, her tone growing more worried. “Are you okay in there? Is something wrong?”

You moved closer, your concern deepening. The mother pressed her ear against the door, listening carefully. Then you heard it. Faint sobs and quiet whimpers.

The mother slowly pushed the door open. From where you stood, you couldn’t see Jun-hee clearly, but the sound of her crying was unmistakable now that the door was ajar.

Player 149 hurried inside, her voice full of concern. “Oh dear. What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Is your belly hurting?”

You stepped forward until you were standing just outside the door. Jun-hee sat on the toilet, her posture slumped. It seemed like she’d finished her business long ago but had stayed in the cubicle. Her quiet sobs tugged at your heart, and you frowned, deeply worried for her.

“Oh, no. Your baby must be coming,” the mother assumed, crouching in front of Jun-hee. She gently placed a hand on her belly while rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. “Listen, tell me where and how it hurts.”

Jun-hee kept her gaze fixed downward, her tears falling freely. Her pale face was flushed from crying, and she didn’t look up at the mother. Her voice came out in a broken whimper. “I’m scared…”

Your chest tightened at her words. You could tell this wasn’t about labor. She wasn’t due to give birth. She was terrified. For herself, for her unborn baby. The fear of dying in this game while carrying her child finally exploded the moment she got a moment of privacy.

The mother leaned forward, wrapping Jun-hee in a full embrace. Finally, Jun-hee gave in, leaning into her comfort, her sobs muffled against the mother’s shoulder. The older woman began consoling her softly. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Your heart warmed at the sight of Jun-hee finally giving in to the mother’s affection. You didn’t dare to intervene because she needed this. She needed a mother figure to soothe her fears and worries. Jun-hee might have never experienced a mother’s love before, but now she finally had it.

Aside from that, watching Jun-hee cry so openly, held tightly in the mother’s arms, stirred something deep within you. Your eyes began to brim with tears. The scene made you miss your own mother terribly. The longing to see your parents, to embrace them, overwhelmed you. The thought of being so close to never seeing them again, to never telling them everything you’d always wanted to say, hit you like a wave. And then there was Ji-yoo. Small and fragile, so much like Jun-hee.

If you die in this game, who will take care of Ji-yoo and your parents?

A tear slid down your cheek before you even noticed. You quickly wiped it away, hoping no one saw. From the corner of your eye, you caught Hyun-ju walking closer. She stopped a few steps away, her expression one of quiet astonishment as she watched the mother and Jun-hee.

Once Jun-hee had calmed down, her face still red and streaked with dried tears, she and the mother stepped out of the cubicle. Without hesitation, you pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close to your chest. Her pregnant belly pressed gently against your abdomen.

Jun-hee accepted your embrace and began sobbing again, her quiet sniffles muffled against your shoulder. Beside you, the mother reached out, patting Jun-hee’s back and your shoulder in a soothing gesture.

“Everything will be okay,” you murmured softly, brushing Jun-hee’s hair with your fingers. “We’ll prioritize you no matter what. You have a mother here who’s so worried about you. You have me. And you have a bunch of caring uncles. We’ll protect you and your baby.”

Jun-hee sniffled, nodding slightly into your shoulder, her grip on you tightening as if to draw strength from your words.

The four of you exited the restroom together. You kept one arm around Jun-hee’s shoulders as you made your way back into the darkened dormitory. The mother walked alongside you while Hyun-ju lingered awkwardly behind. Her concern was evident but she was hesitant. She seemed unsure whether Jun-hee would accept comfort from her.

Gi-hun, still on watch, noticed you immediately. His wide, bewildered eyes followed your small group as he got up from his seat on the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

The mother rested a gentle hand on your back, helping guide you and Jun-hee toward your sleeping spot.

“It’s nothing,” she reassured him, her tone calm but firm. “The little lady here was just overwhelmed. But I’m sure you and the others will take good care of her.”

The mother stopped beside Gi-hun, her gaze following his as he watched Jun-hee. You helped Jun-hee lie down on her mattress, pulling her blanket up to her chest as she gently rested her hands on her belly. In a soothing voice, you told her, “Go to sleep, Jun-hee. Let’s do our best tomorrow.”

Jun-hee’s teary eyes met yours, and she nodded without speaking. Turning to her side, she closed her eyes, her breathing gradually evening out.

The mother nodded approvingly, placing a reassuring hand on Gi-hun’s back. She then said softly, “In that case, I’ll head back to bed now.”

She turned to you, her tone serious. “If anything happens to her, tell me immediately.”

You stood up from beside Jun-hee and stepped closer to the mother. Offering her a warm smile, you replied, “Yes, I will. Thank you for everything.”

“It’s nothing,” she said with a light wave of her hand. “Good night, then.”

You and Gi-hun nodded as she turned and walked toward her bed. Hyun-ju followed behind, likely because her spot was near the mother’s.

Gi-hun turned to you before he nodded to your spot and said calmly. “Go back to sleep. I’m still keeping watch.”

You nodded and settled onto your mattress, watching as Gi-hun returned to his spot, blocking the only path leading into your group's sleeping area. He sat with his back hunched a bit, his eyes focused on the darkened dormitory.

You were about to lie down when your gaze lingered on his back. Questions churned in your mind, ones you’d been wanting to ask but never found the right moment. His solemn, brooding demeanor had always made you hesitate.

But now, with the dormitory quiet and the others asleep, it felt like the perfect time to finally ask.

“Gi-hun,” you called softly, making sure to use his ssi honorific. He turned his head, glancing at you over his shoulder with a look of mild surprise, likely wondering why you weren’t asleep. Crawling off your mattress, you settled next to him, crossing your legs as you spoke. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

His solemn expression softened slightly as he nodded. “Yeah, what is it?”

You hugged your knees to your chest, hesitating before continuing. “I’m sorry if this brings up bad memories, but… what was your last time here like?”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened, and he stared at you, unblinking. He seemed caught off guard, as though the question had taken him somewhere he didn’t want to return to.

Trying to explain yourself, you added, “I want to know because… you seem very distant. Like you don’t want to be close to anyone here. But at the same time, you’re always trying to save everyone.”

He looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. His face took on a somber look that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you regretted asking. Quickly, you tried to backtrack. “Or… you don’t have to tell me. I’m just curious. Maybe you could just tell me what games you played here?”

Gi-hun stayed silent, and you couldn’t tell if he was sad or simply unwilling to answer. The weight of his unresponsiveness made you frown slightly, a pang of disappointment settling in your chest. Perhaps the bond you thought was forming wasn’t as strong as you’d hoped. Despite his offer to help with your debt, his walls were clearly still up.

Forcing a small smile, you turned your gaze forward and tried to lighten the mood. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Good night, Gi-hun.”

“I had a few friends here,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. You turned to look at him, surprised he’d decided to speak. His gaze remained fixed on the floor as he continued, “When I was here last time, I made friends. We were a group. We ate dinner together. We got to know each other’s names. We tried to survive as a group.”

His voice grew quieter. “But in the end, it didn’t matter. This place makes you choose between yourself and everyone else. And no matter how much you want to protect someone, it’s never enough.”

He paused, taking a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself. “We played Red Light, Green Light first. Then Dalgona. After that, Tug of War, Marbles…”

His voice faltered, and his hands twitched slightly.

You waited, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. Finally, he added, “By the end, it was just me and one other person. He… he was my best friend. But the last game…”

Gi-hun trailed off, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the memories were playing out there in front of him. You waited, giving him the space to continue. After about ten seconds, he finally spoke again. “This place turns everyone into something they’re not. It doesn’t matter how strong your friendship is. The games are designed to break it.”

“You said everyone here died except you as the winner,” you pointed out cautiously. “But I thought you could leave with a share of the prize if the majority votes for X.”

“In my time playing here, there was no such thing as a voting process after each game,” Gi-hun explained, his tone steady but heavy. “We had the same Clause Three in the consent form, but if we left, we got nothing.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What? You wouldn’t get a share if you left?”

Gi-hun turned to you, his expression serious as he nodded. “Yeah. After Red Light, Green Light, a lot of us voted to leave, and we did. But we got nothing. I was desperate, so I came back. Turned out, everyone else came back too.”

“So…” you stared off into space, processing his words. “They updated this game’s rules. Leaving with a share of the prize money is actually a new thing.”

Gi-hun nodded solemnly. “Yeah. And I have a feeling why the overseer of this game made that change.”

You leaned in slightly, curiosity burning in your chest. “Why?”

Gi-hun’s eyes flicked to the large TV screen above the double doors. “He wanted to prove to me that it’s not the games’ fault that the players die. It’s the players themselves. They’re the ones who choose to stay in this game, no matter how much they earn or how high the stakes get.”

Silence fell between you as his words sank in. The weight of his statements settled heavily in your mind, stirring even more questions. But you held them back, not wanting to push him further.

“Who is… the overseer of this game?” you asked carefully, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gi-hun kept his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable. “The one who controls this game. I’m sure the guards call him Captain.”

“Gi-hun,” you pressed, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “How do you know so much?”

He turned to you, his solemn eyes meeting yours. “I came back here for a reason. I will do whatever it takes to prove to this ‘Captain’… that the world has changed.”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the weight of his words. “Have you met this Captain?”

“Not directly,” he replied, his voice growling with restrained fury. “But he saw us like horses. Trashes, he said. We are just mere trashes to him.”

You turned your gaze away, your stomach churning at the thought. That’s all you are to them? Trash? The word made you feel small and insignificant. But then you caught the faintest sigh from Gi-hun, and when you glanced back, he was already staring at you.

“What?” you asked curiously.

His features softened slightly, and you felt a faint warmth radiate from his expression. It was like watching a heavy storm give way to the first rays of sunlight, momentary but impactful. You tilted your head to the side and blinked your eyes innocently.

“You know,” he began, his tone less severe now, “you remind me of someone.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Who?”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze distant as if recalling a memory. “A friend I met in my previous game. His name was Ali. He was kind, selfless, smiling. And strong. I almost died on my first Red Light, Green Light.”

He stretched his right arm out, forming a fist as he demonstrated. “I tripped on a corpse and stumbled, but he held me up by my collar. We froze like that. If it weren’t for him, I would have died.”

You watched him silently, noticing how his face softened at the memory. There was a quiet warmth in his expression, a rare glimpse of something lighter amidst the darkness. He retracted his arm and rested his forearms back on his raised knees.

“He must have been a kind guy,” you said softly.

“One of the kindest I’ve ever met,” Gi-hun replied. “He trusted too easily, though.”

You tilted your head slightly in innocent curiosity. “Is that why I reminded you of him? Because I trust too easily?”

Gi-hun turned to look at you, a faint smile forming at the corners of his lips. “No. It’s because you’re all smiles and helpful, even in this dark place.”

He paused, his smile fading slightly as he added, “He didn’t make it. But he showed me that even in the darkest times, there’s room for kindness.”

His words struck a chord, and a smile naturally formed on your lips. His own smile widened. What you didn’t realize was how much you reminded him of himself – back when he was bright, optimistic, and full of hope. In you, he saw a glimpse of the person he used to be.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, another presence loomed in the shadows. From his sleeping spot under the bed, Young-il lay awake. He had heard every word as he remained utterly still. The soft hum of the dormitory masked his presence, leaving you and Gi-hun oblivious to the silent observer just a few spaces away.

“Now go to sleep,” Gi-hun urged, his smile fading slightly. “If you want to keep watch later, you’d better get enough rest beforehand.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied playfully as you turned and crawled back to your mattress. “Good night.”

Gi-hun let out a soft sigh, the kind that hinted at exhaustion or maybe a bit of awkwardness from acting friendly after being so solemn for so long. Still, he muttered, “Night.”

Settling onto your mattress, you pulled the blanket snugly to your chest. Out of habit, your gaze drifted to your left where Young-il lay. The small, single-bed-sized mattresses meant everyone was fairly close, but his presence felt especially near.

Young-il was lying straight on his back, his forearms resting on his abdomen, his eyes closed. Even in sleep, there was something about his posture that made him seem oddly alert. It was like he was always ready for something.

You quickly looked away, turning to lie on your side, your back now facing him. Shutting your eyes, you tried to quiet your thoughts and focus on falling asleep.

A gentle shake stirred you from your sleep. A large hand rested lightly on your shoulder, nudging you awake. Then came a voice, calm and steady, calling your name:

“Sorry to disturb you, but if you’re too tired, it’s fine. I can cover your shift.”

You stirred, groaning softly as the sting of sleepiness hit you. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the dim light. Turning your head, you saw Young-il kneeling beside your mattress, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. His gaze was calm but insistent, waiting for your response.

The fog of sleep clung to you, making it feel as though you’d been dragged out of a deep, comforting slumber. Your first thought was to tell him you were too exhausted to stay up. But then you remembered why you’d volunteered in the first place. What kind of person would you be if you backed out now?

Forcing yourself upright, you groggily rubbed your eyes, still struggling to shake off the weight of sleep. Young-il leaned back slightly, giving you space as your blanket slipped down to your thighs. You glanced around, trying to orient yourself. You then noticed Gi-hun already sleeping under the bed on your right side.

“Go back to sleep,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. Before you could respond, he grabbed your blanket and pulled it back up over your chest with an ease that felt strangely natural.

“I’ll handle your shift,” he continued. “And I’ll tell the others I didn’t wake you up on purpose.”

You shook your head groggily, your words coming out slow and slurred. “No… I want to keep watch.”

Young-il’s lips curved into a faint smile, but he didn’t argue immediately, simply watching as you fought against your sleepiness to fully wake up. He stepped back slightly and nodded. “Alright. You should wash your face first. That’ll help wake you up.”

You crawled off your mattress, moving to the spot where you had sat beside Gi-hun earlier. As you did, Young-il stood up to follow.

“It’s fine,” you said, rubbing your face to will yourself awake. “The triangle guard won’t let me into the bathroom.”

“I’m sure they will,” Young-il said, his tone calm but confident. You glanced at him, curious about his certainty. Had he been to the men’s restroom at night without any trouble? The last time you went with Jun-hee, the mother, and Hyun-ju, the guard only let you pass because of the mother’s relentless cries.

Massaging your face, you muttered, “I already went earlier with Jun-hee. The guard won’t let me pass twice.”

“They will,” Young-il said again. “Come with me.”

Before you could protest, he straightened and walked toward the middle of the dormitory’s clear area. You watched him, confused, before finally pushing yourself to follow.

“I said it’s fine,” you drawled, catching up to him. “I don’t want to deal with the guard again.”

Young-il didn’t respond. He continued toward the door to the women’s restroom, stopping in front of it and waiting for you to join him. When you finally reached his side, you sighed and said, making sure to use his ssi honorific, “Young-il, if the guard denies us, let’s just go back.”

He knocked firmly on the door. At first, there was no response, just like the last time with Jun-hee. He knocked again. After a moment, the circular window slid open, revealing the expressionless mask of a triangle guard.

“She needs to use the restroom,” Young-il said evenly. “Let her in.”

The triangle guard didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you both, the silence stretching uncomfortably in the dim dormitory.

A few seconds later, the triangle guard slid the window shut without a word. Young-il turned to you and gave a small nod, a silent gesture to wait. You couldn’t hide your confusion. Why didn’t the guard deny you outright like before? You thought.

A few seconds passed, feeling much longer in the tense quiet, before the door creaked open. The triangle guard stood there, flanked by two more guards holding their guns. Young-il glanced at you, his expression calm but firm.

“Go,” he said simply. “I’ll keep watch for you.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stepped inside. As you moved past the guards, just before heading further in, Young-il’s voice came again and this time, it sounded commanding. “Guard her.”

You turned to look over your shoulder, catching the way he stared intently at the two triangle guards stationed near you. His tone carried weight, as though he wasn’t just making a request but giving an order. You furrowed your brows in mild confusion, unsure why he did that out of the blue.

One of the guards turned without a word and started walking ahead, motioning for you to follow. The second guard remained behind you, positioning themselves to ensure you were completely covered on both sides.

Perplexed, you trailed the lead guard. The door shut firmly behind you, leaving Young-il outside as the two guards guided you deeper into the women’s restroom.

After finishing your business and splashing cold water on your face at the sink, you exited the bathroom. As before, the two triangle guards flanked you, one leading and the other following closely behind. Their silent presence felt heavy, yet you felt the most protected person in this place. When you reached the dormitory, the same guard who had let you in earlier opened the door for you, stepping aside as you walked back in alone. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint hum of the dormitory’s dim atmosphere returned.

You made your way back, spotting Young-il sitting in the only path to your group’s sleeping spot. His gaze was already fixed on you. You lowered yourself onto the spot beside him, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them to make yourself comfortable.

“If I’d known the guards wouldn’t deny you bathroom access earlier, I would have woken you up,” you said, glancing at Young-il. “When Jun-hee, the mother, Hyun-ju, and I went earlier, the guards denied us entry. Twice.”

Young-il’s gaze stayed fixed on you, his expression attentive as you continued, lowering your voice, “The mother had to yell, ‘What did I do in my previous life?’ to finally make them let us in.”

A soft laugh escaped Young-il, his shoulders shaking slightly at your recount.

“At least it worked in the end,” he replied, his tone light. “But if you or the others ever need to go at times like this, wake me up. I’ll handle it.”

You offered him a small, sincere smile. “I will. Thank you.”

But then your smile faltered, and you averted your gaze. “Hopefully, this morning will be the last game. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Young-il nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as he looked away. “You’re right. Let’s stay together, win again, and hope the majority votes to leave next time.”

You nodded in agreement. “I hope so too.”

The conversation tapered off, leaving a stillness between you. The air seemed thick with things unsaid between you two. It felt as though any words spoken now would either break the tension or make it worse.

You exhaled softly, stealing a glance at him. His profile was illuminated faintly by the golden glow of the piggy bank above, highlighting his composed expression. You turned your gaze back to the floor, trying to quiet your mind as the dormitory settled into its uneasy rhythm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you. Your gaze shifted toward him, and your eyes met. He gave you a small smile, but then his eyes briefly dropped to your lips before he quickly looked away, fixing his focus on the floor.

The silence between you stretched for a moment before he spoke. “You must be surprised.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What?”

He lifted his gaze to meet yours again. The close proximity made the exchange feel heavier, almost intimate.

“About what Gi-hun said. About my wife,” he clarified. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Oh, this topic.

You forced a smile and shook your head lightly. “Oh, it’s fine. I kind of assumed you were married already. You’re kind and mature, so it made sense. Turns out I was right.”

Young-il’s gaze dropped to the floor, his expression unreadable. You kept your eyes on him, watching closely. His reaction told you everything you needed to know. So it was true. He has a wife waiting for him at the hospital, you thought. The confirmation solidified your earlier decision: distancing yourself from him was the right choice. It was for the best.

“She was sick,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but carried a weight that made you hold your breath. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he continued, “Acute cirrhosis. She needed a liver transplant, but we found out she was pregnant.”

Your eyes widened, and your face fell as his words sank in. He kept going, his tone growing heavier. “When the doctor suggested terminating the pregnancy, she refused. She was stubborn… She wanted to have the baby, even if it meant risking her life.”

You stayed silent, letting his words wash over you, as he went on. “When her condition worsened and no donor appeared, I borrowed as much money as I could to find a solution. But it was not enough.”

You turned your gaze away, unsure what to say. His voice softened but didn’t lose its seriousness. “I was desperate. A criminal heard about my situation and offered me money. I borrowed from him. But my work found out and saw it as a bribe. They fired me. I’d devoted my whole life to that job. It was one of the few things I truly loved.”

You frowned deeply, feeling an ache in your chest for him.

“Then I was invited to a program,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “It promised money, so I joined. I was gone for a few days. By the time I won… by the time I came back with billions, my wife was already dead.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to him, struggling to process his words. That’s when you noticed his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. They never fell, but the weight of them was undeniable.

“I have no purpose in life after the death of my wife,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “I disappeared from everything I once knew. There were so many times I became angry. Angry at the world. Angry at the people who fired me. Angry at those who didn’t step up to donate a liver. Angry at myself for leaving her when she needed me the most. Angry at everything.”

The room felt heavier with every word he spoke. You listened intently, unable to look away as he continued.

“There were times I wanted to end it all,” he admitted, his tone raw with emotion. “But I knew… I knew if I did, she’d hate me for it. She’d drag me to hell herself if it meant making me pay for giving up. So I lived. Barely. I was just a husk of a man, wearing a human skin that didn’t fit anymore.”

He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Eventually, I made a choice. I decided to go back to the program that gave me those useless billions. The place where I last had purpose in life.”

The realization hit you like a crashing wave. Everything he had said suddenly clicked in your mind. You stared at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Correct me if I’m wrong… but is that program… this game?”

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. The tears in his eyes caught the dim light, making them shimmer as he gave a single, solemn nod.

You gawked at him, thunderstruck. The implications swirled in your head, one question louder than the rest: So he was a previous winner? Just like Gi-hun? A winner who came back to play again?

“I was a winner of this game in the year 2015,” he said, as if reading your thoughts. His voice was steady but carried a note of vulnerability. “I didn’t tell Gi-hun. I never told anyone this. I don't want to be seen as the winner or a hero. All I want is to do these games and… find the slightest bit of purpose in life.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. In a soft tone, you murmured, “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Life has a way of… pushing you into corners you didn’t even know existed.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Still, what you’ve endured… it’s more than anyone should bear.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And yet… in these games, I found something.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity building in your chest. You did not have to say anything. Your need to know was palpable on your face.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“A purpose,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as he continued, “I thought it was impossible. That after everything I’ve been through, after losing my wife, I’d never feel it again. But now…”

He paused, and for a moment, you were certain the air between you had shifted. “I’ve found something worth protecting in this world.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the way he stared at you said more than words ever could. His gaze lingered, carrying an unspoken weight that sent warmth creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. The realization struck you like a soft wave.

He meant you.

But then, you looked away. You didn’t want to misinterpret his kind gestures or sweet words as something deeper. If he truly meant more, you wanted him to say it outright.

“Young-il,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you… if you mean what I think you mean, you’d have to tell me. I can’t just assume.”

He shifted closer, his voice low but steady. “I want to take care of you… not just as a friend, but as something more.”

Your breath hitched, and you dared to meet his gaze. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only gentleness that made you turn vulnerable.

“I know,” he continued, “that this place is hell. It’s not the kind of place anyone should be finding hope. But you… you’ve brought hope. Hope that the world has given me a gift.”

You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “Young-il…”

“I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give,” he interrupted softly. “But let me protect you. Not because we’re stuck in this place, but because… I care about you.”

His confession lingered between you, sounding heavy and raw. A part of you wanted to push him away, to insist that the circumstances were too dire for anything like this. But another part of you, the one that had felt the flutter in your chest every time he spoke to you or looked your way, wanted to believe him.

“It’s sad,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly, “that we met in a place like this.”

His lips curved into a faint smile. “It is. But if it weren’t for this place, I would have never met you.”

You smiled, a faint blush creeping to your cheeks. “I suppose that’s one good thing about all this.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away. You couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of happiness. In this moment, you were glad. Glad that he had trusted you enough to let his guard down. Glad that he had let you see the side of him he kept hidden from everyone else. Glad that he had taken off his last mask… right?

He turned his eyes back to you, holding your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You didn’t look away, meeting his stare head-on, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you. His eyes flickered down briefly, landing on your lips. Without thinking, your gaze followed suit, lingering on his for a moment too long.

The air felt charged, the space between you shrinking without either of you moving too much. Slowly, he leaned in. You did the same, your heart pounding louder with each inch you crossed.

“Please, don’t.”

Both of you flinched, the trance broken by a muffled voice. Turning quickly, you spotted Jung-bae sprawled out on his mattress, muttering in his sleep.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll stop betting on horses,” he mumbled, his face scrunched in a dream-induced grimace.

The sheer absurdity of the interruption had you stifling a laugh. Your shoulders shook with quiet amusement as you looked away.

Unbeknownst to you, Young-il’s expression darkened as he glared at the sleeping man, a mix of annoyance and disbelief flashing across his face.

Then your laughter reached his ears, breaking the tension in the most unexpected way. Young-il turned back to you, his features relaxing as a chuckle bubbled out of him.

“Talk about timing,” he said, shaking his head, his voice tinged with humor.

“Impeccable,” you replied, your grin widening as you stole another glance at Jung-bae, who remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

The near-kiss moment replayed in your mind, your cheeks growing warmer each time the memory surfaced. You looked away, staring anywhere except Young-il. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at him, afraid he might notice the blush creeping up your face. The more you thought about it, the more embarrassed you became.

Without realizing it, you yawned softly, breaking your train of thought. The sleepiness hit you suddenly, but you tried to brush it off. Young-il, however, noticed immediately.

“You should go to sleep,” he said gently.

You glanced at him, flustered, and shook your head. “What? I’m not tired.”

Young-il tilted his head slightly, giving you a knowing look. “You’re not fooling anyone. You should rest. There’s no point in keeping watch if you’re barely awake.”

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted, trying to sound convincing. “I already washed my face.”

But Young-il wasn’t buying it. “Washing your face doesn’t mean you are not tired. Go rest. I’ll do it.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but his steady gaze and calm persistence left you struggling for words.

“But… I don’t want you to cover my shift,” you murmured.

“I actually don’t want you to keep watch,” he admitted softly. “I woke you up so I could explain about my late wife. We don’t have much privacy so I thought keeping watch with you will be the perfect time to tell you.”

Before you could ask anything, Young-il reached out with his left hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The simple gesture sent your heart racing, and your blush deepened. The touch was fleeting, but it left you momentarily speechless.

Feeling your resolve crumble under his gaze, you nodded shyly and crawled back to your mattress. As you pulled the blanket over yourself, you could still feel the lingering warmth of his touch. You couldn’t help but smile in delight, though you tried to hide it from him.

As soon as your head hit the pillow, a wave of exhaustion swept over you. Slowly, your eyes began to close, and the world around you blurred. This time, though, there was a warmth in your chest. A small smile formed on your lips as sleep claimed you, wrapping you in its gentle embrace.

NEXT : Chapter 10

PREV : Chapter 08

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Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! What do you think about you consoling Jun-hee, your talk with Gi-hun, the fact that Young-il was listening the whole time, then Young-il helped you go to the restroom. Next it was his turn to talk with you, and also about Jung-bae's impeccable timing. What do you think about these?

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho fanfic #in ho #the front man #player 001 #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #front man x reader #front man x you

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thef1diary · 10 months ago

Text

Little Big Blurb | 4

— Hide & Flee

Isabella returns home earlier than expected

Set before Isabella knows about your relationship with Max.

series masterlist

wc: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ allusions to smut.

based on these requests:

Max's soft kisses trailed down your neck, pulling you from the depths of sleep. His fingers grazed your bare side, tracing a delicate path from your shoulder down to your waist, the cool morning air contrasting with the warmth of his touch. Your legs remained tucked under the comforter, tangled with his.

You opened your eyes to see his smiling face inches from yours, his messy hair framing his bright blue eyes. He looked at you with that familiar twinkle, one that made your heart flutter.

"Morning, beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"Morning," you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep. You stretched languidly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer, savouring the comforting weight of his body against yours, much like the night before.

Max's fingers continued their lazy exploration, sending shivers down your spine as he traced gentle patterns on your skin, specifically around the marks he left last night.

"Any plans for today?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"Nothing until Isabella gets home this afternoon," you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "So we have the whole morning to ourselves," you added.

Max's eyes lit up with a playful grin. "In that case," he whispered, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "how about we make the most of it?"

You brushed your fingers through his hair. "Hmm, how so?" you asked even though you knew the answer.

He rolled over, pinning you beneath him with a gentle but insistent pressure. "Let me show you," he mumbled before claiming your lips in a gentle kiss.

His lips moved against yours with a slow tantalizing rhythm, his free hand sliding up your side to cup your face. You melted into the kiss, feeling the heat between you intensify with each passing second. Max deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, igniting a fire that spread through your entire body.

Allowing you to breathe, he trailed kisses down your neck, his hands exploring your body with a tender touch. You arched into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he nibbled and sucked your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake.

Max's movements were unhurried, savouring every moment as if he had all the time in the world. He pulled back which shifted the comforter off your bodies, exposing your legs to the cool morning air.

He looked at you, his eyes dark with passion. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as he lowered his face towards your hips. "I want to make you feel good."

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. "You always do," you murmured. He pressed a kiss to your hip before sliding up, nipping at your collarbone and slowly shifting back down while tracing the line of your sternum with his tongue. Each touch made you gasp and shiver with anticipation.

As he continued his slow, torturous exploration, you felt the rest of the world fade away. There was only Max, his touch, his kisses, and the way he made you feel seen and wanted.

He peppered kisses along the inside of your thighs, each kiss bringing his lips closer and closer towards where you ached for him. Your hands bunched up the sheets, and you closed your eyes and dropped your mouth open in a silent moan when he placed a final kiss on your clit.

"Max, please baby," you mumbled, arching yourself closer to him.

Just as he was about to listen to your pleads, the sound of a car door slamming outside jolted you both back to reality. Although your mind was hazy, in a split second, you realized what it meant: Isabella was home early.

Max's eyes widened, connecting with your gaze. "She's back?" He asked, hurriedly moving away from you when you nodded.

"She's not supposed to be back until this afternoon!" he whispered frantically, pulling on his jeans with one hand while grabbing his shirt with the other.

"My friend must've dropped her off early," you said, scrambling out of bed and throwing on a shirt and a pair of shorts as well. Your heart pounded as you heard the front door creek open.

"Max, she can't see you here," you stated, your voice tinged with urgency as you threaded your fingers through your hair, searching for a solution.

Max nodded, understanding the situation. "I'll stay by the stairs," he said, his voice low. "You go downstairs and check on her, I'll wait for your signal to leave."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, grateful for his quick thinking. You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, in apology and a goodbye, before slipping out of the bedroom and made your way downstairs.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you could hear Isabella's cheerful voice echoing from the living room, "Mama, I'm home!"

You plastered a smile on your face as you entered the room, trying to keep your voice steady as you greeted her. "Hi, angel! You're home early," you said, kneeling down since she came running towards you with open arms.

You wrapped her in a tight hug, burying your face into her hair to hide the rush of nerves coursing through you. "How was your little sleepover party, did you have fun with auntie?" You asked, pulling back to look at her.

"Yeah! So much fun, mama! We baked, went to the park, watched movies and played so many games," she exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement as she recalled yesterday's events.

"That does sounds like so much fun," you replied, ruffling her hair with a smile. "Are you hungry?" You asked, hoping to lead her towards the kitchen so Max could leave.

She shook her head, "no mama, auntie made me breakfast. Can we play hide and seek?"

"Sure, sweetheart," you said, trying to keep your voice calm as you thought of a plan. "Why don't you go hide and I'll count to ten?"

Isabella nodded enthusiastically, and scampered off to find a hiding spot. As she disappeared around the corner, away from the staircase, you took a deep breath.

While you counted out loud, you walked towards the staircase, spotting Max waiting by the railing, his eyes meeting yours in silent communication. You gave him a subtle nod, signalling that the coast was clear for now.

As you reached ten, you called out, "ready or not, here I come!"

You pretended to search diligently, making a show of peeking behind the furniture and opening closet doors, all while watching Max tiptoe through the house towards the front door.

With a final look at you, he left the house, and you could finally let out a sigh of relief.

After a few minutes of searching, you finally found Isabella behind the curtains. She giggled as you feigned surprise, pulling her into a tight hug and showering her with kisses.

"You found me, mama!" Isabella exclaimed, her laughter filling the room.

"Of course I did," you replied, peppering her cheeks with playful kisses. Isabella's laughter was contagious, and for a moment, you forgot about the worry that filled the air just moments before.

As you hugged Isabella tightly, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that Max had managed to slip away unnoticed. The relief was palpable, but it was tempered by a sobering realization: you couldn't keep your relationship with Max a secret forever, especially not from Isabella.

The near incident served as a stark reminder of the risks involving in maintaining the charade of just friendship when it was so much more.

She deserved to know the truth, even if it meant facing difficult questions and emotions.

Taglist: @keerysfreckles @d3kstar @xjval @hc-dutch @the-untamed-soul @multi-fandom-fan221b @lilymurphy03 @shreks-best-tits @nessacarty1 @ldynblack @lighttsoutlewis @ur-fave-ave @namjoonswaifu @llando4norris @dark-night-sky-99 @majx00 @xoscar03 @wonnou @samantha-chicago @mlioravanfleet

#little big fan fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fic #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 series #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #smut #fanfic #fluff

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reysdriver · 9 months ago

Note

Hey darlin'! I just saw your one-shots and i REALLY love them!! I need morr about Eddie with Hopper!Reader <33 Please!! A fluff or a smut where the Reader have to deal with her father. Hope you can answer. Have a nice day!! ✨️

-🩷

You and Eddie try to have a chill night in, but it's difficult when you have the world's most paranoid chief of police as a father — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: none

words: 1.2k

a/n: thanks for submitting a request! I'm sorry it took so long, I've been so busy lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't figure out how to end it lmao but I really hope you like this fic!!

Even though your dad knew about you and Eddie dating, he was definitely not as okay with it as you would have hoped, but honestly more than you had expected.

He had met Eddie a few times since he found out you were in romantic cahoots with the familiar criminal, and despite your fears, they had gotten along quite well despite their history and their differences. But no matter how many things they actually had in common, no father would fully trust Eddie Munson to be alone with his little girl.

“Door open three inches!” Your dad called from the couch. “You know the rules!”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the bed to open the door to Hopper’s liking.

The door was open three inches, and you swore that it was the draft causing the door to move slightly, but you knew your dad would never believe you.

“Seriously, Dad?” You asked him.

“Rules are rules.” He confirmed. “If you don’t like it, then the boyfriend can go.”

You let out a heavy, dramatic sigh before returning to your boyfriend, who was currently sketching out a Dungeons and Dragons character based on you for his new campaign.

Eddie looked up from his paper when you sat back down next to him. “You can do a lot with three inches, you know?”

You put a finger over his mouth—which he playfully tried to bite—and you shushed him while holding back a laugh at his incredibly stupid, albeit funny, joke.

“He’s gonna hear you, and he’s gonna drag you out of here. Keep drawing.”

He put the finishing touches on his design, then let out a sound of satisfaction over it before turning the notebook so you could see it better.

“I think I did pretty good.” Your boyfriend proclaimed. “She’s almost as pretty as you.”

Oh, how you lucked out with this mysterious dork. You thanked him by pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before your dad became suspicious of you two once again.

“You think I should get it as some ink?” Eddie asked you.

“Like, you want to get it tattooed?”

Eddie nodded, eyes going back and forth between you and the cartoon version of you that he just made.

“Absolutely not.” You replied.

“What? Why not? Do you not love me enough to let me tattoo you on me?”

He was ridiculous, staring at you with big, fake puppy dog eyes and a pleading lip.

“Of course I love you, but as your girlfriend, I also need to stop you from doing stupid things.”

“What if I keep your tattoo separate from the creepy skulls and spiders?”

Well, that was an offer you almost couldn’t refuse. Even though it was tempting, you would never let him know that he can get to you like that, so you played it cool.

“Ask me again in a year.”

His face erupted into a devilish smile and he held his hands to his chest like a cartoon character in love.

“I’m getting a tramp stamp of my girlfriend in a year!”

Before you could protest his proclamation, he pulled you into his arms in what you hoped was just a teasing gesture rather than a genuine expression of excitement for something you were certainly not going to let happen.

Just a second later, your dad cleared his throat very pointedly, which practically frightened you out of your boyfriend’s arms.

“El wants to watch a movie.” He announced. “Come watch with us.”

You sat up and shook your head lightly. “Um, no thanks, Dad. We’ll pass on that.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow and looked at Eddie’s arm around your waist. “You have something better to do?”

It was at that point that you knew him telling you about your sister and the movie was an order, not an invitation. You bit the inside of your cheek and luckily, Eddie spoke up before you could say something snarky.

“A movie sounds great, chief. Count us in.”

“Good.” Hopper said curtly before turning around to the living room.

Eddie stood up and started teasingly pulling you off the bed. You laid down and let out an annoyed groan, resisting his attempts to move you.

“C’mon, babe, movie time.” Eddie encouraged.

“It’s just gonna be The Wild Bunch. That’s one of their favourite movies and I know El’s been wanting to see it again lately.” You mumbled. “I’d much rather stay here with you.”

“Well, your dad might never let me back in your house if he thinks I’m trying anything with his daughter in the other room, so we have to. Plus, I like The Wild Bunch too.”

Your face formed an exaggerated frown as you finally got up off the bed.

Eddie smiled and escorted you to the living room. And although you had just started to build up excitement within you for this movie night, it already got worse.

El was in her favourite recliner—the VHS case for The Wild Bunch was on her lap, you called it—but your dad had plopped himself down in the exact middle of the couch. Not only did you have to watch a movie with your family instead of chilling with your boyfriend, but you couldn’t even sit next to him because your dad hates the idea of you having fun.

Before you knew it, you were in a full on stare-down with the Hawkins chief of police.

“Take a seat.” He said passive aggressively.

“I want to sit next to Eddie, Dad. Could you move over?”

He shook his head. “I’m not falling for any of your tricks. I was a teenager once.”

“Yeah, like a thousand years ago.” You mumbled.

The comment was quiet but your dad still heard it.

“Careful, any attitude and I’ll assume it came from the moron and he won’t be allowed back in the house.”

You looked over at Eddie with a defeated expression on your face. He looked back at you, sympathetic and willing to comply—the latter was a complete switch from his normal mood.

Your boyfriend understood completely why your dad was worried about you and Eddie dating, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Of course, Eddie was willing to do whatever he could to seem like the boyfriend every parent would want for their daughter—he really was, some people just couldn’t look past the exterior shell to see it—so he held his tongue and went along with anything.

The two of you sat down on opposite sides of the couch, separated by your relentless father.

“Alright, El, play the movie.” Hopper said.

He then leaned back and kept his eyes on the television in front of you all.

Eddie soon caught your gaze from across the couch, and he stretched his arm behind his head, oh so conveniently placing it a few inches from your shoulder.

You grinned at him, keeping it subtle, and took his hand in yours.

The two of you watched the rest of the film like that, holding hands in that slightly uncomfortable way, and the night wasn’t as insufferable as it seemed like it was going to be. All thanks to Eddie, of course.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x hopper!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

Text

Alles zu seiner Zeit

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, mentions of death and loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Fifteen years after a plague struck Wisborg, the widower Harding continues to visit his wife and daughter at the cemetery where you work. His devotion spans across seasons but it might be more than those he lost drawing him back.

Characters: Friedrich Harding

Note: this is a new character for me so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Winter

Bristles scrape on stone. Each push of the broom tugs in your arms, the layers against the chill inspiring a slake of sweat along your back. The trickle makes you itch as your efforts scratch across the ground, sending clouds of snow into heaps.

Where once greenery blossomed and flowers smiled at sunlight remain only bristly sticks and frozen dirt 'neath the rug of January's malaise. The sombre grey skies form a thin curtain against the shadow of memories. The spectre of plague and whispers of a curse carry in the winds and swirl the flakes around your skirts.

You were young the winter the sickness came. You'd known eight up until that blight and your brothers knew no other. They were of the forsaken, left in pine boxes to be buried when the frozen ground could be cracked with a spade. Your mother joined them soon after, though of a different malady; despair.

Your father suffered the same disease but to a very different effect. At the bottom of a bottle. He lingers there in the depths of distraught distraction.

You sweep the path clear to the doors of the mausoleum, then perpendicular around the perimeter. When the walkways are done, you will put your mind to the stones. And by the time those are revealed, a new sheet will litter the ground and your work will begin anew.

Emmett, the youngest of the diggers, sits in wool and a leather cap, drinking hot barley from a cup. He shivers as you pass, mindful not to push the snow his way. He doffs the cup amiably.

"How's it, fraulein?" He greets.

"You would know so well as I, herr," you reply, moving the bristles anon. Your mittened hands cling tightly as the cold nips through to your knuckles. You keep your chin tucked into your scarf,

"Frigid, ja," he cradles the cup and curls into its warmth. Adelaine, daughter of the sexton, must have offered the kindness. She does make certain to know all the diggers' names. "Would you do all this by your own?" He peers around the rolling expanse marked by headstones and monuments.

"Someone must mind the spirits," you carry on without hamper.

"For a pretty thaler or so, I'd pray," he remarks and clucks.

You will not tell the truth. It is a thaler for the whole of a fortnight of sweeping and clearing the cobwebs; of breaking the frost from the keyholes and dusting away the musty leaves and stirred pebbles.

"I pray you keep warm, herr. The almanac calls for a long winter." You bid as you progress away from him.

"And you, Fraulein. Mind the ice," he girds.

You keep careful steps as you press on. Emmett rises with his cup of barley and retreats to the shed with the shovels. A mean gale blows around you, nearly taking you off your feet.

You steady yourself as you plant the broom and chatter against the deathly gust. There's a shrill whine from behind you. You turn as Adelaine clings to her fur-trimmed hood and hides behind a statue of the Holy Mother.

"Fraulein," she trills in her creaky tones. "Have you seen Herr Emmett?"

"Mm," you hum in hesitation. Her father, Wilhelm, warned you against encouraging her comingling. He is a pious man, minding the sacred grounds and all. "I'm not certain where he's strayed, Fraulein Adelaine."

"Mercy," she huddles down against another violent draught. "The bishops says it's not been so cold since... well, he would not speak of it."

She makes the sign of the cross and bows her head, clutching her hand where her golden necklace is hidden beneath her dress and cloak. Many would not wear holy icons so gregarious in their clothing. Simple wood or iron is more in line with the protestant pragmatism.

The gate bell tolls and she cranes to see beyond you. Snow blows across her cheeks as the wind billows in her hood. Your own lets the bitter chill right through its weave.

"There he is," she exclaims before your mind might follow her previous allusion. That corrupt wintertide.

You turn to peer across the ivory swathes. Henrick and Emmett approach the gate and open it to the visitor. A figure on a horse rides through impatiently, nearly catching Henrick beneath the hooves. The gentleman wears simple black though the richness of its cut can be seen even from your purview. The breed of his coldblood steed attests to his fortune.

Adelaine gasps and steps out close to you. You have seen the man before. As often you've seen the drape of his cloak, you would only know him by the emblem pinned upon the horse's harness.

"It is the widower, Harding." She whispers.

The man draws his horse around the stone crypt marked with his name. The one barren of any other decoration; no flowers in Fruhling, no ornament upon the door, nor even a cross carved into the lintel. You note the plainness each time you tend its grounds.

He drops off his horse heavily. His boots send up a cloud and you grip the broom tighter. How quickly it's piled up all over again. Flecks fall along the folds of his cloak as he marches to the doors. You can hear the twist of the key as he lets himself within. The door slams sonorously and casts a pall over the grounds.

"My father says he was young when his wife and daughters succumbed to the ague," Adelaine says.

"Do not speak of it," you chide. "It is ill tidings to call upon the dead who wish to remain undisturbed."

She tuts, "he comes every day. He disturbs them oft enough."

"They are his to disturb," you sniff. "I should be certain it does not snow him in."

She would not know what it is to have those beyond your grasp. To spend the nocturne longing for them to be there again. To hear them sing a lullaby or tuck you into sleep.

"Have you ever been inside? Even a glimpse? Father does not have a key." She grabs your sleeve before you can depart. "What do you presume he does within? I've heard him talking..."

"It isn't of my concern," you tug away from her. "Nor yours."

"Hmph, mind your lip," she sneers. "Or I'll have father find another broom sweep. Perhaps one more droll, ja?"

"Apologies, fraulein, I only mean to do my work," you say. "The snow comes more and more. Perhaps you should go within, be warm."

"Perhaps I might and perhaps I mightn't," she retorts and rubs together her gloved hands. "Very well, go about and do you work, little dormouse."

You part before her temper can rise. Adelaine can be as prickly as she is pleasant. One moment a giggle, the next a growl.

You retrace your steps along the path, uncovering the stone with the bristles as you do. You glance over at the yellow crypt as the wind wails as a wraith might. None are permitted within but the widower. It is a rule never broken. Never questioned. All know of the heartbroken Harding and his sorrow, even beyond those gates. Even as he hides within the walls of the house he once made a home of.

Fruhling (Spring)

As the annual thaw softens the earth, the frozen ground churns to mud, and the air bristles with the damp threat of rain. The early sprigs of green poke up from the flattened grasses and the cracks between the stonework fill with wet sludge. Your bristles clump with mud and you trade the broom for shovel to scrape it all away.

Adelaine’s song carries with those of the songbirds, returned from their winter nests. She sits upon a bench and chimes as Emmett and Matthias dig into a new plot nearby. Her ploy is not subtle.

Even as the season marks rebirth, death is to be expected. The hole is meant for the wife of a cobbler who did not survive her child. The infant, as you heard, is well. A reverence carries on the whispers as the old wives and grandmothers praise her noble sacrifice. It is as close as a woman might come to the bravery of man, though there isn’t much choice in the matter.

Your mind wanders as the tedium of your work inspires preoccupation. Adelaine will be a wife one day. Will she end up in the ground upon her own sacrifice? Or will she sing then to her child instead of the diggers?

What of yourself? You are no lady, your father is not rich but a drunkard feeding his demise off your tuppence. Should you have a husband when he succumbs to the rye’s dark tides? It would be practical. You father has no son, his house cannot pass to a daughter.

With your days spent in the cemetery, you know that inevitability is closer than you should like. Your father should’ve died the night he was kicked in the skull by that old mule he slapped while in his cups. It is a miracle he lived to laugh so bawdily about the farce.

You sigh and carry on, as you do many things in life. You will need to think on it more thoroughly before Winter comes again. It is a godsend your father did not catch the same ague as poor Frau Elke. You spent wakeless nights listening to his snores, searching for a cough or a choke.

The day wears on and the burial happens in a bout of sunshine which beams down sardonically on the party’s grief. When the forsaken mother is buried, never to kiss the face of her child, they depart. Emmett and Matthias pat firm the earth as Sexton Wilhelm whistles for you.

His daughter has been sent away. She cannot stomach the funerals. Ironic given her lot in life. Her family is not from Wisborn, they did not witness the plague, only heard of it. Her mother is well and alive, she never had any sibling, and her father is in fine enough health for a man his age.

“These flowers are for the woman’s plot,” he gestures to a crate of marigolds.

“Yes, Herr,” you reply diligently.

“I will have one of the diggers assist,” he assures and struts off.

You turn to face the plot. You heard the woman was younger than even you. A new bride. Not even twenty. You trace the cross over your chest and shoulders then pick up a basket of the marigolds

Matthias comes with two hand spades. You take one and begin your work. You transplant the rooted flowers into the ground carefully. He grumbles as he kills more than he preserves. His hands are not delicate but calloused and well-worn.

“Herr, I will finish,” you say. “You’ve done plenty today.”

“Are you certain? There are still very many.” He glances over at the crate.

“Too many. I will find them homes,” you promise.

The gate bell rings as if supporting your suggestion. Matthias rises and dusts of his hands. Emmett and Henrick run down to open the doors to the visitor. Black velvet flaps over short bristles of reddish-brown. The widower canters in as the thick hooves clop over the stone.

You pack down the earth around another stem. Harding dismounts as the diggers keep their distance. The lock grinds and the door drags on its hinges. It closes with a clunk as your shovel bites into the earth again and again.

When you have lined the plot with the pleasant orange blooms, there is still a basket left. You peer around the fruhling blossom. Your eyes are drawn to the most bland swath among the sprawl. The yellow crypt and its vacant brick walls. Not even the ivy grows upon it.

You are not so presumptuous as to disturb the soil. You cut the stems and bound them together with a headless one. Little bundles all snug together. You place them along the front of the crypt. They will die and blow away but it is a small blessing for the lost.

You set above wiping clean the foot of the statue of the splattered mud. As you do, the crypt opens again. The cloak almost seems to float as its wearer remains hidden in its folds. He stops only two steps from the threshold.

You scrape off dried muck with your fingernail as the clouds shift above. The sudden frantic scuffing and stomping draws your attention. Harding crushes the petals into the ground, decapitating the stems, twisting them into strands with his heels. His hood shifts you think for a moment he is looking at you.

He kicks away what is left of the bouquets and approaches his dulcet steed. The beast is still as its rider mounts. It trods around the crypt then up the path to the gates. You frown and watch the widower’s departure. You did not mean to offend. You hope that Herr Wilhelm does not hear of this error.

Sommer (Summer)

Pollen floats in the air, tickling nostril and throat, mingling with the aromas of June. In the early morning dim, a cool breeze stirs the hem of your skirts and wafts around your clogs. You walk with a stick in hand, using it to traverse the cobbled roadway, chipped by the passing of carriage and hoof.

Your trek to the cemetery is peaceful in the sommer. In the winter, it can grow quite eerie with the whistling winds like wailing wretches and the spindly branches like skeletons. In the summer, the trees are lush and rustling, waving like companions, and the grass ripples like water beneath the gentle flow.

That morning, you hum to yourself as you peer ahead at the distant cemetery wall. There are houses along the old street but most still sleep in the dawn’s hue. You must be early to the graveyard so that you may ready the plots and paths.

As you plod along, the posts of the cemetery gate come clearer over the rooftops. Your low melody is punctured by a sudden tempo. Slow and plodding. You move aside as you sense the nearing horse. The merchants rise as early as you; eager to deliver or claim their cargo at the dock.

They do not hurry. They do not change measure. You traipse along and await their passing. As the shadow of the great steed nears, you do not count the creak of a wheel or axle. It is only a rider.

Yet, they do not continue past you. The hooves keep a patient pace in tune with yours. You’ve never heard or seen a horse go so slow. Any beast you ever saw would tremble to be at full tilt amid the meadows.

You peer over your shoulder curiously and follows the white fur around the wide hoof up the brown leg to the reddish sheen further up, the strands of a well-brushed main draping around the coldblood’s thick neck. Black velvet pleats around its rider but does not catch the wind. The fabric is too heavy for riding and for the season.

The emblem on the horse’s chest gleams in your eye. It is him, the widower, in his mourning ebon. His hood shrouds his face as ever and he is silent as his horse walks beside you, as if an escort.

You wait but he does not canter nor trot. He keeps the gait. You look ahead again then back to him. You wouldn’t want to be uncouth.

“Guten morgen, Herr Harding.”

As you’ve never heard him speak, you’re not certain you’ve ever heard any speak to him. Not the bold Adelaine or the stern Sexton Wilhelm. He only ever brought dire silence with him to the crypt. And then, as always, he remains quiet.

You gulp and once more put your attention ahead of you. You are nearly at the gates, though you would not enter through the mainway. There is a smaller door round the east corner.

The gentleman and his horse bear down on you, their shadow rippling in the rising sunlight. Sweat trickles down your spine as a chill speckles across your skin. You feel as if he watches you but dare not look upon him in turn. You don’t believe you would see anything beneath his hood. You do wonder if the widower might indeed be a phantom himself.

He steers to the gates and you pass them and head for the door behind the English oak. You pull the cord to lift the lever and glance over at Herr Harding. The widower’s hood shifts in your direction. You cannot see his eyes but you feel them. Like worms crawling over a corpse. You press inside and quickly swing the iron door shut.

The gate bell pierces the early din of tweeting birds and skittering critters. Dandelion dust powders the air and bristles in your nose. You go to the shed to fetch your broom as the gates open at the widower’s behest.

When you come out, he is gone. His horse is by the crypt and the doors are closed. You are deliberate in your work. Since that day with the marigolds, you’ve not gone near the yellow brick while Harding was as visitation. You always wait and say a silent prayer for his family as you clear the debris.

There is much to do in the aged cemetery. There is no shortage of dead, forgotten or new. The stones must be cleaned or repaired. Wilhelm takes care to apply mortar to new cracks are to fix an eroded etching, so long as a thaler is offered for the effort.

You brush the broom back and forth, pausing to watch a bee pollinate a flowerbed or a caterpillar make his slow progress over the stone. There is so much life here despite the purpose of the land. Where others come only to see death, you see what is still there.

The sun ascends higher and higher. You leave your shawl in the shed and take a can to water the blooms. You marvel at how some petals seem to open and drink in the moisture. In the sommer, there is splendour. In sommer, you can hardly believe that winter could ever be.

As you come around the path, the horse stands by the crypt, chewing the patchy grass. You pass by its swaying tail as you return the can to the shed. While there, you steal a handful of feed meant for the horses that draw the wagons of the lost.

You cautiously near the large beast. It has been some hours since your arrival and it is a hot day. You open your palm, curving back your fingers to avoid the flat gnashing teeth. The horse smears spit on your hand as he eats the oats.

The crypt door whines on the thick hinges and you wince and back away. You tuck yourself into an alcove as the door shuts heavily. You press into the brick as your heart races and you spot the littered trail of feed that leads to you.

As Herr Harding comes around to mount his horse, he spies it too. He pauses as he bows beneath his hood, the edges of lifting slightly as he follows the seed and oat to you. You stare at him haplessly. You don’t know what to do or say.

He turns and grabs the reins. He hauls himself onto the hours and clicks his teeth, driving his heels into its belly. The horse snorts and obeys, its hooves dusting along the stone toward the main gates.

Herbst (Autumn)

Summer wilts with the crisp bite of Herbst. One last breath of life before the grey winter. The leaves mellow to rustic tones of umber and gold, the pine cones litter the dirt, and the wet grass shine from the kiss of the morning fog. You sweep aside the wet leaves with your broom, skirts sodden along the hem.

As you follow your usual progress across the grounds, the gate bell chimes. The echo rolls through the air and earth. The steady chafe of bristles guides you through the musty mist. It is a beautiful season but wet.

You pause to brush leaves that have caught on plinths or statues, to wipe away the twigs across the stones embedded in the flats, and to tidy the plots of the leafy carpet. You can only count the blessing that it is not snow.

Adelaine’s laughter flutters up to you. Her father helps her into a carriage. She has been entertaining a suitor as of late. She always spoke of a summer wedding but it seems a winter one may be on the horizon. She is off to see the bishop and her betrothed.

Emmett and Matthias open the gates with little heed to their employer and his daughter. They must feel spurned after so long of her fawning over them. It is unfair of her to give them such false longings. They shut the gates and stomp off back to their digging.

There was a family that perished in a fire. They will each need a hole among their designated plot. It is sombre and back-breaking work. You do not envy the diggers for more than their wage. Were you a man, you could take a shovel and make at least a thaler more than you do now.

You shiver again. You’ve not been warm for days. You’ve not the money for fuel so the hearth remains dormant in favour of your father’s habit. The drink keeps him warm and you are left to wool and the friction of your palms. Thank the lord you have walls at the least.

The voices of the men fade as they climb to the new plot and you come down the low incline toward the main row of the cemetery; the large mausoleum for the fallen soldiers and the next for the vaunted nobles.

As you near the yellow crypt, you are met with a most unlikely sight. The doors are open. You search around the desolate grounds.

The coldblood is not there awaiting his rider. The gate bell rang but you did not see the black hood enter. How can that be? Perhaps he did leave it unlocked the day prior.

Looters are not uncommon. Henrick chases them off in the mornings as they sleep in an alcove or on a bench. Though, unless they have a chisel, they do not claim much.

You rest your broom against the yellow brick. You stand before the open doors. Both are drawn wide. You look up at the arch as shadows plume within. As you stare inside, you swear you can see the darkness furling and unfurling.

You make yourself move. Step by step you approach the doors. You grab the large iron ring on the left one and pull. It is much too heavy. Or you are much too weak. You grunt and try again, shifting it a few inches.

A scratching noise stills your efforts. You squint as you try see through the thick gloom.

“Allo?” You call through, “is someone within?”

You wait for an answer. There is nothing, but then, a skittering noise. A rat, perhaps.

A swirls of leaves blows around you and skid over the stone floor within. You look over your shoulder, hoping someone might pass and help you shut the place up. There is only you.

You take your broom and enter cautiously. You hold your breath as you gather the leaves and push them back out. You might shove a door shut from within then use the broom to somehow leverage the other.

You bat the last of the clutter out and turn to peer out at the red sky. Your feet leave the stone and your cry is smothered by a gloved palm. You kick out in fright as the broom clatters from your grasp.

You claw behind you blindly as you are spun to face the crypts black belly. You jolt back with your captor as he pushes the door closed with his weight, then the other. You writhe and flail, grabbing at the arm hooked around your waist.

He pants but does not speak. He carries you forward as your soles bounce off the floor.

Your stomach meets something hard. A stone ledge engraved in tiers. You brace it as you’re crushed against it. Your arms shake as you try to shove yourself away, try to free yourself of this treacherous adversary.

You whimper and wiggle your head helplessly, unable to free your mouth from behind his hand. You know by his strength, by his size that it is a man indeed. He shushes you and squeezes your jaw.

You quiver and splay your fingers on the stone shape before you. It is a sarcophagus. You shudder as your throat tightens.

He presses flush to you. His warmth seeps through the damp layers of wool wrapped around you as his nose brushes up the brim of your ear. He exhales and his breath wraps around your neck. He sucks in air and nuzzles along your hair. He’s smelling you.

He buries his nose in you locks and purrs. The deep gristle makes you quake. He continues to smell you, to feel you as his hand spreads on your stomach and grazes up your bodice. You tap your foot around in a frantic search for his, driving your heel down upon his toe.

He grunts and brings his hand up to tap your cheek. He hums derisively. That noise alone freezes your blood. There’s something so base about it.

He slips his hand down again and the other follows. He keeps you penned in with his arms and removes his gloves, letting them fall to the floor. His fingertips dance up your bodice and back down. He kneads and pokes and caresses. He fondles you until you’re a trembling mess.

“Herr, please--”

He nips your ear and snarls. You close your eyes but it cannot save you from this. You are only deeper into the darkness. He drags his nose down to your neck and nuzzles into you there. His hand curls around your hip, squeezing before climb up your back and down again.

He draws his face from your neck and his hands descend further. He tugs and yanks at your skirts, bundling them up in his grasp. He pulls them up to your waist and leans into you until your middle is right against the stone, your body bent with his.

He hooks his arm under the layers of your skirt as his other hand wanders beneath. His nails skim your skin, goosebumps rising with his touch, and traces down to thighs. He pokes beneath them meanly and forces his foot between yours. He kicks your boots wide and you whine again.

“Herr, please--”

“Ta ta,” he warns in a hiss.

He pushes his hand between your legs, cupping it over your cunt. He inhales again as he takes in the scent of your scalp, his nose once more delving into your hair. He slips his middle finger between your lips and rubs you. Gently at first, then firmer, quaking as he pinpoints on your clit, rolling it beneath his fingertip.

Your legs tingle and tremble. You dip your head down and he growls. He spreads the slickness that rises with his uninvited touch. Your lips form around a silent prayer as you beg the lord for forgiveness.

He pushes his finger into you, his hand against your cunt as he rocks in and out. He does not heed your babbling pleas or the shattering of your body and soul. He takes what he covets without repentance.

He continues to pet you, coaxing you until you are heavy, writhing in a maddened state. You do not welcome him and yet it is pleasureful. It is joy like you’ve never known. And it bursts within you like damn, coursing free as a river as it slakes down your thighs.

You wail between your teeth as you bite down on your shame. Father, Mary, forgive me. I do not want this. I swear it.

He groans and exhales into you. He pulls his hand back and leaves you hollow and squirming. He reaches between your bodies and fusses with his own clothing. You squeak and try to crawl over the sarcophagus. He keeps you trapped as he clutches the rumpled fabric of your skirt.

He once more scoops his hand around your pelvis and along your cunt. He spreads you and guides his cock along your bottom. You whimper and reach to stop him. He ignores you as he delves down along your cunt. He stops at your entrance and wets himself with your sinful excess.

He snakes his hand up to your hip and pushes you onto him. Just his swollen tip. You gasp and gulp as you twitch around him.

He lets go of your skirts and they fall down over the front of your legs, the back caught between your bodies. He tilts and slowly impales you.

His hand crawls up your bodice and he pushes beneath the taught fabric. He squeezes your breast, two fingers framing your nipple as he snarls and burrows into you with subtle and slow thrusts.

You tense and tremour as he gets deeper, crying out as he breaks past the last thread of innocence. He huffs and bows his head down. His lips brush over the meat of your shoulder close to your neck and he bites into it. You sob again and he bucks his hips.

He puts you on your toes as he repeats the motion. He pulls back then snaps against your rear. Each time he bites harder, he gropes you tighter. He pumps into you, faster, more furious, more frantic.

His voice trickles out between his eager rutting. He teethes at you as he pinches your nipple. He bends you over the sarcophagus as his breath billows all around you.

He pounds into you so that the stone cuts into your hips and stomach. You snivel as your tears soak your cheeks and your head thrums. You grip the lid beneath you and hide your face against your arm.

He spasms and buckles, his legs seeming to give out, though he keeps his hips moving. He fucks you until he cannot any longer. Until he is weak and panting into your nape.

He sniffs and reaches to cover your hand on the stone. He slips his palm away and feels the sarcophagus. He slowly eases out of you and leaves you to hang off the lid.

He chokes into the blackness, “forgive me, Anna.”

Your legs give out and you sink onto the floor. You hang your head as you barely keep yourself from heaping into a puddle. Herr Harding weeps over his wife as you do the same for yourself.

#friedrich harding #dark friedrich harding #dark!friedrich harding #friedrich harding x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #nosferatu

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couch-potato28 · 2 months ago

Text

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION II.

(a/n: Helloo, I'm back again!! ^^ hope you enjoy this one too and if u see any grammatical errors let me know! 🙏 tyy for reading this<3 )

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.3k words, similar to last time =)

ALSO: SORRY guys about their jersey numbers since it may not be accurate in the story cause during bllk it always changed yk and honestly i got confused so i'm just gonna stick to what i prefer lmao @ttheggrimrreaper ❤️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number...

...7, Nagi Seishiro"

"Nagi Seishiro..."-you murmured upon hearing the unfamiliar name, your gaze intensely scanning the little icon of him next to yours.-…nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”

Quickly moving on, you headed to the 'MANAGER' labeled room where Anri handed you a little booklet along with a congratulations for surviving type of speech before dismissing you to find your new player. As you walked your way to where Team V was currently training, you read through the booklet, groaning at the new routine you got.

“Seriously, what part of being a manager includes tutoring…?-reaching the green field, you looked around the players, trying to find a white-haired guy with a supposed height of 6’3 according to the booklet. Turning your head from left to right then right to left multiple times, you still didn’t catch sight of the boy. Where is he? Surely, you can’t be that blind not to notice someone as tall as him.

Thinking maybe you misread something, you pulled out his data sheet, but right at that moment, a purple-headed guy ran up to you.

“Hey, I noticed you standing there for a while now. Can I help?”-he offered, before taking a look at the paper in your hands.

“That would be great, thanks. You guys are Team V, right? Can you tell me where Nagi Seishiro is?”-you asked, letting him inspect the data sheet, hoping to get an answer about your player’s whereabouts.

“Wait, you’re his assigned manager?”-he asked, voice full of surprise.-“He skipped training today, so he should be in our room, I suppose.”-the purple head answered, giving you a look of pity before directing you to their room.

“Thank you for the help!”-bowing a little, you left in a hurry, starting to get irritated with this hide-and-seek game.

“You’re welcome! Please take care of him!”-your helper shouted.-“…he can be a handful.”-the rest of the words being whispered as he returned to the soccer field.

'Who the hell skips their training just like that? He better be a good.'- you thought, jogging your way to their room.-“Why did I even get someone like him in the first place? I can’t…”

Imagine being Nagi Seishiro’s manager, known as the lazy genius.

——————

Nagi Seishiro, whose room you literally had to break down to get him out of bed and introduce yourself, his gaze never once leaving the small phone screen in his hands as he listens to half of whatever you’re saying and hums here and there to pretend like he’s been paying attention. Slowly waiting for you to finish your rambling, he then asks if you can carry him back to his bed.

“Will you listen to me if I do?”-you ask, trying to get the tiniest amount of attention from him.

“Sure, sure.”-he replies before his body draped over yours like a baby panda.

——————

•Nagi, who in the beginning is hard to handle as not only do you have to get him to attend practices regularly, but also to chew his food at every meal time so he doesn’t pass out the next day. He also seems to enjoy playing virtual games on his phone, rather than focusing on the real-life matches before him, his best friend, Reo being the one to make him run towards the soccer ball.

•To your surprise though, the first time you see him play, you immediately notice that he’s quite talented with or without the purple-haired assisting, always scoring a goal or two in advance to the whistle, ensuring that his team doesn’t fail.

•Nagi, who never played any sports aside from the ones on his device, doesn’t really care about his body’s health, forcing you to do some extra work to make sure he’s fit and well-fed enough on and off the field.

•Fortunately though, taking care of his physical health and performance is harder, than dealing with his mental health. Having an easy-going personality means his introverted ass doesn’t require much, other than a comfortable bed and 2 hours of silence with some games or mangas on the side. Also, if he has enough energy, he will offer you to play with him, teaching you some techniques along the way.

•He’s surprisingly patient and explains everything in great detail anytime you ask about the rules of a game or the skills of a character. He’ll pretty much answer to anything related to his interests. However, there are days when he suddenly becomes quiet, needing much more care and attention than usual, only answering with hums and nods to your questions, and saying things like everything is a ‘hassle’.

•This man can be really clingy at times, and his ability to take a nap whenever and wherever he feels like it, after sleeping 8.5 hours is honestly impressive. Monitoring and analysing his games after plays is probably the hardest task to do as his manager, since with no background knowledge about soccer and a little attention span, he drifts off to sleep way too easily.

•During the preparation for the U20 match, besides Nagi’s routine changing, your duties also pile up leaving no time to nag at him during the day or to snatch his phone away at midnight before his average screen time reaches above his height.

•Nagi, the epitome of laziness, the genius himself also seems to work harder than usual, leaving and arriving to training on time, eating his meals without complaining, and most importantly, paying attention to your explanations during the analysing sessions of his games.

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Nagi changes. From his attitude towards soccer to his passion for gaming, everything changes. He’s become more human. Someone, who has found their goal in life. It scares you in a way, but seeing his face after each game as he leans onto you with a tired sigh and some incomprehensible mumbling, makes you realize he isn’t much different than the Nagi before.

•Changing environments and teammates (aside from Reo ofc) however was new to both of you, but he handled it quite well, leaving you to focus on your work rather than worrying about him being able to fit in.

•To your luck, since he chose Manshine City, tutoring goes smoothly with him already knowing some English words from the games he had played before. Not to mention, he’s smart and a fast learner, so sometimes instead of teaching from thick dictionaries and books, you reward him with an English movie or game marathon, earning yourself a back hug from the player.

•Nagi likes you, he’s happy to have a manager who’s 'not a hassle to deal' with he says. He likes your willingness to participate in his random naps, or when you teach him new things he doesn’t know. He also likes the fact that you turn a blind eye to when he plays a little (a lot) more than he’s allowed to.

•Does he notice that you let some things slip because you kinda like him though? Absolutely not. This mop head is unaware of him leaning way closer to you than normal, invading your personal space on a daily level, or saying things like:

“You can sleep here. I want to finish the movie.” or “Can you slip in some mangas for me? Listening to Chris is boring.” and that one time when he said-“I’m kinda troublesome, but you like me, right?”

•He doesn’t know the effect he has on you (or on his fans). The way your eyes linger on his face when your fingers touch during one of his gaming sessions or the way your body stiffens when he drops his whole weight on you. He’s completely oblivious to your crush on him, but maybe it’s better this way.

•One day, when he finally stops finding everything a hassle other than football and video games, you’ll make sure to let him know about your feelings. For now, you’re content with this friendship. Also, being his manager isn’t a big hassle as you thought it would be.

——————

( tyy for reading and supporting! ❤️ (★‿★)

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