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chrollohearttags · 2 days ago

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love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

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you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

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dilf-docs · 3 days ago

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To The Devil I Know

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad. but what is the perfect way to leash all your anger out?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing (joel's kind of a perv, ay), dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little mix, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out.

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin.

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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unconventional-lawnchair · 1 day ago

Text

Lily's Touch

Poly!Marauders + Lily x Reader who's experiencing her first heat...

Summary: The reader is experiencing her first heat, and nothing matter how hard she tries, she can't get the nest right.

WC: 1.4k

CW: Omegaverse, grammar and spelling, not proof read, references of intense emotions and the reader is elf conscious.

Remus knew it was coming- everyone did.

Seven years of Hogwarts, two years of living with your mates, and not once had you experienced a heat.

It didn’t bother him, not really. It didn’t bother any of them, but they all knew how much it bothered you. The way your shoulders tensed when Lily went into heat, how you’d quietly dote on her with sweet affections, offering soothing touches and cups of tea. But when it came to yourself, you withdrew, closing in on yourself like you didn’t deserve the same attention. You never said it outright, but they could see it- the way you felt left behind, as though your body had somehow failed you. It broke his heart.

They’d tried to comfort you in countless ways. Late-night reassurances, Remus’s soft words murmured over cocoa, James’s hand squeezing yours with that protective and reassuring energy, Sirius teasing you relentlessly until you couldn’t help but laugh, and Lily’s endless supply of comfort. They’d spent nights making sure you knew that even if you never went into heat, even if your body never did what you expected, it wouldn’t change how much they loved you. You were theirs, no matter what. But words only went so far.

Yesterday, everything changed.Remus was the first to notice.

It started small; little things, like the way you trailed after them through the house, never straying too far from anyone’s side. You clung to Sirius’s shirt that morning as he made breakfast, your fingers twisting in the fabric absentmindedly. Sirius had given you a curious look but said nothing, choosing instead to ruffle your hair and tease you lightly about being clingy. Normally, you’d respond with a sassy remark or a playful shove, but this time, you simply leaned into his touch with a quiet hum.

James noticed next. You curled up beside him on the couch, tucking yourself under his arm like you belonged there, and he didn’t question it. He simply wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple while Lily smiled knowingly from across the room.

By midday, it was undeniable. You were restless, unsettled in a way none of them had seen before. Your instincts were bubbling just beneath the surface, tugging at you in directions you didn’t fully understand. And by evening, it all came to a head.

The last sign was when Remus got up to move. You’d been half-curled in Sirius’s lap, Remus’s fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your ankle. But the moment he shifted to stand, you stared at him, wide-eyed and panicked, as if the simple act of him moving away was too much to bear.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Remus cooed softly, pausing in place. He hadn’t meant to upset you, but the way your eyes began to water sent a sharp pang through his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, your voice small and shaky. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Remus whispered gently, stepping closer again. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and you immediately clung to him, pressing your face into his jumper with a sniffle of a cry.

That night, Remus took you to bed with him, and the simple act of being close seemed to calm you. But it was only the beginning.

The next day, it became clear to everyone- this was it. You were going into heat for the first time.

No one said a word, not wanting to put pressure on you. The human body was strange, and any small thing could ruin this. They wanted you to experience it at your own pace, to live through it without the weight of expectations. But by afternoon, as everyone gathered in the living room, it became impossible to ignore.

You’d gotten it into your head that you needed to build a nest. It started with a pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room, but no matter how much you arranged and rearranged them, it didn’t feel right. You’d build it up, only to tear it apart moments later, frustration growing with every failed attempt.

Remus had seen it coming- how you were spiraling between uncertainty and instinct, your body and mind at odds with something new and overwhelming. It made his chest ache, watching you struggle to build your nest, tearing it apart moments later as frustration clouded your features. He wanted to reach out, to tell you again that it didn’t matter if it was perfect. That you didn’t need to prove anything to them. You were enough. You always had been.

But he knew better. You needed to figure it out in your own way. Still, he stayed close, crouched beside you, ready to help if you asked.

Lily’s voice was calm and soothing, her fingers brushing through your hair as she murmured reassurances. “It’s okay, love. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“But it feels wrong.” Your voice trembled, hands twisting in the fabric of a blanket as though it might somehow yield the answer you were looking for. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s strange the first time,” Lily said gently, her hand never pausing in its soothing strokes. “You’re doing great, I promise.”

You didn’t seem convinced. Remus could see the doubt weighing on you, the way your shoulders tensed under Lily’s touch. It wasn’t frustration anymore; it was fear. Fear of doing it wrong. Fear of not being enough.

“You’re trying too hard,” he said softly, leaning in a little closer. “It’s okay to ask for help.”

“I don’t want to mess it up,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just… I want to impress you. I want it to be good. I want to do it right for once.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. You didn’t need to impress them. You didn’t need to be anything other than who you already were. He reached out, gently taking your trembling hands in his own, giving them a soft squeeze. “You don’t have to impress us,” he said quietly. “We already think you’re incredible.”

James knelt beside you, hazel eyes warm with quiet affection. “We’re proud of you,” he whispered. “No matter what.”

Sirius plopped down on your other side, grinning as he draped an arm around your shoulders. “Come on then, what is it?”

You blinked at him, confused. “What’s what?”

Sirius shrugged, voice teasing but kind. “What’s that pretty head saying? What’s it want you to do?”

For a moment, you hesitated. Remus could see the conflict in your eyes, the way you bit your lip nervously. But then, something shifted. You let out a shaky breath, slowly rising to your feet. They all watched in silence as you paused, glancing around the room like you were searching for something. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your breathing uneven.

And then, as though pulled by an unseen thread, you turned and made your way toward the shared room. You hesitated at the door, casting a glance back at them, eyes uncertain, before stepping inside.

Remus followed quietly, stopping in the doorway as you approached Lily’s nest. He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to disturb whatever instinct was guiding you now. He only watched as you reached out, running your fingers over the soft blankets and pillows that made up Lily’s carefully crafted space.

You knelt down slowly, curling into the nest with a soft, content sigh, as though it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Lily covered her mouth with her hand, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she took in the sight of you nestled in her space. There was something unspoken between the two of you, something so deeply emotional that it made Remus’s throat tighten.

Of course. Of course, this was where you’d end up.

Was it really all that shocking? You had always been Lily’s girl. Always gravitated toward her warmth, her comfort. It made sense in a way that felt almost poetic, that your first heat would lead you to her nest, to the place where you felt safest.

Remus smiled softly to himself, heart aching with affection as he watched Lily crawl in beside you, wrapping her arms around you protectively. You sighed again, melting into her hold, and Remus knew- no matter how long it had taken, no matter how difficult it had been for you to get here- you were finally where you belonged.

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mrsfancyferrari · 3 days ago

Text

Birthday Wishes

Summary: LH44 + Birthday Wishes

Song: It's My Birthday · Will.i.am

Author’s note: Happy Birthday to my Black King, my idol and inspiration! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 3.8k

The sprawling, modern house, perched on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean, felt strangely quiet. It was a stark contrast to the roaring engines and frenetic energy of the Grand Prix circuits you were accustomed to seeing Lewis dominate.

Today, however, there was no racing. Today was his birthday, and you were here, a flutter of anticipation and nervous energy churning within you.

You had been looking forward to this for weeks, ever since he’d casually, almost as an afterthought, said, "You should come over for my birthday. Just a quiet one."

Just a quiet one, he'd said. As if anything involving Lewis Hamilton could ever be truly quiet.

You wandered into the living room, its floor-to-ceiling windows framing a breathtaking view of the sea. The sun was painting the water in shades of sapphire and gold, reflecting off the sleek, minimalist furniture.

A small table in the corner was laden with a variety of pastries – croissants, pain au chocolat, and a stack of what looked like homemade scones. A single vase held a vibrant bouquet of wildflowers, a thoughtful contrast to the polished perfection of the room.

"Beautiful place," you murmured to yourself, feeling slightly out of place in your casual jeans and linen shirt. You’d debated what to wear for hours, eventually settling on something that was comfortable yet still felt like you had put in the effort.

You desperately hoped he wouldn’t notice how much you had agonized over it.

A moment later, the sound of footsteps made you turn. Lewis stood in the doorway, his smile genuine and warm. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and joggers, his hair slightly tousled, giving him a relaxed look that you found incredibly endearing.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little husky, "You made it."

"Wouldn't miss it," you replied, your heart doing that irritating little flutter-kick. You tried to sound casual, but you knew your cheeks were probably betraying you.

"Coffee?" He gestured towards the kitchen. "Or we can just dive into the pastries."

"Coffee would be great," you replied, following him. The kitchen was equally sleek and modern, with stainless steel appliances and a large island where he began brewing coffee.

You watched him, the way his hands moved with confidence and ease, and a familiar warmth spread through you. You'd spent so much time with him at races, surrounded by teams and media, that it was strangely intimate to see this side of him, the quiet, domestic side.

"So," he said, turning towards you as he poured the coffee, "What do you think? Is it…birthday-ish enough?"

You laughed, the sound echoing slightly in the large space. "Well, there are pastries, and flowers, and the absence of any car engines... I think you're definitely on the right track."

He handed you a mug, the steam swirling upwards, carrying with it the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. "Good," he said, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were the only two people in the world.

He broke the gaze first, turning back to the counter. "So what do we do today? Walk down to the beach? Take the boat out?"

"Whatever you'd like," you replied, your voice slightly breathless. The thought of spending the day with him, just the two of you, was enough to make butterflies dance in your stomach.

You spent the morning talking, sitting out on the balcony, the sun warming your skin. He spoke about his plans for the future, not just in racing, but his other passions: music, fashion, his love for animals.

He was so much more than just a Formula One driver, and you reveled in learning all these hidden depths. You, in turn, spoke about your life, your dreams, your anxieties.

You were surprised at how comfortable you felt, how easily the words flowed. It was like the wall you kept between yourself and the world had crumbled in his presence.

"I'm glad you're here," he said softly, his gaze on the ocean. "It's…nice. Different."

"Me too," you admitted, the words feeling like a confession. You wanted to tell him so much more, how you felt, how your heart had been inexplicably drawn to him.

But the words caught in your throat, fear holding them captive.

Later, you walked down to the beach, the soft sand warm beneath your feet. He kicked off his shoes and rolled up his trousers, and you followed suit.

The waves crashed onto the shore, the sound a soothing rhythm. As you walked, you found yourselves in comfortable silence, just enjoying the beauty around you.

Then, he surprised you. "Want to try?" he asked, pointing at a stand-up paddle board that was leaning against a nearby rock.

You hesitated, you had never tried before. "I'm not sure I’m very good at these things," you confessed.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don’t worry, I'll help you."

And he did. He was patient, his hands gentle as he guided you, his laughter warm as you wobbled and nearly fell. You spent the rest of the afternoon in the water, laughing and splashing each other, the tension you’d been carrying finally melting away.

By the time you returned to the house, you were both exhausted but exhilarated.

As dusk approached, you found yourselves back on the balcony. The sky was painted in brilliant hues of orange and purple, the air cooler now. You were sitting side-by-side, sipping wine, neither of you wanting the day to end.

"This was… amazing," you said, your voice low. "Thank you."

He turned to you, his gaze intense. "Thank you," he repeated, his voice softer now. "It's the best birthday I've had in a long time."

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. You knew, deep down, that there was something special between you, something more than just friendship.

You had felt it all day, in the shared laughter, the comfortable silences, the warmth of his touch.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "Lewis," you started, your voice barely a whisper, “I…”

But before you could finish, his phone buzzed loudly, breaking the spell. He sighed, picking it up. His face changed, his smile fading.

"Sorry," he said, his voice distracted. "Work call."

You watched him as he spoke to someone on the phone, his mood shifting completely. You knew that this was the reality of his life. The world of racing was demanding, always demanding.

It was a reminder that despite the intimacy you'd shared today, his world was vastly different from yours.

He hung up the phone a few minutes later, his expression apologetic. "Sorry about that," he said, "It was…urgent."

The moment was gone. The words you had been about to say felt foolish now, too vulnerable to be spoken in the face of the realities of his life. You forced a smile.

"No problem," you said, your voice much lighter than you felt. "Work is work."

He seemed to sense your shift in mood, the slight withdrawal. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice concerned.

You met his gaze, your heart aching with a mix of longing and resignation. You knew you couldn't keep your feelings bottled up forever.

You wanted to tell him everything, but the fear of rejection was always right there, holding you back.

"Yeah," you said finally, trying to sound convincing, but you knew he could see through the facade, "Just… a little tired. It's been a long day."

He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah," he said, "It has been."

There was a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words, before you both just went back to staring out at the fading light, the gentle sound of the waves washing over the beach.

You knew you had missed your window but you also knew with a certainty that this was not the last time, and maybe one day you would find the courage to tell him exactly how you felt.

But for now, you were content to just sit here, with him, in the quiet afterglow of the day, wanting more than anything for the night to never end.

The roar of the engines was a physical thing, vibrating through your chest and making your teeth hum. It was a sound you knew intimately, a sound that usually brought you a sense of exhilaration.

But here, in the Australia International Circuit paddock, standing amongst a sea of scarlet-clad Ferrari fans, it felt different. Foreign. Unsettling.

It was all because of him. Lewis.

Seeing him in red was a surreal experience. The sleek, aggressive lines of the Ferrari suit, emblazoned with the prancing horse, just didn't seem to belong to the man you knew.

Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time champion, the man who was synonymous with silver and black, was now a vibrant splash of crimson. The world was still reeling from the bombshell announcement.

A few months ago, it had been unfathomable. Now, here it was, the reality staring you in the face.

And you were here, a reluctant participant, forced to bear witness to this seismic shift in the Formula One landscape. You haven't seen Lewis since his birthday.

That night, fueled by too much champagne and a heart overflowing with something you couldn't quite define, you’d almost confessed your feelings.

It was a near-miss, a moment where the truth had hovered precariously on the tip of your tongue. The near-confession had scared you so badly that you'd become adept at dodging calls, making excuses about work, or simply, pretending to be busy.

You had convinced yourself that if you just kept enough distance, the feelings might fade. They didn't.

Today, however, distance was no longer an option. Lewis had called, his voice laced with a familiar charm, yet with an undertone of stubborn authority.

“You’re not going to leave me hanging on my first race, are you?” he'd asked, the question more of a statement. You'd tried to resist, even feigned a sore throat, but he had simply said, "I'll send a car."

And here you were, leaning against a barrier, trying to appear nonchalant amidst the chaos, while your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird.

You watched as Lewis, a whirlwind of energy even before he entered the car, moved through the pit lane, exchanging quick words with his engineers. He looked incredible.

He’d always been handsome, but something about the Ferrari red seemed to amplify his presence, his confidence.

"Lost in thought?”

The deep, familiar voice sent a jolt through you. You turned, your breath catching in your throat. Lewis stood there, his race suit unzipped at the top, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.

His eyes, those intense brown eyes you’d spent far too many nights dreaming about, were fixed on you with a playful glint.

"Just... taking it all in," you managed, your voice a little too breathy for your liking.

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “I know, it’s a bit much, isn’t it? Even for me sometimes.” He gestured around at the bustling pit lane, a small smile playing on his lips.

"It's..." you paused, searching for the right word, "different."

"Different good, or different bad?" he teased, stepping closer. The scent of his aftershave, a mix of citrus and spice, filled your senses, making it even harder to think straight.

"Different… jarring," you admitted, your gaze darting down to the Ferrari logo on his suit. You weren't being intentionally cold, but it was the truth.

It wasn't about the car but about who was in it.

His smile faded slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes. “Jarring?” he repeated, his voice softer now. "You don't like it?"

"It's not about the car, Lewis," you said, quickly lifting your gaze to meet his.

The air crackled between you two, a tangible tension that had been simmering for months, growing more intense in the claustrophobic confines of the pit lane.

"Then what is it about?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. The noise of the paddock faded into background static. It felt like you were the only two people in the world.

You opened your mouth, wanting to say it, wanting to finally confess the feelings that had been eating you alive, but the words caught in your throat.

Instead, you muttered the first thing that came to mind, "It's just... new.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his braids, a gesture you knew so well.

“Well, new is good, right? Keeps things interesting. Besides," his eyes twinkled, “I look good in red, don’t I?”

He was doing it again, charming his way out of a serious conversation. You couldn’t help but smile. “You do,” you conceded, forcing a lightness into your voice. “Very… striking.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, his smile returning full force.

“Now, I need to go get ready. But,” he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I'll see you after the race, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your heart thumping against your ribs like a drum.

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum, a backdrop to the frantic energy within the Ferrari garage. You tried to focus on the data streaming across your screen – lap times, tire degradation, fuel consumption – but your eyes kept betraying you.

They kept drifting towards the track, towards the scarlet blur that was Lewis.

It was the first race of the season, his first in the iconic red of Ferrari, and the air crackled with a tension that both exhilarated and terrified you.

The red suit wasn’t just a new color; it was a visual manifestation of a new energy, a raw hunger that pulsed from him with every turn, every overtake.

He was a predator on the track, precise, powerful, and undeniably captivating. A strange mix of worry and pride swelled inside you as you watched him fight for position, pushing his car and himself to the absolute limit.

The race was a blur, a ballet of speed and strategy. You meticulously tracked his progress, biting your lip, heart pounding in your chest with every corner.

You tried to reason with yourself, telling yourself to focus on the data, on your job, but it was useless. You were mesmerized, completely and utterly consumed by the spectacle of Lewis Hamilton piloting a Ferrari.

When the checkered flag finally waved, the roar from the stands hit a crescendo. You saw it on the screen - Lewis, first across the line. A wave of relief washed over you so profound it made you dizzy.

You hadn’t realized how tightly wound you were until the tension finally snapped. You didn’t want to think about why watching him risk it all put you so on edge, you just accepted it as a part of who you were.

You found yourself drawn to the edge of the team garage, away from the frenetic celebrations unfolding between the mechanics and engineers. Your heart wouldn't be able to take it, not today.

You watched on the monitors as Lewis emerged from his car, a triumphant smile splitting his face as he was enveloped by his new team.

You saw the spray of champagne, the joyful leaps and shouts, the shared camaraderie. You desperately wanted to see him, to congratulate him, but you hung back, the familiar sting of your reserved nature keeping you rooted to the spot.

It felt like an eternity before the excitement began to die down, the celebrations slowly dispersing. You paced anxiously, hands twisting in your pockets, waiting for him to return.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to say. Congratulations felt inadequate, almost like an underselling of what you had just witnessed.

Finally, you saw him. He was still damp with champagne, his red racing suit clinging to him, making him look even more imposing than usual.

His braids was a mess, his eyes sparkling with the post-race adrenaline, and when he turned, you found yourself caught in his gaze.

You opened your mouth to speak, “Lewis-“

But before you could finish, he was there, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers wrapping around mine, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

It was a casual touch, yet it made your entire body sing.

He didn't say a word, but the pull in his hand was unmistakable, guiding you through the open door of his driver’s room, leaving you no choice but to follow, as if you were caught in his orbit.

The room was small, functional, but it felt like a haven compared to the vibrant chaos of the garage. He closed the door behind you, the sound a quiet click in the sudden silence.

His grip on your hand didn’t loosen, his thumb gently tracing your knuckles.

“Where were you before?” His voice was rough, a hint of disappointment lacing his tone.

The question caught you off guard, the intimacy of the question making your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, your mind scrambling to find an answer. "I- I was here," you stammered, your voice betraying your nerves.

"I didn't think… I didn't think you would want me there." You couldn't meet his eyes, your gaze fixed on your hands, still entwined.

He tilted his head, studying you, his eyes searching. "Of course, I wanted you there. I always want you there."

The words hung in the air, charged with an unspoken depth. You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

His eyes, those incredible brown eyes that seemed to see right through you, were locked on yours.

“That was an incredible race, Lewis,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

They felt so inadequate, so clumsy, compared to the way he had just taken control of that race.

He smiled then, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes, and it was like the sun had broken through the clouds. It was a smile that was meant for you, and you only.

“It was, wasn’t it?” He squeezed your hand slightly. “But it would have been even better if you were closer.”

“I was in the pitlane,” you stated softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the memory of him crossing the finish line, the sheer power and determination he radiated, still made your heartbeat erratic rhythms.

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “I mean to be there when I get out of the car, to be the first one I see,” he clarified, his gaze still locked on yours.

He wanted you there, front and centre, the first thing he sees after the adrenaline-fueled intensity of a race. It was a sentiment that sent a flutter of both hope and uncertainty through you.

“I don't think they'll let me stay in front for you,” you joked, trying to lighten the intimate atmosphere that had settled between you, the vulnerability in his expression making you feel a little overwhelmed.

You knew the protocol, the chaos that erupted after a race, the swarm of people who descended upon the winning driver. You couldn't possibly break that wall.

“I can make that arrangement,” Lewis stated seriously, his tone firm, the glint in his eyes unwavering.

He was so sure, so absolute, that for a moment you actually believed him. It was a ridiculous notion, but from him, it felt strangely plausible.

“Lewis…” you muttered, looking up at him, your eyes wide. His conviction was thrilling, but it was also terrifying.

He was raising your hopes too much, painting a picture of a reality that, you feared, could never be.

He moved closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face. You were trapped between the intensity of the moment and the logical part of your brain telling you to walk away while you still could.

Despite the inner turmoil, you stood your ground, your heart thumping a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

“Did you know what my birthday wish was?” Lewis said, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of something you couldn't quite decipher.

“What?” you whispered, the question trembling on your lips, afraid of both the answer and the silence that might come after.

“For you to like me back,” he said, his voice almost a caress, the words like a revelation that left you breathless.

He looked at you, his eyes searching, probing for any sign of reciprocation. “Did it come true?”

You didn’t speak for a moment, stunned into silence. It wasn't just a casual question, it was a confession, a risk taken, a heart laid bare.

You opened your mouth to answer, but found that nothing came out. You swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words, the perfect way to convey the feelings that had been building inside you.

“Lewis…” you began again, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze fixed on the floor, still scared to meet his eyes.

He took your hand in his again, his touch gentle, but firm. He lifted your face until you were looking at him.

“Tell me,” he urged softly, his eyes pleading. “Please, tell me.”

You finally found the courage to meet his gaze, to look into those deep brown eyes that held so much warmth and understanding. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Yes, Lewis,” you whispered, the words barely audible. “Yes, I like you back.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, connected by a shared feeling, a mutual hope.

He squeezed your hand again, a silent promise, a shared understanding that had just changed everything. The roar of the crowd, the pressure of the race, the expectations of the season - all of it faded into the background.

All that truly mattered was right here, in this moment, with this man, the fastest man in the world, who wanted you, right here.

He laughed, a light, joyful sound that made your heart swell. “Good,” he breathed out, his smile reaching his eyes. “That’s very, very good.”

He finally closed the remaining gap between you, and pressed his lips against yours. You melted into his embrace, the kiss was soft, tender, and filled with the unspoken promise of a new beginning.

A beginning you never expected, but one you were more than ready for. Perhaps being here, so close, was exactly where you were meant to be. And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your soul, that this was just the beginning.

The first race of the season may have been won on the track, but a much more significant race had just begun, one that was just for you and Lewis. Starting from a wish. . . .

251 notes · View notes

charmedimsure · 1 day ago

Note

uuuhhhhhm can i pretty pretty please with cherries on top request a Dae-ho x reader where the reader was also in the military? but its like that ep. where they revolutionized? if that makes sense? idk i think it be cool if reader eas good eith a gun

anyways HAVE A LOVELY DAY/ NIGHT love reading your stuff (i binge read it :p)

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x gn!reader

summary: As a former soldier, you know just what to do when all hell breaks loose.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: guns, death, blood, squid game stuff, panic attacks, ptsd

A/N: i've played so many shooting games i feel like i've been training to write this fic my entire life. i even named it after a shield from my favorite game (brownie points if you know which game). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3 tried to make this gender neutral but if you find any slip ups lmk so i can fix it

**this can be read as romantic or platonic**

You look at the woman standing between bunks with wide eyes. You weren't sure earlier when you saw her on the screen, but seeing her standing ten feet away from you, you're absolutely positive that you know who this is.

"Sergeant?"

Cho Hyun-ju turns and gasps when she sees you, a smile lighting up her face. She quickly embraces you, you happily hugging her back. You were always her favorite soldier (she never admitted it, being the sergeant of the Brigade, but you both knew she liked you best). You were one of the only people who supported her when she came out. You tried to fight against her discharge but, as a low-ranking soldier, you had no say in the matter.

"I knew it had to be you!" you say, pulling back with a smile. "When I saw someone go back into the playing field to help a guy with only ten seconds left, I just knew it was my sergeant!"

"It's good to see you," she says. "Though, I wish it was under better circumstances."

You nod solemnly. You had just watched at least a hundred people die while screaming and begging for their lives. As a former soldier, it was hard that you couldn't do anything to help the civilians. All you could do was stand there and listen to the screams and gunshots, and then the silence.

"How are you here? Are you not part of the Brigade anymore?" Hyun-ju asks.

You shake your head. "No, I actually left not long after you were discharged. It wasn't the same without you, and I just couldn't be civil with the others after how they treated you."

She nods, understanding. "Well, if I'm going to be here with anyone, I'm glad it's you. I trust you with my life, soldier."

You smile. "And I you, Sergeant."

You and Hyun-ju had made it through the next two games together, along with some allies you made along the way. Together with Young-mi, Yong-sik, and Geum-ja, you had been the first team to succeed in the six-legged pentathlon.

You had also made it though Mingle with some new allies, though not all of your old allies made it. Young-mi's death was hard on your whole group, but Hyun-ju had been taking it the worst. While you had grown closer with Yong-sik and Geum-ja, she had formed a special bond with the young girl and had to watch her die right in front of her.

While you would like to take the time to mourn Young-mi, a lot has happened in the few hours since the third game ended. The vote on whether to go home or stay ended in a 50-50 tie, meaning you're going to have to redo the vote tomorrow. Then, a huge fight apparently broke out in the men's bathroom, leaving five players dead.

Both sides group together to count their numbers, and you find that there's now one more X than O. While the players around you celebrate, a feeling of dread shoots through you.

"Attention please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime."

Shit.

Player 047 stands in front of the group. "Listen, you cannot change your minds. We have to win the second vote and get out of here tomorrow, alright?"

As the other players around you nod and move to their beds, you stay sitting, watching the O players. They're already looking at your group. Watching. Waiting. You look at Gi-hun, the previous winner, and know that he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Those bastards are acting suspicious," Dae-ho says, returning to the small circle you formed on the ground. "It looks like they're up to something."

Jung-bae breathes out a laugh. "Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it'll all be over."

"You think we'll be okay?" Dae-ho asks, concerned. "They say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier."

"We need to be ready," you say from your place between Dae-ho and Gyeong-seok. "They've been watching us since the moment they found out the prize money goes up if we kill each other."

The group around you tenses before Gi-hun speaks up as well. "Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us."

"Really?" Yong-sik asks from beside his mother.

Gi-hun nods. "Because if they kill us, they'll be able to win the vote and increase the prize."

"So what do we do?" Yong-sik asks.

"Let's attack them first," Young-il suggests. "They're probably thinking we'll just wait for the second vote. We can use it to our advantage. We'll attack them first once the lights go out."

"That's right," Player 047 says. "It'd be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked we'll be at a disadvantage." You send him a glare that makes him freeze for a moment before continuing. "Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning."

"I agree," Player 145 adds.

"We can't do that," Gi-hun says.

"But we have to get out of here," Young-il argues. "You said it yourself. Staying calm won't get us anywhere now."

"That doesn't mean we should kill each other," Gi-hun says. "That's exactly what they want us to do."

Jung-bae leans forward. "'They'?"

Gi-hun looks at him. "The ones who created this game." He turns to face the rest of the circle. "The ones who watch us play. If we're going to fight someone, it should be them."

It's silent before Dae-ho speaks up. "Where are they?"

Gi-hun looks to the ceiling. "Up there."

You all follow his gaze before looking around at each other.

"On the upper levels," Gi-hun says, "are the rooms they control the games from. The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we'll be able to win."

"How are you going to fight them?" Young-il asks. "They have guns."

"We'll fight them with guns, too," Gi-hun says.

"But we don't have any," Jung-bae says.

Gi-hun turns to him. "We'll take their guns."

You and Hyun-ju look at each other. This is what you were trained for.

"From those masked men?" Gyeong-seok asks nervously.

Gi-hun nods.

"That's too dangerous," Young-il says. "Even if we manage to take a few guns, we'll still be outnumbered."

"What then?" Gi-hun argues. "Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? Is that what you want, Young-il?"

Hyun-ju breaks the silence. "Do we... stand a chance?"

"We do if we catch them off guard," Gi-hun says. "Out of everyone, they're the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all."

"How are you going to take their guns?" Young-il asks.

"Once the fight begins tonight, we'll have our chance."

"Lights out in ten seconds."

"Ten,

nine,

eight,

seven,

six,

five,

four,

three,

two,

one."

The lights dim, then turn off completely, leaving only the red and blue lights from the floor.

You roll out of bed, getting under the frame. You feel someone else trying to get under your bed, and you move a bit to make room for Dae-ho. Just as you get in position, you see bodies creeping towards your side of the room, illuminated by the bright blue O on the floor.

There's a scream, and all hell breaks loose.

The lights strobe as you hear the sounds of screaming and bottles being smashed coming from all around you. Somewhere to your right, a bunk is toppled over, sending someone to the ground. Another player runs up to them, stabbing their fork into their neck.

You feel the ex-Marine next to you tense up and put a hand over his, trying to bring him some comfort, or at the very least trying to keep him from blowing your cover.

You hear the buzzer of the door and the lights come on. One of the soldiers fires into the air to stop the fighting as about twenty masked guards come into the room, all armed.

You quickly army crawl out from under the bed, Dae-ho following you as you lay down on the ground.

You hear footsteps getting closer to you, and your ear is moved as a device scans behind it.

You open your eyes, grabbing the soldier so they can't move. "Dae-ho! Now!"

The ex-Marine smashes a bottle over the head of the guard, knocking him unconscious. You take the opportunity to grab the submachine gun off of the soldier, shooting another soldier coming toward you and Dae-ho. You're so focused on the fight that you fail to notice the quivering boy holding his hands over his ears against the bunks.

Grabbing another gun, you quickly scale one of the bunks to get a better vantage of the fight.

"Sergeant!" You yell, gaining the attention of Hyun-ju. She looks to you and you toss the SMG to her. She drops her pistol and catches the weapon, turning just in time to shoot one of the pink guards coming for her.

You use your position to fire at the guards hiding behind bunks. You pull the trigger until you hear a click, cursing as the mag runs empty. You jump down from the bunk, using the butt of the gun to knock a guard out cold. You quickly take his ammo and reload your own gun, firing at a guard trying to shoot Gi-hun.

"Retreat. Retreat."

The voice over the intercom announces and the pink soldiers make their way towards the door. You're able to shoot two more, but most of the soldiers who are still alive are able to make it out of the room. The main guard with the square on his mask is too busy firing back to realize that the door has closed behind him, sealing him in the room with you just as he runs out of ammo.

"Stop! Hold fire!" Gi-hun yells.

Jung-bae and another player run over to the square guard, making sure he won't fight.

"You goddamn bastards!" you hear someone yell on the other side of the room and turn to see Player 047 aiming his gun at a bunch of O players.

"No!" Gi-hun yells, stopping the man before he can shoot. "This is not what we took these guns for. If we do this, we'll be no different from those masked men."

Player 047 lowers his gun, hanging his head and he softly cries.

Gi-hun steps to the center of the room. "Everyone! Don't be scared. Gather round, please! We're not trying to hurt you!"

You walk to stand by Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok.

"Get the guns and ammo from the dead," she tells the both of you.

You nod, doing as your sergeant says while she takes out the cameras in the room.

Placing one of the last guns on the mattress in the center of the room, you move to stand in line between Jung-bae and Dae-ho, handing the extra SMG in your hand to Dae-ho.

Gi-hun steps forward. "Everyone. We will now head up to the masked men's headquarters. We'll capture the ones who captured us, put an end to this game, and make them pay. Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward."

You look at the crowd in front of you, but everyone stays where they are.

"Hey," you hear a voice next to you say and turn your head to see Jung-bae stepping forward. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But this may be our last chance to make it out of this place alive. Fight with us so we can go home together. All together."

One of the players in the back of the crowd steps forward. "I'll fight with you."

Gi-hun waves at him to come and take a gun. Two other players come forward as well.

You watch as Yong-sik makes a move to step forward, but he catches your gaze as you shake your head at him. It's very brave of him to think about volunteering, but he hasn't even served his mandatory military service yet, and it would kill his mother if he didn't come back. You breathe a sigh of relief when Yong-sik stays where he is.

When it's clear that no one else is stepping forward, Gi-hun turns to you all. "Please check your guns and ammo."

"Let's take one radio each," Jung-bae says. "We'll use channel 7, the lucky number."

You put the strap of your gun around you, checking the mag and putting it back in place when you're satisfied with the amount of ammo that is left. You look to your right to see Dae-ho fiddling with his own gun. Just as you're about to help him, Hyun-ju steps forward.

"Attention," she says, holding up her gun. "This is the MP5, a submachine gun." She continues on the demonstrate how to load the weapon and set it to the mode you should be using. When she's done, she looks at you all. "Are we clear?"

"Yes," you answer, falling right back into the rhythm with your sergeant.

Hyun-ju nods to you, silently telling you to stay by her when you get out there.

"How do you two know each other?" Dae-ho questions, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirk, cocking the MP5. "I was in the 13th Special Missions Brigade. Hyun-ju was my sergeant."

Dae-ho stares at you, completely stunned. "You were in the Decapitation Unit?!"

You chuckle at his disbelief, nodding.

The man can't believe it. He's been bragging about being an ex-Marine while there's been two ex-Special Forces soldiers right next to him the whole time.

Gi-hun points a pistol at the square-masked guard. "Take it off."

The guard slowly removes his mask, revealing a boy no older than 25.

"Good God," Jung-bae says. "Do your parents know what you're doing here?"

The guard just stares at him.

Gi-hun cocks the pistol. "Take us to your captain."

"All players, it is bedtime now. Please return to your quarters immediately. Otherwise, you will be eliminated from the game. Let me repeat..."

Gi-hun fires at the speaker, effectively shutting up the voice. Three guards are stood over you. "Get down!"

You duck behind the wall of the stairs. Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you turn to look at Hyun-ju behind you.

"Cover me!"

You nod, shooting at the guards while she sprints to the top of the stairs. From her new vantage point, she is able to take out one of the guards, causing their body to fall over the ledge and down to the floor.

When you duck down to reload, you see Dae-ho next to you. The ex-Marine is sitting in a ball, covering his ears and flinching every time a shot rings out. You look at him with concern, but your attention is stolen by Gi-hun telling everyone to hold their fire. Dae-ho gets a grip on his weapon and you all move, following Gi-hun and the un-masked guard.

As you move down an alleyway, Gi-hun stops the guard. "How much farther? Is this the right way?"

The boy points toward the end of the hall. "The entrance to the management area is around that corner. The control room is right above it."

Gi-hun pushes him. "Move it, then!"

"Wait," the guard says, reaching toward his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Gi-hun stops him.

"I need my mask to pass security," the guard explains. Gi-hun nods and the guard takes the mask out. He looks up, but before he can say anything else, a bullet goes right through his head.

You all take cover as more shots are fired at you. Something slashes onto your face, and you turn to see Player 072's lifeless body falling to the ground.

You drop the floor and crawl over to Hyun-ju, both of you taking positions in a green square area of the stairs. You nod to each other and duck out of cover, firing at the guards. You can hear the men speaking to each other at the other end of the line, but you focus on taking out as many guards as possible.

You and Hyun-ju alternate firing and taking cover, both of you shooting with deadly precision, doing your best to not waste any of the already low supply of ammo you have.

A player next to you screams and is shot. You turn, shooting at the guard approaching from your rear, taking out a few that are behind that one as well.

"Everyone! Check your magazines!" Hyun-ju calls out.

You take the mag out of the gun, seeing that you have about half of a clip left. Everyone announces that they're around the same.

"Young-il, Dae-ho, can you hear me?" The voice of Jung-bae erupts from your radio.

"Go ahead!" Young-il says.

"I think we're right below the control room." Shots can be heard in the background. "But we need backup and more ammo."

"We're running out of ammo, too!"

"There should be spare magazines in the soldiers' pockets in our quarters. Go get them!" Gi-hun yells through the radio.

"Did you hear that?" Young-il turns to the group. "They need backup! Three of us will go, and the rest will stay! Join us once you get the magazines! Who wants to go with me?"

Players 047 and ... volunteer and they run off towards the end of the hall.

"I'll go get the magazines!" Hyun-ju yells. "I'll come back as soon as I can, so just hold on until then!"

"Hyun-ju!" A voice yells. You turn to see Dae-ho raising his hand. "I'll go!" He hurries over to where you and Hyun-ju are taking cover. "I- I'm out of ammo."

"Do you know the way?" Gyeong-seok asks. Dae-ho nods.

"We destroyed the cameras on the way, follow them," Hyun-ju says.

"I'll go with him," you say. "I still have some ammo, so I'll cover him."

Hyun-ju nods. "I'll cover you. Go!"

You and Dae-ho take off down the stairs. He stops a few times, but you pull him along, keeping your eyes up to watch for the broken cameras. As you're running down the stairs, Dae-ho stops, and you turn to see him staring at a dead guard hanging over the ledge of a window.

"Dae-ho!" Jung-bae yells. "Can you hear me? Where are those magazines?"

You lift your own radio to your mouth. "We're getting them now."

"Alright! We're counting on you!"

You put your radio back in your pocket, grabbing Dae-ho's hand and pulling him along behind you.

You burst into the quarters, letting go of Dae-ho's hand as you sprint to a guard, taking the spare mags out of their pockets. You hear someone say your name and look up to see Yong-sik.

"What happened? Why are you back by yourselves?"

"We're low on ammo," you say, not looking up from the guard you're looting. "We need to get the magazines from their pockets. Help us!"

You look up to the boy to see him nod and run over to a nearby guard. Geum-ja and Jun-hee come over to the help, as well.

Once you've looted all the ammo from the guards, you place them into a jacket you found on one of the dead players. You tie it up and give it to Dae-ho, thanking the others as you lead him out of the room.

Gunshots can be heard as soon as you step outside. You keep moving but when you check behind you, you see that Dae-ho has stopped where he is.

"Dae-ho, we need to go," you urge.

He looks at you silently, but the fear in his eyes sends the message. You've seen soldiers like this before you joined the Special Forces.

Dae-ho stands in his spot, paralyzed other than the shake of his body in fear.

You hear your name and Dae-ho's through the radio. "Where are you? Can you hear me?"

You watch as Dae-ho lifts his radio, staring at it as Hyun-ju's voice comes through.

"Did you find the magazines? Are you on your way?"

Dae-ho looks at you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, dropping the radio on the ground and running back into the quarters with the magazines.

"Shit," you say under your breath. You follow Dae-ho into the room, looking around to find where he went. Yong-sik points toward a bunk and you find Dae-ho curled up there, rocking back and forth. Running over to him, you take the jacket with the mags, ready to run out of there. You take a look at Dae-ho, the pure fear coursing through him as he whispers apologies over and over.

You sigh, remembering one of the lessons Hyun-ju taught you as your sergeant.

Never leave a man behind.

Taking out your radio, you bring it to your lips and press the button. "Charlie Foxtrot."

You put your radio down, knowing that Hyun-ju will know what to do. You had picked up the phrase from your U.S. counterparts, saying it to each other when something goes wrong.

Moving to sit on the bed, you take Dae-ho's hands into yours. "Dae-ho, I need you to breathe with me, alright."

He slowly looks at your face before launching himself into your arms, sobbing into your shoulder. You rub his back comfortingly, knowing you can't leave him alone like this.

After a few minutes, Hyun-ju runs into the room shouting you and Dae-ho's names. She comes running over to you, stopping when she sees Dae-ho in your arms.

"What happened?"

Dae-ho jumps a bit at the new voice, burying his face farther into your jacket.

You look up a Hyun-ju, shaking your head at her. She nods, understanding. You point at the magazines and she scoops them into her arms, ready to take them to the others when the buzzer for the door goes off and more pink guards enter the room, firing in the air and making everyone scream.

Hyun-ju reloads her SMG, ready to take on the entire group on guards by herself. You watch as Geum-ja puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"You can't die like this."

You sigh in relief as Hyun-ju puts the gun down. From your hidden area, you try to get the guns and mags away from you, making it seem as though the three of you have been here the whole time.

As the guards come further into the room, you use your body to shield Dae-ho from them as he whimpers. You make eye contact with Hyun-ju. Whatever happens next, you'll face it as a team.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @thebiggestigurosimp @come-as-you-are-111 @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5

#squid game #squid game 2 #player 388 #squid game season 2 #dae ho #dae-ho #kang dae ho #dae ho x reader #kang daeho #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #daeho #daeho x reader

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undeadentropy · 2 days ago

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Yeah my family told me that love was unconditional so I guess I just believed them? Had a bad habit of trusting people most of my life. Don't worry ex family, I'm cold and bitter and slow to trust people like you now, so mission accomplished I guess ✌️

Anyhow to any young autistic people, just because they don't hit you and they make some sort of apology after yelling at you doesn't mean they actually care. My family was all that and they literally kicked me out to starve to death on the streets because I tried to kill myself. Both sides, the only thing they ever agreed on after the divorce. Turns out if both sides are intelligent gaslighters, you can be conditioned to accept a lot of shit you had no idea was even bad. Take care of yourself first. Don't self sacrifice out of love.

Here is the golden rule to know if your instincts are right about friends or famIly. If you can't safely unmask around them, or don't feel safe unmasking around them for reasons other than past abuse, don't fucking trust that person more than you can throw them. I'm so serious right now. I'm well past halfway through my life expectancy now and this rule hasn't been wrong even once.

If this advise can protect even one of you then I will considered it an acceptable trade. I want you all to live better than I did. Had I known then what I do now my life would have gone very differently. I should have left my damn mask on and kept going forward.

And whatever they've done to you, don't kill yourself. Dont give then the satisfaction. Die with honor and meaning if you must die. But don't you dare go quietly. Every day you survive this world gives you a chance to make it better off than how it started. Protect others from what you've been through. We go forward together across broken glass and blood at tears if we must. But we go forward.

If you have absolutely no one, then know you got this random faceless internet stranger crying as she types this. I love you. And I will never stop fighting for you.

a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints

#mental health #child abuse #autistic #autism #self care #tw suicide

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iamstillovingyou · 3 days ago

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Under the cherry blossom

Kang Dae-ho x reader fluff, comfort Summary: Realizing how important Dae-ho has been to you throughout the games and providing comfort to each other Warnings: PTSD, panic attack, anxiety etc. spoilers for squid game s2

hey guys, this is my first ever try at writing something on here, so please be kind! I can't stop thinking about Dae-ho from Squid Game and my daydreams gave me this idea, so I thought it might be good to write about it. I incorporated some of the events from s2 as well as the ending, inserting reader as part of the group with Dae-ho. I used 'you' throughout the whole fic. Hope you enjoy it! Word count: 1k As the lights went out and everyone retired to their beds with just a few voices chattering away or snoring around the hall, your anxiety started spiking up. You had tried to keep your cool during the games, but one harrowing experience after another left you disturbed. Thinking about the most recent game 'Mingle' left your mind in a whirl. You were wondering how you managed to survive every single round of it. The fact that you were a part of a group of people who became your friends and protectors definitely helped you stay alive so long. But, one particular person you kept thinking of was Dae-ho, who kept close to you throughout the whole game. As soon as they'd announce the number, Dae-ho would grab your hand and run for your lives, hoping to secure the number of people and a room. In the last round, as you were considering the possibility of the number two being announced, you felt a tight grip on arm and turned back to look Dae-ho in the eyes. He gave you a nod of reassurance. You held on to him for dear life. Now that you were alive for the ordeal of the next game, your mind focused on Dae-ho. Ever since you joined their group, he was always looking out for you, making sure you're okay and making little jokes to ensure you keep your mind off the horrifying reality that any of you might not be there the next day. You had got used to him and found his presence soothing and his concern for you during the last game intrigued you.

You started worrying about the next game and felt an oncoming panic attack. You had to talk to someone. You turned your head to the right, to the bed where Dae-ho was sleeping. Hesitatingly, you whispered into the darkness: 'Dae-ho', not hoping for answer. After just a second you heard a quiet 'Yes?' 'Dae-ho, are you sleeping?' Then followed silence. You had almost started regretting calling out his name, especially as you didn't like asking for help. But your thoughts were interrupted by Dae-ho shuffling from his bed and kneeling next to yours. 'Are you okay? Is something wrong?' You tried to make out his face in the faint light, his eyes only two dots shining. 'Dae-ho, I'm scared' you blurted out. You had been scared since the beginning, but managed to keep fear at bay. Now it overwhelmed you completely. Dae-ho kept his voice low 'I know. This place is a nightmare, but we are strong, right?, he said as he took your hand in his, 'We've made it so far, we just have to stick together, okay?'. As he said this he sat down on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his. You sat up, feeling the warmth of his hand. You nodded, but tears started swelling in your eyes. 'Dae-ho, what if we do not make it out of here?' you asked as a hot tear rolled down your cheek, you trying to hold in the sobs bubbling in your throat. 'Remember the bridge you were telling me about? With the cherry blossoms and the pond? How magical it is in the springtime?' You nodded. 'Well, picture it. Imagine us there, walking over it on a sunny day, the breeze blowing the petals softly around us. We're safe and happy. You'll take me there when we get out of here, right?', he flashed his charming smile, wiping away the tear from your cheek. You let out a quiet chuckle, trying not to burst out crying. You had told him about your hometown and how you loved that spot in the springtime and how you longed to see it again. He had listened. 'I promise' you whispered as he kissed your hand. 'Now try to get some sleep, we need to be ready for whatever is coming tomorrow', he said and retreated to his bed.

The next day brought its own challenges. Gi-hun's knowledge of the system had helped your group stay alive thus far. His next proposal was to organize an attack on the guards and their leader. You knew it was a great risk and tried to hide your concern for Dae-ho who was determined to be a part of it. He kept glancing at you as they were making the plan. He knew the danger he was exposing himself to, but he was ready to do anything to make sure you two to walk out of there alive. Before they headed out the door, you ran up to him. 'Dae-ho!' He turned to look at you with his soft gaze, his lips thinning into a line. You took a deep breath. 'I'll be waiting for you", you said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

... All you could hear were shots being fired. You had just managed to calm yourself a bit, when you saw Dae-ho entering through the door, your face lighting up at the relief. He was back. You ran up to him, smiling on the verge of tears. He looked terrified and went straight to the dead guards on the floor fumbling around in their pockets taking the ammo. You tried talking to him but he wasn't responding, focused on collecting all the charges. You noticed what he was doing and helped him, piling them up in a bundle in the green hoodie. 'Stay here' he said and ran out the door. Confused, you went back to the beds, praying everything was going to turn out alright. Several minutes later, you saw Dae-ho reentering and hiding himself away in one of the beds, holding his palms over his ears, visibly shaking. A second later, player 120 came after him, you could see them talking about something. You ran up to them and found out what had happened. As you put your arms around Dae-ho and he laid his head against your chest, new guards entered and started shooting at the ceiling. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry', he kept repeating. You held him tightly, bracing yourself for whatever was coming next. 'Remember the cherry blossoms, we're safe and happy'.

#daeho x reader #dae ho x reader #kang dae-ho x reader #player 388 x reader #kang daeho #squid game fanfic #kang daeho fanfic #kang dae ho #kang dae-ho #player 388 #squid game #kang daeho x reader

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theereina · 3 days ago

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New Year, Same Bullshit

Pairing: Toxic Babydaddy!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), oral (male receiving), P in V, Toxic Dom!Terry *if you squint and turn your head*, cum play *sort of*, brattiness galore, facials *no spa*🤭

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

ding

Terry: I hope all is well. My mom told me she has TJ. Hope you enjoy yourself tonight.

Me: I hope I do, too.

Terry: I was thinking about something earlier.

Me: ???

Terry: New Year, new us?

I paused for a second in disbelief. I knew this man was not trying this bullshit tonight. I guess this year's motto was “new year, same bullshit”. I sat there for a second and stared at myself in my vanity's mirror.

I could feel the petty in me rising. I texted Terry back with nothing but ill intentions. “New year, new us”, huh?

Me: Nah. New year, and new dick. Cheers to 2025!🥂✨

I waited until I knew Terry saw the message and blocked his number. I knew I was pushing Terry's buttons but oh well.

2 hours later

“Lele, ain't that Terry?” asked one of the women who came out with me and my best friend.

“Aww, hell. Lele, it is him. He's coming this way, and he looks pissed!” my best friend, Tyler, said.

“I don't care. What he gonna do? Whoop me!” I laughed out loud, spinning to see Terry barreling through the crowd.

I stopped dancing when I saw his face. Maybe, I shouldn't have said that.

“Terry, wait? I didn't mean—,” I said as soon as he stood before me.

“Nah… You meant that shit. New dick, huh?” Terry said, eyeing me down.

As much as I was scared for my life, I was hoping that this night would end the way I wanted it to. Fuck! I needed this.

“You think that shit was funny? Ty, y'all here alone, or did she come with someone?” he asked, looking towards Tyler.

“Terry, I didn't come h—,” I started to speak.

Terry's eyes darted back to meet mine.

“Love, I wasn't talking to you. I asked Tyler. When I want you to speak, I'll let you know.”

“Oh, shit. He not playing with her ass,” said one of the women in the group.

“Yes, we came alone. No, she didn't come here with anyone. I promise,” Tyler said, looking at me.

“I can't believe you're doing this shit right now,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What did you say? I couldn't hear you,” Terry spat, glaring down at me.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Yeah, that's what the fuck I thought. Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. I'll be waiting for you when you get home,” he said, holding the back of my head and kissing my forehead.

“Huh? You don't live with me,” I uttered in confusion.

“I still have my key, and I pay the bills there. Don't I? Oh, okay then. Like I said, I'll see you when you get home,” he said, letting me go.

“Oh, and do me a favor, love. Don't drink too much. I need you alert and responsive tonight,” Terry said, walking away.

As I watched Terry leave, I felt my heart racing. There was no calming down from this.

“Fuck me!” I yelled quietly as soon as Terry was out of sight.

“Girl, what the fuck did you do this time?” Tyler asked me, handing me a drink.

I looked at the fruity concoction like it was poison. I knew this sugary ass shit wasn't going to do anything to call my nerves. I shrugged my shoulders and swallowed the drink in two full gulps.

“Damn! That man finna tear yo' ass up. Ain't he?” one of the women asked while laughing.

“You don't even know the half. Tyler, can you keep yo’ godson tomorrow? I got a funny feeling I'm not gonna be straight after tonight,” I asked Tyler, searching her eyes for sympathy.

“Yeah, I got my baby. Now, you just tell me what the fuck you did,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, Ty. I think I fucked up this time,” I said, shaking my head. I pulled her over to one of the couches in the section, hoping that I could talk to her privately.

As I proceeded to tell Tyler what happened, I could see her face shift from concern to amusement.

“Why do you look like you wanna laugh?” I asked when I finished.

“Uh, sis… How did he know where you were?” Tyler asked, looking at me with concern.

“I don't… I don't know. How the fuck did he know I was here?” I asked, questioning myself more than Tyler.

4 nerve-racking hours later

I had literally spent all night trying to come up with a reason not to come home. I knew that whatever was on the other side of that door was going to be— something memorable.

I made sure to stop drinking hours ago. His “alert and responsive” remark was a warning that only WE understood. My insides were screaming because I knew Terry had a way of breaking me down and putting me back together again in the most— sensual and pleasurable way. Yes, there may be pain involved, but I couldn't care less.

I was well aware of what came with provoking Terry. At this point, it was a game for me, and my prize was always the best dick a girl could ever ask for. That was definitely the one thing I missed about having Terry living at home— the in-house, on-demand dick. Always hard, and always ready.

It was a little after 4 in the morning. I was pushing my luck coming in this late, but I might as well fully enjoy what may be my last night out for a while. I was either about to get fucked up, be fucked, or both.

After realizing that Terry's truck was nowhere to be found, I scanned the streets to see if he parked there instead. Nothing.

I reluctantly began walking to the door. How was this possible? Even the walk up to my front door was causing me anxiety. Every goddamn step felt like I was approaching the gates of hell. Was I really letting this man make me feel like a child coming home when they know they're getting an ass whooping? Yes.

I slowed my steps and began putting my hair in a ponytail. If it's one thing I knew, this ponytail may save my life. Then again, it may do the opposite. Aww, fuck!

I tossed my heels and purse into one hand while adjusting my keys with the other. Placing the key into the keyhole, I quietly unlocked the door. I paused before opening the door, praying that Terry wasn't standing on the other side.

Sliding inside as quickly as I could, I tiptoed inside the house and locked the door. From what I could see, he wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. I stood quietly in an attempt to possibly hear if he was somewhere in the house. I flattened my back against the door since I was still unsure of my surroundings.

From somewhere to the right of me, I heard something dart towards me. I turned around in a panic. Right as I was about to make a run for it, I saw that the culprit had a tail. I WAS ABOUT TO RUN FROM MY DAMN CAT!!!

I took a deep breath and leaned down to pick up the cat. But… As soon as my knees hit the floor, I felt a hand on the back of my head. I screamed out in shock, startling the cat.

“Oh, nah. Shit that shit up! I told you I would be waiting for you. Didn't I?” Terry growled, pulling me by my ponytail.

Like I said. The ponytail was a gift and a curse.

“Just…” I yelled, grabbing his hands in my hair.

“Touch me again. I dare you. Imma do more than tie yo’ ass up!” Terry said, holding my face to look up at him.

“Terry, I'm sorry. I was just jo—!” I started, letting my hands fall beside me.

“That was supposed to be a joke. Ha! We gone see what's funny in a minute.” Terry said, letting go of my hair.

As much as my brain was telling me to run, my pussy was begging me to stay even more.

Terry's hand wrapped around my forearm. “Stand up!” he barked.

“Please, I said I’m—,” I said, standing to my feet.

“If I have to tell you to shut up again…” Terry said, pulling me to face him.

I used the back of my hand to wipe the tears that were now falling.

“I hope you don't think those tears are stopping shit. Ain't no sense in crying. You did this to yourself, Alicia. I was trying to be nice to you, but you just don't know when to leave me the fuck alone,” Terry said, stepping closer to me.

I gulped as he glared at me, blinking slowly. Every breath he released was hot and heavy— weighed down in anger. It's as if he was battling to control himself.

“You thought that shit was so cute. Didn't you? I bet you and your little friends had a good laugh at that, huh?” Terry said, leaning down and resting his forehead on mine.

“You can speak, now. Choose your words wisely,” he said. He straightened his posture and stood to his full height, holding his hands in front of him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't tell anyone but Tyler. I swear,” I spat out as quickly as I could.

Terry paused to look at me. His eyes darkened in lust and anger. I let my gaze drop to the floor.

“Nah, you know better. Eyes on me at all times, right?” Terry demanded.

“Yes,” I said, trailing my eyes up Terry's body. I let my gaze linger on the bulge that had grown in his jeans.

“Unh unh. You gone see that in a minute. Look at me, Alicia!” Terry said, forcing me to look at him.

I rubbed my forearm nervously. I waited for Terry to say something else. Instead, he turned on his heels and sat on the couch.

Leaning back on the couch, he placed his arm over the back. “Better yet. Come here and bring your phone with you,” he said, motioning for me to approach him.

I slowly picked up my phone from the floor and walked up to him. I stood between his legs. He dropped his gaze to the floor, letting me know to kneel. I kneeled in front of him while never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl. Thank you for finally listening. Give me your phone.”

Handing him my phone, my mind immediately started to race. I knew if this man went through that phone. My ass was grass!

“Terry, wait!” I yelled, stopping him.

“Oh, you must be hiding something. You are crazy as hell if you think I can't go through a phone that I pay for every month. However, that's the least of my concerns right now,” he scoffed, tossing the phone beside him on the couch.

“I just… I… I know that… if…,” I stuttered.

“Don't even worry about it, love. Because after tonight, it won't matter what nigga is in that phone. You'll know who you belong to. I can promise you that.”

Terry leaned forward, grabbing the side of my face firmly. I gasped in anticipation.

“I don't understand why you choose to play with me, baby girl. Here I am asking for my family back, and your ass wants to play these childish ass games.”

“Terry, baby. I—,” I said before he placed his hand around the front of my throat. I instantly shut my mouth.

“Look at that! How sweet. I didn't even have to do it, and you knew.” Terry said, biting his bottom lip. He moaned as he watched me. He was more than thrilled with my natural obedience.

Moving his hand to cup my chin, he let his thumb trace the silhouette of my bottom lip.

“Mmm… Daddy misses these lips. The way they look, the way they feel— everything!”

Terry's hand let go of my chin as he sank back into the couch. I watched fervently as he undid his belt. Making quick work of his pants, he freed himself from the confinement of his boxers.

I eyed his dick, waiting for his permission to even touch it.

“I told you you'd get to see it. Unfortunately, touching it ain't an option. At least not right now, especially with that foul mouth of yours.”

My face dropped in disbelief as I began to pout.

“What you will get to do is watch me. Watch me while I… uh… make you wish it was you handling this for me.” Terry laughed while lifting my head back up to watch him.

So, it begins. This is the part where he breaks me.

Terry wrapped his hand firmly around the base of his dick. “All you had to do was behave, but you just can't. I bet you'll be on your best fuckin’ behavior after tonight.”

Terry's hand stroked the length of his shaft. His contentment was already evident as small droplets of precum began to leak from his tip.

I rested my hands on my thighs, pressing my fingertips into the cushion of my thighs. I was fighting the urge to lick what I felt was mine; however, I knew that wouldn't end the way I wanted. Licking my tongue out, I let it slide across the flesh of my bottom lip.

Terry grunted in response. My eyes darted from his dick to his face. His eyes were low and wanton. He was just as needy as I was. Our gazes locked in fervor, passing a mutual message that intensified the salacious hunger between us.

Terry's hand sped up and tightened around his head. His grunts grew deeper and more primal. He was feigning to cum.

I tilted my head and lowered my gaze, pleading with my eyes. Sitting here with my hands in my lap wasn't enough for me. I whined while wiggling my hips, trying to feel something to help the ache between my legs.

“Fuck! You got 3 minutes to make me cum or else!” Terry said, leaning up and grabbing the back of my head.

He didn't even have to finish his movement. My mouth was on his dick before he could even grab me. I was horny, I was needy, and most importantly, I was hungry.

I took all of Terry in on a single inhale not giving a fuck about my throat. I needed this. I let saliva fall from my mouth and down the sides of his shaft. Pulling back, I hollowed out my cheeks and created a vacuum around the head of Terry's dick.

“Ahhh, fuck. You… you always know… ugh.. exactly what to do, baby girl. That's right. This dick is yours, mama. Ahhh, shit. Keep going, baby,” Terry said, stroking the side of my face.

I moaned around his dick. Swallowing his full length again with pride, I smiled around him. Opening my mouth slowly, I sunk down further until my nose hit the patch of hair he grew there. Relaxing every muscle in my throat I let him sit in the back of my throat while I hummed and moaned in pleasure. This… this was the ache I was seeking. This was what I wanted to feel— the burn and stretch of this very moment.

I pulled off of Terry with a pop, watching as a thin string of saliva and cum fell from my lips. Grabbing him mid-shaft, I began to jerk his dick. Fully consumed by my own pleasure, I failed to immediately take notice of Terry's silence.

I looked up to see Terry's eyes closed as he released a slew of low, rough moans. I instantly put my mouth back on him, focusing solely on his head. Using my tongue to massage his tip, I was hoping to push Terry over the edge.

Watching him closely, I marveled at the sight before me. His head had rolled back on his shoulders, and his bottom lip was tucked in between his teeth. As I felt Terry's dick begin to pulse, I took him into the back of my throat again. I wanted every drop of him, and I was going to make sure I got it.

Letting him paint the back of my throat was the only thing on my mind. I started sucking Terry like my life depended on it. His hand gripped the back of my head, but even that didn't stop me. I rested my hands on Terry's legs for support as I put my all into it.

As soon as I felt like the first drops of cum were about to make an appearance, Terry grunted and pulled me back. His dick fell from my mouth and into his own hands. Leaning my head back, Terry stroked himself twice before erupting— all over my face.

I closed my eyes, feeling the warm sticky substance coat my eyelashes along with my forehead, nose, and lips. I exhaled as I thanked God that I closed my eyes in time.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!” Terry barked as I felt him moving around.

I opened my mouth and felt him push his dick inside again. Resting the full weight of his dick on my tongue, he told me to keep my mouth open.

“Smile!” he said as I heard a camera shutter.

Without a second thought, my eyes shot open.

“For memories. Adding it to the stash.”

Of course! That's what the fuck he wanted the phone for. I pulled back, letting his dick fall out. “I told you that you're mine. Didn't I?” he said, leaning up.

“Oh, don't think we're done either. Stand up!” he nodded.

I rose to my feet, wobbling. As I stood before Terry, I went to wipe my face. His hand reached out to grab my hand.

“Nah, baby girl. You gone wear that shit with pride. I plan on marking my territory in more ways than one. There will be no creampies tonight,” he warns, standing from the couch.

“But Terry I—,” I said.

His arms wrapped around my waist as he lifted me. Wrapping my legs around him, he turned to walk towards the hallway. My body practically melted into him as I clung to his back. I began to whine and moan while kissing his neck.

“Daddy missed this pussy— MY pussy,” Terry moaned as his hands pushed the strapless dress I wore up past my stomach. The thin fabric began bunching up.

“Ahhh, mmmm. Fuck!” I moaned, placing my hands around his neck.

As we approached the bedroom door, Terry didn't even reach to open it. Instead, he opted for kicking it open.

“Don't worry. I'll fix it!” he grinned.

Walking to the foot of the bed, he laid me directly in the middle. He stepped back and completely undressed himself. God Lord, I missed this body.

I leaned up and began kissing and touching his abdomen. Moving my hands out of the way, Terry's hands went to the neckline of the dress as he leaned over me. In one swift move, he tore the top of the dress in half, continuing to tear the fabric from my body until nothing was left.

While I was preoccupied with my own thoughts, he pushed me down onto the bed. Climbing onto the bed and settling between my thighs, he wrapped my legs around his waist.

Looking at me with the most sinful smirk, he entered me in one thrust. I gasped out in both pain and pleasure. We hadn't had sex in over four months. The feeling of him stretching my pussy out sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

“You gone feel me tonight, baby. All of me,” he said, leaning down to kiss my neck.

Pulling every inch of his dick out to the tip, he inserted himself again. He was clearly on a mission.

Thrust after thrust…

“So, you gone give my pussy away? Huh? Answer me when I'm talkin' to you!” he said, thrusting into me harder.

“No!” I yelled as my back arched off the bed.

Using nothing but his body weight, Terry flattened me out again. “No, ma'am.” He said, pulling out to thrust back in again. “The fuck you moving for? You gone take this dick. It's yours, ain't?” he asked, kissing my chin.

“Yes, this… this is… ahhh, fuckkk… This is my dick!” I screamed out as he pounded into me. Every thrust knocked the syllables from my lips.

“That's right. This your dick, baby. All of it! Every fuckin' inch, mama! Now, what you gone do with it, huh?” he growled in my ear, taunting me.

“I'm… gonna… fuckin'… take… it!” I whimpered. His thrusts began to pick up speed.

“Good girl, and you gone let me cum wherever I want to, right?” Terry coaxed, hitting my g-spot over and over again.

“Yes!” I yelled, clawing at Terry's back.

I was so close to cumming, and this shit felt so damn good. Hell, I'd even let him cum on my face again.

“I knew my baby would. Who pussy this is, mama?” he asked, smirking.

“Yours! For… ever! Terry, please! Can… ohhhh… can I cum?” I begged as I felt my climax quickly approaching.

“You better wet this dick up, too. Come on, baby.” Terry uttered softly, talking me through it. “Oouu… look at my baby,” he said, fucking me through my orgasm.

“Terry!” I moaned out, digging into his forearms.

“Look at that shit! Wet as fuck!” he said, watching himself slip in and out.

“Yes! Shit! Ohhh, fuck!” I gasped as he slowed his strokes.

“Yeah! Just like that. You ready? Tell Daddy that you're ready,” he groaned clearly at his peak.

“Please, Daddy! Cum for me!” I yelled.

Terry pulled out, aiming straight for my pussy and stomach. I watched intently as ropes of cum landed on my lower abdomen and the mound of my pussy. Using his dick, Terry began to mix the remainder of his cum into my own. He beamed as he created a disgusting and sloppy mess between my legs.

“I wish you could see it, baby. It's so pretty,” he said, looking up. His eyes roamed over the entirety of my body, lingering on the areas covered in his cum. “You look so pretty, mama,” Terry praised.

“I know I do, and it's all because of you,” I said, pulling Terry in for a kiss.

Taglist: @episodes-ff @babybratzmaraj @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @kimuzostar @confessionsofadramaqueenn @luvrsluxe @blackmoonchilee @meannaim @nayaesworld @msdmc1 @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymindisneverhere @brattyfics @avoidthings @honeytoffee @peachbuttetfly @melaninadorned @theglamclosetsl @simplyzeeka @dxddykenn @charismablu @blackerthings @slutsareteacherstoo @vivaalenaa @becauseimswagman1 @keehendrixx @teeresaresa @beenathembo @inthekeyofshe @notapradagurl7 @blowmymbackout

This taglist is random and sort of thrown together. Sorry.😔

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celestiamour · 20 hours ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ bad liar ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @gothic-rat112 (lost the ask...) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. seong gi-hun x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ how he is when jealous & insecure┊1.2k words

setting: season 1 contains: age gap relationship (unspecified but legal obviously), insecurity & jealousy, he’s a little immature & broke as hell but it’s okay i love pathetic men, reader is a sweetheart, this is all over the place omfg

➤ author's note: okay i kinda went on a tangent, first season because i miss his stupid smile and his fluffy hair (also look at how cute he is in this gif omfg i love him sm, i need to write for him more, underrated in his own show, THE PUPPY EYES)

╰₊✧ honestly, gi-hun isn’t so much as jealous as he is insecure. sure, he has an outgoing personality and always makes you laugh without fail, but he can’t think of any other positive traits aside from that. he doesn’t think of himself as particularly attractive with his scruffy appearance, and he’s painfully aware that he’s lacking when it comes to finances and has a gambling problem to boot. on top of all that, he was a divorced middle-aged man who didn’t even have joint custody of his only daughter and still lived with his mom rent-free, a terrible husband, father, and son— he’s truthfully the type of man people avoid when dating.

╰₊✧ yet he still managed to pull a pretty young thing like you who looks past all that, not sure if you were stupid or desperate. during the first few weeks of being together, he made jokes about still being able to date younger women in his old age because he was still in disbelief it was happening, but when you stuck by his side through all his flaws and the first year passed with you supporting him to get better, insecurity hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized that he was genuinely in love with you and that he didn’t have what it took to be the boyfriend you deserved when he wasn’t even someone his biological family deserved.

╰₊✧ he sees other people buying their girls jewelry and clothing from name-brand stores, taking them out to eat in luxury restaurants with multiple courses, driving them around in european cars, and he’s out here saving money to do something as little as cake for your anniversary. he’s always on cloud nine when he spends time with you, but there’s something so humbling about looking up “broke date ideas” and scraping together what he already has to make it more special. no matter how much things like that don’t matter to you with the mindset of the intention counting more than the price, he still feels shitty about having you pay for most of the things you do together when he’s the man and the older one in the relationship along with the fact that you were barely better off than he was.

walks around to admire the sights: especially during holiday seasons when there are pretty lights, you like holding his hand and admiring the sights of the city you often take for granted. if the streets are empty then he doesn’t mind it, but he does get self-conscious about the looks you both get so it’s not super common.

candlelit dinners of takeout and beer: a regular one, gi-hun likes to gather a bunch of candles to make the place look a little more romantic, maybe even having some roses to make it look nicer. the man doesn’t cook much though, so you’ll just have replated takeout with bottles of beer, but he always makes it lively with conversation and puts effort into fixing his hair to look more handsome.

and anything else he can think of, he can be really creative when it comes to you and you’re pleasantly surprised each time.

╰₊✧ these things bother him a lot more than he will let on, but he tries to stay all smiles around you which you see right through like glass. he’s a bad liar, a trait he would always get in trouble for when he was a child since he couldn’t lie about his antics.

╰₊✧ he feels awful when he finds that you also entered these games to pay off your respective debts, because no matter how much you try to convince him you aren’t, he knows that you intended to use any extra money to help him out as well with his debt being higher than yours. it should be the other way around, he should be the one helping you, and when the first shots are fired during “red light, green light,” he makes you swear that you won’t come back.

╰₊✧ of course, you do come back, because while he is your boyfriend, you’re also a grown-ass woman who can do what she pleases (also because you’re desperate and prefer not to find out what those loan sharks would do to you if it took too long to pay them back, and you might as well go to support gi-hun because you know his ass went back).

╰₊✧ he feels a little bit better about himself seeing all of the other people in a similar position as him, drowning in debt and petrified of death. he tries to be protective over you, but let’s be honest, you’re the protective one who mothers him, and since the constant threat of death is always looming, he lets you do it even if it looks stupid. people are either judgemental or jealous, but there are bigger things to worry about.

“people are staring…” he muttered, his eyes darting around to meet theirs and watching as they looked away the second eye contact was made. “you don’t need to do this, you know, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“i don’t care, let them stare,” you stated simply, rubbing into the back of his shoulders with practiced circular motions. “they are just jealous that they don’t have a cute girlfriend to take care of them like you do, and i want to! your muscles are so tense— i don’t want you participating in the next games when you aren’t in the best shape. we could die any day here, i want to give you all the love i can!”

╰₊✧ jealous of sang-woo with his intelligence and emotional security. even if both of them are wearing the same teal tracksuit, his childhood friend was in here because of failed investments which sounded a lot better than just losing constant bets in gambling dens. (to be fair, if you were gi-hun’s controversially young girlfriend, i don’t think either of you would get along well as he probably looks down on you and you probably find him stuck up, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being stolen away by him). not really jealous of that block-head deok-su hitting on you, after the little altercation they had on the first day, more annoyed than anything but the feeling quickly vanishes when he sees you reject him with a roll of your eyes.

╰₊✧ actually jealous of anyone your age paying attention to you, especially ali who has a really sweet personality and gets along with you really well, maybe even sae-byeok who has a pretty face and is decently nice once you get to know her.

“you need to stop pouting.”

“‘m not pouting…”

“you’re a bad liar, you know that? but it’s so cute,” you exclaimed, reaching out to pinch his cheeks childishly. “you don’t need to be jealous of ali, he’s already married and has a kid.”

“i know, i know…”

“i don’t think you do.”

╰₊✧ it’s so obvious when he’s jealous, it’s actually painful. he stares holes into the head of the person talking to you and is pouty until you address it. he’ll also blush when you call him out and tease him about it, it’s so cute. please give him assurance, pinch his cheeks, ruffle his fluffy hair, and give him lots of kisses, he deserves it.

(author is slightly delirious with a fever, i took medicine dw, i just really wanna kiss gihun)

#📜. her works #seong gi hun #seong gi hun x reader #squid game #squid game x reader

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joemama-2 · 1 day ago

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a dead end | chap. 1

༺♰༻ gojo x fem reader

𓉸♱𓉸 synopsis: you were a star under stadium lights, gojo satoru a savior in sterile halls. now, the world rots, and survival is your only stage. amid the relentless dead and the horrors of the living, an unsteady bond forms—but trust is as fragile as life itself. in the shadows of ruin, love and death walk hand in hand. which will claim you first?

༺♰༻ wc: 9.6k

༺♰༻ tags/warnings: death, angst, violence, smut, cannibalism, murder, blood, gore, zombie apocalypse, crazy people, reader is a little bitchy at first, character development, torture, guns, weapons, alcohol, drugs, medical talk here and there, research talk, mentions of a leaked sextape, bullying, betrayal, lying, love, surgeon! satoru, cheerleader! reader, small age gap

“And nooooow, everyone put your hands together for our lovely girls in orange and black!”

The announcer's voice over the stadium causes a roar of applause and shouts to erupt, most of course being male. Stepping onto the cleared out baseball field are a group of lively young women. Wearing small black skirts with black safety shorts underneath, their jerseys that read ‘GIANTS’ in the center in black, patched lettering are tied at the bottom; showing off their midsections. Wearing long, black socks and with the Pom-Poms to finish the job off, their smiles are the brightest thing.

The girls take their places on the field, their synchronized movements and high-energy smiles lighting up the crowd. Among them is you, standing in the middle of the formation, the natural leader of the group. You glance toward the stands, where a sea of orange and black waves back at you. For a moment, you’re lost in the energy of the game day atmosphere—the cheers, the crack of a bat, the announcer’s voice booming through the stadium.

“After a brief hiatus, we finally have our star back on the field with us. Another round of applause for the beautiful Y/N L/N!!!”

You chuckle to yourself at the heightened tone of cheers that are directed solely to your presence. You give a few waves, seeing the people in the front rows of the stadium excitedly wave back, shouting things you can’t really hear. You can only assume they go along the lines of how much they love you and miss you, and of course, how they wish you would give them a single chance.

It’s moments like these that make everything worth it. The endless rehearsals, the physical exhaustion, even the occasional jeers from rowdy fans.

The music soon starts, a familiar upbeat track that gets the crowd clapping in rhythm. The routine begins, and you lose yourself in the movements. You all cheerleaders spring into action. Your body responds instinctively—jumps, spins, high kicks—all in perfect unison with your squad. Your Pom-Poms catch the sunlight as they move in perfect unison.

You’re at the center of the formation the entire time. As the group's captain your eyes constantly dart around in quick motion, ensuring that every movement is sharp and precise. A high kick flows seamlessly into a spin, your Pom-Poms arching over your head as you beam at the crowd. Your heart pounds, not from nerves, but from the sheer adrenaline of performing in front of tens of thousands of people.

It's from the fact that you’re finally back out here, shining in the spotlight. Oh, how you missed it so much.

Yui, on your right, flips her hair dramatically before breaking into the next move, her grin as radiant as ever. “You’re killing it out there, Y/N,” she says during a brief pause in the routine, her voice barely audible over the crowd.

“So are you,” you reply, breathless but smiling.

The routine shifts, the squad breaking into smaller groups for a series of flips and stunts. The girls lift a smaller woman into the air; one of the newer girls on the team. Her petite frame soaring gracefully as she executes a flawless toe touch. However, she lands a little off point, which wouldn’t be noticeable to the crowd, but to you…it is. She stumbles to her right for a second before swiftly regaining her footing once more, getting back into her required position.

Your smile stays constant on your face, but your eyes and the look you send her tells an entirely different story. Moving behind her, you deliver a nudge to her back that borders the line of a shove.

Finally, the crowd roars as the squad transitions into its finale. You leap into the air for a perfectly timed toe-touch split jump, the audience’s cheers fueling your energy. As your feet hit the ground, you and your squad strike your final pose, arms extended high, Pom-Poms shimmering in the sunlight.

The announcer’s voice booms again, barely audible over the deafening applause. “Let’s hear it for the Tokyo Yomiuri Giants Cheer Squad!”

You all stay in position for a few seconds for the photos, before finally waving at the large stadium. When you steal a glance at the dugout, where a few of the baseball players are clapping along with the crowd, you notice a particular someone staring longer than necessary. Ren Yamamoto, the team’s star pitcher, gives you a wink from his spot on the bench. Your smile falters for a split second before you quickly look away, focusing on Yui as she nudges you with her elbow.

“He’s been watching you all day,” she says, her voice teasing.

“Focus,” you mutter, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you.

The squad retreats off the field, giggling and chatting as the next act takes the stage. The roar of the crowd fades behind you as you make your way to the locker room, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Some of the team takes this moment to sigh in exhaustion and relief now that it’s over, wiping away remnants of sweat on their foreheads. Setting the Pom-Poms down and touching up their makeup, while others take the liberty for some water and a rest.

The girl from before exhales quietly to herself, rolling her shoulders in and out. Sipping on her water bottle.

“Nice job out there, Sayo!” Her teammate congratulates her with a smile and a side hug. “You’re getting better. You’ll be the best in no time!”

Sayo smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of the back with a shy chuckle. “Thank you, I worked really hard…”

Another girl perks up next to Sayo. “I think we can all see that. You’re progressing faster than we all did when we were in your shoes.”

“Maybe,” the first girl leans into Sayo’s ear, whispering. “You’ll even be like Y/N, probably better.”

Sayo’ eyes widen a bit but calm when she notices the two girls laughing. She joins in, feeling at ease for her prior mistake. Looking down at her hands with a soft gaze. “Do you really think s—”

“Giving her false hope, huh? How cruel.”

Sayo and the two girls’ expressions change quickly, whirling around as they come face to face with you. Standing there with a raised eyebrow, a tilted head and crossed arms. Your sight hyper focused on the new girl. “You know, I expected more from you. Do you just have it in your genes to consistently disappoint people around you?”

The two girls who were just praising Sayo step back, muttering small apologies to you. Their quickness to back off reminds Sayo that everyone here is a sneaky bitch, that she can really trust no one. Not when everyone practically cowers under your gaze like a bunch of sheep.

Sayo stands frozen for a moment, her wide eyes not meeting yours. The silence hangs in the air, thick with the tension you’ve so effortlessly created. You keep your arms crossed, your gaze unyielding, watching the way the two girls seem to shrink back, unsure of whether to speak up or stay quiet. Sayo’s heart races, her breath catching in her throat as you approach them, your eyes narrowing with a cold intensity. She could feel the tension rise in the room, thick enough to cut through. The playful atmosphere from earlier now feels like a distant memory, replaced by something more ominous.

“Y/N, I—” Sayo begins, her voice shaky, but you cut her off with a cold laugh.

“Don’t start with your excuses,” you say, voice smooth and dismissive. “You don’t belong here if you can’t keep your feet straight. This isn’t some playground, Sayo. Didn’t we already practice this a thousand times? And you still can’t do it.” You let out a condescending scoff.

Sayo’s throat tightens, and the small voice inside her, the one that once told her she could be something great, starts to waver. The praise from the others had felt so nice, and for a moment, she allowed herself to believe it. But now, it seems that belief was fragile. You had shattered it in an instant.

One of the girls behind her mutters a low “Ouch,” but doesn’t dare speak up. They know better than to challenge you.

Sayo nods slowly, not trusting her own voice to speak, and her gaze flickers to the ground. She can’t bring herself to look at you anymore. You always had a way of making her feel small, and now it’s like you’ve stripped away every ounce of confidence she’d managed to build in herself. For the briefest moment, she considers quitting, but then she remembers how badly she wants to prove herself.

“I…I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, I covered it up pretty good, didn’t I?” She asks with hopefulness in her tone, eyes practically pleading with you silently.

Your jaw clenches in response. “So mistakes are okay as long as you cover them up? How pathetic.” You step closer, pushing her back by her shoulder. She lets out a tiny gasp, stumbling back a few inches. “One bad move on you is a bad one on all of us. Haven’t you understood by now that you represent the team? You represent what I teach you.”

Sayo’s eyes blow wide in shock, her breath catching as your words hit her like a slap. She tries to steady herself, but her legs feel weak, her heart pounding in her chest. She looks down at the floor, trying to escape the intensity of your gaze, but your words keep cutting through her, each one a fresh wound.

“I—I didn’t mean to mess up,” Sayo stammers, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I was just trying to keep up. I—I thought I could fix it without anyone noticing.” She raises her head, her eyes searching for any sign of mercy, but your face is cold, unwavering.

“Don’t you dare give me that excuse,” you snap, your voice sharp and unforgiving. “No one here cares about how well you cover up your mistakes. What matters is that you did make them. And that’s something you can’t hide from. It’s a reflection of you, and it’s a reflection of the entire squad.”

Sayo bites her lip, her thoughts racing. She feels her hands shaking, the reality of the situation settling in like a weight on her chest. This wasn’t just about one misstep—it was about the pressure of constantly being under your thumb, of never being good enough, of always being measured against your impossible standards.

“You represent me, Sayo,” you continue, your voice now lowering, but still carrying the weight of authority. “You represent us. Every move you make, every breath you take, it’s not just for you anymore. You’ve crossed that line. You chose to be here, and that means you carry the burden of what comes with it.”

The room is silent, the tension suffocating. Even the other girls, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, now seem to shrink away, their faces uncertain. No one dares to speak, not with you in the room. Not when you’re in this kind of mood.

Sayo feels the sting of your words deep in her gut. She wants to defend herself, to explain that she didn’t mean for it to happen, but the words feel stuck in her throat. Her head swims with doubts, and she wonders if she’ll ever be able to live up to your expectations, or if she’s destined to fail every time.

“Get it together, Sayo,” you murmur, the threat hanging behind your words. “The next time I catch you slipping like that, I won’t be so nice.”

With a final glance at the two girls, who are now avoiding eye contact with you, you turn and walk away. Your shoes click against the hard floor, each step a reminder that in this world, there’s no room for weakness. You’ve clawed your way to the top, and anyone who doesn’t keep up will get left behind.

Sayo watches you walk away, a sick feeling in her stomach. The girls who had once tried to offer her encouragement remain silent now, the weight of your words still heavy in the air. She’s not sure if it’s fear of you, or fear of failure, but she suddenly feels more isolated than she ever has before. And before she knows it, she’s chosen her own fate.

“W-well...at least my mistakes don’t break apart families.”

That single sentence causes hushed gasps to sound out through the room, you freeze in your tracks. The room falls utterly still, like a vacuum has sucked out all the air, leaving nothing but the crushing weight of silence. Sayo’s breath hitches, and the girls around her instinctively take a few steps back, almost as if trying to distance themselves from what’s about to unfold.

Immediately after, Sayo realizes she said the worst thing known to man. She wishes she could go back in time a few seconds and stop her stupid mouth from opening, from speaking such a cursed sentence. It was like an unwritten, unspoken rule that everyone knew.

Don’t bring the scandal up.

Oh, I’m really in for it now, Sayo thinks to herself. Almost audibly whimpering in fear when you turn back around. It’s like your eyes have gotten darker—if that was even possible. But the smile on your face juxtaposes the anger you wave off. In some way, it feels more dangerous than any frown could ever be.

You turn on your heel with a slow, deliberate motion, taking calculated steps back toward Sayo. Each click of your heels against the floor sounds like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds until she realizes just how badly she’s fucked up.

“Excuse me?” Your voice is calm, too calm, and it sends a shiver down Sayo’s spine.

“I—I—I didn’t…” Her voice is shaky, barely even getting a stable word out. Hands trembling in front of her. Her eyes dart around—a silent plea for help. But nothing, every girl there is looking anywhere but her. The other girls step back even further, all too aware of the volatile atmosphere. No one dares to step in, no one dares to speak. They all know how this ends.

You hum in faux thought. “Your mistake…” you utter, your voice low—almost amused, “is that you have no idea who you’re dealing with.” You take another step closer, forcing Sayo to look up at you. “You think just because you’ve been here for a few months, you know enough to throw a comment like that around?”

Sayo’s face pales. She wants to apologize, to take back the words that slipped from her mouth, but she can’t. She’s paralyzed, caught in the web of her own stupid mistake. And worse, she can feel the heat of your anger radiating off you, and it scares her more than she’s willing to admit. “I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, Y/N, I swea—”

You push her back again, softly laughing. Another push, one more, and another and she’s fallen back on her ass. Head tilting down at her in a way that makes her want to shrivel up and die. “Still clumsy with your feet, aren’t you? We’ll have to do something about that.”

You bend down in front of Sayo, your eyes cold and calculating. The slight tremble in her voice only fuels your frustration, but you can’t afford to show weakness now. You grab her by the collar of her jersey, pulling her up to meet your gaze, your fingers tightening around the fabric with a force that makes her breath hitch.

“Apologizing won’t change anything,” you murmur, the threat in your voice clear. “But since you think you can talk back, let’s see how well you handle a little correction.”

You give her a harsh shove, making her stumble to her feet again. As she regains her balance, you bring her over to the nearby wall. “Since you have issues with stability, we’ll start easy. Squat and hold your arms up.”

Sayo’s heart hammers in her chest as her legs shake under the pressure of your command. She wants to fight back, to argue, but the fear in your eyes and the coldness of your tone make her freeze in place. She can’t seem to find her voice, her mind scrambled by the confrontation. The air between you two is heavy with the tension, suffocating, and she can almost feel the weight of every single moment she’s ever disappointed you. “Now,” you press, your voice sharp, “squat. And hold your arms up like I said.”

Sayo gulps, her breath shaky as she lowers herself into a squat, her muscles trembling with the effort. She raises her arms above her head, trembling beneath the strain. Her body protests with every second, but she doesn’t dare stop. The last thing she wants is to show any more weakness. You watch her with an icy expression, your gaze unwavering. The seconds stretch into an eternity as she holds the position, your eyes never leaving her. The sound of her breathing, soft but desperate, fills the silence.

“Pathetic,” you mutter, your tone dripping with disdain. “Is this really the best you can do? I thought you were supposed to be better than this.”

Sayo bites her lip to hold back the tears, the weight of your words pressing down on her like a boulder. She tries to push through the pain in her legs, but it’s getting harder, the burn intensifying with every passing moment.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you warn, your voice now sharp with annoyance. “Hold it. You wanted to challenge me, so deal with the consequences. And maybe next time, think before you speak.”

The room feels insanely colder now, the lights above casting a harsh, unforgiving glow on the scene. Sayo wonders if she’ll ever recover from this—if she’ll ever be able to stand in front of you again without feeling like she’s on the edge of a breakdown.

You lean closer to her. “You want to talk about breaking families?” you ask, your voice dangerously quiet. “Let me remind you of something. That scandal you’re so eager to bring up? It’s not a mistake. It’s not a slip-up. It’s the reason you’re standing here, in this locker room, with a team that barely tolerates you. If I were here, I would’ve never accepted someone of your caliber. And yet, you think it’s something you can just toss into conversation? Like it’s some kind of joke?”

She doesn’t respond, barely holding eye contact with you before focusing down at her feet.

And then, after what feels like way too long, you step back, nodding with a cold satisfaction. “Good enough. For now. But don’t expect me to be so lenient next time.”

Sayo collapses to the floor as soon as you turn away, her body shaking from the effort, the adrenaline, the sheer humiliation of it all. She can still feel the sting of your words like they’re etched into her skin, a constant reminder that one mistake could unravel everything, unravel you.

You don’t look back as you leave the room, your footsteps echoing in the silence left behind. And as Sayo breathes heavily on the floor, she wonders just how much more she can take before she completely breaks.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you realize just how heavily you’re breathing; just how hard your nails are digging into your palms. Gritting your teeth so hard you can hear your jaw creaking. Your feet carry you to a certain room, opening it and stepping in—despite the surprised shriek.

“That bitch.” You snarl, plopping down onto the small sofa.

“Hey! Lock the door!” Yui exclaims, climbing off the man’s lap and doing it herself. She’s topless, the man who she was just on top of has his belt unbuckled. With a look at you, she can tell something just happened while she was in here messing around with the baseball team’s manager. “What happened?” She asks, finding her cropped jersey and putting it back on.

You lean back on the couch, closing your eyes for a moment to steady yourself, trying to shake off the wave of anger that still lingers in your chest. Exhaling sharply, the frustration bubbling over as you run a hand through your hair.

A frustrated breath falls from your lips, the anger still simmering beneath your skin. "Sayo happened. That little brat thinks she can talk back to me," you mutter, running a hand through your hair. The thought of her words still gnawing at you, twisting in your gut like a thorn.

Yui raises an eyebrow, her gaze flickering to the man in the room who seems to be trying to salvage his dignity, pulling his belt back into place. "You went off on her, huh?" She sits back down on the sofa next to you, her tone light but with an undertone of amusement. "What’d she say?"

You can feel the tightness in your chest, the anger still pulsing through your veins. "She said something stupid about...about me breaking apart families." You glance at her, your eyes narrowing, as if the words themselves are still fresh in your mind. "It was a low blow."

Yui's face changes, a flicker of something like sympathy crossing her features. "Well, that's a dumb thing to say. I guess she doesn’t know the rules." She takes a moment, her eyes flicking to the man for a second. "If she doesn't know when to shut her mouth, she deserves what she gets."

You shake your head, leaning back into the couch. "I’ve put everything into this team, and she—" You cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. "It’s not even just about her anymore. It’s about respect. She doesn't get it."

Yui leans back, her arm stretching over your shoulders to bring you in. "You’re letting her get to you. That’s your problem. You’re too damn invested in making everyone respect you. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about what you actually want, for yourself. Or you’ll burn out, and it’ll be for nothing."

You meet her gaze, a flicker of doubt creeping into your mind. But you push it away, clenching your fists. "I don’t have the luxury of burning out. Not yet."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with the weight of everything you’ve said. Yui’s lips curl into a smile, the kind that says she’s not quite convinced by your words but is willing to let you believe them for now.

"Do you need me to handle it?” Tatsuo asks, his gruff voice making your peer at him.

With a small scowl, you scoff out. “You’ve handled enough, thanks.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. I introduced you to Ren, sure. But I’m the only one who spent thousands cleaning up after the mess, wasn’t I?”

You stand, arms crossing at the older man. “I don’t care for how much money you spent.”

Tatsuo raises an eyebrow at your sharp tone, clearly unfazed. “Yeah, I can tell,” he mutters, leaning back against the doorframe. “But you care when the mess threatens everything you’ve worked for. Believe me, Y/N, I’m the one who saw this shit from the start. You think Ren’s got your back? He’s too busy screwing around with his own agenda to even notice what’s going on most of the time.”

Your eyes narrow at his insinuation. Tatsuo may not be wrong, but hearing it from him only makes your skin crawl. “Don’t start. I can handle that son of a bitch. I’ve got this under control.” You step toward him, your voice low but firm. “You don’t need to clean up my mess anymore.”

Tatsuo chuckles, shaking his head. “Keep telling yourself that. I’m just saying, you’ve got a lot more to lose than you think. And when it all falls apart, don’t come running to me.”

You freeze for a moment, the burden of his words settling on you like a dark cloud. But you won’t show any weakness. Not here, not now. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ll clean it up myself.”

Tatsuo shrugs, turning to leave. “Fine. Just remember, I’m the one who warned you. Don’t say I didn’t have a hand in this.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re left in the silence of your own thoughts.

Your lips thin into a fine line, looking at your best friend. “Remind me why you’re screwing around with that pig? He’s like almost twice your age.”

Yui scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pulls her shirt back down. “Don’t act like you’re the moral authority, Y/N. Besides, you were the one who told me to get close to the manager.” She gestures vaguely, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “What’s the difference between Ren and Tatsuo, huh? At least Tatsuo knows how to get things done. He’s useful.”

“First of all, I didn’t tell you to get close with him. I said why not since he’s not married and you need some fun in your life. And second of all, stop mentioning that dick.”

Yui sighs, coming close to put her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t bring him up anymore. Did what Sayo say really mess with your head like that?”

You bite your lip, fixating on her eyes. “…of course it did, Yui. I’ve only just come back and now she—she thinks she can say that to me without any consequences. I already faced enough hate from everyone else. And people still think it’s my fault, it’s not. He told me they were divorced, he didn’t have a ring on, he showed me the papers and I—”

Yui interrupts, her hands gripping your shoulders a bit tighter. “Y/N, stop. I know what happened. You’ve told me a hundred times, and I’m not going to sit here and let anyone drag you down over something that wasn’t your fault. You’re not the one who caused the mess, and you certainly don’t owe anyone any explanations. Sayo’s just trying to get under your skin, don’t let her.”

You exhale sharply, trying to steady your breath. The anger still simmers just beneath the surface, but you’re starting to feel the weight of the exhaustion too. The constant pressure of maintaining control, keeping your reputation intact, and now dealing with Sayo’s words... it’s all too much. “Then why does it feel like everyone’s still blaming me?” you mutter, rubbing a hand across your face. “I can’t escape it. Every time I think I’m past it, someone brings it back up. And it’s always the same thing. ‘Y/N ruined everything.’ I’ve been in more shit than anyone else on the team. It brings me back to when…when I first joined.”

Your voice lowers as you bring up the incident that happened just a year within you being recruited. Yui softens, her expression gentle but firm. “Because people are stupid, and they want someone to blame. That’s how it works. You’re stronger than this. Don’t let their ignorance drag you down. You know the truth, and so do I.”

You nod, but the knot in your stomach remains. Yui’s words help, but they don’t erase the sting of Sayo’s and everyone else’s accusations. It’s hard not to feel like everything’s been building up to this moment where everything you’ve worked for could come crashing down. Still, you’re not one to back down. Not now.

“I know,” you finally say, your voice steady, even if it’s shaky underneath. “I won’t let it break me. But Sayo needs to understand that there are consequences when you cross me.” Your eyes narrow, a flicker of something dark passing through you. “She’s going to regret it.”

Yui raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling up in a small, knowing smile. “I’d say be careful, but you’ve got this. Just don’t get too carried away, alright?”

You chuckle dryly, the tension momentarily lifting from your shoulders. “Don’t worry, I know how to handle myself.”

With that, the conversation shifts, but the weight of what Sayo had said still lingers in the back of your mind. You’re determined to prove that no one can mess with you and get away with it. The world may want to blame you, but you know the truth, and that’s enough to keep you standing tall.

“See?! See! Right there! That one!”

A sigh in response. “Takuma…”

“She’s so pretty! Do you think I have a shot, Nanami?”

“Absolutely not.”

Takuma frowns, removing his pointer finger from your figure on the small TV in the break room. The camera had given you specifically a close up. Nanami’s used to the younger man raving about sports and whatnot. And while Nanami sometimes partakes in watching them himself, he’s not a mega fan like the other one. And he especially doesn’t have a favorite cheerleader.

“You’re so mean, Nanami…” Takuma grumbles, slumping back in his seat with a dramatic huff.

Nanami rolls his eyes, his annoyance spiking up even more when an intruding voice enters the room. “Nanami? Being rude? Who would’ve thunk.”

“Don’t start, Satoru.”

Gojo chuckles, patting his co-worker on the shoulder as he passes by him to slouch onto the sofa provided. Laying down on it like it is his own, sighing wistfully with a content smile. Takuma jolts back up. “Gojo! Please, tell Nanami I actually have a shot with Y/N L/N!”

“Who?” Satoru casually asks.

Takuma gasps, gesturing wildly at the TV where the replay of the game is still playing. The camera pans to the cheerleading squad again, and there you are, beaming brightly and waving your pom-poms. “Her! Y/N L/N! The most beautiful woman ever!”

Satoru peeks an eye open, looking over at the screen. For a few seconds, he watches quietly. Finally humming softly and nodding his head briefly. “She’s cute, sure. You got a crush, Ino?” His lip curls up in a teasing grin. Arms rested behind his head.

Ino blushes furiously, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “I-I mean, yeah. Who doesn’t?”

“Didn’t she homewreck a fam—”

“No.” Ino cuts Nanami off with a sudden firmness, lips down turning into a frown. “She said they were divorced. I believe her.”

Nanami sighs and rubs his forehead, disengaging from the stupid conversation and drinking his tea. Satoru, from his position on the couch huffs, “She’s probably lying to save face, man.”

Ino shakes his head. Sighing heavily and switching the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Look, I think she’s innocent and many other people do. But anyway, that’s not what I asked. Do you think I have a shot with her?”

Satoru squints back at the TV, conceding with a small shrug. “Sure, why not?”

“See?! Even Gojo thinks so!” Takuma declares triumphantly, pointing a finger at Nanami.

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath, “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Gojo smirks, tilting his head back to look at Takuma. “But here’s the thing, kid. Y/N probably gets hit on by a hundred guys a day, especially with that smile of hers. You’re gonna need more than ‘cute resident’ vibes to catch her attention.”

Takuma frowns, his enthusiasm deflating slightly. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

“Well, for starters,” Satoru says, sitting up and giving Takuma a knowing eyebrow raise, “you could try, I don’t know, actually meeting her instead of gawking at her on TV like a lovesick puppy?”

“Easier said than done,” Takuma grumbles.

“Or,” Nanami cuts in, despite not wanting to, with his usual no-nonsense tone, “you could focus on your residency and stop wasting time on unattainable crushes.”

Gojo snickers, reaching over to clap Nanami on the knee. “Ah, Kento, always the voice of doom and gloom. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Anywho,” Satoru starts, looking over at Nanami. “Heard the surgery went well. Some older woman, right?”

Nanami adjusts his glasses and nods, his tone matter-of-fact. “Yes. A cerebral aneurysm. It was delicate, but everything went according to plan.”

“Of course it did,” Gojo says, stretching lazily on the couch. “If anyone can handle brain stuff, it’s you, Mr. Neurosurgeon Extraordinaire.”

Nanami rolls his eyes, clearly unamused by the flattery. “It’s called doing my job, Satoru. You should try it sometime.”

Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “I do do my job! Saving lives, bringing people back from the brink—it’s what I do best.”

“Yeah,” Takuma pipes up, eager to chime in. “Dr. Gojo is one of the best trauma surgeons around. Even if he doesn’t act like it half the time.”

Satoru grins smugly, pointing at Takuma. “See? The kid gets it.”

“I’m only twenty-eight…”

“Semantics, semantics.”

Nanami shakes his head. “Well, being ‘the best’ doesn’t excuse your constant lack of decorum.”

“Decorum is boring,” Satoru replies with a shrug. Then, his gaze shifts back to Takuma, his grin turning mischievous. “Speaking of boring, you gonna do anything about that cheerleader crush of yours, or are you just gonna keep mooning over her from afar?”

Takuma flushes, throwing his hands up defensively. “I’m working up to it, okay? It’s not like I can just walk up to her and say, ‘Hi, I’m a doctor, wanna date me?’”

“Why not?” Satoru quips. “Worked for me a couple of times.”

Nanami murmurs under his breath, “God help us all.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, checking the time of his wristwatch. “I’m hungry, Nanami, are you buying my lunch again?”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, his voice flat. “Why on earth would I buy your lunch again? You already owe me for the last three meals.”

Satoru sits up, feigning surprise. “Three? That doesn’t sound right. Two, tops.”

“Three,” Nanami deadpans. “The ramen, the sushi, and that overpriced café you insisted on last week because you had to have their truffle fries.”

Satoru leans back, giving him an exaggerated pout. “Come on, Nanamin, you know I don’t carry cash. And who can resist truffle fries? You were technically doing me a favor.”

“It’s always a favor with you,” Nanami grits, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Takuma chuckles nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. “Uh, maybe I can chip in this time—”

“No, no,” Satoru cuts him off, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re a resident. Save your pennies, kid.” He turns his attention back to Nanami, his grin widening. “So, what do you say, pal? Treat your favorite coworker to some lunch?”

Nanami stares at him for a long moment, then sighs heavily. “Fine. But it’s the last time.”

Satoru claps his hands together triumphantly. “Knew I could count on you, Nanamin! Let’s go. I’m thinking something Italian today. Pizza, pasta, maybe both…”

Nanami mumbles under his breath as he stands, “I should’ve gone into private practice.”

In a familiar routine, the three begin making their way down to the first floor where the cafeteria is. The entire time, Ino and Satoru chatter away. All the while Nanami is silently strangling them in his head. As they reach the elevator, Satoru’s voice rings out, a little too loud for Nanami’s taste. “So, you guys see the latest game? That last play was wild. I’m telling you, Ino, the guy has potential for the pros.”

Ino nods enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his heels. “I know, right? It was insane. You think I could pull off those moves? Maybe not on the field, but definitely in the ER.” He chuckles, clearly imagining himself doing something ridiculous on the job.

Nanami’s eyes narrow, his hands slipping into his pockets as he grits his teeth. Every day... I’m stuck with these two.

When the elevator dings, they file in, and Satoru continues to chatter away. “Honestly, Nanami, you need to loosen up. It’s just sports talk. No need to look like you're about to cut someone open with your eyes.” He flashes his signature grin, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing.

Ino perks up. “Yeah, seriously, you look like you're ready to—” He quiets down with a single look from his senior, awkwardly clearing his throat and looking away; whistling a little tune.

Nanami clenches his jaw but remains silent. His usual frustration is there, but he’s too tired to engage. He just wants his lunch without these two constantly yammering in his ear. His only hope is to get through the day without strangling anyone in his head.

Satoru, however, seems unfazed by the cold silence that falls between them as the elevator descends. "But seriously, Nanami, you gotta get out more. You never know, you might find someone who actually enjoys sitting through a three-hour sports game with you."

Nanami replies, "I don't have time for games."

Satoru looks at him with mock concern. "You're missing out, old man. At this rate, you’ll be sitting on a rocking chair before you know it."

Ino snickers, clearly amused at the banter. But he soon stifles it with his arm. Nanami only sighs deeply, already regretting his decision to go to lunch with them.

When the doors finally open, Nanami practically darts toward the cafeteria, hoping for some peace and quiet—or at least some decent food. Satoru and Ino continue their back-and-forth, oblivious to the trail of frustration left in their wake.

Grabbing their own trays of lunch and finding a little table in the back. With Ino ahead, Nanami takes the time to peer at Satoru from the corner of his eye. “So, have you talked to Suguru? Shoko says he’s been talking to her about you too now. Maybe you shou—”

“Who?” Satoru cuts him off, a small—but noticeable tick to his jaw.

Nanami, ever the perceptive man, looks forward again. Stopping in his tracks. Satoru does the same, glancing over at the other man. Nanami stands there for a moment, considering the situation. He knows he shouldn’t push, but he can’t help himself. He’s seen the way Satoru reacts when certain names come up. Suguru is one of those names. “It’s just…” Nanami slowly trails off, his tone casual but laced with a hint of something unspoken. He watches Satoru closely, noting the tightness around his eyes, the subtle twitch of his fingers gripping the tray.

Satoru’s smile falters, just for a split second, before he masks it with a shrug. “I don’t know any Suguru, Nanami. Not anyone worth mentioning, anyway.” His words are smooth, but the undercurrent of discomfort is there, almost imperceptible.

Nanami doesn’t respond immediately, but his gaze sharpens. He’s seen Satoru like this before—this mask he wears whenever someone mentions his ex best friend. It’s a name that stings for more reasons than one to Satoru. And he doesn’t want to talk about it, but Nanami knows better than to push further in public, especially with Ino prattling on ahead of them. Still, there’s a gnawing feeling in his gut, and for once, he chooses to let the silence hang between them.

Eventually, he chooses his usual silence, nodding in understanding and resuming his walk. Once they sit, it seems as if any prior emotions have been tossed out the window as Satoru continues his ramble with the resident.

His mind tells an entire different story. Satoru is great at multitasking, he has to be. He can physically be in one place, but his mind is across the world—in another dimension.

Stabbing his fork a little too hard, munching just a bit too furiously. It’s been about three years now since he last spoke or saw Suguru.

Sure, time has passed, but it’s felt dreadfully slow all the while.

He can remember their last conversation all too well, it invades his mind at times when he feels particularly lonely. The last time they spoke, Suguru had been different, but so had he. They were changed in ways Satoru wasn’t ready to face. The familiar bond they once shared had fractured, leaving Satoru with no answers, an aching void, and a dead sister.

And he can’t deny the fact that there’s still that miniscule, hidden part of him that blames Suguru for it all. Stop thinking about it, he tells himself.

Suguru’s final words ring in his head even as he cleans up and heads back to the elevator for his surgery at two.

“I’ll fix this all, I promise.”

He still scoffs at the reminder. What a pile of shit. It’s quite obvious that the cracks are still there, hidden just beneath the surface, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before they break open.

The sterile white walls of the VitaCore lab hum quietly, the low buzz of machines and the soft clicking of keyboards filling the otherwise empty space. Scientists in crisp white coats move methodically, their eyes focused on their work, unaware of the dangerous precipice they are teetering on.

At the center of the room, Dr. Akira Saito. Beside him, Suguru Geto.

The glow of the fluorescent lights above casts a sharp reflection off the polished surfaces, their harshness juxtaposed by the serene, almost clinical atmosphere. On the countertop beside them sits a collection of vials, each containing a liquid that glows faintly—a shimmering promise. CerebraX-12. The very thing that had kept Suguru up through countless sleepless nights, the catalyst of his obsession.

Suguru taps the vial with a gloved finger, his expression a mask of quiet confidence. “It’s working,” he says, as though speaking to himself, but loud enough for the doctor to hear. “Increased neural activity. Clearer cognitive function. This will change everything.”

Suguru’s fingers hover over the vial, his gaze fixed on it with a mix of reverence and guilt. He had been here from the beginning, and now, he never felt more inextricably linked to the project. The drug had started as a way to help those lost, broken, unable to heal—what it had the potential to become… He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t look away.

“If it works…” Dr. Akira starts, but his voice falters. He doesn’t even know what it is anymore.

Suguru glances up at him, his eyes sharp, too focused. “What do you mean?” His tone is clipped, dismissive of any hesitations. “This is progress, Dr. Real progress. You’re seeing it, aren’t you? What’s happening in their brains? They’re improving.”

Dr. Akira Saito shifts uncomfortably, his hands twitching at his sides. The bright fluorescence seems to hum louder now, almost drowning out his thoughts. He looks at the vials again, but his expression is uncertain, as if the sheen of success had somehow dulled in the wake of what he’s witnessed. His voice drops, cautious. “Yes, but there are… side effects. We’ve observed them in the last batch. It’s escalating faster than we anticipated.”

Suguru’s jaw tightens at the words, his fingers tightening around the vial as though it might shatter under the pressure. “Side effects are a natural part of early trials,” he counters, his voice low, almost irritated. “This is revolutionary. Of course, there will be some issues to iron out. But we’re getting closer. You can see that. You know how many lives we can save with this.”

Dr. Saito looks away, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone else to step in, someone to reaffirm his doubts. But no one does. He’s alone with Suguru, alone with the weight of the decision.

“You’re not seeing what I’m seeing,” Dr. Akira murmurs. “The rage. The strength. The changes… They’re not just physical. It’s like they’re losing themselves. Their minds are crumbling under the pressure of the drug. We don’t understand it yet.”

Suguru shakes his head sharply. “You’re too focused on the immediate. We’re talking about long-term potential. Neural regeneration. Reversing damage. Erasing depression. You think this is an issue? This is a breakthrough.” His voice rises, as if to drown out the undercurrent of fear creeping into the room. “Every great discovery has its hiccups. Edison didn’t stop after a few failed bulbs.”

The words hang in the air, thick and heavy. But Dr. Akira doesn’t seem convinced. Instead, his gaze drifts to the monitors in front of them, displaying data he can no longer ignore. The neural scans are clear, but the patterns… they shift unnervingly. Suguru leans over the screen, his eyes narrowing. “It’s working. You’re just too caught up in the symptoms. We can handle that. We will handle that.” His hand moves swiftly, tapping a few commands on the keyboard. He pulls up a graph showing the improvements in cognitive function. The green bars are steadily rising. It’s perfect. Almost too perfect.

But Akira can’t look at it the same way anymore. The numbers might be right, but the faces of the test subjects in the other room—pupils dilated, shaking violently, uncontrollable aggression—linger in his mind like ghosts. He swallows hard. “I don’t know, Suguru. I can’t ignore the risks anymore.”

Suguru stands taller against the older man, his eyes burning with determination. “Then we move forward. We test on more subjects. We refine it, together. The world needs this.”

The tension in the room deepens, thick like a storm on the horizon. Suguru’s voice fills with a quiet intensity as he lowers his gaze to the vials again, almost hypnotized by their glow.

“Think of it, Akira. A world where depression is eradicated. Where no one has to suffer like she did. We can fix this.”

Akira hesitates, his mind torn between the growing sense of doubt and the promise of Suguru’s unwavering conviction. His eyes flicker back to the glowing vials, the temptation pulling at him, but something deep within him whispers that this isn’t the cure he thought it was.

But Suguru is already moving, already deciding. “Prepare the next round of trials,” Suguru commands, the finality in his voice settling like concrete. “We can’t afford to back down now.”

The words are no longer just a command, but a warning. He’s learned from his last mistake not to go against Suguru. Still, the memory from the last time causes his mind to plague with doubt and worry for what could sprout from this. The way the sedatives just barely flamed Subject 14, the utter strength that man had, and a junior scientist almost losing her life.

He never signed up for this when he decided to help Suguru that one day three years ago. But now, he’s stuck. Completely stuck.

The night patrol is easy, as some would say. The lab floor is quiet, save for the soft whirring of machinery and the distant flicker of security monitors. Two guards sit at the main security desk, their uniforms slightly wrinkled, their posture relaxed. They’re not scientists, and the weight of the research happening beyond the reinforced doors means little to them.

And in one of the dimly lit holding areas, Subject 37 sits in his reinforced cell, his body slack against the wall. A faint sheen of sweat glistens on his pale skin, his breathing uneven, almost labored. The once-promising patient now looks more like a feral animal: his eyes bloodshot, his muscles twitching involuntarily, and his nails clawing at the concrete floor. The cameras in the corner of the room track his every movement, though tonight, the guards monitoring them are far from vigilant.

Where they sit is also adjacent to the holding cells, their post illuminated by the strong glow of multiple screens. The sound of static fills the air as one guard—Tanaka, a lanky man in his late thirties—scrolls through his phone, his feet propped on the desk. Beside him, the younger guard, Matsuda, barely pays attention, lazily flipping through a magazine.

The repetitiveness of it all is another tier of boring. It makes the guards themselves wish they could trade places with the subjects just for a little more spark in their everyday shifts.

“This is the easiest gig I’ve ever had,” Tanaka mutters, glancing up briefly at the monitors before returning to his phone. “Just sit here, make sure nobody freaks out too much, and we’re golden.”

Matsuda snickers. “Yeah, because these lab rats are so terrifying.” He leans back in his chair, flipping a page. “You ever wonder what they’re actually testing on them?”

“Don’t care,” Tanaka replies, kicking his feet higher. “As long as the paycheck clears. Besides, it’s some top secret bullshit only they know about.”

“Maybe it’s a secret weapon for an upcoming war.”

The two chuckle to themselves. On the monitor, Subject 37 suddenly jerks upright, his movements sharp and unnatural. He tilts his head, as though listening to something only he can hear. His breathing grows rapid, erratic. His hands clench into fists, and he begins to bang them against the walls of his cell, the dull thuds growing louder with each strike.

The guards glance up at the sound, faintly audible through the thick walls.

“Looks like 37’s having one of his tantrums again,” Matsuda says with a smirk. “Probably needs another sedative.”

Tanaka yawns, waving a dismissive hand. “Let him tire himself out. The reinforced glass can handle it.”

Subject 37 continues his assault on the cell walls, his fists leaving faint cracks in the reinforced concrete. The sound grows louder, reverberating through the otherwise silent lab floor. On the monitors, his movements become more erratic, his body contorting unnaturally as though something inside him is trying to claw its way out.

Matsuda frowns, lowering his magazine. “He’s really going at it tonight. You sure that glass can hold?”

Tanaka waves him off again, his gaze glued to his phone. “Relax. We’ve seen worse. The glass is four inches, these cells are built for freaks like him.”

But Matsuda’s unease doesn’t fade. His eyes remain fixed on the screen as Subject 37 suddenly stops, his body freezing mid-motion. His head tilts toward the camera, and for the first time, Matsuda feels like the subject is staring directly at him. It’s an unnerving sight—those bloodshot eyes filled with something primal, something unnatural.

“Uh, Tanaka?” Matsuda’s voice trembles slightly. “He’s looking right at us.”

Tanaka glances up, sighing. “So? Creepy stares don’t mean shit. The guy’s fried—probably doesn’t even know where he is.”

Before Matsuda can respond, the lights in the lab flicker for a second, before the entire block plunges into darkness. The sudden shift jolts Matsuda upright. Tanaka sighs and locks his phone, standing up, adjusting his gearbelt around his waist. .

“What the hell was that?” Matsuda asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably just a power surge,” Tanaka mutters, though the annoyed edge in his tone betrays his attempt at calmness. He grabs the radio on his belt and presses the button. “Control, this is Lab Security. We just had an outage down here—everything okay on your end? Are the backups now working?”

Static greets him on the other end. He frowns, pressing the button again. “Control, do you copy?”

Still nothing.

“Great,” Tanaka grumbles, setting the radio down. “Looks like the comms are fried too.”

On the monitor, Subject 37 begins moving again. This time, his motions are slow and deliberate, his head tilting side to side as if testing the limits of his body. His breathing grows heavier, audible now even through the thick walls. The cracks in the concrete behind him spread wider with each exhale.

Matsuda swallows hard. “We should call someone. A supervisor or—”

“We’re not calling anyone,” Tanaka snaps, though his eyes remain locked on the screen. “This is probably just another glitch. They’ll chew us out if we overreact.”

But Matsuda doesn’t share his confidence. His gaze darts between the screen and the reinforced door leading to the holding cells. A deep, guttural growl echoes through the lab, sending a chill down his spine.

Tanaka, gritting his teeth and grabbing his flashing along with a taser, heads over to the cell that houses the subject. “Fuckin’ freak.” He huffs, hand reaching out to unlock the cell.

However, Matsuda stops him before he can do so. “W-what the hell are you doing?”

“Shuttin’ him up for now.”

“Tana—”

“Move,” the younger man is shoved out the way as Tanaka enters the cell with a wave of authority. Clicking the flashlight on, surveying the room. “Alright, freak. Come out, come out wherever you are.”

The cell feels colder than it should. The fluorescent light flickers weakly, casting long shadows across the stark walls. Subject 37 is nowhere to be seen at first glance, the reinforced glass door sliding shut behind Tanaka with an ominous hiss.

“Real brave, aren’t you?” Tanaka mutters, his voice bouncing off the walls. He adjusts his grip on the flashlight, its beam cutting through the dimness. “C’mon, don’t make this harder than it has to be. We both know how this ends.”

Matsuda stands frozen just outside the cell, heart pounding in his chest, biting his lip anxiously. The sound of his breathing feels too loud, competing with the quiet hum of machinery and the faint, unsettling growl that seems to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. “Tanaka,” Matsuda calls out, his muffled voice cracking slightly. “Don’t be stupid. Just get out of there.”

But Tanaka doesn’t answer. His attention is drawn to the far corner of the cell, where faint scratches mar the pristine walls. He steps closer, his flashlight illuminating deep gouges carved into the concrete. They form no discernible pattern, just chaotic, violent marks that make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Cheap walls,” he mutters, though the tremor in his voice betrays his unease.

Suddenly, the growl grows louder, almost vibrating through the air. Tanaka spins around, flashlight beam whipping across the room. His taser hums to life in his other hand, the crackle of electricity a sharp contrast to the oppressive silence that follows.

“Alright, freak!” Tanaka yells, trying to mask his growing panic. “I’m done playing games.”

A shadow shifts in the corner, just outside the flashlight’s reach. Tanaka squints and whirls around to see better. Leaning forward slightly, and the growl morphs into a low, guttural chuckle. It’s a sound that doesn’t belong in the realm of the living, a sound that makes Matsuda take a step back even behind the door. “Tanaka, get out of there!” Matsuda shouts now, his voice trembling.

But it’s too late. Subject 37 lunges from the shadows with unnatural speed, his twisted form illuminated for a split second as he crashes into Tanaka. The flashlight clatters to the ground, its beam spinning wildly across the walls, casting brief glimpses of the chaos.

Tanaka screams, a raw, visceral sound as Subject 37’s claw-like hands dig into him. The reinforced glass shakes as Matsuda’s eyes grow wide like saucers. “Tanaka! TANAKA!”

Inside the cell, the flashlight finally comes to a stop, its beam resting on Subject 37’s face. His bloodshot eyes gleam with a horrifying mix of rage and something almost... gleeful. His mouth, stretched into a feral snarl, drips with blood as he turns his gaze toward Matsuda.

Matsuda gulps harshly, his hands trembling as he fumbles with his walkie-talkie. His breath comes in short, uneven gasps, the faint static of the device the only sound in the suffocating darkness. “Control,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is Matsuda. Emergency in the holding area—Subject 37 has breached containment! Repeat, Subject 37 is loose!”

Nothing but static answers him. His hands tremble more violently as he presses the button again, his voice cracking. “Control, do you copy?!”

The distant sound of something heavy dragging across the floor makes his blood run cold. Matsuda freezes, his eyes darting around the pitch-black lab. The reinforced glass of the cell door is now a dark void, hiding whatever is happening within. A wet, deep crunch echoes from the cell, followed by a sound that Matsuda can only describe as chewing. His stomach churns as bile rises in his throat, his knees threatening to give out. His lip curls, sweat dripping down his cheeks.

“No, no, no,” he mutters under his breath, backing away from the door. His mind races, the primal instinct to run warring with his fear of what might happen if he turns his back.

Then, the chewing stops.

Silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the faint buzz of the broken walkie-talkie. Matsuda’s heart pounds so loudly in his chest he’s sure it will give him away. He takes another step back, his eyes locked on the cell door as if expecting it to burst open at any moment.

A single tap comes from the glass.

Matsuda’s breath hitches. Another tap follows, louder this time, deliberate. His flashlight shakes in his hand as he grabs it— raising it toward the glass, the beam cutting through the darkness to reveal… nothing.

The cell is empty.

“Shit,” he whispers, his voice cracking. He takes another shaky step back, his body screaming at him to run, but his legs feel like lead. He attempts to reach for his pistol.

But before anything else, the reinforced glass splinters in an explosion of force, shards flying in all directions. Matsuda raises his arms to shield his face, the flashlight clattering to the ground and spinning wildly. “Gah!”

When he lowers his arms, Subject 37 stands before him, blood dripping from his teeth, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim emergency lighting.

“…pots…t’nac…t’nac I .em pleh.…esaelP,” the creature growls, its voice distorted, guttural, and impossibly human. However, it sounds like there’s the smallest hint of remorse in the subject’s voice.

There’s a suffocating second of stillness, Matsuda staring at what once Subject 37 in utter horror. Limbs shaking, stumbling back until he falls on his ass. Matsuda doesn’t think. He stands up in a rush—turns and bolts, his scream echoing through the lab as Subject 37 lunges after him.

Gunshots are followed by a resounding squishy noise.

a/n: very introductory ik. next chap is when it gets goooood

taglist: @sukuxna0 @heartsteelkaynconsumer @myahfig4 @kirachuyuu @sypnasis

@ducky1232 @oromanticism @2late4breakfast @beabamboo @boothillglazer

@sleepyyammy @tbzzluvr

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moonselune · 1 day ago

Note

companions and drunk reader crying and cuddling with scratch + owlbear :33

I did this set at the reunion party because for some reason I thought that was part of the prompt but hey ho, some fluff to warm our souls and brighten us up during this darkside of the year <3

Karlach:

The reunion party was in full swing, the lively hum of conversation and laughter filling the air. Music played from a makeshift ensemble, and the scent of roasted meat and ale mingled with the crisp night breeze. You and Karlach had been inseparable for most of the evening, both of you reveling in the joy of being free from the hellish grasp of Avernus - even if it was a brief respite. Friends surrounded you, their faces lit with genuine smiles—a rare luxury in the trials you’d all endured together.

But as the night wore on and the drinks flowed freely, Karlach found herself chatting animatedly with Wyll and Gale about some shared escapades. It wasn’t until a lull in the conversation that she noticed your absence.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the crowd. Where had you gone? You’d been right beside her just moments ago. Her heart sank slightly as her mind played through the possibilities, but then she noticed a faint commotion near the far side of the camp, where the light of the bonfire barely reached.

Curiosity and concern prompted her to investigate.

As she approached, Karlach was met with a sight that was both hilarious and heartwarming. There you were, sprawled on the ground, your cheeks flushed from too much drink, nestled comfortably between Scratch, who was contentedly licking your face, and the owlbear cub—no longer a cub but still unmistakably affectionate. The owlbear had draped itself partially over your lap, its massive body radiating warmth, while you murmured incoherent endearments and occasionally giggled.

“You are such a good boy, Scratch,” you slurred, scratching behind the dog’s ears with one hand while your other patted the owlbear’s soft feathers. “And you—big ol’ fluff monster—you’re my second-best friend in the whole wide world. Don’t tell Scratch, though.”

The owlbear let out a low, rumbling coo, and Scratch wagged his tail enthusiastically.

Karlach leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, and just watched you for a moment, her expression softening. The firelight caught in her amber eyes, reflecting the warmth she felt in her chest. After everything you’d been through—fighting, surviving, struggling—it was moments like these that made it all worthwhile. Seeing you so carefree, surrounded by creatures who adored you, filled her with a quiet contentment.

“Well, well,” she drawled, stepping closer, her voice laced with affection. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’ve already gone and replaced me with fur and feathers.”

You looked up at her, blinking owlishly, and broke into a wide, dopey grin. “Karlach! Join us! There’s so much love here, it’s like… like a cuddle explosion!”

She chuckled, her heart melting a little more. “A cuddle explosion, huh? Sounds dangerous.”

“It’s the best kind of dangerous,” you declared, patting the ground beside you.

Karlach didn’t need much convincing. With a theatrical sigh, she dropped to the ground beside you, her warm body pressing against yours. Scratch immediately climbed into her lap, while the owlbear shuffled closer to include her in its feathery embrace.

“You know,” she said, her voice low and tender, “I think this might be the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“‘Cause I’m with you,” you mumbled, resting your head on her shoulder. “And Scratch. And Big Fluffy. It’s perfect.”

Karlach wrapped an arm around you, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

“You’re perfect, babe” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Minthara:

The reunion party was a raucous affair, the camp alive with laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional outburst of song. Minthara had joined reluctantly at your insistence, her usual composed demeanor barely hiding the faint amusement she felt as she observed the chaos.

The Drow paladin rarely indulged in such frivolity, the two of you had an Underdark to conquor afterall, but tonight she allowed herself to linger, even engaging in a deep conversation with Astarion, who had recently returned to the Underdark to settle down.

As the two shared dry wit and sharp banter, Minthara’s keen eyes darted across the camp, instinctively searching for you. When she realized you were nowhere in sight, she narrowed her eyes.

"Where has that fool wandered off to now?" she muttered under her breath, much to Astarion’s amusement.

“Ah, love,” Astarion quipped, a sly smirk on his lips. “It makes us chase after them even when we’d rather not.”

Minthara rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She excused herself, muttering something about responsibility, and began to search for you. It didn’t take long—muffled giggles and low, rumbling noises led her toward the outskirts of the gathering. There, illuminated by the faint glow of the moonlight, she found you sprawled on the ground.

You were nestled between Scratch and the owlbear cub—though it had long since outgrown the 'cub' moniker—and were clearly the drunkest she had ever seen you. Your face was flushed, your hair mussed, and your arms were wrapped tightly around the two creatures as if they were your most precious treasures.

“Listen,” you whispered conspiratorially to the owlbear, though your volume defeated the purpose. “We’re gonna take over the Underdark. Me, you, Scratch, and Minthara. She’s so scary and smart. We’ll rule everything. But don’t tell her—it’s a secret plan.”

Minthara crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow as she approached.

"A secret plan, is it?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock disdain. “Taking over the Underdark with a dog and an owlbear? Truly, you’re a visionary.”

You looked up at her with wide, bleary eyes, your face breaking into a sloppy grin.

“Minthara! You found me!” you exclaimed, holding out a hand. “Join us! It’s a cuddle coup.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, though there was a flicker of amusement in her crimson eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, turning to walk away.

But before she could take a step, you staggered to your feet with surprising agility for someone so far gone. With a triumphant shout, you lunged at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her down to the ground.

Minthara yelped in surprise, glaring daggers at you as she landed unceremoniously on the grass.

“Have you lost your mind?” she snapped, but her anger quickly gave way to resignation as Scratch and the owlbear cub immediately joined in, nuzzling against her.

She froze, her normally stern expression softening as Scratch licked her cheek and the owlbear rumbled contentedly. She didn’t push them away, though she grumbled, “You’ve turned me into a damned pillow.”

You beamed at her, your face close to hers as you slurred, “You’re the best pillow ever. And the best everything else. I adore you, Minthara. You, Scratch, Owlie—you're all my favorite.”

Her cheeks darkened with a faint blush, though she refused to acknowledge it.

“You’re drunk,” she said curtly, her voice lacking its usual sharpness.

“And in love,” you replied with drunken sincerity, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, but Minthara didn’t pull away. She sighed, her hand coming to rest on your cheek for just a moment before she let it fall.

“I'm going to kill you,” she muttered, though her tone was more affectionate than irritated.

You grinned, nuzzling against her like a contented cat. “I can't wait.”

Minthara rolled her eyes, though a small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of her mouth. As Scratch and the owlbear settled around you both, she resigned herself to her fate, lying back against the grass and letting the warmth of the moment wash over her.

Perhaps you were impossible. But you were hers.

Lae'zel:

The reunion party was in full swing, the air buzzing with laughter, music, and the clinking of mugs. You’d coaxed Lae’zel into attending, promising her that Xan, your precious hatchling, would be fine under the watchful eyes of Voss and the rebels - who were surprisingly more than happy to look after him. Though she had reluctantly agreed, you noticed her gaze drifting toward the camp’s perimeter now and then, her brows furrowed with that familiar Githyanki intensity.

“Relax, Lae’zel,” you teased, nudging her gently. “Xan is fine. Tonight is about us.”

Lae’zel gave you a skeptical glance but said nothing, her hand brushing against yours briefly—a rare public display of affection from her that made your heart swell. For a while, the two of you enjoyed the festivities, sharing drinks and banter with your companions. But as the evening wore on and the wine flowed more freely, you became… well, significantly more inebriated.

At some point, Lae’zel turned to speak with Wyll, who was recounting one of his latest exploits. When she turned back, you were gone.

Her jaw clenched as she scanned the crowd, her warrior instincts kicking in despite the harmless nature of the gathering. She stomped through the camp, muttering curses under her breath as she searched for you.

“You couldn’t stay in one place, could you?” she growled.

It wasn’t long before she heard familiar, albeit slurred, murmuring. Following the sound, she found you sprawled on the ground near the campfire, flanked by Scratch and the now nearly full-grown owlbear cub. Tears streamed down your face as you hugged the animals close, stroking their fur and feathers.

“I love her so much,” you sobbed into Scratch’s neck. “And Xan. Xan is perfect. Perfect little hatchling.”

Lae’zel froze, her expression caught between exasperation and disbelief. She crossed her arms and glared down at you. “What are you doing, fool?”

You looked up at her, your face lighting up with drunken joy.

“Lae’zel!” you cried, holding out your arms. “You’re here! You’re so amazing, and strong, and—hic—beautiful. I love you.”

Lae’zel pinched the bridge of her nose, her shoulders heaving with a deep sigh.

“You are worse than Xan when he is hungry,” she muttered. Turning her attention to the animals, she pointed toward the river. “Drag this mess into the water. Perhaps it will sober them up.”

Scratch tilted his head, his tail wagging, while the owlbear let out a soft, rumbling croon. They looked at her, clearly uninterested in complying.

You giggled, stroking the owlbear’s feathers. “They like you, Lae’zel. They know you’re the best. Everyone knows you’re the best.”

Lae’zel’s irritation flickered, her lips pressing into a tight line as she fought to suppress the small smile threatening to emerge.

“You’re insufferable,” she declared, but there was no venom in her tone.

At her words, you burst into fresh tears. “Xan is so lucky to have you as a mom. I’m so lucky! How did I get so lucky?”

Lae’zel knelt beside you, her movements stiff but deliberate as she pulled you upright and into her arms.

“You’re drunk and ridiculous,” she said, her voice low but steady.

You wrapped your arms around her, clinging tightly. “But I love you,” you mumbled into her shoulder.

Lae’zel let out a small, exasperated sigh, but she didn’t push you away. Instead, she adjusted her grip, holding you firmly against her.

Her fingers brushed against your hair as she murmured, “You are fortunate I have patience tonight.”

You snuggled into her embrace, your tears finally subsiding as warmth and exhaustion took over. Though her expression remained stoic, a faint, hidden smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She did love you, she loved Xan, and the feathered and furred beasts weren't too bad either.

Shadowheart:

The reunion party was a vibrant celebration, a gathering of friends, companions, and allies, each reveling in the hard-won peace after so many battles. You and Shadowheart stood together, hand in hand, sharing a quiet joy amid the merriment. The news that the owlbear cub—now a formidable but still affectionate creature—would be coming back to your farm had filled you both with delight. The prospect of a peaceful life on your little slice of the countryside, surrounded by Scratch, the owlbear, your other small army of animals and each other, was everything you’d dreamed of.

You’d both mingled, laughed, and shared drinks, but at some point, Shadowheart turned to grab another bottle of wine, only to find you had disappeared. Her brow furrowed, though she didn’t panic. You weren’t exactly subtle when you were drunk, and it wasn’t hard to follow the sound of your voice, rising in animated, tearful elation.

When she finally found you, Shadowheart couldn’t help but pause, her arms crossing as she observed the scene before her. You were seated on the grass near the campfire, Scratch pressed against your side, his tail wagging lazily, while the owlbear nestled on the other side, its feathers ruffled as you gently stroked its beak.

“And you’re gonna love the farm,” you slurred, gesturing wildly with the bottle in your hand. “There’s fields to run in, and soft places to sleep, and you two—” you sniffed, your voice breaking slightly as you turned to the animals— “are gonna be so happy. So loved.”

The owlbear let out a deep, contented rumble, and Scratch licked your cheek, which only made your drunken tears flow harder. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a small smile.

“You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?” she said, stepping into the firelight.

Your head snapped up, your face lighting up as if you’d seen the sun itself.

“Shadowheart!” you cried, scrambling to your feet only to stumble and flop back onto the grass. “You’re here! Come here, come here—cuddle pile!”

Shadowheart sighed but couldn’t suppress her amused grin as you reached out for her.

“You’re hopeless,” she muttered, though there was no real bite to her words. She approached and allowed herself to be pulled down into the pile of fur and feathers, the owlbear shifting to make room for her as Scratch barked happily.

“This is the best night ever,” you declared, wrapping your arms around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m so happy, Shadowheart. We’re gonna have the best life. You, me, Scratch, and this big feathery baby.”

She shook her head, laughing softly as she snatched the bottle from your hand.

“You’ve had enough,” she said, taking a swig herself. The wine burned pleasantly as it went down, and she let out a contented sigh. “Though I suppose I can’t argue with your enthusiasm.”

As the night wore on, Shadowheart found herself caught up in your infectious joy. She joined in on your rambling talks of the future—of gardens you’d plant, adventures you’d take, and all the little moments of happiness waiting for you both.

“You know,” she said, her voice soft as she leaned her head against your shoulder, “I think you’re right. This is going to be a good life.”

Your only response was a drunken hum of agreement, your arms tightening around her as the warmth of the fire, the animals, and each other enveloped you both. In that moment, everything felt perfect. Everything was perfect. Everything was going to be perfect.

Jaheira:

The reunion party was in full swing, laughter and music filling the air as friends and allies celebrated the peace you had all fought so hard to achieve. You and Jaheira stood together for much of the evening, your hand occasionally brushing against hers in a quiet intimacy. She was radiant in her element, speaking with old friends, trading stories of past battles, and offering wisdom to those who sought it.

At some point, she became engrossed in a conversation with Halsin, the two of them naturally drawn together by their shared love for nature and nurturing. Their talk turned to the orphans Halsin had come to care for, and Jaheira, with her ever-compassionate heart, shared tales of her own tendency to adopt and guide wayward children.

“I suppose I can’t help myself,” she admitted with a soft chuckle. “Perhaps it’s the druid in me, or perhaps just the mother.”

Halsin nodded with a knowing smile. “It’s a noble trait, Jaheira. The world is better for it.”

But as Jaheira began to share another story, she realized something: you were no longer at her side. She scanned the crowd, her brow furrowing in mild irritation.

“Speaking of wayward children,” she muttered under her breath, excusing herself from Halsin with a polite nod. “Now where have you wandered off to?”

It wasn’t hard to track you down; she simply followed the faint sound of sniffling and tearful rambling. What she found made her stop in her tracks, crossing her arms with an exasperated sigh.

There you were, sprawled on the grass near the fire, clutching Scratch and the owlbear cub—though it was hardly a cub anymore. The owlbear sat with a dignified sort of calm, its feathers ruffled from your clumsy affection, while Scratch lay happily across your lap, his tail wagging lazily.

“And you guys,” you sniffled, gesturing to the animals with the bottle still clutched in one hand, “you’re the best. I love you so much. You’re good boys. The best boys.”

Jaheira approached, shaking her head as she took in the sight of you, your face red from tears and wine.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, though her voice held a note of amusement. You looked up, your tear-streaked face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Jaheira!” you cried, holding your arms out dramatically. “You’re here! Come cuddle with us!”

“Cuddle?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Darling, you’re drunk.”

“I’m emotional,” you corrected, your voice wobbling as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “And you have to cuddle with us, or—or I’ll never forgive you! Ever!”

Jaheira sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead as though trying to muster the patience of a saint.

“You are worse than Halsin's orphans,” she teased, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her tone. “And that’s saying something.”

Your lip wobbled, and you clutched Scratch tighter.

“Please,” you whimpered, the plea so earnest and pitiful that Jaheira couldn’t help but laugh.

“All right, all right,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “If it means that much to you.”

She knelt beside you, allowing you to pull her into the chaotic cuddle pile. The owlbear gave a soft hoot, adjusting its position to include her, while Scratch wagged his tail even harder at her presence.

“See?” you murmured, wrapping your arms around her as you leaned heavily against her shoulder. “This is nice. Isn’t it nice?”

Jaheira let out a long-suffering sigh, though a smile tugged at her lips as she rested her head against yours.

“You’re ridiculously impossible,” she said softly. “But yes, this is… nice.”

For a while, the two of you sat there, surrounded by warmth and fur and feathers. Jaheira found herself relaxing despite the absurdity of the situation, her arm slipping around your waist as she pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she murmured. You hummed happily, nuzzling into her shoulder.

“I know,” you slurred, the wine making your voice thick. “And I love you, too. So, so much.”

Jaheira chuckled, shaking her head as she tightened her hold on you.

“You’ll be the death of me,” she said fondly. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Gale:

The reunion party buzzed with energy, laughter and conversation flowing freely among friends old and new - thanks to Minsc's addition. You and Gale were nestled in a quieter corner of the celebration, a glass of wine in your hand and Gale gesturing animatedly with his own as he launched into an impassioned tale about his latest trials as a professor at Blackstaff Academy.

“…and would you believe it? One of the students thought it prudent to attempt wild magic on their first evocation test! I spent half the afternoon dispelling chaos and putting out fires—literal fires—and the other half explaining why summoning imps in a classroom was hardly conducive to learning.”

You nodded along, smiling as you watched the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his work. His passion was endearing, and yet… a mischievous thought crept into your mind as you caught sight of Scratch wagging his tail nearby, the owlbear cub—no longer quite a cub—lounging lazily beside him.

When Gale paused to take a sip of his wine, you saw your chance.

“Fascinating,” you said quickly, standing and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Be right back, love.”

He blinked, caught off guard but easily reassured by the peck. “Oh, certainly. Don’t wander too far.”

You didn’t answer, instead making a beeline for the animals. A few moments later, you were leading Scratch and the owlbear cub away from the main gathering, giggling to yourself as you went. An hour later, Gale finally noticed your absence and set off to find you.

He tracked you down by the sound of your voice, soft and teasing as you lounged in a quiet grove just beyond the party. There you were, sprawled on the grass with Scratch snuggled into one side and the owlbear cub resting its heavy head on your lap. Your cheeks were flushed with drink, your eyes glassy with a mix of affection and mischief.

“And Gale,” you slurred, stroking the owlbear’s feathers as if imparting some great wisdom, “wanted to be a god. A god! Can you believe it? Silly Gale. He doesn’t need to be a god. He’s already… already my god. My love, my life…” Your voice dropped conspiratorially, and you hiccupped. “But he would’ve been a prick as a god. Don’t you think?”

“Do you think so?” Gale’s amused voice cut in, and you turned your head to see him standing there, arms crossed but a fond smile tugging at his lips. You gasped dramatically.

“Gale!” You grinned at him, patting the grass beside you. “Come here! Join us! Cuddle!”

“I think not,” he said, though the smile on his face betrayed him. “Someone has to ensure you don’t declare my divine candidacy to the owlbear.”

Your grin wavered, and you pouted, your bottom lip trembling as your eyes filled with exaggerated tears.

“You won’t cuddle with me?” you sniffled, your voice wobbling. “You don’t love me anymore?”

Gale’s resolve crumbled instantly. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I can’t say no to that face.”

With a dramatic flourish, you opened your arms wide. “Then get over here, Professor Dekarios!”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the laughter bubbling in his chest as he lowered himself to the grass beside you. Scratch immediately wriggled over to press against his side, while the owlbear gave a satisfied huff and shifted to accommodate him. You threw your arms around him, nuzzling into his chest as if he were the most comfortable pillow in the world.

“See?” you murmured, your voice soft and content. “This is perfect. My god. My Gale.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I suppose there are worse fates than being your god. Though next time, perhaps less wine and more water.”

You hummed in agreement, already half-asleep against him. Gale shook his head, his heart full as he tightened his arms around you and let the peaceful moment wash over him.

Astarion:

The reunion party was in full swing, with the warm glow of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. You and Astarion had arrived arm-in-arm, though the two of you quickly found yourselves mingling with different groups. Astarion had gravitated toward Minthara, the two of them caught in an animated conversation about how you and he had adjusted to life in the Underdark—a topic Astarion spoke of with a surprising fondness.

You, however, had been immediately distracted by Scratch, whose wagging tail and joyful demeanor were too much to resist. You’d spent some time tossing a stick for him before finding the owlbear cub—now fully grown—lounging nearby. One thing led to another, and soon enough, you’d wandered off, leaving Astarion none the wiser.

When he finally noticed your absence, it was only because Minthara raised an eyebrow mid-conversation. “It seems your partner has… disappeared.”

Astarion sighed, his eyes scanning the crowd. “They do tend to wander, don’t they? One moment they’re here, the next, they’ve likely befriended every stray within a ten-mile radius.”

It didn’t take him long to find you. The sound of your drunken sniffles and delighted murmurs led him to a quiet corner of the grove, where you were sprawled on the grass, your arms wrapped around Scratch and the owlbear cub. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes glassy, and you were mid-sentence in what appeared to be an earnest declaration.

“You’re just… so cute,” you hiccupped, scratching the owlbear behind its feathered ears. “Both of you. The cutest. I don’t deserve you. Nobody does.”

Astarion stepped closer, his lips curling into a smirk as he crossed his arms.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “The drunkest I’ve ever seen you, cuddling animals and crying over their cuteness. Truly, a sight to behold.”

You looked up at him, your expression a mix of delight and indignation.

“It’s not my fault!” you exclaimed, sitting up—though the effort made you wobble. “Scratch… Scratch has been fetching me wine!”

Astarion raised a skeptical brow, his smirk widening. “Scratch has been fetching you wine? Darling, I taught you to lie better than that.”

You gasped, clutching Scratch protectively. “Are you calling me a liar? Scratch would never let me lie. He’s too good, too pure!”

The dog wagged his tail innocently, clearly pleased with the attention. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips as he moved to sit beside you.

“Yes, yes, Scratch is the pinnacle of virtue. Now, move over before you collapse completely.” He pulled you against his side, his arm wrapping around your waist. You immediately snuggled into him, still hiccuping slightly as you continued to pet the animals.

Just as Astarion was starting to feel truly settled, Scratch suddenly trotted off.

“And where are you going, you furry little enabler?” he called after the dog. Moments later, Scratch returned, tail wagging proudly as he carried a bottle of blood in his jaws. Astarion’s mouth fell open slightly in surprise, and then he laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Well, I’ll be damned. He really is a very good boy.”

He took the bottle from Scratch, patting the dog’s head affectionately.

“My apologies, my love. It seems you weren’t lying. Who would have thought Shadowheart’s greatest contribution to our journey all those months ago was teaching this beast to fetch drinks?”

You giggled, leaning up to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Told you so. Scratch is a genius. The cutest genius in the whole wide world.”

"And what about me, am I not cute?" Astarion asked in mock offence as he brushed a rogue strand of hair out of your face.

"Not as cute as Scratch and Owlbear but you try -hey give me back my wine!" You whined as Astarion took your bottle from you, brows raised, suggesting you try again. You huffed and rested your head on his shoulder looking up at him with big wet doe eyes. "You are not as cute, because you are twice as beautiful."

"I don't know if that makes sense, but I'll take it." He said, giving you back your wine with a small smile. He would have taken it off you, you really were the drunkest he had ever seen but your so-called 'wine' was actually water, Scratch really was a genius.

Wyll:

The reunion party was in full swing, a mix of old friends, laughter, and the clinking of glasses raised high in celebration. The air buzzed with the joy of shared victories and the promise of futures finally free of hardship. You and Wyll had spent much of the evening together, arm in arm, swapping stories and indulging in the abundant wine. It was a rare, beautiful moment to simply be—no battles to fight, no worlds to save.

For Wyll, the sight of you laughing and glowing with life was a reward all its own. But as the hours ticked by and the wine loosened tongues and inhibitions alike, you had somehow slipped away.

It wasn’t unusual. You had a penchant for wandering when the drink took hold of you, curiosity leading you to wherever your heart fancied. Wyll, ever patient and knowing, only chuckled to himself when he realized you were gone. After excusing himself from a lively conversation with Halsin and Minsc, who were subtley trying to out-brag the other (nothing had changed there) he set out to find you, his long strides carrying him through the grove as he kept an ear out for your familiar voice.

It didn’t take long. He followed the soft sound of sniffling to a secluded patch of grass where the moonlight spilled down like a spotlight. There, nestled between Scratch and the owlbear—no longer a cub but still affectionately devoted—you sat, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you buried your face in the owlbear’s feathers.

“They’re just… so cute,” you murmured, your voice thick with drunken emotion. Scratch’s tail thumped happily against the ground, clearly basking in your attention, while the owlbear tilted its head in quiet curiosity.

Wyll stopped, the sight making him blink in surprise. His hand rose to cover the grin tugging at his lips.

“Oh, my love,” he said softly, his voice tinged with both amusement and affection. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and the moment your eyes met his, a fresh wave of tears spilled over.

“Wyll!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking as though his very presence was a miracle. “You’re here! And you’re so… so cute!”

Wyll blinked, momentarily startled, before laughter rumbled low in his chest.

“I’m cute, am I?” he asked, kneeling beside you. His grin widened as he took in the wine bottle lying haphazardly nearby and the glassy, adoring look in your eyes.

“Yes!” you wailed, throwing your arms out dramatically. “Your smile is cute, and your horns are cute, and your eyes are cute, and your hair is cute!” You punctuated each word with a hiccupping sob, your hand waving wildly as if to emphasize your point.

Wyll’s brows lifted in amusement, though his gaze softened with love.

“I see the wine has been particularly generous with you tonight,” he teased, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so… unbearably adorable. Shall I tone it down?”

“No!” you exclaimed, clutching his hand as though the idea was unthinkable. “Don’t stop being cute! It’s the best thing about you—no, wait.” You gasped as though struck by a revelation. “Everything about you is the best thing!”

Wyll let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “You are truly something else,” he said, his voice warm as he reached out to steady you. “Even when drunk, you’re determined to flatter me into blushing.”

Your lip wobbled, and you suddenly looked utterly distraught.

“Even your boots are cute,” you whispered, as though it was the most profound truth you had ever spoken.

That was enough to undo Wyll completely. He laughed, full and unguarded, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“Alright, alright,” he said gently. “I’ll take responsibility for being impossibly charming.”

You sniffled, your tears slowing as the exhaustion of the evening began to creep up on you. With a soft hiccup, you slumped forward, burying your face in his chest. Wyll’s arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close as he stroked your back.

“You’re a handful, you know that?” he murmured, though his tone held no irritation—only affection. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The owlbear gave a low croon and leaned in, its head nuzzling against Wyll’s shoulder as though to share in the moment. Scratch let out a soft bark of agreement, his tail thumping against the ground. Wyll chuckled, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“You’ve managed to rally quite the crowd,” he said softly, glancing down at your peaceful face. But when you didn’t respond, he realized you had fallen asleep, your breath even and steady against his chest.

“Oh, my heart,” he said, shaking his head with a fond smile. “What am I to do with you?”

Carefully, he adjusted his hold and scooped you into his arms. The owlbear and Scratch followed as he carried you back toward the firelight of the party. Wyll’s steps were steady, his gaze warm as he looked down at you. Even in your drunken, tearful mess, you were his mess.

And he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

Halsin:

The reunion party was nothing short of spectacular. Lanterns hung from the ancient trees, casting soft, golden light over the gathering. Music and laughter mingled with the sounds of the old faithful camp at night, a serene backdrop to the revelry. You had started the evening with Halsin, both of you basking in the joy of seeing friends and allies together again. It was a rare chance to relax, to celebrate the life you had built after the chaos.

Halsin was soon drawn into a conversation about the orphans you and he had taken in. A circle of the more compassionate companions had gathered around him, captivated as he spoke about the children’s growth, their joy, and the home you were creating. His deep voice carried over the crowd, filled with pride and hope. You stood beside him for a time, sipping wine and listening, but your attention was eventually caught by a familiar sight—Scratch wagging his tail and the owlbear, now fully grown, ambling nearby.

"Look at them," you murmured, already swaying slightly as the wine took hold. "Two perfect, fluffy creatures, and they need my attention."

With a mischievous smile, you slipped away, weaving your way through the crowd, wineglass in hand. By the time Halsin realized you were gone, you had already disappeared into a quieter part of the grove. He smiled to himself, fondly amused, and excused himself from the conversation.

“She’s probably plotting something,” he said with a chuckle, following the faint sound of your voice.

It didn’t take long to find you. Beneath a sprawling oak, you were sprawled on the grass, cuddling Scratch and the owlbear. You had an almost-empty bottle of wine in one hand, your other arm draped dramatically over the owlbear’s shoulders. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair a bit disheveled, and your voice carried through the night as you spoke with exaggerated fervor.

"Listen here, Scratch," you said, poking his nose gently with your finger. "And you, too," you added, pointing to the owlbear, who blinked at you with wide, curious eyes. "You’re coming home with me. No arguments. It’s decided. We’re a family now."

Scratch barked happily, his tail thumping against the ground. The owlbear hooted softly, tilting its head as if contemplating your declaration.

You nodded solemnly, taking another swig of wine.

"Halsin might say no, but don’t you worry." You leaned in close, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that was anything but quiet. "I have my ways of convincing him. Very persuasive ways." You wiggled your eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, giggling at your own implication.

Then, as if struck by the sheer emotional gravity of the moment, your voice wavered, and tears welled up in your eyes.

"But if that doesn’t work," you said, your words thick with feeling, "I’ll just cry! Like this!" You dramatically buried your face into Scratch’s fur, letting out a loud, theatrical sob.

From the shadows, Halsin watched, arms crossed, a bemused smile playing on his lips. Finally, he stepped forward, his voice warm and steady. “Tears, my heart, will not be necessary.”

You froze, your head snapping up to look at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Halsin!" you exclaimed, scrambling to sit up and almost tipping over in the process. "When did you get here?"

"Not long ago," he replied, crouching down beside you. "Long enough to hear your… strategy."

You waved the bottle in his direction, sloshing a bit of wine onto the grass.

"It’s a good strategy," you insisted, pointing at him with exaggerated authority. "Very effective."

Halsin chuckled, his large hand brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I’m sure it is," he said indulgently. "But I assure you, no convincing is necessary."

“What about the other thing?” you asked, your voice dropping into a clumsy attempt at sultriness that only made Halsin laugh more.

“When you’re sober,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You turned back to Scratch and the owlbear, lowering your voice to a loud whisper. “See? I told you it would work. He may be Daddy Halsin, but we all know who the real daddy is.”

Halsin’s brows shot up, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest. “Do we now?” he asked, scooping you into his arms with practiced ease.

You clung to him, your head resting against his broad chest as you continued to mumble incoherently about your master plan.

"Fluffy family forever," you declared, nuzzling into his tunic.

Scratch barked again, wagging his tail enthusiastically, while the owlbear lumbered after you both. Halsin shook his head fondly, his smile softening as he looked down at you.

“You are a marvel,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As he carried you back toward the heart of the party, you sighed contentedly, your arms tightening around his neck.

“You’re the best, Halsin,” you murmured, your words slurring but full of affection. “The absolute best.”

“And you,” he replied, his voice low and full of warmth, “are an utter wonder.”

I hope you guys enjoyed this, I worked quite hard on it and it was quite a good distraction. Love you all - Seluney xox

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