#this is one of the very few smiling gifs i have of him

[evilmenenjoyer]

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

*

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

*

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you. 

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you. 

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.  

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don���t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ no one has to know what we do ]❜

ft. cho sang-woo x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you lay in bed with your dad’s best friend after a night of passion┊1.3k words

contains: slight smut!! dom sang-woo & sub reader┊age gap (reader is early 20s & sang-woo’s early 40s), (adopted) dad’s best friend trope, purposeful seduction, one-night stands, unprotected piv (don’t do anything the reader does, this is fiction & unrealistic, stay safe), creampie, biting, smoking, 

➤ author's note: i was thinking about this man all night, i’m not kidding, i’m doing it again tongiht too because he’s so fine idc if he’s evil, i wanna fuck him not fix him

it’s nearly four in the morning on another cold winter’s night with nothing but a yellow-tinted bedside lamp illuminating the room, completely silent aside from the rustling of the blanket from your movement. you sigh softly and nestle closer to the man lying flat on his back for more of the addicting warmth radiating off his body, your face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder and your legs entangling with his. he doesn’t pull away like you expected him to, just takes another drag on his cigarette and ignores you for the most part with the weight of the past few hours— the weight of the sins he committed tonight— pressing into his mind.

you, on the other hand, were all soft smiles and feeling content as if you just crossed off an accomplishment on the top of your bucket list. for a situation that could ruin both of your lives if discovered, it certainly feels blissful and freeing to finally fuck the man you’ve been dreaming about almost religiously ever since you came back home from university for the holidays a week ago. you have no idea how you’ve never met him until now when you’ve heard so much about him, but perhaps it was better that way when your thoughts were less than innocent. 

despite being middle-aged, he was still very handsome with intelligent albeit weary eyes which seemed to hide some sort of darkness to them. you found yourself studying him from afar, noticing him not wearing a wedding ring and making no mention of a family other than his mother, so you quickly made up your mind that you were going to fuck him before going back to school. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyway.

it actually didn’t take much to seduce him surprisingly: accidental eye contact filled with longing, lingering touches when you handed him his chilled cheap beer, careful actions and words to play up your sex appeal— it reminded you that most men are the same even if the stoic cho sang-woo was older and prided himself in his cunning mind, starved for affection with wandering eyes that frequently followed beneath the hem of your skirt. he looked at you behind his glasses with distrust and tried to act indifferent towards you in front of gi-hun, probably already suspicious about your intentions, but you could already see him drinking up your appearance in your cute little outfit as he downed another bottle. this little game was one you knew well and you always won in the end, there has yet to be anyone you wanted who couldn’t resist you and he certainly wasn’t going to be the first.

he stayed the night in the guest bedroom because it was already dark out, your former room which was converted after you moved out (sometimes it was rented out for extra cash), and at the strike of midnight, you knocked on the door and presented yourself to him seeking his comfort for an unspecified reason with slightly teary doe eyes. it was clear that you didn’t disturb him from his slumber and that he was already awake, visibly restless, and maybe even stressed. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was bothering him so much. he was hesitant to let you in at first, as any good man would, but his resolve crumbled after seeing how beautiful you looked in the dim light (not like it wasn’t already a breeze away from collapsing after the alcohol). it’s surprising what a little silk nightgown can do with the thin straps threatening to slip off your shoulders, the short hem revealing your soft thighs, your perk nipples straining through the thin fabric, and how small and vulnerable you looked shivering in your lack of clothes.

“you shouldn’t be here at this time.”

“are you going to turn me away?”

still, even if it all went according to plan, he’s not in love with you. you don’t think he is anyway. you don’t expect him to be. would you like him to be in love with you? it might put the aching loneliness at ease even if it won’t make it disappear entirely. he’s a man old enough to be your father after all, he’s a man who grew up with your father and considered him to be a close friend. is this how you thank your father for taking you in and sharing what little he had with you? by seducing and sleeping with his best friend? 

in all honestly, though, he certainly fucked like he was in love with you— like you two were the last two souls on this earth. he was a lot more pent up than you anticipated, or a lot more lonely, trusting into you so deeply one would think he was trying to reach your empty heart as you clawed at his back leaving red rivers of scratched skin. you barely even needed any prep for his size with how soaked you were, evident with a wet patch on your underwear which he teased before throwing it to be forgotten on the floor along with all your other clothes. 

it was difficult to keep the sinful sounds of sex to a minimum, skin against skin with moans slipping from your mouth and groans from his. he had to resort to covering your mouth with his large palm to shut you up and bit into your collarbone leaving his mark on you, finally finishing inside of you in his haze before using his fingers to help you reach your orgasm and embarrassing you for once by staring intently at how the mix of your arousals dripped all over his hand.

“when are you leaving for university?”

“why, are you going to miss me when i’m gone?”

“we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“no one has to know what we do,” you giggled, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and inhaling the smoke. “i’m old enough to keep a secret.”

those last words made him pause for a second. this was immoral and forbidden. if seong gi-hun were ever to find out, their relationship would be ruined forever and you would be disowned, and he could only imagine the look of betrayal on his face. yet you didn’t seem to care in the least bit about what he would think, gingerly rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of him leaking out of you and touching the area where he bit you. it drew his attention, finally turning to you and admiring the mark sunken into your skin, looking almost proud of it like art on a clean canvas. 

“i don’t want you sleeping with some other stupid boys when you go back.”

“hm, only if you promise that this won’t be the last time and that you also don’t fuck anyone else while i’m gone.”

“you know, i can’t promise that. we were lucky to not get caught this time, but who’s to say there will be a next time?”

“well, then i’ll go back to university and have sex with whoever i want, then you can do the same—”

“oh, shut up,” he scolded, pinching your cheeks to pull you towards him and kissing you possessively as if he could consume you whole by it. you were glad to reciprocate, allowing him to climb back on top of you while your arms wrapped around his neck. “fine, as long as you keep your word.”

he said it like he didn’t really want to continue this, like he was conceding to your demands and was merely tolerating you with better things to do, but the thinly veiled desperate need in his words and actions was clearer than glass to you. not that you minded, it was all working out just how you wanted it to.

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Video Clips of Sweethearts Pregnancy - First Trimester

♡ 'who said Pepsi kills sperm?' - video length: 33 seconds

Chris holds his phone in his hand, looking into the camera as he brings a half empty Pepsi can up to his mouth, taking a long swig before double tapping his screen. The camera switches, revealing Sweethearts small figure leaning against the bathroom counter, three positive pregnancy tests placed on the counter next her. Chris smiles bright, zooming in on the pregnancy tests, and panning the camera to the mirror as he wraps an arm around her waist. He pulls her into his embrace, pressing a light kiss to her temple before ending the video. Chris makes sure to type the caption, 'who said Pepsi kills sperm??', saving the video to his camera roll, and shoving his phone into his pocket.

♡ 'yikes' - video length: 12 seconds

Chris stands in the doorway of the bathroom, running a hand thru his hair as he looks into the camera. Gut wrenching gags fill the room as Sweetheart empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Morning sickness was kicking her ass, and the baby didn't agree with anything she choose to eat, whether she craved it or not. Chris double taps the screen, pointing the camera in her direction before quickly double tapping it again to show this face, he plasters a sarcastic smile on lips and mouth the words, "yikes," before ending the video.

♡ 'Baby bean🧡' - video length: 47 seconds

Chris focuses the camera on Sweethearts belly, the ultrasound technician moves the camera probe across her small bump, spreading the cold gel as she keeps her eyes glued to the screen. Chris pans the camera up to Sweethearts face, she gives him a nervous smile before he redirects the camera to the ultrasound screen. A staticky heartbeat sounds thru the speaker, making a light gasp leave both lips in unison as the black and white blurs become easier to piece together. The ultrasound tech chuckles, "very active one we have here," she coos, clicking a few buttons to capture the right image. Once the recording is over, Chris captions it 'Baby bean🧡" and sends it to family and close friends.

♡ 'Dr. Sturniolo' - video length: 18 seconds

Sweetheart lies reclined back in a hospital bed, pointing her phone at the closed privacy curtain. She's trying her best to hold back her giggles. Chris pulls the curtain back, revealing himself dressed in a white lab coat. He steps goofily to her bedside, snapping his blue latex gloves against his wrist before placing a hand on her knee and dramatically trying to pry open her legs, "c'mon, baby," he coos, laughter seeping thru thru crack of his words, "open them legs and let Dr. Sturniolo take a look." His face fills the frame, a playful smile sown into his lips as he wiggles his eyebrows at her before she ends the video.

♡ 'who tf told her that? 😭😭' - video length: 14 seconds

Chris' records the floor, his bare feet echoing off the hardwood as he pushes his bedroom door open. There she was - wearing nothing but one of his Lets Trip hoodies and her panties as she hung upside down off his bed, her face beat red from all the blood rushing to her brain, "the hell are you doing kid?" he chuckles, raised brows and a suggestive smirk on his face. Sweetheart looks at him with a sour expression before propping herself upright, "I heard that hanging upside down stops nausea." Chris ends the video, typing 'who tf told her that? 😭😭' across the screen as a caption.

♡ 'my babymomma 🥵' - video length: 12 Seconds

A blanket draped over her shoulders as she sleepily stumbles into Matts room, leaning against the door frame, "are you coming?" Sweetheart whines at Chris who was sprawled out on his brother's bed, his phone pointed towards her with a bright smile on his face. Once she realizes he's recording her, she covers her face with the blanket she's cocooned in, "Chris st-," the video comes to an abrupt end before she can get the words out. The captions reads: "my babymomma 🥵'

♡ 'reason 193793 why I love her' - video length: 7 seconds

"No way that's happening," Chris eggs Sweetheart on, his dirty thoughts running rampant in his mind. Sweetheart was naive, not thinking anything of his sexual innuendos. She eases the glazed donut into her mouth, only taking notice of her babydaddy's suggestive smirk and raised eyebrows after she succeeds her mission. Muffling out a, "hey!" at the end. This one of Chris' favorite videos of Sweetheart, it shows her goofy side which he absolutely adores since she's usually shy around most.

♡ 'thank the lord!' - video length: 38 seconds

Chris pushes the box of Mcdonalds nuggets across the kitchen island, giving Sweetheart uneasy look as he focuses the camera on her. She looked drained, like Bella Swan when she was pregnant with Renesmae, she felt like it too. Sweetheart bravely opens the box of nuggets, pulling one out, and taking a small bite. She didn't care if it sent her running to the toilet, the baby growing inside her said her body needed food now. Surprisingly, the chicken nuggets didn't taste disgusting, baby Bean was finally a agreeing with something she ate. Sweetheart gives Chris a nod of approval, seconds later he thrusts a fist into air, "thank the lord!" He felt accomplished - having suggested the nuggets to Sweetheart, rushing to McDonalds, and waiting twenty minutes in line for them.

♡ 'GYATT DAMNNN' - video length: 4 seconds

A short clip of Chris recording Sweethearts as she pushes a cart thru target, zooming in on her ass as she walked down the baby clothes aisle. Chris admired what pregnancy did to her body, adding to all the right places. Her skin glowed and boobs sat on top of her bump so nicely, but her ass was his favorite part. He’d give her ten babies if her ass looked like that every time she was pregnant. He captions the video, "GYATT DAMNNN' and saves it to his 'my eyes only' on snapchat.

♡ 'tbh my biggest flex is nutting in her' - video length: 11 seconds

The clips starts with Sweetheart lying in bed, her glasses pushed to her nose with Cheez-its scattered over her barely noticeable belly bump. She takes a sip from her pink stanley cup, plucking one of the squared orange crackers to plop in her mouth, making Chris beam from behind the camera. He loved her so much. Chris marks the caption, 'tbh my biggest flex is nutting in her,' and sends it to all of his close circle, including poor Mary Lou.

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - I want to give credits to @kiemiu & @phone4pills for the video clips idea bc their posts were literal perfection and inspired me so much to do this! 😍 I absolutely loovvee the idea of this and may do something else like this in the future if everyone likes it! <3

Babydaddy!Chris Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added)

Send me asks or suggestions about my au's! <3

[charmedimsure]

Partners in (busting) Crime

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x f!reader

summary: You bond with your new partner Jun-ho

word count: 2.5k

warnings: drinking. i think that's it

A/N: gotta write something with my OG squid game boy 🫶. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

You smirk as a motorcycle rounds the corner, holding a man without a helmet and a girl on the back. "This one's all your's, newbie."

He sighs, a small grin on his face. "You know, I've been a cop longer than you have."

"Well, you're new here, so that makes you the newbie." You practically push him out of the squad car.

Jun-ho rolls his eyes, approaching the pulled over vehicle. "You're not wearing a helmet. Your license, please."

"Damn it," the man groans. "Isn't this entrapment? Hiding to catch people is shady. You want to squeeze money out of broke citizens?"

"Your license, please."

The man hands it over. You watch as the girl behind him gets off the bike.

"Hold on." She walks up to your partner. "Look can't you just let us go. I'm wearing one."

Jun-ho looks at her. "No, ma'am."

The girl smiles at him, bending to get a better look at his face from under his hat. "Hey, you're really hot."

You nearly choke as she squeals, crossing your arms and leaning against the back of the squad car, an amused smile on your face.

"I could charge you with obstruction," Jun-ho says, not even looking at her.

"You're a tough cookie," she says. You need to hold yourself back from bursting out laughing, feeling actual pain from your efforts when she pulls out her phone and starts posing for selfies with your partner, who is still ignoring her existence.

The ticket prints from Jun-ho's vest, and he walks to the man on the bike, the girl following him. "The fine for not wearing a helmet is 20,000 won. Pay it on time."

"Hey, can I post this picture online?" The girl asks.

"Yes please," you say under your breath, a few chuckles escaping your mouth.

"Are you on Instagram? Let's follow each other!"

The man starts his bike and drives off, leaving the girl standing there. She chases after him, and this time you can't hold back your laugh as she curses him out and throws her helmet at him.

Jun-ho laughs at the scene before turning to you, already knowing what's about to come.

"Why didn't you follow her on Insta?" you ask, a teasing smile on your face. "That could've been the start of something beautiful."

Your partner rolls his eyes, a smile on his face as he walks to the driver's side of the car. "She's not my type."

You walk to your side of the car. "I don't understand what's not to like. She could be your own personal fan girl." You mimic her squealing, jumping up and down and clapping your hands. Jun-ho laughs and gets in the car, you following him.

Jun-ho had been transferred to your precinct for traffic about a month ago, and you had been assigned as partners two weeks ago. So far you've enjoyed having him as a partner. For one, he's competent, which is definitely a good thing. He also has a sense of humor, something that your last partner lacked. He had requested a new partner when you put childproof locks on everything in his cubicle. When you pulled the same prank on Jun-ho, he just laughed it off. And, of course, that girl wasn't wrong - Jun-ho is very easy on the eyes.

"Alright, Officer Picky," you say as you close the door. "What is your type, then?"

Despite trying to quell it, a feeling of nervous hope bubbles inside of you.

"Definitely moms," Jun-ho says with a smile. "The older the better."

You let out a loud laugh. "What about grandmas?"

"Even better," he chuckles.

You smile fondly at him, and he gives you a confused look.

"What?"

"I'm just so happy you're not lame like my last partner," you chuckle. You slap the dashboard of the squad car, leaning back in your seat with a mischievous smile. "Let's go! Crime doesn't wait for us!"

Jun-ho playfully rolls his eyes as he starts the engine, pulling off the side of the road and back onto the street.

<>

Jun-ho smiles as you point the radar gun at the squirrel running down the street in front of the car.

You turn to him, an amused smile on your face. "That squirrel is going 32 in a 25. Should we bring him in?"

"He's getting away, it'd be a lost cause," he says.

You curse under your breath. "We'll get him next time."

Jun-ho laughs. He's been on traffic for six months now, and he's been enjoying it much more than he thought he would. There's definitely a lot less stress on him than there was as a detective. It's much less dangerous, so his mom is happy with the change.

He also has to give credit to you for making traffic enjoyable. Your humor keeps patrol from getting boring. And he'd be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy being around you. Watching the smile bloom on your face when one of you makes a bad joke is highlight of his day. He's not sure when your laugh became his favorite sound, but he does know that he doesn't think he can go a day without hearing it.

"So," you say, dragging out the O. "Some of the guys are going to grab a drink tonight. Are you coming?"

Jun-ho feels his heartbeat quicken just a bit. "Uh, yeah, I think so." He feels heat rushing to his cheeks. "Are you?"

You smile, biting your bottom lip as you nod. Jun-ho is startled by his urge to pull your lip free with his thumb. Instead, he grips the steering wheel.

"I'll see you there, then." He looks back at the road. "Oh, there's the squirrel!"

You gasp, flipping on the siren. "Let's get him!"

Jun-ho quickly turns the siren off, scolding you through his laugh.

<>

You step into the bar, immediately locating your coworkers based on the amount of noise they're making. With a small laugh to yourself, you walk over to them, clapping one on the back as you come up from behind them. "I have never met a louder group of people in my life."

They all cheer when they see you, raising their beers in greeting. One of your coworkers orders one for you, and you thank the bartender as they put it in front of the stool you're getting on.

"So what have I missed?" you ask, raising the bottle to your lips.

"Da-hae was drooling over that girl by the window," someone says, making everyone burst out laughing.

The man in question's face turns red. "Was not!"

"Yeah, he wasn't drooling," your friend Sun-hi says. "He was just staring like a psychopath."

You nearly spit your beer out, leaning on Sun-hi's shoulder to laugh.

Yong-gi, another one of your coworkers, looks toward the back of the bar, waving for someone to come over. "Jun-ho, come on. Your partner just got here."

You turn to see Jun-ho approaching your group with a bashful smile on his face. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. He's wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt that perfectly hugs his biceps. He picks up his beer, giving you a teasing smile. "Nice of you to finally join us."

You put your hands up in fake surrender. "Considering I had to stop home first, I actually made it here in record time."

"So Jun-ho tells us you tried to arrest a squirrel today?" Yong-gi laughs.

"He was breaking the speed limit and I took a sacred oath to protect this community. Jun-ho's the one who let him get away!"

<>

After about an hour of laughing and joking, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Sun-hi following right behind you.

Once you're done and come out of the stall, Sun-hi smiles at you through the mirror. "So, are you finally gonna make a move on Jun-ho tonight?"

You look up at her, startled, making her laugh. "Please, you looked like you wanted to fuck him right there in the middle of the bar." She takes her chapstick out of her bag, reapplying. "You should go for it."

You shake your head, turning on the sink and getting soap. "Yeah, because it's such a good idea for me to try to hook up with my partner. He definitely won't request a transfer after that."

She smiles. "I don't think he would. That boy wants you just as badly as you want him."

You roll your eyes, turning off the sink and grabbing a few paper towels.

"I'm serious!" she defends. "You guys remind me of me and my husband before we started dating."

You sigh. Sun-hi and her husband are absolutely perfect together. You can only hope to have a relationship like their's someday.

"Look, if he says something, I'll say yes, but I'm not gonna mess this up. He's the best partner I've had and I'm not going back to another lame one."

Sun-hi groans. "Fine."

<>

Jun-ho takes a sip of his beer, nodding along to the story Da-hae is telling him, though his eyes are on you. He watches you bend over the pool table, subconsciously sticking your tongue out as you focus on the striped ball you want to get into the socket. You hit the cue ball and it knocks the 10 ball right into the hole, and the triumphant smile on your face as you add to your lead against Yong-gi has Jun-ho breaking out in a smile of his own.

"Are you even listening to me?" Da-hae asks, breaking Jun-ho out of his little trance.

"Yeah, man," he says.

"What was I just talking about?"

"Uhh, crime?"

Da-hae rolls his eyes. "You have got to ask her out already."

Jun-ho raises an eyebrow at his fellow cop. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you've been looking at her like a love-sick fool ever since you transferred here." Da-hae points towards the bar. "And because if you don't, someone else will."

Jun-ho follows his finger and sees a man standing with his friends, his gaze on you in a way that ties Jun-ho's stomach in knots.

"She's a good person, and so are you," Da-hae says, clapping a hand on Jun-ho's shoulder. "Don't miss out."

Jun-ho nods, taking another sip of his beer. Another coworker of theirs comes over and changes the subject, but his mind stays on Da-hae's words.

<>

The clock hits midnight, and most of the cops have left, needing to get up for another shift tomorrow. You and Jun-ho are two of the last to leave, both having off the next day.

Jun-ho feels a hand on his shoulder and turns his head to see you standing next to him. "I think I'm gonna head out. I'll see you Monday, though."

Jun-ho turns to you. "Let me drive you home. I was planning on leaving too and that way you won't have to pay for a cab."

You smile, nodding your head. You both say goodbye to the few that are left and head out to Jun-ho's car.

The ride to your apartment building is uncharacteristically quiet. Not uncomfortable, but quiet. You've driven with Jun-ho more times than you can count, it's literally your job, and usually the car is filled with chatter and laughter. Tonight, however, a peaceful silence envelops you like a nice, fluffy blanket.

He pulls in front of your building and an idea pops into your head, making you turn to him. "Hey, while I have you here, can you come take a look at my thermostat? It's been acting up."

"Yeah, no problem," he says, following you out of the car and up the stairs to your floor.

You unlock your door and step inside your apartment, letting Jun-ho walk in after you. He smiles as he sees your place, the comfy throw blankets messily hung over your couch, obviously used very often. This isn't the first time Jun-ho has been in your apartment, but he notices new things every time he comes.

Your digital picture frame catches his eye, smiling as he sees pictures of you and your friends and family. His face softens when another picture pops up. You're sitting in the squad car, smiling at the camera and throwing up peace signs as Jun-ho face-palms in the background at a bad joke you had made. He laughs at the memory, getting your attention.

He smiles at you, pointing to the frame. "I didn't think I'd make the frame."

You feel your cheeks heat up knowing that he saw that. "You're one of my closest friends, of course you're on there."

His heart flutters knowing that he's an important person in your life. You lead him over to the thermostat, leaning against the wall by it. Jun-ho removes the cover, checking the wiring.

You take the opportunity to admire the man in front of you. His hair falls perfectly over his forehead, his face scrunched up in concentration. Jun-ho may be the most perfect person you've ever met, both in terms of looks and personality. It's crazy that he's single. And here you are, doing nothing to show him your feelings.

Jun-ho lets out a small "aha", snapping you out of your thoughts. He holds the rubber around one of the wires, carefully pushing it into the socket. You hear the air turn on and smile.

"Good work, Officer," you tease.

He puts the cover back on with a smile. "You're welcome, ma'am, anything to help a citizen."

You lightly slap his arm, making him break out laughing. "What have I said about calling me 'ma'am'?"

"To call you it as much as possible."

You slap him again, making him laugh harder. "I said don't call me ma'am." You continue hitting him.

"Okay, okay, stop assaulting me," Jun-ho chuckles, catching your wrist before you can hit him again. You move to hit him with your other hand but he catches that wrist as well, smiling down at you. He examines your face, memorizing every detail. Da-hae's words from the bar echo in his mind. Finding his courage, Jun-ho releases your wrists, cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you into him.

You gasp in surprise as his lips land on yours. You quickly recover, though, running one hand through his hair and putting the other on his chest, feeling his muscles.

Jun-ho pushes you against the wall, smiling against your lips. He pulls back, keeping his forehead against your own. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

You smile up at him. "Me too."

He leans back in, kissing you again, enjoying the feeling of you against him. You happily kiss him back, opening when he darts his tongue out to trace your lips.

You pull back this time, looking at the man with a smile on your face. "Y'know, the others probably had bets on when this was gonna happen."

Jun-ho lets out a laugh. "We should mess with them. Ruin all their bets."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," you say, kissing him again as he chuckles on your lips. That can wait for Monday, though. All that matters right now is that he finally got the girl.

~

Squid Game Tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

[ptergwen]

im not sure if you’ll see this😭 but can i have reader being like maddy from euphoria, confident, bad bitch, short skirts and she’s dating peter and they have this secret relationship cuz shes popular and hes not so they both go to a party and makes out in the restroom and comes out together and then flash is making fun of them and then she just kisses peter right in front of everyone (im so srry this is long but i hope u see this

out of sight, on his mind ‎♡‧₊˚

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w/c: ?

warnings: making out, suggestiveness, drinking, like one swear

a/n: oh i looooved this idea thank you very much for your service babes :D also don't forget to join my new taglist y'all i only got a couple of you so far & happy reading!

you down a shooter, gagging at the bitter taste of the alcohol. you giggle and stick the tiny bottle in your bra. you're dancing with a group of your friends. one of them takes your hand, the two of you moving to the beat of the music. peter watches you from across the room with the hint of a smile.

he wouldn't typically spend his friday night in the corner of a packed houseparty nursing a cup of jungle juice, but ned insisted they go. his best friend is determined they both up their social statuses this year. they're not too popular at midtown, with the exception of the academic decathlon team.

if people only knew peter was dating one of the most popular girls in school; you.

it was peter's idea to keep your relationship secret. you'd wanted to show him off, but he's too shy. you're always the center of attention, and peter parker doesn't do well with attention. he'd much rather admire you with everyone else in public and be yours in private.

"come on, peter! it's a party! shouldn't we be, like, dancing or something?"

"i don't know, ned. just... drink your juice."

ned takes a generous swig of his drink and cringes. peter chuckles, sipping from his cup.

"what's in jungle juice anyway?"

"um, everything i think. you might blackout if you have too much."

"dude, that's the goal."

you catch peter's eye again. you're holding your friend's arm that's wrapped around your shoulders, hips swaying. you shout along to the music with the rest of the girls in your group. you look so carefree, and so damn good.

the pink, strapless dress you're wearing is hugging your body in all the right places. your hair is styled to perfection, tiny gems dotted along your eyelids. your look is complete with a pair of knee high boots. peter loves your style. there's no way to describe it other than that it's you, who peter adores an insane amount. he wishes he could be as bold as you are.

peter's phone vibrates in his pocket; it's a text from you.

are u watching me?

before he even answers, you send another.

come to the bathroom

peter briefly locks eyes with you. you give him a mischievous smile before slipping away, making some excuse to your friends. he bites his lip to suppress his own grin.

"hey, ned? how about i go get us some refills?"

"bet! i’m gonna dance."

ned hands peter his cup and claps him on the shoulder, disappearing into the crowd. instead of refilling their drinks, peter makes his way to the bathroom. there's a few people waiting in line. knowing you, you've already claimed it from them. he knocks at the door. a hand reaches out and grabs at peter's flannel, pulling him inside.

"hi, baby."

your glossy lips capture peter's in a kiss. he instantly leans into it, but you pull back much to his dismay. his big brown eyes go even bigger.

"woah... hi."

you laugh softly.

"miss me?"

"seems like you missed me too."

"maybe."

you run a hand through peter's hair. his hands settle on your hips.

"sorry for watching you, couldn't help it. you look so pretty tonight."

"i always look pretty."

your tone is playful, but peter knows you mean it, and he couldn't agree more.

"whatcha been up to? you having fun?"

your manicured nails scratch lightly at peter's scalp. he practically purrs at the feeling.

"mm, just been hanging with ned. i don't really know anybody else."

"you know me."

"but you're with your friends."

"so?"

"so... you know i’m shy, princess."

you giggle.

"it's just 'cause you're not drunk enough, baby."

"oh yeah?"

peter's thumbs run up and down your sides, face only inches from yours. you retrieve the shooter from your bra. there's still at least half a shot left.

"open."

peter does as you say and opens his mouth. you take his chin between your fingers and tilt his head back, pouring the rest of the strong, sweet liquid down his throat. he swallows. you toss the bottle aside. peter gives you a look, one that says kiss me. you shake your head, smirking.

you want him to kiss you.

peter's lips smash into yours. his eagerness makes you giggle into the kiss. you grip the collar of his shirt in both hands, lips moving slowly against each other's. peter backs you against the door.

"did i already tell you how pretty you look?"

"mhm, but not enough."

"you're right. you're so pretty."

peter kisses down your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume. you guide his lips back up to yours.

"you are too, y'know."

you peck peter's lips softly, letting your lips linger over his after, eyes searching his. they twinkle. you mesmerize him, truly mesmerize him. you kiss an awe-struck peter properly this time. he holds your waist, head tilted to deepen the kiss.

your make out session is rudely interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"yeah, one second!" you answer. "let's get out of here."

peter groans and buries his face in your neck.

"but i don't want to. wanna keep kissing you."

"not here, baby."

"why not?"

he leaves more kisses on your neck. you coax peter away, laughing, his arms still wrapped tight around you.

"the line. wanna find somewhere else?"

peter perks up at that.

"okay, let's go."

you lead peter out of the bathroom. he follows, hand in yours. even though no one seems to pay any mind to the fact that you were in the bathroom together, peter can't help but blush. he doesn't make it out unscathed, though; none other than flash thompson notices him.

"penis parker, is that you?"

you stop walking, eyeing flash over your shoulder. peter lets out an exasperated sigh.

"what's up, flash?"

"you are."

peter looks down to see an obvious bulge in his jeans. his cheeks burn hotter, hand leaving yours to readjust himself. a few people turn around to look.

"y/n's a big step up from your imaginary girlfriend. where'd you say she was from again, canada?"

you narrow your eyes at flash, a hand wrapping around peter's bicep.

"do you know him?"

"yeah, we're... friends. sort of. we do academic decathlon together."

your gaze shifts to peter.

"friends?"

"oh yeah, we go way back. any friend of parker's is a friend of mine."

flash smirks at you. you look him up and down, face scrunched in disgust.

"ew."

more people are starting to watch the exchange. you glare at flash, who holds your gaze knowingly. peter can tell you're about to go into protective girlfriend mode. he squeezes your hand that's on his arm.

"anyways, just wanted to congratulate you on your first baddie," flash tells him. "try not to fumble."

before peter can process what's happening, your lips are on his, hands cupping his cheeks to keep him in place. maybe it's just because he's tipsy, but peter actually finds himself having the courage to kiss you back in front of everyone. you smile at this. he holds you by your waist, letting himself enjoy the kiss for a while longer.

peter's lips are puffy and covered in your gloss when you two pull apart. he draws you in closer to himself, giving you one more short kiss, then another. the two of you earn whistles and chatter from everyone watching. you giggle, thumbs caressing peter's cheeks and gaze meeting his.

there's something in his eyes that you haven't seen before; confidence. he might be shy, but not when it comes to you. not anymore.

you look over at flash smugly, his mouth dropped open.

"he won't."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee

[lowkeyerror]

Instant Attraction

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Notes: Stepmom!Wanda, pining, masturbation, kissing, thigh riding, cheating, mommy kink, lmk if there's anything else,

Summary: Your dad calls you home from college unable to afford for you to dorm. He doesn’t let you know that in the time you were gone, he had gotten married. When you meet his wife Wanda, you're instantly attracted to her. That attraction doesn't seem so one sided.

An: Could be persuaded to write another part... after I finish my request

Masterlist

You grew up in a single-parent household. Your dad spent most of his time at work, trying to provide you a better life. You could never hate him for that. Your mother, she decided that motherhood wasn’t for her when you were around 5. She left one night and never came back.

You weren’t a very social kid. You had a few friends, but no real affinity for going out. There was a preference on your side of things to stay in, watch movies, and play games. Even when you grew your interest stay the same.

There were times were your father nearly forced you out of the house, just so he could see the sun touch your skin.

You weren’t the smartest kid, but you weren’t an idiot either. You took your average grades and went to community college securing yourself a general AA before you decided to transfer to a Cal State University. Though your father originally paid for you to dorm, he mentioned that it was a bit expensive.

So next semester you’d be commuting between home and school. Honestly, you’d only dormed because your father had pushed for it in the first place. He’d thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to branch out.

Your roommate, Kate was pretty cool, but in actuality she was a bit of a loser just like you were.

“Back so soon Y/n L/n?”

The thick accent made a smile tug at the ends of your lips, “What can I say, I missed the scariest neighbor on the block. Who’s going to tarnish your hardcore image if it’s not me, Lena?”

You and Yelena had grown up together, she’d been your neighbor for as long as you could remember. One of the few people that you’d let into your social circle.

“I’m back to stay. My dad told me dorming was too expensive, so I get to come back home.”

Yelena laughs lightly, “I bet it’s out of his range now since he’s caring for a woman and her children .”

You look at her dumbfounded. Slowly the laughter stops and the smile disappears from her face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you not know?”

Her eyes are wide as she stares at you.

“Know what Yelena?”

She begins to sputter, “Holy shit, what kind of father doesn’t tell his daughter this things?”

You grab her by the shoulders and shake her a little, “What kind of things, Yelena? Would you just tell me?”

“Y/n… you’re father. Sometime near the beginning of your semester, he got married.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, “He did what?!”

“Her name is Wanda, she’s got 2 sons, twins.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. Laughter builds from inside of you and before you know it, it’s spilling out, “Good one Lena, you almost had me there. My father, married. Jesus Christ, this is why I don’t have too many friends.”

“Y/n, I’m serious.”

“Sure you are, now help me take some of this in the house, since you’re here,” you grab a bag from your trunk, shoving it into the blonde’s hands.

You don’t fumble around looking for your keys, instead opting to ring the doorbell. You told your dad you were coming this weekend, and he said he’d be home to let you in.

“Y/n, I’m really not lying about the marriage,” Yelena nudges you as you wait for the door to open.

You roll your eyes, “Even if I did believe you, what poor woman would marry my father?”

You ring the doorbell again, becoming impatient with waiting.

“Red head, green eyes, mother of 2 kids but you can’t tell from her body. She honestly a really attractive woman, don’t know how he did it,” Yelena goes into the details.

You laugh a little more, “This hypothetical woman sounds like my type. Maybe I could steal her from him.”

Yelena joins in on the laughter, “Not with your inability to speak to women.”

You glare at her, “Not funny.”

Finally the door opens, except it’s not your dad. It’s a woman with red hair, green eyes, a body that definitely doesn’t look like she had two kids. You can’t help but gawk at her.

“You must be Y/n, I’m Wanda. Your father told me to welcome you in, he’s working, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” Yelena spoke with a smirk on her face.

“Yelena, it’s good to see you again. Helping Y/n with her bags?”

Yelena nods, “She needs all the help she can get.”

You shove the blonde while maintaining your gaze on the redhead, “You married my dad?”

She laughs at the disbelief in your voice, “Yes, I did sweetheart. Is that alright with you?”

You’re at a loss for words when you hear her call you sweetheart, “I um… I’m going to head to my room.”

You rush into the house and up the stairs past the red head. Yelena offers the woman a bright smile as she trails behind you a much slower pace.

When the blonde enters your old room she finds you pacing back and forth. Your teeth are sinking into one of your knuckles as you try to get your thoughts going.

“So…”

“You weren’t lying,” you whisper, more to yourself than her.

“I was not.”

You keep pacing, “She has two kids?”

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p', taking a seat on your bed.

You pull out your phone to call your dad. The phone rings, so long that you almost hang up.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?”

You feel your anger growing at his relaxed tone, “ I just got home… and there’s a woman in our house. A woman that Yelena told me that you are married to! Dad, what the fuck? When did you get married? Who is this woman? When did you start dating? She has kids?”

“One question at a time Y/n, please.”

You scoff over the phone, “No, you’ve been lying to me for months now, possibly longer. I deserve the truth.”

You hear him sigh over the phone, “You’re right. I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know the right time. Wanda and I had been dating for almost 2 years, I didn’t want to introduce you two before I was sure she was the one.”

“Well technically you still haven’t introduced us. You were supposed to be here today.”

He sighs again, “I know kid, but work called last minute. I know I should’ve been there for this, and I’m fucking it up, but I swear Wanda is amazing, you just have to get to know her.”

“When did you get married?”

“A week after you left, it was… spontaneous. We ended up at courthouse and next thing I know, I’m Mr. Shawn Maximoff.”

You furrow your brow, “You took her last name?”

“It sounds cooler,” he concedes.

It does sound cooler so you don’t argue with him.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me. We’re supposed to be in this together. Thick as thieves, I have your back and you have mine, but you’re lying to me about things this important,” you sit on your bed next to Yelena.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to I promise. How about I come home right now, and we can talk about it in person?”

“That’s a start,” you relent.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, love you.”

You let out a sigh of your own, “Love you, bye.”

When you hang up the phone, your head lands on Yelena’s shoulder. She pulls you into her side, rubbing your shoulder for comfort.

“There, there my friend. I’m sure everything will work out fine between you and your father. If not, you could always go with the plan of stealing Wanda away from him.”

You push her away from you, “Not funny.”

Yelena raises her hands in surrender, “It was just a suggestion.”

“Help me unpack,” you begin to unload your belongings.

Yelena deflates, but helps you regardless. When you’re done you can hear a car pull up in the driveway.

“Looks like your dad’s home.”

“Great.”

Yelena starts making her way to your bedroom door, “I love you, but I am not staying for whatever talk is about to transpire.”

“Fair,” you follow her to the front door.

“Last thing, will you be calling her mommy because-"

You open the door and push her through it, “Goodbye, Yelena.”

Your dad walks into the frame, chuckling at the scene. He waves to your friend, “Goodbye Yelena.”

She waves back, “Bye Shawn, bye Y/n.”

He closes the door behind him. Your dad turns to you and opens his arms. As upset as you are with him, you can’t deny him the hug. You wrap your arms around him, and he squeezes you tightly.

“Believe it or not, I really missed you kid.”

“Enough to get a whole new family,” you shot back him.

“That’s fair, let’s talk in the back.”

You agree, but you don’t make it to the backyard before running into Wanda again.

“Honey you’re home early,” Wanda strides past you and kisses your father.

The sight is strange to you. You knew that your father had dated after your mother, but he never brought anyone home. You had never seen him be intimate with anyone, it felt weird. At least that’s what you think the feeling is.

“I am, I owe Y/n an explanation for some things . So I thought it was best to come home and straighten things out.”

Wanda seems to understand what he’s alluding to, “Alright, while the two of you talk how about I get dinner started.”

They kiss again, and this time you turn away.

“Sounds good, let’s go kid.”

You follow your dad through kitchen and to the backyard. He stops for a second in the kitchen to grab two beers, before continuing outside. The two of you sit on the patio chairs, facing out towards the yard.

He opens both the drinks and hands you one wordlessly. You hate beer, but you’re not turning down this moment with your dad.

“I was lonely for a long time when your mom left Y/n. I wanted to unpack those feelings, but there was one feeling that I felt more than loneliness and that was fear. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to take care of you and that someone would take you away. There was nearly 10 years that I pushed those feelings of loneliness down, to focus on you, on us. It was what I supposed to do and I don’t regret it. I know I wasn’t always there for you in the way you needed me to be, but just know I was always thinking about how I could be better for you.”

He stops to take a swig of his beer, “Eventually, once I thought that you were old enough, I started dating. Nothing really stuck until I met Wanda. It was a chance encounter at some coffee place, she’d just had finalized her divorce. I wasn’t sure about it, but I also just couldn’t let her go without giving it a shot. Low and behold a shot turned into 2 years.”

You take a large gulp of beer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react. We don’t really talk about your feelings about your mom, I just didn’t want you to think- that I was trying to put someone in that spot for you."

“I understand that feeling, but I would’ve like to meet her before you know, you got married.”

“It was so just such a quick decision. That we were already married before I realized that I fucked up. There wasn’t a ceremony or anything,” he explains.

You drink some more, “But it’s been months dad. You know I thought Yelena was lying to me in the driveway when she was saying something about a wife and 2 kids.”

He looks into his lap, “The longer I waited, the harder it got. I felt like a kid who was going to get scolded, I didn’t feel like I had the right words. I still don’t think I do. ‘Hey sport, so I’ve been seeing someone for 2 years and I got married how’s your first week of college going’.”

You laugh, “I guess I can see where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to be left in the dark like this ever again.”

“Yes mam,” he salutes you. “So how was your first semester? Get into any trouble, join any clubs, get a girlfriend maybe?”

You stop him there, “Pump your brakes, I still have questions about… your marriage. Like where are the two kids?”

“They’re at their father’s house. They usually do two weeks there, two weeks here. I think they might be spending more time with him this summer. Billy and Tommy are great kids, I think you’d get along with them pretty well. They’re into games and stuff like you. You’ll meet them. ”

“I’m assuming they’re younger.”

“15.”

Your eyes go wide, “She has two 15-year-old kids?”

Your dad chuckles, “Yes, she does. Wanda is actually older than me.”

“Bullshit,” you say in disbelief.

“Swear to god, I’m serious. She’s a really cool person once you get to know her.”

You hum, “Well she’s already in the family, so I don’t really have a choice, do I Mr. Maximoff?”

He gets up from his seat, beer bottle empty, “Isn’t your generation supposed to be the progressive one?”

You follow his lead, downing the rest of your drink, “You’re the one giving it negative connotation.”

“Whatever kid, I'm going to change out of my work clothes. How about you see if Wanda needs any help in the kitchen?”

You take in a deep breath, “I’ll do my best.”

He places a hand on your shoulder, leading you back inside, “She’s a nice woman Y/n, she’s not going to bite your head off or anything.”

Once you’re back inside, your dad heads upstairs, while to go towards the kitchen.

“It smells really good in here,” you say entering the space.

“Thanks, I’m trying something new today. Your dad said you’re a bit of a picky eater, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Between us, I’ve always just said that because dad only knows how to cook 3 things,” you joke, and find yourself smiling harder when you hear Wanda laugh.

“Let me guess, burger, steak, salmon?”

“You survived eating the salmon?”

She laughs even harder, covering her mouth, “There were a few bones, but it was an honest attempt.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, but you can see that she’s about done with everything.

“Could just get the plates for me, I know they’re right by me, but I have to keep stirring or-”

“It’s no problem, Wanda.”

You cut her off politely. The plates are stashed right above the stove. You come up behind Wanda, who is stirring the food in the skillet. You are taller than her so reaching above her is no problem. The only thing that you are unsure about is standing so close behind her.

Your front is only centimeters away from touching her back. When you reach over her, you think you hear her curse to herself.

“Is everything alright?”

“The food just got me a little, all good.”

You grab the plates and sit them on the counter next to her.

“So Y/n I hear you’re an English major.”

You nod, “I am.”

“I was too back in my day.”

You can't help but shake your head, “You look like you could still be in college.”

You see her blush at your words turning off the stove. You don’t know why seeing her blush makes you feel smug, but it does.

“Oh stop it,” she looks away from you.

“I’m serious, Wanda. I would’ve never guessed you were a mother let alone to two teenagers,” you continue to compliment her.

“A lot of people are surprised when I tell them how old I am,” she admits. “They all say that I look good for my age.”

You catch her gaze, “They should just tell you that you look good. Age is irrelevant.”

“You’re quite the charmer Y/n. I don’t blame them, I’m nearly 50.”

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I don’t believe you.”

She laughs, “It’s true, I’m 45.”

“I’d believe you if you said 25,” you’re serious when you speak.

The compliment flusters her, “Could you help me take the plates to the table?”

You grab 2 of the 3 plates sitting them at the table. You would’ve thought that Wanda would’ve set her plate next to your dad, but instead she sits next to you.

“You can dig in when you’re ready, no need to let the food get cold waiting for your dad.”

You take her words to heart and begin eating. After the first bite you find it impossible to stop. It tastes as good as it smelt while cooking. You could cry at the home cooked meal. Ramen packets and fast food could not compare. You had been prepared for a burger that your dad made or to go out for dinner, but this was better than you could’ve expected.

“I take it, you like it,” amusement present in her voice as she watches you devour the food.

“I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time and if I’m bring honest they never tasted like this.”

“Do you cook at all?”

You nod, “You’re looking at the family chef. I didn’t want to always eat steak, burger, and spaghetti. “

“How could I forget about the spaghetti? He’ll literally eat it all week.”

“Now you see why I was surprised when I found out he was married.”

Your dad finally makes an appearance, “What’s wrong with my spaghetti?”

“Nothing its good spaghetti, but all week dad?

“Well if it’s good, then I don’t see the problem.”

The three of you sit and chat through dinner. It comes surprisingly easy as you find yourself enamored by Wanda. You hang on every word she says, there’s this twinkle in her eye when she speaks. Her expressions are right there on her sleeves.

You don’t miss the way she bites her lip while she’s thinking, or the small hint of an accent in certain things she says. It makes you wonder more about how your dad could ever manage a woman like this.

When everyone is done eating, you stand up and begin to collect the dishes.

“I’ve got it Y/n,” Wanda tries to take them from you, but you stop her.

“No, it’s alright, you cooked it’s only fair I do the dishes.”

She smiles, giving your father a pointed look, “Maybe someone else should take notes.”

He gives you a playful glare, “Home for a couple hours and already making me look bad.”

You start on the dishes, taking the moment to yourself to gather your thoughts. No matter how many subjects you tried to shift through, the one your mind kept falling back to was Wanda.

She was truly one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. She was a virtual stranger to you, so there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. You’d only just met her, it would take some time to get used to seeing her as your dad’s wife.

“I think that one is clean.”

Wanda’s voice startles you a bit causing you to jump lightly. Heat fills your face as embarrassment sets in.

“You caught me lost in thought,” your nerves are still high as you speak.

“What’s got you so far away sweetheart?”

You make the mistake of looking into her eyes. The genuine curiosity behind them paired with a gentle worry conveyed by the small furrow in her brow. You’re gawking again, your focus returns to the dishes.

“It’s just been me and my dad for long time.”

“I understand that , I know that you’re just meeting me-"

You stop her, “You’re lovely, Wanda. I’m not- I don’t have concerns about your relationship with him. I just… I don't know where I fit into all of this. With me moving back home, I feel like a stranger.”

Wanda takes the dish out of your hands and sits it in the rack. If she cares about the moisture level of your hands, she doesn’t say anything. She takes them in her own and looks into your eyes.

“This is your home Y/n. You will never be a stranger in it. It’s a lot to get used to, especially when it’s sprung on you so quickly and I'm sorry for that. Consider it my goal to make you feel at home.”

You don’t know when your eyes dropped to her lips, but it was abundantly clear they had when she stopped speaking.

“Sweetheart?”

You blink a few times regaining your awareness, quickly pulling your hand from hers, “Sorry, long day. I think I’ll turn in for the night, but thank you Wanda… for the food and the talk.”

You rush upstairs and close yourself in your room. What you never noticed was the faint blush on Wanda’s cheeks. She had seen you focus in on her lips while speaking. Honestly, she was finding the way you were looking at her hard to ignore. There was such a wanting in them. She was trying to ignore it, while still getting to know you, but that task was beginning to seem difficult.

She decided to wipe up the kitchen area. Her thoughts wander to when she opened the door for you. The way your eyes traveled the length of her body, the way your mouth stayed agape when she spoke.

You didn’t look a lot like your father. Wanda noted that you were tall and sort of lanky like he was, and you had a lot of his mannerisms, but physically she assumed you looked like your mother. You had soft features, that might have clashed a little with your urban aesthetic.

You presented yourself much how your dad described you. A bit shy, but truly a good mannered, funny kid. Wanda expected a little more social ineptitude, but she was surprised with how chatty you ended up being.

She wondered if it had anything to do with the way you perceived her. Truth be told she felt sorry for you, your father should’ve told you about this a while ago. She had heard about you and pressed to meet you, but he always had some excuse to why you couldn’t meet.

“So, what do you think?”

“I wish I would’ve met her a little earlier but she seems like a good kid,” Wanda turns to face her husband.

The man frowns, “I’m sorry, seeing you both interact made me realize that I could’ve done this much sooner.”

“How do you think she’ll interact with the boys?”

He smiles, “Y/n is basically one of the boys. You’ll see that side of her eventually. She’ll be in that room for the foreseeable future, until Yelena or someone else drags her out.”

“I could take her out for a girl’s day,” Wanda suggests.

Shawn laughs at her, “I’ve never known her to be into any of that stuff, but if that’s something you want to do, let me know. I’d probably have to convince her to agree.”

Wanda shakes her head, “I think I can get her to go all on my own.”

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you upstairs.”

The man makes his way upstairs to the bed. Wanda on the other hand, stays finishing up some minor things in the kitchen, before heading up herself.

She heads straight for the bathroom, ready to get the smell of the kitchen off of her. She wasn’t paying much attention on her way, looking at her phone. That’s how she found herself running straight into you. She would’ve fell if it weren’t your strong grip on her hips.

She went to apologize, but the words died on her lips as she saw water droplets falling from your skin. Her hands pressed against your slightly damp pajama shirt, in order to stabilize herself.

The shirt was thin enough, for her to feel your abdomen through it. She found herself at a loss for words.

“Are you alright Wanda?”

She nods meekly, “Sorry sweetheart, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s no biggie, as long as you’re ok,” you help her fully upright, hands not leaving her side.

“All good, thanks to you,” Wanda struggles to meet your eyes.

You are about to squeeze her sides when you remember who this woman is. Your hands fall to your sides quickly. Nervous laughter build up in your throat, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Y/n I was wondering if you'd be interested in having a girl’s day with me, before my boys come. I think it’d be good to have some bonding time.”

“I um- I’ve never really had a girl’s day,” you scratch the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Well, it’ll be my treat?”

You nod, “Ok, like tomorrow or…”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

You give a thumbs up and make your way to your room, while Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You plop straight into your bed, slapping your hand on to your face, “Really Y/n, a girl’s day. What were we thinking?”

You knew exactly what you were thinking. Alone time with Wanda, piqued your interest. The feeling of her in her hands felt like it was etched into your memory. The way she was looking at you made your heart pound in your chest.

As you lay in bed, your mind begins to paint vulgar images in your head. Ones that you had yet to experience due to your introverted lifestyle. The farthest you had gone with another girl was some lackluster dry humping.

That didn’t stop you from imagining your hands on Wanda’s body. The way she softly gasped when your hands stopped her from falling. The feeling of her fingers against your abdomen, blessed for the thing material of your shirt. The addictive color of her lips, and how they could move against yours.

You couldn’t sleep with her on your mind and the wetness pooling between your legs. You sit up in your bed, leaning back against the headboard. It’s only a moment of contemplation, before you stick your hand under the band of your pajama pants.

Your fingers are determined as they draw tight fast circles around your clit. You want to expedite the experience as much as possible. There couldn’t be anytime to dwell on who you were thinking about.

With your eyes closed you could see her taking her shirt off. Her skin soft and cool under your fingertips. A trail of goosebumps in your wake. You could see her craning her neck as you sucked on the exposed skin, marking her as your own. You could feel her hands tugging at your hair, moaning your name as you tasted her.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you came with a grunt. Your eyes still closed as your fingers stilled against the mess you made of yourself.

On the other side of your bedroom door, Wanda was standing there in shock. She had heard some sounds coming from your room after exiting the bathroom. When she realized what the sounds were, she thought she should leave. Yet the sound of her name being whispered on your tongue along with the sound of you playing with yourself, kept her in place.

She found herself worked up after her shower. Wishing that she would’ve cracked the door to see you, touching yourself with her in mind. Simultaneously scolding herself for having thoughts like this running through her head.

She married your father, she liked your father, he was a decent man. He was good to her and her boys. So what if he was always working, who cares that he hid their entire relationship from the most important person in his life, and does it even matter that he hasn’t ever really given her an orgasm. This was her new husband and she shouldn’t be thinking about his daughter in this way.

Maybe asking for a girl’s day, wasn’t a good idea. Being closer to you seemed like a dangerous game, lines that Wanda couldn’t allow herself to cross.

It was hard for her, knowing your young prying eyes were on her. From what she had heard, you already wanted her. The token of a youthful want and desire, it went right to her core.

When she finally made her way back to her room, she had decided that she needed some relief. She was going to seek it from your father, but the man already laid snoring. She shook him a couple of times in hopes to wake him up, but her attempts were met with swats of her hand and incoherent grunting.

Wanda huffed with irritation sliding into her side of the bed. She let herself get off to the thought of you that night unable to think herself guilty.

Your father was out of the house before Wanda or yourself had woken up in the morning. Wanda hated waking up to an empty bed, but it had become her new normal.

She didn't bother getting ready for the day yet. She simply stretched some, before brushing her teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast. She was surprised to find you in the kitchen, cooking.

You hadn’t recognized her presence yet, too caught up in breakfast. Music played lowly through the kitchen and you hummed along. You thought it’d be a nice gesture to make breakfast since Wanda had cooked dinner last night.

The older woman watched you in somewhat of a trance. Your movements were a little clumsy, but it was clear that you had been doing it like this for a while. She could see herself coming up behind you and wrapping herself around you as you cooked for her.

Her muscles twitched at the thought. She took in a deep breath before she finally announced her presence, “Good morning.”

You turn away from the stove to smile at her, “Perfect timing, I'm almost done with breakfast.”

“You didn't have to do all of this, your dad’s not even here to enjoy it.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I figured he’d be at work anyway. Consider this a thank you for dinner."

You bring her a plate along with some coffee before getting your own.

“Y/n, this is amazing,” Wanda praises you.

You grow bashful, “It’s nothing really. So, what’s on the agenda for our girl’s day?”

Wanda ponders for a moment, “How about you tell me some things you like to do and we’ll go from there?”

You stumble a bit, “I uh- I don't really like to do much. Dad and I never really did anything more than like going to a park and sometimes fishing.”

“What about the mall? People your age are into shopping, right?”

You laugh, “I’ve only really been back to school shopping.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Today, I guess I’m going to introduce you to some of life’s little luxuries. I’m going to need you to trust me.”

You give her a small smile, “I trust you.”

You say it so earnestly that it nearly scares her.

“Good, so we’ll head out after we’re done eating and getting dressed.”

After cleaning up and getting dressed you regrouped in the living room. You tried your best to not let your eyes linger over Wanda’s attire. She wore a simple yellow sundress, it wasn’t anything extravagant but it looked good on her. It almost made you want to change out of your t-shirt and jeans, feeling a little underdressed.

“Ready?”

You answer her, and soon you’re in the passenger seat of her car with no idea where you’re going. You both make pleasant small talk, not really feeling the need to fill the silence. The only thing you make conscious effort to do is not stare at her cleavage in the dress.

It hard to erase the images that you pictured last night, but for your own sake you try.

The first place Wanda takes you is a nail shop. You had been before, but it had honestly been years. She opted for a manicure and pedicure, while you just got a manicure. You were usually a clear coat type of girl but today you decided to get black paint.

After your nails, Wanda decides to take you to the mall.

“Ok, whatever you want in here, is on me today,” she says as you enter the shopping center.

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I couldn't ask you for that.”

“Good thing you didn't ask sweetheart,” she responds and you feel yourself melt a little.

“I’m not even good at shopping, I don't really know what looks good on me,” you admit to the woman.

She pauses her steps to give you a once over. Her eyes dragging slowly across your body, as if she was personally undressing you then and there.

“Honey, you should've never told me that. Now, I’m afraid you're going to have to indulge me through these stores.”

“What does that mean?”

Wanda’s tone is playful, “Don’t worry your little head about it sweetheart, I’m going to help you find some clothes.”

It's not a second later that she’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a clothing store. She starts grabbing clothes and holding them up to your body, trying to see what looks good. She had a pile of clothes in her arms that she was shoving into your hands.

“Try these on,” she pushes you to the dressing rooms.

A lot of the stuff she had was stuff you’d never grab for yourself, but it did all look good on you. There were a few pieces, particularly crop tops, that you weren’t too sure about.

“I think I look weird,” you come out in the crop top.

You have something of a jacket over it. You look down at your exposed stomach before looking up at Wanda. There’s something in the way she’s looking at you.

“It looks good,” her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. “But if you’re uncomfortable then you don’t have to get it.”

“Do you really think it looks ok?”

She stands from her spot and makes her way over to you. Her hands fiddle with the end of the shirt. She adjust the waistband of your jeans. With a few quick tugs, she has you seeing the outfit in a different way.

“I do.”

You nod, “Ok, I see it.”

“You should wear it out,” she suggests and you comply.

You thought it’d be over after the one store but Wanda takes you into 3 more clothing store, racking up a whole new wardrobe. At the end you practically had to beg her not to spend any more money.

“Do you want to go in there, your dad mentioned you’re a big gamer?”

She nods her head to the video game store that you admittedly had been eyeing since the last store you went in.

You shake your head, “You’ve already spent so much and games are like $70 now.”

“ So I’m going to take that as a yes,” she starts walking ahead into the store.

You groan, but follow her in anyway, “Wanda, can I ask what you do for work?”

She laughs, “Why, so you can feel a little better about me spending the money?”

“Maybe,” you say browsing through a few games.

“Well, I used to work in real estate and now I do editing for major publications books, magazines, things like that.”

“That seems like a big jump,” you point out.

She nods, “It is, but I’m much happier editing than I was selling houses. The real estate did give me a good standing to be able to chase and finance my dreams. It’s honestly given me more money than I know what to do with. So I usually just don’t do anything with it.”

“Does my dad know?”

Wanda adverts her eyes, “No, he doesn’t. Your dad really enjoys being a provider. He wants to be the breadwinner and bring home the bacon. He doesn’t even let me pay for dinner. I pay for some of the bills at home and he doesn’t even want me to do that. I’ve been trying to coerce him into letting me do more but-”

“He’s a stubborn guy,” you finish her thoughts. “When I was in high school, I got a job at the movie theater to help out with some things around the house and for college. Dad was really…insecure about letting me help. He wanted to prove he could do it on his own.”

Her eyes soften, “Oh wow."

“Yeah, I think it has something to do with my mom walking out on us, but I don’t know. We never really talked about it,” you say picking up a game.

Wanda knew this topic to be sensitive to your dad. He had mentioned it, but never went into detail. When Wanda tried to press for information, he'd either shut down or get irritated, she wonders if he was the same with you.

“No pressure, but if you ever want to talk about it or vent, I’m here for you.” She takes the game from your hands, “I know it’s not your dad’s favorite topic and I know I don’t have the answers you’re probably looking for, but I don’t mind listening to you.”

You look at her for a long moment. Your eyes are watering against your will. You blink back the tears and nod silently. You never really talked about your mom, truth be told you never unpacked those feelings yourself.

“I- I’ve never really talked about it with anyone. I don’t know how I feel about it, I mean I was only 5.”

Wanda thinks of her words carefully, “Do you remember her?”

You laugh lightly, still pretending to browse the games, “Of course I do, she was my mom. She brushed my hair, tucked me in, put band aids on my scrapes and cuts, and she never got mad when I got grass stains on my clothes.”

Wanda keeps quiet as she senses you have more to say.

“She was a stay-at-home mom, so I spent most of my time with her. I don’t- I wish I remembered what she looked like more. I look like her, I know I do, but… I don’t know it’s not enough.”

Wanda rests her hand on your back. Rubbing small circles bringing you more comfort than you thought you needed. You place your hand in her other hand, sighing deeply.

“I wish I knew why she left. Dad never told me, I just know that one day I woke up and she wasn’t there. He told me she wasn’t coming back. I never wanted to ask him, he was already doing so much to prove that he could be enough. I’m grateful for that, for him… but in the back of my mind I can’t help but wonder, you know.”

A teardrop falling onto your cheek, pulls you quickly out of the moment. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and take a step back from Wanda.

“Y/n-"

“I’ve heard really cool things about that game. I’ve been wanting it for a few months now,” you pivot topics, clearing your throat.

“Then it’s yours sweetheart.”

You were grateful that she just let it go.

After that you both decide to call it a day and head back home. You bring all of your new clothes to your room and begin to put them away. You decide to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes before heading down to the living room. Usually you’d keep to yourself in your room, but you were secretly hoping Wanda would join you.

“What’re you watching?”

“Back to the Future, it’s one of my favorites,” you make room for her on the couch next to you.

She takes a seat, “Mine too.”

You perk up, “Really?”

She nods, “Me and my brother used to watch it all the time when we were younger.”

The two of you sit in silence as you watch the movie. Unbeknownst to either of, the space between you grows slimmer by the minute. You take a peek at the woman to find her eyes fluttering, before they finally close. She had already nearly been laying on the couch. Her feet are up, bent to lay over each other. She had been holding up her head in her hand. Now as she fell unconscious her head had drops into your lap.

You feel your heart rate pick up. The movie suddenly becomes uninteresting. You don’t want to move, unwilling to wake the woman. She looks peaceful in her sleep. You notice how she twitches lightly and though you shouldn’t your fingers begin to comb through her hair. She hums in your lap, but you don’t still. Your fingers work gingerly to bring her comfort.

She stops twitching and you refocus on the movie with your hand still in her hair. Eventually you find yourself dozing off as well.

“Well, well, well looks like girl’s day was a success,” it’s your father’s voice that wakes both you and Wanda.

The red head becomes alert first, she notes her position in your lap and your hand in her hair and immediately bolts up right. You’re slower to come to stretching widely before open your eyes.

“Yeah, it was pretty fun,” you say while yawning.

“I see some nail polish Y/n, that’s new.”

You shrug, “It’s not the first time.”

“I know but it’s been a while, having another girl around the house is nice, isn’t it?”

You let out a huff of irritation, completely aware of what he was insinuating. For the most part your dad was in support of your sexuality. However, there were some jokes he just couldn’t let go of. The “gay” thing was fine with him, but he still believed that you could stand to be more ladylike. Which was completely rich coming from the man that raised you on fishing trips, Miller Lite, and WWE.

“So, ladies what’s for dinner?”

Wanda goes to answer but you speak over her, “Honestly dad, I was hoping for some of your burgers tonight.”

Your father beams with excitement, “Will do kiddo, just let me shower first and I’ll be in the kitchen.”

You both watch as he wanders up the stairs.

“You didn’t want to cook, did you?”

“No, not really. Thank you for the save and for letting me nap on you,” she adverts her gaze as she speaks to you.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” you say to her, not noticing the undertone of your statement.

Her eyes become dark as she looks at you. The lust filled look in her eyes has you reeling at what you said. There’s no point in taking it back now. You swallow thickly under her gaze, but don't make any motion to move away from her. Instead, you find yourself compelled to lean in closer.

Wanda let’s you get within a few inches of her face, before breathlessly letting your name fall from her lips, “Y/n.”

You close your eyes, “You can’t just say my name like that, Wanda.”

“You can’t make statements like the one you made,” she fires back.

Both of you give leeway to how you’re actual feeling. You go to move closer to her, but her hand on your shoulder keeps you away. It honestly breaks you from whatever pulled you in, in the first place

The tips of your ears heat up as you stand abruptly, “Sorry, I- I’ll see you at dinner.”

Much like when you were a teenager you lock yourself in your room. Wanda picks up a pillow from the couch putting it over her head, pretending to scream into it.

You send a quick text to Yelena. Something along the lines of saying you should hang out tomorrow. She is in disbelief at the fact that you want to do something out of the house, but is equally as excited. She says she’s taking advantage of this and keeping you out all day.

You needed to get out of the house. You stayed in it so much because you deemed it as a safe space. However, with Wanda around… you didn’t know if you could truly call it safe. It had only taken two days for you to almost kiss her.

There wasn’t a bone in your body that was used to moving this quickly. It had taken you years to develop your first crush and even longer before you acted on any such feeling. Yet with Wanda everything felt different. You weren’t a believer in love at first sight, you wouldn’t call what you were feeling love. This attraction… for lack of a better term just felt intense.

It was almost as if every interaction had a double meaning to it. It was something that the other woman was clearly also aware of. Neither of you should be acting on it and technically you hadn’t done anything. The problem was that you wanted to, and you didn’t see those feelings going away anytime soon. It was only the second day and you had the rest of your life to go.

One day out with Yelena became a couple days of the week out with her. You even had started texting your former roommate to see if she’d be down to hangout as well. So save for the first two days, you spent every day out and about.

You had similar plans for the next week too, but they came to a halt quickly when your dad mentioned Wanda’s kids coming back from their dad’s. He made it clear that he wanted you to be there to meet them so your plans of avoiding home, became a little more complicated.

So once again you were stuck in your room. The doorbell ringing is the only reason you had left the space. You knew that your dad was out and Wanda was working in her office at the time, so you were the only option.

It rang one more time, before you got to it. When you open the door, you are met by two teenage boys and an older looking man. You stare at them and they stare back at you.

“Is Wanda in? I would like to have a talk with her,” the man in the middle speaks.

“She’s working right now.”

He rolls his eyes, “And who are you exactly?”

Something about his tone makes you jaw twitch, “I’m Y/n, Shawn’s kid.”

“Right, the one he was hiding away.”

“Dad-”

Dealing with stuck up assholes was unfortunately nothing new to you, “Billy, Tommy you guys can head on in.”

They look from their father to you before quickly making the decision to go inside. The man trues to go in behind but you block his entry.

“They live here, you don’t. I suggest you try talking to Wanda again sometime next week…” you smile at him.

“Jarvis,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Goodbye Jarvis,” you slam the door in his face.

You clap your hands together as you turn around. You slightly startle at the presence of the teen boys behind you. There’s an awkward silence as you stare at each other.

“So, your mom said you guys are gamers?”

That’s all it took for the three of you to hunker down in the living room and start gaming. From Mario Kart to Mario Party to Mortal Kombat, the three of you rotted the day away. You end up ordering some pizza and junk food, which is essential for all gaming marathons.

“I love your style by the way,” Billy says grabbing a slice of pizza.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You might as well just ask me if I'm gay.”

Tommy laughs at this, which earns him a slap in the arm from Billy.

“Well… are you?”

“Yep.”

“Girlfriend?” Tommy asks.

“Nope, how about you two?”

Billy smiles, “I have a boyfriend.”

He goes on telling you some details. You genuinely feel happy for the boy. To be young, out, and dating is really cool.

“That’s really cool Billy.”

“Thanks, I wish my dad thought so too.”

Tommy jumps in the conversation, “Dad is fucking stupid, what does he know about any kind of relationship.”

You agree with Tommy, “I mean he did fumble your mom.”

They both laugh, but Billy brings the conversation back, “I just wish he was more accepting.”

“He’s either going to come around because he loves you or keep showing you who he really is. Either way you still have your mom, your bother, your boyfriend, and even me to rely on. So just cause your dad isn’t accepting doesn't mean you aren’t accepted,” you tell him sincerely.

“He wanted to talk to mom about Billy’s boyfriend. He thinks it’s… inappropriate,” Tommy spills.

“Well I don't think it's any of his business, and even if he did tell your mom she’d have your back,” you say like it’s obvious.

“If who told me what?”

Wanda comes out from her office and her kids greet her. She’s surprised to see you downstairs with them, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Dad doesn't approve of Billy’s boyfriend,” Tommy says again earning an agitated look from his brother.

“Yeah, he was going to talk to you, but Y/n kicked him out,” Billy says awkwardly.

You keep your focus on the game, “I didn’t kick him out… I slammed the door in his face.”

“Y/n!”

“It was well deserved. He asked who I was, I told him. Then the asshole has the audacity to refer to me as ‘the one he was hiding' when trying to get into my house. I think the fuck not.”

Wanda walks in front of your TV blocking the game. You pause it and look up at her to find an unexpected fury in her eyes.

“What did he say to you?”

You meet her eyes, urging her to calm down, “I handled it.”

She takes the hint, moving out of your way, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She then focuses on talking with her children, recapping the week that they had. Billy also goes into some less than nice details of what his father had to say about his boyfriend.

Wanda’s hand presses against her brow line hearing the details. She’s clearly irritated with the twin’s father.

“I’ll talk to him, and you tell me if he says anything else. I have no issue coming to get you guys if he makes you uncomfortable,” Wanda says hugging the boys.

You take this moment between the family to go upstairs. You breath in the minute to yourself. The twins were nice, and it was cool to have people in the house to game with. They’d seem like people who’d you befriend at their age.

“Thanks for hanging out with my kids and for the stuff with their dad,” Wanda stands in your doorway.

You give her a small nod, “Billy and Tommy are cool. Their dad… less cool. So it was my pleasure to slam the door in his face.”

Wanda chuckles, “Jarvis is an asshole.”

You join in on her laughter, “Yeah, I definitely can’t see you with that guy.”

“I was young and naïve. If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have stayed for so long.”

“How young?”

Wanda sighs, “18. He was older, more appealing back then.”

You can’t hide your reaction, “Oh.”

“Yeah, but that asshole gave me my kids. So I guess he was good for something.”

You disagree with her, “Just cause a guy is good for something, doesn’t mean he’s good for you.”

“Where were you when I was in my prime, Y/n?” her words have a double meaning.

You look at her, more serious than a heart attack, “I’m right here, and your prime is far from over.”

She shudders under your look, “Y/n.”

“I wish you could feel how hard it is for me to do the right thing, Wanda. I hate leaving the house, but I know if I was here all day with just you, I’d lose it.”

You’re lying on your back in bed. Your eyes cut from Wanda to the ceiling.

“Y/n, I’m married to your father.”

“He doesn’t even fuck you,” you say with a bored tone.

“Y/n!”

You don’t return her reaction, “I’ve been waiting to see if I’d have to plug my ears, or move downstairs so I didn’t have to hear. But it hasn’t happened yet. Probably too tired from work.”

“Y/n my kids are downstairs.”

Your head falls into your hands, “I’m sorry. I-I’m going to head out for a bit.”

You get up and go for your door. Wanda doesn’t move out of your way. She stands still in your doorframe.

“Where are you going?”

“I don't know, Lena’s if she’s home.”

Wanda frowns hearing this, “You don’t have to-”

You lock eyes with her’s, “I do.”

Wanda’s hand caresses your cheek. You lean into her touch. You hear her take an unsteady breath.

“You make this so hard for me.”

She slowly removes her hand, only to replace it with her lips. It’s enough to ignite a fire in your body. They linger, much longer than they should.

“Be safe,” she fixes your clothes a little, before finally clearing your path.

“Wanda-"

“I’ll see you back for dinner,” she says walking away from you.

When you think she can't see you anymore, you touch your cheek. The spot where her lips had been. You slip out of the house and make your way to Yelena’s.

You knock on the door and wait for her to answer. When she does, you don't let her say anything. You drag her upstairs to her room. You lock her door, before you start pacing in her room. She sits on her bed watching you.

“So… are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I need this to be a judgement free zone.”

Yelena tilts her head, “Then why come here?”

“Yelena, I’m serious.”

She raises her hands in surrender at your snappy tone, “Fine, what is it?”

“I’m attracted to Wanda, and I think… she’s attracted to me.”

Yelena laughs as you stare at her. The laughter goes on for minutes before she realizes that you aren't laughing.

“Y/n, are you being serious?”

You close your eyes, “Lena there’s this tension. I just thought it was in my head. I almost kissed her, I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been going out, and stuff just to stay away from her. She’s driving me insane.”

“You tried to kiss her!”

“She gave me this kiss on the cheek. She said I was making it hard for her. Yelena I’ve never felt like this for anyone,” you tell your best friend.

“Dude you’re fucked,” is all that she says.

“I know.”

“She’s your dad’s wife.”

“I know.”

“She has 2 kids.”

“I know.”

“Did I say she’s your dad’s wife already?”

You groan joining her on the bed, “I- I don’t know if I care about it. I mean I do, but he doesn’t even treat her that good. It could be worse, but it’s not great.”

“And you think you can do better?”

“I’d worship her.”

Yelena shakes her head, “I can’t believe you right now. You’re trying to get with your dad’s wife, she’s like almost 30 years older than you.”

“Can you blame me, you’ve seen her? It’s not my fault. If I would’ve met her before, maybe it would be different. It’s just like I come home and there’s this undeniably attractive woman in my house. She doesn’t feel like my dad’s wife to me."

Yelena nods along, “That’s fair, but Y/n this is insane.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s go to a club.”

Your eyes widen, “A club?”

“Lots of attractive people who are closer to your age and eligible,” she reasons with you.

“I’m not even supposed to be out right now. My dad says I have to be home to get acclimated with Wanda’s kids. They leave in a week.”

She claps her hands together, “Alright then, next week we’re going clubbing.”

You get a text from Wanda saying your father is on the way home. You know it’s her way of saying you need to be back soon.

“What should I do in the mean time?”

Yelena searches for an answer before landing on, “Act like she’s your mom.”

You gag at the thought, “Ew.”

Yelena reacts gleefully, “Exactly.”

You pause before exiting, “Technically… she is a milf though.”

“Y/n L/n get a fucking grip,” Yelena says with amusement.

“I’m trying, but she won’t let me,” you whine.

“You having a thing for older women makes so much sense. No wonder you had a crush on Natasha.”

You send her a playful glare, “We do not talk about the dark ages.”

“It’s alright, I forgive you. I don’t know if your dad will be as forgiving as I am.”

You shrug, “I’ll test it out and let you know.”

She leads you to her front door, “Think about the club. Focus on it, breathe it in. Dream about it. Do not think about fucking your step mom.”

“Too late for that,” you shrug again.

“Just get out already, I’m running low on things to say back.”

“Bye Lena,” you say as she basically pushes you out of her door.

You make it back just before your dad gets there. It’s interesting seeing him interact with Billy and Tommy. It’s clear to you that he favors Tommy a little more. It’s just in the way he speaks. It bothers you a bit and you make sure to include Billy any time that you can in conversation.

You can feel Wanda’s eyes on you throughout the dinner, but you keep your attention with the boys and your dad.

“So I have a bit of an announcement to make,” your father says, gathering everyone’s attention. “I have an opportunity to get a promotion at work.”

“That’s great honey, we’re so proud of you,” Wanda gives him a quick kiss.

You try your best to hold back any malice with a fake smile on your face.

“Well, the thing is I’d need to go out of town for a bit to secure the position,” he says and you feel Wanda’s mood shift.

“For how long dad?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink.

He winces, “At least a month, maybe more.” He begins to pile on in an effort to make it seem less drastic. “It’s really a once in a lifetime opportunity, I've been working there for so long it feels overdue, but with this money our lives could change dramatically. We could move, Y/n you could go back to dorming, it would be-”

“You already accepted it didn't you?”

Wanda’s tone is guarded as she speaks. It's clear that she's unhappy and you don't blame her.

You sigh pushing yourself away from the table, “Congratulations dad, I’m going to head up to my room now.”

“Wait.” Wanda’s voice stops you in your tracks. “How do you feel about this Y/n?”

“I uh-”

“Don’t drag my kid into this.”

Wanda starts gesturing with her hands, “I’m not, she’s bound to have an opinion. She lives here, she’s your daughter, and she came back home because of you. Now you’re bailing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m used to him being busy,” you try to mediate.

Your dad throws his hands up, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You give him your honest opinion, “It means you’re busy. You were late to my graduation because of work. You missed my award ceremonies. There wasn’t any point in me signing up for extracurriculars because you’d never take me or show up anyway. It’s nothing personal dad, it’s just the truth.”

“I was providing for you,” he throws it back in your face.

Your shoulders drop, “I know and I’m grateful, but-” you stop yourself. Instead you just head for your room. You hear him call after you, but you don’t respond.

It’s not soon after that you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. There’s a soft knock on your door. You don’t say anything as Billy and Tommy slip into your room.

“They’re still going at it,” Tommy announces.

“Do they… do this a lot?” You ask the boys.

Billy answers, “When any sort of quality time is involved.”

You scoff, “Classic.”

Tommy places a hand on your shoulder, “We get it you know.”

“Sometimes you just wish they were there for you,” Billy finishes the sentence.

You feel yourself breaking down but refuse to let the tears fall. Tommy pulls you into a hug and Billy joins in soon after. You center yourself in their embrace. It’s not a comfort that you’re used to experiencing, you appreciate it immensely.

At some point during this moment the voices downstairs escalate to yelling. It quickly grabs your attention and has you realizing that you are the only other adult present in this moment. It feels like your responsibility to try to shield them from this, even if they are on the older side of things. Teenagers are still kids. Hell you still feel like a kid in your early twenties.

You place a hand on Billy’s head and the other on Tommy’s, “Thanks kids. I’m going to go handle downstairs, you stay up here.”

Tommy interjects, “I think-”

You stop him, “I’ve got it, trust me. They’re going to get noise complaint if things keep going.”

You steel yourself as you go downstairs to find Wanda and your father in the middle of a heated argument. They’re both standing, yelling in each other’s faces.

“SO WHAT SHAWN YOU LEAVE FOR OVER A MONTH AND DON’T EVEN THINK TO RUN IT BY ME FIRST?”

“RUN IT BY YOU FOR WHAT WANDA? YOU AREN’T MY MOTHER.”

“I AM YOUR WIFE, OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT? TOO BUSY WORKING TO EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE ME.”

“WHEN DID YOU BECOME SUCH A NEEDY BI-“

“ENOUGH,” you cut your father off in the middle of his sentence. The couple looks at you, and you can feel the anger simmering in their gazes. “It’s late, you’re going to get the police called with all of your arguing.”

“Well if-”

“Stop. The conversation is going nowhere because you aren’t having a conversation, you’re just screaming at each other,” you tell them.

“Y/n, you should stay out of this,” your father glare at you.

“I would love to, only we can all hear you upstairs. You either need to table this conversation for another time or go somewhere else to talk. Neither of you should be acting like this in front of your kids. I don’t care who started it, if you both plan on staying here tonight it’s over right now.”

Wanda is the one to take in a deep breath. She looks between you and your father. There’s something behind her eyes but you’re focused on the task at hand.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” she walks away from the table, past you, and disappears up the stairs.

You muster up all the disappointment you possibly can as you take in your father’s appearance, “She has a right to be upset with you. It seems like you keep hiding these really important, life altering things from her. You have to be more upfront, more honest with her.”

“How was I supposed to know she’d react this way?”

You level with him, “You had to have expected something like this, it’s why you didn't tell her in the first place.”

“Maybe I did, I just… I really want this,” he says slumping down on the couch.

“Wanda doesn’t seem like the unsupportive type. It’s all in your delivery. You need to apologize, before you leave. When are you leaving?”

“In 3 days.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Christ dad.”

“I know, I know. I’ll take her out tomorrow and we'll talk it out there.”

You nod, turning to go back to your room.

“Kid wait.” You pause at his call. “What were you going to say back there, before you went to your room?”

It takes you a moment to respond, “Sometimes I just wanted someone to be there for me. My dad, my mom, just someone. You were always busy with work and I was always alone.”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else as you go up the stairs. His eyes follow you until you disappear. He sighs, leaning back into the couch, feeling like he could scream. He was failing, and he had 3 days to fix it.

When go back upstairs the boys are passed out on your bed. You think about waking them up, but decide against it. You settle on going into their room. It’s not until you shut the door behind you, that you notice the red head sitting on one of the beds in the room.

You take a seat on the bed that she’s not sitting on. The silence is heavy as you stare at each other. You can see the emotions running through her eyes. The anger, the frustration, and the lust. Your heart beat is steady as you look back at her.

“Do you think I’m in the wrong?” her voice is small when she asks.

“No, I just don’t think you know what kind of guy you married. He’s never going to be around enough and he’s never going to pick you over work. I’m not trying to be an asshole, it’s just the truth,” you speak bluntly.

“If you-" Wanda stops her sentence in its tracks.

“Honestly if I were him, I’d turn it down. I wouldn’t want to leave you for a month, but he's not me.”

“No, he isn’t,” she breathes out.

There’s another silence. Then it happens, so suddenly that you nearly freeze. Wanda’s lips are on yours. Her hands are planted in your hair and yours rest on the dips of her hips. Your back lays flat against the mattress.

Your tongue slips into her mouth causing you both to moan. Her hips roll on your lap and you grunt at the sensation. Your lips leave her mouth only to kiss down the side of her neck. As much as you want to leave a hickey you don’t. It’s not until your tongue runs across the top of her breast that she partial breaks from the trance.

“Y/n,” it’s a whine from her lips. The sound is entirely to intoxicating.

You begin to guide her hips against your thigh. Her sundress not leaving much fabric between her cunt and your sweats.

“Y/n we shouldn’t,” her hips follow your movements though her words tell you different.

“Just let me make you cum, please. Please Wanda, get off on my thigh,” your words are low as you beg her.

“Fuck,” Wanda watches the way your eyes don’t move from where she grinds on your thigh.

She lifts the sundress slightly so you can have a better view.

“Oh god,” you groan at the sight of the dampness of her panties. It turns you on even more.

Wanda finds herself grinding down harder, chasing her orgasm. You hold her firmly, helping create more friction. You find yourself getting off on the image before you.

“Fuck, use me. I know he can’t do it, so let me be useful. Fucking use my thigh. You’re so hot, shit I wish I could have you like this every night. I’m so desperate for you. I’m going to cum just from having you on me, fuck mommy.”

Wanda’s body completely falls into your arms. She shakes as she cums, leaving a mess on your sweatpants. She’s trying and failing to catch her breath as you hold her upright. Her head lolls into your shoulder.

“Did you really cum?” she says lips brushing against your ear.

You nod dumbly.

She moans again, “That’s so fucking hot.” She places a kiss right below your ear. “And what did you call me?”

Your chest heaves as you breathe out a response, “Mommy.”

She purrs in your ear before pulling away some. She grabs a fistful of your shirt pulling you into a searing kiss.

“We’re doing this again. Do you understand sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy.”

She kisses your head one last time before getting off of your lap. You don’t miss the way her legs shutter as she gets up. You whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry detka, we’ve got a little time to ourselves coming up. Mommy will let you go as far as you can handle, and maybe a little more than that.”

[loustica-lucia]

Answering these questions with Alba de Riva & Lucanis Dellamorte [he/they, spellblade fire mage, Friend of Red Jenny, Performer & Antivan Crow]:

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them? He does! Alba often has crushes and is a very physical person. He first fell for his looks and how cool and theatrical his entrance was when they first met, especially as a "theater kid" himself!

That's legit the face he had in game when Lucanis appeared on screen lmao

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook? I think Lucanis started catching feeling when he got to see more sides of Alba. They already got along well with their sense of humour, but he also noticed how devoted he was to helping people, especially in Treviso. Alba's eyes filled with an almost childish wonder at everything new they see, or even just sunset and sunrises. His infectious laughter and the way he always tried to make things appear less scary with a dumb joke. Alba made him smile, laugh, and other things he had long forgotten in his year of survival in the Ossuary...

How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand? After the infamous "almost kiss scene", Alba gives him more space, while continuing to flirt with him. He doesn't want to rush things with Lucanis. It's always been one of his main issue in his past romantic relationships. They officially kissed after "Inner Demons", when they went to the Cantori Diamond to meet Viago & Teia and got teased for the way they spaced out in the Tevinter tavern. They drunk a bit, but Alba resists alcohol well. Lucanis, maybe a little less. The next day, Lucanis wasn't sure if the kiss truly happened or not, until Alba walked to him for another kiss in the dining hall.

Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction? They're both Crows, but with very different backgrounds. While Lucanis was taught from a young age how to become a Crow without his approval, Alba joined them by his own will. He was dating Viago at the time, and wanted to put his knowledge of Thedas to good use [he was a traveling performer and a Friend of Red Jenny]. He's more theatrical in his murders than the other Crows would like him to be, but he gets the job done. I think it only affect their relationship in the sense that they understand each other's work and the importance of contracts, and they're both from Antiva/cares about its people.

Do they have different cultural backgrounds (e.g. a Rook who was raised in Antiva with Harding who was raised in Ferelden)? If so, do they ever share parts of their culture with each other? If they're similar, how do they celebrate their culture together? Alba travelled around Thedas a lot, from Antiva, to Orlais, Ferelden, Tevinter and even a bit of Rivain... He likes to tell old stories in the dining hall when they all eat together. Lucanis and him often talk about Antiva though, because Treviso is Lucanis' hometown, while Alba was found as a newborn in the capital. [He's an orphan.]

What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs? They like to clean their weapons and armours together, cook and drink their favourite hot beverages. I headcanon that Lucanis was taught how to play piano (there's a harpsichord in the Dellamorte Villa) and Alba knows how to play a few other instruments. I like to imagine them doing midnight duets in the music room when they cannot sleep.

Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead? Alba is very physical. Once they got together, he started randomly holding Lucanis hand then they were walking, hugging him or kissing him. Lucanis wasn't used to this, and was embarrassed at first, especially in public, but he accepted it quickly.

What does their ideal date look like? Do they go on much? Running around on rooftops in Treviso, racing to the horizon while the sunsets, only to go to a little café or bar and get a nice drink with music in the background. Alba probably dancing and inviting his partner to join him♥

Does your Rook bring them out often? How are they like on the battlefield? Do they banter much? Every time it's possible! Crows don't really get the occasion to work on the same contract very often, and he's heard many stories about the Demon of Vyrantium! Alba is excited to see the other aspect of Lucanis that weren't written in the newspapers in Tevinter. They talk a lot, often teasing each other for their fighting style, or worrying one got injured. Sometimes praising each other, but always with a catch.

Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more? They usually call each other Lu or Al — especially during battle because it's short, but sometimes they give themselves petnames like my heart/mi amor/honey/sweetheart.

Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first? Alba is very blunt and honest and can't keep his tongue in his mouth, so he'll probably say it first, and then Lucanis in the canon scene in Minrathous. Lucanis probably had a internal conflict when it happened between his thoughts, his body and Spite haha As to who thinks it first, probably both, but Lucanis didn't notice it as quickly as Alba, since it's still new to him? [Alba has had many partners in his life.]

Any inside jokes? Probably these two talking about Antivan Crow drama (eg. Zevran Arainai) while the rest of the group has no idea who these people are XD Quoting Antivan books and speaking Antivan language to maake joke the others cannot understand haha

What song(s) do you associate with them? I have a playlist for them, but if I had to pick only one, maybe "Unfolding Time" by Broken Iris. It reminds me of Alba, Lucanis, and Spite. How they overcome their own issues, with trust, time, and care.

"My whole life, all this time, I've been waiting to find a way to reach inside, to wield the hands unfolding time. The higher I am, the better view I find. As I lay down, observe it all unwind, no doubt or fear, my view is now clear. I've never felt so alive, looking in from the outside, watching my whole life pass me by, through the descendent of my eyes."

Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special? Alba gets Lucanis a few outfits he got tailored just for him, so they can match ♥ He also gives him a few new books, leather bags to carry his daggers and fancy boots from Antiva City. Lucanis gets Alba spices mix to remind him of his travels, chocolate and flowers. He also gave him a few masks from the Dellamorte Villa, since Alba collects them! Alba doesn't have much luggage, since he never properly settled anywhere, so any gift is very important to him and he cherish them dearly.

What was the partner's reaction to Rook being imprisoned in the Fade? How did they cope? How did they react upon seeing Rook again? Lucanis regretted taking so long to fully open to Alba, now that he was gone. He felt heartbroken and angry, letting his frustration get the best of him in some rage episodes. He needed to keep his mind busy to not think about it, but he didn't lose hope to see his Rook again. When Alba finally made it back, seemingly safe and sound, he jumped to hug him, his wings making him go so fast they both fell on the ground. He needed to know he was there, to feel him, for real.

How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner? Alba was used to feeling guilty, so the "prison of regrets" was nothing new to him. He felt sad to be apart from the team, from Lucanis. He had no idea that he's been stuck in the prison for weeks before the others filled him on the current state of Minrathous. He felt sorry and guilty again, for making him worry about his silly ass. The entire time in the Fade, he had that Fenris' "Nothing is going to keep me from you." state of mind.

What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook? Alba fell for Lucani's appearance first, but he fell harder for his softer side behind all the "Assassin/Demon of Vyrantium/Antivan Crow" masks. His kindness, his consideration for others and attention to details... his humour... that's what Alba loves the most about Lucanis. As for Lucanis, he fell under the charm of that seemingly over-confident brat who seemed to be able to fix any problem, admiring his ability to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with a sincere smile on his face. The way he didn't seem to care about the way people perceived him, or the way he dressed, the makeup he wore. Just being himself, his true self.

When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets? Alba and Lucanis stay in Antiva to get rid of the last Antaams in the streets of Treviso. They also travel around Thedas to help the Inquisition — like Alba did the last ten years, too. They often went back to the House de Riva or the Dellamorte Villa to get some time off, where they weren't "The Veilguard", or "Rook" or the "First Talon", but just Alba and Lucanis. They got married 3 years after the end of the game. During Veilguard, Alba adopted/became the guardian of Jacobus Egrativi, so Lucanis officially became his second father, too. They do not really have pets, outside of a few birds that like to come back to their balcony — their Roost.

Questions for your Rook and their partner:

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them?

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook?

How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand?

Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction?

Do they have different cultural backgrounds (e.g. a Rook who was raised in Antiva with Harding who was raised in Ferelden)? If so, do they ever share parts of their culture with each other? If they're similar, how do they celebrate their culture together?

What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs?

Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead?

What does their ideal date look like? Do they go on much?

Does your Rook bring them out often? How are they like on the battlefield? Do they banter much?

Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more?

Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first?

Any inside jokes?

What song(s) do you associate with them?

Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

What was the partner's reaction to Rook being imprisoned in the Fade? How did they cope? How did they react upon seeing Rook again?

How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner?

What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook?

When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets?

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (11)

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

Chapter 11 - 50/50

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 12

PREV : Chapter 10

You brought your fingertips to your lips, tracing the delicate, swollen skin. The warmth of his kiss lingered there, a memory etched so vividly that it made your cheeks flush every time you thought about it. Ever since that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Young-il’s gaze. Embarrassment bloomed every time you saw even the faintest glimpse of him.

You’d spent some time trying to understand it. Why had he kissed you? Was it to take your mind off everything you’d seen him do to Min-jae? The thought made you pause. It was a caring gesture, or perhaps a manipulative one. Either way, it had worked. It had calmed you. The kiss pulled your thoughts away from his ruthless act. Whether intentional or not, his actions had eased the storm inside you.

The third game was over, and you descended the labyrinthine stairs again. The line of players moved slowly. At the very front of your group were the mother and her son Yong-sik. Just behind them was Hyun-ju, her face distraught, with Gyeong-seok walking behind her. Player 333 followed close behind.

Then came Jun-hee. Behind her was Dae-ho, and then Se-mi. Gi-hun tailed behind. You were next, with Young-il just behind you like your shadow. At the very back of the line was Jung-bae.

As you descended, you focused on the steps in front of you, avoiding any accidental glance backward. You couldn’t risk catching Young-il’s eye again. Every time the memory of his lips on yours surfaced, you felt the heat creeping back up your neck like lava.

That’s when Gi-hun glanced over his shoulder and spoke up solemnly, “When we get back, let’s count the number of people remaining.”

You blinked at him questioningly as Young-il replied from behind you, “Why?”

“If we count the numbers of Os and Xs, we’ll be able to see who’s likely to win the next vote,” stated Gi-hun.

You stayed silent as Young-il responded, “We’ll have to hope more people from the other side died.”

You couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to Lee Min-jae and his friends. You briefly recalled that they had been among the players who voted for O. The memory of them lingered, but it was overshadowed by the shocking scene you had witnessed. His strength, his ruthlessness. It was unsettling. If he wanted to, you realized, he could probably take down half of the O players without breaking a sweat. The sheer intensity of his combat prowess was terrifying.

I never had the chance to ask him what he did before coming here, you thought. Was he in elite forces or something?

You finally reached the dormitory, and as you stepped inside, you immediately noticed them. Player 333 discreetly yet gently pulled Jun-hee away from the group. Your heart skipped a beat as worry crept in. You observed them from a distance, concerned about the pregnant Jun-hee and whether she might be taken advantage of.

After a few moments of watching them converse quietly between the bunk beds, you relaxed. It seemed innocent enough. Satisfied that Jun-hee was okay, you turned to follow the rest of your group. That was when you noticed Se-mi had strayed away. She walked off from everyone. You wondered why she didn’t stick with your group. For a moment, you considered calling her, but you hesitated. It felt too soon to cross that line; after all, you had only just met her.

“[Your name].”

You heard your name and turned to see Young-il. He had stopped walking with Gi-hun and the others and was now standing a few paces away, waiting for you. A small, warm smile curled his lips, and his face softened as your eyes met.

“Come,” he said simply.

You walked toward him, and together, the two of you headed back to your group’s usual corner. As you walked, Young-il’s left hand lifted, and he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture made you blush, and you stole a sneaky glance at him. You didn’t expect him to be so openly affectionate, even in front of others, especially after his confession. But then again, you hadn’t stopped him, had you?

The two of you reached the corner and immediately noticed a change. Many of the beds had been removed due to the dwindling number of players. Your group’s corner now consisted of stairs leading up to a few remaining beds. Beneath the stairs, a clear space offered an ideal spot for the group to sit around on the floor. Gi-hun and Dae-ho wasted no time claiming it as their own.

As you arrived, you couldn’t help but notice Jun-hee’s absence. She was likely still talking with player 333. Maybe he likes her, you mused to yourself, thinking about how adorable Jun-hee could be.

You and Young-il sat down on the lower bed tucked under the stairs right beside your group's spot. It offered a clear view of your group’s corner. Not long after, Jung-bae rushed back to the spot, ducking under the stairs to join the others.

“Gi-hun,” he began, “there are 55 people who voted in favor of continuing.”

Gi-hun stood straighter. ��Are you sure?”

“I counted them twice,” Jung-bae reassured him.

Dae-ho, standing in between them, pointed at the O patch on Jung-bae’s chest. “What about you? Did you include yourself?”

Jung-bae glanced down at his patch, his expression momentarily blank. Then, looking back up at Gi-hun, he said, “It’s 56.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his antics. Dae-ho sighed heavily, closing his eyes as if counting in his mind. “We have 44 people on our side. That means we’re outnumbered by 12.”

Jung-bae leaned his head back in mock despair. “Shoot, that means we’re likely to lose again.”

That’s when Young-il stood up from beside you and walked over to the group. “It may seem like a big difference, but if six of them change their minds, it’ll be 50/50, all tied. If seven of them change their minds, we could win.”

“But those who pressed X might change their minds too,” Dae-ho pointed out.

Young-il met his gaze and replied, “They probably won’t change their minds easily.”

“Why not?” Dae-ho asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

Everyone’s eyes fixed on Young-il, waiting for his explanation. He didn’t keep them in suspense for long.

“They wanted to quit even when the prize was smaller,” he said evenly. “Now they can leave with even more money. They wouldn’t want to risk their lives playing another game.”

Jung-bae spoke up, “I’m going to press X this time. That means we’ll have a tie if five others change their minds. With six more, we win.”

You cast your gaze to the floor, feeling a tiny sense of hopefulness in your heart. You really wanted to leave this place. Young-il’s words made you feel hopeful that maybe… the next voting process would end with a majority of X votes.

You heard Gi-hun say, “Then let’s go over there and try to convince them.”

“No, that’s too risky,” countered the calm Young-il. You brought your gaze back to him. You noticed Gi-hun also staring at him in surprise, not expecting such direct opposition from Young-il. The latter continued, “Most of them will want to continue the games. If we make a move, they won’t just sit back and watch.”

Gi-hun frowned in displeasure, his voice carrying an edge as he said to Young-il, “So you think we should just stand here and pray they change their minds?”

He paused to take a step closer to Young-il, as if daring him to challenge his view. “What if we lose again? We march down, hand in hand, to play another game?”

“I understand how you feel,” responded Young-il. “I also wish I could leave right now. But this is the moment to stay calm.”

You slowly got up from your seat on the bed, feeling the tension rising between these two.

“Stay calm? We’ve already taken a vote twice,” retorted Gi-hun with a scowl. His voice rose slightly as he said, “If we can’t convince them, we’ll have to bring them over to our side by force.”

“If we provoke them now, we may end up in a big fight before we even get to vote,” countered Young-il. He refused to back down. Though he seemed calm, you could detect a hint of frustration in his tone. “Is that what you want, Gi-hun?”

You, Dae-ho, and Jung-bae stared at them quietly as the unpleasant tension crackled between the two men. Young-il and Gi-hun locked eyes, their glares daring each other to relent and concede their own view.

You hated this kind of argument, especially within a group of close friends like this. Simple disagreements had the potential to spiral into something bigger, risking unnecessary conflict and possibly breaking the group apart. You wanted to stop that from happening.

“Look, Gi-hun,” Jung-bae said softly, trying to diffuse the tension. “I’m too scared to play another game. I’m sure there are more people who feel the same way.”

Dae-ho stepped closer to the two men, his voice calm. “That’s right. If it’s just five or six people, we’ve got a shot. I did the math, and the prize is now over 300 million per person. I think that gives us a pretty good chance.”

It was clear that both Jung-bae and Dae-ho were siding with Young-il. Their reasoning seemed to chip away at the growing tension.

Hoping to help ease the atmosphere further, you added, “Let’s not forget about those we’ve acquainted with recently. Like Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, and Se-mi. They all voted for O before, but after that last game? I don’t think they will want to continue playing.”

Gi-hun and Young-il remained locked in their tense stare, but you noticed the atmosphere had started to shift. The pressure between them lessened slightly, thanks to the combined efforts of Jung-bae, Dae-ho, and your input. The argument hadn’t dissolved entirely, but at least for now, it felt like the group was pulling back from the edge of something worse.

The familiar blaring noise echoed throughout the dormitory. The double doors slid open, revealing the pink-clad guards as usual.

The square guard in the middle stepped forward and announced, “Congratulations to all of you for making it through the third game. Now, here are the results of the third game.”

After much announcement, the TV screen finally displayed all the necessary details. There were 100 players remaining. The accumulated prize money stood at an astonishing 35.6 billion won. Distributing all of that equally would mean that each player would earn 356 million won.

Your eyes widened in astonishment as the weight of that number settled in. With that amount, you could finally wipe away your family’s crippling debt and pay off the mounting hospital bills. Now you were more enthusiastic to quit this game, to take the money and leave. You couldn’t bear the thought of risking another game.

Your group, along with the other players, gathered at the far back of the dormitory’s clear center. The square guard’s announcement had concluded, and the guards were now setting up the voting counters.

Standing in the throng of players, you were lost in thought when you heard a familiar voice beside you.

“I’m glad,” Young-il said, his voice calm yet carrying an undertone of sincerity. You turned to him, catching the small smile tugging at his lips. “At this amount, you can pay all of your debts.”

A grin spread across your face as hope bloomed in your chest. “Yeah. Now I want nothing more than to go back home. My little sister must be worried.”

Young-il’s gaze lingered on you. He seemed curious but hesitant as he asked, “What are you going to do with the remaining millions?”

You looked away briefly, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I’d use it to give my family a fresh start. My parents have endured so much. They’ve sacrificed so much for us. I’m going to give it all to them.”

Turning back to him, your warm smile deepened. “They deserve it.”

Young-il stared at you for a moment, his small smile growing as a glimmer of admiration flickered in his eyes.

He said softly. “It’s rare to see someone who thinks so selflessly, even in a place like this.”

That’s when a thought crossed your mind, and you glanced up at him, your voice soft and a little hesitant. “Young-il, if we manage to get a majority of X votes and we get to leave… will we still keep in touch?”

Young-il’s lips curved into a subtle smile, and he held your gaze for what felt like an eternity. His expression was calm and thoughtful as if weighing something significant. Then, with a reassuring nod, he said, “Of course. Once we win the majority vote, give me your phone number and address. I’ll contact you.”

Your face lit up with a wide smile, warmth spreading through you. Standing so close to him, it felt like the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in this quiet moment.

You knew what he had done this morning should be a red flag to you. His capability to kill with such decisiveness and lack of hesitation should have terrified you. Yet, despite it all, your heart betrayed you. This wasn’t just a crush anymore. You were falling for him. For the man who had shown you his strength, his vulnerability, and a side of himself that he seemed to reserve only for you.

Then you heard Jung-bae say to Gi-hun, “356 million. With that kind of money, some of them will change their minds.”

Dae-ho continued, “If we get six more people, it’s a tie. If it’s seven, we win.”

Gi-hun nodded in response. Now that you were looking at them past Young-il, who was standing beside you, you took in your friends’ positions in the crowd. Starting from the far left were you, Young-il, Dae-ho, Jung-bae, and Gi-hun. Behind you all were Jun-hee, the mother and Yong-sik, Hyun-ju, and Gyeong-seok. You noticed the distance between both Young-il and Gi-hun, and it wasn’t hard to discern why. After all, they had come close to arguing moments ago.

“The vote will once again be conducted in reverse order of your player numbers,” the guard announced. “Player 456, please cast your vote.”

Gi-hun stepped forward and headed toward the counter. Along the way, the guard reminded, “To ensure fair and democratic voting, we will not tolerate any disruptions from this point onward.”

Without hesitation, Gi-hun pressed the X button, emitting a deep beeping noise. He then went to stand in the X zone.

After a few players took their turns, it was finally yours. You sent a glance at Young-il before stepping out of the crowd. When you reached the counter, you pressed the X button decisively and then walked over to stand beside Gi-hun in the X zone.

Next was Jung-bae’s turn. True to his promise, he pressed the X button, replacing the O patch on his chest with the X one. He then went to stand on the other side of Gi-hun.

Right after him came Dae-ho’s turn. He pressed the X button and joined you, standing beside you in the X zone.

The next player was someone you had gotten acquainted with during the last game – Se-mi. You were pleasantly surprised when she stepped up to the counter and pressed the X button. After replacing her O patch with the X one, she headed toward the X zone.

As Se-mi approached, Jung-bae reminded aloud, “Five more.”

Se-mi made her way to the X zone and caught your eye. You gave her a warm smile, which she returned with a friendly smirk before she positioned herself in front of your group.

A few minutes passed, and Jun-hee took her turn. Without hesitation, she pressed the X button. Shortly after, an O player stepped up. She hesitated at the voting counter, glancing between the X and O buttons. Finally, she pressed X. The sound of the deep beeping noise echoed, and Jung-bae and Dae-ho jumped in delight. Dae-ho exclaimed, “It’s four people now. Four more, and we win.”

Next was the mother’s turn. She pressed the X button. Then, another O player, player 125, followed suit, pressing X after a brief pause at the counter. The combined cheers from Dae-ho and Jung-bae echoed through the room. They turned to you and Gi-hun, saying in unison, “With three more people, we win.”

Your heart raced as you watched the process unfold. Young-il had been right. O players were changing their minds, one by one. Your mouth hung slightly open as the realization of leaving this game began to feel more and more tangible. This could be it. You could be free of this nightmare.

Then it was Hyun-ju’s turn. She approached the counter slowly. She stood there, staring at the buttons, her inner turmoil visible to everyone. After a few agonizing moments, she pressed the X button. The sound of the deep beep was like music to your ears. Cheers erupted around you. Dae-ho clapped enthusiastically, while Jung-bae, unable to contain his excitement, threw an arm around Gi-hun in a side hug. You found yourself grinning uncontrollably.

“Only two more now!” reminded Jung-bae, his voice filled with hope.

Hyun-ju replaced her O patch with an X and walked over to the X zone. Her movements were slow, her head hung low. The weight of player 095’s death clearly still lingered heavily on her. As she approached Jun-hee’s side, the mother came to her and gently patted her shoulder, offering silent comfort.

Soon enough, every vote caused either cheers or groans, depending on the outcome. When another O player pressed the X button, the O voters groaned loudly, while the X voters erupted into cheers.

“He switched to X!” effused Jung-bae, his excitement palpable. “That’s six! It’s a tie now! If we get one more person, we win.”

You bounced on the spot in pure delight, earning a pleased glance from Gi-hun. His expression reflected a mix of relief and hope.

Dae-ho, elated yet still astonished, said with a trace of disbelief, “Are we really going home?”

The anticipation mounted as Yong-sik’s turn came. As he approached the counter, Jung-bae couldn’t hold back and asked his mother, “Your son will definitely vote X this time, right?”

The mother nodded reassuringly. “Don’t worry. My Yong-sik will definitely press X this time.”

True to her words, Yong-sik pressed the X button firmly, his determination evident as he immediately ripped off his O patch. The screen updated to [X: 49 | O: 49]. The X zone exploded with cheers, the noise almost deafening. You jumped in happiness, your cheers blending with those around you.

Yong-sik turned to the X zone, proudly displaying his new X patch, and effused, “Let’s go home!”

The cheers from the X voters grew even louder. You felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief. Glancing to the back, you counted the remaining unvoters. There were only player 006 and Young-il left. Both already had X patches from the previous vote. You grinned widely, filled with the certainty that these two would solidify the majority and secure your return home.

But then, as player 006 reached the counter, she pressed the O button.

A shocked silence fell over the X zone, quickly replaced by gasps and groans of disbelief. The O zone, however, erupted into cheers like fireworks. You froze, staring in shock as the voting results shifted to [X: 49 | O: 50].

You couldn’t believe it. Everyone in the X zone wore expressions of frustration and disappointment. Your earlier happiness crumbled, replaced by a gnawing dread as the reality of the situation set in.

“Lastly, player 001,” announced the square guard. “Please cast your vote.”

All eyes turned to Young-il. The dormitory fell silent as he began his solemn walk towards the counter. You watched intently, your breath catching in your chest. Dae-ho whisper-called his name, using his hyungnim honorifics. When Young-il glanced his way, Dae-ho raised a supportive fist and said, “Fighting!”

Young-il didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he gave Dae-ho a brief glance before shifting his eyes to you. Your heart thumped in anticipation as he turned his attention back to the front and continued walking. Dae-ho leaned toward Jung-bae, Gi-hun, and you, muttering, “It’s going to be 50/50, so it’s still a tie, isn’t it?”

You nodded slightly, unable to tear your eyes away from Young-il. The tension in the room was almost suffocating. As he reached the counter, he paused, standing silently in front of the buttons. You could see his gaze fixated on the large TV screen above. Seconds stretched for so long as he stared at the screen, his expression unreadable.

What is he thinking? Why hasn’t he pressed the button yet? Your frown deepened as worry gnawed at you. Could he… could he be considering voting for O?

The entire room seemed frozen, holding its collective breath. Young-il finally shifted his gaze to the buttons before him. His hand hovered over them, and the suspense was unbearable. Then, at long last, he pressed the X button. The deep, resonating beep confirmed his choice.

You exhaled loudly, your relief palpable. Around you, the X voters erupted in cheers and applause, their earlier anxiety melting away into joy.

Young-il turned around, his face breaking into a wide smile. He lifted his hand, forming an ‘OK’ sign as he looked directly at your group. He let out a visible sigh of relief and began his walk back to the X zone. The X voters at the front parted to let him through.

You smiled widely at Young-il as he arrived and stood beside you. His wide smile and reassuring nod brought a wave of relief that washed over you. His expression was a stark contrast to the solemn demeanor he had while deliberating in front of the voting counter.

“The vote has ended,” declared the square-masked guard.

“Wait, it’s a tie,” asked player 100, his voice laced with confusion. “What happens now?”

“Clause three of the consent form. In the case of a tie, players will vote again,” reminded the guard.

An X voter raised his hand, his voice breaking the growing murmurs. “So when are we going to vote again?”

“To give you some time to think, the vote will be conducted tomorrow,” the guard explained. “Until then, please think carefully about your future.”

A mix of sighs and quiet conversations filled the dormitory as players began to process the announcement. Slowly, everyone dispersed from the X and O zones. Disappointment hung heavy in the air, but there was also a sliver of hope. You felt it, too. The tie meant another chance tomorrow, another opportunity to sway the outcome.

Young-il nudged your arm softly, a subtle gesture that snapped you from your thoughts. Without a word, he turned and started walking. You followed him immediately, weaving through the crowd. Your steps took you past Gi-hun, who stood motionless in the middle of the dispersing players, his downcast gaze told you he was lost in a labyrinth of thoughts.

The quietness between you and Young-il as you moved toward your group’s corner was calming. It was as though the weight of the day’s events didn’t feel as heavy when you were walking beside him.

Still, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity and asked with a raised eyebrow, “Why were you taking so long to vote X? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Young-il chuckled softly, his amusement clear. You added with an exaggerated frown, “If you’d voted O, I would scream and die on the spot. That would’ve been my way out of this game.”

He laughed at your dramatic response, the sound warm and light. Glancing at you, he noticed the pout on your face and shook his head gently. He lifted his left hand and caressed the back of your head, brushing your hair as well.

“Sorry,” he said, the smile lingering on his lips. “I was just thinking about something else.”

“What were you thinking about?” you asked immediately.

As the two of you slowed your pace, nearing the corner where your group usually gathered, his gaze shifted around the room purposefully, almost as if looking at every surviving player. Then, his smile faded slightly as he explained, “I was wondering why so many people still insist on staying. They already have a share of 356 million. It’s enough to start over, right? I don’t know their reasons, but… it says a lot about this world.”

You stared at him silently, your mind catching onto his words and lingering on their weight. He looked down at the floor, his expression turning into something more thoughtful.

“It’s frustrating,” he continued, his voice quieter. “If everyone got one billion, would they finally vote to leave? Or would they insist on staying here?”

Young-il paused, bringing his gaze to you, and added solemnly, “If everyone knew about Jun-hee and her pregnancy, would that change their minds? Would they vote X for her sake? Or would they judge her for being here?”

His words sank deep into you, leaving a heavy pause in their wake. You found yourself thinking about Jun-hee, the fragile girl carrying a life within her. Would revealing her situation stir compassion or make her a target for scorn?

“This place exposes who you really are,” he said. “People can’t hide forever when they’re pushed to their limits. Even those who think they’re good, moral people find out just how far they’re willing to go when it’s their life on the line.”

You thought back to everything you’d seen so far. The alliances formed and broken within seconds. The violence when everyone’s lives were on the line. Even Min-jae and his friends revealed their true nature in their desperate, violent attempt to survive.

Then, you felt the gentle brush of Young-il’s hand against the back of your head, his fingers weaving softly through your hair in a way that made you feel safe. His touch was tender and when you turned your gaze toward him, he was already smiling at you.

“This place also shows who can hold onto kindness, even when everything around them turns to chaos,” he said.

His words lingered in the air, resonating deeply within you. You found yourself smiling warmly, his sentiment striking a chord you hadn’t expected. He slowly withdrew his hand, the warmth of his touch still lingering.

But then you remembered something. You looked up at him, your wide, doe-like eyes shimmering with sincerity, and said, “That’s you, though.”

Young-il’s gaze lingered on you, his expression shifting. His faint smile faltered and then disappeared entirely as he stared at you. You kept your smile, unwavering and genuine, as you continued, “You’re kind, too. You stay calm when everyone else is panicking, and you’re always the first to tell us to stay grounded. When player 333 was being bullied, you stepped in...”

You paused, lifting your hands in a playful yet subtle attempt to mimic his combat moves from that moment. “You were like a police officer in this place. Fair and protective.”

Young-il’s eyes remained fixed on you, his astonishment evident. The silence between you grew, stretching into something heavy yet unspoken. You tilted your head, puzzled by his reaction, but your smile remained intact.

Finally, a small smile returned to his lips. His eyes softened, glimmering with something you couldn’t quite name. Admiration? Gratitude? Both? His gaze flickered between your left and right eye, then briefly to your lips before dropping to the floor. A quiet chuckle escaped him, and he gently placed a hand on your back, guiding you forward.

“You’re too kind for this world, really,” he murmured, almost to himself, though you heard every word.

***

Minutes after the voting, dinner time arrived. The line to get your meal moved steadily, and you soon received a single roll of gimbap wrapped neatly in aluminum foil. You were puzzled when you unwrapped it and found a fork included. While a fork could work, gimbap was typically eaten with chopsticks or even just your hands. The choice felt unusual. Adding to your confusion was the glass water bottle handed out with the meal. Why a glass bottle? Wouldn’t plastic have been cheaper?

Seated at the staircase of your group’s corner, you unwrapped your meal and glanced around. Young-il was on your left, eating quietly, with Dae-ho next to him. Behind you, Jun-hee, Hyun-ju, and Gyeong-seok sat on the upper staircases, and to your right, the mother and Yong-sik settled in, their quiet bond evident.

Before long, Jung-bae and Gi-hun returned with their meals. Jung-bae, ever animated, grinned widely as he addressed Young-il. “I’m glad Young-il gave us another chance to vote again.”

“Same here,” added Dae-ho. “I was nervous, though. I thought he might vote to stay, like on the first day.”

Young-il chuckled lightly. “The money’s enough for me now. So it’s time to get out of here. Alive.”

Gi-hun took a seat on the lower staircase in front of the mother and Yong-sik. His gimbap remained unopened as Gyeong-seok spoke up, “But do you think we’ll be able to win the second vote?”

Young-il’s eyes shifted to the O players gathered on the other side of the dormitory. “We’ll have to go for broke. Like Gi-hun said earlier, we should try to convince some of them to change their minds before the second vote.”

You took a bite of your gimbap, savoring the familiar taste despite the tension. Yong-sik chimed in, “Will they, though? They seem to have lost their minds over the money.”

His mother, ever nurturing, offered her perspective. “The way I see it, we’re more likely to win. All we’ve got to eat is this roll of gimbap. Tomorrow, everyone will be hungrier. And when you’re hungry, you start to miss home.”

That’s when Yong-sik got up from his seat and stared directly at the O players across the dormitory. He called out boldly, “Hey!”

The chatter among the O players quieted as they all turned their attention to him. Holding up his opened roll of gimbap, Yong-sik continued with a wide grin, “Don’t agonize over your decision while eating this dry gimbap. I just want one of you to come over to our side.”

You noticed his mother and Dae-ho exchange amused glances, their expressions mirroring pride and encouragement. Yong-sik’s voice took on a friendlier tone as he added, “If we get out of here tomorrow morning, we could get Korean beef! I’ll tell you what. It’s my treat!”

His mother’s face lit up as she shot up from her seat and chimed in, “And after that, the noodles are on me!”

“Come on!” shouted Dae-ho, gesturing with an enthusiastic wave of his arm. “Come over to our side! Anyone!”

The atmosphere shifted, and for a moment, it seemed like the X side’s lighthearted plea might sway someone. But then, player 100 stood up abruptly from his seat on the staircases, his voice booming, “Once you all die in the next game, we can all leave with 800 million each! With 800 million, we could buy a freaking cattle ranch!”

Your eyes lowered as a sense of unease crept over you. They’re already counting how much they’d get if all of us X voters die? That’s ruthless.

The O voters erupted in agreement, cheering loudly like a united front of villains rallying behind player 100’s words. Their confidence was palpable, and now it was their turn to call out, trying to coax X players into switching sides.

Out of nowhere, Dae-ho stood up. He took a few steps forward and shouted, “Oh, really? 800 million? Who are you kidding? You really think you’ll still be alive after the next game? If you don’t get out now, you’re all going to die!”

Player 226, the man you recognized as player 100’s right-hand man, stepped down from the staircases with an air of defiance and retorted, “So let’s play one more game to see who dies. Stop trying to run away like a goddamn coward.”

Dae-ho let out an irritated laugh. “What did you say? Hey, come here.”

He surged forward aggressively, and Jung-bae scrambled to his feet to intercept him.

“Come here, asshole!” Dae-ho shouted again.

Player 226 grinned provocatively, taunting him further, as Jung-bae latched onto Dae-ho and tried to drag him backward. But Dae-ho, fueled by anger, pushed Jung-bae away and rolled up his sleeve to reveal a bold tattoo. “I was in the Marines, fucking asshole!”

The O players roared with laughter, their mocking voices filling the air. Player 226 smirked and shot back, “Oh, yeah? Then I was in the air force, fucker!”

Before the tension could escalate further, another O player shouted crudely, “Hey, if you want to go home, why would you even bother eating? Just starve!”

His taunt struck a nerve among the X players. You noticed many of them stand from their seats and they approached the middle of the dormitory. Jung-bae, clearly triggered by the comment, marched forward, pointing accusingly at the man who had spoken. O players began rising in turn, meeting them head-on in the center of the room. The verbal onslaught intensified as insults and curses flew back and forth.

The red and blue lines between the X and O zones were the only things keeping the situation from boiling over into a physical fight. Despite the yelling and chaos, you observed that neither side dared to cross the line in the middle.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief. At least it’s just words, not fists, you thought.

Amidst the escalating noise, your attention was drawn to Gi-hun. He unrolled the foil around his gimbap and froze, his mouth slightly open as if in shock.

Curious, you leaned closer to get a better look at what had shaken him so deeply. Before you could see anything, Gi-hun picked up the fork from his foil and held it up, his gaze fixed on it with apprehension.

“Gi-hun?” you called softly, tilting your head in concern. “What’s wrong?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Young-il glancing at Gi-hun. Gi-hun remained unresponsive, staring at the fork as though it carried a weight only he could feel. Despite the escalating chaos of the shouting match between X and O players, your focus stayed on Gi-hun, your bewilderment growing with every passing second.

***

Eventually, the heated exchange between the X and O players fizzled out without resolution. You finished your roll of gimbap, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. Though your water bottle was still half full, you decided to conserve it for later.

Standing up, you scanned the dormitory for a trashcan and spotted one near the door to the women’s bathroom. Clutching the crumpled aluminum foil in your hand, you began to make your way there.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Young-il jogging to catch up with you. Assuming he intended to toss his trash as well, you smiled faintly and continued walking. But before you could reach the trashcan, he placed a hand over yours, halting you mid-step. His gaze locked on yours, serious and unwavering.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, tilting your head in innocent curiosity.

Without answering, he gently took the crumpled foil from your hand and began to unfold it. Inside lay the unused fork that had come with your meal. He carefully removed the fork, crumpling the foil back into a ball with his other hand.

Holding the fork out to you, he said in a low, deliberate voice, “Judging from how tense things are getting, it’s better to keep this with you.”

You blinked, startled by his grave tone. The realization of his words and his past as a winner of this horrific game clicked into your mind. He’d been through this before. He knew things you didn’t. Raising your eyebrows, you asked cautiously, “Why? What would I need this for?”

Young-il’s eyes darkened slightly, his expression unreadable. “It’s for your protection.”

Before you could probe further, he turned on his heel and strode to the trashcan, disposing of the crumpled foil. Returning to your side, he rested a hand lightly on your back and began guiding you back to the corner where your group was sitting. His touch was steady, reassuring, but it did little to calm the apprehension bubbling in your chest.

Slipping the fork into the pocket of your green pants, you decided to trust him. He had seen more of this place than anyone else in the dormitory, and if he thought this was necessary, there had to be a reason.

***

For the rest of the allotted free time, you found yourself caught up in animated conversations with your groupmates. Laughter mingled with lighthearted banter as the tension of the dormitory seemed to momentarily ease. You noticed Gi-hun lingering nearby, his posture still tense but his ears clearly tuned to the ebb and flow of your discussions. Gradually, he drifted closer, his guarded demeanor softening as he joined in here and there.

At one point, Young-il excused himself to attend to something, leaving you momentarily alone in the corner. Before long, Gi-hun appeared by your side, settling down on the staircases next to you. You turned to him with pleasant surprise.

“Are you free if I ask you something?” he began, his tone tentative.

You smiled warmly. “Of course. What is it?”

Gi-hun’s gaze dropped momentarily as he stared at the floor. He was evidently thinking about the best way to convey his question to you. After a few seconds, he looked back at you, hesitating for a beat before finally speaking.

“I’ve noticed something about you and Young-il,” he said, his voice carefully measured.

A wave of warmth crept up your cheeks, and you fought to maintain your composure.

Gi-hun leaned slightly closer, his expression earnest. “You two seem so close. So, I just want to know… what is it between you two?”

Your gaze shifted shyly, your fingers brushing against the fabric of your pants as you considered your words. “You could say that we are close. We talked a lot during our time keeping watch together.”

Gi-hun’s eyebrows lifted slightly in acknowledgment. “Oh. So, did he tell you about his wife?”

At his question, your smile faltered, and your gaze dropped. “He did.”

The memory of Young-il’s confession lingered in your mind. The sorrow in his voice when he spoke about his wife, and the depth of his pain, felt so real. But as Gi-hun’s words registered, a thought began to nag at you. Gi-hun had mentioned Young-il’s wife before, but it was clear he didn’t know she had passed away. That meant Young-il hadn’t told him everything.

Why hadn’t Young-il shared the full truth with Gi-hun? The man seemed to trust him. Or was it something else entirely? Or was he lying to you?

Doubt began to creep into your thoughts. Had Young-il been honest with you, or was there more to his story than he had let on?

You hesitated, wanting to tell Gi-hun the truth about Young-il’s wife but knowing it wasn’t your place to share. It was something deeply personal – a story only Young-il should tell. So you stayed quiet, even as the weight of the secret pressed against your chest.

Your silence must have spoken volumes because Gi-hun, ever observant, spoke up gently, “I’m sorry if my question upset you. I didn’t mean to pry.”

You gave him a faint smile, though it felt forced. “It’s okay. You’re just being thoughtful. I hope that, in time, Young-il will share everything with you himself.”

Gi-hun studied you, his curiosity evident in the way his eyes narrowed slightly. You could see he had more to ask, but before he could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“May I sit?”

You and Gi-hun both jolted slightly, startled by the interruption. Looking up, you saw Young-il standing there, smiling at the two of you. But there was something about his smile. A subtle edge that made you wonder if he had overheard your conversation.

Gi-hun quickly scooted over to make space, gesturing to the empty spot beside you. “Sure.”

Young-il lowered himself onto the step, sitting where Gi-hun had been moments before. He turned to you with a smile that seemed expectant, almost playful. “So, what were you two talking about?”

You froze, caught off guard by the question. Words failed you, and for a moment, you could only stare blankly. Thankfully, Gi-hun stepped in to fill the silence.

“I was just asking about you two,” he said, his tone neutral. “You seem much closer now.”

Young-il’s gaze shifted to Gi-hun, his expression unreadable. Then, he replied, “I hope that’s alright with you, Gi-hun.”

Gi-hun’s lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded solemnly as he answered, “It’s alright. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

The air between the three of you felt heavy, but Young-il’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. His presence alone seemed to assert that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion, leaving you with more questions than answers.

The familiar melody of the school bell echoed throughout the dormitory, silencing every murmur and drawing all attention to the speaker system. You assumed it was another announcement signaling bedtime. But this time, the voice that followed shattered that assumption.

“The following players have been eliminated: Player 230, 268, 212, 331, and 401. End of list.”

Your eyes widened in shock. The air seemed to freeze around you. What? How? The immediate question that ran through your mind was whether some hidden game had occurred without your knowledge. What else could lead to eliminations?

Gasps and murmurs filled the room as players turned to one another. The tension escalated as the sound of money dropping into the piggy bank reverberated above. Everyone’s gaze shot upward, watching as stacks of cash piled into the transparent bank, the accumulated prize money growing visibly larger.

The TV screen updated almost immediately:

Accumulated Prize Money: 36.1 Billion Won.

Prize Per Person: 380 Million Won.

Your mind reeled. Around you, players were standing in silence, their bewilderment palpable. Despite the bombshell announcement, you remained seated on the staircase beside Young-il, who exuded an unsettling calmness.

Jung-bae turned to Gi-hun, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What’s going on?”

You shifted your gaze to Young-il, seeking answers. His face remained composed, but his eyes carried an unspoken message. His expression wasn’t one of confusion or surprise – it was resolute, almost knowing.

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the subtle tension in his jaw. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

NEXT : Chapter 12

PREV : Chapter 10

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot, even got me thinking on what Hwang In-ho fanfic should I make next. So what do you think about you and Young-il's conversations here? Do you notice that you chose to ignore Young-il's past chapter's ruthlessness? What about your conversation with Gi-hun? What do you want to happen next?

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

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Hey, I love your writing it is amazing ! Can you please write a story about Marcus acacius being in a political match with a reader from a city he conquered ? ❤️❤️

warnings: +18, some nudity, some kissing, some wine, forced marriage, mentions of war and death

note: I don't know if you'll like it, sweetie. rather boring. but thank you very much for this message with a request, it was good to take my mind off everyday life.

General Marcus Acacius [masterlist]

marriage l General Marcus Acacius

The golden bracelets fell with a loud clatter to the bottom of the ornate metal bowl.

"This is unacceptable." You repeated for the umpteenth time that day and probably the thousandth time in the past few days. "I don't know who could have allowed this to happen. This is..."

You were at a loss for words, so all you could do was groan loudly with suppressed rage. "If I were a man..."

"But you're not, my lady. If you were a man, your head would have been impaled on a spear and exposed to public view long ago." Ava, your servant, approached you and slowly began to remove the next pieces of jewelry that adorned you. "General Acacius seems quite..."

"I don't care." You interrupted her quickly, and seeing the smile, you asked quickly "Do you know anything more? Tell me."

The fighting lasted a long time and many people died. Fire, death, screams and the clatter of steel. Finally, the sun disappeared, covered by a huge cloud of black smoke. The Roman Empire came and claimed the land you were born and lived on. With blood and sword, as they were wont to do.

The city was conquered. You could no longer defend yourselves, it was pointless. Nothing could resist such power and strength.

You saw it all, but you didn't know that your fight wasn't over. When you were informed that as part of a political agreement with the occupiers, you were to marry the general who commanded this army, you were furious.

"My lady." the man who brought you this news bowed deeply "It is necessary. The city will gain protection. The people will be safe."

You could still smell the smoke, it permeated you. You saw the ruins and women mourning their loved ones. You knew he was right.

The first time you saw General Marcus Acacius was when he entered the city with his army and officially took over its rule. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a prominent nose and curly hair sprinkled with gray. You didn't like him.

You saw him for the second time during the wedding ceremony. He had beautiful brown eyes, and his hands grabbed yours with unusual gentleness for a soldier. He tried to smile at you, but you were too proud, too angry and too scared. 

You had to look at him with a mixture of all these feelings, because he lowered his gaze and didn't dare to look into your face again that evening.

You knew, however, that he was watching you. You felt his gaze on you, but you didn't take off the mask you put on. You wanted him to feel that you did it out of compulsion, that you didn't want such a husband, that he didn't even deserve your attention.

Ava carefully put down the necklace decorated with precious stones and looked at you with strange excitement.

"You know, my lady, that several of our servants were sent to serve high-ranking soldiers." you nodded "I spoke to the one who served General Acacius."

You frowned. "Did he hurt her? Those barbarians shouldn't..."

But she shook her head. "He didn't do anything." she replied. "Kayi served him in the bath, and the General didn't even touch her with a finger, didn't spare her a glance. She expected that after such long battles, the presence of a woman would be provocative for him, but no. He dismissed her."

"What does that mean?"

"I have no idea." Ava sighed. "But you, my lady, will find out tonight. General Acacius is your husband now."

You almost jumped when you heard the door to your chamber slam. He was here with you, you couldn't escape anymore. The footsteps indicated that he had crossed the room and approached the table where the wine was. You watched him closely from the bed you were sitting on.

The armor he was wearing shone. The precise hands of the servants must have taken care to wash the blood and dirt off it. You saw that the General poured the wine into two goblets, then turned and slowly headed towards you.

"It's been a long evening. You must be tired, my lady." His voice was pleasant, low and enveloping. You hesitantly took the goblet from his hand.

"Indeed." You replied. "I think there's still a lot ahead of us."

General Acacius looked at you with interest. "Do you think so? I saw how contemptuously you look at me." you didn't look down even though you felt the heat creeping up your neck "I don't blame you. I even expected it. I would be surprised if a woman like you welcomed the occupier with open arms. I wouldn't be surprised if you have a hidden dagger under your robe."

"Do you want to search me, General?" you looked at him defiantly. You thought about stabbing him in bed, but what then? The Romans would raze the city to the ground, not a stone would be left on a stone, and the inhabitants would end up slaughtered or as slaves.

"I believe you are reasonable." he took a sip of wine without taking his eyes off you, and you did the same "Call me Marcus."

"And what do you want to call me?"

"With your name. Or as you wish. Morning breeze? Favorite of the gods? Goddess? Beloved..." he took the goblet from your hand and placed it on a small table by the bed. "From the first moment I saw contempt in your eyes and I knew I deserved it. You don't greet someone who brought you war with flowers."

Marcus took off the cape that was thrown over his shoulders and carelessly threw it on the chair.

"This marriage wasn't my idea." he continued taking off more elements of his armor. "But I won't hide that when they showed me you I thought that the gods were really kind to me. But who am I to be worthy of someone like you..."

"You are the General of the invincible Rome." you stood up and walked up to him. Your hands were shaking, but you tried to hide it as you started to untie the straps at his side, his gaze was piercing you, you could almost feel it under your skin. "You conquered us. Such marriages are something that gives hope for peace and rebuilding what was destroyed. If I were a man, you would not have such mercy."

"But you are not. You are much more."

You raised your gaze to him. You could drown in his eyes, in this trembling candlelight they were like a dark well, but it did not scare you, quite the opposite. You immersed yourself in them slowly. With great care you took off his breastplate and carefully placed it on his cape.

"I don’t expect you to give yourself to me." Marcus said as you reached for the next straps. "I couldn’t be so impudent, greedy or..."

"You didn’t touch any of our servants. Why?"

Your question caught him off guard. "And should I?"

"Others would not hesitate."

"Or maybe something much more valuable was offered to me?" you frowned trying to understand his words. A small smile spread across his lips. "You, my lady."

Another piece of his armor fell to the floor. You didn't look away from his face though.

"I will not take you by force. I am not a barbarian."

"We must fulfill our duty to the gods. Otherwise, our marriage will not be accepted by them, or Rome..."

You gasped in fear as his hand grabbed your chin and turned your face to him. "Your body belongs to you. I have no right to it."

"As a husband..."

"As a husband, I would be honored if you allowed me to worship you, but I will not take you by force. You have my word."

You could feel that he was telling the truth. Every word that left his lips was a promise that you knew he intended to fulfill. Marcus stood before you in a burgundy tunic that he wore under his armor. If you had a dagger hidden under your robes, you could stab him, you knew exactly how to do it.

You only whispered. "I trust you, Marcus. I don't know why, but I do." 

He felt you tighten your fingers on the fabric he was wearing and began to remove it from him. You were slowly revealing his body. Skin kissed by the sun, a wide chest and strong arms. He saw your eyes flicker quickly down his chest straight to his half-hard cock.

"Forgive me, my lady, but if you saw yourself the way I see you, you would understand."

"I'll take that as a compliment." you replied.

Your hands reached for the ribbon that wrapped around your waist and after a moment the thin robe you were wearing slid off almost silently.

If Marcus was lying, you would have seen it in his gaze. But it wasn't there. And something strange began to form in your heart toward this man. You began to see him. Him, the man who stood before the woman and asked her for mercy. His body quivered as your hand rested on his chest.

"I should hate you, Marcus." You said quietly. "You brought war, death and tears. But looking at you I don't see it in your eyes, I don't feel it in you. We both can be pushed by the current of our history."

"If you had met me at a different time, could you..."

"Love you?" Your fingertips traced familiar patterns on his skin. "I don't know. Maybe."

He bowed his head slightly, his hand tenderly brushed your arm, sending a pleasant shiver through you. "And now?"

"I think time will give us that answer."

Something in your voice, touch and gaze made the thought he had been holding inside for so long come to the surface. A warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your delicate and soft skin. "Just let me taste you once. I'm not asking for more."

You nodded, and he didn't hesitate. His lips crushed yours. He tasted you like you were the sweetest fruit in the world, the most perfect wine or a fresh breath of air. Your legs went soft so you clung to his solid body. The heat of his skin transferred to you at a fast pace.

And Marcus kissed you, his tongue slipped between your plush lips claiming another territory, but it was supposed to be only his. Only his.

You moaned quietly, a strong arm wrapped around your waist giving you stability and a sense of security.

Gods! If you had any doubts, they flew out of you at that moment. But it was Marcus who regained his senses. With no small effort he tore his lips from yours.

"If you give me more, I won't be able to hold back." he whispered "You're safe with me, I'll give you the world. I'll give anything in the hope that you'll be favorable to me."

"Then let's take this step together, Marcus." You replied just as quietly. "Let's see where this path leads. My husband." 

And he knew he was lost.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[loverangels]

cupid cods

pairings: percy jackson x fem!reader

synopsis: percy finally reveals his feelings towards you. After a few small interuptions

The lake was calm, a perfect mirror for the streaks of orange, pink, and purple in the sky. You and Percy were perched on the edge of the dock, your legs dangling over the side, toes skimming the surface of the water. The evening had been filled with lazy conversation and jokes, but now, a quiet stillness had fallen over you both.

Except it wasn’t quite still.

There was an energy in the air, a charged kind of silence that wasn’t there before. Percy kept fidgeting—tapping his fingers on the dock, brushing his hand through his hair, shifting closer to you bit by bit like he didn’t want you to notice.

“Nice view, huh?” he said, breaking the quiet. His voice was light, casual, but it had an edge to it.

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. “You mean the lake or the sunset?”

His green eyes widened for a moment, his face flushing as he tripped over his words. “Uh—both? Yeah, both. Definitely both.”

You laughed softly, leaning back on your hands, but your heart was hammering in your chest. You could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you, and when you turned your head, sure enough, he wasn’t looking at the lake.

“What?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, then hesitated, his hand brushing against yours. His gaze flicked to your hand, then back to your face. “Actually, no. Not nothing.”

Your breath caught as he leaned in slightly, close enough that you could see the faint freckles on his nose and the way his lashes curled just a bit at the ends. “Percy?” you murmured.

“I just… There’s something I—”

Before he could finish, there was a massive splash.

You jumped, startled, as water sprayed up from the lake, soaking both of you. “What the—”

Another splash followed, and then another, as fish began leaping out of the water like they were performing some kind of synchronized routine.

“Are you kidding me?!” you exclaimed, shielding your face from another spray of water.

Percy groaned, his head dropping into his hands. “Oh, come on.”

You turned to him, bewildered. “What is wrong with this lake?!”

“Uh…” Percy sat up, his smile tense and unconvincing. “Must be, uh… feeding time! Yeah, fish feeding time. Totally normal.”

You squinted at him, unconvinced. “Feeding time?”

“Yep! Happens all the time. Fish stuff. Nothing weird.”

Another fish jumped, splashing water directly into your lap, and Percy groaned louder, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing!” He shot you a quick, sheepish look, then turned back to the water and hissed, “Guys. Stop it. Right now.”

You blinked. “Wait, are you talking to the fish?”

“What? No! That’s crazy.” He laughed nervously, then muttered through clenched teeth, “I swear, if you don’t knock it off, I’m going to—”

Another fish jumped, this one with an almost gleeful flop. Percy slammed a hand over his face. “They’re, uh, supportive. That’s all.”

“Supportive?” you repeated, staring at him.

“Yes! They’re very… invested in my personal life, apparently.” He glared at the lake, his jaw tight. “I was going to do it, you morons! You didn’t have to—ugh!”

The realization hit you all at once. The fish. Percy’s weird behavior. His red cheeks. You couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of you.

“Are you telling me the fish are trying to set you up?” you teased, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.

Percy groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Yes. Okay? Yes. They’re ridiculous, and now they’ve completely ruined—” He cut himself off, glancing at you nervously. “I mean, uh…”

You tilted your head, still smiling. “Ruined what?”

His face flushed deeper as he sat back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing. Forget it.”

You leaned closer, your voice softening. “Percy. Ruined what?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and the tension from before came rushing back. “I was going to…” He hesitated, swallowing hard, then let out a breath and gave you a small, lopsided smile. “Do this.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft, sweet, and a little tentative, like he wasn’t sure if he’d read everything right—but the way you kissed him back told him he had.

Somewhere behind you, a fish splashed loudly, but for once, Percy didn’t pull away. Instead, he broke the kiss just enough to mutter, “Finally.”

You laughed against his lips, your hand brushing his cheek. “I think they were rooting for you.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, they’re going to hear about it later.”

You both laughed, the moment perfectly imperfect—just like Percy.

[alansparkshark]

Might I humbly suggest a character, specifically expanding on the impressions nerd who was mentioned earlier?

The class clown, that one person who's always got a way to get a smile out of basically anyone in the class and even people from other classes. And in pursuing an ever-expanding repertoire of bits, they became something of a skill monkey - picked up impressions, ventriloquism, checks various dictionaries to expand their vocab and keep it wide, eventually branching into juggling, balancing acts, sleight of hand, etc.

But they hide two things about themselves.

Firstly, CC's family is actually filthy rich - like Oil Baron kinds of money.

The second thing is that they help out basically everyone in the class in all manner of ways. It's a secret partly because they think the others would take it as pity, partly because they don't wanna become the class fixer, and partly because they feel bad about being really well-off.

Sometimes they mask it by being their goofy, lucky self or making it look like the other person would be doing them a favor ("Hey the drink machine dropped me two lemonades, but I'm watching my sugar intake, take it off my hands will ya MC?" as they give MC his favorite brand of soft drink).

Other times they just make it look like the person with the problem solved it themselves (some mean girl-type from another class stole Emo Girl's phone to find dirt on her, Emo Girl just thinks she lost it, CC swipes it back and leaves in her locker before lunch period is over).

And very rarely, if it can be spinned into something resembling a cartoon gag, they'll just straight up offer to help (someone in the class accidentally got a collection of novelty car plates instead of something important they bought online and are now strapped for cash, and CC just so happens to know that their fifth cousin thrice removed who's filthy rich collects novelty car plates and is willing to pay for them, only there is no cousin, it's CC with a fake Facebook account buying the plates and getting their classmate the cash they need).

By the time the class is well-established heroes, CC has ramped up their helpfulness to actual comedic proportions.

Mostly because the Isekai Powers they got is literally just being a D&D Bard - whatever they're good at they get great at (they used to be somewhat good with a guitar and had musical instrument lessons because Rich Kid, now they're basically a one-person orchestra), they pick up new skills with incredible speed ("I was gonna do a bit about bird mating calls, but I ended up learning bird language in general"), they have a bag that can create whatever mundane or mildly-magical objects is needed at a given time, so long as it's taken out of the bag with enough dramatic flair (like the Prescient Planner feat line from Pathfinder, but it's always "Oh yeah something like that caught my eye on a street stall and I bought it" or "Oh I think I took it off the body of a bandit a few days ago"), they have an uncanny ability to just bullshit on the spot (not even magical, it's just honed from always making split-second jokes), and where everyone else seems to have a Little Guy Radar, CC has a Sixth Sense for when anyone needs a hand.

Football Club kinda misses his sports days? Class Clown learned leatherworking a week ago and just happened to make several balls while practicing, so now FC can teach some village kids the sport. Prep girl is working on something and her familiar is looking for attention like a house cat? CC just so happens to be missing their pet, Snuggles, and whatever creature Prep has as a familiar is close enough. It gets to the point where CC and Class Mom have entered a partnership like that one joke about the Wizard, the Rogue, and the nine pristine human skulls.

What the class isn't entirely aware of is that Class Clown will sometimes just... Leave a letter to MC with some advice on how to improve disguises, or tells him of a problem the party is having, or keeps him updated on where they're headed to next and who's doing what. They don't send the letter anywhere, just writes in a notebook like "I'm just keeping notes so I remember what's what, you know". Everyone is satisfied with that answer, makes sense yeah. And CC does so much everyday, no wonder they'll just leave the notebook wide open all over the place... where the MC can read it and keep updated on how the class is doing whenever he isn't around.

CC agrees with the class at large about bringing MC into the fold of the adventure. They just do it their own way, the kind where they didn't do anything, it was all you, or just a lucky coincidence on my part.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[targayrenss]

.the perfect gift-eddie munson

(weird gf series)

Author's note: I love blythe dolls and I really want a custom one, I thought about them while writing this, I tried not to describe her too much so you can imagine her as you do <3

Eddie knew your huge doll collection perfectly, the first time he walked into your room that was the first thing he saw.

“Wow honey, do you have a daughter I don’t know about?”

You explained to Eddie that the first of the entire collection was one that your father had given you for your fourth birthday.

After that you found a fascination with dolls, some people tend to think that the way you dress and act is because you didn’t receive love as a child or some shit like that.

But in reality your parents loved you a lot, especially your dad, he had given you most of the dolls that adorned your shelves.

“Dad gave me a personalized doll once for my birthday, my brother ripped off its head, I cried for months even kept the head, now it looks cool I guess”

Eddie listened attentively to your little story as you pointed at the doll head, he could see that it resembled you only a few different things that you had changed about yourself while discovering your style.

That story gave him the best idea in the world.

He was like crazy looking all over Hawkins for someone who could help him but apparently there were no places that could give him the help he needed, so he did it himself.

He bought a doll at the thrift store, asked Dustin's mom for help to learn how to sew and that's how he gave you the best birthday present.

All his friends were gathered at your house, eating cake while chatting when Eddie came back with a box in his hands.

“Well birthday girl I think it's time for presents”

He handed you the box while you looked at him with a silly smile

“I said no presents eds”

He rolled his eyes “just open it”

You laughed as you opened the box, your smile quickly disappeared as you looked at the contents.

Eddie looked at you anxiously waiting for a reaction from you.

“So what do you think?”

A small scream came out of you, you couldn't believe your eyes.

Your brothers and friends looked at you in confusion.

“What is it?”

You took out the doll, careful not to hurt it.

“It’s me.”

It was a mini you, your skin color, the huge eyes that this style of doll usually has, but with your eye color. The doll had all your piercings and tattoos. You looked at the drawings that simulated the ink that adorned your body. By instinct, you lifted her dress, seeing that she had even drawn the invisible tattoos that you have. Everything was perfectly detailed.

You looked at Eddie with your puppy eyes, you put the doll back in its box and then stood up, approaching Eddie.

You gave him a small kiss on the lips. “It’s the best gift I’ve received in years. Thank you very much, Eddie.”

You and Eddie were laying on your bed just hanging out.

Your eyes found the mini you on your doll shelf “do you think when I die my soul will be locked inside it? It would be nice if you could take me everywhere like that”

Eddie laughed as he gave you a small kiss on the head “shit, I can’t imagine that”

You raised your head to look at him “but you would still love me right?”

He just laughed as he nodded “for you I would put my soul inside a chucky”

You kissed his silly smile “that will keep me calm until I die”

[elliesplug]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

charles smith x reader

summary: what its like to be charles' one and only

warnings: no smut but slightly suggestive parts, reader referred to as "ma'am" once

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles is the kindest lover ever!!

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Acts of service, gift giving, and physical touch final boss.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He always puts other people’s needs before his own. Do you need something from town? He’s halfway into town before you can even finish speaking. You’re feeling hungry? He’s already grabbed his bow to go hunting. You mention that you’re feeling any form of physical pain? Don’t worry at all because Charle’s soft hands are delicately massaging your ache away.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles remembers everything. He never forgets a single detail about you. One time he overheard you mention to Tilly how badly you wanted a few strawberries to snack on. The next day Charles is riding in on Taima with a barrel full of the most beautiful and luscious looking red berries you’ve ever seen, despite them currently being out of season. He remembers all the stories you told him, even if you were the one to forget that you’ve already told him that. It’s the sweetest thing ever when he finished the ending of your stories. 

“Oh goodness did I already tell you that? I’m sorry for making you sit through all that again.” You say with a laugh.

“Don’t apologize. I’d gladly listen to that story 1 million times over if that meant I got to hear your voice for a second longer.”

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Another time Charles was admiring you as you both were sitting by the fire. You held a rough and worn out paperback version of your favorite book. This had to be your 10th re-read over the years of you having it. A mental note was quickly made by Charles of how distressed the current state of your paperback was. The next day you wake up to the smell of a warm cup of coffee that’s sitting next to a beautiful hardcover detailed with fine gold patterns. At the top of the hardcover there laid the title of your favorite book. You smiled to yourself as your fingers repeatedly ran over the golden prints. Your senses were cheerfully greeted with that new book smell he knew you adored so much.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— This man adores taking baths with his lover. It’s usually not even sexual. He just enjoys the comfort of being that close to you. The warmth of your bodies and the warmth of the bubbly water is more than enough to keep him happy for the rest of his life.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— If you’re in town with Charles and you even glance or touch something you like Charles is buying it for you. 

“Charles, c'mon you know I don’t need that. You know I can’t just let you spend all your money on me.”

Charles replies with a smug smirk across his face, “Good thing I wasn’t offering then. Looks like you’ll just have to accept it now, won't you?”

You happily gift him a kiss on the cheek in return to show your gratitude as you leave the store with your new present in hand. 

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles ALWAYS knows when something is wrong. He can tell when you’re having a rough day, when you need comfort, when you’re stressed, and when you need the space to be alone. You don’t ever need to communicate to him what mood you’re in because he already knows. He never takes it to heart when you need to be left alone and he’s the best at making you feel better, whether that be from afar or between his strong arms.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Not huge on PDA but he loves when you hold onto his arm as he guides you through the town. When he’s in private he can’t keep his hands off of you, though. Around the campfire his hand will rest on your thigh. While you’re asleep his broad chest is attached to your back as he holds you. Physical intimacy is very important to him.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Takes off your boots and litters soft kisses across your legs every night before you both go to bed.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He’ll tell the whole gang that he has to “go hunting” or that he “needs to go into town” just so he can steal you away for a bit. He’ll take you on cute dates to your favorite restaurant or skinny dipping sessions at the lake as the warm sun sets behind you’re joined bodies.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— If anyone at the camp even tries to disrespect you he’s running at your defense. One time Micah rudely commented on something you were wearing and before you could even blink a loud slap was laid across his cheek by Charles.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He likes keeping to himself but always opens up to you. The rest of the gang is in shock on how you were able to crack him open. Charles is quiet, not shy. It’s his choice who he decides to let into his life and you are more than thankful that you were that one that he chose.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— You always stay up talking by the fire late at night, even when everyone else returns to their tents.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He would never ever let you see him fight. This man is not insecure in most aspects of his life but he has a strong fear that you’ll perceive him as the violent man that the world paints him out to be.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— After every fight you clean him up even though he always suggests that it’s not necessary.

“You don’t need to do that, my love. Don’t need you getting dirty or making a mess cause of me.” He tells you.

You roll your eyes in response. “You say that every time, Charles, you sound like a broken record. Lucky for you it’s a good thing that I wasn’t offering. Looks like you’ll just have to accept it, remember? Now sit.”

A laugh escapes his lips before he replies, “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He takes you to Canada and you both spend the rest of your days happily married and together!!!

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Until i found you." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

You always felt lost, adrift, until you found him. Oddly enough, Daryl always felt the same way, until he found you. From the moment you two met until your life together in Alexandria–quite a story.

A/N: Just a short imagine. Hope you like it!

Daryl Dixon is a strong man, to fight, to survive, to protect. But in the past, Daryl was a reckless young man with nothing to lose, without big emotions, bottling everything up so as not to feel too much—Until he found his person, a purpose, a reason to want to see the sun rise one more day, until he found you. You were always a flight risk, scared to feel too much too, until one night, you flew away from that place called "home", landing in that seedy bar forgotten by God himself, the place where you met him.

Daryl was attractive, very attractive to a point where it must have been forbidden to look like that, with his broad shoulders, his long dark hair that made him look like a goddamn rock star, with his strong arms that his shirt showed off mercilessly. But young Daryl Dixon looked lost. Adrift. Without a sense of direction—just like you.

“I’m actually running away from daddy.” You answered his accusatory question, so calmly that it caused some astonishment in Daryl, although he didn’t show it. “Daddy was forcing me to marry the son of a mobster or something like that, a rich guy who would forgive daddy the debts he started to have after his gambling addiction started, so his little princess ran away from home taking with her his only chance to get out of that debt alive. However, I don't hate my daddy or have any kind of daddy issues, but I hope he gets what he deserves for trying to sell me like a fucking thing.” You smiled, mocking him, challenging him to say something witty after that revelation. “What do you think about that, Daryl? Pretty surprising, huh?”

“Shit… M'sorry. That sounds pretty fucked up.” He said breathlessly, looking at you with an almost sad expression. Then, Daryl fell into a heavy silence, but he could tell you were feisty, fighting to keep yourself alive, like a force of nature. “Well, if it helps, there’s a couch in ma apartment. S’old as fuck, but it does the job.”

The way you looked back at him was almost overwhelming, so deep as that color of your gaze, but you could say Daryl meant it. The color of his eyes, blue like a new kind of ocean, were beautiful and transparent, but dangerous with that warning that you could drown in them if you weren't careful.

But to his surprise, you agreed.

“Yeah. I really don’t have anywhere to go and you don’t look like a serial killer… well, maybe a little.” You chuckled, earning a scoff from him that made you laugh some more. “But I studied to be a vet, so if you try anything, I’ll just tell you that I know exactly where to cut you to make you bleed out. And I also have a hell of an aiming: I swear, if there is ever an apocalypse, this will save my life.”

Daryl blinked.

“Ya shittin’ me.”

You shook your head, hiding a smile.

“No, pretty boy, I’m not kidding.”

He scoffed, just to hide the slight nerves that being called that made him feel.

“Okay. Let’s go then.” Daryl stood up, taking a few bucks to pay for his drink and yours before you could do it yourself. “This is on me. Ya can pay the next one.”

Saying no more, he walked away first, leaving you alone and thinking what he meant by that. But when the girl in the bar gave you a silent look, like she was screaming at you while asking you if you were really going with him, you shrugged before grabbing your backpack and leaving the bar, too.

You two were like an unlikely duo, but maybe that's why you both looked good together. Even Merle, the asshole, said that when your one-day stay turned into a week, although to shut him up you told him the apartment needed some color so you didn't mind painting the walls red with his blood, with the gun you stole from your father. He loved you after that. And eventually, you got a job, helped pay the bills, and even cooked for everyone—forming a very strange family.

You and Daryl were quiet, always watching each other when the other wasn't looking, but it all felt like tiptoeing, on shaky ground, silently so as not to scare the bird. However, your “relationship” started with some drunken kisses, drinking Merle's alcohol to get the courage to take the first step. And you two continued like that for a while, without a title, moaning and grunting in each other's lips, in his room that was yours now.

Until one afternoon, a song popped in the radio.

Oh, I used to say, I will never fall in love again, until I found her. I said I would never fall, unless it’s you I fall into…

And like that click that two pieces made when they fit together perfectly, your feelings made more sense then, as if the panorama was clear, as if life had decided to unite all those words that didn't make any sense separately, but together, they explained everything, about you, about Daryl, about the fear of falling in love, until life, God, or whoever you believed in, left in front of you that someone you desperately needed, who, despite his own pain, showed you that people deserved to be loved completely or not at all.

There was no middle ground, because love didn't work halfway.

And you found a shelter in his arms, a real home with him: especially after a new world arose when the dead began to rise too.

Now, you are 6 months pregnant, with a bladder that is used as a soccer ball, and a baby (that was being cooked in your belly as Daryl used to say) who woke you up at odd hours demanding something to eat: so you have to listen.

When the moon takes its place at the top of the diamond sky and while the wind brings the last airs of the cold winter, the candle in the center of the dining room table keeps you company, and it's as if the silence mixes with the chorus of thoughts traveling at a thousand miles an hour inside you, along with the images your mind tries to make when you think about what the baby will be like when she or he is finally born. And it's terrifying to think about that again, but there's also a liberating emotion that allows you to stand firm on the ground, tall and strong despite your fears, with a fighting spirit that holds you up like gravity to the earth.

But between the shadows of the house that the candlelight tries to fight, you can see Daryl coming down the stairs, wearing those loose grey sleep pants even when he kept saying he looked stupid in them, shirtless, with those broad shoulders and the tattoo on his chest. It is a hot picture, kind of dirty because he is hot, older but too hot still, maybe that's why you let him get you pregnant.

However, when Daryl reaches the dining room as you finish the second brownie, you can see clearly his brow furrowed even though some of his long hair covers part of his forehead.

“Sup?” You joke, with a small nod.

“Sup? Really?” His voice is always low, deep, but in the middle of the night, it grows even deeper. “The fuck are ya doin’ here alone?”

“I’m eating, isn’t that obvious?” Using your head, you point towards the new brownie in your hand, trying to contain your laughter at his constant overprotectiveness. You loved that, but sometimes he treated you like you were suddenly made of porcelain. “And you?”

Daryl scoffs.

“Me? Jus’ woke up and saw that ma very pregnant wife ain’t where she should be.”

You chuckle.

“Daryl, I’m pregnant, but I still can use my legs to come down and eat in the middle of the night when the baby demands. If you have any complaints with she or he, please put them in writing, but I can tell you that there is a waiting list of approximately 3 months.”

He tries, he tries really hard no to laugh at the silly joke, but in the end, Daryl chuckles as he pulls the chair to seat on the corner of the table.

“I see ya’re feeling better, sweetheart, considerin’ how grumpy ya were this afternoon. But if ya get hungry when ya’re in bed, ya can jus’ tell me, y’know? I can bring ya up whatever ya need. And where ya got those damn brownies from?”

“Carol made them. Even when you told her to stop feeding me so much sugar.” You take a bite before answering, earning another scoff from him. “You look very domestic with those pants; you know?”

Daryl lets out a small growl of frustration.

“I look stupid, but this is more comfortable than sleepin’ with jeans.”

You nod, thoughtful.

“You can always sleep in boxers.”

Hearing your words, Daryl chuckles.

“Ya are pregnant and yet ya’re tryin’ to get into ma boxers.”

You chuckle, too.

“I was just making a comparison!”

“Oh, yeah?” The corner of his lip curves into a smile. “Then ya got to know I don't sleep in ma boxers anymore so ya don’t try to ravish ma body in the middle of the night. Yer poor husband jus’ wants to sleep while ya try to make him uncomfortable when ya pressed yer body against mine all night.”

Half surprise, you laugh.

“I get cold at night, you asshole! That's what I get for having to carry your baby.”

Daryl chuckles, placing his elbow in the table to hold his chin in his hand, closing his eyes as he tries to fight off sleep.

“Jus’ finish feedin’ the baby so we can go back to bed.”

You take another bite before talking again.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m stayin’.” He says, barely a second after you finish speaking.

You shrug even though he's not looking, eating another brownie that probably won't let you sleep, but the baby kicking your organs won't either, so. And for a moment, lost in your own thoughts, you miss the way Daryl opens his eyes after a while, taking in all of you.

You're wearing a loose white t-shirt, but somehow, that piece of clothing, which doesn’t show your figure at all, makes you look younger, like the person he met in the bar that night—your hair is tied in a half ponytail, the rest of it falling over your shoulders and back. But Daryl loves that until that day, you stand out in that world too, and it’s like seeing a brilliant sapphire among a pile of discolored rocks. And for a moment, an overwhelming nervousness takes over Daryl when you lock eyes with him.

“What?” You chuckle.

“Ya’re beautiful.”

He just says it like that, and you smile a little bit, trying to hide your shyness.

“Thank you, love.” You say softy. His voice is deep but is soft, honest, like the beginning of your story, and with your plate empty, you wipe any crumbs from your mouth before standing up. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed."

There, when you both reach your bed, you stroke his hair, his hand on your belly. Daryl stays in that position almost all night, eyes closed to focus only in the sensations, remembering the first night when he fell asleep with his head on your chest, with your hand caressing his scalp, a gentle massage with your soft fingers. And now, he can still feel that and the baby's movement.

Yeah, you were a flight risk, until you found him.

[lucygraysboy]

“once we’re done here, i’ll wash it and it’ll be as good as new,” he promises, knowing how much sentimental value the dress has. fingertips absently stroking her hair, not even trying to brush it anymore, just trying to make her feel good and help her relax. “i haven’t, by the way. gone through your songbook, i mean.” in case she’s wondering. she gave him permission to do so last night, but it seemed too personal, too invasive. “thank you, lucy gray.” it’s been a while since someone complimented his heart. people often admire what’s on the outside — his blue eyes and dark curls, his nose or cheekbones. she’s one of a very few who seem to care more about what’s underneath. “it means the world to me. i won’t let you down, i swear it.” scooping up a handful of water, he carefully pours it over her back to ensure she stays warm. “so are you, little bird. you’re very smart, too. way smarter than me.” she wouldn’t be here with him if she wasn’t highly intelligent. she wouldn’t have escaped coriolanus. which is still such a strange thought… “oh, yeah?” thankful for the distraction, he lets out another laugh. “never noticed you were also bird-sized and i was horse-sized,” he counters, getting to see her sense of humor for the first time and letting it bewitch him. he adores this side of her, but it has him wondering if this is the girl that she used to be — full of sassy remarks and giggles and sweetness. maybe she’ll be that girl again one day.

“i see…” billy hums, nodding his head even if she can’t really see him. he quickly picks up on what she’s implying, putting two and two together. the stories that she told him last night… “you don’t think my brother was born with a good heart, is that what you’re sayin’?” as children, they were like daylight and dark. polar opposites. but can he call that little boy evil? sure, they’d had their differences, but he wasn’t bad to the bone. he didn’t chase stray cats around the neighborhood or rip the wings off flies. “i’m not sure if i agree. maybe the capitol and our grandmother did that to him.” or maybe he was born with evil already inside him and it just came to light later in life. who knows? “i’m not defendin’ him, just thinkin’ out loud,” he says quickly when lucy gray’s head snaps around, looking at him with something that he can’t quite name or understand. it has him wondering if he’s said something wrong. a small, uncertain smile remains plastered to his visage, his own heart picking up pace. “did i —” say something wrong? but before he can get the words out, she’s speaking up again and he’s falling silent. gesturing for her to carry on.

“you planted a snake to scare him away and slow him down?” dark brows lifting, impressed and wary in equal measure. what if she still thinks he’s coriolanus? will he wake up with a snake under his pillow one morning? and lucy gray nowhere to be found? the idea has his heart missing a beat, chest constricting. but if she wanted to run, she would have done that while he was out by the creek. “i didn’t know ‘bout that. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to bring back any bad memories with that story.” features softening, understanding her reaction better now. amusement fills his eyes, and he can’t help but think it’s such a badass move, setting a snake trap. “oh, i bet he thought it was venomous. what does he know ‘bout snakes? nothin’. i think that was a smart move. risky but smart. and it served its purpose, right?” it’s scary to think that his own twin brother was trying to hunt her down, shot at her, but then he thinks about their father, the kind of person he was… and it’s not so surprising anymore. “you think he would have hurt you anyway? if you came back to him instead of runnin’ away and plantin’ that snake?” is his brother truly as ruthless and heartless as their father? his heart aches for lucy gray, but for coriolanus, too. it must be awful, living that way, filled with hatred. “mhm, yeah. it’s just a silly story, but the moral is very accurate, i think. if you go through life with hatred festering in your heart, you’ll never be happy. but if you learn how to forgive and focus on healing from the bad experiences, you’ll be alright.” as if reading her thoughts, he adds, “he won’t ever find you, lucy gray. reva blue and i won’t allow it. we will always protect you. i will protect you.” 

"it does look like feathers." maybe that's how her mama decided to design it, thinking so as the songstress sweetly smiles. "thank you, that means so much to me." that he likes the way she sings. lucy gray laughs at first before shaking her head to correct him, "because you and horses have good hearts and brave ones." she just had to be careful praising someone's heart before really knowing it first, just like the moment of phrasing you seem like a good man, coriolanus snow. she scolds herself constantly for being so naive. "they're smart and you're smart." knowing how to survive like this. "and you are a lot taller than me way down here, so that could be another thing..." her turn to tease.

perking up in interest, brows raising as she sits with his fingers in her hair. finding what he's saying really fascinating when it sounds familiar to something she'd say. "i used to think they were made, too. sometimes i have my doubts." if coriolanus was right, people like him really were born that way. "but maybe now there's proof, they're either born or made." with him being the twin to coriolanus. then he tells this next story and a strange flash of fear strikes through her. that was a coincidence, right?

shifting slightly to glance at his face, making sure he once again wasn't somehow coriolanus– not going to drown her in this water while she's not looking after telling her this story, mind backtracking all the way back to her first theory of his mind being twisted by dr. gaul. until she realizes there's no way he knows all that stuff about district thirteen, that this type of kindness can be faked and she's back to reality. she really has to stop doing that... when she realizes even her heart's picked up speed beneath her chest.

"well, snake's and me are very familiar with one another." forcing herself to chill out, a wry laugh quietly emitting from her. "and there's a lot of irony in that..." she points out, an odd smile gracing her face, "when i placed a snake out, i set it as a trap. to stall time for myself. it bit coriolanus and i knew it wasn't venomous, then that's what really set him off to go shooting at me." wasn't like he wasn't going to do that anyway, probably. but that's what's so crazy about the similarities with billy's story. "the one who went back to the village. that's the one who lived a happy life?" she answers, while feeling scared that's how coriolanus probably feels towards her... hating her guts, obsessing over hating her guts each day, ready and waiting for the second chance at killing her for revenge. "i agree... i could have definitely turned rotten by now, yet i've not. and the same for you..." as long as he's telling the truth about it all.

[voxslays]

WHISKEY AND WINE

TLDR >>> Alastor x Reader; When a hyena-like sinner tries to hit on you, Alastor is there to save the day. Warnings >>> Alastor is maybe a bit possessive??, unestablished relationship, jealousy (from Alastor), a random demon hits on you.

Chaos. That’s all there was. At first, when Charlie suggested that you and your fellow hotel patrons go to a popular club in the downtown district of pride called ‘consent’, you didn’t think it would be half bad. Unfortunately, you were wrong. As soon as you arrived at the brightly lit discotheque Niffty ran off to who knows where—forcing Charlie and Vaggie to run off to catch her.

Pentious was looking as desperate and pathetic as ever in his attempts to woo Cherri—failing miserably. At the bar, was husk, slouched and leaning over the counter, and leaning on him was Angel…which left you and Alastor together. You had never minded Alastor, and at times, you could even go as far to say you liked him as a companion—but the way he looked at you tonight was uncanny.

You could feel him staring holes into the back of your head as you talked to some random hyena-like sinner who couldn’t take a hint. “Oh I’m sorry..but I really must be going back to my friends now.” Suddenly, you feel a sharp, clawed hand on your shoulder. When you look up, you see the one and only radio demon, who has decided to come to your rescue.

He chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he turns to the sinner, his voice low and commanding and filled with disgust. "I believe they have had enough of your company for tonight." The overlord says sharply. “Aww c’mon man!” The hyena groans, almost as though he has forgotten the dangerous overlord infront of him. The demon grips your wrist and tries to pull you closer.

Alastor’s smile widens, showing off his sharp teeth, as his eyes dangerously narrow. "Enough.” Alastor says, his neck craning to the side as his eyes slowly become radio dials—similar to the ones on his signature radio. The static around you intensifies. “I’m sorry! Jesus!” You hear the hyena say in shock and fear. “Now shoo, you insolent wretch." He waves his clawed hand dismissively. The hyena, realizing who he's dealing with, quickly backs away, leaving you alone with Alastor.

“Thanks, Al.” You smile up at him appreciatively. The overlords usual stoic expression softens slightly at your smile. For a moment, you'd almost swear there was a hint of fondness in his gaze "Of course, my dear.” Alastor pauses for a moment. “Why don’t we head back to the hotel?” He asks, followed by a low ‘hmm?’ from the radio demon. “Sure.” You agree.

Alastor quickly walks over to a half-asleep husk. And damn, will he have a rough morning tomorrow. “Husker.” Alastor snaps his clawed red fingers, roughly commanding the cat demons attention. “My doe and I will be going back to the hotel early. Make sure everyone arrives back safely.” This gets a light grumble of acknowledgment from a very drunk Husk. “Wonderful.” Alastor walks back over to you, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You graciously lock arms with the tall, red demon. The two of you stroll out of the flashy club and down the streets of pentagram city—all the way until you reach the now deserted hotel. It’s quiet inside as you unlock the doors and turn on the front lights, but it’s oddly peaceful. The two of you enter the hotel, the heavy doors shutting behind you with a thud. Alastor turns to lock them, ensuring no unwanted guests will be disturbing your peace tonight. He then turns to you, his red eyes glowing softly in the dim light of the lobby.

For a few moments, your eyes lock in a sensual way. Alastor’s eyes almost look as if they were clouded in desire. But that’s impossible…right? Since when has Alastor ever looked at you like that? Alastor's gaze lingers on yours for a prolonged moment, an uncharacteristic tenderness flickering across his usually stoic features. He clears his throat, breaking the intense eye contact. "Quite the night, wasn't it?"

“It was.” You smile happily. Alastor looks at you again, his expression unreadable underneath his smile. "I think I'll head up to my room, doe. It’s been an eventful evening." He starts to turn away, but pauses, his arm still locked with yours. “You should probably get some rest as well, my dear.” He suggests, although it seemed more like a demand and less like a friendly suggestion. “You’re right.” You yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Alastor nods, his clawed hand gently squeezing your arm before releasing it. "Goodnight, then." He says softly, a flicker of something unidentifiable passing through his crimson eyes. You watch as he walks up the stairs and leaves you alone in the lobby. The only good thing about sleeping—in your mind—is that you’ll get to see Alastor sooner. You smile softly to yourself as you make your way to your bedroom, ready to do it all again.