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whizzing-fizzbee · 1 day ago

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I have a doozy of a work week coming up, so I don't anticipate having much time to write. So enjoy this little Valentine's Day angst-fluff-smut combo I’ve been sitting on for a while. Thank you for reading and have a splendid Valentine's Day if you celebrate - regardless, you are loved! ❤️

XOXO, Anonymous

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Words: 6,323 Tags: friends to lovers, Valentine's Day, love letters, misunderstandings, mutual pining, angst, fluff, Seb is extra stupid in this one

Summary: Sebastian Sallow has been hopelessly in love with Annalisa Lark since the day they met during fifth year. So when he discovers a love letter to Ominis seemingly sent from her, he begins a downward spiral. Once the truth comes out, he'll realize actions sometimes speak louder than words.

Notes: This one's split into two parts in case you want to skip the smut. Part I is angst and fluff. Part II is smut. All characters are 18-year-old seventh years. MC in this one is a Ravenclaw named Annalisa Lark.

Read on AO3 or both parts below the cut.

Part I

Sebastian Sallow trudged into his dormitory, exhausted after a particularly grueling quidditch practice. The room was empty, presumably because all his roommates were already elbow-deep in their dinners.

Sebastian would have gone straight to the Great Hall to join them, but he’d been neglecting a Potions essay that was due in the morning. He just needed to grab a book and he’d head to the library for a few hours of writing.

Except Sebastian’s Potions book was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath as he realized he’d left it in the locker room. With no desire to make the trek all the way back to the quidditch pitch, Sebastian decided he’d merely borrow Ominis’ book. Surely Ominis had completed the essay ages ago.

The book sat on the desk next to Ominis’ bed, resting on its back atop a neat stack of parchment. Sebastian picked it up and moved to gather some parchment and quills of his own when a folded sheet slipped from the book’s pages. It fluttered to the floor and landed face-up, open, as if its contents were meant to be seen.

Typically, Sebastian wouldn’t dare read his friend’s mail. He would never willingly violate Ominis’ trust, not after it had taken him two years to regain it after the events of fifth year. But a few choice words scrawled on the parchment caught Sebastian’s eye as he bent down to retrieve it. He paused, his hand hovering above the letter until he finally gathered the nerve to pick it up and read it.

His tired pout morphed into a full-fledged frown.

Dearest Ominis,

Your last letter made me smile. You have such a way with words that I always find myself re-reading your letters over and over again. I hope they never stop, even if we can one day be together.

Speaking of, have you given any further thought to discussing our potential relationship with Sebastian? I know you’re worried it could sever your friendship, but please don’t. He cares about both of us far too much, and I truly believe he merely wants to see us happy.

I love you, Ominis. I love you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. After everything that happened to me during fifth year, I’ve realized life is far too short to be separated from the ones we love.

Please give what I said some more consideration. See you soon.

XOXO, A.

It took a moment for Sebastian to realize his hands were shaking. His palms were sweating and his stomach churned. He couldn’t even pinpoint which emotion had taken charge of his body – disbelief, surely, but what about the betrayal? And the pain… my god, the pain. It slammed through Sebastian’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He read it again. Call him a masochist, but he had to be sure he understood correctly. He prayed his eyes had somehow managed to trick him, that it had all been a projection of his own deepest fears, or perhaps some cruel prank Ominis cooked up.

But Ominis wasn’t a prankster. And he would never joke about something as complex as Sebastian’s feelings – not when it came to her. Or so he thought.

Sebastian had loved Annalisa Lark since the day she absolutely dismantled him during a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She was stunning to him in every sense of the word, and while their friendship was sometimes turbulent, Sebastian flocked to her like children to candy. He’d never admit to it, though. The only person who seemed to understand was Ominis.

But now, it seemed Ominis understood more than he’d let on. Sebastian stilled himself, the letter still in his hand. Had his best friend really stolen the love of his life? Perhaps that was a bit dramatic. She wasn’t Sebastian’s to steal. He was certain she didn’t even have those kinds of feelings for him. Still, surely Ominis knew about that unspoken gentlemen’s rule about not romancing your best friend’s love interest.

Sebastian’s shock shifted to fury. His conniption swelled as he mulled the situation over. His best friend had swooped in on her. The one and only girl he couldn’t bear to lose.

He had to toss the letter aside to stop himself from crumpling it into a ball. Knives clouded his vision. He could choke Ominis until the life left his eyes. She said she loved him. She told Ominis the only words that could likely save Sebastian from a tragic demise.

And worst of all, they’d kept their romance a secret from him. They didn’t deem him worthy of sharing their secret. They thought it’d be easier to keep him out of their equation. He wasn’t meant to be a part of their secret society.

Sebastian sank onto his bed, his gaze wavering in and out of focus. He didn’t know what to do. Should he storm down to the Great Hall and demand answers from them? Should he keep quiet and pretend he didn’t know? Should he make a last-ditch effort love declaration in hopes of stealing Annalisa back to her rightful place?

All of those options made sense in Sebastian’s mind, but Sebastian Sallow rarely made sense when it came to the most important matters of the heart.

Dinner and Potions essays be damned, Sebastian decided to retreat to the Undercroft.

---

“Sebastian! There you are.”

For the first time in nearly three years, Sebastian was dismayed to find Annalisa in the Undercroft. She was curled up on a sofa she’d conjured during their fifth year, a book open across her lap.

Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see it was a romance novel. She was always reading those, as if she enjoyed the escapism into a world of longing stares and declarations of desire. She didn’t know she was living inside one of those novels; though this one was currently creeping toward an angst-ridden, tragic ending as far as Sebastian was concerned. The trope of his life was morphing from secret pining to the one that got away.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied. It was their routine greeting, a symbol of their bond since they were fifteen. Even in crisis, he wouldn’t stray from it. He needed its familiarity.

“Where’ve you been?” Annalisa asked curiously as she shifted to one side of the sofa to make room for him.

“Quidditch practice.”

“Did you eat? I didn’t see you at dinner. I have some apples in my bag.”

Sebastian shook his head as he took the other half of the sofa. His posture betrayed him. He typically slouched into his seat, his knees parted while his hands absentmindedly twirled his wand. But tonight, he was rigid, his spine far too stiff and straight to fool her. “I’m not hungry.”

Annalisa frowned, her book now forgotten as she set it aside. “Since when have you ever turned down a meal?” she demanded with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian lied.

Annalisa scowled at him. “Sebastian Edward Sallow, do not play with me.”

Sebastian nearly barked a laugh at the irony of it all. If anything, she was the one playing with him; sneaking around behind his back with his own best friend, penning him passionate love letters while Sebastian had been none the wiser.

He wanted to be disgusted with her, to lash out and demand answers. He wanted her to know how hurt he was by her decision to omit him from such a significant portion of her life. Even if she didn’t choose him, she could have at least filled him in on her stirring new romance – especially since it involved their mutual best friend.

But Sebastian could never be repulsed by her, even if he felt slighted. She was too much of all the good things Sebastian admired in life – a stunning little spitfire compressed into five feet of fearless conviction. She was compassionate and complex; she didn’t view the world in black and white the way so many others preferred to. She understood the frayed seams between good and evil and light and darkness.

That realization was the moment Sebastian was certain he loved her. She stood by him after Solomon’s death and offered him unwavering support, because she knew the nuances of right and wrong. She had blood on her hands, too. The difference in their bloodshed was hers was an effort to quell darkness; Sebastian’s bloodshed had embraced it.

Still, Annalisa understood Sebastian at a level that transcended mere friendship, and because of that, Sebastian had grown certain she was his soulmate. But now, he wasn’t sure he knew her at all.

“Sebastian…” Annalisa was still peering at him expectantly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, his tense posture still exposing his discomfort. “I’m just exhausted, is all.

Annalisa opened her mouth, fully prepared to interrogate him into a confession, but the entrance to the Undercroft clanged open again, revealing Ominis’ arrival. Sebastian stiffened even more.

“Ominis!” Annalisa greeted. “Sebastian here was just about to tell me why he’s so moody.”

“Sebastian, moody? I can’t imagine,” came Ominis’ dry reply.

Sebastian was in no mood for teasing remarks. Not when he was the third wheel to the two people he thought he trusted most. His irritation surged, and before he could suppress it, he was on his feet.

“I’ll just leave you two to it then, yeah?” he snapped.

“Sebastian, what-”

Sebastian brushed past a stunned Ominis and sulked from the Undercroft.

---

Sebastian hated Valentine’s Day. What a stupid, sordid excuse of a holiday, he thought. He slouched over his corner of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall as he watched his classmates exchange jovial greetings and giggles over romantic gifts. It was positively nauseating. The arrival of Ominis taking the seat across from him didn’t sweeten the day.

“Brooding in the corner on Valentine’s Day,” Ominis mused. “How very cliche of you.” Sebastian didn’t reply. Ominis sighed and set his stack of books on the table between them. “Going to share with the class what’s had you so bent out of shape?”

Again, no reply. Ominis was no stranger to Sebastian’s tempestuous moods. They always became particularly stormy when Annalisa was inundated with attention from their classmates. Today, she sat at the Ravenclaw table with a short stack of valentines and an assortment of sweets surrounding her. Truthfully, Sebastian could cope with that – he’d witnessed their classmates’ attempts to court Annalisa on countless occasions. He was used to that. He wasn’t used to the nauseating knowledge that his own best friend was the one who had secured her heart, and in secret nonetheless.

“Alright, mate,” Ominis sighed as he gathered his books again and stood. “But Cupid’s arrow isn’t going to find you while you’re commiserating by your lonesome self in a corner.”

As he retreated toward the doors of the Great Hall, Sebastian considered chucking a potato at his head. But something else stole his attention.

Another letter. Ominis must have left it accidentally in his haste to flee Sebastian’s orbit of agony. Sebastian snatched it off the table immediately, took a quick glance around the Great Hall, and read.

Dearest Ominis,

Happy Valentine’s Day, love! Thank you for the gorgeous flowers. They look positively stunning at my bedside. I look forward to gazing at them as the last thing I’ll see before I fall asleep. You are always the last thing on my mind at night anyway.

I am so looking forward to seeing you tonight. I hope it will be just as special for you as it is for me. See you at 7:00.

XOXO, A.

The edges of the parchment curled inward as Sebastian’s hands shook. They had a secret date planned for the night. They were going to have a romantic night together and neither of them felt any obligation to tell him. Their friendship was no longer a trio. They were a pair, plus one, single fool.

Sebastian crumpled the letter and stashed it in his pocket. He prayed Cupid would choke on a pumpkin pasty.

---

Sebastian’s sour mood didn’t stop there. It devolved by the afternoon, until all who crossed his path were at risk of a terrible lashing.

Finally, Annalisa found him pouting beneath the Transfiguration Courtyard fountain.

“Sebastian,” she said sternly, her green eyes drilling him with impatience. “What is the matter with you? Ominis says you’re positively insufferable. What has happened?”

Of course Ominis called him that. Ominis was a treasonous, back-stabbing traitor who was too cowardly to even admit he was in love. If Sebastian had Annalisa, he’d tell the whole world, and would burn it down if anyone dared to question him.

“Ominis knows exactly what he’s done,” Sebastian snapped.

“Clearly not,” Annalisa challenged him. “All we know is something has you upset. Stop isolating yourself and tell us. Tell me, at the very least.”

How rich. She was begging him to tell her, when she hadn’t bothered to tell him about her new little love affair.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet as he gazed at her with a pointed stare. “I’ll tell you my secret when you tell me yours.”

Annalisa blinked at him. “Secret? Sebastian, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Sebastian slipped past her to head inside the castle in search of someplace more secluded. “Then neither do I.”

He wasn’t proud of his prickly behavior. It was reminiscent of his fifth year, when his obsession with curing Anne’s curse pushed him into a manic state, void of any logic. He wasn’t that far gone now, but he certainly was allowing his emotions to control him.

Fine. If Ominis and Annalisa were so into writing silly little love letters, he’d do the same.

Sebastian retreated to his dormitory, where he was relieved to find himself alone. He sat at his desk with two blank sheets of parchment in front of him.

Ominis,

It has come to my attention that you have entered into a romantic partnership with Annalisa. To say that I feel betrayed and slighted is an understatement. I thought you were aware of my feelings regarding our mutual friend and would use better judgment. It’s clear the two of you have chosen each other over me, so consider this my resignation from our friendship.

Sebastian E. Sallow

He snatched the parchment up and crushed it in his hand. This was meant to be a deeply personal declaration of deception and distress, not a polite invitation for afternoon tea.

He tried again.

Ominis–

I know your secret. Consider this the final fallen pillar of our friendship.

See you in hell, Sebastian

Much better. One down, one to go. But the second one wasn’t as simple.

Sebastian was certain he could be romantic, right? He’d been on his fair share of dates, had plenty of experience with girls. In truth, he had his pick of most girls at Hogwarts. Sure, he didn’t have the family name and wealth that Ominis had to offer, but he had a bright future as an early acceptance into the Ministry of Magic’s Auror program. He was charming and intelligent, charismatic enough to sway most people he encountered to his side.

Surely he could pen one simple love letter. But for as silver-tongued as he was when it came to getting himself out of trouble or convincing his classmates to help him with various endeavors, Sebastian had no idea how to tell a girl he loved her.

He sat glued to that spot for a good hour until the reject pile of letters not good enough for Annalisa’s eyes had formed a small stack on the desktop. No words could convey what he felt for her. No words were pretty or poignant enough.

Annalisa,

I know you’re in love with Ominis and I don’t want to stand in the way of the happiness you deserve. But if there’s any chance I could ever compete for your heart, please know that I won’t go down without a fight.

I’ve loved you since that first day in Hecat’s class. I know I haven’t made life easy on you, but loving you’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

Tell me I have even the slightest shot at being yours and I promise you’ll always have my full effort.

Forever yours, Sebastian

It wasn’t good enough, but it was the best he could manage. He wasn’t meant to craft eloquent prose like Annalisa’s favorite romance novels. Because this was real, not a fictional work intended to entertain the masses, and Sebastian wanted to be sure she knew that. This was his brutal honesty, raw and real.

He sighed as he decided these two letters would have to do. He pocketed Annalisa’s and placed the other on Ominis’ nightstand before slinking off to the kitchens to eat dinner in solitude.

By the time he was finished, his pocket watch indicated it was 6:30. Ominis and Annalisa would be heading off to their date soon, likely at some romantic restaurant where they could cozy up to one another away from prying eyes. Sebastian couldn’t stand to picture it.

He had originally planned to send Annalisa’s letter via owl, but impulse control was never Sebastian’s strength. So in an act of desperation, he trekked up to Ravenclaw Tower and lingered outside the common room.

In a serendipitous act of fate, Samantha Dale was just returning from dinner.

“Samantha,” Sebastian breathed in relief. The Ravenclaw stopped in her tracks and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here? Meeting Annalisa?”

“Oh, er, yes. Except I was hoping to surprise her,” Sebastian said, hoping he was convincing.

“Ooh, are you finally taking her on a date?” Samantha squealed. “It’s about time.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, but it’s a surprise. Can you let me into the common room?”

“Of course, right this way.” Samantha led Sebastian inside and gestured toward the girls’ dormitories. “Pretty sure you’ve been up here before, yes? You remember the way?”

Sebastian nodded and thanked Samantha, who continued into the common room. He strode hastily toward Annalisa’s dorm, praying she’d still be there. He knocked gently and felt his stomach contort at the sound of her voice inviting the visitor inside.

“Sebastian?” Annalisa blinked as he creaked the door open. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Sebastian was more confused than her. She was wearing pajamas and she sat up in bed, cozied beneath the covers with a book open. She certainly did not appear to be preparing for a romantic date.

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked stupidly. Annalisa snorted.

“Sebastian, I live here.”

“But… you have a date.”

“I do? That’s news to me.”

That’s when Sebastian also realized there were no flowers on her nightstand. What was going on? Was this some sort of prank? A bizarre dream – perhaps an astral projection? He felt sick.

“But… but you and Ominis…”

Annalisa tilted her head, perplexed by the entire interaction as her eyes narrowed in concern. “Ominis? What does he have to do with this? Sebastian, what is going on? You’ve been acting so strange lately.”

“I…” Sebastian’s entire frame deflated, his shoulders slumping forward and his knees threatening to buckle. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Annalisa motioned for him to sit on the side of the bed. She watched him carefully as he did so, his hands resting atop his knees. He looked exhausted.

“What’s this date you were talking about?” Annalisa asked as she tossed her book aside.

Sebastian sighed. There was no recovering from this. Even if he wanted to get out of this, to sweet talk her with some excuse, he knew he’d only leave with despair in his heart. “I thought you and Ominis had a date,” he said.

Annalisa looked like he’d slapped her. “You’re not serious.”

“I saw the letters. Your letters.”

“What letters?”

“The ones you wrote to Ominis.”

Annalisa felt dizzy, which was alarming because she was certain Sebastian was the one who’d gone loopy. “I didn’t write Ominis any letters,” she said. “Why would I? I see him every day. I don’t need to write him.”

Sebastian’s chest constricted. A flush crept from his neck into his cheeks. His lungs screamed for air. He didn’t understand.

“You’re not dating Ominis?”

“What?!”

Oh no. Had he really gotten it all wrong? How? He’d seen the letters with his own eyes. It all added up in his head. Had he really let himself spiral into an episode of assumptions and self-doubt?

“Sebastian,” Annalisa continued, her voice a breath of laughter and perplexion. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you I was dating Ominis?”

“No one told me. I accidentally saw letters written to him – love letters.”

Annalisa was clearly intrigued, another indication that she had nothing to do with said letters. “Love letters? To Ominis? From whom? And what made you think they were from me?”

“I only saw two of them, but they were both signed by the initial A,” Sebastian explained. “And one of them talked about a date tonight.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t me,” Annalisa laughed. “This book is my hot date for the night.”

“But then, who…”

Annalisa giggled, her eyes glinting with a facetious, knowing smile. “Sebastian, come on,” she said. “Think.”

“But I don’t-”

“Anne!” Annalisa continued.

“Anne?”

Sebastian froze as all the mental pieces shifted in his brain. Merlin. It made perfect sense – more sense than Ominis and Annalisa.

“You mean Ominis and Anne are in love?”

“Yes, silly,” Annalisa snorted. “Anyone with two eyes can see it.”

“But Ominis has two eyes and can’t s-”

“Sebastian, that’s beside the point.”

“Right, sorry. But… you knew? About them?”

“Not for sure,” Annalisa said. ��But it’s always been pretty obvious that those two love each other. They share everything and they really only trust each other… they’d do anything for each other. Of course they’re in love.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa stared at him with exasperated eyes. “You really thought I’d date Ominis?”

“I mean, the two of you adore each other.”

“Yes, because we’re great friends. Surely you know we’d never consider each other romantically.”

“I didn’t think so, but then I saw those letters and… I just thought maybe I’d overlooked something between you two,” Sebastian explained.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Annalisa said. “Obviously I’m not on a hot date with our mutual friend. I didn’t have a date tonight, so I’m enjoying a cozy night in.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa’s brow furrowed as her gaze locked in on the folded parchment in Sebastian’s hand. “What’s that?”

Sebastian swallowed. There was no going back, he reminded himself. But this wasn’t how he wanted to tell her. He wanted to woo her with melodic words and grand gestures symbolic of his feelings. He wanted to make a case for himself she couldn’t refuse.

But if he had to convince her to love him, it wasn’t the right kind of reciprocation anyway. Still, his nerves were getting the best of him.

“It’s nothing, spare bit of parchment,” he tried to say with a shrug. Annalisa shot him a look.

“What is it?” she demanded.

Sebastian frantically scanned his brain for the right words. He only had one shot at this. He had to get it right.

“It’s a letter.”

“One of Anne’s letters to Ominis?”

“No. A letter from me to you.”

Annalisa tilted her head quizzically. “What do you mean? Why? What does it say?”

Sebastian averted his gaze, his eyes on the parchment in his hands. “Before I hand this to you, before I allow you to read it,” he started. “I want you to know that it was a result of a severe misunderstanding. When I thought you were in love with Ominis… I felt like I was going mental.”

“Is that why you stormed out of the Undercroft and have been sulking so much?”

“Yes.”

“Sebastian, why didn’t you just say something to us?”

“Because I thought you were trying to keep it a secret from me.”

“Why would we do that?”

“To avoid my wrath, apparently. Judging from the letters, it sounds like Anne wants me to know but Ominis is afraid to tell me.”

Annalisa’s lips curved in another knowing smile. “To be fair, I can’t say I blame him,” she said. “This is your sister we’re talking about here.”

“I know, but if there’s anyone I do trust to date my sister, it’s Ominis. He’s the only person I’d trust with her.”

“Well then, it sounds like you both have been making some inaccurate assumptions,” Annalisa mused.

“I suppose so.” Sebastian raked a hand through his hair. “Look, when I thought you and Ominis were together, I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sebastian,” Annalisa laughed. “I just don’t understand why it had you so upset.”

“Because I don’t handle jealousy well,” Sebastian answered.

“Jealousy? Sebastian, don’t tell me you’re struggling to find a girlfriend. You-”

It was a good thing Sebastian was absolutely smitten with Annalisa, because for as brilliant as she truly was, she could be quite dense when it came to personal matters of the heart. “I thought Ominis had taken the only person I’m interested in,” Sebastian cut in. He maintained his gaze on the parchment, terrified to watch as the understanding settled within Annalisa.

“Sebastian,” she breathed.

“Here,” Sebastian said as he extended his arm to offer her the letter. “Now you can have this.”

Annalisa reached tentatively for the letter, as if she knew reading it would change everything. Sebastian didn’t look as he listened to her unfold it. The room fell silent as her eyes scanned his penmanship. When he heard her inhale sharply, Sebastian considered flinging himself out the window.

He wasn’t prepared for her reaction. He had long accepted the reality that she could never possibly love him mutually. She might love him as a close friend, but she’d never understand the magnitude of her presence in his life. She was more than his shoulder to lean on and partner in crime; she was the gravity that grounded Sebastian to this world. If he lost her, he’d lose the anchor that kept the sea of dysphoria from sweeping him away again.

Sebastian decided he’d start by apologizing. He’d tell her he never meant to jeopardize their bond. He hadn’t even meant to fall for her. But he wasn’t sorry for loving her. It was the most genuine emotion he had.

Then he’d assure Annalisa that their friendship didn’t have to change. He was determined to maintain it. He’d fight every one of his emotions tooth and nail for her. She had to understand that he’d never expect anything more from her than the privilege to merely be a part of her life.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa breathed. He finally turned to look at her and was stunned to see tears welling in her eyes. “Sebastian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not really a casual topic for dinner discussion.”

“Sebastian, really.” Annalisa sniffed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian averted his gaze again, riddled by guilt and fear. He fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket while both seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa repeated. She slipped from beneath the covers to sit next to him. Sebastian fought desperately to think about anything other than the way her silk pajamas clung to her body. “Sebastian, look at me.”

He exhaled slowly as he turned to face her, awaiting his fateful sentence. He assumed she’d let him down gently, tell him they were better off as friends. She was far too kind to raise her voice at him, though she was also fiery enough that she might slap him.

Instead, she threw her arms around him. Sebastian’s lungs deflated as he stilled, stunned by her sudden embrace.

“Sebastian, you fool. You know I love you too,” she mumbled, her words muffled against his neck. It ignited a new heat that coursed through his limbs. He swallowed as her words clashed with the feeling of her soft lips against his skin. It was a staggering juxtaposition of sweet relief and untamed desire.

She loved him? Had he really managed to overlook that major detail in his life? Had there been signs? Sebastian blinked in disbelief. He'd orchestrated his fair share of stupid events, but this one took first place.

Annalisa closed her eyes as she continued to cling to Sebastian. “You really thought I was in love with Ominis?”

“Ominis is brilliant,” Sebastian offered with a shrug. “Girls seem to like that whole polished and proper thing he has going on.”

Annalisa snorted against his neck and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile in spite of his nerves. “Sebastian, when have I ever been the prim and proper type?” she murmured. The more she spoke and the more her lips buzzed vibrations across his skin, the more Sebastian squirmed.

“That’s true,” he answered, forcing his words until they sounded steady. “You do seem to have a proclivity for chaos and dramatics.”

Annalisa drew away just far enough to peer upward at him with a pointed gaze. Her green eyes gleamed with coquetry. “It’s not like I go looking for chaos,” she huffed. “It just seems to find me… sort of way you found me. Sometimes it’s good to attract chaos.”

“Are you calling me chaotic?”

“Are you denying it?”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. Can’t deny that.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so tense?”

“Because I just confessed to being in love with you and now you’re pressed up against me.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Oh. Oh.

“I… don’t know.”

Annalisa offered him a bemused smirk. “Boy, Seb, between that letter and all of this, you sure have a way with words,” she teased. “Lucky for you, you won me over years ago.”

“Years?”

Annalisa rolled her eyes, her impatience evident. “Yes, years,” she said matter-of-factly. “Which is why you should have told me.”

“You could have told me!”

“And ruin the absolute spectacle of you making a fool of yourself because of a couple love letters to Ominis? Never.”

That was enough talking, enough words for one day. Sebastian had spelled it all out, albeit rather awkwardly, but the swell inside his chest made it all worth it. He finally kissed her, which told her more than any stupid letter ever could.

Part II (Smut warning)

“Sebastian,” Annalisa whimpered. “Sebastian, please.”

Her hands were presently tangled in Sebastian’s hair as her legs were tossed over his shoulders.

Annalisa was quickly learning that Sebastian may not always have a way with words, but he was certainly skilled with his tongue. His letter to her lay on the floor, having fluttered off the bed amid the frenzy of hungry hands and greedy kisses.

“Sebastian, don’t stop,” Annalisa begged as his tongue pressed patterns over her clit. He hummed in response, certain he’d go mad by the way she begged him for more. Her whimpering pleas, the taste of her arousal and the aftermath of their declarations of love had Sebastian teetering on the edge of an insanity that could only be stoked by adoration.

Sebastian’s tongue traced tiny heart shapes across her clit until Annalisa’s thighs tensed and the pitch of her moans spiked. “Oh fuck, Sebastian!” she cried as her nerve endings seared with pleasure. Her back arched off the bed and her fingers tugged at Sebastian’s hair until her orgasm subsided, leaving her chest heaving and her entrance soaked.

Sebastian, still stunned by the day’s revelations, sat back on his heels to admire her. She wasn’t in love with Ominis – his own sister was. But he’d wrap his mind around that part of the story later. The part that mattered now was Annalisa had been his the entire time, and she was eager to prove it to him. After he kissed her for that first time, she had practically climbed into his lap until they were tearing their clothes off.

Once she had caught her breath, Annalisa sat up to pull Sebastian into a long kiss. “Stand up,” she ordered.

Sebastian blinked. He was enthralled by this bossy new side of her. Of course, one doesn’t save the world from a goblin rebellion by being a timid pushover, but Sebastian hadn’t anticipated this level of dominance from her. It made his cock twitch desperately.

He obliged and scrambled to his feet, holding his breath as he watched Annalisa fall to her knees on the floor in front of him. She took him into her mouth and tightened her lips around his shaft. Sebastian had to lean one hand on the back of her desk chair to support his weight. The suction pulling against his cock was dizzying.

“My god,” he groaned as he gazed downward to watch her work. Her hands snaked their way to the backs of his thighs, fingers pressing into his flesh as she used only her mouth to make him moan.

Annalisa’s lips released their vice grip to make way for her tongue. She dragged it from the base of Sebastian’s cock upward, over and around the tip, leaving it slick with saliva. Sebastian whimpered at the sight of it.

“Annalisa, please,” he begged. “Let me have you.”

Annalisa nodded in understanding and rose to her feet to pull Sebastian into a kiss. She nudged him backward to guide him toward the desk chair.

“Sit,” she commanded. Sebastian obeyed and dropped into a seated position. Annalisa climbed over him, hands clutching his shoulders as she lowered herself. She held her breath, astounded that her quiet Valentine’s Day was ending in such a way. Much better than any of her romance novels.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into her waist as he felt his cock make contact with her entrance. He tensed as she sank slowly, a low whine escaping her throat as she stretched around him. “Sebastian, you’re big,” she whimpered.

“Take it easy,” Sebastian said gently, though every nerve ending in his body was electrified. The scorching heat surrounding his cock was surreal.

Annalisa lifted herself and dipped downward again. The friction made both of their breaths hitch. Sebastian fought to control his body’s response while Annalisa found a steady pace, her cunt gliding over his cock until the room echoed with the sounds of their slick union.

“I love you,” Annalisa whispered, her eyes meeting Sebastian’s as she studied his expression to ensure he was content.

“I love you too,” Sebastian growled, his hands still pressing into her sides. He marveled at her; the way her full breasts bounced, her cheeks flushed, and her tight walls embraced him. He was desperate to feel her release. He had to know how she’d feel when she collapsed on top of him, her thighs shaking and cunt swollen from the intrusion of his cock.

Annalisa’s eyes fell shut as she worked, her hips rising and grinding as she rested her palms flat against Sebastian’s chest. The chair creaked beneath them.

“You feel so fucking good,” Sebastian breathed.

She rocked her hips and let out a sharp moan as Sebastian’s cock speared her soft, sensitive spot. “Oh, right there,” she groaned. She repeated the motion, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she lost herself in the sensation stimulating her core. “Sebastian, I’m close.”

Poor Sebastian was hanging on for dear life. His mind was presently reviewing spell patterns he’d learned in Charms class to divert his attention. He didn’t find himself in such a drastic dilemma very often, but this was pure desperation.

Annalisa slammed herself hard down onto him, driving the depths of her walls around Sebastian’s cock until she could feel the familiar flutters. She squeezed and rocked until her walls gave way to her climax, throbbing with relief as she wailed and threw her head back. She collapsed her full weight into Sebastian’s lap, allowing the tip of his cock to settle deep inside her until the final twitches of her cunt evoked his orgasm. He swore as he gripped her hips and spilled within her, earning one final moan from her.

The room’s erotic echoes were replaced with their recovering breaths. Annalisa slumped against Sebastian, her body exhausted from bouncing on top of him, and her head hazy.

Sebastian was utterly spent. His forehead rested against Annalisa’s bare shoulder as the weight of the day’s overwhelming epiphanies settled within him.

Things had taken a turn for the better; a monumental shift in events that he never could have predicted. He felt foolish and guilty for his presumptive behavior, but elated that, finally, for once, things had worked in his favor.

Annalisa was watching him with soft eyes. “Alright?” she asked. Sebastian grinned, his hands tracing light lines up and down the small of her back.

“Alright,” he answered. “Just… thinking about how mental this day was.”

“Only because you’re mental,” Annalisa said as she climbed off him and began fetching her pajamas from the floor.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I owe you and Ominis an apol-” He froze, his eyes widening until Annalisa drew back in alarm.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Ominis,” Sebastian said hastily as he scrambled to his feet and began redressing. “I- I wrote him a letter too. I have to go. I have to get rid of it before he sees it.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Sebastian flashed her an apologetic grin as he buttoned his shirt. “I might have told him we were no longer friends and to go to hell.”

“Sebastian!”

“In my defense, it was all for you, love.”

“It was downright foolish.”

“I know. Apologies, love. I’ll just go fetch and destroy it and then I’ll come right back, yeah?”

Annalisa sighed and crawled back into bed. “Yes, alright. I’ll be here.”

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her forehead and sprinted back to the Slytherin dungeons.

#mdni #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow #whizzing fizzbee fanfic

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little-diable · 2 days ago

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Think I'm in love with you - Dean Winchester (smut)

Requested by lovely @foxyjwls007 for my birthday bash. The lyrics are from Chris Stapleton's song "Think I'm in love with you". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Pwp, the reader confesses her love for Dean in the middle of a fight

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), idiots in love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (800 words)

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t fucking get it!” Her voice filled the motel room, angry eyes set on Dean’s frowning features. He kept quiet, pondering over her words while caught up in a storm of emotions he had tried to run from ever since he had met (y/n) all those months ago. For a second, his eyes flickered towards the door, something she easily picked up on. “Don’t you dare run again, Dean. Not this time.”

“(Y/n),” he mumbled her name like a silent plea, begging her to stop rambling. But the damage was done, there was no way out of the grave she had dug for them, unable to forget the words she had tried to hold back for too long now. “What do you want from me?”

“What I want? Jesus, Dean. Everything, I want it all. And I am so sick and tired of you ignoring it. Don’t you see it? I wanna make your dreams come true, I think I'm in love with you, you fucking idiot.” It took Dean exactly three seconds to move, to cross the short distance between them. His lips were soft against hers, even though the kiss was anything but soft or sweet - no, it was fuelled by the desire both had tried to tame for the past months.

Without breaking the kiss, Dean pushed her down on the old bed they had been sharing for two nights now. He pressed himself close, weight shifted onto his forearm while his tongue met hers over and over again. She didn’t give him a warning before shuffling around, set on straddling his waist.

“Say something, please, Dean.” He cupped her warm cheeks, staring up at her with a gaze filled with adoration. Her trembling fingers clung to his shirt, tugging on the fabric but not moving it off his body just yet, desperately wanting to hear his raspy voice.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always have.” It was all she needed, a confession that made her heart skip a beat or two. Dean’s shirt was ripped from his frame, with (y/n)’s following moments later. His big hands felt all too unfamiliar on her skin, but she couldn’t worry about it now, all she could focus on was freeing his cock and getting her mouth on him just like she had dreamt of doing for years.

Dean raised his hips for her, allowing (y/n) to pull his trousers and underwear down his strong legs before straddling his thighs. Just the sight alone drew heat down to her core, watching Dean lay below her, spread out and naked - all for her. A dream come true, something she had never dared to speak of until this very day.

Her lips kissed their way down his stomach, trying to ignore the numerous freckles she swore to eventually count, all until she reached his hardening cock. Their eyes met as she spat down on him, letting her saliva drip down his length to lube up her movements. For a second, (y/n) thought about teasing him and taking her sweet time, but the impatient jerks of his hips forced her to move faster.

“Christ, sweetheart, if you keep up this pace this will be over very soon.” She could only chuckle at his words, too mesmerized by the feeling of his skin pressed against her, by the short breaths leaving him over and over again, and the unmistaken love swimming in his pupils. (Y/n) brought her mouth down to his cock, licking at his tip to get a taste of him for the first time, before slowly taking more of him.

The second she gagged around him, Dean let his head fall back against the pillow. The deep groan he let go of could have made her cum right at that moment, instantly spiralling from the way he exposed his every emotion to her, something she interpreted as a clear sign of trust. (Y/n) was fully mesmerized by Dean, staring at him with glassy eyes as she bobbed her head, set on making him cum with her mouth.

“(Y/n),” he panted her name, eyes rolling back into his head to get swallowed by a blanket of darkness. He jerked against her tongue, about to cum down her throat with another raspy moan, something she found herself aching for. (Y/n) gagged around him again, letting her tears roll down her cheeks all while Dean was overpowered by his orgasm.

He came down her throat, choking on his moan while she didn’t dare move away. She greedily swallowed every drop, parting with a pout as Dean pulled her away from his cock to kiss her.

“Fuck, I love you, sweetheart.”

#Dean Winchester smut #chi's birthday bash #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #supernatural

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imjustatorturedpoet · 3 days ago

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Meet me in the Hallway

chapter six: Friends Don't Do Shit Like That

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Reader

also available on ao3!

word count: 7.9k

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The dormitory had never felt this suffocating.

You never realised how much space they took up until it was empty. Until their absence pressed against your ribs like a weight, making it harder to breathe. You weren’t alone—technically. Players trickled back in, their exhausted murmurs filling the air. Some collapsed onto bunks, some whispered prayers of relief. But none of them mattered.

Because they weren’t your team.

Young-il. Gi-hun. Jung-bae. Dae-ho. Hell, even the pregnant girl.

Where the hell were they?

You sat rigidly at the edge of your bed in the far right corner, hands locked around the thin blanket like it was the only thing keeping you together. The distant hum of voices barely registered—just static against the pounding in your skull.

The doors slid open.

Your head snapped up. Not them.

Again.

Not them.

Your foot tapped against the floor, sharp and restless. Your nails dug into the sheets. Your chest felt tight, shrinking, collapsing in on itself.

They should be back. They should be back. They should be back.

Another group staggered in. Your stomach twisted. Then—

The doors slid open one last time. And finally, they were there.

Your breath left you all at once, sharp, sudden, violent. And before you could stop yourself, you were moving. Fast. Too fast.

You didn’t just walk. You didn’t just jog. You ran.

Straight for him. Young-il.

He was there, right there, walking in alongside the others. His posture was composed, unreadable, like he hadn’t just made you feel like you were drowning for hours.

“They don’t seem so happy to see us,” he muttered to Gi-hun, scanning the crowd.

Then he saw you. Saw the way you closed the distance without hesitation, like a lost child spotting their parents after wandering too far.

And you didn’t stop. Not until you were right in front of him.

“At least someone is happy,” Gi-hun said with a tired smile.

Your hands twitched at your sides, instinct warring with restraint. You wanted to reach for him. You wanted to pull him in. You wanted to feel him, solid and real, just to make sure.

You nearly did.

Your fingers brushed the sleeve of his jacket before you froze.

Wait.

The sudden awareness slammed into you like a punch to the gut.

What the hell were you doing?

Your hand hovered midair for a fraction too long before you clenched your fingers into a fist and dropped it back to your side.

It’s not like that, you reminded yourself.

It’s not.

You weren’t running to him because of that. You weren’t reaching for him because of that. He was your friend.

Nothing more.

And yet— Your heart was still pounding, and your chest still ached in a way that felt too much like relief. Young-il tilted his head slightly. His gaze flickered downward—to your clenched fists. Then back up, locking onto yours. His facial expression didn’t change. But his eyes did.

Like he noticed. Like he knew. Shit.

You exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk to cover up the fact that you had almost just thrown yourself at him like a goddamn idiot.

“About time,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt. “Thought I was gonna have to replace you.”

His lips curled slightly. “Oh?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. I was already taking applications.”

Young-il hummed. Low. Deep. Amused. His gaze stayed locked onto yours for just a second too long. And you had to look away. Because suddenly, standing this close, you could still feel the ghost of that almost-hug. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you regretted stopping yourself—

Or if you regretted the fact that you had wanted to do it in the first place.

You swallowed hard, resetting. Shaking it off. Pretending like it was nothing.

“I’m so glad you all made it back,” you said, softer now. Jung-bae grinned, clapping Gi-hun on the back. “Damn right we did. We’re built different.”

Dae-ho exhaled loudly, shaking out his limbs. “Holy shit, I thought I was gonna pass out.”

The pregnant girl let out a shaky laugh, still catching her breath. “I thought I was gonna die.”

A pause. No one laughed. Because it wasn’t a joke. She almost did. And suddenly, the weight of it settled again. You didn’t ask what happened. You didn’t need to. It was written all over their faces.

The games weren’t just dangerous. They were designed to be almost impossible. You knew that. But still. Young-il was here. They were all here. That was enough.

For now.

The group moved towards your usual spot, but you and Young-il remained. You exhaled. Slowly.

“You should sit down.” Young-il’s voice was quieter now, just for you. You barely noticed that your hands were still trembling.

You nodded. But didn’t move. And neither did he.

You finally let out a breath, tension still coiled too tight in your chest. The others were already long forgotten, because you were caught in some unspoken moment that neither you nor Young-il seemed in a hurry to break.

He was still watching you. Not quite expectant, not quite unreadable. Just there. Present. And something about it made your stomach feel funny again. You cleared your throat, shifting your weight. “By the way…”

Young-il tilted his head slightly, waiting. You forced yourself to look at him. “Thank you.”

His brow lifted slightly. “For what?”

You swallowed, fingers curling against the hem of your sleeve. “For earlier. When I—” Your lips parted, but the words stuck to the roof of your mouth. Had a panic attack. You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to make it real. You settled for, “When I lost it.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with that same steady patience, like he could see right through you. Then—his lips curled. Soft. Amused. Maybe even a little fond.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught. It was too easy for him, the way the word rolled off his tongue like it belonged there. Like it wasn’t something to second-guess. Like it wasn’t something that should make your pulse stutter the way it did.

Your jaw clenched. You rolled your eyes, trying—failing—to ignore the way your skin warmed.

“You gotta stop calling me that.”

“Oh?” His smirk deepened, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “And why’s that?”

You opened your mouth.

Shut it.

You turned your head slightly, like that would somehow make him disappear. “Just… don’t.”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. I don’t know. Kinda suits you.”

You shot him a look. “It really doesn’t.”

He hummed, like he wasn’t convinced. “You sure? You respond to it pretty quick.”

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes. “That’s because it’s annoying.”

“Mm.” His lips twitched. “Or maybe you just like hearing me say it.”

Smug. He was so smug.

You turned your head, muttering under your breath, “I swear to god.”

Young-il chuckled, the sound low, satisfied. “Alright, alright. I’ll think about it.”

You shot him a glare. He grinned. He wasn’t going to stop.

His hum was thoughtful, almost lazy. “Maybe I’ll call you something else, then.”

Then, his gaze flickered. Just for a second. Something sharp. Focused.

You didn’t even have time to process it before his hand moved. A touch. The lightest graze of his thumb along your cheekbone, just barely there—but enough. Enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make your body lock in place. Your heart slammed.

Oh god, why? You are twenty-nine, (Y/N), not some hormonal teenager. Get it together.

“There’s blood on your face.” His voice wasn’t teasing anymore. It was lower, steadier. “Didn’t even notice, did you?”

Your skin burned where he touched it. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. His fingers barely lingered before he pulled back, leaving a ghost of warmth in their wake. His brows furrowed slightly. “Come on.”

You blinked. “What?”

“The restroom,” he said simply. “You should wash up.”

A pause. Then, a small, knowing smirk. “Unless you like walking around looking like you’ve been in a fight.” You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes and stifling a laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

But your feet were already moving, following him before you even thought about it. And that’s when it hit you— You didn’t even hesitate. You just followed him like a little puppy. Like it was instinct. Like you had always done it.

Young-il knocked on the door, the sound echoed through the dormitory. Firm. Deliberate.

A second later, the heavy steel door creaked open, revealing a circle-masked guard. His faceless gaze flickered over you both, lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle.

But he didn’t look at you. He looked at Young-il.

Without a word, he stepped aside, making space for you and him to pass through. You walked through first. Young-il followed, his presence solid behind you. The walk to the bathroom was quick and soon you hear the door shut with a quiet finality, the latch clicking into place.

The bathroom was empty. Stark white tiles stretched across the floor and walls, reflecting the harsh fluorescent light that buzzed faintly overhead. The air was sharp and sterile, but your body still felt too warm.

Young-il stepped past you, brushing against your side as he moved further in. He didn’t look at you, but something about the way he moved—calm, steady, like he had all the time in the world—made your stomach twist.

“Sit,” he murmured, nodding toward the drop-in sink. You hesitated for just a second before hoisting yourself up. The porcelain was cool against your palms, a sharp contrast to the heat rising under your skin.

Then he stepped between your legs.

Oh my god? Oh my god!

Your breath stilled. He was close. Too close. His chest was only inches from yours, his hands moving with quiet purpose as he shrugged off his jacket. The fabric rustled as he bunched it in his hands, dragging one sleeve under the faucet. The water ran for a moment, pooling in the fabric, before he wrung it out. His fingers flexed, veins taut beneath his skin.

Then he turned back to you. Your pulse quickened. He didn’t say anything. He just lifted the damp sleeve and reached for you. The first touch was light, just the faintest drag of fabric along your cheekbone. Warm, careful. Too careful.

Your body locked in place. He was standing between your legs, his fingers brushing your skin as he wiped the blood away, and it felt like something was pressing down on your chest.

His knuckles grazed your jaw. A shiver curled down your spine. He noticed. But he didn’t pull back.

Your lips parted slightly. His gaze flickered downward. To your lips.

He hesitated. Just a second. Just long enough for the air to shift.

Then he moved again, dragging the cloth lower. Along your jaw. Over the curve of your chin. Until it met your lips.

The fabric barely touched your skin, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his fingers, firm beneath it, pressing lightly against the corner of your mouth.

He didn’t move. He wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. Just your lips.

A sharp inhale. The room felt smaller. Your hands curled against the edge of the sink, gripping it like an anchor. Your tongue darted out, instinctive, wetting your lips before you could stop yourself.

His jaw tensed. Something flickered across his face. Quick. Unreadable. The rag stilled.

Your pulse was a hammer in your ribs. For a second, you thought he might— Then, suddenly, he pulled back slightly.

Young-il exhaled softly, like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn’t just stared at your mouth like he was thinking about something he shouldn’t be.

He dropped the makeshift rag onto the sink beside you. His voice was steady, but lower now. Rougher.

“There you go, dear.”

Dear. That’s new. At least he dropped the sweetheart.

“Thanks.”

You swallowed. Your heartbeat was still too fast. His fingers curled against the edge of the sink, his arms caging you in for just a second longer before he finally stepped back.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Because if you did, you weren’t sure what would happen.

You weren’t even sure what you wanted to happen.

The silence stretched between you, thick and weighted, pressing against your ribs like something tangible. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the warmth of his fingers bleeding through the fabric, the way his breath had fanned against your cheek—too close, too much.

You swallowed, eyes flickering toward the rag he had discarded. The damp sleeve lay crumpled on the sink beside you, proof that this had happened, that you weren’t just imagining the way your stomach twisted, the way your lungs forgot how to work properly.

Young-il exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. You could feel his eyes on you even though you refused to meet them.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, “That’s not like you.”

You scoffed, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to shake off whatever the hell this was. “Should I be giving you a standing ovation?”

The corner of his lips twitched. “Not necessary.”

Your fingers tightened against the porcelain. “Well, I don’t exactly know the proper etiquette for when a man stands between your legs and wipes your face like you’re some helpless damsel, so excuse me if I don’t have much to say.”

His smirk deepened, like he was enjoying this. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Helpless? If I remember correctly, you wanted to knock that old man’s lights out by yourself today. You’re not helpless”

Damn him. You turned your head slightly, trying to put some space between you. It didn’t work. He was still right there, still watching, still waiting for something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re an asshole,” you muttered with a smirk.

Young-il tilted his head, smiling, considering. “I thought I was your friend.”

Your stomach flipped. You didn’t like the way he said it. Like he was testing something. Poking at something.

You forced a smirk, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Friends don’t do shit like that.”

He hummed, something deep and thoughtful, before murmuring, “Don’t they?”

You froze.

He was still leaning against the sink, his hands braced on either side of your hips, caging you in without even touching you. But it wasn’t his proximity that had you breathless. It was the way he said it.

Like it wasn’t a question. Like he had already decided it for you.

Your throat felt dry. “Young-il—”

“I know,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. His gaze flickered downward again—just a brief second, just enough to make your stomach coil too tight. “Not like that.”

Your heart was pounding so loud you could barely think. “Right.”

He didn’t move.

Neither did you.

The air was thick, charged, buzzing with something dangerous. Something unspoken.

Then, with a smirk, he added, “Besides… I think you’d be a terrible damsel. You’d probably try to fight the dragon.”

Your breath caught—more from the way he said it than the words themselves. Your pulse stuttered, but you rolled your eyes, forcing a scoff. “And you’d just stand there watching?”

“I’d hold your coat.”

“Chivalrous of you,” you said dryly.

His smirk widened. “I try.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your face betrayed you.

Finally, he pushed off the sink, stepping back fully, giving you the space you so desperately needed. And somehow, you hated it.

“You should go take a nap before dinner. You look exhausted,” he said, voice as steady as ever, like none of this had rattled him in the slightest. Like he hadn’t just looked at you like he was contemplating something he had no business contemplating.

You exhaled, shaking your head, trying to find solid ground again. “Oh, really?”

Young-il chuckled, quiet and smooth. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

And with that, he grabbed his jacket and turned toward the door. You sat there on the sink for a long moment, staring after him, your pulse still hammering against your ribs.

What the hell just happened?

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile, fluorescent-lit bathroom, heart pounding against your ribs. The weight of his words—his presence—still clung to your skin, thick and suffocating.

Sweetheart. Dear.

You swallowed, pressing your hands against the cool porcelain of the sink in an attempt to ground yourself. What the hell was that? He had called you that before, casually, teasingly. But now… now it felt different. Now it felt deliberate. You slid off the sink slowly and turned towards the mirror.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, eyes slightly wide, lips parted. Your breath still hadn’t fully returned to normal.

“Friends don’t do shit like that.”

The words rang in your head, taunting you. Because the worst part was, you hadn’t hated it.

You shook your head, exhaling sharply, forcing yourself to move. You hopped off the sink, your legs still a little unsteady, and grabbed a few paper towels, pressing them against your face, willing the warmth in your cheeks to disappear.

It didn’t.

By the time you returned to the dormitory, the atmosphere had shifted. The buzz of earlier had settled into something more subdued, players sprawled out on their beds, exhaustion heavy in the air. The reality of the games was sinking in. Everyone knew another round was coming tomorrow. Everyone knew that when the lights dimmed, some of them might not wake up the next morning.

You spotted Jung-bae and Dae-ho in their usual spot, Gi-hun nearby, talking in hushed voices. Player 222 sitting in front of Gi-hun. Young-il was leaning against a higher bunk, back relaxed against the cold steel, arms folded. His gaze flickered up the second you entered.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before forcing yourself forward.

“Where the hell did you run off to?” Jung-bae called, eyes narrowing playfully.

You scoffed, dropping onto your bed. “Nowhere. Just needed a breather.”

Jung-bae raised a brow, glancing between you and Young-il. “A breather, huh?”

Your jaw tightened, but you hid it with a smile. “Yeah. Got a problem?”

Dae-ho smirked, elbowing Jung-bae before he could dig further. “Leave her alone, man. She’s had a long day.”

Jung-bae grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying. You look kinda—”

“Kind of what?”

Jung-bae’s smirk widened. “Flustered.”

You laughed. “Fuck off.”

Across from you, Young-il just hummed, watching the exchange with that same infuriating smirk, completely at ease. You ignored him. Mostly.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae kept up their conversation, their voices a steady backdrop against the noise of the dormitory. You chimed in here and there, offering the occasional remark, but your mind was elsewhere. The weight of everything still pressed against your chest, and no amount of idle chatter could shake it off.

Then, Dae-ho sat up straighter, clapping his hands lightly to get everyone’s attention. “Listen. Perhaps we should learn each other’s names. I still don’t know your names, gentlemen. Or yours, Miss 132, Miss 222.”

He took a breath before introducing himself with his usual easy confidence. “I’ll start. I’m Kang Dae-ho. ‘Dae’ means big, and ‘ho’ means tiger.”

Jung-bae gasped dramatically, eyebrows lifting. “Wow. ‘Big tiger.’ Cool name.” He ran a hand through his hair in an almost absentminded gesture. “My name is Park Jung-bae. ‘Righteous’ and ‘twice.’ My parents wanted me to be twice as righteous.”

The tension was loosening, if only slightly. Then, Jun-hee spoke up, her voice quiet. “My name is Kim Jun-hee. I don’t know what it means.”

The group smiled at her, the warmth unspoken but understood. You included. It suited her.

Young-il’s voice softened as he addressed her. “Jun-hee, when you get out of here, go see a doctor right away. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.”

You noticed it immediately—the way his tone shifted. How gentle it was. Not performative, not out of obligation, but genuine. It did something to you, something unsettling. It made your stomach feel that certain way again.

Jun-hee nodded, her voice small but grateful. “Okay.”

Then Young-il’s gaze flickered to you. And, like a ripple effect, so did everyone else’s. Their expectant looks made it clear they were waiting for your introduction.

You swallowed, then forced yourself to meet their gazes. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N),” you said, offering a small smile. “My mother once told me that it means ‘new beginning’ in her native language.”

A beat of silence followed. Something in the air shifted—small, subtle, almost imperceptible.

“New beginning,” Dae-ho repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s nice.”

You nodded once, but your eyes drifted toward Young-il again. His gaze hadn’t left you. And for a moment—just a brief, fleeting second—you could have sworn there was something knowing in it. Something unreadable. Like he understood something you didn’t.

But then he looked away. And whatever it was, whatever had been there, was gone.

Finally, Player 001 spoke. “I’m Oh Young-il.”

You blinked, knowing his name already.

“Young-il?” Jung-bae echoed, like he was trying to memorise it.

“Yes,” Young-il said easily, tapping the number on his uniform. “Young-il sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number. Easy to remember.”

Dae-ho’s eyes widened in realisation. He pointed at the bold 001 printed across Young-il’s chest with a laugh. “Oh, that’s true! Your name is your number!”

You tilted your head slightly, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. “Funny coincidence.”

But was it?

Young-il turned to the man beside him, curiosity flickering in his expression. “Oh, Gi-hun. What’s your last name?”

Gi-hun glanced at you and the others before finally answering. “Seong Gi-hun.”

A few murmurs of acknowledgment passed between the group, but Young-il just tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“Oh,” he mused. “But ‘Seong’ literally means ‘last name.’”

Then, to your utter surprise, he laughed. A low, amused chuckle—quiet but completely unrestrained. And before you could even think about stopping yourself, you laughed too.

The others exchanged confused glances, some waiting for the punchline, others just staring, clearly not getting it.

This ridiculous man and his dad jokes.

Wait… what the fuck were you thinking?

You blinked, the absurdity of the thought settling in. Here you were, in a place designed to kill you, and somehow Young-il still found a way to crack jokes.

And it actually worked. The tension eased, just slightly, the weight pressing on your chest lifting for a moment. Even if it was stupid.

The blaring beeping noise sliced through the dormitory like a siren, sharp and unrelenting. Conversations died. Bodies stiffened.

As usual, the double doors groaned open, and the pink-clad guards marched in, their faceless presence making the room feel colder. At the front, the square-masked guard stood, rigid and unreadable. Every player turned to watch. Some rose from their seats, others stepped away from their corners. Anticipation thickened the air. No one breathed.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game,” the guard announced, his voice as hollow as ever. “Here are the results of the second game.”

He lifted a remote control. Click.

The dormitory lights dimmed, and the piggy bank above bathed the room in its eerie glow, looming like some sick god over its subjects. Then came the sound. A deafening rush of money dropping. Stacks of bills cascaded into the transparent bank, thick and endless. The metallic clatter of cash piling onto cash filled the air—hypnotic, awful.

Almost every player stood, heads tilting back, eyes wide, mesmerised by the spectacle.

You found yourself staring too, but it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like a graveyard. Because you knew exactly what each stack represented.

The dead.

110 players gone.

When the flow of cash finally stilled, the square guard spoke again.

“In the second game, 110 players were eliminated. The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

The number should have meant something. But it didn’t. Not anymore.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves. It wasn’t even close to what you needed. It wasn’t enough. And you weren’t sure what felt worse—the realisation that 78 million wouldn’t change anything for you, or the fact that you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted the number to grow. Unbeknownst to you, Young-il had been watching.

Then, the murmurs started.

“Wait, what? It’s still under 100 million?”

“Only 110 people died? Is that all?”

“That’s all? But you shot all those people!”

“Count them again!”

The shift was palpable. Less grief, more greed. The square-masked guard didn’t flinch. “I completely understand your disappointment,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities.”

Silence.

“You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not.”

The guards moved, setting up the voting equipment. The square guard continued, “Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.”

You barely heard him. The weight of that fucking number sat heavy in your ribs, pressing down like a brick. Young-il’s gaze flickered toward Gi-hun. Then something changed. His expression faltered when he caught Gi-hun staring at the O patch on his chest.

“Don’t worry,” Young-il murmured. “I want to stop here too.” Gi-hun let out a relieved sigh, shoulders relaxing. “I should go and be with my wife at the hospital.”

Gi-hun’s smile tightened. “Right. Your wife.”

Young-il nodded. Slowly. Too slowly. His gaze flickered—not to Gi-hun, but to you.

Your breath stilled.

And then, just as fast, he looked away. As if nothing had happened.

The word hit you like a punch to the stomach.

Wife.

Your body locked in place. Cold. Hollow. You didn’t even realise you were staring at Young-il until everything around you went sharp. Wife. You had suspected it. Hell, you had practically prepared yourself for it. A man like him? Of course, he was married. His maturity, the way he carried himself, his handsome face and smug attitude—it all made sense.

But hearing it? Actually hearing it? It hit different. It made you feel like an idiot.

Something in you clenched, a deep, twisting pull in your chest. Maybe you did have a crush on him. Maybe it was obvious from the way your breath stilled when he got too close. From the way your stomach flipped whenever he looked at you like—

Like in the restroom. Like when his fingers brushed against your lips. Like when he stared at your mouth like he was thinking about something he had no business thinking about. You felt sick.

Your eyes flicked to Young-il, searching his face. Needing confirmation. But his expression wasn’t relaxed. He wasn’t nodding. Wasn’t agreeing. He had frozen.

The warmth that had been in his eyes moments ago was gone. His jaw tensed. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something—but then his gaze flicked to you. Just for a second.

Just long enough to catch the disbelief in your expression. Just long enough to let the unspoken question hang between you like a noose.

And then? He looked away. Your stomach plummeted.

Dae-ho cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I’m telling you. We’ll get out this time.” He glanced down at the O patch on his chest and cursed. You looked at yours too.

You didn’t regret your decision to leave. Not even a little. But maybe getting out sooner rather than later was a good idea. Maybe leaving before you did something really fucking stupid—like falling for a married man—was the smart choice.

You sighed, pressing a hand against your forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll press X this time too.”

You meant it. You really did. But your mind was still a mess, your pulse still too fast.

The weight of everything—of Young-il, of the way he reacted, of the way he didn’t react—was still pressing into your skin.

Without another word, you stepped out of the circle, slipping into the gathering crowd near the voting area. The noise of players arguing, the hum of activity, the mechanical setup of the voting booths—it should have been distracting.

It wasn’t.

Because your mind was stuck. Stuck on the way Young-il hesitated. Stuck on the fact that when Gi-hun said wife, Young-il looked at you first.

Why did he react like that? Why did he freeze? Why did he look at you? Did he feel guilty?

Your jaw tightened. No. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But it did.

A shuffle behind you. The familiar murmur of voices. Jung-bae and Dae-ho had followed, along with the rest of your group. You felt Young-il’s presence before you saw him. He was close.

Too close.

You didn’t turn. Didn’t look. Didn’t breathe.

“Are you okay? You look tense.” Gi-hun’s voice, somewhere behind you. But it wasn’t directed at you.

A beat of silence.

Then, Young-il. “Yes, of course.” His voice was calm. But something in it was off. You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

Because if you did, you might ask him why the hell he hesitated. And you weren’t sure you were ready for the answer.

The square-masked guard’s voice sliced through the murmurs.

“This time, the vote will begin with Player 001. Player 001, please cast your vote.”

He was quick. X.

Several more players followed, each stepping up to cast their vote. The numbers climbed.

[X: 33 | O: 36]

And then, suddenly, Gi-hun pushed his way through the crowd. You tensed, eyes tracking his movements. What was he doing? Was he about to disrupt the vote? Again?!

The room stilled as he emerged from the throng, turning to face you and the others.

"Everyone!"

The sharp command that cut through the murmurs wasn’t Gi-hun’s. It was Young-il’s. You jolted at the sound, head whipping toward him. He had stepped forward from the X zone, standing now in the dead centre between both groups—between reason and desperation. His gaze swept the crowd like a blade, his voice steady, sharp, impossible to ignore.

"You still want to keep going after watching all those people die?" He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. His voice carried, filled with the kind of authority that made people *listen.* "Who’s to say you won’t be next? We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going!"

His words were a slow, calculated press on the exposed nerves of the room. You could feel the shift, the hesitation, the way some players fidgeted. But then—

“What do you think we can do with a mere 70 million?” Player 100 stepped forward from the crowd of O voters, his voice slicing through the moment like a dull knife. Loud. Dismissive. "I don’t know how much you owe, but for most people here, that doesn’t even cover 10% of their debt."

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, no shit. For you, it wouldn’t even scratch the surface. 10 billion won wouldn’t disappear overnight. Dumbass.

“There’s no next step for us!” Player 100 pressed, his tone rising, feeding off the tension. “That money won’t change anything!”

You stepped forward, placing yourself between him and Young-il before things could escalate. Not because you wanted to protect Young-il. No. Well, yes, but that wasn’t the reason. You wanted to be closer when this idiot inevitably dug his own grave.

“Yes, he’s right!” Another O voter spoke up, their desperation cracking through their voice. “With that amount of money, I won’t last long!”

Player 100 ignored you, turning toward the undecided players, planting doubt like seeds. “It was 25 million after the first game, and now it’s 78 million! After just one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million! That’s the kind of money that can actually change lives!”

Your jaw clenched. He was smart. Twisting logic just enough to make it seem like a rational choice. But then—

“I can’t do this anymore.” The voice was fragile. Trembling. Young-mi. All eyes snapped to her.

Tears streamed down her face, her entire body shaking with ragged sobs. "Please. Please let me out of here. I really want to go home. I don’t want to die."

Your fist curled. Damn it. That should’ve been enough to change the tide. To make them see. But it wasn’t. Because desperation was louder.

A heavy silence followed, broken only by Young-mi’s quiet weeping.

"Young lady," an O voter murmured, guilt written all over his face. His voice was kind. But his resolve was solid. "You’re young. You’ll probably have another chance." The words were laced with something worse than false hope.

It was delusion.

His hands trembled at his sides, his eyes glassy, as if he was moments from tears himself. “But I don’t.” A sharp inhale. “Please,” Player 095 choked out, clasping her hands together in a silent plea.

"My family and I have no future." The O voter swallowed, voice thick with emotion. "My business failed. I owe over 500 million. I’ve got to make at least half of that here if I want a real shot at a fresh start."

He said it like it made sense. Like it was logical. Like it wasn’t a slow suicide.

"And what if you die?" Your voice snapped through the air, cutting him off before he could continue. "If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’s game over. No fresh start. No second chances. Have you ever thought about that?"

Silence.

His mouth opened slightly. Then closed.

"No," you continued, pressing forward, "you didn’t. Because you, and every other person on your side, are so fucking blinded by greed that you can’t see past your own desperation."

The weight of your words settled like a thick fog. Young-il, beside you, cast his gaze downward. Then he exhaled, pressing the attack further. "Don’t you see?"

But before the weight could sink in—

"Don’t get fucking scared!" The sudden outburst made every head turn. Player 226.

You knew his type immediately. The kind who had nothing left but arrogance and a stubborn refusal to admit he was terrified.

"Ddakji, Red Light, Green Light, Spinning Top! It’s not like the games are that difficult," he sneered, pointing at the screen. "Look. There are still 255 players left. More than half of us survived! We’ve made it this far, so let’s do this one more time!"

You could already see where this was going. And you weren’t wrong.

Player 100 joined in immediately, emboldened. "You make such a good point, young man. That’s right! We’ve all played well and are still standing! So let’s play one more game! Just one more, and that’s it!"

You laughed. Loud. Cold. "He makes a good point?" Your voice dripped with disbelief. "After the next game, we won’t all still be standing. You need people to die. Otherwise, how the hell do you expect that number to go up?"

You took a slow step forward, gaze locking onto Player 100’s.

"You don’t want to play one more game." Your voice dipped lower, cutting through the madness like a whisper of something lethal. "You want bodies to drop. You need them to."

The words landed. But instead of facing them, they ignored you.

“Let’s play one more game!” Player 226 shouted.

"One more game!" Player 100 echoed.

Then another voice. And another. And another. The chant grew, swelling into something deafening.

Your stomach twisted. They weren’t listening. The fear had settled in deep, so deep they clung to the only thing that felt like hope—even if it meant walking straight into a grave.

You hung your head low, frustration burning behind your ribs. This is going to end with O as the majority.

You knew it. The sickening weight of it settled in your chest. From the corner of your eye, you saw movement.

Young-il.

He wasn’t looking at the others. He was looking at you. His expression was unreadable. And somehow, that frustrated you more than anything.

—

Thirty minutes crawled by, thick with tension, every second stretching unbearably. The final vote rang out, a deep, resonant ping that cut through the silence like a gunshot.

All eyes snapped to the screen.

[X: 117 | O: 138]

Your stomach dropped. A complete defeat. Your side had lost.

The realisation settled over you like a weight, suffocating, pressing down on your ribs. Around you, murmurs rippled through the crowd—some triumphant, others numb, resigned. You barely heard them. The square-masked guard’s voice sliced through the noise, indifferent as ever.

“The results are 138 for O and 117 for X. Based on the majority vote, we will proceed to the third game tomorrow. Thank you.”

That was it. No pretence, no comfort. Just cold, hard finality.

The room shifted—some players exchanging glances, others nodding as if reaffirming their choice. But all you could do was stare at the screen, the numbers burning into your skull, sealing your fate.

You weren’t leaving. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Who knew?

And, oh god, Jung-bae voting O. You were so incredibly angry. Not at him. At yourself. Because you could understand him.

—

The line moved at an agonising pace, the sound of shuffling feet and murmured conversations filling the air. People sighed as the guards handed out meal portions—bread and milk. How satisfying.

You exhaled sharply, dragging your fingers through your hair. The weight of the day pressed against your skull, making it hard to think straight. Or maybe it wasn’t the day at all. Maybe it was him.

Young-il stayed beside you, his presence quiet but undeniable. You weren’t sure if he did it intentionally or if it was just habit now—this lingering, this silent companionship that neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t say anything.

It was nothing. And yet it felt like something.

When you reached the guard, he shoved the bread and milk into your hands without so much as a glance, already moving to the next player. You stepped aside, waiting for Young-il.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae had already sat down at your usual spot, their food set down as they waved you over. You hesitated for just a second before walking toward them. Young-il followed.

You glanced around and noticed that your group was missing one member – Jung-bae. A small distance away, you spotted him tucked between the bunk beds as though he was deliberately hiding.

You assumed he felt guilty for voting O, isolating himself from the group out of shame.

You stared at Jung-bae’s back for a moment, chewing on his bun, before calling out to him.

“Jung-bae!”

You changed course and strode over to Jung-bae. “Hey, just come back here.”

“No, no, I’m good here,” Jung-bae replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, come on,” You said, grasping his arm firmly. You pulled Jung-bae to his feet and dragged him back to the group. “You should’ve gone farther away, then. It bugs me seeing you sitting there all pathetic.”

He sighed, “Jun-hee. Young-il. (Y/N). I’m terribly sorry. Gi-hun, please, I’m sorry. It’s just that I thought—“

“No, Jung-bae, you didn’t think. You of all people shouldn’t have done it. It’s not twice as righteous.”, you interrupted him. Jung-bae continued to apologise and talk but you ignored it as you walked over to your bed.

You and Young-il sat down. You both didn’t really feel like talking, so you put some space between you and the rest. The moment you sat, Jung-bae exhaled dramatically, opening the plastic cover of the bread. “I don’t know why I keep expecting the food to get better.” Dae-ho snorted. “You really think they care about that?”

They don’t.

The portions were getting smaller. The bread was stale. The milk was warm. Every meal felt more like a test than nourishment. People ate fast now. No talking. No complaining. Just shovelling it down like they were afraid someone might take it from them.

Because soon? Someone would. Hunger did things to people. Made them desperate. Made them reckless. Made them violent.

And everyone was getting hungrier. And angrier.

Good lord.

Jun-hee, sitting quietly across from Gi-hun, shifted in her seat, poking at her meal with little enthusiasm. She looked exhausted. You could relate. The conversation dipped in and out of easy banter, but you didn’t bother listening, trapped in the weight of everything that had happened today. The games. The vote. The number on the screen. Young-il’s hesitation.

Your appetite was nonexistent.

Next to you on your bed, Young-il ate slowly, methodically. Like he was lost in thought, too. You exhaled, finally breaking the silence between you. “So… wife, huh?”

He paused for half a second. Then, smoothly, he took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed.

He didn’t answer. You watched him carefully, fingers tightening around your bread.

“You hesitated earlier.”

His gaze flickered up to meet yours. And for a moment, just a moment, you thought he might actually say something. But instead, he simply shrugged.

“I wasn’t expecting the conversation,” he admitted.

You scoffed, setting the untouched bread down on your bed. “Yeah, well. Neither was I.”

The group had gone quiet. You knew the others were listening, even if they pretended not to.

Jung-bae cleared his throat, giving you both a cautious glance. “Well, uh… love is a beautiful thing, right?” Dae-ho shot him a look, “Shut up.”

You exhaled through your nose, tilting your head slightly, lowering your voice so only he would hear. “So, are you going to tell me why you reacted like that, or am I supposed to pretend I didn’t see it?”

Young-il’s lips twitched, like he was amused by your persistence. But there was something else in his eyes. Something unreadable.

“I’ll tell you something,” he murmured, setting his half eaten bread down too. He leaned forward slightly, just enough to close the distance between you. “You’re a lot more perceptive than people give you credit for.”

Your pulse quickened. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he said smoothly.

Frustration curled in your stomach, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t about to let him play mind games with you.

Were mad because he was avoiding the topic or because part of you wanted to believe that his hesitation had nothing to do with his wife at all?

Young-il sat back, his posture relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his gaze. Calculating. He wasn’t just brushing you off—he was testing you. Seeing how much you would push. How far you would go. You knew it.

You clenched your jaw, fingers tightening against your lap. “Fine,” you murmured. “Keep your secrets. But at least have the decency and stop with the staring. Wouldn’t want your wife to get the wrong message.”

His smirk faltered and his eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything. Just watched you, eyes dark and knowing, like he had already won some invisible battle.

Asshole.

You grabbed your milk carton, popping it open with a little too much force. The plastic creaked under your grip as you took a slow sip, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—else.

The others had started talking again, their voices dipping back into casual conversation, but you barely registered it. You could still feel Young-il’s presence beside you. Solid. Steady. Unrelenting.

“Don’t look so tense,” he murmured. “People might start to think you care.”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “Of course not.”

How could he be sweet, then sexy and then a pretentious asshole again in the spawn of only a few hours?

The tension between you stretched, thick and suffocating, coiling around your ribs like a vice. This was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous.

He was married. You shouldn’t care. You didn’t care. But you did. You hated how much you did.

“You should eat,” he said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

You scoffed. “What, worried about me?”

Young-il didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached forward, plucking your discarded bread from where you had set it down. Then, slowly, deliberately, he tore it in half.

And handed it back to you.

You blinked. “What—”

“Just eat,” he murmured. “You’ll need your strength.”

For a second, you didn’t move. The air between you felt too charged, too full of something neither of you wanted to name. Then, reluctantly, you took it. Your fingers brushed against his for the briefest moment. Warm. Rough. Steady. You pulled away fast, trying to ignore the way your skin burned where he had touched you.

Young-il leaned back, picking up his own bread again and taking a slow bite. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t push. But something in the air had shifted. And you had no idea what to do with it.

You bit into the bread, chewing slowly, letting the stale texture ground you. It was dry. Tasteless. But it gave you something to focus on that wasn’t him.

Young-il, of course, didn’t look the least bit affected. He ate like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just spent the last few minutes toying with you, pulling and pushing until you didn’t know whether you wanted to strangle him or let him keep going.

Probably both.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae had thankfully moved on, falling into conversation about something else, though you could feel their occasional glances. Like they knew something was up. Like they could sense the energy between you and Young-il, thick and suffocating, stretching too far.

You ignored it.

The meal passed in silence between you two, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind. It was charged, brimming with unspoken words, unasked questions, lingering looks that neither of you acknowledged. When you finished, you wiped your hands on your pants, letting out a quiet exhale.

“Long day,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Young-il hummed in agreement, his tone unreadable. “And it’s not over yet.”

You turned to him, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Stay close later,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question. Like it was already decided. “We’ll sleep in shifts again.”

You nodded, because what else could you do? You trusted him. You hated how much you trusted him. But you did. And, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you felt safer with him close.

Even if he was a liar. Even if he drove you crazy. Even if he had a wife waiting for him on the outside.

You looked at him one last time, he was looking at you already.

Then—suddenly. A touch. Warm. Light.

A hand. On your thigh. Your breath hitched. Your body locked in place. For a second, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Then, slowly, you looked down.

Young-il.

His hand rested there, steady, deliberate. Not gripping. Not pushing. Just there. Solid. Grounding. You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming in your ears as you forced yourself to look up.

And there he was.

Not the man who toyed with you. Not the man who dodged questions and smirked like he had you all figured out. But the man from this morning.

The one who had been gentle. Reassuring. The one who made you feel safe.

His expression was soft, eyes warm. He gave you a small nod, glancing at your untouched bread.

“Eat it whole,” he murmured, voice low, steady. “You need the energy.”

#hwang inho x reader #squid game #squid game fanfiction #ao3 #hwang inho #lee byung hun #ao3 fanfic #fluff #gi hun squid game #hwang in ho

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livingformintyoongi · 2 days ago

Text

Safe Haven | Kim Seokjin

Summary: Based on this post by @foryoufics (She also did her version with Jimin, you can read it in this link <3). Warnings: I guess we can say it's a bit angsty, but it also has fluff! Jin is a sweetheart and tries to comfort his wife because he can't stand to see the love of his life sad. Pairing: Fem!reader x Kim Seokjin Word count: 2.3k Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthoughts Dividers by @kodaswrld

This day had been more exhausting than any other. You were used to carrying the weight of everything, filling your mind with questions generated by your anxiety that made you overthink everything over and over again: Am I enough? Am I trying too hard? What have I done wrong? Those, and hundreds of other questions, made your insecurity take over every corner of your mind.

And honestly, you were so tired of it all.

“Y/N…” your father murmured behind you, watching you as your attention remained focused on the oven in front of you. You had spent the last few weeks going back and forth from your house to your father’s café, trying to do everything you could to help him, to be useful, all in hopes that someone, anyone, would notice your efforts.

Customers love this kind of stuff, right? Cakes make people happy, you wanted to make people happy with your work, was that too much to ask?

“I just put the muffins in the oven, so we can’t take them out yet. Should I start making the cookie dough? Mom said they’ve been selling the most these past few days.”

“Y/N, stop.” You felt your father’s hands land firmly on your shoulders, forcing you to shift your focus towards him. You could see it in his face, that look everyone had been giving you these past few days: pity, sadness. You really hated it. “I really appreciate that you want to help, and I’ve enjoyed having you back after all this time apart, but I think it’s time for you to… go home.”

“What do you mean?” you whispered, feeling your heart shrink in your chest at his request. Were you bothering your father now? Were you not being helpful to him either? Had you become a second choice for him as well?

“You’ve been coming here for weeks, working nonstop, we barely have time for ourselves…” He paused before continuing, his eyes, although hesitant, stayed locked on yours. “You barely have time for yourself. You’re still so young, you have a life out there, a husband, friends… You shouldn’t be wasting your time with your parents. We’ve lived a whole life with you, it’s time for you to start living yours, sweetheart.”

Ah.

You wanted to cry again.

How could you explain to your father that he was wrong about most things?

You had no friends, at least not any who cared in the same way you cared for them. You felt like your life was crumbling little by little, like you had built a house of bricks that you kept demolishing because one of them didn’t fit with the others. And your husband… Ah, Jin, your dear husband.

Thinking about him brought you a little peace. For a second, you felt the pressure in your chest become a little more bearable; Jin loved you, he always had, he was one of the few people who always put you first. You were always his first choice, even when dozens of women were in love with him. He was always there for you when your mind played tricks on you, and he was always patient with you, even when you couldn’t be with yourself.

You loved Jin, and he loved you, and that gave you a deep peace amidst the storm that was your mind.

“I’ve called him to come pick you up, he should be here soon,” your father’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you quickly refocused on him as he came closer to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “Go home and rest for a bit, okay?”

You let out a soft sigh, one that sounded just like how you felt: exhausted. “Alright… thank you.”

Your eyes began to sting the moment his arms enveloped you in a warm hug. This was exactly why you came here. The warmth of home, the security your parents gave you, the fact that no matter what happened, you would always be their daughter, someone irreplaceable, someone they would always love.

You squeezed your father’s sturdy body against yours, using all your strength, holding onto his shirt as if you were that little girl again who would come crying to her parents’ room after a nightmare, needing the comfort of the only people who could protect her from the horrors of the outside world.

The soft ringing of a bell followed by the sound of the door closing caught your attention. You barely peeked your face from your father’s neck, just enough to see who it was. You almost let out a sob when you saw Jin standing in the doorway, looking like he had just run a marathon.

Had he really come here running just to pick you up?

“Sorry for the delay, traffic was crazy,” he let out a laugh, not the usual one that made everyone around him laugh, but one more nervous, as if he wanted to lighten the mood with a poor attempt at humor. “Uh… are you ready to go or…?”

“No, no, I’m… I’m ready,” you murmured, letting go of your father’s shirt and saying goodbye with a barely perceptible smile. “Goodbye, Dad, see you later,” you gently patted his shoulders, a small part of you still refusing to let him go completely, maybe that inner child that still lived within you, needing the shelter of your parents. On the other hand, the more mature side of you, the one that governed most of you, knew you couldn’t stay here baking cakes and cookies forever.

So, you let him go.

“Let’s go,” you said quietly to Jin, walking straight to the door to leave the place. The suffocating feeling was hard to shake off, even when you were outdoors, and the slight pressure in your chest was becoming more unbearable. You had barely stepped outside, and already felt like you were about to crumble.

“Sweetheart,” Jin’s voice sounded far away to you, was it your imagination? Had you walked too far? Had your thoughts become so loud that even the voices of real people now seemed muffled and lifeless? “Why don’t we sit down for a second?”

You didn’t respond before his hands took yours and guided you to a small bench in the park just a few meters from your parents’ café. When had you walked so far?

His soft hands gently held yours as he helped you sit down on the bench. Your tumultuous and overwhelming thoughts, although still present, seemed to shrink into a small corner of your mind, allowing you to return to the real world. Allowing you to see Jin.

His dark brown eyes watched your face with attention, and one of his hands had risen to your cheek without you noticing. His touch made you melt into him the moment your brain fully processed what he was doing. It felt good to have him close.

“I’m not going to pressure you or anything, because I don’t want your little head playing against you more than it already has, so I’ll ask you this question, and if you don’t want to answer it, then we’ll just go on as if nothing happened until the moment you’re ready, okay?” A small smile appeared on his plump lips when he saw you nodding quietly. Well, at least you were listening, that was progress. “Can you tell me why you’re like this?”

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered with a broken voice. You hated that question, hated the answer, and hated how the urge to cry began to flood you again to the point where even breathing became hard, like the pain in your chest grew stronger, and how you couldn’t see clearly due to the salty water beginning to form in your eyes.

You hated feeling like this.

“Are you sure?” Jin asked, tilting his head slightly so he wouldn’t lose eye contact with you. It was only then, when you saw the worry in his face, that you broke down.

Finally, you let everything you had inside pour out in the form of a messy cry, cheeks filled with tears and soft gasps hidden between sobs that made it hard to speak normally. The only comfort you had were Jin’s strong and warm arms wrapped around your body protectively, trying to calm your sadness with sweet words, soft kisses on your shoulder, and caresses on your back.

You were a walking mess right now, yes, but, for some reason, it felt comforting. Crying on the shoulder of one of the most important people to you, letting out the pain that had been in your chest… it felt liberating.

“It’s okay… everything will be okay,” he whispered beside your ear, using one of his hands to stroke your hair. You could feel his head resting against yours and his hands holding you tightly against him, as if he knew you felt like you were going to collapse at any moment.

“I feel so… so alone,” you groaned between sobs, hiding your face in that area where his neck met his shoulder. The hiccups became more constant, making it really hard for you to speak, but that didn’t stop you, not now that you could finally get it out of your mind. “I’ve tried everything, Jin, but no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I try… it’s never enough.” You clenched your jaw, trying to stop a sob from escaping too loudly; you were still aware enough to remember you were in a public place. “I’m never enough for anyone.”

“Hey, hey,” he pulled away slightly from you, creating enough distance to take your cheeks in his hands so he could look you in the eyes. “Sweetheart, look at me.” His warm, soft thumbs wiped away the stream of tears falling from your eyes, and although he couldn’t stop the sobs from escaping, the way he caressed your face managed to calm your crying a bit. “What are you talking about? What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just that… I’ve tried everything to be what everyone always expects. I always gave my best to fit in with other people and no matter how much I try, it never seems to work," you said, your voice shaky, your eyes avoiding Jin's every few seconds because you were completely incapable of looking him in the eye. "I'm always the second choice, Jin. No one has ever truly considered me; Seojoon always invites Seulgi to his outings and only turns to me when she cancels, the same happens with Jumin and Seyeon and with absolutely all of my friends." You covered your eyes with your hands, just like a five-year-old child trying to wipe away tears or hide their gaze. "Am I that unpleasant? Is it really that hard to think of me as someone other than the replacement for someone else?"

"Of course not," he quickly shook his head, frowning when he heard your concern. Jin had known you’d been having some issues with your friends lately; he figured it out when you started going to your parents' café, but he never thought it was because of the insecurity their actions were causing you. "It's not hard to love you, of course it’s not! Loving you is as easy as breathing, it’s... it’s something you do unconsciously, that's it!" He moved his face closer to yours, gently pressing your foreheads together. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding, but even if it's not, what does it matter what they think? Other people's decisions don't define your worth."

"But—"

"No, Y/N, no buts," he said with the softest voice he could, lifting your face so he could kiss your forehead. "You are the sweetest, most thoughtful, and loving woman I’ve ever met in my life; you are my best friend, my wife, the love of my life, and I won’t let you speak ill of someone so important to me because of idiots who don’t know how to value the wonderful friend they have." He couldn't help but smile when he heard you let out a soft laugh at his comment. Good, he had managed to calm your tears a little. "Friends come and go, if they really loved you, they’d stay by your side through the good and the bad... maybe you haven't found the right people yet, but you’re still young, you still have time to find a circle where you’re accepted for who you are, not for who you pretend to be to please them." He gently stroked your cheeks, watching as your red nose scrunched up slightly and your brow furrowed. "And until then, I’ll be by your side, I’ll take care of you at all times because you are my best friend, and I’ll be with you no matter what, understood?"

You took a deep breath. Slowly, you counted to 10, regulating your breathing as best as you could. Then, you nodded. "Understood."

"Good, then," he stood up from the floor, taking your hands to help you up from the bench, never stopping the gentle caress of your knuckles. "What do you think about going home, I’ll make your favorite food, and we can watch a couple of movies until we fall asleep?"

You smiled faintly, watching as your husband smiled back at you cheerfully, as if you didn’t look like a complete mess at the moment.

"That sounds perfect," you murmured, giving his hands a soft squeeze before starting to walk back to where his car was parked.

Jin glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing how your gaze stayed low and melancholic, but less depressed than before. He knew it would take time to lift that weight from your heart completely, but he was willing to wait and help in any way he could to make that fear disappear.

Masterlist.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #fanfic #fiction #jin x y/n #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin x you #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader

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meow1007 · 8 hours ago

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thinking about father-in-law Sang-woo

– about how nervous you are meeting your boyfriend’s parents for the first time, and your breath catches in your throat when you see how attractive his father is

– how he immediately makes you feel at ease, compliments you and jokes about how lucky his son is to have you

– the way his hands linger a little too long on your body when he hugs you to greet you, dangerously low on the small of your back

– sometimes he’s even nice enough to drive you back home when your boyfriend is too tired to do so, and you don’t mind at all, especially when for the whole ride his hand rests on your thigh, gently rubbing small circles on your skin

– he tries to bury deep down the jealousy he feels when late at night he hears you get fucked by his son, your sweet moans traveling trough the thin walls, and all he can think about is how he could make you scream louder, come harder on his cock

– he knows you’re not oblivious to the way he acts around you, you’re a smart girl after all

– but he can’t help it, especially when in the dead of night he finds you in the kitchen needing a glass of water, his frame towering over yours, he just has to corner you against the wall, just enough to feel the heat of your body against his, see that sweet blush appear on your face, even if he knows that he can’t act upon is sinful thoughts

– that’s until you find out that your boyfriend is cheating on you, and you instinctively pick up the phone to call him, explaining to him what happened with tears streaming down your face

– sang-woo is quick enough to take advantage of the situation and come over to your house

– he makes you sit on his lap, his arms wrapped around your body as he whispers sweet words in your ear

– he tells you how dumb his son is, that you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, leaving sweet kisses on your forehead and cheeks

– soon enough you find yourself writhing under him, his cock buried deep inside you as he makes you forget about everything else

– “see baby?” he groans into your ear “this is how it feels to be fucked by a real man, gonna ruin you for everyone else”

– and you know that he’s right, that no other man will ever compare to him

#going insane #not proofread btw #cho sangwoo x reader #cho sangwoo #squidgame #squidgame x reader #park haesoo

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quarterlifekitty · 6 hours ago

Note

If you ever have any Fear and Hunger thoughts, I'd love to hear them regardless <3

Hmmmm... here's how I'd see them fitting into the game if you went exploring in the dungeons of fear and hunger!

Soap is 100% a bunnycult member. He worships Sylvian eagerly, skillfully, and often. He spies you entering one of the courtyards and he clocks you instantly. You're tired, aren't ye, bonnie? Just need a little pick me up, that's all. First time's free, y'know? But you both know you'll be back.

Simon has his back to a wall in a room with one door, snarling and threatening as he clutches a festering wound at his side, slain monsters laying rotten on the stone floor. You can treat his wounds, but he won't leave the dungeons. Not until he has what he came for. You could leave now, save yourself and your sanity, or you could follow him deeper...

Gaz is one of the new gods. And he has a vested interest in you. Godhood has left him wanting. He's still bound by earthly limits and sickened by the empty pit within. But there's something about you. Like you might lead to something grander than this, if he can help you.

Price is the captain imprisoned deep within the depths, his sentencing all a part of his own grand plan to reach the eternal throne of ascension. He will be the one to cleanse the world. He'll end the cycle of cruel gods being born from human slaughter (he won't, but every ascension comes from arrogance). But he knows he will need a companion. A foil, an element that exists in perfect defiance of all that he is to create the equilibrium his rule will require.

Nikolai is the scholar that dwells in darkness. He's not known human companionship for some time, and he's see nothing but sharp-edged greed for even longer. He's amused by you. By your curious nature, how it draws you further. Your instinct to learn is much too base and pure to be called greed. He could teach you what he knows, and you could help him to take it further.

König has been twisted and mutilated by the darkness, having once been stationed in command over the guards of the dungeon back when it held some semblance of order. For a long time he vanquished the beings in darkness, until he saw something in its depths he could not look away from. The creature that now stalks the cellblocks knows no discrimination, only force. But maybe there's a chance, somehow, to rekindle his humanity.

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moonlitcelestial · 2 days ago

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Chapter 5

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x Poly OT8 Ateez

W/C 3,881

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾

Inspiration Pictures Pinterest Board

Previous Chapter (Chapter 4)

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer. I will be attempting to keep it as gender neutral as possible but it will have she/her pronouns.

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures (which will be updating as the story goes on).

General Warnings: slow burn, cussing, conflict, possible angst, fluff, and obliviousness.

This list will be updated as the story goes on.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety/Panic Attack. Dark Jokes.

Thanks for reading <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

“Y/N?” You heard someone shaking you and repeating your name. Holy shit, you fell asleep. You shot up and looked around the room. Most of the boys were standing putting on their light jackets. Seonghwa was looking at you with something you couldn’t decipher. You turned to look at your team and they were watching the interaction with smirks. Everything clicked into place. They were watching you because you were surrounded by some of the people you idolized. They were watching you to see if you would embarrass yourself and you most certainly had.

Fuck.

“I am so sorry Seonghwa, I didn’t even realize that I fell asleep or that I was even tired. It won’t happen again, I am so sorry” You rambled at a quick place. You scrambled up from the seat and bowed before you scurried away from everyone and out into the hall. You had remembered seeing a restroom not too far away so you practically ran toward it. You were getting too hot. Was it embarrassment? Could it be shame? You made it to the bathroom door, yanked the door open, and locked yourself in. You rolled up your sleeves, leaned against the sink, and put your head down. Your head started swimming with uncontrollable thoughts. Each one bleeding into the last. You could feel your breath coming in shaky pants, you couldn't get a deep breath. You could barely suck in enough air to keep you from feeling lightheaded. Your sight got blurry and you could feel yourself start to shake. The heat that was burning in your body felt like the sun was trying to escape from your skin.

Did you cross a line? Did you just make him uncomfortable? You fell asleep on your first official day of being here at KQ. How could you be so stupid? Would he request that they cancel the contract? Could you have fucked things up on your first official day? You jumped at the sound of small knocks on the door. The thoughts ceased for only a moment.

“Hey, Boo it's me, can you open the door?” There were only three people who called you that, Aurora, Forrest, or Willow. From the sound of it it was Willow. She was always the person of the friend group to calm any one of you down. She was a grounding presence. You shakily stepped over to the door unlocking it and let her in, Aurora followed shortly after her. Forrest was posted up on the side of the door like a guard dog. Once all three of you were in the bathroom and Aurora locked the door you threw yourself at Willow. She knew that when you were in a bad headspace you either needed to be left alone or you needed grounding. She was good about being able to tell which one it was, which came from the years of friendship. She wrapped her arms around you and let you breathe her in. You sighed and relaxed into her hold. “How could I be so stupid? How could I fall asleep on the first day? How could I fall asleep on someone who knows I bias him?”

She shushed you running her hand over the back of your braided hair. “There is no need to be ashamed. In fact I was fairly certain Wooyoung snoozed for a little bit against your leg. Had you been awake you would have noticed that San had his head against your shoulder as well and was snoozing. It was a whole cuddle pile and you were in the middle of it. Seonghwa was the only one who wasn't asleep. San woke up shortly before you did. Seonghwa was comfortable enough with you that he pulled you closer to make sure you were comfortable, and he had his head against yours for the majority of the time you were asleep. You have nothing to worry about. In fact, they are worried about you.”

“Do you think she is okay?”

“I am not sure, but I trust her team to know her and help her through whatever was going across her mind before she ran out.”

“Did we come on too strong?

“You did not act unlike you normally do, she knows how all of us are, she is an Atiny. She might just be embarrassed that she fell asleep. We can be a lot to handle, we just have to take it slow.”

“All I want to do is run after her and comfort her hyung.”

“I know you do, I would like to as well but this isn’t something that I think would do her mental state much better.”

“She is a strong person, she is just hesitant around us because I think she is still reeling from all of this. It has only been a few days since they got the call from KQ.”

“Let’s go down to the cafeteria like we planned with her team and they will meet us like they said. We can only do so much here, she may know us, but she doesn’t know us. She just needs time.”

“They were worried about me? Why would they be worried about me?” you questioned regaining some semblance of a breathing rhythm. Willow had successfully grounded you enough to help you regain some kind of consciousness around your body.

“Because they care and are amazing people. At least two of them almost ran out the door after you, Forrest had to stop them so we could handle this. They care for you. While you were asleep we could tell so. They kept checking in on you while you slept and they were asking us so many questions about what we do and what you do. They even were asking to see some of your work. They care about you Y/N, it has only been a few days since everything has happened but they are so genuine about getting to know us.”

You pulled away from Willow and she wiped under your eyes. You hadn’t even realized that a few tears spilled down your face. “You mean that? They aren’t mad?”

“No”, Aurora spoke up, “When they started looking at you questioningly we may have spilled that you generally always have trouble sleeping. Also that you don’t do that very often with people that aren’t us. That you generally hate new people and that you take forever to warm up to someone enough to even consider falling asleep anywhere near them. They were so over the moon that you felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in their presence.”

“You make me sound like a child,” you groaned with a light chuckle. That made the two of them smile wide. “Where would I be without you guys?” you asked.

“Probably playing out in traffic,” Aurora remarked with a grin. You slapped her on the shoulder. All three of you broke out into giggles. You could feel your heartbeat returning to normal. Thankfully they pulled you out before it got really bad, otherwise it would not have been as easy to get through to you.

“Come on, I am getting hungry and Forrest is still waiting out there.” Willow said to you moving to unlock the door. Forrest turned to look at you and pulled you into a giant hug. Your arms slid around his waist as his hand cradled the back of your head.

“You worried me there for a second Boo.” He murmured into your hair.

“I’m sorry, they got me all sorted out, I’m as good as new.” You responded.

“Let’s go eat, I am starving." he said and kept his arm around your shoulder. He maneuvered you toward the cafeteria and you smiled up at him. These were your people. This is where you are supposed to be, right here in the moment, not in your head.

After the short walk to the cafeteria you noticed that you were starving as well. Leave it to nerves to make you not notice your bodily functions. You looked around and saw the boys. Seonghwa, Yuhno and San stood up as you approached with Forrest next to you. You shyly waved at them. You noticed that they left four seats open for you and the team. San was the one to move to your duo. He smiled at you and said “I am glad you are okay, you really worried us there for a minute.”

“I’m all good Sannie, I am sorry I worried all of you. Let’s sit and eat and maybe if we have enough time before dance practice I can bring you guys out to see my bike.” you replied in a quiet tone.

“We would absolutely love that.” He said with a gentle smile. He grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze before walking back to his place at the table between Wooyoung and Yeosang. You took the seat across from Yeosang and the girls sat on either side of you leaving the seat next to Aurora open for Forrest who was ordering lunch for your group. Hongjoong looked at you with a smile, and nodded before continuing a conversation with Mingi. You reached over to Willow and grabbed her hand, you were still reeling from everything that just happened.

“How was your nap, sleepy?” Wooyoung teased. San smacked him on the back of the head and turned quickly to look at you. You shrunk into yourself to hide the blush on your face.

“Yknow, a little birdy told me that you fell asleep on me too so I could be asking you the same question Woo.” You shot back after gathering yourself. Yeosang laughed heartily. That sound was melodic, even if he decided to cover it up and almost immediately stop after Wooyoung glared at him. He looked at you with a small smile. They all had resumed their conversations. You were listening to the conversation between San, Yeo, and Woo until you heard Jongho speak up from the other side of Willow.

“Wait, really, she is the oldest of all of us?” Your ears perked up as you knew that you were the oldest out of everyone here. All of their gazes fell to the two who were previously having a quiet discussion.

“Who is older than all of us?” Seonghwa asked, having not heard it over his conversation with Hongjoong.

“Y/N is 27 which is older than all of us.” Jongho said, looking at you around Willow.

“Yahh, I didn’t know you were so old Noona,” Wooyoung teased. You heard the snicker of San and you cut both of them an icy glare.

“Oh whatever,” you rolled your eyes at Wooyoung. “You have no need to use honorifics with me unless you feel it is absolutely necessary. I do not care either way because I am not from here.” You said looking down at your hands. You had never really been referred to as anything other than your name or Boo. That was something that you might have to get used to.

After a couple of minutes of listening to the chatterboxes you heard Yeosang speak up, “Y/N? Can we see your tattoos?” He asked, looking bashful. You looked down and realized that your sleeves were still rolled up. He must have seen the bottom half of them and gotten curious. What a cute maltese.

“That's a loaded question,” Forrest said, sitting down with a tray of food and dishing it out to the team. You smiled at him and thanked him.

“Why is that?” Yeosang asked, cocking his head to the side like a curious puppy.

“She has them all over her body, and some of them are in places that you won't see unless she has her top off,” he teased. Hongjoong and Jongho sputtered their drinks at the other end of the table. Some of it got on the table, Seonghwa and Mingi patted their backs trying to make sure they were okay. Yeosang, Wooyoung and San had their mouths open. Seonghwa, Yuhno and Mingi were blushing like mad. You looked around to everyone and your team started laughing. Full on belly laughter came from your portion of the group. You were sure that the other people in the cafeteria were looking at your group in disgust for being so loud. They should be used to it seeing as Ateez and Xikers were very loud groups. Nothing could have prepared you for the look of pure and utter shock on all of their faces. You squeezed Willow’s hand and let go putting it over your mouth while the other was slapping Aurora’s leg.

“Forrest, I think you broke all of them,” you wheezed. He shrugged his shoulders and continued laughing.

“You didn’t expect that answer, did you Yeosang?” Aurora asked between fits of giggles. You looked at him and he still had his mouth open slightly. He looked like a goldfish out of water. You stood up and walked around the table to the three with their mouths hanging open. Choosing to be bold you put a finger under each of their chins to close their mouths.

“If you keep your mouth open like that you’ll catch flies, boys. It is perfectly normal for a person to have tattoos that others can't see. Get your mind out of the gutter.” you whispered just loud enough for only the three of them to hear. All three of them went cherry red and put their heads down as you strutted back to your seat. You plopped down and started eating, prompting all of the rest of them to continue their meals. Aurora got your attention and motioned under the table for a high five and you obliged her.

There is only one tattoo you had that you would be embarrassed if they saw. It was a testament to yourself and your independence, but it revolved around one of their songs. The lyrics Mingi sang in Halazia, “Who are you, it's just me myself and I” in your own handwriting to remind you to always be loyal to yourself. It was situated right above the moon tarot card on your left hip. It had been a spur of the moment decision while you were traveling after filming something for a client out of the country. Truthfully it was one of your favorite ones.

“Y/N how many tattoos do you have? HongJoong asked after he recovered. The genuine curiosity in his eyes was so cute. He was looking at you with his big boba eyes that made everyone swoon.

“I have eight, most of them are fairly large. You will have to wait to see the ones that are visible without my top off until swimsuit season; then and only then you will get to see them,” You stole a glance at Forrest and he let out a huff of laughter. Hongjoong nodded and continued eating. Most of the boys had recovered, but Yeosang still wouldn’t look you in the eye.

After a little bit of quiet eating from your group Seonghwa stood up and said “Alright, it is almost time for practice, let's go and get our newbies set up and explain to them how things go and what needs to happen for our dance practices.”

All of the boys chorused in agreement. You stood and helped them clean up the mess everyone created. Once you were finished you followed the group of boys down the hall to where their room was. You had seen this room many times on a screen. You had always been fascinated with how fluidly they moved and how they worked together. You also loved that you could see their personalities shine through in their dancing. All around they were mesmerizing. Some of your favorite videos were the behind the scenes videos. You got to see how they worked and what they preferred to do.

“Do we need any cameras or is today just a get them set up day?” You asked. walking over to the small desk Hongjoong motioned to. There were four notepads and pens at the ready for you to take notes. How sweet, but you were not one to take notes on paper, it was too much of a hassle to keep all of it together. You preferred to take notes on an iPad or online with the team, that way you could collaborate in the same document.

“Today is more of a chill day, we are just rehearsing choreography. We have some things that you will need to see to be able to put together an idea of how the shots of the music video could go. We will be recording it in three weeks. I am sure that they might like your input on angles and what could look best for their visions.” Hongjoong said while he started stretching.

“Before we start can we grab our bags?” You asked. A couple of the boys looked at you curiously. “We prefer to take notes on our iPads so we can compile all of our notes together and discuss what the best course of action is.”

“Yeah you can go grab your stuff, do you need someone to show you where it is? We know this place is a maze.” Hongjoong asked, looking between the four of you.

“That would be preferable, someone likes to get lost in their free time.” Willow said motioning to you. You turned to her in shock she had not just brought that up.

“Willow!! You know that being directionally challenged isn't my fault!! Left and right can be hard, that's why I have tattoos; so I can differentiate them from each other.” You defended with an exasperated sigh. She had always teased you for it, she was lucky her brain was wired correctly. Your brain had always been a fucking mess.

“Sure Boo, whatever you say,” she said grinning at you “you're just lucky you have us to keep your head on your shoulders, keep you from taking a wrong turn somewhere, and from playing in traffic” Your eyes widened, she did not just pull the same shit Aurora did earlier. You lunged at her jokingly attempting to smack her or tickle her. She sidestepped you and before you could stop yourself you ran smack into Forrest’s chest. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and decided that it would be absolutely so much fun to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. You let out a squeal in protest smacking his back. He trotted around the practice room with you bouncing on his shoulder. You could hear the laughter of the boys all around you.

“Put me down you fucking tree. Willow started it, not me!!” You yelled at him, your plea fell on deaf ears.

“A tree?! Fuck you, you know good and damn well I hate that nickname.” Forrest responded to only part of your statement. He had some of the worst selective hearing.

“Put me down and I'll say it to your stupid face” you snarked. He set you down on your own two feet, almost throwing you on the ground. You stood toe to toe with him.

“You. are. a. fucking. tree.” You said in the most serious tone you could poking him in the chest. Aurora got in the middle of the two of you and held you back. She knew you would launch yourself at him to get him back after throwing you around like a ragdoll.

“Children now let's get a hold of yourselves” Aurora said in a mock serious tone.

“She started it” you sniped pointing at Willow. She gasped and put a hand to her chest in offence.

“I would never do such a thing," she said with a smirk.

“Oh fuck you, lets go get our things, we have already held up their practice enough.” you rolled your eyes and looked around to find out who would be taking you to the room.

Jongho was the one who stepped up to your group, “I can take you.”

“Thank you Jjong!” You said linking your elbow with his. He looked at you in surprise but went along with it and led you out of the room.

“I wish we could be like that with her.”

“Is that jealousy I hear”

“No… okay maybe, but I can't help but to want us to be the people that she is so close to. Or the ones she bickers with like an old married couple.”

“They have known each other for years, they have a head start on us. We can get to that state; it might just take time.”

“You know we are impatient men, I just hope we can give it a respectable amount of time before spilling everything.”

“I will make sure that you do.”

“Thank you hyung.”

“So Jjong, what is it like being the scariest and strongest maknae in all of kpop?”

He chuckled at your question. “It is rewarding to see the faces of people that don't know me. No one would expect me to be the most mature out of all of us. Some people are still shocked by that fact.”

You laughed, he seemed more comfortable around you than you thought he would be. He seemed to be the most hesitant out of all of the boys. He is full of surprises from his vocals to being able to split apples. He really was just a giant teddy bear when it came down to it. You looked at him and smiled, he was so beautiful. Most people do not favor him because of his looks but he was just as beautiful as the rest of them.

“Here we are,” he said, looking at you. Your eyes met and you couldn't help but to blush, there were multitudes behind his eyes. You could spend all day looking into them and never get tired. He was so expressive, his eyes said everything, but they could be hard to read, especially if you barely actually knew him.

You unlinked your arm from his and walked into the office. Once you got to your backpack you swung it over your shoulder. The rest of your team did the same. You walked back out to meet Jongho and smiled when he looked up at you from his phone. You walked back side by side. Once you got back you set up your camera in the center close to the mirrored walls. You figured that it would be best to get an initial recording to build your notes off of. You then settled yourself right in front of your camera. Your team spread out in a line to take notes with you. You gave the boys a thumbs up and they started to do what they do best.

The remainder of practice went well, you and your team took notes and started to make a plan for possible angles of the video. You would discuss the plans in more detail later. There were so many ways this could go so doing multiple takes might be something you have to do to get the best result. You were so excited to start on this project and get the ball rolling.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 6 Coming Soon)

Taglist:

@breadedloafs @a-short-ass-disappointment @ateezswonderland

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da-extroverted-introvert · 2 days ago

Text

Are we even friends? (tasm!Peter Parker x reader)

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.66k

Warnings: angst, death mention, grief

So I had a burst of inspiration and wrote this. I haven't seen the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies in a hot minute so things may not be entirely accurate but please just roll with it. Working on a part 2 already, hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback!

Dividers by @lavendergalactic

Despite the gnawing feeling deep in your gut, you bring yourself to unbuckle your seat belt and walk out of the car.

You sit in the car and take a few deep breaths. You clutch the bouquet of flowers in your hand, trying to will yourself to step foot out of the car. Even after three months, this is hard to do. It’s like the first time all over again. The grief hits you just as hard as the day of the funeral.

You walk through the long, long aisle of headstones and grave markers. A bunch of people long gone who you’ll never know. It breaks your heart to know that to other people visiting loved ones, Gwen Stacy is just another headstone. Another person nobody will know again.

You finally make it up to Gwen’s grave. You kneel down and gently set down the bouquet. You stay kneeling there, just staring at your best friend’s name.

You take a deep breath before you start speaking.

“Hey. It’s me again.”

You pause for a moment, almost as if you’re expecting a response, even though there hasn’t been a single response throughout the many times you’ve been here.

“My grades are doing really good now. Applied for a few scholarships, and I actually think I might get into an Ivy League.”

You smile gently, knowing Gwen would be so proud of you. Whenever you doubted yourself, she would always encourage you. You remember the countless nights of her helping you with homework, telling you how much you’ve improved. She even said she was positive you’d get into the same school, becoming roommates and actually living together. Like sisters.

“Everyone in school misses you. They still talk about how amazing you were. How smart and how nice.”

Just yesterday you were walking down the hall past Gwen’s locker. There’s still plenty of pictures and decorations commemorating her. It gives you hope that Gwen will not be forgotten for a long time.

But you also think about the looks you get when you walk by. The sad, pitiful looks. You hate those looks. You also think some of those odd expressions are looks of confusion, as it was so weird to see you without Gwen Stacy right in front of you. You’ve always been Gwen Stacy’s best friend. People don’t know how to react seeing you without her.

“Uhmm…Peter misses you.”

You always choke up a bit at this part.

“We all do, of course, but especially Peter. I try to visit him every day. He doesn’t really talk to me though.”

Not that he talked to you too much before Gwen died, but you still felt like mentioning it.

“He just kind of sits in his room all the time. He hasn’t been in school much.”

The few times he has shown up in school, he just kind of ignores everyone. He must be getting tired of those pitiful looks in the hallways too.

“I’ve tried looking out for him. Like…like you would’ve wanted.”

God, you hate this. You really hate this.

“He just won’t let me in. I know he’s not going out as Spider-Man anymore, but he’s just not doing anything. He just sits in his room all the time. Not talking to anyone. Not even May.”

If he isn’t even talking to May, why would he talk to you?

You take a deep breath and finally stand up fully, your legs aching from kneeling on the hard ground for too long.

“I’m actually headed to his place now. I know he probably won’t talk to me, but I’ll still try. For you.”

You try to keep the tears back.

“Even if he doesn’t talk to me, May still lets me hang out. You know she makes the best food.”

You stare at her name again, not wanting to say goodbye again. But you know you have to.

“Anyway, that’s all. Thought I’d keep you updated. I’ll visit same time next week.”

You can almost hear her say goodbye to you. But you know it’s in your head. So you finally turn around and go back to your car, preparing for yet another uneventful visit to the Parker residence.

You knock on the door, preparing to put on a happy face in front of May. She’s such a sweet lady, you don’t want her to worry too much about you. She already has to worry about Peter, and you don’t want to put any extra stress on her shoulders.

Sure enough, May answers the front door with her signature sweet smile.

“Hey there, sweetie! Come on in, I just put on a pot of coffee, you must be freezing out here.”

She ushers you in and you revel in the warm atmosphere of the home.

“Thanks, May. I appreciate it.”

She dismisses your statement with a wave.

“Think nothing of it, hun.”

You sit down at the coffee table while May gets the coffee ready. While she does, you look around the home, which you’ve done countless times at this point.

Your favorite thing to look at is the picture on the wall of Peter. He must’ve been young, maybe sixth grade. In the picture, he’s at a science fair, holding up a nice red ribbon with “1st Place” written on it. May and Ben are standing proudly behind him as he smiles brightly at the camera. It makes you smile, seeing him so happy. But you also get sad, wishing he had some of that childlike joy back in his life.

May brings comes back in the room with two cups of coffee in her hand.

“Here you go, should warm you right up.”

You accept the cup with a smile, embracing the warm feeling on your hands. The warmth spreads when you take a sip. The coffee is nothing special, just as generic as any cup of coffee, but knowing that May made it for you and how happy she was to see you makes it taste better.

“Peter’s in his room if you want to say hi.”

She didn’t need to tell you where he was. You knew.

“Okay, I’ll go see him.”

You take a final sip of coffee and walk to Peter’s room.

You contemplate knocking on his door. You know if you knock that he probably won’t answer you, but if you just walk in, he still won’t talk to you. So, knowing the answer will be the same either way, you just walk in.

It looks like Peter hasn’t moved an inch since your last visit. He’s just laying on his bed, covered in blankets, head turned away from you. You know he’s awake though, you can tell by the way his body slightly tensed at the door opening.

“Hey, Pete.”

You speak gently, almost like you were afraid to scare him off. You close the door as softly as you can behind you.

“Missed you at school. I had the teachers give me your assignments so I can give them to you.”

No response. As usual.

You don’t know how to speak to him. You never really did. Neither of you really spoke to each other before he started dating Gwen, and when they did start dating, there was only small interactions between you. But still, you liked those small interactions. They were nice. Made you feel like you were sort of friends. But now that Gwen is gone, you don’t know where you stand.

Even so, you still try. You know that’s what Gwen would want. She wouldn’t want the love of her life wasting away like this.

“Have you eaten at all today?”

No answer.

“I know you’re, like, superhuman and all, but even so, you need to have some food in your body.”

You lick your lips and sigh, getting a little bit frustrated. It’s the same thing every day. You talk, he lays there, then you go home. You don’t feel like your presence is helping him that much, but if you don’t make an effort, you know you’ll feel guilty.

“How about some pizza? I can order one and it’ll be delivered in no time.”

As expected, no response. God, this boy is so infuriating sometimes.

“I know you hear me. Your spidey-senses kind of force you to.”

It’s still weird that Peter’s Spider-Man. You only found out about his secret by accident. You just walked into Gwen’s room, without knocking of course, as best friends do, and there you saw a surprised Gwen and Peter in his suit, mask in hand. That was a few weeks before the accident.

“Come on, Peter. You need to eat something. We can’t have you wasting away in here.”

“Why do you care?”

Even though his voice is raspy and not at all loud, you still flinch. That’s the most you’ve gotten out of him in three months.

“I, uh, what do you mean? Of course I care.”

“Why?”

His voice is a little louder this time.

“Because, we’re friends, Peter. I care about you.”

He sits up in his bed and faces you. You can finally get a good look at him. His once bright eyes, full of joy and mischief are dull and bloodshot.

“Since when? I mean, we barely talk.”

You don’t really know what to say, because it is true, you never talked with Peter as much as you would’ve liked to, but you still kind of thought those small interactions amounted to a friendship.

Just as you try to speak again, he talks some more.

“We both know the only reason we ever hung out was because of Gwen. And she’s not here now. So, please, just…”

He moves his arms around, trying to get his frustration across.

“Leave me alone.”

When he says this, he looks dead into your eyes, which are slowly but surely filling up with tears. You try not to let them fall.

You’ve been wishing for Peter to say something to you for months now, and now that it’s happened, you just want to curl into a ball on the ground.

Not wanting to be in the room with him any longer, you turn around and face the door. You put your hand on the doorknob but before you twist it, you turn your head towards Peter.

“I know you never really thought of me as a friend, Peter. A part of me always knew you just putting up with me for Gwen’s sake. But I always respected you, Pete. You were kind, funny, cool. Never mean.”

A couple of tears drops fall despite yourself.

“I remember when there was that Homecoming dance. You and Gwen were going together but I didn’t have a date. I was fine staying home, but you felt bad and invited me to come with you guys. You didn’t have to, nobody was forcing you, you just offered. Gwen didn’t even have to ask you to, you just did it.”

You wipe your cheek for a moment, still trying to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you.

“It was small things like that that made me like you. You’re such a good person Peter. I mean, you’re fucking Spider-Man, of course you’re a good person.”

You take one final big breath.

“So, you may not consider me a friend, Peter Parker, but you are mine. You are my friend. And I don’t have many of those, so, I’ve got to look after you.”

You finally twist the doorknob and open the door.

“It’s what Gwen would’ve wanted.”

With that final sentiment, you walk out of his room and speed past May, who is clearly worried about the tears on your face, eager to leave this house and go home to cry.

You spend the rest of your night watching movies in your room. You’re laying on your bed in your pajamas, bowl of popcorn in your lap. You glance at the opposite side of the bed. The side Gwen would sit as she laughed at the movies with you.

You try to focus on the movie, trying not to think about Gwen so much, and also trying not to think about your fight with Peter.

Was it even a fight? Neither of you yelled, but he did make you cry. He said some hurtful things. Things that were partially true. But you still didn’t want to see him. Seeing him hurt you a lot. All you can think about was the way he looked at you, with annoyance, frustration, anger. You felt bad for him, you know he’s grieving too, but he just made your blood boil and your eyes well up with tears.

Despite this, you know you’ll still visit him tomorrow. Because Gwen would want you to. Because that’s what friends do.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

Instead of your mom or dad like you expected, none other than Peter Parker walks through your door.

He’s actually dressed in New clothes, as opposed to the weeks old clothes you saw him wear earlier. His eyes look like they’re filled with guilt.

“Hey.”

You’re not used to seeing Peter Parker in your room. He only showed up a few times when he crashed yours and Gwen’s movie nights.

“Hey.”

Peter looks at the ground nervously, hand reaching to scratch the back of his head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I have been an absolute jerk to you and you don’t deserve that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words.

“You’re grieving. I get it. It’s okay.”

He quickly shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s not okay. I know I’m grieving, but you are too. I’ve just been shutting you out when all you want to do is help. It’s not right.”

You have no words. You certainly weren’t expecting this, but maybe you should have. It is Peter, after all. He’s a superhero. Always trying to make things right.

“You have always been nice to me, and you never gave up on me, even when I completely shutting you out. I haven’t been a good friend to you, and I want that to change.”

Hearing him actual say that he wants to be your friend warms your heart more than it should.

You give him a slight smile.

“You can start being a good friend and have a movie night with me?”

At first, Peter looks shocked that you’re willing to just forgive him so quickly. But then the expression on his face soon turns jovial as you shoot over on the bed, allowing him to sit next to you.

You smile as you press play on the movie you were watching. You can feel Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, but you ignore it until you know he’s watching the movie. Both of you just sit and watch, hands leisurely grabbing popcorn from the bowl between you. It almost feels normal, natural.

It actually feels like you have a friend again. Not that he can ever replace Gwen. And you know you could never replace Gwen in Peter’s eyes either. But both of you are filling the space that Gwen’s death left. It makes things easier for the both of you. It’s nice knowing that you have each other during this difficult time.

After a while, when all is calm between you and Peter and the movie is almost over, you turn to look over at Peter.

“You know, I visited Gwen’s grave today. I visit every week. You could come with me if you want.”

Peter is still for a moment, eyes locked on the screen in front of you. You wish you didn’t bring it up, knowing that Peter is just now starting to talk about Gwen’s death, and now you may have pushed too far too fast.

But then he looks over at you, a sad but gentle smile on his face.

“Yeah. I think that’d be nice.”

#peter parker #andrew garfield #the amazing spiderman #spiderman #tasm #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #emma stone #gwen stacy #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel #mcu

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