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mim16s · 3 days ago

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Survival in game

Hello everyone, sorry for taking so many days to post an update. I was sick and couldn’t write, but I’ll try to be more active from now on. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

A part of this chapter may be a trigger for some people , for there is heavy violence against the reader and bad memories that will be explained in an upcoming chapter.

Materialist

Part 3

The atmosphere still carried a heavy tension, even after the game had ended. The imminent threat of death had lessened, but the feeling of unease lingered. You looked at Hyun-ju, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. Words seemed insufficient to express the gratitude for both of you being alive.

— What are you thinking? — Hyun-ju asked, curious. — You've been looking at me for a while... Something on your mind?

You looked away, trying to organize the whirlwind of thoughts, especially during tense situations.

— I'm just happy you're alive. — Your voice came out calm but carried a sincerity that made Hyun-ju smile. You couldn't help but smile back, an almost automatic reaction. — I can't wait to get out of here. Do you think we'll have enough votes to end it for now? — you asked, and she seemed anxious, remaining silent for a moment.

— Maybe we'll leave today — she said softly.

— When we get out, I want you to meet my mom she will love you. I'll cook something nice for us — your voice was enthusiastic, momentarily forgetting the situation and thinking about meeting Hyun-ju in a different place.

— I'd like that — she smiled. — I didn't know you cooked.

— Well, I'm not a chef or anything, but I can make some tasty food.

— It's a deal, then — Hyun-ju said.The conversation was interrupted by a voice from another bed in the dormitory.

— Can I ask you something? — The older woman, with her son beside her, got your attention.

— Sure. — Hyun-ju responded politely, though you noticed a tension in her posture.— When you were playing jegi, why did you ask us not to look?Hyun-ju looked away, staring at the floor for a few seconds. The discomfort was palpable, and you wanted to offer support but didn't know how. Your mind raced, trying to find the right way to encourage her, but the words seemed stuck as usual.

— It's because I... — Hyun-ju began, but the woman interrupted.

— Shy? — the woman asked innocently. — Is that why?

— No, I'm not shy. It's just... I'm not finished...

— Finished what? — The woman's curiosity seemed insatiable.

— Mom, stop. — Yong-sik intervened, holding his mother's arm with evident desperation. — Stop asking so many questions.

— It's okay. — Hyun-ju tried to calm the situation. — It's just... I have more surgeries to go, and when people stare at me, I...You saw Hyun-ju's insecurity. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you slid your hand near hers, trying to convey comfort. Hyun-ju looked at you, and the small connection seemed to give her a bit more strength.

— Surgeries? Oh, so that's an implant, right? — The older woman said, realizing something but still not noticing Hyun-ju's discomfort. — I thought they were big...

She raised her hands as if to touch Hyun-ju's chest, but before she could continue, Yong-sik interrupted again, visibly embarrassed.

— Stop, mom! Don't touch her!

Relief came as more people entered, interrupting the conversation. You felt a little lighter seeing more people had survived, but not everyone felt the same, as you noticed the purple-haired man's group upset that more people had made it.

The masked soldiers entered. The tension returned as they began announcing the game results. Voices of indignation rose as people demanded a recount of the prize. But for you, the money no longer mattered. All you wanted was to leave that place and return to your mom. You looked at Hyun-ju, wishing to see her far from this hell.

As the voting started, your heart raced. Each vote was a stab of anxiety. You watched Yong-sik switch sides, pressing the "O" to continue. His mother's look of disappointment was hard to ignore. Your eyes met Hyun-ju's. Would she vote to continue too? She voted "O" before... No, she promised this would be the last time.

Your turn came. You walked to the panel, each step felt heavier. Without hesitation, you pressed the red "X," determined not to continue. You returned to the "X" side, your eyes fixed on Hyun-ju, waiting for her decision with your heart in your throat.

When her turn came, Hyun-ju walked to the panel. You watched, your body tense, your mind racing. Doubt was written on her face, but then, she pressed "O." The sound of the button being pressed seemed to echo in your head, drowning out every other noise around you. Your breath caught in your throat, and a wave of betrayal washed over you. You had agreed this would be the last game. Why would she lie? Your eyes filled with tears, the pain becoming almost unbearable.

She turned, and your eyes met. When Hyun-ju saw the pain and betrayal in your gaze, the realization of what she'd done hit her hard. She understood that her decision, based on her own needs and struggles, hadn't considered how deeply it would affect you. She had only thought of her debts, her unfinished transition, but now, seeing the pain in your eyes, the weight of her choice seemed unbearable.The voting continued, but everything around you became a blur. The voices of people debating whether to continue the game or not felt distant, almost unreal. The final result appeared: 23 votes difference. The games would continue. You stood up, walking slowly back to your bed. Each step felt drained of energy, each movement a struggle. You felt the eyes on you but had no strength to lift your head. You knew Hyun-ju was watching you, but the weight of disappointment was too heavy to face.

As meals were distributed, you remained still. The hunger had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming emptiness. Then, a pair of hands appeared before you, one holding a piece of bread, the other a liter of milk. You looked up slowly. It was Hyun-ju. She avoided your eyes, her expression filled with sadness.

— I noticed you didn't get any, so... I brought this for you. — Her voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with hesitation. You remained still, unwilling to take the food. — Please, eat something. You need to keep your strength up for tomorrow.

— I don't want to eat. — You murmured, your voice barely audible, reflecting your inner struggle.Hyun-ju placed the food beside you, letting out a heavy sigh.

— I'll leave it here... in case you change your mind. — She hesitated, her voice trembling with emotion. — I'm sorry for lying to you. I...

Before she could continue, Yong-sik and Geum-ja approached, breaking the tense moment.

— But I wasn't the only one who voted to continue. Look! Someone else voted for the circle, see? Look there — Yong-sik pointed at Hyun-ju as he spoke.

— Why did you do it? — Geum-ja asked, her voice filled with disappointment. — After promising we would eat together, why did you change your mind?—She said, mentioning a conversation you had before, where she had invited you to visit her house.—Is it because of your surgeries? Are they that expensive?

Hyun-ju remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. The words seemed trapped, but finally, she spoke, her voice breaking under the weight of her memories.

— Everything was... fine until I revealed who I really am. People thought I was strange, but that wasn't a problem. — Her voice trembled, each word a painful effort. — But after I said I wanted to be a woman and went through my transition... everything fell apart. My mom cried, my dad rejected me. I got fired and lost my friends. I need the surgeries, but I have no job, no money. I felt free, but... my life became unbearably hard.

You lifted your face, the initial anger starting to dissipate in light of her raw words. The weight of what she was carrying became clear. Despite the pain you felt, you began to understand. Hyun-ju wasn't just fighting for money, but for her own survival and dignity.

— Oh my... and what did you do for work? — Geum-ja asked, now with a softness in her voice.

— I was a soldier. — Hyun-ju replied, the weight of the revelation making Yong-sik's mouth fall open in surprise. You were a bit surprised, seeing the sweet woman Hyun-ju is, that job hadn't crossed your mind, but remembering how she acted in the game and how she handled the game's environment kind of made sense.

— And what will you do when you get out of here? — Geum-ja asked curiously.

— I'm going to Thailand. — The determination in her voice was clear, conveying hope. — I'll play one more game, have the surgeries there, buy a house... and start a new life.

Your heart ached. Thailand? She would go so far away? Maybe you'd never see her again.

— I've been to Thailand. — Yong-sik said, trying to lighten the mood. — There are many people like Hyun-ju there, you know? Seriously, and many are much slimmer and prettier than a lot of women I've seen. It's amazing.

— They say people there are much prettier. — Hyun-ju said.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to speak. Your voice came out trembling but full of sincerity.

— You're beautiful. It was the first thing I thought when I saw you.

Hyun-ju lifted her gaze, happy that you spoke to her and by your words, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Your words hit her with a force she didn't expect. After everything she'd been through, hearing that from you was like a balm to her soul. She held back her tears, feeling the warmth of your words filling the emptiness in her heart. For the first time in a long time, she felt seen, not as a freak, but as who she truly was.

___

The time for lights out was approaching, and a growing discomfort took hold of you. You felt a penetrating gaze that made your skin prickle, as if something invisible was pressing down on you. Your eyes scanned the room until they found the man with purple hair. He was staring at you with an almost suffocating intensity, his eyes fixed on you in a way that seemed to strip you bare, layer by layer. It was as if he were piercing through all your barriers with a single look.

Your heart raced, and the air seemed heavier. You tried to look away, thinking that maybe if you did, he would stop staring at you that way.

— Can we talk? — Hyun-ju's voice sounded beside you, pulling you back to reality. You turned to her, now alone as the woman and her son had left. You still felt the weight of that gaze on your back. The hairs on your arms stood on end, as if sensing something bad.

— Yes, of course. — Your voice came out more tense than you intended. You tried to focus on Hyun-ju, but the discomfort persisted, like a constant shadow.Hyun-ju took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor.

— I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made promises I couldn't keep. I was wrong, and I'm sorry.

You observed her posture, visibly dejected.

— Hyun-ju, I understand that you're seeking your happiness. But I won't lie, your actions hurt me. I don't want to continue in this game, but I also can't force you to leave. I can't completely judge you because I don't face the same challenges you do. But I understand the pain of people distancing themselves.You paused, searching for the right words. — I've never had many friends. In school, the few I managed to make distanced themselves, afraid of also becoming targets of bullying, like I was. I know what it's like to feel empty.Hyun-ju raised her eyes, slightly widened, speechless.

— I voted to stay, but I will protect you. I made a promise to myself and I won't break it. As long as I breathe, I'll be by your side. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you and I promise this will be the last time I vote to continue..

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders.

— Alright. Just... please, don't lie again. I don't like lies.

O silêncio que se seguiu foi pesado, mas trouxe uma estranha sensação de alívio, como se ambos estivessem começando a se entender, apesar de tudo. Você examinou a sala com os olhos até encontrar o homem de cabelo roxo. Ele estava observando você com uma intensidade quase esmagadora, perfurando cada camada do seu ser, ele mencionou um homem parado ao lado dele, que olhou para você e então riu junto com ele.

As luzes finalmente se apagaram, e você se virou na cama, tentando em vão encontrar o sono. A escuridão deveria ter trazido alívio, mas o pensamento do jogo mortal esperando por você na manhã seguinte não o deixaria em paz. A ansiedade apertou sua garganta, tornando cada respiração mais difícil. E agora, a pressão em sua bexiga começou a atormentá-lo. Você não conseguiria esperar até o amanhecer. Então, silenciosamente, você se levantou, tentando não acordar ninguém, mas quando estava prestes a sair, sua mão foi agarrada.

— Where are you going? — Hyun-ju asked, still sleepy, blinking slowly. She woke up as soon as your feet hit the floor, as if she were connected to you. She almost laughed, but the weight of the night didn’t allow it.

— I need to go to the bathroom — you whispered, trying not to disturb anyone else.

— I’ll go with you. It could be dangerous — Hyun-ju replied, getting up, but you interrupted her.

— It’s okay, go back to sleep. Nothing will happen. I’ll just go to the bathroom and come back quickly — you tried to reassure her. She hesitated at first but eventually nodded, still reluctant.

Hyun-ju saw you walking toward the bathroom door. She noticed the brief exchange with the guard before you entered, and then, a few minutes later, She saw two more people getting up to go to the bathroom. A bad feeling settled in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just her mind exaggerating, she thought.

Inside the bathroom, time seemed to crawl. The sound of water running was a constant in your mind. Then, you felt, cold and relentless, the presence of someone behind you. Your hairs stood up instantly.

— I’ve waited so long to find you alone, but that friend of yours never leaves your side. It was irritating — the man’s voice sounded low and threatening. You turned and saw him, the man who had been watching you earlier. Panic spread quickly through your body, but you tried to remain calm. Something was wrong, and this shouldn’t be happening.

— This is the women’s bathroom. You shouldn’t be here — you said, stepping as far away from him as possible. But he didn’t seem to care.

— Meu amigo e eu queremos mais votos para continuar jogando, então esse "x" ali precisa sair — disse Namgyu, que surgiu por trás do homem de cabelos roxos pressionando o dedo contra o tecido, a força causando uma leve ardência na pele.

— I just want to leave. Accept that — you replied, your tone firm but tense, trying to assert your opinion.— Oh, look at that, seems like we've got a brave one here — Thanos mocked, laughing.

— Do we need to teach this bitch a lesson so she learns some manners, man? — Namgyu asked, and Thanos grinned, stepping closer. His imposing figure became even more intimidating as he shoved you hard. You stumbled, nearly falling, fear growing in your eyes.

— Please, stop this. Just let me go — you pleaded, your voice trembling.

— Are you going to vote to keep playing the next game? — he asked, getting no response. He chuckled, raising his hand and delivering a hard slap. You fell to the ground, your face burning with a red mark as tears streamed down.

— I bet after this lesson, you'll change your mind — Namgyu said, kicking your stomach. The pain made you double over, powerless against their violence. Tears rolled down as you tried to defend yourself, but it was futile. The pain and humiliation brought back memories of your teenage years, of bullying, of cruel laughter.Suddenly, the kicking stopped. When you opened your eyes, you saw Hyun-ju, delivering precise blows. Namgyu and Thanos tried to fight back, but it was useless. She was relentless, only stopping when they were beaten and scared enough not to try anything else. They fled, leaving the bathroom in a panic

Your body was shaking, your head was spinning, and you just wanted to disappear. The sensation was unbearable. The memories of bullying from years ago flooded back, the recollection of being cornered behind the school while your classmates beat you. What Namgyu and Thanos did was the breaking point. You felt utterly out of control.

You hit your head against the wall, trying to turn the psychological pain into physical pain, something more bearable. But soon, you felt something different. A gentle hand held your head, but you still couldn’t stop. Your movements seemed frantic, and she held you with a little more force, interrupting the frantic rhythm of your head against the wall and your hand. When you looked, you saw Hyun-ju in front of you, her eyes worried, but her voice still seemed distant, muffled by the pain.

— It’s okay, not here anymore, it’s me. It’s over, it’s okay — Hyun-ju said, trying to calm you down. Her voice still seemed distant, but her presence was everything you needed at that moment.

She hugged you, holding you tightly, whispering words of comfort as her tears soaked your shoulder. But there was no peace. The weight of it all was still on you, and the feeling of helplessness continued to consume you. Your mind was in a dark place, and every word from Hyun-ju seemed to echo as if it were another reality, one you couldn’t reach. You tried to calm down, but you couldn’t. Your breathing was fast, your mind racing, your body paralyzed by anxiety.You felt your body slowly relaxing, but the feeling of helplessness didn’t go away. Your voice was weak when you spoke.

— I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to go home... — Your voice came out dragged, weak, as if each word was a monumental effort.Hyun-ju hugged you tighter, as if she could protect you from all of that, from everything that had happened and was still happening. But the pain, the guilt, she couldn’t dissipate the regret stamped on her face.

— Eu sei... Me desculpe... — ela disse, a culpa pesada em suas palavras. Pensamentos de que se ela não tivesse votado naquele círculo, isso nunca teria acontecido. Se ela tivesse insistido em ir com você ao banheiro, Thanos e Namgyu nunca teriam tido a chance de se aproximar de você. Ela se culpava, mas você não conseguia mais pensar no que poderia ter sido; tudo parecia irrelevante. Não importava o que poderia ter sido, o que poderia ter mudado. A dor estava aqui agora, e nada mais fazia sentido. Você se entregou à dor, chorando contra ela enquanto ela te cobria com sua jaqueta, tentando te aquecer, te cobrir, te proteger, mesmo que ela não soubesse se era possível.

Hyun-ju tried to stop you from hurting yourself, holding your hands that were scratching, trying to substitute the head hits, but it was as if you were trapped in an endless cycle. She held you tighter, her hands now trying to hold you with all the energy she had, as if she could stop the pain from continuing. Her words of comfort came in a constant flow, but you could hardly hear them. All you could feel was the agony inside you.

— I don’t know what else to do... — Hyun-ju murmured to herself, her voice cracking with frustration, with the despair of not being able to help you.

She felt her own impotence, felt like she was failing you in every possible way. Her face was pale, silent tears falling down her face as well. She didn’t know what else to do, but she kept trying, insisting on holding you as if it were possible to bring you back to your body, she didn’t know what else to do, but she wouldn’t leave you alone. She didn’t want you to go through this without someone by your side. Time seemed to stretch, as if the crisis would never end, and she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to bear seeing you like this.She whispered, repeatedly, almost pleading.

— I’m here... Please, listen to me... You’re not alone... I’m here... I won’t leave you...

#park sunghoon #player 120 #squid game #autistic reader #cho hyun ju x reader #cho hyunju

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itsnesss · 6 hours ago

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Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii :D

I'm sorry if this request is super long and detailed, but I was wondering if you could write a story with (hear me out) Thanos notices reader he thinks she's cute like a rabbit but reader is in a relationship with player 333 she enters the squid games trying to help out her bf but finds out he also joined and that he used to go out with player 222 and that 222 is pregnant with his baby. She feels hurt and asks him to justify himself he tells her he will, but "now is not the time" and he keeps trying to get closer with his ex she feels hurt but tries to be cool abt it. And that's when Thanos tries getting closer to her he convinces her to join his group and 333 is annoyed at her asking to justify her actions and that's when Thanos tells him to "f off" and he gets annoyed at him.

So Thanos to piss him off even more he kisses the reader in front of 33 and starts getting a little handsy with her then tells him to excuse him and his new gf and then boom NSFW with reader asking Thanos to tell her he loves her or what he likes abt her (just reader trying to know if she's rlly loved or not)

It's okay if you don't want to!!! Also, thank u if you read this!!! ＼(^^)／

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 | thanos (player 230) × fem!reader

summary | the request. betrayed by myung-gi, you find unexpected comfort and passion with thanos

warnings | implicit and psychological violence, mention of survival, infidelity and betrayal, emotional tension, smut, explicit content, oral sex (fem!receives), p in v, semi-public

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The smell of blood and fear permeated the air of the shared dormitory as the players tried to sleep amidst watchful vigilance and distrust. You sat against the wall, watching as Myung-gi, your boyfriend, argued with a nearby group about strategies. Your relationship with him had been a beacon during your financial struggles, a reason to keep going when everything seemed to fall apart. Yet, something about his behavior lately had changed.

You didn’t realize someone else had been watching you from across the room. Thanos, the chaotic rapper with a silver tongue, kept his eyes fixed on you, his thoughts flowing as quickly as his improvised rhymes.

"She’s cute," he murmured to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. There was something about the way you bit your lower lip while deep in thought that made him pause. Something different. Something real.

That night, after the next game was announced, you tried to approach Myung-gi. You had entered the game for him, to save him from his mistakes and arrogance. But when you found him, he was whispering something to Player 222, a young woman with a round face and tired eyes. You stopped as you caught a fragment of their conversation.

"Why didn’t you tell me before?" Myung-gi asked in a low voice.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" she replied, visibly emotional, her hand stroking her belly.

A chill ran down your spine as you understood what that meant. The confrontation was inevitable.

"What’s going on here, Myung-gi," you asked, trying to stay calm as your eyes darted between him and Player 222.

He sighed, visibly uncomfortable.

"She and I… we had something before this. It’s not what you think."

"It’s not what I think? What’s that supposed to mean? Why didn’t you tell me she’s pregnant?" Your voice rose, but you tried to avoid drawing the other players’ attention.

"I’ll explain everything, but now’s not the time."

"You always say that. What am I supposed to do while you…?" You trailed off, unable to continue as you saw his attention shift back to 222. He was worried about her, not you.

The pain in your chest was unbearable, but you decided not to show it. You walked away, finding a corner where you could breathe.

That’s where Thanos found you. He sat down next to you with the confidence of someone who had always relied on fast-talking to survive.

"That guy’s an idiot," he said softly, almost a whisper, but filled with conviction.

"Stay out of it, Thanos," you tried to sound firm, but he just laughed.

"Come on, girl. I’m good at reading people, and he’s not worth it. Join my group. I promise I won’t betray you like he did."

His words, as ridiculous as they seemed, carried weight. There was something refreshing about his unfiltered honesty, something that made you consider his proposal. When you nodded slowly, he grinned widely, as if he had won the most important game.

Later, when Myung-gi saw you with Thanos, his face darkened. He approached quickly, crossing the room with long, aggressive strides.

"What are you doing with this clown?" he snapped at you, glaring at Thanos with disdain.

Thanos stood up, positioning himself between you and Myung-gi.

"Clown, huh? At least I don’t have secret babies running around."

"Shut up!" Myung-gi shouted, stepping forward, but Thanos didn’t back down.

"Why don’t you go to hell instead?" Thanos shot back with an insolent grin. Before Myung-gi could respond, Thanos turned to you and, without warning, kissed you.

The kiss was brief but intense, a declaration as brazen as he was. Myung-gi stood frozen, his fists trembling with rage.

"Forgive us," Thanos said, wiping his mouth with his thumb as he looked back at him, "me and my new girlfriend."

The air in the room grew tense, the other players watching in silent interest. You were speechless, caught between Myung-gi’s humiliation and Thanos’s defiant attitude. Although you hated to admit it, a small part of you felt vindicated.

When Myung-gi walked away, muttering something you couldn’t hear, Thanos shrugged and glanced at you sideways.

"See? Problem solved."

"You’re an idiot," you said, but you couldn’t help a faint smile.

Thanos noticed the curve of your lips and, as if he had received the green light, leaned in toward you again. This time the kiss was longer, deeper, more intentional. You felt his hand gently glide across your cheek, and despite the chaos surrounding you, the world stood still for a moment.

When his lips parted from yours, he looked at you with that spark of amusement and audacity that never seemed to fade.

"Want to get out of here?" he whispered.

You nodded without much thought. Something in the intensity of his eyes made you forget everything else.

The two of you walked toward the bathrooms, ignoring the curious gazes of the other players. As soon as you crossed the door and he closed it behind you, he gently pinned you against the wall. His lips found yours again, and this time there was nothing to hold back the electricity between you.

"You know you drive me crazy, right?" he murmured against your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanos... this is insane," you said, but your hands were already gripping his shirt.

"My whole life has been insane. You’re the only thing that makes sense now."

Your breath quickened when his hand slid over your chest. The fear and adrenaline of the game mixed with the heat spreading through your body. You wanted him to take you to the limit, you wanted him to make you forget everything that had happened.

"Talk to me," you pleaded, arching your back as his fingers found your nipples.

"I want to see you," he whispered, caressing your skin through your clothes.

You nodded with a moan when he moved aside to take off your blouse and bra. His gaze fixed on your breasts, his breathing visibly quickening.

"So beautiful..." he murmured, biting his lips. His fingers caressed your nipples again, this time without the barrier of clothing, and the pleasure made you moan.

"Go on" you pleaded.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?" he said, removing your pants and panties in one swift motion.

Before you could respond, he knelt in front of you and kissed your sex. Your body shuddered in surprise, but the surprise was quickly replaced by desire. His lips and tongue traced circles over your clitoris, sending waves of heat through your body.

"That's how I like it" he gasped, raising his eyes to meet yours. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if your entire body was on fire.

"Say it again," you pleaded in a whisper.

"Like this. Me. Like." he repeated softly, each word accompanied by a kiss on your sex.

You felt on the edge, about to burst. Your breathing was shallow, but his fingers wouldn't let you stop. They caressed you firmly, quickly, until you could no longer bear it. Your body tensed, the muscles tightening in waves that coursed through your entire body. The orgasm was so intense that it enveloped your entire body from head to toe.

He stood up while you were still swaying in his arms, watching you with a satisfied smile.

"Do you like it this way?" he asked in a soft, almost inaudible voice.

"Yes" you answered without thinking. "Yes, yes..."

"Yes?" repeated Thanos, caressing your thighs with his fingers. His hands moved slowly, but his gaze was burning and dark.

"Yes, Thanos" you moaned, going to kiss his lips fiercely.

He responded with equal passion, kissing you breathless. His fingers caressed your thighs, moving up towards the sex that was still trembling with pleasure.

"Do you have any idea how much I desire you?" he whispered, kissing your breasts with an intensity that made you gasp.

You nodded, wanting more from him. Thanos responded by quickly removing his clothes, showing you his erection. You felt wet at the sight of him, wanting to feel him inside you.

"I want to feel you," you pleaded in a low voice.

Thanos nodded, positioning himself between your thighs. Your sex tensed in anticipation of the contact. He kissed you with a hoarse whisper as he penetrated you. The pain of the first contact mixed with pleasure as he began to move inside you.

"I love how you feel," he gasped, caressing your thighs as he penetrated you.

The sight of his face flushed with pleasure was the last straw. You couldn't take it anymore, and a second orgasm enveloped you. Your sex closed around him, enveloping him in waves of pleasure. Thanos shouted your name as he came inside you, his body trembling against yours.

The room seemed to spin around you as your breathing normalized. Thanos held you firmly against his body, kissing your forehead with a satisfied whisper.

"It was incredible," he said. You make me feel alive, like I've never felt before.

You nodded silently, feeling the warmth of his embrace against your skin.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised, his eyes shining with a conviction that surprised you. I swear.

#squid game smut #squid game #squid game 2 #thanos squid game #thanos smut #thanos x reader #thanos x you #player 230 x reader #player 230

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jazzy96scorpio · 23 hours ago

Text

Your Wish is my Command

Description: You get pulled into helping Joel and Tess,to keep Ellie safe. Maria sent you with them,she trusted you and Ellie didn't want to come without you.

So your story begins that night when you sneak out from the QZ with them. Tess got bitten nearly after, you were left with grumpy Joel and an silly teenager Ellie. You are such a BRAT and Joel hates it.

Warnings ⚠️: adult readers only, sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, angry Joel, age gap (Joel is 56, reader unspecified), smut

💦

After a long and exhausting day of traveling through the ravaged landscape, you, Joel, and Ellie found a small clearing in the woods to rest. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your limbs.

Ellie, oblivious to your weariness, happily munched on a stale sandwich, her youthful energy seemingly unaffected by the day's hardships.

Joel, however, remained on guard, his weathered face etched with a deep-seated mistrust.

As you watched him, a strange sense of connection stirred within you. Despite his gruff exterior, there was an undeniable appeal to his weathered handsomeness, a rugged charm that belied the darkness that lurked within his eyes. You found yourself drawn to him.

"I'm going to the river," you announced, breaking the silence. "Need to wash off the grime."

Joel's eyes narrowed. "Alone?"

"I'll be fine," you assured him, already starting to gather your things. "Won't be long."

"It's not safe," he warned you.

"I'll be careful," you insisted, a touch of defiance creeping into your voice.

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on your determined expression. Finally, he conceded, "Just… be quick."

With a nod, you set off towards the river, leaving Joel to keep watch over Ellie.

Ellie quickly after fall a sleep and Joel was worried about you.

You reached the riverbank and, with a deep breath, shed your clothes, reveling in the cool, refreshing water. You splashed around, enjoying the rare moment of freedom and the sensation of the water against your skin.

Time seemed to slip away. You lost track of how long you had been in the water, the sounds of the forest fading into a distant hum. Suddenly, you heard Joel's voice, a mixture of concern and exasperation.

"Hey! Come on, hurry up! It's getting cold. You're gonna freeze."

You chuckled, emerging from the water, droplets clinging to your skin. "I'll be fine, old man." You couldn't resist teasing him, "Join me if you're so worried."

Joel scoffed, turning his back to you. "Do what you want, girl."

You wanted to push him too far. A mischievous glint entered your eyes. You let out a loud, dramatic scream, pretending to be startled.

Joel whirled around, his face pale with alarm. "Are you alright? What was that?" He frantically searched for you in the deep water, his eyes wide with panic.

"Down here!" you called out, suppressing a giggle. "Just kidding."

Joel let out a relieved sigh, his voice still angry "Don't do that," he grumbled, shaking his head.

Joel, his patience wearing thin, approached the riverbank. He crouched down, picking up a handful of rocks and stacking them precariously on the edge.

"Get out of the water now," he demanded, his voice rough with impatience.

"I don't have time for this."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Make me."

Joel stared at you, his jaw clenched. He knew he was playing right into your hands, but your stubborn defiance was infuriating.

"Alright," he growled, tossing the rocks into the water. "This is your last warning."

"Nope" you say with smile.

He stepped into the river, the icy water shocking him.

"You fucking Brat," he growled, wading towards you.

Before you could react, he scooped you up in his arms, your naked body pressed against his. You gasped, your laughter cut short by the suddenness of his action. He carried you out of the water, his grip surprisingly gentle, and put you down on the ground.

"Are you crazy?" he growled, his voice hoarse. "What you were thinking?"

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. "Yeah," you whispered, "I'm insane."

He stared at you, his breath catching in his throat. Lust and a primal hunger stirred within him, a potent cocktail of desire and fear. He was close, dangerously close, his body trembling with a need he hadn't felt in years.

"Is this all a joke to you?" he demanded, his voice rough. "You like to play games huh?"

You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear. "Yeah," you whispered, your voice husky, "I like to play games. With you, Joel."

His eyes widened in surprise. He had expected defiance, not this… this invitation. You leaned in closer, your breath fanning his face.

"I would… I would like to play a different kind of game with you, Joel."

Your words hung heavy in the air, a promise unspoken, a challenge accepted. Joel felt a primal urge to claim you, to possess you, to lose himself in the raw, untamed desire that surged through him.

"You think I didn't notice how you looked at me?" he growled, his voice a low rumble.

You smirked, running a finger along his jawline..Then you come closer to his face, licked his lips.

"Won't you give a girl what she wants?" you purred, your voice husky with desire.

He leaned in, his breath hot on your skin. "I'm gonna give you what you need, sweetie" he corrected, his voice dropping to a dangerous low.

He kissed you, a rough, demanding kiss that stole your breath away. You responded instinctively, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands roamed your body, exploring the curves of your hips, the softness of your breasts.

You felt a surge of desire, a primal yearning that mirrored his own. "You also wanted this," you whispered against his lips, your voice husky with arousal.

He growled, his hands tightening around your waist. "More than you know," he admitted, his voice rough with need.

You reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle. He groaned, his grip tightening on your hips. "Don't," he warned, his voice a low growl. "Let me..."

He fumbled with his own pants, his hands shaking with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

"You need a lesson about who is in charge, sweetheart" he murmured, his eyes burning with passion and madness.

You reached out and traced the outline of his bulge, a low moan escaping your lips. "Fuck yes...I have been bad girl, Joel" you whispered, your voice trembling.

He couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled down his boxers, revealing himself in all his glory. You gasped, your eyes widening at the sight of his cock, thick and throbbing, sent a jolt of desire through you.

"You think you can take this" he growled, his voice thick with desire.

"Fuck Yess...I want it so bad." You murmured.

He pinned you down, your lips meeting his, as he roughly entered you. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and pain. He held you close, his hands gripping your hips, his movements slow and deliberate at first, then increasing in speed and intensity.

"Shhh," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl. "Be quiet, sweetheart."

You moaned, burying your face in his shoulder, your body arching against his. He moved deeper, pushing harder, his body trembling with the force of his own arousal.

"Fuck...yess" you murmured, your nails digging into his back.

He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Poor thing, wanted my cock so bad" he whispered, his voice rough.

You reached for him, your fingers digging into his back, urging him on.

"Yes Joel...Ohh FUCK...you feel so good"

He moved faster, harder, his body a whirlwind of sensation. You clung to him, your cries muffled against his shoulder, as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Then, with a final, explosive thrust, you came on him, he feels your tightening quickly pulls out, cumming on your pussy. He collapsed on top of you, his breath ragged, his body still trembling.

"Shit...God damn it girl, this was fucking amazing" he muttered, his voice rough with a mixture of frustration and arousal. "Is that all you want?"

You laughed, running a hand through his hair. "No," you teased, "I might need more later."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck.

"Fuck, I'm gonna do it, sweetie," he growled, "Just ask me nicely next time."

"Yes, sir," you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes.

Afterward, you cleaned yourselves up, the lingering scent of sex hanging heavy in the air. You got dressed, the silence between you charged with a newfound intimacy.

As you settled back in the woods exhaustion finally catching up with you, you noticed Joel watching you with a different intensity, a tenderness that surprised you. It was a fleeting glance, quickly masked by his usual gruff demeanor, but you saw it. Love? Perhaps. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of your passionate sex.

Thanks for the reading 💜

Part 2

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller angst #SoundCloud

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iamquiantrelle · 5 hours ago

Text

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 3) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @f1-football-fiend @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbrii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

Leila isn't trying to make it a whole thing, but that date with William? That man took her to this cute little restaurant tucked away in a corner of Paris where nobody would recognize him, ordered wine that probably cost more than her rent, and spent the whole night actually listening to her talk about her family back in Georgia. Not once did he make her feel like she was just some thick girl he was trying to get with – instead he treated her like she was actually interesting, like her stories about her mama's cooking adventures were the most fascinating thing he'd ever heard.

And when she found out he was half Cameroonian? Maybe Yolanda had a point about her having a type because these West African men were really out here testing her resolve. The way his accent got thicker when he talked about his family, the way he understood exactly what she meant about certain cultural things without her having to explain... it was nice. Really nice.

He didn't try to kiss her at the end of the night, even though she maybe (definitely) wanted him to. Just kissed her hand (which should be corny but somehow wasn't) and said he'd love to do it again soon. She'd gone to bed thinking maybe this could be something.

But then Sunday morning happened and somehow everything else felt small in comparison.

"Avant de commencer l'entraînement," ("Before we start training,") Didier's voice carried across the morning meeting room, "J'ai une annonce à faire." ("I have an announcement to make.")

The room went quiet – well, as quiet as a room full of French footballers can get, which means Marcus was still whispering something to Mike that had them both stifling laughs.

"En l'absence de Kylian," ("In Kylian's absence,") Didier continued, holding up the captain's armband, "nous avons besoin d'un nouveau capitaine." ("we need a new captain.") "Aurélien Tchouaméni."

The room erupted. Leila's never seen someone look so surprised and honored at the same time, like Aurélien couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"Notre nouveau capitaine!" ("Our new captain!") Marcus shouted, starting an impromptu chant.

"MON CAPITAINE!" Jules was the first to reach him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Tu l'as mérité, mon frère." ("You earned it, my brother.")

"Finalement, quelqu'un va peut-être réussir à le faire sourire," ("Finally, someone might succeed in making him smile,") Cama teased, doing an exaggerated salute. "Oui, Capitaine!"

The whole team picked up the salute, turning it into this ridiculous ceremony that had even Didier trying not to laugh.

"Je suis honoré," ("I'm honored,") Aurélien finally managed to say, voice thick with emotion as Didier handed him the armband. "Je ne sais pas quoi dire..." ("I don't know what to say...")

"Dis-nous qu'on va défoncer Israël!" ("Tell us we're gonna destroy Israel!") Mike called out.

"Et qu'on peut manger la cuisine de Leila ce soir!" ("And that we can eat Leila's cooking tonight!") Marcus added, which started a whole new round of cheering.

Leila couldn't help but clap and cheer with them all – because this was huge. This was her boss becoming captain of the French national team at twenty-four. This was history.

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

The Bridge's studio setup is way more casual than Leila expected, all warm lights and comfy chairs arranged in a circle like it's just bros hanging out – which, technically, it is.

"Ma puce, mon café?" Aurélien calls out as she's setting up his notes, and she pretends not to notice how Sébastien raises his eyebrows at the pet name.

"You have two hands that work perfectly fine," she responds, but she's already heading to get his coffee because she knows exactly how he gets without his caffeine fix before filming. Two sugars, splash of cream – the man drinks coffee like he's trying to hide the fact it's coffee.

"Ah, c'est comme ça maintenant?" ("So that's how it is now?") Jules grins as he walks in, followed by Ousmane and Thomas.

"Elle fait la grève," ("She's on strike,") Ousmane adds with a knowing smile.

"Can y'all not?" Leila mutters, but of course they can't because they live for chaos.

"What’s going on?" Thomas asks, settling into his chair while the makeup artist touches up his face.

"Nothing–" Aurélien starts, but Jules is already diving in.

"She's dating Wilo."

"I am not–"

"Wilo?" Sébastien perks up like he's just been handed gossip gold. "As in Saliba? Mon dieu, this is better than what I planned for the show."

"Speaking of the show," Leila cuts in desperately, "maybe we should focus on your actual topics? Like the Champions League? The national team? Literally anything else?"

"But this is much more interesting," Sébastien grins. "Tell me, how does our new captain feel about his PA dating his teammate?"

"We are NOT discussing my dating life on YouTube," Leila says firmly, handing Aurélien his coffee with maybe a little more force than necessary. Some splashes onto his notes and she automatically reaches to wipe it, just as he does the same. Their hands brush and she pulls back like she's been burned.

"Ooh, as-tu vu ça?" Thomas stage-whispers to Ousmane. "La tension!"

"I'm about to show y'all some tension with these coffee cups," Leila threatens, making them laugh harder.

"Non, non," Ousmane agrees solemnly. "We'll just discuss how our captain gets jealous every time someone looks at his PA. Like yesterday at training when Giroud asked her about American football..."

"I was not jealous," Aurélien protests. "I was concerned about her getting distracted from her duties."

"Her duties of watching you run laps?" Jules asks innocently.

"Her duties of maintaining my schedule–"

"The schedule she has memorized?" Ousmane adds.

"Y'all really want me to poison your dinner tonight, huh?" Leila threatens, but they just laugh harder.

"See? This is why I need my own Leila," Sébastien says. "Where do I find a PA who cooks?"

"You don't," Aurélien's voice carries that edge again. "She's one of a kind."

The room goes quiet for a moment, and Leila busies herself with absolutely nothing important on her tablet.

"Okay!" The producer calls out. "Five minutes! Let's talk about the actual show content?"

"Oui, oui," Sébastien nods, suddenly professional. "First segment about then national team dynamics with our new captain, maybe some stuff about Jules and his fashion sense…."

"Maybe one about a certain PA?" Thomas asks hopefully.

"Including nothing about any PAs," Leila cuts in. "Unless y'all want to explain to Didier why half his starting lineup got food poisoning before a match."

"She wouldn't really..." Thomas starts.

"She absolutely would," Aurélien, Jules, and Ousmane answer in unison.

"Ma puce," Aurélien calls softly, and she looks up to find him watching her with that expression that makes her stomach do stupid things. "My notes?"

She hands them over, careful not to let their fingers brush. "Try not to start any international incidents this time."

"Une fois," ("One time,") he protests. "I say one thing about Premier League defenders..."

"You said they tackle like they learned football from YouTube tutorials," she reminds him.

"Was I wrong though?"

"That's not the point! Twitter was a nightmare for days."

"This is why you're my favorite," he says, and something in his voice makes her look up. "You keep me in line."

"Someone has to," she manages to say, stepping back as the cameras start rolling.

She watches from behind the scenes as they dive into football talk, the banter shifting into serious discussion about tactics and pressure and what it means to wear the captain's armband. Watches how Aurélien leads the conversation with natural grace, how he makes everyone feel heard while still keeping things moving.

"Et maintenant," ("And now,") Sébastien grins near the end, "Les fans veulent savoir - est notre nouveau capitaine single?" ("the fans want to know – is our new captain single")

Leila's head snaps up from her tablet.

"Non," Thomas jumps in before Aurélien can answer. "Son cœur appartient à son P–"

The water bottle that flies across the room and hits Thomas square in the chest is definitely not thrown by Leila.

"Cut!" The producer calls after they wrap the final segment, and Leila releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. They managed to get through the whole episode with only minimal chaos, though Thomas kept trying to sneak in comments about "certain PAs" until she started keeping a steady supply of projectiles within reach.

"That was fun," Sébastien grins, stretching as they all stand. "We should do this again. Maybe next time with Wilo as a guest?"

"Don't you have a dinner to prepare?" Jules asks quickly, shooting her a look that clearly says 'get out while you can'.

"Oui, about that dinner," Thomas perks up. "What exactly are you making?"

"If one more person asks me about dinner," Leila cuts in, gathering her things, "I'm making y'all eat protein shakes instead."

"You wouldn't," Ousmane gasps dramatically.

"Try me."

"Ma puce," Aurélien's voice is softer now that the cameras are off. "Need a ride to the store?"

And that's... new. He hasn't offered to drive her anywhere since The Comment™️.

"I can take her," Jules offers with fake innocence. "Since you probably have captain duties and all."

"I can drive my PA to the store."

"Your PA?" Thomas raises an eyebrow. "Just okay PA or...?"

The second water bottle that hits him is definitely from Aurélien this time.

"I'll wait in the car," he tells her, ignoring the knowing looks from everyone else.

As soon as he's out of earshot, the chaos erupts:

"Girl, if you don't get in that car–" Ousmane starts.

"But what about Wilo?" Thomas asks.

"Capitaine is clearly in his feelings–" Sébastien adds.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Jules announces. "Let her breathe."

Leila takes a deep breath, gathering her professional dignity around her like armor. "I have a dinner to cook for twenty something grown men who act like children. I don't have time for... whatever this is."

"This," Sébastien gestures vaguely, "is prime content. The captain and his PA?"

"There is no 'captain and his PA'," she insists. "There's just a PA who's about to feed half of the French Football Federation because she makes poor life choices."

"Speaking of poor life choices," Jules grins, "your man's waiting."

"He's not my–"

A horn honks outside. Twice.

"La patience de cet homme," Thomas laughs. "Vraiment incroyable."

"I hate all of you," Leila announces, heading for the door.

"But you'll still feed us?" Ousmane calls after her.

She doesn't dignify that with a response.

The car ride is... weird. Not tense exactly, but full of something she can't name. Aurélien keeps opening his mouth like he wants to say something, then closing it again. She pretends to be very interested in her grocery list.

Two hours and way too many bags later (because apparently she's feeding an army now), they're back at Clairefontaine and the kitchen is already buzzing with energy and she directs her very enthusiastic sous chefs – Michael and Cama, plus some actual kitchen staff who keep looking at her like she's either genius or crazy for attempting this.

"This is not 'season to taste'," she swats Cama's hand away from the seasoning. "This is 'season to kill'."

"But it needs more–"

"If you say 'spice' I'm demoting you to dish duty."

The thing about cooking while Chief Keef is blasting through Clairefontaine's halls is that it really sets a specific type of mood. Leila can hear Marcus and Mike singing "Don't Like" at the top of their lungs, probably driving everyone crazy, but she's too focused on making sure Cama doesn't turn her greens into chemical warfare.

Michael, who’s undoubtedly the sous chef MVP, is quietly following her instructions to the letter. There's something zen about the way he moves through the kitchen, precise and focused like he's preparing for a match instead of helping prep chicken.

"You're good at this," she tells him, and his answering smile is small but genuine.

"My grandmother," he says simply. "She taught me that cooking is meditation."

"YOUR GRANDMOTHER DIDN'T HAVE TO COOK FOR HANGRY FOOTBALLERS!" Marcus's voice carries through the door, followed by the opening beats of "Love Sosa."

"The meditation is about to turn into medication if they don't calm down," Leila mutters, but Michael just laughs softly.

The kitchen staff has gone from skeptical to impressed, watching her coordinate this whole production like she's done it her whole life. Which, honestly, she has – just usually for family reunions, not professional athletes who probably cost more than her entire hometown.

"It's almost ready?" Mike pokes his head in, looking like a hopeful puppy. "Because we're dying out here."

"You've eaten today," she points out. "Multiple times."

"But not your cooking," Marcus appears behind him. "And now the whole place smells like heaven and we're suffering."

"You're not suffering," she rolls her eyes. "You're being dramatic."

"I AM suffering," Mike insists. "Look at me, I'm wasting away."

"You literally had lunch two hours ago."

"That was before we could smell the mac and cheese," Marcus argues. "Now we're starving."

She's about to throw something at them when Michael quietly says, "The chicken's ready for the second batch."

"See?" She points at Michael. "This is why he's my favorite. He actually helps instead of just complaining."

"Favorites?" Marcus clutches his chest. "That's cold, Lei. Ice cold."

"You know what else is getting cold? This food, if y'all don't let me cook in peace."

"But–"

"OUT!"

They retreat, but not before Mike tries one last time to steal a piece of chicken. She catches him with her wooden spoon – years of defending food from hungry cousins have honed her reflexes.

"The quiet ones always got jokes," Cama laughs as Mike runs away clutching his hand dramatically, then yelps when she catches him trying to sneak a taste of the greens. "How do you even see everything?"

"I have eyes in the back of my head," she says seriously. "My mama installed them when I started cooking."

"They're getting restless," Michael notes as another song starts shaking the walls. She's pretty sure she can hear Jules trying to teach Marcus and Mike the words, which is... a choice.

"Let them be restless," she says, putting the finishing touches on the mac and cheese (extra cheese on top because she ain't playing). "Good food takes time."

The kitchen settles into a rhythm after that, just the sounds of cooking and the distant bass of whatever song Marcus and Mike have moved onto now. Even Cama calms down enough to actually be helpful, following her instructions with only minimal attempts at creative seasoning.

"This is nice," Michael says after a while, quiet enough that only she can hear. "Reminds me of home."

"Yeah," she smiles, understanding exactly what he means. There's something about cooking with people who get it, who understand that food is more than just fuel. It's love, it's family, it's...

"FANCULO!"

The Italian curse makes them all jump as Cama nearly drops an entire tray of cornbread.

"What happened?" Leila spins around, heart racing.

"The cornbread!" he looks devastated. "I almost... it almost..."

"But you didn't," she soothes, trying not to laugh at how genuinely distressed he looks. "The cornbread is safe."

"I would've had to leave France," he says seriously. "Change my name. Start a new life."

"Because of cornbread?"

"Have you met my teammates? They would never let me live it down."

He's not wrong. She can already imagine the chaos if anything happened to the cornbread. These grown men really out here ready to riot over some baked goods.

"Speaking of teammates," Michael says casually, too casually, "our captain's been pacing outside the door for the last ten minutes."

"He what?" She turns so fast she almost knocks over the hot sauce.

"Mhm," Michael hums, that knowing look back in his eyes. "Every time someone walks by he pretends he's on his phone."

"That's..." she doesn't even know how to finish that sentence.

"Interesting?" Cama suggests with a grin.

"Complicated," she corrects. "Now focus on not dropping any more cornbread."

"I didn't drop it!" Cama whined.

"Almost dropped it."

"So," Michael says after a moment, quiet enough that only she can hear, "we're really not going to talk about it?"

"About what?"

His knowing look rivals Jules', but he just goes back to prepping chicken.

"Nothing," he says. "Just thinking our new captain might need to work on his game off the field too."

She chooses to ignore that, focusing instead on finishing up everything. The food looks good – really good. Soul food isn't meant to be fancy, but there's something beautiful about it anyway. Something honest.

"Time to feed the children," she announces, and both Michael and Cama snort at her description of their teammates.

"They're going to lose their minds," Cama predicts as they start plating everything.

He's not wrong. She can already hear the excitement building in the cafeteria, the mix of French and English and various other languages all carrying the same message: finally.

"Ready?" Michael asks as they prepare to head out.

She looks at their work – all this food made with love and patience (and only minimal threats of violence).

"Ready."

The whole team is there, plus coaching staff, plus what feels like half the FFF. They've pushed tables together family-style, and someone (probably Marcus) starts a chant of "Speech! Speech!" that gets picked up by everyone else.

"Y'all are doing too much," she laughs, but Michael gently pushes her forward.

"I'll translate," he says, and she sends up a prayer of thanks for this man's whole existence.

"Okay, okay," she holds up her hands and the room quiets down. "Listen. Where I'm from, food is how we show love. It's how we celebrate victories and comfort each other through losses. It's how we welcome family – blood or chosen."

Michael translates as she speaks, his French making her simple words sound almost poetic.

"Today we're celebrating our new captain," she continues, and the cheers that go up nearly shake the windows. Aurélien, sitting at the center of the longest table, ducks his head but she catches his smile. "And tomorrow we're gonna beat Israel's whole ass."

The roar that goes up at that almost drowns out Michael's slightly more diplomatic translation.

"Everything is Halal," she adds, "and yes, there's dessert – banana pudding with vanilla ice cream because I'm not a monster."

She nods to the servers who start bringing out the dishes, and the way these elite athletes' eyes light up at the sight of proper soul food would be funny if it wasn't so endearing.

"Bon appétit, mes amis," she finishes, and immediately gets swept up in a group hug from Marcus and Mike that nearly takes her off her feet.

"An angel," Marcus declares as he squeezes her. "A motherfucking angel."

The room fills with the sound of comfortable chaos that reminds her of Sunday dinners back home. She catches William's eye across the room and he gives her a warm smile that makes her cheeks warm.

But then she feels it – that familiar weight of attention – and finds Aurélien watching her with an expression that makes her breath catch. He's looking like something out of her most inappropriate dreams, and...

"Your plate," Michael appears at her elbow with food he's made up for her. "Can't let the chef go hungry."

She tears her eyes away from Aurélien, forcing herself to focus on her food and not on how their new captain keeps glancing her way like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

For the first few minutes, the cafeteria vibrates of pure, unadulterated appreciation – the kind that makes a cook's heart sing. These professional athletes, who probably have personal chefs on speed dial, are absolutely demolishing their plates. Bradley's over there drowning his chicken in hot sauce like he's trying to prove something, while others are just making these little sounds of joy between bites.

"I'm going to marry you," Brice announces suddenly through a mouthful of mac and cheese, breaking the reverent silence like a hammer through stained glass.

The table erupts in hoots and hollers, and Leila definitely doesn't miss how Aurélien's fork freezes halfway to his mouth.

"It's a joke," Brice adds quickly, though his eyes are twinkling. "But this food? Magnifique."

"You can't just propose like that," Khephren shakes his head with mock solemnity. "There's a process. Parents first."

"Exactly," Ousmane nods with all the wisdom of someone who's been in this position before. "Gotta do it properly."

"And don't forget the bride price," Ibou adds, which sets off a wave of groans like he's just announced extra training.

"They don't do that in America, bro," someone calls out, which starts a whole debate about marriage customs in different countries.

"Speaking of America," Mike cuts through the chaos with surprising grace, "you're from Georgia, right?" At Leila's nod, he continues, "Do you know where your peoples from? Like which country in the motherland?"

"You can't just ask her that," Jules protests.

"Why not?" Mike shrugs, all innocence. "I'm just curious."

"Slavery happened," Michael says quietly, taking a casual sip of water.

"I know that happened," Mike responds, "but you know some Black people in the US do one of those ancestry.com tests. You know, to find their roots."

"I did one," Leila interjects, and suddenly she has the undivided attention of some of the most expensive athletes in Europe, all of them looking at her like she's about to reveal the secret to scoring hat-tricks.

"And?" Marcus prompts, gesturing with a chicken wing that probably violates several of their nutritionist's rules.

"You guys really want to know?"

The chorus of "yes" comes in various accents and volumes, but the enthusiasm is unanimous, and they're ready to put their food on pause – and considering how they've been eating, that's saying something.

Laughing, she pulls up her phone, scrolling through her gallery for that screenshot from her college days. "Okay, this is from my Cultural History & Heritage class, so... I'm 65% Ghanaian..."

The applause that breaks out would make you think someone just scored a World Cup winner. Ousmane's practically glowing with vindication.

"I knew you were Ghanaian! You're feisty," he declares.

"And that forehead," Ibou adds, making her touch it self-consciously.

"What's wrong with my forehead?"

"You got that West African forehead," Marcus explains through a grin. "It's still cute though!" he adds quickly, like he's just remembered his mama raised him right.

She's doing her best impression of a confused goldfish when she continues, "10% Western Bantu Peoples, 14% Beninese." Her eyes flick to Jules, who's wearing the kind of smile that suggests he's already plotting something.

"You and JK are cousins!" Cama announces with the excitement of someone connecting invisible dots. "The family reunion's gonna be lit!"

"9% French Guiana," she pushes on, "8% English, and the rest is Dutch."

The reaction to the English and Dutch parts hits like they've just heard she's part alien. Eyebrows shooting up across the table like they're trying to escape.

"Slavery," Michael says again, and the word lands like a weight, heavy with centuries of history.

"Right, right," comes the collective murmur, before Marcus breaks the moment by declaring he needs thirds "to honor all those ancestors."

"More cornbread, ma puce?"

She turns to find Aurélien holding out the basket, something soft in his expression that makes her heart do stupid things.

"I'm good," she manages to say.

"You sure? You've barely eaten."

"Just happy everyone else is enjoying it."

His response is cut off by Marcus starting a debate about whether Ghana or Benin has better jollof rice, and suddenly the whole table is taking sides in what's apparently a long-standing West African rivalry.

"Ghana obviously has the better jollof," she says quietly, just to watch Aurélien's eyes narrow in betrayal.

"Et tu, ma puce?" He shakes his head like she's personally wounded him. "Non, non. Cameroon's jollof is superior. This is just facts."

"Please," Ousmane cuts in with the confidence of someone about to start a war, "Nigerian jollof clears both. This isn't even a debate."

"Bullshit," Marcus declares. "Ghana invented jollof. You can't beat the original."

"Being first doesn't mean being best," Aurélien argues, and suddenly it's like they're discussing tactical formations instead of rice. "Cameroonians perfected it."

"The delusion," Ousmane sighs dramatically. "This is why you need a Nigerian wife. To show you what real jollof tastes like."

Leila tries not to think too hard about why that comment makes something twist in her chest, but then Aurélien's saying, "I don't need a Nigerian wife when I have–" before cutting himself off abruptly.

The table goes quiet enough to hear a fork drop.

"When you have what?" Jules prompts teasingly.

"When I have... more important things to focus on," Aurélien finishes lamely. "Like tomorrow's match."

"Mhm," Michael hums into his water glass, sharing a look with Jules that speaks volumes.

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that, but Leila can't quite shake the weight of that unfinished sentence. Can't quite ignore how Aurélien keeps sneaking glances at her like he's trying to read something written in a language he doesn't understand, but that's a problem for another day.

Match day arrives bright and crisp, the kind of weather that makes footballers' eyes light up. The usual pre-match routines take on extra weight today – this isn't just any game, it's Aurélien's first as captain, and you can feel it in the air at breakfast. Even Marcus and Mike are quieter than usual, energy focused instead of scattered.

But before they can get to the match, there's the small matter of getting to Budapest. The morning after her soul food extravaganza has these grown men acting like they've discovered the secret to eternal happiness.

"I swear," Marcus is saying as they wait in the private terminal, "I haven't slept that good since I was in the womb."

"That's called the itis," Leila explains, watching their confused faces with amusement. "When good food puts you in a food coma? Yeah that’s what it is."

"Whatever it was, we need it before every match," Mike declares, and several others nod enthusiastically.

"That's too much to ask," Aurélien cuts in, that protective edge creeping into his voice.

"I'll help cook again!" Cama volunteers immediately.

"NO!" comes the unanimous response, making him pout.

"After what you tried to do to those greens?" Michael adds quietly. "I think not."

The conversation halts as they board their plane, and Leila thought she knew what luxury was, but this private Airbus is on another level. It's all cream leather and polished wood, with business class seats that look more like individual living rooms. Each pod has its own entertainment system and enough space to lie flat, making her regular flight experiences look like public transit.

"First time on the team plane?" William's voice is warm as he slides into the seat next to her, flashing that smile that still makes her stomach flip.

"That obvious?"

"You're looking around like you just discovered Narnia."

She catches Aurélien watching them from across the aisle, his jaw doing that thing it does when he's thinking too hard.

"You should come to London after the break," William continues smoothly, either not noticing or choosing to ignore their captain's attention, "There's this amazing Nigerian restaurant I want to show you."

"Oh?" she tries for casual. "Just for the food?"

His smile turns soft. "Among other things."

Someone – definitely Jules – clears their throat loudly, and Leila suddenly finds the safety card fascinating.

"The restaurant's near Emirates," William adds. "I could show you around, catch a match..."

"You trying to convert her to Arsenal?" Bradley calls from behind them. "Nah, she needs to see a PSG match instead."

"Please," Mike scoffs. "Milan is clearly superior."

And just like that, they're all arguing about their clubs like they weren't just praising her cooking five minutes ago.

"Think about it?" William asks quietly while the others debate club merits.

She's about to answer when Aurélien's voice cuts through: "Leila, I need you to review the post-match schedules."

"Now? We just took off."

"Oui. Now."

William just shakes his head but his smile is knowing. "We'll talk later?"

She nods, gathering her tablet and trying not to analyze why their captain suddenly needs to review schedules he definitely already knows by heart.

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

The Puskás Aréna is something else entirely when they arrive – all modern glass and steel but somehow still intimidating as hell. Leila's back in her element, running through pre-match routines she's got down to a science by now. Water bottles positioned just so (because Michael swears the angle affects his performance), extra shin guards for Marcus (who she's convinced loses them on purpose at this point just to watch her scramble), and that specific pre-wrap that Mike treats like it's made of gold.

Aurélien's different today – you can see it in how he carries himself, that armband not just a piece of fabric but a crown. He moves through the locker room like he's been doing this his whole life, stopping at each player with exactly what they need: a quiet word with Jules, some complicated handshake with Cama that looks more like interpretive dance, a firm nod to William that carries weight she can't quite read.

The match itself? Pure poetry. Whatever that soul food did to them, it's working overtime because they're moving like they've got cheat codes enabled. Aurélien's commanding the midfield like he was born to it, every tackle clean enough to eat off of, every pass finding feet like he's got GPS in his boots.

Six minutes in and Cama's already making statements, finding the back of the net with the kind of finish that makes you question physics. Before Israel can even process what hit them, Nkunku's doubling the lead in the 26th minute, celebration looking suspiciously like a TikTok dance she's definitely seen Marcus teaching everyone.

Israel manages to pull one back, but these boys aren't about to let their captain's first match be anything less than spectacular. The last five minutes turn into a highlight reel – a goal in the 87th with a strike that probably broke the sound barrier, and then Bradley putting the final nail in the coffin just two minutes later, making it 4-1 with the kind of casual elegance that shouldn't be legal.

The final whistle just confirms what everyone already knew – this French team, with their new captain and apparently their new pre-match soul food ritual, is something special.

4-1. Four different scorers. And one very proud PA trying not to look too obvious about it.

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

The rowdy chaos outside her hotel room tells Leila exactly what's about to go down. Post-match celebration means clubs, means someone's definitely about to drop stupid money on bottles, means Marcus will absolutely end up shirtless at some point, and means these boys are headed out to dance a little and find someone who's down to fuck. Instagram models will materialize like they've got professional athlete radar, the elevators about to get more action than a fashion week runway.

Her mind cannot handle the aura Aurélien has right now especially after winning his first match as captain; she knew what type time he was on and it wasn't going to be anything saintly. He loves a win more than anything and the only other thing that can top that is going out with the boys and bedding some girl.

Thank goodness she never heard him getting busy - that may scar her to the point of needing therapy but she read some things on gossip blogs (she didn't know if it was true or false) and the way they talked about him having humongous dick energy not to mention the stamina—

A knock on her hotel room door pulled her out of her thoughts and she hurriedly fixed her bonnet and glasses before looking at the peep hole and to her surprise it was Jules.

The hell?

"I know you know it's me," he says and Leila let out a groan silently debating on whether or not she should let him in. He knocked again, this time harder.

"Okay, relax." She said then opened the door. Jules eyes scanned over her body.

"That's how you going to the club, Leila? A bonnet and muumuu?"

And she squinted at him like he had three heads. "Huh?"

"You're coming to the club."

"I most certainly am not," she says, already trying to close the door, but Jules is faster, wedging his foot in the way.

"You really gonna let Wilo go to the club without supervision?" he asks with that smirk that means trouble. "When there's gonna be all those Hungarian baddies there?"

"Wilo is a grown man who can do whatever he wants," she says, but something must show in her face because Jules' grin gets wider.

"Mhm. And I'm sure Auré has nothing to do with you hiding in your room?"

"I'm not hiding, I'm being professional."

"Professional?" Jules actually laughs. "Ma puce, you're our age. You think the FFF expects you to sit in your room in a bonnet while we celebrate?"

"The FFF expects me to—"

"To what? Pretend you're not twenty-four? Come on. Get dressed. The car leaves in twenty."

"Jules—"

"Either you come willingly or I'm sending Marcus and Mike to get you. Your choice."

The threat of those two showing up at her door is enough to make her pause. They'd probably live-stream the whole thing, and then she'd have to explain to her mama why she's trending on French Twitter.

"Fine," she sighs. "But I'm not staying long."

"Sure," Jules says in a tone that suggests he doesn't believe her at all. "Wear that black dress you brought."

She narrows her eyes. "How do you know what's in my suitcase?"

"I don't. But you're a Black woman on a work trip – you definitely packed a just-in-case outfit."

"I hate that you know that."

His grin is entirely too satisfied. "Twenty minutes. And Lei?" He pauses at the door. "Aren't you curious what your captain's going to say when he sees you in something other than work clothes?"

Before she can throw something at him, he's gone, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

She looks at her reflection in the hotel mirror, bonnet and all, and lets out a deep sigh.

"Lord," she mutters, already reaching for her suitcase, "give me strength."

Because Jules isn't wrong – she definitely packed that black dress. Just in case.

The black halterneck dress has been sitting in her suitcase like it's been waiting for this moment, all dangerous intentions and "maybe I will act up tonight" energy. She holds it up, already questioning herself because this hem is definitely living its best thigh-high life. But then again, if she's about to get dragged to a club by a bunch of football players, she might as well look like she meant to be there.

The over-the-knee boots are her compromise with herself – wedge heels because she refuses to die tonight trying to channel her inner Instagram baddie in stilettos. Her silk press is still hanging on by a prayer and whatever magic Theresa put in that heat protectant, so at least that's one less thing to worry about.

One last glance in the mirror has her reaching for her silver metallic Diesel mini purse (her one designer splurge that she justified as a "work expense" because technically she does need to look put together around these millionaires).

A knock at the door has her rolling her eyes. "It has not been twenty minutes—" she starts, yanking it open, ready to tell Jules exactly where he can put his timeline.

Except it's not Jules.

William's standing there looking like every bad decision she's ever wanted to make, already dressed for the club in a fitted black Amiri shirt that's doing criminal things to his shoulders.

"Oh," she manages, suddenly very aware that this dress is doing exactly what it was designed to do. William's eyes do a slow sweep from her boots all the way up, and listen – she might need to text Theresa a thank you for this silk press because the way he's looking at her right now?

"Jules said you needed an escort to the club," he says, voice a little rougher than usual. "But I'm thinking maybe we should skip it."

She tries to remember how to form words like a professional. "Skip it?"

"There's this rooftop bar..." he starts, then stops as voices carry down the hallway – she catches Aurélien's distinct tone among them and something in William's expression shifts.

"The rooftop bar?" she prompts, pretending she doesn't hear the footsteps getting closer.

William steps closer, just inside her doorway. "Much quieter than the club. Better view. And we could actually..." he pauses as the voices get louder, "talk."

The way he says 'talk' definitely isn't suggesting conversation about the weather.

But before she can respond, another voice cuts through:

"Ma pu—" Aurélien's voice cuts off abruptly, and Leila watches something complicated pass across his face as he takes in the scene – William in her doorway, her in this dress that's definitely not PA-appropriate, the energy crackling between them that definitely isn't professional.

He's already dressed for the club too, looking like he stepped out of a GQ spread in all black everything, that captain's confidence still radiating off him. For a moment, nobody moves.

"Capitaine," William says easily, not moving from his spot. "We were just discussing alternate plans for tonight."

"Alternate plans?" Jules appears behind Aurélien, taking in the situation with raised eyebrows. "Non, non. The team celebrates together. You know this."

"I was thinking—" William starts, but Aurélien cuts him off.

"The van's leaving. Now." There's something in his voice that doesn't invite argument. "Both of you."

Leila catches Jules hiding a smile behind his hand, and she really might have to fight him later.

"After you," William says to her, finally stepping back, but his hand finds her lower back as they head toward the elevator and she swears she hears something that sounds suspiciously like a growl from behind them.

The rented van's already bumping with French trap music when she climbs in, Marcus and Mike immediately letting out wolf whistles that would absolutely get them slapped by their mamas.

"OH? Okay Lei! I see how you coming tonight!" Cama's eyes go wide. "This is not PA behavior!"

"Nah for real though," Marcus grins, "who told you to show up looking this good? We trying to play it cool tonight!"

"Cool?" Mike winks at her. "Ain't nothing cool about this. Now we know why Jules was so pressed about you coming out."

Bradley's already pouring shots in the back, passing them around like they didn't just play 90 minutes of professional football. "To the baddest in the van!"

"Hold up though," Khephren raises his glass with a smirk. "You really just been hiding all this under them work clothes? That's foul, Lei."

William's hand is still somehow finding reasons to brush against her knee, while Aurélien's watching the whole scene from the front like he's plotting multiple homicides. The bass is hitting hard enough to cover whatever Jules is saying to him, but judging by their captain's face, it's nothing he wants to hear.

"Another round?" Bradley calls out as Gazo's latest hit has everyone trying to rap along.

"No, I’m good. Thanks," she says.

The club is exactly what you'd expect when rolling with the French national team – all VIP treatment and bottle girls already lined up like they got a notification that fine athletes were incoming. Security parts the crowd, leading them straight to the section.

"You good?" William asks as she slides into the booth next to him, his hand finding that spot on her lower back again. Before she can answer, Marcus is already ordering bottles like he's trying to buy out the whole club.

"Dom, Clase Azul, and whatever our PA wants because she blessed us with that soul food!" he shouts over the music.

"And that dress," Mike adds, earning himself a look from Aurélien that could freeze hell.

The first bottle of Dom arrives with sparklers because of course it does – these men don't know how to do anything lowkey. Bradley's already got his phone out, documenting everything for his Close Friends story while Cama starts pouring shots like it's his job.

"To our captain!" Someone calls out, and more bottles appear, more sparklers, more everything.

"And to our angel," Khephren adds with a wink in her direction. "Feeding us like kings!"

She catches Aurélien's expression in the strobe lights, something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watches William lean in to whisper something in her ear. The music's too loud to hear what Jules says to him, but whatever it is makes their captain knock back his entire drink in one go.

"Dance with me," William says as Rema's voice fills the club, and Leila immediately starts shaking her head, pushing her glasses up her nose like they'll shield her from his request.

"Oh no, I don't—"

But then he does that thing with his tongue, running it across his lips in a way that should be illegal, and her brain short-circuits for a second.

"Come on," he grins, already standing and holding out his hand. "One dance."

Before she can protest again, he's leading her down from their VIP section to where the dance floor is pulsing with Afrobeats. She catches Aurélien's expression as they pass – something dangerous flickering in his eyes as he watches William's hand on her waist.

"I really don't dance," she tries one last time, but William's already pulling her closer, moving to the beat like he was born doing this.

"Everyone dances to Afrobeats," he says in her ear, his accent wrapping around the words. "Just feel it."

And maybe it's the shots, or maybe it's the way his hands feel on her hips, but she finds herself starting to move. The rhythm catches her, William's smile grows wider, and suddenly she remembers – she does know how to dance. She just usually doesn't do it in front of half the French national team.

But tonight? Tonight feels different.

The thing about dancing with a professional athlete is that they know exactly how to move. William's got this natural rhythm that makes it easy to follow his lead, his hands steady on her hips as she finds her groove. The beat switches to "Calm Down" and suddenly they're moving like they've been dancing together forever.

"Look who can dance after all," he murmurs in her ear, pulling her a little closer as she rolls her hips. The shots are definitely helping with her confidence, but it's the way he's looking at her that's really doing it – like she's the only girl in this packed club.

She catches glimpses of the other boys joining the dance floor – Marcus already shirtless (called it), Mike with some girl who looks like she models for Fashion Nova, Cama doing some complicated dance routine that has everyone making space. But she keeps feeling that weight of attention from above, knows without looking that Aurélien's watching every move, every time William's hands slide a little lower, every time she moves a little closer.

"You've been holding out on us," he says against her ear. "All this time in training and we never knew you could move like this."

A particularly bold turn has her back pressed fully against him, and oh – apparently footballers really do have incredible stamina because that's definitely not his phone in his pocket. His thumb traces her jawline, tilting her face up to his, and the look in his eyes makes her mouth go dry.

"I think," he says, voice rough in a way that sends heat straight through her, "we should get out of here."

The reasonable part of her brain, the part that remembers she's technically working, tries to speak up. But then his lips brush her ear and that part of her brain short circuits completely.

"I've got a suite," he continues. "Much quieter than here. Better view of the city."

She knows what he's really saying. Knows exactly what that invitation means. Knows that tomorrow she'll either have the best story for Yolanda or the biggest regret of her career.

From somewhere behind them, she hears Mike shout something that sounds suspiciously like "GET IT, LEI!" She's going to have to fight him later.

William's still waiting for an answer, his body moving against hers in a way that's making thinking very difficult. His hand slides up her spine, leaving fire in its wake, and really – what's the worst that could happen?

Besides losing her job, her dignity, and whatever's left of her heart that isn't already tied up in another footballer who thinks she's just okay.

The music shifts to something slower, something that has William pulling her even closer, and she's about to say yes to everything he's suggesting when someone bumps them hard enough to break their bubble.

"Désolé," Aurélien's voice cuts through the music as he moves past them toward the bar, not sounding sorry at all. Bradley is right behind him, shooting them an apologetic look that seems more amused than anything.

But William's not letting this moment slip. His fingers turned her attention back to him like their captain didn't just try to body check them on the dance floor. "So? That view I mentioned..."

Maybe it's the shots. Maybe it's the way he's looking at her. Maybe it's how Aurélien didn't even acknowledge her when he passed. Maybe it's all of it, mixing with the bass and the heat and the way William's fingers are drawing promises on her skin.

"Show me," she says, and his smile turns dangerous in the best way.

He leads her through the crowd, hand firm on her lower back. They pass the VIP section where Mike lets out another wolf whistle (she's definitely fighting him tomorrow), where Marcus is too busy with his own conquest to notice, where Cama's eyes go wide before he bumps Jules' shoulder with a knowing look.

She catches one last glimpse of Aurélien at the bar as they head for the exit, watches him knock back what looks like straight whiskey while Bradley says something in his ear. His eyes meet hers for just a moment, dark and intense and full of something she can't name.

But then William's guiding her toward the door, and she decides that's tomorrow's problem.

Tonight belongs to different choices.

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

The Uber ride is charged with enough electricity to power all of Budapest. William's got his hand on her thigh, thumb tracing circles that are making her brain malfunction, and listen – she might need to text God an apology real quick because the thoughts she's having right now are absolutely not church-appropriate.

He's definitely feeling those shots, all loose limbs and heated looks, but she's right there with him – everything's got that soft-focus feeling that makes bad decisions feel like destiny. The way he's looking at her like she's something to be devoured is doing things to her heart rate that can't be healthy.

But underneath all that liquid courage, panic is starting to set in. Because this man definitely thinks he's about to get the kind of experience his usual conquests provide, and she's over here having never gone past first base. Her virgin self is really about to try to play in the Champions League with no practice, and that's not even counting the fact that this man is built like he was carved from marble.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmurs, leaning in close enough that she can smell his cologne mixed with expensive liquor. His lips brush her ear and – oh. OH. Maybe this is how she dies. At least it's a good way to go.

The hotel appears way too quickly and not quick enough. William helps her out of the car like the gentleman he is, but his eyes are pure sin as they head for the elevator.

Her heart's doing double-time now, a mix of want and worry that has her pressing her thighs together. Because she wants this – wants him – but also? She's seen the gossip blogs. She knows what these football players are working with. And her inexperienced self is really about to—

The elevator doors close and William presses the button for his floor, and suddenly everything feels very, very real.

Lord help her.

It took no time before William got her pressed against the mirrored wall, one hand braced beside her head while the other plays with the ends of her hair. They haven't even kissed yet but the anticipation is thick enough to cut.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, eyes tracking over her face like he's memorizing it. "You know that?"

The elevator dings at his floor and suddenly they're playing this game of trying to walk down the hallway while staying as close as possible. His key card takes three tries to work because he's too busy pressing soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth that's trying not to smile too wide.

Then they're through his door and everything shifts. His hands find her waist, pulling her close as he backs her against the door. The first press of his lips against hers is gentle, questioning, like he's asking permission yet when she sighs into it, fingers curling into his shirt, gentle goes out the window.

Listen. LISTEN. William Saliba can KISS. She's got her back against his hotel room door, his hands cupping her face like she's precious while simultaneously trying to steal her soul through her mouth. Everything's hazy with want and Clase Azul when his lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her knees weak. One of his hands slides down to her hip, thumb finding skin where her dress has ridden up, and the noise she makes should be embarrassing but he groans in response like she's driving him crazy.

His mouth is doing ungodly things to her neck, the kind of things that make her understand why people write songs about moments like this, when reality crashes back in.

"Wait," she manages to breathe out. "I should... I need to tell you something."

He pulls back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and intense in a way that makes her forget how to breathe. His thumb traces her bottom lip and for a moment she forgets what she was going to say.

"What's wrong?" His voice is rough in a way that does things to her insides, accent thicker than usual.

They've somehow migrated from the door to the middle of his suite, the city lights of Budapest twinkling behind them through floor-to-ceiling windows. His hands are still on her waist, thumbs drawing circles on her hips that make it hard to think straight.

"I've never..." she starts, then stops, trying to find the words while his mouth is doing devastating things to her collarbone. "I haven't..."

He pulls back again, and this time understanding dawns on his face slowly, his eyes widening. One hand comes up to cup her cheek, and she leans into it despite herself.

"Wait. You're...?"

She nods, warmth rushing to her cheeks that has nothing to do with his kisses or the shots still buzzing through her system.

"But you're twenty-four," he says like he's trying to solve a complicated math problem. His other hand is still on her waist, thumb still moving in those maddening circles. "And you look like... I mean, how has nobody...?"

She shrugs, suddenly finding his gold chain very interesting. "Just never happened. Never felt right with anyone."

His fingers catch her chin, tilting her face back up to his. The heat in his eyes has been replaced by something softer, something that makes her heart do different kinds of flips.

"We can wait," he says, thumbs stroking her cheeks. "Until you're ready. No pressure."

"You sure?"

His answering kiss is gentle now, all sweet promise instead of consuming fire. "Some things are worth waiting for."

They end up on his couch, trading lazy kisses that slowly build and ebb like waves. His hands stay respectfully above clothes even when hers wander a bit (because listen, those footballer abs are a gift and she's only human). They talk about nothing and everything – about growing up in France, about her friends in Georgia, about how nervous she was her first day as a PA.

It's nice. More than nice. The kind of nice that makes her wonder if maybe...

But it's getting late, and her willpower is seriously testing its limits with the way he keeps looking at her like she's something precious. She should go. She needs to go.

"I should head back," she murmurs against his lips.

"Mhm," he agrees, but kisses her again anyway.

Ten minutes and several more "I should really go" kisses later, she finally makes it to his door. He pulls her in for one last kiss that nearly changes her mind about leaving.

"Think about what I said," he says. "About London."

"I will."

She's still floating on cloud nine when she rounds the corner and nearly collides with them – Aurélien and what looks like this evening's conquest. The girl's exactly his type – all curves and confidence, the kind of ass that probably has its own Instagram following. They're wrapped around each other like they can't wait to get behind closed doors, and the sight hits her like a bucket of ice water.

Their eyes meet over the girl's shoulder, and something in his expression makes her stomach drop. She tries to slip past quietly, already planning how many miles she'll need to run tomorrow to forget this moment.

"Good night, Leila."

She freezes mid-step, the sound of her actual name falling from his lips feeling like a slap. Not 'ma puce'. Not his usual pet name that makes her heart flutter. Just Leila.

His hotel room door clicks shut, and she stands there in the hallway like someone just pressed pause on her whole world. In the eight months she's known him, through every up and down, every early morning and late night, every moment of casual intimacy and professional distance, he's never once called her just Leila.

Never once until now, when she's standing in a hallway wearing another man's kisses while he takes another woman to his bed.

The universe really does have a sense of humor.

A cruel one.

………….tbd

#quainwritings #aurelien tchouameni #quain’s masterlist #aurelien tchouameni fanfiction #footballer x oc #footballer x reader #aurelien tchouameni x black oc #aurelien tchouameni fanfic #aurelien tchouameni x reader #real madrid fanfic

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cherryeclipses · 2 days ago

Text

first love 🤍 sam winchester x reader

Sam Winchester x Reader - minimal use of she/her pronouns. Fluff, young love, angst. Very minimal use of Y/N. Unedited This is my first fic in almost 6 years...I'm not a Sam girl so I hope this isn't too OOC

★ ˚⋆

At 5 years old my mum was murdered, by the time I was 6 dad had dedicated his life to hunting the thing that killed my mum. By 13 my dad was hunted and killed by the very same demon. I had to start a new life under the care of dad's very good friend Bobby. Life at Uncle Bobby's was fun, once you got used to the smell of stale whiskey and old books. He took me in as his own as soon as he heard the news of my father's passing, I was now his little girl who he swore to protect with his life. This meant being homeschooled and learning to shoot a shotgun, but none of that mattered when John Winchester brought his sons, Sam and Dean to stay when he went on longer hunts. Sam and Dean were my best friends, nobody understood me more than them. I would spend my mornings with Dean, who taught me everything there is to know about monsters and how to kill them. My evenings were spent having movie marathons or reading side by side with Sam. Over the years I found myself falling in love with Sam. What started as a close friendship slowly turned into an infatuation with the younger Winchester brother.

˚⋆★ ˚⋆

"I can only see the Big Dipper, I'm giving up."

"No no, look here." Sam laughed, grabbing my hand to point at another cluster of stars. "That's Orion the Hunter and over here, those three stars make up Orion's Belt." He exclaimed, dropping my hand. We had been laid on our backs stargazing for the past hour, I turn my head to look at Sam. His face illuminated by the stars, he looks ethereal, I just want to reach over and kiss him. But I can't, I mean I could but he would definitely find it weird. Surely he thinks of me a sister. I'm brought back to reality when I realise Sam's also turned to look at me. "You ready to head inside?" He asked. "I should probably get some sleep, I think dad will be back tomorrow." "Sure." I say softly, I hate when the boys leave. I love my Uncle but it can get lonely with just the two of us. The comfortable silence lingers between us for a few more seconds before we both go to our separate beds for the night. That's all it ever is, lingering stares, accidental touches and the aching in my heart.

˚⋆★ ˚⋆ make ur own timeline, a few years or months later.. ˚⋆★ ˚⋆

It was a rainy afternoon, Bobby is away on a hunt for the weekend when there's a knock on the door. Shotgun filled with rock salt bullets in hand, I cautiously open the door. "Sam?!" "Hey, I'm sorry to come over unannounced, I should've called -" before he can finish his sentence I'm ushering him inside, my arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace. "It's been too long, you never have to announce yourself" I laugh as he hugs me tighter. I take a second to look him up and down, "what's wrong?" I ask, taking a step back. "Nothing's wrong, I just had to come see you. Is Bobby here?" "No, he's helping Rufus this weekend. You never have to see me, so what's up?" "Okay, you're right. Um I've decided to go to College." He says quietly. "That's great Sam! It's what you've always wanted." I go to hug him again but sense something is off, he's too quiet. "Isn't it?" I push. "It is, it is. But it's not just that, I want to move away from this life, I want to start new, have a normal life." I finally realise what this is, it's goodbye. After several minutes I finally find something to say, "I know you want a normal life, but we can still be friends in your new normal life. I'm not even a hunter!" He smiles sadly and just shakes his head. "It's not like that, you know it's not. Maybe we will stay in contact, I just wanted to say goodbye in person." Knowing that Sam hasn't been home in awhile, this couldn't have gone over well with John or Dean, I put my feelings aside and embrace Sam in a hug. His warm, strong arms wrapping around me, it feels safe. A small tear escapes me, he'll go off to College, become the highest paid lawyer in the US and marry some hot blonde, I can see it now. Me, Bobby, Dean, all in his past. As if Sam can hear my worries, he tilts my chin up so I'm looking at him. Not wanting to get my hopes up, I start to break away from the hug but Sam leans down and our lips connect in a soft, passionate kiss. It is everything I'd dreamed of, his lips were soft, he smelt delicious like sandalwood and sea salt. His warm hands move to cup my face and I melt. My hands make their way to his hair, still damp from the rain outside. Just as I'm ready to risk it all, he pulls back. "I've been waiting so long for this." He breathes. I can't reply, I'm too stunned, so I just kiss him back, harder this time.

Somehow, we make it to my bed, clothes flung across the room. It's embarrassing to admit that this is the night I've dreamed of for so long. The sunlight peaking through the window wakes me up in the morning, I roll over and realise I didn't dream it last night. My childhood crush is in my bed, naked. The sunlight bouncing off his toned body, disheveled hair strewn across his face. I cuddle into his side, ignoring the fact that this is meant to be his goodbye.

˚⋆★ ˚⋆ a few years later

"Eric, stop giving out free drinks, those girls will never call you and you're making my business go broke!" I smack the dark haired boy over the head. "Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time." He mumbles sheepishly. It's been a year since I inherited the bar from an old hunter and made it my own. It's my pride and joy, running a business and making an honest living. "2 beers please gorgeous." My heart pounds in my ears, I'd know that deep voice anywhere. "Dean Winchester." I breathe, turning around to see the 2 Winchester brothers sat at my bar. "The one and only." Dean winks as I hand the boys their drinks. "Hi" Sam says shyly. I pretend not to hear him. "So, what awful thing brings you back to Sioux Falls?" "The usual." Deans says dryly, taking a sip of his beer. "Still looking for that damn gun." I'd heard all about his search for the Colt and yellow eyes. "Y/N please can we talk?" Sam pleads. "Of course we can talk Sam." I say snarkily. "I didn't know you had taken up hunting again?" He sighs, "it's a long story, have you got a break soon?" He gives me those damn puppy dog eyes, I want to give in and tell him it's okay and I still love him. But I can't, he gave me false hope. Adoring me, right before leaving for College and never speaking to me again. No he's going to have to work a lot harder if he wants me to be friendly with him again. I narrow my eyes at the youngest Winchester, "No I don't, now if you boys will excuse me, I've got a business to run." With that I turn and make my way to the back of the bar but not before telling one of my girls that those cute brothers at the bar can have anything they want, on the house.

"What's her problem?" I hear Dean chuckle to Sam.

★ ˚⋆

Should I make this a series or maybe write this from Sam's POV??? I hope it was okay!!!! Sorry to rush the ending.

#spn #supernatural #winchester #sam #dean #oneshot #fluff #angst #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #light angst #dean winchester #bobby singer #John winchester #x reader #female reader #reader insert #x you #spn season 1

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clarisse0o · 13 hours ago

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The Mayor - Chapter 4

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1000

Masterlist

———————————————————————

"And then, she hits me with a 'I hope I didn’t throw you off!' Can you believe it? She’s a woman who wants to control everything and enjoys provoking people—provoking me specifically!"

“Well, this sounds promising,” Alessia teased. “I didn’t think she was like that; she seemed nice at the kids' Christmas party at the hospital.”

“Oh yeah, the Dragon has two faces! They’re the worst kind. She’s a real actress.”

Sitting in Alessia’s living room, we’d just finished a platter of sushi. She was laughing. Alessia, with her Italian roots, had long blond hair and bright eyes. Her laughter and infectious joy made her even more beautiful.

“The Dragon isn’t so bad to look at; you can always admire her if it helps,” she replied with a playful smile.

“Sure, with that personality, I almost didn’t notice her at all,” I replied, with a hint of bad faith.

I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. Our tongues met in a lively dance as my hands moved along her back and then under her shirt to touch her soft, warm skin. She suddenly pulled away from my embrace.

“Is something wrong?”

“No… it’s just… we talked about this, how we should stop if we want to move on.”

She said it in a weary voice, and I frowned.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, it’s not that. But how can we move on if we keep ending up in bed every few days?”

We’d been apart for almost a year now, without drama but with a lot of sadness. She was in a surgical program that would take her to Canada in a year, and her schedule was relentless. And with my own demanding schedule, our lives had gradually drifted apart. After yet another breakup and the usual reproaches, we’d separated. We hadn’t been in touch for months until I reached out a few weeks ago. Her scent, her voice, her laughter—I’d missed it all. And, of course, we ended up in each other’s arms, which maybe wasn’t the best idea. Since then, although neither of us considered getting back together, rarely a week went by without us finding ourselves together again.

Her comment stung. Sarcastically, I replied, “Excuse me, but the sushi and candle setup made me think this was going somewhere else tonight.”

“Come on, don’t take it that way. It’s complicated; I want to see you too. But where are we going with this? The first one of us who meets someone just leaves? Since we’re not getting back together, right?”

She threw this at me, challenging me with her deep brown eyes, almost black.

“Are you planning to work fewer than 150 hours a week? And not going to Canada?”

I’d hit a sore spot—Canada, the real cause of our breakup. She’d accepted the program without consulting me, and I’d felt left out of her life as she forged her own path without me.

“Do we really have to talk about this again? You know my workload will be much lighter in a year, and you could have come to Canada!”

“Oh sure, like I was so well included in your great plans! I’d just bought my firm, and then you announced all this! So no, let’s not talk about it. Anyway, after today, I’m done here. I’m leaving.”

I grabbed my coat and headed toward the door. She followed me immediately, grabbing my arm, pushing me against the wall, taking my face in her hands, and leaning in close to my ear.

“Stay. It’s too hard. I need you.”

Her words electrified my entire body. I let my coat drop and kissed her passionately. Our tongues joined in a fierce rhythm as I leaned against the wall, breathless. Alessia unbuttoned my blouse, letting it fall immediately. She began to kiss my neck, moving slowly down to my breasts, which she caressed gently. Her tongue circled my hardened nipples, aroused by the waves of desire flooding through my body. Her hand wandered along my thigh, moving dangerously close to my lower belly. She unbuttoned my jeans, slipping them down; I was at her mercy now, in only my black thong, standing before her. As she continued to tease my nipples, her hand gently stroked me through my underwear. She began applying pressure to my clit, making me moan even louder. She then moved lower with her mouth. I decided to shed the last barrier between us. She started kissing my intimate area, licking my lips while lightly touching my clit. She knew me by heart—my body, how to make me feel pleasure. Feeling my excitement, she slid one finger, then two, inside me, moving them faster and faster, while never stopping her tantalizing strokes with her tongue. The pleasure built within me like a sudden fire. My moans grew louder, my hands in her hair. I moved my body to feel her tongue, her fingers, her , even more deeply within me. I finally climaxed, shuddering with pleasure. She slowly moved back up, covering my body with kisses until she reached my lips and gently bit them. I felt so vulnerable, naked in front of her while she was still fully dressed. I smiled.

“What are you smiling about, miss?” she asked, with a mischievous grin.

“I think I’m standing naked in a hallway in front of a fully clothed person; we might need to remedy this. Would you happen to have a bedroom?”

We laughed heartily. I took her hand and led her to her bedroom—our former bedroom—ready to put her through the same wonderful torment.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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siderealscribblings · 2 days ago

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*Note: This chapter contains explicit material intended for adult audiences; reader discretion is advised.

99 Years, 11 Months, 27 Days

Theatricality had never been Neuvillette's strong suit, but a century of learning from one of Teyvat's greatest illusionists had taught him how to put on a good show. Thankfully Furina took ages to get ready, which meant Neuvillette had plenty of time to set the stage…with a few helping hands, of course.

"Where do you want the cake M. Neuvillette?" A lime green melusine asked, delicately balancing a hefty slice of pillowy cake on her head.

"Table by the window if you please, Ceres," Neuvillette said, lighting the last of the candles and setting it on a paper lily boat in the pool. Furina had spent four bloody months settling on the decor for the grand gala and he would be damned if someone didn't enjoy the ambiance. A small fleet of melusine had done what they could without ladders, turning the lower three feet of walls into a tapestry of ceramic fish and shells as Neuvillette prepared the pool.

"Alright, that should do it," Neuvillette sighed, pulling his hair into a loose ponytail and wiping his brow. He had stripped down to a loose shirt and slacks while setting things up, deciding to change into something more suitable once everything was set up. "Thank you ladies, I shall take it from-"

"Neuvillette?" Furina called from behind the door to her room. "Where are you?"

"Pool room," Neuvillette called, ushering the melusine through the door to the foyer. "Come in."

"Come in? Is that how one announces the arrival of an Archon to a gala held in honor of her reign?"

"You want to be announced ?" Neuvillette sighed fondly. "To whom ?"

"My distinguished guests, of course!"

"...I am literally the only one here."

"And very distinguished!"

You ridiculous woman… Neuvillette thought with a slight smile. "...announcing Lady Furina de Fontaine, Regina of All Waters, Hydro Archon and Goddess Focalors, Ruler of the Nation of Fontaine, Protector and Patroness of the Melusine…etcetera, etcetera."

"I don't recall etcetera etcetera being part of my coat of arms!" Furina huffed, anxiously unlatching the door and stepping out into the candlelit chamber. "Oh…I see you were busy."

"Yes, well, since I assumed you would take some time gussying yourself up, I thought I would make the place look…" Neuvillette trailed off as Furina stepped into the light. Her dress reflected every candle, a sea of shimmering interlocking scales that shifted as she walked from shadow to shadow. It hugged her chest snugly, falling just short of her kneecap and leaving her collarbone and shoulders bare. Stockings and gloves that rose to the middle of her arm complimented the ensemble, as did a familiar blue gemstone that had finally returned where it belonged.

"...beautiful," Neuvillette finished.

Chapter 1

The Games of Divinity (Accomplice!Neuvillette AU)

#the games of divinity #my writing #neuvifuri #furilette #in which we separate the monster kissers from the true monsterfuckers

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player279achlys · 3 days ago

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The golden rabbit's legacy (Hwang In-Ho/Frontman x fem! reader!)

Il-nam's granddaughter will prove herself worthy of being the next hostess, while someone becomes her loyal shadow.

CHAPTER V: the calm before the final game

Previous chapter: Chapter IV

Next chapter: Chapter VI

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho/Frontman x Original!female!Character

Word count: 1,8k words.

Summary: In the shadow of her grandfather’s dark empire, Melinoe, a brilliant young woman in her early twenties, steps into a world of blood, betrayal, and power she was never meant to inherit. As the granddaughter of the infamous Oh Il-Nam, creator of the deadly Squid Games, she is thrust into a brutal legacy that demands she not only survive but thrive as its new hostess. Determined to honor her family’s name and prove herself worthy of the golden rabbit mask, she designs games more cunning and lethal than any before.

But power comes at a cost. Beneath her calculated exterior lies a woman haunted by guilt, trauma, and the faces of those she has condemned to die. And at her side stands Hwang In-Ho, the enigmatic Front Man—older than her, cold, and feared by all, except for her. Since the day he learned of her existence, In-Ho has been deeply, obsessively in love with Melinoe. His devotion is as intense as it is toxic, a tangled mix of desire and protectiveness that pushes him to control every aspect of her life.

As Melinoe rises to prominence, she finds herself navigating not only the deadly games but also the dangerous allure of In-Ho. Their relationship is a powder keg of suppressed emotions, forbidden passion, and fraught power dynamics. He would destroy anyone who comes close to her—including a charming, younger VIP who flirts with her one too many times. Yet, while In-Ho dreams of keeping her safe in his arms, Melinoe dreams of reshaping the games into something darker and more just—her own twisted vision of justice against the world’s worst offenders.

When the 33rd Squid Games begin, everything changes. With her grandfather entering the arena as Player 001 and Gi-Hun as Player 456, the games take on unprecedented stakes. As alliances crumble and bodies fall, Melinoe must contend with the weight of her grandfather’s legacy, the manipulations of the VIPs, and the unrelenting obsession of the man who would burn the world for her.

Will Melinoe rise as the queen of the games, or will the bonds of obsession and love be the end of her?

Warnings: MDNI!!!, Afab!, angst. Sexual language. Fear of losing someone. Smut (light kinda), grumpy x sunshine, dark romance, age gap, possessive, obsessed, paranoid and dominant In-Ho, daddy issues, yandere behaviour, jealousy, violence, murder, typical squid game stuff.

English isn’t my first language, if there are any mistakes, please forgive me. :)

I want to dedicate this chapter to @bruhstories . Happy birthday and thank you for creating BET. That fanfic helped me go through my exam season without losing my sanity.

Whoever is reading this, please check her stories. They're TOP.

The compound buzzed with an eerie silence the next morning, the remaining five players awaiting the announcement of the final game. The tension in the air was almost palpable, each survivor wrestling with their own fears and strategies. Melinoe, however, found herself lost in a different kind of turmoil.

Her night with In-Ho lingered in her mind, a vivid memory that both comforted and unsettled her. She could still feel the warmth of his touch, hear the low timbre of his voice as he whispered her name. But with every moment of tenderness came the reminder of where they were—of what she had to do.

She sat on the edge of her cot, staring at the floor as the weight of her decisions pressed down on her. She had come here to honor her grandfather’s legacy, to prove herself worthy of the responsibility she was about to inherit. And yet, In-Ho had become an inextricable part of that journey, a tether she hadn’t anticipated.

The door to her quarters creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked up to see In-Ho standing in the doorway, his dark suit immaculate, his mask tucked under his arm. His gaze softened when it met hers, though the intensity in his eyes never waned.

“May I come in?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

She nodded, motioning for him to enter. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him before approaching her. His presence filled the room, a mix of comfort and tension that made her chest tighten.

“You should be resting,” he said, his brow furrowing as he studied her. “The final game will be the most demanding yet.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “But I can’t stop thinking about what’s at stake.”

He crouched before her, his hands resting lightly on her knees as he looked up into her eyes. “You’ve already proven yourself, Melinoe. You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she said firmly, her gaze unwavering. “This is my family’s legacy, In-Ho. If I’m going to take it on, I have to earn it.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I can’t lose you.”

Her heart clenched at the raw emotion in his words. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “You won’t,” she said softly. “But I need to see this through.”

The remaining players were gathered in the main hall, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and determination. A crackling female voice came through the intercom, delivering the announcement they had all been waiting for.

“The final game,” the announcer declared, “is Paengi Chigi.”

Melinoe’s heart sank. She had studied every detail of this game before coming here, memorizing the rules and the deadly twists her grandfather had designed. She knew what awaited them in the arena—a life-sized spinning top battlefield with no room for error.

The arena was a circular platform suspended high above a chasm, its surface adorned with glowing markings that designated the boundaries. Each player was handed a spinning top, its edges sharpened to lethal precision. The objective was clear: knock the other players’ tops out of the arena, or they would face elimination themselves.

Melinoe gripped her top tightly, her mind racing with strategies as she took her place on the platform. Across from her, Wol-Jin stood with a determined expression, his gaze flickering to hers briefly before focusing on the task ahead.

In-Ho watched from the control room, his fists clenched as he leaned over the console. His eyes were glued to Melinoe’s figure, every movement she made filling him with both pride and fear. He had made subtle adjustments to the game—small tweaks to ensure her path was safer than the others’. But even those measures couldn’t guarantee her survival.

The game began with the deafening hum of spinning tops colliding against one another. Sparks flew as metal clashed, the players maneuvering their tops with calculated precision. Melinoe focused on her own top, her hands steady as she guided it across the arena, avoiding the traps and hazards that had claimed so many before her.

Wol-Jin’s top spun dangerously close to hers at one point, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. He gave her a small, encouraging nod, but she didn’t return it. Her focus was singular—survive, no matter the cost.

As the game wore on, the platform grew increasingly treacherous. Parts of it collapsed under the weight of the spinning tops, creating gaps that forced the players to navigate with even greater care. Melinoe’s heart raced as she narrowly avoided a falling section, her top skidding across the edge before regaining its balance.

In the control room, In-Ho’s breath caught as he watched her stumble. His hands gripped the console so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Come on,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You can do this.”

When the dust settled, only two players remained: Melinoe and Wol-Jin. The tension in the arena was suffocating as the two of them faced off, their tops spinning furiously as they maneuvered for the final blow.

Melinoe’s gaze hardened as she guided her top toward Wol-Jin’s, her movements precise and calculated. She could see the determination in his eyes, the way his hands trembled slightly as he realized what was coming.

“Forgive me,” she whispered under her breath, just before her top collided with his.

The impact was catastrophic. Wol-Jin’s top was sent careening out of the arena, the force of the collision triggering a small explosion that sent him flying backward. He landed hard, his body skidding to the edge of the platform. For a moment, he looked up at her, his expression a mixture of shock and betrayal.

The final blow had been delivered. The echoes of metal and destruction faded into silence, leaving only the hum of machinery and the sound of Melinoe’s labored breathing. She stood on the crumbling platform, blood trickling down the side of her face from the gash on her temple. The world spun around her, the edges of her vision darkening as her legs threatened to give out.

Wol-Jin’s top had been obliterated, and with it, so had he. She had seen his wide eyes, the fleeting shock and betrayal before his body disappeared into the abyss below. A part of her wanted to grieve, to mourn the loss of someone who had shown her kindness in this hellish arena. But she couldn’t. Not now.

He was gone.

Melinoe stood alone on the platform, her chest heaving as the sound of the final buzzer echoed through the arena. She had won—but at what cost? Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions as she stepped off the platform, her legs trembling with exhaustion.

“I won,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her head. “I… won.”

Her knees buckled, liquid falling from her head and the last thing she saw before everything went black was the blurred image of guards rushing toward her.

Three Days Later

The world came back to her in fragments: the sterile scent of antiseptic, the muffled sound of voices, the faint beeping of a heart monitor. Melinoe’s eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she felt weightless, as though she were suspended between dream and reality.

“She’s waking up,” a voice said, low and urgent.

She turned her head slowly, her gaze landing on two familiar figures. Her grandfather, Oh Il-Nam, sat in a chair by her bedside, his aged features creased with worry. Beside him stood In-Ho, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her chest tighten.

“Melinoe,” Il-Nam said, his voice trembling with relief. “You’re awake.”

She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her head, forcing her back down. In-Ho stepped forward instantly, his hands hovering as though afraid to touch her. “Stay still,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve been through enough.”

“What… happened?” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

“You collapsed after the final game,” Il-Nam explained. “You hit your head when you fell. We had you treated immediately. You’ve been in a coma for three days.”

Her eyes widened. “Three days?”

The door opened, and a doctor entered, clipboard in hand. He approached her bedside, his expression professional but kind. “How are you feeling, Miss Oh?”

“Dizzy,” she admitted. “And… confused.”

“That’s to be expected,” the doctor said, nodding. “You suffered a severe concussion, along with minor lacerations and bruising. But you’re lucky—it could have been much worse.”

Melinoe swallowed hard, her mind racing. “I remember… the games. The final game. Winning. But…” She hesitated, frowning. “It’s all blurry after that.”

In-Ho stiffened, though his face remained unreadable. Il-Nam exchanged a glance with him before turning back to Melinoe. “You don’t remember anything else?” her grandfather asked carefully.

She shook her head, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her skull. “No. Just the games. And Wol-Jin…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away. “He’s gone.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken grief. In-Ho’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze never leaving her.

In the days following her recovery, Melinoe threw herself into her work. She had a business to run, a legacy to uphold. The games were over, but there was no time to rest. Her grandfather’s health was declining rapidly, and he had made his final wish clear: to participate in the 33rd games, his swan song before passing the torch to her.

In-Ho was by her side every step of the way. He had always been protective of her, but since her injury, his vigilance had intensified. He hovered in the background, silent and watchful, ensuring she never overexerted herself. She could feel his presence in every room, every corridor, his gaze a constant shadow.

He couldn’t forget.

Every time he looked at her, he saw the gash on her temple, the bandage that marred her otherwise flawless skin. It was a physical reminder of his failure, of the moment he hadn’t been able to protect her. It consumed him, drove him to the brink of madness.

“You shouldn’t push yourself so hard,” he told her one evening as she pored over the plans for the next games.

“I don’t have a choice,” she replied without looking up. “The 33rd games need to be perfect. It’s what my grandfather wants.”

“What about what you want?” he asked, his voice low.

She paused, glancing up at him. “I want to honor him. And I want to make these games different.”

“Different how?” he asked, stepping closer.

“No more gamblers,” she said firmly. “No more people who are desperate or in debt. From now on, we’ll recruit the worst of the worst. Criminals. Murderers. Rapists. People who have destroyed lives and escaped justice.”

Her conviction sent a shiver down his spine. She was brilliant, ruthless, and utterly intoxicating. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, almost to himself.

She offered a faint smile. “I’m just trying to make things right.”

This one was a short one, hence why I will post maybe another 2 chapters. Mostly because I don't have anything to do (no finals, 1 week and a half free of uni).

Now another era of Melinoe will start: she will finally step into her role as a hostess and head master of the games.

As always.

Loves you, Achlys.

Taglist: @futuristicdefendorfart

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malinaa · 1 year ago

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if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

#imagine you're a boy who's going to die. you're in love with the girl you've been watching from afar. you know your fate.#you just want to help her‚ but then there's the announcement and she's here in front of you‚ kissing you‚ risking her life for you and you #think‚ i could live and i could love. you think she loves you when she hands you the berries‚ when she puts them in her mouth.#then you both survive and you go back home and nothing is real anymore. you have nothing. no family. no friends. no love. just an empty #house. a drunk for a neighbor. the love of your life walking into somebody else's arms. you think‚ i survived the games. i could survive #this. and you also think‚ i should've bit down on those berries‚ should've felt the juice burst before i died.#and then the third quarter quell announcement rings in your ears and you think‚ she will live and i will die as i should have in the first #place. the girl you love kisses you on the beach and somewhere you heart stirs and your mind revolts and you savor every touch she has ever #given to you‚ in front of the cameras and off. because you are a tribute and you are always being watched and snow's presence looms and #you think‚ i know she cares. but you get taken. you get drugged. you get tortured‚ your mind altered. the girl is a mutt‚ a murderer. she's #everything you despise‚ your mind stirs. your heart revolts. you gain more awareness but cannot distinguish reality from fiction and you #have never known katniss' love. the war ends. you heal. you come home. you plant primrose for her. years down the line‚ you grow in love #more than you thought possible. but some days‚ you cannot tell fiction from reality so you ask the love of your life‚ you love me.#real or not real? and she says‚ real‚ and kisses you.#and you sigh and kiss her back and revel in this. a home. a life. a love.#lit #the hunger games #everlark #otp: real or not real?#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #text #tais toi lys #thgpost #*

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rearranging-deck-chairs · 2 years ago

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hes cute when he thinks hes about to be murdered

#see? missy couldve said that #i do think that like 13 does this better maybe?#in general i have the impression 13 is less needlessly mean or insulting to bystanders than previous doctors #which HELPS in not accidentally turning people against you in stressful situations #but also i feel like she maybe.....hm....takes control of rooms in a slightly smoother way? slightly less noticeably. she announces it less #might be a combination of how bystanders are written and also her appearance tbh she gets maybe underestimated easier #but also i think the bubbly thing helps. she PRESENTS as nonthreatening more than 10 or 12 do #dont really recall 11 much at the moment but i think he might be a bit more like her in this regard? wanting family etc #though he does also insult people #but my impression might be a bit skewed rn bc ive got like the doctors daughter and sontaran 2 parter and now this all in a row #and maybe it just gives a skewed perception of 10 #although now that i just listed all those eps thats kind of a lot of eps so maybe he really is just like this.#not entirely sure if 13 really actually is Less like this tho or if my impression of HER is actually skewed #but i feel like 13 like. takes control from out of the spotlight slightly more than stepping into it #but that might be just smth i made up #im trying to think of specific scenes to use as examples for or against but cant really think of anything #i know she Does use the 'did i not mention? im really clever' at least once in 11x2 with the woman #it's just if you say it with that bubbly friendliness instead of selfimportant seriousness then its less offputting idk #it IS specifically the thing that catches up with 10 here tho so maybe my perception IS skewed for both of them actuallyl #anyway. 13 IS less insulting in general #she gets bitchy when she feels threatened but she really does try her best she wasnt wrong abt that #and its smart too #better not to give people reason to dislike you from the getgo #in case of tense bus rides you know

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humanityinahandbag · 3 months ago

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I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

#us elections #equality #equal rights #protesting #picketing #fighting #we can do this #we truly can #take a break and then keep fighting

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charmedimsure · 17 days ago

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Hello! Can I order a Dae Ho one-shot? about the reader who comes to the game pregnant and meets Dae Ho there and they have some kind of connection and he tells her that when they get out of there he would like to be with her and the baby.

thank you and happy new year <3

*slams bell* ORDER UP! (im sorry that was so cringey)

The Three of Us

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: Trying to make it out of the games with both you and your baby's lives, you meet a man who is determined to help.

word count: 6.3k (i did not expect it to be this long thats what she said)

warnings: pregnancy, guns, death, blood, squid game stuff

A/N: i love jun-hee, but the reader replaces her in this fic. reader has no connection to myung-gi (333). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

Part 2: After the Games

The second game is about to start, and time is running out for you to find a team. You've approached a few groups, but have been turned away by all of them. Turns out most groups don't want women on their team.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot the man who had won these games before, along with the man who beat up those other players the day before. Figuring you might as well take a shot, you approach them.

Just as you get to them, a handsome man comes running over, pulling a player along behind him. "Sir! I got someone! He'll definitely risk his life to win."

The man he brought salutes the others. "Victory at all costs!"

The shorter man in the group, player 390, smiles and salutes back. "Hey, were you in the Marines?"

"Class 946, sir!"

Player 390 laughs. "Boy, with three ex-Marines, we'll be invincible." He turns to players 001 and 456. "What do you think? I like him."

Great, you think to yourself. Now they get to pick between an ex-Marine and a woman who can barely stand for more than 20 minutes at a time. Still though, this is a good team, and you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

"Excuse me," you say, getting the group's attention. "Please let me join your team."

Player 390 speaks up. "Sorry, we've already got five people."

Fuck it. Time to pull out the big guns.

"Please help me," you plead, leaning back a bit and putting your hand up to your swollen belly. "I'm pregnant."

All five men grow silent as they look down to your stomach.

"Time for team selection is up."

You can feel the stares of your new team on you as the second game is announced. You just look forward, trying to listen to voice.

"The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each player will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini games. Number one, Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gong-gi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini-game."

Player 390 turns to his friend. "It's good that we got a woman." He turns to you. "You can play Gong-gi, right?"

You give him a sorry look as you shake your head.

His smile falters. "Don't girls play Gong-gi anymore?"

You look down at the sand. "I've played it, but I was never good at it."

You can see the disappointment on his face as he nods.

Player 388 takes a deep breath as he turns toward 390. "Actually, I can play Gong-gi."

390 gives him a confused look. "You? And ex-Marine?"

You give 390 a weird look. Is it really that hard to believe that a military man has played a kid's game before?

388 gets embarrassed. "I grew up with four older sisters. I used to play it with them from time to time."

You smile, thinking it's sweet that he used to play games with his sisters.

390 claps him on the back. "That's right. There's nothing a Marine can't do."

Player 456 leans forward to look at all of you. "Everyone else, what game are you confident playing?"

You take a deep breath. Jegi was the game you were best at growing up, but you don't think you'll be able to play it in your condition. You lean forward as well. "I can play Ddakji. At the subway station I flipped the guy's on my first try."

390 nods. "Okay. Miss 222, you can play Ddakji. I'll play Flying Stone. I was a pitcher for my baseball team. I'm good at throwing."

As 456 and 001 decide who will play Jegi and who will play Spinning Top, 388 turns to you.

"Did you really beat him on the first try? It took me at least eight."

You breathe out a laugh and give him a small smile. "Yeah. I probably could have paid off my debt if he had let us keep playing." Your smile falters as you rest your hand on your swollen stomach. "It would have been safer for the baby."

388 frowns sympathetically and scoots a bit towards you. "We will get out of here. And after that, we will go home. You and your baby will be safe."

Although you don't completely believe him, you still give him a smile and thank him for his kind words.

You feel movement in your stomach and let out a small yelp at the unexpected feeling, looking down towards your hand.

"Are you alright? What happened?" 388 asks, concern clear on his face.

With a smile, you lift your head to look at him and the others who have directed their attention to you. "I felt the baby kick."

Player 388 breaks out into a smile as he looks to your belly, seemingly fascinated by what is happening inside of you.

Player 001 lets out a loud laugh. "The baby wants to play Jegi."

You let out a chuckle as the men laugh. You made a good choice asking these players for help.

"All right guys, bring your hands together," 390 says, sticking his hand out in front of him. "All together now."

You need to scoot over a bit, but you put your hand on the pile on top of 388's, who gives you a shy smile.

"On three, we go, 'Victory at all costs.' One, two, three..."

"Victory at all costs!"

The walls open and forklifts are brought in holding boxes with pink bows on top. You watch as the bodies of both teams are separated from each other and placed into each box. One team had made it past the fourth mini-game, while the other had only just finished the second. Both teams were executed.

The bodies are eventually cleared out, but the blood remains on the track. The second team lines up and you recognize the sweet old lady who had given you her egg this morning, as well as her son. Shit, you really hope they make it.

The gun fires and they're off. The first girl, player 095, looks so nervous I'm worried she won't be able to throw the Ddakji. Her first three attempts fail, and she looks as though she won't be able to continue. Player 120 whispers something to her and she nods. She picks up the Ddakji, turns in over in her hand, and smacks it to the floor. Success.

The group celebrates as they move on, and you make a mental note of that little trick for when it's your turn.

Next is player 007, the son. He throws the stone and misses. Instead of panicking like the past groups, they quickly grab the stone and move backwards to the line, saving lots of time. As 007 is preparing to throw the stone again, his mother whispers something to him. A look of anger washes over his face.

"That asshole ruined my fucking life!"

A perfect hit. The entire crowd cheers as they advance to the next mini-game. You smile to yourself. They can do this.

Next is the mother playing Gong-gi. She drops her first two tries. You're guessing it must be at least a few decades since she last played.

"Old hag! What are you doi-"

Player 120 puts her hand over player 044's mouth to shut her up.

You watch as 007 speaks to his mother. With a new look of determination in her eyes, she blasts through Gong-gi until she needs to make the final catch. You and player 388 sit on your heels to get a better look. Her son speaks to her again, and face turns to one of rage.

"Rotten bitch!"

All five pieces end up in her hand.

"She did it!" Player 390 says, getting to his feet, 388 following after him. You try to get up but fall back as you lose your balance. Player 388 notices and holds your arms to help you up, keeping a hand on your back to keep you steady as you stand to watch the next game.

044 fumbles the top as she's wrapping it, but quickly retrieves it and tries again. She fumbles a few more times before stopping. Her team freaks out as she stands there mumbling to herself.

A gasp rings out through the crowd as 120 slaps 044 twice, picking up the fallen top and pointing it threateningly at 044's eye.

"Oh shit," you say under your breath.

Player 044 wipes away the blood streaming from her nose and tries again the wrap the string around the top. She gets it on her first throw and the crowd screams in joy as they move to the next one. Everyone is standing now to watch, chanting along to each step.

Player 120 is handed the Jegi and requests that everyone turns around. Not wanting to mess them up, everyone turns without hesitation. The room is silent besides the sound of the Jegi hitting 120's shoes.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times.

It's done! They did it!

The rooms bursts into screams as the team crosses the finish line at the last second. You turn and hug 388 in pure joy as he jumps up and down. He quickly pulls away so he doesn't do anything to harm the baby, but keeps his arm around you as he celebrates with 390.

The teams keep going, with everyone celebrating the wins and wincing at the gunfire until it is finally your turn.

As you walk to the starting position, a hand gently grabs your wrist and you turn to see player 388. "Make sure to be careful. Take it easy and don't strain yourself."

You nod with a small smile and thank him, taking your spot in the outer ring of the small track. You take deep breaths as the harnesses are secured around your ankles.

"It's a little sad that we have no audience, isn't it?" 390 says, worry in his voice. He nudges 388. "Hey, are you scared?"

"No sir!" 388 yells, making you jump a bit as you were not expecting it. "It's quiet and easier to focus without anyone watching."

390 looks towards the other team. "Hey guys! We'll see you again at the finish line! Victory at all costs!"

The other team yells back their thanks and support before the pistol is fired and you're off.

When you approach the first mini-game, you take the blue tile and turn it over in your hand to match 095's. Throwing it hard at the floor, you yell in delight as the red tile flips over.

You move on to the next game, holding your stomach as you walk.

As 390 takes the stone, 388 yells out "Let's get this done the first time! I believe in you!"

"When I played baseball, my pitches might have been slow, but I had excellent ball control." You watch as the stones collide and yell out in victory as you move to the next one.

388 takes the Gong-gi pieces and you all crouch down.

390 faces him. "Dae-ho, stay calm. Even if you mess up..."

Player 388, or Dae-ho, puts his finger over his mouth to shush him before facing the board, rolling his wrist a few times and dropping the pieces. As quickly as he can, Dae-ho flawlessly gets through the game and catches all five pieces. You and your team members look at each other in awe of what you just watched. It seems that even Dae-ho can't believe he did it.

He lets out a scream as the guard confirms that he passed.

"That was amazing!" Player 390 yells. "Dae-ho, my boy!"

As you move to the fourth mini game, Player 390 looks down at you. "You're expecting, so be careful."

You nod but try to keep your pace, leaning on the small green table once you get to where you need to be.

As player 001 wraps the string around the top, Dae-ho bounces excitedly. "We might get through everything on the first attempt!"

Player 001 throws the top and it falls lazily to the floor as you all frown.

"It's okay, we have enough time," 456 says. "Let's go pick it up. Ready, go."

You all move forward together to grab the top. "No fun passing everything without a hitch," 390 says.

"That's right," 388 confirms. "You can't grow without failure, right?"

You guess he's right, but it would've been nice to pass everything easily. At least you still have three minutes left.

001 grabs the top and you move back to your spots. On his next throw you watch helplessly as the top flies behind your group. You would have laughed in any other situation.

Player 001 apologizes and you move back to grab the top, with 001 taking his sweet time to pick it up. To save time, he tries wrapping it as you walk forward again, but he breaks out of the arm link in frustration. This time he throws it as soon as it is wrapped. It doesn't spin, but at least it lands directly in front of him so you don't have to move again.

Player 456 picks up the top as 001 sighs in frustration. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He screams and you gasp when he starts slapping himself and calling himself an idiot.

456 takes his arms to stop him. "Try to remember the times when you had fun playing this."

001 nods and takes the top and string again. You take the time to look at the clock and feel a wave of worry wash over you when you see that you have less than a minute left. This time, 001 throws the top with his left hand and it spins perfectly on its axle.

You yell in joy as you quickly links arms again and move to the last game. Player 390 checks on you again as you move, and you just wave him off. The stress can't be good for the baby, but it's definitely not as bad as a bullet.

456 grabs the jegi and moves the pink soldier out of the way. He throws it up.

One hit. Two hits. Three hits. Four hits...

You watch in horror as the jegi flies in front of 456. Quickly, 001 kicks his foot out, making you all almost fall as the jegi lands on top of 456's left foot.

"Pass."

You all yell out victoriously and quickly move, crossing the finish line with a second to spare.

As you're all hugging each other, you flinch at the sounds of gunshots coming from the other side of the room. The other team didn't make it.

The main room is oddly quiet as you walk in. As happy as everyone was to see people pass while watching the games, they don't seem to be very happy about it now. Player 390 next to you waves at someone, and you look in the direction to see the woman and her son.

"That sweet old lady," he says with a smile. "I miss my mom."

You smile at the lady and bow your head to her as she gives you a big smile and two thumbs up.

As you sit down to rest and wait for the pink soldiers, 001 speaks up. "I'm sorry about earlier, everyone."

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made the last kick," 456 says and you nod.

001 looks at you. "Player 222, are you feeling alright?"

You nod. "Yes. Thank you all for letting me be on your team."

Dae-ho smiles shyly and nods.

"She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try, that was impressive," 390 says, making you smile at the praise. "She did great, even while carrying a baby. We were lucky she joined our team."

Dae-ho nods. "What about your Flying Stone play? You hit it with one shot! With an underhand pitch at that! Bam!" You let out a small laugh as he reenacts 390's throw. "You were like Kim Byung-hyun."

"And you?" 390 says. "Was Gong-gi the only game you ever played?" He quickly moves his hand around to imitate Dae-ho. "I could barely see your hand. It was like a martial arts movie."

Dae-ho laughs. "I'm the only son for two generations. My mom only let me play at home with my sisters."

"And yet they let their precious son join the Marines?" 390 questions.

Dae-ho hesitates. "My father's idea, he wanted me to be more of a man. He fought in the Vietnam War, you see."

"He sounds like a great man," 390 says and Dae-ho nods. "Was he a Marine, too?"

You can see the discomfort on Dae-ho's face and he quickly excuses himself from answering the question, instead standing up to face everyone. "Listen. Perhaps we should learn each other's names. I still don't know your names, gentlemen." He smiles a bit more when he looks to you. "Or your's, Miss. I'll start. I'm Kang Dae-ho. 'Dae' means 'big', 'ho' means 'tiger'."

"'Big tiger.' Cool name," 390 says. "My name is Park Jung-bae. 'Righteous' and 'twice'. My parents wanted me to be twice as righteous."

You go next, stating your name for the group. "I don't know what it means, though."

001 says your name, getting your attention. "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 nod. "Okay."

"I'm Oh Young-il," 001 says. He points out how it sounds like his number and the group laughs at the coincidence. Young-il turns to 456. "Oh, Gi-hun, what's your last name?"

"My name is Seong Gi-hun," Gi-hun says.

"'Seong' literally means 'last name'," Young-il laughs aloud by himself.

A loud buzz is heard and the guards enter the room. After revealing the results of the game and announcing the next vote, your team turns to each other.

You look down at the red X on your track suit, and look up to see the blue 'O' on Dae-ho's. He sees your gaze and frowns down at his patch.

"I'm telling you, we'll get out this time," he says to the team, though he is mainly looking at you. He looks down at his patch again and curses under his breath. "A Marine should think strategically and know when to retreat." He puts a hand on Jung-bae's shoulder. "Isn't that right, brother?"

"Yeah, you're right," Jung-bae says weakly. "Marines aren't invincible. We should get out." Despite saying this, the look on his face and the nervousness in his tone contradict his words.

"We have to end the games here," Gi-hun says. He turns to look at you. "I will help you guys when we get out. Please trust me and support this vote."

You smile and nod in thanks.

"Guys, all huddle up again," Dae-ho smiles as he sticks out his hand.

"Victory at all costs."

You frown as the buzzer goes off one last time. There had been some... complications during the voting. This lead to the final vote being 116 for X and 139 for O. Standing next to Dae-ho, you don't miss the look of betrayal on his face as he looks over to Jung-bae with the blue patch on his chest.

Dae-ho lets out a loud sigh as you eat your bread. "Brother! Brother Jung-bae!"

You can see Jung-bae tense up from his spot behind the beds.

With a sigh, Dae-ho stands up and approaches the man. "Hey, just come back here."

"No, I'm good here," you hear Jung-bae answer. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, come on." Dae-ho grabs Jung-bae and drags him to face the group.

He stops and stares at you all before speaking. "I'm sorry. I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I'll be able to settle my debt."

"Jung-bae," Young-il addresses the man sadly. "You of all people shouldn't have done it. It's not twice as righteous." He sighs before continuing. "But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted."

Jung-bae jumps at this. "Right? It's not entirely my fault."

"Alright," Dae-ho steps up. "To be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn't enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game."

Jung-bae hugs the man. "You did?"

Dae-ho pushes him away. "I said I get it."

The shorter man turns back to the group. "Thank you for understanding. But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn't we? If we stick together one more time, I'm sure we'll be fine." He turns to you. "I'll make sure we survive the next game-"

"'The next game'?" Gi-hun cuts him off. "In the next game, we might have to kill each other."

There is silence before Young-il speaks up. "Gi-hun, that's a bit much. There's nothing we can do now, so let's try to stay positive. We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again." He picks up his milk and hands it to you. "Here, you can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game."

You shake your head. "No, that's okay."

"Take it. I don't drink plain milk."

You thank him as you take the milk.

Jung-bae takes the bread out of his pocket. "Have my bread, too. I don't deserve to eat."

You smile as you take it. You have been feeling hungry and one piece of bread would definitely not be enough for you, so you're grateful for the men around you.

"I'll take your milk then," Dae-ho says to Jung-bae.

Before you can stop yourself, a loud laugh escapes from your mouth. The others smile before laughing along as well. You look over to Dae-ho to see a blush covering his face as he smiles.

"Pass it to me."

The guys hand each other mattresses as they move them to under the beds. You had been put in charge of collecting blankets and pillows so you wouldn't strain yourself.

"Is this really necessary?" Jung-bae asks. "I don't like sleeping under there."

"Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us," Gi-hun says as he pushes another mattress under a bed frame.

"What?" Dae-ho asks. "Who?"

"The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It's part of the game they designed."

"Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting here," Young-il says. "Even if that were true, people wouldn't do that."

Gi-hun turns to face him. "In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here. You have no idea how people can change in this place."

Young-il apologizes and you hand the blankets in your arms to Jung-bae.

"We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out," Gi-hun says. "I'll take the first, you should decide the order for the rest."

The order decided was that Jung-bae would take over after Gi-hun, then Dae-ho, then Young-il would be last. You tried to volunteer to keep watch but they immediately shot you down, saying you needed the rest more than them.

After a trip to the bathroom with players 149 and 120, whose names you still did not know, you come back to find Dae-ho keeping watch. You try to quickly wipe the tear stains from your cheeks as you walk back to the makeshift shelter. You give a quick nod to Dae-ho before trying to move past him, but he calls out your name, making you stop and turn to look at him.

He looks up at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

You put on a smile and nod. "Yes, I'm fine." As you try to walk away you feel his hand gently grab your wrist to stop you.

"No you're not," he says. You sigh, upset that you've been caught. He moves to the side to give you space and you sit next to him, figuring you're not gonna get out of this. "What happened? Was it the baby?"

You shake your head, feeling tears start to well up again. "It's everything." You put your head in your hands. "I never should have played Ddakji with that guy, I never should have called the number, I should have just stayed at home and prepared for the baby."

Dae-ho gently rubs your back as you cry into your sleeves. Even though you really only just met, he feels connected to you. Maybe it's just because you survived the second game together, but he cares for you and doesn't want anything bad to happen to you. He was stunned when you had walked up to the group before the game and asked to join, immediately regretting picking anyone besides the beautiful stranger that was standing in front of him.

"What about your husband?" Dae-ho asks. "Does he know that you're here?"

You shake your head. "I don't have a husband. I don't even have a boyfriend. It's just me and the baby." You turn to look at him and although he's too kind to ask you how you got knocked up, you can see the question all over his face. "My ex-boyfriend is the reason I got into so much debt. He made a lot of bad investments and when he ran out of his own money, he started using mine. When I told him I was pregnant, he freaked out and left. Didn't even say anything, his stuff was just all gone one day."

Dae-ho feels himself getting angry at this. If he found out a man had done this with one of his sisters, he would do something to him that would probably land him in prison. It takes two people to make a baby. Just because the mother is the one that carries it doesn't mean that the father isn't responsible for the child.

"He's a fucking coward," Dae-ho says, making you snort a small laugh. "And he's an idiot to leave you."

"It's for the best, though," you say. "He wasn't a good boyfriend, I knew that even while we were dating. But he was my first love, and we all do stupid things the first time we're in love." Dae-ho nods, watching as you bring your hand to rest on your stomach. "I only wish that my child would have a father in their life."

"They will have an amazing mother, though," he says, making you smile.

"I hope so," you rub your swollen belly. "Hey, Dae-ho, can I ask you something?"

Dae-ho nods, looking at you with intrigue.

"Earlier you told Jung-bae that you had thought about voting to stay. Why didn't you?" You ask.

The man takes a deep breath. "Honestly, I thought of you. You and your baby. When you told us that you're pregnant, it really hit me that I'm not the only person in here, that there are other lives at risk. If you died, it wouldn't just be the end of your life. Your baby doesn't deserve that. You don't deserve that."

You can't help the smile that blooms on your face at his words, as well as the small blush. "Thank you for thinking of me. You're a very sweet person, Kang Dae-ho." You watch as he gives you a shy smile, a light dusting of pink on his face. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you back home?"

He shakes his head. "No, just me." You give him an incredulous look and he chuckles. "Dating wasn't easy while in the Marines, and I guess I just never found anyone that interested me enough after."

You let out a small laugh. "Sounds like you have high standards."

He chuckles. "I'm just waiting to find the one. They say that when you know, you know."

"That's going to be one very lucky girl," you say, watching as the blush on his face deepens. "I hope you find her soon."

"I can't explain why, but I feel like I will." He smiles down at you with a look that makes your heart skip a beat. After a few moments he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I've kept you up for so long, you should get some sleep. You'll likely need your energy for tomorrow's game."

You nod, standing up. "You're right, I've been up too long." You start to move towards your mattress, but stop. "It was nice talking to you, Dae-ho."

He smiles at you. "Goodnight."

You smile back. "Goodnight."

For the rest of his watch, Dae-ho sneaks peaks at your sleeping form, a warm feeling running through him when he thinks about your words.

You awake to the feeling of someone shaking you. Groggily opening your eyes, you see Dae-ho leaning over you.

"The next game is starting soon, we need to get up," he says.

You hear the classical music that has played before every game and nod, allowing him to help you get out of bed. "Nothing to start the day off like a sadistic game and fearing for your life, huh?"

Dae-ho lets out a chuckle as you make your way to the doors. He walks behind you on the stairs to make sure you don't fall, and stands right by your side as the curtains are opened to reveal the game room.

"Welcome to your third game. The game you will be playing is Mingle. All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh, this game?" Jung-bae says. "We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging."

"I played it too," you say. "But we would hold hands instead."

Together you set up a strategy. If the number is five, you'll all go together. If it's more than five, you'll grab however many people we need. If it's smaller than five, you'll break off into groups. When your strategy is done, you put your hands in the center.

"Victory at all costs."

"Let the game begin."

The platform jerks as it starts rotating, and you almost lose your balance, but Dae-ho is there to grab you and steady you on your feet.

"Ten."

Everyone starts looking around like mad as they try to find ten players.

Gi-hun looks to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies. You recognize her as one of the women who came to the bathroom with you last night.

"That makes us nine!" Jung-bae says.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have ten!"

"Room 44! Green door! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

You run as fast as you can towards the door as Young-il holds it open for everyone to get inside. You feel Dae-ho's hand on the small of your back the entire way to the room. Before you get the chance to even think, the clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

Screams and gunshots can be heard from behind the door, the sad fate of those who didn't make it in time.

Dae-ho turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "How are you feeling? Is everything okay?"

"A bit out of breath, but I'm okay," you say, and he nods. Taking the chance to look around the room, you see that the other five is the first group that passed the pentathlon the day before.

"You're alive thanks to me!" Player 044 yells out, making you jump. She looks over everyone before stopping on you and stepping closer, making you take a step back. Dae-ho holds you close to him as the woman looks down at your stomach. She then looks up at Dae-ho and gives him a knowing smirk before leaving to speak to Gi-hun.

You look up at Dae-ho, who is still holding you to his chest. He watches the woman walk away before look down at you, your faces so close that your noses are only a few inches apart.

Once the bodies are removed from the playing area, you're let out of the room and make your way back to the center platform. The next round is four people to a room, and Young-il goes off on his own to find three more as the rest of you run to a room with a purple door.

Once you're let out, Dae-ho and Jung-bae yell for Young-il before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see Young-il jogging up to your group.

"I knew you were going to be okay!" Jung-bae smiles as he pulls Young-il in for a hug. "I knew it. You're not just anybody."

"I was worried," Gi-hun says. "I'm glad you made it."

Young-il smiles. "I'm a likable guy, so I'm good at games like this." He turns to you. "Are you feeling alright?"

You nod with a smile. "Yes, I'm alright. I'm glad you're back."

Young-il gives you a smile, but his face turns serious. "Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is six, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

"Why not?" Dae-ho asks.

After a moment, Jung-bae laughs. "Oh, in her tummy?"

Dae-ho lets out a loud laugh. "Right, that makes six."

You smile as they joke around, looking down to your swollen belly.

The next round is three, so you, Dae-ho, and Jung-bae run to a room with an orange door. With every round, you can feel yourself growing more and more tired, and your feet are begging for relief from so much standing and moving.

Once you get out of the green room with Dae-ho and players 120, 095, 007, and 149 (you make a mental note to ask for their names once you're back in the main room), you feel exhausted. As you step onto the platform, Dae-ho grabs your arm to support you.

"Now, the final round will begin."

The platform begins to rotate and you lean on Dae-ho to keep yourself upright.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae leans forward to ask Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

"Are you alright?" Dae-ho asks you, concern on his face.

You shake your head. "I don't think I can run anymore."

The platform stops and the lighting dims.

"Two."

Before you can tell what's happening, you are lifted off the ground. You hold on tightly to Dae-ho as he sprints to the nearest door with you in his arms. Once inside, he places you on the ground and moves toward the door, pushing his weight against it to keep anyone else from getting in and pushing you out.

You keep your gaze on the man. He saved your life. He saved your baby's life. Without hesitation. Hell, he even voted to leave for you yesterday. This man who only came into your life a day ago has shown you more unwavering loyalty than anyone else has before.

Then the realization dawns on you: you don't want to do this without him. You don't want anything to happen to him. You want to protect him, just as he is protecting you. Not just in the games, but always.

The lock on the door clicks into place and screams are heard from the other side of the door. Once the screams finish, Dae-ho kneels beside you.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, still in awe of the man in front of you. You examine his face and a surge of confidence rushes through you.

"Can I do something really stupid?"

Dae-ho gives you a confused look. "What?"

You grab his zip-up and pull him to you, planting your lips against his. You feel him stiffen and worry that you've made a terrible mistake, but before you can pull away, you feel one of his hands slide into your hair as the other moves to cup your cheek.

For a perfect moment, you're not in this crazy place. There's no debt, there's no death, there's no fear. There's just you and Dae-ho.

You pull away first but Dae-ho chases your lips, giving you a peck before resting his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath.

"I promise you that I am going to get us out of here," he whispers to you. You feel his hand move down to your stomach. "The three of us. If you'll let me."

You gasp at his words, tears forming in your eyes as you nod. This time, you believe him. Dae-ho pulls you in for another kiss and you smile against his mouth, feeling him smile as well.

The sound of the door unlocking gains your attention and Dae-ho pulls away. Voices can be heard beyond the door.

Dae-ho stands up and holds out his hands for you to take, helping you to your feet. He wipes the stray tears from your cheeks and plants a kiss on your forehead before lacing your fingers together and leading you out of the room.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck

Lmk if you want to be added to the Dae-ho taglist!

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

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deathbxnny · 2 months ago

Text

Arcane characters saying things they'll regret during an argument with you. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

(Part two)

Because if I can't be happy, then neither can you./j✨️

Content: Alcoholism, spoilers for season 2, heavy angst, toxic behavior, cursing, established romantic relationships, potential mentions of cheating, gaslighting/ manipulation, probably ooc idk, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

You hated the cycle she had trapped herself in. It was never-ending and beyond self-destructive. For a while, you tried to get her out of it by attempting to reason with her, show her the light, tell her that everything is going to be okay and to just stop with the senseless fighting. But then the heavy, out of control drinking began, and she became unrecognizable to you.

She barely spent time with you, and when she did, then it was due to an extreme hangover that you had to nurture her through before the next fight began. You were so sick of it. You couldn't take the state she was in anymore. You wanted your girlfriend back but didn't want to suffer anymore as a result of it. And so, you tried one last time to snap her out of it.

"Hey, uhm... can we talk?" You ask nervously whilst peering at her from the doorway into her room. The roaring of the crowd and indistinguishable words of the announcers buzzed over your heads, reminding you of the timelimit you had to do this right. Vi didn't turn to you and instead focused on smearing the black paint over her eyes, a dark gaze glance cast your way at your meek plea. "Make it quick. I got 10 minutes before I have to be out there again."

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the coldness in her tone. It was so odd, so not like her. "Vi... I... I need you to stop this. I understand your pain. I really do, I... get it. But this isn't right. You're practically killing yourself here, and I can't take that anymore-" "-This topic again? I told you to fucking drop it already." She hissed with a shake of your head and something about that made you finally snap. "I care about you Vi! That's why I'm doing all of this shit for you. No one else would do as much as I did. Why can't you see that? What the hell happened to you-" Your voice was cut off by her hand slamming into a nearby wall, anger written all over her face that made you flinch away instinctively.

You had never been scared of her before and this just broke your heart further.

"Shut up! You haven't done shit for me, except for pissing me off and whining and crying about every little thing I do! How about you fuck off and leave me the hell alone instead!? The only person who ever did shit for me is Cait and look how that turned out!" Silence. Deafening silence. Except for Vi's heavy breathing. You were rendered speechless. All the years you've spent with her at her side even as children flashed through your mind, before it all stilled and went cold. Your gaze hardened, and you nodded slowly, turning away wordlessly to do as she asked. You understood now. You were always the second choice in the end.

Vi seemed to only notice that you've left once she heard her name being called from the ring above. And her heart sunk at the realisation that this time, you wouldn't be there to watch her win.

And so she didn't.

》CAITLYN

Zaun was becoming a sensitive and dangerous topic to bring up around her. Even the slightest mention of it made her face harden and earn you a dismissive hand waving all of your protests away. It also didn't help that she was pulling away from you and instead getting closer to a certain red-headed officer of hers. It was frustrating and so exhausting to deal with, on top of all the grief that hung over your heads constantly. It was driving you mad. Nothing you said got through to her.

It wasn't a secret that you disapproved of the war and the alliance with Ambessa. You could look right through her, see with a clear mind that she was up to no good. Whatever she had planned wouldn't bring either nation anything but more plight. This wasn't the right way to go about things. It wasn't humane. The people she hated were no different from you both. But she just couldn't see it the same way, her judgment clouded heavily by her need for revenge on Jinx. A singular person had shifted her perception about a whole group of people... and it was becoming suffocating. You couldn't recognize her anymore.

You were trying to find the right time to finally confront her about it fully, and thankfully, the opportunity came up one evening whilst she was going through paperwork in her office. You were pacing nervously around the room, trying to find the courage to speak your mind, but she beat you to it. "If you have something to say, then say it. I have work to do and can not be disturbed like this." She muttered, eyes focused on the sea of papers before her rather than your stilling form. Very well, she asked for it. "I... want this war to end. This isn't right."

Her hand froze before she hummed and resumed her task. "I thought we had moved on from this topic." She said calmly, not betraying how clearly irritated she was becoming. But you couldn't give up now. You'd go crazy if you did. "Caitlyn. There is no moving on from it if people are going to die as a consequence! How could you ever look away from that? Why can't you see that this is wrong? Why can't you see that Ambessa-" You stepped towards her grand desk with every word, hands coming down to push the paper she was holding away from her face. You just wanted her to finally look at you again after so long. "-Is playing with your mind!" "Enough. Don't you dare say another word."

The Kirammann stood up and towered over you, a strong hand grabbing onto your arm with a sharp shake that surprised you. Had the grief taken over her mind this badly? So much so that she couldn't see how much this was hurting you to lose her? "I demand you see reason and stop sympathizing with those treacherous animals... unless you want me to see you as one of them as well." "You think I'd betray you?" You breathed, and suddenly the realisation that you had lost her for good finally sunk in. You needed to go. Now.

Caitlyn's face sobered up at your question, yet before she could say a thing, her dear officer Nolan stepped in with a report in hand. Seeing the position you two were in, she nervously tilted her head. "Oh, my apologies, am I disturbing you-?" "-Not at all. In fact, I'm the one who's disturbing YOU. My apologies for that." Ripping your arm out of her gloved hand, you pushed past the girl and rushed out of the room.

Your girlfriend watched you disappear down the dark hallway before she straightened up and gave the officer a curt nod to go ahead with her report. But it was hard to listen to a word she was saying when Caitlyn's head was replaying the memory of your teary, heartbroken eyes over and over again.

》JINX

She didn't care about her life anymore. That was clear as day, and unfortunately, your relationship was suffering because of it. You knew that Silco's death had killed her inside, that his absence left her lost and confused. But you were so desperate to keep her together. So much so that you were practically destroying yourself for her well-being. Eventually, this boiled over when she was beginning to pull away from you. You, who had always been there. You, who she always cringed onto and begged to stay with her. You only had eachother now. It was impossible to think about a life without her now.

The unhinged spark in her eye had faded away and was replaced by an empty shell of what it once was. That scared you more than you'd like to admit. "Jinx... what are you thinking of?" You asked her one night whilst you quietly snuk around the dark lanes of your home. She didn't respond at first, and your eyes were focused on the back of her hooded head, wondering if she even heard you. But you know she had, when she came to a sudden stop. "... I... I think we should part ways, sweetheart. This ain't gonna go over well forever." She said in that hauntingly calm voice you've grown to hate. And you'd be lying if you said that you didn't see this coming.

"But why? We've always been together through everything. This isn't any different-" "-But it is! It's over! Jinx is over!" Facing you, you near flinched at her glowing, violet eyes, heart beating against your chest. She would never hurt you. You knew she wouldn't. And yet... you found yourself ever so slightly stepping away. Maybe that's what set her off in hindsight. "You're gonna leave me like everyone else anyway. Might as well beat ya to it-" "-I would never do that! What has gotten into you? You should know better than to think that-" "-You're scared of me, ain't ya?" You pressed your lips together when you realised that her mental state had gotten much worse than you expected.

She was losing it.

"In fact, I bet you're thinking of me the same way Vi does. You'll be so much happier without me. But... actually... what if you're going to backstab me like her one day?" The look on your face must've been horrific enough to sober her scrambled mind then because even she seemed to be unsure of what she's saying. And yes, you knew she wasn't doing well. You knew she was just saying things without thinking them through. But you were sick of it. So tired of it all. She could practically read your mind.

"W-wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I-" "-Okay... you're right. We truly would be better off going our separate ways." You were stepping away from her quicker now, and then you were running, your view becoming blurry and unintelligible. "WAIT NO, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, I DIDN'T MEAN IT, I-" Jinx screamed after you, her breathing heavy and uneven, but she didn't go after you. She knew she had lost that right the second she opened her mouth.

You disappeared into the lanes, for the first time ever sprinting away from rather than towards her. And like the Jinx she was, she had screwed up another good thing up for herself. Perhaps deservingly this time.

》EKKO

Ekko was extremely busy with his duties lately and practically completely neglecting himself for them. It was very concerning to you and everyone, to say the least. Especially now that a war was practically forming at your front door from Piltover. And you were grateful and thankful for all he did for you. You really were. For that reason alone, you wanted him to take things easy at least sometimes to eat and sleep properly when he can. So, on the request of other members, you went to go looking for him one night before it was time for bed. He was sitting up in the tree, clearly planning to keep watch all night, like he usually did.

But you had come with a mission of your own and refused to leave until he came down to bed with you. "Ekko." You hummed as you finally reached him, a friendly smile on your lips. Balancing a nice basket of baked goods you had made yourself, you stepped towards his form that was beautifully illuminated in the moonlight. Seeing him here made you feel content and relieved since you were barely seeing each other to begin with anymore. Which you have been trying to be understanding about.

"I know what you're here for, and the answer is still no." The young man sighed with a shake of his head and frown. You weren't the first one to come by, that's for sure. "Hey... you know this isn't healthy. We're counting on you to stay strong for us, and you can't be that if you're starving yourself." You say with a slight falter to your smile, yet you tried to keep your tone playful and light. He, on the other hand, did not.

"I already told you that it's a no. Now go to bed and let me work." "But I made you these and-" "-I said, no." He hissed out, and that took you aback. He never raised his voice at you, nor did he ever have an attitude with you either. But the stress was getting to him badly, and so was the lack of sleep. "Why can't you just get that? How many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick skull? The least you could do is go and make yourself somewhat useful by patrolling, instead of wasting your time with this."

Oh, how his words cut you deep. Rationally, you knew that everything was just getting too much for him. But it didn't stop you from feeling hurt anyway, as your lip wobbled, and you slammed the basket on a nearby desk before quickly taking your leave wordlessly. Ekko froze at that and reached out to you, your name on the tip of his tongue, but the guilt stopped him from saying a thing.

"Fuck!" He cursed at himself, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a disappointed sigh. He definitely was losing it... and you unfortunately had to unfairly take the brunt of it.

》SEVIKA

"What did I tell you about running off when I tell you to stay put? You could have fucking died out there and then what?" Sevika was angry at you. Not that you could necessarily blame her since you did nearly get killed by an Enforcer earlier. But you had no real choice in this. You swore you didn't mean for this to happen. It was supposed to just be a quick errand run. You wanted to make her something nice for dinner, spoil her a little as a thank you for all the work she was putting into Zaun. Yet you couldn't explain any of this with the way she didn't let you even say a word now from the anger running in her veins. In fact, you had never seen her this enraged before.

"I am sick and tired of you disobeying what I tell you. I can't always be there and save you from everything, you know? I got better things to do and than to babysit you all the time-" "- I'm not asking you to do that either! I'm a grown adult, I can take care of myself!" You yelled back, absolutely angry now yourself at the way she always infantilized you like this. It always the same conversation and argument over and over again. You were so sick of it. You could handle yourself just fine and have proved this before. Yet she was so hellbent on proving you wrong every time, you couldn't take it anymore!

"I'm your partner, Sev. You're supposed to treat me like an equal." "I would, if you weren't so fucking incompetent. If I wasn't there, you would've been dead. Why can't you get that? Should I spell it out for you more? Dumb it down even more?" You hated when she was being like this. It was rare for a reason, and you despised this side of her. The side that was so prideful and egotistical. And you were trying so hard not to stoop to her level. It didn't help that you were a little injured and struggling to stand as is. "I'm not in the mood for this shit, I'm literally bleeding. Can we argue about this later, please? I just wanted to surprise you with something nice for once, and I get that I was wrong, but you don't have to be so mean about it, damn it!"

The tears in your eyes were betraying you, and the embarrassment of that just made you push past her and disappear into your shared bedroom. You'll just deal with the injury yourself. Sevika stared after you in slight surprise, considering it was rare for you to yell back like that and cry at that... but the sight of the flowers and half prepared food on the kitchen counter made the regret finally set in.

Perhaps you were right after all.

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