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seitmai · 2 days ago

Text

Many thoughts, so read more it is

"Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance.

Fair, I would trust Phoenix and Penny with my life more than anyone 🫡

"Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok?

Clearly not lol

The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Period

Valid 🤷🏻‍♀️

"It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

🥺🥺🥺

The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

Oh they are ready

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

I'm obsessed with how considerate and thoughtful he is 🥹

"Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

🥹🥹🥹

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first"

His communication skills are chefs kiss 👏🏻

He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

🥺🥺🥺

"Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

I'm melting🥺

You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him.

They both deserve this little moment of peace 🥹

"Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

"No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Iconic, no notes 👏🏻

Urgh I can't with how sweet he is 🥹

He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments.

It was probably his mom which makes this hit even harder 🥹😭

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. "Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

🥺🥺🥺

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words 🤯 ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea. Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her 😅 . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it. And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @jensens-ackles

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam. His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.

There it was again. He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right. "Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?" But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake. "Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked. "Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground. "Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.

This was bad.

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance. He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.

"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out. "Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle. "Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok? It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else. "What happened, Nike?" You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there. "Rooster?"

Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation "Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket. "No, please don't" He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender. "Ok, I'm not"

Bradley only knows you as IC. The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them. You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling. When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper. "A place to stay"

He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately. "It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.

You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?

Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant. The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him. "I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life. Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride. He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.

Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time. "Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter. "Blanket on or off?" "Off" He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time. "I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when to look”, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.

So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside. "You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything. On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first" He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way. He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand. Holding on for dear life.

"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot. You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath. "Can you help with the zipper?" "Of course"

He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace. Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow. Fuck. He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.

You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately. "Sorry" "No...Can you untie...?" This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out. The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster. "Thank you" “I can put this on a hanger for you”, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts. “There are loops...”, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this. "Anything else?"

He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself "Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you. Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.

"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this. You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him. "Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch. Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in. "Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had. That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" "Couch" Fuck no. He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that. Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed. "You take the bed" "Rooster..." "No" There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.

You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was: "No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest. He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "I'm scared of being alone"

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you. "I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments. "Thank you, Bradley"

He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name. It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans. There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"

He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom. His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. “Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye. "You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck. And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand. "You are never alone"

Part 2

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bumblesimagines · 1 day ago

Note

i missed you. more than you know.

things didn't work out with them.

Anora

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

It was November and (Y/N) lingered by the vent blasting hot air while wrapped in a thick blanket silently wishing climate change turned New York into Florida. He hated it. He hated everything about winter and New York and winter in New York.

He hated the cold air that made his nose runny and his eyes sting; he hated when the snow melted outside and made simply walking out onto his small porch a hazard when it froze again; he hated having to bundle up in three to four layers of clothes just to walk down the street to the nearest bodega for a gallon of milk or a sandwich; most of all, he hated how winter made him reflect on everything wrong in his life and how miserably lonely he was.

While he brooded around his annoyingly small apartment and complained to no one about his woes, his work friends posted about the cutest little decorations they set up with their families or announced a new engagement or revealed a blissful little pregnancy.

Half the people he went to high school with posted about how great their lives were going, about how happy and grateful they were. It only made him wallow in his misery even more.

"City of dreams my ass." He huffed, shuffling through his kitchen toward the coffee maker and peering into the pot as he tugged the blanket further over his shoulders. Not enough for even half a cup of coffee. His lungs released a heavy exhale of air and his forehead dropped onto the cold countertop.

He just needed one good thing to happen. Just one, little, happy thing that would help him leave the year off with a-

Another sigh left him when there were two knocks at his door and he straightened up, contemplating leaving whoever it was on his porch freezing their ass off until they got the memo. The second pair of knocks, this time a little harder, made his head loll back with a low groan. He reluctantly tugged the blanket off himself and draped it over the back of the couch when he stepped out of the kitchen on his way to the front door.

He cracked the door open and shivered at the cold air that poured in, nearly shutting the door on instinct but leaving it open enough to catch sight of his ex-girlfriend standing on his porch with luggage.

To say Anora looked exhausted was an understatement. Her cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold, her eyes were red as if she'd been crying for an hour, and her hair was a mess and lacked the vibrant tinsels she loved decorating it with.

This was not what he meant.

"Ani," He blinked at her wildly. Vera couldn't have possibly kicked out her sister, but the luggage made him nervous regardless. "What- What are you doing here?"

"I've had-" Her voice was hoarse and low, laced with exhaustion. "-the worst day of my life, (Y/N). Can I please come inside?"

He swallowed and nodded weakly, cracking the door open enough for her and her luggage to slip inside before he shut the door behind her and sighed in relief as the warm air began circulating again.

Anora pushed the handle of her luggage, her movements slow and almost sluggish. She shrugged her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it over the couch's armrest before simply.. standing still. He watched her, lips drawn into a line. The silence was deafening.

"Do.." He motioned toward the kitchen. "Do you want coffee?"

Anora took a step toward him and silently wrapped her arms around his waist, her cold face pressing into his shoulder and body deflating with a long sigh. (Y/N) stiffened in her embrace and stared at the wall across the room until he realized she wasn't letting go of him.

It was one thing for his ex to show up out of the blue, it was another to be tightly embraced by her. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and felt her nuzzle her cheek against him.

"I got married." God, when was it going to be his turn? "Things didn't work out with him. His parents made us get a divorce."

"Oh." He winced and rubbed his palm into her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ani. I'm sure-"

"He didn't care."

Jesus. Maybe his life wasn't so bad after all.

Anora's shoulders rose with an inhale and she tilted her head back to look at him, semi-lidded eyes gazing intently at his face. "I missed you. More than you know. I know it sounds bad 'cause I just got dumped or whatever but.. the entire time I was dealin' with all that crap I was just wishin' you were there to tell me everythin' was going to be okay. I don't want to go through somethin' again and not have you there, (Y/N). I want you in my life."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #anora 2024 #anora movie #anora mikheeva #anora #anora x reader #anora x male reader #anora x you #anora x y/n #anora mikheeva x reader #anora mikheeva x male reader #anora mikheeva x y/n #anora mikheeva x you #ani mikheeva #ani mikheeva x reader

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dafterdarling · 2 hours ago

Text

perfect for you // alexia putellas

alexia putellas x hockey!reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of injuries, minor angst, everything going wrong before it goes right

summary: Ingrid sets you up on a date- just you don't know who with

word count: 2043

a/n: while i wait for the poll to be done, here is some Alexia fixing your life :)

The whole move to Barcelona was tragic and at this point you just wanted to pack up, move back to Norway and speak to absolutely no one- forever.

After tearing your rotator cuff to the point of no return, you had been forced to take an early retirement at 27 which broke your heart completely. You practically lived and breathed hockey since you could walk and you had refused to do any other sport for your entire life, so to one day just suddenly not be able to play- it broke you.

You became a shut in, contacted absolutely no one unless in a dire situation. Your relationship ended with a screaming match that left you with a hoarse voice and half of your furniture gone, most of your friends had been your teammates- and maybe they were just your teammates because the second you no longer played, they no longer checked in.

So you were lonely, miserable and living in an apartment without a TV stand or a sofa when Ingrid called.

Ingrid being one of the only friends you had outside of hockey- the two of you had met in kindergarten and practically grew up as next door neighbours. So she was probably the only one who could help you get out of this hole you'd dug for yourself.

Her plan? You move to Barcelona, something that you were greatly against because: One, you cannot speak Spanish to save your life, two, Spain is far too hot when it's supposed to be cold and that's when your reasons ended because in theory, you had absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain.

So eventually, Ingrid convinces you to move to Spain and you follow through. Pack all your clothes, sell the furniture that brings back bad memories and don't renew your lease with the nice landlady.

Except the move is bad, horrific, tragic- you could go on. It started with your first flight being cancelled due to weather then the next- so you had to rot in the airport for six additional hours before finally boarding a flight to Barcelona.

The fight... is horrible- a child with the manners of a zoo animal kicks your seat repeatedly and your headphones are out of charge, so you're forced to listen to the cries of babies and passenger announcements.

Your only bag is lost for a brief period of two hours and you regret agreeing to Ingrid's idea for all two hours of waiting- Once you finally receive your bag, you get to see Ingrid outside the airport at the meet and greet section.

You immediately drop your bag and hug her because you truly can't remember the last time you saw her in person and not over some pixelated phone screen. She hugs you back with the same enthusiasm and the two of you stay like that for a while until Ingrid remembers about the parking fee.

The two of you climb into the car after shoving your bag in the trunk and Ingrid turns the radio on, it's some Spanish radio show that you don't understand and don't really care about.

"How are you?" Ingrid asks, still focused on the busy roads.

You let out a deep sigh-

"Oh no, that doesn't sound good," She laughs.

"Everything is going wrong for me today- two planes cancelled, some kid kicks my seat and my bag gets lost," You grumble out and arms put arms over your chest in frustration.

"What have I done wrong, Ingrid?"

"Nothing, Y/N," She hums out and you can't help but shake your head.

"I swear-"

"Listen to me, everything is going to get better," Ingrid tries to reassure you and you calm down slightly.

"So..." You start,

"How is Mapi?"

Ingrid chuckles and you spend the rest of the way talking about what's happening in her life rather than yours- She's still playing at Barca, Mapi's fine, Bagheera is thriving and she's happy. That's all you really want to know- and her saying it lights up your crappy day a bit.

It doesn't last long because after Ingrid drops you off and helps you settle into the apartment even though you tell her repeatedly that she doesn't need to, she leaves. Which means you're alone and left to you know devices.

You can't do much because by the time you're in your new home it's dark and putting furniture together at ten at night doesn't seem wise. Instead, you order pizza from the only place that speaks English in the vicinity and sit on your new mattress. You eat probably the greasiest pizza you've ever touched while watching hockey highlights.

You fall asleep soon after, wishing that you could get back on the ice.

It takes you two weeks to fully settle into your new apartment, putting together most of the furniture alone is a pain even if you put together the most difficult things with the help of Ingrid and Mapi. By the end, your house looks more like Ikea than an actual place with everything perfectly matching but you could care less because there are more important things to focus on like finding a job.

Job hunting in Norway had been difficult but finding a decent job in Spain was proving to be ten times harder- not only because you don't speak very much Spanish but also because you basically have no work experience.

So when you find an ad that, after translating, is at an ice rink, you jump at the opportunity. You somehow get the job and you finally get to spend your days sharpening blades on rental skates and creating schedules on excel rather than rotting at home.

Everything seems to be going good for a while, you make some friends with some of the regular skaters and go out with Ingrid at least once a week. Mapi tries to teach you Spanish and you actually feel like you're learning.

All is good until Ingrid calls you on Thursday at nine pm while you're re-watching your favourite Norwegian drama.

"Hey," You pick up and smile to yourself, wondering what Ingrid wanted to do this weekend.

Instead, she hits you with a bombshell,

"Hey, Y/N, are you free tomorrow after work?"

You nod as you reply, "Yeah, I should be, why?"

"Well- I have a date planned for you."

You freeze because what does Ingrid mean she has a date planned for you? You didn't ask to be set up- actually, you didn't want a date. You were perfectly happy alone, living your life in Barcelona, hanging out with Ingrid and her girlfriend, working at the rink. There was no need for dating- or a singular date.

"What- Ingrid," You stutter out.

"Before you say no-"

"No,"

"Please listen to me?" She pleads through the phone and your heart softens slightly because it's Ingrid.

"Fine,"

"Okay, so, she's Mapi's friend- best friend, she's sweet and super nice. We think you'll get along."

You sigh because of course Ingrid is scheming when everything is going good.

"Who is we?"

"Mapi and I-"

"Well, that's great," You scoff, there was no need for one person to be involved- let alone two.

"Come on- have you dated anyone since-"

"Don't, Ingrid," You say coldly because you really don't want to rehash your last relationship right now.

"Okay, okay... please consider it? She's super nice, you'll like her."

You swallow nervously and consider it. You hadn't dated anyone since your ex, Nora, and truth be told, you didn't really want to- not until Ingrid called you, it made you realise just how empty your apartment is and maybe just how much you rely on Ingrid and Mapi to keep you afloat.

"Err- okay, fine, I'll go."

You hear Ingrid chuckles then say something to Mapi in English,

"I'll send you all the details, okay?"

That's how you end up in a nice restaurant the next day. You're wearing your nicest clothes and you've put triple the amount of effort into your hair and makeup before coming here.

You look around the place as you wait for your mystery date to arrive. The place is nice- clearly a little upscale- but still has that homely environment that all good restaurants have.

You take a sip of your water and scan again- then suddenly someone is standing in front of the other seat at the table,

"Y/N?"

It's a woman and she's beautiful- you don't think you've seen anyone so wonderful gorgeous. She's wearing a low cut shirt with a blazer and tailored trousers but she could be wearing a trash bag and you'd think she was stunning.

"Hi- I mean, hola... err, yes, Y/N, that's me," You stumble over your words as she sits down.

She chuckles and orders something to drink when the waiter comes over immediately,

"I'm Alexia," She- Alexia, introduces herself.

Your mouth is suddenly very dry, "That's- that's a beautiful name,"

It slips out before you can stop it and you flush red at Alexia's shocked expression. Then you relax when she laughs and looks just as red as you.

"Thank you,"

She takes a sip of her drink and you do that same, locking eyes in the process.

"So-"

"You're-"

You both start and stop,

"You first," You gesture to Alexia and she nods,

"You're Ingrid's friend?"

"Yeah, known her a long time,"

You continue when Alexia doesn't follow up,

"I've just moved here- maybe... four weeks ago now?"

"From Norway?"

You nod and the waiter comes just as Alexia is about to ask another question- you order whatever the top dish is, you don't really care about the food. Not when Alexia has just walked into your life.

"Can-"

There's a pause and neither of you speak for a moment,

"Can I ask why?"

You knew this would come up- Of course if you mentioned just moving, she would ask why.

"I- I played hockey for a while, then I tore my rotator cuff... and couldn't play anymore- It's been a lot and Ingrid convinced me to move here. To start fresh,"

You finish rambling and meet Alexia's eyes- It's the first time someone looks at you like they understand, like they've felt your pain, like they've been that scared too.

Sure, Ingrid would listen to you cry and sooth you when you first got injured- but she hadn't been there. Hadn't suffered an injury at the apex of her career that ultimately ruined it.

"I tore my ACL in 2022- I thought I wasn't going to get through the rehab... All I wanted to do was play with my people- I've recovered now but... I understand you."

You try not to tear up because you feel so seen that it's illuminating.

"Do you play with Ingrid?" You ask, mainly out of curiosity because Ingrid didn't really discuss her teammate with you.

"I'm her captain,"

You stop in your tracks and laugh loudly- only Ingrid and Mapi would set you up with their captain.

The rest of the dinner goes fantastic and by the end of it you don't think you've ever been on a better date in your life. Alexia offers to drive you back and you take the opportunity straight away.

You get into Alexia's car and she drives you through the streets of Barcelona to your apartment- she even walks you all the way up to your apartment and you're suddenly faced with the door to your home.

"This is me," You turn to face Alexia and she smiles at you and your heart does a flip.

You don't know why you ask but you do anyway-

"Can I kiss you?"

Alexia looks a little taken aback for a second before a little pink dusts her cheeks and she nods.

You take the opportunity and kiss her- she tastes sweet and you wish you could stay in this moment forever with her plush lips against yours in front of your door.

You both pull away with a little red on your cheeks and you want to keep the image forever.

"Goodnight, Alexia."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

And with that you gently shut the door with a flushed face. Maybe Ingrid was right? Alexia was perfect for you.

#woso x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona femeni #woso #woso fanfics #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #ingrid engen

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harmless-variety-of-garden-snake · 2 days ago

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It's time for BuckTommy Fluffebruary Day Twenty: Baby Fever. These two are so ready to be dads, and I'm ready to see them be dads or at least cool uncles. This was so close to being a breeding king fic, but it's really just fluff about them wanting to start a family. Who am I anymore? Also, I fixed Melton not being a captain, ya boy is getting the promotion he already had in canon. I'm a hack, and I know it. This is also on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

Buck likes Tommy's captain, because even from the start he had been a nice guy, and over time Buck’s found out that Bryant protects the hell out of his team. He's been on the city about safety regulations to a degree that he has a routine for going in and raising hell, they have the lowest instance of equipment failure in any Air Ops division in the state, and he'd fired no less than three people for bigoted statements or actions toward members of the team or people being rescued. One of those guys had said something to Tommy, who'd brushed it off, but Bryant had overheard and come down on the man like the hammer of God.

When Bryant has to announce his retirement, Buck is sad to see him go. The man's health has taken a hit after some hazardous material exposure earlier in his career came back to haunt him in the form of a (thankfully early stage and already in remission) cancer that he's had treated, but the treatment was aggressive and visibly weakened him. Tommy is devastated and helps organize a party to send him off, and Buck is happy to lend his planning and cooking skills. He shows up to Harbor with ten dozen cookies, four sheet cakes, three trays of lasagna (regular, plant-based, and gluten free), and enough crudité trays to feed a small army.

“I know I should be alarmed, but we really were worried we wouldn't have enough food,” Lucy says as she grabs the lasagnas from the bed of Tommy's truck and walks into the engine bay. “BK, your man's here!”

Tommy's head appears from around a corner, and Buck grins and waves at his husband. When the rest of Tommy appears, he has a baby in the crook of his arm, and Buck feels his heart melt.

“Who's this?” he asks as he approaches Tommy.

“Cap’s granddaughter,” Tommy replies, picking up a chubby hand and waving it at Buck. “Nicola, this is Evan. Evan, Nicola.”

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Buck says, kissing the back of her hand and grinning at her toothless smile. “Can I steal you from the nice man?”

“As long as you promise to give her back,” Tommy says, carefully transferring her to Buck’s arms.

He bounces her and raises his brows when hers go up, laughing when she giggles. “Okay, silly girl, let's go get cookies from Uncle Tommy's truck.”

Tommy's hand rests between his shoulder blades as they walk out to the truck, which has already been largely cleared out. The cookies are in bakery boxes, and Tommy grabs them so Buck can flip the tailgate back up as he talks to Nicola about all of the stuff he made and how Bobby had helped out with the lasagna.

He feels a tug behind his belly button sometimes, like a hook’s been attached, and he's started realizing what it is. He wants this. He wants to hold a baby and then a toddler and then a child and talk to them and console them and love them and teach them. He wants to see Tommy do the same. He wants them to do it together. They've talked about it at length, and they're on the same page that sometime before Tommy turns forty-five, they'll be fathers. Tommy's forty-two and makes jokes about being one of those elderly dads one day, and Buck wants that. Every time a baby or toddler is in his vicinity, he wants to hold them and interact with them and make them smile and show them to his husband.

He holds Nicola close and kisses her fine hair and inhales the smell of baby soap and lotion and powder and milk that always clings to them when they're this young. A hand settles on his back again and he blinks at his husband. He's been blindly following Tommy and hadn't realized that he’d led them to the hangar where the party’s happening and had set the cookies down on a table.

Buck knows Tommy better than anyone probably ever has, something he's fought for and felt honored to achieve. When he looks at him, he can see a reflection of what he's feeling, having seen it more than a few times. Tommy tells him about every baby or toddler or kid who interacts with him while he's at the store, which is a lot. Kids gravitate toward Tommy, and Buck’s turned a corner in the grocery store more than once to see Tommy engaged in a conversation with a six-year-old who's explaining why their dog is named what they're named. He knows it’s what they want one day, but that one day doesn’t feel that far off anymore.

“Melton’s taking over Bryant’s spot as Captain, Jack’s taking over as First L-T,” Tommy says, reaching up to rub Nicola’s back as she wobbles a bit trying to look around at all of the people walking past them. “So the Training Captain job will be opening up. I was thinking of applying.”

Training Captain would mean Tommy is taken off rescues, that he'd only be flying to train, that his hours would be a little more regular. It’s been their first step in starting their family ever since they mapped out what that might look like for them.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, feeling his chest swell with something like hope.

Tommy’s gaze meets his, and his husband looks happy at the idea. “Yeah.”

Nicola squirms against Buck’s chest, and he turns his attention back to her. She's getting a little pouty, and Buck soothes her softly, bouncing her a bit and talking quietly to her.

“Sorry,” a woman says, smiling. “I need to feed her. You're Tommy’s husband, right?”

Buck grins and nods, still not able to tamp down the thrill that goes through him at being able to say he's Tommy's husband. “Yeah, that's me. Evan Buckley-Kinard. Does this young lady belong to you?”

“She does,” she confirms, giving her daughter a smile filled with so much love that it lights up her face. “I'm Mary, Cap’s kid. You guys don’t have any yet, right?”

“Not yet,” Buck says with full confidence that he'll be able to give a different answer one day. One day, he'll be able to say ‘yes’ and pull out his phone to show a million pictures to someone who will coo politely and ask about milestones and how old and names and sleep schedules. And he'll be able to turn to Tommy and commiserate about sleepless nights and quiet moments and—

“Yeah, you've got it bad,” Mary says, laughing. Buck flushes and hands the baby over to her patient mother. “Don't worry, you'll probably get her back until my dad gets her. Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”

“Not a problem,” Tommy says, slipping an arm around Buck’s waist. “Tell your dad to share. He's about to get all the time in the world with her.”

Mary looks between them with a smile. “You guys know they don't sleep, diaper blow-outs are a ‘when’ not ‘if’ situation—not to take the shine off the idea, but I feel like everyone just gassed me up until it was too late, then I got all the horror stories.”

“Oh, we know,” Buck says, sighing happily as he reaches over to brush a thumb over Nicola’s petal soft cheek. “But look at that face.”

She tucks herself against her mom, and Mary kisses the top of her head. “Yeah,” she says softly. “It's the best one. Nice meeting you, Evan.”

“You, too,” Buck says, watching them leave. He waves sadly at Nicola when she peeks at him from over Mary’s shoulder. “One?”

“Or two,” Tommy says, kissing his temple. “We'll see. But at least one. I always wished I had a sibling.”

“They're great,” Buck confirms, even though Maddie is going to be so smug, because she'd called him wanting kids right after marriage and he'd denied it vehemently, saying they’d wait another two to three years. “Mostly.”

“You'll be a great dad.”

Buck smiles at his husband and presses their foreheads together. “So will you.”

He sees a bit of the fear and doubt and knows it's the spirit of Tommy's dad looming over him. He wants to reach back in time and throw the man down a mountain.

“You're one of the best people I've ever known,” Buck reminds him. “And I love you and will love you even when you let our kids get paint on the walls.”

Tommy chuckles and squeezes his waist. “It'll add character to the house. And I'd give them washable paint.”

“That stuff is bullshit and you know it and I know it and so does Crayola, because the stains—” Buck’s cut off from his rant by a pair of lips, and he sighs against his husband's mouth.

“Wanna practice after the party?” Tommy asks softly.

“Stain removal?” Buck asks faintly.

“No,” Tommy says, looking between Buck’s eyes with an intensity that burns straight through him. “Making a baby.”

Buck’s heart stutters in his chest and heat shoots through him. “Neither of us really has the right—but we could try.”

Tommy nods and kisses him again, and it's only the distant voice of the fire chief that keeps Buck from slipping him any tongue.

#bucktommy #my fic #bucktommy fluffebruary

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caitified · 2 days ago

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BELLA-VERSE SCENARIOS PT 2

(bella being a diva & caitlin being her #1 enabler)

CAITLIN CLARK X FAMILY READER

1. bella refuses to walk at the airport

vacation was supposed to be relaxing. but that was hard to do when your two-year-old daughter refused to walk on her own two feet.

“bella, come on, sweetheart, we have to keep moving,” you sighed, adjusting the strap of your carry-on as you watched her dramatically stop in the middle of the terminal. her curls bounced as she plopped down on the floor, crossing her arms over her tiny chest.

“i tired,” she huffed, looking up at you like you had personally betrayed her by making her use her legs.

you pinched the bridge of your nose, glancing over at caitlin for help, but she was already bending down with open arms.

“come here, baby, i’ll carry you,” caitlin cooed, effortlessly picking bella up and balancing her on her hip.

bella immediately snuggled into her mom’s shoulder, her little hand patting caitlin’s cheek. “mommy mean,” she whispered, but loud enough for you to hear.

caitlin gasped, clearly enjoying this too much. “she is, huh?”

“oh my god,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “cait, you can’t keep giving in to her. she’s literally playing you.”

caitlin grinned, pressing a kiss to bella’s forehead. “babe, look at this face. how am i supposed to say no?”

bella beamed, proud of herself. “yeah, how?”

you exhaled, defeated. “you two are a menace.”

2. bella throws a fit at dinner because she wants your food, not hers

you knew this was going to happen. the moment the waiter set down your plate, bella’s eyes locked onto it with a level of intensity that should only be reserved for things like winning championships or world peace.

“i want that,” she declared, pointing at your meal and completely ignoring the plate of food in front of her.

you sighed. “bella, this is literally the same thing you have.”

she wasn’t buying it. “no, mommy’s better.”

caitlin, ever the instigator, leaned back in her chair with an amused smirk. “you know, babe, maybe she has a point.”

you shot her a glare. “don’t start.”

bella, sensing an opportunity, turned to caitlin with the biggest, most dramatic pout. “mommy, please?”

and just like that, you saw caitlin crack. she was weak. she was hopeless.

“okay, okay,” caitlin relented, already switching the plates before you could even react.

“cait!” you hissed, watching as bella giggled in victory and happily dug into your food.

caitlin winked. “what can i say? she knows how to get what she wants.”

you groaned, but seeing bella’s chubby cheeks full of food, looking as content as ever, made it a little hard to stay mad.

3. bella throws a meltdown over the wrong princess dress

you were just trying to get out of the house. a simple goal, really. but bella had other plans.

“i no wear this one,” she announced, dramatically flopping onto the floor in her diaper, kicking the completely fine princess dress you had picked out for her.

“bella, we’re running late,” you reasoned, holding up the dress. “this is the one you asked for yesterday.”

she crossed her arms. “yesterday not today.”

you opened your mouth, then shut it, rubbing your temples. “bella, it’s the same dress—”

“no. it’s not.”

caitlin walked in then, coffee in hand, looking amused. “what’s going on?”

bella immediately turned her big eyes on caitlin, pointing accusingly at you. “mommy mean. won’t let me wear my real princess dress.”

caitlin set her coffee down and crouched next to bella. “aww, baby, which one do you want?”

you groaned. “do not enable this—”

but it was too late. bella had already grabbed caitlin’s hand, dragging her to her closet.

five minutes later, she was in a different princess dress, tiara and all, twirling in front of the mirror like she was royalty.

you exhaled, throwing your hands up. “this was the same one i picked!”

bella smiled sweetly at you. “no, mommy. this one special.”

caitlin smirked, kissing the top of bella’s head. “she’s got taste.”

4. vacation troubles

vacation was going great—until bella decided she was old enough to drive.

“i do it,” she said seriously, standing on the seat of the golf cart with her little hands gripping the wheel.

caitlin, sitting in the driver’s seat, looked at you with a grin. “babe, i think she’s ready.”

you gave her a look. “she’s two.”

bella stomped her tiny foot on the seat. “i TWO.”

“exactly,” you said. “you cannot drive.”

but caitlin was already adjusting bella onto her lap, letting her hold the wheel while she controlled the pedals.

bella squealed in delight, turning the wheel back and forth as if she was in a high-speed chase. “fast, mommy, fast!”

caitlin laughed. “babe, she’s a natural.”

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i swear, i have two children.”

bella giggled, looking over at you with the biggest smile. “you love it.”

and despite everything, you couldn’t help but laugh. yeah, maybe you did.

5. basketball mom

caitlin had bella in her arms as the three of you walked through the grocery store, bella clinging to her like a little koala. it was one of those rare off-days where caitlin actually had time to do normal things with you both, and bella was so excited about it.

“mommy, we get cookies?” bella asked sweetly, tilting her head up at caitlin.

caitlin smirked. “did you ask your other mommy?”

bella gasped dramatically and turned to you. “mommy, we get cookies?”

you rolled your eyes, laughing. “we’ll see, baby.”

bella hummed, satisfied, and went back to babbling about the game caitlin played last night, recounting every move like she had been on the court herself.

“mommy ran so fast,” she told caitlin proudly. “and mommy made so many baskets. so many.”

caitlin chuckled, adjusting bella on her hip. “you think so, huh?”

bella nodded. then, as if spotting her next target, she turned to the cashier, a middle-aged man who had definitely not been expecting to be included in this conversation.

“your mommy play basketball?”

the man blinked. “uh, no?”

bella’s face immediately dropped. she turned to caitlin, her little curls bouncing, eyes wide with shock. “mommy, he say his mommy not play basketball.”

caitlin bit her lip, looking at you like, is this real?

you exhaled, already knowing this was about to become a thing.

“that’s right, baby,” you explained, smoothing a hand down her back. “not everyone’s mommy plays basketball.”

bella blinked. slowly. processing. then she turned back to the cashier. “your mommy play football?”

the poor guy let out an awkward chuckle. “uh, no, she was a nurse.”

bella’s mouth dropped open in absolute horror. she turned to caitlin like this was some kind of tragedy.

“mommy,” she whispered dramatically. “he say his mommy not play any sports.”

caitlin burst out laughing, hugging bella tighter. “that’s okay, baby. not all mommies play sports.”

bella’s little face scrunched up like that was the saddest thing she’d ever heard. she pressed her cheek against caitlin’s, pouting. “but they need a basketball mommy.”

you sighed, rubbing your temple. “cait, you need to fix this.”

caitlin was grinning ear to ear, absolutely thriving off bella’s belief that she was the standard for motherhood.

“i mean, she’s got a point,” caitlin teased, kissing the top of bella’s curls. “every kid should have a basketball mommy.”

bella gasped excitedly. “we need fix it!”

you groaned, shaking your head as caitlin just laughed and kissed bella again, the two of them feeding into each other’s egos.

“we’ll start a campaign,” caitlin joked, winking at you. “every kid deserves a basketball mommy.”

bella clapped her hands, nodding. “yes! yes! good idea, mommy!”

you sighed, looking at the cashier, who was just watching this unfold with pure amusement. “this is my life.”

caitlin smirked, looking at you. “you love us.”

you rolled your eyes, but even as you exhaled, you couldn’t help but laugh. “yeah, yeah.”

#wnba x reader #caitlin clark x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #indiana fever #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin’s family #bellaverse

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cillianmurphysdimples · 2 days ago

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A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Forty Three)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Forty Three: Cillian gives his family the news they came to share, with Y/N firmly at his side. [Family dynamics/Anxiety/Fluff]

@lavender-haze-01 @meadowshelby @strangeions @watermeezer @borntodiemp3 @cherrycilly @whatcjdidnext @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

The restaurant that Cillian had booked for dinner on Tuesday evening is more than you'd expected. Low-lit and somewhat romantic inside, it is cosy and welcoming, with the low hum of voices from patrons and the unrushed but attentive staff moving through tables and behind the bar. At the table, the Murphy family greet one another and chat like they've not seen each other in ages, and Cillian is slap bang in the middle of it - he's cheeky and playful with his brother, protective and teasing with his sisters, and all the while he has his right arm around the back of your chair as you sit between him and his mother, and his fingers intermittently dance softly against your shoulder. Despite not driving more than five minutes, you'd taken the travel sickness medication in the hopes that it'd help to negate your nausea throughout dinner - you didn't want the secret out before the announcement was made. Síle and Griff sit opposite you, and pull you into conversation every so often, but you don't feel left out or neglected as you sit back and take in the atmosphere around you. God, Cillian is so at ease and it is a delight to be beside him the whole time.

“So what have you next?” Páidi asks, setting down his fork. He's sitting to Cillian's left but the place is quiet enough that you can hear everything without straining.

Cillian thinks for a second, then answers. “Eh, I've a thing in Galway coming up for UNESCO. Then it's…eh, IFTAs and then I'm away to LA for the Oscars at the start of March.” he reaches his left hand out for his glass on the table before him and sips slowly at his Guinness.

“Fuck,” Páidi laughs, covering his mouth with his hand to hide thenfacr he's taking over a mouthful of food. “Bringing Y/N to America, yeah?”

Cillian nods as he places his glass back down, “That's the plan if work is agreeable, and she's feeling alright.” He smiles. His fingers tap against your arm as he speaks. “You didn't hear back from Amanda yet, no?” He asks.

You shake your head, “Not yet.”

“It'll be warm in LA when you go, so?” Orla asks, sitting towards the end of the table.

Cillian nods his head, “I'd say so.”

Síle laughs, “You'll come back with a tan and your freckles darker than ever.”

Cillian grins, “Looking healthy for once.”

Griff laughs loudly, “Jays, Cill, you do be outta the country more than you're in it.”

Cillian juts his chin and rolls his eyes, “Sure, I know it.” He shakes his head. He turns to look at you and raises his eyebrows. He wants to tell them now. You nod your head slowly, and he draws his arm from behind you as he adjusts himself in the seat. “Here, guys, listen,” he clears his throat nervously. “We didn't just come down for the spin in the car,” he smirks. The table silences. He rests his elbows on the table and his hands fiddle near his face as he takes a breath. You reach for your handbag by your feet, ready to draw out the scan photos. “Eh…” Cillian falters, “We, eh, wanted to come down and, eh, tell you all together. We're…we're expecting a baby.” He drops his arms down, folding them against the edge of the table.

“Ah no way?!” Síle erupts quickly.

At his side, Páidi claps his hand around Cillian's back with a cheerful smile. “Jesus, really? Fecking hell, congrats!”

“Ah, you're not?” Mary exclaims and her eyes are immediately emotional. Sitting at your right side, she wraps her arm around you and pulls you in against her. “Ah, love, that's brilliant! When?” She asks, clearly excited. Beside her, Brendan simply smiles and offers you a wink. Mary releases you as you shift a little.

“July,” you say and with a shaking hand you pull the photos from your bag. You hand one to Mary, then hand another across to Síle and Griff to be passed around the table. Cillian wraps his arm back around the back of your chair, but he quickly moves so that it's around your shoulders. He pulls you towards him and kisses the top of your head. You watch as Mary scans the picture with a soft smile, then gets from her seat. She walks behind your seat and wraps her arms around Cillian's neck from behind and plants a loving kiss against his cheek. Cillian raises his left arm and places his hand on the side of his mother's face.

“I'm so happy for you, love,” she says, giving him another squeeze before she returns to her seat.

“We're youse shocked?” Orla asks, looking between you and Cillian.

“Fairly fucking shocked,” Cillian laughs, “But it's good.”

“Jesus, Cill… I was half expecting an engagement when you called us all together, and I'll admit that someone being sick crossed my mind. This wasn't on the bingo card.” Páidi shakes his head, and nudges his brother.

“Wasn't really on mine either,” Cillian mutters, and while you consider you could take that comment to heart you remind yourself of all the happiness that accompanied this pregnancy so far, and refuse to allow yourself to fall backward.

“And you've been okay?” Síle asks, and reaches over the table to wave her hand for your attention, “Feeling good?”

You wrinkle your nose, “A bit sick, but nothing too extreme. I read horror stories of being in hospital with vomiting, so I think I've gotten off lightly there.”

“Well you can thank Cillian for that - they say it's the man who determines not only the gender, but how well the mother feels throughout.” Síle laughs as both you and Cillian look to one another, sharing the same weirded-out expression. You're not entirely sure you're comfortable discussing Cillian's spermatic contributions with his family beyond anything more than the impending baby, and Cillian seems to be sharing that view!

Griff laughs loudly as he catches your expressions. “Youse look mortified!” He shakes his head. “Sounds good in theory, doesn't it? Telling everyone there's a wee one coming. But sure, eventually, they all think about the fact that it got there how it did! I wonder was it the night we were there and the two of ye were far from quiet.”

Your hands fly up to cover your face and Cillian scoffs a laugh awkwardly. “Oh, Griff!” Síle shakes her head, and beside her Orla laughs loudly.

“Yeah, brother, I'm mortified for you now.” Páidi nudges his elbow against Cillian's side. “Mostly that you thought you could get away with riding while you had visitors!”

“I think we've had enough of that now, thank you all.” Brendan speaks up. “Good Jesus, if nothing else you can rely on these four to bring down the tone!” He shakes his head at his wife. “Listen, it's lovely news. We're very happy for you. Congratulations, both of you.”

“Yeah, absolutely, congratulations.” Orla says soberly, but she's still grinning.

Chat falls to a dull roar as everyone seems to natter amongst themselves. Mary and Brendan fall into conversation, though you can hear them mentioning your names as they talk. You turn your head to Cillian, who is draining his glass with his tongue pressed against the rim, and tilt your head so your temple rests against his shoulder. As he sets the glass down, he reaches his hand out beneath the table and rests it against your thigh. He tilts his head, too, and places his cheek onto your hair. “Y'alright?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah, you?” You ask, wondering how he feels now the moment has passed.

You feel his cheek move on your head and you suspect he's smiling. “Yeah, I am. Lighter... It went well.”

“I told you not to worry, didn't I? They're your family, they love you.” You place your hand over his where it rests against your leg and squeeze your fingers around his. “And when Baby arrives, they're going to be even more positive. Mark my words!”

You feel his body jolt as he chuckles, “Isn't it usually me telling you everything’s gonna be grand? What happened there?!” He jokes. He taps his hand against your thigh, his beloved and gentle ‘that's enough of that now’ signal. “I'm gonna go out for a smoke, I'll be back.” He says as you lift up your head off his shoulder. He stands slowly and takes his coat from the back of his chair. Without a word to anyone else, he wanders away from the table. You watch him as he walks through the restaurant, pulling on his coat on the go, and disappears through the main entrance.

“I thought he was back on the fags,” you turn your head as you hear Brendan tutting. “Didn't I say it Mary? I could smell it off him.”

“Ah, leave him alone. Sure he's a grown man.” Mary shakes her head. “And he doesn't smell of them, not at all.”

“With work, and a bit of…, he just picked it up again.” You defend Cillian gently in his absence. “He's cut down a lot, and he does want to stop again. But he was nervous telling you all today - I think he just needs the stress reliever.”

Mary reaches out and touches your arm, “Don't you be explaining anything, Y/N, love. Take no notice of himself, there. You'd think he'd no vices himself the way he goes on!” She smiles. “And if you say he's going to stop, then I'm sure that he will. Sure that wee baby coming will be all the motivation he needs.” You smile under her loving but nonetheless scrutinising gaze. “We really are delighted for you, you know? We know it hasn't been easy, and it probably isn't easy now with Yvonne getting engaged, but we're so happy to hear your news.” She nods her head with conviction, and you can see her eyes welling up.

“Thank you,” you whisper, finding emotions tightening your own throat. It felt so good to know Cillian really never did have any reason to worry.

You had fallen into bed almost immediately after returning from the meal, as had his parents, and you felt comfortable and relaxed with Cillian's arm wrapped around your hip as you lay, facing one another, but both on the cusp of sleep. Lying beside him in the small double bed, equally happy and a little sad that you'll be going home tomorrow morning, you move your fingers idly against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Your brother and sisters are so funny - and Griff, the big child that he is.” you say, whispered and sleepy. Cillian hums in response, equally as sleepy. “I expected them to tease you, but I think Páidi and bloody Griff wanting to know conception positions is in the beyond.”

Cillian's entire body jumps as he laughs huskily, deep in his throat. “They're gas, but they've no idea when to fuck off.” He mumbles. He sighs through his nose. “Here, will we go for a walk tomorrow before we head home? Drive out near the beach, yeah?” he sniffs and moves his hand resting on your hip up and down against the material of your pyjama bottoms.

“Yeah,” you say with a smile.

“Good,” he hums.

You lie quietly for a moment, closing your tired eyes, but you open then again with a sigh. “You think everyone's reaction was genuine though?” You ask.

“I do,” he grumbles. “Like you said before, when that baby comes they'll love it.” He moves his fingers against you. “Shush now…sleepy time.” He babbles and you can hear the smile pulling his lips and slightly distorting his words. “Now, you keep me awake much longer and I'll need services to put me to sleep. Shhh!”

You shake your head, but it's hard not to smile. “You shush.” You pat your hand against his chest. He shushes you again, but at the same time he pulls your hip towards him gently. Going home is going to be good, but these two days with this ‘version’ of Cillian has been lovely.

#cillian murphy #my fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #reader fic #y/n fic #female reader #female y/n #reader x celebrity #reader x Cillian Murphy #y/n x Cillian Murphy #female reader x Cillian Murphy #female y/n x Cillian Murphy #my fic: we got issues

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mendessi · 2 days ago

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things i say when you sleep | chapter four

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc

word count: 5.4k

chapter summary: welcome to threshing

chapter warnings: canon typical violence, light gore (injuries), female rage, mentions of vomiting, mentions of death

AO3 masterlist

two | three | four | five | six | ...

Gratefully, Bodhi decided we could wait until after Threshing to start training, he made it clear I didn't need extra distractions. Liam apologized for ambushing me with Bodhi but he didn't need to and I assured him of that.

"So long as we get to hang out still," I told him. "I've unfortunately grown quite fond of your company."

"Unfortunately?" A smile played on his lips. "Fortunately for you, I've grown fond of yours."

Liam was a good friend. It's a strange feeling, to finally have friends. I didn't come in to make any, but I'd become close with some of my squadmates and Liam. I even found myself talking to Violet of all people. She wasn't half bad.

It's Presentation day and Sawyer and I have made a bet on who can make it up the Gauntlet the fastest. The entire first-year class is currently heading to the cliffside now with a handful of second and third-years who have Gauntlet duty. I don't even feel slightly nervous as we make our way over.

If Dain Aetos wasn't my Squad Leader, I'd shove him off the cliff just for the way he's been pestering Violet all morning. I've concluded that there's some unanswered romantic tension between them, but Dain is a brown noser who has to follow the Codex to a T or he'll combust. I'd overheard a conversation between the two and Dain is insistent on sending her back to the scribes where she'd intended to be. Not that I'd ever admit to her, but she's annoyingly intelligent and has been getting better in training and deserved to be here just as much as the next person.

"Do you ever grow tired of that?" I ask her before I can stop myself as we join the rest of the squads at the bottom of the Gauntlet.

"What?" She asks.

"Dain doing everything he can to keep you from succeeding here." It sounds more harsh than I meant. "Sorry."

"He cares about me," She defends. "We grew up together, he can't help it."

Ah, that's what it is. I had a feeling. Childhood friends. That sounds familiar.

I see Liam a couple of squads over and I give him a thumbs-up with a smile. There's not a doubt in my mind that he'll have the fastest Gauntlet time today. He gives me a wave and a thumbs-up and then turns back to face his Squad Leader who seems to be giving an announcement.

Just about an hour later, it was almost my squad's turn. Painfully watching cadets fall from the Gauntlet had me sick to my stomach so I eventually had to turn away.

"Cadet Alistair," I turn my head as Bodhi approaches.

"What are you doing here?" I look at him confusedly.

"I had time between classes and wanted to check on you before you go up," He says.

I see Violet and Rhi turn their heads out of the corner of my eye and shrug my shoulders, "Why?"

"Just making sure you're ready," He nods his head and then turns to look up the cliffside with a deep breath.

"Sawyer and I are betting on who can make it up the fastest," I say to him.

"Absolutely not."

"Excuse me?" I cross my arms as I look up at him.

"Take your time," He says sharply, "The last thing I need is you falling off this thing."

"Bodhi, I don't need you to coddle me. I didn't know that accepting your help would include you hovering," I turn to walk away with a shake of my head but he grabs my arm.

"Take. Your. Time." He says slowly as I yank my arm away from him.

Glaring at him, I fall back in line with my squad.

"What was that about?" Violet asks and she glances back at Bodhi as he walks away from the cliffside.

"Did you figure out how you're getting up the chimney?" I ask, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

"Got it." Violet takes my question as her answer. None of your business.

Sawyer beats me by three seconds and I'm not even mad about it. I'm just thrilled that I made it, that he made it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Xaden subtly sigh with what I can only describe as relief when he writes my time down.

My entire squad makes it. I even got to my knees to scream for Violet as she made it up the last stretch of the Gauntlet. She did it, not the traditional way but she still made it. Annoyingly smart, that girl. We place eleventh which isn't terrible and I even congratulate Liam on his Gauntlet patch. Of course, he was the quickest.

The nerves begin to build when it's almost my squad's turn to parade ourselves for the dragons. As we're waiting, it all becomes so real. I'd forgotten why I had been here at Basgiath. All of the sparring, the Gauntlet sessions, they were leading to this. Dragons. It was so easy to forget, so easy to lose the concept that in two days, I was due to try and bond with one.

Zihnal, be with me.

Luca and Tynan do nothing but fuel my anxiety as we walk spaced apart in a single file. I'd never liked them since the day we were placed in Second Squad together. They might be the two most insufferable people I'd ever met. It was beyond me how two people could be so arrogant when they hadn't even bonded yet.

As we walk, I do my best to not look at any dragons as we pass, but I do my best to carry on a conversation with Ridoc. Apparently, this helps the dragons get a feel for our character.

"What did the XO want?" He asks over his shoulder. I keep my eyes on the stone in front of me, trying to ignore the grating voice of Luca. "Thought you guys weren't cool after you sparred."

"I'd love to know what he wanted too," I say honestly.

As we make our way further down the path, my ears start to ring. I can't help but look up to see if anyone else has noticed, but Ridoc is now engaged in conversation with Luca who won't shut up. Conversation may not be the right word, probably more like getting on to her for being such a bully.

I turn my head and my eyes unintentionally meet with the golden eyes of a red dragon. Please don't kill me. From what I remember, reds have the worst temper and you should never look them in the eye. I'm too scared to look away for fear of what will happen once my eyes are off it. The dragon blinks and I swear nods at me and my ears stop ringing. My head snaps at the sound of the commotion in front of me and my jaw drops when I realize there's a pile of ash where I had last seen Luca.

Two days later I'm awkwardly patting Ridoc's back as he throws up everything he ate this morning. I don't know if it's from nerves or if what he ate was bad, but this should certainly be Violet patting his back not me. I don't think I ever learned how to comfort people, especially when sick.

When he stands up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then pats my shoulder. I grimace and then make my way to Rhiannon and Violet.

"Dain lost his vote when he tried to talk you into leaving," Rhi says and I nod, adjusting the sheath wrapped around my thigh.

"I'm with Rhi," I agree.

"You don't even know what we're talking about, you just don't like Dain," Violet counters, and a smile spreads across my face.

"Correct."

Rhi snickers, putting a hand over her mouth earning a glare from Violet, "What? I don't have anything against Dain. I just- okay, I'll stop talking."

As I look around at all of the first years, I take a deep breath in through my nose. Everything changes for each of us by the end of today. We'll either bond or not. My eyes land on Bodhi and I have to double-take because I almost missed him.

He nods his head and I sigh and walk to him.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"We'll start training tomorrow," He says. "Xaden will be observing in the valley."

Surely, Bodhi knows that just because Xaden is allowed to observe doesn't mean it will benefit me in the slightest.

"You had to tell me this right now?" I scoff, crossing my arms. "That's if I even make it."

"You will." He assures me.

"Anything can happen. You don't know that," I retort.

"I know things you don't," Bodhi replies, and my eye twitches. "You'll make it."

"Whatever, Bodhi." I turn to walk away. I'm almost back to my squad when he calls my name. I look over my shoulder, not slowing my steps. "Good luck!"

Hours have passed since I split up from my squad and I'm half convinced that my dragon is not in this valley. I watch as dragons and their newly bonded cadets fly overhead underneath the pink and blue canvas of the sky. A break was all I wanted, so I stand and readjust the medium-sized dagger that hangs off my hip. It's too long to fit into the sheaths on my ribs and thigh, but not long enough to be carried on my back. I earned it in a challenge against a first-year from Second Wing in the third week of challenges and it's one of my favorites. It's not important where she got it from, but I almost wish I knew. The hilt of it is beautifully crafted and I know at some point it hummed with power due to the Tyrrish rune in the handle. It reminds me of home.

The sound of rustling in the trees stops me in my tracks and I look at the reflection of the water to see if I can tell where it came from. I wait for a moment but it remains quiet until my ears start ringing like they had at Presentation. It's subtle, but it's undeniable. Turning to my left, I take a few steps and it gets quieter so I test a theory and walk the other way. It gets louder.

Maybe this is it. I keep my hand on the dagger at my hip as I make my way through the trees. The ringing steadily grows louder and louder as I pass through another clearing and my breath hitches. A large Red Swordtail sits against the treeline and the ringing is at an all-time high, so loud that it feels like my eardrums will burst. It feels like a thread is tied to my sternum, pulling me slowly towards the dragon and I follow the demand. My shoe snaps a tree branch and the dragon's head turns to me quickly, barring its teeth. Its golden eyes survey me and its teeth disappear. Is this it?

Both of our heads turn at the sound of rustling coming from the other side of the clearing. A group of three-first years step out of the clearing and their eyes land on me. The dragon bares its teeth at them.

"This one's mine, back off," The one in front says. He has blond hair and is the tallest of them all, but the other blond behind him has more muscle, just shorter. I'm taken aback and I almost turn to walk away, but the thread is still tugging lightly. The stocky blond behind him whispers something in his ear and something that looks like realization flashes across his eyes.

"'The Rageful One', they call her," The brunette with slanted eyes behind him says, loud enough for me to hear. I've heard rumors of a nickname but no one has ever said it to my face. Rageful one? They couldn't come up with something better?

I place one hand on my hip and hold my other hand out looking at my nails mindlessly, "Could've sworn I heard Kaori say not to travel in groups."

"It seems like you're the one with the disadvantage. Three against one doesn't seem like the odds are in your favor," The one in the front says.

"You should ask your friends if that's a theory you're willing to test," I look up from my nails and innocently smile. His pals clearly know of me, yet I don't know a single one of them.

By good luck, there'd been a handful of times that I allowed Ridoc and Liam both to simultaneously spar with me. I managed to get both of them on their backs the last time we practiced, but it only happened once. I don't know these first-years, nor do I know their capability in a fight. What I do know is that Liam and I are top of our year, so they can't be that good. Let me not get ahead of myself.

He keeps his eyes on me, listening intently as his friends whisper things in his ear. I slowly wrap my fingers around the daggers on my hip and one on my ribs. I examine them the best I can from this distance. None of them have a rebellion relic, so it's not like we'll be connecting over that. They all have height and strength on me but I'm agile and quick. With a nod of his head, I know his friends have convinced him.

"Just kill her Fionn," The brunette says and my heart skips a beat. Are they really going to outnumber me so their friend can have this dragon, my dragon?

That must've been the final push that Fionn needed because he starts advancing on me. I opt for the shorter daggers on my ribs and unsheath them as they all three start advancing on me. Fionn pulls a longsword from his back and I take a deep breath my focus zoning in. If only Bodhi and I had gotten to work on control before today.

Control it.

Fionn is the first to approach me with a heavy swing of his sword. I pull back, gasping as I feel the wind from the swing against my chest. While he pulls back, I lunge forward slicing into his arm.

"Allan, go left!" The stocky blond shouts as Fionn screams out. He swings his sword again, but I'm close enough to slip under his arm. I slam my elbow into his nose and he stumbles backwards. I turn to my left where I know Allan will be and throw a dagger that lands in his thigh. I march towards him as he hits the ground, grab him by his hair, and connect his face to my knee with a scream. He falls to the ground, limp and I'm grateful to have at least one of them knocked out.

I turn around to see Fionn and the other blond glance at each other, silently making decisions on how to finish this. This isn't the sparring mat, if I don't win, I'll die.

I'm not here because I have to be, I'm here because I want to be.

I want to bond with this red dragon watching this entire encounter. I want to make it back to the flight field and see that my squad lives. I want to go through Squad Battles and War Games and I want to live. All the way to graduation.

Pulling the medium sword from my hip, my vision reddens at the edges. I tighten my grip on the sword as my hands start to shake.

Relax. Control it. Your anger issues will get you killed.

I wait for them to make the first move. The other blond runs at me and I slip under his hold, turning around and swinging my sword leaving a deep gash across his back, his shirt now held together by a thread. I cry out as Fionn grabs a handful of my hair from behind and slams my back into the ground. My eyes water from the force of which my head hits the ground. He drags me by my hair, as I kick my feet begging for my boots to catch a grip, to where Allan lies on the ground. He yanks my dagger from Allan's thigh and slams it into mine and a scream rips through my throat.

"That's for Allan," He says through gritted teeth as he crawls on top of me. His hands wrap around my throat and I dig my nails into the skin on his hands. It's no use, he's completely blocked my airway. I will not go out like this again. Fionn won't just suffocate me to the point of passing out like Bodhi, he will kill me. I reach my hands to his face, scratching and clawing at my face but he just slams my head into the ground once and punches me so hard that my nose starts to gush blood.

Control the situation.

Red filters my sight and my hands shake with rage, maybe fear, I don't know what, but I dig thumbs into his eyes and press with every last ounce of strength I can muster. He releases my throat to rip my hands from his face and just as he's about to reach for my throat again I sink my teeth into his hand and bite. I bite until I feel a chunk of his skin come off in my mouth and I spit it out as he stumbles off of me.

Air fills my lungs and I gasp as he screams out, "Bitch! She fucking bit me!"

His friend is staring at me, fear strewn across his face. A smile spreads slowly across my lips and I know I'm a sight to see. Blood spills from my nose and I can taste his blood in my mouth on my teeth.

I don't bother unsheathing a dagger as I move forward on the blond. I want this hand-to-hand. He hesitates on if he should pull his sword and that's all the time I need. I throw a complex combination of punches, landing every single one. He lands a couple but I'm so fueled by rage and adrenaline that I don't even stumble. I hear Fionn's footsteps behind me and I turn quickly, my fist connecting with his jaw. He grabs my wrist and the other blond comes up behind me. I pull a dagger sheathed on Fionn's thigh and slam it anywhere I can. His friend falls to the ground and I return my focus completely to Fionn.

It's just him and I now.

"You're fucking crazy," He says my wrist still in his grip. I bring my knee up to his groin and he screams out in pain but doesn't falter. He picks me up like I'm a ragdoll and slams me into the ground.

"You haven't seen crazy," I say through clenched teeth.

We scramble around on the ground, each of us trying to grasp for dominance, and I yelp when he pulls a dagger from my ribs and stabs it right through the palm of my hand. It doesn't even hurt, the adrenaline masks the pain.

"It didn't have to be like this," he says as I cry out, "You should've walked away."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I separate the anger, the rage, all of it, from what is happening at this very moment. This is a matter of survival. Anger won't get me out of this. I need to think.

When I open my eyes, the red is gone from my vision and I lift my hand, nearly gagging at the sight of the blade of the dagger sticking out of both sides of my hand. I'm nearly done removing it when he starts crawling towards me. Both of our adrenaline is wearing off and we're exhausted and injured. It's me or him. As he moves to get on top of me, reaching for my neck again, I think quickly, I have no choice.

"You just don't give up," He says breathlessly.

"You should've listened to your friends," I hiss.

I press the back of my hand to his stomach and use the other to slam the dagger back through the gaping hole and into his abdomen. His eyes widen and he looks between us pulling my hand away. He rolls off of me and I sit up, moving away from him, holding my hand to my chest. When I watch the life leave his eyes I stand. As I pull the dagger out of my hand I clench my teeth together to stop from screaming.

My dagger falls from my shaky hands and I look around. Allan is stirring, and when I see the other stocky blond my stomach sinks. My dagger had landed in his throat. Blood puddles around him and I'm hit with a wave of nausea. Allan survived but I killed two men today.

When I turn around the red dragon is directly in front of me. Gods, I hope it was worth it.

"Am I yours?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"I've been waiting for you."

Waiting for me? Was that in my head?

"I choose you," The Red Swordtail blinks at me and lowers its head.

Holy fuck. I did it. He waited for me. Now I feel bad to have kept him waiting. The adrenaline is starting to surge again but the world is slowly starting to tilt. I need to get back to the flight field.

"My name is-"

"I know who you are, Ania Alistair." He says and my eyes widen slightly. "I've waited many years to meet you."

Huh?

"My last rider was Colonel Alistair, your-"

Grandma.

But I always thought dragons weren't allowed to bond with direct descendants of their riders.

"Do not worry about such a matter, you must get back to the flight field." His voice rattles my head and I almost wince.

Somehow, someway, even being down a hand and with a limp only growing worse by the minute, I successfully mount.

"Gleigealith." I say to the rollkeeper.

"Seek care now, Ania," Gleigeal says and I don't hesitate. I limp my way over to the small medical station. "It is vital that you do not share you are a descendant of my previous rider."

The adrenaline is far past worn off and I'm feeling every hit I took, my thigh is throbbing with pain and I can't even begin to describe how my hand feels.

Two men out there are dead because of me. I have to swallow the bile rising in my throat for I don't know what time today. The pain medication they give me starts to take effect quickly and I want nothing more than to get over to the Healers quadrant.

"Ani!" I barely have the strength to turn my head, but I know it's Bodhi. He's the only person I've let call me that since my brother died. He cups my cheeks, but I can't even look at him. He's looking me over, assessing my injuries. "Who did this, what happened?"

The blood is dried to my skin, theirs and mine both. All over my face and my clothes.

A whimper escapes my lips when he lifts my hand, examining it. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "We'll get you to the healers."

"Bodhi-" I whisper, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

"Ania," Xaden approaches us and glances me over once, "She okay?"

"She's shaken up," Bodhi says on my behalf. I look up at Xaden and a part of me wonders why he's here.

Xaden puts his hand on my head and I wince, remembering how Fionn had slammed it into the ground. "Sorry, little Alistair. You okay?"

"I killed," I have to swallow again, bile threatening to work its way up my esophagus, "Two men."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Xaden says. "Something else needed my attention."

I shake my head, gently pushing his hand away, "It doesn't matter."

It's not like he could've done anything anyway. Nobody is allowed to manipulate Threshing, but a part of me believes that if he had been there, he would've.

"You did it, Ania," Xaden nods and takes a step back. "Beckett would be proud."

He and Bodhi share a glance and then Xaden leaves us.

"Who'd you bond?" He asks as he grabs gauze from the side table and begins to wrap my injured hand. I'm silently hoping that I'll get it mended tonight.

"Red Swordtail," I say quietly. My throat feels ridiculously dry and my voice is still scratchy. "Is my squad okay?"

"From what I know they're all back," He says and I hiss through my teeth when he grips a part of my hand a little too roughly. "Sorrengail bonded two dragons."

"Two?" I mean to exclaim it, but it barely comes out above a whisper.

Wow. Of course, Violet bonded two dragons. If it were going to be anyone, it would be her.

"We'll push training til you feel up for it, okay?" His tone is gentle and I respond with a nod.

The pain medications were doing their job, but now I just struggled to feel any sort of emotion. The idea of training isn't even an unpleasant thought anymore. I almost got killed out there and maybe if I'd taken up Bodhi on training when I first arrived, I wouldn't be so injured right now.

"You just have to do one more thing and then we'll go to the Healers. Promise." He says helping me stand once he ties off the gauze on my hand. He allows me to lean on him as we walk away from the medical tent and back to the field.

"You've been too hard on him," Gleigeal says as I stand in front of him.

"How do you know that?" I ask through my thoughts. I don't quite know how this works, but I'll figure it out.

"I know many things. Now move forward," He says and I oblige.

General Sorrengail wraps up her speech and then I feel the familiar pain on my back. I'd only felt this once before, the day that my father was executed. The day I got the relic on my arm. I don't even make a sound while others around me cry out.

Cheers erupt all around and then the field is crowded with riders of all years. I find Bodhi almost immediately and let him drag me to the Healers.

"You should be celebrating with everyone else," I say to him finally.

"I'm right where I need to be," He says with a small smile.

An hour later, I'm released and luckily the celebrations are still going on. Bodhi stayed with me in the Healers quadrant and I was thankful he gave me a hand to squeeze while they stitched me up. The pain meds would stick around for the rest of the night and that I was grateful for. Bodhi leaves me in the bathing chamber so I can wash all the blood and grime off myself before joining the celebrations with the rest of the riders. He promises to see me later.

I'm a rider now.

The realization hits me like a train. I have a fucking dragon. Everything I worked for since July has led to this.

"Ania!" Rhiannon runs towards me once I'm finally dressed and clean. I left with a split cheekbone and busted lip, but aside from my hand and thigh, I'll just be hideously bruised for a couple of days.

"Did you bond?" I ask her. I freeze when she wraps her arms around me in a hug.

"The green I wanted," She nods and I feel another set of arms wrap around me.

"Not gonna lie, I thought you were dead," I hear Ridoc say behind me.

When was the last time someone hugged me? I struggle to find the memory, and it takes me a moment but I finally relax and wrap my arms around Rhi. Tears brim my eyes when she and Ridoc pull away.

"You look like shit," Ridoc says as he looks over my face. "Hand?"

"Dagger went straight through," I laugh lightly. "I'll tell you guys tomorrow. I just want to celebrate."

"Ania," Violet says. She approaches me slowly and we look at each other for a moment.

"Two dragons, huh?" I smile.

"Who would've thought?" She laughs and looks me up and down, concern in her eyes. She wraps her arms around me after a second of hesitation and I do the same to her. "I'm glad you're okay."

The person I was when I entered this quadrant is so different from the person I am now—smiling and laughing with my squadmates. I'm a rider. I bonded my grandmother's dragon.

"Don't repeat that too often," Gleigeal says in my head and I laugh.

The celebrations continue, but exhaustion has overthrown my body. Ridoc offers to walk me to my dorm. I have a dorm. Having my own space might be my favorite perk of being a rider. He's rambling on and on about his Threshing and I can't help but smile while I listen to him. He has such a good storytelling cadence and doesn't miss a beat between sentences. His Brown Swordtail is named Aotrom and he can tell that they're already going to be a killer team.

We're almost back to the dorms when I throw myself against a tree, heaving up everything I've fought to hold down since the woods.

"Whoa, whoa, Ania-" Ridoc is slightly confused as he holds my hair back.

The parallel makes me laugh when I remember that just this morning I was patting his back while he vomited.

"It's been a long day," I say to him.

He throws his arm around my shoulder with a chuckle and a nod, "Yeah, it has."

Ridoc comes with me into my new room and I smile as I look around, noting that my bag is already set on the floor next to my bed.

"Isn't it so nice?" Ridoc laughs, falling backward onto my bed.

I fall backward next to him with a sigh and look up at the ceiling, "I'm just happy to never sleep on those bumpy dormitory beds ever again."

"I'm sorry you had a bad Threshing," He says.

"Eh, I don't think Threshing is supposed to be a good thing," I laugh and look over at him. Emotions are heightened tonight, and everyone is overwhelmed with their new bonds. I can't count on two hands how many cadets I've seen leaving the celebrations and going into their new rooms.

I sit up on my elbow and look down at him, "What?"

"You're a good friend, Ridoc," I say quietly.

Ridoc is the first friend I made at Basgiath. He's funny and quirky and a ridiculously bad flirt sometimes, but he's here instead of out there with everyone else. He's never judged the relic on my arm, or my decisions to separate myself from everyone else. He's never questioned my intentions behind anything. He just trusts me regardless of my reasons.

I lean down and kiss him before I think if it's a good idea or not. His hand cups my cheek and he kisses me back, pulling me closer to him. We test the waters and the kiss only lasts for a few moments.

We pull away simultaneously and I shake my head with a laugh. "Nope. Not for us."

"Some things just aren't meant to happen," He cracks up, laughter shaking his chest. "At least we tried."

"At least we tried," I repeat, crawling under the blanket. After a few moments of silence and staring at the ceiling I sigh, "I killed two men today."

"Hence the vomit?" He asks.

I nod my head, keeping my eyes on the ceiling, "I didn't have a choice."

"Then I support you," Ridoc says, "Even if you did have a choice, I would support you."

"Would it be absurd of me to ask if you could sleep in here tonight?" I ask him quietly. "If you want to go keep celebrating, I'll be okay."

He doesn't say another word, he kicks off his boots and crawls under the blanket with me, keeping a respectful distance.

"Good night," Not even a couple minutes later, his lips are parted and he's snoring softly.

"I don't think the cousins will like this," Gleigeal says distantly.

"Go to bed."

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tag list: @lynnieluvsu

#bodhi durran #bodhi fourth wing #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #bodhi durran fic #bodhi durran x oc #the empyrean #fourth wing fanfic #bodhi x reader

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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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softblesses · 2 days ago

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Part 3.

The rhythmic knock at the door meant only one thing… Mozzie had arrived to drop some essentials from Neal’s apartment off at the Burke residence. El went to the door, not surprised to greet a masked up Mozzie, who was holding a box of things in his hands.

“I can’t stay for long,” he announced, walking in and taking one look at Neal. “You look terrible. Here’s your things!” He set the box down by the coffee table, before taking five, large steps back.

“Thank you, Mozzie. Neal appreciates you coming.” El stepped in before Neal could retort back at the comment on his appearance, and goes to look through the box for him. She stopped as her hands grasped something, and opened up a glasses case.

“Are these yours, Mozzie?” El asked, turning to see that their visitor was already lingering by the door.

“Oh! You’ve unlocked another Neal secret! Good luck, see you when the plague passes!” He smiled, giving a wave, before opening the door and promptly leaving; all before Peter can even come back from where he’d been making more tea in the kitchen.

Elizabeth just about managed to bid Mozzie ‘goodbye,’ before taking the glasses over to Neal. “Neal Caffrey wears glasses, huh?” She smiled, turning as her husband’s footsteps sounded behind her.

“. . . You’re wearing your smart undercover disguise?” Peter hummed, carefully handing him his tea, “Did Mozzie rope you into something? El? Are they scheming? Sick people can’t scheme, y’know.”

“You don’t know everything about me, Peter Burke.” Neal muttered in a raspy voice — it sounded like he was about to lose any voice he had left. And, with that, he leaned against his cushion and closed his eyes.

“That was uncomfortably ominous,” Peter muttered, before turning to kiss his wife. “I’ll see you soon, I’ll stop by the pharmacy and the store to get more supplies.”

“Okay, Hon. I’ll hold down the fort — me and Satch. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Later that day, after Peter had gotten back with supplies from the pharmacy, things seemed to settle a little. El was in the kitchen, making vegetable soup, and Peter was looking over case files at the table. Neal was propped up on the couch, holding the portable nebuliser to his face with one hand, and doodling in a notebook with the other. He seemed content, and the coughing fits had somewhat subsided since earlier on. Drawing helped calm him, gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the aches and pains or tickle in his throat. Peter was just thankful that he was staying put, and doing so quietly… Well, for the most part.

‘hu—ggGKKch. . . kkcHew.’ Shortly followed by a small coughing fit. Peter looked over, with no doubt that Neal’s throat had taken a hit from that.

Peter stood, momentarily going to the kitchen, before walking over to Neal. Now, he didn’t know how else to make him feel physically better; they’d made him tea, soup, gotten him an array of medicines. But, maybe he could make him feel a little more content, at least. Whenever Peter was sick, he’d watch old baseball games and wear comfortable clothing. He doubted Neal would like that very much, but it’s all he could think of. So, he took a seat beside Neal, watching as he moved his legs for him.

“It’s alright, stretch out. May I?” He gestured to the remote, very much wanting to sanitize it before picking it up, but deciding not to offend Neal just yet.

Neal was hesitant, but he stretched out his legs a little more, but eventually rested them atop of Peter’s thighs. He didn’t seem to mind. He nodded at the request for the remote — he’d barely been paying attention to the random show on the screen anyway. He placed the nebuliser mask back upon his face, and leaned back a little.

“Is that helping?” The agent asked, turning to face him again.

Neal nodded. Neal without a voice was much more unsettling than Peter thought it would be. “Good, good… do you need anything?” He asked next, still looking at him.

A shake of his head this time. He hated not being able to talk, but after the amount of times he’d tried to in the past few hours and caused himself to cough, for once he was happy to stay quiet. He was grateful, at least, that Peter wasn’t teasing him about it anymore. It was only a moment until El brought in the tea Peter had requested she make for Neal — extra honey for his throat. He watched as the CI turned off the nebuliser, placed it down and took the tea. He tapped his chin afterwards with the tips of his fingers, before moving his hand towards her almost as if blowing a kiss, and Peter frowned.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” El smiled, glancing at her confused husband with a soft chuckle. “Sign language, hon. I had a client last year whose son was deaf — learned a little.” She walked back into the kitchen where soup was simmering away, leaving the pair together on the couch again.

“Gonna put on a classic,” Peter assured, turning the TV onto a channel that primarily showed old baseball game reruns, delighted as he saw a personal favorite of his that they were just beginning.

“My classics and your classics are two different things,” Neal whispered, sipping at his tea.

“Yeah, maybe. But give it a shot—maybe you’ll change your tune.”

He, in fact, did not change his tune in the slightest in the next 20 minutes, slumped over against the couch, bored out of his mind so much that it felt like his brain was melting.

“Okay, maybe this isn’t your kind of classic,” Peter admitted, receiving an exasperated eye roll in response to communicate the age-old sentiment of “ya think?” or perhaps even a “no shit, Sherlock.”

“Well… what do you usually binge when you’re sick?”

That earned a small shrug from Neal. “I don’t,” he eventually whispered, surpassing a cough that was threatening to hurt his throat again. “I just… sleep.” He attempted to continue, but was quickly beaten by a fit of coughing.

“Alright, no more talking — here.” Peter reached for the nebuliser, turning it on and holding it out for Neal. Maybe he needed to find him a notebook or something similar to write in whenever he had to talk, or he’d end up not being able to speak for days to come.

Somehow, the coughing led to sneezing, and all Peter could do was awkwardly wait for him to be finished. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was miserable… nor would it need to take an FBI Agent and a very expert caretaker to realize either, because the look on the CI’s face was quite the sight as Peter held out a tissue box toward him. Neal nodded in thanks and blew his nose softly.

Poor guy. Peter got up and sifted through some drawers in his desk, until he returned with a simple, medium-sized navy blue notebook and a black ballpoint pen. “Want to try writing things down for a while since your throat’s too roughed up to talk?” he suggested, holding the items out to him.

Neal raised an eyebrow in hesitation, but relented since it did seem like the best solution and honestly sounded sort of fun anyways. After a few moments of writing, he turned the open page to Peter to show him the elegant, cursive calligraphy, lavished with grand swirls, that read: “[Sure.]”

“Drama king,” Peter scoffed with an amused huff.

Pen returned to paper and scratched softly against it, until a message in an even more intricate script was finished: “[Correct.]” He flashed his handler a winning smile—or, as that handler might interpret it, a shit-eating grin.

“Soup’s ready, Neal,” Elizabeth announced as she brought the meal from the kitchen and set it down on the coffee table, “try to eat as much as you can stomach, okay? Some nutrients and fluids will be good for you.”

Perking up immediately, since her cooking was frankly phenomenal, Neal put his notebook aside for a moment to try a few spoonfuls, savoring the tides of flavors. Then, he wrote, “[Delicious as always, El. You’re the best.]” The notebook was set on the table once more so his hands were free to form a heart. El returned both the gesture and the smile.

“You’re still flipping through channels, Hon?” Elizabeth asked, glancing over at the TV.

“Yeah, well, Neal’s not really a baseball guy—” Peter began.

“Ooh, shocking,” she teased fondly.

“Hey, to me, it is,” he defended, matching her playful tone. “But, yeah, I think we’re both kinda stumped about what to put on.”

“Ooh, let’s seeeee…” Elizabeth hummed, drumming her fingers against the counter in thought. “Oh, how about something like The Princess Bride? I feel like you’d like that movie, Neal.”

“[Haven’t seen that in a while. Sounds good!]” Neal wrote after mulling it over for a moment.

“Works for me,” Peter chimed in, hands raised slightly in surrender as the other two turned their gazes towards him for confirmation.

“Sounds like a plan then,” El announced, starting to search up the movie on the TV.

It was a rather peaceful, cozy atmosphere: hot homemade soup, warm tea with honey, a comfortable couch with a soft blanket, caring friends, and a nice little fantasy comedy with a compelling romance. Their small little corner of the world was only interrupted by the buzzing of a phone, soon followed by Peter having to stand and take the call. Neal’s frown clearly stated that he had indeed ruined that cozy atmosphere they had going on.

“How’re you feeling, Neal?” El asked gently, ruffling his hair a little as she came to sit down next to him on the couch.

“Lil—” Neal rasped quietly, clearing his throat and coughing wetly a few times into his fist. “Lil better.”

“You don’t really sound it,” she chuckled, “but I’m glad to hear it!”

“I thingk the—” he tried to continue, but his poor voice gave out again, breaking pitifully. After coughing again, he wrote, “[Warm soup & steam’s helping w/ congestion & throat.]”

“Mission accomplished then,” she hummed contentedly.

“Hh-hehh…”

“Aw, bless!” Elizabeth chirped preemptively.

“Hihhh… hehh!! Hhhihhh! Ihdktschhhhiew!!” After a few seconds of being teased by the sensation waxing and waning, he was able to sneeze—and quite dramatically, to be frank. Not only did it send him doubling over into an open tissue held in both hands, but that sudden motion was enough to knock his glasses off of his face aaaand into his bowl of soup below. Oops. Hearing the clink! and splish! sounds of glasses frame meeting ceramic and homemade soup splashing, he kept his eyes shut for a moment, too embarrassed to meet Elizabeth’s gaze.

“Are you okay?” El giggled.

“Depends,” Neal replied hoarsely, clearing his throat twice and writing down, “[Physically?]” followed by a checkmark. Underneath, he wrote “[My pride?]” followed by an ‘x’ that was then underlined at least five times.

“Awww, it’s okay, dear. Silly moments like this happen sometimes! One of my first events I worked at, I managed to knock over an entire champagne tower. Only reason I didn’t get fired was because it’s Burke Events.”

Neal’s demeanor relaxed and softened, an amused glint in his eyes. “[That definitely sounds like a memorable experience.]”

“Trust me, it was,” El confirmed. “I don’t think I’ll forget it for the rest of my life, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I learned to be very vigilant of the physical space at an event. There’s a lot of things that are breathtakingly beautiful, but also very fragile.”

Neal nodded back at her, scrawling something down on the paper. “[Like art!]” he turned the notebook around, just as Peter re-entered the living room, pocketing his cellphone as he did so.

“Like the art you steal, y’mean?” He questioned jokingly, waiting for Neal to reply with… “[Allegedly.]”

“That was Diana — there’s been a development in the case,” he explained, taking a seat inbetween Neal and Elizabeth. Neal nudged him with his elbow.

“And, they need you back at the office?” Elizabeth guessed, from how her husband was acting hesitant all of a sudden.

He nodded, scratching at the back of his neck; a sheepish sort of guilty look on his face.

“It’s okay, go get dressed; I’m fine down here.” She smiled, gesturing towards Neal.

“Fine. But, I’ll try make it quick. I’m sure they can continue without me after and —“

Neal finished scrawling something down, and held it up so that Peter could see. [go get the bad guys. Elizabeth is better in the doctor compartment. No offence. :-)’

His handler chuckled at that, moving to stand. “None taken… you’re right.” He leaned to kiss El’s forehead, before making his way towards the stairs and up to their bedroom.

•••

“Honey, we’ll be fine. Go. Or you’ll burn a hole in the floor from pacing so much.” Elizabeth stood from her place on the couch, and walked over to her husband.

“Are y’sure? I can work from here — I can ask Diana to bring some files and —“

“Peter, please go,” a scratchy tone came from underneath the little blanket pile that was Neal Caffrey. “You’re doing the over worrying thing.”

El reached up on her tiptoes to kiss her husband on the forehead, before straightening up his tie. “We’ll be fine, I promise. I have some work to do, and I’m sure Neal has some napping to do, too.” She chuckled slightly, envisioning the frown from behind her right now.

“Alright,” Peter eventually muttered, shuffling his feet and fidgeting slightly with his hands. “If you’re sure.” He leans to kiss Elizabeth on the cheek, and then once on the lips just for good measure.

“I love you,”

“I love you too,” she hummed. “Now, go. Before we make you watch sappy romcoms on TV.” Elizabeth grinned as he kissed her, and made his way to the door.

She turned to Neal afterward, a hand upon her hip, “I hope that’s okay with you — I mean, you can’t really beat them when you’re sick.” A frown crossed her features as she noticed him rubbing his temples, before trying to sniffle. He sounded uncomfortably stuffed up.

“Hey, how about I steam the bathroom for you first? You can have a bath, if you want. I’ll set you out some clean clothes.. might help your voice feel even better, but I still don’t think you should talk too much.”

He smiled up at her, giving a small nod. She was right — it would probably help his voice, his throat and his sinuses. And, god knows he needed that right now.

•••

Elizabeth stood outside of the bathroom door, the sound of the water from the bath she’d drawn up for Neal almost an hour ago finally rinsing away. “You okay, in there?” She called softly, waiting for a moment and busying herself with putting away some laundry whilst Neal blew his nose.

Upon returning, a freshly bathed Neal wearing Peter’s plaid pyjamas (the ones he’s forced to wear at Christmas with her family, usually) was standing in the doorway before her.

“Oh, good,” El hummed with a small smile, “I was starting to get a little worried about you.”

“‘Starting to?’” Neal teased, giving her a doubtful yet amused look; both Burkes had been watching over him like mother hens since the moment he first got fairly sick. “Yeah, I’m good, I just was enjoying the…” He trailed off as a prickling sensation in his sinuses caused his eyes to unfocus and his breath to stutter in his chest. After a hesitant sniffle, the feeling intensified and sent him pitching forward into his—or, well, Peter’s—sleeve. “Hihhh… hhKTSCHH!”

“Bless you!”

“Ugh, thanks,” Neal replied, still sniffling a bit. “But, yeah, I was enjoying the steam. It really helps to loosen everything up a bit,” he continued with a sheepish gesture to his face.

“Oh, I can tell, sweetie,” Elizabeth dismissed with a slight chuckle. “Happy to hear it though. Your voice sounds a little better too!”

“It’s… audible at least,” Neal decided hesitantly, only half in agreement, with an amused huff.

“C’mon downstairs, and I’ll get you some DayQuil and a fresh box of tissues. I think you might be needing both.” She smiled, gesturing for him to lead the way.

It took almost an hour for the DayQuil to set in, and by now Neal was sat with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders on the couch; his eyes half closed, and the tickle in his nose by no means extinguished. In fact, it might’ve even gotten worse.

The sound of a liquid sniffle came, before he managed to untangle his arm from the blanket just in time to (a little haphazardly) cover his face with his sleeve again.

“HhHh’tTshhOo! … nghhhh. Snfff.”

“Bless you,” El murmured softly beside him, her gaze concentrated on the notebook she’d been hitting things down in for the past twenty minutes or so.

She glanced up for a moment, a sympathetic crease in her brow. “You okay, honey?” El hummed, putting her notebook down for a moment, to reach over and feel his forehead — he looked a little flushed, and was clinging to the blanket a little harder than earlier.

“Yeah, m’just… cold,” Neal mumbled under his breath, a shiver running down his spine as if to validate his words.

“No, you’re pretty warm,” Elizabeth corrected gently. “Fever probably went up again.”

“I think you’re right…”

“When aren’t I?” she joked with a slight shrug.

“… Y’know, I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Neal replied with a grin. Jokes aside, there honestly weren’t many examples that could come to mind, which was impressive. To be fair, his mind was somewhat foggy with fever, but still. Impressive.

“Are you up for checking in on that temperature of yours again?” she offered, already standing up. Receiving a nod in confirmation, she left to grab the thermometer.

A couple of minutes later, she returned, hearing a few coughs from the other room on her way back. “Here,” she hummed, holding out the thermometer.

Neal took it with a slightly shaking hand, tucking the metallic end underneath his tongue.

“Oh, Neal… you’re shaking,” Elizabeth fretted as he shivered again. She reached out to steady his hand with her own, murmuring a soft, “Here, give me.”

Neal only sniffled and let her take the thermometer, glad to be able to envelop himself more fully in his fluffy blanket. Then, more sniffles followed as that passive irritation that had been lingering near constantly in the upper reaches of his nasal passages began to burn a little more actively, like tinder catching a spark. He scrunched up his nose against the brewing itch, but that only seemed to fan the flame.

“Ihhhh…?”

“Awh, do you have to sneeze again?” El asked with a slight chuckle. The only response she received was a dazed nod and another ticklish stutter of breath. “Do you want me to take the thermometer out for a sec?” She hesitated to believe him when he shook his head, since the way he pressed his knuckles firmly up against his reddened nostrils was not exactly very convincing. Nevertheless, she relented.

Every second felt practically like a full minute to Neal, his poor sinuses aching with need. He blinked against the sensation, irritated tears welling in his crystal blue eyes.

“Should be almost done, Neal,” Elizabeth reassured, a small smile of amusement still tugging at the corner of her lips. “Let me know if you need me to take it out. It’s really no trouble.”

Stubbornly, Neal shook his head again in dismissal despite the way his eyebrows drew together in a twitchy sort of unsteadiness. Even though his damp eyelashes fluttered shut, he switched to pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger in, frankly, foolish hopes of quelling the prickling tickles that ravaged it.

“Allllllmost there. Should be any second now,” Elizabeth reminded.

Unfortunately, Neal had run out of seconds to spare, and his flu-ridden nostrils flared impatiently, refusing to keep teetering on the precipice any longer. Regardless of his best attempts to keep his poor nose in check, that extraordinarily fragile semblance of control he had barely managed to hold over himself shattered. He sucked in a small, shaky gasp and any pretense of being able to delay the reflex any longer went out the window.

“H-hiehh—! HH’gkkt!” Well, at least he managed to stifle that one quite effectively. He tightened his grip on his nose to prepare for the next sneeze he could feel following close behind. Once the dam was broken, it was nigh impossible to stop the flood.

“Oh, bless you,” Elizabeth offered with sugary sympathy dripping from her voice.

Neal nodded in thanks before his features crumbled once more. “Ihh’kXXT!” While he succeeded in containing that sneeze as well—unsatisfying, to say the least, doing nothing to alleviate his discomfort—he had a bad feeling that his body wouldn’t allow him to do so again, rebelling against him in search of the much-needed relief he had been denying it. “… Hh… mhhh… hhgk—!” He tried to suppress the risky breaths that his lungs shuddered with, but they grew awfully desperate, and he couldn’t help but—

Beep!

Oh, thank fucking God. Neal’s nose took the beep of the thermometer as permission to let loose entirely, forcing him to suck in an urgent, shivering breath and pitch forward with a fit of overwhelming sneezes. “HehHhHHT—! EHHDKTSHh’uhh!!”

The sudden jerk of movement downwards was more than enough to knock the thermometer out of Elizabeth’s hand and onto his lap. In fact, now that he was sneezing unrestrained—whether he liked it or not—said hand was not safe from being misted slightly with the faint spray that escaped him. Luckily, he was able to bury his face into the crook of his arm before the vast majority of his fit over took him.

“Hah-aahdtschhh! Shit, I’m so s—IHDTSCHhh! —kDTSH! —ihpstch! —ihdtsch! So sorry, I-I—huhhh’KDTSCHhh!”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” El insisted gently, a little surprised but mostly unfazed—she had a feeling this might happen. She placed the thermometer down on the table so it wouldn’t end up falling off his lap onto the floor. “You didn’t mean to. Just let it out, sweetie.”

“S-stihhhll—” Neal tried to protest, heart sinking in embarrassment and guilt. “Eihh’kHPTSCH! —IHTSCH! —tschh’ah! Ohgod— EHptschhh’huu!”

“Bless, my goodness. Making up for lost time, I see,” Elizabeth teased.

“Ahh-hahhpparently— IHHGKTSCHh! Ugh… h-huhh… hiiih…! EH’kDTSCHhh!!… Nguhhh…” Sniffling thickly in the aftermath, Neal plucked several tissues—only one would be nowhere near enough—and blew his nose into them.

“Bless you. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine, sndff. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

“What’s it say?” Neal asked, still tending to his running nose.

“102.3,” Elizabeth announced, worry clear in her voice. “No wonder you’ve been feeling so cold.”

“Yeahh, that sounds about right,” Neal sighed with a clear of his throat. He wrapped himself up more thoroughly in the blanket once more now that he had stopped sneezing.

“Just rest for now and take it easy. You’re gonna feel better soon,” El assured with a click of her tongue.

After a little while, Neal’s eyes were finally beginning to grow heavy with the warmth of the blanket over his body, the TV playing an old crime drama on a low volume, and the scratch of El’s pen on paper as she jotted down notes for work. He was almost asleep… in fact, he’d love to be asleep right now. But, his body had other ideas, clearly.

“Hhih’tschhh! —Ihdtschh! —kTSCHH!” He just about managed to haphazardly cover into what may have been his arm… or the blanket. Or both? He just wanted a nap.

“Bless yoooh-hh-hih!” Elizabeth trailed off into sudden, soft hitches, before ducking forward into cupped hands with a sneeze of her own. “Ih’tschieww!” She blinked in surprise and rubbed at her nose to rid it of any residual tickles. “… And me too, apparently,” she joked with a small chuckle.

“Oh, I’m… sorry. You catchin’ this too?” Neal asked with a guilty pout and concern glittering in his eyes.

“No, no, I feel fine, sweetie,” El reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes other people sneezing just tricks my body into joining in, I guess. Trust me, I know how it feels when that happens.”

“Mmmm… okay, if you’re sure,” Neal conceded hesitantly, still looking her over with a wary gaze in case somehow it would reveal her health. “That’s a fun party trick,” he teased with a playful grin.

“Not really,” she giggled, “it’s just a weird thing that happens sometimes.”

“Should I try to not trigger it or…?”

“Oh, no, it’s not a big deal, Neal. It’s just a sneeze here or there, maybe two. It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“Okay. But you’ll tell me if you do start feeling sick though, right?” Neal’s brow was still furrowed, which was shortly followed by a scrunch of his nose; he could already feel his own tickle starting to return, and no matter how much he scrunched or willed it to leave him alone… swiped his knuckles underneath his nose, and sniffled? It just wasn’t going to work.

“Of course.” Elizabeth’s audible promise drew him out of focusing on his temporary plight, but the lapse in concentration was apparently all his nose needed to act.

“Hehh! Hihhh’ktschhh!—eh’tISCHH!”

“Hihhh…”

“Hedt’kschhh!”

“Ishhhiew!”

“‘M sorry.” Neal’s voice was muffled by the tissue held as firmly against his nose as his fatigued self could manage, and his watery eyes were also full of guilt.

“Honey, I told you it’s completely fine. I’m completely fine. Here, look—” With that, she grabbed the thermometer and placed it under her tongue, folding her arms and fixing Neal with an intent look to verify that he was watching her be proven right.

“S-sorry, I think I got one or two more left in m-me,” Neal warned as his head tipped back slightly and his eyelashes fluttered shut once more before his lips parted with a wavering breath. “Hhihh—! Ihdktschh!… Hhkt’tshhh!… Ugh, there we go.” Sniffling, he looked back at her and froze when he saw what she was doing.

After a second or two passed, the thermometer beeped, and Elizabeth brought it up to her eyes to inspect. “Yeah, see? 98.5°! Hell, that’s even a tenth of a degree less than average. I have a negative fever, if anything.”

“El…” Neal sighed simply with a knowing, sympathetic pout etched into his features.

“Hm?” El hummed before her smile drained from her face. “Oh… I… didn’t clean this…” El murmured slowly through a wincing grimace.

“Nope.”

“… After you used it…”

“Nope.”

“… Did I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“… Well… shit.”

“Yeahhh,” Neal confirmed with a hissing inhale through his teeth and a few small nods.

“I’ll be right back,” Elizabeth muttered quickly before bolting out of the room without another word.

“Where are y—?” Neal tried to call after her, realizing halfway through that he wouldn’t get a response and giving up. “Okay, never mind, I guess,” he mumbled under his breath, resigning himself to wait for her to return.

His confused frown only deepened as he heard the thundering thuds of footsteps sprinting up the stairs and across the room above him. Then… the sound of a sink running briefly?

Although he wanted to keep listening for signs of what she ran off to do, his attention was demanded elsewhere as his lungs informed him rather cruelly that they didn’t exactly appreciate all the energy-consuming sneezing fits he had, unraveling him into a seemingly never-ending string of coughs so intense that he had to use the nebulizer again.

Ever the punctual man, Peter managed to arrive home with perfectly terrible timing, opening the door to find Neal alternating between hacking his lungs out and taking hits from his nebulizer. A concerned pout flooded his features as he shut the door behind him. Before he could even say anything or move to sit next to his partner in crime(-stopping), his partner in life came hastily running to the top of the stairs holding a bottle of mouthwash with a panicked look on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’re back!” Elizabeth exclaimed, a little out-of-breath. “You got it handled in here with Neal?” she asked.

“Uh, I… guess so?” Peter faltered in confusion.

“Great! I’ll join you guys soon,” she promised, immediately followed by taking a swig of mouthwash that she swished back and forth in her mouth as she ran back out of view, assumedly to spit it out in the bathroom sink.

“… What the fuck happened while I was gone?” Peter asked, almost unsure if he wanted to know the answer. Regardless, he sat down next to Neal on the couch and rubbed soothing circles into his CI’s back as the poor guy struggled to stop coughing.

Once he finally caught his breath, Neal clarified, “It’s fine, just, um. Elizabeth wanted to prove that she wasn’t sick, so she took her temperature with the thermometer I just used. Didn’t realize for a second, trying to disinfect her mouth now I guess.”

Honestly, not the answer he was expecting… although, Peter wasn’t really sure what he was expecting. But, he did know that Neal’s breathing sounded a lot more uncomfortable after that coughing fit, and he was worried about him. Again.

“Hey, maybe you should use this for a little longer. Don’t give me that look, you sound like you smoke cigarettes on the daily, Neal.” Peter muttered, still holding out the nebuliser towards him, before his attention was momentarily diverted to his wife coming back down the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” she chuckled sheepishly. “How’d working on the case go? Everything okay?”

“We made some plans, put out some hooks and bait. Just gotta wait and see if we get a bite.”

She turned to Neal after that, a sympathetic pout worn on her face. “Hey, Sneezy.” El teased a little, earning a smile from behind the nebuliser mask.

“Hi, Sneezy by proxy.” He mumbled, voice a little shot from all that had been happening.

“Touché,” El hummed with a chuckle, sitting next to her husband on the couch. “I’ll go look for the cough syrup for you… and, prep soup for dinner. Why don’t you lie down, sweetie?”

“I’m good, I’ve been sleeping 12 hours a day or more lately, I really don’t think I need to…” Neal trailed off with an ill-timed yawn into his hand that he couldn’t quite fend off. Before either Burke could comment on it, which they seemed damn ready to based on the way they were trying to pretend that they weren’t grinning or snickering a little, he backpedaled, albeit with an accusatory finger pointed at Elizabeth preemptively. “All right, fine, I’ll lay down for a little bit after downing some cough syrup. But you better wake me for dinner, okay?”

“Oookay, okay. You got it,” El chuckled, putting her hands up in mock surrender. As Neal started coughing and wheezing a bit more heavily again, her smile drained into a sympathetic frown. “Keep that thing on at least until we get that cough syrup in you, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Neal sighed, placing the nebuliser back up to his mouth and pausing for a moment… leaning against Peter’s shoulder with a small huff. Peter wrapped an arm around him, giving his shoulder a little pat.

“Neal, you gotta sit up for me. Cough syrup!” Elizabeth turned the bottle to read the label. “It’s cherry flavour. Is that okay?”

“I guess,” he murmured, removing the nebuliser and switching it off, making himself sit with a grunt of effort.

Elizabeth poured some into the cap, carefully handing it to him… only for Neal to just, wordlessly hand it back again.

“I’m fine, actually. I think I’ll stick with this.” He held up the nebuliser, scrunching his nose at the liquid medicine. Liquid medicine is the worst.

Peter turned to Neal, thinking for a moment. “I’ll take you to any art museum in the city, even if it’s outside your radius. If — if you take any meds El brings you.”

The offer was clearly too good to even try and negotiate with, as Neal reached for the medicine cap and downed it in one… trying hard not to gag afterwards. He fell sideways after that, landing against Peter’s side with a soft ‘oof’ as the older man steadied him, wrapping an arm around his side.

It wasn’t surprising to either El or Peter that Neal fell asleep shortly afterwards; his congested snores background noise, as the couple quietly whispered conversation together about what to do next.

What Safe Feels Like.

This fic has been a long time in the making! I have partnered with the talented bean, @rosieknows to create a lovely W/hite Co/llar, N/eal C/affrey centric fic for the winter season <3. The events that take place consist of our favourite conman getting lots of tender care at the B/urke's residence.

Part 1.

Word Count: Just under 5k.

CW: illness, snz (duh), contagion, a little later on in the fic. A tiny bit of mess, medical talk/topics.

Don't reblog to non-kink blogs. 18+ only, thank you! <33

Earlier in the week, Peter Burke had told Neal Caffrey to start wearing a coat outdoors — “weather’s changing,” he’d said, “you’ll catch a cold!” And, obviously, Neal had informed him that fact was merely a myth. Besides, the autumn sun was still shining two days ago and he was only walking a short way to the coffee shop and back. How bad could it really be…?

Perhaps the universe picked favourites that day, and, for once, Neal’s charm couldn’t save him. It could have been much worse, certainly, but as much as Neal tried to focus his mind on that belief, he couldn’t quite get himself to fully deny that it was very, very bad.

It was as if the second he’d gotten far enough away from the bureau, the heavens had opened above him and soaked him from head to toe before he’d even arrived at the coffee shop door. Which, by the way, was closed for the first time ever. And, so, Neal had to hurry across the street to another. The icing on top of the cake, though, was the taxi that drove through a puddle and splashed him when he finally reached the other side.

To say Peter got amusement out of all of this later on would’ve been an understatement.

Neal had been forced to wear some ancient-looking FBI training clothes for the rest of the day, and the scowl on his face didn’t falter for quite some time. He had eventually dried off and warmed up — Peter even started to feel a little bad, and gave him his suit jacket as a blanket at one point. When the day ended, the sun was shining and Neal felt right as rain again. Although, the same couldn’t be said for the morning two days later.

The first sensation that struck him was how utterly cold he felt, even wrapped up in his own bed and blankets, which he sleepily pulled tighter around himself. Perhaps the fickle autumn weather had turned for the worse during the night as it was so prone to do. The next feeling he was able to process was pure weariness like gravity had decided to be particularly insistent that his limbs stay firmly on the bed and lashed out in punishment when they did attempt to move. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well or had worked himself harder the previous day than he realized.

The third — or, well, the third, fourth, fifth, and so on for quite a few — sensations Neal felt were the nail in the proverbial coffin. An urgent, almost burning tickle budded in his upper sinuses, causing him to blink in irritation. Soon enough, the itch found its way to spread through the entire reaches of his nose. His eyebrows knitted together in slants, his breath caught in his throat, and his soft lips fell open before —

“Hihh! Hehhdtschh’uh! Hahh… hiht-ktschhh—tschhh!… Ugh, god,” he sneezed, ducking forward sleepily into his blanket since he had neither the time nor alertness to cover with anything else. Sighing in a mixture of relief and dread, he came to the conclusion that he was likely getting sick. Maybe if he was tired enough, felt cold enough, and pouted long enough, the cold would just take pity on him and leave. Unfortunately, to no one’s surprise, he still felt sick, which meant it was time for Plan B: work through it because it was a busy week and hope it didn’t get any worse. And, most importantly, hide it from Peter.

The warm shower seemed to help a little, but it didn’t take long for the aches to start creeping back in and for his sinuses to grow irritated again. Once he was dressed, with his hair styled and shoes tied. . . Neal was ready. Ready as he’d ever be, at least. Besides, he felt fine, for the most part. Downing some water should help his throat, and a couple of Tylenol should stave off the headache that he could feel brewing behind his eyes. Peter should be here any minute to pick him up, and Neal placed his hat — one of his favourites, both for comfort and in the hopes that looking well-dressed or put together enough would dissuade any suspicion — upon his head with a sigh. He can do this.

“Morning, Neal,” Peter greeted in his usual tone, toying with the heating in the car. “‘S cold out. I told you the seasons were changing!”

“Morning,” Neal muttered, climbing into the car and buckling up. “Y’know, you really missed your true calling as a weather boy.”

“That’s funny,” Peter remarked back, beginning to drive now. “But, I think my assets are best settled within the FBI. Criminals are more predictable than the weather if you know what you’re doing.” He chuckled to himself.

Neal stared out of the window at the passing cars and orange and yellow leaves on the trees that rolled by. He was still tired and quieter than usual, Peter noted mentally, watching him unbeknownst to the criminal consultant himself, who was still focused on their outdoor surroundings. He gave a slow blink, directing his attention to the heating that was uncomfortably too warm all of a sudden. Pushing the vent closed, he glanced sideways.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just quiet, that’s all. Quiet usually means up to something.”

“I can be quiet. It’s early. I thought you liked quiet, anyway,” Neal retorted, shifting slightly in his seat. He couldn’t get comfortable despite moving, crossing and uncrossing his legs.

The rest of the journey was left without questions, and they made it to the parking garage without any more issues. Neal got out of the car, rubbing at his nose whilst Peter couldn’t see him. He paused. This really wasn’t the time, but he’d have to play it off somehow because this discomfort wasn’t going to let up. Reaching down for the leg of his trousers, Neal stifled a well-silenced sneeze.

“Are you coming?” Peter called out, and as Neal raised his head again, he sniffled.

“Patience is a virtue, Peter! My anklet was stuck in my trouser leg. Appearance matters, you know.”

“Everyone here knows you’ve got the ankle jewellery, Caffrey. I’m sure you wouldn’t cause mass hysteria with a flash of your leg.”

“You’d be surprised,” Neal grinned mischievously, keeping up with Peter as they made their way toward the elevator.

The agent only rolled his eyes in response and pressed the button for the elevator, still none the wiser. For now. Neal had let Peter step in first, scrunching up his nose behind him, and then — somehow and with great difficulty — he managed to resist the urge to sniffle the entire way up to their floor. When the elevator dinged to a stop and Neal exited it, he was immediately hit by everything all at once: the brightness of the lighting, the overlap of voices, and the general sounds of the morning bustle. Usually, it was like white noise to him, but today it hurt his head, and the lighting did nothing to relieve the itch in his sinuses.

He pressed his wrist against his nose, haphazardly managing to prevent another sneeze before he followed quickly behind Peter. “I’ll be right there! Just grabbing something from my desk,” Neal called across the bullpen, ducking down behind his desk as if he were looking for something.

But, instead. . . “Hh—ushcht!” He buried his face into the crook of his elbow, frozen for a moment longer. “Hheh—htchht!” Followed by a series of long sniffles.

“Lost something, Caffrey?” Diana’s voice interrupted his small recovery period, and Neal flinched so hard in surprise that he bumped his head underneath his desk with a small thud. Damn it. He paused for just a second before swiping a pen from his pocket. Then, he stood up straight again, flashing the pen in her general direction, with a scowl crossing his features.

“Dropped my pen. Not a crime, last time I checked,” he muttered, placing it safely back into his pocket. After straightening his hat, Neal moved past her to get to the conference room.

Peter looked up at the sound of footsteps and silently wondered what Diana had said to the CI to make him look so disgruntled. “Nice of you to finally join us,” he dared to jest, waiting for Neal and Diana to sit before starting his talk for the day; they had to find a new case, as well as complete the paperwork from their last one. Of course, Neal wasn’t exactly amused by the briefing topic. Yet, he didn’t seem to audibly complain for nearly as long as he usually did. Huh.

Neal simply took the selection of case files that Peter slid towards him across the tabletop and found the one that he had to finish up. He opened the file slowly, tapping his pen against his forehead. He stared at the page for so long that he barely noticed Peter watching him from across the room.

“Neal. . . You good?” His voice snapped the CI from his daze, who was quick to shake himself out of it and flash a signature smile the agent’s way.

“Always. You know how much I love paperwork!” Neal responded, sarcasm evident in his tone.

“Wonderful, you’ll have plenty to enjoy,” Peter retorted with a dry smirk, placing another file in front of his partner. “Focus up; we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“How do you sound so happy when you say that?” the younger man groaned, leaning back in his chair with folded arms.

Still, focusing was easier said than done in this situation. Despite his best attempt at listening attentively, his mind felt fuzzy. Additionally, his nose still itched, causing him to scrunch it up slightly. He rubbed at it with the back of his hand in what he hoped was a casual gesture. Unfortunately, the touch seemed to be ineffective at best and intensifying at worst. Either way, he quickly tipped past the point of no return and crumbled forward into his fist with a sneeze, stifled into near silence as usual.

“Hihh—kKTtsh!” After a few blinks, he dared to peek at his coworkers’ reactions, hoping that the others had been as distracted as he was himself. For a moment, he thought he was lucky enough.

“Bless you, Caffrey,” rang a deep, feminine voice. Damn it. Diana was perceptive even in the most hectic of times, so it was only natural that she would notice a disturbance — slight as it was — during a particularly slow and dull meeting.

“Thanks,” Neal muttered softly, if a bit shyly. He saw Peter’s gaze flick to Diana and back at him. Clearing his throat, he examined the documents in front of him intently to prompt the continuation of the meeting.

Peter continued to talk about the writing they had to do, but Neal stopped listening some time ago and was mostly focused on trying not to sneeze again. He glanced at his handler every now and then to keep up the facade that he was listening, and turned a few pages of the file in front of him. As soon as Peter had finished talking and a small hubbub started up, Neal saw his chance, standing up and using the file as a shield to hide his face.

‘HnnKxt. . Heh’ngxt.’ Well, at least he’d gotten away with that one.

He even almost made it to the door without anyone saying anything about it until Peter spoke up from behind him. “You going somewhere?” He questioned, and Neal stopped. So close.

“To my desk…?” Neal replied, thankful for the fact that his voice barely sounded congested for the moment. “You can’t deny that I’ll get distracted in here.”

Peter frowned slightly before nodding. “Alright, but don’t try and get out of this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Neal murmured, hurrying to his desk; his nose was beginning to run, and he didn’t exactly want anyone to witness that. He pressed his silk handkerchief to his nose after sitting down, keeping his head held low and sniffling quietly. He went to the men’s room a minute later, waiting until it was empty so that he could blow his nose and splash some cold water on his face. This was going to be a damn long day.

He kept a low profile for as long as possible, dismissing Peter’s questions when he’d come over to see how he was doing and sneaking off to the men’s room whenever he could; by lunchtime, the congestion was worsening, and he had to keep sniffling to stop his nose from running too much. He barely even noticed Diana wandering over.

“Caffrey?” Her voice made him flinch slightly in surprise, but he managed to pull it off as a stretching motion.

Neal glanced up, blinking a few times. “Hm?”

“You’ve usually begged Peter five times to go on a coffee run by now… it’s already lunchtime.” Her eyebrows raised. “What gives?”

The CI shrugged, turning back to his papers and picking up his pen. He’d barely done anything yet, but he needed to keep up appearances.

“So, are you gonna go get some?”

“Huh?” Neal just really wanted her to go away because he wasn’t really listening, and his head was starting to ache.

“The coffee — Neal, are you okay?”

He plastered on a signature smile, hopping up to his feet. “I’m just messing with you, Diana. The usual drinks?” Neal asked, reaching for his coat on the back of his chair.

He made his way to the doors, turning when Diana called his name again. “Caffrey, do you want a sandwich? From that place down the block? Jones is buying!”

“No, thanks! I’ll get something at the coffee place.” Neal called back, only somewhat lying. He was getting something, and that something was coffee. Or maybe tea, actually.

•••

He was gone for slightly longer than usual, but nobody was going to question it. Neal ensured it didn’t take too long, however, or Peter would start to get antsy and probably call or text him a few times. He got everyone’s drinks and opted for green tea for himself — he could feel the buzzing in his sinuses worsening, not to mention the congestion was starting to properly settle in and clog up his nose now. Going outside hadn't exactly made it any better, either, and he was sniffling in the elevator the entire way up.

He carried the drinks into the conference room, setting them down on the table and exhaling slowly through his mouth as he stepped away. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to him — they were all busy eating their food, and Neal had to stop himself from audibly gagging. Did he really feel that bad all of a sudden? His hand reached forward to grab his cup whilst everyone else began helping themselves to their drinks. It wasn’t until he took a sip that he realised he hadn’t taken his own cup at all, and from Peter’s confused expression, he’d gotten the tea.

“Neal…” his voice started, and the CI wasn’t quite sure what would come next, so he butted in with a quick, haphazard excuse.

“Hey! You said it yourself, the weather’s changing. Tea will do you good.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the little white lie seemed to satisfy him for now, and everyone got back to what they were doing. To keep up appearances, he sipped the coffee for a while, trying to ignore the way it made his stomach turn. After around five minutes, he snuck out of the door and headed back to sit at his desk; if anyone were to question it, he’d make up the same excuse about needing to concentrate. The coffee was thrown into the trash the second he sat down, and a heavy sigh came afterwards.

•••

“God damn it,” Peter grumbled under his breath as he looked around the office. “Diana, Jones, have you seen Caffrey anywhere? It doesn’t look like he’s even so much as glanced at any of his work today.”

“Not in a while, no,” Jones answered, looking behind him to verify the absence, though if the CI had simply been standing in the middle of that open hallway, he probably would have been noticed by now. “He seemed kind of tired, though. Maybe he went home early?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Something feels off. I don’t think he’s just slacking off again,” Peter dismissed, forehead wrinkled in those signature frown lines and lips pressed firmly together in a mixture of concern and disapproval.

“Peter, your blood pressure’s high enough as it is,” Diana deadpanned, earning an offended head tilt from the man in question. “Go back to what you were doing; I’ll find your missing dog,” she reassured, already standing up without waiting for a response.

“I… all right. Thanks, let me know if you find him,” Peter relented.

“You gonna put up fliers?” Jones joked with an entertained smirk as he watched Diana beginning to leave.

“Nah, not yet. If I don’t see him, I think I’ll start with treats to draw him out. Maybe a nice Bordeaux,” she quipped in turn with a thoughtful expression. The clicks of her heels against the firm carpet seemed to echo more than usual as if the room felt emptier and quieter somehow. Though she tried to play it off, she had to admit to herself that she was worried; she’d felt that sour twist in her gut far too many times in her work and personal life to ignore it. She hoped he was all right, particularly since he wasn’t responding to texts or calls, and that she’d be able to find him soon if not.

It took less than 15 minutes, not due to any detective skills as an FBI agent either. While the office was large, it didn’t really take long to traverse, especially if you were familiar with it enough to avoid getting lost. Besides, the floor plan was quite open, and the majority of rooms had large glass panel windows, so they were easy to check. It was an older conference room, though, one without any indoor-facing windows or glass doors, where she found him.

“You good, Caffrey?” Diana asked, the light from the open door illuminating the scene before her just enough to see the CI in question asleep, lying on his back in the centre of the long, rectangular table. Seemingly, to cushion the otherwise flat, hard surface, he had rolled his suit jacket into a makeshift pillow to rest his head on. “Caffrey,” she called again.

“Hmmn?” Neal hummed groggily, stirring at the sudden noise. “‘M sorry… ‘s still on…” he mumbled almost entirely incoherently, fumbling around to pull his left pant leg up enough to reveal his anklet.

“Neal, you’re dreaming,” she offered in a gentler tone, heart twisting in concern. Fortunately, that seemed to bring him past the threshold into the waking world.

“Oh, hey, Diana,” he muttered, rubbing at his bleary eyes and blinking them open.

“We were looking for you,” she began, finally flicking on the ceiling lights of the room. “Are you—”

The sudden influx of light directly above him sparked a buzzing sensation deep in his sinuses that caused him to immediately crumple forward into his elbow. “Ehdt-ktschhh! H-huhh… ihdtsch! Heh’tischhh—dtschhh! Ugh…” Sniffling pitifully, he sat up properly and got off the table.

“Jesus. Bless you?” Diana said, scanning him over with her eyes.

“Thangks. Sorry, it’s, uh, the lights,” he replied sheepishly with another wet sniffle.

After a moment, she pulled out a travel pack of tissues from her pocket and handed them over to her coworker with a soft “here.” He flashed her a grateful smile and blew his nose quietly. “You, uh… get too tired to head home?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You could say that, I guess,” he muttered in embarrassment before the next words caught in his throat, sending him coughing into the tissues in his hand.

“You know you could just go home sick, right?” Diana prompted with folded arms.

“Yeah, sure, if I was sick, but I’m not, and we have work to do. Just needed to rest my head for a minute,” he insisted with his usual winning smile, though it didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes as much as it typically did.

“World’s greatest conman’s off his game, huh?” Diana prompted, folding her arms. “Do you really think that sounds believable?”

His lips opened with a lie about his health on his tongue, but he sighed in defeat instead. “It wasn’t that bad earlier, but it kinda just hit me all at once… sorry for disappearing out of nowhere.”

Diana hummed in acknowledgement before asking, “You have a fever?”

“Uh… probably a mild one? I’m not 100% sure,” he replied, touching his hand to his forehead and neck despite knowing it would be a fruitless examination.

“All right, c’mere,” she beckoned, though she closed most of the gap herself and began to feel his forehead for fever with the front and back of her palm.

“Heh-hh…” Neal’s breath caught softly, blinking before pressing his knuckles up against his nose.

“If you sneeze on me, I swear to god,” she warned.

“Hh-huhhh… hh!!” The pressure was quite clearly not enough to suppress the reflex any longer, so he turned as far away from her as he could—her taking a step back was likely still a wonderful decision—and ducked into the crook of his arm. “Hihhtschh! Huhhhhkdtsch! Ugh…”

“Bless you.”

“Thangks,” he replied, swiping a tissue under his running nose again and discarding it in a nearby trash can. “So, what’s my prognosis, Doc?”

“You feel warm.”

“If your career in the FBI doesn’t work out, you should really think about going into the medical field.” Neal sniffled, scrunching his nose in a poor attempt to stop it from running.

“Watch it, Caffrey. One doctor in the house is enough already—not that it would take years of medical training to know you need to go home and rest.” Diana pointed a finger at him, spending a moment assessing the situation. “Don’t move. I’ll be back.” With that, she simply turned around and left.

“Okay? I-I thought we both wanted me to go home right now? Diana?” The confused, half-hearted reply was not granted the slightest form of acknowledgement, except for the door closing behind his coworker.

Neal blinked slowly, unsure of what to do for a moment, before hopping down from the table and, noting how horrible standing up felt, taking refuge in one of the spinny chairs. She said to wait, so… something in him took the instruction to heart. Still, he was impatient to the very end and soon curled up in the chair for comfort, eyes blinking slowly and heavily, and maybe just having them shut for a moment would be nice—

“Did you fall back asleep again?”

The rhetorical question was from Diana, he was pretty sure, but he only really registered the presence of the words, not processing much else. Regardless, it quickly roused him from his short-lived respite of slumber, prompting him to sit up straight and rub at his drowsy eyes.

“Hmmn?” Neal mumbled with a small yawn, “Um, I might have dozed off a little?” He took another second to think about it. “Probably, yeah.”

“No shit,” Diana monotoned.

“Sleeping on the job, eh, Caffrey?” Peter teased.

“I doubt he’s been getting much work done with whatever plague he picked up from cold and flu season,” Diana shot back.

“Hey, I’m right here, you know?” Neal pouted. “It’s just a little cold, I’m fine.”

“If this is just something little, then I’d hate to see you with a full-blown flu,” Diana muttered, looking from Neal and then to Peter. “Peter’s taking you home.” She added, watching as her Boss’ expression turned to one of confusion.

“I am?” A pause. A ‘look’ from Diana. “I. . . Am.” He looked at Neal, properly looked this time. He did look pretty awful, and it was doubtful even the best of con men could manage to hide whatever it was he’d managed to hide up until now; his nose was red, he looked exhausted, and his cheeks were starting to flush. Not to mention how uncharacteristically unkempt he was looking.

“C’mon, Neal.” Peter stepped forward, holding out his hand.

It took them both a lot longer than usual to get downstairs and into the parking garage because a feverish Neal had decided to press multiple elevator buttons at once… and then tried to get into the wrong car once they finally did arrive, but they were eventually buckled in and ready to go.

“Never a dull day with Neal Caffrey around, huh?” Peter muttered, mostly to himself, as he started up the car engine.

“Never a dull… day with P’ter Burke… and his car..” Neal mumbled, sniffling and leaning to toy with the radio.

“Hey, no touching. Sit back and don’t meddle.” He began to drive towards the exit, ensuring to press the child lock button. Just in case.

No sooner than they were out of the building and driving into the sunshine, Neal shielded his eyes with his wrist and groaned.

‘Nnn’gxChht… xXchhht—oo.’ He sneezed into the wrist previously used to try and hide his eyes and sniffled thickly.

“Gesundheit,” Peter muttered, already stopping in a slight queue of traffic.

Neal didn’t answer, leaning his head against the window with a heavy sigh. Now that he was caught, he couldn’t pretend he was fine, and he hated the sense of looking… weak. Especially to Peter, which was a whole thing to analyse in itself. He just wanted to be alone, but he couldn’t now, and Elizabeth certainly wasn’t going to let him. Of course, he was grateful to have people in his life who cared about him like that, but it was new and it was different, and Neal Caffrey liked it when things went his way.

“You know you’re allowed to call in sick, right?” Peter spoke up again as the traffic started to move.

“You’re allowed to call in sick.” Neal sniffled, still leaning his head against the window.

There was a pause whilst Peter thought about Neal’s behaviour throughout the day. He was pretty good at hiding things. But…

“Did you even eat anything today?”

“Mhm.”

“And, I’m guessing the tea you brought me was not for me…?”

“Wow, real FBI agent over here,” Neal grumbled, lifting his head slightly to glance at Peter, only to be once again blindsided by the sun.

His handler sighed as they stopped at another red light. “There’s sunglasses in the dash,” Peter said after a moment, “they’re El’s. Blue eyes are more sensitive, right?” He questioned, watching Neal shrug out of the corner of his eye. The CI placed them on, seemingly relaxing a little more.

“Thanks,” Neal mumbled, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.

As Peter started driving again, he knew he wasn’t going to take Neal back to June’s. He’d only hide himself away and pretend everything was fine — while making himself worse in the process. Nope. Neal Caffrey was about to experience Elizabeth Burke’s expert bedside manner and Peter’s on-point tea-making skills.

•••

“Honey, is that you?” Elizabeth’s voice rang out from the kitchen, “You’re home early; it’s only three o’clock! Is everything—” The footsteps came to an abrupt halt as she joined the pair in the living room. “— oh.” The moment she laid eyes on Neal, she immediately understood why her husband had come home so soon.

Peter gave a sort of glance towards her that clearly said, “Help me,” and El chuckled softly. She pointed at Peter before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You, kitchen. And you,” she paused to tap Neal’s chest with her index finger. “Upstairs. Let’s get you something comfortable to wear.”

He just sort of looked at her, crystal blue eyes a little glazed over. “Hi, Elizabeth. Peter’s supposed to take me home, but he took a wrong turn,” Neal mumbled, watching his handler walk away.

“I think he took a very well-planned turn. Come on, honey, upstairs.” She ushered him towards the staircase, following behind. “You go to the bathroom to blow your nose, and I’ll get you some clothes. Neal, don’t give me that look. You sound terrible, and you can’t pretend you don’t.” Elizabeth sighed, reaching to help him with his suit jacket. “All that sniffling will give you a headache,” she chided gently. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She fetched some of Peter’s pyjamas, a blue plaid set he only tended to wear during particularly cold weather, and placed them outside the bathroom door. “I’m going to get you some blankets for the couch, okay? I’ll be downstairs; the clothes are right here. Neal?” Elizabeth frowned, reaching to tap against the bathroom door, awaiting an answer.

“Mhm,” came the stuffy, sleepy reply.

It wasn’t long before the CI was curled up on the Burkes’ couch, wrapped in blankets and resting his head against a pillow. He looked exhausted and much more dishevelled than Neal Caffrey would ever dream of looking in front of someone else. Both El and Peter stood by, watching as their house guest snored and exhaled congested breaths; he’d fallen asleep just minutes after resting his head down. Turns out that masking your symptoms all day was pretty tiring work.

“You can’t deny that he looks adorable like that,” El whispered, resting her head against her husband’s arm.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Peter muttered back quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist. He sighed.

#n/eal ca/ffrey sickfic #snz #w/hite co/llar #sneezeblr #snzfic #poor bb n/eal #part 3 of 4 #sorry this took forever to post i have a terrible short term memory lmao #sneeze

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simplegenius042 · 15 days ago

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youtube

#us politics #us govt #kamala harris #in regards to who was the better candidate #harris most definitely was far more qualified than the rotten tangerine #she wouldn’t have been a perfect candidate because no politician is. and we would still hold her to her words and promises #(especially in regards to holding netanyahu and his warmongering genocidal cabinet accountable for their crimes against palestine)#(plus the united states involvement in supporting israel)#but she would have been so much better than trump. the man whose whole schtick is lying and harming others to stroke his fragile ego #the man who is putting every minority community in danger of major harm and death because he’s an old miserable fart #who deserves to be behind a cell for every despicable act he committed to the civilians of the us and the ripple effects of his stupidity #on the globe and my country as well #a man who has convinced a country that he’s best for the economy even though he’s a fucking fraud who bankrupted himself and plummeted/ing #the very economy people voted for him to “fix” (even though biden had managed to clean up the disaster trump left behind)#he has literal nazis in his cabinet and is friends with dictators and threatens to go to war and is destroying key alliances with allies #the effect he’s leaving on the us has emboldened far right movements in germany and here in australia to adopt his policies.#he’s a failed fraud of a businessman. and harris is a respected and successful politician.#given the limited choices people had in the election… she was the far better option for the united states.#and just to clarify! no trump did not give a ceasefire to gaza. he wasn’t even in the office when that happened. biden did.#and just to confirm even further… trump had recently announced with netanyahu that they were gonna level the rest of gaza #and displace its inhabitants further. he is no friend of palestine and wants to help israel completely rid of it.#he is harming the united states with his incompetency and it is up to everyone to defy his every grab for dictatorship #and to call out trump and his cronies fascism. do not normalise it. do not let the media normalise it. nor maga and anyone else.#it may seem a little dark right now. I often feel that with how apathetic my aussie neighbours are to our own unstabilizing politics.#but you will survive. whether it be out of spite or for your loved ones. you will survive. we will get through this.#I hope everyone’s days are bright.#Youtube

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humanityinahandbag · 4 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 · 2 months 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 || kang dae-ho

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.

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