#SLIGHT AGE GAP

[wolverinesbuttcheeks]

“SILK AND SURRENDER”

Since yallls horny asses voted for it- here you go

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Innocent!Reader Setting: X-Mansion, midnight Rating: Explicit/READ AT YALLS OWN RISK (Smut, Soft Dom Logan, Innocent Reader, Consent, Tension, Dirty Talk) Word Count: ROUGHLY 3.5k

Goofy ass photo👆

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The hallway was silent. Midnight had long settled over the Xavier mansion, and most students and teachers were well into sleep. But you were thirsty — and unfortunately, the little mini fridge in your room was on the fritz again. You padded softly through the dorm hallway toward the kitchen, barefoot and unaware of the chaos your appearance was about to cause.

The silk of your nightgown whispered against your thighs. It was short — way too short. One of those gifts from Ororo that you hadn’t expected to actually wear. But it was soft and light, and with the summer heat, it was perfect for sleeping. You didn’t even think about how see-through it was in the moonlight.

At least… not until you reached the kitchen. And found him standing there.

Logan Howlett.

Muscle and scowl, shadowed jaw and heated eyes.

He stood shirtless, leaning against the kitchen counter, a half-drained beer in one hand. His eyes flicked up from the floor — and stopped dead on you.

Your breath caught. “Oh. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was awake.”

His eyes didn’t move. Not even an inch. You watched his jaw flex, teeth gritting like he was trying to physically restrain something inside himself.

You shifted awkwardly, feeling far more naked than you meant to be. “I just came to get some water…”

“You should turn around,” he said hoarsely, voice like gravel. “Right now.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

His knuckles whitened around the neck of the beer. “I’ve been holdin’ myself back for months. But you—”

His eyes finally broke contact with yours — and raked slowly down your body. You felt it like fire. Your skin prickled. Your thighs pressed together on instinct. That silk nightgown suddenly felt like a sin. And Logan… looked like he wanted to devour it.

“Logan…” you whispered.

“Don’t say my name like that.” His voice dropped an octave. “Not when you’re lookin’ like that.”

You took a slow step back, but not out of fear — it was instinct. His energy was like a storm, and you felt every second of restraint breaking in him. You knew about Scott’s warning. You were too “soft” for someone like Logan. Too “innocent.” But that never stopped the way Logan looked at you — like you were a prayer he wasn’t allowed to say.

“Scott told me to stay away,” he muttered, voice darker now. “Said I wasn’t a good fit for you.”

You swallowed. “And do you agree with that?”

He stared. Then shook his head once. “Not even a little.”

You moved closer again — tentative, your heart racing. “Then why did you listen?”

His jaw ticked. “Because I didn’t trust myself.”

He took a step toward you. Then another. The space between you closed until you were right in front of him — your head barely reaching his chest. You could feel the heat of him radiating off his skin. His hand came up but stopped just short of touching you.

“But you keep wearin’ little things like that,” he said lowly. “And lookin’ at me like I’m somethin’ you want, even though you don’t know the half of it.”

You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then show me.”

Something in him snapped.

His mouth crashed down on yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming. Teeth and lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth with a growl that made your knees buckle. You whimpered and pressed into him — silk pressing against bare skin. He grabbed your hips with both hands, big rough palms spreading over your waist, groaning as he hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for, sweetheart,” he growled against your mouth, kissing down your jaw. “I’ve had to watch you prance around this place for months — smellin’ sweet, wearin’ nothin’, gigglin’ with the boys like you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

He looked up, eyes burning. “You didn’t need to try. Every fuckin’ thing about you drives me crazy.”

You gasped as his hands slipped under the hem of your nightgown, sliding over your thighs. He was rough, but not careless — guiding your legs around his waist, his mouth never leaving your skin as he kissed down your throat, then lower.

“Can I touch you?” he rasped. “Really touch you?”

You nodded quickly, breathless. “Yes— Logan, please…”

That was all he needed.

He grabbed the silk and pushed it up, exposing your soft thighs and underwear. He groaned at the sight — actually groaned — and buried his face between your legs, dragging his nose up your clothed center with a growl.

“Fuck, you smell so good, baby… been dreamin’ about this for so long.”

Then he pulled your panties to the side and licked you.

You cried out, head hitting the cabinet behind you. The cold of the counter under your thighs, the heat of Logan’s mouth… it was all too much. You clutched his hair, legs tightening around his shoulders, helpless as his tongue swirled and licked and sucked like a man starved.

He growled against you, the vibrations shooting through your core.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Drippin’ for me. You ever been touched like this before?”

You shook your head, crying out. “N-No— never— not like this— Logan—”

That drove him wild.

He growled and stood, one hand trailing down to undo his sweatpants. You heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor — and then the weight of him, hot and heavy, pressed against your slick folds.

You looked down and gasped — he was big. Thick. Veined. And pulsing with need.

His hand cupped your face, eyes searching yours.

“You sure, darlin’?”

You nodded quickly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Please, Logan.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, even as his tip nudged your entrance. He pushed in, inch by inch — his breath hissing as he tried to go slow. You moaned loudly, clutching him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, forehead pressed against yours. “So fuckin’ warm— God, you’re perfect.”

He bottomed out with a groan — and then stilled. Letting you adjust. Letting you feel it.

Then he started to move.

Each thrust was deep and firm, like he was staking a claim. Your body wrapped around him like you were made for it — for him. His hands gripped your hips, your thighs, your waist. One of them cupped your breast through the silk and pinched your nipple, groaning at the little gasps you made.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.”

You sobbed against his neck. “S-So good — Logan, I can’t— it’s too much—”

“No, it’s not,” he growled, picking up speed. “You can take it. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good — squeezin’ me like a vice — you’re so innocent, but your pussy knows what it wants, huh?”

You whimpered, your walls fluttering around him. He smirked, proud and smug and feral.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You gonna come for me?”

You nodded rapidly. “I’m gonna— oh god— Logan!”

He kissed you hard as your orgasm hit — your body locking around him, crying out into his mouth. The way you pulsed around him made him snarl. He thrust twice more and then came deep inside you, hips jerking as he spilled himself inside your walls.

He held you there — trembling and full — for a long, quiet moment.

Then he nuzzled against your hair, still panting.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, dazed, smiling into his neck. “More than okay…”

He chuckled softly and kissed your temple.

Then the hallway light flicked on.

Logan immediately threw his body in front of yours as Scott’s voice rang through the room.

“What the hell is going on here—”

Logan didn’t even turn. “Get out, Summers.”

You peeked around Logan’s shoulder, blushing furiously.

Scott’s mouth opened. Then closed.

Then he turned on his heel and left.

Logan turned back to you, smirking. “Guess that answers your question about whether I’m stayin’ away.”

You giggled, still breathless. “Took you long enough.”

He kissed you again, slow and hot, fingers playing with the edge of your silk nightgown.

“You wear this again,” he muttered, “and I won’t be stoppin’ at the kitchen next time.”

The End.

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a/n: guys- I enjoyed writing this a lil too much…

I need help.

Logan Howlett masterlist😛

[vxsellie]

older!mechanic!ellie who tried so hard not to look at your ass when you first walked into her shop. but those jeans sat so perfect on your hips and so tight on your thighs that she simply couldn't help herself. oh, and when you walked up to her register, leaning forward just enough for her gaze to snag on your cleavage, tracing down the line between your breasts? yeah, she was fucking done for.

older!mechanic!ellie whose hands were always begrimed with some kind of grease, skin stained with irrevocable murk. she was a mess, admittedly, but she hadn't any reason to be any other way. she lived in a small apartment lacking in furniture, yet reeking of weed. weekdays were spent at the shop, working for the sole purpose of getting paid enough for rent. weekends, however, were when she allowed herself to live a little. by that, she meant getting high with her friends to rob random corner stores or getting drunk at random dive bars until she puked.

older!mechanic!ellie who never intended on settling down or getting in a serious relationship until she met you. there was something about your voice, your eyes, your soul made her want to fall to her knees and kiss the ground you walked on. perhaps it was just your body or perhaps it was something else entirely but, regardless, she was willing to give up everything for you.

older!mechanic!ellie who ended up fixing your car without so much as speaking a word to you. what she did do, however, was slip a piece of paper in your sun visor with her number scribbled onto it. maybe you'd give her a chance and she'd drop everything for you; or maybe not.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Hell Pride University 2: Charlie & Vaggie

Charlie: (unlocking the door to her dorm room, her workout clothes are slick with sweat and rain, cheeks flushed, and out of breath) Thanks again for *pant-pant* helping me out with my stamina and *huff-puff* endurance, Vaggie. I appreciate it.

Vaggie: (drops her soaked duffle bag off on the floor) No worries, Char. Thanks for letting me stay over while the storm passes o- (glances at the dorm) -ooooooh....

-The dorm has a queen sized bed, desk, full closet wardrobe, desk, and is twice if not three times larger than the regular dorms. Kitchenette stands in the corner with a personal shower and bathroom. Razzle and Dazzle are passed out in their oversized dog bed that's too big for them both-

Vaggie: ....Charlie.... why is your dorm room so huge?

Charlie: Oh! Uh! (pulls a spare set of sweat pants and hoodie out of her closet and passes it to Vaggie along with a clean towel) You know..... My dad's the dean of the college.

Vaggie: (takes the clothes and towel) .....And.... that gives you a damn near hotel suite for a dorm?

Charlie: (sweating and blushing) Would.... you believe me if I said I was the Hall Director and lived here full-time?

Vaggie: (jaw drops) Don't you need a master's degree for that? .....Wait.... That's a full-time JOB!!!

Charlie: Well... (pokes fingers together) I'm working on my graduate degree... so... my dad may or may not have pulled a few strings to get me the job....

Vaggie: YOU'RE GETTING YOUR MASTERS AND YOU WORK HERE?!?!?!

Charlie: Vaggie, it's not that bad!

Vaggie: I just thought you were late to going to school like me! How old even are you?!

Charlie: (mumbles and looks away bashfully)

Vaggie: What?

Charlie: ......almost thirty.....

Vaggie: THIRTY?!?!?! I'm twenty-four!!!

Charlie: ALMOST!!! ALMOST thirty!!! I still have two months, one week, and three days....

Vaggie: Ay, dios mio! (plasters her head against the dorm door) I'm interested in a woman who could have been my baby sitter....

Charlie: (perks up and eyes sparkle) You're interested in me????

Vaggie: I-I mean... Yeah... But I thought you were MY age!!! YOUNGER even!!! I was starting to feel like a perv because I thought you were eighteen!!!

Charlie: I'm the same person I was dying on the track fifteen minutes ago, Vaggie!

Vaggie: You probably know how to use a VHS player!

Charlie: I mean. I do, but that's beside the point. Also, they're called VCR's.

Vaggie: (flops onto the bed and groans) Clara and Odette are gonna have a field day when they find out.

Charlie: Clara and Odette? Oh! I didn't know you were a Carmine. I had those two come see me in the tutoring center when I worked there as an undergraduate!

Vaggie: ........of course they did.......

[big-poppa23]

Glass Heart: Part 5

synapse: her loyalty is tested when her true motives are questioned, forcing her to choose between maintaining her father’s approval and sticking to their plan—or risking everything to protect the one person who genuinely cares about her.

contains: kang dae-ho x reader, blood, death (it is squid game after all), slight age gap, hwang in-ho x daughter!reader, fluff, angst

parts: part one part two part three part four AU

a/n: this might be the last part of this series until season 3 comes out. hope you guys enjoyed it but I’ll have other posts coming out revolving around the squid game men. @lindsay00000

. . .

When she woke up, she found herself tangled in Dae-ho’s arms, his hold gentle but secure, her head resting comfortably on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, a rhythm she hadn’t realized she’d grown accustomed to.

The blaring wake-up music and the crackle of announcements over the speakers jolted her from the calm, and she slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Beside her, Dae-ho stirred, sitting up as well and offering her a small, tired smile—the kind that felt unguarded, real. For a moment, it almost felt normal.

“Good morning,” she murmured softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “It was definitely a good morning,” he said through the yawn. “Even though you snore.”

Her head shot up, eyes wide with surprise as a flush of embarrassment crept into her cheeks. “I snore?”

He burst into laughter at her reaction, the sound light and genuine. “No, you don’t.”

Her cheeks reddened further, but she couldn’t help the small smile that slipped through. “Jerk.”

He just grinned wider, standing up before helping her up. “Couldn’t resist.”

As soon as she stood up, In-ho’s gaze found hers from across the room. His expression was guarded, but his eyes held a swirl of unreadable emotions—ones she’d learned to recognize. They said one thing: We need to talk.

She sighed, offering Dae-ho a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.” With that, she made her way over to her father, her footsteps steady. “Yeah?” she asked, voice low but firm.

“You’re distracted,” was the first thing he said.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m focused.”

“Focused? On what? A player?” he said sharply.

Her jaw tightened. “I’m here for the mission. Same as you.”

He steps closer, voice lowering. “Then why do I get the feeling your motives have changed?”

A beat of silence stretches between them. She straightened, the steel returning to her eyes—the look she had when she first won the Games. “You raised me better than that. I’m here for the same reason you are—to keep Gi-hun in line, to keep order.”

In-ho studied her, searching her expression for cracks. Finally, he nods—barely. “I hope you’re right.”

She held his gaze, unflinching. “You taught me to be.”

She walked to the doors as the guards pulled them open for the next game. Without hesitation, she followed them out into the Stairwell Maze—a labyrinth of bright, unnatural colors twisting endlessly upward. Her footsteps echoed against the walls, but she remained silent, stoic, eyes fixed forward. Each step was a declaration, every breath a vow, to prove to In-ho that her reason for being here hadn’t changed. That she was still his daughter. Still loyal. Still unshaken. As she ascended the maze of vibrant staircases, her gaze never wavered, determination etched into every step.

Across the platform, Dae-ho, mid-conversation with Jung-bae, looked up and his eyes found her instantly. His words faltered, the conversation slipping from his mind. Without another thought, he muttered a quick excuse and hurried after her, footsteps light but purposeful.

Jung-bae watched him go, a knowing chuckle escaping his lips. “Young love,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head with a grin.

Dae-ho fell in step beside her on the twisting staircase, matching her pace effortlessly. His presence was warm, steady—a contrast to the stark, surreal walls surrounding them. “For this next game,” he began, his voice soft but confident, “would you like to team up again?”

She glanced at him, the practiced coldness still on her face—but the moment her eyes met his, the tension slipped away. His gaze was steady, kind, unyielding in its warmth. Her expression softened before she could stop it. A light nod, a small smile. “Of course.”

He smiled back, and for a moment, the maze didn’t seem so suffocating.

Her smile lingered for just a moment before it faded, replaced by a flicker of tension. She knew what the next game was. It was brutal. Unforgiving.

The thought made her grip the railing just a little tighter, her footsteps slowing as if instinctively seeking his presence. Despite her resolve to prove herself to In-ho, to show him she was still focused, still unyielding, the idea of facing it without Dae-ho at her side to protect him felt unbearable. For reasons she couldn’t quite admit, she needed him there. And for now, that was enough.

The room was vast and brightly lit, almost disorienting in its vibrancy. In the center stood a large circular platform, polished and smooth, while brightly colored doors lined the walls, each marked with a bold number above it. Whispers rippled through the players, eyes darting nervously from the platform to the doors. This was it. The next game: Mingle. She knew, it was one of her picks of this year’s game.

A voice crackled through the speakers, loud and authoritative: “All players, 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.”

Her heart thudded as the instructions echoed across the room. Beside her, Dae-ho turned, his eyes locking onto hers with a determination that steadied her. “We stick together,” he said firmly.

She nodded without hesitation. “It’s a team game. No matter what number they call, we stick together.”

The two of them moved onto the platform, blending into the crowd of anxious faces. Once everyone was on, there was a brief pause, a silence heavy with anticipation. Then, with a metallic groan, the platform began to spin, then picking up rhythm. The children’s song “Round and Round” blared through the speakers, eerily cheerful against the rising tension.

She steadied herself, eyes scanning the colored doors as they blurred past, the numbers flashing by. Her hand brushed against Dae-ho’s, a silent promise that they wouldn’t separate.

Dae-ho’s hand tightened around hers, firm and unyielding. The platform lurched to a halt, and the voice crackled through the speakers: “Ten.”

Chaos erupted as players scrambled, hands clawing for the nearest doors, shoving and shouting to make it inside. She and Dae-ho stood firm, eyes sharp, movements calculated. They found their group and slipped inside just before the doors slammed shut.

And then platform spun again. Another stop. Four. Then again. Three. More scrambling, more shouting. People turned desperate—alliances shattered, strangers dragged into rooms to make up the numbers. Six.

Each call was a countdown, bodies thinning with every announcement. Her heart pounded, but her grip on Dae-ho never faltered and they never left each other’s side during each round.

Finally, the platform slowed, its metal groaning under the weight of its final spin. Only 126 players remained. Her breath hitched, her mind already racing. She knew what was coming—had known it from the beginning. She squeezed Dae-ho’s hand tighter, the tension radiating through her fingertips.

He looked at her, brow furrowing in concern. “You okay?”

Her eyes locked with his, unblinking. “It’s going to be two. Two in each room.”

He didn’t question it, just nodded, bracing himself as the platform finally stopped. Silence hung heavy for just a moment. Then, the voice announced, clear and unyielding:

“Two.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Come on!” Their hands locked, they moved as one—no hesitation, no doubt. If this was the end for everyone else, it wouldn’t be for them. They sprinted, weaving through panicked players. The bright green door marked with a bold “4” came into view, its edges glowing with artificial light.

But they weren’t alone. Two others—a girl and a guy—saw it too, sprinting with desperation etched into their faces. Her heart pounded, adrenaline burning through her veins. “Go!” she shouted, shoving Dae-ho forward with all her strength. He stumbled into the room just as the girl latched onto the edge of the door, fingers gripping tight as she tried to force her way in.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Her eyes flashed with instinct, the 15 year old survivor mindset in her roaring back to life. Her hand shot out, fingers twisting into the girl’s hair, yanking her back with brutal force. The girl screamed, hitting the ground hard, her hands flailing to catch her balance.

The guy with her lunged forward, arm outstretched to grab the door. She reacted instantly, swinging her leg and kicking him square in the chest, sending him sprawling backward.

No apologies. No time.

She turned, slipping inside and slamming the door shut just as the timer flashed: 01… 00.

The lock clicked into place. Outside, muffled screams, gunshots and chaos faded into silence. She exhaled sharply, her back pressed against the door.

Dae-ho stared at her, eyes wide, chest heaving. “You didn’t have to-”

“Yes, I did.” Her voice was firm, unyielding. She straightened. “I’m not losing you.” He swallowed, something like gratitude, shock and disbelief mingling in his gaze. She met his eyes, unflinching. “We stick together, remember?”

Dae-ho stood there for a moment, chest still heaving from the rush. His eyes softened as he looked at her—really looked at her. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

She stiffened at first, her body tense and unyielding. But the warmth of his embrace—the safety of it—melted her resistance almost instantly. Her arms slid around him, clutching him tightly as if he might disappear. Her voice was muffled against his shoulder, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you to die.”

His grip tightened just slightly, a hand coming up to the back of her head. “I know.”

. . .

The heavy steel doors clanged shut as the remaining players shuffled back into the dormitory, exhaustion and anxiety weighing down every step. The silence was thick, broken only by hushed whispers and the occasional clatter of metal trays.

She sat on the edge of a bunk bed, fingers absently fidgeting with the necklace around her neck, her gaze distant and unfocused. The lights flickered above, casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. Around her, players lingered in tense anticipation—waiting for either the prize update or the next vote announcement.

The bed creaked slightly, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced up to see Dae-ho standing there, his expression warm and reassuring. She couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face as she scooted over, making room for him.

He settled beside her, the space between them disappearing easily.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice almost gentle in the grimness of the room.

He met her gaze with that familiar smile. “Hey.”

There was a pause, comfortable but heavy with unspoken fears. She glanced around, then back at him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you worried about the vote? Since a lot of people voted to stay last time?”

Dae-ho exhaled, his eyes flickering toward the others who murmured anxiously about their chances. “A bit,” he admitted. “I can only hope some change their mind and want to leave.”

She studied his face, noting the worry hidden beneath his calm exterior. Her fingers stilled around her necklace, and for a moment, she allowed herself to hope too. “If they don’t…” she started, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Then we survive. Like we always do.”

And though the room was filled with dread and desperation, in that small corner of the dormitory, there was a spark of determination that refused to die.

Her breath caught in her throat as Dae-ho’s words hung in the air, delicate and unexpected. She merely nodded.

She could feel the shift in the space between them, the tension in his voice that betrayed the careful hope he was trying to hide. “But if we do get to leave…” he trailed off, his gaze drifting to the floor, nervousness lacing his words.

She tilted her head, studying him with curiosity. “What?”

He glanced back at her, his eyes hesitant but sincere. “If we all get to leave, I don’t want to forget about all of this completely…” His gaze dropped again, focusing on his shoes, as if ashamed of the vulnerability. “If we get out, I’d like to find you again and…”

Her heart thudded in her chest, the words hanging like a question she wasn’t sure how to answer. She waited, breath held. “And…?”

Dae-ho’s voice dropped to a near whisper, his words barely audible but enough to stir something deep within her. “Take you out on a date,” he said, his face flushing slightly, as if the idea itself might be a risk. “A real date where we’re not running for our lives…”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her pulse quickening. She hadn’t expected this. For a moment, time seemed to slow. Her mind raced, trying to process the weight of what he was offering. The thought of a life after all of this—of normalcy, of peace, of something as simple as a date. It felt impossible in the shadow of the Games and In-ho, but his words…they pulled at her. She swallowed, the surprise still dancing in her chest, but she couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips. Her heart was racing, but in a way that felt warm and real, not driven by fear or survival. “I’d like that,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. The weight of the Games, the constant threat of death, the brutality they had endured—all of it seemed a little easier to bear now.

Dae-ho looked at her, the relief flooding his face as he grinned. “Really?” In that moment, amidst the uncertainty and danger of their world, they both found something to hold onto—a future that could be, maybe.

She nodded with a small smile.

The flickering lights above cast long shadows across the room, but for them, the world felt smaller—quieter. His confession lingered in the air, weaving something fragile yet unbreakable between them.

Her hand slipped into his, her fingers intertwining with his without hesitation. “But for now…” she began, her voice steady and sure. “If we don’t get what we want from this vote, I’m with you. We survive, and I won’t leave your side.”

Dae-ho’s eyes softened, his grip tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in her words. “I won’t either.”

Silence stretched between them, comfortable and full of understanding. But then, his gaze flickered upward, meeting hers cautiously. His cheeks flushed, and he hesitated before speaking. “Um…can I…?”

She raised her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth lifting in amusement. “May you…?”

He swallowed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “May I…?”

Her expression softened, eyes brightening with something unguarded. Before he could finish, she leaned forward, her lips brushing his in a gentle, fleeting kiss. It was soft and unhurried, lasting only a moment before she pulled back, her eyes meeting his with a hint of playfulness.

“You don’t need to ask every time.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but her smile was unmistakable. “I’m happy you want to kiss me.”

Dae-ho blinked in surprise, then grinned, cheeks flushing a deeper red. “Then I’ll remember that,” he murmured, his hand still holding hers tightly, neither one willing to let go.

Dae-ho leaned forward, his hand gently cupping the side of her face, as if he were afraid to let the moment slip away. His lips met hers again, but this time, the kiss was different. It was slower, more deliberate—like he was trying to savor it. Each second felt weighty, as if he was imprinting the sensation into his memory, knowing that in this world, nothing was certain, and moments like this might never come again.

She responded instinctively, closing her eyes as her other hand found its way to his chest. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from the raw, real connection between them—a connection that had survived the darkest places. The kiss deepened, both of them lost in the fleeting sense of something they could hold onto, something that felt like it could endure despite everything else.

When they finally pulled back, breaths shallow, both of them were quiet for a long moment. Dae-ho’s forehead rested against hers, his eyes closed as if to capture the moment before it disappeared.

“I don’t know what’s coming next,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion, “but I’ll hold on to this. To you.”

She nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the fabric of his jacket. “I’m right here. And I’m not leaving.”

In that silence, amid the looming uncertainty, they both understood something—they were in this together, for as long as they could be. And no matter what the future held, they’d face it side by side.

Maybe In-ho was right. Her plans had shifted. What had once been a mission—staying undercover, keeping Gi-hun in check, blending into the shadows of the Games—no longer seemed like the most important thing.

As she sat there with Dae-ho, feeling the weight of his hand in hers, she realized just how much had changed in her heart. The mission was still there, but it wasn’t the only thing anymore. Her purpose had become simpler—to make sure he made it out alive. The Games, the rules, the manipulation, the players—it all faded in the background when she looked at Dae-ho. His presence was the only thing that mattered now, more than any strategy or survival instinct she’d trained herself to have.

She couldn’t help but think about what In-ho had said. You’re distracted.

And maybe she was. She was letting her guard down for him. Because Dae-ho had become more than just a fellow player in the Games. He was someone she cared for—someone worth fighting for in a world that had long since stopped caring about anyone.

Her mind raced with the realization that the Games were not just a fight for survival anymore, it was about protecting him—keeping him safe, making sure he stayed by her side through all of it. It wasn’t a decision she’d made lightly, but it was one she couldn’t ignore. She was no longer just to challenge Gi-hun's beliefs and ensure the games continued. She was playing to make sure Dae-ho got out alive, no matter what. She just didn’t know how In-ho would take her chance of her heart, even though she didn’t plan to tell him anything.

[missaster]

New Landoscar oneshot!

Hi guys!

I've been working on my short story skills and also with the Lestappen drought I kinda fixated on the Mctwinks a little bit too much, soooo...

Read Part I. on Ao3:

Papaya hoodie

A university students Landoscar AU inspired by these two pictures.

Summary:

Lando does not excatly want to be here, at Logan Sargeant's house party, but his cousin Daniel can be pretty persuasive. The guest arriving a little late changes his mind though.

[martian-writes]

I always god of death Katsuki. And god of life izuku. So i revsered it.

[iimplicitt]

THE DARK IS PATIENT | PT. IV

anakin skywalker and ahsoka tano

part three

PART FOUR: APPRENTICE: OLD AND NEW

Ahsoka stood in the middle of her room, arms crossed and bottom lip tucked between her teeth. She had been gnawing on it so much that it had gone raw and started to bleed but she didn’t pay it any mind. Pain to her now was just a companion, one that hovered over her shoulder. She had been so sure it was a mental obstacle but over time it seemed to bleed into each of her limbs poisoning her bones and blood and she didn’t feel right.

She knew she was still young, but now with war worn at her edges it felt as though she had lived many lifetimes and she was tired. There was always the thought of just stopping, but she knew there would be no rest while the Empire was still the ruling interest of the galaxy. Ahsoka paced, her shoes scuffing along the floor as she debated on what to do. Should she lie low or flee? Running felt cowardly but it didn’t feel like she had much of a choice. The Empire wasn’t known to come peacefully and with her luck she’d most likely cause a scene. And if she was provoked or had to protect someone, Ahsoka couldn’t not fight.

Besides, she was still relatively new so it wasn’t like it would be some mystery if she left out of the blue. People weren’t depending on her besides drunkards at the bar she worked at and Marta would be fine on her own for a couple of days. Ahsoka had made sure to restock on whatever food she had eaten and cleaned up just so the woman wouldn’t have to do too much heavy lifting. With a huff she made up her mind and began packing light. Shoving whatever she thought might be necessary into an old and worn bag.

There was a light knock on the door and she turned to see Marta leaning against the wall. “Going somewhere?”

“For a few days.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

Ahsoka shook her head, to put it elegantly she was ‘winging’ it, but on top of that the less Marta knew the better. “Exploring I guess, I never got the chance to and I figured what better time than now?”

“I know it’s to flee the Empire but what you might find out there won’t be any better.”

Pausing, Ahsoka turned to Marta with a brow raised. “Meaning?” She knew she could handle herself, but admittedly with the lack of her sabers some obstacles might prove to be a bit more difficult now.

“Have you heard of Tusken Raiders?”

Her heart fluttered a bit and it seemed as though the air was ripped from her lungs. Yes, she had heard of them. Her Master had told her the story of how his mother was taken and tortured. How he had wanted to go to her because he knew something was wrong but the Order told him he had to ‘let go’ because somehow they thought it was so simple.

That spark of hatred flared again, heating her up and her veins boiled and she wanted to scream as it scorched her. How could they expect him to do nothing? Regardless if she was his mother or not, she was in pain and needed help and they refused her. Ahsoka got dizzy with the storm raging inside her mind and she begged for it to be quiet.

It’ll be alright, Ahsoka. His voice called out to her through the flames and she took a deep breath. His voice was a lull that sent a comforting blanket of warmth spilling over her like warm water and she took a steadying breath. The past few days Anakin’s echoes had been scaring her, making her feel anxious and worried there was some sort of trick involved. But now, with those reassuring words, it truly felt like her Master and it hit her how much she missed him.

She licked her lips and turned back to packing. “I’ve heard of them, but don’t worry about me. I may not look like it but I can handle myself.”

Marta tsk-d and waved a hand. “There’s fire in your eyes, child. You have rage, I think you’ll be just fine. I just wanted you to be prepared.”

Ahsoka’s back stiffened. She wasn’t rageful.

After packing what she could, Ahsoka swung her leg over a speeder and waved goodbye to Marta. She promised she’d be back in a few days and she sent a request to the Force to keep the woman safe and only hoped it hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

Kicking on the power, the heat of the suns beat down on her before everything went blurry as the speeder took off. Wind ripped past her and she lowered her goggles over her eyes to protect them from the sand tearing past her. She wasn’t sure when she should stop, but Ahsoka didn’t want to be able to see the town behind her, even then that didn’t feel enough.

I’m coming for you, Ahsoka.

Despite the wind roaring, his voice was clear and crisp, ringing in her head like warning bells and she shivered. Maybe she’d keep going until his voice faded but she knew wherever she went, Anakin might follow.

-

The Executor-class Star Dreadnought fell out of hyperspace and the sandy planet reared its head in front of the ship like a monster spooking a child.

Anakin clenched his jaw as he observed the planet from the viewing wall on the bridge, his hands clasped behind his back and his metal hand clenched so hard it started to creak from the pressure. He hated this planet and he had hoped he’d never have to see it again after the last time he had left. Part of him wished to blow it up, the satisfaction of just imagining it gave him a thrill. There were too many memories hidden in those sandy dunes, echoes of his past he wanted to forget but knew he never could. His time as a slave and the beatings, the hot sand and searing metal, the hunger and thirst. Then the Jedi whisked him away from his mother to lead a better life but turned a blind eye to the hell they had left her to.

Padme thought the planet was beautiful. She always saw the good in things even when they weren’t there and perhaps that was part of what made him love her. Anakin had adored everything about Padme, all the millions of little pieces that came and fit together to form the most perfect woman he had ever had the privilege of knowing.

He had been so happy she had been able to meet his mother when he was a boy. He knew right there and then he would marry her and he was joyous at the fact his mother seemed to adore Padme as well. Then they had come back, and the next time Padme saw Shmi Skywalker, she was a beaten corpse wrapped in dirty cloth ready to be laid to rest.

Anakin’s eyes burned and he turned his gaze down to his shoes, feeling hot tears streak down his face and he felt like screaming. No, he couldn’t blow this forsaken planet up. Not while his mothers body lay on its surface. Even if he wanted to take her somewhere else he knew he couldn’t. This was the only home Shmi had known and despite her grim death, her last few years on the planet had been happy. She had been free and gotten married, even taken in a step-son.

He had nearly forgotten about his stepbrother and a passing thought of visiting him crossed Anakin’s mind but he flicked it away. He couldn’t care less if the man was alive and he was sure Owen wouldn’t be too pleased at the sight of the Empire on his doorstep.

Tatooine birthed monsters and he was sure he had been the worst to emerge from it yet.

La’vena came to stand beside him, crossing her arms over her chest and her golden eyes flicked across the planet's surface. “Do you think anyone will recognize you?”

He cast her a sideways glance, “perhaps.”

“And what will you do when that happens?”

Anakin turned and smiled, “I trust you’ll deal with that.”

“Making me do all the dirty work?”

“Is that not your job?” He teased and he watched as La’vena’s hard surface of an expression crack to give way to a small smile. She was always so serious, which he did appreciate but lightening up now and again would keep him as sane as he could be.

He had found her shortly after the Order and the Republic fell. He had been scouting for Inquisitors when he landed on Naos III, it being a frigid moon in wild space and chaos had greeted him. Finding those who are Force sensitive came easy to him, it was as if he was moving through water getting pulled by a current that would take him where he needed to go.

That current led him to a cave that was a part of the moon’s volcanic system and he saw her eyes glowing, reflecting the gleam of the lava and he could feel the Force rolling off of her in waves. She was weary, which he couldn’t blame her for. To almost all he was Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi who everyone thought was dead and now there he had stood in front of her.

La’vena had no love for the Jedi, she had made her point clear when she lunged for him. He had side stepped her easily, his hands never unclasping from behind his back and she had let out a scream of aggravation and hurled a large boulder at his head using the Force.

“You lack control.” He had said calmly, halting the large rock in mid air and set it down gently. La’vena’s face twisted into rage and she came running at him again but Anakin didn’t even blink when she suddenly froze. Her entire body being held captive mid run and her eyes were wild.

“Come with me.”

“Why would I do that?” she said in her native tongue Twi’leki and it had a sharp sting to it.

Anakin walked up to her slowly, a smile stretching his lips as he did so and he leaned down so they would be at eye level. “You have great potential. Let me train you.”

“Train me?”

He nodded and stepped back. “I’m offering you a job. You’ll get out of this cave and get to travel the stars. Isn’t that what everyone wants?” After eyeing her for a moment, he searched the Force to see if she had any further malevolent intent but all he could feel was her curiosity. So, after another moment, he let her go.

La’vena stumbled and fell to her knees at his feet and she looked up at him. “Are you Jedi?”

Anakin laughed and the sound was rueful. “No.” Then he held out his hand, and after a long pause, she took it.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the viewing wall. “I’ll be staying in the shadows, there’s no need to cause a fuss. We’re here to get her and then we’re leaving.”

“Surely you still want to recruit, no? The more troopers the better.”

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want anyone from this planet enlisting.”

La’vena furrowed her brows but with the look on his face she chose not to question him. Another difference between her and Ahsoka. “What will you do with her when you find her?”

“That,” he said and turned to walk away. “Is my business. My orders have been clear, you will not kill her but capture her by any means. And don’t doubt her, she’s powerful.”

La’vena snickered. “How powerful?”

Anakin looked over his shoulder as the bridge door opened. “Well, I did train her.”

Her eyes widened and she rushed to his side as they walked down to the hangar where his ship was waiting. “She was your apprentice?”

“When I talk do you fall asleep or am I just that boring?”

La’vena raised a shoulder in a partial shrug. “I don’t care for tales of Jedi.”

“Ahsoka Tano is no Jedi, so be mindful. She’s killed a handful of my Inquisitors already.” Despite himself, Anakin couldn’t help but smile. He was proud of her, and he always would be. He had taught her to survive and she did, day by day and he hoped she would keep hanging on until he finally found her.

As they boarded his ship and it departed for the planet below, he did wonder how their reunion would go. He could be wishful and think that it would be filled with happy tears and crushing hugs. Much like how he thought his reunion with Padme would have been when he saw her step off her ship on Mustafar. But now he knew better, they didn’t always understand and he had no reason to get his hopes up. But with Ahsoka, he knew it would be different because she was different. They had spent almost every waking hour together and had gone through the hell of battle more than a hundred times. They were one and she knew first hand how wretched and outdated the Jedi were. She knew him, and he hoped her care for him had not dwindled in the time they had been apart.

She had walked away from him because he, like the Order, had failed to protect her and he swore it would never happen again. He wouldn’t let her down, not this time.

part five

[madeinjapan-thailand-blbambeyond]

MADE IN THAILAND

Series: My Stubborn

YONGYUT TERMTUO

[Nickname: BOAT]

PASAKORN SANRATTANA

[Nickname: OAT]

[big-poppa23]

Glass Heart: Part 3

synopsis: In 2023, y/n and in-ho enter the games undercover to keep an eye on player 456. focused and cold, y/n doesn’t expect to fall for a kind player who slowly breaks through her walls—and makes her believe in something beyond survival and the compassion her adopted father shows her.

contains: kang dae-ho x reader, blood, death (it is squid game after all), slight age gap, hwang in-ho x daughter!reader, fluff, angst

a/n: the teaser for squid game season 3 is coming out later today and I’m so excited so I had to publish this already. also to clear up confusion, 2020 is when season 1 took place and 2023 is when season 2 did.

part one part two part four

. . .

2020

She stood in privacy of her adoptive father’s entertainment room as she poured a glass of whiskey before carrying it to In-ho who was watching the many new players during the first game Red Light Green Light. In-ho gently grasped the glass. “Thank you,” he said softly before taking a sip.

She, now 19 years old, nodded in response before sitting beside him with her arms crossed as she also watched the screen. She’s no longer just the Front Man’s daughter—she’s his right hand. The screen displays the chaos below —the remaining 456 players frozen in terror on the field. The doll’s head whirs, eyes scanning, gunfire echoing each time someone stumbles.

“First game always draws the lines,” In-ho said softly.

She smirked slightly. “Fear separates the fools from the fighters.” Her tone is confident but steady. She watches with a sharp eye, noting the smallest movements. One player stumbles but doesn’t fall as Player 199 managed to grab his jacket before he fell, both staying steady as the doll’s eyes scanned over the arena. She pointed to the screen. “Player 199. Reflexes like that? He’ll last.”

In-ho nods slightly, proud. Not just of her skill, but of who she’s become. “You were like that once.”

“Yeah but I looked better in that tracksuit,” she replied with a small grin.

They share a quiet laugh. No tension. No masks between them–just a father and daughter watching a deadly tradition they now control.

She glances up at him, serious for a moment. “You still think about the ones who didn’t make it? When you were a player?”

He nodded. “Every day.”

She nods slowly, gaze returning to the screen. “Then we have to make sure this place runs cleaner. Smarter. Less waste. No more monsters in red suits—just order. Everyone gets treated fairly, Dad.”

In-ho places a hand gently on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you. You’re ready for more.”

She gently places her hand over his, giving a gentle squeeze before turning back to screen. And as more players fall, she sits still—stoic, sharp, and unshaken. No longer prey. She’s part of the machine now—but one with a mind and heart still very much her own.

. . .

2023

Three years have passed since Player 456 has won the games and In-ho’s brother found the island. And the most recent games have been going on as usual even with Oh Il-nam passing away. That was until their recruiter made a call that Player 456 (or his actual name was Gi-hun) was looking for the Front Man, wanting to put a stop to the games…That didn’t really work in his favor as In-ho was already ready to which Gi-hun requested to be in 2023 games to prove a point but it was different from the last time he was there. Y/N made changes to the rules and voting system over time. It still wasn’t enough for In-ho. He was gonna do what Il-nam did years ago and go in as a player to keep an eye on Gi-hun. But Y/N wasn’t going to let him do it alone. She once vowed to never go back into the Games but it was different. She wouldn’t be put in harm’s way this time. The guards knew better, what would happen if a hair was touched on her head by them. As for the players, the more unstable ones, she could take them down much better than she could’ve seven years ago, thanks to the years of fighting In-ho made her learn.

So here she was. Back in the player’s dormitory right after Red Light Green Light back in a much larger version of her tracksuit with the number 173 on the back. She sat on a random bunk bed nearby, watching her dad “ask” for help about the next games from Gi-hun and why he came back.

She listened occasionally, her fingers lightly drumming against the unopened food container for the players. She wasn’t hungry, she ate a bigger lunch before she came into dorm with In-ho.

She looked around, seeing Player 388 scarf down his food on his nearby bunk.

“Excuse me,” she spoke as he looked up, mid-chewing. “Would you like to have my food?”

His eyes ran over her briefly as if concerned yet confused why a small girl like her wasn’t eating. “You don’t want it? You’re not hungry?” he asked, his cheeks stuffed with rice.

She shook her head. “No, after what I saw in that first game, I lost my appetite,” she lied. “And I don’t really like eat eggs.”

He looked like he was contemplating, between being hungry and not wanting to look like a slob. After a moment, he quickly nodded to which she passed him the box of food as he set aside his empty container. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “No problem.”

Player 388 looked at her as he opened the new box of food. “You should eat next time though. You’re gonna need your energy for the next game.”

She nodded slightly. “I will.”

He eats while she turns back to listen to Gi-hun and In-ho argue about the votes. After a moment, there’s a tap on her shoulder. Player 388 passes her the box back. She looks at it to see half of the rice on one side with half of it gone, the egg was gone and there were two fish sausages left with some kimchi almost like he rationed it for her.

She looked at him confused and he simply said, “We don’t know the next time we’ll eat. In case you change your mind.”

She nodded gently. Last time she was in the Games, no one was kind enough to share food. In fact, people tried to steal it from her and she was a teenager at the time. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

She started eating the food but kept watching and listening to In-ho, Gi-hun and Player 390 talk. As well as did Player 388.

He noticed her focused expression on the conversation. “You think he’s really a previous winner?”

She looked back, realizing he was talking to her. “I think so. He knew what he was doing last game. I just hope he can give me and my dad some advice for the next game.”

“Your dad is here?”

She nodded, looking over to In-ho. “Player One. That’s my father.”

“Oh…” was all he said.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself. Something about Player 388 was so endearing.

After a minute, he got up, standing next to her bunk and spoke up to the three. “We have to stick together. I’m with you all the way.”

Player 390 looked at him. “Who are you?”

“My good sir.” He stood in front of them. “I’m Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho.”

She mouthed his name to herself, keeping it in mind to remember it. She smiled slightly, realizing his name meant ‘big tiger’. “I like your name.”

Player 388 or Dae-ho grinned pridefully at that as he explained how when he saw Gi-hun helping during the game, he became a fan. “I’d like to get to know you, sirs…and woman. Please give me the chance.”

She nodded in response before continuing to eat as Player 390 and Dae-ho talked. Her guard has lowered, just a fraction. She could spot the fake people from a mile away because she was typically good at reading people but she didn’t see that looking at Dae-ho. He seemed like a genuinely sweet gentleman.

. . .

The next morning, it was time for the next game which she knew what it was but she just went along as if it was ‘Dalgona’ again. She sat up out of her bed, rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes as she looked around for In-ho, Player 456, 390 and Dae-ho. Her eyes immediately landing on the latter. She walked over to his bunk, tapping his shoulder. “Morning,” she said softly, earning his attention. “You nervous for the next game?”

He immediately put on his formal marine voice. “No, ma’am!”

She let out a genuine chuckle at his change in voice. “You don’t need to do that. I’m not a marine or anything and I don’t think my dad is either.”

“Oh,” he said, letting out a breath. “No. I know it’s Dalgona for the next game so I feel good.”

Her face dropped slightly at his confidence but kept her composure. She didn’t know why she found herself caring so much for Dae-ho’s safety and wellbeing. Well…she knew why. He seemed like the kindest person here, full of goodness, sincerity and she knew that was rare, especially during times like this. “If 456 is wrong though and it’s a team game next, we should team up.”

He nodded slightly. “I’d like that. But if he’s been here before, I don’t see why he’d be wrong.”

“Just in case,” she said softly, glancing in In-ho’s direction as the doors opened, revealing the guards to take them to the next game.

[iimplicitt]

THE DARK IS PATIENT | PT. III

anakin skywalker and ahsoka tano

part two

PART THREE: READY OR NOT

Life as a citizen of the Empire was bleak and filled with repetitive hard working days that gave little pay off. Unless you were offering them a traitor on a silver platter, the Empire didn’t care about you. At first Ahsoka was confused at how people could be so complacent with this new and cruel shift in power. How could people watch as people got trampled on and tricked?

After a while though, as she observed and experienced her own hardships she came to realize people simply lost hope. The ones who were supposed to protect them failed. She failed. She knew she wasn’t a Jedi, but she had the power to help put an end to things and she wasn’t able to.

Ahsoka struggled with the guilt everyday, the fact that other Jedi also failed didn’t do much to ease the pain in fact it only made it worse. The keepers of the peace only brought forth death and war. All people could do now was go on, survive, the Empire not being a problem as long as they didn’t look up at all the flags, almost pretending nothing had changed. Acting as if the storm troopers had always been there, flickering them in and out and meshing them with the memory of the clones that once stood in their place.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Ahsoka shook herself from her thoughts and got back to work. She had two jobs; fixing transport machines or droids by day and bartending at night. The latter was an extremely rocky start, she had no idea what she was doing and she half expected her boss to fire her for her messy training period. But she was good with people and they found her… interesting to look at. There weren’t many Togruta on Tatooine and despite how weird it made her feel when people ogled, the tips were nice and it put food in her stomach. The money from the junk shop covered her stay at a small place she had found that was owned by a nice old woman, as long as she didn’t cause a fuss and paid rent Ahsoka could stay as long as she liked.

Her life here, as mundane as it was, gave her a sense of stability and comfort. She was aware it couldn’t be like this forever, she had to do something but she felt that was impossible with her current state. Why had her connection with the Force began to crumble? Was she not worthy anymore? Was the Council right?

Don’t be ridiculous Snips, you’re more than just a Jedi. Anakin’s voice comforted her and she wished she could actually talk to him rather than have her conscious dangle the fact she missed him so damn much in front of her nose. She had been trying the whole ‘inner peace’ thing Master Kenobi always preached about. Besides Anakin, the way Obi-Wan moved with the Force as if they were one always mesmerized her. She too once felt it, and Ahsoka feared she was only talented at one thing: war. That was when she felt her strongest, fighting and not giving up till the battle was won. Only for the process to start all over again and she was thrown back into the field. Now she was just… stuck.

It wasn’t that she missed the Clone Wars, but they had been her entire life. Her entirety of her developing years and being a Padawan were dedicated to learning how to become a warrior. It was all she knew and the people who surrounded her; Anakin, Rex, Obi-Wan, her troops– they had all turned to dust so quickly Ahsoka didn’t know what to do.

She felt lost, stumbling alone now. Even more alone than when she had left the Order because she knew in the back of her mind that if anything got worse she at least had something or someone to go back to. Yet now there she was, alone on a desert planet fixing machines, making drinks, and having a daily existential crisis.

At the end of her shift, she headed back to where she was staying to eat before going to her bartending job. When she entered the front room she found Marta, the woman who owned the place, sitting at the table and watching a halonet nervously.

Ahsoka approached her, trying to see what could possibly get her so worked up. Marta was an unshakable woman, made up of hard lines and tanned skinned yet her eyes held a warmth Ahsoka could only assume was motherly. “What’s going on?” She plucked a cup from the overhead shelves and filled it with bantha milk.

“They’re coming.”

She furrowed her brows as she searched the cabinet for something to eat. “Who is? Hey, what happened to the biscuits– Marta what’s wrong?” When she turned, the woman’s gaze was hazy and for the first time Ahsoka realized she was scared.

“Storm troopers are one thing, but the Empire is coming. Here. They say it’s for some campaign but I don’t believe that.” Marta shut off the halonet and shook her head, deep frown lines appearing in her face. "Tatooine for a campaign? Please! They’re probably just going to wreak havoc and ruin more things.”

Ahsoka could barely hear her, panic shooting straight to her heart and infecting her veins. She tried not to let her own fear grow, fear was a mind killer and an unhelpful path to follow. She told herself she shouldn’t be afraid, she’s fought Sith and survived but without the Force she feared just how much her fighting talents might’ve relied on it. Surely she had muscle memory, but so much of a Jedi’s training was how to let the Force direct your actions and movements. It had always been a welcomed friend on her shoulder, giving her directions and providing a sure route to victory.

She cleared her throat, “well it’s a big planet. Maybe they won’t–”

“No child, they’re coming here .”

Ahsoka felt all the blood drain from her face. “Why?” That made no sense. Ahsoka made sure to pick one of the most quiet and remote towns on Tatooine, barely anyone had heard of it. So why was the Empire coming there? An answer popped into her head but she was terrified to give it much attention.

And then he spoke, his voice clear and sure. It should’ve been comforting but there was an undertone of a threat, a warning and Ahsoka went cold and rigid.

I’m coming for you, Ahsoka.

She dropped her glass and it shattered, the sound of it breaking made her snap out of it and she dropped to her knees to quickly pick up the pieces. “Sorry I–” she was at a loss for words. What the hell did that mean? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

A spark of hope shone dimly. Maybe he knew she was on Tatooine and heard the Empire was coming, so he’d come out of hiding to help her. Like he always had when they were together, he always knew when to step in. Yet, if Anakin knew where she was this whole time why hadn’t he come to get her sooner?

She tried to shake off the wariness she felt and didn’t even realize her hands were bleeding from the broken glass. A treacherous thought that felt like fire burned the inside of her skull and sent scorching waves to her heart and everything ached. He couldn’t be coming with the Empire, could he?

Ahsoka felt guilt rip at her insides, not quite believing her mind had even entertained that idea. But, for the first time in months, it was as if the Force peaked out from its hiding place. Whispering she was on the right track.

His voice came again, softer this time and almost a whisper. It sounded like a promise, nearly a loving caress and this terrified her even more.

I’m coming for you, Ahsoka.

Her voice wavered as blood dripped on the floor, flashing red in her eyes. “What’s the campaign for?”

Marta shrugged and walked over, handing Ahsoka a wet cloth to wrap her hands in with a look of concern in her eyes. “Not entirely sure, something about recruitment I think.”

“Recruitment,” she echoed. That seemed appalling, Tatooine was known for not having the best attitude towards the Empire even if they did comply. But she supposed she could understand the appeal a position could offer, it was a free ticket off the planet which many people normally couldn’t afford.

“But who knows. The Empire always says one thing and does another. Let’s hope we avoid a bloodbath.”

Ahsoka came to a horrifying realization she didn’t have her lightsabers anymore. Yes, there were a multitude of other things she could fight with and admittedly if she did get in trouble and just happened to have the weapon of the Jedi, that wouldn’t blow over well. She had to practically rip her tongue off the roof of her mouth with how dry it was. “When are they coming?”

Marta gave a sympathetic smile, misinterpreting Ahsoka’s fright. “In two rotations.”

I am coming for you, Anakin lulled again and Ahsoka shivered. She had been missing her Master dearly, trying to follow whispers and dead ends to where he might be hiding but the entire galaxy thought he was dead so her efforts often went south.

Now though, he felt closer than ever and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was awfully, terribly wrong.

part four

[fatiguedfrog]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jayce/Viktor (League of Legends), Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Ekko/Jinx (League of Legends) Characters: Jayce (League of Legends), Viktor (League of Legends), Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Ekko (League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Mel Medarda, Sky (Arcane: League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends), Silco (Arcane: League of Legends) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Religious Guilt, Medical Trauma, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Autistic Viktor (League of Legends), Jayce Has ADHD (League of Legends) Summary:

Jayce: Quick-learning EMT in training, highly accomplished college student, friendly face, has a penchant for mischief and accidental chaos.

Viktor: Manager to a coffee shop and greenhouse, VERY accomplished college student, major RBF, often finds himself in the middle of mischief or accidental chaos.

Unstoppable object, meet immovable force.

 (A not-so-meet-cute involving laundry day, bickering, and concerning thoughts of murder. And then another, slightly less off-putting but still not cute, meeting surrounded by the smell of coffee. Countless text messages, several awkward moments of eye contact, and what feels like endless pining. Idiots to friends to best friends and whatnot. Maybe.)

[big-poppa23]

Glass Heart: Part 4

synapse: still trying to blend into the games, y/n tries to stay focused on her and her father’s purpose for being there but player 388’s kindness draws her in even more. Despite herself, she begins to feel something real, and her icy facade starts to slip.

contains: kang dae-ho x reader, blood, death (it is squid game after all), slight age gap, hwang in-ho x daughter!reader, fluff, angst

parts: part one part two part three part five

a/n: I’m so sad at the lack of dae-ho gifs. kang ha-neul is such a cutie and apparently severely underrated. I need more decent gifs of him 😭

. . .

So Player 456 had been wrong—the next game wasn’t Dalgona. Instead, the screen revealed something far more complex: a Six-Legged Pentathlon, laced with mini-games in between. Controlled chaos. Ten minutes. Five players per team. No second chances.

The moment the timer began counting down, In-ho’s eyes flicked to her, expecting her to form a team with 456 as planned. But she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze had already found Dae-ho, not too far away, his expression mirroring hers. They had made a pact ten minutes ago before, quiet and unspoken in the dorm’s shadows: If 456 was wrong and it’s a team game next, they would team up. And now, without hesitation, she moved.

She walked up to him. “So…ready to team up then?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “Yes, we are.”

“So then we just need three more people.”

He looked around. “What about your dad?”

She looked over her shoulder to see In-ho, 456 and 390 talking among them. “Us with them makes five. Come on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod, following her.

She smiled slightly. “You don’t need to call me ma’am. It makes me feel old and I’m sure you’re older than me.”

“I am 37. How old are you?”

“50,” she replied casually but he stopped walking and gave her a look to which she stopped and turned to him. “I’m kidding. I’m 22.”

He let out a soft chuckle as he went back to following. “If you were 50, you would’ve been the prettiest old lady I’ve ever seen,” he said softly under his breath.

She bit back a smile, hearing his words. “Pardon?”

He looked up quickly, realizing he had been caught. “Um…I said I never would’ve guessed you’re 50, you look 80.”

She let out a laugh, even though she knew he didn’t say that and actually complimented her. It gave her a giggly feeling in her chest. “Shut up,”she joked, giving him a light shove.

He laughed as well, thankful she hadn’t heard him as they made it over to the three.

After quickly sorting out who would take on each mini-game, the team settled together, the countdown ticking to its final seconds. She sat close to Dae-ho, their shoulders nearly touching, though neither said a word. As the first two teams stepped onto the field for the pentathlon, she watched in silence, her face unreadable, fingers quietly fidgeting in her lap, keeping stoic composure.

Then the game began.

The first team struggled early, trapped on the second mini-game for nearly the entire five minutes. The second team fared better—almost clearing all the challenges—almost. But as the final seconds drained, the buzzer sounded. Both teams failed. And the gunfire followed.

She didn’t flinch. The sound no longer rattled her. But beside her, Dae-ho’s hands shot up to cover his ears, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Her head turned instinctively. The stoicism faded. For the first time that day, concern softened her features, the emotion flickering across her face before she could hide it.

She glanced down and noticed Dae-ho’s fingers trembling, nervously toying with the small rocks scattered across the floor—shaky, anxious movements, like he was trying to practice his Gonggi technique just to keep his hands busy.

Without a word, she reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm—steady, grounding “We’re gonna be okay,” she said quietly, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it. And for a moment, she wasn’t a cold strategist or a hardened survivor—just someone trying to keep the person beside her from falling apart.

He gave a small nod. Calmer, but still clearly on edge. His hands, though now resting in his lap, continued to tremble. She noticed. Her little brother used to do the same thing when he was scared—back before everything fell apart. And there had only ever been one way to calm him.

Quietly, she slipped her hand into Dae-ho’s, her touch light but deliberate. Her fingers curled softly around his, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Dae-ho, listen to me,” she said, her voice low and steady—the voice she hadn’t used since the night her birth father kicked her out… the last time she saw her brother. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re gonna do our best and we’re gonna cross that finish line. Alive. Together. We’re gonna be okay.”

He didn’t speak—just stared at their joined hands, her warmth grounding him, pulling him back from the edge.

“Breathe,” she continued softly. “Inhale deeply… and exhale slowly. You’ve got this.” He followed her instructions, the panic in his chest loosening with each breath. She squeezed his hand again, firmer this time. “You’re not alone in this,” she said. “I’m right here with you.”

Another nod and then, finally, a squeeze back. A silent thank you.

And just like that, he began to steady. Not because the fear was gone… but because she was still holding on.

With Dae-ho calmer, his breathing even and hands no longer trembling, she slowly turned her gaze back to the area where the next two teams had just begun the pentathlon.

She gently started to slip her hand from his; her silent cue that he was steady now but he instinctively tightened his grip, holding on just a second too long.

Her eyes flicked back to him.

He looked down at their hands as if only just realizing what he’d done, then slowly released her, retreating into himself, arms wrapping around his knees. “Sorry,” he murmured, barely audible.

She didn’t look at him this time, just kept her eyes on the game as she answered, her voice soft. “It’s okay.” Because somehow, it truly was.

. . .

They were the last team to run the race. There were stumbles and tense moments and close calls, especially when In-ho deliberately fumbled during the Spinning Top mini-game, playing his part a little too convincingly. But despite the struggles, they all crossed the finish line. They survived the second game.

When the remaining players returned to the dorm, the vote to end the game was cast. But, as expected, greed won—the majority chose to stay. No one would be leaving. Everyone would be there for the next game.

Later that night, with the lights out and tension thick in the air, 456—Gi-hun, as everyone now knew him—instructed the group to slide their mattresses under the bunks, hoping it would give them cover if a night attack came. One person was assigned to keep watch while the others tried to rest—if rest was even possible.

She lay on her thin mattress, eyes fixed on the underside of the bunk above her, lost in thought. Sleep wouldn’t come—her mind refused to slow down, thoughts tumbling over each other in a relentless loop. Then, beside her, she heard an exasperated sigh. A moment later, his voice broke the silence. “173…are you awake?” Dae-ho spoke softly.

She turned her head towards him. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Just thinking about tomorrow.”

Dae-ho silently nodded.

“Also, my name is Y/N. You can stop calling me 173.”

He sat up slightly, looking at her before shuffling closer to her mattress so he wouldn’t have to talk as loud, practically lying on his side next to her mattress. “Well, while we’re awake. I wanted to say thank you.”

She titled her head, looking at him. “For what?”

“For what you did during the pentathlon, calming me down.”

“I told you we’d make it out of there,” she replied with a shrug.

“Still. I think the only reason why I remained calm during the game was because of you and how you helped me not panic so thank you.”

She nodded. “Yeah, you’re welcome. It was a method that I used to calm my brother down when he got scared of our father.”

He immediately looked at her. “He was scared of your father too?” His eyes moved to In-ho’s sleeping form.

She saw his gaze and immediately shook her head. “Not him. My birth dad. Young-il just took me in when I was younger and I got kicked out to make room for his new girlfriend,” she answered honestly.

“I’m sorry,” Dae-ho mumbled, a small frown on his face.

“It’s okay. It happened long ago. My dad wasn’t the best person ever. Not a very good dad.”

He nodded at her words, a distant look in his eyes. “I…I know what you mean.”

She turned on his side to face him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to share if it’s too much. I don’t like talking about my father either,” she said softly.

“Thank you…”

She nodded, lying back on her mattress with a quiet sigh, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry…I don’t really share about my past or talk about my feelings…I don’t really talk to boys either.” Except the guards but they had to listen to her. “Especially boys like you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Boys like me?”

She dropped her hands from her face, turning to look at him. “Yeah… a sweet, genuine-” she paused, eyes searching his, “you’re not even a boy. You’re a sweet, genuine, pure-hearted, selfless man.”

His expression softened even further, her words sinking in as his gaze locked with hers.

“Someone so good,” she continued quietly, “so nearly perfect, it’s hard to understand how a father—or anyone—could be cruel to someone like you.”

And in that moment, he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He couldn’t stop himself.

Slowly, he leaned forward, his hand rising to gently caress her cheek. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, his face now just inches from hers. Her heart pounded so loudly, she swore he could hear it.

She should’ve pulled away and should’ve told him no. But she didn’t. Because deep down… she didn’t want to.

His forehead rested against hers, a shaky breath escaping his lips. “Can I…?” he whispered, barely audible.

She nodded, quick and certain. “Yeah.”

And with that answer, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was gentle yet sure and tender, but with meaning behind it.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she slowly returned the kiss, heart still thundering in her chest, loud enough to drown out the world around her. It was her first kiss. And it was everything. She couldn’t have imagined a better man to share it with.

He slowly pulled back, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips, his hand still resting gently against her cheek. “Sorry… I just-” he paused, eyes searching hers, “we don’t know when we could die. I wanted to do that before it’s too late.”

She nodded softly, a small grin curving her lips. “That’s okay,” she murmured. “I’m glad you did.”

His smile grew a little at her words.

“Good. Um…” he glanced over his shoulder at his abandoned mattress tucked beneath the nearby bunk, then looked back at her. “Is it okay if I stay here?”

“Like… next to me?” she asked, eyebrows raised slightly.

He nodded.

She gave a small smile. “I’d be okay with that. Just grab your mattress and move it closer.”

With a quiet nod, his hand finally left her cheek. He shifted away, dragging his mattress over to line up with hers. Once it was in place, he lay back down beside her, close but respectful. A silent kind of comfort settling between them.

She leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before settling back down, adjusting the thin sheet over her and shifting until she was comfortable.

“Good night, Dae-ho,” she whispered, her hand reaching for his.

He found her fingers in the dark, interlocking them with his and giving her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. “Good night, Y/N,” he whispered back, and for the first time in a long time, they both felt safe enough to close their eyes.

[jakekazansky]

Would y’all read an icemav NFS Payback au???? I know it’s incredibly niche but Mav would be a dead ringer for Tyler in the game. And Ice would work so well as Marcus.

[aetherkidatheart]

Are you telling me we get two women falling in love in a cheesy af Christmas movie that have actual chemistry????

[maddestmewmew]

the next person i see calling agent 8 pearlinas child is getting shot