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cosmiccsun · 2 months ago

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PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT rafe cameron x reader au, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, grief, hallucinations, intense survival situations, just the hunger games sobs

main masterlist | tag list | post-games idea | edit

prologue — “rafe cameron and y/n y/l/n, this year’s tributes for district two!”

reaping ceremony; district two is coming. and it’s already soaked in red.

chapter one — “i don’t plan to die.”

the train ride to the capitol; the parade; rafe and reader step into the arena of public eyes, and they already know it’s all a game.

chapter two — “if anyone was gonna die, might as well be me. someone who at least knows what they’re walking into.”

the night after the parade; reader and rafe find each other on the balcony.

chapter three — “rise and shine, sweetheart.”

the first day of training; reader and rafe show each other what they’ve got. sneak peak to district fours tributes.

chapter four — “y/n y/l/n, with a score of . . .”

the rest of training week; the private sessions loom, and every tribute sharpens themselves into weapons, including y/n.

chapter five — “i don’t think he ever really saw me. just some idea of who he wanted me to be.”

caesar’s interview, the world watching; on the final night before the arena, rafe and reader tear down their last walls and find something almost human in each other.

chapter six — “win.”

the bloodbath; steel, blood, and desperate survival, reader and rafe fight their way out, but not everyone makes it.

chapter seven — “they could’ve fucking killed her.”

the birch forest is not all what it seems. an ambush shakes the group; kie’s injured.

chapter eight — “you think it’s a trap?” “everything’s a trap.”

the group finds some new solid ground to camp on; y/n finds the roses. y/n and topper come across their first mutt of the arena.

chapter nine — “just you ‘n me for right now, huh?”

rafe and reader are alone; reader finds out about the rose thorns toxins. they share a moment before their first sponsor gift comes.

chapter ten — “you’ve got that hero edit shit going for you.”

rafe and reader reunite with kie and jj again, but it doesn’t last long.

chapter eleven — “i’m not dying for their cameras.”

the gamemakers open up a feast at dawn; devastated with the loss of kie, jj makes a sacrifice.

chapter twelve — “do you trust me?”

the final fights; glory, victory. rafe and reader make a decision that puts them down in history.

part thirteen — “make it worth it.”

reader wakes up from weeks of being in a coma; enobaria gives y/n a talk. y/n sees rafe for the first time in weeks and someone she never expected to see so soon.

part fourteen — “i don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

collection of imagines: rafe and reader move into victors village. y/n’s mom visits. snow proposes that rafe and y/n move into the same house together. reader has a nightmare.

part fifteen — “she’s good. the kind of good that makes you want to be better. even when you’re sure you can’t be.”

caesar’s interview with panem’s new victors; rafe and reader get closer.

part sixteen — “you’re owned, my dear.”

the victory tour commences; rafe and reader join together in the capitol for a victory ball to wrap up the tour. y/n finds something shocking about her victory.

part seventeen — “snow’s gonna kill me.”

collection: aftermath of reader refusing being sold. reader finds out rafe has to take her place, but while out one night, rafe comes back home to reveal he finally broke.

part eighteen — “we’re in the same boat now. might as well get used to each other.”

rafe and reader meet 18-year-old finnick odair the following year. headcanons and ideas of their dynamics and how post-quell plays out.

part nineteen — “i wanna be more than that.”

rafe confesses his love to reader who’s avoidant; reader lets rafe touch their back for the first time since the implants.

part twenty — “may we meet again.”

the 74th hunger games commences. rafe and reader must mentor cato and clove; y/n is devastated to find the victors are falling into the same footsteps as her and rafe.

chapter twenty-one — “even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol.”

catchup of post-74th; president snow announces the quarter quell three months before the reaping.

chapter twenty-two — “i volunteer as tribute.”

enobaria has to decide whether to stand for or stand down when it comes to who will be reaped into the games; rafe volunteers.

chapter twenty-three — “you’re different than i thought you’d be.”

haymitch finds you and rafe on the train ride to the capitol about the rebel plan; you meet katniss before the tribute parade that night.

chapter twenty-four — “anyone can swing an axe, but not everyone knows how to make one from twigs and wire.”

day one of training; you spar with johanna. everyone gets to see katniss work her magic up-close.

chapter twenty-five — “if it means she gets out of this alive, i’ll let her charm every last person in this damn place.”

days two and three of training; you find a new ally in peeta mellark.

coming soon.

#rafe cameron

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cosmiccsun · 2 months ago

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Fixation -A.H

Aaron Hotchner x coworker!reader

The unsub sat shackled at the table, hunched but humming—this low, breathy sound that made your skin crawl as soon as the heavy door shut behind you. You moved just slightly behind Hotch, and his presence blocked the man’s view of you for a moment.

But the second you stepped to Hotch’s right and sat down, the unsub locked in. Like he’d been waiting for you. Your breath hitched—barely—but it was enough. He noticed.

“Agent,” he greeted, smiling at you, not Hotch. “You’re prettier in person.” Hotch’s eyes cut to you immediately, picking up on the freeze in your posture. He turned back to the man, jaw flexing. “You already know that comment’s not going to help you.”

The unsub didn’t blink. Just stared at you. Your badge. Your neckline. Your hands. “Do you wear that lipstick for the job, or for me?” he asked, smile widening.

Hotch didn’t wait—his fingers snapped toward the one-way mirror. “Tighten the restraints. Now.”

Two guards came in instantly. One placed a firm hand on the unsub’s shoulder, forcing him down as the other jerked the cuffs tighter around his wrists, metal biting into skin. He flinched but didn’t yell. Didn’t even wince. His eyes were still on you, hungry, assessing.

You inhaled, then exhaled carefully. He wanted a reaction. You didn’t give him one. Until you had to lean forward and push the file across the table.

That’s when he moved. Just a shift. Just a lean. But it was deliberate—his face closer to yours than you liked, enough that your own twisted in disgust before you could stop it.

“Stop,” Hotch said, his voice dark, deadly. His tone was enough to freeze the unsub in place. Still, the bastard smiled. “You’re not gonna let her talk for herself, Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch reached forward and took the file you’d opened, flipping it toward the unsub himself. His broad shoulders shifted, moving slightly in front of you again.

“She doesn’t need to,” Hotch said. “I already know what you are.”

“She’s better than the others,” he purrs. “You see it too. That’s why you walked in front of her. Like a shield. That’s sweet, Agent Hotchner. She deserves someone strong.”

You barely resist the urge to snap back. But Hotch’s hand reaches out—under the table—and briefly brushes your knee. A silent signal: Don’t react. Let me handle it.

“Why would I look at those,” he rasped, his voice low and oily, “when I’ve got her to look at instead?”

You froze. Hotch’s fingers twitched near his pen. His tone stayed flat. “That’s not how this works.”

“I already know all about her,” the unsub continued, still smiling. “She runs at five-thirty in the morning. Orders that lavender tea at the café across from the field office. Drives a black bmw. License plate ends in... seven-two-nine. Right?”

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t answer. You didn’t move.

Hotch stood abruptly. “You’re done.”

“No,” the unsub said, eyes still locked on you, smile growing. “I’m just getting started.”

Hotch was already at the door, signaling for the guard again. You stood slower, trying not to let the nausea show.

“You’ll speak to me,” Hotch said, voice a dark, contained growl. “Not her.”

“She’s the one I’ve been thinking about.”

“She’s not the one you're confessing to.”

“She’s the reason I started.” The unsub grinned, wild and victorious. “And she’ll be the reason I finish.”

You stood so fast your chair scraped backward, screeching against the floor.

Hotch turned to you instantly. “Agent,” he said quietly—his voice gentle now, only for you. “Step out.”

“I’m fine,” you said too quickly, jaw clenched.

His eyes searched yours for a beat longer than necessary, then nodded once.

The unsub chuckled. “Cute. Like a guard dog. I bet you like it when he barks for you.”

Hotch moved before you could blink. He was on the table, both hands planted, leaning in so close his voice was practically in the unsub’s ear.

“Say one more word about her,” Hotch growled, “and I will make sure your sentence includes solitary until you rot.”

Hotch’s hands were still flat on the table, his broad shoulders locked in tension. He didn’t move until he was sure the man’s mouth would stay shut.

“Guard. Get him out,” Hotch snapped, low and lethal.

The unsub laughed as the door slammed open behind you again. “You’ll think about me, sweetheart,” he called as they dragged him backward, wrists still bleeding from the restraints. “When you’re alone. When he’s not around to protect you.”

“Let’s go,” Hotch muttered under his breath to you, not even glancing back at the unsub again. His hand grazed your lower back as you turned—protective, firm, grounding.

You walked out together in silence, the door slamming shut behind you, drowning out the last of the unsub’s twisted chuckles.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice lower now, quiet. “You okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Just... hate how he looked at me. Like he knew me.”

Hotch nodded slowly. “He’s been watching. We found photos in his storage unit. Some were taken last week.”

Your stomach dropped. “Of me?”

Hotch hesitated. “Of your apartment. Your car. A few of you in your running gear.”

You swallowed hard.“I had no idea—”

“That’s not your fault,” Hotch said firmly. “He’s good at hiding. That ends now. I should’ve gone in alone.”

You turned toward him, surprised. “Why?”

His jaw tightened again. That same damn muscle. “Because I saw the look in his eyes when you walked in,” he said, stepping closer, voice low. “And I knew exactly what he was thinking.”

Your heartbeat stuttered. He paused, then stepped just a little closer.

“You shouldn’t go home alone tonight.”

That surprised you. “I wasn’t planning to.”

His brows lifted just a fraction. “Good. Because I wasn’t going to let you.” That made your heart skip. Not because of what he said—but how he said it.

“I’ll stay at a hotel,” you murmured.

He paused, then offered, “You could stay at mine.”

You looked up. His expression didn’t change. He wasn’t playing. Wasn’t flirting. It wasn’t about that. It was about keeping you safe.

“…Okay,” you whispered. “Yeah. That’s probably best.”

His shoulders eased slightly.

And it wasn’t long before you found yourself standing in the hallway just outside his bedroom door, suddenly uncertain.

Hotch stepped behind you again. Close. Just like in the interrogation room.

“I’ll take the couch,” he said, already reading your hesitation.

“No,” you said quickly. “You don’t have to.”

He paused. “I want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you whispered, looking back at him. “With you.”

“I’ll get you a shirt,” he murmured.

A moment later he returned and handed you a long, soft cotton t-shirt—gray, plain, worn thin at the collar.

You took it with a grateful smile and went into the bathroom.

When you came out, you were swimming in the shirt. It hit halfway down your thighs. Your legs were bare. You had never felt so exposed in something so modest.

Hotch was already lying down, propped on one elbow, the comforter pulled up around his waist. He wore a black t-shirt and soft plaid pajama pants. You had never, in your life, seen him so…human.

You climbed in slowly, tentatively. His side of the bed was warm. Yours felt cold.

It was awkward. Weirdly awkward.

And that’s when it hit you. A sudden, absurd giggle bubbled up in your throat.

Hotch turned toward you, brow furrowed. “What?”

You bit your lip, grinning. “Nothing. It’s just—” You gestured vaguely at him. “Seeing you like this—in actual pajamas—? It’s adorable. I’m sorry, I can’t unsee it.”

He stared for a beat, expression unreadable. You swallowed hard, worried you might’ve crossed a line.

But then—then—he smiled. That small, rare curve of his lips that made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Oh?” he murmured, turning fully toward you. “You think I’m cute?”

“Don’t twist my words,” you warned, still smiling. “You’re intimidating as hell at work.”

“But not now?”

You looked at him—really looked—and swallowed hard. “No. Now you’re…”

Your voice faltered.

Hotch’s hand lifted slowly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Safe,” you whispered. “You feel safe.”

His fingers didn’t move from your face. “I want you to feel safe,” he said softly. “Always.”

You exhaled shakily. “Even now?”

“Especially now.”

He curled it around your waist and slowly, slowly pulled you into him.

His body was so warm—heat radiating off him like a furnace—and you exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His chest was solid, his hold careful. Too careful. Like he didn’t trust himself.

You nestled into him, your nose at his shoulder, cheek resting against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You smiled against him.

“You’re tense,” you whispered.

“I’m not,” he said immediately.

“You are, Hotch,” you laughed. “Your arm feels like it’s trying to protect the nuclear codes.”

His chest rumbled faintly in amusement. “I’m trying to be respectful.”

You smiled wider. “You’re letting me cuddle you. That’s pretty respectful.”

He didn’t argue that.

You tilted your head up slightly, looking toward the sharp line of his jaw in the dark.

“I’m not gonna combust if you relax.”

He didn’t say anything, but the arm around your waist loosened just a little. He exhaled—and the tension in his chest eased. Just enough to make you feel it. You took your chance.

You reached up slowly and ran your fingers through his hair.

At first, he flinched—just a twitch, barely noticeable. But then he stilled, letting you continue.

Your hand moved lower, smoothing down over his chest, then his shoulder, until it found one of his hands resting on his stomach.

His huge hand.

You picked it up gently, letting his fingers relax in your grip.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low.

You cradled his palm and gently cracked one of his knuckles.

He winced. “That hurts.”

You looked up, mock-pouting. “You’re supposed to say thank you.”

He chuckled. “For joint pain?”

“For your nerves. You’re all… balled up like a stress knot.” You moved to his other hand, gently stretching each finger. “And this one? This one’s the button-pushing hand. I bet it’s tired from dealing with assholes all day.”

He huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

You tilted your head and reached up to brush your fingers through his hair—soft, thicker than it looked at work, with the faintest wave. He looked down at you, stilling completely under your touch.

“You’re really bad at relaxing,” you whispered.

“And you’re really good at tempting me,” he said softly.

You leaned in again, closer this time, your legs brushing. His arm came around you slowly, tentatively, drawing you toward his chest until your head rested just below his collarbone.

You exhaled shakily. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and quiet. “Just… not used to this.”

You tilted your head to look at him. His expression was unreadable in the low light, but his jaw was tight.

“Your hands,” you said quietly, lifting one of them between your palms. “They're so big.”

His brows lifted slightly. “That a problem?”

“No,” you said, voice dipping. “It’s hot.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but his thumb rubbed lightly across your side. You turned his palm over and started gently cracking his knuckles again. One by one. Each pop was soft, and you smiled as you moved to the next.

But when you got to his index finger and pressed just enough—

“Mm—hey,” he winced, pulling his hand back slightly. “That actually hurts.”

You blinked. “Seriously? You wrestle unsubs to the ground, but you can’t handle me cracking your knuckles?”

“I don’t wrestle people who sneak up and break my fingers.”

You laughed again, more relaxed now, and leaned in close enough that your nose brushed his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you said with a smirk. “You’re so delicate, Hotch.”

He turned to look at you, and this time, he was smiling. Really smiling. Barely-there dimple, soft eyes, warmth radiating from him.

“You think I’m delicate?”

“I think you’re secretly a marshmallow,” you whispered, inching even closer. “All this serious FBI Alpha Male stuff is just an act.”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at you, gaze dark and quiet and far too intense for the softness of the moment.

You swallowed. Suddenly very aware of how close you were. Of his hand on your waist. Of the warmth between you. Of the ridiculous oversize shirt that was definitely not a barrier. Not now.

“Is that what you really think?” he asked, voice so low it made your skin prickle.

You tilted your chin up slightly, your lips dangerously close to the line of his jaw. “Maybe.” Your hands in his hair, soft and uncertain, pulling him in closer. Your lips brushed again, then again—until it turned into something real. Something deep and needy and so full of everything you hadn’t said.

Hotch shifted, rolling you gently onto your back, his body hovering over yours, held up on one arm.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your cheek.

“I’m nervous,” you admitted, voice cracking just slightly. He didn’t answer. Just looked at you, gaze dark and quiet and far too intense for the softness of the moment.

Your heart stuttered. Your legs shifted, thighs tightening as you accidentally ground your hips slightly against his under the covers.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, grip tightening.

You surged up into him, kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slid a thigh between yours. His weight was comforting, grounding—and yet, your whole body felt like it was floating.

He pulled back slightly, lips brushing yours. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I won’t,” you whispered. “Not with you.”

Hotch’s mouth found your neck—slow and reverent, dragging warmth down your throat as he settled between your legs. His hands roamed cautiously under the hem of your borrowed shirt, palms warm and rough on your bare skin.

You moaned softly as his thigh slid between yours, pressing.

“You have no idea what it did to me,” he whispered into your skin, “hearing him talk about you like that.”

“I hated it,” you breathed. “I wanted to claw his face off.”

Hotch laughed. “That’s my girl.”

The words hit you straight in the core—made you shiver.

His hands moved beneath the shirt he’d given you, sliding along your bare thighs, up to your hips. When he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath, his breath hitched.

“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look down at you. “You’re not wearing—?”

You flushed. “Didn’t feel like it.”

In one fluid motion, he sat up, his arms wrapping around you, mouth claiming yours again—hotter, hungrier now. You let him take the lead, let him slide your shirt up over your head and toss it somewhere off the bed. The way he looked at you then—like reverence, like worship—made heat pool between your legs.

“You’re beautiful,” he rasped, fingertips ghosting down your spine. “So fucking beautiful.”

You gasped when he leaned forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue flicking over it before he sucked—slow, teasing, patient. One hand moved between your legs, fingers brushing you just enough to feel the slickness there.

He tugged his waistband down just enough to free himself, and you gasped at the sight of him—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

You reached down and gripped him, guiding his head to your entrance. The first brush made both of you groan.

The second his tip slid through your slick. “Fuck, sweetheart—look at you.” Hands tightening around your hips.

You lowered yourself slowly, inch by inch, your thighs trembling at the stretch.

“That’s it,” Hotch growled. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”

Once he was fully inside, you sat still for a second, breathing shallowly.

He brushed your cheek again. “Look at me.”

You did—and that’s when it changed. Because there wasn’t just lust in his eyes. There was something far deeper. Something that told you this wasn’t just sex for him.

You whimpered and leaned forward, hands braced on his chest, and the shift in angle made stars flash behind your eyes. He pushed up into you now, shallow, controlled thrusts that made your clit drag just right with every motion.

Your thighs trembled as you moved, your breaths turning into gasps. He sat up slightly, arms wrapping around your back, and you clung to him as you moved together.

“I’ve never…” you breathed against his neck. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone.”

He stilled inside you, holding you tight. “That’s because they didn’t deserve you.”

You clutched at his shirt. “But you do?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark and reverent.

“I’m going to earn you,” he said. “Every day.”

Your heart cracked open. You kissed him with everything you had, hips rolling down onto him again, chasing that high, and he let you ride it out, guiding you with soft praise and firm hands and that warmth—God, that unshakable, grounding warmth.

And when you came, it was with his arms wrapped tight around you, his voice in your ear, whispering that you were safe.

That you were his.

a/n: raw.

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

#aaron hotchner

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cosmiccsun · 3 months ago

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Native New Yorkers - I

Masterlist I Ao3 link I - Chapter two

Elliot Stabler x Reader

Summary :

A year into joining the squad, you find yourself embroiled in the murder of four women whose lives resemble too closely your own. Amidst your growing relationship with a certain detective, will you survive unscathed or fall at the hands of that which wants to hurt you?

AN: I just want to premise that I'm only at season four of the show, and am not too cultured on how Elliot's divorce truly goes down in the show. To fit it within this story, I had to slightly mess up the timeline. I would say that this takes place either between season four or by the end of it and that the divorce began around season three, episode 16, and their quarrel about Elliot's action and character towards his family is the breakthrough for the falling of their relationship.

Chapter I: Where did all those yesterdays go (When you still believed love could really be like a Broadway show)

In the criminal justice system, sexually based offences are considered especially heinous. The city is riddled with them. Never goes a day without a sexually related crime being reported. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as The Special Victims Unit. The four walls of the floor dedicated to the unit have seen enough horror that if they could speak, one would turn pale at their words. Yet, the detectives assigned or joining the unit know that what they face on a daily basis are horrors someone must face in order to bring justice to those who can no longer fight for their own. Any squeamishness, any queasiness has to be thrown out the window if anyone wants to work in this field.

Which is why so little do.

A grey sedan pulls into the parking lot of the station. Elliot Stabler’s behind the wheel.

Late thirties. Good looking — still has that vigour in him, but more than that, aware looking even if anyone were to look at him, they would be sure of the fact he’d not gotten the good night's sleep anyone of your profession could. Times have been rough. With the divorce settling and the long hours of work, Elliot’s life has been an ever-changing tornado, constantly shifting direction in the most unexpected ways. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been tested by life in such a way. It’s been hard navigating it all, if not at all. He’s a good christian. He prays and follows the values of the faith, so he knows that even if he hits rock bottom, he’s never stepping the line that would end his life. He’s gotten closer to it, but each time, something has always pulled him away from it, and he always has to thank god for it.

Perhaps those were his ways to remind him of the preciousness of his life.

Life is indeed as fragile as he feels it. He sees it every day being taken to other people in ways obscene to the teaching of god’s way of life. Strangled, manhandled, murdered, raped, all the ways someone’s integrity and wholeness can be broken.

Whenever he thinks of his own life, the weight of his wedding band, now hanging by a necklace around his neck, is always there to pull him back from his turbulent mind. His children are his everything, even if he has neglected his dues towards them. He wasn’t always present. He knew that. They knew that. Kathy knew that. And yet, somehow, no one ever talked about it until the air grew hot and words were spat at the other’s face. He always regrets it and yet he also always relied on the belief that they would understand. That they’d understand why he was working so much and for so long. The obligations his work as a detective demanded.The lives he was saving and those that he brought to justice.

Perhaps they could understand that, but they would never understand the prioritisation of his job over being present in their lives.

He loves them, but love in this case is not enough.

Kathy loved him. Still, she does, but her love for him is not enough to salvage that which was already damaged. So, she does what’s best for her. Leave, and he understands but does not want the divorce.

But what is best? Let those you love lose and be happy, or keep them in a loop, a cycle that will never end.

He cared enough about them to let them have the happiness they were not having with him. His love for them prevailed over his heart and mind, and now only he remained to stand behind it. But life goes on, and so he must push forth. Life is an unexpected adventure; every day, a new one is brought into the wooden top of his desk. The air outside bites at his skin. The trench coat he has draped over his suit is not enough to shield him from it.

With him, he has two cups of coffee and a latte to go, but only one accompanies the paper bag that holds a warm doughnut inside, still piping hot from the oven it was baked in at the dinner where he got everything. It’s early morning, but the office is already in a frenzy. As it always is. People go and come; some settle at their posts, while others go on to do their jobs as per the routine of the day demands. His desk awaits him. Olivia, sitting at the one in front of him, gives him a passing ‘good morning’ as she flips through the pages of the open file in front of her. He puts one of the cups down in front of her.

Next, he sets his eyes on his next target.

You.

The sight before him is candy-eyeing, sweet and roots his insides. You’re a sweet young thing, almost thirty, all smiles and plump rosy cheeks. Ten years younger than him, at the least — that both tempted and scared him.

You and your partner, Daniel, joined the squad not too long ago. A year, in only a few weeks, if the calendar did not lie. Just around the time he separated from Kathy. While he and Daniel have their own sets of issues to hang laundry about, especially when the temperature rose and the tempers clashed, you and he took well to one another. He believed you made a good addition to the squad, often being the one to catch clues and details he and the others were quick to brush. He could not say the same for Daniel. Partners work in duos. Therefore, he was sent alongside you since everyone in the squad already had theirs. It is a pity they sent the pick of the litter. Daniel complains, follows but never takes the initiative and comes along only to look bored while you work. His only redeeming quality? His strength. He has stopped many runaways before they could even get a step in their run or has tackled so many offenders that were it not up to him, you would have a scar or two to deal with. He can be useful when he wants to be. Which is why he’s still on the team.

That doesn’t mean he has to like him. You, though? You he likes.

Witty, charming, and sociable, you were like a balm that could soothe one's soul. A younger presence in the office did more than lift the spirit and shine a light in this dark and grimy world that he’d long forgotten could exist outside the four walls of the station. And if that wasn’t enough, you had the same fondness for children as he did.

Perhaps because you were a mother.

Single, your three-year-old is your whole world. A little baby boy came as a result of passions that ran too high and reasons that ran too low. That father of his still had to run you up on his first payment for child support — that was enough to describe him as a person. But you had no use of him. All you needed was your little boy. That was enough for you. It was why you tried to keep the world clean of people who could hurt him and why you worked so much as to be able to afford to give him a life worth living. You want to send him to college one day, if God's willing. You loved him so much that you’ll keep him from the world you entered when you step inside this building.

Being a detective and one for the special victims unit is no easy task. It means long hours and no guarantee of when you’ll be home for your son. It’s a busy job, which is why you envy Much for having no strings that hold him back in the field. No children to worry about, no current wife to smother with affection to keep her anger from his behaviour — or lack thereof. Your son mostly stays with your mother after he gets picked up from daycare, and since you live with your mother, cause hell forbids you’ll get called in the middle of the night to investigate a case, there was no chance you could leave your son alone or have to drive him up to your mother for him to be taken care of. Plus, it’s the cheap alternative to renting an apartment when your mother owed hers after years of paying the mortgage.

If it weren’t for the photo you keep on your desk, none at the unit would have found out about Oliver. Except for Captain Cragen, who’d read all about him in your file. Elliot has met little Oliver on a few occasions, mostly when your mother passes by during lunch breaks with your son in hand. The boy is your very image, ruby-cheeked and with a pout on his lips until his mommy is in sight — then he’s all smiles and open mouth. He’s a delight, and when he gets to sit on the swivel chair by your desk, he becomes a menaceful delight.

Elliot doesn’t know how many times he’s had to handle a pencil or two being stolen from his desk by the little rascal. He always has to win them back by negotiating with the kid. Usually, a candy or two being mommy’s back does the trick. A mama’s boy, though he remains, and he is always reluctant about doing something behind his mommy’s back.

What your little boy doesn’t know is how you smile at Elliot each time your boy runs off with candy in hand.

‘Lottie’ is what Oliver calls him, and it makes his chest flatter in the same way it did when his little girls were the same age. In turn, he calls him ‘Olive’. Ever since you entered his life, nothing has been easy, not that it was any different before. He’s loyal to a fault, and yet he cannot lie and say that the pretty, young new coworker of his does not alight something he had not felt in a long time in him. He would never betray his wife, especially not now that they’re both transcending a difficult period that’s about to end as smoothly as it can, but the sight of you is enough to make a grown man fall to their knees.

Not him, though; he still has enough strength in him to withstand this spell you pull on men.

What he couldn’t understand was how much of an idiot the father of your son was. He didn’t know the story that told the whole picture, but knowing he left you two and has not even deemed to pay up his fare?

Were it up to him, he would teach him a lesson or two…

But he’s not in a place to teach anyone a lesson. If anyone should be teaching anyone lessons, it’s in him to be taught. He knows about boundaries, but the thin line between right and wrong is sometimes too appealing not to cross. He’d do it a thousand times over, even though he knows it. He’s a hypocrite, no better than the men he puts behind bars. In fact, he might very well be one of the worst ones he ever encountered.

Up there, leaning into Much’s desk, telling you probably about the latest with his ex-wife, you smile at the man as if he were your father telling you all about his veteran days. The moment you catch Elliot walking your way, your face brightens in a way it did not with Munch.

“Good morning”, you chirp, leaving Munch behind. “Morning.” he hands you the latte and bag. “Oh, you didn’t have to” you pouted as you took the items. “How many times-“ “I told you. I just want you to feel welcomed.” “Will you do this even in five years as a way to welcome me still?” “At least you get something. Man here has never brought me anything. I’d consider myself lucky if I were you,” said Munch. “I don’t suppose it’s the senior that’s supposed to make the junior feel welcome, huh?” Asked Elliot, to which Much only scoffed. “Still warm,” you noted after opening the paper bag “Still, thank you, Elliot.” You said, leaning on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

The kiss is an innocent gesture, but the burn of your lips’ touch on his skin makes his mind flash images that are more than innocent. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to get a grip. It’s a brief, barely-there kiss, but it’s enough to make his imagination go into overdrive. It’s just a friendly gesture. That’s all you’re offering, and he has no right to ask for more. He tries to push those thoughts to the back of his head, his heart thumping as he turns to look at you.

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles softly, his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink as you turn to walk to your desk. “She’s good for you,” Munch said, amused. Elliot doesn’t appreciate it. “Got you good.” “Can it, Munch. Don’t start with me…” “Oh, you should see yourself when you look at her. I haven’t seen that expression on your face in a long while. Just saying that you could do something about it. Might make you feel a hell of a lot better.” “I’m not about to betray my wife. She’s a nice girl, but I’m not going to do anything…” “Are you not about to become a single man?”

He rubs his hands across his face, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“I am… but divorce doesn’t mean I’m free to look around, Munch.” “You mean pounce around.” “Oh, you’re so nasty” Elliot shakes his head. “Just practical” shrugs Munch "Practical, my ass", Elliot retorts, but can't help a small chuckle. Damn Munch for reading him so easily.

The morning proved to be slow. No active cases. No calls for any situation that requires the unit to take over. Just a woman complaining about her boyfriend being sent by the wrong officer to the wrong unit. Despite the report being mostly about their fights and domestic quarrels, the woman came in the station with a baby in hand, and with the case she was making of her man, you decided to have her sit by your desk while you wrote down everything she was spilling out in order to make sure the child was in a safe environment and that no violence befell either.

In the end, she left enraged by you merely asking if he’d ever turned his anger on her in any way other than the walls or the doors to their apartment. In the end, you didn’t throw the notes you wrote in case she turned up again to complain further.

Lunchtime rolls around. Elliot watched you pack up your stuff.

“You going on a break?” he finds himself asking before the words can even pass his mind. It’s an idiotic question because he knows that’s exactly what it is, but he asks it nonetheless, desperate to keep you for as long as he can. You look at him and nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  “My mom is bringing me Ollie. Just got out of daycare.” "That's nice. You must miss him like hell," he says, standing up from his desk and grabbing his jacket. "Not enough time on my hands to spend with him," you sighed "wanna come? he's asked me when he gets to see you again.” That made him smile. The idea of your son asking about him sent a warm, fuzzy feeling through him. "Sure," he said gruffly, trying to play it cool. "Lead the way.”

The diner by the station is your usual place. Your mom doesn't have to find a parking spot in the hell pit that is the one in the back of the station, and you don't have to walk a mile for food. Plus, the place is nice and clean, and the food is decently good. The walk to the diner together is an amicable silence. Elliot's coat billows in the wind while yours hugs your body. The bell above the door chimes, announcing your arrival as you step inside, instantly enveloped by the familiar smell of food and the sound of chatter. Inside, you spot your mother sitting at a booth, already holding a squiggling Oliver in her arms.

“Mommy!” Your son yells as he wriggles out of your mother’s grasp, coming to hug your leg. “My love” you chuckled, picking him up "Missed me?” “Missed you lot, mommy” The boy looks over your shoulder, noticing Elliot. “Lottie!Lottie’s here.” He steps forward, reaching out to ruffle Oliver's hair playfully. "Hey there, little man," he says with a smile. "Been missing me, huh?” He nods eagerly before turning to you “Is Lottie having lunch with us?” “He is, honey,” you said “Mom, I’m sure you know Detective Stabler.” Your mother, a gentle woman with kind eyes, smiles warmly at him “Heard lots about you, Detective. A pleasure to finally formally get to know you.” “Pleasure all mine, ma’am” he returns the smile despite feeling the pressure of your mother’s scrutinizing eyes. “Please, Angela is fine!” She exclaims, “Take a seat, both of you. Lunch is on me today.” “Oh, mom. You really shouldn’t.” “Let me treat you once in a while. Besides, we have a guest with us.”

You grumble, sitting in the seat in front of her, adjusting Oliver on your lap as Elliot slides beside you.

Oliver reaches for the menu, flipping through it until he lands on the kids' section. “I’m hungry.” He said, “I want my Dino nuggies.” “Nuggets?” You furrowed your brows “You had them last night, hon. How about some….er…some peas and smash, mhm? Yummy.” “Yuck!” He fakes, hurls, “I don’t like peas; I want my nuggies” he pouts. “You need your greens, my love,” you said, “God knows I indulge you too much.” You murmured under your breath.

Oliver's pout deepens, but he knows not to argue with you when you use that tone.

"Fine," he huffs, still sulking a little. "But I want extra ketchup!” “Do you have children, detective?” Asked your mother. "Yes, ma'am, I do", Elliot replied, smiling warmly "I have four beautiful children. Three girls, one boy. A set of twins.”

She raised her brows

"Oh my, you must have your hands full with four kids," she said. "The girls must keep you on your toes.” Elliot chuckled, thinking of the chaos his daughters brought to the household. "Oh, you have no idea", he said, a fond smile playing on his lips. "They definitely keep me busy, but they're worth every second of it.” "I can imagine. Must be hard with your job, being around. I rarely see my girl," she said "It has its challenges," Elliot agreed, his tone growing serious. "This job can consume you if you let it. It takes a toll on relationships and makes it hard to be present when you're always worrying about the next case. But, my children are mostly grown and…mhm…I'm separated.”

Your mother’s expression softened an empathy in her eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said earnestly. "Divorce is never easy.” "I'm getting through it", he said "Me and my wife, we've been running it as smoothly as we can for the children. And we are still as amicable as people going through such proceedings can be.” "That's good to hear. Maintaining a healthy co-parenting relationship is crucial for your children's well-being. I wish the father of my grandson knew a thing or two about it," she huffed. “He’s been making things hard?” He asked, concern furrowing his brows as he looked to you. You bit your lip before looking down on your boy. “How about we listen to some music, mhm?” You said, taking a pair of earphones from your bag, placing each bud in his ear and an old mp3 player for him to play around with. With each bud in his little ears, you let the first song on the list play, just as the waitress serves you all your food.

You break your silence after your first bite.

"I've been trying to get in contact for him to sign over his rights as a parent. He's barely around. Thought he wouldn't mind. His name is not even on the birth certificate, and my mother is more of a parent to Ollie than he's ever been. But he's been ignoring me, and I fear he might think of fighting me over this. Though I don’t suppose he has the means unless his mother indulges him.” "Has he been showing up for visitation at least?” “Only when it suits him” you sighed “Only when the time is right for him.” “He’s shown signs of being dangerous towards you or Olive?” "God, no. I would have reported him if he did. But I know he's got himself in trouble. He might be dealing or something. Last time I saw him, he was loopy, but I couldn't smell anything on him." You said, "More reasons to pursue him on his right over my son.” “Sounds like a real piece of work” he mutters in disgust. “How’d you get involved in the first place?” "He was in his right mind at the time," you said "Finance. Good job, a career. And…it's not like we were serious or something.”

Elliot's jaw clenched, a twinge of annoyance and maybe…jealousy? creeping into him.

”Then what happened?" "Lost his job at the same time I found out about Ollie. Lost his mind. Told me to get rid of it. That he couldn't handle this on top of everything else. I told him I would keep it, and I’ll stay out of his life. Two months after Ollie is born, he comes around. Says he was wrong and that he wants to be part of the baby’s life. Then he goes disappearing again. He's been coming and going since then. I can't deal with him.” "Sounds like he's been putting you through hell," he said gruffly. “Even hell would not be this inconsistent.” There was a certain bitterness to your voice, and it made Elliot's heart ache. He knew all too well the pain of disappointing a child because other interests took precedence.

"You'd be surprised at what hell is” “I’m living it now.”

Your mother, sensing the heavy conversation, tried to lighten the mood. "Well, at least little Olive here is getting all the love and attention he needs. He's growing up to be quite the handsome, sweet boy." She said, leaning over to pinch Oliver's cheek. Oliver giggled and squirmed, but he didn't protest against the affection. He loves his grandmother after all.

"He takes after his mother. You have always been a sweet child…so kind and considerate of others. I thank God every day there’s no signs of that scum in him.”

You smile at her, and a pang of guilt for letting her see you, heartbroken and exhausted, hits you. She had been your rock through it all, the one person who stood by your side without reservation. You were grateful but also felt a sense of responsibility to shield her from the burden of your struggles. Your boy struggled in your arms as if he could sense the unease from you, eventually finding his way into Elliot’s lap, mp3 in hand. Elliot chuckled, his small hands grasping at his shirt. He instinctively wrapped an arm around him, holding him securely. “Hey there.” The tension leaves his bones with the weight of the little boy in his arms. But Oliver only returns to play with the mp3.

“Does he do that often?” “Do what?” You asked “Not respond.” "Oh, he does sometimes," you said. "It happens when he's really focused on something that interests him. I've…been taking him to a therapist to deal…with the absence of his father. She says that sometimes he just stops talking. I've been worried about it for a while.”

You took one of your son's hands and kissed the palm. He looked up from the mp3 and smiled at you.

"I should have never allowed him in his life." You shook your head "It would have been all better had he never entered it. Just leave a hole there for me to fill myself.” "Don't say that. You did what you thought was right. You gave him a chance.” "I should have known better.” You wet your lip "I knew he was up to no good. Even then, he did look out of sorts. But…he was such a nice man when I met him. No secrets, no indiscrations. Just honesty. Then he gets screwed by life and then all of that is just gone.” "People can be good at hiding their demons. You couldn't have known what he would turn into. No one could.” "I could have helped him" you said "He was in a rough time and chose to protect himself above all. Self-preservation. I had a bigger fish to fry, but I could have been there for him.” “He was always a lost cause. When in his right state of mind, he had a temper still.” Your mother insisted.

Elliot's head snapped towards your mother.

"He was violent?" He asked. "Once," she said, not going into specifics. "Nothing happened", you sighed, knowing why your mother brought it up "He came to see me when I was due. Pushed me, and I fell. Nothing else happened. The moment I was on my bum, he turns pale and makes a run for it.” "He pushed you when you were pregnant?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous "Just once,", you said, putting a hand over his arm "He was…he was out of it. Probably drunk or something. He didn't hurt me.” "It doesn't matter" he said "he had no right to put his hands on you. Even drunk, even high.” "Try telling him that.” "I just might" he growls.

He was fuming. The idea of your ex-boyfriend putting his hands on you when you were carrying your child made his blood boil. "Mommy, can I have ice cream now?" your son asked, as he showed you his clean plate. ”You ate all your food?" you asked, a smile spreading on your face as you looked at his empty plate.”Good job, darling.” “Can I have chocolate ice cream now?” “Of course, of course” you said, but were cut off from calling the waitress by Elliot’s phone ringing. “Stabler” he answered.

You noticed the change in his face, his expression hardening, indicating that something serious was unfolding. Oliver, in his innocent curiosity, asked, "Daddy work?” You both shared a look of surprise

“Oh no, honey", you said, "Remember, this is Uncle Lottie, not Daddy.”

Oliver, still blissfully unaware of the weight of the situation, nodded and went back to playing with his toy. Meanwhile, Elliot picked the phone back up, listening to whoever was on the other line. "We have to go. New case. Since Liv's out for that impending trial, you're my partner for this." You nodded, understanding the situation. "Alright", you responded, starting to gather your belongings. Sensing the sudden shift in mood, Oliver looked up from his toy, his little face confused.

"Ollie, my love. Mommy has to go back to work. Now, you'll go back home with Grandma, and Mommy'll see you tonight at dinner, alright?” "Okay," he said, clinging to you as you picked him up. You gave him a tight hug and a few kisses, whispering softly in his ear to "be good for grandma". He nodded and let go of you, turning to hold his grandmother's hand as you and Elliot left the diner. “Call me if anything happens,” you said to your mother.

"Don't worry about a thing" your mom replied, giving you a reassuring smile. "Now go on, and stay safe”

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cosmiccsun · 3 months ago

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Hey the lack of Elliot Stabler x Reader content out there is killing me 😭 was wondering if you could write something sweet with him, maybe like looking after a reader whose case the team is working on cause she’s still in danger from whoever committed the crime against her? Thanks :)

Masterlist

FREE PALESTINE

You were a ghost, a shadow in a world that had suddenly become too bright. The case was personal, a wound that throbbed with each passing day. The police, led by the relentless Elliot Stabler, were your lifeline, your only beacon in the storm. But as the investigation progressed, you found yourself becoming more than just a case file. You were becoming a fragile piece of evidence they needed to protect.

Elliot had taken an immediate liking to you. There was a quiet strength about you, a resilience that mirrored his own. But beneath that exterior, he saw a woman haunted by fear. He'd seen firsthand the toll a case could take, and he wasn't about to let you go through it alone.

He found himself checking in more often than necessary, making sure you were safe, that you were eating, that you were getting enough sleep. It was a role he hadn't expected to take on, but it felt right. Almost like a duty.

One evening, as a storm raged outside, you found yourself alone in your apartment, a prisoner of your own fear. The wind howled, mimicking the turmoil within you. Your phone rang, the familiar ringtone a jarring interruption to the silence. It was Elliot.

"Hey," his voice was a warm anchor in the tempestuous night. "I know it's late, but I just wanted to check in. You okay?"

Your voice, when it finally came out, was a mere whisper. "I'm scared, Elliot."

There was a long pause before he responded. "I know. I'm really sorry about that. You shouldn’t have to feel this way."

You could almost hear him taking a deep breath. "Listen, I'm coming over. You’re not alone, okay?"

Relief washed over you as you heard the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching your apartment. When he finally arrived, he enveloped you in a tight hug, his body a shield against the storm.

"You're safe now," he murmured, his voice low and comforting.

You nodded, burying your face in his shoulder. The scent of his aftershave, a familiar blend of wood and spice, was grounding. It was a tangible reminder that you weren't alone.

As the hours passed, the storm began to subside, its fury replaced by a gentle patter of rain. Elliot tightened his grip, as if sensing your growing tranquility.

"You should get some sleep," he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll stay here with you."

You hesitated, not wanting to let go. But sleep was a distant memory, and you knew he was right. With a heavy heart, you pulled away slightly, looking up into his eyes. They were filled with a tenderness that took your breath away

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "Close your eyes," he murmured.

You did as he asked, and as the darkness enveloped you, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't experienced in what felt like forever. With Elliot by your side, the world seemed a little less terrifying.

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cosmiccsun · 3 months ago

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I'M NOT IN LOVE

Bella Swan x classmate!reader headcannons

"Don't tell your friends about the two of us"

You always hang around Bella, jokingly calling her your 'bestie.'

She brushes off your flirty comments, thinking you're just being friendly. It's clear to everyone else but her and you that you're absolutely smitten.

You're overly eager to help Bella with anything, from carrying her books to giving her a ride when her truck won't start.

You always volunteer to be in Bella's group, insisting it's because you're "such a good team player." But really, you just want an excuse to sit close to her and make lame jokes that only she seems to laugh at.

When your friends tease you about your obvious crush, you laugh it off, insisting, "What? Bella? No, we're just friends!"

You find yourself calling Bella late at night with ridiculous excuses, like asking about tomorrow’s homework or pretending to have "accidentally" dialed her.

Bella answers every time, confused but amused by your awkwardness, not realizing how much you’re hanging onto every word she says.

You make a show of casually hanging around her locker, chatting with random classmates until she shows up. When she finally does, you act like it’s a total coincidence.

"Oh, Bella! Hey! Fancy seeing you here… at your own locker… again…"

You have a photo of Bella taped inside your locker door, claiming it’s there because it’s a "funny photo." But really, you stare at it every morning before class, sighing dramatically as you shut the door.

You get visibly flustered whenever Bella gets too close or when she casually touches your arm. You try to play it off with a joke, but your cheeks are burning, and everyone, including Bella, can see it.

You casually ask Bella if she’s going to the upcoming dance, pretending you’re only asking because "Mike and Jessica keep bugging me about it."

When she says she’s going with Edward, you force a laugh and say, "Oh, yeah! Cool! I was just wondering if you had any idea of who i shoud ask…"

You deny your feelings aggressively, even to yourself. When Bella starts dating Edward, you pretend to be completely fine, loudly cheering them on and even jokingly asking, "When’s the wedding?"

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cosmiccsun · 4 months ago

Text

mini-series masterlist

daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary: your secret crush on daryl dixon was supposed to stay a secret - but one faux pas 'causes the failure of your plan. the archer stumbles upon your secret and suddenly questions everything. will you two be able to bite the bullet and let your hearts speak, or do you choose to remain silent forever?

general warnings: set in s10. wonky timeline (the whisperers didn't happen). twd stuff, slow burn, thirst - a lot, 'idiots in love', heartbreak? angst? cliffhanger(s), fluff, violence? (each part will have its own warnings!)

🪶 part one - coming this friday

🪶 part two

🪶 part three

...........................................

a/n: mission almost accomplished @dixonsdarkelf @angelwings-crossbowstrings @ellasdixon 👀 i hope i did it justice. 🙏🏼

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cosmiccsun · 5 months ago

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Wanna Bet?

check out my masterlist!

buy me a coffee ¿?

Word count: 22k

Fluff │ Smut

A bet is made between you and Daryl, but the run goes haywire and you both end up stuck in the middle of a hoard. You put your life in danger to get the two of you home and he’s furious - he’s not sure if he’s furious at himself for almost killing you, furious at you for thinking he’s worth dying for, or both. Soon, emotions run wild, a confession is made, and someone makes the most of their reward.

Daryl is a simp that doesn’t know how to handle feelings.

Tara and Heath had returned to Alexandria a few moments ago, beaming with pride as they announced their discovery of a locked pharmacy off the edge of some tiny town. Rick had nearly jumped with excitement at the opportunity to restock their dwindling infirmary, only to retreat back to his house at the behest of the setting sun. Night was falling soon, and darkness meant danger.

Perched on the Alexandrian watchpoint was Daryl who, on the other hand, audibly scoffed. A nearly untouched pharmacy? In this day and age? Impossible.

“What’s wrong?”

The familiar voice coming from next to him cut through his contemplation like it always had. A simple tilt of your head accompanied your question, and that action was enough for his heart to skip a beat. He grunted a response, trying to focus back on the watch duty he was supposed to be doing, but instead felt his body stiffen when your concerned eyes moved away from your gun’s sight and onto him. He brought his gaze up from the scope of his rifle, and let himself train them on you.

“Nothin’”

“It’s not nothin’, Daryl. Is there something wrong?”

An ever-so-slight smile leapt its way onto his face as he heard your attempt to imitate his accent - you were so damn cute. Stuttering his actions for a moment, he quickly hid his affection, desperate not to get caught doing something as stupid as pining over someone. But fuck, was he pining over you. And hard.

“Don’t remember climbin’ up here to talk about my feelings.”

It was your turn to scoff now - well, it was more of a chuckle, really. You were talking to Daryl Dixon after all, and everyone knows he’s always been such an open guy. It wasn’t your fault you had grown to care about him so much, and he certainly appreciated it more than he cared to confess.

“We don’t get off until nightfall, Dixon, so you might as well just tell me.”

Daryl let the gun fall across his stomach, knowing the strap would cut across his chest muscles a little too tight for comfort and he shook his bangs before stepping back a few steps, allowing himself to sneakily check you out as your eyes stayed forward, diligently keeping watch. His hands came in contact with his jeans, and he became embarrassingly conscious of how sweaty his palms had become; just from the thought of standing next to you for another hour. God, he had it bad for you. He knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to work on this little crush he had, and he knew it was even dumber to let his feelings go unknown, but he also knew how hard it was to love someone.

Daryl saw what that loss did to people.

“It’s just-”

He paused for a moment as the summer breeze travelled through your hair, framing your face in the sunset just right. Like a damn angel, he thought to himself. Daryl took in a sharp breath when you turned around and tucked some strands of your hair behind your ears, taking a second to admire the sight in front of him.

Fuck, he just wanted to live in this moment forever.

Seguir leyendo

#to read later

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cosmiccsun · 5 months ago

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𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

PAIRING: daryl dixon x fem!reader WARNINGS: misunderstandings, no use of y/n GENRE: angst, comfort (at end) SONG INSPIRATION: lovers - anna of the north WORD COUNT: 1.2k

navigation | inbox | daryl dixon masterlist

daryl had been an enigma from the moment he set foot in alexandria. he wasn’t like the others. he was rough around the edges, always carrying himself as if he was waiting for something to go wrong. and maybe he was.

the world now didn’t allow for true safety, and he knew that better than most.

but that didn’t stop you from watching him.

you had liked him from the beginning, from the moment you saw him peering in through the window at deanna’s party. you’d cornered him that night, half amused, half intrigued.

“you know, you could just come inside,” you had teased, leaning against the doorway. “or are you afraid you’ll turn into a respectable member of society if you step over the threshold?”

daryl had huffed out a short, reluctant laugh, his eyes flicking toward you before darting away. “ain’t really my kinda thing.”

“oh, i never would’ve guessed,” you shot back, smirking. “you’re blending in so well.”

that made him snort, shaking his head. he had started to turn away, but something about the way he lingered told you that he wasn’t entirely opposed to the conversation.

so, you pushed a little more.

“well, if you change your mind, i’ll be inside,” you had said, tapping the doorframe lightly. “near the bar. you know, just in case you suddenly develop a taste for civilization.”

daryl had glanced at you again, something unreadable in his expression. then, with a small shake of his head, he walked off.

and that was where it started.

you started finding excuses to see him.

at first, it was small things. bringing him something from the pantry after a run, offering to patch up scrapes from the road.

daryl wasn’t easy to get close to, but you were nothing if not persistent.

and eventually, it worked.

it started with short conversations, nothing deep, just little things. you’d tease him about how he always disappears whenever a group gathering got too lively.

“you know, i’m starting to think you might be allergic to fun.”

daryl would just roll his eyes, scoffing. “ain’t got time for all that.”

“oh, come on,” you’d prod, smirking. “not even a little?”

“i’m here, ain’t i?” he’d grumble.

you never pushed him too much, never asked for more than he was willing to give. and slowly, bit by bit, he let his guard down.

somewhere along the way, things shifted.

late nights spent sitting together on porches turned into nights in your bed.

at first, it was just a stolen moment, a hesitant kiss that he didn’t pull away from. then another. and another. before long, he was in your bed more often than not, hands roaming over your skin, lips pressing bruises into your neck, giving you everything he had in the dark.

but in the morning, he’d always leave.

you tried to ignore it. tried to convince yourself that this was enough, that you could deal with him slipping out before the sun came up, that you could pretend this was casual.

one night, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

you lay beside him, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. it was late, the world outside quiet, but you could feel the tension in him. the way his muscles had started to coil again, like he was already preparing to go.

and suddenly, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“why do you always leave?”

the question came out softer than you intended, but it made daryl tense beneath you. his hand, which had been resting lightly against your back, withdrew.

you lifted your head, searching his face. “daryl?”

he let out a quiet breath, staring up at the ceiling. “ain’t about leavin’.”

“then what is it about?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair. he didn’t look at you.

something inside you twisted painfully.

“daryl,” you tried again, voice quieter now. “what are we doing?”

still, he said nothing.

the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. you waited, giving him time to find the words, but when too much time passed, you realised, he wasn’t going to.

and that hurt more than anything.

you swallowed hard, forcing back the lump rising in your throat. “you know what?” you let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “forget it.”

daryl glanced at you then, something like regret flickering in his eyes, but he still didn’t speak.

you turned over, pulling the blanket up, facing away from him. you didn’t want him to see the tears that had started to fall. you didn’t want him to see how much this was breaking you.

because that meant it mattered. and if it mattered to you, but not to him…

you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to breathe.

behind you, you heard him stand. the soft shuffle of his boots, the creak of the door. and then he was gone.

–

you tried to move on after that.

you told yourself it didn’t matter, that you should’ve expected it. that you should’ve known better than to hope for something real.

but daryl didn’t let you move on.

he kept coming back around, showing up at your door like he had something to say but always talking around it.

finally, after days of this, you’d had enough.

you met him at the door, arms crossed, your heart aching with every beat. “what do you want, daryl?”

he shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. “i–” he cut himself off, running a hand over the back of his neck. “i dunno.”

you huffed a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “you don’t know?”

“i ain’t good at this,” he muttered. “ain’t never been.”

“yeah,” you said, voice tight. “i noticed.”

the silence between you was suffocating. you didn’t know what he wanted from you, why he kept showing up when he had made it so clear that you weren’t worth staying for.

“i just…” he trailed off, exhaling sharply, frustrated with himself. “ain’t never felt like this before.”

that stopped you cold.

your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. “what?”

“i–” he sighed, rubbing at his face. “i ain’t never had somethin’ like this. like you.”

you opened your mouth, then closed it.

daryl shifted on his feet, looking more vulnerable than you had ever seen him. “ain’t that i don’t want it,” he admitted. “just… don’t know how.”

your heart ached at the raw honesty in his voice.

for so long, you had convinced yourself that you weren’t enough for him, that he didn’t care the way you did. but now, looking at him, hearing him struggle through the words…

it wasn’t that he didn’t care. it was that he cared too much.

you swallowed hard, taking a step closer. “you could’ve just told me that.”

he let out a soft huff, almost a laugh, shaking his head. “ain’t that easy.”

you searched his face, saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should.

“maybe it could be,” you murmured.

daryl hesitated. then, after a beat, he nodded. “yeah.”

it was quiet between you, the weight of the moment pressing down. and then, slowly, hesitantly, he took that last step forward,

closing the space between you.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

#to read later

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cosmiccsun · 6 months ago

Text

Be My Valentine | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

(GIF by @daryl-dixon-daydreams)

Summary: Encouraged by Carol to finally do something about his feelings for you, Daryl takes advantage of the supposed holiday of love to do it. Showing up at your doorstep with flowers might just be exactly what he needed to do.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 889.

A/N: Not the best, but I wanted to write a little something for Valentine’s day. I hope this is still somewhat enjoyable!

“Alright. I got this,” Daryl muttered to himself, his nerves at an all-time high. He nervously smoothed his shirt, clutching a handmade bouquet of wildflowers in his other hand—courtesy of the help of Carol. He stood in front of the door to the house you shared with Michonne, Rick and the kids, hesitating on whether or not he should do what he wanted to.

It had been a long time coming, really. Daryl had harboured feelings for you since as long as he could remember. However, he never had the courage to confess to you, not wanting to ruin the perfectly good friendship the two of you already had. But Carol had enough of the two of you “dancing around each other”. Valentine’s day was coming up, and she had deemed it the perfect day for Daryl to finally stop beating around the bush and ask you out.

Daryl had agreed, but only because if everything went wrong and you indeed didn’t feel the same, he could play it off as wanting to spend time with you as friends. That he just wanted to make you feel special on the holiday that couples seemed to adore.

Taking a deep breath, Daryl raised his fist to the door to knock against the wood. After three knocks, he took a step back and waited for you to come to the door. He knew that Rick and Michonne were out for the day, so at least he didn’t have to risk making a perfect fool out of himself in front of them. However, as the seconds ticked by, doubt washed over him. What if he was making a mistake? What if you didn’t want this? What if you hated him afterwards?

Daryl turned around, ready to walk away and throw the towel in on the idea. However, before he could even take one step, the door opened, and your sweet, angelic voice reached his ears.

“Daryl, hi!”

The archer turned around, his cerulean eyes locking with yours. He felt the air leave his lungs at the sight of you; wet hair, clad in a pair of shorts and a shirt that clung to you because of the water droplets, and that radiant smile he had come to love so much. Despite trying to talk, words fell short.

Your eyebrows etched together in concern. “Daryl? Are you okay?”

Daryl cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, m’good,” he replied gruffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You nodded and shifted your gaze down to the flowers in his hand. “Those are beautiful,” you told him. You could feel your heart beat faster against your ribcage, but you reminded yourself to be reasonable. Those flowers weren’t necessarily for you. They could be for someone else.

Clearing his throat again, Daryl tried to suppress his nerves. “Yeah. Carol helped pick ‘em out.” He slowly extended the bouquet towards you, averting your gaze. “Got ‘em for you.”

“Oh.” You smiled shyly and took the flowers from him, bringing them up to your nose to smell them. “Thank you.” So they were for you. That made your heart melt. “But why?”

Fuck, Daryl thought to himself. There was no turning back now. It was now or never. “’S, uh… s’Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I mean, I guess it is, if ya wanna believe the people who have been keepin’ track’a the days.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, trying to suppress a smile. You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but you had a pretty good idea of where he was going with it.

He inhaled sharply, stuffing his shaking hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Was wonderin’ if you’d, y’know…” He shrugged his shoulders.

“If I’d what?” You knew. There was no doubt in your mind at this point about what he was going to ask you, and you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought of it.

Daryl swallowed and exhaled shakily. “Ain’t it obvious? Ya really gonna make me say it?” he asked, seeing the way your lips curled up into a playful smile. He had to fight off a smile of his own.

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “No.” You stepped forward and leaned towards him, pressing a soft, quick peck to his cheek. When you pulled away, you could see the blush that coated Daryl’s cheeks, and you smiled at that. “Yeah. I’d love to be your Valentine.”

Daryl ducked his head shyly, peering at you through his hair. “Y’sure?”

You laughed again and nodded. “I’m sure.” You fiddled with the bouquet in your hands. “What do you have planned?”

He hummed and took a step back, feeling butterflies swarm around in his stomach. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that. S’a surprise.”

“Well what should I wear, then?” you asked with a grin.

“It don’t really matter, but casual s’probably a safe bet,” he replied.

“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

Daryl nodded and took another step back. He felt happier than he has in a long time. He couldn’t believe you had said yes, that he could actually tell Carol to go ahead with helping him plan the perfect date. Things were finally looking up for him.

And he was going to make sure that he gave you the best Valentine’s Day he possibly could.

#daryl dixon

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cosmiccsun · 7 months ago

Text

A Not So Secret Secret

Kang Dae-ho x pregnant! Reader

Summary: You and Dae-ho join the game to settle your debts, unaware at first that the other is also playing. However, there’s something Dae-ho is also unaware about.

Warnings: Reader is replacing number 222 but has no correlation with 333, Reader is pregnant, mentions of killing and stuff like that. might be slightly inaccurate I’ve only watched the show once. Not proofread.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: I’ve had this idea for awhile but wasn’t sure if anyone would read it so I’m just gonna put it out there!

Pt.2 masterlist

You had just finished the first round in the squid games ,red light green light, and you were terrified as you sat in your bed. Why were people being shot? How are you gonna get out? What is happening? A thousand thoughts raced through your mind at once until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turn around and your met with the face of a worried old woman. It was Geum-Ja, the sweet woman you met during the first game.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

You nod, not exactly in the mood for talking.

Her eyes flickered down to your stomach before looking at you again. She smiled “if you need anything please let me know..”

You nod again, trying to hint at her you wanna be alone before you hear a man yelling, saying something about a vote.

The guards reply a bit after saying that there would be a vote after each game, and a vote soon commences.

“389…please cast your vote….. 388.. please cast your vote” The voice of the guard said.

You were so deep in thought that you didn’t even notice who was currently walking down the aisle to place there vote until the buzzer went off.

“Another person voted to stay…” you thought in your mind… Wait what??

You couldn’t see that well from where you were standing but you caught a glimpse of his face.

It was Dae-ho.

“No… there’s no way… why would he vote to stay.. it can’t be h-“ Your thoughts were soon cut off by the guards voice again.

“222.. please cast your vote”

Jeez how long were you thinking for… whatever it doesn’t matter… you walk down the aisle shyly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you as you press the red button with the X on it. You don’t dare to look behind you, knowing who’s face you’d immediately see.

The votes for O only kept going up and by the end of the vote, O had won.

You feel the anxiety really getting to you and retreat to your bed, trying to run away from your worries. When you get there you feel a hand grab your wrist.

“Y/n…” Dae-ho says, a slight bit of panic in his voice.

You don’t want to turn around but you force yourself to, looking up at him.

“What are you doing here???” He asks in a not so soft tone .

“I could ask you the same thing…” you reply with an attitude, still upset about him voting O.

“I came to settle our debt-“ He tries to explain.

You cut him off. “And you didn’t think of telling me??”

He sighs trying to reason with you. “Listen.. y/n… they said not to tell anyone… I couldn’t risk losing the opportunity at the time… And you can’t get upset at me when you’re literally here as well…”

You rub your face in frustration. “I’m not upset at you for being here I’m upset you didn’t tell me and even more upset you chose to stay!”

“I didn’t know you were here.. if I had known that I would’ve voted X in a heart beat… We need the money baby….” He reply’s, his tone softening.

“This money is not worth dying for…” you say as you start to walk away.

“Y/n stop….” He grabs your arm softly.

“What….” You reply.

“We aren’t done talking…” he says, pulling you back towards him.

You sigh. “What else is there to talk about”

“Why are you here..” He asks. He thinks he knows the answer but he just wants to hear it from you.

“For the same reason you are…” You half lie. Yes you are here to try and settle your debt but also to get a little extra money for the baby.

He sighs, not knowing what to say.

You just turn around and start walking away before he grabs you once again but this time pulling you into his arms.

You’re surprised but you hug him back, not realizing how much you needed it.

While hugging you, Dae-ho couldn’t help but realize that it felt different, the way your body’s pressed together wasn’t quite as comfortable as your stomach was blocking him from getting to close.

He pulled away looking down at you.

“Y/n..?”

You looked away, realizing he probably noticed.

Five months before you joined the squid game you found out you were pregnant. You hid it from Dae-ho, wearing sweaters when your bump started to get a little noticeable and just saying you were cold despite it being summer, he didn’t think much of it. It was quite easy to hide because he was rarely home as he was looking for jobs.

You didn’t want to hide this from him. But you did, in fear that something would happen with your relationship as you wanted to keep the baby. You didn’t have a plan, you didn’t know when you were gonna tell him, all you knew was that you were gonna hide it for as long as possible.

Dae-ho’s hand on your arm snapped you back into reality. You look up at his worried face and just start crying, the hormones getting to you.

“Hey…. What’s going on…” He asks softly.

“I- I’m sorry-“ You stutter.

“Talk to me baby…” He puts a hand on your waist.

You back up, not wanting to be reminded that he knows now.

He keeps his distance but it kills him to see you like this.

“I’m- I’m pregnant-…” you say softly as you continue crying.

“W-“ He struggles to find his words “For how long??-…”

“Five months….” You admit.

“Why didn’t you tell me baby??” He says, still in shock.

“I’m sorry…” you continue crying into your hands.

He walks over to you and hugs you tightly.

You cry into his chest. “I thought- you would be mad..”

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you….” He asks softly.

“I don’t know….” You say, starting to calm down a little.

He continues to hold you and comfort you, silently cursing at himself for voting O, now realizing how much harder this is gonna be.

Later that evening you and Dae-ho join a group of three other boys, Gi-hun, Young-il, and Jung-bae.

You sit with the boys, your arms resting around your stomach out of habit and Jung-bae can’t help but notice.

“I’m gonna go take a quick nap..” You say to the group, your exhaustion getting the best of you.

You distinctively hear Gi-hun say something about dinner soon but just brush it off, too tired to even listen.

“I’ll be fine..” you say as you walk to your nearby bed and collapse on it.

Once Jung-bae notices you’re gone he looks at Dae-ho. “Is she um.. yk..” He asks nosily.

Dae-ho just sighs and nods and the group looks a little shocked, Feeling a newfound protectiveness for you, their new group mate.

After the group gets over the initial shock of the situation they start making a plan on what to do for the next games and how they are gonna survive as a group.

The sound of a voice saying to line up for dinner interrupts their conversation and Dae-ho goes to wake you up. You groan, not wanting to get up and slowly get out of bed before following him into the line. (He lets you go first cause he’s a gentleman 😘)

You guys get your food and go back to the spot where you were previously sitting. Right when you sat down a wave of nausea hit you and you just didn’t want to eat at all.

Dae-ho notices this. “Hey are you ok?”

You whimper slightly. “I can’t eat…”

The group looks at you concerned and Dae-ho speaks up again. “Why what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know I just feel sick…” You reply, leaning on him.

He rubs your arm softly before young-il speaks up. “You should really try to eat… the next meal won’t be till tomorrow morning… that’s probably not safe considering-“

Dae-ho cuts him off, not wanting to have you be reminded of it and get more stressed right now. “He’s right… try to eat just a little hm?”

You pout at him. “fine..”

You take small bites of your food, it’s not terrible but it’s definitely not making your nausea any better. Nonetheless you push through, knowing that you need to eat for the baby.

Dae-ho looks at you happily, glad you decided to eat.

You try to eat as much as you can before you just set the food down and lean on Dae-ho again, his presence comforting you through your sickness.

You end up falling asleep on him as the group just talks and continues their plan.

Once again, the voice on the speaker starts talking saying it’s time for bed or something. You don’t really know as you’re half asleep.

You feel Dae-ho softly guiding you off of where you were sitting and the next thing you know you’re in your bed, Dae-ho softly putting the covers over you before kissing your forehead.

“Goodnight N/N, I love you..” He says softly.

You smile sleepily at the nickname and reply. “Goodnight Dae.. I love you too..”

The rest is a blur until you finally fall asleep.

The next morning starts the same as the first. Everyone lines up to get breakfast.

You get your food, actually hungry this time and open the tin container, immediately eating everything while sitting in your bed. Dae-ho is with the group but if you’re being honest you’re not in the mood to socialize this morning so he decided to give you some space. That is until the old woman, Geum-ja, came up to you again.

“How are you feeling?” She asked sweetly.

“Better…” You reply shortly.

She holds her tin of food in her hands as she looks down at your empty one before handing you hers.

“Oh- no no it’s fine really-“ you try to reason with her, not wanting to take food from her.

“Oh don’t be silly it’s ok… You need to eat more..” she smiles as she hands you her food.

You bow, very thankful because you’re really hungry. “Thank you- you really didn’t have too..”

“Don’t mention it” she gives you a smile before her son comes over telling her to not scare him like that.

You sit there awkwardly as they talk before the old woman waves goodbye to you and smiles. You wave back at her before eating the food she gave you.

Shortly after eating the speaker says that it’s time for the first game and to follow the guards. You remember what Gi-hun told your group last night, pick the triangle. Knowing what to do for this next game, you feel pretty confident but are still nervous.

You rejoin with your group as you guys walk towards the doors into the colorful room with stairs.

You all walk in silence before Dae-ho speaks up. “You feeling better?”

You nod and reply. “Ya… I was actually able to eat so I feel alot better”

Dae-ho smiles and keeps walking up the stairs.

Everyone gets to the door and when it opens, confusion fills the room.

“This is the dalgona game.. right?” you ask Gi-hun, really confused.

He sighs and looks at you. “I don’t know what this is..”

The familiar feeling of anxiety crept back up your body but you tried to keep it at shore as everyone walked into the room.

Everyone stayed by their group as the rules for the game came over the speaker. “This game is the six-legged pentathlon. A group of five will be connected by their ankles in the order of who is gonna play the first mini game to who is gonna play the last. The Mini games consist of the following: Dakji, flying stone, gonggi, spinning tops, and Jegi. The group will complete the five mini games within the time limit and cross the finish line or they will be eliminated.”

After the announcement everyone immediately started scrambling, trying to find groups but the five of you just stayed with each other, discussing who was gonna do what.

Since your the only girl in the group everyone excepted you to know how to play gonggi but you surprisingly didn’t. Luckily for you guys Dae-ho would play it with his sisters and he get really good at it. So that was settled. Now everyone else just had to figure out what they were gonna do.

“I can do Dakji…” you said softly, not really knowing what else to do.

Everyone agreed on it and the rest of the line up was decided. You do Dakji, Jung-bae does flying stone, Dae-ho does gonggi, Young-il does spinning tops, and Gi-hun does Jegi.

Your groups discussion was soon interrupted by the first two groups going up, who soon later both lost.

As the games went on the waiting players became more immersed in watching the other players play and started cheering them on, acting as an audience.

A group finally won and everyone started cheering and jumping but you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t jump don’t jump” Dae-ho said softly, not wanting you to use your energy or stress your body out.

You listened to him but kept cheering along with everyone else. For a second, you forgot this was a game where you could die and you’re not here to have fun. That was until gun shots from the other side of the room interrupted everyone’s cheering and brought them back to the harsh reality.

After many games it was your teams turn. You were the second to last team to play therefore you had no audience which your group was sad about. You on the other hand had no room to be sad as you were internally freaking out.

Your group lined up and your ankles got chained together. Then. The game started.

Your group walks in sync to the first mini game, Dakji.

You grab square piece of paper and throw it as hard as possible at the one on the floor, and to your surprise, it flips over. The group cheered as the walked to the next mini game. Jung-bae grabbed the stone and threw it at the other one, hitting it perfectly. The group cheered again and continued walking to the next one. They all sat on the floor in-front of a small table as Dae-ho skillfully handled the gonggi. Everyone watches in amazement as they pass right away.

They get up and walk to the next mini game, spinning tops. Everything was going good until Young-il messed up. Over and over and over. At this point it just seemed like he was doing it on purpose cause how can you possibly throw it behind you?? (Bro was totally doing it on purpose 😭)

After some focusing and stressing he finally got it. But you guys had no time to spare. Everyone quickly made their way over to the next mini game. Gi-hun quickly kicked the Jegi four times before kicking it way in-front of him.

Your heart stopped. “This is it” you thought to yourself before you were yanked forward towards the finish line. Young-il had helped Gi-hun kick it last second.

You guys passed the finish line, all relieved until you saw the other team in-front of you get shot. Despite winning, this made your heart heavy, remembering the situation you’re still in.

After getting your ankles unchained all of you walked back into the room, getting stares from everyone and heating groans from people that wished more people would die.

You stayed silent the rest of the evening until the vote. Your group had collectively decided to vote for X this time. You were sure you were gonna make it out. Until you weren’t.

By the end of the vote, O won again. And even worse, Jung-bae voted for O. Your own team member!

After realizing you were gonna be stuck in this hell hole for another game you definitely didn’t feel like eating, you got up and went into the bathroom, getting sick thinking about what you saw today and just because of your pregnancy in general.

*knock knock* “are you ok y/n?” The old woman says from outside the stall door.

“Ya-“ you wipe your mouth off with toilet paper before flushing the toilet and coming out.

“Remember if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask me…” She says reassuringly.

“Thank you..” you give her a soft smile before going to wash your hands.

When you come out of the bathroom you go back over to your group and see Jung-bae sitting with them again. Dae-ho must’ve brought him back.

You sigh and sit with them.

Dae-ho looks at you concerned. “Are you ok did you eat”

“I can’t Dae…” you reply tiredly and lean on him once again.

“Cmon baby just a little…” he nudges you.

You force yourself to remember that you can’t be skipping meals now due to your baby, Before sighing. “Ok…”

You eat some of the food, the nausea surprisingly going away.

“Drink some water too..” Dae-ho reminds you.

You nod and drink your water, immediately feeling alot better, still leaning on him.

Your eyes become heavy and you distinctively hear the group talking about something to do with a fight but you don’t pay much attention and fall asleep on Dae-ho’s shoulder.

*time skip to night*

You wake up on a mattress on the floor, super confused, and look to your right and see Dae-ho sleeping under a bed on the mattress? 😭

You look to your left and see young-il and Jung-bae also under the beds on a mattress.

Confused, you sit up and see Gi-hun awake, just sitting there. You get up and walk over to him.

“I need to use the bathroom” you say quietly to him.

Gi-hun looks at you. “It’s too dangerous to go alone-“

“I’ll go with her” the old woman says from the bed above you.

You and the old woman go over to the bathroom, only to be refused entry by the guards. So the old woman being the baddie she is puts on a pretty convincing sob story before the guards finally let you guys in, another girl showing up behind you guys and asking if she should come too.

“Don’t worry she’s a woman” the old woman says and the other girl follows you guys into the bathroom.

You quickly go into a stall and just cry. You’re so scared and you just wanna go home. You wanna lay in your bed again. You don’t even care if you’re in debt you just wanna go home.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the old woman opening the door.

“Are you ok? Is your baby coming? Is it your stomach?” The old woman questions you worriedly.

“I’m so scared” you say crying more before she hugs you tightly.

“It’s ok..” she comforts you.

That’s the last thing that things feel like right now. “Ok”.

You calm down after a bit and she leads you back over to your bed.

You step in between Gi-hun and Jung-bae, who is now up, to get to your bed.

You notice the Dae-ho is literally half way on your bed so you just decide to use his arm as a pillow. He gets a little startled but immediately falls asleep after. You hold onto his arm in your sleep, him being the only way to comfort you in this hell. After a bit of thinking you slowly drift off to sleep, feeling a little better that you’re not alone in this.

a/n: thank you for reading this took absolutely forever! I want to make a part two so let me know if you guys would be interested!!

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cosmiccsun · 7 months ago

Note

could you do a jun ho fic where the f!reader is a new officer and he's training her. she is fully convinced that he hates her (maybe she isn't the best at her job) but at the end of the week he asks her out and she's so shocked. turns out he was dropping hints the whole time and she's an idiot

A Tough Case to Crack

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x f!reader

summary: No matter what you do, you just cannot get on Jun-ho's good side. Normally you'd brush it off, if he wasn't the man who decides whether you get promoted to detective or not.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: police work, murder case, guns

A/N: i love this request sm omg. everything i know about detective work is from brooklyn 99 so i doubt it's very accurate. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

When you found out that the detective training you was none other than Hwang Jun-ho, you were ecstatic. You've worked with him a few times before, doing general beat cop tasks for his cases and seeing him around the precinct.

Not only is he an extremely respected detective, he's also really cute. You hate to be the girl at work who's fawning over one of the boys, but come on. You have eyes.

Now though, as you're sitting in the squad car together staking out a suspect for one of his cases, you're starting to wish you had gotten assigned to anyone else.

You've spent nearly two hours together and you can count the number of words he's said to you on one hand. He's barely even looked at you. It's not like you were friends before, but you've worked together since you got transferred to the precinct a few months ago. And now this man will be the deciding factor in whether you get the detective promotion or go back to being a beat cop.

About a week later, Jun-ho approaches you. "We've been assigned a case. Small, straightforward, perfect for training. Get ready, we're gonna head over to the scene. I'll give you a run down on the way over."

You nod, a smile on your face. It may be small, but it's your first case as a detective and you're excited to prove yourself. This may be your first case, but it will not be your last.

"Cool. Let me grab my stuff, I'll meet you at the car in a few minutes."

Jun-ho gives you a curt nod and turns, walking back to his desk to get his things.

You let out a sigh. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to describe a case as 'cool'.

You grimace at the gruesome sight in front of you. A man's body lays on the ground, blood splattered all around the room. A gun lies in his hand.

"First impression," Jun-ho says, taking out his notepad, "suicide."

You take a step closer, wanting to get a better look at the scene. As you try to take another step, a hand grabs your arm, yanking you back.

"Watch where you're stepping!" Jun-ho's voice booms at you. You look down to notice that you had, in fact, been very close to stepping directly in the victim's blood, which would have messed up the evidence badly.

You look down at your boots, embarrassed that you almost made such a rookie mistake. "Sorry, I'll be more careful." You step closer to the body, but his hand is still keeping you in your place. You huff. "I'm not going to step in the blood, you can let go."

He looks down at his hand and quickly releases your arm, allowing you to approach the scene, this time being extra cautious to make sure you don't disturb anything. You crouch down by the man's head, examining the wound.

Jun-ho gives you a questioning look. "What's wrong?"

You shake your head. "Something just feels off to me."

He continues jotting down notes. "Take a look around the place. I'm gonna talk to the wife. Please be careful not to touch anything. Wear gloves if you have to."

You sigh as he walks away. You had wanted to do this together, to learn how an investigation is done as a detective. He probably thinks you're incompetent now. Looks like you're gonna be working separately.

You take a quick scan over the interior of the room, trying to find little clues that may give you a hint as to what happened here. The house looks normal enough (save for the dead man on the floor, of course). Looking towards the windows, you notice that they are all locked, except for one. It could be nothing, but you write it down in your own notebook anyway, not wanting to overlook anything. You'll be damned if you make another mistake.

Jun-ho walks away from the victim's wife, who is crying outside the home.

"Hey, I might have found something," you jog up to him. "All of the windows are locked except one. Seems a little off to me."

Jun-ho sighs. "I don't think that's something to focus on until we get more evidence." He puts his notepad back in his pocket. "Come on, we gotta go back to the precinct."

You feel yourself deflate at his comment, slowly following him to the car.

You march into your chief's office, hands on your hips. "Chief, I'd like to put in a request for a different trainer."

The man looks up at you from the plate of food on his desk. "Why?"

"Because I know that Detective Hwang is going to give me a bad review," you huff. "If I had done badly, I'd accept it, but I can't help it that he doesn't like me."

He gives you a questioning look. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't think he's said one nice thing to me," you rant. "He doesn't talk to me unless he absolutely has to, he barely even acknowledges that I'm there! The only time he talks to me is to criticize me. He doesn't even work with me on our case!" You stop, catching your breath from you long tirade. "You could have assigned anyone to train me, why did you have to choose him?"

The chief cocks an eyebrow at you. "When he found out you were applying to become a detective, Detective Hwang personally requested to train you."

You look at your chief as if he has three heads. "What?"

He picks up a piece of chicken from his plate, bringing it to his mouth. "He said he saw potential in you, wanted to work with you." He looks up at you again. "He hasn't said anything bad about you or your performance. He's actually said you're doing very well."

Your head feels crazy as you try to process this information. The detective training you, the one that hates you, doesn't actually hate you. He asked to train you and praises you to the chief.

"But why would he do that? He acts like he can't stand me."

The chief shrugs. "You're training to be a detective. Solve the case."

You deadpan at him as a smirk grows on his face. "You're so proud of yourself for that one, aren't you?"

"Absolutely I am. Now, get back to your case." He points at the door with his chopsticks. You can't help but let out a small laugh as you walk back to the bullpen.

The next day, you're sitting at Jun-ho's desk, looking through the files on your victim. A crumb from the sandwich you're eating falls onto one of the photos of the crime scene and you quickly flick it away.

"What are you looking at?"

You jump a bit in your seat. Jun-ho is standing over you, looking at the files in your hands. You put your hand on your chest, steadying your breath.

"Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me."

He gives you a barely there smile. "Sorry." You watch his eyes move to the sandwich in your hand and any trace of the smile he once worse disappears.

You sigh. "I know I'm not supposed to be eating on the job, but I was so hungry that I couldn't focus." You put the remainder of the sandwich on the napkin. "And in my defense, it worked. I think I found something," you say, moving over so he can get a better look. You look up at him. "Do you want your chair?"

"No, it's fine," he says, leaning over you to inspect the files. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, making you stiffen.

"Take a look at this," you point to a description of the victim to Jun-ho. "He was left-handed." You then pick up a picture of the body, handing it to him. "Look where the gun is."

He takes the picture, his eyes widening when he realizes it. "It's in his right hand." He puts the photo down, looking down at you. "You said one of the windows was unlocked, right?"

You nod.

Jun-ho grabs his jacket off the back of the chair you're sitting in. "Go get your jacket. We gotta go back to the house."

You slam the door to the squad car, rushing behind Jun-ho as he moves toward the house. "Which window was unlocked?"

"The middle one on the side."

You run to the side of the house, stopping a few feet away from the window. "This one here."

Jun-ho crouches down. The window is over a small flowerbed, the area covered in mulch that couldn't have been laid down more than a week ago.

You hear Jun-ho gasp. "Here! A footprint!"

You come closer, crouching near him. Sure enough, the print of a large shoe is visible in the mulch, leading away from the window.

"You were right," the man next to you says. "This is a murder."

You stand by the coffee machine, brewing a cup for the woman waiting by Jun-ho's desk. He had reached out to the victim's widow, hoping to get some information that could lead to her husband's killer.

You see Jun-ho leaving the Chief's office and call him over. "Do you want to handle the questions?"

"No, I think we should do it together," he says. "I want your opinion, too."

You try to fight the smile growing on your face, nodding. Jun-ho leads you to his desk, pulling up a chair for you to sit in. You place the cup in front of the woman, as well as a tiny bowl with creamers and sugar.

"Thank you for coming in, ma'am," Jun-ho says.

"Is everything alright?" she asks.

"We just want to ask you a few questions," he says. "We've been going over your husband's case and we have reason to believe that this was a murder staged to look like a suicide."

The woman gasps, bringing a hand up to her mouth as her eyes water. "I knew it," he softly cries, "I knew my Jin-young wouldn't have killed himself. We don't even own a gun, and he was such a happy man."

You shift forward in your seat, grabbing the box of tissues from beside Jun-ho's computer and placing them in front of her. She nods a thank you as she takes one. "Ma'am, is there anyone who you think could have done this? Had anything happened recently?"

She takes a moment to think. "I know he was having arguments with a man he worked with, I don't know his name though."

"Do you know what they argued about?"

"One of them was going to be promoted," she explains. "The promotion would give a significant pay raise. The other man had been there for longer, but Jin-young was likely to get it. He was a very likable man, a very good worker, so nice to everyone. The other man though that he deserved it more."

You write down the details in your notebook. Jun-ho leans forward. "Thank you, ma'am. We'll be in contact."

You walk into the building, looking for the suspect. You had done some research and found that the man you're looking for is Kun Yong-ja, a man with a history of assault.

"Ready?" Jun-ho asks you. You nod, and he knocks on the door of the apartment.

The door opens, revealing your suspect. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, sir. We're with the police. We were hoping we could ask you a few questions," Jun-ho says.

The man's face falters for a moment. "About what?"

You pick up a photo of the victim, turning it to show him. "We're aware that you worked with Mun Jin-young. He was found dead in his home a few days ago."

Yong-ja looks between the two of you before slamming the door shut.

"Shit," you say, taking your gun out of its holster.

Jun-ho kicks in the door, taking his gun out as well. You follow him into the apartment. You run to the back, finding a window open by the fire escape.

"I'll follow him down this way, you go around, try to cut him off," Jun-ho tells you.

You nod, rushing out the door and down the stairs. Leaving the building and turning into the alley beside it, you see the back of Yong-ja, who is currently pointing a gun at your partner. As Jun-ho tries to talk him down, you sneak up behind him. With all your strength, you hit his head with the butt of your gun, knocking him unconscious.

"Thank you," Jun-ho says. He takes the handcuffs off his belt, securing them around Yong-ja's wrists.

As the beat cops bring him to the station, you and Jun-ho check his apartment. Sure enough, you find mulch-covered boots that perfectly fit the prints left in the victim's yard, as well as a small book with information on the victim, including his home address.

"Hey."

You turn, seeing Jun-ho walking up to you. You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Hi."

"The chief asked me to give this to you," he smiles as he hands you a small leather booklet.

You take it and open it, gasping when you see what's inside. The right side is blank, but the left holds a badge, the words "National Police Agency" engraved on it.

"Holy shit," you say, a big smile on your face. "I got it! I'm a detective!" You're so happy that you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in an unexpected hug. You feel him tense and pull back. "Sorry, I'm just really happy."

"It's fine," he chuckles. "Actually, this is something that I wanted to talk to you about."

Great, here we go. He's going to tell you how you need to be more professional, that you can't make mistakes while in the field.

"Now that I'm not your superior anymore," he smiles, leaning closer to you, "I was wondering if you want to get dinner with me this weekend?"

Wait, what?

You stare at him for a good ten seconds, mind processing the words that just came out of his mouth. You open your mouth and close it a few times before you're finally able to come up with some words. "Like, as in a date?"

"Yeah, a date. If that's alright."

You continue to stare at him, absolutely baffled.

He starts to shrink, his face dropping. "Please don't feel like you have to. It's okay if you don't want to, I won't hold it against you."

"No!" you blurt out. "I mean, yes, I would love to get dinner with you." You smile at him. "Sorry, I just honestly was not expecting that at all."

"Really?" he asks, brows furrowed. "I feel like I've been kind of obvious about it. I mean, I could barely look at you at first because you made me so nervous. One day I finally got the courage to ask you to lunch, but you were already eating and that plan went out the window."

It finally clicks in your brain. Everything you had assumed he'd done because he hated you, not talking to you and giving you looks when you ate at his desk, it was because he liked you.

"But I made mistakes," you say. "I almost stepped in the victim's blood."

Jun-ho chuckles. "My first case, I put filed a knife under the wrong case, would've blown the entire thing if someone hadn't noticed. I got a good yelling at, and now I always make sure I file evidence correctly. I can guarantee you will always be careful around crime scenes, now."

He's right. After that, you had been much more careful. "Damn," you say, "I really got this wrong."

"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have recommended you for detective," he teases.

You lightly slap his arm. "No take backs!" You gasp. "Wait, is that why you requested to train me?"

Jun-ho blushes, looking to the floor and kicking his shoes. "The Chief told you about that, did he?" He looks up. "And I'm guessing that you asked for a different trainer because you thought I didn't like you?"

"Man, the Chief really can't keep his mouth shut, huh?" you chuckle.

"Not at all," Jun-ho says. "So, I'll pick you up Saturday night?"

You nod, smiling. "It's a date."

Squid Game Tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy @l5byrinth @come-as-you-are-111 @starkeyszn @learninglinesintherainn @galactict3a

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

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cosmiccsun · 7 months ago

Text

nursery rhymes

hwang jun-ho x pregnant!reader

you and hwang jun-ho prepare for the arrival of your baby

warnings: none. no games are included in the fic below

jun-ho has been over the moon since finding out you’re pregnant, and it shows in everything he does.

he's been a little different from his quiet, laid back self.

he will go from rubbing your feet after a long day to making sure you always have your favorite snacks within reach.

he’s determined to make this journey as comfortable as possible for you.

after finding out that the both of you will be having a girl, the both of you decided to start on the nursery.

the two of you spent hours choosing the perfect color for the nursery.

you agreed on a warm cream as the base, with soft pink accents in a few decorative pieces.

jun-ho insisted on doing everything himself, with the help of his friend gi-hun.

even though he got a little paint on the ceiling and some in his hair...

you teased him endlessly, but he just laughed and said it was for his little girl.

he loves to place his hands on your belly, especially when you’re both lying in bed.

he’ll trace little patterns with his fingers and whisper things like,

“do you think she’ll be more like you or me?”

or “she’s going to be so loved, y/n.”

he’s secretly been reading parenting books, but he tries to play it cool.

one day, you caught him watching a video on how to properly swaddle a baby, and he turned bright red.

“i just want to be prepared,”

he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

most of the time, when he is home from detective work, he will be in the nursery.

you’ll find him carefully assembling the crib, double-checking every screw, and making sure it’s perfect.

when he’s done, he proudly shows it to you like he just built a masterpiece.

clearly, the nursery quickly became jun-ho’s favorite project, and he’s surprisingly meticulous about every little detail.

jun ho will measure the walls three times before hanging anything to make sure everything is perfectly aligned.

the lighting inside of the walls and built-in bookshelfs took you off guard.

it was perfect!

on a sunny afternoon, you were bored so you wanted to go grocery shopping.

jun-ho insisted on going with you, but things like grocery shopping were something that you preferred doing alone.

so, he spent time on the nursery while you were in the city gathering fruits, rice, and noodles for home.

jun-ho realized the hardwood floor might be too cold in the nursery...

so soft, neutral-colored rug became a must-have.

he made sure it was plush enough for tummy time with the baby and even laid down on it to test the comfort himself.

when you got home, a little before sundown, you could guess where jun-ho was.

jun-ho was sitting in the nursery with the lights dimmed, looking around with a small smile.

"hey, I'm back!"

you say softly.

the man smiles at you, taking in your eyes before looking down at your belly.

its only eight weeks before the baby is expected to come..

"what are you doing?"

you giggle.

the man looked up from your belly behind your cashmere jacket.

“nothing really, I'm just imagining what it’ll be like when she’s here.”

if you want a visual of the nursery that he eventually put together for the baby :D

I hope you enjoyed! I might expand on this jun-ho x pregnant!reader thing

1K notes · View notes

cosmiccsun · 7 months ago

Note

hwang jun ho fluff pleaseeee anything

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | jun-ho, struggling with the search for his missing brother, finds comfort in your presence. through quiet support, gentle touches, and a deep kiss, you offer him the solace he needs during his emotional turmoil

warnings | fluff, emotional distress, angst, vulnerability, light romantic/sexual content (kisses and caresses), healing through affection

word count | 2.5 k

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

The room is shrouded in a heavy stillness, and only the faint sound of the distant city filters through the window. It’s as if, for a moment, the entire world decided to stop spinning. Everything is silent, except for the soft, synchronized breaths shared by two people who are hesitant to break the calm.

You sit on the edge of the sofa, gazing out the window. The sky is covered in a gray blanket, and the rain seems ready to fall at any moment. It’s a quiet afternoon, but the anxiety lingers in your chest. You know Jun-ho is close, but you also know that something is weighing heavily on his soul.

It’s not something you can touch or easily describe. You can only see it in his eyes, in the subtle movements of his body. It’s as if he carries an invisible weight, something he can’t put into words. His search for his brother, the anguish of not knowing where he is, all of it is consuming him. And you see it.

Jun-ho enters the room with firm yet slow steps, as if each movement costs him more than usual. It’s not that he wants to show it, but you can tell. The exhaustion is written on his face, in the shadows beneath his eyes. Desperation has never suited him, but today, he seems unable to avoid it.

He removes his coat and tosses it over a nearby chair, his gaze fixed on the floor. He hasn’t spoken a word since you arrived, but you know him well enough to understand what’s going through his mind.

"Jun-ho," you say softly, not wanting to interrupt too much, but knowing it’s necessary.

He looks up, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours. There’s something so transparent in his gaze right now. Frustration, helplessness. And that weariness that’s been building up, that emotional exhaustion that’s consuming him.

"Can’t find him," he whispers, his voice breaking from trying to maintain composure. "I’ve searched everywhere. I don’t know what else to do."

The pain in his voice pierces you. You know he’s fighting, that he’s given everything he has. But even so, seeing him so vulnerable makes you want to embrace him and make all the suffering he’s carrying vanish.

You stand slowly and approach him, without rushing. There’s no need for words right now. You just come closer to his side, placing your hand on his shoulder gently, offering him silent comfort.

"You’re doing everything you can, Jun-ho," you murmur, not letting go of him. "That’s what matters most."

He doesn’t respond at first, but his eyes, always so calculating, soften slightly. You can see that your words have pierced something within him. He doesn’t say it, but you can see the calm starting to fill the space between the two of you.

"It’s not enough," he says in a low voice, lowering his head. "I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough."

You sit beside him, keeping your hand on his shoulder, your calm pulse in contrast with his, which beats strong. You want to say more, but words seem insufficient. So, you lean toward him, touching his face with a gentleness that speaks of comfort.

Your fingers trace his jaw, and as soon as you feel his skin, you realize how tense he is. His body seems to resist the contact, but little by little, he relaxes under your touch.

"Jun-ho," you whisper, looking into his eyes, "I understand. And I’m here."

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see how his eyes close for a moment, as if by hearing your words, he feels a small relief. Then, he looks at you again, and there’s something different in his expression. A vulnerability he’s never shown. And for some reason, you feel that this is the moment.

You do it without thinking too much, you simply feel that this is what both of you need. You bring your lips to his, first brushing them gently. It’s a short kiss, almost shy, but full of meaning. In that moment, when everything else disappears, both of you find each other in that small refuge.

Jun-ho, surprised at first, doesn’t take long to respond, pulling you closer, as if he needs you more than he could admit. His hand finds its way to your back, seeking contact, seeking that warmth that only you can offer him right now.

The kiss deepens slowly, as if you both are falling into a safe space, a place where shadows can’t reach you. His lips move with more urgency now, as if each kiss is a way of releasing all the accumulated anguish. As if, by kissing you, he can find some peace.

With one hand, you begin to caress his hair, feeling the softness of his strands. Your fingers slowly slide toward his neck, tracing a path that seems to calm him even more. Jun-ho, feeling your touch, tenses a little, but then relaxes, his shoulders falling slightly. It’s as if he’s letting go of all the weight, at least for a moment.

"I need you," he murmurs against your lips, almost as if confessing something deep and vulnerable. "More than I can admit."

You respond without saying a word, simply cupping his face in your hands and kissing him again. This time, the kiss is longer, deeper. As if time has ceased to exist between you two. As if only this moment, this refuge, remains, where there are no fears, no anguish.

His hands move over you now with more confidence, sliding toward your waist, pulling you closer to him. The softness of his touches is reassuring, as if he wants to make sure you’re there, that you won’t leave. You, in turn, can’t stop caressing his face, as if by touching him, you could erase all the darkness surrounding him.

As the kiss continues, Jun-ho pulls away slightly, breathing deeply. His eyes meet yours, and in that moment, there’s something in his gaze that tells you everything he can’t put into words.

"Thank you," he says softly, his fingers still caressing your skin. "Thank you for being here, for giving me something to hold on to."

You smile, caressing his cheek with tenderness. You don’t need to respond. You know. You know that sometimes words aren’t necessary when gestures speak louder.

"I’ll always be here, Jun-ho. Always."

And, for a while, you stay with him in silence, holding him, kissing him gently again, as if the world could pause for just a second, so that both of you can find comfort in the only thing that matters: each other.

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cosmiccsun · 7 months ago

Text

—License and registration, please.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Did you pass the speed limit? No. Did Jun-ho pull you over anyways to steal a few moments (and kisses) with you? Yes.

Content: fluff, shared kisses, a girl flirting with him but Jun-ho being very loyal, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.1k

The air was cool that afternoon, sunlight glinting off the windshields of passing cars. Traffic duty wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was steady, and after everything Jun-ho had endured chasing shadows and secrets, it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t mind the transfer. It gave him time to breathe. To be with you.

A motorcycle driving into sight caught his eyes, bringing him out of his thoughts. A man carrying a girl on the back, helmet-less.

Jun-ho approached the two as the motorcycle came to a stop, his partner—a younger, less experienced officer trailed after him.

“You’re not wearing a helmet. Your license, please.” he took out a small tablet as the man cursed, eyes full of impatience and annoyance.

“Isn’t this entrapment? Hiding to catch people is shady. You want to squeeze money out of broke citizens?” the man scoffed.

“Your license, please.” Jun-ho ignored him and extended a hand out, waiting.

The man handed over his license begrudgingly as the girl sitting behind him on the motorcycle hopped down, giving the man a reassuring pat as if saying, “I’ve got this,” before coming closer to Jun-ho.

“Look, can’t you just let us go? I’m wearing one.” she gestured to her own helmet, giving it a steady pat.

“No, ma’am.”

The girl frowned, but took a second look at him and her eyes sparkled, peering at him. “Hey, you’re really handsome!” her voice tuned into a higher pitch at her excitement, as if she found some treasure.

“I could charge you with obstruction.” Jun-ho said dryly, checking the information on the small tablet in his hand.

“You’re a tough cookie,” the girl smiled wider, taking out her phone. She snapped a few pictures, striking different poses as Jun-ho tried to avoid the camera, his head ducked low as he scanned over the information shown on the tablet. The man on the motorcycle narrowed his eyes at the sight.

As the ticket printed out from a machine strapped to Jun-ho’s vest, the girl patted his shoulder. “Come on, get in here!” she leaned closer, but he stepped away to maintain a good distance, before walking over to the man.

Jun-ho handed the ticket to the guy. “The fine for not wearing a helmet is 20,000 won. Pay it on time.”

The man snatched the ticket away as the girl continued fawning.

“What’s your number? Are you single?” she squealed.

Jun-ho blinked, momentarily taken aback, before he smirked softly and raised his hand, the band on his finger glinting in the sunlight. “Happily married,” he said simply, his voice warm.

The girl’s excitement evaporated, replaced by a pout. “Seriously? Who’s the lucky woman?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer, instead he walked back to the squad car.

The man drove off on his motorcycle, a bitterness clinging onto him. The girl was startled and chased after the guy, shouting and exclaiming and throwing her helmet at him but missing while trying to catch up, her loud curses disappearing into the distance along with the motorcycle.

Jun-ho watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, shaking his head before getting back into the squad car. His rookie partner shot him a bewildered look. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“More than you’d think. Just ignore them,” Jun-ho replied, settling back into his seat, looking down at the band on his ring finger as his eyes softened, already missing you.

They were driving back toward their usual patrol route when Jun-ho caught sight of a familiar car in the distance. It was yours, the unmistakable silhouette of the vehicle and the way it handled the road bringing an instant smile to his face.

“Pulling over for a second,” he told his rookie partner.

“What? Why?”

Without explanation, Jun-ho sped up slightly, falling into step behind your car before flicking on the lights. You weren’t speeding—you rarely did—but you pulled your car to the side of the road obediently anyway, your indicator blinking calmly, putting the car in park.

Jun-ho stepped out of the patrol car, smoothing his uniform. His partner stayed inside, fiddling with the radio.

He walked up to your window, tapping lightly on the glass, then gestured for you to roll it down. When you turned to look at him, he saw the way your eyes flickered in recognition and affectionate annoyance. He could already feel his heart melting.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along as you pressed the button and lowered the window.

“Officer,” you said, your voice laced with playful suspicion. “What’s the problem?”

Jun-ho leaned against the frame, speaking in a serious way, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “License and registration, please.”

You scoffed. “I wasn’t speeding. You know I wasn’t speeding.”

“You were driving suspiciously… within the speed limit,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Am I really getting a ticket for obeying the law?”

“Yes,” he said, dipping his head closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “But you can pay in kisses.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in through the open window, his lips brushing yours in a tender, stolen kiss. It was soft, warm, and lingering—the kind of kiss that reminded you just how much he adored you. When he pulled back, he waited for just a moment before stealing another kiss. And then another.

“Jun-ho,” you mumbled, your voice half-scolding but mostly filled with affection.

“One more,” he murmured, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the window.

You gave in, letting him kiss you again.

“That’ll cover it,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled back, his eyes lingering on yours.

Just as he straightened, the passenger door of the squad car opened, and his rookie partner stepped out, looking thoroughly confused. “Uh… everything okay?”

Jun-ho let out a sigh, his expression shifting back to something more professional, though you could still see the softness in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute, go wait in the car.”

The officer hesitated but nodded, retreating back to the patrol car, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Jun-ho said, his voice softening as he looked at you.

You smiled warmly. “I’ll see you at home.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “Sharp.”

With one last lingering look, Jun-ho stepped back, letting you drive off. He stood there for a moment, watching your car disappear down the road, his heart full.

As he returned to the squad car, his rookie partner gave him a questioning look, but Jun-ho didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just for him to cherish.

#hwang jun ho #favs 🌷

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cosmiccsun · 7 months ago

Note

I neeeed an angsty jun ho x (fem) reader so bad 😩

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤

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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟.

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 !! 𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 😭💕

𝐓𝐖: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦e 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐩𝐭𝐬𝐝

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You screamed but it felt like it came from the pit of your stomach rather than from your throat. There were piles of bodies laying around you, pink guards came in with the gift box shaped caskets as the intercom announced each player that was eliminated.

You tried to move but your legs didn't cooperate, it felt like they were anchored by invisible chains.

You watched as the guards moved hurriedly, Clearing the area. Everything was moving so incredibly fast until you heard the echoes of gunshots and everything slowed... You didn't think there was anyone left to kill. You caught ahold of one of the guards, "What are you doing?.. this isn't a game, we aren't playing a game right now.. you're just- you're just.. killing us. Why?!"

The guard didn't say anything, his arm shifted and you felt pressure against your chest. You didn't have to look down, you knew what it was.

You let out a teary sob, feeling pathetic as you readied yourself to plead for your life. "Please, i just want to go home." After the words left you, a sense of numbness washed over you. You couldn't feel anything. You heard one final gunshot but this time it wasn't an echo, it was deafening. Like the noise was inside you, almost like it was coming out of you, Your ears stung.

"Baby, open your eyes.." You felt a hand brush hair out of your face and you jolted up, your entire body was trembling.

When you opened your eyes, your gaze darted around the fimiliar bedroom before landing on the man that was hovering over you. "Jun-ho.." The name left your mouth in a shaky breath.

"I'm here y/n.. i'm right here." You desperately grabbed onto his arm trying to steady your shaking body.

You felt like your chest was on fire, the more you thought about it, the worse it got. It felt like it was spreading, like your entire body was burning.

"Hey.. look at me baby." You looked up at him, your breaths coming in frantic gasps.

"Shh, breathe baby. Come on.. You need to breathe." He reached up, resting the palm of his hand on your neck. He pressed two fingers to your pulse point keeping track of your pulse subtly. His thumb stroked your cheek in hopes that it would ground you a little.

You nodded keeping eye contact with him as you tried to slow your breathing. His eyes were full of concern as he watched you. He put his free hand on your back pulling you close enough so that his lips can rest on your forehead. "That's it baby, you're okay.. you're okay" He spoke against your forehead, pressing a gentle kiss once his lips were free of the words.

"Jun-ho i-" He shook his head pressing another gentle kiss on your forehead as he rubbed your back. "Shh, i know baby.. i know, just breathe"

Jun-ho had witnessed the horrors of that island aswell, it wasn't easy for either of you, but you two tried to get back on track and live a life that was somewhat normal, of course there would always be moments like these.

You wished that you could erase the entire experience away from your memory, but you were grateful that you were with somebody who knew the extent of what you were put through. Jun-ho is the biggest blessing in your life, without him you would crumble.

"C'mere." He whispered softly against your ear. You curled up into his lap resting your head against his chest, Your shaking body was slumped against his steady one. After feeling your pulse slow to a normal pace he moved the hand that was on your neck and began stroking your hair in soothing motions.

"I've got you baby, we're safe." You nodded against his chest, The words felt like an anchor.

Your grip on him was tight, you needed to make sure that this was all real so you needed to feel his presence as much as humanly possible.

"They're so vivid Jun-ho.. I just wish there was a way to prevent them." you said shuddering, your voice hoarse. Were you screaming in your sleep?

He hummed, frowning as his eyes examined every inch of your face. He positioned you so that you were sitting up a little in his lap, he reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand and opened it with ease, "Here, take a sip." He said, holding it up for you to take.

As you sipped on the much needed water, Jun-ho looked away, you could tell he was wracking his brain for ways to help you. "Do you wanna try therapy?" He finally said. You looked up at him, appreciating his willingness to try anything but you knew that wouldn't work.

"I would but- I mean what would I even tell them?.." He nodded, knowing that you did have a point. Seeking help was useless.

You sighed setting the water back down and relaxing against his chest. You knew the only thing that would heal you both was time and relying on eachother, you just had to keep telling yourself that it'll get easier.

"Are you tired at all?.." Jun-ho asked, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear, he knew that after really bad ones like this you weren't able to sleep much at all so you'd be up for at least a couple more hours.

You shook your head, pursing your lips together.

"Okay well, let's get up then." His lips were forming into a smirk, you knew that look all to well.. This man had a plan.

Your eyebrows furrowed, he started to shift around gently realeasing himself from your grip before getting up completely and reaching his hand out for you to take.

You took a glance at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read '5:47 am'.

"It's nearly six in the morning my love. Where are we going at this hour?.."

He smiled and as usual it was contagious, you couldn't help but smile back.

"You'll see baby, come on." He gestured for you to take his hand again and you obliged.

He lead you out of the shared apartment, and scanned the hallway his eyes narrowed when he found what he was looking for at the end of the hallway.

"Do you trust me?" he said turning back to face you.

"Of course i trust you" He smiled, pressing his lips to your cheek before leading you to the door at the end of the hallway. You looked up at the neon green sign squinting as the light hit your eyes.

"The fire exit?.. is this even allowed?" You looked over at your boyfriend who was shrugging sheepishly.

"I don't think so.. but who's stopping us?" You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"It's so unlike you to break the rules.. Detective Hwang Jun-ho" He rolled his eyes, that gorgeous smile still on his face as he opened the door.

He carefully led you up the stairs and you two ended up on the rooftop of your apartment complex.

You looked up at the sky seeing the faint signs that meant the sun was about to rise, the view from up here was breathtaking. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and his head on your shoulder. The orange tint of the sun covered your face. You took a deep breath letting the crisp air fill your lungs as you watched the sun inch it's way higher.

"It's so beautiful up here.." You murmured, your gaze fixed on the sky, admiring the way that the clouds hugged the rising sun.

"You're so beautiful." His mushy words drew a soft laugh from you. He was so clichè but you couldn't help but love that side of him.

You turned to face him, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss. His hand snaked around your waist. Your arms reached up to rest around his neck. You melted into the kiss, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You smiled against his lips realizing that this was what you were fighting for in there, this exact moment, it's why you're still alive.

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