#and then everything immediately went wrong

[selenitespeculations]

Jason was enjoying a rare calm day in the heart of Crime Alley. No fires to put out, literal or figurative, and the pervasive smog that lingered over Gotham had thinned enough to let through a bit of sunlight. He was relaxing on the rooftop of his apartment building, lazily considering dinner options. He had woken up later than he would’ve liked to, and by the time he got to the street market, pickings were slim. He’d watched in despair as Manuel from the mechanic shop on 4th grabbed the last of the good tomatoes, leaving behind wrinkly sun dried disappointment. Jason really should just get a tomato plant for his balcony or something, but Mrs. Patel did some sorcery bullshit to her tomatoes that made them better than Jason could ever hope to manage. He HAD set an alarm, to make sure he got out before the bulk of the crowd, but with how late he was out last night chasing down a new player that had tried to make a home in HIS Alley, Jason had slept right through it. And the multiple back up alarms. If he ever saw more of those assholes in his territory, they would pay for making him miss the good tomatoes. And also the unapproved drug trafficking, but mostly the tomatoes.

Buzzing in his pocket had Jason pulling out his phone to an alert, he’d set up something to notify him when That phone got a call or text. He didn’t want to be carrying it around, with his luck it’d get broken on patrol, or worse, one of his family members might see it.

Making his way back down into his apartment, Jason went straight to the bottom drawer of the bedside table where he kept the burner phone. Thing was ancient at this point, but still functioned, and honestly? Old tech was harder to hack with modern remote methods. Still buzzing with a call Jason brought it to his ear.

“Hey Danny, what’s up?”

Jason turned stark white and ran from the apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“How could everything have gone so wrong so fast.” Jazz thought frantically as she hid around a corner.

The day had been going perfectly to plan. Mom and Dad were sat on the blanket she and Danny laid out, Dad digging into his fudge and mom focused on fixing the lipstick laser in her hand.

“Mom, Dad,” Danny started, “I have something to tell you.” He sounded nervous, nervous enough that they both focused on Danny immediately.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Maddie asked, still turning the broken laser in her hand.

“Yeah, Danno, what’s on your mind?” Jack said.

“Remember how when you guys had just finished the portal, you tried to turn it on, but nothing happened?” Danny’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes? We assumed it was a timing issue-” Maddy began.

“Yeah! Just needed to sit for a bit!" Jack exclaimed.

“Well it wasn’t so much a timing issue as it was a… wiring issue.” Danny said hesitantly.

“A wiring issue?” Maddie said. “No, if it was-“

“Time doesn’t fix wiring Danno!”

“- a wiring issue then we would’ve had to-”

“GUYS!” Jazz didn’t quite yell, but her voice did get louder. “Listen to Danny’s explanation, please!”

“Sorry Danno!”

“Sorry sweetie, go ahead.”

“Yeah, so,” Danny continued, “there was a, well, there’s no easy way to say this really,” he fidgeted with his hands, before continuing, “you guys put an on button inside the portal.”

“But Danny, if there was an on button inside, how did it get turned on?” Maddie asked, clearly not believing her son. “That much electric output, plus the-”

“The ecto-overload alone would’ve melted anyone inside when it opened!” Jack interrupted.

“Yeah…” Danny was stalling at this point. He just needed to get it out and over with.

“The combination of the two, ectoplasm and electricity, in such high concentrations…” Maddie trailed off, gaining a strange look in her eyes.

The floodgates finally broke. The whole story spills right out of Danny’s mouth, from the stupid dare that got him to go in the portal in the first place, tripping on the wires and hitting the on button on the wall. Waking up with Sam and Tucker over him, powers developing, ghost fights, just one last detail to show them.

“How have we never seen you using these powers?” Maddie asked.

“Yeah, we’re out every day fighting those spooks! We would’ve noticed!” Jack agreed.

This was it. The moment that would determine everything. Danny took a deep breath.

“Because I’m Phantom.” He transformed as he said it, letting the bright rings separate around him, floating off the ground as he watched nervously for whatever reaction was coming.

He never got to see it.

The second Phantom was hovering in the air above their blanket, the park exploded with noise and light. GIW agents came pouring out of the trees and screeching into the parking lot with their white vans. A group of them shot what looked like a modified Fenton Ghost Net right at Phantom, dragging him down as it wrapped around him and stuck.

“DANNY!” Jazz screamed, scrambling to her feet to try and chase after her little brother.

Jack and Maddie were still sitting, looking shell shocked. They watched as Danny was dragged into a van, Jazz chasing behind them, until one of the men pulled out a device, aiming it at Jazz.

“Ecto-contamination level 3, detain immediately for examination and purification.” The robotic voice sounded out. The agents that weren’t busy driving away with Danny in tow turned on her, dark intent in their eyes.

Finally Jack and Maddie snapped out of their haze. “You step away from my baby!” Maddie yelled, pulling a collapsible bo staff out of some invisible pocket.

Jack jumped up to rush at the crowd of white suits, yelling, “Get out of here Jazzyrinces!”

Jazz watched in horror at she lost sight of the van that had taken Danny. Dodging Guys in White, she booked it toward where she last saw it turn, hoping for some sort of clue. It was hopeless. There was no way she could catch up to a van on foot. Her phone buzzed as she pulled it out, Tuckers name filling the screen.

“Jazz! Please tell me Danny’s still there! He’s not answering my calls and when I saw what’s on the rest of the GIW server-“

“They took him.” Jazz’s voice shook. “They were waiting the whole time and they TOOK HIM.” She was crying now

“No. NO! I was so close! If I had just cracked the sigil a bit earlier-” Sam’s voice was tight with anger and frustration.

“Can you find him?” Jazz cut in. There was no time for self deprecation right now.

“We will. I promise.” Tucker swore as he hung up.

Jazz what at a loss. What were the next steps. No way she was waiting around for Tucker to find something.

“The BOOmerang!” She said out loud to herself. It could work, it tracked Danny before, should track him now.

Jazz ran back to the house, pulling apart the lab in search of anything that could track Danny. The BOOmerang was nowhere to be found. Jazz ran back upstairs to look in Danny’s room, but no luck. She did , however, find an old outdated flip phone. She knew that there was only one person that Danny used this phone to call.

They needed help, and Jazz knew of only one person that was outside Amity, and also gave enough of a shit to try and get them that help. Danny didn’t want to tell him, but if he was able to help Danny escape from his life before in Gotham than maybe Jason will have the skills to help find Danny and get him out of wherever the GIW put him.

She pressed on the saved number, and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hey Danny, what’s up?” So this is Jason.

“This is Jazz. Jasmine, Danny’s older sister.” Jazz had no idea where to even start. But they needed help and fast, so she pushed on before he could question her. “Danny has been abducted by a government agency known as the Ghost Investigation Ward. I have people working on finding him, but Danny was our heavy hitter and without him our chances of breaking into wherever they’re keeping him and getting out alive are slim. Can you help us?” There. Short and to the point, getting across the urgency without giving everything away.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what? Ima need some more information.”

Jazz sighed. “Time really is of the essence here.”

“We can talk while I drive.” Jazz heard the roar of an engine, presumably from Jason motorcycle if Danny was to be believed. “Now what’s this Ghost Investigation Ward, and why is Danny involved.”

Jazz sighed. Danny would be pissed at her, but she couldn’t outright lie here, not without potentially messing with Jason ability to help them get to Danny.

“Danny was exposed to an incredible amount of ectoplasm when our parents portal to the infinite realms opened.” Jazz started, “His ectoplasm contamination levels are high enough to subject him to the Ectoplasmic Containment and Termination Operative Acts, or the ECTO Acts.”

“The fucking what Acts? What are the “infinite realms”? Also ectoplasm as in Ghosts?” Jason broke in, clearly confused.

“Yes, ghosts are real, the Infinite Realms is sort of a dimensional in between, where most ghosts reside.” Jazz stated in a no nonsense tone.

“Yeah, okay, sure, but these ECTO Acts are in direct violation of the Meta Rights Protection Acts. There’s no way-“

“Lex Luthor’s presidency got a lot passed a lot of people.”

“That goddamn scumbag,” Jason mumbled.

“So, can you help us?” Jazz asked again. She needed to be sure.

“I’m on my way.” Jason said, voice steady and sure. “I’ll get Danny back.”

Protective Instincts

Hmmmmmmmmm

Idea.

So we all mostly headcanon that Jason was around tiny Damian when in the League right? And if we do demon!twins or siblings Danny they meet too?

Well what if, now hear me out, what if while taking care of them Jason notices early on how Danyal, or as he likes to be called Danny, doesn't seem to have the heart to be an assassin compared to Damian. And even under the pits influence and the LOA teachings, Jason's protective instincts of protecting kids is still strong. And notices how... lack the protection around Danny is compared to Damian, the true heir.

What if, when Jason leaves the League to start his revenge against Bruce, he fakes Danny's death by killing off the little 'guards' he did have and takes the kid with him.

But as he goes to Gotham Jason has to decide.

Drop the kid off in a good family, give him a new identity and keep him hidden or keep the kid and raise them?

[starktonyx]

Are we out of the woods yet?

Pairing: John Walker x reader. Word count: 6.2k

Description: John Walker and you are nothing more than two idiots who can’t stand each other. But when a mission goes wrong and you fall through cracking ice, he does everything in his power to keep you alive.

Warnings/Tags: Enemies to ‘you saved my life, what are we now?’, hurt/comfort, drowning in frigid water, CPR, body heat. You might fall in love with him. Thunderbolts make a cheeky appearance.

Notes: This was the most voted option for my next fic, it’s uh … it’s a bit long, yeah 🤭. Enjoy 🫶🏼

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You'd lost a stupid bet to Yelena, so stupid you couldn't even remember what it was, but you were currently living the consequences of it.

Which meant being paired on a mission with none other than John Walker.

Yes, the myth, the legend, the annoying, all star american asshole.

You'd managed to avoid being paired with him for a while. After all, the last few missions you were together had ended in setbacks, for the simple reason you two just couldn't get along. We're talking about a history of missed targets, blown covers, a few stray bullets aimed in each other's general direction, and maybe ... one crashed jet.

So Bucky and Yelena avoided it at all costs when planning for missions.

That was until now, all because Yelena had gotten bored. A lost bet landed you back on another jet with him of all people.

Mission site was in the middle of a frozen forest, where sunlight hadn't touched the snowy ground in years. Even inside the jet, you could feel the cold creeping through the metal walls as you got closer to the drop point.

You were sent to retrieve intel from a highly guarded facility that had made enemies with Valentina. Maybe eliminate a few targets if it came to that. Quite standard, even easy if you actually knew how to work together as a team.

The worst part? Their security perimeter stretched for miles. Which meant you had to go through a rough landing between the trees, far away from the base, and then hike through thick snow and unforgiving cold just to get in there.

Any enhanced teammate would've been better than you. Either Bucky or Alexei ... maybe they just didn't want to stroll around for miles with Walker either.

Couldn't blame them.

So Yelena, influenced by Bob surely, thought it would be funny to send you. Now that was the worst part, doing all of it with him.

You didn't even know what it was about Walker that riled you up so badly. Maybe it was his superiority complex. Maybe it was his agressiveness when he didn't like the way you planned things. Or how he never took the blame when things went sideways, even when he'd done something reckless too. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he looked a little too good when he was pissed at you, those veins in his neck, chest heaving, strands of sweaty hair sticking to his forehead—stop.

Let's go back to 'You simply don't get along'.

It was easier to hate him than to name ...whatever the hell this was.

"Can you stop doing that? I'm trying to land this thing, or are you looking to crash another plane?" Walker snapped from the pilot seat, not even turning to look at you.

You stopped for a second, realizing you'd started pacing in the back of the jet. It was the only thing keeping your body warm, and your mouth shut.

Until he had to open his.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is the super soldier getting distracted?" you said sarcastically. "Maybe if you actually paid attention to the plane this time, you won’t crash another one."

"We crashed because you couldn't sit still for five seconds … like right now."

"Wow, you're right. I brought it down with my bad attitude. My apologies, Cap."

You noticed the way his posture tensed on the seat, knuckles immediately flexing on the controls ... why was he so easy to rile up?

And why the hell was that kinda ... No. Stop it.

John didn't know what it was about you that riled him up so bad either. Maybe it was the constant defiance, that bratty attitude he just couldn't allow. Maybe it was how you never followed his orders, even when he was right. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way you kept running your mouth and he could only think about his mouth on yours to shut you up—no.

He just hated you, that was it.

"Just sit your ass down and put on your belt. We're about to land," he muttered, trying not to sound like he wanted to throw you out mid flight. "I don't know how bad it's gonna be landing into the woods."

You figured it was better to comply, not for him, but because the mission hadn't even started yet and part of the bet with Yelena was to finish the mission successfully, without killing each other in the process.

A lost bet was a lost bet, after all.

You plopped down into the copilot seat beside him, letting your eyes roll as you buckled in. John just side eyed you.

"Good girl," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

You went upright in your sit, looking at him with disbelief. "What the hell did you just call me?"

All you saw was a half smirk on his face, but before you could unbuckle and force him to say it again, the jet landed harshly into the snowy woods, trees scraping against the reinforced windshield as the aircraft rolled for some distance until it came to an abrupt halt.

You groaned when your head knocked hard against the leather copilot seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw his head snap toward you.

"You okay?" he asked, already unbuckling his belt.

If you really looked into it, it sounded a bit off from someone who had made very clear how much he didn't care about you. But apparently he seemed to have forgotten that for a moment, as he walked over and knelt in front of your seat, fingers working quickly to unbuckle you as he scanned your face for any signs of a concussion.

And for a moment you believed the hit gave you one, because there was no way in hell this was real.

John Walker...being nice to you? Caring?

You blinked a few times at the sight of him crouched at your feet, heart thumping so loud on your chest you were sure he could hear it. John's eyebrows furrowed to your lack of response.

You considered faking the concussion so you could blame your dazed state to that and not to the fact that his large hands rested on your knees like he wasn’t the last person who wanted to touch you.

"I'm good," you finally replied, barely audible, but enough for him to let out a breath he was holding.

Your eyes dropped to your lap, and he was suddenly aware of the placement of his hands. He quickly cleared his throat, standing up to somehow pretend to shrug it off. He grabbed his shield from the floor and tightened it up in his arm, maybe a little too hard so he could control his own heartbeat.

"Okay then … time to go to work."

You cleared your throat too, nodding and trying to ignore the heat that flushed across your cheeks.

Must've been the landing... yeah, just that.

——

The rough landing seemed to had messed with the jet's communication system, leaving you unable to notify anyone back at the watchtower that you'd made it safely.

You barely got two steps outside before regretting every decision that led you to this point. The stupid bet with Yelena. Stupid Bob.

Actually, scratch that ... Yelena was taking the yelling for the both of them.

Even layered head to toe with Valentina's high tech tactical suit, the cold crept in through every seam and zipper. The forest around you was quiet, and too white, just frost covered pines and the sound of boots crunching the snow below you.

And... him.

He walked ahead of you, carrying the map completely unfazed by the freezing air, head high and posture perfect, with that ridiculous bent shield attached to his arm.

"Walker, why do you get the map?" you asked, not even trying to hide your irritation.

"Because I actually know how to read it," he replied without looking back.

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, you didn't even want the map, your crossed arms were staying glued to your chest for warmth. Picking a fight with him was just the most entertaining way to stay conscious.

You walked in silence for about fifteen minutes before you started talking again, not because you had anything relevant to say, but because it kept your jaw moving.

"How much longer?" you asked, not intending it to come out as whiny as it did, but the cold sinking in your bones was making your brain foggy.

"Can't keep up, already?" he mocked. "Want me to take out the Sentry I keep in my pocket? Maybe he can fly us there."

You inhaled sharply, resisting the sudden urge to stab him. No one would know ... right? Mission incident. Just an incident.

You shook your head, you still needed him to get out of there. That didn't mean you couldn't mess with him a little longer.

So you sniffled.

"You're so mean, John," you mumbled, voice laced with fake hurt.

He stopped in his tracks, shocked about two things. First, did you just call him John? And second ... were you sobbing?

He immediately spun around to check, and Jesus, not a single tear. Just a goddamn grin spreading across your face.

His was jaw tight as he turned away, clearly realizing he'd been played.

"You're impossible," he muttered, shaking his head as he began walking again. You laughed.

"I'm actually cold ... not that you'd get it Walker, you're biologically incapable of suffering."

"Can you just be quiet for two seconds?" He groaned. "Maybe shutting up will help you preserve some energy."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you huffed, "Are we saving that energy for all the arguing we're gonna do later?" you were panting now, hating the way your breaths came shorter from the lack of oxygen.

He stopped again, turned just enough to glance at you over his shoulder.

"You good back there, or do I need to carry you?"

There was a part of it that sounded like he actually gave a fuck, but most of it was just him being sarcastic. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

"Oh, please," you scoffed, trudging past him in the snow. "I'd rather get naked here in the cold than be carried by you." He let out a short, dry laugh, and continued trailing behind you.

Yes, fighting with you was entertaining to him too.

The two of you went deeper into the snowy woods for a while, until the trail curved into a clearing. There, a wide, frozen lake stretched in front of you, splitting the path you were supposed to get across. It was lightly dusted in snow, surface thin enough to be a problem but not so fragile you couldn't maybe cross it if you were careful.

If you were careful.

Walker stepped in front of you, eyes scanning the amount of space the lake covered. He cursed under his breath, realizing going around was not an option if he wanted to get this mission done before the night fell and you froze to death.

"I don't like the look of this." He muttered, shaking his head.

It didn't take long for him to get into his I-was-a-soldier-once persona, running through scenarios in his head until he chose the one he seemed to be satisfied with.

Surprise, it was always the same one.

"Okay ... you're gonna have to stay right behind me. I'll check the ice as I go, you step where I step, got it?" He turned to you, lifting his eyebrows expecting an answer while you looked at him with an annoyed expression.

Yes, you knew it was the safest way to do it, he just didn't have to sound so condescending about it.

"Yes ... got it Walker, thank you," you rolled your eyes, eager for him to just go so you could get this over with.

He sighed, and turned his back to you. He adjusted his shield on his arm and stretched his neck from side to side. You snorted, why was he so dramatic all the time?

"Let's go," he muttered, before testing the first step by tapping into the ice with his boot.

You made your way like that, he gave cautious long steps, first putting part of his weight to test it, then all of it, before he could step forward with you behind him. You kept yourself close to him, as much as you told yourself you didn't enjoy it, the broadness of his back covered you from the chill air and his body was so warm you could feel it through his suit.

You didn't notice when he came to an abrupt halt, lifting his right arm up as a 'stop sign' a second too late, causing you to collide against his back.

"What the– ouch!" You cursed when you crashed into him. He didn't even budge from his spot, it was like hitting a wall. A six foot two brick wall. "Do you mind warning me before stopping like that? you are literally made of concrete," you complained, rubbing your forehead.

"I literally signed it when I stopped," he furrowed his brows, pointing the hand he kept in the air. 

"You are supposed to sign it before you stop, soldier boy. Or how about you just talk like a normal human being?"

"Listen, I think this is a thinner section, so we have to walk through slower, s l o w e r, is it clear enough for you now?" he said, spelling the world 'slower' as he made a walking motion with his fingers on the palm of his hand.

God, stabbing him never sounded like a better idea.

"Jesus Walker, do you even hear yourself when you talk? Just because you're leading doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it." You were almost yelling, completely fuming at this point.

"If you don't like the way I lead," he snapped, gesturing sharply in front of him, "then by all means, go ahead, take the lead. Break the ice if you want. I won't catch you if you drown."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He didn't expect you to actually move.

But you did. Because you'd rather drown out of spite than let him think he had the final word. So you squared your shoulders and strode right past him without hesitation.

His hand shot out to grab your shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm taking the lead," you shrugged, and he looked at you in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now–"

You yanked your shoulder from his grasp before he could finish. "Dead serious."

You kept walking without testing your steps, John's eye twitched at the sound of your boots hitting the ice. At this point you had forgotten how cold you were, just from the anger at him alone.

"Oh great ... yeah, keep stomping like that. You want me to throw the shield too? Maybe help you break it faster?"

"No, Walker, I don't want your stupid taco shield. Besides, I'm lighter than you."

You kept your pace, ice creaking faintly beneath you, but you ignored it. You were almost halfway through. When his firm hand latched onto your forearm, rougher this time, stopping you in your tracks.

"Stop doing that!" he snapped, holding you firmer so you wouldn't let go. "You can't just walk off and–"

"God, stop stopping me!" you shouted back, twisting violently in his grip. "Let go of me, Walker!"

But this time, he wasn't gonna let you. You exhaled loudly, feeling helpless, so you stomped your foot on the thin ice. Great … you were letting John Walker make you throw a tantrum. He just got angrier at your reckless move.

"I gave you an order!" He finally snapped, making your eyes go wide in surprise to his audacity.

Where the hell does this man get off?

You just stood there in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, his grip still firm on your forearm. Your brows furrowed, chest rising up and down from the confrontation. You swore your head was about to explode.

"You know what, Walker," you muttered, your voice was low because you felt that if you raised it any louder you were about to have a stroke. "Maybe if you used half of the brain inside your big stupid head you would realize you're not the boss of me."

He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out. His posture relaxed slightly, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm just trying to keep you alive," he muttered, like he was trying to make you understand something he couldn't quite put into words.

You saw a flicker of something different in his eyes, making you lower your arm to stop resisting against his grip. You wanted to believe him, you really did. Flashes of the way he'd looked concerned about you back in the jet invaded your mind.

But no. You wouldn't give him the pleasure.

"I don't need you to do that," you whispered, and when you noticed a slight falter in his grip, you forcibly pulled yourself back.

The sound of cracking ice didn't even register to him until it was too late. You turned around to continue making your way, planning to ignore him the rest of the mission.

"Wait, stop—" he blurted out, reaching a hand to stop you, but you had already stepped forward.

The clear layer beneath your boots gave way in an instant.

Freezing water swallowed you whole as you lost sight on John, who stood on what was left of the ice on the surface.

It wasn't just cold, it was paralyzing.

Your breath got caught somewhere in your lungs, never making it out. You tried to swim up but everything was so heavy, your limbs, your thoughts ... the world. You could only watch as you were dragged from the light above.

This was it. Your last dumb mission, stuck with him of all people.

John's knees hit the ground hard, scrambling to the edge of the crack you'd fallen in, peering into the dark, freezing water. But he could see nothing.

"Shit—shit ... where are you?” he looked frantically, but there was no way he could get you out like that, the current had pulled you under.

He inmmediatly dropped the shield attached to his arm, the goddamn map, and didn't even think twice before diving in. The cold punched the air from his lungs, but he didn't care, he could take it. You couldn't.

His eyes went wide in the dark, searching through the blurry water for you. Minutes passed, but he refused to acknowledge how long it was taking him to find you, how his enhanced body was already pleading for oxygen.

But then, in the distance he saw something. A figure ... your body, sinking like it didn't belong to someone fighting for their life.

Maybe you weren't fighting anymore.

No. God please—no.

He got to you in three large strokes, grabbed you with one arm, and pushed up, only to be met with thick, unbroken ice above. He cursed, accidentally swallowing some water. He slammed his fist into it once, twice, he didn't know how many it took until it broke wide open, cracks stained with the blood of his hand.

It didn't matter, he would heal.

John bursted through the surface with you held tight to his chest, coughing, ignoring the cold sinking into his bones as he dragged you into a thicker part of the ice like his life depended on it.

Because it did. Because yours did. But you weren't breathing anymore.

"No no no ... hey, hey, come on–" he groaned, laying your head on his lap, gently tapping your cheek, but you didn’t open your eyes. "Fuck."

He cradled your head to place you flat on the ice, and kneeled beside you. You were still, too still, the image of your limp body broke something inside him he didn’t even know was there.

"Don't do this to me," he muttered, as he started CPR with just one blood stained hand so his strength wouldn't crack your ribs on top of everything else. "Come on. Come on, don't– not like this ... I didn't mean it dammit!"

He shook his head, wet hair splashing cold water everywhere, aggressively wiping his eyes with his free hand, before going down to blow oxygen into your mouth.

"Breathe .. please breathe. You're not–you're not allowed to go out like this, you hear me?"

He kept just kept going, didn't plan on giving up, not on you. Compress, oxygen. Compress, oxygen. Over and over.

Until you finally jerked under him.

Water burst from your mouth in a choking cough, body lurching forward, your hands reaching out to cling on something, anything.

John.

He exhaled like he hadn't since he saw you go under the water and immediately scooped you up against his chest, a large hand placed behind your head to steady you. You gasped as you shivered, and he just felt this excruciating pain in his chest.

"Okay ... okay. You're okay," he mumbled, more to himself than you. "You're going to be just fine."

He just stroked your hair, as he kept muttering 'you're okay' 'you're alive'. You coughed a few more times, clinging into the heat of his chest that escaped the wet fabric of his clothes. That's when you realized he was soaking and shaking too, he'd actually pulled you out.

"You ... you went after me," you blurted out.

John wanted to punch himself in that moment. Repeatedly. Why did he have to say all those things to you? He knew damn well he would go after you every time.

He held you tighter, and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice cracking, something you never thought would hear from him, but man was he holding you like his life depended on it.

You wanted to say something else, but your teeth began chattering uncontrollably. You weakly pulled apart to look at him, maybe to let him know you felt your body giving out, maybe to look at him clearly one last time before your eyes began blurring more. And he saw it, he knew.

"No–no don't do that. Stay with me, alright? Listen to me! Just this once."

You're not the boss of me, Walker, you thought.

He finally stood up, pulling you up into his arms, one hand braced under your knees, the other across your back. "We're heading back to the jet. I need you to stay awake for me."

You just managed to nod, curling against his chest.

He left his shield behind, Val would get it back and if she didn't who cares. That wasn't important to him now, you were.

He miraculously managed to make it out the frozen lake without it breaking again, running right back into the forest path you'd already hiked through.

At this point, he didn't feel the cold anymore.

Didn't feel the bite of ice in his clothes, or the burning ache in his chest as he launched himself through the trees. You were trembling in his arms, he knew you were getting worse the longer he took to get you to shelter.

"Hey," John barked, louder than he meant to, like volume would anchor you to him. "C'mon. Say something, just keep talking."

You wanted to roll your eyes and laugh at him. He sounded way too desperate, for someone who couldnt stand you this morning. "You suck," you managed to blurt out, and you felt his laugh vibrate in his chest.

"Good girl," he replied, trying to get you mad at him like he'd done earlier in the jet, just so you talked to him.

Just so you stayed alive out of pure spite.

But you didn't fight him this time, you didn't want to anymore. He could boss you around all he wanted as long as you could feel the warmth of his body. As long as he kept running through the woods, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

"Eyes open. Stay with me." He groaned, when he didn't get the reaction he wanted. "Just a little longer, alright? Yell at me, go ahead, just keep saying shit. Insult my haircut. Tell me I ruined your day ... anything."

You made a noise, maybe a word, but it sounded wrong. Your head lolled against his shoulder and your lips were turning blue.

"Fuck," he hissed. "You're not dying on me."

The jet was on sight now, slightly buried in snow between the crashed pines. The second he reached the ramp, he stumbled up with you in his arms, kicking the door open. The inside was less cold than outside, but it was not enough.

He laid you gently on the copilot seat, and turned to the controls, desperately flipping switches to get the jet's heating system going, and fiddling with the comms settings to try to get to the team.

"Bucky? Yelena? Anybody, come in–" he barked, looking at you over his shoulder. "We need immediate extraction."

Nothing came back, the signal was still down.

"Goddammit." He slammed the control panel, a let out a string of curses under his breath.

He finally turned to your figure on the seat, and felt his whole chest cave in. You weren't moving anymore, just breathing shallow and slow. He could hear your heartbeat slowing down as you stared at him with half lidded eyes.

The jet had barely warmed up. It was like being inside a fucking freezer. There was no time, he knew what he needed to do.

"Fuck it."

He stripped off his gear quickly. The heat of his body had already dried off most of it. Still, he got rid of his tactical suit, gloves, the compression shirt he wore inside, until he was left in his underwear, body steaming against the crisp air.

He knelt by your chair, then hesitantly placed his hands on your soaked layers.

"Sorry ... I have to do this," he muttered, as his fingers found your suit's zipper. "I know you hate me. I know this is the last thing you want ... but I need you to live more than I need your permission right now."

His hands were careful. Gentle, even as they worked fast. He took off all layers, except for your underwear. His jaw clenched the whole time as he tried to keep his eyes from looking more than necessary.

He then lifted you off the seat so he could sit instead, placing you on his lap. He pulled you as close as he could, chest to chest, arms wrapped around your freezing body trying to trap as much heat as he could between you. He tilted your face gently, tucking it under his chin.

And God, he was warm.

By this point you had stopped shivering, but he knew it meant you were just at the worst stage of it. Your lips were blue, skin worryingly lifeless, and you couldn't quite figure out what was going on anymore.

"I got you," he whispered, kissing your head like he did when he got you out of the water. But that time you'd gotten back to him. Right now you were drifting away. "I've got you. You're gonna be okay."

"John?" His name came out unsure. Like you didn't remember he was even with you. Like you didn't remember you never called him John.

"Yeah it's me ... it's Walker. You hate my guts, remember? ... come on, stay with me," he held you tighter, wishing there was a way to give you all the serum going through his veins, even if it was him dying instead of you. "I didn't mean it. Any of it. You can punch me when you get better. I'll let you."

His hands tan through your back, your arms, rubbing warmth into your skin, trying to coax you back.

"I'll carry you through another mile of snow. I'll lose all the bets to Yelena if it means you get to yell at me one more time."

He didn't know what he was saying anymore. And it's not like you were hearing him anyways, time got strange after that.

You drifted in and out, sometimes aware of his arms around you, sometimes lost in the static of your own head. But slowly, like fog clearing, your mind began to catch up with your body. You felt heat all around you, like you were wrapped in something solid and safe.

And... bare.

Your cheek was pressed to bare skin.

John Walker's skin.

You blinked against the soft rise and fall of his chest, his heart thumping under your ear.

"...you're warm," you whispered, barely audible.

For a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But you shifted in his grip enough to let him know that you were there, that you were real again.

Thanks to him.

"You're alive," he exhaled. His hand instinctively cupped the back of your head, fingers threading carefully through damp strands. "Jesus ... you're alive."

"You sound surprised," you rasped, lips ghosting a smirk.

"I watched you fall through the ice." His voice cracked on the word fall. "Yeah ... I'm fucking surprised."

"I can tell ... your heart is racing," you mumbled, voice coming out hoarse from your dry throat.

The adrenaline was still screaming through his bloodstream. He wanted to play it off, crack a joke, maybe roll his eyes and say yeah, thanks for ruining the mission, but none of that came out.

"Yeah ... well," he breathed out. "You scared the hell out of me."

There. He said it. Fuck it.

"I thought you hated me,"

"I tried to.. . God knows, you make it easy."

That made you huff a shaky laugh. He ignored the way his heart skipped to that. You were laughing again. Alive. In his arms.

"You're not exactly sunshine yourself, John."

John. His name sounded so pretty coming out your lips when you were not dying.

"I know."

That was probably the first conversation that didn't end with you wanting to punch him in the face. Something had shifted.

Maybe almost dying was all it took.

It was like the cold had finally frozen the part of your brain that hated John Walker. Or the heat of his body had melted the part of you that still tried to pretend you did.

You nestled your face closer to his neck, trying to soak in the impossible warmth of his skin. "I didn't mean it either ... you know. All the times I said you were insufferable."

He didn't say anything.

"I mean, you are ... but–" You exhaled. "I think I just didn't want to deal with whatever this was."

You felt his fingers twitch against your back, still careful, like you weren't almost naked in his arms.

"Yeah," he said. "Same."

John looked down at you, still cradled to him like glass. You were watching him now, really watching him, and not with the usual disgust behind your eyes. This time it was something... gentler.

And he was close. Too close. You could feel the heat of him everywhere, arms still locked around you like you belonged there. And his gaze had stopped hiding whatever had been buried under all those arguments and insults.

He tilted his head, eyes flickering down to your lips for a second too long. That's when something snapped inside you. You surged forward before your brain could catch up.

It wasn't cute, not at first. It was cold dry lips, desperate touches, and months of pent up tension crashing together. But then he softened, his hand cradled your face like you were something fragile, and yours clung to his neck like maybe if you held tighter, this wouldn't end.

But it did, because he pulled apart, like he was still holding himself back. He shook his head.

"I want you alive first ... fully conscious," he whispered against your lips. "Not ... not like this."

Of course he wasn't sure if this was real. If this was just some kind of 'thanks for saving me' type kiss. Like tomorrow you would wake up and remember you hated him, and he wasn't sure if he could take that.

You shook your head, you have never known what you wanted more than in this moment. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe it was the brush with death.

"No," you shook your head. "Ive never felt more alive ... and I'm not wasting another second."

John opened his mouth to argue, but you kissed him before he could. You took all the strenght left in your body to kiss him deeper, until it was less about the anger, the insecurities, and more about everything else you hadn't said yet.

And you showed him, with your hands running through his hair, with your tongue playing with his, that this kiss wasn't a just a thank you, it was an apology ... a finally. Because you still didn’t know what the hell this was, but neither of you wanted to fight it anymore.

You pulled back breathless, but you were still so close that you could feel his chest rising and falling against yours. And then ... you both laughed.

Awkwardly. Like you didn’t know what to do with each other now.

"...What on earth was that?" you whispered, smiling through the adrenaline crash.

"I ...I don't know," he muttered, a little dazed.

You knew you should be panicking, overthinking. You should be denying everything that just happened. Yet still, you're both laughing again, naturally, like you didn't spend the last months wanting to stab each other.

Something loosened inside you, and you closed your eyes. His warmth, John was so damn cozy and soft ... almost unreasonably so.

Until he oppened his mouth again. Because he was still John Walker after all.

"So... what was that about you rather being naked around here than letting me carry you?" He allowed himself to tease you, because he could now.

Because everything you said in your stupid argument came true. You just didn't expect him to rub it in. You opened your mouth in surprise, hitting his chest, but this time it was playful.

"Haha, very funny. What was that about you not going after me if I drowned?" you snarked back.

He chuckled, and god ... it felt so easy now. He didn't have to say something mean back this time, too many months wasted on that.

So he just leaned in and crashed his lips against you.

Because you were cold. Because you were warm. Because your lips were right there and he just saved your life. And he was sick of pretending he hated the sound of your voice.

This time what interrupted your little make out you was the voice of someone else.

"... h-hello? ... guys come in. We got your message, Walker. Already on our way. Are you both okay?"

Yelena's voice coming out the jet’s comms made your tongues freeze mid kiss. You split apart like teenagers caught making out in a janitors closet.

You were suddenly aware of your very compromising position ... almost naked.

"Oh my god ... oh my god, John," you panicked, looking at the pile of wet clothes on the floor. "She's not even gonna let us explain it to her."

"Just ... don't answer yet," he hissed. "Give me a second to ... it's just my face, I can't—" He turned away from you.

"Are you blushing?" You chuckled through your panic.

"No ... It's the cold, shut up."

"Guys, do you copy? Hellooo ... this is Yelena … I swear to God if you two are dead, I'm going to be very upset."

You scrambled upright, before she thought about accessing the jets cameras or video calling, and tapped the console to talk to her.

"This is Walker and uh ... me," you said, voice slightly breathless. "We're alive, mission compromised. But we're... okay."

There was a pause, and you thought maybe you saved your asses.

"Why do you sound like you've been making out?"

You didn't answer inmediatly.

"Hold on ..." she hurried, and you panicked.

A white light flickered, signaling image was coming through. A fucking video call.

Before you could launch towards the control deck to cut the communication, a hollogram showed the inside of another jet, and Yelena's face. Or more accurately, Yelena's extremely judgmental face. Her eyes went wide, jaw almost falling to the floor.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?"

John cursed under his breath and reached blindly to get his tactical shirt, laying it over your shoulders to cover what was left of your dignity. Bob's voice came in behind her.

"Wait, wait ... move, lemme see—holy shit,” he covered his mouth with both hands, in half amusement, half disbelief.

Ava shoved herself into frame next, squinting. "Are you guys... naked?"

Bucky just peeked his head in, horrified. "They are."

You covered your face with both hands, muffling a mortified groan. John just tipped his head back and let out the most dramatic sigh of his life.

"I swear to god," he muttered. "We weren't ... we're not—it was hypothermia!"

"And your solution was...?" Yelena teased.

"Body heat, Belova," he snapped, rolling his eyes. "It's called first aid, look it up."

"Well ... clearly you got aided." Ava smirked at you.

Bob's voice chimed in again. "I bet that's not the only thing he—"

"BOB."

Yelena mouthed a sorry to the camera after shutting him up, and gently pushed him to the side. Ava disappeared next to them. Even off frame you could still hear their muffled laughs.

Bucky just scanned your face through the screen. "You okay?"

You nodded, because you were. You finally were. "He's really warm."

John cleared his throat.

"We need evac. She's stable now but still cold. Jet heating wasn't enough, I did the only thing I could."

"Copy that," Bucky nodded, biting his cheek to not say anything. "Reaching your coordinates, just please... put your shirts back on before we get there."

[angelluvsrafe]

change of plan

- request a fic - masterlist -

— ⋆·˚ ༘ * requested!

as you get closer to finishing your makeup, your stomach feels like it’s flipped upside down and your hands are shaking more and more each minute.

it’s just a date. it will be fine. you try to tell yourself that everything will be okay but your brain doesn’t get the memo. you sigh and drop your head into your hands.

rafe looks up at you from the bed, immediately seeing your tense body.

“baby? you okay?” he stands up and crouches down beside your makeup table. you shake your head and he pushes your hair out of your face to see you better.

“i don’t wanna go out. it’s not that i don’t want to be with you- i just don’t want to go out in public, im not feeling it today…” you ramble, your head dropping down against his shoulder.

“are you sure, sweetheart?” he rubs your back softly, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw.

“yeah… i wanna stay in. i feel sick and- yeah i just want to stay in.” you stutter and he pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“okay… yeah. i don’t really wanna leave the house either.” he reassures you, making you feel less guilty for calling off the date.

“okay…” you respond, nodding and trying to stay calm so your body regulates itself. obviously it won’t magically recover but you need to try and calm down.

rafe helps you change into comfy clothes and then grabs pillows and blankets, making the bed comfy and warm. he tucks you in and orders some food to the house.

when it arrives, he gets into bed next to you and you eat it together. he continues to reassure you that he wanted to stay in tonight too, he doesn’t want you to feel bad for something that’s completely out of your control.

“you gotta tell me when you start feeling bad, okay? i can’t have you just ignoring it” he murmurs and kisses your head.

“i just wish it went away…” you mumble and he sighs, nuzzling the top of your head.

“there’s nothing wrong with being a little anxious… i know it can be annoying…” he rubs your back as you cuddle into him. you’re forever grateful that he understands your needs.

[keirareidss]

the delivery - s.r

♡ summary: spencer anxiously waits on you to decide when to go to the hospital pairing: husband!spencer reid x pregnant!wife!reader warnings: basically just that episode of the office (S6 E17), reader is pregnant, descriptions of pregnancy, contractions wc: 3.3k from the results of this poll

Nine months. Nine months you'd suffered nausea, fatigue, back pain, swollen ankles, swollen breasts, and mood swings. And nine months your husband had tended to you hand and foot, getting you everything you needed, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

You had continued going to work, staying out of the field but needing the fulfillment of doing something during the day. Spencer had protested but ultimately lost the debate. You just had to promise to be careful, stay off your feet as much as you could, and let him know immediately if something went wrong. He didn't care if he was halfway across the country, he'd hitchhike his way back if you had so much as a foot cramp.

Rossi and you had gotten closer during your pregnancy, him bringing in home cooked meals, whatever you had been craving lately, and eating it with you at lunch while explaining how he made it and what went into it. He was very precise with how his dishes were made and the fact that you were hungry a lot more often meant he could try out some of his new recipes on you.

You were sitting in the kitchenette with him now, trying his new spin on pesto pasta.

"I was thinking, maybe we should do something special before you go on maternity leave. One last perfect meal."

"Mmm, that sounds great, what are you thinking?"

"I think it should be a surprise." You suddenly feel a tightening pain in your stomach and your eyes close, lips pressing together as you let out a groan of pain.

"Ooh. Getting close, huh?" Emily asked, shutting the fridge door and leaning against it, looking at you with a grimace.

"No no. I still have time." You waved her off. You planned on waiting until midnight to go to the hospital so you could have a full extra day there, surrounded by doctors. It just pained Spencer to see you having to push through the pain.

You were standing by the copier when you got another contraction. You reminded yourself, they're irregular and far apart, so you'll be fine. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your hand found your back where the pain was the worst.

Spencer's head snapped up watching you carefully as Derek came around the corner, Penelope in tow.

"You're having contractions? That means you're in labor right? You should go to the hospital." Derek suggested, sending you a sympathetic glance.

"We're not going to the hospital yet, we're going to wait until midnight." You said, your voice tight as you shuffled back to your chair, Derek following close behind.

"Oh, why?" He asked, leaning against your desk as Emily and JJ lifted their heads to listen in.

"Because the insurance company only covers two nights." Spencer explained.

"Everything's fine. We have plenty of time." You assured them all.

"Did you know that labor can last weeks? Then they take your insides out, and they just plop them on the table, and sometimes epidurals don't work, and-"

"Okay, okay, thanks Pen, that's really good to know. Thank you."

You let out a breath as your contraction ended. Spencer, who'd been watching from the copy machine, rushed over.

"That's seven minutes. Here we go. This is happening."

"Hold on, hold on. You chuckled, cutting him off as he bent down, trying to help you stand from your chair. "It isn't midnight yet." His excited smile dropped.

"Are you serious? Angel..."

"No, the doctor said every five to seven minutes."

"I-"

"I'm gonna be okay, we should really try to make it to midnight."

"Honey, please."

"Yeah, you really should try to make it because if your baby's born tomorrow, he'll have the same birthday as the late great Johnny Hodges. The greatest saxophonist of all time."

"Did you hear that? Johnny Hodges." Spencer scoffs with a smile and stands up.

"Okay, but we are leaving at five minutes apart."

"Five minutes." You nodded as he backed away to his own desk.

You sank into your chair, eyes closed, as the pain slowly subsided.

"Okay, okay, okay, okay..." You whispered breathily. Spencer's eyes were locked on you, worry clear in his face. Your eyes open and you catch his stare. "Okay, stop watching me."

"Okay, crazy. I think I have some better things to do with my day than worry about you, like figuring out dinner." He said sarcastically.

"Mm hmm."

"Steak is 20% off, well now till Friday, that's a big deal, while we're on the subject, why don't I just run you down to the hospital and just do a quick check?" You click your tongue, shoulders still tense.

"Not till midnight." He purses his lips defeatedly.

"So have you guys thought about names yet?" JJ asks, standing beside your desk, a warm mug of coffee in her hand. God, you missed coffee. The sweet dark taste of it, warming your mouth- alright, stop thinking about it.

"We actually have them picked out already." You said, smiling at Spencer.

"Uh, Diana Lily Reid if it's a girl, and Jude Gideon Reid if it's a boy."

"Oh, those are so cute." JJ gushed. You chatted for a couple minutes before your next contraction came on, jolting through you. Your hand found your stomach as your face scrunched in pain. JJ squeezed your shoulder in support as Spencer ran a hand through his hair.

"Angel, we really should-"

"Spencer." Your tone was scolding and he quickly shut his mouth, biting the inside of his cheek. The contraction passed and you took a few deep breaths.

"I think this is a bad idea." Spencer mrumurs.

"I know, honey, why don't you practice diapering again?" You suggested to get his mind off of it.

"I've already done that, I'm down to 21.3 seconds." He mutters, his leg bouncing. He'd been practicing changing diapers on anything he could find, a fake doll he'd brought in, a football from Derek's desk, he'd even practiced on one of Penelope's large cat figurines.

You were on your way back to your desk from the bathroom when you felt another contraction, the worst of them, shooting through your abdomen. You stopped in your tracks, changing course to one of the couches near the door. The cushions provided you with little relief, though, Spencer noticed immediately and rushed over, sitting next to you and taking your hand.

Your eyes shut tight, you squeezed his hand hard with your other hand over your stomach, groaning in pain.

"Oh! Oh, alright." He shifted on the couch, grabbing your clasped hands in his other one as you threatened to break his bones in your fist. "That's a good one." Spencer winced.

"Ow... okay." You breathed out, letting go of Spencer's hand. He bent, his elbows on his thighs as he put his mouth in his hand, deeply considering his life choices.

"Honey, maybe we should-"

"Don't even suggest it Spencer. We're waiting."

"I know." He sighs. He sits with you, rubbing you back soothingly and around six minutes later, another contraction comes on.

"That's every six minutes." Emily chimes in, checking her watch.

"Okay, you know what?" Spencer shifts restlessly in his seat, moving to stand. "I'm gonna go give the doctor a quick call, he'll probably know-"

"Spence, please." He sits back down next to you, glancing at the ceiling for a moment before looking down. "Happy thoughts here? Happy times."

"Why don't you just figure out the ways to induce labor and do the opposite of those?" Morgan suggested.

"You know what? Great idea, Derek, let's do that." You agreed, reaching out to take your husbands hand. Derek turned, looking up a list.

"Alright, number one, stimulate her nipples."

"Easy, no one's doing that, move to the next one." Penelope said and Derek scrolled down. Spencer bent, putting his hand in his hands, elbows on his thighs as he bounced his leg and tugged at his hair.

"Uh, walk around. Great she's already doing the opposite of that."

"Number three. Having sex. Well what's the opposite of having sex?" Penelope said and Spencer shot up from his seat, shaking his head.

"Nope, nope, come on, let's go to the hospital,"

"Spence,"

"Let's go to the hospital now."

"Spencer, honey, I love you,"

"Mhm." He said tensely, putting his hands on his hips.

"But you're really distracting me from my distractions."

"Okay, well, I'm sorry."

"Why don't you go do some work?" You gestured to his desk and he ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Great. I will do that. Sorry, I just feel a little bit frazzled and you know how very rarely I use that word."

"I know. You don't like to be frazzled."

"No, I don't." He said, sounding a bit like a grumpy child as he walked back to his desk. He stops to grab a stack of books on pregnancy that he's kept close just in case before walking out. Hotch, having come out of his office to watch the amusing spectacle, followed him out, a bit worried about his anxious protegee.

~

"I know her better than anyone in this office, and obviously she's gone crazy but everybody wants to say that I'm crazy. But I'm not crazy, she's crazy. I'm not crazy, she's crazy." Spencer repeated, pacing the hallway, his hair tousled from constantly running his hands through it.

"Reid." Hotch says gently.

"No, no, she's not crazy, I shouldn't say that. She's just pregnant. But she needs to be at the hospital and she's not listening to me."

"Reid." Aaron repeats but Spencer sinks to the floor, grabbing a book as his legs stretch out into the middle of the hallway, his back against the wall as he quickly finds the page he's looking for.

"Five to seven minutes." He points to the line in the page, grabbing another book to find the same information. "Five to seven minutes." It's almost as if he's talking to himself as he grabs a third book, searching for the information again. "Six minutes- different, but not really." He picks up the fourth book as Aaron watches on silently. "Five to seven minutes."

Spencer's head falls back against the wall as he looks at the ceiling. His gaze falls down on Hotch across from him.

"Reid, take a break. You're stressing yourself out here. She knows herself and she knows her body. She'll come to you when she's ready."

"You're right." Spencer mumbles, getting to his feet. "I think I'm gonna go sit in the car for a bit. I need some fresh air." Aaron nods, watching him leave, a hand threading through his hair and tugging slightly.

Spencer is sitting in your car in the parking garage, staring off into space when he hears a gentle knock on the window. He sees you giving him a soft smile and rolls the window down, leaning closer to you.

"Hey."

"Hey." You gave him a small wave. "I'm not gonna get in the car, because I know if I do you'll try to drive me to the hospital."

"You know me too well." He chuckles anxiously, the smile quickly falling, replaced with a tense expression.

"Okay, Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Everything is fine,"

"Totally." He mumbles.

"You don't have to worry, try not to think about it. She's not coming out for a while, okay?" You chuckled a bit, trying to reassure him. He smiles but it quickly drops when he registers what you said.

"Did you say she?" You smile falls as well.

"I called the doctor, like, a week ago. I couldn't wait." His eyes go hazy as he stares at the spot next to you. You can't gauge how he's feeling and a pit forms in your stomach. "Oh, go, don't be mad." You breathed.

"Mad?" His eyes are teary as he looks up at you. "How could I be mad? We're having a little girl."

"Mhm." You let a small, hesitant smile form, still unsure of what he's feeling.

"We're having a little girl. Oh, wow." He sighs and you giggled a bit in relief.

"I know."

"All right. Well I definitely feel better."

"Good." You grinned, leaning down to kiss him through the window opening. He turns to watch you as you head back inside but he notices something.

"Hey, did you change?" You turn back around.

"Oh, yeah. My water broke." You giggled.

"Oh." He chuckles and you turn, walking away and his smile quickly falls. "Oh."

You walk back inside, shedding your coat but you quickly pause as pain shoots through you.

"Oh! Woah..." You pause to lean against the wall and Derek gets up, rushing to you. Hotch looks up, coming out of his office to survey from the balcony. "Haa!" You breathe out, Derek steadying you.

"Okay, alright, it's time, time to go to the hospital, somebody get Reid."

"No, not yet Derek, it's not midnight yet. And I still need to try Rossi's dish, where is he?" You head to the kitchen as Derek looks on helplessly. He shoots a text to Spencer who comes up quickly, though, he knows he won't be able to convince you to go to the hospital.

You sit down with Rossi in the kitchenette as he prepares the meal. Spencer paces nearby, his thumb and pointer finger working at his temple, his other hand stuffed in his pocket, clenched into a fist.

"Alright it's essentially a three course meal. First, we have Bistecca alla Fiorentina, a steak that was grilled to rare perfection, and then we have-" He cuts himself off when he notices that your face is all scrunched up and your hunching over slightly. "Are you okay?" He asks, reaching out to put a hand on your arm.

"Mhm." Your voice is tight and in a higher pitch from the pain. "Yes, I'm fine. Um..."

"Are you sure?" He asks gently.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's still considered a minor contraction as long as I can talk through it!" Your voice breaks at the end, raising louder as the pain sharpens.

"Okay, Spencer-" Derek, who'd been sitting by, watching with worry, called to his friend who rushed over, immediately looking down at you. "I think it's time to go to the hospital.

"Alright, time to go? Let's do this."

"No, no it's better." Your voice was a wavering whine as you tried to breathe through it. "That wasn't even the worst of 'em- I'm fine." Spencer bends slightly, his hand on your back.

"Hey, come on, let go to the hospital."

"They're not that bad still, Spence." He says your name in a firm voice. "No, it's passing, it's fine."

"Honey, it's time. Let's go to the hospital."

"It's okay." You whined in protest.

"I really think we should go to the hospital."

"No it passed now, it's fine."

"You know what, I'm not asking anymore." He reaches down, one hand at your back, the other grabbing your arm as he tried to pull you to your feet. Rossi's hand was at your other arm, more hesitant in trying to help you up. "We got to go."

"No, I'm not going."

"We need to go." He changed his positioning as you resisted his attempts.

"No, no come on, I'm not going, okay?!" You shouted, making all three men back off in surprise but you were staring directly at Spencer, your eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not going today, because I can't do it, I don't think I can do it." Your voice broke as tears sprung to your eyes and Spencer immediately crouched down in front of you, his hand on your knee as his voice soffented.

"Hey, hey, are you kidding me? If anyone can do this, you can do this. If you can take down two unsubs on your own with no back up, you can do this. Angel, I'm scared. But the best news is, we're having a baby today. So let's have it at the hospital." His gentle voice successfully soothed you and he turned his head slightly to address Derek. "How are we doing on contractions?"

"Two minutes apart."

"Two min-" Spencer froze, tightening his lips.

"Oh god." You said as you realized what that meant. "Oh no." Spencer stood, turning to face Derek.

"Morgan I told you to warn me at five minutes."

"Spence, we waited too long." Your voice was filled with worry.

"We waited too long. Two minutes doesn't do us any good-"

"I know." Derek tried to calm him.

"Well, what happened to four and three?" Your breathing sped up as tears started forming again. He sighed sharply, running a hand through his hair and turning back to you.

"I don't wanna have my baby here." You whimpered.

"You're not going to, you know where we're going?"

"The hospital."

"Yes and we're going to have a baby, okay?" You nodded and Spencer gently helped you out of your seat but, internally, he was freaking out, forcing himself to put a brave face on for you. He ran to get your bags from the desk before rushing back, putting an arm around your back to lead you out of the precinct.

"Oh, good luck, guys!" Penelope called to you, the team gathering in the middle of the bullpen to wish you goodbye.

"Bye, good luck!" JJ smiled brightly, as the two of you hurried out the door.

After nineteen long hard hours of labor, she was out, cleaned up and swaddled, in your arms. Spencer was laying in the bed beside you, his arms gently around you as he stared at your baby in awe. She was beautiful, the perfect mix of both of you. Diana Lily Reid, named after Spencer's mother and your favorite flower, had Spencer's eyes and bone structure, and your nose and lips.

"She's perfect." You whispered, brushing your pinky down her tiny nose, barely grazing her skin, not wanting to wake her.

"I know." Spencer agreed. You turned to look at him. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

"Better. Still a little sore." He hums, kissing your temple.

"Good." The door opened slowly and Penelope poked her head in.

"Is this the little baby Reid?" She asked quietly, coming into the room. The rest of the team was behind her with various gifts, Derek carrying balloons, Aaron holding a teddy bear with a bow around its neck. "Oh, she's gorgeous!" Penelope gushed.

"I made you a bunch of easy meals that you can heat up, I dropped them off in your fridge on the way here." JJ told you and you gave her a grateful look, grabbing her arm.

"You're a savior, JJ, thank you." She smiled.

"And we're all offering babysitting and cleaning help whenever you need it." Hotch gave you a smile and you felt tears pricking behind your eyes and the immense display of kindness.

"You guys are so sweet." Your voice wobbled and they all smiled. Spencer reached over, wiping the tears that slipped out and ran down your cheek. Spencer let you hand him your daughter as you composed yourself.

"If you guys want to hold her, there's hand sanitizer on the table over there." Spencer nodded to the nightstand. Emily was first, sanitizing before carefully taking the baby into her arms.

"Hi, baby. Hi." She cooked, smiling down at her. Diana yawned and everyone gushed as her. You knew right away that this baby would be loved by everyone in her life. She'd be close with all her aunts and uncles, closer with her parents. You'd give this baby the best life imaginable, showering her in love and care, knowing she deserved every bit of it.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni, @pixie-verse

[loveharlow]

Can you do one where you broke up with rafe in he just won’t leave you alone

⋯ ♡ᵎ 💬 : idk i kind of love this

soft!rafe(?), swearing, fluff at the end

The first few days, your phone was a constant buzzing in your pocket, his name flashing across the screen. You let it ring, the vibration a dull ache against your thigh.

Then, the ringing stopped, replaced by the satisfying click of you declining his calls. You thought, hoped, that he was finally getting the message.

You were wrong.

One afternoon, a call came through, and without thinking, you answered.

"Hello-"

"Please, baby, just talk to me. I'm so sorry. I messed everything up, I know, but please, just give me a chance." His voice, hoarse and desperate, filled your ear.

"Rafe..." you sighed, the weariness heavy in your voice. "You can't keep calling me. I said I needed space. And I really do. I need to think."

"Think about what? A-about us? About whether you want to be with me?-"

"About whether it's healthy to be with you." You interrupted his ramblings. You'd broken up because Rafe, lately, had just become too much — too many parties, too many drugs, too many arguments, too many apologies. "I...I'm sorry, Rafe."

So with those last words, you hung up, the silence that followed almost deafening. You immediately put your phone on do not disturb, hoping for some semblance of peace.

It lasted all of five minutes.

Your screen lit up with a barrage of texts. You scrolled through them, each one a fresh wound, especially since you hadn't had the heart to change his contact name just yet, or the picture of you two that accompanied.

(4) New iMessages from Rafey (My Baby)💕🧸 Please, I can’t live without you. Just tell me what to do. I'll do better, okay? I'll do whatever you want me to. Baby, please, let me fix this. I love you.

You took a deep breath, willing any lingering tears to go away as you typed out a curt reply.

You Please, don't make me block you, Rafe.

But he didn't listen. And the texts kept coming, interspersed with notifications of money being sent to your Cash App. He was trying to buy his way back in. And that was the final straw. So, with an extremely heavy heart, you blocked his number.

The quiet was a relief, but it was once again short-lived. He moved to social media. Every picture you’d ever posted, even ones from years ago, or ones he’d already liked, suddenly had a fresh like from @TheRealRafeCameron. He was reliking them, a desperate plea. Then came the DMs.

New Messages from TheRealRafeCameron You took our pictures down? Babe, please, don't do this I love you. Tell me you still love me. I need you.

You blocked him there too.

Minutes later, your phone buzzed with a text from your friend.

Nat💙 omg, did u see rafe's story?

You No, I blocked him.

Suddenly, a screenshot popped up. It was Rafe's Instagram story, a white background, a photo of the two of you in the middle, with black text above it: "$1000 to the first person who can get my girlfriend to unblock me. No questions asked."

Nat💙 girl, if it was me, i'd unblock him but maybe i'm too weak for this actually, yeah no, stand on business!! (idk what he did)

Your blood ran cold. He was really doing this. You took a deep breath, opened your own story: "If you message me about Rafe, I'll block you too."

Moments passed and, finally, everything went quiet.

You were able to drift off to sleep, the silence welcome. But in the middle of the night, a familiar roar shattered that peace.

Rafe's car.

Outside your window.

You shot up, heart pounding, and rushed to the window, careful not to wake your parents.

And there he was, standing in your driveway, the headlights of his car illuminating him, blinding you. He was holding a ridiculous, oversized stuffed animal, a bouquet of flowers, and a bag from your favorite restaurant.

You cracked your window. "Rafe!" You hissed, hands gripping the edge of you window seal. "What are you doing? My parents are sleeping!"

He looked up, his eyes wide and earnest. "I had to see you. I know it's late, okay, I know. But I can't do this, baby."

You gritted your teeth, rolling your eyes. "Wha- When-" You sighed, giving up whatever thought was trying to roll. "And where the hell did you find Valentine's stuff? It's June."

He offered a sheepish grin. "I have my ways." He said, a hint of smugness in his voice before it disappeared. "Please, just come down and talk to me. I know you're mad, but please..."

You stared him down without a word, though a part of you was already weakening.

"Just come down." He pleaded. "Five minutes. That's all I ask."

You hesitated, then sighed. You knew he wouldn't leave until you did. But there was also a part of you that didn't want him to.

You tiptoed downstairs, unlocked the front door, and stepped out into the cool night air.

He was there in an instant, the stuffed animal almost as big as him. He handed you the flowers and the food, then the giant plush. "I know I messed up..." He started, a hand reaching out to caress your face, voice low. "But I'm willing to do anything to fix this, okay? I mean it this time. I'm not lying, and I won't fall back, I swear. I just... I love you, and I don't know what to do without you. I don't know what life looks like without you, but I don't wanna find out. I never meant to hurt you and I won't do it ever again. I promise, okay?"

You looked at the ridiculous array of gifts, at the genuine remorse in his eyes, and a small, reluctant smile touched your lips. "...You're unbelievable, y'know that, right?"

He took your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "Is that a good unbelievable or a bad unbelievable?"

You shook your head, a laugh escaping your lips. "Good."

©loveharlow.

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[minjoongism]

the way people talk about mg sometimes absolutely breaks my heart. we barely got ANYTHING from his preview and still people are running with their own narratives. “why is he barking that’s so cringe” “he’s doing way too much” “all he does is bark and take his shirt off” as if having fun and being confident and sexy immediately undermines any of his other contributions to the group. he IS over the top but so genuine about it, he is SO happy on stage and just wants you to be happy too

the good thing about a stage persona is the mask gives you the freedom to play around with how you act without needing it to bleed into who you are offstage. the bad thing about a stage persona is sometimes people take a few occasionally-seen traits and turn them into immutable parts of you as an individual.

this happens with plenty of public figures, whether positively, neutrally, and negatively, but mingi definitely gets the short end of the stick a lot with how he’s perceived. and it’s crazy to me because 1) the barking is clearly just a fun stage thing to engage with the crowd (and on their most recent tour, a lot of the barking was actually initiated by atiny from what i’ve seen, because they knew he’d done it at previous shows and wanted to experience that himself) and 2) mingi doesn’t undress all that much. it wouldn’t matter in the slightest if he did either of those things (san and seonghwa both showed a lot of skin on tour. they’re grown men who spend a lot of time working on their bodies - there’s nothing wrong with wanting to show that hard work off), but imo it’s blown way out of proportion for mingi and done solely to try and undermine him.

+ i went back and listened to the roar preview before answering this and the preview sounds very much to me like it’s going to be the chorus. choruses are meant to be more repetitive and engaging than the rest of the song, so having three (3) lines of barking makes perfect sense because it’ll give the crowd a way to join in regardless of what language they speak. ntm the song is called roar. why wouldn’t he be making loud (animal) sounds in the chorus?

none of mingi’s earlier solo projects (like desire projects 1 and 2 + untitled) have ever been dumbed down or shallow. he’s an incredibly raw lyricist who has always used his solo work to explore incredibly vulnerable periods of his life and share them with us as listeners. even if roar does end up being less complex, he’s honestly earned it after everything he’s given to us to date, but i really doubt it’s going to be an empty song. he’s just doing what he does best - giving 200% of himself to something and trying something new musically. walking his own path and sticking to his guns (ntm he went out of his way to get an entirely new production team… this doesn’t seem like something he’s half-assing. he clearly really cares about getting roar right). and i think it’ll pay off! a high-energy song amidst the rest of the solos is going to stick out like a sore thumb in the best possible way, since most of the others seem pretty even re: the energy levels of the previews.

++ “he IS over the top but so genuine about it” - exactly!! stage mingi is camp. he’s drag in the purest sense to me and he’s FUN to watch. his energy is so infectious and i can’t wait to see what a live performance of roar is going to look like <3

[formulafanfics13]

Hi Evie

I have another request sorry if this is too much / too dark

What if y/n says her safe word and when she is subspace she has a panic attack and lance has to guide her out /through it because I read you last lance flick and loved it ❤️❤️

A

I love you. All of you. - LS18 🔥

masterlist

Summary During a night of slow, intimate sex, the reader enters subspace and suddenly panics. Lance immediately stops when she says her safe word, gently calming her through the panic attack without pushing or questioning. He holds her, reassures her, and reminds her that trust is everything — and she did nothing wrong. They fall asleep wrapped in safety, love, and understanding.

Warnings subspace, panic attack, safeword use, emotional aftercare, vulnerability, soft dom Lance, comfort-heavy content, anxiety response, emotional intimacy.

The sheets were already tangled when it happened. When your body was pliant, your brain warm and blurry in that heady rush of subspace, your breathing shallow from the rhythm of Lance’s hips against yours, every thrust careful but deep, his voice a low murmur at your ear.

"You're doing so good for me," he’d whispered, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, fingers tangled in yours above your head. "So fucking good, baby."

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering closed as his lips grazed down your jaw. His grip on your hips tightened slightly, guiding you where he needed you. You’d been so quiet all night, nodding and gasping, letting your body answer in place of words. Trusting him. Following him.

But then it shifted. You didn’t realise how quickly the edge blurred into panic until your lungs stopped cooperating. Until your mind started spinning and the pressure in your chest built like a vice. His rhythm stayed steady but your heartbeat did not. Your hands went from clinging to his to suddenly pushing weakly against his shoulder.

He didn’t hear it the first time. “Red,” you tried again, voice barely a whisper. “Red.”

And then he froze. Everything stopped. Lance pulled back immediately like the mattress had scorched him. His weight disappeared from your body, his hands gentle but fast, gripping your shoulders and easing you upright into a seated position. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay. You're okay.”

You were shaking. Your breathing had turned into short, shallow gasps. Panic clawed up your throat with no warning, no explanation. You wanted to say you were fine, that it wasn’t him, that you just got overwhelmed, but your tongue didn’t work. Your lips parted but nothing came out. Just tears now.

Lance slid back onto the pillows, pulling you into his lap so softly you barely felt it. His arms wrapped around your back, one hand settling behind your head, cradling you to his chest. He rocked you without rushing. His heartbeat was steady against your cheek.

“You’re safe,” he said softly, again and again. “I’ve got you. We’re done. Nothing’s wrong. You’re safe, angel.”

He didn’t ask what triggered it. He didn’t tell you to breathe. He just did it for you, grounding you with his voice, his heartbeat, the gentle stroke of his thumb at the base of your neck.

“You’re doing really well, baby. I’m right here. Just feel me, okay? Just feel me.”

And slowly, painfully, you came back to yourself. Back to the scent of him, warm skin, leftover cologne, your perfume still lingering on his collarbone. Back to the hotel sheets twisted around your waist, back to his chest rising and falling against your cheek. Your breathing slowed. Your body stopped trembling. You were crying still, but the worst had passed.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, so small it made his heart break.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, holding you tighter. “Don’t ever apologise for telling me what you need.”

“I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You said your safe word. That’s good. That’s fucking perfect. That means you trust me.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t need to explain. But I’m here if you want to.”

You curled into him, pressing your forehead to his chest, listening to his heart. And then, quietly, “Sometimes when I feel too good for too long, I think my brain… flips it. Like I panic because I’m not panicking.”

He nodded gently, rubbing your back. “That makes sense. Your body’s trying to keep you safe. Even if it’s wrong about the danger.”

“I hate it.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I love you. All of you. Even the parts that get scared.”

You looked up at him. “Even when I make things weird?”

He smiled, brushing a piece of hair from your face. “Baby, you didn’t make anything weird. You let me in. That’s what this is. That’s what we are.”

You sniffed, blinking back the last of the tears. “Can we just lie here?”

“For as long as you want.”

Lance adjusted the sheets and pulled the duvet up over both of you. His arms never left you. He kissed your forehead once, then your temple, and then pressed his lips against the top of your head with a lingering softness you swore you could feel in your bones.

When you fell asleep minutes later, curled into his side, your fingers wrapped loosely around his, your chest finally steady, Lance stayed awake a while longer, watching you, brushing slow circles into your back with his thumb. Because loving you wasn’t about the perfect nights. It was about all of them. And he was never going to make you do it alone again.

[lillaydee]

I'm Right Here Part 17

BFF!Joel Miller / F Reader

Sometimes the person we've been looking for has been right there all along.

@copperhalfcent, @demonsasss, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @peelieblue @liciafonseca @ultra-nina-bella @joelmillerpascal @kirsteng42 @heartpatch @capnjaket @formulafun, @avidreadee123 @missladym1981 @titlee78 @joelalorian @sunndroppp

Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the tag list

WARNINGS: BFF Joel Miller, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Angst, Love Triangles, Miscommunication, Past Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel is a Clueless Idiot, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced/Supposed Sexual Assault, SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF HARM, Joel has PTSD, Murder, Child Murder.

Divider by the awesome @saradika

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 16

Joel was numbed. He sat alone with Annie in her room, her cold hand in his, his tears flowing freely as if his eyes were a spring. She was his wife for almost 15 years. She pulled him from his low, listened to him, healed him, and of course, gave him the greatest gift he never thought he would ever be worthy enough to have – Sarah. He knew this day was coming. So did Sarah. But even prepared, he didn’t expect the pain that he was feeling. His companion, his best friend, the mother of his child, his wife, was gone.

All he could feel was guilt. His mind kept telling him how he could have been a better husband, how he could have made her happier. That he wasn’t enough. He knew this was just his grief talking, simply the unrealistic mind fuck that happens every time someone passed. The feeling of regret that haunts someone once we know that a life was gone, and there was nothing we could do to make things better, to redeem ourselves.

He’d been through it before.

When Eddie passed, he wasn’t there. He had gone out to pick up lunch, coming back to the site with everyone standing around Eddie, a siren coming from the distance. He kept wondering if things would have turned out differently if he had been there, as if him being there would have made any difference whatsoever. One of their crew members was in nursing school, and even he couldn’t do anything, despite continuously giving Eddie CPR until the paramedics got there. They worked on him for hours, at the site, in the ambulance, at the ER, but he was gone. There was nothing anyone could do. And still, Joel felt as if he had been responsible for his best friend dying from a known heart condition.

When he saw how devastated you were, all he could think of was if he had checked on you two earlier than he did that time when Eddie broke his arm, maybe he wouldn’t have developed a fever from the break, and maybe his heart wouldn’t have been weakened as a result. Maybe if he had told his parents immediately about his suspicions that day he first suspected something was wrong in your household, maybe CPS could have stepped in earlier, maybe the two of you wouldn’t have suffered like that for so long. He forgot he was six. He forgot he was a kid himself who didn’t know better. He forgot that you and Eddie kept that secret from him, so much so he didn’t really know what was happening.

But yeah, he blamed himself for Eddie’s passing, for you being left alone in this world.

And then he went ahead and chased you away.

And now Joel sat by his beloved wife’s bed, holding her hand, wondering if there was anything he could have done to keep her longer, to have made her life better, perhaps he should’ve loved her deeper, anything. Do aneurysms develop from stress? If he had loved her the way he loved you, would the aneurysm have never occurred in the first place? He should have, right? He should have made himself love her the way he loved you. That would have solved everything. He would do it if he had the chance to redo everything. He would do anything if it meant Sarah would have more time with her mother.

He couldn’t even look at you that day, even though you were around, checking in on Sarah, helping with the immediate arrangements needed. He felt as if he was being disrespectful if he did, as if talking to the woman everyone knew he was clearly in love with would diminish the love he had for Annie, as if it meant he was disrespecting her legacy. So he stayed away from you, only giving you a sad nod when you gave him your condolences.

He knew you would understand. He was not ready.

That night, the entire family turned up at his place, ready to listen to Annie’s plans for the funeral. Cousins and aunts and uncles he had barely spent time with apart from Aunt Tina, Will and Benny were there, offering their condolences and a helping hand for the funeral. He went upstairs to lay with Sarah until she fell asleep, holding her as she cried, staying with her, just watching his fourteen year old daughter who had just lost her mother sleep.

On his way downstairs, he heard his cousins talk among themselves in the kitchen. The ones who had made him play weddings when they were younger.

“Okay, I’m opening the books. How much do we want to bet that Daisy, that attention whore, would offer to warm Joel’s bed before the week is out?” Courtney, the oldest one of them asked.

“Keep your voice down. What are you talking about? They’re friends! Have you forgotten how inseparable they were? And Daisy is not an attention seeker!” Allison, her younger sister chastised.

Courtney rolled her eyes, “Remember how everyone was tiptoeing around her and Eddie back then? Ooh don’t bully them, they’re orphans. Ooh don’t hurt their feelings, they were abused… everyone had to be nice to them, God forbid anyone joked around a bit,” she said, her mouth contorting in mockery, remembering how much trouble she got into for cornering you and making fun of your clothes and shoes – donated to you by the Teacher’s Association since Esther refused to buy you or Eddie anything, disgruntled to have been made responsible for the two of you. Joel heard and told the principal, told his parents, who told her parents, who then grounded her. She couldn’t get away with anything to do with you again after that.

“It’s called common decency Courtney, being nice? Bullying is bad?” Courtney rolled her eyes again. Allison told her to stop it. “What makes you think Daisy would even do that? She left to give us all some privacy, and Joel would never! His wife just died. Have some respect!”

“Oh, come on, anyone could see he still holds a candle to Daisy. Have you ever seen him be all lovey-dovey with Annie? You remember what he was like with Daisy, even when he supposedly only saw her as a sister? I mean, Annie was nice and all, but let’s not lie to ourselves and say he loved her in any way similar to the way he loves Daisy. Just wait and see. Any day now, he will go after her.”

“Oh my God, do you hear yourself? Joel loved Annie! They were great together!”

“I’m not saying he didn’t love her. Don’t be so dramatic. But just wait and see. He will end up with Daisy long before Annie’s grave settles! And that Daisy will be more than ready to welcome him with open legs!”

“No, she won’t. She’s much classier than that, you know this. And Joel wouldn’t. He’s a gentleman. But even if he did, so what? He’s single now. He can date whoever he wants!”

Courtney scoffed. “Sure he could, and I wouldn’t blame him, but if Daisy takes him? Pfft. Shameless much? How convenient that she came back just as Annie goes. Just waiting in the wings for him to be single again, are we?”

Dana, another cousin piped up, “What is wrong with you? Why would you say that about Daisy? What has she ever done to you? She’s nice, we all love her, we’ve known her forever. But you have always found fault with her. What is it about Daze that irks you so much? Do you want to date Joel? Are you a cousin kisser now? Is that why you’re getting divorced, yet again?”

“Oh, eww… don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Allison told her cousin, “She’s just bitter she got in trouble for bullying Daisy back in the day. Oh, and Joel rejected her best friend Tara before the whole travesty with Jen happened. Daisy was coming back to town and Joel didn’t want to date anyone but her. Tara was devastated, moped around for Joel for like years.”

Another scoff. “Well, Tara is single now, maybe…”

“Yeah, cause she couldn’t stop cheating on her husbands.” Allison sniped. She lowered her voice, “And your second husband just filed for divorce for the same reason so you are not exactly the kind of person who should be setting people up, are you?”

Courtney’s face snapped. “Tara only cheated because her husbands were useless. If Joel had given her a chance she wouldn’t have had to marry those pathetic men in the first place! And lower your voice about my marriage! What happened to keeping it all on the down low?”

Joel couldn’t hear anymore. He coughed to announce his presence, and the cousins stopped talking. He simply told them that he’s gonna get the folder Annie had prepared, and he would see them in the living room. Courtney turned chalk-white, wondering if Joel had heard her, the other two shaking their heads at her.

Joel couldn’t sleep that night. Partly due to knowing that when he wakes up the next day, Annie won’t be there. He had to wake up earlier, make sure Sarah has her breakfast. He needed to go to the funeral home, make arrangements. A lot to do when someone dies. A lot of cancellations, a lot of registrations, a lot of papers to sign. He needed to send the dress she had picked out to the dry cleaners, check if his suit still fits, Sarah’s dress too. They hadn’t been to a funeral in a while. He might need to take her shopping. Maybe Olivia could help. He needed to see the lawyer, Annie had sorted her will long ago, a short one, everything with her name on it went to Sarah, even her half of the house. But still, the footwork needed to be done.

He rubbed his face, suddenly remembering it was your birthday the next day. And your doctor’s appointment. Annie had reminded him of it a few days back, suggesting he take you to the hospital, and maybe spend some time together at the lake. He had declined, despite the longing to do just that in his heart. What would people say? So he didn’t, and Annie and Sarah concocted the movie plan instead.

He couldn’t spend the next day with you. He had too much to do, quietly apologizing to the metal box in his night stand, telling Eddie that he would have to postpone their drinking session to another time.

But who was he kidding? He wanted more than anything to spend your birthday with you. He hadn’t celebrated your birthday with you since you left for college. But he couldn’t do it now still, and the fact that his wife had just passed was only one of reasons he wouldn’t be doing that.

He couldn’t get Courtney’s venomous words out of his head.

Courtney was a different league when it came to being bitchy, she had always hated you. But, she was popular. The head cheerleader, the bully, the definition of a mean girl back then. She had a lot of friends, all of whom knew him and you from school. And Courtney loved to talk. Truth be darned. To this day, she was basically the person you talk to if you wanted something spread widely, satisfaction guaranteed. And Joel just knew what Courtney would tell others if he so much as look your way these coming few weeks.

He would be the merry widower, happily moving on after his wife of 15 years died her sudden death. And you the grave robber, the widow chaser who moved in on the grieving widower before Annie was even cold in her grave.

Of course, there would be those who won’t believe her, but Courtney’s reach and influence was far and wide, and he didn’t want you to have to face such accusations. He didn’t give a shit what people might say about him. They can say whatever the fuck they wanted to. But you? You did nothing wrong. You shouldn’t be dragged into this when you did nothing to attract such ridiculousness.

He couldn’t do that to you. He refused.

So he made excuses not to be in your presence over the next two weeks. He didn’t even wish you a happy birthday. If you were hurt, you didn’t show it, still being extremely helpful, especially with Sarah. The teenager was spending more and more time with you, helping you cook, doing her homework with you just to not overwhelm him when he got back from his litany of funeral and death related chores. He got home one day and you were on the dining table helping Sarah with her Maths homework, easily explaining fractions to the teenager in ways he and Annie had never been able to do, the teenager quickly catching up with the concept of it all, and all he could think of was how nice it would be if he could come home to this every single day. So he left, worried that his resolve would break.

You texted him every couple of days, asking if he needed help with anything. Oh, how he wanted to say yes. He wanted to cry on your good shoulder, talk to you, tell you everything he was feeling, his worries, his fears, but he knew he couldn’t do that – what if he lost control of himself and just give in to his wants and needs?

So he stayed away from you. You seemed to understand, giving him space, quietly returning to your rented place once he called to let Sarah know he was coming home. You made sure to leave groceries with Olivia or Sarah, never him. You asked the family for information on the funeral, never him. You called Sarah every day just to check in but never hovered. You were there, but respectfully, never in his face.

Joel heard from Sarah about Mike, or Agent Pike. Joel remembered how upset you were that night the cops and FBI were at Esther’s, the night Carl was arrested. Joel never asked you what went wrong, seeing as the next time he saw you was the next day after all the drama at the movies. And then Annie passed. But according to Sarah, the whole school was abuzz with gossip – Mr Parks the art teacher was an undercover FBI agent who arrested the headmaster. He was present that Monday when Annie passed. He was the one who called the paramedics. He arranged for transport and the likes, Joel a bit overwhelmed to think of all that himself. And looking back, Joel remembered how distant you seemed with the guy, but at the time, he had attributed it to shock from Annie’s death.

He wondered if you were okay, he knew you were trying to move on with your life, and even he had to admit Mike seemed like the perfect guy to move on with. But now that he turned out to be someone else, Joel couldn’t imagine what it must be like for you. He never saw Mike again, but he was too preoccupied with keeping your reputation intact to ask you about it. He felt bad. You must have felt alone. You must have needed someone to talk to. But he couldn’t do it, too worried about what people might say, and by people, he meant Courtney.

Completely by chance, he saw you powerwalk in front of his place one morning and decided to wait and make sure you got home safe. He stayed inside, watching you through the windows, leaving the lights off so you wouldn’t know. How he longed to go out and walk with you, knowing for a fact that your company would make his heart calmer than it had ever been in those couple of weeks. So he watched, like some creepy stalker, as the woman he won’t deny was the love of his life walked past, making sure you were alright, listening for your door to close in the silence of the morning to make sure you got home safe.

You sat behind the family during the funeral, quiet and reserved, not crowding the family at all. He could only watch as Sarah hugged you at the door when you dropped by for the wake, not even coming inside, your eyes catching his with a sweet smile on your lips, mouthing whether or not he was alright. He only nodded before turning away, lest he lose control and run into your arms under the scrutiny of Courtney’s eyes. Her friend Tara was there, Courtney not so subtly asking her to play hostess, even encouraging her to make her ‘world famous dip’. Joel finally snapped and told her to leave, and to take her friend with her. He had just buried his wife. He didn’t need this, not that day.

Eric had come to him later that day, telling him that you were leaving. Your business with Esther’s house was settled, you declined the inheritance and were looking for tickets to go back home to Bangkok. You were expected at work in about ten days or so, and you might want to leave earlier to rest up back home before going back to work.

Joel made a mental note to go over and thank you for your help personally in a few days, maybe explain why he had been so distant, and say a proper goodbye. But the very next day, he found out you were leaving that very night.

And he froze.

He froze.

He wanted so badly to go over and hug you, kiss you, even. Offer to help you pack. Drive you to the airport. Anything to have a few minutes alone with you.

But Sarah was right there. She had just buried her mother the day before. What would she think of him if he had gone after you? He had to think of her first. He’s the only parent she had now. He couldn’t afford to let her think that he was putting her second. She was his priority.

So he wished you a safe journey and shut the door behind him, silently crying into his knees as he sat crouched with his back to the door.

A year later, Joel woke up to breakfast waiting for him. Sarah was pounding on his door telling him breakfast was ready, that she had something to give him. He was puzzled. It was the anniversary of Annie’s passing, and they had planned to visit her grave after school. What could she possibly have to give him on the anniversary of his wife’s death? Of her mother’s death? Was this a thing young people do?

He went into the kitchen, blearily drinking his coffee as Sarah sat in front of him, her feet tapping from excitement.

She had coped with her mother’s passing exceptionally well. Perhaps knowing Annie was on a timer helped. As did Annie’s careful planning regarding the whole situation. She left a folder of recipes and instructions for the two of them to refer to, left letters and journals for Sarah to read to remember her by, not to mention a series of vlogs for her to watch for advice as she gets older. Sarah had taken to clearing her mother’s belongings herself, telling Joel Annie had left a very specific set of instructions on what to do with her stuff, and Joel would only be getting in the way. So he sat back and let her do the needful, only participating when Sarah needed help driving Annie’s stuff to donate.

She had kept in touch with you, Facetiming every weekend, texting you during the week. He even caught her getting Math lessons from you every now and again. He had not kept in touch with you himself but said hi to you every now and again whenever Sarah was on Facetime with you.

Even at a distance, Joel couldn’t stay away from you, it seemed. Someone who tagged along for Sarah’s soccer games or recitals, usually Olivia or Eric, would always Facetime you or send you a video for you to watch. He couldn’t get the way you cheered Sarah on for her soccer tournament, even did a dance along with Eric and Olivia when she scored a goal, beaming at her through the phone when a glowing, sweaty Sarah rejoined the family after the match. It must have been nearing midnight where you were, and yet, you didn’t miss her game, just because she told you how nervous she was about it.

Every single time you were online with Sarah, Joel had to do everything he could to stay away, keep himself busy and not linger, despite longing to talk to you himself. Even without contacting you directly, he couldn’t help but fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

Sarah tried and tried to subtly get him to call you during the first couple of months after you left, but he turned a deaf ear, changing the subject every single time. She got a bit huffy about it first. But then Courtney began pestering her for information about you, about whether or not you and Joel were in touch. Courtney tried hard, even going so far as taking Sarah out to meet Tara, her potential ‘new mother’. Even started badmouthing you to Sarah, calling you a grave robber. It’s obscene for a widower to move on so fast after his wife’s death, she told the teenager, telling her she should discourage Joel from getting together with you.

Ever the clever girl, Sarah innocently asked, a faux perplexed look on her face. “So, Tara is not a grave robber if she gets with Dad? But Auntie Daze would be?”

Courtney gave up trying to get Sarah on their side then, realizing this girl was far too smart to fall for her tricks.

Joel finally put his foot down when he stopped for a drink at the Bison after work with Tommy. Courtney appeared out of nowhere, sitting a very excited Tara down in front of him and pulling Tommy away to ‘give the couple some alone time’. Joel let her have it once and for all, telling her that he’s not interested, that she was crossing a line, and if she ever went to Sarah again, he would make sure everyone in the family knew the real reason she was getting divorced, the real reason she was losing custody of her kids. And no, he had zero interest in dating a serial cheater, so stop it.

That did the trick, Courtney and Tara left him alone, immediately leaving with their tails between their legs as the bar went quieter and quieter as Joel’s voice rose higher and higher. Tommy bought him the good whiskey that night, congratulating him for finally speaking up when he needed to, for finally taking a stand against annoying, persistent people.

Tommy had the sense to not name Jen as one of them.

As promised, you treated Sarah to a trip to Thailand for her birthday, Anita, Aunt Tina and Olivia tagging along for a celebration on a non-touristy beach. A girls’ trip. Sarah sent videos of her time there to him, often with you in the background, your smiling face giving him comfort as he kicked himself over and over for not having the balls to go along to see you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. But by the time he felt ready to, deemed it safe to, he didn’t know how to get back in touch with you without feeling ashamed of how he ignored you those final two weeks you were here. You must have needed a friend, especially since the whole Mike/Agent Pike business, but he failed you, didn’t even give you a proper send-off when you left.

Sarah didn’t try to push further, but he could see she was frustrated that he didn’t try to get back in touch with you himself. She settled for letting him hitch a ride on her Facetime sessions with you instead.

Those hitch-a-ride Facetimes, no matter how brief, didn’t feel awkward. You didn’t act like anything had changed, didn’t give him any attitude, sweetly saying hi and joking around with him. You even texted him a happy birthday, complete with a video of yourself singing off-key, blowing a candle on a cupcake for him. But you didn’t call him. And he didn’t call you either. He did intend to send you a proper birthday wish this year, maybe call you if the timing fit. The 12 hour time difference could make things a bit complicated. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

So what was so important that Sarah needed to give him today?

Nothing. She was just standing there, pushing a plate full of food towards him, grinning ear to ear, telling him to eat.

“Is this the thing you wanted to give me?” He looked at the clock, it’s half an hour earlier than he would normally wake up to make her breakfast. “Why are you up so early?” It suddenly occurred to him that maybe she was having a hard time with the looming anniversary. But her grinning face didn’t fit that theory.

“It’s a year since Mom passed,” she said, still grinning.

“Okay…?”

“She asked me to give you something today. You have to eat and then wait until I get on the bus to school. Then you’ll get what I need to give you.”

“And I had to wake up an hour early because…?”

“I’m too excited!”

“About?”

“You’ll see! Eat! You need to focus on the gift later. I don’t want you eating as you see it.”

Joel frowned, confused as to what this gift was, but did not argue. He finished his breakfast, cleaned up, and walked Sarah out to the bus. The teenager hugged him tight, telling him she loved him, before taking her phone out, fiddling with it, gave him another hug and yelled out for him to check his phone and that she will see him after school.

He went inside, still perplexed, what gift? He went to his phone, saw that he had received a video from Sarah.

‘Sit comfortably and watch this,’ the accompanying text read. ‘Keep an open mind Dad, I love you so much.’

Joel sat on the couch to watch it. Ellie climbed onto the couch with him, sitting upright on his thigh to watch the video with him. He settled down and clicked play.

Annie appeared on his screen.

“Hello you,” she said, her easy, familiar smile on her lips. “Long time no see.”

Joel’s eyes filled with tears, a smile forming on his lips. He had missed that smile. Sure, he had watched old videos of them all together, but there was something about seeing her again for the first time. If he remembered correctly, this was shot the day before she passed – she was wearing the clothes she wore to the movies.

He missed the easy comfort she provided whenever she was in his vicinity. If Joel was to categorize his love for her, it was that. Comfort. He was comfortable with her. She made him feel comforted. He would do anything for her. Within reason. As he was thinking this, his heart felt heavy with guilt. What kind of a man married and lived with a wonderful woman like Annie, and not fall head over heels for her? Instead, he lived his life with her pining for a woman who lived on the other side of the world, the one he chased away, hurt so badly she put two oceans between them, just to get away from him. What the fuck was wrong with him that he couldn’t love someone like Annie the way he should have?

Annie shuffled a bit on her bed, legs crossed, getting comfortable.

“If you are watching this, husband dear, then two things have happened. One, I have passed. Sorry about that. Two, a year had passed since then, and you are still single, and not with Daisy.” She took a deep breath, narrowed her eyes at the camera, raised a pointer finger and wiggled it left and right at him, shaking her head and tutting as she did so, the way she used to chastise Sarah when she was being naughty. She leaned forward and smacked the phone she had used a little, causing her image to wobble for a bit.

Joel shrank back from the screen, any sense of nostalgia flying out of his head.

“That was me smacking you upside your head, by the way. I would smack harder, but you just got me this phone last month and I love it, so just in case I live way longer after I recorded this, I still need the phone, so, no, I’m not destroying it, but you get the gist,” she said, the faux anger on her face faltering a little, a small, cheeky smile threatening to appear.

That pulled a laugh out of him. In all their years together, Annie had hit Sarah once, at the age of five, a soft slap on her left foot for accidentally kicking her grandma in the face while throwing a tantrum, and she spent the night crying for being a bad mother who abuses her kid. So even the idea that she would smack anything harder than the gentle one she just gave the phone made him laugh.

That laugh, however, quickly stopped when Annie’s face turned serious again.

“What is wrong with you Joel Christopher Miller? Has she gone back to Bangkok? You let her leave? My God Miller. The stars literally aligned for you, you got a way out without divorcing anyone, without hurting anyone, and you still let her slip through your fingers? You really are a special kind of stupid,” she yapped.

“I get why you pushed her away all those years ago, but I watched you pine for her, Joel. Anyone with eyes could see you’re still so in love with her. Even Sarah could see. And I know that even though they never said anything, maybe out of respect for me, your family knows you’re still in love with her. You had an excuse when she was still in Bangkok, she’s too far away, you two didn’t separate on the best of terms. You even have a reasonable excuse now that she’s back, you’re married, you don’t want to cheat on me, though I don’t think it’s technically cheating, I literally had to push you into spending time with her. But I’m not around anymore, and it’s one year later. Why are you not with her? No one can say she stole you from me, or that you left me for her, so what gives?”

Her expression suddenly changed from befuddlement to one of clarity.

“Ah… I see… you don’t want to be a merry widow? Did someone give you the idea that you would be one? Let me guess, Courtney still bitter you didn’t want to date that serial divorcee friend of hers? Tsk. I never liked that bitch. You know she wouldn’t stop telling me I’m too ugly, too fat to be with someone like you? Kept telling me how unfortunate you were for ending up being stuck with me. Accused me of baby-trapping you. Called me Jen the Sequel. Ugh. Ignore her, Joel. It’s not like no one knows what she’s like. Even Allison, her own sister hates her. I don’t even think her own children like her. So if she’s a reason for your hesitance, please stop.”

Her eyes narrowed once more. “Or… you are refraining because you feel guilty you never loved me the way you love her. Am I right?”

Joel looked at his own feet in shame. God, this woman knew him inside out. There’s no hiding from her, not even a year after her passing.

“Well, I can help with that. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but I have a feeling you already knew, not like we haven’t spoken about this many times before. I love you Joel, with all my heart, but I can’t say I can ever love you like that either. You are a great husband, Joel, and I hope I am a great wife to you, but Kyle was and will always be the love of my life. And Daisy is yours. And that is okay. What we have, you and I, is unique. Special. You are my best friend, the one person I could rely on. And I hope I am yours too. I know you love me. Maybe not the way you love Daisy, but you know I could not love anyone the way I loved Kyle, not even someone as wonderful as you. So please, Joel, don’t punish yourself for that. Stop, Joel. I’m not there anymore.”

She stopped speaking, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked at her hands, taking a deep breath before looking back into the camera.

“I don’t know what awaits me on the other side, but if everything I wish to be true is true, I am now with the love of my life. Go be with yours, Joel. Be happy, go find her. Be with her.”

She closed her eyes, brought her hands to her lips, kissed the tips of her fingers, and touched the camera with them.

“I love you, Joel. I’m gonna miss you.”

She leaned into the camera and kissed it, softly saying goodbye to him, a teary smile on her face, ending the recording.

Joel didn’t move for God knows how long, only snapping back into reality when Ellie, who had fallen asleep in his lap let out a huge snore.

Huh, he suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Okay. Okay. He needed to make some calls.

Sarah got on the bus excited to see what her Dad had to say about that video. Her Mom left her three such videos for him. One was to be given to him when he got together with Auntie Daze, which consisted of Annie dramatically miming to Etta James’ ‘At Last’ with a hairbrush. The other to be given if a year had passed, and he still hadn’t made his move, which was what she had sent to her Dad that day. The final one was to be given for a special occasion that Sarah really hoped would happen one day. Soon.

Her Dad was a rigid man. Serious, stoic, his shoulders stiff. He would laugh at her jokes, her Mom’s jokes, but very rarely make one himself. She had seen him belly laugh maybe twice in her life, once when Uncle Tommy got locked out of his house naked in the middle of winter, the other time when Auntie Daze was at the house, having breakfast.

He was a different man that morning. A happy man. A man Sarah would very much like to see on the daily. But that man hadn’t made another appearance since. And it seemed that he might never return, not since Auntie Daze left for Bangkok.

She was ten when she realized that her Dad was in love with Auntie Daze.

She began noticing his responses to stories about Auntie Daze. His face got softer, a small smile appearing on his lips, his eyes looking down on his feet, as if reminiscing. He never asked about Auntie Daze, never even talked about her himself, but it was clear he remembered her well.

One day, Uncle Eric told Grandma Auntie Daze started dating some guy and that it seemed serious, that this guy could be the one, that Auntie Daze seemed really happy and content with this guy. Sarah watched as her Dad’s face morph into something she couldn’t pinpoint at that age.

And then everyone sort of started shushing Uncle Eric when they realized her Dad was there. Uncle Eric stopped talking, immediately apologizing to her Dad, while every one else started busying themselves with something else.

On their way home, her Mom asked her very quiet Dad if he was okay. He said yes, but that night, she overheard them talking. Her Mom suggested he call Auntie Daze, but he refused. He said that Auntie Daze had found happiness, and he didn’t want to disrupt that. She only heard her Mom comforting him after that, but she imagined her Dad was very sad, despite saying otherwise.

She asked her Mom about that night. Her Mom had never lied to her. She told Sarah that Auntie Daze was to him what the late Uncle Kyle was to her. But Auntie Daze had to move away, and her Dad met her Mom and got married.

Ever since that day, Sarah couldn’t help but notice his reactions to any mention of Auntie Daze. And when she finally met her, she could see how his entire attitude changed. That day at the hospital, after her surgery, she could see how happy he was to see her again, despite not talking to her. It was as if having Auntie Daze in his vicinity was enough to perk him up. She never knew he could be that relaxed, that smiley. And when Mr Parks came in, he seemed… deflated, jealous, even?

That morning, when Auntie Daze came for breakfast, she actually saw how happy he was with Auntie Daze around. Her uncles had always teased him about his grumpiness. Sarah had always wondered why they did that. Grumpy Dad was all she knew. But apparently he wasn’t always so grumpy, and now she knew what they meant. Even her Mom was happy to see him like that.

But for whatever reason, he withdrew from Auntie Daze after her Mom died. Refused to listen to her, not really getting back in touch with Auntie Daze. She had never felt so desperate as she did the day Auntie Daze left for Bangkok. He simply shut down, even though it was obvious he didn’t want her to leave.

She felt sad for him. His companion of 15 years just died, and he was shutting the woman he was in love with out. She just wanted him to be happy. So did her Mom. She knew that. But he wasn’t responding. She had tried, but he had remained stubborn. So now, she could only hope that the video her Mom had prepared would snap him out of his stupor and get him going.

Sarah walked into the living room to her Dad trying to coax a scrambling, yowling, fighting-for-her-life Ellie into her carrier, her suitcases open on the floor, her clothes neatly folded inside.

“Oh, you’re back. You’re going to stay with Grandma for a few weeks, okay? Auntie Ollie is going to drive you over. Go get whatever else you might need and pack it. Come on Ellie, work with me here,” he grumped, finally managing to hold the kitten down in the carrier, trapping his own hand inside as he tried to zip the zipper up, furiously shaking his hand away from the kitten, who had now wrapped her entire being around his wrist.

He finally got Ellie in the carrier, going into his room, leaving a confused Sarah standing in the doorway as he came back out with a suitcase big enough to fit her in it.

“Come on, let’s go. Get your stuff. We’ll go and visit your Mom first, and then I’ll drop you back here okay. Auntie Ollie will come get you after work. I have to leave before rush hour.”

“Leave to go where?” Sarah asked, although she already knew the answer, an excited smile forming on her lips.

“Bangkok. I’m getting your Auntie Daze back.”

Epilogue

[drkkgwrl]

The new you – Kang No-eul

pairing – kang no-eul × fem!reader. warnings – squid game season 3 spoiler! angst (?), fluff, slow burn, mention of death, mourning. synopsis – having survived the games, you have no idea if the wounds and memories left behind in that place will ever give you any respite. but sometimes, life can be good even to those who deserve it.

The sacrifice of Player 456 was never just a gesture.

It was the final breath of a man who entrusted you with more than a simple victory: he left you a promise, a fate that only you could carry forward.

You still remember that moment — him falling, the game closing in around you and the child, and his voice, fragile but determined:

"You’ll be a better parent than I ever was."

It wasn’t easy. Not at all.

The little girl had become your anchor. The reason you kept walking, even when everything seemed lost and meaningless.

You had made a promise to Jun-hee, the moment you saw her give birth to that baby during the games.

The promise to never leave her alone. To help her, if things went wrong. To love her daughter just as much as you had loved her.

The billions of won from the prize were as much a burden as they were a salvation. Because that money, in the end, didn’t buy peace. It only bought time.

Time to care for that fragile little life you now held every day. Time to try and become better.

You remember that day on the island as if it were yesterday.

After the tower game, some guards had dragged you out, before being brutally killed by her: Kang No-eul.

You had met her before the games, but you remembered her differently. Frightened, freezing. A photo of a little girl in her hands, while you both tried to cross the frozen river between North and South Korea.

You had saved her when a North Korean guard had already caught her. You hit him multiple times. You shot him in the head.

Your first kill.

No-eul was the one who had stayed close to you throughout the escape. The rifle firm in her hands, the pink suit wrinkled, her face covered in blood and bruises.

"You need to get out of here," she had said, glancing at the baby clutched to your chest. "Get her to safety."

"And you?" You had already noticed the blood spreading across her side. "Were you shot?"

No-eul stepped closer to you. "You have to go," she said quietly, almost out of breath. "I... I can’t come with you."

"Let me come with you—"

"No," she spoke more firmly. "The guards will find out soon that we’ve escaped. You’ll find a boat if you keep walking straight for a few more minutes. There’s a man trying to escape too, like us. Protect him. Protect the baby. And go."

She handed you a key with her gloved hand.

Your fingers trembled as you took it. Your heart was pounding in your chest. "What will you do?"

"I have to stay. I need to cover you. I can’t let you escape without protection."

You looked around. You knew she was right. She was a guard, and that area was still a minefield.

"And... I have something else to take care of," she added.

You didn’t want to leave her. Not without the certainty that she’d return. Yet you couldn’t afford to waste time. You couldn’t put the baby in danger.

"Promise me you’ll come back," you whispered, almost begging.

"I promise."

When you reached the boat, you found the man No-eul had spoken of. You recognized him immediately: Park Gyeong-seok, or rather, Player 246. He was dressed as a guard, injured, weak. But alive. You had met him in the games. You knew his daughter, his difficult story.

"Gyeong-seok..." you whispered, running toward him.

"Y/N..." he gave you a faint smile.

"I thought you were dead..."

"I thought so too. But she saved my life."

No-eul had saved him too.

You nodded, throat tight. The baby in your arms stirred, annoyed by the cold and wind, but didn’t cry.

You knelt beside him. His uniform was barely recognizable under the dried blood. Your hands trembled as you gently touched his shoulder.

"You shouldn’t move. You’re in bad shape."

"I’m not the only one, am I?" he replied with a tired smile.

You looked down at the baby. Her thin face reflected the same exhaustion you saw in him.

Two survivors of a hell no one could ever truly understand.

"Did No-eul... tell you about me?" you asked softly, almost fearing that saying her name would make her vanish.

"She told me about you. She said she was waiting for you. She knew you’d make it." He paused, then added in a fragile tone, "She told me to help you, in case she didn’t make it."

A chill ran down your spine. That woman... always one step ahead. Always ready to sacrifice herself.

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

He shook his head. "No."

You turned, looking toward the now distant island. You couldn’t see it anymore, but you knew the sky would tremble soon.

You heard a soft chuckle from Gyeong-seok. "She reminds me so much of my daughter," he said, looking at the baby. "Innocent. Helpless. And yet, forced to live through things she doesn’t deserve."

Your stomach twisted. You thought of his daughter, lying in a hospital bed, confused and scared.

"She’s Jun-hee’s daughter, isn’t she?"

You nodded. You were sure that if you spoke, you’d cry.

"I’m sorry. She was a strong woman."

Jun-hee’s face resurfaced in your mind. Her final glance from the other side of the bridge, begging you to save her daughter.

"I love you," she had whispered when she leaned against you after giving birth, holding your hand.

You had watched her die from above, thinking it would have been easier to follow her.

Yet the baby’s cry had pulled you back.

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. "We have to go, before the fog gets thicker."

And so you left the island behind.

Now you lived in a huge house.

Full of money. Too much for one person.

And with a baby to raise.

Funny how quickly things change, isn’t it?

Every morning, the light filtered gently through the large windows overlooking the sea. The house was quiet. Too big to feel like yours, yet never truly empty.

The first days felt like living in a worn-out dream. Every room was cold. Every object out of place. As if none of it belonged to you.

Then she arrived.

The baby. Her big eyes, still unaware of the world, looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

You found a trustworthy private doctor. You had a room made just for her. Soft lights. Stuffed animals. A new crib that creaked every time she moved. Everything built around that fragile heartbeat.

But there was one thought — maybe more than one — that never left you since you escaped that island.

One evening, in a hospital room, tired of watching the people you loved suffer, you handed your golden credit card to the man in front of you.

"What is this?" Gyeong-seok asked, confused.

"The card they sent me after I won the games," you replied. "It’s yours."

Gyeong-seok’s eyes widened. "What? No, I—you don’t have to—"

"I kept the one for the baby. The one that belonged to Jun-hee. I’ll use it to make sure she never lacks anything. This one is yours."

"I can’t accept—"

"You’re not accepting anything. It’s your right. You risked your life in there too. You made it out alive." You looked him straight in the eyes. "You have a sick daughter. This is your second chance."

He said nothing.

"Do it for her." You glanced at the baby, wrapped in tubes and machines keeping her alive.

He thought for a moment. Then, with trembling hands, he took the card.

"Thank you." That was all he could say.

And it was enough.

Six months.

You stopped counting the days after the seventy-second.

At first, you marked them on a calendar hanging on the wall, using a different color each day. An X for each day, as if it would make any difference. But then the calendar filled up too quickly, and you realized there was no point in going all the way to the end.

So you stopped.

The little girl sleeps, as she does every evening, resting against your chest on the couch. You've learned to recognize the rhythm of her breathing. The shorter breaths when she's dreaming. Her hands moving gently, searching for something in the void.

She's become a part of you. A constant shadow. A fixed memory. The only thing that keeps you anchored to something vaguely resembling life.

You've learned to cook for two. To wash tiny clothes. To read the instructions on baby medicine packages.

You've stopped waiting. Even if you won't admit it to yourself.

Then, that night, something catches your attention. Not immediately.

First, a rustling in the leaves. Then footsteps, too close to your front door. And then, a soft knock.

You tense up and you’re not even sure why. You slowly shift the girl, making her whimper faintly.

You get up and walk down the hallway, opening the front door.

There’s darkness. And rain.

And a figure just a few meters from the door.

You stand still. Your heart tightens.

You don’t move. There, frozen in the doorway, you watch.

Your eyes almost struggle to focus.

Dark hair. A beanie on her head. Tense shoulders. A worn-out backpack. A pair of dirty shoes.

You still can’t believe it.

No-eul.

You don’t say anything. Neither does she.

Because six months is a long time, but also far too short to forget.

She takes a step forward. Then another. But she stops a few meters from you, as if she’s unsure whether she’s allowed to come closer.

Her eyes search for you, but they don’t dare ask anything.

And you don’t know what you’re feeling. Anger. Relief. Confusion.

You’ve imagined this moment hundreds of times, and in every one of them, you were different: stronger, colder, more clear-headed.

But now you’re just tired.

And there she is.

After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, you say in a low voice, almost with effort, "You took too long."

She shrugs slightly. "You were hard to find. Especially now that you don’t live in the city anymore." She glances at the outside of your house, almost admiring it.

You notice how her body is slightly trembling from the rain and her thin jacket.

You step aside without saying anything. Just a slight nod. A silent invitation.

She understands and accepts it, stepping in cautiously. As she walks past you, a familiar and distant scent brushes past. You turn to look at her as she crosses the threshold and you close the door behind her.

"I like the house," she murmurs after a few seconds, looking around. Her voice is low, as if not wanting to disturb. Then her eyes land on the little girl asleep on the couch. "You kept her..."

"Of course I did," you reply, sitting back on the couch without looking at her. Your tone comes out colder than you meant. "Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?"

She quickly shakes her head, clutching the backpack straps like they could protect her from something.

"No, thanks."

You nod, sitting back down slowly next to the little girl, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

"At least sit down."

She sets the backpack next to the armchair across from the couch and drops into it, stiffly. Fingers on her thighs, her gaze unsure of where to rest.

"How did you find me?"

"I asked Park Gyeong-seok."

The name surprises you. You raise an eyebrow.

"Gyeong-seok?"

"Yeah. I went to the playground where he works. I told him we were... old friends."

A slight, forced smile escapes you.

"I saw his daughter too," she adds, and for a moment her eyes light up. "She’s doing well."

"Yeah, we meet up for a beer now and then. He’s doing alright. He deserves it."

She simply nods.

"Does he... know who you are?"

She slowly shakes her head.

"No. I didn’t tell him."

"Alright."

Again, silence. Just the ticking of the rain against the windows and the slow breath of the child.

No-eul’s eyes settle on her once more.

"Did you give her a name?"

You hesitate for a moment.

"Jun-hee."

She repeats it almost in a whisper, as if wanting to savor it.

"Jun-hee. It’s a beautiful name."

Your stomach tightens, like it always does when you say it.

The name never stops hurting.

"It was her mother’s name."

No-eul stiffens slightly. She looks at you again and asks in a faint voice,

"The player... 222?"

You correct her immediately, your tone sharp and rough.

"Her name was Park Jun-hee."

She lowers her gaze at once. "Right. Sorry."

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

You lean slightly toward Jun-hee, adjusting her little pajamas on her shoulders with slow, careful gestures.

No-eul watches. Not just the child, but you. The way you look at her. The way you breathe around her.

"Did you have feelings for her?" she suddenly asks.

The question is light. But it lands like a boulder.

"For... Jun-hee, I mean. I saw something during the games but I was never sure."

You don’t turn. You stay there, with your hand still resting on the edge of the couch, your gaze fixed on the sleeping girl.

Then you answer, without making excuses.

"Yes."

"I had feelings for her." you repeat, as if to clarify it wasn’t a mistake. Nor an accident, nor a refuge.

No-eul doesn’t say anything. But her body shifts. Her shoulders drop, as if something inside her had dimmed—or been released.

You slowly lean back against the couch, your heart in your throat. You can’t look at her. Not yet.

"You know, in a place like that and in a situation like that..." you turn to her, meeting her gaze, "emotions and feelings get amplified."

"Yeah, I know." she answered, her voice so soft it was hard to hear. She looked at you with tired but thoughtful eyes, as if she had something else to say. Something to clarify.

"But she’s dead." you say then, almost in a whisper, like you had to remind yourself of it. "And she’s what’s left."

You gently gesture toward Jun-hee, who sleeps peacefully, unaware of everything.

"Why were you there, No-eul?" you suddenly ask. "Why were you one of them?"

"I wasn’t—"

"You know how many times I thought about it? I thought maybe they killed you. I thought maybe it was you pulling the trigger on people like me."

Her head snapped up. "I’m not like them."

"But you did it anyway."

"Because I didn’t have a choice."

She says it almost under her breath, as if fearing every word could break something.

"We all have a choice."

"I had a daughter."

You slowly turn toward her.

The warm light of the lamp illuminates only half her face.

"I thought she was dead," she continues. "When I escaped North Korea, I left her there. I couldn’t put her in danger. I couldn’t—couldn’t be the cause of her death."

Your eyes soften. "And now?"

"She might be alive." she answered. You could see a flicker of hope in her eyes. "They say she was seen in China. She has the same name and matches the description I gave."

You don’t say anything. You just breathe, deeply.

"I leave in two weeks. If everything goes well... I’ll find her."

You nod, scratching the tip of your nose with your finger. You didn’t know what to feel. A part of you blamed her for killing innocent people. The other part didn’t blame her for doing it for someone she loved.

"I’m glad to see you again."

Her words catch you off guard. You didn’t expect to hear something like that from someone like her. Yet, it made your heart pound.

"I’m glad to see you again too."

She smiled, pleased with your answer.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Oh, yes—"

That wasn’t the answer you wanted.

"Stay here." you interrupted her.

"What?"

"Stay until you leave. With me." you repeated more clearly, leaning toward her. "Even after you come back from China. Come back here with your daughter."

"Why?"

"This house is too small for just two people. And besides, you deserve a little peace too after everything we’ve been through, don’t you think?"

She thought about it for a moment. She seemed hesitant and uncertain, but then she nodded.

"Yeah, you’re right."

The morning is gray, like all of them since No-eul arrived.

It rains almost every day.

The kitchen is warm, the smell of toasted bread mixing with the scent of warm milk.

You were sitting on the couch with the baby in your arms, your legs bent to support her back while you tickled her. She squirmed in your arms and laughed, her face slightly flushed from the effort.

Across the room, No-eul stood in front of the sink, putting away some cups you had left there the night before. She had settled into the house fairly quickly and quite well, although there was still a slight tension between you that you couldn't quite explain.

“You know you don’t have to wash the dishes and clean the house every day, right?” you break the silence, without looking at her.

“I know,” she replies, drying a cup she had just washed. “But if I can’t contribute to the rent, at least I can help with the house.”

At those words, you sighed, placing the baby on the couch and bringing her toys close so she wouldn’t get bored. You approached No-eul from behind, grabbing the cup from her hands.

She tried to take it back, but as soon as she turned around, she froze due to how close you were, pressing herself deeper into the sink to put more distance between you.

“No-eul, you don’t have to pay rent,” you reassure her. “And you don’t have to act like a maid either. I want you here to feel safe and enjoy what you were never able to have.”

She looked at you, her breath held involuntarily.

“Understood?”

“Yes.”

You gave her a proud smile, placing the cup in the sink. “Good.”

The baby on the couch let out a high-pitched sound—a protest that made you turn around. She had just thrown one of her toys off the couch and was now kicking softly, whining while staring at the fallen toy as if it had deeply betrayed her.

You were about to intervene, but No-eul was faster. She still had the cloth in her hand, but set it on the counter and stepped lightly toward the couch, kneeling beside it.

“Hey,” she said softly, gently, “what’s wrong, little one?”

She got down on her knees and, with natural movements, picked up the fallen toy, waving it slowly in front of the baby’s face. “Is this what you wanted, huh?”

The little one grabbed it with both hands but didn’t immediately put it in her mouth. First, she looked at No-eul with curious eyes, as if trying to study her better, and then giggled in that broken, hesitant way.

You, still standing a few steps back, watched the scene silently.

You watched No-eul let go, slowly. The lines of her face had softened without her even noticing, and the hands that were often tense and guarded now gently touched the baby’s leg with a kind of inexplicable ease.

It was strange. Beautiful, but strange.

The gray morning light entered dimly through the window, illuminating No-eul’s dark hair, which now looked softer and shinier.

“She likes you,” you murmured.

No-eul looked up at you, surprised by your words.

“You’re only saying that because she stopped screaming.”

“No,” you smiled softly, “I’m saying it because she hasn’t taken her eyes off you.”

No-eul looked down at the baby, who was now focused on pushing the toy against her tummy with a victorious look—but all without looking away from No-eul, who gave her a sweet smile before standing up.

“She’s funny when she gets mad,” she said, gesturing slightly toward the baby.

“She is,” you chuckled.

You sat on the armrest of the couch, watching them both.

“When she’s older,” you said quietly, ��I’ll tell her that her parents are no longer here… but also that she had a brave mother. One who fought until the very end. And who loved her enough to entrust her to someone who could truly protect her.”

No-eul looked at you, and for a moment it seemed like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. She just nodded slowly, her gaze returning to the baby.

“You know… my parents died when I was three.”

She seemed surprised by your sudden statement, but quickly became interested. “I’m sorry.”

“Growing up not knowing who they were, with no one to tell me about them… it’s something I don’t want for her,” you continued.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s not my daughter. I still owe her something. Because I’m raising her. And raising her also means giving her a worthy past.”

No-eul looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read at first. There was something shining in her eyes, but it wasn’t sadness or emotion. It was… respect, maybe. Or something very close to it.

“You’re doing something really admirable, you know?”

You shook your head. “It’s the least I can do.” Then you looked back at her. “And you? What was your relationship with your parents like?”

No-eul looked down, a tense smile crossing her face for only a moment before vanishing.

“Complicated,” she replied, slowly leaning her back against the couch beside you. “My mother was strict, very religious. My father… was always absent. Even when he was there.”

She paused, her fingers playing with the edge of her sweatshirt sleeve.

“They never really understood me. Or maybe they never tried to. When I started making choices different from what they expected… that was it. I disappeared from their lives too.”

You listened in silence, trying not to interrupt. It seemed like she didn’t talk about herself very often.

“That’s why I never wanted to become a mother,” she continued, her voice barely audible. “I was afraid I’d be like them. That I wouldn’t know how to love, or that I’d do it the wrong way.”

Then she turned to the baby, who had now fallen asleep among her toys, one arm awkwardly bent over her face.

“But she…” No-eul smiled softly this time, a tenderness truly softening her gaze. “She looks at me like I’m good. Like I could still become someone good, one day.”

You felt something tighten inside you—something like a lump in your throat, but it wasn’t sadness. It was understanding.

“No-eul,” you said quietly, “you are good. No one ever gave you enough time to figure that out.”

She looked at you, surprised by the firmness in your words. But she didn’t say anything. She simply nodded once, as if accepting your judgment even if she didn’t fully believe it.

“And then…” you added, smiling slightly, “maybe one day, when she’s older, we’ll let her believe she has two moms. And that one of them… well, was the most stubborn but also the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

No-eul laughed, shaking her head gently. But she leaned back against the couch, more relaxed now, as if something inside her had finally settled.

And so you stayed there, in that slow, shared moment, with the baby sleeping between you and the rain lightly tapping on the windows.

It was just past one a.m.

The house was shrouded in darkness, broken only by the soft glow of the nightlight in the child’s room and the gentle, steady sound of rain tapping against the windows. You were fast asleep, your body tired after a long day, breathing calm and steady.

Until it happened.

A scream shattered the silence — sharp, desperate.

You woke up with a jolt, your heart pounding violently in your chest. Instinctively, you turned toward the crib — but the baby was still asleep, peaceful, safe under her covers.

The sound came from the other room.

You got up quickly, not even bothering to put on your slippers. You crossed the hallway and opened the door to the room where No-eul slept.

You found her curled up in the blankets, her face sweaty, her breath broken by muffled sobs. She was awake, but still seemed trapped in the nightmare. Her hands were trembling, clutching the sheets like she was trying not to slip away into something invisible.

“No-eul…” you called gently, approaching the bed. “Hey… you’re awake. It’s okay.”

She flinched and pulled back slightly, but then she recognized your voice, your face, and let herself go, folding into herself, still shaken.

You sat beside her, without asking for permission, and softly brushed your fingers along her back. Neither of you spoke for a while. Just the faint sound of her sobs, slowly quieting.

“It’s always the same dream,” she finally murmured, her voice hoarse. “Always.”

You said nothing. Just gave a small nod, encouraging her to go on.

After a few seconds of silence, she began to speak, her voice still low, almost a whisper:

“That day, I was… alone in the Frontman’s office. It was all over, but I couldn’t stop. I took a rifle, pointed it under my chin…”

Your heart clenched.

“I was about to pull the trigger, ready to let go of all the pain and rage I had inside. To break the promise I made to you.”

Her gaze found yours. Desperate. Pleading.

“Then… I heard a baby crying. It was the surveillance screen, showing you, holding her in your arms. Her cry was loud, real. Like she was crying for me. That cry stopped me. Made me remember that even if it was all over, I had to keep going. For her. For my baby.” Her voice broke.

“That little girl saved you, No-eul.” You looked at her with tenderness and admiration, gently caressing her shoulder.

She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “Without knowing it, you saved me too.”

You squinted, confused. “Me?”

She nodded again, sitting up straighter. “That promise meant something to me. It made me realize that someone was waiting for me.”

You gave in, moving closer to her. “Come here.”

You pulled her into a gentle but firm embrace, as if trying to give her all the strength she was missing. No-eul let herself collapse into you, her body still trembling, her sobs gradually fading.

After a few minutes, you pulled back slightly and stood up. You offered her your hand with a calm smile.

“What?” she asked, confused, wiping the last tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“From now on, you’ll sleep with me and Jon-hee.”

She widened her eyes a bit. “I–”

“So you won’t feel alone anymore,” you added. “I promise, I’m great at chasing nightmares away.”

No-eul looked at you in surprise, the confusion still visible in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment, then took your hand and stood up.

You walked toward your room in silence — almost cautiously, yet aware that this small gesture could change something between you. A new alliance.

You settled into your bed, making space next to you. No-eul got comfortable, and you tucked the covers around her, as if to shield her.

“You’re not alone anymore,” you whispered. She smiled at you — a fragile, but sincere smile.

It was one of those moments when the house seemed suspended in a soft silence, and even the little girl had started drawing — or rather, throwing colors all over the house — on the carpet, without asking for anything for several minutes.

You were sitting on the couch, a book open on your lap, but your gaze was lost among the pages you couldn’t really read. The sun filtered through the open curtains, casting golden rectangles on the wooden floor, moving slowly as the hours passed.

No-eul was there, sitting in front of the window, busy fixing a small vase that the little girl had knocked over that morning.

A simple gesture, almost trivial. Yet, you found yourself watching her silently. Not intrusively — at least, that’s how you like to think — but with that curiosity you feel toward someone who has become part of your daily life without you noticing, and whom you keep discovering piece by piece.

It was then that you noticed it.

The sun brushed her face at a precise angle, and the scar on her left cheekbone became visible for a moment. Thin, but clear. An old mark with an irregular shape. Not deep, but marked enough not to be ignored.

You froze.

That mark. You knew it.

It was there on the first day you saw her too, although then you only noticed it for a second, cautiously, without lingering.

But now, in that warm light, with the quiet all around and the white silk shirt No-eul was wearing, just unbuttoned at the collar, that scar didn’t seem like a flaw anymore.

It didn’t make her look fragile.

On the contrary: it made her look more alive. More real. More… genuine.

In fact.

You surprised yourself thinking that little mark made her incredibly attractive.

There was something about that scar that shook you. You couldn’t explain it logically, but you felt it.

Like it was a window into everything she had lived through. Into what she didn’t say.

You clutched the book between your fingers, feeling the paper creak under your grip. You realized you’d been staring too long and looked away, as if caught in the act.

And as you did, you turned to the little girl, a natural reflex to check on her… but she was already looking at you.

Lying on her stomach on the carpet, with a blue marker in hand and red stains on her cheeks.

She smiled.

No, she laughed.

Quietly, as if she had understood everything. As if she had seen your gaze a second earlier and was having fun teasing you, in her own way.

You looked down at the book again, trying to hide an embarrassed smile.

Then No-eul’s voice broke the silence.

“Everything okay?” she asked calmly, without turning fully around.

“Yes,” you replied immediately, your voice a little louder than you intended. “I was just… thinking.”

“About what?”

There was curiosity in her voice, but no pressure.

You opened your mouth to answer, then closed it again.

A small smile slipped out, one of those little ones.

“Nothing important.”

She nodded, as if that answer really was enough.

She went back to fixing the vase, with the same calm as before.

Unaware — or maybe not — that in that moment, with that little mark on her face, she had left a precise imprint in your thoughts.

The bed next to you is still warm, but empty.

Then you hear her.

Light movements, soft steps on the parquet floor. You don’t even have to turn to know it’s her. No-eul.

You barely squint your eyes. Just a slit, as if you’re not really awake. You tell yourself you don’t want to look, that it’s early, that it wouldn’t be right.

And yet, you do.

She’s standing, back turned. Searching for something in the wardrobe, wearing only the shirt she slept in — a soft, loose fabric that barely slips down her back. The light, soft and golden, caresses the bare skin of her legs and the back of her thighs.

You move just slightly, imperceptibly, just to try to get a clearer view.

Then, without any warning, the shirt rises.

No-eul slowly pulls it off, unhurriedly, and the fabric lifts over her arms, revealing her bare back.

You watch her like one watches something rare, fragile. Or forbidden.

The gentle curve of her spine, her shoulder blades moving ever so slightly, the line of her hips narrowing under smooth skin. The bra is light, almost transparent in the light. You realize you’re holding your breath.

Desire slides over you without warning, like a thick heat building between your chest and lower belly. And you hate yourself a little for it. But you don’t stop.

On the contrary. You push further.

You follow the slow movement of her fingers grazing her skin as she takes a shirt from the nightstand. When she opens it, you keep watching — eyes fixed on every small gesture, as if you’re absorbing everything with hunger.

Her breasts partially hidden, the lift of the fabric over her chest, the shirt left open at the top, revealing the space between her collarbones.

You want to close your eyes. Pretend you didn’t see anything. But it feels like you’ve etched every detail beneath your eyelids.

Your skin burns. Your fingers tingle.

You want to touch her. Just brush her. Feel the warmth of her skin under your palm.

But you stay still.

Silent, caught between instinct and the fear of crossing a line.

She runs a hand through her short hair. And that gesture feels even more intimate, unbearably attractive.

Then, as if nothing happened, she grabs her phone, leaves the room without noticing you.

And you stay there.

Breath still uneven.

Thighs brushing, skin on fire, and the persistent thought that now there’s nothing left to hide, at least inside you.

You want her.

And you want her desperately.

In the dream, everything was heavenly.

The white light — too white — passed through the curtains of the house. The scent of vanilla filled your nostrils. A scent you knew very well.

The same voice, from another room.

“You got up late this morning,” said Jun-hee, appearing in the hallway with a cup in her hands.

She was wearing one of your T-shirts, the one with the poorly sewn collar you said you hated but always wore.

She smiled. That smile was enough to make you forget everything.

You watched her silently for a few seconds, holding your breath.

You knew it wasn’t real.

But you wanted to believe it, just for a moment.

“I missed you today,” you say softly, without thinking.

Jun-hee approached, setting the cup on the kitchen table, then lightly touched your forearm with her fingertips.

“You seem strange today. Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. I’m inside the bad dream.”

Jun-hee looked at you, then chuckled quietly, as she always did when she didn’t immediately understand what you meant.

“Come on. Sit down. Let me fix your hair, it’s all messy.”

You sit on the chair by the window. Jun-hee stood behind you, her hands in your hair.

Slow movements. Intimate. Like a caress that knew the way.

“If I could go back…” you begin.

Jun-hee didn’t let you finish.

“No. Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true. I let you go.”

“I decided to leave. It’s not your fault.”

A moment of silence.

You close your eyes, feeling Jun-hee’s fingers brushing your nape, then sliding down your shoulders.

“Jun-hee…”

Her hands stopped.

“Tell me.”

“What if I asked you to stay?”

A sigh.

A heartbeat.

“I’ve already stopped enough, love.”

You turn. Your eyes meet, so close.

Jun-hee took your face in her hands, thumbs on your cheeks.

“But I would still love you. Every day. Even if we had to start over a hundred times.”

Then, slowly, she stroked your skin: “But you have to move forward.”

You wake up suddenly. Heart pounding.

It takes a few seconds to understand where you are. The dark room, the blanket half pulled, the warm air smelling of night and confusion.

You get up quietly, trying not to make a sound.

The clock reads 3:27 AM.

You cross the hallway and reach the kitchen. You don’t turn on the light. You open the cupboard, take a glass, and pour yourself some water. The dream is still there, imprinted in your mind like a photograph.

As soon as you put the glass down, you hear light footsteps. You turn. No-eul is at the door, in a T-shirt and shorts, her hair surprisingly neat.

You stiffen.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No,” she replies, a little tired but calm. “I was already awake.”

She comes in, leans her hip against the cabinet nearby, watching you without speaking. You try to seem normal, but you’re not.

“Did you have a bad dream?” she asks, voice barely audible.

“No.” You answer honestly. “It was beautiful.”

Silence.

No-eul also takes a glass and fills it, but her eyes stay fixed on you.

Then she looks at you, and something in the way she does it makes you soften a little.

“It was Jun-hee, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer. You bite your lip, clench your hands. Then, without being able to stop it, you feel tears rising. Silent. Unable to hold back.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur. “God, everything feels so wrong since she’s gone.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, taking a sip of water.

“I feel guilty even when I barely smile.”

“You don’t have to apologize for what you feel,” she says.

You nod. “I know. But I can’t help it.”

When you feel a tear run down your cheek, you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand and turn your head to the other side. She moves very close, setting her glass on the kitchen counter.

Her fingers gently brush your hair.

“You have a strand that’s doing its own thing,” she says.

“You were sleeping on this side, right?”

You nod quietly, without speaking. Her fingers move delicately. The gesture is simple, almost trivial. But something explodes inside you.

Your heart tightens.

“She did that too.” You smile. “Every time the games ended she fixed my hair and wiped the blood off my face.”

She looks at you, her hand still perched on your head. Her gaze drops, then returns to your eyes. “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

You nod quickly, grabbing the glass you had filled earlier and following No-eul to the bedroom without saying a word.

When you get back to the room, No-eul glances at the cradle where the baby is sleeping. Then, she makes sure you’re warm under the covers.

You liked that side of No-eul. You understood that once someone earned her trust, she would immediately soften. She knew how to show love in her own way. A strange way. But you liked it.

You’ve been trying to close a window that’s been banging for ten minutes. The wind whistles thinly through the lock. You clumsily climb up on a chair.

“If you fall and die, I swear I won’t call anyone until tomorrow morning,” No-eul says from the door, arms crossed.

You chuckle, trying to force the window shut. “I’ve survived worse, remember?”

The latch is rusty and won’t move. You fidget, huffing. Then you feel two hands on your thighs.

“Get down,” No-eul says, “I’ll do it.”

You tilt your head downward, almost offended. “What makes you think you can do it and I can’t?”

“The fact that you’ve lived in this house longer than me and you don’t even know how things work.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes but jumping down from the chair anyway. “It only happened with the dishwasher.”

“And with the washing machine. And now the window,” she reminds you.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You stop her with a grimace, even though you knew she was right. I mean, why are washing machines so hard to use? Why so many buttons? It should just be a turn and wash. “Now show me how you do it, come on.”

You let her climb up, watching her lean toward the window. She’s wearing a shirt that rides up to her hips and gray sweatpants.

There’s a moment, just one, when your heart skips a beat.

“Is it stuck for you too?” you ask arrogantly.

“Shh.”

Then, with a sharp click, the window closes.

“There,” she says with a proud smile.

“I’m reconsidering your stay here.”

“You know you wouldn’t get anything done without me,” she retorts. As she steps down, her foot slips, and you instinctively catch her by the hips, helping her set her feet firmly on the floor.

She looks at you.

She doesn’t pull away.

“Are you okay?” you ask, worried.

“I’m fine,” she says, but she doesn’t move. Her voice is softer, almost tender.

Her hands rest on your shoulders, yours still on her hips.

Her breath grazes your neck, and her gaze — no, it’s not just a look — it’s a question suspended that doesn’t dare become words.

You feel that if you say even one wrong thing, the balance will break. But you stay there, in the middle of something you hadn’t expected.

You realize how close you are to her. How natural it feels.

How close her lips are.

How, if you wanted... you could kiss her.

You really could.

Her eyes slide away from yours for a moment, then back.

“You’ve been looking at me like that for a while,” she says softly. “You think I haven’t noticed?”

You smile, trying to lighten the mood, but the lump in your throat doesn’t go away.

“I’m not looking at you like that.”

“You’re lying.”

And then it happens.

Your hand brushes her face. Your thumb just below her chin.

She says nothing. Doesn’t pull back.

The silence is so thick you can hear your heart beating against your chest.

Then, you lean in. Slowly.

Your noses almost touch.

She closes her eyes and you quickly follow.

And when your lips finally meet hers, there’s no hesitation.

There’s certainty.

You kiss her. Really kiss her.

A full, warm kiss that tastes of desire held back too long.

Her body leans closer, her hands climb to your neck, holding you as if she never wants to let you go.

And you do the same.

Your fingers slip under her shirt, barely feeling her skin.

There’s warmth.

Then, in the middle of the kiss, as your breaths mix, as your lips chase each other like they’re never enough —

You slip.

Quietly, almost reflexively.

“You taste like Jun-hee.”

The moment you say it, your blood runs cold.

No-eul freezes. Her lips stop on yours. Then she slowly pulls away.

She looks at you. Eyes open but empty. As if you just woke her from a dream.

“...What?” she asks. But it’s not really a question.

You swallow, pulling back a little. “No... I meant—”

She takes a step back.

Runs a hand through her hair, then turns.

She walks away without another word.

You curse yourself. But how the hell did that even come to your mind?

You sigh before following No-eul. “Hey, wait!” You hurry down the hall to the kitchen. She was there, hands on the counter, eyes on the floor. “No-eul...”

You approach her slowly, trying not to invade her personal space.

She doesn’t turn toward you. “I don’t think I like being some kind of replacement.”

“What? A replacement?” Your eyes narrow in disbelief. “Why would you think that?”

No-eul lets out a bitter laugh, emotionless. “You just said another person’s name while we were kissing. You thought of her even though it was a moment between me and you. It’s not the first time.”

You knew she was right. Yet, you’d never thought of her as a replacement. Never. It was clear you felt something for her. Something strong. She saved your life, risking hers. She made you feel less alone and, even if you hadn’t known each other long, you were sure she knew you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble. Your voice sounds sincere. You step closer, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind and resting your head on her shoulder, breathing in her delicate scent. Her black hair lightly tickles your nose. “I’ll be honest, it’s not easy to forget everything that happened in that hell, even if you probably already know.”

You feel her shiver as you brush your neck with the tip of your nose.

“But I want to.” You continue, “For you. Because you’re worth it.”

She turns in your arms, looking at you carefully, searching for something. Maybe she’s making sure you’re telling the truth. Or maybe she’s trying to understand the comfort your words give her.

“Are you still in love with her?”

You hesitate a bit before answering, “My feelings for her were very strong. I... don’t think I’ll forget her anytime soon.”

She looks away, shifting uneasily in your arms.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything for you.” You add, “I can’t take my eyes off you for more than two minutes. My heart melts every time you’re with Jun-hee, because I know I want you by my side to raise that girl the best way possible.”

She looks at you again.

“You have to believe me, No-eul.” You raise your hand to gently stroke her cheek. Your thumb traces the scar on her cheekbone. “You’re not and never will be a replacement. You’re important to me. Since you left, I’ve been counting the days because I couldn’t wait for you to arrive here safe and sound. I waited for you every day. Always.”

Her eyes soften noticeably. Her shoulders relax and her lips part. She’s waiting for something, impatient.

“I want to build a family with you.” You burst out, “I know it sounds impossible and surreal, but—”

She doesn’t let you finish. Her hands grab your face firmly, and in a moment her lips are on yours.

It’s not a hesitant or shy kiss. It’s a real kiss. Alive. Her lips press against yours with force but without hurry. As if she wants to savor you, as if she’s finally allowing herself something she’s desired for a long time.

You lose your breath but don’t pull away. Your hands clutch the fabric of her shirt, pulling her closer.

The world seems to stop for a moment. No words, just your breaths chasing each other between kisses.

No-eul’s fingers weave into your hair with the same tenderness she used to fix it before. You hold her with all the strength you have, as if afraid she might vanish.

When she pulls away, she does it reluctantly. Your faces are just millimeters apart, breaths heavy. Her eyes are glossy, but she’s not crying. She’s just feeling everything, all at once.

“No-eul...” you whisper, but she silences you, placing her thumb on your lips.

“Don’t say anything now,” she murmurs, still close. “Just... stay here.”

You nod.

Your hands relax on her back. She looks at you one last time, then rests her forehead against yours.

You stay like that for a while, held in that embrace that feels like a promise, in the silence of the kitchen, while the world around you seems to no longer matter.

[bad268]

Hey, can I ask for a Ralf Aron fic with an autistic reader who gets sensory overload really easily and has a little stuffed animal they carry with them as a comfort item?

All Too Much (Ralf Aron X Autistic! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Random Drivers

Requested: Clearly (i love him)

Warnings: Autistic reader (as per my experiences!)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1350

Summary: The reader gets easily overwhelmed. Lucky for them, Ralf knows just the trick.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Your thoughts were too jumbled.

Everything was too loud. 

Your clothes were just wrong.

The air was too thick.

Your skin just didn’t feel right.

Everything was too hot and too cold. 

You don’t even remember how you ended up here on the floor of Paul’s driver’s room. Paul had filled in for Pierre after he had been ruled out of the race due to a concussion in the practice session earlier that week, and you and Ralf made the trip to support Paul in his first Formula 1 race. You were quickly reminded why you never went to any of the races. 

You were originally standing on the pit wall just as the pre-race winded down. Paul was standing next to his race engineer on the track while you stood to the side by the gate. Ralf was standing beside Paul, holding his racing gear out as the ten-minute warning was announced for the drivers to get in the car.

You were smiling and talking with the team as you always did. Maybe you were too caught up in the conversation you were having with the team, but usually, someone gave you a warning just before all of the engines started. You missed that, so when all 20 cars came to life, you immediately blacked out.

You’re not even sure how you got back to Paul’s driver’s room. You slapped your hands over your ears and leaned your head against your knees as the ground rumbled with cars racing down the straight. 

You hoped that Ralf had noticed your quick escape. 

You could feel the vibrations of the cars under your skin, and you did not like it. You felt it deep in your skull, and you just wanted it to stop. 

You absentmindedly started itching at your wrists and thighs as you tried to focus on the wall in front of you. Your eyes start to sting as you felt your chest tighten with each vibration of the cars going around.

Ralf, on the other hand, was on his way back from the rental car. He noticed immediately when you started retreating into the garage, and he watched helplessly as you curled into yourself as you wandered through the corridors of the Alpine motorhome.

He knew immediately when the engines started that you weren’t ready for it. He saw that you were still deep in your conversations with your headphones around your neck when the engines roared to life. Ralf wasn't right next to you when it happened, but he saw your reaction out of the corner of his eye. he knew you had left your backpack in the rental, so he headed there.

You always have this backpack. It had a change of clothes, a couple of fidget toys, and some comfier clothes. The most important thing, though, was your comfort animal.

When you were younger, you had this little stuffed bunny named Bonnie that you took everywhere with you. Bonnie was a gift from your parents, and you were never separated from him. However, you lost him in a fire when you were a teenager, and coincidentally, you had just started dating Ralf at the time. 

Ralf found you another bunny and gave it to you on your two-month anniversary. Together, you named this one Mallow, short for Marshmallow. Now, Mallow has become your staple animal and your saving grace when everything gets too much. It was soft and furry, and it helped you get grounded.

Of course, Ralf knew this, so that was his first quest as he watched you retreat into yourself. Usually, you remember to grab it, but being late on top of running into your favorite member of the team made the bag the least of your concerns.

It wasn’t long before Ralf was slipping through the door of Paul’s temporary driver’s room. He spotted you curled up against the far side wall as far away from the track as humanly possible. 

He slowly approached you, gently tapping the ground next to your foot to get your attention. You sharply inhaled as you peeked an eye open. As soon as you registered who it was, a small, weak smile spread on your face. He pulled Mallow out of your bag and held it in front of you with a smile.

“Someone’s here to save the day,” Ralf said in a soft tone as he placed Mallow on top of your knees when you leaned back against the wall. “Mallow and I are here if you want to talk, or we would just stay here for a bit.”

You rubbed a hand against the soft hand of Mallow as you slowly zoned out, only shaking slightly when the cars came round the track. Gradually, you moved your hand up until you could brush your index against Ralf’s pinky. 

You slowly crept your hand up more until you could hook your finger with his. Just holding onto Ralf made you feel astronomically better.

You don’t know when, but at some point, Ralf had moved your headphones from your neck to over your ears. In your spiral, you completely forgot they were there. You didn’t notice they were on until everything started to clear when you could finally ground yourself.

You blinked hard a couple of times before you could finally focus on Ralf’s eyes. You smiled weakly as you leaned your head back against the wall just as another wave of vibrations came through, causing you to snap your head forward again.

“Can you go behind me? It’s all too much still,” You whispered, squeezing Ralf’s finger once before he just nodded and situated himself to sit behind you like he had done a million times before. You immediately leaned back against his chest as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, while the other one pushed your legs down, so you weren’t so curled in on yourself.

Once your legs were straightened in front of you, he jokingly ‘walked’ Mallow up your legs until he reached your chest and wrapped you in a tight hug. Ralf squeezed you a little tighter when you lifted your arms to grab on to his forearm and Mallow’s paw. “Mallow said you did great.”

“Thank you, Mallow,” You jokingly thanked as you let out a breath and kissed the top of Mallow’s head. Then you leaned your head back on Ralf’s shoulder, “And thank you. You always know what to do.”

“I just know when you need certain things,” Ralf dismissed as you leaned up slightly to peck him on the lips. “Whenever you’re feeling up to it, we can head back to the hotel and meet up with Paul later for dinner, but don’t feel like we need to rush.”

“He won’t be mad?” You questioned, “This is just so much worse than F3, F2, or even FE.”

“He won’t care, trust me,” Ralf comforted as he tightened his hold for a second. “We can watch the race on SkySports or F1TV. As long as we watch him somehow.”

“I still feel bad,” You sighed, throwing your head back against Ralf’s shoulder and clenching your hands. 

“If you can tough it out,” Ralf started before looking at his phone to see the race updates, “there are only 20 laps left. We can go to the motorhome or something away from the track and be here for the ending. We could also try to go up higher, so we can watch him cross the finish line, but it might be loud.”

“I can suck it up for 20 laps,” You replied, moving away from Ralf and pushing yourself to stand. “As long as I have you and Mallow, it can’t be that bad.”

“If you’re sure,” Ralf confirmed, looking at you. You nodded quickly, holding your hand out for Ralf to take as you wrapped your other arm tightly around Mallow. Ralf chuckled before grabbing your hand and standing beside you. “Let me know if it gets too much.”

“I will! Now, lead the way! We should have at least 10 more laps to watch him race.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[emeraldcosmos1]

Steel and Sunrise pt.4

It started with the phone call.

You were in the kitchen making grilled cheese for Milo when you heard the ringtone—one Rafe had set and hadn’t changed in six years. You paused mid-slice, head tilted toward the living room.

Rafe was sitting on the couch, shoulders stiff, eyes locked on the caller ID.

“Is that—?” you asked softly from the doorway.

“Yeah,” he said, voice hollow. “It’s him.”

You didn’t have to ask who.

You turned the burner off and set the pan aside. “Do you want to answer?”

Rafe stared at the screen like it might bite him. Then he swiped to accept and brought the phone to his ear.

“What do you want?”

There was a long pause. Rafe didn’t move.

You stayed quiet across the room, heart pounding, watching his jaw tick. His fingers gripped the edge of the couch cushion like he needed something to anchor him.

“…You’re sick,” he repeated, voice colder now. “And?”

Another pause.

“Don’t do this. You don’t get to play the dying man card now. Not after everything.”

He stood abruptly, pacing now. “No—you listen to me for once. You have no idea what you did to me. You think I forgot how you used to slam doors and tell me I’d never be anything? How you blamed me for every goddamn thing that went wrong in your life?”

You winced, but stayed silent.

“…No. I don’t care if you’ve changed. I changed. I built a family without you. I became a man without your help.”

His voice cracked, but only slightly.

Then came the final blow.

“You know what? Don’t call again.”

He hung up.

For a moment, the room was still.

Rafe stood in the middle of the living room, breathing hard, hand still clenched around the phone.

You approached carefully. “Rafe…”

He didn’t look at you. Just turned and shoved the phone down on the table harder than necessary.

“He’s sick. Wants to make amends,” he muttered. “Like that’s supposed to erase everything.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s not on you. You’re allowed to shut that door.”

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and fast. “He thinks he can come back into my life just ‘cause he’s scared to die? He never gave a shit when I was scared to live.”

“Hey,” you said gently, stepping closer. “You don’t have to unpack this all right now.”

“I don’t want to unpack it,” he snapped, louder than he meant to. “I want to forget he exists. I want to forget everything he ever said to me.”

You blinked, trying not to show how much his raised voice stung. “Okay. We can sit down—”

“No,” he said, cutting you off, stepping away like your presence was pressure. “Don’t coddle me right now. I don’t need you to talk to me like I’m gonna fall apart.”

Your lips parted. “I wasn’t—Rafe, I’m trying to help.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want your help,” he spat.

Silence dropped like a bomb between you.

You stared at him, hurt bleeding into your expression before you could stop it.

He immediately looked away, jaw tight, eyes burning.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “Just… forget it.”

He walked out the back door, letting it slam behind him.

You let him go.

It was instinct by now—when Rafe got like this, when the storm inside him shook loose all the broken parts of his past, he needed air. Space. Something to hit that wasn’t a person.

But still—it hurt. No matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t about you, the ache in your chest always said otherwise.

Milo wandered in a few minutes later, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Daddy?”

You bent down, forcing a smile. “He’s outside for a bit, bud. Want to help me finish the sandwiches?”

He came back just before sunset.

You were sitting on the porch swing, Milo asleep on the couch inside, toy trains still scattered across the rug.

Rafe stood at the door, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. You didn’t speak—just gave him the space to find the words himself.

“I shouldn’t’ve said that to you,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry.”

He walked over slowly and sat beside you, the wood creaking beneath his weight. “He just—he messes with my head. Still. I hate that he still has that power.”

“You’re allowed to hate that,” you said softly.

“I wanted to scream at him. Break something. But I ended up hurting you instead. And that kills me.”

You reached out, lacing your fingers through his. “Rafe, I know where that anger comes from. And I also know it’s not really about me. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you talk to me like I’m the enemy.”

He turned to you then, eyes glassy with regret.

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re not,” you said firmly. “You got mad. You lashed out. But you came back. You said sorry. That’s not something Ward Cameron ever did.”

He looked away, blinking fast. “You think Milo’ll be scared of me when he’s older?”

Your heart broke all over again.

“No,” you said, gripping his hand tighter. “I think he’ll grow up knowing what it looks like to see a man own his mistakes. To stay. To fight for his family instead of against them.”

Rafe let out a long, shaky breath. “I love you.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I love you too.”

The porch light clicked on above you, buzzing faintly against the warm dusk. Rafe didn’t say anything else—but he held your hand like it was a lifeline. Like you were the only thing keeping him from drifting back into that place he’d fought so hard to leave behind.

[lokisprettygirl]

Fix You Fix me (Bill Skarsgård! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Au)

Read Chapter 20 here /Series Masterlist

Chapter 21

Summary : Eric breaks your heart. And his own.

Warning: 18+, smut, Fat shaming, body shaming, manipulation, domestic violence, child abuse, cheating, reader has a spine, emotional abuse, reader's weight will be mentioned because the fic demands it

Eric was eight. Maybe nine, he didn't even remember.

He was hiding behind the half-closed door of the hallway closet, the rotten smell of dust thick around him, holding his breath even though his lungs were screaming.

It had started with something stupid. It always did.

A misplaced bill. Cold food. Or his Mama coming home five minutes late from work.

His father’s voice thundered through the house like a storm about to break.

“You think you can do whatever the hell you want? You think you're smart?”

There was a crash, a glass, maybe a plate, he couldn't tell. Then Patricia’s voice, soft and trembling, trying to calm him down like she always did.

“I was just—there was traffic..please, let’s not do this tonight..Eric has his exams..i need to help him study”

“You always have an excuse. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

And then..there was silence.

The kind of silence that made Eric’s stomach turn.

Then the sound of a shove, the dull thud of her back hitting the wall.

Eric flinched where he crouched, one hand over his mouth, the other clenched in a fist so tight his nails dug into his palm.

“Don’t cry” his father had said. A hiss, low and venomous. “Don’t make that pathetic sound..” His father spoke but her sob only got louder, he then punched his fist through the wall.

“Goddamnit Are you not listening to me or something you bitch..stop crying?”

Eric didn’t remember what happened after that. But when he finally crept out hours later, Patricia was sitting on the couch in the dark, her eyes swollen from crying, her lip split, she was dabbing at her face with a cold washcloth like it was routine. Like it was nothing.

“It’s alright, baby,” she had whispered to him “It’s okay ..come here..come to mama” she opened her arms so he would run to her.

She then smiled.

Smiled with a busted lip her husband, his father had given to her.

*********

You didn't understand. You couldn't. What had happened? Everything was fine, it was more than fine, it was going great. There were no fights, no obvious signs of him losing interest in you. Nothing. Then what had you done? What was it that you had done that had made him pull away from you?

“I can't be with you anymore”

I can't. You had been staring at those words for hours now. I can't. He didn't say he didn't want to, he just can't, so maybe there was a silver lining here but then why can't he be with you?

You had called Chance and Shelly and Shelly told you she'd come see you but whatever had happened you needed to go talk to Eric, listen to his stupid reasoning for all of this right from his mouth.

So there you were, standing outside Patricia's building, waiting to be buzzed in but it had been ten minutes. You called Patricia but her cell was unreachable so you called Stella but she didn't pick up either, so you called Eric. Again. And he didn't pick up.

You knew something had gone down, something was wrong with Patricia and it was killing you that you were being kept out of the truth. An anger was slowly simmering underneath all that care and concern and you didn't know how to keep that anger away.

Fifteen minutes later you finally saw his car pulling up, he immediately stepped out of the vehicle, he saw you, you know he did, you were sitting on the stoop right in front of his eyeline but he didn't give you a second look. He immediately opened the backdoor to pick up Patricia, Stella was pulling out her wheelchair from the trunk.

“What happened?” You asked as he walked with her in his arms but he didn't answer, he went straight inside the building as Stella crunched the code in.

That's when you felt your anger escalate from simmering to bubbling.

“Hey y/n” Stella said to you so you looked at her.

“What happened to her?” You asked, your eyes teary so she put her arm around your shoulder to take you inside with her. Her eyes were teary too.

“It's not good news I'm afraid y/n” she said to you as you both stepped into her apartment.

“What's wrong with her?” You asked again, feeling dazed and left out. You cared about Patricia, she had been More motherly to you then your mother had ever been so seeing her like that broke your heart even further than Eric's ignorance did.

As you went inside Stella immediately went into the kitchen to prepare a meal for Patricia when she'd wake up.

You walked into her bedroom, Eric had just put her down in the bed.

When he was finally done fiddling with her duvet he finally looked at you and walked towards you to grab your arm and take you outside.

“Eric what's going on?” You asked him so he let go of your arm and turned to look at you

“Did you get my message?” He asked nonchalantly, you didn't know what it was but he just seemed like a different person at that moment. He just seemed so distant, so far away from you that you couldn't even feel his love.

“Message? The one that you sent me that said I can't be with you anymore? That message?” you glared at him.

“Yeah that message” he looked you in the eyes as he crossed his arms.

“Yeah I got it Eric, but I don't understand it-”

“What do you not understand? Words have meanings right? What does that mean?”

Your eyes welled up as he said those words to you as if you were just a fly hovering around him that he couldn't wait to get rid of.

“What's wrong with her?” you asked him, not even wanting to believe that this was happening to you right now.

He let out a deep sigh as you questioned..

“She has cancer, inoperable, incurable..that's what is wrong with her” you gasped as he said that. A part of you didn't want to believe it.

She had suffered enough, she didn't deserve to suffer more.

“Eric-”

“She's on meds, she'll be sleeping for a while ..you can come back when she's up”

“No I'll wait here, I'll wait”

“Y/n just go..don't make this difficult”

That's when the anger you had been swallowing so far exploded.

“Am I making this difficult? Eric? I'm the one making this difficult?” Your voice cracked as your chest rose with each breath, your vision blurry from unshed tears. “You hurt me and now you're standing here looking at me like I mean nothing to you?”

He didn’t even flinch, his eyes didn’t soften. He just stared at you with that same distant, unreadable expression on his face.

“You don’t understand” he said quietly. His voice was even, but it trembled.

“No, I don’t! So make me understand!” you shouted, your fists clenched at your sides “Everything was fine, Eric. You were fine. We were happy Eric..we were so happy” you reached out for him but he pulled away.

“She’s dying” he finally said. “She’s dying and I need to be there for her. Every second. Every breath of whatever time I have left with her I want to be here. I don’t have time to play house and to… to be in love with you”

Your heart sank even deeper if it was even possible. Those words cut through you like a dagger.

“Playing house? Is that all we were doing Eric?’

He looked away. His jaw clenched hard, his anger was all for him, none of this was your fault, it was all him and he knew you didn't deserve that. And that's exactly why he had to do this to you.

“That’s not what I meant”

“Then what do you mean, Eric?” Your voice rose again so he glared at you

“Keep your voice down.. she's asleep”

“You're trying to cut me out of your life..her life.. like I never mattered to you or her”

“I'm not cutting you out of her life y/n..i can't make that decision for her but I have to cut you out of mine” he snapped before he could stop himself. Then his voice lowered, strained and raw.

“I can’t be around you right now” He looked at you finally, and the pain in his eyes was unbearable. “I can’t waste one more second away from her. She’s all I’ve got left, she's the only family I have and she’s slipping away every second, it's not going to get any better. And You? You’re a distraction. A beautiful one, the best one I’ve ever had in my life, trust me. But I can't afford to be distracted. I need to give her everything while I still can and I can't do that when I have to cater to your needs half of my days”

You were silent as he lashed at you, your throat burning, hands trembling, every part of you wanted to hold him, take away the pain he was feeling, be there for him when he was going through this but he wouldn't let you.

You stared at him for a long uninterrupted moment, unable to breathe as if the very words he said had stolen the air from your lungs.

“So that’s it then?” you whispered. “I’m a distraction.. that's all? Not a friend, not a lover, not someone you need? Just a distraction?”

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t speak. His silence said enough. He wasn’t going to take his words back but you had to try.

You couldn't lose him too. He was all you had.

“You don’t get to make that decision for me, Eric. I’m not asking you to split your time. I’m not asking you to love me more than her, I'd never want that. I just want to be here, I just want to love you through this. That’s what people do when they love someone..they stay when the person they love needs them”

Eric was done the moment he had raised his voice at you last night, but listening to you right now, watching you desperately trying to keep this relationship from falling apart had broken him in ways he knew he'd never be whole again.

“I have never needed you y/n..i wanted you..and i don't want you anymore..you get that?”

You took a step back as those words left his mouth. The words landed like a blow to the chest, like your ribs cracked beneath them, his words felt as if he was crushing your heart right between his palms with no care or concern.

The silence between you turned suffocating. Everything inside you screamed that this couldn’t be real.. he couldn’t be saying this. Not your Eric.

Not the man who had uplifted you through the worse but now he was the one tearing you down.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Okay” you finally said, your voice barely audible. Just one broken word “Okay..”

He wouldn’t look at you now. His arms were crossed again, and he turned just slightly away, like even facing you might make him crumble.

“Go home, y/n,” he said coldly.

You blinked, stunned, your throat tight with unshed tears, but you nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to speak again.

As you turned away and walked toward the door, The door clicked shut behind you, but you stood in the hallway for a moment, your breath caught in your throat. The silence was deafening. A part of you expected him to follow you, to say he didn’t mean it, that he was just scared or overwhelmed. But he didn’t.

He wasn’t going to come after you.

You wiped your face, not even bothering to hide the tears now. You walked out of Patricia’s building, the sun too bright for the darkness that was filling you up, the world too normal, going at its usual pace as if your life hasn't turned upside now.

You sat on the stoop for a long time.

You didn’t even know where to go, all you knew was that you didn't want to be alone, you won't be able to survive this alone.

Finally you decided to call Shelly.

“Hey” she answered quickly. “Did you talk to him? What did he say?”

You tried to speak, but your voice cracked.

“I uhhh.. Shelly I don't know what I did wrong” your voice broke completely as you couldn't even form a sentence.

“Where are you?” she asked, immediately switching into protective mode.

“Outside” you whispered. “Outside her building. He… he doesn’t want me there. He said—he said I’m a distraction.”

There was silence on the other end as a part of her couldn't even believe what she was hearing.

“I’m coming to you. Stay there.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. You weren’t even sure your legs would work if you asked them to.

When Shelly arrived, she didn’t ask any more questions. She opened the passenger side door of her car and then stepped out to make you sit inside. She looked at you, your red eyes, your trembling hands, and reached over to hold your arm.

“I don’t understand” you whispered. “We were fine. We were so good. I don’t know what I did.”

Shelly shook her head as you said that

“You didn’t do anything. This isn’t about you..he's being a complete ass but this isn't about you sweetheart, you did nothing wrong.”

“But he made it about me” you said. “He looked me in the eye and said we were just playing house. Like what we had wasn’t real. Like I was just… in the way or something to kill time with”

Shelly exhaled slowly as she heard that.

“Did you find out about Patricia?” she asked softly as she squeezed your shoulders so you nodded, trying to collect yourself enough to speak.

“She has cancer. It’s… it’s bad. Inoperable. Incurable. That’s what he said..and she looked so tired and i know he's scared-” you whispered between your tears “I just wanted to be there for him. I still do but he won't let me”

Shelly didn’t say anything to that. She just rubbed your shoulder gently as you tried not to fall apart again.

“I just don’t want to lose him.” you broke down in tears again so Shelly turned to you.

“You haven’t lost him. Not really. He has just… gone somewhere you can’t reach right now..nobody can..except Patricia”

********

He stood under the shower for what felt like hours after you left.

The apartment was quiet now. Too quiet. Patricia was asleep. Stella was in her room looking after her.

He had just broken the heart of the only woman he'd ever fall in love with.

He had watched your eyes fill with tears. He’d watched your body fold in on itself like you were trying not to break right there in front of him. He had watched you leave.

And he didn't stop you even though every part of him wanted to run into your arms and cry his heart out. He had lied, he needed you so much but he couldn't have you.

Not after what he had done last night.

He could still hear it. His own voice..his voice yelling at you the night before.

“Goddamn it, I said no..are you not listening to me or something??”

All you wanted to do was be there with him. That was it. You had reached for him, soft-eyed, gentle, worried. And he yelled at you like you had committed some kind of crime.

That was the moment he knew he had to let you go now before he won't be able to.

Because he knew that voice very well, the one he’d used last night on you. That tone, that heat in them, the condescending, cruel, controlling edge.

He had heard it all his childhood.

He remembered the way Patricia used to freeze, the way her fingers would start shaking even when she tried to hide it. He remembered how she’d retreat, how she’d go quiet, small like silence was the only thing that could protect her.

And he had seen that same look last night on your beautiful face.

You didn't say anything in return, you kept looking at him so lovingly as if he hadn't raised his voice at you.

You shrunk the way Patricia used to do, as if it was you who had done something wrong.

For a moment he had thought he could leave his past behind, he could forget all about the ugliness of the blood running through his veins.

But it was impossible to run away from his true self.

And it had felt good. That was the worst part. Not in a way that he was remotely proud of. But in the brief moment when he’d yelled at you, when you had gone quiet, when he had regained control over the situation, he had felt something sickeningly familiar.

And he had to get away from that. From you.. Because you didn’t deserve to be loved by someone who might, at any moment, become a monster.

You were better off hating him. Better off gone because it was just his voice last night that he had raised, but who knew when his hand would follow it too and he knew he didn't want that for you, he couldn't be the man who'd make you smile through a busted lip.

He swallowed hard as he stepped out of the bathroom and began walking slowly to Patricia’s door. He didn’t go inside. Just leaned against the frame. She was still here, she was all he had. But she won't be here for long, he didn't even know how to live in a world that didn't have her.

He promised to himself that he would give her everything, Every waking minute he had left with her. And he would do it alone.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Because maybe that’s what he deserved. To lose the two people he loved the most in this world, one to her illness and the other to the man that he was bound to become someday.

Taglist @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer @purplerainx1 @bloodykisserr @muchwita @mariaenchanted @a-differentbrandof-beans @kikibit @venuslayla23-blog @somedayimagines @sn0wybowie-blog

[kiefbowl]

Re: the bonding post, I thought it was just woowoo at first but babies believe their mother is a physically part of their body for at least the first 3 months. attaching the baby in skin contact helps them with healthier, faster development. But being separated is linked to infant mortality and other less dire issues, like they forget breathing, swallowing, pooping, etc because mom was doing that for them. It's like getting suddenly unconnected from bluetooth lol. It's why newborn adoptions and surrogacy babies have so many inexplicable health/psychological issues and why babies who are worn 24/7 are stronger and healthier mentally/physically.

That post was not about doubting bonding, or how important it is. It was about how that information is put into the world, how it's received, and how it's used to make women feel a certain way about motherhood and their own abilities and perceptions of reality. Of course bonding with a baby is important, no....fucking shit. duh. like no fucking shit lmao.

I said I don't think immediately bonding is a dire emergency that is going to determine absolutely her relationship with her child, especially when her life is dynamic and has other factors, like a potential dead-beat partner. Obviously if a baby is ripped from its mother forever, that is extremely different than a woman who can't hold her baby right away because of some sort of unexpected event, who then gets to hold her baby, like, idk...a few hours later. It might be extremely upsetting for her (or not), but that's not going to change the trajectory of her baby's life all that much. And I think, as a feminist, it's important to see mothers' struggles with motherhood as not necessarily some scientific goof up where something went wrong in the micro seconds of her pregnancy or labor or immediate bonding of her child, but as actually rather expected and pedestrian at best, and at worst systematic. I'm saying mothers can have a hard time mothering, and is it useful (as a feminist, not a scientist who is explicitly studying the bio-mechanics of this shit) to say "well that's generally normal, and also maybe you are not being supported and the expectations are too high for you to be experiencing this as some magical transformation, and maybe you just need some help with laundry and your husband sucks ass actually." And I think a lot of mothers are encouraged to needlessly self-deprecate and see everything as their own failures.

I am a little annoyed at these responses because I think I wrote that post clear, despite its casualness. Like I didn't at any point call bonding "woo", and so it's annoying that you think I did.

[qinche-cvmslvt]

Forbidden

Content Warning: NSFW, Smut, Emotional Sex, Professor Sylus, Professor Zayne, Professor Caleb, Principal Jenna, Rafayel, Emotional breakdown, Arrest & Legal Consequences, Mentions of Grooming, Male Vulnerability & platonic intimacy, themes of secrecy and guilt

Tag list: @januke @daddysyluslittlekitten @ikesimpleton @mcdepressed290 @nchant6dkitty @zozoparsnips @aneertawrites @rorel1a @harutogf @floofycookie @roselynviee @kiss-the-universe @aikonecrosis

A/N: Some truths arrive quietly. Others leave scars. This chapter… whispers and burns. Enjoy, my lovelies.

Chapter 16: Gone

“T he truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.”

— Flannery O’Connor

The air around the school had changed. Not in the obvious ways, no sirens, no screaming, and no dramatic announcements echoing down the halls. But in that quiet, bone-deep way that made the world feel like it was holding its breath. The kind of silence that came just before the thunder.

The week after the interviews dragged like a century. Whispers followed every footstep. Doors clicked shut harder. Teachers avoided each other’s eyes in staff meetings. Students loitered in tighter clusters, their laughter a little louder, and their glances a little sharper. Even the art building, the most lively building in the school went quiet. Everyone felt it, an invisible weight pressing down on them. Something was about to snap and no one knew who it would take with it. Sylus knew better than to act different. So did you. You kept your distance and played your parts. You sat in the front of the classroom with perfect posture, nodding at the right moments. He passed you by in the halls like you were anyone else and the only evidence of everything you shared, of fire and breathless nights and promises tangled in sheets, was the way his gaze lingered half a second too long.

He didn’t speak to you outside of school. Not in the open. Not even in passing but he always watched and he knew. You were unraveling at the seams quietly. Like lace burning slow.

He saw it in the way your smile faded the moment backs were turned. The way your fingers twisted in your lap when no one was looking. The way you were surviving but you were still surviving. Because this was the plan now. Stay still, silent and wait out the storm.

But storms don’t wait forever.

On the seventh day, the silence cracked. It happened during third period. Sylus was mid-sentence, chalk in hand, when the knock came at the door. His words stilled on his tongue, his spine tensing as Principal Jenna’s assistant peeked in, eyes wide, voice low.

“Mr. Sylus? The Principal needs you in her office. Immediately.”

A pin-drop moment. His students looked up and your breath hitched. Sylus blinked once then nodded as he set the chalk down without a word and walked.

The hallway felt longer than usual. Echoed more with every step. The assistant didn’t speak. Just walked a half step ahead, as though she didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Jenna’s office was already full when Sylus stepped in. Jenna at her desk. Two officers against the back wall and Rafayel.

He stood off to the side, posture too perfect, and too still. One arm folded across his ribs, the other fisted at his mouth like he was holding it shut. Like the wrong breath might split him open.

Sylus didn’t speak or ask any questions. Just stepped inside as the door clicked shut behind him. The walls felt like they were listening and there, In the chair against the window…

Solana.

Lavender perfume still clinging to her scarf. Mismatched earrings. One stud, the other dangling like a noose. She didn’t look up. Avoided everyone’s eyes, especially Rafayel’s.

Jenna rose, slow and precise, like her spine was made of law. “Sylus. Rafayel.”

Her eyes slid over both men, then landed on Solana.

“We’ve concluded our investigation.”

No one breathed. Even the officers didn’t move.

“The allegations brought forth were not only credible,” Jenna continued, “they were substantiated. Multiple student accounts. Timelines cross-referenced. Digital evidence reviewed.”

Sylus felt the words thud inside his chest like slow drumbeats.

She turned her head slightly. “Effective immediately, Professor Solana is relieved of her duties and taken into custody, pending formal charges.”

Solana flinched, just once, and Rafayel…He didn’t move. Not when the cuffs came out. Not when the first officer stepped forward. Not even when Solana finally lifted her eyes and looked straight at him.

There was a moment, a flicker of regret or pity. Or perhaps the ghost of something they never named.

That’s when Rafayel broke. Not loud or messy but his shoulders twitched. His jaw cracked sideways like he’d bit down too hard and his eyes, those damn eyes, filled with something raw. Not grief, or anger. Something colder.

Silence that wanted to scream.

Jenna kept talking. “We take the safety and integrity of our students very seriously. Moving forward, the school will be working closely with legal authorities—”

But Sylus wasn’t listening. He was watching Jenna and she… was watching him. Oh, the message was clear. Her words had never been about Solana.

“See what I can do?”

“See who I’m willing to sacrifice?”

“You’re still on my list, Sylus, I just haven’t pulled the trigger yet.”

Solana stood, led between the officers. Rafayel still hadn’t said a word. As the door opened, her gaze swept across the room one last time, barely brushing past Sylus. But it paused, on Rafayel. Like she wanted to say something but didn’t.

She walked out in cuffs and only then, only then, did Rafayel exhale. Like he’d been holding it in for months.

Jenna sat back down. No expression. Just calm paperwork and cold performance. “You’re dismissed.”

Sylus didn’t move at first. Neither did Rafayel but when they did, it wasn’t together. Rafayel turned away without a word, his shadow dragging behind him like spilled ink and Sylus walked out knowing exactly what this was. Not justice or truth.

Just theater.

A show for his benefit and a bullet fired over his shoulder. Not yet fatal but close enough to burn.

The hallway was colder than it had any right to be. They walked side by side now. Not speaking, yet. Just the sound of Rafayel’s boots echoing on the tile like the aftermath of a gunshot.

Sylus didn’t glance at him. He didn’t need to. He could feel it, the unraveling. It hit just before the stairwell. Rafayel stopped. Didn’t look at him and didn’t breathe for a second.

“I loved her,” he said.

The words came out strange. Like he didn’t recognize them in his own voice. He laughed sharply and ugly. “God, what a cliché, right? The art teacher. How fucking poetic.”

Sylus stopped too. Didn’t interrupt or offer comfort he hadn’t earned.

“She used to wear paint on her skin like it was jewelry,” Rafayel muttered. “Her fingers were always stained. Her wrists smelled like turpentine and lavender. And she used to say I made her feel young again.”

A bitter pause.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one making her feel that way.”

His voice broke and he clenched his jaw, turning his face away.

“I figured you out because I know what it looks like,” he said hoarsely. “I know the way someone looks when they’re pretending they’re just a student. I know the way a teacher stares when they think no one notices.”

Rafayel finally turned. Eyes rimmed red. Lips trembling.

“You were cleaner,” he said. “Smarter. But not invisible.”

Sylus said nothing.

“I wanted to hate you for it,” Rafayel admitted. “For doing the same fucking thing that wrecked me. For touching someone who trusted you. But you weren’t like her.”

He dragged in a shaky breath.

“She played me. She lied straight to my face and smiled while doing it. You—” He gestured vaguely, voice raw. “You look at her like you’d die if she stopped breathing.”

Sylus swallowed and stepped closer. He didn’t reach out at first. Just stood there, tall and steady and quiet.

“She broke me,” Rafayel whispered. “And I still looked at her in that office like I wanted her to say it was all a mistake. Like I wanted her to take it back and tell me I mattered.”

He shook his head.

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

That’s when Sylus moved. He didn’t hug him, not quite. He just stepped into Rafayel’s space and let him fall. One hand on his shoulder. The other steady at his back and when Rafayel’s forehead dropped against Sylus’ collarbone, breath hitching with the weight of everything he’d been carrying, Sylus held him. No judgment or pity.

Just presence.

“I know what it costs,” Sylus said quietly. “Loving someone who’s capable of ruining you.”

Rafayel let out a broken sound. A half-laugh, half-sob. “Then why the fuck do we keep doing it?”

Sylus breathed in through his nose. Exhaled through his teeth. “Because some things are worth the ruin.”

He paused for a moment.

“Not her,” he added. “But what you felt? That was real.”

They stayed like that, just for a moment. Two men standing in the ruins of different loves, both scorched by the same fire and when Rafayel finally pulled back, wiping under his eyes with the heel of his palm, he didn’t look embarrassed.

He just looked tired. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” he muttered.

“You won’t,” Sylus said.

Their eyes met and something passed between them, no forgiveness, or friendship. Just understanding. Just survival. Then Rafayel turned and walked away.

The silence stretching down the corridor was a slow suffocation, thick with echoes and dust and everything he hadn’t said. Rafayel’s grief still clung to his shirt like smoke. His broken voice still ringing in his ears.

“I wanted her to say it was a mistake…”

Sylus inhaled deeply. Exhaled through his nose. His footsteps felt heavier now. Like every tile carried a different memory, Rafayel’s, yours, his own. He’d meant what he said. Loving someone capable of ruining you was a gamble most people never made twice.

But he had. He still was and if the universe hadn’t handed him a blood-soaked alibi in the form of another scandal, he’d be the one at the center of whispers. The one sitting in a cold chair while Jenna’s voice gutted him with surgical precision.

The one you might’ve watched disappear in handcuffs.

His hand brushed the wall as he turned the last corner. Steadying himself.

There had been a moment in that office, right before Jenna spoke, when he thought it was over. When he’d felt the breath catch in his lungs, the way it had in courtrooms. During sentencing. During trial. That moment where everything tilted and you weren’t a person anymore, just a consequence.

But then she said Solana and for a heartbeat. He’d felt relief. A blinding, ugly, breathless relief that he didn’t deserve.

He stopped at the classroom door. Pressed his fingers to the frame. He didn’t know what was waiting for him on the other side. A room full of students pretending they hadn’t been listening. The same desk. The same chair. The same girl with fire in her bones and secrets in her eyes, pretending she wasn’t watching him like he hung the moon.

His hand dropped to the handle. He wasn’t innocent. Not by law or by code but there was a difference between a lie and a mistake and Sylus would wear his sin like armor if it meant protecting you from ever knowing the sting of Rafayel’s kind of heartbreak.

He opened the door and stepped inside. The quiet hit him first. Students turned and heads lifted. Eyes scanned him like a test result they weren’t ready to open.

You sat near the front, back straight, expression carefully neutral but your eyes? They broke him because they didn’t ask what happened.

They asked, are you still mine? And he answered without a word. Just a look. Just the faintest flicker of something aching and raw and permanent.

Yes.

Still yours.

Always yours.

He moved to the front of the room. Picked up a piece of chalk with a grip that didn’t quite tremble.

“Where were we?” His voice didn’t crack but his heart did.

~

The afternoon light poured through the slats of the blinds like judgment, sharp and cold and unrelenting. The kind of light that didn’t let secrets stay buried in shadow anymore.

Sylus sat behind his desk, but not like a man in charge. He looked like he’d been hollowed out overnight. Not from guilt. From gratitude so heavy it hurt to hold. The steam from the coffee beside him had long since faded. He hadn’t touched it.

There was nothing on his desk but a closed laptop, a notebook he hadn’t opened, and the unbearable silence of a man who’d almost lost everything. A quiet knock at the door broke through the stillness. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Zayne opened it anyway, stepping in without hesitation, his shoulders tense beneath his blazer, coffee in one hand, jaw already tight with everything he didn’t want to have to say out loud.

Caleb followed behind him, slower and quieter, like he was carrying something delicate in his chest. They shut the door behind them. Locked it and didn’t speak. Because they didn’t need to.

They knew.

Sylus didn’t look up until the second coffee cup was placed on his desk, no cream, no sugar, just the way he took it. It was warm and fresh.

Zayne leaned against the filing cabinet, arms folded, and said nothing. Caleb dropped into the chair across from Sylus and simply exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for a week straight.

Sylus looked at the cup. Then at them and for a moment, just a moment, his composure cracked.

“You should’ve let me go down,” he said softly. “You should’ve protected yourselves.”

Zayne laughed once quiet and bitter. “What the fuck kind of brothers would we be if we did that?”

Caleb leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, voice steady. “We didn’t protect you, Sylus. We stood with you. There’s a difference.”

Sylus shook his head slowly. He was unraveling now, but not from panic. From relief. From the kind of gratitude that has no words, just ache.

“I stood in that room today, and I was already writing my confession in my head. Already seeing the headlines. The handcuffs. Her face.”

His voice caught in his throat. “I thought it was over.”

Zayne’s expression didn’t shift. “We all did and we’d already made peace with it. If it went down, it went down with all three of us.”

Sylus blinked hard. Swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at Caleb. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

Caleb shrugged. “You’ve covered for me more times than I can count. Emotional breakdowns. Bad choices. That time I nearly punched a parent.”

Zayne added, “And I’ve known you since uni, Sylus. You’re my family. You think I’m gonna sit across from some school board idiot and watch them hang you for loving someone? Not a fucking chance.”

Sylus dropped his head into his hands. Not from shame. From the sheer, unbearable intensity of how deeply these men loved him. How far they had gone without flinching. How willingly they stood in fire they could’ve avoided.

“I didn’t deserve that,” he whispered.

Zayne stepped forward. Voice low and firm. “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to sit there and measure your worth to us like it’s a checklist. You were there for us when no one else was. You picked us up off the floor and didn’t ask for anything back.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “You don’t owe us. We owed you and now the debt’s paid.”

Sylus finally looked up. His eyes were red, rimmed with a kind of raw that didn’t come from sleepless nights, but from knowing you weren’t alone when you thought you’d be left behind.

“She’s everything to me,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Zayne nodded. “We know.”

“If I’d lost her—if she’d had to watch me get dragged out, watch me treated like a monster—” He broke off, swallowing the image down like glass. “I don’t think I would’ve recovered.”

Caleb’s voice was soft but strong. “That’s why we didn’t let it happen.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was earned. Heavy with all the things that didn’t need to be said. The kind of silence that only lives between people who’ve already walked through hell together and come out with burns in the same shape.

“I love her,” Sylus said finally. “And I’m not going to run from it anymore. No more shame. No more pretending. I’ll protect her with my name, my body, my career if I have to.”

Zayne smiled faintly. “Then do it right.”

Caleb leaned back, eyes soft. “Love her so fiercely they’ll never question if it was worth it.”

Sylus nodded, the emotion settling deep in his chest like fire licking through the cold and when he picked up the coffee they brought him, still warm, still waiting, he drank it like a man being given another chance.

~

You sat on the couch, knees curled to your chest. The room still held the scent of flowers and storm. When Sylus entered, the door clicked shut behind him with a gravity that made your chest ache.

He didn’t speak. Not right away. He stood there in the dim light, tie loose, shirt wrinkled, eyes dark and rimmed with exhaustion. But beneath it all, something else had taken root. Not fear or desperation.

Devotion.

He crossed the room slowly, each step heavier than the last. When he stopped in front of you, you stood. Wordless and waiting. Not because you didn’t know what to say but because the moment didn’t need language yet.

His hand lifted, gentle, and reverent, as it cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed the soft skin under your eye like he was memorizing it. Like if he blinked, you might vanish.

“I thought I’d lost this,” he whispered. “Not just you. This. The chance to ever touch you like this again.”

Your breath hitched as his forehead pressed to yours.

“I didn’t know how heavy I’d been holding the fear until today,” he said. “Until I saw it lifted and realized you’re still here.”

“I was always here,” you whispered.

His lips touched yours, not greedy or rushed. A kiss that asked permission even though he already had it. A promise wrapped in silence. You leaned into him, your hands finding his waist, sliding up his back. Feeling the tension still laced through his spine.

He kissed you again, slower this time. Mouth soft and careful movements. His hands settled at your hips, holding you like something precious, not fragile.

Not this time.

This wasn’t a man trying to outrun consequence. This wasn’t survival sex. This was a man falling to his knees in prayer, at the altar of you.

He undressed you delicately, not hurried. Each button unfastened was a vow. Each breath was laced with reverence. His hands trembled, not from nerves, but from awe.

You helped him undress too. Slid his shirt from his shoulders like peeling away armor. His skin was warm. His heart louder than breath. When you both stood bare in front of each other, he didn’t rush.

He looked.

God, he looked.

Like you were a star he’d only ever seen in dreams. His hands touched your waist. Then your ribs. Then your face again and when he kissed you this time, it was with all the words he didn’t know how to say.

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. “Not because it’s safe. Not because it’s easy. But because I can’t not.”

“I love you too Sylus.”

You guided him to the couch, your back sinking into the cushions as he followed, slowly crawling, and his body blanketing yours with careful weight. He hovered above you, staring down like he could read your soul through your skin.

“I want to feel every breath you take,” he whispered against your lips. “Every heartbeat. I need to know you’re here. With me. Still mine.”

Your breath hitched, not because of fear, but because of the rawness in his voice. The way it cracked like he was saying a prayer instead of a demand. You nodded, unable to speak, and felt his grip tighten slightly around your wrists, pinning your hands above your head as though anchoring himself there.

Then he slid into you. Not rough or fast. But a deliberate, devastating stretch that felt like both a question and an answer. Inch by inch, he filled you, and you swore you could feel every vein, every heat-drenched inch of him as your walls fluttered around him in welcome.

“Oh God,” you gasped, back arching, your thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

His mouth captured the sound like it was oxygen, kissing you with a kind of desperation that made your head spin. His lips were bruising. His tongue searching. His teeth grazing your bottom lip like he needed to mark you there too.

He didn’t move, not yet. He just stayed buried deep, forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged as his chest pressed to yours. You could feel his heart hammering, wild and unsteady, like he was barely holding himself together.

“I can feel you,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Everywhere. God, Sylus—”

Your fingers flexed in his hold, but he didn’t let go. His thumbs stroked over your knuckles, a contrast to the brutal way he had taken your wrists.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured hoarsely. “So fucking tight. You’re… perfect. I don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” you breathed. Your hips shifted instinctively, and the slight movement had you both gasping. “You do. I want you—I need you—”

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating into your mouth as he kissed you again, deeper this time. “Then tell me again,” he said against your lips, his voice shaking. “Tell me you’re here. Tell me you’re not leaving me.”

“I’m here,” you whispered back. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours.”

His body shuddered, actually shuddered, and you felt his cock twitch inside you as though your words alone undid him.

“You feel like home,” he whispered. “Like forgiveness.”

Your legs curled around him tight and your body opened. Welcoming him again, and again, as he began to move. Slow thrusts that were deep and deliberate. Like he was mapping every part of you all over again, not with possession. With wonder.

He kissed your throat, soft at first, then with teeth grazing like he needed to taste your pulse there. Down to your collarbone, where his lips lingered as though memorizing the curve of you. Then lower, across your chest, each kiss slower than the last. His hands mapped your body in broad, possessive sweeps, not just exploring but thanking and marking.

Each thrust was deliberate. Slow and devastating. Not fucking but worshipping. Every inch of his cock he pushed into you felt like a vow, every drag out like a plea not to let go.

Your moan slipped out, breathy, raw, and wrecked, and it undid him.

“Fuck—say it again,” he rasped, his hips angling, sinking deeper, hitting that perfect place inside you that had your toes curling, your vision spotting at the edges. But still, he didn’t rush. He refused to let this be frantic. This wasn’t desperation anymore. It was reverence.

“I need you to feel it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice wrecked and trembling. “Every inch of how much I fucking love you. How grateful I am. How lucky I am that I didn’t lose you.”

Your arms wrapped tighter around his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscle as your body quaked beneath him with pleasure so thick it hurt. Your breath came in sharp gasps, his name falling from your lips like you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Sylus—God—Sylus—”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his mouth dragging over your skin. “Say it. Keep saying it.”

His thrusts deepened and became slow, and consuming. A rhythm meant to etch him into your body until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your ear. “Say you’re still mine.”

“Yours,” you sobbed, your thighs tightening around his hips, your nails leaving crescents in his back. “I’m yours—I’ve always been yours—”

His breath caught on a low groan, his lips finding yours again, this time not gentle but crushing, desperate, and full of everything he couldn’t say out loud.

Your orgasm hit like a breaking wave, violent and beautiful. You sobbed his name into his mouth as your body clenched tight around him, your back arching, and thighs trembling. He groaned low in his chest, holding himself still, deep inside you, his arms wrapped around your waist like he was anchoring you through the storm.

“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing your tear-wet cheek. “That’s my girl. So fucking perfect. I’ve got you. Breathe for me—good… there you go.”

You let out a shaky laugh, tears and sweat mixing on your flushed skin as you tried to catch your breath. But Sylus wasn’t done, not with his words, and not with his touch. His hand slid up your spine, warm and steady, until his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Don’t stop now, Kitten,” he murmured. “Take what you need from me.”

Before you could speak, he shifted, rolling you with careful strength until you were straddling him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs stroking slow circles into your trembling muscles as his red eyes locked on yours.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Fucking divine.”

“Sylus…” you whispered, your voice breaking on his name.

“Ride me.” His tone was low, and commanding, but tender. “I want to see you. I want you to feel how much of me is yours.”

You hesitated, your body still quivering from your high. But his hands slid up your sides, grounding, and steady.

“Don’t think,” he said softly. “Just move.”

You sank down on him slowly, feeling every inch stretches you open again, the burn sharp but addictive. A choked moan left your lips as he filled you completely. Sylus’s head tipped back against the arm rest of the couch, a hiss escaping his teeth.

“Fuck—yes,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tight. “That’s it, Kitten. Take all of me.”

You started to move, tentative at first, your thighs trembling, but his hands guided you, setting a slow, rolling rhythm. The friction, the stretch, the heat, it all came rushing back, your body still hypersensitive from your first orgasm.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his voice breaking. “Keep going. Don’t stop. Take every fucking bit of me. You’ve earned it.”

Your nails dug into his chest for balance as your hips began to rock harder, the wet sound of your bodies start filling the room. He watched you like he was memorizing every detail, the way your lashes fluttered, your lips parted, and the flush rising on your chest.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” Sylus whispered, his voice ragged, hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples until you gasped. “You’re undoing me, every damn second.”

You whimpered, rolling your hips faster now, chasing another high. His grip tightened, his control fraying as he met your movements with thrusts of his own, the couch creaking under your combined force.

“Say it again,” he demanded through gritted teeth. “Say you’re mine.”

“Yours.” You sobbed. “Always yours-“

“Say you’ll never leave me.”

“I won’t—I swear—”

“That’s right,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna stay right here, riding me until I’ve fucked the fear out of both of us.”

Your climax built again, fast and brutal, coiling tight in your belly and when it snapped, it ripped a scream from your throat. You collapsed against his chest, shaking as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close while his own release tore through him.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m coming—” he groaned, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he came, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to stifle the wrecked sound that tore from his throat.

You lay there, tangled together, your heartbeats pounding out the same wild rhythm. His hands stroked your back, soothing and tender now, as your breathing began to slow.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, softer this time. “Even if the whole world burns, you’re mine.”

You pressed a kiss to his jaw, your body still trembling. “Yours. Always.”

Your body was draped across his chest, your breath rising and falling in sync with his. Sweat clung to your skin. His heartbeat thundered beneath your ear, steady now. No longer panicked. No longer hiding. Just there, solid, alive, and yours.

Sylus hadn’t let go.

His arms stayed around you, fingers tracing slow, grounding lines down your spine. His lips pressed to your hair every now and then like he couldn’t help himself. Like he needed to keep reminding the universe that you were real and here and his.

You stirred first with a soft exhale, and the faintest shift of your legs beneath the blanket tangled over your bodies.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you whispered.

Sylus huffed a broken laugh. “You look like an angel wrecked in silk.”

You smacked his chest lightly. “You’re not funny.”

He caught your wrist and pressed a kiss to your pulse. “I wasn’t joking.”

A comfortable silence settled again. Then you spoke.

“Today was too close,” you murmured.

His arms tightened around you, just a little. Not fear, just need. “I know.”

“I watched you walk out of that room and… Sylus, I thought you were about to be taken from me. In front of everyone.”

He didn’t say anything right away. His hand slid into your hair, holding the back of your head as he pulled you in tighter, like the echo of that fear still lingered in his chest.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said hoarsely. “I thought the same damn thing. Thought I’d see you in the crowd with that look, that broken look. And I couldn’t bear it. I was ready to burn everything to keep you from seeing me like that.”

Your throat tightened. “But she didn’t say your name.”

“No,” he murmured. “She didn’t.”

You lifted your head slowly, eyes meeting his. “You think it’s over?”

His gaze sharpened, not cold, not angry, just aware.

“No,” he said honestly. “Jenna’s not stupid. She knows. She just doesn’t have the bullet yet. Doesn’t mean she’s stopped looking for it.”

You swallowed. “Then we have to be careful. Still.”

“Until graduation,” he said. “No more risks. No more slipping. No more stolen moments at school. We play the game right. We survive.”

You nodded, trying to be brave even though your lip trembled. “I hate pretending we’re strangers.”

“I know, kitten.” He leaned in, kissed your temple. “But this thing we’ve got? It’s worth waiting for. It’s worth guarding. And when the world can’t take it from us anymore—”

He paused. Pulled back just enough to look you in the eye.

“I’m going to hold your hand in front of every person who ever doubted it. I’m going to touch you like it’s allowed. Like I earned it.”

“You already did,” you whispered. “You don’t have to earn me. I’m already yours.”

His throat bobbed, eyes shining a little too much.

“And you’re mine,” he said. “All the way through.”

You curled against him again, safer than you’d felt in days. His hand slid back down your spine, tucking the blanket around you both.

Outside, the world still hunted. But in here? In his arms? You were untouchable. And you’d make it.

Together.

[cocoa-dile]

Sebek x Fae! Reader Writing Attempt

Warnings / Notes: This is my first time ever writing anything related to fan fiction (and it's terrible), reader is not Yuu/MC and is loosely based on a Twisted Wonderland OC of mine, gn! reader, OOC Sebek (?), reader's parents are more "traditional" in the sense that they dislike humans, story probably has a few holes in relation to canon and I'm not a very talented writer but it's all just for fun and not meant to be taken too seriously :) Also not proofread! So I apologize in advance for any mistakes

What type of fae, how reader looks, etc. is not described outside of one instance of the word "beautiful" being used (intended as a gender neutral compliment). You're pretty much free to let your imagination fill out whatever you want with this

Story is completely fluff (no smut or otherwise 18+ scenarios, no gore, etc.) with some implied and in some parts heavy romantic feelings / tension but is mostly platonic(?)

If anything here is wrong and you think it needs to be fixed please let me know! I have no idea what I'm doing and would really appreciate any constructive criticism. I think I'll probably end up redoing this at some point because I think I can do much better with a bit of practice

Story / bullet points located under the cut

You, Sebek, and Silver grew up together in Briar Valley, but your parents didn't really approve of you spending time with a human and a half fae

Despite your parents disapproval, you continued to pursue a friendship with the two of them (though in secret)

You probably proposed to Sebek as a child and bring it up as a joke to embarrass him, it still makes his face get a bit red (especially if it's in front of other people)

You loved hearing stories from both Lilia and Baur about their adventures or past experiences, and they ultimately fueled your desire to learn more about cultures outside of Briar Valley

After Sebek left for Night Raven College, you two would send letters to keep in touch (as neither of you were particularly skilled with technology as a result of your upbringing, and hand written letters "are more fitting of a knight" after all)

However, as the school year went on, Sebek noticed that you were writing him less and less

This upset him a bit, but unbeknownst to him you just didn't want to distract him from school and his responsibilities relating to Malleus

Sebek has always admired your strength and affinity for magic, and even asked his grandfather and Lilia if you could train with him and Silver when they first started

The two of you swap books with annotations and notes in them, and if he notices that you've highlighted or underlined something that might be interpreted as flirtatious or romantic, even if just to mess with him, it makes him short circuit

Before the Ramshackle Dorm was completely fixed up (between Book 2 and Book 3), Crowley invited you to the campus to help out the Prefect

With what exactly? He wasn't very clear. However, you were starting to make a name for yourself in Briar Valley and word was starting to spread across Twisted Wonderland, and Crowley believed you might be able to find a way for the Prefect to get home

When you arrive on campus, Crowley goes with you to pull the Prefect out of class so you could learn more about the world that they're from - and when Sebek sees you, he almost screams

What were you doing here? How long would you be here? Should he approach you? You hadn't been writing letters like normal, perhaps you were trying to avoid him. But despite all of his questions running around in his head, making him dizzy, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked as you waited for the Prefect to gather their things, and he feels heat crawling up his neck as you glance over at him and give him a small wink

You stay with the Prefect and Grim in Ramshackle Dorm, and almost immediately get to work with cleaning everything up. As was drilled into you as a child by your parents, the state the dorm was in was simply unacceptable

Cleaning and fixing up the furniture didn't take too long with a bit of elbow grease and magic, but you decided to leave the major renovations for tomorrow, when the Prefect and their friends, Ace and Deuce, were done studying

By the time tomorrow had rolled around, you decided to see the Equestrian Club and watch Silver and Sebek

"Wow Sebek, you're such a talented horse rider" "Sebek, you're so handsome!" "Oh Sebby, you're such a valiant knight" <- All said to get a rise out of him and see him blush (which you succeeded in)

When you compliment Riddle for how good he is at riding horses or when you comment on how Silver is so gentle with the horses, Sebek can't ignore the pinpricks that he starts to feel spreading across his body

Riddle is good at horse back riding, that's why Sebek chose to join the club, and Silver is good with animals, he always has been, but Sebek couldn't help but worry that you noticed the way that the horses flinched away from him or that he couldn't hold perfect form because of the nerves from your eyes on him

Sebek truly admired you and wanted you to have a high opinion of him as well, so surely all of those weird feelings he got around you or thinking of you or rereading the sweet letters you sent him were just a product of that

Right?

As you bid him goodbye, you lightly squeezed his hand and watched as his slit pupils dilated even further

He insisted on "escorting" you back to Ramshackle Dorm, and after you gently opened the door and stepped inside, you pulled his face towards yours and pressed a kiss to his cheek

"Thank you, Sebek," you giggled. "I'll see you soon, okay?" You closed the door to the dorm, and he could hear you calling out to the Prefect. "Prefect, Grim, I'm back! Perhaps you should show me about those "movies" you were discussing with Ace the other night?"

As Sebek stood outside the door to Ramshackle Dorm, he tried to gather himself so he could head back to Silver, and eventually the dorm. He prayed that Lilia wouldn't comment on how flustered he seemed, unable to get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his head

★ I still have quite a bit that could go with Sebek and a Fae! Reader and this didn't really end up going in the direction I had intended (I was possessed as I was writing this I guess lmao), so I think I might do a part 2 or redo this entirely. Please leave any recommendations or feedback in the comments ★

[thewayilikemycookie]

🫐┆Everywhere, Everything .ᐟ

Alex Tran x f!reader

Alex is having a bad day at work, fortunately, his girlfriend is there to help him

Word count: 584

Warnings: a bit sad

You were in the kitchen when a disheveled-looking Spencer came in, saying Alex was asking for you at the games stage. You, obviously, were on your feet the second he said that.

You walked into the set only to find your boyfriend laying down on the couch with three different controllers in his hand, a bun that looks more like a messy ponytail and eye bags under his eyes. The moment he saw you his eyes softened.

“Y/n! Thank god you’re here!” He put all the controllers aside and stood up to give you a tight hug

“What’s wrong?” You asked, hugging him back with the same energy

“Everything” he said, burying his face in your hair

“Hey,” you pulled away to look into his eyes “What is it?” You were ready to murder whoever did this

“We’ve shot so many videos today, and I feel like none of them went well, and now we’re trying to figure out how we can make this ‘don’t win’ work,” he gestured to the controllers “but it’s not working and I just want to go home but I still have two more videos to shoot starting in like ten minutes” you noticed his eyes were starting to water.

You grabbed his arms and led him to the couch again “it’s okay,” you whispered, pulling him into a hug once again “you’re good, it’s okay”

“I don’t know what to do, I’m so lost” His broken voice made your heart shatter

“We’ll take a ten minute break,” you started “then we’ll come back here and shoot the videos, then we’ll go home, order takeout and watch a movie, then we’ll can figure this game out, together. Yeah?”

“Yeah” he pulled away to look at you “thank you, y/n/n”

“No problem,” you said, wiping a few tears from his face “lets go get some air”

If he were to be honest, Alex already felt a little better the moment you walked through the door. It was moments like these that made him feel like he was the luckiest man alive.

And so, like promised, you took a ten minute break together. You noticed that as the time went on, Alex would smile more and more and even excitedly talk about something that happened that morning.

After the break, you made your way back to the games stage to start shooting the videos. Alex found a chair and placed it right next to his, so you stayed by his side the entire time.

You watched the cast play werewords and then the love is blind board game. It was chaotic to say the least.

After everyone was done, you and Alex made your way back to his apartment and ordered takeout. You both changed into pj’s (yours was one of his shirts and sweatpants) and curled up on his couch to pick a movie to watch.

“Thank you” He said, turning to face you. The warm colors of the television lighting up his face

“For what?” You asked

“For being so kind to me”

You didn’t have any words. You’ve truly never met someone as sweet as Alex. So you kissed him. He immediately kissed you back and you could feel each other’s smiles through your lips.

The moment was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell, but the energy was still there. In that moment you both shared your love for each other, as you knew you would always be there for each other.

A.n: This was SO short I’m so sorry. Also for the anon that requested an Alex fic, I for some reason couldn’t respond to you request directly?? And this turned out a bit sad so I’m sorry, so this doesn’t count!!