fandoms written for: 12 monkeys (tv), abraham lincoln: vampire hunter, criminal minds, den of thieves, four brothers, law & order: svu, lost, marvel (au), the originals, queen of the south, supernatural, the walking dead
It's been a whole 3 years since I finished Decadence holy shit. One day I'll finish Beth and Cass's stories, I still think about my babies all the time. But here, have some of the angst that was so typical of this era, as a treat <3
“you cannot ship these two fictional characters because—” actually I can because they are not real people. they are just toys I play with. you cannot apply real-world morality to fiction or how strangers play with their imaginary toys in their imaginary sandboxes.
you can, however, curate your own internet experience by minding your own business, muting/blocking/scrolling past what upsets you but does not hurt anyone in real life in any way, shape or form.
Pairing: Kim Gun-woo x Pregnant! Reader
Word count: 4.3k
Summary: you get kidnapped (almost).
you get your hair pulled (rude).
you accidentally reveal you’re pregnant (worse).
Warnings: home invasion, mentions of pregnancy, physical violence
a/n: i just finished season 2 of Bloodhounds and i’m sorry i just can’t stop picturing dad!gun-woo 😭
ALSO season 2 dropped and y’all are still not writing about the boys??? fine. i’ll do it myself.
☆ you can read part 2 here
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
The apartment was quiet that night, too quiet, in the way that made the absence of sound feel like something pressing against your ears instead of something peaceful. You had been sitting on the couch, one hand absentmindedly resting over your stomach, thumb tracing the same small, unconscious pattern over fabric, over skin, over something that still didn’t feel entirely real even a month later.
Pregnant.
Even now, the word didn’t land cleanly. It didn’t settle the way it should have, didn’t root itself into certainty. It hovered instead, fragile and suspended between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
Across the room, Kim Gun-woo was watching you.
He had gotten quieter since you found out, more deliberate in everything he did, from the way he moved through the apartment to the way he looked at you. He was constantly recalibrating his understanding of the world to account for something new and impossibly important.
“You’re doing it again,” he said after a moment, his voice low but steady, pulling you gently out of your thoughts.
You blinked, looking up at him. “Doing what?”
He nodded toward your hand.
Only then did you realize you were still tracing that same pattern over your stomach, your touch absent but protective in a way that had become instinctive without you noticing.
You pulled your hand back slightly, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t even notice.”
Gun-woo didn’t smile. He rarely did lately, not fully.
Instead, he stood and crossed the room in a few quiet steps, sitting beside you. For a moment, he didn’t move, like he was waiting, for permission, maybe, or for the right way to exist in this new space between you.
Then, slowly, he reached out towards your belly.
His hand hovered first, the same way it had that first day, like he was still learning where it was safe to touch. You took his wrist and guided him down again.
He exhaled softly when his palm rested against you, his fingers spreading just slightly, careful, grounding. There was still nothing to feel. No movement. No sign that anything had changed beyond the knowledge itself.
And yet, everything had.
“We should leave,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter now, more controlled.
You frowned, looking up at him. “Leave?”
“For a while.” His gaze didn’t leave your face. “Until this is over.”
You already knew what he meant.
Im Baek Jeon.
The name didn’t need to be spoken anymore. It existed between all of you, heavy and unavoidable, shaping decisions before they were even fully formed.
“You don’t think he’ll find us anyway?” you asked.
Gun-woo’s jaw tightened slightly. “Not if we move first.”
From the kitchen, Woo-jin let out a quiet scoff, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. “You say that like we haven’t been trying to stay off his radar this whole time.”
Gun-woo didn’t look at him. “This is different.”
“Yeah,” Woo-jin said, his tone losing its edge as quickly as it had come. “I know.”
Silence settled over the three of you again, heavier than before. Because it was different.
A month ago, the threat had been personal, dangerous, yes, but contained within the boundaries of choices Gun-woo could make, risks he could take, consequences he could accept for himself.
Now, it wasn’t just him. And that changed everything.
“We can’t run forever,” you said quietly.
Gun-woo’s hand tightened just slightly where it rested over yours, his thumb brushing your skin lightly. “We don’t have to. Just long enough.”
You could see in his pleading eyes that he was desperately just trying to keep all of you safe, in any way he could.
“Can we talk about this in the morning?” you questioned, not having the mental energy to think about it right now. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of Gun-woo’s hand against your belly and pretend you were just a normal, young and anxious couple like any other.
“Sure”, he agreed, sensing the tiredness in your voice. You kissed him softly on the cheek as a silent thank you.
____
By the time night settled in, the tension hadn’t eased. It rarely did anymore.
You had gotten used to it in small ways. The way doors were always double-checked before bed, the way Woo-jin insisted on keeping his phone within arm’s reach at all times, the way Gun-woo would pause sometimes in the middle of a conversation, his head tilting ever so slightly as if he were listening to something no one else could hear.
It had become routine.
You lay in bed beside him, the room dim, the soft hum of the city outside filtering faintly through the windows. His presence next to you was steady, solid, a constant in a world that felt like it was shifting too quickly beneath your feet.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
Your hand rested between you, your fingers loosely intertwined with his, your thumb brushing lightly against his knuckles in a rhythm that was more for you than for him.
“Are you awake?” you murmured after a while.
There was a slight shift beside you.
“Yeah.”
You turned your head slightly, looking at him even though you knew he didn’t need the light to see you.
“…Do you think they’ll try something soon?”
The question hung in the air, heavier than you intended.
Gun-woo didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was calm.
“Yes.”
Your chest tightened, but you nodded anyway, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Okay.”
His grip on your hand tightened slightly, just enough for you to feel it.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly.
You shifted closer, resting your forehead lightly against his shoulder. “I know.”
“Try to sleep”, he whispered, while softly kissing your hair. “Baby needs you to rest”.
With his warm hands holding yours, you closed your eyes and tried to relax despite the anxiety that insisted to grow in your heart.
----
It happened at 2:17 a.m.
You didn’t know the exact time until later, when everything was already over and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking long enough for you to look away from the clock on the wall.
At the time, all you knew was that something felt wrong.
It wasn’t a sound, not at first. It was the absence of one, the subtle disruption of something that should have been there and wasn’t anymore. The faint hum of the security system, the almost imperceptible white noise you had gotten used to without realizing it.
Your eyes opened slowly, your body still heavy with sleep but your mind already sharpening, pulling you toward awareness before you could fully understand why.
Beside you, Gun-woo stilled.
You felt it immediately, the shift in his breathing, the way his body went from relaxed to coiled in an instant, every muscle tightening with sudden, controlled alertness.
“…Did you hear that?” you whispered.
“Yes.”
He was already moving before you could say anything else, carefully disentangling his hand from yours as he sat up, his movements silent, precise. The room felt colder without him next to you, the space he left behind too noticeable.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a breath.
He didn’t answer right away because he was listening.
You could see it in the way his head tilted slightly, his focus narrowing on something beyond the walls of the room, beyond what you could perceive. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until-
You heard a faint sound. A floorboard. Not in your room, but outside.
Gun-woo stood.
“Stay here”, he said quietly.
Your chest tightened immediately. “Gun-woo—”
“Stay here”, he repeated, this time giving you a clear order. “I’m going to wake Woo-jin up.”
You swallowed, nodding even though he wasn’t looking at you anymore, already moving toward the door.
Seconds after, a crash echoed through the house. Something was knocked over, a chair, or maybe a table, followed by multiple footsteps.
Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your feet hitting the floor as you stood, your heart slamming against your ribs hard enough to make it difficult to breathe.
You shouldn’t leave the room, you knew that, but every instinct in your body screamed at you not to be alone. You stepped toward the door just as it burst open.
You didn’t have time to process anything beyond that, just the shape of him, the movement, the hand reaching for you.
Your body twisted sharply as he lunged forward, your hand coming up to shove against his chest with more force than you thought you had. He stumbled back half a step, surprised, but it wasn’t enough.
A hand tangles in your hair, so tight it yanks your head back with a force that tears a scream straight from your throat before you can stop it.
Pain blooms sharp and immediate, blinding in its intensity, your hands flying up instinctively to grab at the wrist holding you, trying to pry it loose.
“Let go—! Let go of me!”
Your voice cracks, panic rising fast and uncontrollable as you’re dragged forward, your balance completely thrown off. Your feet scramble against the floor, slipping, catching, failing to ground you as he pulls harder, forcing you toward the door.
“Move,” he snaps, jerking your head back again.
Another scream rips out of you, raw and uncontrolled this time, your fingers clawing at his hand, your body twisting in desperate resistance.
“Please—!” The word breaks out of you before you can stop it, survival instinct overriding everything else. “Please don’t—don’t hurt me—!”
Your hands drop from his wrist, instinctively, curling inward over your stomach as your body folds slightly around it, your movements shifting without thought, driven by something deeper than panic.
“Please—” your voice cracks again, softer now, desperate in a different way. “Please, I—”
The man holding you pauses.
His grip doesn’t loosen, but his attention shifts, his gaze dropping, following the movement of your hands.
“…Wait.”
The word cuts through everything and the others hesitate.
“What?” one of them snaps.
“Look at her.”
Your breath stutters.
No. No, no, no—
“She’s protecting her stomach.”
Your fingers tighten instinctively where they rest, your entire body going still as the realization settles in the air between all of you.
“…You’re pregnant,” he says slowly.
It isn’t a question.
Your chest tightens so sharply it almost hurts, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as you shake your head instinctively, denial rising even though you know it’s useless.
“No—no, I—”
The lie dies before it can fully form.
A low laugh escapes him, quiet and almost disbelieving. “Well, Baek-jeon will love the news”.
Your heart drops.
“Please,” you try again, your voice trembling, desperation clawing its way through every word. “Please, don’t—”
“Shut up.”
His grip tightens in your hair, forcing your head back again, and pain explodes across your scalp, your vision blurring as another cry tears out of you.
“Gun-woo!” you scream, the name ripping from your chest before you can stop it, raw and desperate while the man in black tries to drag you down the stairs.
Suddenly, the man holding you is gone in an instant, his grip ripped away so violently it sends you stumbling forward, your knees nearly buckling as you catch yourself against the edge of the first step.
A sickening crack echoes through the room as Gun-woo’s fist connects with the man’s face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground hard enough that the entire floor seems to shake with it.
“Get away from her,” Gun-woo says, his voice low and unrecognizable, each word punctuated by another hit.
Across the room, Woo-jin is already engaged with the others, his movements fast and aggressive, a curse spilling from his mouth as he blocks a strike and retaliates immediately.
“Bad move,” he snaps, slamming one of them back against the wall.
The room is chaos. But Gun-woo… Gun-woo is something else entirely.
The second man tries to move toward you again, maybe thinking Gun-woo is too focused on the one beneath him to react.
He’s wrong.
Gun-woo shifts instantly, abandoning the first without a second thought, intercepting the movement mid-step. His fist connects with the man’s jaw with brutal precision, snapping his head back before he even has time to react.
He follows through without pause, grabbing him by the collar and driving him into the wall hard enough to rattle everything hanging on it.
“She’s pregnant”, the man says quietly, flashing a sick bloody smile.
“Say it again,” Gun-woo demands, his voice deadly quiet now, his grip tightening.
“She’s pregnant, right?”
There’s no hesitation this time. No restraint. He slams him back again, harder, his fist connecting with a force that leaves no room for recovery, no chance to fight back.
The third man—still struggling against Woo-jin—lets out a breathless laugh despite the situation. “You think this helps?” he spits. “You think beating us changes anything?”
Woo-jin shoves him back hard, knocking the wind out of him. “Shut up.”
But the damage is already done, because the man keeps talking.
“You couldn’t even keep us out,” he continues, his voice strained but mocking. “What happens next time, huh? You gonna watch when we take her for real?”
“To keep her safe,” the man adds, pushing through the pain, “you know what you have to do.”
Gun-woo stills. But that’s all it takes for the words to sink in.
Without hesitation, Woo-jin strikes the man’s face with a punch so strong he passes out instantly.
“Shut up, asshole”.
But it’s too late. Because now, they know.
And worse—
They’ve given Gun-woo a choice.
----
For a moment after the last blow lands, there is no sound.
The kind of silence that follows violence isn’t empty. It’s thick, ringing, filled with the echo of what just happened. Your ears buzz, your breath comes too fast, too uneven, and the room feels like it’s tilting slightly under your feet.
One of the men groans.
Another coughs, dragging in a broken breath as he tries to push himself up from the floor. They don’t fight anymore. They can’t. Whatever confidence they had when they broke in is gone now.
“Get out,” Woo-jin snaps, his voice sharp, still edged with adrenaline. He doesn’t even wait for them to respond before stepping forward, grabbing one of them by the collar and hauling him roughly toward the door.
Gun-woo doesn’t help. He doesn’t need to. The look in his eyes is enough.
The men see it too. You can tell by the way they don’t argue, don’t try to say anything else clever or threatening as they drag themselves toward the exit. One of them glances back once and whatever he sees in Gun-woo’s expression makes him look away immediately.
They retreat the way wounded animals do, slow, uneven, desperate to put distance between themselves and the threat that nearly tore them apart.
The front door hangs open, broken at the frame, creaking faintly as it shifts on its hinges. Cold air spills into the apartment, brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver, though you don’t feel cold.
You don’t feel much of anything and your knees give out before you realize they’re going to. You don’t even remember moving from where you were standing, just the sudden absence of strength in your legs as you sink down, your hands catching you clumsily against the floor.
The world feels far away, muted and your hands are shaking.
You notice that first. The tremor is small at the beginning, barely noticeable, but it grows quickly, spreading through your arms, into your chest, until your entire body feels like it’s vibrating under your skin.
A sob escapes you before you can stop it.
“Hey—hey—”
Woo-jin’s voice cuts through the haze first, closer than you expect. He crouches in front of you quickly, his movements urgent but careful, like he’s afraid of startling you further.
“You’re okay,” he says, though his own breathing is still uneven. “You’re okay, it’s over.”
Behind him, Gun-woo hasn’t moved.
His chest rising and falling too fast, his hands still clenched at his sides like he hasn’t fully come back yet. There’s blood on his knuckles, some of it his, most of it not, and his entire body is rigid, like the fight hasn’t actually ended for him.
Woo-jin glances back at him, just for a second.
“…Gun-woo.”
No response.
He tries again, sharper this time. “Hey.”
Gun-woo’s gaze shifts, slow and heavy, landing on you where you’re sitting on the floor, shaking, your hands still hovering uncertainly near your stomach like you don’t know where else to put them.
He moves slowly at first, like his body is resisting the transition from one state to another, from violence to something softer, something human again. Each step is deliberate, measured, like he’s forcing himself to calm down with every inch he closes between you.
He lowers himself in front of you, mirroring Woo-jin’s earlier position, but closer, closer than anyone else is allowed to be. His hands lift slowly, hesitating for only a second before settling carefully on both sides of your face.
“…Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and rough.
You shake your head, though the movement is small, unsteady. “N-no…”
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words coming out before he can stop them.
Your head snaps up slightly, your eyes finally focusing on him. “What?”
“I should’ve-” His jaw tightens, the rest of the sentence catching somewhere in his throat. “I should’ve stopped them before they got to you.”
You shake your head quickly, the movement more desperate this time. “You did, Gun-woo, you did-”
“They were inside,” he cuts in, his voice sharper now, edged with something that hasn’t fully settled. “They had you-”
Woo-jin exhales heavily from beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, we’re not doing this right now.”
He shifts closer, one hand coming down gently on your shoulder, grounding, steady, while his other reaches out to shove lightly at Gun-woo’s arm, just enough to get his attention.
“Hey,” he says, more firmly now. “Look at me.”
Gun-woo doesn’t want to, but after a second, he does.
“This isn’t on you,” Woo-jin continues, his tone steady despite the adrenaline still lingering beneath it. “They broke in. That’s on them.”
“They came because of me.”
“Yeah,” Woo-jin says bluntly. “And they left because of you too.”
That lands. Not fully, but enough to make Gun-woo exhale and drop some of the guilt he has holding all on his own.
Woo-jin squeezes your shoulder lightly, his voice softening as he looks back at you. “And you—breathe, okay? You’re safe. We’re here.”
You nod weakly, and squeeze his hand, your way of saying a silent thank you for saying the words you and Gun-woo needed so bad to hear right now.
Gun-woo’s hand shifts slightly where it rests on your arm, his thumb brushing once, grounding both of you.
“…They know,” he says quietly.
The words settle heavily in the room. Woo-jin exhales again, slower this time. “Yeah.”
You swallow, your throat still tight, your voice small when you finally speak. “…What does that mean?”
Gun-woo doesn’t answer right away and that’s worse than anything he could say. The silence is filled with everything he’s thinking, considering and Woo-jin notices it too.
“Hey,” he says quickly, sharper now, his tone shifting in warning. “Don’t go there.”
Gun-woo’s gaze flicks to him.
“I’m serious,” Woo-jin adds, holding it. “We figure this out. Together.”
For a while, no one moves.
The apartment feels wrong now, too open, too exposed, like the walls themselves can’t protect you anymore. The broken door lets in a slow draft of cold air that brushes against your skin, but you still barely register it. Everything still feels distant, like your body hasn’t fully caught up to what just happened.
Gun-woo is the first to pull away.
The movement is abrupt compared to how careful he had been with you moments ago, like something inside him has shifted again—snapped back into urgency, into action.
“We can’t stay here.”
Woo-jin exhales sharply through his nose, nodding immediately. “Yeah, we need to go.”
----
The place Woo-jin finds isn’t home.
You can tell the second you step inside. It’s clean, functional, temporary in a way that makes everything echo just a little too much. The furniture is sparse, the walls bare, the air carrying that faint, unfamiliar stillness of somewhere that hasn’t been lived in long enough to feel safe.
But the door locks. Twice. And the windows are intact so for now, that was enough.
Woo-jin checks everything first. Every room, every window latch, every blind, every possible entry point. He moves with purpose, still riding the edge of adrenaline, but more controlled now, more focused.
“Clear,” he finally says, exhaling as he steps back into the main room.
Gun-woo doesn’t respond right away. He hasn’t let go of you since you arrived.
His hand is still wrapped around yours, firm and grounding, like if he loosens his grip even slightly, something might take you again. His other hand rests at your back, guiding you gently further inside, his body positioning itself instinctively between you and the door even after it’s locked.
“Sit,” he murmurs.
Your body still feels like it’s catching up to everything that happened, your limbs heavy, your thoughts slower than they should be.
The couch is firmer than the one back home. You notice that.
Gun-woo kneels in front of you almost immediately, his gaze moving over you again, searching in that same careful, quiet way. It’s less frantic now, but no less intense, like he still expects to find something wrong if he looks hard enough.
“I’m okay,” you say softly, before he can ask.
He nods, but he doesn’t stop looking.
Woo-jin disappears into another room for a moment, the sound of drawers opening and closing faint in the background, giving you space without saying it out loud.
Silence settles between you and Gun-woo.
Your hand shifts in his, your fingers tightening slightly as you watch him, taking in the tension that hasn’t left his shoulders, the way his jaw is still set like he hasn’t fully come down from the edge yet and the fact that his knuckles still have dried blood on them.
“You need to rest,” you murmur.
His eyes flick up to yours. “I’m fine. I’ll rest later,” he says.
You know better than to argue right now.
Woo-jin comes back eventually, setting a glass of water on the table in front of you, his movements calmer now, more grounded.
“Drink,” he says gently.
You nod, taking it, your hands steadier now than they were before.
He lingers for a second, watching both of you, then exhales and drops into the chair across from you.
“We’ll stay here a couple days,” he says, more to Gun-woo than to you. “Figure out next steps after.”
Gun-woo nods once.
It’s enough. For now, that’s all any of you can manage.
----
After forcing the boys to take a shower, you and Gun-woo climb into bed. The sun will rise in a couple hours.
You lie in a bed that isn’t yours, staring up at a ceiling you don’t recognize, the faint hum of the building replacing the familiar sounds you used to rely on. Your body is exhausted, your mind heavier than it should be, but sleep doesn’t come right away.
Beside you, Gun-woo hasn’t moved.
He’s been like this for a while now, awake, even in the dark, even when he pretends otherwise.
“Are you going to sleep?” you whisper.
“In a bit.”
You turn slightly toward him, studying the outline of his face in the dim light, the tension still there, quieter now but not gone.
“You said that an hour ago.”
You shift closer instead, closing the space between you, your hand finding his under the blanket. His fingers curl around yours immediately, like he’s been waiting for it without realizing.
You guide his hand again slowly down to rest it over your stomach.
You feel him shift closer, his shoulder pressing more firmly against yours as his head dips forward, resting lightly against you. His hand stays where it is, warm, steady, careful.
“…I’m going to fix this,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that it barely disturbs the silence, but close enough that you feel it more than hear it, the vibration of it settling somewhere deep in your chest.
“I will,” he continues, softer now, but steadier in a way that feels less like certainty and more like something he’s forcing himself to believe, something he needs to hold onto so he doesn’t break under the weight of everything else. “Before–”
Then his fingers spread just a little, his palm settling more intentionally against you, and when he speaks again, his voice shifts closer, like it isn’t meant for you anymore.
“…before you’re here.”
“I know you can’t hear me yet,” he continues, his voice dropping even further, softer than you’ve ever heard it, stripped of everything sharp or guarded, “but I’m your dad.”
Your eyes sting suddenly, the feeling creeping in without warning as you listen.
“And I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice rougher now. “For tonight. For everything you don’t understand yet.”
Your chest tightens, your hand instinctively covering his where it rests, grounding him without interrupting.
“I’m supposed to make sure nothing touches you,” he continues, quieter still, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. “That nothing gets close enough to hurt you. Or your mom.”
Your vision blurs further, your eyes fully glassy now, tears gathering without falling, held back only by the fragile stillness of the moment. You bite down softly on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your breathing even, trying not to let it break.
“I’m still figuring out how to do that.”
“But I will,” he murmurs, more firmly now, even if his voice stays soft, the resolve settling into something quieter but stronger. “I’ll figure it out.”
And in the quiet that follows, with your eyes still damp and your chest still tight, something shifts again into something softer, something that feels like the beginning of hope.
And when sleep finally comes, slow and gentle and long overdue–it finds you like that.
Together.
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
pls leave a comment or scream with me about dad!gun-woo i need it ❤️
just learned people associate em dashes with chat gpt. Girl fuck you. You can pry em dashes from my cold dead hands. One of us is gonna have to stop using em— and it’s not gonna be me!
Other Words for "Look" + With meanings | List for writers
Many people create lists of synonyms for the word 'said,' but what about the word 'look'? Here are some synonyms that I enjoy using in my writing, along with their meanings for your reference. While all these words relate to 'look,' they each carry distinct meanings and nuances, so I thought it would be helpful to provide meanings for each one.
Gaze - To look steadily and intently, especially in admiration or thought.
Glance - A brief or hurried look.
Peek - A quick and typically secretive look.
Peer - To look with difficulty or concentration.
Scan - To look over quickly but thoroughly.
Observe - To watch carefully and attentively.
Inspect - To look at closely in order to assess condition or quality.
Stare - To look fixedly or vacantly at someone or something.
Glimpse - To see or perceive briefly or partially.
Eye - To look or stare at intently.
Peruse - To read or examine something with great care.
Scrutinize - To examine or inspect closely and thoroughly.
Behold - To see or observe a thing or person, especially a remarkable one.
Witness - To see something happen, typically a significant event.
Spot - To see, notice, or recognize someone or something.
Contemplate - To look thoughtfully for a long time at.
Sight - To suddenly or unexpectedly see something or someone.
Ogle - To stare at in a lecherous manner.
Leer - To look or gaze in an unpleasant, malicious way.
Gawk - To stare openly and stupidly.
Gape - To stare with one's mouth open wide, in amazement.
Squint - To look with eyes partially closed.
Regard - To consider or think of in a specified way.
Admire - To regard with pleasure, wonder, and approval.
Skim - To look through quickly to gain superficial knowledge.
Reconnoiter - To make a military observation of a region.
Flick - To look or move the eyes quickly.
Rake - To look through something rapidly and unsystematically.
Glare - To look angrily or fiercely.
Peep - To look quickly and secretly through an opening.
Focus - To concentrate one's visual effort on.
Discover - To find or realize something not clear before.
Spot-check - To examine something briefly or at random.
Devour - To look over with eager enthusiasm.
Examine - To inspect in detail to determine condition.
Feast one's eyes - To look at something with great enjoyment.
Catch sight of - To suddenly or unexpectedly see.
Clap eyes on - To suddenly see someone or something.
Set eyes on - To look at, especially for the first time.
Take a dekko - Colloquial for taking a look.
Leer at - To look or gaze in a suggestive manner.
Rubberneck - To stare at something in a foolish way.
Make out - To manage to see or read with difficulty.
Lay eyes on - To see or look at.
Pore over - To look at or read something intently.
Ogle at - To look at in a lecherous or predatory way.
Pry - To look or inquire into something in a determined manner.
Dart - To look quickly or furtively.
Drink in - To look at with great enjoyment or fascination.
Bask in - To look at or enjoy something for a period of time.
Calling all aspiring storytellers with hearts full of whimsy! Get ready to sprinkle a touch of enchantment into your scenes with my Scene Wo
683 members, 435 posts about #creative writing #creative writers #helping writers • Guiding Writers to New Heights
being obsessed with your own oc and you can only see them if you go in and take the screenshots or draw or write the fucking fic yourself there’s no search there’s nowhere else you can dig them out except from inside your own head
