#I love it when they are each others worst nightmare
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jeon jungkook - loves me, loves me not (part one)
warnings ; alcohol consumption, rich asshole!jk and girlboss!reader, not any crazy warnings yet just wait till part 2 lovers
request ; linked here.
prompt ; in which two childhood best friends fake a relationship for the public eye, but after one rule-breaking kiss, neither of them can pretend anymore.
note ; WELLLLLL i may have turned this into a two part series. im a sucker for rich dudes what can i say?? đŠ also you need to listen to LES by childish gambino while reading. its a vibe
The first time you met Jeon Jungkook, you were just a childâan heir to immense wealth, brought to the event by your parents as a gateway to what your future would look like. Jungkook, all wide eyes and restless energy, sat in the corner, utterly bored as everyoneâs parents spoke in hushed, businesslike tones. Then you arrived, small in stature but brimming with confidence, your sharp eyes scanning the room as though you owned it already at the mere age of 11.
"Who are you?" Jungkook had asked in a childish tone, completely unimpressed.
You lifted your chin, your voice unwavering. "Your worst nightmare if you get in my way."
He had smirked, intrigued. No one ever spoke to him like that.
From that day forward, you were inseparable. Your families had long been bound by businessâpartners in an empire spanning luxury hotels, high fashion, and global investments. Your parents met at Harvard University in America, and flew back home to Korea to build an empire. They met Jungkookâs parents at a gala while they were pregnant with you, his mother pregnant with him, and they built a dynasty with their names attached since then. Privilege had shaped you both, but you had forged vastly different paths within its gilded cage.
Jungkook leaned into his arrogance, aware that the world bent easily to his will. Charismatic, cocky, effortlessly charming, he rarely had to try too hard. People either feared him or adored him.
You, on the other hand, refused to be defined by your wealth. Ambitious and relentless, you were determined to carve out your own legacy, not simply inherit one. Where Jungkook was reckless, you were disciplined. Where he smirked, you rolled your eyes. Your friendship had always been a battlefield of wit and will, a relentless push and pull that neither of you could resist.
But despite the teasing, the taunts, the fiery clashes, there was one unshakable truth: you always had each otherâs backs.
Now, as adults, your worlds are more entwined than ever. Your names dominate the same headlines, your presence expected at the same glittering galas. And somewhere along the way, something between you has shifted. Jungkook, ever the rich asshole, lingers a little too close these days, his gaze heavier, unreadable. And youâyou hate the way your pulse betrays you when he does.
Neither of you speaks of it.
Not yet.
Your life is a carefully constructed empire of ambition. You are relentless, a force in boardrooms and high-rise offices, your name more than just an inheritance but a brand in its own right. Your days are filled with power moves, sharp words, and negotiations that leave men twice your age scrambling to keep up. Youâve worked tirelessly to be more than just a daughter of wealthâyou are a woman who commands it.
Jungkook lives as though the world is his playground. He floats through life effortlessly, draped in luxury, his days blending into a haze of fast cars, designer watches, and champagne-soaked nights. He spends frivolously, moving through clubs and women with the same ease he always has, never needing to work because his name alone carries weight.
He mocks your long work hours; you roll your eyes at his recklessness. He drags you to parties when youâve spent too much time behind a desk, and you remind him of responsibilities heâd rather ignore. Somehow, in the chaos of it all, you find balance in each other.
Your phone buzzes on your desk, the name flashing across the screen making you groan.
âMom, Iâm in the middle of something," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.
âAigo, do you even know whatâs happening? Have you seen the news?" your motherâs voice is sharp, frustration laced in every syllable. "Jungkook!âheâs done it again. Another scandal, another mess, and guess whoâs getting dragged into it? Our family! Do you know how bad this looks for your fatherâs business?"
You exhale, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows of your office. Seoul stretches out before you, endless and glittering, but right now, all you can focus on is the impending headache forming behind your eyes.
"What did he do this time?" you ask, already bracing yourself.
"Pictures! At some club, with some idolâI think her name is Jennie! Heâs so careless! Your fatherâs investors are already whispering. Theyâre asking if our family is associated with such recklessness. This is not just about Jungkook anymore, this is about our entire name. You need to do something. Talk to him. Fix this."
Of course. It always comes down to you.
You rub your temples, suppressing the urge to let out a frustrated groan. "Iâll handle it."
"You better, because if this continues, even his name wonât be enough to protect him."
The call ends, and you stare at your phone for a long moment before tossing it onto your desk. Of course heâs made another mess. And of course, itâs up to you to clean it up.
With a resigned sigh, you grab your coat and reach for your car keys. If Jungkook thought he was getting out of this unscathed, he was in for a rude awakening.
For the longest time, you had put up with Jungkookâs antics as his designated best friend and life consultant, but as time stretches, you grow less and less fond of his wrongdoings. You spend most of your time locked in your office, and the amount of time youâre spending driving over to his home in Koreaâs elite neighborhood, you would rather be signing the acquisition paperwork you needed to finalize.
You step into Jungkookâs penthouse, and the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke greets you before you even lay eyes on the disaster. The place is a warzoneâempty liquor bottles and glasses scattered across the marble countertops, designer jackets thrown carelessly over furniture, and a faint bass still pulsing from the sound system like the remnants of last night refuse to die.
And there he isâlounging on his massive couch like he owns the world, dressed in an effortlessly expensive sweatshirt and sweatpants, one arm draped over the backrest, the other holding his phone as he scrolls mindlessly.
He barely looks up when you walk in. "Took you long enough."
You let out a sharp breath, tossing your coat onto a chair. "Are you serious, Jungkook? Have you even looked outside? Do you have any idea what kind of mess youâve made this time?"
He finally lifts his gaze, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Good morning to you too."
"Donât start with me." You cross your arms, eyes burning into him. "Do you even realize how bad this is? My mother just called me, livid, because apparently your little scandal is making investors nervous. Theyâre pulling back. The media is tearing you apart. And for some reason, Iâm the one who has to deal with it. Again."
Jungkook exhales, slow and lazy, setting his phone down. "God, youâre dramatic." He pats the empty space next to him. "Come sit. Have a drink. Relax."
You stare at him, incredulous. "Relax? Thatâs your plan? Just ignore everything and hope it goes away?"
"Pretty much. It usually does."
You scoff, running a hand through your hair. "Youâre impossible."
"And yet, here you are."
You narrow your eyes. "Because someone has to keep you from completely ruining yourself."
Jungkook tilts his head, watching you carefully. "See, thatâs what I love about you. You always come running, no matter how much you complain about it."
You roll your eyes. "Donât flatter yourself. Iâm here because my familyâs name is tied to yours, and Iâm not about to let you drag us down with you."
"Right. Of course. Itâs all about business with you, isnât it?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Youâve spent so much time building your empire, making a name for yourself, proving to the world that youâre more than just some rich heiress. But at the end of the day, youâre still here, cleaning up after me. Doesnât that tell you something?"
You exhale sharply, refusing to let his words get to you. "Yeah. It tells me youâre an overgrown man-child who refuses to take responsibility for anything."
He chuckles, low and amused. "You say that, but youâd miss me if I changed."
"Try me."
Jungkook grins, leaning back against the couch. "Alright. Iâll handle it."
You raise a brow. "Oh, really? And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
"Iâll make a few calls, talk to my PR team, smooth things over. Maybe even issue a statement if Iâm feeling generous."
You cross your arms, unimpressed. "You shouldâve done that the second this scandal broke."
"Youâre right," he says easily. "But then I wouldnât have gotten to see you storm in here all pissed off. Itâs kind of hot."
You throw a pillow at him. "Grow up."
He catches it effortlessly, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Whereâs the fun in that?"
You shake your head, exasperated, but you donât leave. And he doesnât ask you to. Because this is how it always goesâyou, trying to fix him. Him, making it impossible.
And neither of you willing to walk away.
The next day, you savor the rare luxury of a slow morning. The scent of fresh coffee fills your apartment as you stretch on your couch, sinking into the plush cushions. Weekends like thisâwhere you arenât running between meetings, negotiating deals, or cleaning up someone elseâs messâare rare. And after last night, you desperately needed this.
After you had made Jungkook swear up and down he would draft the most pleasant, professional PR statement, he, as he always does, poured you your favorite glass of red wine and let you spill about your workday. You had told him all about your new intern who messed up the documents that had taken 30 hours of negotiation, and how youâre pretty sure your coworkers are hooking up. And he listened, like he always does, shit-eating grin on his face as he continues to pour your wine whenever it gets dangerously low.
Your temples still throb slightly, a dull reminder of the whiskey Jungkook had so easily convinced you to drink after you finished your wine. And because dealing with him always leaves you wound up, youâd treated yourself to a massage in the wee hours of the morning, determined to indulge in the quiet.
Then, your phone rings, the shrill sound of it causing you to groan.
You sigh heavily, reaching for it on the coffee table. "Mom? What is it now?"
"Turn on the news. Now."
Your heart drops at the urgency in her voice. Fumbling for the remote, you flip to the news channel, and the moment the screen comes to life, your stomach twists.
Jungkookâs face is everywhere. Headlines flashing across the screenâspeculation, outrage, blurred photos of whatever heâs done this time. You donât even need to hear the words to know itâs bad.
Panic surges through you. You hang up on your mother halfway through her sentence and start calling him, your fingers shaking slightly as you press his contact. One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail.
"Come on, Jungkook. Pick up."
You try again. And again. Nothing.
A text notification pops up. For a brief second, relief floods through youâuntil you see the sender.
Jungkookâs mother.
Can you come over?
Your stomach knots. Jungkookâs mother has always been like another mother to youâwarm, elegant, endlessly patient despite the chaos her son brings. If sheâs reaching out to you instead of handling this herself, then whateverâs happening is worse than you thought. And she never calls for you unless she believes youâre the only one who can get through to him.
You donât hesitate.
Grabbing your coat, you head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest.
You drive too fast.
Your hands grip the wheel tightly, heart pounding against your ribs as you weave through traffic, nearly running a red light in your haste. The image of Jungkookâs face on the news, the guilt in his eyes frozen in that grainy pictureâit makes something inside you burn.
By the time you reach his familyâs estate, your tires screech slightly as you pull up. You barely register the grand entrance, the pristine gardens, the luxury that usually stands as a symbol of power. All you see is the group waiting for you in the foyer.
Your mother. Your father. Jungkookâs mother, her eyes tired yet warm as always. His father, expression tense with disappointment.
And then thereâs Jungkook.
Sitting on one of the plush chairs, hands clasped between his knees, head bowed slightly. He looks guilty as hell. Like a kid whoâs just been caught doing something unforgivable. Like that time when he ripped your Barbieâs heads off and your mother dragged him by his shirt to the corner.
His father is the first to speak. "What the hell were you thinking? Do you even understand the damage youâve done?"
"Again," your mother adds, exasperated. "Every time we think youâll finally grow upâ"
"I know," Jungkook mumbles. "I screwed up."
His mother sighs, shaking her head before turning to you. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I know itâs always you cleaning up his mess, and I donât take that for granted."
She steps closer, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "You represent us all so well. More than he ever does. I donât know what weâd do without you."
You swallow hard. You want to yell at Jungkook, to demand what the hell he was thinking, to let out the frustration youâve been holding in since the moment you saw the news. But something about the way he sits there, quiet and chastised, makes you hold back.
Because for once, he already looks like heâs paying the price.
Youâre still standing there, heart pounding, when Jungkookâs mother finally clears her throat. The tension in the room is thick, each person waiting for the inevitable lecture to continue, but instead, she smooths her hands over her skirt and speaks.
âI have an idea.â
Jungkookâs head snaps up. âThatâs never a good thing.â
You fold your arms. âI already hate it.â
His mother ignores both of you. âWhat if the two of you started dating?â
Silence. A thick, deafening silence.
Thenâ
âWHAT?â
You and Jungkook both blurt it out at the exact same time, turning to each other in absolute disbelief.
Jungkookâs brows shoot up. âThat has to be a joke.â
You let out a sharp laugh. âItâs a terrible joke.â
His mother shakes her head. âIâm serious.â
You take a step back, hands raised as if you need to physically push the idea away. âAbsolutely not.â
Your mother sighs dramatically. âDonât be so hastyââ
âI donât date,â you interrupt. âEspecially not him.â
Jungkook scoffs. âExcuse me?â
You turn to him, deadpan. âYou heard me.â
He places a hand over his chest, mock-offended. âOkay, rude. Like Iâd want to date you either.â
You narrow your eyes. âPerfect. Glad weâre on the same page.â
âChildren, please,â your mother interjects. âJust listen for a second.â
Jungkookâs mother steps forward, her expression earnest. âListen. Jungkookâs reputation is in shambles right now. The media sees him as reckless, irresponsible, a scandal waiting to happen. But youâŚâ She gestures to you. âYouâre respected, hardworking, an absolute force in the business world. People admire you.â
Your mother nods. âIf the two of you were together, it would shift public perception. Instead of reckless playboy Jungkook, theyâd see a man whoâs maturing, stabilizing, taking things seriously. And for you, it would solidify your position even more. People love a power couple.â
Jungkook crosses his arms, skeptical. âSo what? You want us to parade around, hold hands, pretend to be in love?â
âExactly,â his mother says without hesitation.
You shake your head. âNo way.â
Jungkook makes a face. âYeah, no thanks.â
Both of your mothers exchange glances before speaking at the same timeâ
âPlease.â
You exhale sharply. âYouâre asking me to fake date Jungkook. Do you know how insane that sounds?â
Jungkook gestures at himself. âDo you know how exhausting that sounds?â
Your mother gives you a pleading look. âSweetheart, youâve been handling things for him anyway. This would just be a more⌠official way of doing it.â
You pinch the bridge of your nose. âI can fix his PR without pretending to be in love with him.â
Jungkook grins. âSee? She can fix me without dating me.â
Your mother glares. âYou are not helping.â
His mother steps in again, softer this time. âLook, I know itâs a big ask. But it would be temporary. A few months at most. Long enough to change the narrative, help him get back on track. And you know the press would eat it up.â
You glance at Jungkook, who looks just as unconvinced as you feel. âAnd if we say no?â
Your mother sighs. âThen we keep dealing with scandals. Investors will keep pulling out. The media will keep spinning stories, and eventually, it wonât just affect Jungkookâitâll affect all of us.â
Your stomach twists. You hate this. Hate that it makes sense. Hate that thereâs already a part of you weighing the pros and cons.
Jungkook groans, dragging a hand down his face. âThis is ridiculous.â
Your motherâs voice is gentle but firm. âJust think about it.â
You exhale, crossing your arms. "Okay, but whatâs in it for me?"
Your mother doesnât miss a beat. "You hate when suitors reach out to you. If youâre âdatingâ Jungkook, youâll be off the market. No more annoying proposals, no more distractions. You can focus entirely on your work."
You pause. That⌠is actually a good point. Your business demands your full attention, and the last thing you need is your parents trying to push you into a real relationship.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, as if waiting for you to explode again. But instead, you shrug and say, "Fine. Iâll do it. But only for three months. After that, heâs on his own."
Jungkookâs mouth falls open. "Wait, what? Thatâs it? Youâre just agreeing?"
His mother beams. "Oh, thank you, sweetheart! This means so much."
Jungkook throws his hands up. "Do I not get a say in this?!"
"No," the entire room answers at once.
His mother and yours immediately start making calls, talking excitedly about drafting contracts and managing the media. Within minutes, theyâve disappeared into another room, their voices blending into a flurry of planning.
Now, youâre alone with Jungkook. Which would be completely and totally fine, however, you just agreed to fake date him, so words arenât tumbling out of your mouth as easily as you liked.
He groans, rubbing his temples. "This is insane."
You tilt your head. "Oh, itâs about to get even better."
He looks at you warily. "What does that mean?"
You pull out your phone, open your notes app, and start typing. "If weâre doing this, Iâm setting my own rules."
He lets out a long sigh. "Of course you are."
"Rule one: No kissing."
Jungkook scoffs. "Duh."
"Rule two: No touching unless weâre in public. I donât need you getting any ideas."
He smirks. "Oh please, like Iâd even want to."
You ignore him, typing away. "Rule three: Two dates per month, in beautiful, expensive places. We need to sell this relationship properly."
Jungkook sighs. "Fine."
"And finally, a press conference. You need to publicly fix your wrongdoings."
He throws his head back. "You sound like my mom. No, worseâyou sound like a business consultant."
You laugh, shoving your phone back into your pocket. "Shut up, idiot. This is the best deal youâre ever going to get."
He groans again but ultimately leans back in surrender. "Three months. Then Iâm free."
You nod. "Three months."
Neither of you says it, but you both feel itâthe weight of something shifting, something neither of you are quite ready to name. You push that feeling to the back of your brain, somewhere so far youâre certain itâs long gone, and just smile at him. Itâs three months.
Over the next week, the media explodes with news of your relationship. Headline after headline announces the unexpected pairing, complete with curated photographs and speculative articles. Your parents do not play when it comes to PRâwithin minutes of signing their carefully spun contract, the story is everywhere.
Your coworkers congratulate you, some with genuine excitement, others with teasing smirks since youâre never seen dating. You take it all in stride, smiling through it, brushing off questions with ease.
And now, itâs the day of the press conference. The one you had to repeatedly beg Jungkook to do despite it being part of both yours and your parentsâ contract.
Dressed impeccably, you make your way to Jungkookâs dressing room, pushing open the door to find him seated in front of a mirror, his hands loosely clasped in his lap. His usual cocky demeanor is absent, replaced by a quiet tension in his shoulders.
âYou look like youâre about to throw up,â you comment, leaning against the doorframe.
Jungkook glances at you through the mirror, exhaling a small laugh. âIs it that obvious?â
âA little,â you admit, stepping closer. âItâs just a press conference. Youâve done a hundred of these.â
âYeah, but never like this.â He rolls his shoulders, glancing at the neatly tailored suit heâs wearing. âMy dadâs investors are going to be watching every move I make.â
You tilt your head, considering him. Itâs rare to see him anything less than completely self-assured.
âYouâll be fine,â you say, voice steady. âYou know what to say, and Iâll be right there. Just stick to the plan.â
Jungkook finally looks up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Thereâs something in his gazeâsomething softer, something vulnerable.
âYou always know what to say,â he murmurs, and for a brief second, the gratitude in his voice takes your breath away.
Your heart stutters, but you snap yourself out of it before it shows. You clear your throat, stepping back. âOf course. Someone has to keep you from embarrassing yourself.â
He smirks then, some of his usual arrogance returning. âGuess Iâm lucky itâs you.â
You roll your eyes but canât quite fight the small smile tugging at your lips. âCome on, letâs get this over with.â
Jungkook exhales once more, steadies himself, then stands, ready to face the cameras with you by his side.
The press conference is a battlefieldâan unforgiving sea of flashing cameras, rapid-fire questions, and the sharp scrutiny of investors who smell blood in the water.
Jungkook sits beside his father, posture straight but just a little too rigid. You stand behind him, arms crossed, observing the way his fingers tap impatiently against his suit pants, the subtle clench of his jaw each time a question cuts too deep. Heâs keeping his composure, answering with as much confidence as he can muster, but you can see itâthe way pressure wraps around him like a noose, tightening with every expectation placed upon him.
And you hate it.
âMr. Jeon,â an older investor speaks up, adjusting his glasses. âGiven your past recklessness, how do you plan to ensure that your future actions donât reflect poorly on your familyâs legacy?â
Jungkook leans forward, his voice smooth but tense. âI understand the concernsââ
Another voice cuts him off. âDo you? Because the headlines say otherwise. Your name has been a liability, and the market confidence in your familyâs company has wavered because of it.â
Jungkook swallows, opens his mouth, but you donât wait for him to respond.
Before you can second-guess yourself, you step forward, your hand reaching for his.
The moment your fingers slip into his, he stills. The weight of the room shifts, every eye snapping to you as you take the mic from the table in front of him. Thereâs a pauseâa collective breath held as the reporters adjust their focus. You meet their curiosity with a calm, unwavering gaze.
âWith all due respect,â you begin, your voice smooth and firm, âJungkookâs past actions do not define his future. The point of this press conference is to address concerns, not dwell on mistakes that have already been acknowledged. The Jeon family has taken the necessary steps to ensure that confidence in their legacy remains strong, and our partnership is just one of those measures. If you have questions regarding our future strategies, weâd be happy to answer them. But if youâre here only to scrutinize, then you might want to consider redirecting your energy into productive discussions.â
The room, once thick with chaos, begins to settle. Thereâs a beat of silence, then hushed murmurs of reluctant approval. Some of the more aggressive investors exchange glances, but no one immediately fires back. You feel Jungkookâs stare on you the entire time, his fingers still laced with yours, warm and steady.
âAs for the future,â you continue, âJungkook and I will be working closely together to ensure that not only is his reputation rebuilt, but that he continues to contribute meaningfully to his familyâs business and the industries they lead.â
A reporter clears his throat. âSo, you truly believe in him?â
Your lips quirk, eyes flickering to Jungkook for the briefest second. âI wouldnât be standing here if I didnât.â
As the final question dies down, you release the mic onto the table. The silence that follows is thick, charged. You turn slightlyâjust enough to see the look in Jungkookâs eyes, something caught between awe and something else you donât dare name.
Then, his fingers tighten around yours.
A silent thank you. A quiet moment, just the two of you in a room full of people.
Your heart stumbles. Stupid heart. He is your best friend. Donât be weird.
His father clears his throat and stands, taking over the conversation, thanking the press for attending. The tension dissipates, the pressure eases, and just like that, the worst is over.
Jungkook exhales next to you, his grip on your hand lingering for a second longer before he finally lets go.
But the warmth stays.
・シ:*:シďžâ
,・シ:*:シďžâ
The restaurant is one of the finest in Seoul, all dark wood interiors and golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the entrance. Outside, the cameras flash like fireworks, capturing every moment as you step out of the sleek black car Jungkook had insisted on driving tonight. Itâs date night, first one slated in your made-up contract. Despite it being fake, you had somehow found yourself standing in your closet for a few hours, picking out your finest, doing your hair⌠like it was real.
You had told yourself itâs just for appearances.
He steps around to open your car door, an easy smirk tugging at his lips. âDamn,â he murmurs, eyes dragging over your figure appreciatively. âYou look hot.â
You roll your eyes, smoothing your dress as you rise to your full height. âRule number two,â you remind him coolly. âNo touching unless in public.â
Jungkook shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. âI wasnât touching,â he points out. âJust stating the obvious.â
You arch a brow. âLetâs just get through this without you embarrassing me.â
âEmbarrass you?â He gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. âI am a delight to be around.â
Before you can respond, the flash of cameras reminds you why youâre here. With a practiced smile, you slip your hand into the crook of his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the expensive fabric of his button-down. He glances down at you, expression unreadable, before leading you toward the entrance.
Inside, the restaurant is quieter, the soft murmur of conversation replacing the chaos outside. A waiter leads you to a private table near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. The view is breathtaking, but you hardly have time to appreciate it before Jungkook pulls out your chair for you.
âYouâre really laying it on thick tonight,â you murmur as you sit, eyeing him suspiciously.
He winks as he takes his seat across from you. âGotta make it believable, right?â
You hum in response, unfolding your napkin and placing it on your lap. The waiter returns with a bottle of wine, and Jungkook gestures for him to pour. You watch as he swirls the deep red liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip, his eyes never leaving yours. Thereâs something in his gaze, something unreadable yet heavy, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.
âSo,â he says, leaning back against his chair. âTell me, how does it feel to be off the market?â
You scoff, taking a sip of your own wine. âRelieved, honestly. I can finally focus on work without my mother trying to set me up with every chaebol heir in Korea.â
Jungkook smirks. âAh, so Iâm just a glorified shield. Good to know.â
âYouâre not just a shield,â you say sweetly. âYouâre also a PR nightmare that I have to clean up.â
He chuckles, shaking his head. âRemind me again why I agreed to this?â
âYou didnât,â you remind him. âEveryone just told you to shut up.â
His laughter is soft, genuine this time. âRight. How could I forget?â
For a moment, thereâs silence. The city lights flicker outside, the candle between you casting shadows across his sharp features. Heâs beautiful like thisârelaxed, unguarded, just Jungkook. And it terrifies you how easy it is to forget that this is all pretend.
âAre you nervous?â you ask suddenly, breaking the silence.
He tilts his head. âAbout what?â
âThe rest of this,â you say, gesturing vaguely. âThe fake dating. The public scrutiny. Keeping up the act.â
Jungkook exhales, running a hand through his dark hair. âNo,â he admits. âNot with you.â
Your breath catches, but you force yourself to laugh, shaking your head. âThatâs because Iâm doing all the work.â
âMaybe.â He grins. âOr maybe you just make it easy.â
You donât know what to say to that, so you take another sip of wine, willing your heart to stay steady.
This is just pretend. Just another job to handle. So why does it feel like the lines are already starting to blur?
The night stretches on, filled with laughter, stolen glances, and far more wine than you intended to drink. The candle between you flickers, casting golden light over Jungkookâs features, softening the sharp lines of his jaw and the teasing smirk that never quite leaves his lips.
âYou know,â Jungkook muses, swirling the last of his wine in his glass. âI think this might be the best date Iâve ever been on.â
You snort, setting your empty glass down. âThatâs because itâs not real.â
He leans in, resting his chin on his palm. âOr maybe I just have terrible taste in dates.â
You shake your head, laughing. âThat sounds more accurate.â
By the time you step outside, the cool night air rushes against your flushed skin. The restaurantâs glow spills onto the sidewalk, illuminating the swarm of photographers waiting beyond the bushes. Their cameras are relentless, flashing like lightning, their voices blending into an indecipherable chorus of questions and shouts.
Jungkook places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you forward. âSmile, sweetheart,â he murmurs, amusement laced in his tone. âWouldnât want them thinking weâre miserable.â
You roll your eyes but oblige, pasting on a practiced, elegant smile. The wine makes everything feel lighterâyour steps, your head, the way your body angles toward Jungkook without thought.
And then, what only happens in your worst nightmares occurs.
The heel of your shoe catches on the uneven pavement, and suddenly the world tilts. Your breath catches as gravity pulls you forward, but before you can even process the impending disaster, Jungkook moves.
Strong hands catch you instantly, arms firm around your waist as he steadies you. Your hands instinctively grasp his biceps, feeling the solid strength beneath his top. Your heart hammers against your ribs, your breath uneven as you look up at him.
His face is closer than it should be, eyes gleaming beneath the city lights. His hold is steady, unwavering. And then, just as your lips part to say something, he speaks first.
âI got you,â he murmurs, voice low, intimate.
Before you can react, before your brain can catch up with your racing heart, he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek.
The world erupts around you.
Cameras go wild, shutters clicking furiously, flashes exploding in bursts of white. The reporters shout louder, their excitement palpable.
But all you can focus on is the warmth lingering where his lips met your skin, the way your fingers curl against his sleeves, the dizzying rush in your veins.
You force out a breath, steadying yourself as he pulls back, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. âYou good?â
No. Absolutely not.
But you school your features into something resembling composure, letting out a small laugh as you step back. âFine. Just⌠watch where I step next time.â
He chuckles, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he leads you toward the waiting car. âDonât worry, sweetheart. Iâll always catch you.â
And the worst part isâyou believe him.
・シ:*:シďžâ
,・シ:*:シďžâ
Seoulâs crisp autumn air carries the scent of street food and something sweet as you and Jungkook weave through the bustling shopping district. The city is alive with energy, neon signs flashing above you, the distant sound of buskers playing love songs on the corner. Itâs another dateâone that doesnât even need to happen, but somehow, these outings have become routine.
Itâs not weird, you tell yourself. Youâre best friends. Youâve always been best friends. So what if your heart skips when he sends you a text about meeting up? So what if these dates are starting to feel more like⌠dates?
Inside a boutique, you browse the racks, fingers skimming over designer fabrics. Jungkook is beside you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, watching with mild interest as you hold up a sleek black dress against yourself.
âYou should try it on,â he says.
You smirk. âTrying to live vicariously through me, Jeon?â
He grins. âMaybe. Gotta make sure my girlfriend looks good.â
You roll your eyes at the title, but before you can retort, a stranger approaches. Heâs well-dressed, confident, and flashing you a practiced smile.
âHey,â the guy says smoothly. âI donât usually do this, but I saw you from across the store and had to come over.â
Jungkookâs posture shifts immediately. His casual stance turns rigid, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the guy extend his hand to you.
âIâm Minho,â the stranger continues, âand Iâd love to take you out sometime.â
Before you can respond, a strong arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against Jungkookâs side. His body heat seeps into you, and the scent of his cologneâclean, warm, familiarâwraps around your senses.
âSheâs taken,â Jungkook says smoothly, his voice dropping an octave. He punctuates the statement by running his hand down your arm, fingers tracing your wrist before lacing them with yours.
Minho blinks, clearly taken aback. His eyes dart between you and Jungkook. âOh. I didnât realizeââ
âYou realize now,â Jungkook cuts in, tilting his head with a smirk. âThanks for stopping by, though.â
Minho offers a stiff nod before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. The moment heâs gone, you exhale, only to realize youâre still wrapped in Jungkookâs hold. His hand lingers on your waist, his fingers still intertwined with yours.
Your heart is racing.
Jungkook must notice, because when he looks down at you, amusement flickers in his gaze. âWhy do you look like you just ran a marathon?â
You glare at him, attempting to extract yourself, but he tightens his grip just slightly. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, deliberate, teasing.
âShut up,â you mutter, feeling heat creep up your neck.
His smirk widens. âAre you flustered?â
âNo.â
âYou are.â His voice is low, teasing, laced with something that makes your stomach flip. âWas it the touching?â
You scoff, shoving him away. âPlease. Like you could ever have that effect on me.â
He lets you go with a chuckle, but thereâs something in his eyesâsomething smug, something knowing.
And maybe, just maybe, he already knows the answer.
He must know the answer, or some kind of cheat code, because when you go to check out for your dress, he doesnât even let you try and pull out your wallet, only lightly nudges you to move over so he can shove his AMEX into the card reader. And itâs not like you donât have money â in fact, you like to think you have more than him â but the gesture leaves your mouth dry.
・シ:*:シďžâ
,・シ:*:シďžâ
Two months into the dating contract, and everything is going suspiciously well. Youâre thinking any moment now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out and say Punkâd! and kill your entire family. The public adores you both, the headlines are filled with nothing but praise, and your parents practically beam every time they see you together. Itâs almost too perfect. Almost.
This particular night, youâre seated at an upscale restaurant with Jungkook and both sets of parents, cameras flashing outside as photographers eagerly capture your entrance. The restaurant is dimly lit, the clinking of fine china and low murmurs of the elite forming the perfect background to your evening.
Youâre in the middle of explaining your latest business venture when Jungkook, ever the dedicated âboyfriend,â picks up the bottle of expensive wine and tilts it over your glass, filling it with practiced ease.
âWow, so gentlemanly,â you murmur dryly, watching as he sets the bottle down.
He smirks, leaning in slightly. âI do what I can for my beloved girlfriend.â
Your father chuckles approvingly while Jungkookâs mother clasps her hands together. âYou two really do look good together.â
Jungkook doesnât miss a beat. He lifts your hand from your lap, intertwining his fingers with yours as he looks at you with a sickeningly sweet gaze. âWe are good together, arenât we, jagi?â
Your fingers twitch in his grasp. You resist the urge to kick him under the table.
âOf course,â you say, voice smooth but laced with warning. âThe best fake relationship Iâve ever been in.â
His parents donât catch the sarcasm, but Jungkook does. He grins. âThatâs because Iâm the best fake boyfriend. So attentive, so charmingâŚâ His thumb strokes the back of your hand absently, and you swear your pulse betrays you for a split second.
Your mother, entirely oblivious to the silent battle, leans forward. âSweetheart, tell them about that project youâre working on.â
Right. Business. Focus.
You clear your throat, ignoring the warmth seeping into your skin where Jungkook still holds you. âYes, so Iâve been developing a new expansion forââ
âIsnât she amazing?â Jungkook interrupts, turning to your parents with a proud expression. âI mean, I always knew she was brilliant, but the way she balances everything? Truly inspiring.â
Your jaw nearly drops. This man is laying it on thick tonight. You give him a sharp look, but he just winks at you. Your brain screams at you to get a grip.
His father nods approvingly. âItâs good to see you supporting her, Jungkook.â
âOh, I support her in everything.â His voice drops just enough that only you can hear the playful lilt in it. âEven her very, very convincing eye rolls.â
You take a sip of your wine, masking the flustered feeling creeping up your spine.
Jungkook leans in slightly, dropping his voice again. âCareful, jagiya. You almost look like youâre enjoying this.â
You grip your glass tighter. Stupid heart. Donât be weird.
Then, as if testing your limits, his fingers trail down your spine, slow and deliberate, until they rest at the small of your back. You nearly choke on your wine. His touch is light, teasingâjust enough to send a shiver racing through you. He draws slow, lazy circles against the fabric of your dress, an absentminded motion that feels anything but casual.
You stiffen, willing yourself to focus on the conversation still happening around you, but the warmth of his hand lingers like an ember threatening to catch fire. Your skin tingles under his touch, and itâs infuriating, the way your body betrays you with the slightest brush of his fingers.
Your mother is still talking, oblivious to your inner turmoil, but Jungkookâs eyes flicker to yours, dark amusement dancing behind them. He knows exactly what heâs doing.
You clear your throat, sitting up straighter. âAnyway, as I was sayingââ
Jungkookâs hand presses a little more firmly against your back, the heat of his palm spreading, anchoring you there. His fingers trace an idle path lower, and your breath catches.
You snap your head toward him, eyes narrowing in warning. He only raises a brow, all innocence, as if heâs not systematically unraveling your nerves one touch at a time.
âYou okay?â he asks, feigning concern, his thumb brushing the base of your spine now.
No. You are not okay. You are dangerously close to forgetting that thisâthis entire thingâis fake.
You inhale sharply, forcing a tight smile. âPerfectly fine.â
Jungkook leans in just a fraction closer, enough that only you can hear the smirk in his voice. âGood. Because Iâd hate to think my affectionate boyfriend duties are making you nervous.â
Dinner stretches late into the night, laughter spilling over wine glasses as the weight of expectations dissolves into the warm glow of expensive liquor. The restaurant hums with the kind of luxury only the elite can affordâcrystal chandeliers, soft jazz, and the murmur of power woven into every conversation. Your parents, Jungkookâs parents, even Jungkook himself, are all in high spirits, a perfect picture of unity for the watching world.
By the time you all step out into the cool Seoul night, the paparazzi are still lurking, cameras flashing like fireflies. Jungkookâs hand rests lightly on your lower back, guiding you toward the waiting car with a confidence that makes your skin prickle. Itâs an easy, natural touchâone that should mean nothing after years of friendship. And yet, it lingers, setting off something restless in your chest.
You slip into the sleek black car, Jungkook right beside you. The partition is up, the driver waiting for direction. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at the man beside you.
âTake Jungkook home,â you instruct, your voice cool, professional. Like this is just another business meeting wrapping up.
Jungkook turns to you, a slow, almost lazy smirk stretching across his lips. âWhat, youâre not coming?â His voice is all silk and mischief, laced with the kind of teasing that has always been second nature between you. âI thought we were having fun.â
âWe were,â you say, adjusting the hem of your dress as if that will steady you. âNow the night is over.â
He leans back against the seat, stretching his legs out, watching you with amusement. âYou used to come over all the time. Weâd stay up, watch bad movies, make fun of my dadâs ridiculous wine collection.â
âThat was before.â You say. Before he started slipping a hand around your waist in public. Before his touch on your skin made you overthink. Before you found yourself watching him a second too long, your heart reacting to things it never should.
âBefore what?â He leans in slightly, smirking. âBefore you became hopelessly in love with me?â
You scoff. âBefore this whole PR stunt. And keep dreaming. Plus, I have work in the morning,â
Itâs not a lie, but itâs not the truth either.
Jungkook hums as if considering that answer, his eyes never leaving yours. The car slips into the quiet streets, city lights painting fleeting shadows across his face. His fingers drum idly against the seat between you before, ever so lightly, they drift onto your thigh.
Itâs barely a touch, the kind of accidental brush that could be ignored if it werenât for the heat it leaves behind. A slow, featherlight ghosting of his fingertips, just enough pressure to make you hyper-aware of every inch of space between youâwhich is suddenly not enough.
Your breath hitches.
His smirk deepens, the way it always does when he knows heâs getting under your skin.
His hand moves, fingers ghosting along the hem of your dress, just above your knee. Itâs light, teasing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. âI think youâre avoiding me,â he murmurs.
You tilt your head, challenging. âI think youâre imagining things.â
His smirk deepens. âAm I?â His fingers trace slow, lazy patterns on your thigh now, his touch barely there.
You exhale sharply, ignoring the way your pulse jumps. âJungkook, I swearââ
âYou swear what?â His voice is low, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. Heâs enjoying this too much. âYouâll throw me out of the car?â
You slump back in your seat. No use in arguing with him.
âWhatâs wrong?â he murmurs, voice low, teasing. âYou seem⌠tense.â
You swallow down the heat crawling up your spine and shoot him a glare. âYouâre drunk.â
He tilts his head, pretending to think. âMaybe a little.â
âThen get out of my car.â
Jungkook chuckles, slow and deep, before finally pulling his hand away. âAlright, alright. No need to kick me out like Iâm some one-night stand.â
âYouâre right,â you say, feigning thoughtfulness. âThey probably get more affection.â
He clutches his chest dramatically. âOuch. You wound me.â
The car rolls to a stop in front of his building. The chauffeur gets out, opening the door for him, but Jungkook doesnât move immediately. Instead, he turns to you one last time, studying you with something unreadable in his gaze.
âGoodnight, princess,â he murmurs, and thereâs something almost too genuine beneath the teasing. Something that sends a shiver up your spine.
Before you can respond, heâs gone, stepping into the night with that lazy, confident stride, leaving you alone with nothing but the lingering warmth on your thigh and a heart thatâs suddenly beating too fast.
Little do you know, Jungkookâs heart is doing the exact same thing.
As the car pulls away, you press your fingers to your temples. Stupid wine. Stupid Jungkook. And most of all, stupid heart.
・シ:*:シďžâ
,・シ:*:シďžâ
The gala is extravagant, even by your familyâs standards. Crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling, the soft hum of a string quartet weaving through the air as waiters in crisp black-and-white attire glide through the room, offering champagne on silver trays. Itâs the kind of event youâve attended a hundred times beforeâornate, controlled, a display of power and influence disguised as philanthropy.
And yet, tonight feels different.
Maybe itâs the way Jungkook keeps his hand on the small of your back, a silent reassurance as he leans in to whisper snarky comments about the other guests, making you laugh behind your champagne glass. Or, maybe itâs the way he introduces you to business partners with a smooth, easy confidence, the words "my girlfriend" slipping from his lips so effortlessly it makes your stomach turn.
âAh, so this is the woman who finally tamed you,â one older gentleman chuckles, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder.
Jungkook grins, turning his head to you with an expression so natural, so fond, it takes you off guard. "Tamed is a strong word. She just likes bossing me around."
You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to play along. "Someone has to keep him in line."
Their laughter blends into the room, and for a moment, you let yourself bask in the warmth of it. The way his parents watch you both with quiet approval, your mother beaming with pride, your father nodding in satisfaction. Itâs everything they wanted from this arrangement. Everything they envisioned when they convinced you to go along with it.
Then why does it feel like something more?
âYou okay?â Jungkook murmurs, his voice low enough for only you to hear as he guides you away from the crowd, his hand never leaving you. âYou look⌠spaced out.â
You blink, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. âYeah, just thinking.â
âDangerous.â
You scoff, nudging him with your elbow, but he just chuckles, pulling you a fraction closer. The warmth of his palm through the fabric of your dress makes your pulse skip.
Two weeks. Thatâs all thatâs left of this.
You should be relieved. This was always temporary. A contract. A performance. But the idea of it endingâof losing this version of him, of losing this version of yourselfâmakes your chest tighten.
Jungkook doesnât seem to notice your inner turmoil. Or if he does, he doesnât say anything. Instead, he watches you with a lazy smile, twirling a loose strand of your hair around his finger.
âYou know, for someone who claims to hate public displays of affection, you sure donât mind it now,â you tease, raising an eyebrow at his constant touches.
His lips curl into a smirk. "Can you blame me? You look hot tonight."
Your breath hitches, but you mask it with a roll of your eyes. "Jungkook."
âWhat? Iâm just saying. If this is all coming to an end, I might as well enjoy it.â
The way he says itâso offhand, so unseriousâstings more than it should. Because it is ending. And while he seems perfectly fine with that, youâre the one struggling to keep your emotions in check.
You force a laugh, tilting your head at him. "Donât get too comfortable. Two more weeks and youâre back to being just my pain-in-the-ass best friend."
Jungkook hums, but thereâs something unreadable in his gaze. Something that makes your stomach twist.
âYeah,â he says softly, his thumb grazing your spine absentmindedly. âTwo more weeks.â
And for the first time since this whole thing started, you wonder if youâre the only one dreading the end.
Stupid, stupid heart.
・シ:*:シďžâ
,・シ:*:シďžâ
masterlist + request
#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook smut#bts#bts jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#bts x reader
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angst galore incoming, inspired by this/translation (almost required listening tbh)
He stares at his door for ten minutes straight. Some part of him wishes he was at work. He tried, at first, to oppose Price, but his captain is one stubborn man, and when he puts his will into one thing, he's capable of moving mountains to make it happen. So Simon is "home" for his birthday.
Price said it. Try calling her. Except he doesn't think it will do one good thing, and he only has himself to blame. He broke it off with you because he could feel the worst of himself coming out of his mouth and seeping its way into his hands. He's always been a far cry from a perfect partner, but he wanted to spare you from his absolute worst. If he couldn't do that, he might as well be alone. You never complained, but he could tell by the look in your eyes that you didnât like some of his ways. That you didnât tell him anything because you, at some level, were scared of him, of what itâd be without him.
He remembers the day very clearly. You'd gone out for dinner. You looked cute in your peach dress; he looked as dreadful as usual. Your expression stayed joyful for most of the night, anticipating god knows what. He'd let you eat and then tore you apart once you were back home. You had pleaded with your tears, and your words, with your body... he'd been unmovable then.
It crept on him as the days passed. At first, he felt like he'd done you a great service, releasing you from his shackles. He always wanted too much. You'd be freer without him, without the fear that comes with dating a soldier. And as sharp as you are, you'd find a way without him, even if it felt hopeless at first.
Then he started to feel as badly as he did before meeting you. Part of it he drowned in workâ the rest stayed to laugh at him. He spent hours working out so he'd get so tired, the nightmares couldn't reach him in his slumber. When that didn't work, he stared at the wall in the dead of the night willing you there, in the room with him. Now that he's doing the same thing, the inane thought manifests into his mind and doesn't leave. He knows you're a homebodyâ rare chance of you being out at this hour on a weekday. He'll make the same drive he always did, walk the courtyard, knock on your door. He will apologize and hold you close and call himself a stupid fucking dog for letting you go. For not believing you when you said you could go through this together, that it wasn't only his burden. Yes... you'll love him still, the way you did for so long, no games or childish tricks, only honesty and gentleness.
The light in your living room is on. He rings the bell, then knocks on the door to be clear. He has to see you now. He thinks he will die if he doesnât. You open a sliver of the door, looking out with one eye. Clever girl, you never know whoâs on the other side. When you recognise him, you open it more, still slowly.
"Simon," you murmur, your throat bobbing as you look at him from head to toe. He must look like a mirage. Your hair is done. Hanging out with the girls?
"Hey," he hears himself say. You look well. As well as the day he left you.
Your mouth is hanging slightly, your expression confused, but not necessarily angry. Maybe you are happy that he showed up, that he's still alive, that he thinks about you. Your hands, fiddling at each other, look cold as ever, nails coming to scratch off some non-existent cuticle.
"May I come in?" He thinks he's never been so brazen in his life, and his reputation is not exactly spotless. Your nose scrunches and you laugh then, the beautiful sound that he missed so much, a breathless giggle. Heâs so closeâ so close to making it again, to holding your hands in his, toâ
The spell is broken when another voice calls your name. A male voice, almost worried, inquisitive. To ask whoâs at the door. Reality crashes on him as loud as an unexpected explosive, the shells of it stabbing him. Your laugh isnât one of understanding, of residual love, itâs a laugh of disbelief at him. He freezes then, and canât force himself to look inside, to confirm what heâs heard. His hands flex, his fists clench. Youâre the one talking now, holding your hands up, almost reaching to touch his arm, but he dodges it, takes a step back.
âI-Iâm sorry,â he manages to spit out, looking at you for one last time, not even daring to look inside for whoever youâre seeing now. You look sad, now, again, as he left you. Always causing you grief.
âSimon, itâs ok, we canââ
âI donât know what I was thinking,â he tries to give an explanation, some kind of madness that took control of him and moved his body across the city. But he fears its name is loneliness and yearning.
He turns and starts walking away, not even looking back when you call his name again, as much as heâd like to. He closes the gate on his way out, hands in his pockets.
#cod#call of duty#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#other ppl writing valentine fics. me writing this. well#im not sure who this will please??? but ive had it as a mindworm#yours truly
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Because I love Prema boys, being a group of menaces with gn reader and poly Arthur, Dino and Paul please Sir Bear đť
we've been discussing this trio over on @littlebearnation as well and it's been very fun
arthur leclerc x dino beganovic x gn!reader x paul aron
cw: briefly suggestive
you are literally prema's worst nightmare
you and arthur could often be found bouncing between the f2 and the f3 areas, disrupting paul & dino and making prema curse your names (arthur's less so because he's an ex-prema boy)
then again, your infrequent visits always seemed to encourage paul & dino to perform better than ever, so they never complained too much
even when they leave prema, the four of you are still menaces to every other team that your three boyfriends are involved in
ferrari have straight up banned you from their hospitality because you encourage arthur & dino and distract them from their work too much
paul is still allowed in because he's nowhere near as bad as you and he always playfully rubs it in your face to make you humph and pout
alpine have sorta gotten used to your quartet of chaos and they welcome it because it usually lifts their spirits up after a shit race weekend
even hitech aren't upset because you make paul & dino happy and isn't that all that matters?
so. many. pranks.
paul usually isn't super involved with your pranks, yet somehow he always ends up being the one initially blamed for them (you, dino & arthur always save him and sacrifice yourselves though)
interviews are a mess because no matter who it is, the other three will always jump in and interrupt so they've learnt to just accept the quad interviews even though you're not a driver
ugly photos of each other are common and will be weaponised for birthday posts and celebrations - dino is especially notorious for this one
food fights and water fights happen every single time they can and usually end up with someone else being caught in the crossfire, promptly ending the fun
the chaos doesn't just happen in public either
you four are so chaotic and loud during sex - its basically a battle for who can make the others moan louder
but at the end of the day, no is really that mad about you 4 being together and being chaotic
after all, yall are having fun, being young and enjoying life, and the energy you four give off is super addictive and mood-boosting to everyone around you
Š all rights to babybearnation 2025.
#áľá´Ľáľ fics#sir bear's sweetheart special#bear's inbox#bear's anons#arthur leclerc#arthur leclerc x reader#al39#al39 x reader#dino beganovic#dino beganovic x reader#db8#db8 x reader#paul aron#paul aron x reader#pa17#pa17 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#f1#f1 x reader#formula 2#formula 2 x reader#f2#f2 x reader#babybearnation
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Working in monster kid daycare sucks.
They all have different dietary requirements but they need to be eating the same thing otherwise they start stealing each otherâs food which is annoying at best and dangerous at worst. So you have to make five different meals but make sure theyâre all similar enough that nobody get jealous.
And donât get me started on all the different milks. We have a pair of werewolf twins so youâd think theyâd have the same milk but one of them is lactose intolerant so nope!
The Allraune kid needs constant sunlight but the Vampire kid gets sunburns too easily, and itâs not like we can keep them separate because thatâs cruel and also when the Vampire is awake all he wants to do is play with her (idk why, maybe itâs because she doesnât have blood or maybe itâs just because theyâre both quiet kids?). So we had to special order a curtain for the windows that lets in enough light for one but blocks enough for the other.
Speaking of the Vampire all he wants to do is sleep all day (both his parents work day jobs. Idk why and it would be rude to ask but come on). But we canât let him sleep because the parents and licenser get mad if everybody isnât participating or something. I feel bad because Iâm not a morning person so I feel like I understand where heâs coming from but you get it.
And then thereâs activities. We had a mermaid drop in one week and it was a nightmare lugging that tank of water around with us (apparently the ability to shift their tail into legs doesnât develop till well into their teens). Luckily that was just temporary but imagine being the parents trying to find a daycare with the equipment for thatâŚ
Circle time is fun and all but we gotta remind the harpy kid not to practice his hypnotic voice here. Itâs also not very developed at this age but it still gets distracting.
Then outside time⌠where do I start.
The vampire kid needs very strong sunscreen, so strong that the smell can be overpowering to the werewolf twins, but i think it also keeps mosquitoes away because thereâs a lot less of them when heâs here. Which is good because bug spray sometimes gives the mothman kid a rash.
Between the Moth trying to fly away and the Lamia kid trying to dig under the fence I donât get a lot of time to relax outside. Idk if thatâs a lamia thing or a this kid thing though.
Iâm almost glad when it starts getting too cold to let them out.
The worst part of it all though is when the Dullahan kid stars hiding her head everywhere. Just when you think you find all the possible hiding places she somehow finds another⌠the look her dad gave me the time I had to ask him to help us find her still gives me nightmaresâŚ
All this being said i love these kids and wouldnât exchange this job for the world
#how the fuck do i tag this#story#fantasy#monsters#monster girl#monster kid#penny for my thoughts#daycare
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6b4a09ec1690e9ffa610b768ec4689e6/4e13e753ded7e413-3b/s540x810/90af88c53ceca266777870b58cceafae8cece478.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8fc038fd078b2250d896c719862b5036/4e13e753ded7e413-03/s540x810/7f1f952f74926f263ff7490c8aefa0831be2d75b.jpg)
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/59d1231eb850265bc1e440106c8968a7/4e13e753ded7e413-e6/s540x810/bd310471304d9767bf180fe039405a2bca219033.jpg)
Iâm going to give no context and just post this shoddy comic strip about Ganondorfâs nightmare
#tears of the kingdom#legend of zelda#loz totk#ganondorf#link#totk spoilers#in some way#ganlink#this has absolutely nothing shippy about it#but I donât want people to misunderstand what Iâm about#I love it when they are each others worst nightmare#and greatest blessing#anyway#sleep paralysis link
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oughhh i have. something.....in the works. but i cant draw it till my new ipad comes in next week sigh :(
#monster au yayyyy i put vale and marc tgt FOREVER their best and worst nightmare yippee#vale is a vampire (duh). marc is his weird zombie frankenstein creation that he has to repair all the time cus marc is batshit#enea is hellhound 2 me. pecco......hmmm ill come back to vr46#theyre so pookie to me i have it as a sketch and marc is HOT. to me â¤ď¸ i draw what i like. gave him longer hair the works#vale vampire because his fear of death. hes rich. hes probably gay. ive made this joke before but hes literally motorsport dracula#marc is based moreso on the creature from frankenstein in baghdad because i like the idea of his skin falling off as he cant/can complete#goals for himself. shows futility. tells him to find happiness elsewhere. he doesnt do that#essentially its marc fighting his body and vale fighting his mind#as per usual for rosquez#ermmm when they r normal (ie in love so in love) they joint slay ppl so vale gets nutrients and marc gets parts#in a way keeping them connected forever through the dead. they want each other soooo bad it makes them look genuinely insane#yap sesh tag#mmm yea ill tag em#marc marquez#valentino rossi#rosquez
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i love laios touden and the fact that so many men react to him so so strongly by going UGH what is WRONG with this guy i cant TAKE IT. and i find there to be such delightful chemistry in that
#playing dolls. i love when they aggravate each other#and i love the aggressive caring vibe from chilchuck. he's like fuck everything about this man. he's my worst nightmare. ill die for him th
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oh boy your tags about terry buying Johnny all those rings
Just picturing daniel whoâs been longing after johnny and regretting not helping him after the tournament for years, dreaming of him and being unable to date anyone else because of it, running into johnny at the store and seeing the EXPENSIVE ring on johnnyâs finger. feeling like crying because heâs still so beautiful and he seems healthy and happy. Daniel realizing that he will never have a chance with him again and has lost him completely. sorry this is So angsty.
Um , YES
Anon this is like, exactly what Iâve been thinking for this au. Maybe Johnny did used to like Daniel too, but is now too in love with/owned by Terry to even think about having feelings tor anyone else again.
Johnny looked so content, a small smile on his face, his ring shining under the store lights as he looked through cards like he couldnât find the right one. Daniel walked up to him, his heart in his throat.
"Johnny?"
Johnnyâs head whipped towards him, and to Danielâs surprise, no glare appeared.
"LaRussoâŚLong time, no see."
Daniel cleared his throat, forcing a polite smile on his face. "Yeah, lotta years, but you still got those golden locks, huh?"
Johnny chuckled, and Daniel felt his chest tighten. "Yeah, and I see youâre already getting gray hairsâ"
"Hey!"
That just made Johnny laugh again, and Daniel felt like dying because he looked so beautiful, soâŚdifferent, like he was being cared for finally, like Daniel hadnât crossed his mind for a while. Daniel remembered no one cheering Johnny on in the crowd besides the cobras, and regretted.
"So, uh, special occasion?" He asked, motioning towards the cards, and Johnny nodded.
"Yeah, my anniversary."
He looked so happy as he said it, blue eyes sparkling with adoration. Heâs taken; heâs all of Danielâs daydreams.
Daniel gritted his teeth, throat feeling tight. "Oh. Congrats. Whoâs the lucky one that got to put a ring on the Johnny Lawrence? Anyone Iâd know?"
He tried to sound playful. He wouldnât be surprised if it was one of the cobras, maybe Bobby. Or Dutch, it was clear the guy had some not-so-innocent feelings towards his leader.
Johnny looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. "You do know him. knew him."
"Who?"
Terry Silver. Terry motherfucking Silver, as it so happened to be.
Johnny showed him photos from their wedding, photos of himself grinning up at Terry brightly at the altar, wearing white and truly looking like a perfect bride. Daniel wants to sleep for a year or two. Maybe erase all his memories of this blonde with a pretty smirk and pale lashes. Forget it all.
Silver sits at home, planning an extravagant gift for Johnny. He knows his boy isnât one for fanciness, but he canât help himself when it comes to Johnny; heâs his new coke, his craving. He's his and no one elseâs.
Johnny isnât any less obsessed; he loves Terry more than anyone heâs ever known. He can't even imagine how things would be without Terry at this pointâthe thought is almost unbearable to him. His husband has been his life since he was 19, and heâs never been happier.
(And lets just say Terry has been making use of Johnnyâs flexibility and sluttiness every day.)
#And they have NASTY sex#They love to tie each other up#Terry spanks and slaps Johnny while fucking him#and Johnny LOVES it#came all over himself the first time Terry did it.#and they take care of each other as Iâve said before#understand each other in a way no one else can.understand each others worst flaws and love each other even more for them#Johnny cradles Terry to his chest and helps him calm down when he wakes up sweaty and panicked from a nightmare about his time in Vietnam#Iâm crazy about themmmmmmđ#tw codependency#tw unhealthy relationship#and I love that for them#nsft
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Yall dont even know just how well-behaved i am DAILY at work! its like having two jobs at once! like im an undercover person who is put in a room with intolerable people very opposite of me in every way & is forced to play pretend & be niceys or else i dont get my prize at the end (clocking out & getting a paycheck)
#lets put a queer autist whos hyperfixation is su has no religion likes quiet & can only calm down with isolation & my music in a room with#another autist (unaware) whos fixation is yugioh/power rangers (uninteresting to me) who does voice impersonation stims & clings to you#who also thinks people like you (queer) are wrong & loves to talk to you about your ex-faith#& ALSO WITH ANOTHER autist (unaware) whos fixation/faith is stones & a youtube alien cult & also LOVES to talk abt how unhealthy food is#& shes a helicopter person who wont leave stuff alone even if she knows you want to be left alone & also looks down on minorities#once theyre all in that room together we'll shake it around to make them anxious & agitated & see what happens!!! doesnt that sound fun???#im being such a good nice patient person i stg#also the security guard & my coworker cant stand each other lately so GUESS WHO GETS TO HEAR ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME!?!? me their ''friend''#killingkillingkilling#im not saying people cant come from different walks of life or people with different believes cant get along but GOD DAMN#its literally my worst nightmare EVERY TIME i drive to work. i literally dread what kind of conversations theyll have with me for the night#this is what i mean when i say i hate being palatable#people who are against me in almost every way fundamentally consider me their close friend & it fucking sickens me that i let it happen#aint no way im quitting my job though because its a near-perfect fit for me management loves me & the money is good for the work i do#plus if i work here i can easily transfer to another location out of the country which is ultimately my goal#sorry. woke up from my sleep & chose violence ig#no more ranting tonight prommy#emma rants#emma rambles#work tag
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second chance | hwang in-ho x fem! reader
*.⧠synopsis: hwang in-ho joined the games with one goal: to monitor and manipulate seong gi-hun. but everything changed the moment he saw his childhood friend among the playersâa face he never expected to see again. *.⧠word count: 21.7k (are you even surprised) *.⧠warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, choking, guns, explicit depictions of injuries, panic attacks (reader experiences one) usage korean words and suffixes, mentions of cho sang-woo, reader moved from in-ho's place to gi-hun's place (gyeonggi-do to ssangmun-dong), softie in-ho because its you, angst :D *.⧠note: I ACTUALLY THOUGHT CROSSROADS WILL BE THE LONGEST THING I WRITE, SURPRISE SURPRISE SECOND CHANCE IS HERE. hope you guys love it!! masterlist | request here
Your life wasn't supposed to go in this direction.Â
Ever since you were small, people knew great things would come to you. You were talented and smart in every way, shape, or form. Teachers would gush about how bright your future was, and neighbors would brag to their kids about your achievements as if they were their own. So why were you here now, standing in a room surrounded by strangers for a chance of winning some money?Â
Currently, all of you watched as the screen displayed various people getting slapped left and right. Announcing their player numbers, names, and how much money they owe. The sheer amount of debt displayed beside each name was staggeringâhundreds of millions, even billions.
You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the whispers around you. People were muttering under their breath, some recognizing names and faces, others lamenting their own debt in comparison. The tension in the room was suffocating, a shared humiliation that weighed heavy on everyone.
Player 132. [Last Name] [Name]. 562 million.
The words echoed in your ears like a slap to your face. Your own name, your own shame, displayed for everyone to see. A few heads turned toward you, but you refused to meet their eyes. You scratched the back of your head in shame, keeping your eyes on the ceiling as if you could avoid the weight of judgment all around you.
'Well... at least it wasn't from that stupid crypto bullshit,' you mumbled under your breath, though the bitter smile on your lips faded as quickly as it appeared. As the guard moved to another person, the crowd around you blurred into an indistinct mass of voices. You didnât care to listen. You let yourself drown in your thoughts, tuning out the chaos.
It wasnât supposed to be like this. Life was supposed to be a series of steady steps upward, not a freefall into the abyss. When your family moved from Gyeonggi-do to Ssangmun-dong, everything changed.Â
Your father, once the pillar of the family, walked out one day without a backward glance. Which left you and your mother to fend for yourselves. He left for some woman he barely knew. Someone who didnât have to deal with the mess heâd left behind. And then, as if that wasnât enough, your mother decided she had better things to do than raise a child.Â
One morning, you woke up to an empty house and a note on the dining table. The words were hurried, impersonal, as if she didnât pushed you out and raised you. Worst of all, she didnât even spell your name right!
The pain of abandonment never left you. It festered, growing into a heavyweight you carried everywhere. You tried to survive, piecing together odd jobs and small victories, but it was never enough. Debt piled up faster than you could manage, dragging you into this nightmare.
The first game was announcedâ Red Light, Green Light.Â
You had doubts. The game seemed too simple, almost childish, like something even teens could survive without breaking a sweatâjust a game, right? But as soon as the first shot rang out, you realized how wrong you were. Bodies fell like dominoes, blood staining the grass in vivid red. The sound of death was deafening, and the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your breath caught in your throat, as the world around you erupted into chaos. People screamed, some running, others collapsing in terror. You couldnât move. The simplicity of the game suddenly made senseâit wasnât without cost.
Death was suddenly real, closer than it had ever been before. Your entire life flashed before your eyesâevery mistake, every regret, every moment you had taken for granted. It wasnât supposed to end like this. Not here, not now.
Luckily, a player stepped up and took charge. Player 456. He was calm and collected, advising everyone to hide behind the larger players, claiming that the robot wouldnât be able to see you if you stayed out of its line of sight. His plan was simple yet effective, and with his guidance, you managed to survive the round.
As you returned to the main area, the tension from the first game clung to the air like a thick fog. Every breath felt heavy, and the adrenaline that had pushed you through the chaos now left your limbs trembling. Despite it all, a deep sense of gratitude toward him lingered in your chest. You wanted to stay close, to follow his lead. There was security in his presence, a grounding force that kept the worst of your fears at bay.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room. Guards entered in perfect formation, their masks as eerie as the silence that fell over the crowd. The sight of them sent a shiver down your spine. One by one, people began to plead for their lives, collapsing to their knees, their voices breaking with desperation as tears streamed down their faces.
âThere must be a misunderstanding,â the main guard, marked by a square on his mask, said in a monotone voice. âWe are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.â
Before he could continue, the same player who had spoken during the first gameâPlayer 456âinterrupted with a sharp shout.
âClause three of the consent form!â The room froze, all eyes, including yours, turning to him.
His words were sharp, filled with a sense of urgency and strength âThe games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?â he demanded, his voice firm.
âThat is correct,â the guard replied, his tone unwavering, as though the question had been anticipated.
âThen let us take a vote right now,â Player 456 said, his words igniting a spark of hope in the crowd. It was as if a door to freedom had cracked open, and everyone could almost taste the possibility of escape.
âOf course. We respect your right to freedom of choice.â
A collective sigh of relief spread through the crowd, a fleeting moment where fear was momentarily pushed aside by a glimmer of hope. For the first time, you felt something that resembled a shift in the balance of power. They werenât in controlâat least, not entirely.
âBut first,â the guard continued, âlet me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.â He pressed a button on his device, and the room suddenly dimmed.
A low hum filled the air, followed by the descending of a massive glass piggy bank from the ceiling. It gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, casting eerie reflections across the playersâ faces. The sound of wads of cash clinking together echoed through the room, loud and clear, like the jarring noise of a twisted casino jackpot.
The players stared, wide-eyed, as the money poured into the glass bank. It was hypnoticâthe sound, the sight, the overwhelming promise of wealth. Some players instinctively stepped forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, while others lingered at the back, still fearful but unable to resist the allure of the prize.
âThe number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,â the guard announced, his voice as flat and emotionless as ever. âTherefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the remaining 365 of you can equally divide this amount and leave.â
A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Player 100, who was standing near you, called out, his voice filled with disbelief. âHow much is that?â
âEach personâs share would be 24,931,500 won,â the guard replied without hesitation.
The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, as a wave of murmurs spread across the room. There was a mix of disbelief, anger, and confusion.
âTwenty-four million? We almost died for that?â Player 124 scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. You couldnât help but feel the sting of it too. Twenty-four million wasnât nearly enough to make up for the terror, the near-death experience, the trauma of the first game. Yet, at the same time, the number was hard to ignore. It was money. A lot of it. Enough to make you forget the panic, at least for a while.
âYou said the prize was 45.6 billion!â Player 230 shouted, his voice rising with frustration.
The guardâs response was calm, almost detached. âThe rule states that 100 million won is added for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.â
There was a brief silence as everyone processed the implications of this. The numbers didnât seem to add up at first. But as the calculation sank in, the possibility of even more money stirred the crowd.
âHow much will it be if someone survives until the very end?â someone asked, their voice trembling with hope.
The guard, unbothered by the growing tension, simply stated, âAs I already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. If you are the sole survivor, you will receive the full amount.â
The room erupted into a chorus of gasps, whispers, and shouts. Some players looked at each other, their expressions shifting as greed began to seep into their eyes. Others remained still, haunted by the terror of the first game. The promise of so much money was a heady temptation, but it came at the price of their lives.
âSo, we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?â someone asked, their voice tinged with hope, as if the very idea of escape was now within reach.
âYes,â the guard confirmed. âAs outlined in the consent form, you may vote after each game and decide whether to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point. We always prioritize your voluntary actions.â
You stood there, torn. The terror youâd felt during the first game still clung to you, wrapping around your chest. But the temptation of the prize moneyâof being free from the crushing debt that had haunted you for so longâwas overwhelming. This could be your only chance to escape. A chance to climb out of the pit youâd been stuck in, buried under mountains of bills and threats. If you walked away now, youâd return to the same miserable existence, drowning in debt, with no way out in sight.
Your mind raced. You had fought so hard just to survive, and now, standing in this room, you were faced with a decision that could change everything. The terror from the first game still gripped your chest, but the lure of the money was almost impossible to ignore. It wasnât just about survivalâit was the chance to escape the suffocating weight of your debt, the years spent trying to climb out of a hole youâd fallen into.
The voting started with Player 456. You watched as he cast his vote, the air thick with tension. The red light from the voting machine flickered for a brief moment as he pressed his choice, a clear "X." One by one, others followed, some hesitating, while others quickly made their decision. The chaos of it all felt overwhelming. You couldnât help but wonder if they had already made up their minds, whether they were giving in to the temptation of the money or if they were too afraid to continue.
When your number was called, your legs felt like lead as you approached the voting machine. Each step was agonizingly slow, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. The room seemed to shrink, and you could feel every eye on you, even as you tried to ignore them.
Your hand trembled as you reached for the button. The thought of pressing it, of choosing to continue, made your stomach twist in knots. For just a moment, you hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides.
Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the circle.
The blue light illuminated your face, a cold reminder of the choice youâd just made. A guard stepped forward, handing you a blue patch marked with the same symbol as your vote. You accepted it with shaky hands, bowing slightly before pinning it to your jacket. As you returned to your spot in line, your heart pounded in your chest.
God, why did it come to this? What could have gone so wrong? Had you done something to upset the gods? Or were you simply born unlucky, destined to live a life riddled with hardships?
You couldnât stop questioning yourselfâyour decisions, your choices, the countless crossroads where you mightâve taken a different turn. You missed the early moments in your life when everything felt so simple, so light. Back then, there were no looming debts, no sleepless nights spent worrying about survival, no constant weight pressing down on your shoulders.
You had it all onceâa lovely family with successful parents who made sure money was never an issue. You had good grades, a tight-knit circle of friends, and a future that seemed full of promise. You were happy, truly happy.
And you werenât always alone. Aside from your parents and friends, there was someone elseâsomeone who had been a constant in your life, a steady presence you could always count on. He wasnât just a friend; he was the friend. The one who stood by you no matter what, even when the world seemed to turn its back on you.
When the bullies in school targeted you for reasons you never understood, he was the one who stepped in without hesitation. You still remembered the way heâd square his shoulders, his voice firm and unwavering as he told them to back off. He never cared if he got in trouble for standing up for you; all that mattered to him was that you were safe.
He wasnât just your protector, though. He was the person who could make you laugh when you were seconds away from tears. He had this knack for knowing exactly what to say or do to lighten your mood, whether it was pulling a silly face, cracking a joke, or nudging you with that mischievous grin that always made you roll your eyes but secretly smile.
He was the one who stayed up late with you when you were cramming for exams, even though he wasnât the most studious person himself. Heâd throw pencils at you when you started to drift off, only to shove snacks in your face the next moment and tell you to take a break. He had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, as if just being around him made everything a little brighter.
And as much as you tried to deny it back then, he had become your everything. Your safe haven, the person you trusted more than anyone else. He was the one you turned to when life felt too heavy to bear, the one who never made you feel like a burden for leaning on him.
He was your partner in crime, the one whoâd sneak off with you during boring school events, laughing as the two of you got caught and had to face detention together. He made life feel like an adventure, even in the quiet, simple moments.
But above all, he was your first love. Though you never said it out loud, it was thereâin the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at you, in the way you found yourself searching for him in every room you walked into. It was in the way you felt safe and seen in a way no one else could make you feel.
He didnât know, of course. How could he? You were just kids, too shy to even admit it to yourself most of the time. But looking back now, it was clear as day: he wasnât just your best friend. He was the boy who had stolen your heart, even if he never realized it.
You paused. The faint buzz of the voting machines around you barely registered as you froze in place. Why were you thinking about him now, of all times? You clenched your fists, trying to will the memories away, but they pushed their way into your mind regardless.
You remembered the way he shouted at you, his voice filled with anger and frustration. The argument had been sharp, the words he threw at you cutting deeper than you ever thought possible. He had been upset that you were leaving, but instead of asking you to stay, instead of saying goodbye, he stormed off.
It didnât matter how much time had passed; the wound was still raw. He was your best friend, the boy you loved so deeply you couldnât even bring yourself to admit it back then. And he let you leave without so much as a goodbye.
Your chest tightened as the memories overwhelmed you, crashing over you like waves. You had convinced yourself that you were over itâthat it didnât matter anymore. But clearly, that wasnât true. The emotions you had buried deep, the hurt and the unanswered questions, all clawed their way back to the surface.
Did he hate me? The thought stung, even now. Did I mean so little to him that he couldnât even say goodbye?
The pain lingered, sharp and vivid despite the years that had passed. You could still see it, like a scene burned into your memoryâthe moment he walked past you on your last day of school. His face had been a mask of cold indifference, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours as though looking at you would cost him something precious.
You had called his name, your voice trembling with desperation and a plea you couldnât quite voice. You just wanted him to stop, to look at you, to give you a reason, a sign that he cared. Anything to make the ache in your chest a little less unbearable.
But he didnât.
He just kept walking, his steps steady and unyielding, leaving you standing there. The knot in your throat had tightened until it felt like you couldnât breathe. He left without a word, without even a glance. And in that silence, you were left with nothing but heartbreak and questions that would never be answered.
And now, here you were, those same feelings dragging you down as the votes continued. The sound of faint button presses and shuffling feet filled the air, each vote drawing everyone closer to an answer.
You hadnât been paying attention to the numbers flashing on the screen, but the tension in the room was suffocating. The votes were neck and neckâX and O, tied. A deuce. The final vote could change everything. You could feel the unease creeping over the room like a storm cloud ready to burst. The fate of the game rested in the hands of the last player.
The tension was unbearable. Everyone held their breath. It felt as if time itself had come to a standstill, the anticipation hanging in the air.
You forced yourself to look up, to see who the final person would be. Your heart pounded louder in your chest with every second, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on you. Your gaze fell on the figure walking toward the voting station. You couldnât immediately register who it wasâyour mind too wrapped in the urgency of the moment. The final decision.
 But then something hit you. A familiarity. A sinking feeling in your chest.
And then your breath hitched.
It was himâ.
In-ho.
Your world seemed to tilt on its axis as you watched him. It was like a punch to your gut. Your chest tightened painfully, and your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. You had spent years trying to push him out of your mind, trying to move forward, but in that moment, it all came rushing back with a force you werenât prepared for. The ache in your chest deepened, and you realized just how much you had never really healed.
Your mind swirled with the years youâd spent without him. The countless nights you had stayed awake, wondering what had gone wrong, why your friendship ended that way.
He was standing there now, in front of you, like a ghost of your past. He was so close, yet you couldnât reach him. You couldnât understand what you were seeing. Was this a dream? Was this some cruel twist of fate?
You watched his every move as if in slow motion. There was no hesitation in his actions. His hand reached out to press the button with a deliberate, practiced motion.
And then, he voted. O.
The cheers erupted around you, but they felt distant, muffled, like they were happening in another world. You could hear the excitement rising from the others around you, the shift in the air as the vote swung in favor of continuing the game. 182 to 183.
But none of that mattered to you.
All you could think about was how the boy who had once meant everything to you was here, in the same room, playing the same dangerous game. The same boy who had walked away from you all those years ago, leaving you in silence.Â
You stared at him, unable to move, to speak. It was as if time had stopped, like the world around you had turned to static. Your mind was racing, a torrent of emotions swirling inside you. The hurt you had pushed down for so long had exploded back to the surface.
You couldnât tear your gaze away from him, your body frozen in disbelief. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of the past, the weight of everything that had happened between you two. The questions that you had carried for so longâabout why he left, about why he never said goodbyeâpushed their way to the surface, raw and painful.
Your mind raced, but your body refused to move. You were trapped in this moment, unable to escape the overwhelming emotions that came with it. There was no easy way out.
The past was alive in front of you, and it had never felt so real.
Hwang In-ho was a man who prided himself on always being in control. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated, and designed to maintain his upper hand. He wasnât one to take risks without knowing the outcome, nor did he leave anything to chance. His sharp intellect and knack for strategy had always kept him one step ahead of everyone else, whether it was in the games or in life outside of them.
So when he learned that Seong Gi-hun, the man who had also escaped the gameâs clutches once, was coming backânot as a desperate participant, but as a threat to everything the games stood for. In-ho knew he had to act. It wasnât just about the rules or the money; it was about protecting the intricate system he had helped sustain, the foundation he had sacrificed everything to uphold.
The idea of Gi-hun winning was infuriating. He wouldnât allow it. Not because he believed in the games' morality, but because their collapse would mean his own failure. It would mean admitting that he, the one who always stayed ahead, had lost control.
And In-ho did not lose. Not to anyone. Certainly not to Seong Gi-hun.
The solution was clear: he had to join the game.
Adopting the alias "Young-il," In-ho entered as Player 001, his plan meticulously calculated. Every detail was accounted forâhis presence would be unassuming, his actions deliberate. The goal was simple: get close to Gi-hun, observe his every move, and ensure the game remained firmly under his control.
It wasnât just about safeguarding the system he had come to embody; it was about reaffirming his dominance. To In-ho, this was more than strategyâit was a statement. A test to prove that no matter the odds, no matter who opposed him, he would remain two steps ahead.
That was his purpose. His only focus.
Or so he thought.
Everything changed the moment he saw you.
It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In-hoâs steps faltered, his carefully calculated composure slipping for the first time in years. His eyes locked onto your figure amidst the sea of players, and for a fleeting moment, he thought it was a cruel trick of his mindâa phantom conjured by guilt and memory.
But no. The wide, shocked eyes staring back at him were unmistakably yours.
The realization struck him like a physical blow, an ache spreading through his chest that he couldnât ignore. You were here. You were really here.
You shouldnât be here.
He froze, his usually sharp mind scrambling to piece together an explanation. What were you doing here? What had happened in your life to bring you to this place of desperation and death? He remembered you as you once wereâbright, warm, full of lifeâand now, the thought of you standing on this stage of horrors felt wrong in every conceivable way.
Memories of you came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The way you used to laugh, how youâd pull him out of his brooding silences with a simple touch, the way you always seemed to bring light into his otherwise shadowed world. Those memories clashed violently with the reality before him. You didnât belong here. Not in this uniform. Not in this nightmare.
He felt his mask of indifference. The armor heâd built over years of pain and regret started to crack. For so long, he had mastered the art of detachment, burying every emotion deep beneath a layer of control. But now, with you standing there, all of it came flooding back. Guilt. Regret. Anger.
And something else. Something he couldnât name but had tried to bury long ago.
The look on your face gutted him. Recognition, confusion, hurtâit was all there, as raw and unguarded as the day heâd last seen you. You looked at him like he was a ghost, like you couldnât believe he was standing in front of you. That look shattered something in him, something he hadnât realized was still breakable.
For the first time in years, In-ho felt unsteady. His carefully constructed walls, the ones that had kept him in control, in powerâshook under the weight of your stare.
This wasnât part of the plan.
He clenched his fists at his sides, a desperate attempt to regain control, to force himself back into the cold, calculating mindset heâd mastered. He couldnât let you see how much this affected him. Not here. Not now. This was a gameâa deadly oneâand emotions were dangerous, liabilities he couldnât afford.
Even as he tried to steady himself, forcing his gaze away and focusing on the task at hand, something inside him rose above the chaos. He knew, without a doubt, that he had to protect you.
It wasnât rational. It wasnât part of his plan. But it was undeniable. Seeing you here, dressed in the same uniform, facing the same deadly stakes, ignited something in him that he couldnât ignore. He had joined the game to regain control, to manipulate the outcome, to ensure Gi-hun wouldnât tear everything apart. But because the one person he never wanted to see in this hell was standing right in front of him, the thought of sticking to that plan seemed impossible.
And no matter what it cost himâhis control, his plan, his very lifeâhe couldnât let you die.
It was time for the second game: the Six-Legged Pentathlon.
You walked hand in hand with another playerâPlayer 222, Kim Jun-hee, as she had introduced herself earlier. Together, the two of you moved through the crowded room, searching for three more players to form a team. Your eyes flicked down to the frail figure beside you, her grip on your hand trembling slightly, and you couldnât help but feel a pang of protectiveness.
Earlier, before the announcement of the next game, you had found her curled up in the corner of the bathroom, clutching her stomach with a pained look on her face. She had been trying to hide her tears, but they slipped through anyway, leaving tracks down her pale cheeks. The image of her broken composure stuck with you, and even now, the weight of it hadnât lessened.
The look on your face as you crouched beside her was indescribable. When you asked her what was wrong, she was silent at first, her gaze vacant and lost as if the weight of the world was too much to carry. Slowly, her shoulders sagged, and she spoke in a low, quiet voice, each word heavy with the burden she was trying to carry. It wasnât just about the game anymoreâit was everything. Her words were a confession, a painful release of all the fears that had built up inside of her. She spoke of being alone, of how no one wanted to team up with her, and the overwhelming worry that constantly gnawed at her. But it wasnât just that.
She talked about her child. The one thing in this nightmare that kept her going, even if only by the thinnest thread. Her mind was consumed by the thought of them. She wondered if they would survive. But what hurt the most was the months of silence from the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Her fiancĂŠ, who had disappeared without a trace, left her to wonder if he was dead or alive, only to learn he was in the same hellish game. She never imagined she would have to face thisâalone, scared, with no one to lean on.
Something in her tone, the hopelessness wrapped in every syllable, struck a chord deep within you. For a moment, it wasnât Jun-hee you sawâit was yourself.Â
You had been there before. You knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to watch everything you had built slowly crumble, to be left in a world where trust was a distant memory. The same fears she voiced were the ones that had haunted youâthe fear of losing your loved ones, the dread of facing a future where you had nothing, and the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to suffocate every hope you had left.
Her pain was your pain, her desperation mirrored your own. You had been thereâfighting for survival, clinging to any hope that things could get better, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It wasnât just empathy you felt for her; it was the haunting reminder of your own struggle, a shadow of the darkness that had once consumed you. You didnât want her to experience the same isolation, the same crushing hopelessness that had almost broken you. You knew too well how it felt to be lost, to question whether youâd ever make it out alive, to wonder if there was anything left to fight for.
As you looked at her, a quiet resolve settled deep within you. You wouldnât let her walk this road alone. You wouldnât let her fall into the same despair that had once threatened to swallow you whole. You could no longer stand by and watch someone else go through the torment you had endured alone. You would be her strength, her anchorâjust as you had longed for someone to do for you when everything seemed to be slipping out of your grasp.
Without hesitation, you reached out, your hand finding hers, cold and trembling. You squeezed it gently, offering a steadying warmth that you both needed. âThen youâll come with me,â you said. âWeâll figure this out together.â
You werenât going to let her face this nightmare by herselfânot when you knew the crushing weight of solitude so well. You wouldnât let her fall down the same painful path youâd been on. From that moment on, you refused to leave her side.
You were supposed to focus on your own survival, you know that, but you couldnât bring yourself to leave her behind. Something about her reminded you of someone else, someone you had been a long time ago. You couldnât save everyone here, but maybe, just maybe, you could save her.
Meanwhile, In-hoâs plan was progressing smoothly. He had successfully gained Gi-hunâs trust and joined his team. Together with two othersâPlayer 388 and Player 390âthey were only one person short of completing their group. In-ho kept his head down, maintaining his facade as the amiable and harmless Player 001. He had positioned himself perfectly, right where he needed to be.
Until he heard your voice.
âHello, excuse me. Do you have space for two more?â
His head snapped up instinctively. There you were, standing just a few feet away, holding player 222âs hand as you looked at Gi-hun and the others, avoiding him altogether.
In-ho couldnât help but stare.
âWeâre sorry, miss,â Gi-hun replied apologetically. âWe already have four members.â
You didnât falter, keeping your small smile. âThatâs not a problem,â you said firmly. âWould you be willing to have her instead?â
Before anyone could respond, you gently nudged Jun-hee forward. She hesitated, glancing nervously between you and the group, but you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
In-ho stayed silent, watching the interaction unfold. He didnât trust himself to speak. Irritation bubbled under the surface. Of course, you would do something like this. Even in a place like this, where survival meant looking out for yourself, you were still thinking about someone else. Always putting others before yourself, even when it didnât make sense to do so.
You never change.
And yet, despite the frustration clawing at him, He couldnât stop the flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A part of himâa part he didnât want to acknowledgeâwas happy.
Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much this place had changed the both of you, there were still parts of you that remained the same. That stubborn kindness, that fierce determination to protect othersâit was one of the things he had always admired about you.
It was one of the things that terrified him.
You still carried that same hope, that same belief that people could be better, that kindness had a place even in a place like this. It made his stomach twist. The fact that you hadnât hardened, hadnât become cynical like everyone elseâit was both a relief and a danger. You couldnât afford to trust anyone here, not without consequence.
What if you trusted the wrong person? What if you let your guard down just once and someone used that against you? He had seen it happen before, in a way that made his insides tighten with dread. People here werenât to be trusted, and you were too pure, too unguarded. Heâd seen how quickly things could turn, how easily alliances could break, how one wrong move could be the end of someoneâs life.
It made him want to reach out, to warn you, to pull you away from the people who might betray you. But instead, he stayed silent, his heart racing faster than his thoughts could keep up with.
His gaze shifted to the girl you had taken under your wing. She was trembling, showing a strong facade. In-ho couldnât help but feel a surge of protectiveness for her tooâthough he would never admit it out loud. She was vulnerable. She didnât belong here. But you were giving her a chance. You were always giving people chances, even when they didn't deserve them.
He tore his gaze away, looking anywhere but at you. He hated the way you made him feel, even after all those years. Torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to pull away, he couldnât reconcile the two. He had built walls for a reasonâso that no one could get too close, so that no one could hurt him again. And yet, there you were, slipping through those cracks, reminding him that even after all this time, even after all the distance, he still cared.
âWhat about you?â Player 388 asked, his voice tinged with concern.
You gave him a small, reassuring smile. âIâll be okay. Iâll find a group somewhere.â
âAre you sure?â he pressed, his brow furrowing with worry.
You nodded, your tone firm but kind. âOf course. If you want, you can help me?â you offered, though it wasnât a question so much as a gentle suggestion.
The male nodded without hesitation, as though it was the most natural thing to do. He saluted you with a small smile, his expression brightening as he turned to lead the way. You followed quietly, walking side by side as the two of you engaged in light, casual conversation. The sound of your voices seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere of the game, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, navigating the chaos in your own way.
In-ho watched the interaction unfold from a distance, his gaze fixed on you. His chest tightened as he observed the way you interacted with Player 388, the ease with which you formed connections, the comfort you seemed to give others despite the grim situation. For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing it was him walking beside you instead of that other player. He longed to be the one you relied on again, the one you trusted in a world where trust felt like a luxury.
He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides, trying to suppress the emotions that stirred inside him. It wasnât supposed to matter. You had your own path to walk, and he had his. But the feeling gnawed at him, more intense than he liked to admit. A part of him wanted to be the one to keep you safe, to be the one to stand by your side. To be the one you turned to, the one who could offer you something real in the midst of all the chaos. But another part of him feels like thatâs impossible to achieve now.
Busy with his inner battle, he didnât notice the curious watchful eyes of the female beside him.
Luckily, you and Player 388âDae-ho, as he introduced himselfâfound a group of four not long after starting your search. Players 149, 007, 120, and 095 stood in a tight circle, whispering among themselves as they looked around for their missing fifth member. Their faces were a mix of tension and determination, but they didnât seem hostile, which was more than you could ask for in this environment.
Dae-ho, ever the confident one, strode forward with an easy smile. âExcuse me⌠do you need more members?â he asked, his voice warm and inviting.
All four turned to face you both, their eyes scanning you up and down. There was an unmistakable wariness in their expressions; trust wasnât exactly in abundant supply here. Finally, Player 120 spoke, her voice measured. âIâm sorry, but we only need one more.â
Dae-ho didnât even flinch at the rejection. Instead, his grin widened, his tone growing more playful. âWell, youâre in luck! You see, [Name]nim here is a master at spinning tops. Quick hands, sharp focusâeverything youâd need for precision games like these. How could you possibly pass on a deal like that?â
You blinked at him, both amused and exasperated. Was he seriously pitching you like you were a product at an auction? Despite the absurdity of it, his tone was so casual, so confident, that it managed to disarm the tension in the air, even if just a little.
You gave Dae-ho a small shake of your head before stepping forward yourself, bowing politely to the group. âI may not be a master,â you began, sending a pointed but amused glance toward Dae-ho, âbut Iâll do my best to contribute. Please, if youâll have me, Iâll work hard.â
The group exchanged glances, their hesitation apparent. It was weird for them, hearing a casual and almost teasing tone in an environment where death is prominent. Still, after a moment, Player 120 gave a curt nod. âAlright. Youâre in.â
Relief flooded through you, and you turned to Dae-ho, a small smile breaking across your face. âThank you,â you said, your tone filled with genuine gratitude.
Dae-ho gave a casual wave of his hand, as if dismissing your thanks. âThank me after you survive this game [Name]nim.â
You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his unshakable confidence. âAlright Dae-ho, see you later.â
As you turned back to your new team, introductions were exchanged before quickly discussing strategies. Despite the palpable tension in the air, they seemed cooperative enough. Each player carried their own air of quiet determination, though the stress of the situation was evident in the tightness of their voices and the stiffness in their movements.
Your team was one of the teams to go first. When it was your turn, you grabbed the top and string with trembling hands, whispering a small prayer under your breath. Slowly, you began winding the string tightly around the body of the top, starting from the bottom and wrapping upwards. But as you reached the middle, the string suddenly slipped free, unraveling entirely. You froze, your shaky hands betraying you further as you fumbled to pick up the loose string.
A lump rose in your throat as panic surged through you. You knew you were good at this. Spinning tops was your childhood talent, something you had always taken pride in. But now, in the most critical moment, your nerves were getting the best of you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked at Player 120, your voice trembling. âI⌠Iâm sorry. I swear Iâm good at this. Iâm just⌠really scared.â
Player 120âs expression softened, and she knelt beside you. Her voice was calm, reassuring. âItâs okay. You just need to take a deep breath and focus, alright? Youâve got this.â
Her words anchored you, and you nodded, inhaling deeply. As you exhaled slowly, a memory surfacedâsomething that always helped you when you were scared. Turning to 120, you asked hesitantly, âCould you⌠could you cover my eyes?â
She blinked at you, puzzled. âCover your eyes? Why?â
You offered a nervous smile. âI promise itâll help. Itâs⌠just something I do.â
With a shrug, she moved behind you and placed her hands gently over your eyes. As darkness enveloped your vision, you felt a strange but comforting familiarity take over.
âWhatâs up with this weird ritual you do?â In-hoâs voice was teasing, his hands warm as they covered your eyes back then. âYouâre always doing this!â
âItâs not weird!â your younger self had retorted, pouting.
âIs too!â he laughed. âNobody else does this, you know.â
âWell, I get really scared when I see what Iâm doing, okay?â youâd replied stubbornly. âSo I thought, âWhat if I just donât look?â It helps me focus.â
You smiled softly at the memory, your hands finally steady as you began winding the string again. This time, it wrapped perfectly around the top, tight and precise.
When 120 uncovered your eyes, you felt a renewed sense of determination. But before you could proceed, a familiar voice cut through the air.
âTo effectively spin the top, first, you must hold the loose end of the string firmly in your hand,â In-ho called out, his voice carrying an authoritative tone. He paced in front of you like a drill sergeant, his arms folded behind his back. âNext, throw the top onto the ground with a flicking motion. Pull the string sharply to make it spin. Understood?â
You straighten your posture, snapping a salute. âSir, yes, sir!â
The two of you broke into laughter, a sound so pure and unexpected that it momentarily dissolved the tension in the air. When he handed you the fully wound top, his fingers brushed yours lightly. âAlright, [Name],â he said, his smile softening, âshow me what you can do.â
Gripping the top tightly, you turned to him one last time, your eyes filled with uncertainty. He gave you a reassuring thumbs-up and a wide smile, and somehow, it was enough to calm your racing heart.
With all your might, you threw the top onto the ground, pulling the string sharply. It spun perfectly, steady and unwavering. Relief washed over you as you watched it spin continuously.
The cheers erupted so suddenly that it startled you out of your thoughts. Your teammatesâ149 and 120ârushed to your side, shaking your shoulders in celebration. Their excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself smiling, laughing, and letting the moment sink in.
âAlright, alright, letâs calm down!â 120 said, her voice mixed with happiness and haste. She led the group to the next station, the victory fueling your collective determination.
In-ho watched from a distance, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadnât let himself indulge in for yearsâa flicker of joy, the kind that came from something genuine. Seeing your face light up with relief and triumph stirred something buried deep inside him, something he thought was long gone. He couldnât stop himself from cheering along with the others, maybe louder than necessary. Perhaps it was his way of masking the whirlwind of emotions inside him, or maybe it was just his heart acting on its own. Either way, he didnât care to stop.
As your group crossed the finish line. The room became lively again. You couldnât help but laugh, the sound pure and unrestrained, even as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel it: pride, joy, and the simple relief of success.
Amidst the commotion, your eyes instinctively searched the crowdâand then you saw him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight made your breath catch, your smile faltering for a second before returning, softer this time.
And then it happened. Your eyes locked. Everything else seemed to fall awayâthe noise, the crowd, the weight of the game itself. It was just the two of you in that moment, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between your gazes.
His dark eyes, cold and guarded the first time you saw them, were now filled with longing, happiness, maybe even a glimmer of pride. It was as though he was telling you, I knew you could do it. Iâm proud of you. But there was something deeper, tooâsomething unspoken. His gaze held a vulnerability that he wouldnât dare put into words, a quiet hope that you might still see him the way you once did.
You felt it, too. A warmth spreading through you, unexpected and disarming. The wall between you, built by years of distance and unspoken words, seemed to crack ever so slightly. For a brief moment, you forgot the tension, the pain, and the uncertainty. You saw himânot as an enemyl, not as someone you had grown apart fromâbut as the In-ho you once knew.
His lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that didnât quite reach his eyes but still held a quiet sincerity. He wanted to say something, you could feel it. But words were unnecessary. The way his gaze softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his presence seemed to pull you closerâit was enough.
The moment passed as quickly as it came, but it left something behind. A spark. A fragile yet undeniable hope.
As you were all escorted back to the main area, you found yourself glancing back at him one last time. He was still there, watching, his expression unreadable now. But you saw the faintest nod, as if to say, Please, letâs talk soon.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. A chance to fix what had been broken. A chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you. A chance to reconcile, to find your way back to each other in a world that had done everything to pull you apart.
Your eyes remained locked with his until the door behind you closed.
Player 149 invited you to join them for a chat, a way to pass the time as the second game continued. With a small nod, you followed them to their little corner, settling on the stairs just behind Player 120. The group was warm and welcoming, and soon you were learning their names, hobbies, and bits of their lives outside the games.
Player 149 introduced herself as Jang Geum-ja, a kind but sharp woman who spoke with unwavering pride about her son, Player 007, Park Yong-sik. Her love for him was evident in every word and actionâshe had joined the games solely to pay off her sonâs debt, determined to give him a better future despite the grim odds.
Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, exuded a quiet yet approachable aura. A transgender woman with dreams of starting fresh, she joined the games not only to clear her debt but also to complete her medical treatments. Her plan was to move to Thailand and begin a new chapter in her life, one filled with hope and authenticity.
Finally, there was Player 095, Kim Young-mi, a soft-spoken woman with a warm, unshakable belief in the goodness of others. She and Hyun-ju had formed a close bond, their friendship blossoming into a dynamic partnership that made them inseparableâlike two peas in a pod, finding strength in each other amidst the chaos.
As the room began to fill with players returning from the game, your eyes instinctively darted to the doors each time they opened. Your stomach twisted with worry, though you tried to stay composed. You were searching for Jun-hee and her group, your concern growing with each passing minute.
Finally, after what felt like forever, you spotted familiar faces walking through the doors. Relief surged through you as you quickly excused yourself from the group and descended the stairs. Without hesitation, you rushed straight to Jun-hee.
"Are you okay? How are you? Howâs the baby? Did you feel nauseous? Do you want me to massage your back? Or your feet? Need to go to the bathroom? Pee? Puke?â"
Jun-hee's face turned bright red as she raised a hand to shush you. âStop, [Name]nim, youâre embarrassing me,â she whispered, glancing nervously at her group. Despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips, her eyes soft with gratitude.
âHey! Itâs [Name]nim!â Dae-hoâs cheerful voice cut through the moment as he jogged over to you.
âDae-ho! Looks like I owe you a proper thank-you now, huh?â you said with a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing.
The three of you exchanged warm words, laughter breaking through the otherwise somber atmosphere. Nearby, the rest of Jun-heeâs groupâ456, 390, and In-hoâwatched the scene unfold. As 456 and 390 moved away to sit down at their spot, In-ho lingered, his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer before he turned to follow the others.
Moments later, you found yourself joining the group, introducing yourself properly. 390, a man with a friendly demeanor, grinned and replied, âAh, how could we forget you? Thank you for giving Jun-hee to us. Sheâs really skilled in ddjaki! The nameâs Park Jung-bae by the way.â
Your eyes widened. âJung-bae? Are you Young-sunâs husband?â You asked, pointing a finger at him.
Jung-bae blinked in surprise. âHuh? Howâd you know my ex wife?â
âI live in Ssangmun-dong! I visit your pub often. Young-sun would always keep me company when I stopped by.â
Recognition dawned on his face. âAh! I remember now! Youâre the one who splurged like crazy that one night. You even had to crash at our place because you were too wasted to leave! Young-sun told me you were whispering someoneâs name... what was it... In-hââ
Panic shot through you as you clamped a hand over his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks. âDonât. You. Dare,â you hissed, glaring at him.
Jung-baeâs eyes widened, and with a nervous nod, he raised his hands in surrender. You slowly released him, muttering an apology under your breath as you tried to regain your composure.
Dae-ho and Jun-hee, however, were staring at you, their mouths slightly agape. Who knew the kind person they looked up to was a raging alcoholic? Behind them, In-hoâs expression shifted subtly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Was it anger? Hurt? Curiosity? You couldnât tell, and the uncertainty only made your heart race faster.
Breaking the awkward silence, Jung-bae cleared his throat. âW-well, speaking of Ssangmun-dong, my buddy here also lives there. Weâre best of friends!â He gestured toward Player 456, who waved at you with a sheepish smile.
You bowed politely, offering a smile. âNice to meet you.â
âSeong Gi-hun,â he introduced himself with a nod.
âWhat a small world,â you said, grateful for the distraction as the three of you fell into an animated conversation about your shared hometown.
From a short distance away, In-ho watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on you, his mind racing. Why were you talking about Ssangmun-dong like it was the greatest place in the world? What about Gyeonggi-do? What about the memories you shared there? What about him?
He paused, a flicker of something he refused to name surfacing in his mind. Was it jealousy? No, it couldnât beâhe wasnât allowed to feel that way, not after everything heâd done to you. The very thought felt absurd. Yet, the knot tightening in his chest as you spoke to others wasnât easy to ignore.
A nudge from Dae-ho jolted him out of his thoughts. He blinked, realizing all eyes, including yours, were on him, waiting for his introduction. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and forced a polite smile.
âMy nameâs Oh Young-il. Young-il sounds like âzero oneâ, and thatâs my number, see?â He gestured to the 001 embroidered on his jacket. Dae-ho raised his brows, impressed by the coincidence, but your gaze lingered on him, a storm of confusion hidden behind your composed expression.
You knew his real name. You knew that he was Hwang In-ho, not Oh Young-il. So why was he lying? The thought gnawed at you. Had he changed his name after getting married? But there was no wedding ring on his finger. Maybe heâd taken it off? No, no. The contradictions piled up, yet a part of you didnât want to accept the truth. He wasnât meeting your gaze, deliberately avoiding you. He was hiding something, and you wanted to know what it was.
The moment was interrupted as the heavy boots echoed across the room. Guards marched in, their presence commanding silence. The atmosphere shifted instantly as the square-masked guard stepped forward.
âCongratulations to all of you for making it through the second game,â the guard began, his voice monotone yet eerily loud. He pressed a button on a remote, and the massive piggy bank descended from the ceiling once again. Wads of cash began to tumble into the glass container, the sound of bills hitting each other. Eyes across the room were glued to the spectacle, greed and desperation lighting up every face.
âThe results of the second game are as follows: 110 players were eliminated. Therefore the total prize money accumulated is now 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each personâs share is 78,823,530 won.â
Despite the staggering amount, you couldnât shake the pit forming in your stomach. 78.8 million won. It was a fortuneâmore money than you could have ever imaginedâbut instead of relief, all you felt was disgust.
How could you be thinking about the money when 110 people had just died? Faces flashed in your mind, the terrified screams, the sight of bodies collapsing. And yet, here you were, wondering if it was enough to pay off your debts. The thought sickened you, and your throat tightened as bile threatened to rise. When did I become this person? You had stepped into the games for survival, for a better future, but now you couldnât tell where desperation ended and greed began. The numbers on the screen blurred as hot tears welled in your eyes, your breaths coming quicker. Iâm no better than the ones who created this place. Am I even human anymore? You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to silence the spiraling thoughts, but they refused to stop.
You felt your body tremble, your vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt around you. The walls felt closer, the hum of voices blurring into a distant buzz that drummed in your ears. Every blink brought a sting to your eyes, tears welling and threatening to spill over. You tried to focusâon the floor beneath your feet, the faint pattern of the tiles, anythingâbut it all blurred together, a haze of shapes and colors you couldnât ground yourself in. Deep breaths came shallow, catching in your throat, each inhale fighting against the tightness in your chest. Your hands twitched at your sides, desperate for something to hold onto, but all they found was empty air. You whispered to yourself, hollow words of comfort you couldnât even hear over the pounding of your heart. Your pulse throbbed in your ears, drowning out everything else. All you could feel was the weight of guilt pressing down on you, the silent judgment of the roomâeven if it existed only in your mind. You were spiraling, untethered, a storm of shame and helplessness that swallowed everything in its path.
Suddenly, a hand gently rested on your shoulder. The warmth startled you, and you whipped your head around to find its source. It was him. In-ho. Or Young-il, as heâd introduced himself. But he wasnât looking at you; his head was turned toward the commotion among the players, who were now arguing loudly about the rules. His hand, though, remained on your shoulder, steady and deliberate.
Before you could process it, he began to rub your shoulder in slow, soothing circles. His fingers worked gently, almost instinctively, massaging the tension from your stiff muscles. You stared at him, stunned into silence. His expression remained neutral, his attention seemingly elsewhere, but his touch told a different story.
After all these years, he remembered. He remembered how you used to freeze up during moments of intense stress, how just a simple touchâsteady and groundingâcould help you calm down. You hadnât needed to explain it to him back then; it was something heâd noticed, something heâd done instinctively. And now, after everything, he was still the same. His hand stayed on your shoulder, firm yet gentle, just like before.
He remembered how you hated when people stared at you in moments of weakness, so he kept his eyes elsewhere. He knew you felt exposed, ashamed even, as if everyone was silently judging you, so he never let that happen.Â
He remembered how you felt guilty for needing comfort, for drawing attention to yourself, so he never made a big deal of it. No words, no questionsâjust a quiet, unwavering presence that said, Iâm here.
And you were thankful for that, more than you could ever put into words. It gave you hope. Hope that maybe, after all these years, there is still something left between you.Â
With a grateful nod, you looked away as his hand left your shoulder, already missing his warmth. The commotion around you had ended, and people were drifting back into small groups, discussing their next move. You knew you had to focus, to think through the decision, but your mind felt like it was breaking into pieces. Should I vote X? If it wins, youâd leave with 78 million wonânot nearly enough to erase your debt, but at least it would mean you were alive. Or should I vote O? That meant continuing the games. No guarantee of survival, but a chance at something greaterâa chance to fix everything.
You tilted your head to gaze at the piggy bank hanging above, its glowing light taunting you. Before you could fully weigh your options, a conversation behind you caught your attention.
âOh, donât worry. I want to stop here,â In-hoâs voice said casually.
You froze, listening.
âI should go and be with my wife at the hospital,â he added.
Oh.
It was like someone had snuffed out the flicker of hope youâd just found. The energy drained from your body in one cruel wave as the words settled in. A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, and you swallowed it down, shaking your head. Of course, he has a wife. How could you have thought otherwise? You felt like a fool for hoping, for thinking even for a second that those small moments meant something more.
Dae-hoâs voice broke your spiraling thoughts. âIâm telling you, weâll get out this time,â he said with determination, tugging at the patch on his jacket like it was the source of all his problems. âA marine should think strategically and know when to retreat,â he added, giving Jung-bae a playful shake.
Jung-bae, looking utterly rattled, nodded weakly. âR-right⌠thatâs true,â he muttered, though his nervous glances betrayed his doubts.
âWe have to end the games here,â Gi-hun said firmly, stepping into the circle of your group. His eyes met yours briefly, and you nodded. It was a silent agreement, one that seemed to lift his spirits slightly.
In-ho, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with something that could only be described as malice.
Dae-ho clapped his hands, calling everyone back to attention. âAlright, letâs huddle up!â he said with a grin, thrusting his hand into the middle.
One by one, everyone joined in. Your hand landed just below In-hoâs, and you tried not to think about it, about how the warmth of his hands made you feel .
âIn one, two, three⌠Victory at all costs!â
âVictory at all costs!â
âThis time the vote will begin with Player 001. Please cast your vote.â
All eyes turned to him, including yours. In-ho met your groupâs collective gaze with a calm, unreadable expression before walking up to the platform. Without hesitation, he pressed the X button. The distinct chime echoed in the room as the counter for X increased by one.
The next playerâPlayer 006âstepped forward. Without much deliberation, they also pressed X, their vote adding another mark to the tally.
âPlayer 007.â
Your eyes flicked upward at the familiar number. It was one of your teammates from the second game, Yong-sik. You spotted him in the crowd, watching him lean down to exchange hushed words with his mother. Her expression was tight, desperate, begging him to vote X but he simply nodded before walking to the machine. His hesitation was visible as he stood there, torn between his choices. Then, the sound of O being chosen played, the button glowing bright blue as his vote was registered.
Your heart sank as you saw his motherâs face fall, her grief and disbelief plain for everyone to see. You averted your eyes, unable to look at either of them any longer. You understood both sides of the storyâthe desperate hope of a mother to save her child so they can go home and the equally desperate desire of a child to pay his debt fully, leaving his mom with no more worries.
The votes continued, each press of a button punctuating the room like a drumbeat of tension. Finally, your turn came. You felt the weight of the decision like a physical burden pressing on your shoulders. Part of you wanted to vote O, to take the gamble, to fight for a chance to win enough to pay off your crushing debt. But the thought of your groupâthe first people in years who had truly accepted youâstopped you. You had promised yourself that you would protect them, that they would go home safe to their families.
You stepped forward and pressed X. The red glow of the button reflected on your face as the counter ticked up. You removed your blue patch as a guard gave you a red one. You stuck it to your jacket before, giving a small bow to them before retreating to your spot.
As you walked back, you felt In-hoâs gaze following your every step. His eyes burned with intensity, but you didnât look his way. You wouldnât give him the satisfaction, not when you knew the truth now. He had a wifeâa life far removed from you. Whatever feelings you might have clung to in the past didnât matter anymore. You would not degrade yourself into becoming a mistress in someone elseâs story.
The voting continued until suddenly, a commotion broke out. Gi-hun stormed to the center of the room, shouting for people to vote X and urging them to end the games. His words rang out with desperation, but before he could fully plead his case, In-ho cut him off.
In-hoâs voice carried an edge of anger as he stepped forward, his composure cracking. âThereâs no guarantee youâll survive the next game! Do you really want to risk your lives for a few more million won?â
The room fell silent for a moment, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Player 100 stepped forward, shaking his head with disdain. âAnd what if we donât risk it? We leave here with nothing but debt and regret. One more game, and weâre looking at at least 240 million each. Thatâs life-changing money!â
His argument ignited the room, and chaos erupted. Voices clashed, some siding with In-ho, others with Player 100. It spiraled into a shouting match, each side growing louder, more frantic.
You stood still, detached from the chaos. As much as you wanted to support your friends, you couldnât bring yourself to intervene. This wasnât a debate to be won; it was simply another game of chance, with lives hanging in the balance. The outcome wasnât up to persuasion or reason. It was up to luck.
Finally, the vote was tallied. O won against X by a wide margin, 139 to 115.
Your stomach churned, fear creeping in as you processed what it meant. You werenât scared for yourself but for Jun-hee, her kind heart too soft for the brutality of these games. You werenât worried about your own safety but for Dae-ho, whose unwavering faith in others had been betrayed as Jung-baeâsomeone he admired and respectedâvoted O.
When the vote ended, your group regrouped, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. You found yourself behind Jun-hee as she ate her portion of the dayâs dinner. Her small frame trembled, though she tried to hide it, her hands shaking as she clutched the bread's wrapper.
Without a word, you placed your hands on her shoulders, massaging gently to ease her tension. You moved to her lower back, your fingers pressing lightly, offering what little comfort you could in such a bleak moment. She didnât say anything, but the way her breathing slowed told you that it helped, even just a little.
Without a second thought, Dae-ho stood up, his face conflicted as he grabbed Jung-bae by the arm and dragged him over to your group. His eyes darted nervously between you, Jun-hee, Young-il, and Gi-hun before his gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.
âIâm sorry, [Name], Jun-hee, Young-il,â he started, his voice low, his words laced with guilt. âGi-hun, Iâm sorryâŚâ His apology hung in the air, sincere but laced with discomfort.
He went on to explain his decision to vote O, his voice shaky but determined. âYou see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors have been harassing my ex-wife and kid. Theyâre threatening them, and if I play one more game, I think Iâll be able to settle the debt. SoâŚâ His words trailed off, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes.
Before you could speak up in defense of Jung-bae, In-ho cut him off, his frustration still fresh from the earlier commotion. His tone was cold, a sharp edge beneath the calm exterior. âJung-bae,â he started, his voice low but heavy with disappointment. âYou of all people shouldnât have done that. It wasnât twice as righteous.â
You felt a twinge of sympathy for Jung-bae, but In-hoâs words were true. Deep down, you understood why In-ho was so disappointed.
In-hoâs gaze flicked back to Jung-bae as he continued, his words almost regretful. âBut looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted.â
âRight? So itâs not really our fault,â Jung-bae quickly added, eager to find any shred of justification. He seemed relieved, like the pressure had been lifted slightly, but his eyes flickered nervously to the others, waiting for confirmation.
Dae-ho, who had been silently observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. His movements were casual, though his eyes were thoughtful. âHonestly, I get why you did it. 78 million won isnât enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for âOâ too.â
You nodded in agreement, a soft murmur of approval escaping you. You understood the temptation, the overwhelming urge to fight for more when it felt like everything was slipping away. The money was too much to ignore.
Seeing the subtle nods of agreement from the group, Jung-baeâs confidence grew. He straightened his posture, eager to make up for his earlier decision. âNext game, I promise. Iâllââ
âNext game?â Gi-hunâs voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with a quiet intensity. âNext game, we might have to kill each other.â
The room went completely still. Everyone froze, the silence thick and suffocating. Gi-hunâs words hung in the air, their weight sinking into each of you. He was right, and the grim truth of it was enough to stop all conversation. There was no sugarcoating it. The next round could very well be the end, and the thought was unbearable.
The quiet that followed was heavy, the dread and uncertainty sinking into your bones. You couldnât help but feel a cold shiver run down your spine, the magnitude of what was to come settling over you like a thick fog.
Annoyed by the uncomfortable pause, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. âGi-hun, thatâs a bit much. We all know thereâs nothing we can do about it now. Letâs just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.â
The group seemed to agree with your statement, the momentary discomfort fading as they all began to refocus.
In-ho, ever the quiet observer, handed his milk carton to Jun-hee without a word, his gaze flicking to her briefly before he looked away. âI donât drink plain milk,â he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the gesture was nothing more than a small, unnoticed act.
Jung-bae, following suit, offered his bread to Jun-hee as well, his eyes shadowed with guilt. âI donât deserve to eat,â he said with an awkward chuckle, trying to mask the heaviness of his words with forced humor.
You watched the exchange, your heart twisting slightly, but before you could speak, Dae-ho leaned in, his voice light but with an edge of concern. âIâll take the milk carton?â
When Jung-bae shot him a glare, Dae-ho hesitated, then pulled back, not wanting to push it further.
As you ate, you couldnât help but feel the heavy weight of what was ahead. The uncertainty, the dangerâit all felt too much. But in this moment, you focused on your meal, knowing it was the only thing you could control for now.
You found yourself sitting beside Dae-ho, your bread in hand, chewing quietly as you both took a brief moment of respite. Dae-ho seemed lost in thought, his eyes darting toward you, hesitant yet full of unasked questions.
âIf you have any questions, just ask me, Dae-ho,â you said, offering a small smile. âIâm not gonna bite, you know?â
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, caught off guard by your casual invitation. But he took a deep breath, calm now, and turned to face you fully. âDo you have kids at home, [Name]nim?â he asked, his voice low but sincere. âItâs just... whenever I see you with Jun-heesii, it reminds me of my mother taking care of me and my four sisters.â
You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of discomfort as you realized the question would require a vulnerable answer. In-ho, sitting nearby, seemed to listen in, his curiosity piqued. Part of him, though, wished you didnât have any children, that you werenât settled in on with somebody, a selfish thought he quickly pushed away.
âAh, this is embarrassing,â you murmured, a soft laugh escaping you as you fidgeted with your bread. âI actually donât have any kids or a husband... Iâve never even had a boyfriend. Boys donât really look at me like that, if you know what I mean. Life wasnât that nice to me, especially after we moved. I didnât have the time or luck for any of thatâŚâ
Dae-hoâs expression softened with guilt. He immediately regretted asking the question, but when he saw the faint longing in your eyes, he paused. There was something more behind your wordsâsomething unspoken, something that told him you longed for a family, for the chance to live that dream.
In-ho, overhearing, felt a pang in his chest. What had happened to you? He knew things had ended badly between the two of you, but he never expected life to treat you so harshly. You were kind, generous, and had always believed in the goodness of people. He couldnât understand why life had been so difficult for you. You didnât deserve that.
Before the silence could grow any heavier, Jung-bae mischievously broke it with a suggestion. âWell, if you like, I can set you up with someone back in Ssangmun-dong. Right, Gi-hun?â
Gi-hun, who had been quiet up until then, blinked in surprise, his confusion evident. âHuh? Who?â
âYou know! Sang-woo! The Pride of Ssangmun-dong!â Jung-bae grinned, clearly amused by his own suggestion. âI think he and [Name] would make a great couple, donât you think?â
At the mention of Sang-woo, Gi-hunâs face shifted. His expression faltered, a wave of guilt and sadness clouding his features. A pained smile tugged at his lips as he nodded absently. âYeah... I think so too,â he murmured, his mind clearly elsewhere as he drifted off into his own thoughts.
The sudden change in Gi-hunâs demeanor caught your attention. His usual angry and tense self had been replaced with something quieter, a deep sadness that seemed to pull at him. You looked to Jung-bae for an explanation, your brows furrowed in concern.
In a soft voice, Jung-bae filled in the blanks. âGi-hun and Sang-woo were childhood friends, but... heâs been missing for years.â
You nodded, understanding the pain behind Gi-hunâs words. You could relate to that feelingâthe ache of a long-lost connection. You couldnât help but feel a pang in your own heart as well. Even though the lost connection was right in front of you, and he still felt so far away.
Gi-hunâs sadness wasnât a good look on him. He was always either grumpy or happy, never in between. You wanted to change that. You thought back to when you missed In-ho so much, youâd drown your sorrows in alcohol and chatter to Young-sun about him. Maybe, just maybe, getting Gi-hun to talk about Sang-woo could help him, even if it was just for a little while.
âHey, Gi-hun,â you called softly, breaking the silence. âTell me more about this Sang-woo guy. Who knows, maybe weâd click together, you know?â
Gi-hunâs eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your question. But something in his gaze softened as he began to talk. He recounted bits and pieces of his childhood with Sang-woo, his voice lighting up with nostalgia. His eyes shined as he described his friendâs strengths, quirks, and all the little memories they shared.
From the way Gi-hun spoke, you could see how much Sang-woo meant to him. The same way you felt about In-ho, the weight of love and loss behind every word. You silently prayed for their reunion. Gi-hun deserved happiness, and you wished for him to find itâwhether through Sang-woo or another way.
In-hoâs jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. If they were going to give you a partner, they should give you someone who can protect youâsomeone who knows you, your likes and dislikes, your type... His thoughts were possessiveâ jealous. His hands clenched into fists, though he forced himself to stay composed. He wasnât sure why the thought of you with someone else hurt so much, but it did. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.
As the conversation shifted and laughter filled the space, In-ho stayed silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions heavy in the air. The conversation ended when they all went to the bathroom, leaving you and Jun-hee alone. She wasted no time asking a question that had been bothering her ever since she noticed something strange.
â[Name]nim, do you know Young-ilnim? Like, before the games?â
You were taken aback, your surprise evident in the way your eyes widened. What prompted her to ask such a thing?
âNo, not that I remember,â you replied, a small ache tugging at your chest. It was hard to say those words. âWhy do you ask?â
Jun-hee hesitated, her gaze flickering down to her hands. âItâs just that⌠I always see Young-ilnim looking at you, or staring at you. Especially when you helped me during the second game. His stare... it was like there was something there.â She trailed off, her voice quiet, unsure if she had crossed a line. âI thought you two might know each other. Sorry if I overstepped.â
âNo, no... donât apologize, Jun-hee. You didnât do anything wrong,â you reassured her with a small smile. âMaybe I just remind him of someone?â
The conversation shifted, and though the topic ended there, you couldnât help but linger on what Jun-hee said. In-ho, looking at you? Your mind spun with questions that you couldn't quite answer. But before you could dive deeper into your thoughts, the group returned from the bathroom, and the moment was gone.
Gi-hun gathered everyone, asking them to bring their mattresses and bedding to your designated spot. You all exchanged confused looks but did as instructed, gathering pillows and blankets. It was clear there was something important going on, and it wasnât lost on anyone.
As you and Jun-hee handed out the bedding, the tension in the air grew. Jung-bae spoke up. âHey, is this really necessary? I donât like sleeping under here.â
Gi-hun continued setting down blankets without looking up. âOnce the lights go out, someone might attack us.â
His words grabbed everyone's attention, and you paused, glancing around. Dae-ho, curiosity now evident in his eyes, asked, âWhy would anyone do that?â
âThe prize money goes up every time someone dies. Itâs part of the game they designed,â Gi-hun explained, his voice tense with the weight of the situation.
You frowned, the idea feeling far-fetched at first. But as you thought about the desperation youâd seen in peopleâand the way some of the others eyed the prize board with hungerâit started to make a disturbing kind of sense. Gi-hunâs words seemed to settle over the group like a cold shiver, but In-ho wasnât convinced. âGi-hun, I think you're overreacting,â he said, shaking his head. âEven if that were true, people wouldnât do that.â
Gi-hun turned to him sharply, fury in his eyes. âIn the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here, you have no idea how people can change in a place like thisâŚâ
In-ho trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable. âI see⌠I guess I didnât know what I was talking about. Iâm sorry.â
The tension between the two men was palpable, but Gi-hun, though still angry, nodded with some understanding. âWe need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.â
âIâll take the first watch. You should decide the order for the rest,â Gi-hun added, continuing to spread the last of the blankets.
It wasnât long after that you found yourself lying on the bottom bed, the silence in the room heavy. You couldnât tell what time it was, but sleep seemed distant. With your eyes closed, you tried to rest, but your mind kept wandering. You couldnât shake the thoughts of Jun-heeâs question, of In-hoâs gaze, and of all the tension in the air.
After what felt like an eternity, you couldnât stay still any longer. You quietly rolled out of the bed, careful not to disturb Jun-hee beside you. As you stood, you rubbed your eyes, still groggy but wide awake. You walked over to the one who was supposed to be keeping watch.
âHey... get some sleep. Iâve got it from here,â you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the darkness.
When no response came, you paused, your heart beating a little faster. Had you imagined it? You slapped your cheek lightly, half-expecting to wake up from a dream, but the sting was real. This was no dream. You were still in the game. But who was supposed to be guarding?
As you glanced toward the guard, your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dim light, stood In-ho, staring at you with wide, almost startled eyes.
âIn-ho...â you whispered, the name escaping before you could stop it.
He blinked, his expression unreadable. â[Name]... sit down, will you?â His voice was quiet, laced with an undercurrent of tension. You did as he asked, your body moving on its own, though the atmosphere between the two of you felt thick with unspoken words.
You sat there, your knees pressed together. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. There were so many things unsaid between you, so many apologies left unspoken, so many reasons left unexplained. Neither of you seemed to know where to start, but the distance between you had never felt more real. You had shared a bond once, and now it was hard to find the words to bridge the gap that had formed.
In-ho shifted slightly, as if searching for something to say, but still, nothing came. Neither of you moved for what felt like hours, both of you stuck in a place neither knew how to navigate.
The silence between you and In-ho lingered, thick and suffocating, each of you carrying the weight of the years since youâd last spoken. Finally, In-ho shifted, breaking the stillness, his voice low and tight.
"[Name], IâI'm sorry," he started, his words hesitant, as though testing the waters.
"I shouldn't have acted like that, not when you were leaving. On our last day together, Iâ" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours, searching for the right words in the dim light. "I was so angry, I couldnât think straight. I didnât mean to push you away. I never should have let my emotions control me like that, especially when I knew you were going away."
Your chest tightened at his words. The apology youâd waited for, yet feared to hear, was finally being spoken, but the bitterness still clung to you. You swallowed hard, forcing the anger down, trying not to let it rise again. It felt like you were walking a fine line, torn between the hurt and the understanding you wished you could give him.
"You know," you said softly, voice wavering, "I was angry, too. You pushed me away, In-ho. I never got to explain myself, to tell you why I had to leave. It hurt so much that you didnât even give me a chance." You paused, trying to steady yourself. "I donât know what you thought, but I wasnât running away from you. I... I never wanted to hurt you."
In-hoâs eyes flickered, regret and guilt tugging at his expression. His hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed at his side, as if searching for the right words but struggling to find them.
"I thought you were just... leaving, leaving me, leaving us." he said quietly, his voice strained with emotion. "I didnât know how to handle it. I didnât know if I could let you go. But you were going, and it felt like I was losing you, like youâd be gone for good. I was angry that you didnât even try to stay. I thought you had already made your choice." He swallowed hard, his gaze still on the floor. "I thought you didnât care about me the way I cared about you."
Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was it. The truth youâd wanted to hear, but it didnât make it any easier to bear. The anger youâd carried for so long still clung to you, but in this moment, it was tinged with understanding.
"I didnât know you felt that way," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I thought you hated me for leaving. I thought Iâd ruined everything, and youâd never forgive me for it." You took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in your chest. A tremor crept into your voice as you fought to hold back the emotions welling up inside you.Â
"I understood why you did it," you said, voice cracking slightly. "I understood it at the time. You were scared, just like I was. But it didnât make it hurt any less." Your voice dropped. "I didnât know how to feel. You were the one person I thought I could rely on, and then you turned away without a word. And I had no choice but to carry that weight with me."
Your eyes locked onto his, your heart aching at the sight of the guilt in his expression. âI spent so much time angry at you, blaming you for leaving me like that. But now... now I know we were both just lost. I didnât know how to handle it, and neither did you.â
In-hoâs face softened, his expression full of regret. "I wish I had known how to handle it better. I wish I had been braver... for you, for us. I shouldâve told you how I felt, instead of shutting myself off."
The words hung in the air for a long moment, both of you silently processing what had been said. Then, as if a dam had broken, you continued, feeling a rush of emotions that you hadnât been able to express before.
"All those years... I kept wondering if I couldâve done something different. If I could have convinced my parents to stay. But I was too proud, too scared. And when we left, it felt like the world just... stopped. I couldn't move forward, not without you. I didnât know how to move on. And I donât know if I ever truly did." Your voice cracked, the weight of it all coming crashing down in that moment.
In-hoâs breath hitched as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. âI was scared, too. I didnât know how to handle the idea of losing you. But I realize now... that by pushing you away, I was only making it worse. Iâm sorry, [Name]. Iâm so sorry for everything.â
You both sat there in the quiet, the weight of the past hanging heavily in the air between you. In-hoâs voice broke through the silence again, softer this time. âI shouldâve been better for you. I shouldâve told you how I felt, not let my fear take over.â
Your heart ached hearing the sincerity in his words. He was so close now, but there was still a lingering distance between you. His hand hovered near yours, unsure if youâd let him in. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. The touch was like a lifeline, pulling you both back from the uncertainty.
In-hoâs eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand finally resting on top of yours. He shifted slightly, moving a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze now, something you hadnât seen in him before. âI donât want to lose you again,â he said, his voice low and steady.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to swallow hard to keep them from spilling over. For so long, youâd carried this burden of unspoken words, of lost time. But now, sitting here beside him, it felt like the weight was lifting, bit by bit.
In-ho seemed to sense your struggle, his hand gently squeezing yours. âIâm sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted you to feel abandoned or alone.â
The words were all you needed. With a shaky breath, you leaned toward him, resting your head on his shoulder. The closeness between you felt like a reunion, a connection rediscovered after years apart. In-hoâs arm slipped around you, pulling you just a little closer, as though he never wanted to let go again.
He ran his hand through your hair, slowly, gently, as if trying to calm the storm inside you. The motion was soothing, and for the first time in so long, you felt at peace. The anger and the hurt slowly started to fade, replaced by something newâsomething warm.
âIâve missed you,â you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder.
In-ho paused, his breath hitching as he processed your words. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his face inches from yours. âIâve missed you, too,â he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
You both sat there in the quiet, letting the words hang in the air, surrounded by the unspoken promise of a new beginning. The past wasnât something that could be erased, but it didnât have to define you anymore. What mattered now was that you were here, together, in this moment.
In-ho held you close as you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything youâd kept inside for so long. You felt his chest rise and fall against you, steady and warm, as his presence grounded you. After a long moment of silence, he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with concern and curiosity.
âWhat happened to you, [Name]?â he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. âWhat happened all of this? Iâve been wondering for years.â
You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as the memories threatened to spill out. But, in his embrace, it felt safer to finally speak the truth. Slowly, you opened your mouth, your voice a whisper against his chest.
âI didnât want to leave, In-ho,â you murmured. âBut I had no choice.â Your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of your past pressing down on you. âMy parents... My father left for someone else, and my mother... she just disappeared. One day she was there, and the next, she was gone. I was... alone.â
You felt In-hoâs grip tighten around you as you spoke, but he said nothing. He just listened, offering his silent support.
âI tried to hold it together,â you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. âBut the bills kept piling up, and I couldnât see a way out. I was working non-stop, just trying to keep up, but it never seemed to end. So, I thought, maybe a small loan would help... just to get by for a little while. But it only made things worse. I kept borrowing, and the interest kept stacking up. Eventually, I couldnât keep up at all. To cope with everything, I started drinking. I just needed something to numb the pain.â
You paused, trying to steady your breathing. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and now there was no stopping it.
âAfter a while, it became a habit,â you said, your voice shaking. âI couldnât face the world without it. And... I lost everything. My job, my sense of myself. I kept pushing people away because I didnât know how to fix anything. I didnât even know how to fix myself.â
In-hoâs hand gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer against his shoulder as if to shield you from the weight of your own words. He didnât say anything at first, letting the silence settle between you. Then, his voice broke through the stillness.
âIâm sorry, [Name], I wish I was there with you during those times,â In-ho murmured, his voice filled with regret, each word heavy, like it carried all the years of silence and distance between you.
You let out a quiet sigh, the ache in your chest growing as you tried to push back against the weight of the past. The pain, the lossâit was all there, hovering just beneath the surface, but you chose to focus on what was right in front of you now. You chose the present. âItâs okay, In-ho,â you said softly, trying to steady your voice, but your heart was louder than it had been in years. âWhat matters now is youâre here with me, just like before.â
He was still so close to you, your bodies pressed together in the embrace, his breath uneven against your shoulder. His hand traced the back of your neck, his touch gentle, as though trying to reassure you, to hold you together. But there was more to itâsomething unspoken, a pull between you that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence, felt so right, and yet, it stirred something deeper, something dangerous.
His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters. He lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel that silent question in the air, one you had both ignored for so long. Could you finally give in? Could you finally let go of the years that had kept you apart?
You wanted to lean in. You wanted to close that distance, to feel his lips against yours and forget everything else. All the pain, the years apart, the weight of the worldâit could disappear, just for a moment. But your mind raced with doubts. What if this wasnât real? What if it was just a fleeting feeling? What if you were getting swept up in the moment, in the desperation of it all?
And then, In-hoâs lips brushed against your forehead, his kiss tender and almost like a promise. You didnât hesitate this time. The distance between you seemed to disappear, and without thinking, you leaned in. Your lips parted, and your breath mingled with his as you slowly closed the gap, inch by inch. Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was all so familiar, yet so new. You could feel everythingâthe pain, the longing, the need. You wanted to erase the distance, to bridge the gap that had haunted you both for so long.
But just as you were about to close the distance completely, just as you were about to feel his lips against yours, something flashed through your mind. The memory of him speaking of his wife, of the woman who was supposedly ill in the hospital, came crashing back. Your chest tightened. He was already married. You pulled back suddenly, your breath caught in your throat.
âWhat about your wife, In-ho?â Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. The words had been building inside you, but you couldnât stop them. The questions came rushing to the surface. The connection, the closenessâit felt so real, but how could it be? How could you trust this moment when he had a sick wife waiting for his return?
In-ho froze, his eyes widening for a brief moment. Then, as though realizing the weight of what heâd said, his expression softened. He reached for you immediately, his hands cupping your face gently, almost desperately, like he couldnât bear the space between you now.
âNo,â he said, his voice low and strained. âYou donât understand. I lied to them. The wife... the illness... even my name. I did it for safety.â He explained as fast as he could.
âI swear to you, [Name], I wanted you. I always have. Iâve always wanted you. Iâve been waiting... waiting for you. All these years.â
The words hit you like a wave, sweeping over everything you had believed. The confession shattered your doubt. The years apart, the silence, the feelings that had never gone away. You had thought he was moving on, that he had a life without you, but now he was telling you that it had always been you. That he had always wanted you.
You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, and for the first time in years, you saw itâhis vulnerability, his sincerity. He had waited for you. He wasnât lying now.Â
Tears welled up in your eyes, and in that moment, you whispered, almost to yourself, âI never stopped thinking about you, either.â
That was it. Your hands, almost on their own, moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The hesitation, the doubt, all of it was gone. You leaned in again, this time with no fear, no second-guessing. You could feel his lips, just inches from yours, and this time, it was going to happen. There was no turning back.
But just as you closed your eyes, just as you felt the warmth of his lips moving toward yours, the room suddenly lit up. The loudspeaker crackled to life, its cold, mechanical voice slicing through the moment like a knife.
âThird game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.â
The announcement shattered the moment like glass and reality rushed in. You pulled away quickly, both of you flustered, eyes wide as reality snapped back into place. In-ho let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. His gaze, still soft from the moment, quickly shifted into irritation.
You, too, felt your cheeks burn with the sudden shift. You couldnât help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all washing over you. âOf course,â you muttered, voice a little shaky. âCouldnât be that easy, huh?â
In-ho shot you a look, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. âI swear, they have the worst timing.â He shook his head, clearly irritated by how things had unfolded, but there was a trace of humor in his voice that made the tension feel lighter.
You both sat there for a moment, the awkwardness of the interruption still hanging in the air but somehow feeling less heavy. It was like youâd both just come back from the edge of something importantâand the abrupt break made you laugh despite the weight of everything. In-ho let out a short chuckle too, the irritation in his eyes still there but fading, replaced by a sense of shared frustration with the situation.
You glanced at him, eyes still lingering as you both realized how close you'd come to crossing that line. But there was no point in lingering on it nowânot with the game calling you back to reality.
âGuess the universe isnât ready for us yet,â you said, shaking your head.
In-ho gave a soft, exasperated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. âYeah, well, it never really was on our side before,â he muttered, then stood, adjusting his clothes and brushing off the frustration like it was nothing.
You nodded, taking a deep breath before turning your back, to tend to the pregnant girl you had been caring for. It wasnât perfect, but it didnât feel quite as impossible as it had before. In-ho followed suit, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary. For a moment, the room felt like it belonged to just the two of you again. But the third game was calling, and you both knew you had to face it. Together, this time.
The third game was Mingle. A game where you had to form pairs based on a number assigned and get into a room within 30 seconds. As the platform spun beneath your feet, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. It reminded you of times spent playing this game with friends back in Gyeonggi-do. You remembered one time in particular, when he had gotten into a fight with a common friend, because of the said game. You laughed softly at the memory, causing In-ho to glance over at you, curiosity in his eyes.
âWhatâs so funny?â he asked, his voice low but still full of interest.
âNothing,â you said with a soft chuckle. âI just remembered how Byung-hun was angry when you pulled him off of me, so you and I could be partners instead. Didnât peg you to be a jealous kid.â
In-ho immediately bristled, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. âHey, I wasnât jealous. He was hurting you by gripping you so hard.â
âIt didnât even hurt!â you teased, but the corner of your lips twitched upward, unable to keep a smile off your face. âYouâre just jealous.â
âWhatever you sayâŚâ In-ho muttered, stepping onto the platform. You followed him, shaking your head but smiling at the same time.
After four rounds, you all began preparing for the final one. The rounds were nerve-wracking, the tension palpable, but you had made it this far with the help of your amazing group. The platform began to spin, the music creating a frantic rhythm as it played in the background. You found yourself standing beside Jun-hee, instinctively holding her steady to keep her from stumbling as the platform jerked beneath your feet.
âWhat do you think the next number will be?â Jung-bae asked, his voice alert as he looked around.
Without hesitation, In-ho spoke up. âTwo.â
Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing at In-ho, silently asking him to explain.
âThere are 50 rooms, and 126 people still alive. Everyone will need a partner, but there wonât be enough rooms. This is how they conduct these games.â In-hoâs eyes were sharp, and you couldnât help but feel a bit of awe at how quickly he had figured it out.
And as it turned out, he was right.
2.
Everyone paused, looking around at each other, wondering who would pair up with whom. Before you could grab Jun-hee to pair up, In-ho suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you along with him. The rest of your groupâDae-ho with Jun-hee, Gi-hun with Jung-baeâquickly followed, all of you rushing to find a room.
You spotted an open door and, without thinking, you shouted. âOver there!â You both sprinted toward it, but before you could step inside, a man suddenly tackled you to the ground. Your head slammed hard against the floor, and for a moment, everything spun.
In-hoâs face twisted with fury as he watched the man try to crawl into the room you had been aiming for, disregarding you entirely. Without thinking, he reached for the man, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him away from you.
âGet in the room!â In-ho shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. You were dizzy and nauseous, the world spinning around you, but you didnât hesitate. You stumbled to your feet, still feeling the lingering effects of the impact, and forced yourself into the room, fighting through the haze in your head.
But as soon as you entered, something coiled around your neck, a vice-like grip tightening with brutal force. You gasped, your throat constricting as you tried to draw in a breath, but the air seemed to vanish. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping into the periphery of your sight. Panic surged like a tidal wave, and you clawed at the hands choking you, but they were relentless. Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one feeling more like a plea for life than a simple breath.
The world around you was fading, your chest tightening, your limbs growing heavier. You struggled harder, your body thrashing, trying to free yourself, but the darkness was swallowing you whole.
And thenâjust when you thought you would lose consciousnessâthere was a shift. The grip loosened. The constriction around your throat vanished in an instant, and you gasped, desperately drawing in the breath you had been fighting for. The air tasted sharp, bitter, as if the world itself was trying to punish you for the terror you had just experienced.
And there he wasâIn-ho.
He stood over you, his face a mask of fury, eyes wild and unrecognizable with the force of his anger. His knuckles were white, gripping his fist tightly, as though the act of hitting the man who had attacked you had only just begun to settle in. His face was twisted in a way youâd never seen before. Something inside him was unravelingâbreaking.
Without a momentâs hesitation, he turned on the man who had attacked you, and the sound of his fist meeting the manâs face was deafening. A sickening crack echoed through the room, sharp and cruel, as In-hoâs punch sent the man crashing to the floor. But In-ho wasnât done. The fury inside him was a beast, a monster he couldnât control. He grabbed the man by the neck, his fingers tightening with savage force, twisting, until there was an awful snap.
The sound of a life being crushed, broken beyond repair, sent a shockwave through your body. Your stomach turned violently, and your chest tightened, as though you could feel the manâs life draining out of him, just like your own hope of ever seeing In-ho as you once had. It wasnât just the man who had died. In-ho had killed, and something inside him had died, too.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldnât move. You stared at him, frozen by what he had just done, your heart racing as the gravity of the moment began to settle in. His chest heaved, each breath coming out ragged and uneven. But it wasnât the manâs blood on his hands that terrified you the most. It was the look in his eyes. Dark. Soulless. As though he was searching for somethingâanythingâto bring him back to the man he once was. But it was gone. That warmth. That kindness. All of it.
"In-ho..." you whispered, your voice cracking as you reached for him, but he wouldnât look at you.
His gaze was distant, bloodshot, as though he couldnât even recognize the person standing in front of him. For a brief moment, you feared you were losing himâlosing the man you thought you knew.
And you couldnât let that happen.
âIn-ho,â you whispered again, more urgently this time, your voice thick with unshed tears. âThank you. For saving my life. Again.â
His jaw clenched, the guilt settling into every line of his face. âIâm sorry, [Name],â he said, his voice breaking, and you could hear the remorse in every word, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. âIâm so sorry.â
You shook your head, your heart hammering as you let out a shaky breath. âWhat are you sorry for?â Your voice was stronger now, fueled by a strange mixture of anger and desperation. âThat bastard almost killed me, and Iâm glad heâs gone. Iâm glad heâs dead. Whatâs there to apologize for, In-ho? You saved me. You did what had to be done.â
But In-hoâs gaze softened for only a moment before it hardened again, his hands curling into fists. He was still haunted by what he had done. You could see it in the tight set of his shoulders, in the way he stood, as though he was trying to hold himself together. But the cracks were showing, and you couldnât let him fall apart in front of you. Not when you needed him most.
Before you could say anything else, the adrenaline that had kept you both on edge began to fade, and the weight of everythingâthe violence, the pain, the fearâsettled into the pit of your stomach. You threw your arms around him, not caring about anything else. Not the blood, not the death, not the mess that surrounded you.
You held him tight, pressing your face into his chest as sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw. âI thought I was going to dieâŚâ you whispered between breaths, your voice trembling with the weight of the fear you had felt. âI didnât know... I didnât know what was going to happen...â
In-ho didnât say anything at first. He just held you, his arms coming around you in a protective, desperate way, like he was trying to shield you from the madness, from the horrors that were closing in on you both. His chest was shaking with the same unspoken terror, his breath ragged in your hair as he held you closer, as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.
You closed your eyes, pressing harder into him, the weight of his words sinking into your heart. But no matter how tightly he held you, there was a part of you that was already broken, already afraid that the man you had just seenâthe man who had crossed a line he never shouldâve had toâwas never going to come back.
âI thought I was going to lose you,â he whispered, barely audible. âI couldnât let that happen.â
You both stood there in silence for a long moment, caught in the aftermath of what had just unfolded, the weight of the violence and the fear finally catching up to you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you knewâno matter what happened next, you werenât alone.
After the third game, the group gathered in the makeshift fort Gi-hun had set up, each player lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere was heavy as they processed the brutal reality of the games. Gi-hun asked Jung-bae to report the number of players who had voted to continue. The tally revealed 56 players had voted O, while the X team remained outnumbered by twelve votes.
In-ho suggested that if six players switched their votes, it would result in a tie, and seven switches would tip the scales in their favor. The tension was palpable as everyone prepared for the vote. When the results were announced, it was a tie. Relief spread through the group, prompting cheers, but their celebration was short-lived.
The guards announced that a tie meant another vote would take place the following day. Dinner was served, and while the group shared light moments to ease their nerves, the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the stakes.
That night, chaos erupted when a fight broke out in the bathroom between the two sides. The O team accused the X team of initiating the attack, while the X team retaliated with their own accusations. The conflict escalated quickly, spreading through the room like wildfire. By the time order was restored, Team X had gained an advantage, now numbering 48 players compared to Team O's 47.
âTwo people died on our side,â Player 047 said grimly, sitting down. âWe lost three overall, but weâre still ahead by one vote.â
Jung-bae tried to remain optimistic, his voice steady. âAs long as we donât change our minds, weâll win tomorrow.â
Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence.
âAttention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.â
Player 047 turned to the group, his voice firm. âListen, no one can change their mind, okay? Weâll win tomorrow. Stay strong, and weâll make it through.â
The group murmured their agreement, but Gi-hunâs expression remained tense.
Dae-ho leaned in, glancing toward the opposing team. âThose guys are acting really suspicious. Theyâre planning somethingâI can feel it.â
Jung-bae waved him off. âWhatever. Once we win tomorrowâs vote, itâll all be over.â
âNo. Once the lights go out, theyâll attack us.â Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension.
The room went silent. Player 007âs eyes widened. âAre you serious?â
âYeah, They know weâre at an advantage,â He said, voice steady despite the situation. âTheyâll try to kill some of us tonight to even the odds and raise the prize money.â
âThen we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise,â In-ho suggested, his tone firm. His words were met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded and added, âWe have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, weâll be at a huge disadvantage.â
But Gi-hun raised a hand, his expression grim. âNo. We canât start a fight like that.â
The group turned to him, confused by his sudden objection. Gi-hunâs voice cut through the growing tension, calm yet weighted. âWe need to stay calm. If we kill each other, thatâs exactly what they want.â
âWho are they? Who are you talking about?â
âThe makers of the game,â Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. His words hung heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs around the room. âTheyâre the ones who want us to kill each other. Theyâre watching us right now.â
A chill ran down your spine as you processed his words. The room fell silent, each player lost in thought. Dae-ho broke the quiet, his voice tight. âWhere are they?âÂ
Gi-hun slowly looked up, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. âUp there,â he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. You all follow. His eyes seemed to pierce the walls as though he could see straight into them. âThe control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, weâll have leverage.â
In-ho scoffed slightly, though there was no mockery in his tone. âHow are you going to fight them? Theyâve got guns.â
âWeâll take their guns.â
âFrom the masked men?â Player 246 asked, his disbelief evident.
Gi-hun nodded resolutely. âYes. Weâll catch them off guard. They wonât expect it.â
âThatâs too dangerous,â In-ho said, shaking his head. âEven if we manage to steal their guns, weâll be outnumbered.â
Gi-hunâs gaze hardened. âWhatâs your plan, then? Sit around and wait to die? Watch as they pick us off, one by one? Is that your idea of survival?â His voice rose slightly, the desperation in his tone cutting through the tension.
The silence that followed was suffocating, each player wrestling with the grim reality of their situation. You could see some heads nodding in reluctant agreement, while others remained still, their fear paralyzing them.
Player 120 spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling. âDo we even stand a chance?â
âWe do,â Gi-hun said, his voice unwavering. âIf we strike first, we catch them off guard. Theyâll never see it coming. The people running this game think weâre powerless, but we have the upper hand now. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.â
âHow do you plan to take their guns?â In-ho asked again, his skepticism still evident.
Gi-hun didnât hesitate. His determination was clear, as if he had already played the scenario out in his head. âOnce the lights go out, weâll have our chance.â
Lights out in ten.
The countdown began, the numbers pounding in your skull like the beat of a war drum. You lay stiffly on your bed, your muscles tense and ready to spring. Your heart raced as Gi-hunâs instructions echoed in your mindâOnce the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.
You clutched the edge of the bed, your nails digging into the rough wood. The seconds dragged, each one stretching impossibly long, amplifying the terror building in your chest.
One.
The lights flickered violently before plunging the room into suffocating darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. You could hear every breath you took, each one louder than the last, as if your own body was betraying you.
For a brief, terrible moment, the room was still.
The silence was suffocating, a heavy void pressing down on you as though the darkness itself were alive. You held your breath, every muscle locked in place, straining to catch the faintest sound.
Then the chaos began.
Screams erupted, raw and animalistic, tearing through the suffocating silence like claws raking through flesh. Heavy footsteps thundered across the room as bodies scrambled and collided in the dark. The sound of someone slamming into a metal bed reverberated like a gunshot, followed by the sickening, wet crunch of bone meeting steel.
The sharp clang of makeshift weapons rang out, chaotic and dissonant, punctuated by the grotesque, unmistakable sound of flesh being pierced. It was chaos, raw and brutal, an orchestra of horror conducted by desperation.
You didnât thinkâthere wasnât time to think. Instinct took over as you dove to the floor, crawling under the bed as Gi-hun had warned. Your breath came in short, panicked bursts, and you pressed yourself flat against the cold floor, willing the shadows to swallow you whole.
The room was a nightmare brought to life. The desperate shrieks of the dying mingled with the guttural grunts of attackers. Somewhere close, you heard a chilling, high-pitched laughâa sound that sent icy needles of fear racing up your spine. The stench of sweat, blood, and raw terror filled your nose, a nauseating cocktail that made your stomach churn.
A body hit the ground nearby with a sickening thud, so close you could feel the vibrations reverberate through the floor. You froze, every nerve in your body screaming as you listened to their gasping breaths turn into choking, gurgling sounds.
You wanted to turn away, to block out the awful noise, but there was nowhere to go. Even pressing your hands over your ears couldnât drown out the terrible symphony of suffering.
The screams were getting closer. You clenched your jaw, biting back a whimper as you pressed yourself tighter against the floor, your trembling fingers digging into the cold metal beneath the bed.
Your heart stopped when you felt itâa hand clamping down on your shoulder, strong and unyielding.
Your blood turned to ice, the chill spreading through your veins. Panic seized you, and you thrashed instinctively, your mind consumed by the singular thought that someone had found you. You opened your mouth to scream, but a second hand covered it before a sound could escape.
For a moment, terror blinded you, until a familiar face appeared as the lights flickered.
It was In-ho.
His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room with laser focus. âQuiet,â he whispered, his voice low and urgent, barely audible over the chaos.
Relief swept over you, so sudden and overwhelming that it left you momentarily breathless. But it didnât last.Â
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, followed by the sickening sound of someone being dragged across the floor. You flinched violently, but In-hoâs hand tightened on your shoulder, grounding you. His grip was firm, steadying you even as your body shook uncontrollably.
The two of you stayed motionless, his presence the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the violence raged around you. Every scream, every thud, every awful, wet crunch seemed amplified in the darkness, etching itself into your mind. You wanted to shut your eyes, to block it all out, but the terror kept them wide open, unblinking.
Gradually, the chaos began to subside. The screams turned into weak sobs, the sounds of struggle fading into an eerie, oppressive silence. Then came the mechanical hiss of the doors opening, cold and detached, signaling that the nightmare was over.
But you knew better. It was far from over.
In-hoâs hand finally relaxed on your shoulder, and you turned to him. His face was unreadable in the dim light, but there was something in his eyesâsomething fleeting, unspoken. Before you could say a word, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
âStay safe,â he murmured, his voice low and steady. Then, without waiting for a response, he crawled out from under the bed, disappearing into the shadows.
You stared after him, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. The display of affection, so sudden and unexpected, left you reeling. By the time you snapped out of your stupor, he was already gone.
The sound of gunfire shattered your thoughts, sharp and jarring, each shot echoing like a death knell in the enclosed space. You curled into yourself, covering your ears as tears pricked at your eyes.
Please let them be safe, you prayed silently, over and over again, the words a desperate mantra. Please let them succeed.
After a while, Gi-hunâs voice finally rang outâcalm but commandingâit felt like the first breath after being submerged underwater. âHold fire!â
The gunfire stopped.
Slowly, you crawled out from under the bed, your limbs trembling so violently it was a struggle to move. The room was a battlefield, littered with bodies and soaked in blood. Your eyes darted frantically, searching for one face, one person who mattered more than anything in that moment.
Your heart leapt when you spotted Jun-hee crouched nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.
âJun-hee,â you whispered hoarsely, stumbling toward her. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to you like a lifeline, her body trembling against yours.
The two of you stayed huddled together, finding solace in each otherâs presence, until Gi-hunâs voice called out again.
âItâs safe to come out now.â
When everyone was told to gather in the middle of the room, you lingered, pretending to adjust your shoes. Jun-hee gave you a worried glance, but you waved her off with a reassuring smile. âIâll be right there. Just... something I need to do.â
She hesitated before nodding, her small frame disappearing into the growing crowd.
Your heart raced as you scanned the room, the chaos of bloodied survivors and flickering lights making it harder to find him. But then you saw himâa familiar silhouette, half-hidden in the shadows of a secluded corner.
In-ho.
He was focused, his movements precise as he disarmed a fallen attacker, slipping the weapon into his grasp. His stoic expression didnât falter as he worked. Even now, in the aftermath of chaos, he was calculating, steadfast, and unshaken.
Your breath hitched. You knew this wasnât necessary. You knew you should be with the others in the middle of the room like youâd been instructed. But the ache in your chest, the fear gnawing at your sanity, pushed you forward. You couldnât leave without speaking to himâwithout feeling the warmth of his presence one last time.
When you spotted him in a secluded corner, hunched over a stash of weapons he was collecting from fallen players, your resolve solidified. Silently, you crossed the chaotic room, weaving past overturned beds and scattered bodies. Your heart thundered in your chest, not from fear, but from the weight of what you needed to say.
Without a second thought, you ran towards him, your steps quick and silent. When you reached him, you didnât wait for him to notice you. You immediately threw yourself into his arms, catching him off guard.
â[Name]!â he gasped, his voice sharp with surprise as he caught you. He always caught you. His hands steadied you automatically, even as confusion flashed across his face. âWhat are you doing? Youâre supposed to be with the others. Itâs notââ
Before he could finish, you cupped his face and kissed him deeply. The movement was so sudden, so full of everything youâd kept locked away, that it caught him off guard. He froze, his lips still against yours, the cold metal of the gun slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a dull thud.
For a moment, he didnât respond, and you thought your heart might shatter. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he kissed you back. His hands moved to your waist, holding you as though you might slip away if he let go. The kiss deepened, his lips trembling against yours, and you could feel the war inside himâthe pull of his duty against the part of him that wanted to stay here forever.
His lips moved against yours, his hands gripping your waist as though anchoring himself to you. The kiss was messy, desperate, and full of everything you couldnât say out loud.
When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling with his, your voice broke. âIn-hoâŚâ You could barely get his name out.
â[Name],â he murmured, his voice low and trembling. âYou shouldnât be here, you know that.â
âI donât care.â You gripped the front of his jacket, your tears spilling freely now. âI donât care about any of that. I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay.â
âIâm fine,â he said, but his voice cracked, betraying the lie. His hands shook where they rested on your waist. âBut youâyou need to go back. You need to stay safe. I canâtâŚâ He trailed off, his eyes darting away, as if meeting your gaze might break him completely.
âIn-ho,â you choked out, clutching his jacket tightly. âWonât you stay, In-ho? For me?â your voice crackled with desperation.
His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. For a second, you thought he might say yes. But then, his face crumpled, and he shook his head. âI canât,â he said, his voice breaking. âI want toâI want to so badly. But I canât. I have to help them, [Name]. I have to make sure they have a chance.â
You tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong for him, but the floodgates opened anyway. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face against his chest. His arms wrapped around you fully now, steady and grounding, even as your world fell apart.
Of course, this was In-ho. The one who always puts others before himself. The one who bore every burden silently, who carried the weight of guilt and responsibility like it was the only thing keeping him alive. This was In-hoâyour In-ho. The man who had always been so much more than you deserved.
And yet, even if it hurt, you loved him for it. You always would.
âWhat about me?â you whispered, tears streaming freely down your face. âWhat about us? Donât we matter?â
His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears even as his own filled his eyes. âYou matter,â he said, his voice trembling. âYouâve always mattered. More than anything. More than anyone. But if I donât do this⌠none of us will make it out of here.â
âIn-hoâŚâ Your voice broke, and he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly.
âIâll come back,â he whispered into your hair, his voice unsteady but full of resolve. âI swear, Iâll come back to you.â
âPlease,â you choked out, clinging to him like your life depended on it. âPlease, In-ho, donât make me lose you again. I canâtâI canât do this⌠not without you.â
âYou wonât lose me,â he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to memorize the feel of you. âIâll come back. I promise.â
Deep down, you both knew his promise was a fragile thing, held together by hope.
He leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His lips met yours once more, this time in a lingering kiss, slow and deep, filled with everything he couldnât bring himself to say. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. The chaos around you faded into a distant hum, and the weight of the moment lightened just enough for you to feel the depth of his love. A love as desperate and fleeting as the seconds you shared.
When he pulled away, his lips brushed against your forehead, a soft sigh escaping him as if the kiss had stolen the last of his strength. âIâll be extra safe,â he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the agony tearing him apart. âI promise, [Name].â
The promise felt hollow, like a brittle shell barely holding together.
You nodded weakly, though every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull him close, to make him stay. But you knew. You knew who he wasâknew that In-ho was the kind of man who always put others first, and there was nothing you could say or do to change that.
âIâll come back to you,â he said, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as you. âYou have to believe that.â
Your voice wavered as you whispered, âI believe you, In-ho.â But the ache in your chest said otherwise.
He took a step back, his hands lingering on your arms before they fell away entirely. The warmth of his touch disappeared as he turned, moving toward the shadows with quiet determination.
Your heart shattered as you stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. It felt like every part of you was being ripped apart, your chest heaving with silent sobs. You wanted to scream his name, to demand he turn around, to beg him not to go. But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the raw, suffocating pain of letting him go.
As his figure grew smaller and smaller, the reality of what just happened sank in. The promise he made, the kiss he gave, the pain in his eyesâthey all felt like goodbyes masquerading as hope.
As the silence closed in, the thought struck you with brutal clarity. This was the last time you would ever see him.
And it broke you, how painfully right you were.
#wqnsho.writes#squid game#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game fanfic#frontman x reader#hwang in ho x reader#player 001 x reader#in ho x reader#oneshot
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And When You Move, I'm Moved, joel miller
đâ°・â⥠daddy kink, p in v, riding, dirty talk, soft joel, hurt & comfort if you squint, praise kink, use of pet names ( baby girl, sweet girl, etc )
it's past christmas but I had this idea and fell in love with it and procrastination will be the death of me...
The night seemed to drag on forever.
It was almost 12:35, and Joel hadnât come home yetâ a broken promise that he had whispered in the morning, with a kiss to the tip of your nose, crossing his heart that heâd be back in time to hold you once more and open presents. Â
Supplies were running low in Jackson, including penicillin and other medications that would be useful for a rainy day. Selfishness claws at the edges of your thoughts each time he has to go, a relentless whisper that begs him to stayâto choose the warmth of home and the safety of you over the unknown out there. It gnaws at your resolve, urging you to tell him to forget about the world, to let it fend for itself, and to stay here where itâs quiet, where itâs just the two of you.
Instead, you put your heartâs desires to rest, giving him a meek nod as you kissed the lips, which you came to know as your own goodbye. It wasnât fair. However, nothing was ever fair when it came to your Joel.
At his core, your Joel was a giverâ the kind of man who would give until his knees buckled from beneath him, and even then you were sure heâd pour what little remained of himself into the world. He bled for you, his devotion etched in every sacrifice he made, and though heâd never admit it, he bled for Jackson too, an unspoken loyalty for the town he called your home.Â
So if Jackson needed something, Tommy and him were always the first ones to act.Â
And all you could do was wait.
But the worst part wasnât waiting. It wasnât the fear of hypotheticals or counting every star in the sky and praying on each one that heâd be alright. It was the knowing. Knowing that one day your Joel might not find his way back into the safety of your embrace. That one day, the fucked up world around you might win. And it was as obvious to you as it was to those around youâ you wouldnât be able to endure that. The possibility of leading a life without him because to you, he is the world.
 Joel is the sun and moon, and the stars are him.Â
You shift subconsciously on the bed, hands gripping the white sheets, a desperate attempt to ground yourself from this nightmare. You wanted to wake up. You wanted to wake up in his arms, the feeling of his breath fanning against your neckâ a tangible reminder that he was yours. You longed to trace the outline of his nose with your eyes like you always did when he was fast asleep next to youâ not wanting to surrender to sleep because that would mean another moment spent without him.Â
And yet, somehow, even in sleep, you still dreamt of him. Always him.
Then, amid the deafening silence that accompanied the dark, the door creaked open slowly. You blinked in an attempt to focus on the figure that lingered in the doorway. It stepped through, gently shutting the door behind, and you saw himâ Joel, Your Joel.Â
The exhaustion on his face doesnât go unnoticed; bright eyes now sunken, and the pink plush lips you had kissed in the morning were red and irritated, no doubt from the harsh weather. Eyes bloodshot from fighting sleep.Â
âJoelâŚâ You could finally breathe, rushing to your feet. You leaped out of bed and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pressing your face against his jacket's material, you felt his heart's rhythmic beat. He was here. He was safe.
âMâokay.â He soothed, lips brushing the top of your head as his arms came around you, âMâhere, baby. Mâhere.â
You guide him to sit at the edge of your bed, standing between his legs as they rest on either side of you. He reaches out slowly, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his lap by habit. Once youâre there, you get a closer look at his face with the help of a nearby lamp. Small cuts adorn his face, and a prominent one that you notice lies on the bridge of his nose.Â
Tommy and him werenât the only ones searching for supplies.Â
You cup his face gently, fingers ghosting the gray whiskers of his beard. He leans into your touch, eyes closed, completely melting at the contact. He shudders at the feeling of your lips pressing against every knick that taints his skin. Whoever did this to your Joel, you wish the weight of their cruelty returned tenfoldâa life heavy with regret and haunted by shadows, never to know the peace they carelessly stole from him.
âCâmon, baby girl, let's get you to bed.â He rests his forehead against yours, fingers caressing your sides with a feather-light touch, âSâreal late.â
Ever the giver. Even in the quietest moments, he pours whatâs left of himself into you.
You shake your head gently, fingers coming up to undo the buttons of his winter coat. Once the constricting material is off, his shaky hands work on his favorite green flannel. He curses under his breath as his hands tremble. They feel numb and stiff from the biting cold, refusing to obey his commands. Frustration flickers across his face as he struggles with the flannel buttons, his breath coming in shallow puffs of irritation.
"I can't... damn it," he mutters, the words edged with a helpless kind of angerâhis fingers fumble, clumsy and uncooperative.Â
Placing your hands over his, you offer him a sympathetic smile and take over, undoing each button for him. He shrugs off the flannel, leaving the sight of his broad chest in front of you, revealing another scar, though this one is more familiar. It lay above his lower stomach, and youâd seen in passing within these same four walls when the man in front of you whispered filthy things into your ear, the weight of his naked body against yours, holding your hand as he fucked you into the mattress he was now sitting on.Â
Still, on his lap, you moved to work on Joelâs pants, using your hands to rub at the top of his inner thigh gently. His grip on your sides tightened slightly as he let out a strained breath, peering at you through hooded eyes. Now, standing between his legs, you peel off his jeans and boxers, throwing them to the side of the bed to deal with another day.Â
Joelâs hand comes to toy with the thin strap of your nightie; his fingers dig under the silk, slowly dragging both straps down your arms to reveal your naked body to him. His eyes dance along your chest, admiring the swell of your breast and the sight of your nipples that harden from the chilly air in the room. He pulls you into him, kissing the valley of your breast to the exposed skin of your neck. You giggle softly at the familiar beard scruff tickling your soft skin.Â
Your hand drifts between your bodies, finding his aching cock. Wrapping your hand around his girth, he twitches in your hand with a low moan. You knew what he neededâ Relief. And youâd be more than willing to provide that for him.Â
âTake those off fâme, baby.â He removes his hands, letting his eyes drift to your panties, the only thing shielding all of you from him. You hooked your fingers around the soft cotton material, yanking them down so they could pool at your legs. You stepped out of your panties and closer to Joel, watching his hefty hand stroke up and down his cock, watching you unravel yourself for him and him only.Â
âWanna take care of you daddy.â Your hands find his shoulders, rubbing them to soothe the ache he felt from the day. Joel did so much for you. He kept you safe and full in many ways without expecting anything in return. Youâd never lift a finger as long as he was around, and that was apparent from the first time he took you to bed and made you cum two times with his fingers and once with his mouth. Sometimes, you wanted him to be selfish because he deserved it more than anyone. Â
âYouâre so sweet, baby girl.â He smiles up at you, still pumping his cock. Your eyes fall to his length and the bush of wiry hairs above it, âGonna ride daddyâs cock n take care of him real good? Make him feel better?âÂ
âUh-huh.âÂ
âSpit on daddyâs cock, baby.âÂ
You lean down to his length, eyes meeting his as he gives you a nod of approval. You gather the salvia in your mouth, letting it fall from your lips to his length. Joelâs eyes darkened, watching your spit drip down the head of his cock onto his shaft.Â
âOne more time.âÂ
You spit once more, and Joel removes his hand completely, arms reaching out for you. You step towards him, letting his hands find their way onto your hips. He pulls you into his lap once more, positioning you to his likingâ both of your knees on either side of him as your wet entrance hovers over his cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders when you feel the hot tip of him rub against the wetness of your core.
âFuck, baby.â He groans, eyes closed. His hands hold you firmly in place. âSheâs dripping onto meâ filthy girl gonna ruin these sheets.âÂ
You whined, trying to move yourself onto him, but Joel was stronger, able to manipulate you however he wanted. You let out a sigh, just wanting anything he would give to dull the ache between your thighs.Â
Joel tsked, âBe patient baby, mâgonna make you feel better.â He moves you forward just enough so his tip catches at the notch of your cunt, âDaddy spoils you so much that you're always used to getting your way, hm?â
You gasped, burying your face into the crook of his neck at the feeling of his cock against your clit, âNo, Daddy, mâyour good girl, promise!âÂ
Joelâs hand gently cupped your face, his fingers softly caressing your skin as if to reassure you that he was just teasing. He knew you were spoiled objectively but loved being the one to indulge you. More than that, he loved how much you needed him. It gave him a sense of purpose, something he would never tell you himself. He thrived on being the one you turned to, the one you trusted to take care of you. Knowing that you relied on him, that you needed him in ways no one else could. It wasnât just indulgence; it was connection, it was love, and it was everything he never knew he craved.Â
With his other hand, Joel moved you back to your original position hovering above him as he guided you to sink onto his cock. Joelâs hand was steady on your head, forcing your gaze to meet his own, already pushing you further down on himself. You moaned at the slight ache fading into pleasure from his size, splitting you open.Â
âYouâre doing so good, baby, yâalmost there.â Joel sighed, eyes glancing down to where your bodies met. He was painfully hard from the sight of him completely stuffing you full, âGonna give you some more.âÂ
âDaddy.â You whined, body slumping forward in Joelâs grip as he pushed you down so you could take all that he was giving you. He was thick and hot inside of you, his member pulsing at the feeling of being where heâd longed to beâ and almost always ended up every night.
âI know, baby girl, I know.â He soothed, kissing your cheek. He let you move against him a bit, letting you feel how deep he was inside you. Your gaze cast downwards to see where you disappeared inside of him, his cock buried snugly in your warmth.Â
Joelâs hands guided you up and down, setting the rhythm for you to mimic. You held a death grip on his shoulders, rolling your hips on top of him, a little cautious, not wanting to disappoint him. Joel noticed your apprehension and offered you an encouraging smile, his warm and steady gaze melting away your nerves. He knew how much you wanted to be his good girl, but to him, there was nothing you could ever do that would disappoint. Even if you faltered, even if you stumbled, in his eyes, you could never truly fall short.
âFuck, look at you. Got the prettiest thing in all of Jackson bouncinâ on my lap.â He praised you with a moan, throwing his head back and focusing on how well your body always took him, âDoing such a good job for daddy.âÂ
You watched Joelâs eyes rake all over your naked form, moaning when youâd sink back down onto his cock. His hands had reclaimed their place at your sides, moving you against him at a faster pace. One of your hands came to rest on the side of his face as you asked breathily, âLike this?âÂ
You rode him at the pace he wanted, pulling his forehead to rest against your own, wanting to feel him as close as possible, though it probably wasnât possible. Close would never be enough for you. Youâd always want more when it came to Joel. The dark hairs at the base of his cock brushed against your clit whenever you sank onto him, spurring you on further.Â
âSo fuckinâ sweet to me.â He nodded, confirming your earlier question, one hand gripping at your breasts as he licked at the nipple of the other. His tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves making your back arch in pleasure. He loved how you wanted to please him. You really were his good girl. He pulled his mouth off with a pop, âSâjust what you needed huh? My perfect girlâs little pussy was just begginâ tâbe full oâme?âÂ
You wanted to respond, but the feeling of him engulfing you made it impossible. Your face contorted the feeling of euphoria rushing over you when you felt Joelâs hips move upward on their own accord, meeting your movements to fuck you even harder.Â
Joel.
Joel.
Joel.Â
It was like a mantra in your head. It was all too much.Â
âDaddy, Iâ I think mâ gonna-â You whined into the crook of his neck. Joel knew your body well enough that he didnât need you to tell him when you were close; he always felt it. He felt your hot tears drip onto his chest, bringing his hand up to tangle into your hair as he kept up his powerful thrusts into you.Â
âCum for me baby girl, sâokay you can do it.â He breathed out, his hand stroking your scalp, âIâll take care of you. Let go fâme.âÂ
So you did. You came hard, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth with Joelâs shoulder, which was damp from your tears. Your walls gripped Joelâs cock, throbbing as you came undone on top of him, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. With what little energy he had left, both of his hands came to grip the undersides of your thighs as he fucked into you.Â
His hips stuttered, a sign to you that he was going to come as well. Your walls squeezing him allowed that final push he needed as he emptied himself into you.Â
You were both left wrecked. Heavy breathing against sweaty skin pressed against each other. Joelâs arms enveloped you, gently rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath, âStay inside, please?âÂ
âOkay, baby,â he chuckled, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath. Your head rested on his shoulder as he held you close, keeping you pressed firmly against him. âDo you still want to open presents?â
âAfter round two, definitely.â
#joel miller#joel miller masterlist#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#tlou#tlou smut
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Steve and Eddie being chaotic childhood friends, gaslighting everyone they know.
It started when one of their teachers wanted the students to make pairs with someone they didn't know or get along with; therefore, friends couldn't make the project together.
Of course, Eddie wouldn't pass the opportunity to be dramatic and annoy a little bit the teacher, acting like it was the worst thing to ever happened to him and throwing himself on Steve's desk, making the other roll his eyes in a fond way.
It was the beginning of the year, but in small towns most of the kids knew each other since before, so it wasn't that weird of a request; but the teacher was also new, so they didn't know the relationships of the kids very well.
That's why when a small kid with a rebel vibe, starting to grow his hair and going to a more dark look, annoys them and says it would be a nightmare to do the project with a preppy kid, clearly rich boy vibes and in his way to be popular, they knew who they were putting the kid with.
The teacher smirked, thinking they did well; meanwhile, Steve and Eddie were trying not to grin and communicating with their eyes to not messed up and go along with it.
They ended up having to act like they hate each other in front of the teacher so they could carry on with the project, but what about the rest of the class who knew they were friends?
They follow along.
Maybe it's to gain Steve's favor, maybe they thought it was funny, or maybe they thought it was about damn time they stopped being friends, that it was a good way to finally separate them and make Steve fully part of the jocks and Eddie less intimidating for the rest of the outcast.
Anyway, the whole class goes along with it, and Steve and Eddie, like the dorks and drama queens they are, decided it's a funny bit to keep.
At some point they were too deep into it, having to act for the rest of the year like that because of the project and somehow convincing the whole school. Their friends to enemies story becoming popular knowledge.
Steve and Eddie now just think it's too funny to stop, so they continue to gaslight everyone.
Eddie? Steve? No, thanks; I hate that guy.
Anyway, they going to high school, and the whole mess with the upside down happens. At that moment, Steve is so happy to being able to keep Eddie away from it.
I just love a clueless Eddie trying to figure out what's happening to his (finally) boyfriend at the same time the Party is clueless about the relationship between their dungeon Master and their babysitter.
â
+Extra (imagine them being famous in the future)
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We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader
We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel deals with the aftermath of losing his mate. (Part I)
Warnings: angst, death, self-harm
A/n: An epilogue of sorts to Birds of a Feather - Read HERE. Thanks for all your love!!Â
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
I want you to stay
'Til I'm in the grave
'Til I rot away, dead and buried
'Til I'm in the casket you carry
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
It was dead silent in the Temple. Many fae had come today to pay their respect and to honor the female that died during the war with Koscheiâthe female that had bravely lured the Death God to his demise and had ultimately met her own in the end.
Azriel had watched the service from the shadows, consumed by his shame and grief. Grief over losing his mate, his best friend, and the chance at a long life with her. Shame from not being able to protect her, from not realizing the mating bond between the two of them until it was far too late and for those last few words he had spoken to her that had only pushed her further into a suicide mission.Â
You just want me to continue being miserable. Because thatâs always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that Iâm finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.
The words haunted him.Â
She haunted him.Â
Azriel had always been good at ruining his own life. But saying those words was single handedly the worst mistake he had ever made. He hadn't meant them. Of course he hadn't meant them. He loved Y/n. He had since the day he had met her. She was his closest friendâsomeone he had felt comfortable with. But he had been so blind...blinded by Mor and her vivacious personality...blinded by Elain and the sunshine she had brought to the Night Court.Â
All along his mate had been right by his side. The one person he had been searching for all his years of living had been right in front of him and he hadn't even noticed.Â
Azriel walked down the long aisle towards the casket that was displayed on the dais. His footsteps echoed in the now silent chamberânot even his own heart beat could be heard. No, his heart had stopped beating the second hers had.Â
He fiddled with the flower in his hand, swallowing the tears and sadness that threatened to consume him. He owed her this. He wasn't going to run and hide himself in the shadows as he'd been doing the past week. He needed to be here today.Â
Azriel finally stopped in front of the casket and choked on his own bile as the sweet, comforting scent of his mate reached his nose. This felt all too much like a nightmareâone he was stuck in with no way out. Cursed to repeat this day from beginning to end for the rest of his existence.Â
She would never stop haunting him.
And he didn't want her to.Â
If the ghost of her was the only thing left of his mate in this world, he would cling to it for the rest of his days.Â
Azriel placed the spirit lily on top of the casket, the glowing silver petals matched the marble stone. He had searched day and night to find this flower. It was your spirit lily. The one that had bloomed when you died.Â
"I'm so sorry," he cried, the tears finally falling. "I'm so sorry."Â
He fell to his knees before the casket, one scarred hand sliding along the cold marble as he continued to repeat those words over and over and over again.Â
"I am so sorry."
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
If you go, I'm going too,Â
'Cause it was always you, alright
And if I'm turning blue, please don't save me
Nothing left to lose without my baby
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
Azriel's ears were ringing as he sat at the kitchen table in the cottage that Elain and he had purchased a few weeks before their wedding. It was the first time he had stepped inside since the war with Koschei. It was the first time he'd even been in the Night Court since the loss of his mate and best friend.Â
"I understand that you need time to process this, Azriel, I really do," Elain pleaded with him. "But we made vows to each other the day we married. Vows that were supposed to transcend any mating bond."Â
Azriel's shadows wailed from the corners of the room. They had started searching for Y/n the day she died and hadn't stopped their cries of panic since then.
It had been a month already.
A whole, entire month had passed by without you.Â
And here he wasâdark circles lining his eyes, stubble on his hollowed jaw and a song he'd never hear again playing on repeat in his mind. His mating song. His soul's song. His soul that was desperately crying out for its other half.Â
"I can't do this, Elain," he spoke, voice hoarse from disuse. "I'm sorry."Â
"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Elain questioned, crossing her arms and leaning on the kitchen counter. "Azriel, I rejected my own mate for you. I...I thought we were in this together. We talked about the day you might find your own and we agreed that you'd reject it too."Â
"I know," Azriel whispered, his forlorn eyes stuck on the cracks on the floor. "But I didn't know what I was giving up the day we made those vows, Elain. I'm sorry. I truly am. But this...this is different. Lucien was a stranger to you. I thought if I ever met my mate, she'd be a stranger to me as well. But Y/n was my best friend. I've loved her for centuries."
"All that time together and yet, you still never went after her," Elain argued.Â
Those words landed a heavy blow in his gut. Elain was right. He had known his mate for years and years and never once did he think of her as anything more than a friend. But that wasn't because of her. No, he had done that to himself.Â
He had found a companion with Y/n. She saw him in ways no one else did. He'd be lying if he said that hadn't scared him. For someone to see through himâthrough all the good and to the rotting, decaying bad that existed in him. He was a monster hiding in plain sight and she had seen that. She had seen all of that and loved him anyway.Â
And he had ran from itâfrom her. It was his own self-hatred that caused him to never see Y/n that way. She reminded him of everything that he was because she was all the same. She was the missing piece to his broken soul. But she had been beautiful in her darkness, hauntingly exquisite in her shadows. And he had been a brutish beast who thought that someone could vanquish the darkness that surrounded him.
What he hadn't realized was that he was never looking for a light to cast the shadows away. Not really. He had been fighting a storm whose tides had only been trying to bring him home to her. To his mate. His soul and heart and mind. Â
And now she was gone and she had taken all of his love with her.Â
Azriel stood from his seat, barely present in this reality. "I'm sorry, Elain. No words will change my mind nor my heart. I belonged to Y/n. It is only my fault that I never saw that."Â
And it was his fault.Â
All of it was his fault. Â
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
And I don't know what I'm crying for
I don't think I could love you more
It might not be long, but baby, I
I'll love you 'til the day that I die
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
"Papa, who is that?"
Nyx's innocent voice caught Rhysand's attention. He followed Nyx's gaze to the corner of the room where Azriel stood, wreathed in his shadows. It had been years since any of them had laid eyes on the elusive shadowsinger. Years since he had been so consumed with his grief that he had disappeared from this court, from Prythian entirely.Â
But there was one day he always returned.
The anniversary of Y/n's death.Â
Cassian had ambushed him before he made it to her gravesite and all but dragged him to this family dinner. It broke Rhysand's heart that his son didn't recognize one of his uncles.
"That's Azriel," Rhysand answered, clearing his throat. "He's one of your uncles. He used to be around a lot when you were just a baby."Â
"Oh," Nyx said, tilting his head as he looked at the shadowsinger. "He seems...sad. Why is he so sad, Papa?"Â
Rhysand's heart snapped in his chest. The loss of Y/n had been felt by all of them, of course. But for Azriel...it had destroyed him. None of them had known about the mating bond between the two of them. They had been caught off guard just as much as Azriel had been. Rhys had felt an inkling that she might've been in love with him due to her slowly distancing herself once he and Elain had gone public with their relationship.
He had only thought she needed space and time. He hadn't realized that she had been slowly wilting away. And no one had done a single thing to help her. They had all failed her.Â
Sometimes he felt a fire-burning rage towards his brother. He had tried to steer him away from Elain that Solstice night but Azriel hadn't listened to him. Perhaps if he had, Y/n might still be here. Perhaps the mating bond would've finally snapped in place for Azriel. But instead he had stubbornly doubled-down on his feelings for Elain.Â
"He lost someone he loved," Rhys choked out. "We all did. Do you remember the stories about Y/n?"Â
Nyx clapped his tiny hands together with a smile. Gwyn had made sure that Y/n's name had been honored and recorded in the new books about the war with Koschei. A story that was being passed down through the years. A story Nyx had read time and time again because it was his favorite.Â
"She was the warrior who faced a Death God all on her own!" Nyx exclaimed. "She led him straight to the trap where he was ambushed!"
Rhysand smiled, patting his son on the head. It had been too hard to speak her name after her death but slowly, they had all started talking about her more and more. Perhaps it was finally time to tell his son the whole story. Rhys glanced at Azriel again, who was a shell of his former self. Perhaps not the whole story.
"Well, before all of that," Rhys started, "Y/n was our friend..."
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know
I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone
Can't change the weather, might not be forever
But if it's forever, it's even better
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
Azriel was kneeling on the grass, his hands grasping the beautiful stone marker of your gravesite as his eyes combed over the engraving:Â
Here lies Y/n
Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend
The stars will shine brighter with you among themÂ
Rest in Peace
"I have tried to go on for your sake," Azriel murmured. "Because I know that is what you would've wanted. But I can't...I can't do this without you. I relive every day I've shared with you and it is still not enough to make me miss you any less. I am sorry that it took your death to make me realize just how much you meant to me."Â
Azriel had gone through it all in his head time and time again. Always reliving moments where he could've seen what was right in front of him all along yet didn't. Your last words to him constantly looped in his mind.Â
"I'll find...you...again. Maybe...maybe I'll be...good enough...then."
Those words could not be more untrue. It was always him who had never been good enough for you. Not you. Never you. You had always been as beautiful as the moon reflected on the sea, alluring and mysterious but peaceful. So peaceful. Despite the darkness the two of you shared, you'd always been so soft and kind to those around you...those who had never felt the kind of pain you'd gone through.Â
You lured people in because of your grace. You gave people a safe place to exist in. Your shadows had felt like a warm blanket on a chilly night. Your smile had rivaled the moonlight.Â
You had always been far more special than you knew.Â
Your mistake had been thinking you could out love his hatred for himself.Â
But the mating bond had opened his eyes. Although he had only gotten a few seconds with his mate, its song had told him everything he needed to know. He no longer hated his shadows or the anger he felt inside. He no longer hated himself. How could he? How could he hate himself when part of him was you?Â
And he could never hate you.Â
Gods, he could never be without you. Your souls were intertwined.Â
But living in this world without you was something he could not bear. He was consumed by your memory. He looked for you in everything. In the sea, in the breeze, in the faces of random people, down alleyways and behind every door. But you were not here. You were not here and so he decided he could not be here, either.Â
"You said you'd find me again," Azriel whispered. "You said you'd find me again but that is not enough. I cannot sit here and wait for you. I will crawl through Hell and everything that is ready for me when my life ends to find you. This life means nothing to me without you in it. You were my heart, Y/n. I love you. I've always loved you. And I am ready to prove that in our next life."
Azriel slid Truth-teller from its sheath and turned it over in his hand, pointing the blade directly as his own heart. He closed his eyes, tuned out all noise except that of the leaves gently rustling in the breeze.Â
"I love you, Y/n," he murmured, gripping the blade tighter. "And I can't wait to see you again."Â
His dagger pierced through skin and bone until it reached his heart.Â
Until all life was spilled from inside of him.Â
Until his final breath carried with the wind.Â
Until he could finally see his love again.
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
I knew you in another life
You had that same look in your eyes
I love you, don't act so surprised
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#azriel angst#acotar fanfic#shadowsinger x reader#Spotify
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Our comfort
Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)
âÂŁ Yes I know I havenât finish the book but I actually couldnât wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.
âÂŁ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the readerâs attention. Short.
You werenât a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.
But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didnât care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.
The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.
You couldnât leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.
Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.
Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasnât much to tell.
So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.
The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.
Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.
Hermes children are hard to explain really. They arenât aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. Heâs either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.
Many games of all houses take place just for you.
AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, sheâs like a lost duck at times.
Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. Heâs not possessive much. Heâs willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when heâs âcryingâ and having you fuss over him then heâll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.
When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.
So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.
Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.
He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesnât help that you follow him to make sure heâs okay. At the beginning youâre both following each other around.
âItâs okay, Percy.â You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. âYouâll get claim, and youâll have glory.â And he doesnât care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. ďżź
Also, you protect the new bloods. So youâll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Canât risk making you mad at them.
When Percy gets claimed heâs all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isnât fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.
So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Canât you see how alone he is?
He canât sleep unless he knows your watching over him.
You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.
#disney plus percy jackson#plantonic percy jackson x reader#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#yandere percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#platonic#yandere#grover underwood x reader#yandere annabeth chase#annabeth chase x reader#annabeth chase#grover underwood#yandere Grover underwood#yandere greek gods#yandere annabeth chase x reader#I stand peter Johnson
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want you back - m. fushiguro
you and megumi's relationship ended terribly. you'd spent the past few months trying to forget him- only to run into him at a party your best friend forced you to go to. cw: angst with a happy ending song: want you back by 5sos a/n: ik i just posted a megumi one but i love this man so here is yet another one
âNO MATTER WHERE I GO, I'M ALWAYS GONNA WANT YOU BACK.â
The first time Megumi saw you after the breakup was at a party. He hadnât even noticed you until Itadori gasped loudly and pointed with no attempt to hide his shock.
You were standing across the room, talking to some guy, doing the same arm touch you did to him when you first met.
His stomach began to churn.
He couldnât stand to see it. Couldnât stand to see you moving on while he was still daydreaming about the memory of you. All he wanted to do was leave and try to forget you- something heâd attempted for the past month since youâd broken up.
âLetâs just go,â Megumi put down his drink. âNo way,â Kugisaki insisted, crossing her arms. âYou canât let this breakup take over your life.â
That was when you spotted him too.
Your whole body froze, eyes locking with him across the crowded room. And suddenly, this party- this entire night- became your worst nightmare. Your best friend had insisted on you coming with her to this party and flirting with the guys to at least try and get yourself back out there.
You didnât want to. This wasnât something you typically did.
Megumi knew this. Thatâs why he was just as confused as you were.
Too frustrated and embarrassed by getting spotted by your ex-boyfriend, you spent the rest of the party on the couch and on your phone, pretending you werenât hyperaware of his presence.
Megumi wouldnât lie- he spent most of the night watching you. Ignoring every girl that tried to talk to him. Brusing off Kugisakiâs glares at him.
All he could think about was you.
The freckles on your back heâd spent time studying after the first time the two of you spent the night together.
The sound of your laugh that echoed through his brain anytime he dared to smile.
The way that youâd talk his ear off whenever you had the chance.
The way that youâd lean into him, desperate for his touch on hard days.
The way that your face would light up whenever he knocked on your door.
The way that you looked at him like he was the best thing in your life.
The roses on your shirt when you ended things with him.
The way your voice cracked as you told him, âThis isnât working.â
When the haze of the party became too much, you slipped out towards the balcony, craving some fresh air.
The air was cold and crisp, a nice contrast to the heat of the moving bodies at the party. You leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the cold metal as you thought about you and Megumiâs prior relationship.
But then the door slid open behind you. Before you even turned to look, you knew who it was.
Megumi stepped onto the balcony, his hands shoved into his pockets. He wasnât sure if he should have even followed you. But he made the plunge.
âNeeded air?â he walked up to the railing, standing beside you. You let out a short, humorless laugh, âClearly not as much as you did.â
A thick silence settled between you. You turned your gaze back to the skyline. But you could feel him watching you- studying you the way he always had.
âYou seem different,â he finally said. âYou do too.â âI guess we havenât seen each other in a while, then,â he exhaled through his nose, barely nodding.
You hummed in agreement, watching the city lights twinkle in front of you. The part noice still bled through the glass door behind you. But out here on the balcony, it was quieter. Less suffocating.
But Megumiâs presence filled the space beside you in a way that made it impossible to ignore him.
The two of you hadnât been alone together since the breakup. Youâd made sure of that. It was easier to pretend that he didnât exist when you werenât looking straight at him.
But now, you were. And the weight of everything that was unsaid at the end of your breakup pressed against your ribs as if your lungs were going to explode.
Megumi shifted, his elbows resting against the railing as he turned his head slightly, his eyes still stuck on you. It made your throat tighten.
âYou were talking to that guy inside,â his voice remained even. You tensed, âYeah.â
His fingers curled into his palms. The image haunted his brain. The way you laughed at something the guy said. The way you reached out, touching his arm like you used to do to him when you laughed too hard.
âDidnât think that was your thing,â he said finally. You let out a breath, your grip tightening on the cold railing, âItâs not.â
He knew that. He knew you would never do casual. Whenever you let someone in, you did it with your whole heart.
His jaw clenched, âThen why were yo-â âBecause I thought itâd help,â you snapped, turning towards him with frustration thick in your voice. âBecause everyone kept telling me to move on from you. Everyone kept telling me I should put myself back out there as if I wasnât the one who-â
You stopped yourself, biting down hard on your lip to stop them from moving.
Megumiâs gaze sharpened, âLike you werenât the one who what?â
You looked away from his eyes for a moment. Megumi let the silence linger, waiting for an answer you werenât sure you could say out loud.
Then, barely above a whisper, you said, âLike I wasnât the one who ran away from us.â
Megumi stiffened. There it was. The truth heâd been waiting to hear come out of your mouth for months.
Heâd spent months trying to figure out why youâd left. Everything was going perfect. He couldnât understand why youâd leave.
And now that he was standing right next to you, with the weight of your words settling between you two, all he could think about was the way you used to look at him. Now, all that remained in your eyes is a look of apology and regret.
His throat tightened, âAnd now?â You inhaled sharply, your breath shaky, âI donât know.â
But you did. And so did he.
Megumi turned fully toward you, shrinking the space between you by just a few inches. Close enough for you to feel his warmth and to smell the faint traces of cologne left on his hoodie after tonight. Close enough that if you turned your head just a little more, youâd be back in the place you had missed so damn much.
âThen figure it out,â he said quietly, his voice raw and honest.
Because he wasnât over you. And he wasnât going to pretend that he was. Not when you were standing right in front of him, looking like you might still want this too.
#jjk imagines#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fluff#megumi imagines#jjk megumi#jujutsu megumi#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi#megumi fluff#megumi imagine#megumi x black reader#jjk x fem reader#jjk x black reader#jjk x y/n#megumi x fem reader#megumi x you#megumi drabbles#megumi drabble#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujustsu kaisen#megumi fushiguro imagines#megumi fushiguro fluff
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unspoken part 2 || minho moon
minho x reader
summary: you donât even see me, yet, i would walk through hell and across any sea if you asked me.
part one here!
warnings: angst! grammar errors most likely
word count: 1.1k+
masterlist
you've kept your distance from minho since the night at the gazebo. it was hard to fully avoid him since the two of you belonged to the same tight circle of friends. you'd cut the nights short claiming you were tired or skip dinner and lunch with everyone claiming you were trying to save money. truthfully, you weren't even sure if minho noticed your absence. he had been thrown full throttle into the honeymoon stage with his crush that he also hasn't been around as much.
the one place you couldnât avoid minho was class. one, because you and minho never skipped class, and two, because you sat next to him.
you had signed up for an acting improv class to fill a gap in your schedule. you hated it if you were being honest. there was nothing you loathed more than performing in front of a group of strangers or friends, at that. each week you were forced to stagger up onto the stage and begrudgingly act. however, this week may have been your worst nightmare. the professor instructed that a small group of students would write short stories and the others will be randomly selected to perform one. of course, the performance was partner work and of course, you were assigned with who you sat with, and what a shock, you and minho were selected to perform later on in the week and not write.
minhoâs head was buried deep in his phone the entire class. you werenât trying to snoop, but it felt as if your eyes were magnets and minhoâs screen was a beautiful big magnetic field. the text messages were littered with hearts and cute stickers. in a measly attempt, you acted as if you weren't staring when his head turned.
âiâm planning on officially asking them out this weekend,â he smiled.
you sucked on the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to suppress any negative remarks, âthatâs⌠lovely.â
god, you felt horrible that you weren't being a supportive friend but you couldn't fake excitement for minho when your heart was crumbling to pieces.
most days you wished would pass quickly, hoping the sun would set early and the moon to take over signaling the start of a new day. this week, however, you wished twilight never came and time stood still so you could avoid the end of the week. unfortunately for you, that wish was never granted and you sat at your desk, drumming your fingers, patiently waiting for what was to come.
professor kwon summoned you and minho up to her desk and handed you each a copy of the short story you were about to perform.
"seems like your writer is quite fond of romance," she remarked as the paper slotted into your hand.
minho turned back to your shared desk without looking at the story but your eyes rapidly darted over the words before you scoffed, the papers nearly crumpled in your hand, "i'm not doing this professor kwon- this is," you laughed, "-this is not happening."
professor kwon's sharp eyes peeked over her glasses, "i suggest you do so if you want to pass the class. no assignment has been an issue for you before, why the sudden change?"
"it's nothing," you shook your head, anger laced in your tone.
her eyes scanned your face, lips pursed, "go practice."
with a sigh, you slumped into your chair. examining the paper and the long dialogue you had to act out almost immediately. the short story started in the middle of an argument between the two characters. it took every fiber of your being not to confront the classmate who wrote the story and ask her if she had been spying on you. the words on the page paralleling your current situation with minho in a way that was almost eerie, taunting you in your dismay. desperately, your mind spun of any ideas to get yourself out of this moment, but you heard minho start.
"just tell me!" minho pressed, acting in character.
your throat felt tight but you started nonetheless, âi canât keep pretending that you donât cloud every corner of my mind and every thought i have. some have called me crazy, said i was addicted to the idea of you, the idea of us that will never be. the us that will only exist in the quiet corners of my mind, hidden from the world. a sanctuary i preserve and escape to daily. and maybe- maybe they are right,â you paused briefly as your eyes started to sting with tears. you refused to look up at minho as you felt his eyes bore into you.
âyou donât even see me, yet, i would walk through hell and across any sea if you asked me. i would bear the brunt of any injury to have you notice me.â
a shaky exhale escaped your lips as you finally looked at minho, his gaze unwavering, âand⌠i love you. but, we will never be more than just a one-sided confession,â you whispered.
briefly, you stayed glued to your seat watching as minhoâs expression became hard to decipher. the realization of what youâve done came crashing down and you quickly threw the papers onto the desk and shot up from your desk muttering incoherent words and dashing out of class. you were gone before you could hear the whispers of the class asking each other what happened.
minho's features contorted in confusion as he watched you rip open the door and leave, but truthfully he was feeling confused before that. as he sat there listening to the words of your character, it felt too real. he observed the way your lip slightly trembled between words and the glaze of your eyes. he was wondering why his heart rate accelerated and his palms became clammy. his throat was tight and it felt like two tons was sitting on his chest, slowly and agonizingly piercing through his skin and crushing his bones and heart. there was a tiny voice in the back of his head cheering 'finally' as he listened to your character's words, words he wished were your own.
minho glanced back at the now abandoned script. he followed the lines until he noted your monologue was cut short. minho's eyebrows pulled together in confusion as he frantically flipped to the next page, searching for the remainder of the lines. he swallowed harshly as he realized you added in the last few sentences, the words that hit him the hardest.
âand⌠i love you. but, we will never be more than just a one-sided confession"
was nowhere on the script.
automatically his feet were moving at a rapid pace into the hallway. there was no sign of life beyond the echo of his thumping heart and heavy breathing.
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a/n: soo hehe did i mention i'm notorious for writing angst. i can't believe how many people loved part one so i had to continue this. ty!!
tag list: @5sos-saucyy @bangchansgirlsblog @tmr-simp7193 @animeenthusiastxoxo @tearsinmylatinaeyes345 @teaandbacon @mesmerizedkoo @byungazed @myselfsabotage @ferniessss
#xo kitty#minho#minho moon#xo kitty minho#minho x reader#minho x you#xo kitty fanfic#xo kitty x reader#minho moon x reader#min ho x reader#minho angst#xo kitty minho x reader#sang heon lee#xo kitty s1#xo kitty s2#min ho x you#xo kitty min ho x reader#xo kitty min ho#sebsbarnes
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