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whosashan · 23 hours ago

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I've got my eyes on you

In which - How did you and the LaDS men start dating? Reader is not mc - except in Caleb's section.

Xavier

The moment you laid eyes on Xavier, you knew you had to have him. How could you not? That strikingly handsome face, those curious blue eyes, and an effortlessly captivating presence—it was impossible to resist.

The first time you approached him was at a grocery store. Your heart pounded against your ribs, threatening to break free from your chest, but you forced yourself to remain composed. Summoning your courage, you struck up a conversation.

He didn’t seem particularly interested, responding with brief, lackluster answers.

‘It’s fine, he’ll warm up to me,’ you assured yourself, determination flickering in your gaze. You had never pursued a man before, but this time was different. There was something about him—something magnetic—that refused to let you walk away.

Somehow, you managed to secure his phone number, and you wasted no time texting him, attempting to revive the conversation from earlier.

With persistence, you chipped away at his guarded demeanor, gradually uncovering bits and pieces of who he was. One particularly useful detail you learned? He lived close by. Another? His cooking skills were, to put it lightly, atrocious.

‘Perfect,’ you mused, making a beeline for your kitchen. It was time to put those cooking classes to good use.

Weeks turned into months, and an unspoken routine formed between the two of you—you would cook, and he would eat. As cliché as it was, the old saying held true: the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach. Your bond deepened, not in a whirlwind of passion, but in slow, comfortable moments. And you didn’t mind one bit.

Late-night arcade outings, spontaneous hangouts, and occasional movie nights became the norm. And every time he fell asleep beside you, his face soft, his messy hair falling over his slightly flushed cheeks, your heart stuttered in your chest.

But with familiarity came a new problem: you had started to care, truly care, and with that realization, your once-unshakable confidence wavered. Flirting had been easy before, playful and teasing, but now? Now, every word felt heavier, every glance more meaningful. And the worst part? You were sure he didn’t even notice.

The final straw came when you noticed a certain colleague of his getting too close for your liking. That was it. You couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Hey, Xayxay, can you meet up? I want to talk to you about something,” you texted, before promptly throwing your phone onto your bed as if that would somehow lessen the weight of your nerves.

You waited. And waited.

It felt like an eternity.

Then, a sudden knock at your door.

You nearly tripped over yourself in your rush to open it. And there he was—Xavier, slightly breathless, eyes laced with concern, like he had practically run to get here.

“Did something happen?” he asked, stepping inside with the ease of someone who had long since made themselves at home in your space. And you loved that.

You sighed, wringing your hands together.

“Look, I don’t want to put this off any longer…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Xavier, I like you. More than a friend.”

You braced yourself for rejection. But instead, you were met with his puzzled stare.

“…Aren’t we dating?”

“…What?”

So, it turned out you had nothing to worry about after all.

Zayne

On your way home, you stepped into a charming little pastry shop near the hospital. The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. You could already picture yourself sinking your teeth into a rich, decadent cake.

As you stood in line, your gaze landed on a man whose face was so strikingly handsome it felt almost unfair. There was an air of quiet composure about him, an effortless grace that made it nearly impossible to look away. You found yourself studying him, mind racing with ways to strike up a conversation. How often did you come across someone this captivating?

"Excuse me, sir." Your voice took on a honeyed sweetness that made you cringe internally, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You seem like quite the pastry connoisseur. I don’t come here often, so I’d love a recommendation." A harmless lie.

He turned his gaze toward you, expression unreadable. Crossing his arms, he seemed to consider your question carefully before responding.

"If you’re looking for something light, the macarons are an excellent choice. If you prefer something more substantial, the caramel cheesecake is exquisite." His tone was smooth, assured—like a man who always knew the right answer.

At least he had good taste.

"Ahh, thank you! I’ll definitely try both," you said, flashing him a bright smile. Then, before you could lose your nerve, you added, "If you’re not busy, maybe we could enjoy them together here?"

Where had this sudden boldness come from?

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a small nod, he answered, "I do have a break from work right now. Alright."

You nearly leapt with joy, but just as you were about to celebrate internally—

"Ahh, Y/N! My favorite customer! What can I get for you today?" the cashier called out cheerfully.

You froze. Busted.

Despite the momentary embarrassment, the interaction led to an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t get to see Zayne often due to his demanding career as a doctor, but he always found time to text back, even indulging your occasional rants. Sometimes, he even called. The slow progression of your relationship was something you treasured, a delicate dance of growing affection.

Time passed, and though you longed to ask Zayne out, you hesitated. He almost seemed too good to be true. Would he ever truly be interested in you?

Then, there were the little things—how his gaze lingered a second too long, how his hand seemed to hover over yours before pulling away, how, despite his overwhelming schedule, he always carved out time for you. Were those hints? Or were you reading too much into it?

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft ping of a notification. Your heart jumped as you picked up your phone. A message from Zayne.

"Are you free tonight?"

Such a simple text, yet it sent heat rushing through your body.

"For sure! What do you want to do?" you replied, fingers trembling slightly as you awaited his response.

"I’d love to take you out."

Your breath hitched. Take you out. As in… a date?

You stared at the message, searching for any alternate meaning, but there was none.

"I would love that, Zayne," you finally typed, hands shaking.

"Lovely. I’ll pick you up at 7."

You practically sprinted to your room to get ready.

The evening was nothing short of perfect. He took you to a refined restaurant, surprising you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers—proof that he had been listening all along. The air between you was charged with something different, something new yet thrilling.

After dinner, the two of you strolled beneath a sky blanketed with stars, the crisp night air adding an almost cinematic touch to the moment.

"You’re shivering," he observed, his voice as calm and measured as ever. Without hesitation, he slipped off his coat and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric—and of him—enveloping you.

"Thank you…" you murmured, smiling softly but avoiding his gaze, afraid he’d see just how deeply he affected you.

"Y/N." He came to a halt, prompting you to stop as well. His tone was composed, yet there was an unfamiliar weight behind it.

"I would love to take you out more… What I mean is, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" His face remained impassive, but you swore you caught the faintest hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

Your heart nearly exploded.

"I would love nothing more, Zayne."

Rafayel

Being an art enthusiast, you often found yourself wandering through exhibitions, losing yourself in the beauty of each piece. Tonight, however, felt different. This was Rafayel’s exhibition—a name that had long held a certain power over you. His art possessed an almost hypnotic quality, evoking emotions so profound that you struggled to put them into words.

As you moved through the gallery, your gaze inevitably found him. Rafayel stood amidst a small group of admirers, answering their questions with an effortless confidence. His voice was smooth, steady, rich with an underlying intensity that made it impossible to ignore.

But it wasn’t just his voice that captivated you. He was a masterpiece himself—dressed in a crisp white blouse, his dark hair slightly tousled, his sharp eyes carrying a quiet depth. There was something about the way he carried himself, as if knowing the effect he had on people.

You didn't want to appear as just another admirer swooning over the artist. Your fascination went beyond that—you were genuinely intrigued by his mind, his process. So, when the crowd around him began to disperse, leaving him momentarily alone, you took a steadying breath and approached him. He stood before one of his paintings, his gaze heavy with contemplation.

"You truly know how to capture a moment," you mused, your voice steady but tinged with admiration. "This piece in particular—it feels almost melancholic, like someone longing for something just out of reach."

Rafayel’s eyes flicked toward you, scanning your face, weighing your words. For a brief moment, you feared he might dismiss you with the same aloofness he granted others, but instead, his lips curved into something almost thoughtful. And just like that, an unspoken understanding passed between you, giving way to a conversation that carried on far longer than you had expected.

That first meeting was the spark. You found yourself returning to his exhibitions more often, drawn not just to his art but to him. It became a quiet routine—the two of you engaging in deep discussions, learning the intricacies of each other's thoughts and mannerisms. At first, Rafayel maintained his usual air of arrogance, teasing and enigmatic, but with time, you glimpsed something more—something raw and unguarded beneath the facade.

It wasn’t long before your admiration deepened into something more. You had fallen for him, hopelessly so. And you liked to think, in stolen moments of lingering glances and fleeting touches, that perhaps he felt the same.

One evening, you found yourself in his studio, sitting on the floor as he worked, the only sounds being the occasional stroke of his brush against canvas. The atmosphere was comforting, intimate in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

“And you’re talkative, as always.” A soft smile played on your lips as you stood and walked toward him.

“Rafayel, can I ask you something?” The hesitation in your voice made him pause. He turned to face you, one brow arched in curiosity.

“Why so serious?” he asked, studying you intently.

You scoffed lightly. “Never mind, then.”

He let out a small sigh. "You’ve already started. Might as well finish."

You hesitated for a beat before finally speaking. “Do you… have someone you like? More than a friend, I mean.”

For a fleeting second, something unreadable passed through his gaze. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Curious, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle before answering, “There is someone. She’s insufferably stubborn, a little reckless, and quite possibly the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” His gaze softened, a rare warmth creeping into his tone. “And yet, she’s also the most endearing.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “You need to be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “If you weren’t so oblivious, you’d figure it out.”

A teasing smile spread across your lips. “Wait—are you talking about me?” You nudged him playfully.

He said nothing, his focus returning to his painting.

Oh.

“YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ME?” you blurted, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a small crush,” he scoffed, though the faint pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

A laugh bubbled out of you, pure and unrestrained. “Aww, Rafayel! I like you too.”

His expression flickered with surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual confidence. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”

Despite his words, his actions spoke differently—pulling you into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Perhaps, just this once, he didn’t mind wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Sylus

Sleep had eluded you, leaving you restless and craving the crisp night air. The city was bathed in the gentle glow of streetlights, the sky an endless expanse of inky black adorned with shimmering stars. Their quiet brilliance was captivating, an ethereal distraction that kept your gaze skyward as you wandered aimlessly through the quiet streets.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure in your path until you collided with him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—” you started, but your words caught in your throat as you looked up at him.

The man before you was striking. Towering in stature, his silver hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, tousled in a way that made it appear effortlessly elegant. But it was his eyes that truly seized your breath—deep crimson, piercing and intense, as if they could unravel every secret hidden within you. His features were sharp, sculpted to perfection, and his presence exuded an air of undeniable dominance.

He regarded you with a smirk, his amusement evident.

“Worry not, sweet thing,” he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your senses. The smoothness of his tone sent a shiver down your spine, deepening the warmth blooming in your cheeks. His gaze flickered over your face, noting your reaction, and his smirk grew ever so slightly.

Only then did you realize what else you had stumbled upon. A few feet away, a man knelt on the pavement, head bowed, his entire posture trembling before the silver-haired stranger. The sight sent unease prickling up your spine.

What exactly had you just walked into?

The silver-haired man followed your gaze before exhaling softly. “Ah,” he mused, as if debating what to say. “A young lady like you shouldn’t be wandering alone at this hour. The night is filled with monsters, after all.”

The way he said it, with that knowing glint in his crimson eyes, sent a fresh wave of unease through you. Somehow, you knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. But instead of pressing for answers, something in you decided it was best not to ask.

“I was just out for some air. I should…probably head home now.” You forced a steady voice, willing your body not to betray the apprehension creeping into your bones. Every instinct in you screamed to run, yet your legs remained locked in place, unwilling to reveal your fear.

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Allow me to escort you.”

Your breath hitched. “You seem more dangerous than whatever else is lurking out here.”

A rich chuckle escaped him, dark and amused. “A fair observation.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering. “But that decision, my dear, is entirely yours.”

Despite every warning sign flashing in your mind, you hesitated. There was something about him—his presence was undeniably commanding, yet oddly reassuring. And then, there was the nagging feeling that he was familiar, though you couldn't place why.

Eventually, you gave a small nod, curiosity overpowering reason.

And so began your entanglement with Sylus. The enigmatic man came and went like a shadow, slipping in and out of your life at his whim. Some nights, he would appear unexpectedly, gifting you your favorite sweets or leaving a new dress draped across your doorstep with no explanation. Tickets to your favorite concerts would mysteriously find their way into your mailbox, the sender unstated but obvious.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. He was impossible to understand, yet he made you feel desired—seen in a way no one else ever had.

But after monthsof his unpredictable vanishing acts, your patience wore thin. So when he strolled into your apartment one evening, pouring himself a glass of the wine you had bought earlier, you finally snapped.

“You’re confusing me,” you blurted, frustration lacing your tone. “What am I to you, Sylus?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. He raised the glass to his lips but paused, considering your words. Slowly, he set the drink down and approached you, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. When he reached out to cup your cheek, you instinctively pushed his hand away, resolve burning in your gaze.

He sighed. Vulnerability did not come easily to him; that much was clear. But you were different. You had made him a little softer, a little weaker in ways he didn’t quite understand.

“I can’t keep living in uncertainty,” you continued, voice steadier now. “Either tell me what you want, or leave me alone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke, his voice low, certain.

“I want you.”

The simplicity of the statement sent your heart racing. You hadn’t expected him to be so direct, nor for his words to carry such weight.

Your face grew hot. “You’re an idiot.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest as you sighed, resting your head against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He smelled of something rich and warm, a scent you couldn’t quite place but already found comforting.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Sylus merely hummed in amusement, his arms wrapping around you with the quiet possessiveness of a man who had no intention of letting go.

Caleb

After your reunion with Caleb, an unfamiliar feeling took root in your chest—no, not unfamiliar. It had always been there, buried beneath layers of friendship and denial. But now, it was impossible to ignore. Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how much of a man he had become.

His kind yet brooding eyes, that boyish grin, the intoxicating scent that lingered on his clothes—had he always smelled this good? Broad shoulders, strong arms, hands that had always handled you with ease, lifting you effortlessly whenever. The thought alone sent heat creeping up your cheeks, and the man sitting across from you clearly took notice.

“What’s got you all blushy-blushy, pipsqueak?” he teased, pinching your cheek with that infuriatingly smug smirk.

You scoffed, turning your face away. “Don’t touch my face, Caleb! I have makeup on.”

Lately, you’d found yourself caring more about your appearance around him. It was absurd. He’d seen you at your absolute worst—bedhead, tears, even the aftermath of too much liquor. Yet now, every glance he sent your way made you feel… shy? What was happening to you?

He only chuckled in response, leaning back against his chair.

The two of you had met up at a café to play Kitty Cards, an old favorite. He always let you win, though he never admitted it. You pretended not to notice, but every time you did, it made you smile—just a little.

“Alright, come on. The movie’s gonna start soon.” He stood, extending his hand toward you. Without hesitation, you took it, savoring the warmth of his rough palm against yours.

The movie of choice was a horror film—Caleb’s idea, of course. You had agreed, partly to humor him and partly because any excuse to spend more time with him was welcome.

Inside the theater, you sat beside him, the glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. The flickering light made his eyes glimmer, and for a moment, you were caught staring. You quickly looked away, but not before he noticed. Of course he noticed.

“You’re acting weird.” His gaze lingered on you, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I—uh—I’m on my period,” you blurted, grasping for an excuse. “That’s all. I just feel a little unwell.”

His expression softened instantly. “You should’ve told me. Do you want to go home? I’ll cook you some soup, and we can watch something there instead.”

There he was again—always caring, always thinking of you. It made your heart race, and you hated how easily he could do that to you.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just watch the movie.”

As the film progressed, it proved to be far scarier than you’d anticipated. Without realizing it, you had latched onto Caleb’s hand. He chuckled at your reaction but didn’t pull away.

Then came the jump scare.

Out of reflex, you turned toward him, seeking comfort. But at the same moment, he turned toward you.

Peck.

Your lips brushed against his.

Your breath hitched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Just stared.

“I’m so sorry!” you yelped, whipping your head away in mortification.

“Hey, it’s fine, pipsqueak.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “It was an accident.”

You didn’t know why, but his words stung a little.

“…Yeah.”

By the time you returned home, your shoulders were weighed down with something heavy, something unspoken. It gnawed at you, clawed at your chest.

Caleb, as if sensing your turmoil, placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face him. “Alright, that’s enough. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to the floor before gathering the courage to meet his eyes.

“Caleb… would it be selfish of me if I said I want to kiss you again?”

Silence. A single, tense moment stretched between you, thick enough to drown in. Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hands cupped your face, disregarding your earlier complaint about ruining your makeup, and with a quiet exhale, he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, tender—yet it held the weight of something long overdue. In that moment, you knew he was no longer only your best friend.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads caleb #lads rafayel #lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace #lads sylus #loveanddeepspace #lads zayne #lads x reader #lads fluff #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne love and deepspace

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bunji-enthusiast · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬

Sypnosis [When you found yourself settling down in the confines of the supposed Safe Haven, your worry coursed over to the thought of Kissy Missy. Then, the pain became clearly evident after that small conversation.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, Doey The Doughman.]

Note || some little bits of reconciliation and actually getting some time to take care of yourself. Lmao, lettuce make-up with our allies mob games. Damn.

The air in the Safe Haven was thick with tension, but it was the kind of tension that felt oddly… comfortable. Here, in the safety of this last sanctuary, the chaos of the factory’s horrors seemed miles away. Yet, you couldn’t escape the constant burn of exhaustion that clung to you, an aching reminder of the days that had stretched into weeks, the endless running, the ever-present sense of danger.

You winced as you sank into a worn chair, feeling the sharp pain in your hands—the reminder of the struggle, of how the factory had tried to break you down. The stabbing sensation still lingered, especially in your hands, where the cuts and bruises from your last fight had yet to fully heal. It wasn’t just the physical wounds that hurt; it was the mental ones too, the nightmares that had been following you since the factory’s horrors first caught up with you. But there was no time to rest—no time to truly heal—because there was still so much you hadn’t understood.

And that’s why, despite the physical toll, you found yourself making your way toward Kissy Missy.

She had been one of the many strange figures you’d encountered in the factory, her appearance eerily similar to Huggy Wuggy but… different. More fragile, perhaps. But you knew there was something deeper about her, something buried beneath that pink exterior, something that reminded you of the other experiments—each one with their own strange, tortured past.

You paused for a moment, standing at the entrance to the small corner of the Safe Haven where Kissy Missy resided. Despite the pain, despite the urge to just collapse and let sleep take you, you pushed forward. You’d never let yourself be the one to turn away from someone in need, and Kissy Missy had been in need ever since you met her. Sure, she had been a little… off after the massacre, but you knew what it was like to live in this place, to feel like a broken part of a machine you couldn’t escape.

When you finally saw her, she was sitting near the far wall, her left arm hanging loosely in a makeshift sling, the remnants of her earlier battle with the mystery attacker still visible in the gaping burns and slashes that marred the right side of her face and body. The pink fur that usually looked so vibrant was now matted and stained with dried blood, and her eyes—those long, heavy lashes framing her round, almost innocent eyes—were hollow with something… sadness. She didn’t look at you at first, too absorbed in whatever thoughts were racing through her head.

“Kissy?” you said softly, unsure of how to approach her.

Her head turned slowly, her gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before flicking downward, avoiding eye contact.

You gave a slight wince as you took a step closer. “I, uh… I wanted to check on you.”

The silence between you two stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. It had been like this ever since the factory turned into a playground of madness, with no answers to any of the questions that haunted both of you. Despite her usual silence, despite the distance she often kept, you knew she appreciated your presence. She always had.

You let out a breath and moved to sit down across from her, trying not to jolt in pain as you lowered yourself into the chair. “You’ve been through a lot. I get it. We all have.”

Kissy Missy didn’t respond. Her lips barely twitched, but you could tell she was listening. Maybe she was too tired to speak, or maybe she was too worried about the Prototype's plans to say anything at all. But you didn’t mind the silence. Sometimes it was easier to exist with someone who understood the weight of it all, the weight that words couldn’t even begin to explain.

"I don't know if this helps," you continued quietly, "but I want you to know that you're not alone here. We’re in this together. Whatever happens next."

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours then, but only for a moment. It was like she was trying to read you, trying to understand what you meant. Slowly, she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You didn’t need her to talk, to give you answers. What you needed—what you both needed—was to share this space, this fragile moment of peace, where there were no tasks, no monsters, no running for your life. Just a quiet connection between two lost souls in the middle of a nightmare.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, the Safe Haven could give you both a chance to heal.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

As you sat there, you allowed yourself to close your eyes for a brief moment, just long enough to let the exhaustion settle in. You'll face whatever comes next. But for now, in this small, quiet space, you allowed yourself to rest. Kissy Missy, for once, didn’t seem so far away.

Though, after that small but hopeful interaction. An hour and half later, interception crossed your mind.

A brilliant cross by the sign of the infirmary, maybe not, with the way you’ve been seeing things. Between reality and illusion, you’ve tried not to think about that part too much.

The dim, flickering light of the Safe Haven's small infirmary provided little comfort, though it was still far better than the oppressive, clanging noises and hazardous atmosphere of the factory that lingered in the air. The exhaustion had settled into your bones, an aching weariness that seemed to make every muscle protest with the smallest movement. After hours of tense, grueling hours spent navigating through the factory, and the constant threat of being torn apart by both monsters and the harsh environment, you found yourself collapsing in the hallway of the Safe Haven, feeling the weight of your past decisions crash over you.

However you were glad you managed to talk to Kissy before your body—moreover you—went almost numb.

You winced, looking down at your hands. They were raw, battered, and covered in bruises from the constant handling of machinery, gripping metal bars, and escaping the clutches of various monsters. You tried to brush it off, but now, in the quiet confines of safety, the pain and damage were hard to ignore. The skin on your knuckles was torn, deep red streaks of blood seeping through the open wounds as the exertion of constant pressure finally caught up with you.

Doey, always perceptive despite his playful demeanor, had noticed the way you were favoring your hands and the way you winced as you flexed your fingers. He hopped over to your side, his multi-colored doughy body shifting with each movement, his orange arm extending to gently tap your wrist in concern.

"Hey, hey," he said, his voice a soft mix of concern and curiosity. "What happened to your hands? They look pretty bruised and, uh, kinda gnarly."

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. It wasn’t the kind of thing you liked to talk about. Not to someone like Doey, who was always so carefree, so light-hearted, always ready with a smile and a joke. The last thing you wanted was to burden him with the dark memories that haunted your hands.

"I... it’s nothing. Just the usual," you muttered, trying to hide the shame beneath a gruff voice, even as the truth flickered beneath it.

Doey raised an eyebrow, his blue face tilting slightly as if reading your tone, and then, with a playful tilt of his head, he leaned in closer. "Uh-uh. I don’t think 'nothing's gonna cut it this time. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?"

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your face, fingers brushing against the rough skin of your knuckles. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice quieter now, barely above a whisper. "It’s… it’s from working in the factory. A lot of heavy lifting, tight spaces, and, well... things went wrong. Lots of things went wrong."

Doey's eyes softened with understanding, but there was no pity in them—only concern. His orange arm gently rested on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Sounds like you’ve been pushing yourself harder than you should have. You’re safe here, y’know? You don’t have to keep that stuff to yourself."

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Safe Haven. It was a phrase you’d come to rely on, even if the dark memories of the factory still lingered like shadows at the edge of your mind. You looked over at Doey, forcing a small smile. "I guess I just… I just want to patch these up. Don't want to end up infecting them or something worse."

Doey thought for a moment, his expression furrowing slightly as if he was deep in thought. Then, in a sudden burst of energy, his orange and yellow arms shot out, his long limbs stretching and twisting as he moved around, digging through the nearby crates.

"Thread, yarn, string, fabric… Aha! Got it!" he exclaimed, pulling out a coil of old, faded string from a box in the corner. His hands moved with surprising speed as he held it up in front of you, a proud look on his face. "This should work, right? I’m not exactly a surgeon, but I can at least try to help with this!"

Your mind caught onto the first bit. Thread? It isn’t ideal but that’ll work too.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite the situation. "You’re a lifesaver, Doey."

He grinned wide, that playful energy never faltering. "Hey, it’s what I do best—saving lives, keeping things light, and making sure nobody's left behind, yeah?" His face shifted for just a moment, a flicker of something deeper passing through his eyes, but just as quickly as it appeared, the mask of his usual cheer returned.

Taking the string carefully from his hands, you positioned your hands before him. "Alright, let’s see what you’ve got," you said, trying to keep the moment light-hearted, but the weight of the past few hours hung heavily in the air.

Doey’s fingers worked with surprising delicacy, his doughy hands moving deftly as he wrapped the string around your injured knuckles, tying the wounds up as best as he could. His movements were slow, thoughtful, and you could tell he was taking extra care. There was a soft hum to his actions, a peaceful rhythm that somehow matched the calmness of the Safe Haven around you.

"Hang in there," Doey said, his voice steady, despite the playful nature of his words. "You’ve been through a lot, but you’re not alone here. Not anymore. We’ll get you patched up. You’ve got a place with us. Always."

For a moment, all the tension in your body seemed to ease, as if the weight of the world was momentarily lifted. It wasn’t much—just a bit of string and a comforting presence—but in that moment, it was enough. You didn’t have to carry everything alone. Not anymore.

As Doey finished tying the last knot, he stepped back and gave a satisfied nod. "There. Good as new! Well, maybe not new, but you get the idea."

You flexed your hands carefully, the makeshift bandages holding tight. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for now. The pain was still there, but it felt like a distant thing, something that could be ignored for the moment.

"Thanks, Doey," you rasped, your voice quieter, but filled with gratitude.

Doey beamed, his face glowing with pride. "Anytime, buddy. Anytime. Now, let’s get some rest, yeah? we’ve got more adventures to go on."

And as you leaned back against the wall, the weight of all the hours that passed finally slipping from your shoulders, you allowed yourself another rare moment of peace. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to hold onto. Safe Haven. You could stay here for a while, maybe even find a sense of home.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe it.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime kissy missy #poppy playtime 4 #poppy playtime chapter 4 #kissy missy #kissy missy poppy playtime #ppt 4 #doey the doughman #poppy playtime doey

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layaispunk · 1 day ago

Text

Teacher's pet

pairing: Professor!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You fall asleep during Mr. Miller's class.

warnings: age gap (age not specified, but reader is in their 20s and joel is in his 40s), mentions of family conflict & insomnia, pet names, (darlin, sweetheart, honey)

wc: 1k

a/n: obviously ... inspired by the new pedrito content we got today

The low hum of Professor Miller’s voice filled the lecture hall, deep and steady, weaving through equations and theories about quantum superposition. He spoke with the kind of ease that only came from years of experience, his southern drawl giving life to concepts most people would struggle to grasp.

But you weren’t listening.

Your head rested against the cool surface of your desk, arms folded beneath it, as sleep tugged at your exhausted body. You hadn’t meant to drift off, but with the hall's dim lighting, the soft buzzing of electricity and Mr. Miller's voice ... it just happened. You hadn't properly slept in a while. Sleep didn’t come easy at home. It barely came at all.

And now, in the steady rhythm of Joel’s lecture, your body gave in.

You didn’t notice when his voice paused mid-sentence. Didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on you from across the room, brow furrowing. Most students in his class wouldn’t dare slack off - he had a reputation for being strict and demanding. But he knew this was different.

With a sigh, he set down the marker in his hand, rolling his shoulders before speaking again, this time a little softer.

"Alright, we're done for today. Don't forget about the test next week."

Students immediately began shuffling around, packing their thick quantum physics books in their backpacks. The shuffling of footsteps and quiet conversations faded together as everyone walked out the door.

Joel watched as students made their way out, but you haven't moved. While everyone else rushed to leave, you were sat there, with slacked posture, eyes shut on the table.

His jaw tightened. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. You were a good student, but you were struggling trying to keep up with everything lately, and he could tell you were burnt out. He leaned back against the blackboard full of scribbled physics drawings, as he quietly watched you. You were quiet- very smart, very hardworking, always paying attention. One of the few students who actually gave a damn about this class. Maybe that's why he'd taken a liking to you.

Not that he has favorites. But if he did ... well.

Joel took a deep breath and stepped closer, his boots tudding on the floorboards. He paused for a moment before crouching down beside you.

You stirred as he got closer, blinking up at him, eyes heavy, your cheeks crimson. He could see it now—the exhaustion in your slumped shoulders, the way you barely kept your head up.

He leaned in a little, his voice low, almost like a soft command. "Sweetheart, you with me?"

You blinked, your gaze unfocused at first. It took a few moments before your eyes finally cleared, slowly waking from the fog of sleep.

"Hey," Joel said quietly, not wanting to startle you. "You okay to drive home?"

You blinked again, looking up at him, and for a moment, you looked like you hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in days.

"Yeah," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joel raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I know we live pretty close ... I could take you home"

You hesitated, not wanting to accept his offer but not trusting yourself to drive in the state you were in. "Are you sure?"

"Ofcourse."

You nodded. "Okay. Thankyou, Mr. Miller."

Joel stood up, his eyes still locked on you. ‘Alright then. Let’s go.’

You took a deep breath, starting to gather your things, trying to shake off the fog that still clouded your mind. You moved slowly, packing up your notes and slipping them into your bag. Joel just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with somber eyes. He didn’t rush you - he knew better than that.

Finally, you stood up, your bag slung over your shoulder, as he gave you small nod, leading the way out of the classroom.

As you both stepped into the hallway, the silence between you felt heavy. Finally, Joel spoke, his voice low, barely above a whisper, "things bad at home again?"

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question sink into you, but you shook your head slightly, eyes focused on the floor. "I don’t wanna talk about it."

Joel nodded, his respect for your boundaries clear in the way he didn’t push. His silence was enough.

When you reached his truck, Joel held the door open for you, waiting for you to slide in before he closed it softly. When he sat on the driver's seat and turned on the car, he cleared his throat. "If you want, you can ride to school with me tomorrow. Your car’s gonna be here, right?"

You nodded, still feeling disoriented. "Okay." You paused for a moment before asking, "Um, is there any chance I could stay in your class during lunch time?"

"To go over the material for next week's test?" he replied with a sarcastic tone. He knew you didn't need any tutoring for his class. You were his top student.

You raised your eyebrow, smirking. There was an unspoken communication between you two. You were completely transparent to him, and he knew why you wanted to sit with him during lunch time. He always knew. You had talked to him before, opened up about many things, mostly about the situation at home.

He offered that you could stay in his class as long as you like, and that he'd talk to the school counselor to excuse your attendance from other classes. You didn't like doing it often, because you hate feeling like a burden - though he had never made you feel like one.

He gave you a thoughtful look before answering. "'Course. You can hang around as much as you like, darlin'. We already talked about this."

You smiled, appreciating his offer more than he knew. You weren't sure how to thank him for everything.

After a few moments, you told him the exact street you lived at and before long, Joel was pulling into your driveway.

The streetlights casted a soft glow over the road, and when he stopped the truck, he turned to you, slowly, "I’ll wait for you here at 7:30 sharp tomorrow, alright?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "Thanks, Mr. Miller."

"Just Joel will do, honey. I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave you a small wink, watching you get out of the truck and walk toward your door.

He stayed still for a moment, eyes following you as you disappeared inside. Only then did he pull away, already planning on being there first thing tomorrow morning.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #professor x #joel fanfic #joel miller x you #professor!reader

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kaira-diaries · 19 hours ago

Text

Intruders:

warning: violence // emotional distress // non-con touching // cannon type violence

pairing: fem!reader x in-ho

wc: 16.7k

summary: What if there were two intruders? Jun-ho and in-ho’s lover...

a/n: oof what if the intruder was also in-ho’s girlie..likeeee the heartache...I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT THE LENGTH. Also this is such a dramatic piece but I’m kinda here for it ??

-> Masterlist <-

You had been with the police department since the day you graduated from college, bright-eyed and full of ideals.

But if you were being honest, the job was never what your partner made it out to be. Jun-ho had painted it as something noble, something that gave you purpose—a career where you could make a real difference. But for you, the police force felt like a necessary evil, like a wound that would never entirely heal. Some days, you believed in the badge, but most days, you saw it for what it was—corruption hidden beneath polished shoes and pressed uniforms.

The moment that sealed your fate—the final, irreversible crack in the foundation—was when In-ho was stripped of his title, dismissed like he was nothing more than a piece of discarded evidence. And the cruelest part? It was your fault.

Three years ago, your body had betrayed you, liver failure creeping in like a slow, merciless tide. The sickness took everything—your energy, your independence, your hope. But In-ho, stubborn as ever, refused to let you go. He did what any desperate man would do when faced with losing the only thing he couldn't bear to live without. He pulled strings, made deals, and buried himself in debt.

Loans turned into bribes, and bribes turned into something much darker.

And for what?

By the time a donor was found—just weeks later—In-ho was gone. Not missing, not dead, just... vanished. No calls. No letters. No trace of the man who had burned his life to the ground for you. You could only imagine the weight of his shame, the crushing defeat of knowing he had sacrificed everything for someone who no longer needed saving.

But in the end, he had saved you.

He just wasn’t around to see it.

You told yourself it was the pain of losing his career—the one thing he had bled for, suffered for, given everything to. It was all he had ever known, and you had taken it from him.

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. He lost faith. Not just in the system, not just in the job that had defined him, but in everything. In saving you. In living the life he had so carefully planned. Maybe, in the end, it wasn’t even about his career. Maybe it was about you.

And maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t wanted to be around to watch you die.

Only, you didn’t.

You were here.

You were breathing.

The cruel irony of it gnawed at you, an ache that settled deep in your bones. Did he know? Had he ever found out that all his sacrifices hadn’t been in vain? Or did he disappear believing it had all been for nothing? Did he hate you for it? For taking everything from him and still being here? For living the life he destroyed himself to give you?

Jun-ho tells you otherwise. He insists his brother could never blame you, never resent you. But Jun-ho doesn’t carry this weight, this unbearable, suffocating guilt that clings to you like a second skin. He doesn’t lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling from an empty, frozen bed, wondering if somewhere out there, In-ho is doing the same—only his resentment keeps him warm.

You want to believe Jun-ho. God, you do.

But that doesn’t stop the pain from sinking into your chest, heavy and unrelenting, as though his absence is carved into the very fabric of your existence.

You traced lazy patterns through the mound of grilled chicken and roasted vegetables on your plate, the food growing colder with each passing second. Hunger hadn't found you tonight—just as it hadn’t last night or the night before. Beside you, Jun-ho ate with his usual fervor, scooping generous spoonfuls into his mouth without a second thought. Each bite was mechanical as if dinner were nothing more than a task to complete.

Across from you, his mother sat rigid, her eyes locked on the untouched chicken before her. Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of her plate, but she made no move to eat. Beside her, the empty chair loomed—In-ho’s chair. Though he hadn't sat there in years, his place at the table was still set each night with unwavering devotion. A clean plate. Perfectly arranged silverware. A glass of water filled just enough. She still clung to the hope that one evening, he would drift through the doorway, drawn by the scent of home-cooked food, his nose in the air, his expression a front of quiet satisfaction. But the chair remained empty, a stark reminder of absence woven into your nightly ritual.

"Y/n," his mother called softly, her voice threading through the heavy silence, pulling you from the fog of your thoughts.

You looked to your left across the table, meeting her gaze—warm yet heavy with sorrow. Her eyes, glassy with grief, searched yours as if trying to find the right words, the ones that might bring you even the smallest comfort. Slowly, she reached across the table, her fingers brushing against the back of your hand, a quiet plea for you to let her in.

Your breath hitched. You bit your lip, gaze darting past her, past the dining room, past the life that still moved forward while you remained frozen in time. The tears welled before you could stop them, blurring the dim light, making the world swim. You shook your head.

You didn’t want to talk.

Didn’t want to hear reassurances that felt hollow. Didn’t want to pretend you were okay when every inch of you was unraveling. Even now. After all this time.

Without another word, you pushed back your chair, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor in a sound that made Jun-ho glance up mid-bite. But you didn’t stop. You turned away, footsteps heavy as you left them to their meal, the scent of untouched food lingering in the air.

The moment your bedroom door shut behind you, you locked it—sealing yourself away from the world, from their pity, from the unbearable ache of his absence.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You sat at your desk, eyes skimming over the words on your screen, though you already knew what they said. The article had been plastered across every major news outlet in the city, but this one—this one came from the most ruthless, the kind that spared no mercy when it came to public disgrace.

And they got every detail right.

Policeman fired for bribery.

Officer dismissed for fraudulent behaviors.

Police Officer Hwang In-ho canned for illegal bribery, lining his pockets.

Criminal.

The words seeped into one another, each one twisting like a knife in your gut. They made him sound like a violent convict, like some immoral officer who had lined his pockets instead of a man who had destroyed himself for someone he loved. For you.

Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea rolling through you. You couldn’t take it—not the truth of it, not the shame clawing at your ribs. With a harsh breath, you slammed your laptop shut, the sound echoing through the quiet room.

A knock at the door rang a moment later.

You blinked, your mind still tangled in the venom of that article, but you forced yourself up, dragging your feet toward the door. When you opened it, Jun-ho stood there, leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was exhausted, dark circles etched beneath his weary eyes.

"Can I come in?" he asked, voice quieter than usual.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside, opening the door wider. He slipped past you, the familiar scent of his cologne filling the air as you shut the door behind him.

You turned to face him as he sat on the edge of the bed, his posture weighed down by something you couldn’t quite name—fatigue, frustration, or maybe the same grief that sat heavy in your own chest. He patted the space beside him, a silent invitation.

You paused before sitting down, folding your hands in your lap, your fingers twisting together as if you could wring the blame from your skin.

Jun-ho cleared his throat, his voice low, careful. "You need to stop blaming yourself, y/n," he murmured.

You scoffed a hollow sound that barely left your throat. A bitter breath pushed past your lips as you shook your head. "I wish it were that simple, Jun-ho," you whispered. "But I can't."

The room fell into stillness.

Then, Jun-ho turned to you, his jaw tight, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes—not at you, but at the weight you refused to let go of. "It is not your fault you got sick," he said, voice firmer now, edged with something dangerously close to anger. "It is not your fault In-ho took bribes."

You swallowed hard, but he wasn’t done.

"He made that choice himself," Jun-ho continued, his gaze piercing, unwavering. "No one forced his hand. Not you. Not anyone. None of this is your fault, y/n."

But the truth—no matter how desperately he wanted you to believe it—didn’t loosen the vice around your heart. If anything, it only made it squeeze tighter.

Tears spilled silently down your cheeks, hot against your skin, as Jun-ho’s words settled over you like a heavy weight. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before softening his tone.

"Besides," he murmured, "I need your skill set."

You blinked through your tears, brows pulling together in confusion. A hollow laugh escaped you as you lifted a dismissive hand. "Jun-ho, I—"

He caught your wrist gently. "Just… listen," he said, his voice low, almost pleading. "A minute is all I’m asking."

You stilled, caught off guard by the urgency in his voice. The weight in his gaze was enough to pull you from your grief, just for a moment. With a slow inhale, you nodded.

His fingers loosened as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, worn card. "I went to his apartment today," he said. "The landlord said he hasn’t been by in a long time." He hesitated before holding out the card. "But I found this."

You took it carefully, fingers brushing against the textured surface. Three shapes were printed on the front—simple, yet unsettling in their starkness. Your stomach tautened as you flipped it over. An address. A date. A time.

Your pulse quickened. "Odd," you muttered, tracing the ink with your thumb again before looking back up at Jun-ho.

His expression had shifted. That familiar sharpness had returned—the one you had seen countless times before, when the two of you were knee-deep in a case, piecing together a puzzle no one else could solve.

"I want to find him, y/n," he said, voice steady, unwavering.

The room felt colder suddenly. You swallowed hard, glancing back down at the card.

For the first time in three years, you felt something other than guilt.

"And I want you to help," Jun-ho said, his voice unwavering.

You shook your head immediately, your grip tightening on the card. "He—he wouldn’t want to see me, Jun-ho," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "He probably doesn’t even think I’m alive."

Jun-ho exhaled through his nose, rubbing his hands together as if weighing his words carefully. Then, he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Maybe," he admitted, but there was something in his tone that made you look up. Something steadier. "But what if he does?"

You let out a bitter laugh, rubbing your tired eyes. "Jun-ho—"

"No," he cut in, shifting closer, his voice quieter but no less firm. "Listen to me. I know my brother. He’s stubborn, and he’s proud. But do you really think he wouldn’t want to know that everything he did wasn’t for nothing?"

You swallowed hard. But he kept going.

"If there’s even the smallest chance that seeing you, seeing his brother, could bring him back to this family… to himself… don’t you think it’s worth trying?"

Silence stretched between you.

The card in your hand suddenly felt heavier.

Jun-ho sighed, running a hand through his hair before standing up. "I’m going," he said simply. "With or without you."

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, exhaling shakily.

And when you opened them again, you knew—you couldn’t let him do this alone.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The sky stretched endlessly above you, an uninterrupted canvas of brilliant blue, unmarred by even the softest wisp of cloud. Sunlight streamed through the canopy of trees, dappling the forest floor in shifting patches of gold. The air was warm, carrying the fresh scent of pine and damp earth, mingling with the faint perfume of wildflowers that lined the trail.

You breathed it all in, savoring the tranquility, but your attention—like always—remained elsewhere.

In-ho walked beside you, close enough that your arms nearly brushed with every step. His presence was stable, unshaken as if he belonged here among the towering trees and whispering leaves. You watched him from the corner of your eye, studying the way the sunlight caught in his black hair, the way his expression eased when he glanced at the beauty enveloping you. He was breathtaking in the way that made your chest ache—so full of life, so unshakably kind.

You knew you shouldn’t feel this way. Shouldn’t let your heart stumble over the very idea of him. He was your partner’s brother. This was a line you weren’t meant to cross.

But god, it was impossible.

The forest path narrowed as you and In-ho made your way toward the lake, the sounds of the world around you muffled by the thick, lush trees. The sunlight flickered through the branches, and as the air grew cooler, you felt the weight of his presence more intensely. The water was near—still, calm, and inviting. You could see the glimmer of it through the trees, its surface reflecting the blueness of the sky like a mirror.

In-ho’s steps slowed as you approached the water, and he looked toward the lake beyond the dock with a quiet smile. “It’s even more beautiful than I remember,” he murmured, almost to himself, the sound of his voice low and dreamy.

You stood at the edge of the dock, the water below gleaming with a quiet invitation. The air felt pure between you and In-ho. You could feel his gaze on you, like a weight on your skin, but you didn’t turn to meet it just yet. Instead, you reached behind you and unbuttoned the top of your shirt, slipping it off, and then slid your shorts down to reveal your bathing suit.

You could hear In-ho’s footsteps pause, a soft intake of breath behind you. His voice was quiet, questioning. “What are you doing?”

You turned to look at him, a small grin on your lips. “I’m going for a swim. Unless you’re too scared to join me?” you teased, your heart racing at the way his eyes followed your every movement.

There was a brief silence between you two before In-ho’s lips curled into a smile. He shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable, before starting to walk toward you. But before he could get any closer, you didn’t wait for him—you jumped, diving into the water with a splash, the coolness instantly enveloping you.

The moment you resurfaced, you caught sight of the dock above you, the ripples of the water swirling around you. With practiced grace, you swam towards the edge, your hands finding the weathered wood as you pulled yourself up, water streaming off your skin.

In-ho stood there, looking down at you from the edge of the dock, his gaze softer than before but still intense. Your heart beat wildly as you stretched out a hand, holding it out to him, your fingers just inches from his.

For a moment, In-ho hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, searching your face. You could see the battle in his expression, but then he stepped closer to the edge, reaching out for your hand.

The moment his fingers brushed yours, you pulled him in, tugging him into the water with you. His surprised laugh echoed in the air as he splashed into the lake beside you.

You turned away from the dock, your eyes fixed on the water, waiting for him to surface. The seconds stretched longer than they should have before you saw the dark shape of In-ho break through the surface, shaking his head to clear the water from his hair.

When he emerged, his hair clung damply to his forehead, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of it. The sound was light, carefree—until he wiped his eyes and looked at you, his face unwound, his expression somehow caught between amusement and something more in-depth. You felt your pulse quicken as you watched him, your body drawn toward him like a magnet.

Without thinking, your hand lifted, almost instinctively, to brush his hair from his eyes. The touch was delicate, gentle, but the moment it happened, you both froze. His eyes locked on yours, the softness in them catching you off guard. There was a stillness that passed between you, one that felt both fragile and inevitable.

His hand reached for your palm then his fingers curled around yours with a quiet passion. Slowly, he pulled your hand toward him, guiding you closer, his movements willful and slow, as if he was savoring the proximity. The way he held you felt different now—his grip was tender.

He gently guided your palm to the warm skin of his neck, his fingers pressing against your wrist, urging you closer still. You could feel the steady pulse beneath your hand, his breath shallow, quickening. At the same time, your other hand found its way around his neck, the back of his damp hair slick beneath your touch. The world seemed to narrow, focusing entirely on the space between you.

Before you could fully process what was happening, his arms slipped around your thighs, pulling you toward him with a strength that made your breath catch. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed so close there was nothing left between you—no distance, no hesitation. The lake water rippled around you, but all you could feel was the heat of his skin beneath your hands, the steady beat of his heart against yours, the weight of the moment that pulled you both into a perfect, suspended stillness.

In-ho’s fingers then moved softly through your damp hair, his touch light, almost reverent. He cupped your cheek, the warmth of his hand sending a shiver through you as he gently tilted your head to study you. His gaze lingered, taking you in like he was memorizing every detail—your flushed cheeks, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle in the light of the sun.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “What?” you teased softly, a playful edge to your voice. “Are you going to compliment me, or just stare?”

His lips curved into a slow, teasing grin, his eyes still locked on yours.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you managed to look even more beautiful after jumping into a lake.” He ran his thumb lightly across your cheek, his touch gentle. “It’s not fair.”

In-ho’s expression softened even further, the playful glint in his eyes fading into wonder. His thumb lingered against your skin, tracing slow, gentle circles. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts as if weighing the words carefully before letting them slip out.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now…” He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes searching yours, like he was trying to find the right way to say something that had been hidden for far too long. "I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but… I’ve been in love with you for longer than I care to admit.”

The confession hung between you, quiet but heavy with sincerity. His voice was soft, almost fragile, like he was giving you something vulnerable. The weight of his words settled around you, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside. You could hear the honesty in his tone, the deep affection, the care that he held for you in every gesture, every look.

“You know,” you started, your voice more subdued than normal, “I’ve been thinking about something too.” You searched his eyes, trying to convey everything you felt in that one moment. “You always worry about me and your brother, but… I worry about you, In-ho. Every day, every time we’re out there.”

Your voice trembled slightly as you continued, the vulnerability in your words matching the uncertainty in your heart. “I don’t think you understand how much it scares me, the thought of something happening to you." In-ho reached out, adding his other hand to your cheek, his touch steady. “I know you care, and I care about you more than you can imagine.” His eyes searched yours, intense and serious, but there was a soft kind of resolve in them that made your heart ache.

He leaned in slightly, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “Even if I disappear, even if I’m not here… I’ll always be with you. I won’t leave you, not really. You’ll always have a piece of me with you.” He leaned further in, pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss, pulling back a moment later with another sweet, reassuring promise.

"No matter what happens, I’ll always be with you.”

A rough, urgent hand shook your shoulder, the pressure bringing you back to consciousness with a start.

Your eyes fluttered open, groggy from the haze of sleep, and you jolted upright in the passenger seat of Jun-ho’s car. The dim glow of the street light filtered through the windows, casting a pale glow on the dashboard. You blinked, still disoriented, trying to shake the remnants of the memory that had been pulling you under.

The weight of Jun-ho’s hand on your arm lingered for a moment before he released it and quickly reached for your hand. His grip was feeble, a contrast to the way his expression was tight with concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and almost hesitant, as if unsure whether to push you further.

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his, and you could see it—the groove in his brow, the way his lips were pressed into a narrow line. There was unease in the way he watched you, something familiar but hard to ignore.

You rubbed your tired eyes, trying to will the sleepiness away, and forced a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with the remnants of slumber.

Jun-ho didn’t seem convinced, though. He hummed softly, his voice almost too quiet for the silence of the car. “You were doing it again,” he said, his tone carrying a weight that made your chest tighten.

“Doing what?” you asked, still trying to clear the fog from your mind.

He hesitated for a moment before withdrawing his hand from yours and reaching over to offer you a bottle of water. His fingers brushed against yours, cold against your warm skin, as he handed it to you.

“Whimpering his name,” Jun-ho said, the words coming out carefully like he was weighing every syllable. His eyes flickered toward you briefly before they returned to the harbor ahead, but there was something in the way he said it that sent a ripple of discomfort through you.

You glanced down at the bottle in your hand, but you didn’t bring it to your lips. Instead, you were focused on the sensation of his words. The reality of it stung, pulling at something raw inside of you.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you did the only thing that felt safe in that moment—you looked away, turning your face toward the window, hiding the flurry of emotions.

You cleared your throat, the sound catching in the stillness of the car as you tried to shake off the heaviness that paused in the air. You shifted in your seat, glancing out the window at the bustling port ahead, the soft hum of distant engines and the sway of boats cutting through the thick tension between you.

"What's the plan again?" you asked, your voice a little too tight, though you tried to mask it with a sense of casualness.

Jun-ho didn’t take his eyes off the road as he responded, his voice steady but carrying an edge of uncertainty. "We wait until 6 PM," he said, glancing down at his watch. His fingers brushed over the timepiece with a nervous habit. "Which is... three minutes from now." He paused, then glanced at your reflection in the window, his face softened but lined with an unreadable expression. "I wish I knew what to expect, but... I don't." The silence that followed felt thick, charged with the weight of unspoken things.

You looked back at him, your heart twisting at the concern etched into his face, and offered a reassuring smile, though it felt strained. "I'll do whatever you need me to do."

His eyes flickered briefly to you before he nodded, his jaw tightening, like he was carrying more than just the weight of the mission. He sighed, a quiet exhale that seemed to carry everything he hadn’t said. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "What... what were you dreaming of?"

The question caught you off guard, and you felt your throat tighten as you fidgeted in your seat again. You ran a hand over your face, your fingers trembling slightly, the memory still fresh.

"That day at the lake..." you started, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of it—what had happened, the things you hadn’t said, the emotions you hadn’t let yourself feel—clung to your chest like a lead weight.

"When... when In-ho told me..." You faltered, unable to find the words that would make sense of it all.

Before anything else could slip from your lips, the sudden sweep of headlights caught your attention. The flicker of bright, glaring lights poured into the side mirror, sharp and blinding against the darkening sky. You jerked your head toward it, your pulse quickening as you recognized the unmistakable silhouette of several vehicles—vans, by the look of it—growing larger in the reflection.

"Jun-ho!" you gasped, your voice tight with urgency. "Behind us, there’s lights. Lots of them."

Without a word, Jun-ho’s face shifted from concern to something more focused—more dangerous. His eyes shot to the rearview mirror, and in one swift motion, he cut the engine, the car's hum falling silent. The tension in the air thickened, every second stretching as the sound of the approaching vans grew louder, their engines growling through the otherwise still night.

"Down!" he hissed, urgency sharp in his voice. Without thinking, you ducked instinctively, pressing yourself low against the seat, your heart pounding against your ribs. The world outside the car blurred into streaks of light, the headlights of the vans flashing in quick succession as they rumbled past.

Once the last of the vans disappeared into the port entrance, you and Jun-ho slowly sat back up, eyes locked on the convoy as it rolled steadily toward a massive loading ship. The hulking vessel loomed over the water, its floodlights casting long, eerie beams across the dock. The sound of metal groaning echoed through the air as ramps lowered, ready to swallow the vehicles into its depths.

You exchanged a glance with Jun-ho, a silent conversation passing between you—no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just action.

With a sharp nod, the two of you flung open your doors, slipping out of the car in one fluid motion. Your boots barely made a sound against the concrete as you sprinted toward the dock, keeping low, moving as one. The salty tang of the ocean mixed with the faint scent of oil and gasoline, and the rhythmic crash of waves was almost drowned out by the mechanical sounds of the ship preparing for departure.

Guns drawn, you pressed yourselves against the cold steel siding of a small storage building, hearts pounding in sync. Jun-ho exhaled slowly, his breath steady despite the tension crackling between you.

“What are we doing, Jun-ho?” you whispered, gripping your weapon tightly as you peered around the edge of the building.

He mirrored your movement, stealing a quick glance at the loading area before ducking back beside you. His voice was low but firm. “The vans are stopped.” His eyes flicked to yours, sharp with intent. “We split up. Get low, hide beneath a van, and let them take us onto the ship.”

You swallowed hard but nodded. This was reckless. Dangerous. But it was the only way.

Jun-ho reached into his pocket and produced a tiny comm link, pressing it into your palm. “Put this in your ear,” he instructed. “Keep me updated on your position at all times.”

You gave a tight nod, slotting the device into place as you prepared to move. But just as you stepped forward, Jun-ho’s fingers wrapped around your wrist—firm, urgent.

Your breath caught as you turned back to face him. His grip wasn’t forceful, but there was something weighted in the way he held you there, something implicit that flickered in his dark eyes. Worry.

“Stay out of sight, y/n,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And be careful.”

For a moment, the intensity in his gaze pinned you in place. There was something deeper there, something intimate that went beyond just concern for a partner. It was protective. Personal. A silent plea.

You let a small smile tug at your lips, trying to ease the tension. “Aren’t I always?” you teased softly, though your heart thrummed wildly against your ribs.

Jun-ho’s lips pressed together, like he wanted to say something more—but instead, he simply let go of your hand, his fingers trailing away with reluctant hesitation.

Then, without another word, you turned and slipped into the shadows, heart hammering as you prepared to vanish into the night.

The memories clung to you like a shadow as you ran through the darkness, each footstep light but filled with the weight of the past. The sting of salt in the air, the distant hum of the ship, the adrenaline surging through your veins—it all blurred together beneath the echo of a voice from years ago.

Jun-ho’s voice.

It had been a hard pill for him to swallow back then. The truth of your surface-level feelings for him. The way he had always been there—steady, watching over you with quiet devotion. You had known, even before he ever admitted it, that he cared deeply for you. Perhaps even loved you. But love had a cruel sense of irony.

Because your heart had never belonged to him.

It had belonged to his brother.

Your breathing stumbled as you recalled the night it all came spilling out—the raw, unfiltered confession buried in slurred words and whiskey-laced regret. It had been late, the bar dimly lit and nearly empty, save for the two of you. His fingers had curled around his glass, knuckles white, jaw clenched as he forced himself to say what he had buried for so long.

"You don’t even see it, do you?" he had murmured, his voice bitter.

"How much I lov—" He had cut himself off, shaking his head with a humorless laugh before downing the rest of his drink.

You had frozen, your heart squeezing painfully, because in that moment, you saw it all. The way his feelings had festered beneath the surface, hidden behind late-night conversations and lingering touches that you never thought twice about. And worst of all, you had seen the pain in his eyes as he realized the inevitable.

That you loved In-ho.

And that In-ho loved you.

Now, as time had squeaked by, Jun-ho had learned to hide it well. He buried it beneath layers of professionalism, sarcasm, and quiet understanding. It had become something unspoken, something he never let rise to the surface—except in rare moments. Moments like earlier, when his fingers curled around your wrist just a little too tightly. When his voice carried that same note of hesitation.

It still hurts you.

To know he was in pain. To know that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much he tried to pretend, a part of him still carried that weight.

And yet, as you ducked behind a stack of crates, heart hammering as you prepared to slip beneath one of the vans, you couldn’t afford to think about it anymore. Not now. Not when danger lurked just ahead.

But still…

It lingered.

You clicked the comm link in your ear, pressing it just enough to activate the line. “In position. About to make my move under the van.” Your voice was a whisper, barely audible over the distant crash of waves against the dock.

A faint crackle followed before In-ho’s voice came through, steady and controlled. “Stay low. On my mark, make your move.”

You pressed yourself against the cold metal of the crate, your breath hitching as you scanned your surroundings. The dim glow of overhead floodlights cast long, flickering shadows across the dock, stretching over the pavement like creeping fingers. Your pulse quickened as movement caught your eye in the distance.

A figure. No—figures.

Dressed in pink uniforms, their hoods pulled high over their heads, their faces hidden behind dark masks. They moved in pairs, methodical and silent, sweeping the area with slow, calculated strides. Rifles slung over their shoulders, their heads turned sharply from side to side, scanning the shadows, ensuring every corner of the ship’s perimeter was clear.

A chill ran down your spine. They were everywhere.

You clicked the comm link again, barely daring to move. “Jun-ho, watch your six.” Your voice was tight, urgent. “There are guards everywhere.”

A long pause. Then, his voice came through—lower this time, more serious. “Copy that. Stay hidden.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers flexing over the pavement as you readied yourself. The tension in the air thickened, your body coiled like a spring, waiting for the moment to move.

In-ho’s voice finally returned, quiet but firm. “Now.”

You took a sharp breath and made your move.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The ship had long since left the dock, its massive hull cutting through the waves with a rhythmic hum. You could feel the vibration of it beneath you, the low rumble of the engine pulsing through the steel floor, through your bones. The scent of oil thickened the air, mixing with the faint tang of rust.

Curled beneath the van, you stayed as still as possible, pressed against the cold undercarriage, every breath controlled, every muscle tense. The ship swayed ever so slightly, the motion subtle but constant, a reminder that there was no turning back now.

Your comm link crackled to life in your ear.

"Hanging in there?" Jun-ho’s voice came through, laced with quiet amusement.

You exhaled softly, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. "We’re closer to your brother than we’ve been in three years, Jun-ho. What do you think?"

A short laugh came from the other end—warm but edged with something heavier. "Fair point."

Silence stretched between you for a moment, broken only by the faint sounds of footsteps above, boots thudding against metal as the guards moved across the ship’s deck. Your fingers curled into a fist against the hard ground.

Jun-ho’s voice softened. "I promise we’ll get him back, y/n."

You bit your lip, hesitation gnawing at you. "We don’t even know if he wants to come home," you whispered, barely daring to say it aloud. The thought had haunted you for years. "Or what his part is in any of this."

A quiet hum came through the comm, Jun-ho’s thoughtful exhale. When he finally spoke, his words were steady, resigned, yet resolute.

"If we find him, and he doesn’t want to come home… then at least we’ll know we did what we could for him."

Something in your chest tightened at that.

Because deep down, you knew that if In-ho chose to stay—if he had changed into someone neither of you recognized—you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to let him go.

Jun-ho’s voice was quieter now, almost wistful, carrying an edge of something he rarely let slip.

“And maybe we could start fresh,” he finished, the words hanging between you like a possibility neither of you had dared to speak aloud before.

“We could quit our jobs, find something else—something that doesn’t come with a gun in our hands or a target on our backs. Leave it all behind… for good.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a slow-moving tide, threatening to pull you under.

Start fresh.

You had never allowed yourself to dream of that. Had never let yourself imagine a life beyond the chase, beyond the endless pursuit of justice, of closure, of the ghosts that never stopped following you. But now, hearing it from Jun-ho—spoken so plainly, so genuinely—it made something inside you ache.

A life where there were no late-night stakeouts, no whispered orders over comm links, no bulletproof vests or bodies lost in the shuffle of corruption. A life where you weren’t constantly searching for something—someone—just out of reach.

Could you really walk away?

Would In-ho, if you found him?

You swallowed hard, staring at the dim underbelly of the van, the vibrations of the ship’s engines thrumming beneath your body. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally spoke.

“Do you really think it’s that simple?”

Jun-ho exhaled, a breathy chuckle tinged with something almost sad. "I don’t know. But I’d like to think there’s a world where we could be more than just this.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, allowing yourself—for the first time—to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was right as the two of you lay beneath vans beside each other.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Twenty minutes had passed, though it felt like an eternity, the weight of damp fabric pressed against you. The stolen uniform fit awkwardly, the material stiff, the sleeves slightly too long as if the previous owner’s presence still lingered.

You had moved quickly—silently. The guard never even had time to scream before your hands snapped his neck with a sickening crack. His body had hit the water without a sound, swallowed by the dark waves below. You hadn’t let yourself think about it. There was no time for hesitation, no space for second thoughts. Survival had demanded ruthlessness, and you had given it without question.

Now, standing in the dimly lit cabin of the ship, your heart pounded against your ribs, each beat a drum of anticipation. Shadows stretched along the walls, the flickering glow of old, buzzing lights casting uneven shapes across the steel interior. The hum of the ship’s engine vibrated through your bones, yet you still felt untethered—adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

You couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t move.

Couldn’t even call for Jun-ho. You were too close to the others.

For all you knew, he could be standing in the room with you, a breath away, just as silent, just as unseen. The air was thick with tension, each second stretching impossibly long. Your grip tightened into a fist at your side, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Then—the lightest touch.

A brush of warmth against your fingers, so delicate you almost thought you imagined it.

Jun-ho.

The tension coiled in your chest began to unravel, the weight pressing down on you, lifting just enough for you to breathe again. He was beside you.

The ship docked with a heavy groan of metal against concrete, the subtle sway of the water beneath you replaced by the rigid stillness of solid ground. The transition was seamless—no hesitation, no time to breathe. Orders were barked, movements synchronized, and like a well-oiled machine, you followed along, blending into the sea of masked figures.

You climbed into the driver’s seat of one of the transport vans, gripping the wheel with hands that didn’t feel like your own. The thick gloves made your fingers clumsy, but you forced yourself to focus. The weight of the uniform, the anonymity of the mask—it was suffocating, yet necessary.

As the van rumbled to life, you drove in a straight, controlled line, mirroring the other vehicles in the convoy. The facility loomed ahead, a cold monolith of concrete and steel, its high walls stretching endlessly into the darkened sky. The moment you passed through the towering gates, your stomach twisted. There was no turning back now.

The night blurred into a haze of orders followed and errands run. The rigid structure of the facility allowed no room for mistakes—no hesitation, no deviation. Guards moved like phantoms, silent, their every step rehearsed. You mimicked them perfectly, keeping your head low, your movements precise. Jun-ho was never far, always within sight but never obvious. A shadow among shadows.

At last, after what felt like hours, you were dismissed to your cabins.

You followed Jun-ho closely, his presence an unspoken reassurance in the vast, sterile hallways. Your masks were scanned at a checkpoint, a quick flicker of red light passing over the numbers now assigned to you. Attendance. A subtle but effective way to track who belonged and who didn’t. Your numbers were sequential—assigned side by side, keeping you close.

Now, you stood in front of your respective doors, the dim, flickering light above casting elongated shadows against the cold steel. You glanced sideways, watching as Jun-ho reached for the keypad on his door, his fingers moving with practiced ease.

You did the same, pressing the cool metal of the scanner, waiting for the soft beep before the lock released.

For a moment, you hesitated, gripping the door handle, your heart still racing from the events of the night. Then, you exhaled and stepped inside, shutting the heavy steel door behind you with a quiet thud.

The silence pressed in around you.

For the first time since boarding the ship, you were alone.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were terrified.

You had faced danger before—walked through crime scenes stained with blood, pursued criminals through darkened alleys, wrestled with the weight of life and death more times than you cared to count. Murders, robberies, violent, gruesome killings—you had seen it all. But this was different.

This was something else entirely.

You weren’t the hunter here. You were the prey, trapped in an environment where the rules were unspoken but absolute, where one wrong move could mean the difference between survival and a bullet to the head.

Your breath was shallow as you sat stiffly on the small cot, the mattress thin and unyielding beneath you. The walls around you were bare, lifeless. Cold. A single dim light buzzed overhead, casting an eerie glow across the metallic surfaces. In the corner of the room, a small, unblinking red light glowed—a camera. Watching. Recording.

The soft crackle of the comm link in your ear startled you, breaking the suffocating silence.

It was as if he could sense your fear.

“Stay calm,” his voice was low, steady—a tether in the storm. “There are cameras in our rooms. Don’t show weakness. And whatever you do, don’t show your face to the camera.”

You swallowed hard, forcing the tension from your shoulders, willing your hands to stop trembling. “Copy,” you whispered.

A deep breath came through the link, then Jun-ho’s voice again, quieter this time. “For all we know… In-ho could be on the authoritative side in this facility. But if we’re caught, we have no idea what they’ll do to us. Best not to take any chances.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, pressing your lips together to suppress the flood of emotions threatening to surface. You had waited three years for this—three years of searching, of unanswered questions, of agonizing uncertainty. And now, you were closer than ever.

But you still had no idea what you were walking into.

No idea who In-ho had become.

The thought sent another wave of unease through you, but you shoved it down, exhaling slowly as you opened your eyes. Jun-ho was right. Now wasn’t the time for fear.

“For now, we take orders,” Jun-ho continued, his tone resolute. “We do what we’re told. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally responded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“For now, get some rest.” Jun-ho’s voice was softer this time, a quiet reassurance cutting through the barren emptiness of your room. “I’m close by, and it’ll stay that way until we get out of here.”

You wanted to believe that. Needed to.

The comm line crackled faintly, and then—silence.

The absence of his voice felt heavier than it should have, settling into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You sat still for a moment, listening—to the low hum of the ventilation system, the distant echoes of footsteps in the corridor, the rhythmic buzz of the fluorescent light overhead. Everything about this place felt unnatural. Controlled.

Shifting slightly on the cot, you let out a slow breath, your muscles aching from the tension of the day. You knew you needed sleep, but the thought of closing your eyes in this place, where danger lurked behind every corner, made your pulse quicken.

But Jun-ho was close and so was In-ho.

Swallowing back the unease, you lay down, curling slightly on your side to avoid facing the ever-watching camera. The mattress was stiff beneath you, the blanket thin and rough, but exhaustion was creeping in, dulling the sharp edges of your fear.

You held onto Jun-ho’s words, repeating them in your mind like a mantra.

I’m close by.

It’ll stay that way.

As your eyes fluttered shut, the hum of the facility droned on, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to drift into uneasy sleep.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You sat snug on the couch, wrapped in the warmth of a soft blanket that cocooned you like a gentle embrace, the flickering light from the TV casting a soothing glow across the room. The pages of your book turned easily beneath your fingers, but the comforting scent of fresh coffee wafting through the air kept pulling your attention away. In the space beside you, In-ho sat casually, his presence a quiet comfort. Your feet rested in his lap, and his thumb absentmindedly circled the soft skin of your ankle, the movement both soothing and intimate, grounding you in the moment. His eyes were locked onto the TV screen, absorbed in the rerun of one of your favorite shows. Without hesitation, he'd dove into it once you shared it was something you loved—he was always so eager to understand every little thing that made you smile, laugh, or even cry.

It was as if everything you cared about fascinated him, and you found yourself smiling at the way he would learn about the things you loved, weaving them into the fabric of your shared life.

But as the scene unfolded on the screen, you couldn’t help but watch him. His features softened in the dim light, his attention rapt on the show, but there was something so peaceful about the way he sat beside you, as though this moment was as perfect for him as it was for you.

You must have been staring longer than you realized, because suddenly, his chin snapped in your direction, his eyes locking with yours, curious and alert.

"What?" he asked, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You hummed softly, not needing to think about your response. "Nothing," you said, the words coming out as if they’d always been there. "I just enjoy watching you."

A quiet smile stretched across his face, and without another word, he scooted closer to you. The air around you seemed to shift as he leaned in, taking your book from your hands and tossing it casually onto the coffee table. His fingers gently spread your legs, creating a space for him between them as he lowered his head to your chest.

His body pressed against yours, arms wrapping around your waist, a warm, familiar weight, and you instinctively leaned down, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his temple. The moment was so quiet, so tender, and you allowed him to sink into the comfort of your embrace as his gaze returned to the show, now content to simply be near you.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. His body was warm against yours, his weight familiar, grounding. The steady rhythm of his breathing matched your own, slow and easy, as though neither of you wanted to break the moment.

Then, without warning, he pressed a soft kiss to your breastbone, the warmth of his lips lingering against your skin. It was fleeting, but enough to send a gentle shiver down your spine. When he lifted his head, his dark eyes found yours, deep and searching, holding something heavier than the peaceful stillness that surrounded you.

“Let’s have a baby,” he murmured.

Your breath caught. The words settled into the air between you, delicate yet weighted, and your eyes widened in surprise. Your heart stuttered, your fingers unconsciously tightening against the fabric of his shirt.

You had talked about it once before—the possibility of starting a family, of what that might look like—but it had been just that: a possibility. A distant thought. Neither of you had brought it up again since then, and now, here he was, laying it bare, no hesitation in his voice.

You swallowed, your lips parting as you searched for something—anything—to say. Finally, you managed, “Are you sure?” The words came out barely above a whisper, tinged with uncertainty, with the weight of everything this meant.

In-ho pushed himself up, leveling himself with you, his face inches from yours. His hand found your cheek, fingertips brushing away a stray strand of hair, his touch impossibly gentle. He held your gaze, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw, and with a certainty that left no room for doubt, he said,

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

His voice was low, steady, laced with quiet conviction. The sincerity in his eyes sent warmth blooming in your chest, melting away the initial shock. He wasn’t just saying it—he meant it. Every word.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Instead, you just looked at him—at the man who had woven himself so deeply into your life, your heart. He was watching you so intently, waiting, searching your face for a sign, for an answer.

A breathy laugh escaped you, shaky and disbelieving. “You really mean it?” you asked, voice softer this time.

His thumb traced small, soothing circles against your cheek. “I do,” he whispered. “I think about it all the time. What our child would be like. If they’d have your smile, your laugh… your heart.” He exhaled, his forehead brushing against yours. “I want this with you.”

Your chest swelled, your heart a fluttering mess beneath your ribs. “In-ho…” You barely managed his name, your throat tightening with emotion.

“I know it’s big,” he continued, his fingers now sliding down to lace with yours. “And I know it’s scary, but I want to build that life with you. I want late nights rocking them to sleep. I want tiny hands reaching for us. I want to watch you love them the way you love everything—with your whole heart.” He let out a small, breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “I love you. And I know that if we do this… our child is going to have the most incredible mother.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Warmth bloomed in your chest, spilling into every inch of you.

You squeezed his hand, the weight of his words wrapping around you like a promise. A future. A dream neither of you had fully allowed yourselves to grasp before now.

A slow, watery smile crept across your lips. “You really think I’d be a good mom?”

His eyes softened. “I know you would.”

Your throat bobbed with emotion, and then, in one swift movement, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He let out a soft chuckle as he melted into you, his arms winding around your waist, holding you as if he never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” you whispered against his temple, pressing a lingering kiss to his hair.

His hold on you tightened. “So… is that a yes?”

A quiet laugh bubbled from your chest as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. You didn’t even have to think anymore.

“Yes,” you breathed.

His grin was instant, bright, and boyish, filled with something raw and beautiful. He kissed you then, deep and slow, pouring all of his love, all of his joy into you.

Your heart was pounding—so fast, so violently that it felt like it might shatter right through your ribs. The force of it ripped you from sleep, your body jerking upright as a sharp, gasping breath tore from your lungs. The room was dark, but your vision swam, unfocused, the remnants of the dream still clinging to you like phantom hands you couldn't shake.

It wasn’t a dream.

It was a memory again.

Another cruel, agonizing memory, dragged from the depths of your mind just to remind you of everything you had lost.

A strangled sob broke from your throat as your hands shot up, pressing hard against your face, as if you could somehow smother the pain, force it back down where it wouldn’t consume you. But it was already there, crawling through your chest, squeezing around your lungs like a vice. You sucked in a breath, but it was useless—shallow, shaky, burning.

Your skin was damp, slick with sweat, but you were cold. So unbearably cold.

You were tired. Tired of this endless torment. Tired of waking up like this, drowning in grief that refused to let go. Tired of being haunted by something you could never get back.

Your shoulders trembled, your body curling in on itself as wave after wave of sorrow crashed over you, relentless and merciless.

You just wanted it to stop.

Just for one night.

Just long enough to breathe.

But deep down, you knew—this grief, this heartbreak… it wasn’t letting go of you anytime soon.

_____________________________

The weight of the bodies in your arms was nothing compared to the weight in your chest. You knew where you were—what this place was—but the stark finality of it didn’t truly sink in until now. Until you were standing among the dead.

Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted another body, the limp form heavier than you expected. It wasn't just the physical strain—it was the sheer wrongness of it.

Here, life was taken without hesitation. Without ceremony. A single gunshot to the head—quick, efficient, painless, if such a thing could be called mercy. It wasn’t personal. It was routine.

You reached for the coffin cover, your fingers just brushing the edge—when it was suddenly snatched away.

Though Jun-ho's face was concealed behind his mask, his movements betrayed him—protective. Before you could even react, the room erupted into chaos.

A single gunshot cracked through the air, splitting the silence like lightning. Then—shouting. Struggling. The sound of bodies shifting, boots scuffing against the gravel.

Your head snapped up just as Jun-ho shifted closer to you, his voice a low whisper. “Back up. Stay behind me.”

Your pulse hammered against your ribs as you obeyed, instinct kicking in. You weren’t armed. Neither of you were. And that realization settled over you like ice.

At the center of the chaos, a player stood trembling, a stolen pistol clutched in his hands. His arm shook, but his aim did not waver. The barrel of the gun was pressed flush against the forehead of a guard.

“Take it off,” the player demanded, his voice raw with desperation. “Take off the mask. Look at me.”

For a moment, no one moved. No one breathed.

Then, slowly—hesitantly—the guard obeyed.

The mask fell away, revealing a face that was far too young for this place. Barely a man. Eyes filled with something detached and misplaced.

Your breath caught in your throat.

What was he doing here?

How could someone so young be a part of this?

But before those thoughts could fully form, the player made his choice.

A sharp inhale. A flicker of resolve.

Then—he turned the gun on himself.

The shot rang out, deafening. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Silence followed. Heavy. Suffocating.

And then—boots.

Slow. Intentional.

The purest sound of authority.

Your head snapped to the left, just as Jun-ho’s did.

A man approached, his uniform a stark contrast to the others. Head to toe in gray, a mask black as the void concealing his face. He moved with eerie precision, gun already raised.

One shot.

The young guard barely had time to react before the bullet tore through his head, his body collapsing beside the player’s.

You inhaled sharply, the horror of it settling deep in your bones.

Then—the man spoke.

“Remember.” His voice was smooth, level—chilling. “Once they find out who you are, you die.”

His steps never faltered as he turned, moving past you without a second glance.

So close that his shoulder nearly brushed yours.

You stood frozen, every muscle in your body locked tight, your own breath feeling too loud in the deathly quiet.

Jun-ho exhaled slowly beside you, barely above a whisper. “We need to find In-ho and get the fuck out of here.”

You didn’t dare nod. Didn’t dare move.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You sat cross-legged on your bed, the thin mattress barely offering any comfort, the tray of lukewarm food balanced on your lap. Mechanically, you took another bite, chewing without really tasting it, your gaze locked onto the official transfer papers resting on the sheets beside you. The crisp white pages were handed to you by an officer earlier that morning without so much as a second glance.

It had been two days.

Two days of dragging lifeless bodies across cold concrete, the metallic stench of blood clinging to your skin no matter how many times you scrubbed your hands raw. Two days of bowing your head, following orders, keeping your expression carefully neutral beneath the ever-watchful eyes of masked guards. Two days of stealing glances at Jun-ho as he maneuvered through the facility, shifting seamlessly between identities, slipping into the skin of a different man each time.

You had seen the way he carried himself—first as a low-ranking worker, blending into the sea of pink-clad figures, and then as a square guard, his stolen mask concealing the sharp determination in his eyes. He had taken the uniform off a dead man, stripping him of his role just as easily as the guards stripped their victims of life. All to get closer, to gather more intel.

And you—

You wanted to help. You wanted to be in the thick of it with him, to shoulder some of the weight of this dangerous game you were both playing. But Jun-ho had been firm, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Stay back. Stay safe."

He preferred the target to be on him, for the guards to believe he was the only intruder. It was strategic, calculated—if anything went wrong, at least you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. At least one of you would still have a way out.

You exhaled, setting your tray aside, your appetite long gone. Your fingers skimmed over the edges of the transfer papers, the stark black ink of your new assignment staring back at you. A new role. A new place to hide in plain sight

Your fingers curled around the edges of the brittle transfer papers, your stomach twisting as you read the words again. You had been reassigned. Not to the usual mindless tasks—not to disposing of bodies, scrubbing blood from the floors, or following silent orders.

No, this was different.

You were to serve VIPs.

The second-to-last game was about to begin, and your role was clear: cater to them, offer liquor, serve food, be present—but unseen. You didn’t allow your mind to wander beyond that, refused to let yourself consider what else they might expect.

Because there were no rules here.

No boundaries.

No lines that couldn’t be crossed.

That thought alone sent a sickening chill through you.

The comm link in your ear crackled suddenly, making you flinch.

"What were you given earlier?"

Jun-ho’s voice came through, steady but cautious, like he was bracing for something he wouldn’t like.

You swallowed down the unease rising in your throat before answering.

“Transfer papers. They want me to serve the VIPs.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then, Jun-ho hummed thoughtfully, though there was a tightness to the sound, an unspoken weight behind it.

You forced yourself to continue. “Y’know… pour alcohol, serve food. Stuff like that, I guess.”

The words felt hollow as they left your mouth, as if saying them out loud might make them true, might make this role as simple as it sounded. But you both knew better.

"VIPs?" Jun-ho repeated, his tone skeptical. “You hear anything about them?”

You hesitated. “No, but they must be high-ranking if they’re given their own space, their own servers. And if they’re allowed to watch everything up close.”

Jun-ho didn’t respond right away, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He had been careful since stepping into this place, but this—this was unknown.

"I don’t like it," he admitted at last, his voice quieter but firm.

You swallowed hard. “Neither do I.”

The unstated fear remained between you. Whoever these VIPs were, they were powerful enough to be protected, to be kept separate from the rest.

And that alone made them dangerous.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The black dress clung to you like a second skin—too tight, too short, too deliberately designed to make you look enticing. The fabric hugged your upper thighs, the hem barely skimming the curve of your ass, leaving little to the imagination. Every step you took made the sheer tights shine against the chandeliers, a constant, unwanted reminder of how exposed you felt. The glossy black heels that fit around your feet were the tallest you’d ever worn, forcing you to adjust your balance with each step, each shift of your weight.

Your commanding officers had been meticulous in their orders: hair down, cascading over your shoulders, its purpose clear—conceal the clip of your black mask. The loose strands felt foreign against your skin, framing your face in a way that made you feel even more vulnerable.

But what unsettled you the most was the thick layer of makeup painted onto your face. Powder, contour, shimmering highlights, all meticulously placed to enhance features that no one would even see. And the lipstick—deep, blood-red, stark against your skin. A cruel joke, considering the mask that concealed everything but your eyes. You had questioned its necessity, but no one had answered. Maybe it was all about the illusion, the mere suggestion of beauty beneath the disguise.

Still, it made you nervous. The entire situation did.

But you couldn’t show it.

With steady hands, you balanced the silver tray of wine glasses and descended the grand staircase leading into the lavish room. Gilded walls gleamed under the warm glow of chandeliers, and the plush, oversized furniture was arranged like a decadent playground for the six VIPs lounging around, their golden masks gleaming in the dim light. Laughter and murmured conversation filled the air, but you barely heard it, your heartbeat thudding loud in your ears.

Two square guards stood near the walls, their stiff postures a contrast to the indulgent sprawl of the men before them. And then there was the captain.

The moment you stepped onto the marble floor, you felt his gaze.

His mask tilted upward, attention locked onto you as you made your way forward, tray in hand. You didn't know what exactly he was looking at—the length of your exposed legs? The way your hair fell in soft waves around your shoulders? Or maybe it was something deeper, something unreadable beneath the stark black mask covering your face.

You forced yourself to keep moving, the heels clicking against the floor, the weight of the tray steady in your grasp. But the weight of his stare made your breath catch.

So you did what you could.

You lowered your gaze, focused on the swirling crimson liquid in the delicate glasses, and moved through the room, offering wine to the golden-masked men who barely acknowledged you.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

This was only the beginning.

And you had no idea what was expected of you next.

"So how are your scores so far? Bet on any winners?" One of the VIPS asked as you bent down, offering a glass. The breeze you felt on your ass made your breath snag, but you moved on after the man took a glass.

"No. For some reason I keep picking losers." One of the other men said as you walked around. Your heels clicked loudly, drowning out the sound of the music playing overhead. You wished Jun-ho were here. You wished your partner were here.

The game unfolded before you in a spectacle of lights, glass, and muted screams, but you barely registered the horror playing out in front of you. Standing at the side of the opulent room, you kept yourself small, trying to blend into the background as much as possible. The other servers, dressed just as provocatively, moved silently, refilling glasses and catering to the whims of the men who sat reclined in their lavish seats, watching the brutality unfold with twisted amusement.

Then, a deep voice cut through the low hum of conversation.

"Don’t be shy, my lovely. Come on over."

The voice belonged to the man sitting at the front, closest to the captain. His golden elk mask gleamed beneath the warm glow of the chandelier, catching the light with every subtle movement. He was leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the armrest in a posture of complete leisure, his other hand outstretched toward you, beckoning.

Your heart sank...sank and sank until you thought it might crash onto the marble floor beneath you.

For a fleeting second, you hesitated.

And that’s when you felt it—an invisible weight, pressing down on you.

The captain’s mask turned in your direction.

Even without seeing his eyes, you felt his stare—heavy, unrelenting, a silent demand that burned into your skin like a warning. Your refusal to move, even for just a moment, had not gone unnoticed.

The air in the room grew suffocating.

Your fingers tightened into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, grounding yourself against the sickening dread pooling in your stomach. Your legs felt like lead, but somehow, they moved.

One step.

Then another.

The distance between you and the elk-masked man closed too quickly, yet not quickly enough. You could feel the heat of a dozen gazes on you—some amused, some indifferent, but his… his was expectant.

When you finally stopped before him, he tilted his head slightly, as if studying you from behind the mask.

You swallowed hard, standing there stiffly, waiting for whatever was to come next.

But the worst part was, you had no idea what he wanted.

And that terrified you more than anything.

The man let out a low, satisfied groan as his eyes lingered on you, his hand reaching out to graze the curve of your calf. His touch sent a wave of revulsion through you, but you fought the instinct to pull away. With the captain’s mask fixed firmly on your back, every muscle in your body screamed to obey, to stay still, to endure.

You took a step closer, the warmth of his body radiating up to meet yours, but the touch only grew more invasive. His hand slid up your thigh with casual arrogance, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin. Before you could react, he pulled you forward, and you fell, unceremoniously, into his lap.

The shock of the movement knocked the breath out of you, his hands caressing the skin of your thighs.

He laughed, a breathy, self-satisfied sound, his hot, alcohol-scented breath washing over your mask. You could feel his grip tightening on your upper thigh as if claiming ownership, each subtle shift making you feel smaller, more exposed.

“Are you enjoying yourself, darling?” His voice was slow, deliberate, as if testing how far he could push you, his fingers making subtle circles along your skin.

You blinked, fighting to keep your expression neutral, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. “Of course, sir.” The words were louder than you wanted, leaving your lips before you could stop them, the fake cheer in them tasting bitter and hollow.

His hand cupped your chin, his fingers digging in, forcing you to meet his gaze. You couldn’t look away. The nasty grin on his face sent a sick feeling twisting through your stomach.

“Don’t be shy,” he ordered, his tone thick with amusement. “Where are you from?”

You bit your lip, trying to steady the frantic beating of your heart. You told him where you were from, the words left your mouth before you could stop them, a reflexive lie that felt like sand in your mouth.

He hummed, pleased, his fingers tangling in your hair, yanking, and inquisitive as he pulled you closer. The force of his fingers in your hair loosened your mask, and for a split second, it made you panic. The black mask had shifted, exposing part of your face. Half of your vulnerability was now laid bare, that half of your face exposed to the captain.

Your pulse spiked, terror rising in your chest as half of your identity was half revealed to him.

You barely had time to react. The second your hand reached up to adjust your mask, it was too late. A gloved hand seized your wrist with unyielding force, yanking you from the VIP's lap. The VIP barked in protest, but it didn't matter. The sharpness of the grip made you gasp in pain, your breath caught in your throat as you were dragged across the room. The sudden motion left you dizzy, and for a moment, your legs struggled to keep up, stumbling as you fought to stay steady.

The force of the hand around your wrist was crushing, unrelenting, and you looked up—meeting the cold, piercing gaze of the captain. His mask bore no expression, but his silence was loud enough.

He gave a sharp order to the guard beside him, his voice low and commanding, “Monitor the game.”

The words sent a shudder through you, but you didn’t have time to process them.

You tried to pull away, to break free, but his grip only constricted. He was stronger, faster, his hold unshakable.

Every attempt to escape felt like an exercise in futility, and a sickening thought crept into your mind: this was it.

You weren’t the face on file for Guard 29. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were an imposter. The realization struck you like a punch to the gut, and a bitter taste flooded your mouth.

You could feel your heart hammering against your chest, but there was nothing you could do. Your commlink, hidden beneath your mask and tucked away in the other uniform, was useless now. You were trapped.

The hallway ahead was cold as he dragged you, the air viscous with the aroma of metal and the distant echoes of distant screams. The sharp sound of your tights ripping apart at the seams made you wince, the fabric tearing like a sickening reminder of your helplessness.

But still, you fought.

You kicked, thrashing against his grip, throwing punches with everything you had. The force of your blows landed against his body like hammer strikes against brick, but it was no use. The man’s hold didn’t loosen; he barely flinched, as if he’d endured much worse.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” you screamed, your voice ragged with frustration, fury, and terror. The words tasted bitter, but they were all you had left. You weren’t going to let him drag you to whatever fate awaited you in silence.

You weren’t going to die quietly. Not like this.

The sharp turn into the office space came so suddenly that it took your breath away. You barely had time to brace yourself before he shoved you forward. Your knees buckled as you hit the cold marble floor with a sickening thud, the impact leaving you winded and dazed. The sharp echo of the door slamming shut behind you sent a jolt of panic through your body, making you scramble to push yourself up, but before you could even fully react, his boots were already coming into view.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath as he raised his gun, stepping between your legs. The cold, menacing barrel of his gun was aimed directly at your head. The steely glint from his mask matched the deadly precision of his stance. "I've gotta say," he muttered, his voice low and mocking, "you're good. Posing as a guard, unnoticed, undetected." He leaned in, lowering himself to a crouch, his gaze never leaving you as if studying your every move, anticipating your next one.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you instinctively pulled back, trying to create distance, but his hand was quick, gripping your chin with a vice-like force. You gasped, feeling the sting of his fingers digging into your skin, and before you could think to resist, he jerked your head upward, forcing you to look at him. "Take off the mask," he ordered, his voice cold, without a hint of mercy.

Your body stiffened, refusing to comply. You shook your head, a flicker of defiance the only thing that kept you from completely losing yourself in the moment. But that flicker was quickly extinguished as he sneered under the disguise, tightening his grip on your chin. In one swift motion, he yanked the mask from your face, tearing it off with an aggression that made you yelp in surprise.

But, what you expected next… never came. The seconds stretched on, heavy and suffocating, as his looming figure remained just inches from your face. Your heart thudded erratically, and you could feel the pulse of it in your throat, your temples, as you stared up at his grey mask, the blank expression seeming to mock you with its indifference. Every part of you screamed for release, for the end to come—yet he lingered, cold and unmoving. You searched desperately for something to hold onto, anything that could make sense of this twisted moment.

Frustration began to burn deep in your chest. The silence stretched on, suffocating, like a weight pressing down on your lungs. Why was he doing this? It made your blood boil—this twisted game, this drawn-out moment where you could only wait. You wanted it over. You wanted him to pull the trigger, to end it so that Jun-ho could find you, could tear through this man and avenge your death with all the brutality you knew he was capable of.

And in a strange, twisted way, you were at peace with that.

To die for love, for the search, for In-ho.

But the silence dragged, leaving you trembling, caught between terror and resolve. You furrowed your brow in anger, the tension thickening with every beat of your heart. “Well?” Your voice was sharp, louder than before, filled with a raw desperation you couldn’t hide. “Pull the trigger!”

The words hung in the air, reverberating in the stillness. Everything felt like it was holding its breath. Even your own pulse seemed to echo in the silence. And then, just as you thought you might suffocate under the weight of it all, you heard it—the sound of his steady breathing, matching your own. Close. So close you could feel the warmth of it on your skin as it escaped from under the mask.

Then, with a movement so subtle it almost slipped past you, his gloved hand rose slowly, fingers brushing against your chest. The pressure was almost gentle at first, just above your breastbone, but the sensation was electric. It was like his fingers were pressing down on your heart itself, a cruel reminder of its erratic, chaotic rhythm. You sucked in a breath, caught somewhere between confusion and shock. You couldn't move, couldn't pull away, even as the unexpected intimacy of the gesture froze you in place.

His gaze followed the movement, dropping down to where his hand lay against you, as if studying the rapid beat of your heart. The sensation was so intimate, so stark against the brutality of the situation, that it sent a shiver racing through you. The closeness—the rawness—of it felt as suffocating as his presence, and for a split second, you wondered if he could feel your fear through the rapid thud of your pulse.

A long, agonizing minute passed, the tension hanging thick in the air, pressing against your chest until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Without warning, he stepped back, breaking the heavy silence. His body straightened, the movement almost casual, as if the intensity of the moment had been nothing more than a fleeting amusement for him. He holstered his firearm with intentional slowness, the metal clinking as it slid into place, the sound almost mocking in the sudden quiet.

Then, without another word, he backed away, his steps echoing softly in the office space as he turned and made his way toward the door. Each step seemed to stretch out in time, the thudding of his boots on the marble floor a rhythmic reminder of how surreal this entire situation had been.

You remained frozen for a moment longer, your breath a shallow gasp in the stillness, your chest rising and falling in frantic succession. Your body, tense and shaking, finally released the breath you'd been holding in, the air filling your lungs in a rush of disbelief. What the hell just happened?

The question hovered in your mind, but it was tangled, incoherent, an unspeakable knot of confusion. Why had he—what made him do that? It was as if the whole encounter had just… slipped through your fingers, leaving nothing but the wreckage of unanswered questions in its wake.

You couldn’t make sense of it. You couldn’t even finish the thought before the weight of the moment came crashing back down on you. The fear, the confusion, the shock, all swirling in your chest like a storm. You had to get out.

With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the cold marble floor. Your legs were unsteady, as if the ground beneath you had suddenly become alien, but you fought to steady yourself. Your heels lay discarded at your feet, a reminder of how quickly everything had spiraled out of control. You grabbed them, the cold leather against your fingers grounding you slightly in the chaos of your mind. But even as you stood there, alone in the eerie silence of the office, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something had been left unsaid, unspoken.

And now you were left with nothing but the gnawing uncertainty, the unanswered questions clawing at your mind. Why had he stopped? What was he thinking? What had that... touch meant?

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The scorching heat of the shower cascaded over your skin, melting away the tension that clung to your muscles like a second layer. Steam curled around you in thick, swirling tendrils, fogging the mirror and turning the bathroom into a hazy cocoon of warmth. You stood beneath the relentless stream, arms draped loosely around your neck, head tilted back, eyes shut. For a moment, you allowed yourself to exist in nothingness, your mind a void save for the questions you knew would never be answered.

You told yourself to let it go. To forget. You had been spared, and that alone should have been enough. Shouldn’t it? Yet, no matter how many times you repeated it, the unease sat heavy in your chest. The doubt, the uncertainty—it festered.

With slow, deliberate movements, you ran your fingers over your body, ridding yourself of the soap that clung stubbornly to your skin. The water slithered down your form in shimmering rivulets, vanishing into the drain along with any lingering warmth. Reluctantly, you reached for the robe hanging on the wall, wrapping yourself in its plush fabric as you stepped onto the cool tile.

Your new quarters were a stark contrast to what you had grown accustomed to—spacious, luxurious, tailored to your liking. A bed large enough to swallow you whole. Soft lighting that bathed the room in an inviting glow. It was comfortable. Too comfortable. A gilded cage, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your damp hair. And then, as if summoned by your unease, your thoughts drifted to Jun-ho. What had he been doing? Where had his relentless pursuit led him?

Slipping into fresh underwear and a loose shirt, you moved with a quiet, mechanical precision, your mind elsewhere—trapped in the fragments of a moment that refused to fade. You sank onto the edge of the bed, your gaze fixed on the floor, but you weren’t really seeing it.

The memory pulled at you, insistent and unrelenting. You turned it over in your mind, again and again, dissecting every second, every detail—the way the air had smelled, the way your skin had prickled, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you.

Your fingers twitched at your sides before moving of their own accord, palm drifting toward your chest, mimicking the movement you had witnessed. The touch was slow, deliberate, tracing the same pattern, the same pressure. A shiver rippled through you.

It felt familiar.

Your breath hitched.

Familiar... similar.

Your heart lurched, your fingers momentarily stilling against your skin as a strange, creeping sensation unfurled in the back of your mind. You hadn’t noticed it before—not in the heat of the moment, not when you were too caught up in surviving. But now, in the stillness of your room, away from the chaos, it clicked.

The way he moved. The way his fingers had pressed. The rhythm. The intent.

Recognition clawed at you, a whisper of something just beyond reach.

And then—like a sudden snap of a thread—realization struck.

It wasn’t just familiar.

It was something you had known before..someone you had loved before and love now.

Your head snapped up. A sharp inhale caught in your throat.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice over the sudden, deafening pounding of your heart.

It had been In-ho—right there in front of you.

A violent shudder ripped through your body as the realization settled, your limbs moving before you could think. You lunged from the bed, nearly stumbling in your haste, hands trembling as you threw open the closet. Your old uniform hung there, untouched, yet heavy with memories. You tore it aside, fingers finding the cool metal of your comm link.

Fumbling, you pressed the button. "Jun-ho? Jun-ho," you called, breathless.

Static. A moment of silence that stretched unbearably before—

"I'm in a fix here, y/n, make it—make it quick."

His voice was strained, fractured between labored breaths. In the background, the sharp crunch of boots against gravel, the distant clatter of shifting debris. He was moving. Running.

Dread seeped into your bones like ice water.

He’d been caught.

But there was no time for that now. No time to process the cold grip of fear tightening in your chest. He needed to know.

"The captain." Your throat tightened, but you forced the words out. "It’s In-ho."

Silence.

A long, chilling silence.

Then—his breath hitched, just barely audible over the crackling static. "Are you certain?"

You clenched your jaw, fingers curling into a fist at your side. You had never been more certain of anything in your life.

"I know it’s him."

The comm-link crackled again, his hurried footsteps echoing through the line. Then, at last, he spoke, his voice low and laced with something between bitter understanding and horror.

"Good to know," he panted. "’Cause that’s who I’m running from."

A pause.

"My own brother."

The words hit you like a blow to the chest.

"What will he do?" you asked, voice tight, barely above a whisper.

Jun-ho’s breath was ragged through the comm, his footsteps uneven as he moved. “My brother wouldn’t kill me—wound me, maybe, for interfering, but he’d give me a choice.”

You swallowed hard, pacing across your room in frantic strides, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. Your mind raced, grasping at possibilities, at outcomes that felt just out of reach.

He kept talking, his words clipped, focused. “I gathered evidence. Enough to damn this place.”

Your breath hitched. That was more than you expected. More than you dared to hope for. “What do you plan to do?”

“If I can, send it to the chief,” he said. “But depending on how this goes, I’m at a loss.”

You stopped pacing, lowering yourself onto the edge of the bed, gripping your knees. The weight of the situation pressed down on you like an iron vice.

"If I'm out…" He hesitated as if forcing himself to speak the words that felt like an admission of something too final. "You’ll have to do this on your own."

You understood.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I know. Just… be careful.”

The moment stretched, taut, and suffocating.

Then—shouting.

Distant, at first. Then louder. Urgent.

Jun-ho sucked in a sharp breath, and the line cut to static.

Silence.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

By the time the next day arrived, you still hadn’t heard from Jun-ho. The silence should have been suffocating, but deep down, something told you he was okay. You held onto that instinct, clinging to it like a lifeline.

You stood beside one of the other servants, a woman taller than you, her posture rigid, almost militant. She barely blinked, her gaze fixed ahead as the VIPs began filing into the lavish hall, their presence thick with arrogance and indulgence. The air was laced with the scent of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and the faintest trace of sweat beneath perfume.

The commanding officer barked his order, and without hesitation, you moved. A decanter balanced on your tray, the liquid sloshing gently as you navigated the room, pouring drinks with quiet precision. You slipped between the gilded chairs and velvet-draped lounges, your movements careful, practiced, invisible.

And then—you froze.

At the top of the grand staircase, In-ho stood, his presence an unshakable force in the room. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unreadable beneath the polished mask. For a moment, time seemed to stretch, a silent pull between you two that no one else in the room could feel.

Then he moved.

He descended the stairs with the kind of effortless grace that sent unease curling in your stomach—not because you were afraid. No, not this time. This time, you were ready.

You forced yourself to breathe, finishing the pour of whiskey for the VIP in front of you with a steady hand before feeling the undeniable pull—In-ho’s silent command as he brushed past, his presence dragging you in his wake.

Without hesitation, you followed.

His strides were long, purposeful, but you matched them with ease, moving step for step beside him as the two of you slipped into a familiar office space. The heavy door shut behind you, muffling the sounds of indulgence and excess from the other room.

Silence settled between you.

You stood in front of him, your heart hammering against your ribs—not with fear, but with something else, something deeper. Slowly, instinctively, you reached for your mask, fingers brushing against the metal clips. Your fingers unclipped it, the cool press of it lifting from your skin as you pulled it away, revealing the face he had once known so well.

You let the silence stretch as you slowly took in your surroundings. The office was just as you remembered—dimly lit, with sleek, modern furniture that seemed almost too polished, too calculated. The faint scent of leather and aged wood lingered in the air, mingling with the ever-present sterility of power.

Your eyes landed on a bottle of tequila sitting on a side table, short empty glasses arranged beside it, as if someone had abandoned a half-formed thought. Without a word, you wandered toward it, perhaps to keep your distance, to keep from overwhelming him. The soft rustle of your clothes was the only sound breaking the quiet.

Lifting the bottle, you poured yourself a drink, the clear liquid swirling in the glass. You weren’t thirsty. Not really. But you needed something to do with your hands, something to tether you to the moment before it swallowed you whole.

You refused to let emotion surface, refused to let him see the way your chest ached with longing, the way the sight of him after all this time sent a ripple through the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself. He wouldn’t see it.

But you knew—deep down, you knew.

Despite the unreadable mask he was wearing, his chest was tightening. His breath had caught, just for a second. He was in disbelief.

Spinning on your heel, you leaned back against the counter, the cool surface pressing against your spine as you raised the glass to your lips. The burn of tequila trailed down your throat, sharp and grounding.

Your gaze found his, unwavering.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you murmured, voice even.

He exhaled slowly, a sound barely audible, yet heavy with something unspoken.

“It feels like I have,” he admitted, his voice lower than you remembered, rough around the edges as if it had been worn down over time.

Your fingers tightened around the glass.

You pursed your lips, steadying yourself. “After you disappeared, I was lined up with a donor.” Your voice was quieter now, the weight of those words pressing against your ribs. “Received a new liver a few days later.”

Almost instinctively, your hand drifted to your side, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the spot where the scar rested beneath your shirt. The memory of it—of pain, of survival—flashed through you like a distant echo.

But In-ho didn’t move.

His mask remained fixed on you from across the room, cold and impassive, an unbreakable wall between you. You searched for something—anything—beneath it. A flicker of recognition. A hint of emotion. Some sign that he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted to appear. But he gave you nothing. Just silence.

The lump in your throat tightened. You set the glass down, the quiet clink against the counter sounding impossibly loud.

“…Can I see your face?”

The words left you softer than you intended. A plea, despite yourself.

Three years.

Did he even look the same?

Had time been kind to him, or had it taken its toll?

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The space between you felt impossibly vast despite the room being small. Then, slowly—so slowly—you saw the slightest shift in his stance, something unreadable pressing at the edges of his silence.

Then, without a word, his gloved fingers rose to the mask.

A sharp click echoed in the room as he unlatched the clasps.

Your breath caught.

Slowly, he lifted it away, revealing the face you hadn’t seen in three years.

Time had changed him.

His sharp features were the same, but there was a hollowness to them now—a weight that hadn’t been there before. Faint lines traced his forehead, shadows lingering beneath his eyes. His gaze, dark and piercing, met yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

But the thing that hit you hardest—he looked tired.

More than tired. Worn. As if he had been carrying something heavy for far too long.

You swallowed hard, unsure what to say. You had pictured this moment a hundred times, imagined what you might feel—but none of it compared to the reality of seeing him now.

His lips parted, but no words came. He just looked at you, his throat bobbing with a swallow.

“…You’re really here,” he finally murmured, almost as if he didn’t believe it himself.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I am.”

His eyes flickered down—to where your hand rested over your scar. Something passed through his expression, too quick to catch, but you saw it. A flash of guilt. Of something deeper.

Then, just as quickly, he forced it away. His mask may have been off, but the walls he had built? Those were still standing.

You exhaled, shaking your head slightly. “You don’t have to act like this doesn’t affect you, In-ho.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Doesn’t it?”

His silence was answer enough.

You pushed off the counter, stepping toward him with measured strides. "Where's your brother?"

His gaze flickered for a moment before settling back on you. "On his way back to the mainland."

You hummed, absorbing the information.

"It was his idea you know," you admitted, shifting your weight. "To come and find you. I wasn’t going to, but—"

His expression remained unreadable, his eyes dark and steady. "Why?"

You hesitated, fingers curling against your arms as you crossed them over your chest.

"Because I was afraid," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of your resentment." The words carried a weight that pressed against your ribs, threatening to crush the breath from your lungs.

You kept your gaze low, the weight of your emotions pressing against your chest, threatening to spill over. A tear welled in the corner of your eye, but before it could fall, you felt a hand brush against your shoulder, its warmth dragging slowly up to the back of your neck. You looked up to find In-ho standing in front of you, his face a mask of control—until his eyes met yours. For the first time, you saw something flicker there, a crack in the wall he’d built.

"What I did... wasn't your fault," he murmured, his voice softer than you'd expected. The words hung in the air between you, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself.

You took a tentative step closer, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The sting of the tear that finally escaped your eye didn’t matter—nothing mattered as much as his presence, the sincerity in his touch. You felt the warmth of his hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tear as his other hand settled on your waist. His fingers tightened, a silent plea for you to stay close, to listen.

"I've loved you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "still, as much as I did the day I left. As much as I did when you were on your deathbed."

His throat bobbed with the effort of holding back more, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing against your own heart. His forehead gently met yours, the contact sending a shiver through your body as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if trying to breathe you in.

"But, you need to go back home," he said quietly, but there was an undeniable ache in his voice, a pleading note that left you breathless.

You pulled back, your heart pounding in your chest as you took a step away, eyes searching his. "Not without you," you said, your voice steady despite the storm inside.

In-ho’s eyes flickered, a flicker of something hardening in them as he shook his head. "I need to finish my job here," he replied, his tone final, almost resigned.

You furrowed your brow, confusion creeping in. "Your illegal job, you mean?" The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you couldn’t hold back. You had to understand.

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time, before reaching into his pocket. His hand moved with purpose, his fingers brushing against the edge of something—then he pulled out a small badge, its gleam catching the dim light. The police badge. Your eyes widened in shock. "You... you’ve been undercover?" The words barely escaped you, a whisper of disbelief, but the weight of the truth sank in as the badge glinted in your eyes.

Without a word, In-ho pushed it back into his pocket, as though the revelation was nothing more than a passing detail. "The games are finished after today," he said quietly, his voice a mix of relief and resolve. He stepped away from you, the movement stiff, purposeful. His fingers wrapped around the mask he had worn so often, but now, as he picked it up, it seemed like a symbol of everything he had been hiding.

"Once I'm done, I’ll come and find you," he added, but his words, though laced with promise, didn’t ease the ache in your chest. You bit your lip, uncertainty gnawing at you, keeping you rooted to the spot. "How can I be sure?"

He paused, the question hanging in the air between you. His gaze softened as he looked at you, raw emotion slipping through the cracks of his composed exterior. "Because," he whispered, stepping closer, his voice a quiet confession, "I just found out the woman that I love is still breathing. And here, standing in front of me." His words hung in the air. Before you could react, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and pressed the softest kiss to your lips. It was a kiss you had dreamed of for three long years—a kiss that seemed to erase every doubt, every moment of longing that had consumed you. It was gentle, tender, as if he was afraid to break something fragile.

When he pulled back, his eyes held yours for a heartbeat longer, as if he needed to make sure you were real, that the moment wasn’t just a dream. He reached up, his fingers brushing against his face, clipping the mask back on with a quiet finality.

Then, without another word, he grabbed your mask—his movements quick but deliberate.

"I’ll see you again, y/n," he promised, his voice low, but resolute.

And just like that, he was out the door.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

It had been three months. Three peaceful, tranquil months that felt like a dream, the kind you weren’t sure you’d ever wake from. The sun hung high in the sky, its warmth spilling across the water, making the world glow in a golden haze. The sky above you stretched wide, impossibly blue—bluer than it had ever been in your memory. You sat on the edge of the weathered wooden dock, your legs dangling freely, toes just skimming the surface of the water with each gentle ripple. The coolness of the water kissed your skin, a quiet reminder that you were truly here, truly present.

Beside you, In-ho sat, his gaze lost in the horizon, his profile framed by the light of the sun. He looked calm, peaceful even—so unlike the man you had once known. The man who had been lost in the shadows, in the chaos of things he couldn’t talk about. And yet, here he was, beside you, in this moment that felt like it could stretch on forever.

You should have been looking at the view, taking in the beauty of the world around you, but you couldn't. Not when he was sitting so close, not when every breath he took was like a promise that this time, he wouldn't disappear.

Your eyes remained locked on him, tracing the familiar lines of his face, the gentle curve of his jaw, the way his hair ruffled in the breeze. You held his arm firm, your grip strong as if you were afraid he might float away, as if this—this peaceful, perfect moment—was nothing more than a fleeting dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. It was real. You reminded yourself over and over, the mantra repeating in your mind like a lifeline.

Real.

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #front man x reader #front man #in ho squid game #fanfic #squid game season 2 #the frontman #squid game fanfic #fan fiction #the front man x reader

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lustlovehart · 1 day ago

Note

Oh my gods, I was eating the sick!reader piece UPPPPP. 😩 Already re-read it like 5 times. Especially the Diasomnia part had me so good. Silver is the real MVP here.

Do you think you'd ever be willing to write about what'd happen if we didn't recover from an illness and specifically Lilia & Malleus got their way? I find their dynamic as yanderes always super interesting.

Ahh i’m so happy you liked it <33!!! Silver is basically your prince charming and it’s adorable!! Diasmonia was wayy longer than the other parts because the situation I decided on them was the most entertaining! Everyone else only thinking about turning you… They’re the ones who actually act on their thoughts (unfortunately).

(shh, he actually felt extremely guilty letting them do their thing, because no matter how hard he tries, he feels the same desire of you becoming one of them as well… the only thing that stops him is the fact you’ll be miserable, and he doesn’t know how he could live with that </3)

Pairing: [Monster!Twst] Diasmonia x Reader

Cw: You’re turned into a monster (Up to you what kind of monster, but there are scales and claws), Obsession, Craving Human, Kisses, Implied human eating (not a lot), It’s not said in the text but Malleus regenerates so he doesn’t lose a limb, Silver and Sebeks parts are kinda angsty

In the case you fall for your illness, they’re plans succeed, and you fall into a deep slumber. The last thing you see before your eyes shut, you see Silver, an apologetic frown looking at you as he mouths a silent ‘i’m sorry’. It’s enough to tug at your heartstrings, but the sight behind him immediately cuts any form of forgiveness you have.

Malleus’s cold-clawed fingers tracing up your arm, a soft smile on his face as his nail traces a pattern on your palm, Lilia playing with the bracelets gifted to you by the others on the table, and Sebek staring through the castles window, glowing eyes lighting the dark from his swamp.

“It will be over soon, Child of Hunters.”

…

The moment you jolt awake it feels as if you were forcibly taken from the afterlife, a feint memory of Idia desperately trying to pull you back into his arms before being dragged away. Your head is essentially a living furnace, flares happening every other moment leading to an excruciating headache. Despite the tremble in your hands, you reach up to soothe the thrumming, your fingertips coming into contact with skin.

But, rather than human, you feel pin sharp nails poke at your forehead.

You didn’t notice, not at all, with the blur in your vision it was practically impossible to see, but now with the newfound clearing in your sight you see it. Claws emerge from where your cuticles once rested, scales crawling up your skin. You throw the covers off your bed, the sleep wear concealing your horrific monstrous traits beneath the fabric, but it does nothing to rid the fear of what’s under your clothes.

“Mal… Malleus—!” your words are hoarse when you yell, a sign of your voice being unused for… you have no idea, but you know it’s a long time. “Damnit…! Malleus where are—?!” Your next step has you colliding with a stiff material, arms wrapping around you in an attempt of comfort. A fist is raised towards this entity, prepared to break wretched stone. “What the hell did you do to me Mal?!”

“… I’m so sorry.” the softness in his voice is different from the gargoyles, leading you to drop your hand, the only part of yourself you rest on him is your head, Silvers tough muscle tensing before gradually relaxing.

“… No you’re not.” your fresh fangs bite into your lip, your claws reaching into his bicep and burying them self into the dreameaters skin.

Silver hesitates for a moment, before speaking again, “I really am”. His previous pause has you doubt him, but the way he tightens his arms around you tells you he’s being entirely truthful, unfortunately.

You can feel a sting in your eyes, a familiar feeling of tears ready to burst, yet it’s like your tear ducts burned away with your humanity. But that’s not the thing that disturbs you in this moment, no…

It’s the way your stomach is desperate for food. A food you never wished to eat,

“It seems you’re in desperate need for food, yes?” the voice you were looking for emerges from behind you, a stone hand dragging your sleepwear down your shoulder, placing a hard kiss against your scaly skin. You’re quick to slap Malleus away, your claws cutting a strand of his mossy hair.

“Oh, be careful new one, it would do no good to hurt your potential supplier~” another equally disliked voice enters the fray, Lilia floating right next to you.

“Like hell i’m eating human…!”

“I wouldn’t advise not doing it, you’ll die a more painful death than you did a few years ago.” Malleus interjects, his pleasant smile falling into a much more serious frown.

“That’s better than becoming one of you bastards—” You pause your spiel, your legs buckling at his words, a great shock that has you falling into Lilias's arms, and not even fighting back. “… years?” Lilia's hand pets your head, a pathetic attempt at soothing you that only furthers your despair. “You’re joking… But, everyone else… Everyone else…!” you throw yourself back up, pushing Malleus against the wall, a hard clash sounding at stone hitting stone. “What the hell happened to them?! The monsters… Jack… Neige…!” your eyes burn like you’re crying, but you know you’re not. You hiccup before dropping to the floor, the last name that leaves your lips causing your last shred of sanity to snap. “… Rollo.”

For a moment, Malleus’s eyes glare at you, but they’re quick to disappear when he falls to his knees.

You despise it, you despise how even in your current panic, all you can think about is consuming. You grit your teeth, resisting all desire, but the sound of wind has you knowing something will happen, something that will test your patience. Your eyes are closed when Lilia’s hand takes yours, placing a kiss on your wrist before leaving you with his words of departure. “Do try to not eat all of Malleus, new beastie.”

You can’t question him before his presence disappears, but before you know it, when your eyes reopen, you don’t see stone, only pure human. “Malleus… What are you…?” He lifts his arm to your mouth, your lips attaching to his skin while his forehead rests on yours, looking right into your eyes. You can feel your canines put pressure on him.

“You’re what you are now because my affection for you runs so deep…” his free arm reaches behind you, pushing your head into his limb, “that I will do anything for you to stay alive, and here, together.” his voice is low, your jaw trembling with the urge to eat. But his words gnaw into your soul.

… Is this really living to him?

…

You rest your head on Lilia’s shoulder, his deep voice humming as he wipes your mouth clean. “Did you enjoy it?” your silence tells him not to inquire further, but in truth, you hate the fact… that you did enjoy it. “Hm, well, if you’re not satisfied with just Malleus…” his clawed finger taps your lips, red eyes piercing your soul, “I’ll always offer myself up for you too~”

He laughs at the way you glare at his joke, only continuing to rest yourself on his shoulder.

You stare deep into the swamp as Lilia continues to hum, hoping he will emerge. And he does, but he’s quick to disappear just as quickly as he appeared.

“Why did you want this for me…?” your ask has him pause, his finger pushing your head up and off his shoulder. “I just wanted…” you pause, Lilia patiently waiting for the rest of your sentence, yet there’s nothing more to be said. His thumb swipes across you bottom lift, showing you all signs of you feast had been wiped clean.

“Everyone wants something, whether it be human or immortal.” you bury yourself in your arms, the moon reflective on the mystery creature's pale exterior. “And you want to know why it is I wished for this?” he uses his hand to signal at your body, his smile disappearing, an all too serious expression painted on his features. He leans into your face, a few centimeters stopping him from being directly on your skin.

For a moment, a single second, it’s like his scarlet eyes share every single moment of greed and cruelty in his hundreds of years alive, even moments from before his improved personality. A cruel beast who’s a monster just for the sake of being one… It’s gone in that same second.

“Because you’re so adorable!”

“…Go away Lilia.”

“You’re hurting my feelings… And I thought you wanted a bite of me.” you glare at him again but this time he doesn’t laugh, only smiles, “You’ll learn how mucher crueler the world is as a human… We only wish to protect you.” and with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the creature of the swamp alone.

…

“Sebek?” you dip your hand into the water, splashing the liquid up. But to no avail, he doesn't appear, a different monster answering your calling.

“I don’t know if he wants to see you.” you turn around to see Silver, his eyes looking into yours, but you can tell how hard he’s trying to avoid looking at your new monstrous traits. You can’t fault him though, the sight of your replaced eyes in the water sends chills up your spine.

“It’s not like i’m the one who asked for this…” you throw a stick in the water, hoping maybe it’ll darth through the marsh and poke the beast underneath.

“I— He knows…”

“Great! So what’s his problem?” Silver doesn't reply, but to be fair, you don’t think he knows the answer either. “… He left me flowers while I was dying.”

“He did?” Silver sits next to you, he eyes focused on your rather than the ripples you trace into the water with your claw.

“Mhm. I never saw him do it though.” you can see Silver’s reflection staring at you, but you can’t bear to look back, only continuing to draw on the surface.

“That’s… Nice.” he watches you stop, the waves halting as well, the silence that hangs in the air suffocating. You grit your teeth, turning your head but not looking him in the eyes, eyes that are far too kind for a monster of his caliber. You fixate on the place his heart would be if he was human.

It was meant to distract you, but it instead has you wonder, maybe Silvers's warmth would be much stronger had he had the makeup of a mortal. Such hypotheticals are better left in your head though, and you know this. It doesn’t stop you from taking his hand in yours, squeezing his limb as you force your words out.

“Did you want me to be a monster too Silver?” his stoic expression widens, hesitation evident, before his head hangs in shame when he finally tells his truth.

“I… Don’t know.” he watches you stand up, making no effort to stop you, but very obviously tensing at the prospect of you leaving. “I just… I just knew I didn’t want you to die painfully somewhere we can’t reach you…!” he’s about to jump up to meet you eye to eye, stopped by you placing a flower on his head.

“That’s something I knew would happen, something I signed up for.” you both stay still, only looking at each other. This contact is broken when Silver lets the flower fall, his head resting on your bottom half.

“I know… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t feel this way, but…” he expects you to leave when he feels you shift, but instead, relaxes when you let him continue to rest his head on your lap. All his words die in his throat, but you know what he meant to say. Truth be told though, you don’t know if you’re okay with it.

…

Your bottom half is cold as you sit in the water, staring directly at Sebek under the water.

“Can you come out? I don’t wanna risk being a non-marine based monster and drowning.”

“I don’t think so human, I don’t wan to risk— Er…!” He jolts at the mistake he made in his burgled voice, further burying himself into the water. You lean over, your hand reaching out to dunk one of his flowers beneath the surface, he quirks an eye at the action.

“You never visited me when I was dying.” your words have him furrow his brows, but he doesn’t give you a reply nor explanation. “Why is that Sebek?” a moment passes, a few moments, before he emerges from the water, his large form moving towards you on the ledge. His large arms cage you between the side of his marsh and his body, golden slit eyes staring into you.

“I did not want to see that.” His eyes move down your new form, scales, claws, canines, and all, he sees it all in his mind. “You bedridden… It’s a weak sight. It’s like you were giving in, it was cowardly.”

“Aren’t you the one who said all mortals are pathetically weak?”

“They are! You are!” Sebek pushes back, the water splashing at the outburst. “But you’re not supposed to be!” his tail swings in the water causing a wave to move towards you. “You weren’t supposed to die… You were meant to prove me wrong…” you’re about to move towards him before he stops you, a single outstretched webbed hand in your face. “But now you’re here because you proved me right… Humans are weak, pathetic… evil…” he slowly moves towards you again, wavering clear in the way he slowly places his forehead on your shoulder. “It’s why you can’t be one anymore… you can’t be any of those things...”

There are two directions I think their scheme could end, one where they successfully stop anyone else from the cast from knowing your current predicament, and one where your current state is found out by everyone else. If the latter were to happen, it doesn’t matter where their domain is, they will show up to Diasmonia and demand to see you. A vast majority will wish to have you in their care, while the ones who never wished for you to be a monster, will make sure you don’t fall into the other's hands.

#askves #monster!twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yan twst #yandere malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #yandere lilia vanrouge #silver x reader #yandere silver #silver vanrouge x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #yandere sebek zigvolt

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favefandomimagines · 3 days ago

Text

I Know Places 2 (r.c)

Summary: Rafe goes to Y/N at the bait shop and his presence is not celebrated

AN: part 2 of ‘I Know Places’ and I’m deciding to go the traditional route! I’m used to the old school way of fics so this will be fully written out and not SMAU! Though I do love how that’s on trend right now!

Previous part

The next morning, Y/N Maybank was up before the sun had fully risen, her mind too restless for sleep. She had spent the night tossing and turning, debating whether or not to tell JJ and the Pogues about what happened at Tannyhill. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep secrets—she just didn’t know how to explain the strange feeling of being pulled into Rafe Cameron’s world, if only for a fleeting moment.

By the time the bait shop was ready to open, she was already elbow-deep in her morning routine: feeding the live bait, checking inventory, and wiping down the counters.

Summer was here, which meant the shop would soon be crawling with locals and tourists alike, and she needed everything to be in order.

The small bell above the door jingled, pulling her attention away from the tank of minnows. She glanced up to see Rafe Cameron standing in the doorway. His broad shoulders filled the frame, his usual air of arrogance replaced by something quieter.

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Y/N quirked a brow, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. “Rafe Cameron on the Cut? You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“Funny,” he replied, stepping closer. “How’s business?”

“It’s early,” she said flatly, then tilted her head. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” Rafe said, though his hand instinctively went to touch the bandage she had applied the night before. “Still aches.”

“Maybe now you’ll listen to me and see a doctor,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “What if you’ve got brain damage? You must have if you thought coming here was a good idea.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, but his expression quickly sobered. “I need to talk to you about last night.”

Y/N set the container of fish food on the counter, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

Rafe leaned against the counter, his blue eyes scanning the shop briefly before landing back on her. “How many people did you see leave the house?”

“Three,” she said slowly, thinking back to the shadowy figures slipping through the side gate. “They looked like men, but I couldn’t see their faces. They had black hoods on.”

She watched as Rafe’s jaw tightened and his eyes clouded over, clearly running through a mental list of possibilities. It didn’t take a genius to realize there was more to the break-in than he was letting on.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Y/N asked, her voice softer now.

Rafe shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t worry about it.”

“Rafe, someone broke into your house and assaulted you. You need to tell Shoupe,” Y/N said firmly.

“I’m sure they didn’t find what they were looking for,” he replied cryptically.

“What does that even mean?”

Rafe ignored the question, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I just... I wanted to see you. And to thank you again for helping me last night.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “It’s no problem,” she said, though her voice faltered slightly. “But you should probably go before JJ finds you talking to me.”

“Do you always do what JJ wants?” Rafe asked, but there was no malice in his voice.

Y/N hesitated, his question catching her off guard. Did people really think that? “No,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s just that a fight is bad for business.”

Rafe returned her smile, a rare softness in his expression. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Here. Put your number in. You know, in case I need another house call.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, her instinct screaming at her to say no. But Rafe seemed... different. The last time they’d spoken, he’d been consumed by grief and arrogance, still reeling from his father’s death and struggling to take over the family business. But now, he seemed calmer—more grounded, though still carrying an edge.

She grabbed his phone and began typing her number. Her head was screaming at her to not do it, don’t give him access. But she did it anyway.

“Rafe?”

Both their heads snapped toward the dock, where Sarah Cameron was walking toward the shop. Rafe stepped back from Y/N, his demeanor instantly shifting.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked, her gaze narrowing suspiciously.

“Thought someone broke into the house last night,” Rafe said smoothly. “I knew you parked outside when you went to that party, so I came to see if you saw anything.”

Before Sarah could respond, Y/N interjected. “I already told him I didn’t see anything. We were still at the party when it happened.”

“Someone broke into the house? Did they take anything? Are you okay?” Sarah questioned. “I’m fine. It didn’t look like they took anything. Just a window and a door I have to replace.” Rafe answered.

“I uh, gotta go, I’ll see you around.” He added, his gaze fleetingly on Y/N.

He walked past Sarah and up the dock, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart pounding for reasons she couldn’t fully understand.

“Was he bothering you?” Sarah asked, stepping into the shop.

“No, no,” Y/N said quickly. “He just wanted to ask if we saw anything.”

But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafe’s visit meant something more. And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t entirely mind.

“JJ is going to freak when he finds out.” Sarah commented. “We don’t need to tell him. I’m sure Rafe came here looking for you but I was here.” Y/N quickly replied.

As Sarah stepped closer, Y/N busied herself with the container of fish food on the counter, her mind racing. She could still feel the heat of Rafe’s presence lingering in the room, and her stomach twisted at the thought of Sarah catching onto something she hadn’t even figured out herself.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, crossing her arms as she studied her friend.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, hoping her casual demeanor would be enough to shut the conversation down. “Nothing.”

“Since when does Rafe come to you for answers?” Sarah’s tone was skeptical, her piercing gaze making Y/N feel like she was under a microscope. “And why didn’t he just ask me?”

“Maybe because you were at the party too?” Y/N said, raising a brow. “I don’t know, Sarah. He didn’t exactly give me his whole life story.”

Sarah frowned but didn’t press further, instead moving to grab a soda from the mini fridge behind the counter. “Still... I don’t like him showing up out of nowhere like that.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “What, you think he’s gonna rob the bait shop? Pretty sure we’re not hiding any family heirlooms in the minnow tank.”

Sarah snorted, but her expression remained thoughtful as she leaned against the counter. “I just don’t trust him, Y/N. You know how he is.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt. Sarah wasn’t wrong—Rafe Cameron was trouble. He always had been. But last night, when he was bleeding and vulnerable, he didn’t feel like the same guy she’d written off.

“Yeah, I know,” Y/N said quietly. “But he’s your brother, Sarah. He can’t be all bad.”

Sarah gave her a sharp look, clearly not expecting that response. “You’re defending Rafe now?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “No, I’m not defending him. I’m just saying... people can change, right?”

Before Sarah could respond, the bell above the door jingled again, and John B strolled in, followed closely by JJ, who was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning, ladies,” John B greeted with a grin, grabbing a bag of chips from the shelf. “What’s the gossip?”

“Rafe was here,” Sarah said bluntly, making both boys freeze in their tracks. Y/N glared at her friend, eyes saying ‘why the hell would you do that?’

“What?” JJ’s tone immediately turned sharp as he walked over to Y/N. “Why the hell was Rafe Cameron here?”

“Someone broke into his house,” Y/N said quickly, trying to downplay the situation. “Wanted to know if we saw anything suspicious last night. That’s it.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, and he let out a humorless laugh. “Since when does he care about what we saw? He’s up to something.”

“Relax, J,” Y/N said, placing a hand on his arm. “He wasn’t here to start trouble. He just... wanted answers.”

“Well, he better not come around again,” JJ muttered darkly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I don’t care what he wants. You don’t need to be talking to him.”

Y/N bristled at his tone, but before she could respond, Sarah spoke up. “Let’s not make this a thing. Rafe’s gone, and he’s not coming back here.”

JJ muttered something under his breath, clearly still annoyed, but he let it go for now. Y/N, however, felt a tinge of annoyance in her chest. She loved her brother, and it was just the two of them at the end of the day so it makes sense he’s protective. But he’s not her father, she’s 20 years old, she doesn’t need her brother telling her who she can and can’t talk to.

The fire crackled softly, its orange glow casting warm shadows on the Pogues as they lounged in the cool evening air. John B was sprawled out on the sand with Sarah curled up beside him, their laughter intertwining as they recounted the story of JJ’s infamous fight with Topper outside the country club.

“And then Shoupe shows up, and Y/N’s out here sweet-talking him like she’s auditioning for a soap opera!” JJ exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“Sweet-talking?” Y/N interjected from the hammock, her tone dripping with mock offense as she rolled another joint. “I’ll have you know I was using logic and reason to keep your ass out of juvie.”

Kie snorted. “Logic and reason? You told Shoupe Topper started it and then cried about how JJ was just trying to defend your honor.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said with a smug grin. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

JJ grinned back, leaning over to flick sand at her. “I owe you for that one, Sunshine.”

“Damn right you do,” Y/N quipped, expertly twisting the joint closed.

The group dissolved into another round of laughter, the kind that came easy after a long day and a few too many hits. Pope was stoking the fire while Cleo leaned against him, teasing him about his terrible impression of Shoupe. It was one of those rare nights where everything felt simple—just them, the stars, and the stories they carried.

“Hey, Sunshine!” JJ called, breaking through the chatter. “Toss me one of those masterpieces!”

Y/N smirked, flicking the newly rolled joint in his direction. JJ caught it with ease, holding it up like a trophy before lighting it.

As she reached for another paper, her phone buzzed against her thigh. She picked it up without much thought, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name.

Rafe.

The text was simple but enough to tug at her carefully guarded smile.

RC: Hey, Pretty Girl.

Y/N: Can I help you, Cameron?

RC: What are you doin’?

Y/N: Currently? I’m rolling a joint.

RC: Lol, save one for me?

Y/N: Maybe.

The next text froze her in place.

RC: Just wondering, is asking you out against doctor’s orders?

Her breath hitched, her mind racing. Was Rafe Cameron—Rafe Cameron—really asking her out? She stared at her phone for a moment too long, trying to process what this meant.

Y/N: Hm, that might be bad for your health

RC: What if we don’t tell anyone?

This wasn’t the Rafe she’d known before. The old Rafe was reckless, arrogant, and self-absorbed. But now? He felt different, quieter. Something had shifted, and Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

RC: Did I lose you, Pretty Girl?

She glanced around the fire. Her friends were laughing, oblivious, completely immersed in the stories of summers past. Sarah was teasing John B about his failed attempts at surfing, JJ was leaning back with a lazy grin, and Kie was high enough to be softly singing to herself.

Y/N was the odd one out—always had been in a way. The one without a partner, without a storybook romance. And yet, there was something undeniable about the way her chest had tightened in Rafe’s bathroom, how she’d felt something she couldn’t ignore.

Y/N: Better plan a good date

The reply came seconds later.

RC: Is that a yes?

Y/N: It’s a yes. Don’t mess it up.

Y/N set her phone down, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips as she leaned back in the hammock.

“Who are you texting?” Kie’s voice came from beside her, making Y/N jump. Kie had slid into the hammock, her eyes glassy but curious.

“My cousin,” Y/N lied smoothly, reaching for another paper. “We need more weed, and he’s got the good stuff.”

Kie leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder, her movements sluggish. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Y/N froze, the lie suddenly feeling heavy in her chest. “Of course, Kie,” she murmured, though her voice felt hollow.

“You’re my best friend,” Kie continued, her words slurring slightly. “You and me, we’re a team, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said softly, guilt twisting in her stomach.

But as Kie drifted into a half-asleep haze against her shoulder, Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to Rafe. Whatever this was, it wasn’t something she could tell them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #kiara carrera #john b routledge #sarah cameron #rudy pankow #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader

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somnus-lucis-caelum · 1 day ago

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And just like that he held part of Aerith’s soul and heart in his hands. For a moment Somnus wanted to turn this offer down. As if he wasn’t worthy of seeing these paintings. Not yet. They were married, yes. They had lived through… actually. They had lived through a lot in a short time. Even if they were parted again, there was no possibility of them losing each other’s bond once more.

And he never wanted to part from her again, if he was listening to this quiet voice in his mind.

Holding the parchments carefully against his chest, Somnus mustered the painting of her birth father again. His head tilting as if he expected Gast’s spirit to spring forward, if he just looked at it from another perspective. Was she serious? She made it sound like sometimes the late king still walked these halls.

Though he wanted to ask, he barely got the chance to save the bound parchments as Aerith directed him around. The paintings were laid onto the bed in their chambers, before he just… followed along. A little overwhelmed and trying to take in all that was told to him… how could baths be so different here?

Somnus really was a little suspicious at this all. The silence that followed Aerith’s bubbling explanations left him frozen to the spot for a moment. Because he… did not understand. This was their bath? Obviously. It just… looked so small. As if one person could use it. It smelled amazingly. And yet it was made from wood… and a cloth. That did not add up in Somnus’ head and as he carefully stepped closer to look over the edge into the milky water as if he was eyeing a suspicious soup, he considered whether he was supposed to remove the cloth. Maybe use it to wash himself with?

He had half the idea to turn around and ask Aerith for more instructions, but that seemed… embarrassing. So… he made do with what he had at hand.

And the warm flowery water truly was like heaven to his body. He knew warm baths. But this one felt like it had been cooked water. Almost scalding. But oh so good. Somnus wanted to sink into it fully, though he treated this more like a task yet. Because Aerith needed to bathe, too, yet. And the maids and servants would need some time to prepare it for her after he got his turn, right? They needed to be done ahead of dinner to appease the Queen.

Emerging from the bathroom, wrapped in this… robe? Somnus could not but throw a glance down each side of the hall, listing for a moment, before he dared to cross it again and hurry into their chambers as if he was fleeing from something with his hands tightly holding onto the robe around him and the clapping of bare feet on stone echoing after.

Safe. And by the Astrals. He really felt like a whole new person now. Smelled like one, too.

“Well… your baths are a lot stranger than ours. They are so… small and hot.”, he mentioned, though obviously not with ill intent. It was just… new. As new as this whole life would be. He had already been heading for his bag, though then stood still. In his assumption that Aerith would have tow ait for a bit anyway, he outright asked her for more help.

“What should I wear? I… should I wear something more according your lands’ dressing rules?”

That grin was contagious, one glance was all it took for Aerith to mirror the expression with a hint of pride. She wasn't ashamed of her weaknesses so much — perhaps it was a good thing for Somnus to be aware of such things, like her slow descent into chaotic actions when she grew bored of a task.

"... mh. That's a sweet thought." she conceded, gaze lowering to the bound parchment again. Some of the papers were warped from being painted heavily with water strokes. Perfectly imperfect, nothing neat or proper about her soul or true heart. That sounded right. "You are more than welcome to look through them, I'm not precious about guarding my paintings. Though I would rather you look at this one especially." she insisted, giving the bound pages a small wave before passing them to him for safe-keeping. "It's some of the most recent things I have painted, and I find I don't flinch away when I look back at them."

When Aerith lifted her gaze properly to the Prince again, she found herself humming a curious tone as she tilted her head. She followed his own gaze. Her mouth opened around a silent 'ah' of realisation, and for a moment she seemed to gentle in both her expression and her stance.

"This... is my birth father." she answered, captivated by her mother's painting so much so that she continued to look upon it. "He died when I was only a baby. Mum... she did her best. Tried to build a connection to him, I suppose, but... I was so little, I didn't understand that I was missing something, you know?"

Aerith sighed a little, her shoulders melting into a more relaxed posture. Finally she looked back to Somnus again. "I get it now that I'm older. I wish I had gotten the chance to know him in life, but I am blessed to have met his spirit. The one thing I will say is... don't be ashamed of noticing him. For pointing him out, some people are funny about death like that." Though Lucis seemed to honour their dead's memory with great care too.

Amidst their conversation came a gentle knock at the door. Her lady's maid must have heard their voices here. "Princess Aerith, the bath is prepared."

That small announcement made her perk up with a smile. "Thankyou!" she replied, bright-eyed as she looked back to Somnus. "Right. Let's show you how we do bath time here, you're going to need one thing first."

Aerith approached her wardrobe, easily pulling free a couple large robes, one she placed aside and the other she handed to Somnus. "You'll need that. We don't dress ourselves in the same room where we have a bath, the air is steamy, and you're begging for a mess. So, once we're clean, we dry ourselves down as good as we can then we put on that robe. Trust me. They're.. modest." she offered. "It's a little odd, maybe, but we walk like that from the bath, back to our room. It's very uncommon for anyone to just walk a royal wing without good reason, but because it's so obvious among the staff that a bath has been drawn up, I cannot stress enough that no one will see you."

It was her little promise to him.

"Follow me." Aerith offered. She gestured to their shared chamber door. "You will obviously come back and enter through that door. The bath is the first door on the right." She opened up the door and gestured him inside. Inside was a wooden tub, and inside that tub was lined with a white cloth. The water itself was a milky colour and it smelled of flowers, yet another difference from Lucis. "Alright. Sponge there. When you're stepping back out, stand on that folded cloth unless you like to live recklessly, the stone can sometimes be slippery if it's too wet." Then she rolled her wrist. "And enjoy." she offered, smiling as she pulled the door shut behind her, giving him his privacy.

#holyguardian #AU | Star Crossed

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yenyu1s · 2 days ago

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(눈,코,입) eyes, nose, lips.. barista!kang sae-byeok x f!reader written by @yenyu1s ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)

pairing(s) : kang sae-byeok x f!reader contents : hurt/angst, pure fluff on some parts! - mentions of death, blood hint of violence. sae-byeok is kind of ooc.. that's all i could think of! synopsis : kang sae-byeok would've never thought true love would find its way to a person like her. that was before she met.. you. in the pages of her safekept journal, she poured out her deepest feelings, capturing every sweet moment spent by your side, and every unspoken word held close to her heart. now, you cling to those entries, reading them each night, knowing she will never return. wc : 6.69k taglist : @madebysae @saebyeokbliss @knfthxv

(a/n) i'm so drowning in school work i asked chatgpt to proofread and correct my grammar LOL! so i apologize if there are any mistakes in my grammar or annotation! (for more, masterlist)

june 9, 2021.

"if.. if i were to disappear, someday.." the tired girl beside you murmured, "..would you wait for me?.."

the unexpected question made you shake off your exhaustion, you tilted you head upwards at your lover, "sae.. what are you saying?" you bat your lashes at her in disbelief. a weary smile plastered across your face. unsure of the true meaning behind the query.

"don't ask, just answer." she retorted, a different emotion you had never seen before from her laced her voice. was it.. fear?

you were both in the living room sofa legs and arms tangled together, bodies intertwined at your tight, shared apartment. your stomach begins to twist more and more with each second you spent overanalyzing the question.

"really, sae-byeok? you ask such weird-" you forced a giggle before sae-byeok stops you.

"please.. please. just answer." there was a tinge of irritation in her voice, something was definitely wrong.

you mustered up every bit of strength left in your body to answer. "yeah! of course i would silly.. i'd wait for you in every single lifetime." you smiled innocently.

the short-haired girl beside you tore her gaze away from the tv that was playing your beloved soap opera. you noticed her eyes were practically bulging out of her sockets, her eyes fixated on you with furrowed eyebrows. her lips curled into a faint frown. it almost looked.. sorrowful. as if she was whispering an apology without a single word.

"what's wrong?" you asked sweetly. eyes tracing the shadows in hers, searching for echoes of emotion.

she didn't say anything — instead, she placed her trembling, cold hands on the nape of your neck and pressed a kiss to your temple, as if sealing a fragile promise.

you hummed in contentment, forgetting about the uncanny conversation you both had as you snuggled closer to her, taking in her scent of cheap cologne and cedarwood, before quietly drifting to sleep.

unbeknownst to your conscious mind, sae-byeok was quietly shuddering and sobbing while cradling you tight. afraid you'd slip away. tears streamed down her constellated cheeks. leaving wet, sloppy kisses on your skin and lips.

with the final gentle peck on the tip of your nose, she slipped away from your loving grasp.

she stepped into the night— into the arms of fate, never to return.

june 21, 2021.

the bright sunlight seeped through the cracks of your blinds, a gentle cascade of gold that pooled on to your messy bed.

you squinted and scratched your eyes at the harsh light, feeling around the covers for your reading glasses. putting them on once you find the pair of spectacles. your under-eyes were painted black, the aftermath of crying the night before, your eyebags told their own story of a broken heart.

oh,

another day.

you thought to yourself.

you turned over to your bedside table, trying to make sense of the neon numbers that flickered on your alarm clock

11.55...

you didn't feel like getting up. there was nothing left to look forward to in life after the disappearance of your one true love. the vibrant colors of life had dulled to a muted grey, just like the hollow ache that filled your chest ever since she walked away, leaving nothing but a lonely apartment and the ghost of her prescence.

but seong gi-hun had other plans.

buzz. buzz. buzz.

he repeatedly pushed the doorbell in front of the door of your apartment with such urgency that not even a normal person would have.

you groaned at the repeated hum of the apartment doorbell, letting out a bitter laugh as you buried your head further into your pillowcase.

"alright.. i'm coming.. i'm coming!" you yelled out from your wrecked bedroom, the hem of your pearlescent night gown caught on the edge of your bed, tugging at you, pulling you back to the reality you didn’t want to face. you groggily shook the loose string off before shuffling your way to the front door.

you swung open the front door to be greeted with an ill looking uncle with an awful red-dye job standing awkwardly with his finger still hovering over the doorbell, as if caught in the act of interrupting your solitude.

"can i help you?" your small hoarse voice rang through the silence. you took notice of your messy hair, running a hand through it trying to smooth it down, but it was hopeless.

"oh.. oh, yeah. are you.." he stammered, glancing down at a crumpled piece of grid paper in his hand. "(y/n)?" the red haired man murmured.

you nodded hesitantly, stomach twisting with an unease you couldn’t place. "yeah. yeah that's me, what is this about?" you tapped your foot rhythmically on the floorboard of your entrance, looking rather agitated and impatient.

"i'm.. seong gi-hun." the man gulped, a pitiful look shined in his eyes. "we need to talk about.. your girlfriend, kang sae-byeok?"

you felt your world crumbling down on you at sound of her name.

the name that used to taste oh, so sweet at the tip of your tongue now felt like an anchor, dragging you under the weight of memories you weren’t ready to face.

sae-byeok? kang sae-byeok. your kang sae-byeok?

what happened to her? how did this man know who you are? how did he find you?

a million different questions stormed your mind as you disassociate yourself from the conversation. all you could do was stare. frozen.

before you knew it, you were seated on the couch, the same one she had left you on that one fateful night.

"she's.. dead. (y/n).."

no.

the weight of his words pressed against your chest. stealing the breath from your lungs. you curled your fingers into fists, knuckles turning white, your long nails digging to the skin of your palms.

"no.. that's- no you're wrong." you let out a shaky breath. "not my sae-byeok. definitely not my sae-byeok. she's not dead.." your voice cracked.

you saw the look in his eyes, a raw emotion radiating from them. the hard, cold news that laid on top of your chest? they punched through, leaving hollow mark on your body.

the absurdity of it all made you bubble up a wild, manic laugh. not long after, a loud sob wracked your body, sudden and violent.

"i-i'm sorry (y/n), i tried my best to save her.. but someone else had already gotten to her first."

you didn't pay attention to gi-hun's words or explanation of the 'games' that they were forced to play for an unbelievable sum of money. your fingers twitched at your sides, grasping at nothing, searching for something—someone—to hold onto. you held onto a piece of her, but all that remained was emptiness.

"she.. she almost made it to the final game, she fought her hardest! she really did. but.. she succumbed to her injuries."

"sae-byeok died in my arms. her final breath whispered your name. she begged me to cling to life, so that in my survival, you might find the closure she longed for.”

a scream built up in your throat, you shook your head frantically at each word that came out of the man.

"why?" you choked, your lips quivering with such intensity. "why.. why didn't she tell me? i would've been by her side."

fat tears started to roll down your face as you sunk into the sofa, "why didn't she tell me she was struggling?"

your cries punctured through gi-hun's heart, emotions welled up inside him.

"i'm sorry.. i'm truly sorry.." he shut his eyes closed, surpressing his tears.

you buried your face in your hands, gi-hun ushered himself by your side, patting your back. as if offering a sliver of comfort in a sea of grief.

sae-byeok..

sae..

her name echoed through your mind, your brain's hard drive overloading with the thought of her.

did she feel alone in her last moments?

did she felt upset? fear? as she slipped into her death?

did she know she’d never see me again?

where did they put her body?

i should've paid more attention to her!

sae-byeok, i'm sorry..

oh cheol.. how am i going to break the news to him?

i'm never gonna see her again! your thoughts wailed

you kept scolding yourself burying your face deeper into your heavy palms. trying to hide from the world.

the world that kept spinning, even after her death.

clink.

you uncovered your face at the sound of a light clink that snapped you out of your spiral.

a gold, antique key presented in front of you by mr. gi-hun.

you looked up at the man, he seemed to be getting ready to leave.

"sae-byeok, she.. she slipped this in the pocket of my tux." gi-hun mumbled.

"she said it opened a chest, somewhere.. somewhere in her study desk."

your heart skipped a beat.

the chest.

it was a medium-sized storage chest that sae-byeok had thrifted a few years back, collecting dust on top of her study desk. it's exterior was wood, now darkened with age, etched with delicate cracks like the veins of an autumn leaf.

gi-hun was already long gone when you finally found the strength to stand on your legs and move towards the chest.

you inserted the icy-cold key into the keyhole, using a hundred percent of your body strength that is left in you, to turn the key and make it creak open. particles of dust flew in the air surrounding you. you hack and cough at the soot.

inside, there laid a black, hard-covered journal that was about 500 pages thick and loose pieces of parchment that you had never seen before.

you traced the journal with such care, as you unlatch the magnet of the book. suspense building up inside of your chest as you are met with the first page.

a knot tightening in your chest.

'kang sae-byeok' written in a familiar, cursive handwriting. your heart ached.

i can't do this, you thought to yourself.

the tears welled up again.

the urge to cry out her name deepens in you. you whimpered at the sight of her messy handwriting. you missed her so much.

you shook off your tears. reaching to flip over to the first entry.

january 3rd, 2019.

the gears on your mind turned, as you try to remember the significance of that date to sae-byeok.

your breath hitched in realization, a wave of emotions engulfed you.

"oh, sae.."

january 3, 2019.

entry #1 —

she is going to be a problem.

an awfully loud girl waltzed in to the café today. dressed head to toe in clothes that i would never be caught dead in. her friends stuck by her side like lost, blind puppies.

she ordered chamomile tea with cinnamon ginger biscuit on the side.

despite my silence, despite the way I barely looked up— she spoke to me.

she spoke to me?

i did not want to talk to her.

her eyes crinkles when she smiled, lips curling in a knowing laugh, as if she saw through me, as if she found me amusing.

her friends shared silent laughs and snickers behind her, but she didn’t pay attention too much.

i despise the way she acts.

"oh my, are those freckles real..? they're so pretty!" you admired the starry speckles that painted her cheeks. your words too gentle.

sae-byeok was unmoved, untouched.

an embarrassed, hardened expression crept up her face.

january 5, 2019.

entry #2 —

she came back again, the loud girl.

but this time, she was alone— quieter, more restrained, a shadow of the girl from before.

from what i've observed, i guess she was just putting on a facade in front of her friends. to.. impress them?

i mean i get it.. kind of.

she still annoys me though.

while i was taking her usual order, she gave me her name.

"(y/n)" you said softly, your fingers brushed the warm cafe counter.

sae-byeok looked at you, confusion evident in her expression.

"what?"

"my name.." you started, playing with your fingers, twisting and turning them. "..is (y/n)

"oh.." sae-byeok mumbled, her reaction was underwhelming. "pretty." she added, struggling to find the right words.

sae-byeok's face turned tomato red.

she facepalmed herself. what was she thinking? pretty? that's too straightforward.

"sae-byeok" the tall girl mustered up a courage to give her name in exchange, wishing you’d wipe the grin off your face.

"wow.." you sigh. "..pretty!" you mimicked the girl's reply.

the heat that built up in sae-byeok's chest threatened to explode, but she held back.

january 15, 2019.

entry #9 —

(y/n) visited the café again today.

the past few times, she had only stopped by for takeaway, her presence fleeting like a passing breeze.

i never spoke to her, only watched from a quiet distance.

she's not all that bad after all, i guess. actually, we had some things in common.

she was studying psychology at a nearby university, and had started her 1st semester.

if money didn’t hold me back, i'd be studying psychology by this time too.

she was my age — 18 years old.

it was rare to have someone my age around. my days were filled with the company of middle-aged men and kind old aunties, their lives so far removed from my own. but then, there was her.

every time she smiles and the sun reflects her eyes, the way her hair flows like a cascade of silk as she throws her head back in laughter, or whenever she places her delicate, polished hands on my forearm in agreement —just for a second—I feel something stir deep within me.

..it does something to me.

something i've never felt before.

i can't shake it off.

do-hee, my co-worker, said that it was blatant flirting. but i dismissed her.

me? the subject of someone’s interest?

yeah right.

she is a mystery to me, an unraveling poem—every glance, every gesture, a verse waiting to be discovered.

i need to get to know her.

i hope she comes back tomorrow.

"are you saying you've never watched train to busan?" you laughed, appalled at the tall girl's answer.

she shrugged, "well.. yeah.. do i have to?"

"oh, absolutely sae. be prepared with tissue boxes though. it's not going to look pretty."

"s-sae..?"

"yeah! a new nickname for you.. you don't like it..?"

"no.. no. i'm okay with it." sae-byeok gave you a faltering smile. but you caught the flicker of uncertainty before it faded away.

january 21, 2019.

entry #15 —

i spent my lunch break with her today.

she stumbled into the café again in the late afternoon, the familiar chime of the door announcing her arrival.

i had her order memorized.

before she came in, it was already typed out on the register.

she opened up about herself, how she was struggling to pay her college tuition, all the while taking care of her sick mother.

and i might've opened up to her too..

i told her about cheol, mom.

somehow, in the quiet exchange of burdens, we found an understanding of each other.

and it made me.. glad?

whenever she'd nod her head, offering soft words of comfort.. i feel as if it’s like hearing your own heartbeat mirrored in another's, like a quiet confirmation that you're maybe, not alone in the world.

i thought i'd hate spending time with someone like her, but these past few weeks? they've been some of the best of my life.

was it because of her..? maybe.

screw it. i'm going to bed.

"i get it." sae-byeoks words shook your core, she was usually the listener in the conversation. but this time, she opened up. you the best you can and listened to her

"i.. im a north korean defector," she whispered. waiting for your reaction.

she braced herself. she expected you to laugh at her, or be scared of her, maybe say how miserable of a person she is, for anything that might confirm what she had always believed—that she was unworthy of kindness.

but no, you sat there. silently listening, you pursed your lips into a thin line, encouraging her to continue.

sae-byeok’s heart swelled.

"and i didnt defect alone.. my brother, cheol. he escaped with me. this past year i've been trying my hardest to earn and save up for money to pay for a broker for my mom. she's still in the north." she explained, she shifted in her seat. her eyes focused on the swishing of coffee in her porcelain mug.

"oh, sae-byeok. i'm so sorry. i didn't know you were going through all of that." your lips curled into a frown.

"you have me by your side, so.. if you need anything.. don't hesitate to call me. yeah?" you assured her sweetly.

sae-byeok's tough exterior melted away.

she looked up at you. a new expression found in her eyes. hope.

no one has ever been this gentle, this kind to her in her life. you were something to sae-byeok alright. that day she was sure of it.

your words held so much affection towards her and she felt full of love and care by you.

your words filled her with something she had rarely known—love.

but with love came fear.

getting close to you meant risking everything. What if she dragged you down with her?

she didn't want you to be with someone who's a criminal, a pickpocketer like herself.

she didn't want to disappoint to you. so she held back.

"little brother you say?"

sae-byeok nodded her head ever so gently.

"can i meet him?"

february 3, 2019.

entry #27 —

i'm taking her to meet my brother today.

as I mentioned before, she’s been coming to the café more often. my lunch breaks have become a quiet routine with her by my side, her books spread across the table, the soft scratch of her pen filling the silence between us.

spending 4 weeks of work with her.. it felt more natural and enjoyable.

even my co-workers ask about her, but i bitterly shrug them off like i usually do.

i guess they took notice the effect she had on me. how whenever she talks, i reply with a gentleness that is rare.

i said that i wouldn't want her to be close with someone like me,

but i think i don't care anymore.

not after what happened today.

"cheol-ah, this is my friend, (name)." sae-byeok introduced you to her little brother. she snaked her hand into the small of your back, gently pushing you towards the boy who was staring up at you.

"hi, cheol!" you greeted the boy. warmness in your voice.

cheol looked hesitant to answer, but he manage to squeak out a little 'hi' before running to sae-byeok's side.

"come on cheol don't be rude." sae-byeok pestered.

you were quick to think : "hey, i heard you liked coloring, cheol." you kneeled beside him reaching for your tote bag.

the boy nodded and peeked curiously at what you were scouring for in your bag.

you revealed a set of acrylic markers,all the colors of the rainbow, neatly arranged.

cheol's eyes brightened in excitement. "wow!"

"would you like to draw with me cheol?" you asked, voice full of hope.

"yeah!" cheol nodded, basically leaving sae-byeok's side to join yours. ugging you towards a low table scattered with drawing paper.

sae-byeok was surprised to see how open cheol was to you. she decided she would just observe from afar from today.

to sae-byeok, watching you and cheol together felt like witnessing a quiet, simple magic unfold.

the way you patiently guide his hands to draw shapes and doodles, the way you laughed at cheol's little jokes, your smiles mirroring each other, how you both share the same expression of seriousness while coloring in your finished sketches.

it was pure, unhurried—a bond forming over the simple joy of drawing.

it pulled on sae-byeok's heartstrings. the room felt warmer, softer, as the colors on the paper grew brighter. that day, she put on her most genuine smile ever, watching as the bond between you and cheol deepened.

and so does sae-byeok's love does for you.

february 6, 2019.

entry #29—

i did it.

i asked her out for dinner.

i can't believe i did it. i never thought i'd be after someone like her.

every day feels lighter knowing she might walk through the café doors at any moment.

that she’ll sit across from me, books spread out, coffee in hand, offering me fleeting glances that leave my heart a little less steady from the work stress.

i want to tell her that, but something is holding me back.

i asked her out to the diner just down the block, the one with the tall milkshakes and the warm glow of neon lights.

and she said yes.

i think i convulsed in my seat after her response because everything was a haze after that. my ears are still ringing.

i don't know why i feel like this. i'm not used to feeling affectionate towards somebody like i feel for her. it’s unfamiliar, uncharted territory.

someone help me figure this out.

"hey.." sae-byeok’s voice wavered, the crack in it betraying her nerves., earning a quiet giggle from you.

"yeah, sae?"

oh, she was doomed.

she ran her calloused hands through her hair, obviously nervous.

"would you like to have dinner with me? tomorrow? at haneul's diner down the street?"

"dinner?" you repeated with a toothy grin, "sae, i'd love to!"

let's just say she got off work all giddy that day.

february 7, 2019.

entry #30 —

today was amazing.

i know it sounds cheesy, but it was everything that i could've hoped and dreamed for.

i'm so infatuated and lovesick by her.

there i admit it.

dinner was great, she was very.. touchy, tonight.

i like it.

we took our first photo together at the 1,000 won photobooth outside the diner.

and i kissed her on the cheek.

for the photo obviously.

sjbkhdjklfjekjwldskjkjdfljk

"mmh, sae the burgers here are so good! how come you never told me about this place." you groaned into the smash burger, savoring the taste. "and it's cheap too!?"

"i guess i've been hiding it from you for this exact moment." she smiled sheepishly, rubbing the nape of her neck.

a blush crept up your face.

everything that came out of sae-byeok's mouth, it was special to you. even if it sometimes come out as ridiculous. she made you feel special, wanted.

you both sat back in the plush bright red sofa as you finished your meals, enjoying each others company.

"i like this.. we should do this more often." you suggested, discreetly twriling a strand of hair on your finger.

sae-byeok nodded, her second ever genuine smile made an appearance, "yeah, we should."

you averted your gaze to the outside world, it was a perfect night, quiet and comfortable.

that's when you spot a photobooth right across the street from the diner. your eyes lit up.

"hm? what's wrong?" sae-byeok place her head on her hands, following your gaze. her eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the tiny, crammed photobooth.

"sae, let's do it." you took her hands rubbing your thumb gently on her knuckles as you try to persuade her. "pleaasee?"

she let out a soft sigh, but sae-byeok did not resist.

here you guys are, crammed into a tiny photobooth on a cold night. you perched on sae-byeok's lap, feeling the denim of her jeans scratch at your stockings.

"does this even work? you've been trying to figure the machine out for like what? 2 minutes?" sae-byeok squinted at the screen, unimpressed. not getting the schematics of the photobooth.

nervous energy buzzed through her. you could feel it in the way her leg bounced beneath you, the way her hands fidgeted against your sides. she was basically suffocating at the tight space.

"sae, c'mon stop it! i'm sure it does work.." you stuck your tongue out in concentration as you insert 1000 won into the money slot.

both of your bodies jolt up as you realized a countdown was starting.

"ooh, quick! pose!" you squealed. you pressed your temple against sae-byeok's and stuck your hands up in a peace sign.

sae-byeok was at a lost for words due to the close proximity, but she managed to hold up a similar, weaker version of your pose.

snap!

you tried to think of a new pose, before placing your peace sign behind sae-byeok's head into bunny ears and sticking your tongue out, her fluffy short hair tickling your hand as she looked at you in disbelief.

snap!

sae-byeok's eye softened at your playful expression. looking at how much you were enjoying taking photos with her.. you looked too cute for her tiny heart to handle!

a bold plan brewed in her mind

"ugh, what else.." you mumbled to yourself. deep in thought. as you try to remember what poses your friends would use in their cute instagram posts.

with a swift motion, sae-byeok cupped your cheek with her cold, left hand. and kissed your cheeks sweetly, squishing your faces together. just in time before the camera snaps. capturing your face in shock as she made an exaggerated 'smooch!' noise.

snap!

the ghost of sae-byeok's kiss lingered on your cheek. you brought your fingers up to your cheeks, still in disbelief.

"cat got your tongue, hm? c'mon pose for the last picture." sae-byeok teased casually, her eyes bore on you.

how could she say things like that without fully breaking down at the seams? you wondered.

you gave her a weak, tight-lipped smile before composing yourself.

you shifted in sae-byeok's lap turning your back towards the exit, you reached to cup her face in your warm hands.

sae-byeok melted at the touch, puffing out her cheeks while looking at you lovingly.

"cheese!" you cheered with a big grin on your face for the last picture.

you both stumbled out of the booth, hands still tingling, waiting in flustered silence for the photos to print.

the photos popped out of the machine, revealing two strips of black and white polaroids of you both.

"they're perfect!" you cried out, admiring the cute poses and faces you both shared.

"yeah, they are.." sae-byeok sighed, also admiring the photos, contentment washing over her.

first date with you? accomplished.

april 2, 2019.

entry #51—

i have been told all my life that love would never find its way to me,

and i've realized that it was a lie.

because love did find me in my lowest moment, in a form of an adorable kind-hearted psych major i once swore I couldn’t stand.

my days have been fuller —

full of her loving texts lighting up my phone in the morning,

my lunch breaks spent either visiting her campus or her visiting the café to talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

our little dates where we did everything that i wanted to do in my youth but didn't have the time for before.

she softened me in ways I didn’t think possible.

because of her, I started speaking easier, trusting a little more.

because she gave me the hope in humanity that was long gone as soon as i stepped into the real world.

she reminded me that maybe—just maybe—the world wasn’t all bad.

i even gave up pickpocketing for her after we had an argument about how it'd affect my future, how it made her upset. her eyes filled with heartbreak.

she cares about me, and i care for her.

her eyes, nose, lips, hair. all of her

she's the vitamin i had never known i needed. i crave to spend time with her each and every day.

today, i'm going to make her mine.

you stepped out of your lecture, exhausted. the weight of the world on your back.

you sighed at the outside world, you usually loved the rain. but today, of all days, did it really have to pour? and on the day you forgot your umbrella?

you sent a quick text to sae-byeok to let her know you've finished school for the day.

chamomile girl ♡ : sae! ^__^ just finished school! chamomile girl ♡ : i'm about to head home.. it's raining outside so i think i'll run to the nearest bus stop!! forgot my umbrella hehe~ chamomile girl ♡ : i'll visit you tonight at the cafe during nearing your closing hours so we could hang out more :3c

my pers♡nal barista : sounds great. :)

you smiled at your phone, tucking it away shortly after you received a text back as you made your way down flights of stairs of your faculty building.

you prepared your tote bag, taking it off to use it as protection from the rain. the soles of your platforms squelching on the now wet entrance of the building before you stopped in your tracks, a small gasp left your lips.

"sae..?"

the short-haired girl stood in front of you, a wide umbrella protecting her from the rain. she was still in her uniform, smiling at you.

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but you stepped closer to her. both of you now sheltered under the umbrella.

"hi." she whispered just enough so you could hear it through the sound of trickling rain.

you giggled at her actions, poking at her sides. "hey you!.. what're you doing here?"

"to take you home, obviously." she shoved her left hand into her pockets. "i'm not going to let you get sick from the rain"

your heart exploded with immense love and gratitude. you wanted to say a million things. a million ways to tell her how much this meant, how much she meant.

"now come on, let's get you home." she ushered you to the exit of your campus. her hands wrapped around you.

safe. that's what you felt every time you were with sae-byeok. under sae-byeok’s care, the cold barely reached you.

you had such intense feelings towards the north-korean.

you couldn't keep it in any longer.

the two of you walked in step along the bridge, the city lights flickering in the distance, the rain creating a soft melody around you.

the bridge lead to a more secluded neighborhood, where your apartment was.

you sneaked glances at the tall girl from time to time but every time you'd look, she was already looking at you.

"hm? what's on your mind sae?"

she stopped abruptly, you were startled by this, stumbling into a halt. she took your recently manicured hands in her rough ones.

she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

"i like you."

"huh?"

"no, i love you." she corrected herself, swallowing hard. "(y/n), i love you."

"with all my heart. i don't know where i realized that i love you, maybe in our quiet moments or in the middle of our dates full of laughter—but somewhere along the way, you became my favorite part of the day."

you stared at awe at her. is this real life?

"at first i didn't really take interest of you.. then after some time i felt as if it was simple admiration, but now i realized that deep down in my heart, i want to be with you."

the world stilled.

"sae.. i don't know what to say.."

she chuckled nervously, "you don't have to say anything.. i just need you to say yes or no."

your heart thumped harder in the walls of you chest, is this going where i think it is? you thought to yourself.

"can i be your girlfriend?" sae-byeok sputtered out, her body tensing up.

a matching pink flush crept onto both of your faces.

you took a moment to register the question, your ears rang before fusing with the sound of rain falling and hitting the ground.

"finally," you giggled. your laughter was light and it felt like a sweet relief to sae-byeok.

"yes, sae. i'd love you to be my girlfriend."

"r-really?" she stammered. "you do?"

you nodded, snorting all the while giggling at her child-like response.

in the midst of the sound of your voice echoing through the open bridge. you heard a loud sob coming from the tall girl towering in front of you.

your laughter faded as you looked up at her in shock. your eyes widened at the rare sight of sae-byeok crying.

"oh no, baby.. what's wrong?" you cooed, quickly shuffling to her side, you tiptoed and reached for her face, wiping away her tears.

sae-byeok threw her head back, as she tried to shake away her tears. "i..i'm sorry." she sniffled, "i'm just so glad you're my girlfriend now."

you stiffled a gasp at her confession, you chest ached. "aw you're so cute when you're all sappy!"

"shut up!" she whined, her low voice rumbling.

her grip on the umbrella faltered, overwhelmed by emotion. so she placed her head on the nook of your shoulders, leaning her full body weight onto you.

you stumbled at the change of position, quickly wrapping your hands around her torso, hugging her.

"thank you. thank you for giving a chance.." she whispered into your neck, making you shiver.

you weren't used to this vulnerable side of sae-byeok. you loved that you brought a new, better version of her.

without a word, you simply held her tighter, running soothing circles along her back, silently vowing to give her all the love she had ever been denied.

your hands slapped over your mouth, your whole body trembled violently, like a fragile leaf caught in a storm.

you could taste your salty tears run down your plump lips as your teeth chattered.

your heart was chipping apart piece by piece the more you read the journal. your fragile heart couldn't bear the weight of reality anymore.

your lover,

the one you thought you'd spend your whole life with.

gone.

and this was all that is left of her..

sae-byeok..

why did she have to leave..?

she was all you had ever since your mother passed away.

she was the only person you clung to in this cruel world.

now you had to face the rest of your life without her.

you decided to not continue reading. saving the remaining pages to lull to into sleep every night.

every day, you read one entry each night. reminiscing the past, daydreaming yourself into the story told on the parchment. whilst imagining the ghost of the love of your life, holding you tight as you cried between the pages.

you neared the end of the journal, until one day you reached..

the last entry from sae-byeok.

but it can't be? the book still had pages left on it, clean, unscathed.

and then you remembered.

oh..

you felt your bones crumbling, your eyes weakened at the date that was messily scratched unto the journal.

june 8, 2021.

entry #563

an entry from the day before she left your life forever.

june 8, 2021.

entry #563—

i don't know how i'm supposed to tell her.

i don't know how i'm supposed to tell her that a man in a ridiculous tight tuxedo went up to me offering money for a game of ddakji a few days ago as i left the station

she would laugh at my face.

she would also laugh at the fact that the man gave his business card, saying that if i called that number, i would be able to play games for money.

honestly it was an absurd claim. but i decided to test it.

they picked me up in the hush of night & drugged me.

i woke up in a sterile, windowless place—crowded with greasy, clueless, no-lifers. and among them, i saw a ghost from my past.

deok-su.

out of all the places i could find him in, it was in that sterile debt jungle.

I took a hard hit from fate that day, but I got up, because I had to.

i was here for her.

i was here for you.

i wanted to pay off all of your debts, college tuition, spoil you endlessly with a shower of gifts.

my debts was also part of the reason why i joined. but darling, nothing could beat seeing you smile.

the first game was red light, green light.

a game that decorated my childhood in the north.

i tried my best to stay calm and collected. but then the worse happened.

a blaring shot ran through and echoed the arena.

an obnoxious, loud, blonde haired man. shot dead. his blood spilling over the sandy ground.

that was the first time in my life i had ever felt true, raw, fear.

fear of leaving you behind in this cruel world without saying goodbye. fear of not being able to touch, hold, or kiss you anymore. fear of your hands reaching for me in the dark, only to find nothing.

deep inside i was instantly regretting my decision but i prayed hard.

i prayed so i could make it out alive.

and my prayers, they were answered.

they sent us home after hearing our protest, cries, pleading. how it was absurd to keep them in such a place like this. a bloodbath.

this morning, i get to come home into your arms again, i was able to throw myself into your arms, to feel the warmth of your body against mine, to hear your voice —even if it was yelling at me for three straight hours.

i didn't care. i just care that you were there.

but i was still unsatisfied.

i couldn't shake the memory of the first thing i saw as i barged into our shared apartment after coming home from the games this morning.

the love of my life,

you..

you were crying

you drowned yourself in tears before your debts did. i felt guilty not giving you the life that you deserve.

remember how the game master let us come home?

we were also given a chance to join back the games.

so i've decided that i'm going to win the games for you.

bring back a heart-stopping amount of money. to pay off your debts, give you everything the world has to offer.

with 45.6 billion won, i could build us a home. i could bring cheol into a life where he never has to go hungry again. i could see my mother again. i could create the small, quiet, beautiful family we always dreamed of.

but if I don’t make it back—

if you made it to this page and it finds you instead of me..

i need you to know that I’m sorry.

i’m sorry I was too weak to find another way.

i'm sorry i couldn't let go of my past, truly, my stubbornness never left.

i’m sorry for every night you’ll spend alone, wondering if I made the right choice, wondering if it was all your fault, which it wasn't.

i’m sorry that i won’t be there to kiss away your tears when you read this. i'm sorry that i won't be able to touch you anymore.

all i wish for you, my beloved is

to live.

live the life you've dreamt of.

you've always wanted to raise kids, so my last wish is for you to raise cheol for me.

i see how much you love him. how much you wished you could sing him lullabies, read him stories to sleep, have him by your side. so every time you look at him, you'd think of me.

marry someone who sees the good in you even in a sea of imperfect.

marry someone who would stay with you even if the whole world was against you.

who'd protect you, love you, cherish you like i did.

just please, don't forget about me.

but if i do make it back—if fate is kinder to me this time—

i’ll tell you all of this myself.

i pray my last moments are spent replaying all the memories i had with you. so i could die with a heart full of love and a smile on my face.

i love you lots and lots like jelly tots.

your personal barista,

kang sae-byeok.

ending notes : hope you guys enjoyed this! almost cried tbh.. should i make a pt.2 happy ending where she comes back but as a guard?

#✦ . 🦑 dani's squid games ⊹　 ❜ !#kang sae byeok #kang sae byeok x reader #kang sae-byeok #kang sae-byeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #sae byeok #sae-byeok x reader #squid games #squid games x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game #squid games s2 #player 067 #player 067 x reader #067

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gdinthehouseee · 2 days ago

Text

Whiskers and Warmth: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: you and ji-yong decide to adopt a cat together for the first time :3

word count: 1464

tags: pure fluff; established relationship with some soft domestic moments (requested)

ao3 link

The soft glow of the television flickered across the darkened living room as yet another cat video autoplayed. Ji-yong sat beside you, legs stretched out, his head lazily resting against your legs as you were sitting up typing away on your laptop. On the big screen, a tiny kitten swatted at a toy, only to lose its balance and topple over. Ji-yong let out a breathy chuckle, eyes warm with amusement. You couldn’t deny the way you found both him and the video cute.

His eyes remained fixed on the video as he mumbled. “Y’know, it might be nice to have our own cat.”

“Yeah…” you murmured absent-mindedly in response.

You continued typing away at whatever god-forsaken document you were working on, not fully getting the hint until you briefly looked up and made eye contact with your boyfriend, who was now staring at you over your work.

“Wait, like, actually?”

He shrugged, playing it cool, but there was something thoughtful in the way he stared at you. “I mean… why not? We’ve got space. It’d be nice to have something waiting for us when we get home.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Something? Like a little gremlin running around, knocking stuff over and ignoring you?”

Ji-yong couldn’t help but smile at your sarcasm, lightly nudging you as you closed your laptop and set it aside to give him your full attention. “First of all, disrespectful. Second, it’s called ‘independent charm.’”

“Like your charm, you mean?”

You both laughed. However, the more you thought about it, the more the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous. Having a pet—a little companion curled up in your lap on lazy afternoons, greeting you at the door after a long day—sounded… nice. You glanced at Ji-yong, who had gone back to staring at the screen with his head now in your lap and a new-found softness in his expression.

“You really want a cat?” You asked, this time more seriously.

Ji-yong hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. I think it’d be fun. And—” He cut himself off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno. I like the idea of having something to take care of together.”

Your heart warmed at that. He wasn’t just talking about a pet—he was talking about you and him.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Alright. Tomorrow, we will go cat shopping.”

He scoffed, looking up at you. “It’s called adoption, jagiya.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. Ji-yong grinned back, excitement flickering in his eyes. Naturally, you watched as he scrolled through his phone, looking up different cat breeds or fancy pet accessories he’d insist on buying. His expression was relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, you just looked at him—at the warmth in his eyes, the quiet excitement he tried to downplay. It wasn’t just about the cat. It was about building something together, about sharing responsibility, about picturing a life where you and him became something even bigger. The thought made your chest tighten, but in the best way—like something precious settling into place. Ji-yong wanted this, with you, and that realization made you fall for him just a little bit more.

And that was how, the very next day, you found yourselves at an animal shelter, wandering past rows of bright-eyed kittens and sleepy older cats. Ji-yong took his time, scanning each little enclosure like he was choosing a new designer jacket, while you crouched beside a timid tabby, offering your fingers in greeting.

Then, out of nowhere, a fluffy black cat with golden eyes leaped in front of Ji-yong and began weaving in and out of his legs, pushing itself up against him as if it was already marking its territory.

The shelter worker laughed. “Looks like you’ve been chosen.”

Ji-yong, eyes wide, hesitated before bending down and hesitantly scratching behind the cat’s ears. The cat purred instantly. You grinned. “Guess we don’t have a choice now.”

Your heart was aching in the best way possible at the sight of him so fixated on this cat. It wasn’t until the animal made its way over to you, repeating what it had just done to your partner for you, that he had snapped out of his momentary trance. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he watched the cat become more friendly with you.

Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah… Let’s take him home.”

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Ji-yong had bought the most extravagant toys, yet the cat ignored them in favor of the cardboard box the toys had arrived in. He tried (and failed) to get the cat to sleep in its fancy new bed, only for it to curl up in his spot on the couch.

“This is betrayal,” he pouted when the cat climbed onto your lap instead of his.

“You’re just jealous,” you teased, scratching behind the cat’s ears.

“Yeah, whatever.” He huffed and rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched up. “I can’t even tell if I’m jealous of you or him, with all the attention you’re giving him.”

Ji-yong sat next to you and leaned back against the couch, his phone forgotten in his hand as he watched you fuss over the tiny ball of fur curled up in your lap. You were completely focused, scratching gently behind its ears, murmuring soft words he couldn’t quite hear, but it didn’t matter—just watching you was enough. The way your fingers moved so delicately, the way your lips curved into the smallest, sweetest smile, the way the cat nuzzled into you like it already knew it was safe in your arms—it made something in his chest tighten, warm and aching all at once.

Later that night, you dozed off on the couch, the cat nestled against your chest. Ji-yong, who had been scrolling through his phone, glanced over—and his heart melted. Carefully, he grabbed his phone and snapped a picture. Then another. And another.

A soft click stirred you awake. Blinking, you caught him with his phone in hand, mid-snap.

“Are you seriously taking pictures of me in my sleep?” You mumbled and rubbed some sleep out of your eye.

Ji-yong froze.

“I—uh—” He quickly lowered his phone, his face getting visibly warm. “You just… looked cute.”

A slow grin spread across your face. “Aww, is someone getting sentimental?”

“Forget it.” Ji-yong groaned, dragging a hand over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle, reaching for his phone. “Let me see.”

He tried to protest, but you were already scrolling through the pictures on his phone, your lips curving into a slow smile. Each one was softer than the last—your face relaxed in sleep, one hand resting over the tiny cat curled against your chest. In some, the cat’s ears twitched; in others, its tiny paws stretched out like it was dreaming. But the way he had captured it—carefully, quietly, like he was trying to preserve something fragile—made your heart squeeze. You glanced up at him, catching the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck as he rubbed the back of his head, avoiding your gaze.

“You’re such a softie,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t pull away, electing to practically melt into your affection.

Later that night, as the cat stretched between you in the silk sheets of your shared bed, Ji-yong exhaled, his fingers absentmindedly gliding through its soft fur. His other arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you closer as you lay beside him, your head resting in the crook of his neck. The warmth of his skin, the slow and steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all so soothing, so him. The cat let out a tiny sigh in its sleep, its paws twitching slightly, and Ji-yong chuckled under his breath.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be sharing a bed with a cat,” he murmured.

You tilted your head, smiling against his collarbone. “Regretting it already?”

He scoffed, shifting to press a kiss against your forehead. “Not even close.” His hand moved from the cat to your back, tracing slow, comforting circles. “This is perfect,” he whispered, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you. And in that moment, with his touch warm against your skin and the soft rise and fall of the cat between you, you knew—this was perfect. This was home, for the both of you.

“We’ve got our own little family now.” He continued.

You laced your fingers through his, squeezing gently. “Yeah. I think we made a pretty good decision.”

And as Ji-yong smiled, watching the cat purr between you, he couldn’t agree more.

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t

#kwon jiyong x reader #kwon jiyong #gdragon x reader #gdragon #bigbang x reader #bigbang #kpop #fluff #cats #established relationship

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sophsbookstore · 20 hours ago

Text

Anniversary Picnic

Quinn Hughes x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word count: 1500

Hockey Masterlist

A/N: sry for the spam y'all, i'm just trying to clear my drafts, hope your enjoying the hockey content tho!

It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in Vancouver, and you were about to celebrate your three-year anniversary with none other than Quinn Hughes. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the last three years—how fast they had gone by, how many incredible memories you’d made, and how much closer you had gotten to Quinn.

You’d spent so many moments laughing, getting lost in conversation, and even tackling the quieter days of just enjoying each other's company. But this year, Quinn had promised something special for your anniversary. And from what he had said about it, you had a feeling it was going to be a memorable one.

Earlier that Morning...

You woke up to the smell of something delicious wafting through the house. You groggily rubbed your eyes and stretched, squinting at the clock. It was barely 9:30 a.m., but it was a Saturday, so you were happy to stay in bed for a little longer.

As you slowly made your way out of the bedroom, you were greeted by the sound of Quinn humming in the kitchen. You smiled to yourself—he had such a soft, carefree vibe in the mornings, and it always put you in a good mood.

When you walked into the kitchen, you saw him standing there in a plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, his hair tousled in that charmingly messy way you adored. He was focused on something at the counter, assembling what looked like sandwiches. His hands moved with purpose, and you couldn’t help but lean against the doorframe, watching him.

“What’s all this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn turned around, a bright grin spreading across his face when he saw you. “Oh, you’re awake! I was just making something special for our anniversary picnic later.”

Your heart fluttered. You had no idea what kind of picnic he had in mind, but the fact that Quinn—always the quiet, laid-back guy—was putting so much effort into it made you feel extra loved. You walked over to him, leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek as you saw the sandwich ingredients on the counter.

“You’re making us lunch?” you teased, taking in the sight of him cutting some veggies and laying out different types of bread. “You’re a man of many talents.”

Quinn looked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye. “I thought I’d surprise you. I know how much you love a good sandwich, so I thought I’d, you know, go all out for today. Plus…” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a flirty tone. “I like making you smile.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You loved how effortlessly he could melt your defenses with just a look.

“I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for me,” you said, feeling a sudden warmth spread through you. “But, you know, it’s going to be hard for you to top what you’ve already got going on here.” You gestured to his messy hair and the flour on his cheek.

Quinn’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the compliment. “Oh, I’ll find a way to top this. Don’t you worry.” He grabbed a cupcake tin from the counter. “And I may have made cupcakes for dessert.”

“Cupcakes too?” you gasped, impressed. “I’m really lucky.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He chuckled, giving you a wink. “You’re only getting this once a year.”

“Well, if this is what you do for our anniversary, I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the next one,” you teased, giving him a gentle nudge before walking toward the living room to grab your jacket.

Later That Day...

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Quinn had everything packed up for the picnic: sandwiches neatly wrapped in foil, a picnic blanket, some drinks, and of course, the cupcakes. You’d been instructed to wear something comfy and cute, and so you had settled on a light sundress, perfect for the warm, sunny day.

You stepped outside onto the balcony to find Quinn waiting by the car. His jaw dropped when he saw you in your dress, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to hide how flustered he was.

“You look… wow.” He shook his head, his voice coming out a little softer than usual. “Absolutely stunning. As always.”

You smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Quinn gave you a playful smirk. “Well, I do try to look presentable for you.”

He opened the car door for you, and you slid into the passenger seat, both of you chatting easily as he drove to the park. Quinn was in his element, carefree and full of excitement. It was clear how much he was looking forward to the day.

Once you arrived at the park, Quinn led you to a secluded spot under a large oak tree, its branches creating a cool, shaded canopy. He laid out the blanket and set up the food, and you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. He seemed so comfortable in this role, as though planning and preparing for this moment was second nature.

“Okay, the sandwiches are all ready, but there’s one thing I want to do first,” Quinn said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

He reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a frisbee. “I’ve been practicing. Want to see if I can impress you?”

You laughed. “You’re on. But I should warn you, I’ve got an amazing frisbee game.”

Quinn’s eyes lit up. “Oh, really? We’ll see about that.”

What followed was a playful hour of frisbee tossing and lots of laughs. Quinn, of course, tried to pull off some fancy throws, showing off his skills, but you kept up, even managing to toss a perfect catch right into his hands at one point. He laughed, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” he said, clearly impressed. “But I still think you’re no match for my next move.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you asked, panting slightly from running around, your hair wild in the best way.

With a devilish grin, Quinn suddenly dropped to the ground, leaning back against the blanket. “A nap. I’m too tired to compete with you anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “You’re the worst!”

He pulled you down next to him, his arm snaking around your shoulders. “Come on, don’t be mad. I’ll let you win next time.”

You rested your head on his chest, letting out a contented sigh. “Fine, but only because you made me those sandwiches.”

“That’s what I thought,” he teased. He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you closer. “I’m glad you like the food, though. I wasn’t sure about the cupcakes. They might be a little too much.”

You glanced up at him, a smile curling on your lips. “You made cupcakes too? You’re really going all out for this anniversary, huh?”

“Well, it’s been three years, and I wanted to do something special,” he said softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. “I love you, and I want you to feel that in everything I do for you.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you looked up at him with affection. “I already feel that, Quinn. Honestly, this is perfect. You’re perfect.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the world around you fading as you got lost in the moment. When he pulled back, he smirked, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Well, I try my best.”

You laughed, feeling more in love with him than ever. The day was everything you could have hoped for—playful, full of love, and just the right amount of flirty banter. As you both sat there in the shade, enjoying the sandwiches Quinn had so carefully made, you realized that this simple moment, with him by your side, was all you really needed.

Later...

As the sun began to set and you finished off the last of the cupcakes, Quinn leaned back on his elbows, looking over at you with a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes.

“Three years, huh?” he said quietly. “Feels like it’s flown by.”

You nodded, feeling a warm glow spread through you. “It really has. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Quinn turned to face you fully, his expression serious now, though still soft. “Me neither. I’m really lucky to have you, you know that?”

You smiled, brushing your hand against his. “I’m the lucky one, Quinn. I’m so glad I get to spend these years with you.”

He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Me too.”

And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, you both lay on the blanket, the world around you fading into the quiet of the evening. The three years had been amazing, but you both knew this was just the beginning.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fluff #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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space-dreams-world · 3 days ago

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D and T twins part 3: Damian's and others Part

When Damian came to live with his father after the coup, they did a DNA test to confirm Talia's truth as she had lied about her pregnancy before. Both Waynes are shocked by the results displayed and are both slightly relieved by this news, but for different reasons.

Damian is relieved because he always felt that Talia had been mistreating him and only felt comfort with his uncle and that he had a deeper understanding of him as he felt a connection with him. (In fact, Danyal had told Damian about the other child in his father's care (Dick and Jason who was currently in the compound with them) and expressed his feelings about treating his siblings right as he had seen the effects with their cousin Mara, Cassandra Cain and his sister, Talia.)

Meanwhile, Bruce is surprised but confused as he and Danyal were never that serious. He was elated as Danyal was the better twin he liked since Talia was a hassle to deal with, and he was uncomfortable with her after the SA and the fake failed pregnancy. His feelings for Danyal are similar to his feelings for Selina, Ghostmaker, and Two-Face... longing for co-existance. He felt Danyal could get him on some level and that he lit up his world (besides his kids).

Bruce remembers the moments in brief flashes of tender embraces, the sweet whispers of love, the long walks around the compound, and their first meeting (and how he saw through his ruse).

The only weird thing was that Danyal is MIA as neither he nor Damian could recall the last time he was last seen. In fact, Damian recalls he was last seen before Talia's coup heading towards the Lazarus pits.

Damian still has a slightly negative relationship with Tim as Damian was never briefed on Tim and feels that Tim encroached on his family and doesn't know how to act around him.

Damian, while not loyal to his grandfather or his "supposed mother," feels that now he can be himself as his "uncle" wanted him to be. He asks Dick, Bruce, and Jason to keep an eye/ear out for his father.

Dick has vague recollections of Danyal when Talia came to Gotham and dated Bruce, but Jason is silent. Jason quietly remembers that Danyal was there when he had Lazarus flares in the middle of the night, when Talia wasn't forcefeeding him info on Gotham, he was the clear rationale, when he got too injured in his training, Danyal would check up on him. And when he left for Gotham,

[What they don't know is that Danyal is training and making his way back to the DC verse while acciquiring knowledge with the help of Clockwork and other ghosts. Lady Gotham has also made an appearance to Danyal and has made a plea to help with her spirits. If Danyal is King in this au, then he only becomes it after all his family passes or is in the Infinite Realms.]

Now, Tim has no need to dig into this family affair, but he thinks he can use Danyal to get Ra's off his back and maybe make his brothers happy...(he unknowingly signs his immediate resignation to being treated like an adult and is forced back into acting like a kid with more healthy alternatives to his messy lifestyle and therapy... lots of therapy with the family.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #danny phantom #dc x dp #danny fenton #au #batman #potential spirit halloween #Damian is Danyal & Bruce’s son #Danyal is Damian's favorite with Dick & Alfred #And Steph and Jason #Bruce is right before Tim and he is dead last #Danyal brings Dani #and maybe Dan with him to the DC verse #and Jazz #D and T twins part 3 #dp x dc prompt #Another Twin Au: D and T #D&T

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baekhyunsbestie · 2 days ago

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⟢ : N 2 DEEP !?

BABY THAT P*SSY WAS

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ SO WORTH THE WAIT!

I WASN'T IN LOVE WITH

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ NONE OF THEM ANYWAY!

★ had a req for virgin!reader and another for baekhyun's pov n i thot???? why not wake my ovulation demon up by combining the two!!! experienced!baekhyun talking virgin!reader through it??? uh, yeaaaaah, sign me tf up 🫦

★ content: 18+/mdni. 3.4k+ words. baekhyun’s pov. baekhyun x virgin f!reader. ex-playboy!baekhyun. yandere!baekhyun. pet names: baby, angel, sweetheart, etc. also calls you his good girl <3333333 literally just pwp!! fingering + oral (fem receiving). virginity loss. p in v. breeding kink. bulge kink. creampies (baek's got breeder balls). overstimulation. raw juseyoooooo <3

i used to be a different man.

selfish. reckless. untouchable.

i lived for the chase, for the thrill, for the fleeting satisfaction of a conquest already won before the game even began. the night always ended the same—someone pressed against me, lips searching, hands wandering, desperate to be the one i wouldn’t forget.

but i always forgot.

because none of it mattered.

i had everything—looks, charm, a reputation that did all the work for me. doors opened before i even knocked. women sought me out, fingers grazing my skin before i could learn their names, their lips curving into coy smiles as they whispered empty promises in my ear.

they wanted to be wanted.

they wanted to tame me.

and for a while, i let them believe it was possible. let them think they were different, let them pretend they meant something.

but they never did.

because i never stayed.

i played the game, flashing lazy smirks, murmuring all the right words at all the right moments. i gave just enough to keep them coming back, just enough to make them believe there was something real buried underneath it all.

but there wasn’t.

love was just a pretty lie people told themselves so they wouldn’t feel alone.

then she came along.

the first girl who didn’t look at me like i was something to win. the first girl to look at me like i was an actual fucking person.

she was different from the moment i met her—poised, careful, untouchable in a way that made my fingers itch with the need to unravel her.

she didn’t lean in when i spoke. didn’t soften under the weight of my gaze. didn’t lower her walls just because i smiled at her.

she wasn’t impressed.

and fuck, that made me want her more.

but she was cautious. too cautious.

when i stepped closer, she took a step back. when i spoke, she met my eyes but kept her distance. she wasn’t rude—she was polite, measured, controlled in a way that told me she had already heard the stories.

she knew who i was.

what i was.

and she wanted nothing to do with me.

i should have walked away. found someone easier. someone who wouldn’t make my chest ache with frustration and longing.

but i couldn’t.

i wanted her. no—i needed her.

for the first time in my life, i chased.

and god, i chased hard.

i stopped looking at other women, stopped entertaining the attention that used to thrill me. stopped indulging in meaningless touches, in flirtation that never led anywhere real.

none of it mattered.

not if it wasn’t her.

so i waited.

for months, i played the long game. carefully. intentionally. i let her set the pace, let her keep her distance, let her watch me until she was ready to believe that i meant it.

and when she finally did—when she finally let me in—

i fell.

harder. deeper. completely.

and now, when she looks up at me with those wide, trusting eyes, her body trembling beneath mine, offering me the one thing she’s never given anyone else, i know—

she’s mine.

there’s no walking away now. no pretending this is something casual, something temporary.

because this? this is everything.

she is everything.

her skin is warm beneath my lips, trembling ever so slightly as i kiss my way down her body. every little shiver, every breathy sigh—i drink them in, savor them. she’s so sensitive, so responsive, it makes my stomach tighten with something primal, something possessive.

she doesn’t even know.

doesn’t know what she does to me, how long i’ve been waiting, craving, aching for this moment. she’s stretched out beneath me, bare, untouched, soft in a way that makes my teeth grind and my blood run hot. she’s mine, even if she doesn’t understand it yet.

her hands fist the sheets, her chest rising and falling in shaky, uneven breaths. she’s nervous. i can feel the tension in her thighs, the way her body trembles slightly under my touch.

“baby,” i murmur, smoothing my hands down her sides, slow and careful, feeling the way her stomach flutters beneath my touch. “are you sure?”

she nods, but i see the hesitation flickering in her gaze, the uncertainty in the way she swallows hard, like she’s trying to work up the courage to say it out loud.

so i guide her.

i catch her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at me.

“tell me,” i say softly, my thumb brushing along the curve of her jaw.

her lips part, but no words come out.

“sweetheart,” i whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, my voice gentle, firm, steady. “if you’re not ready, we don’t have to—”

“i am.”

her voice is quiet but certain, her fingers tightening around my arms like she’s afraid i might pull away.

“i want to do this. with you. i want you, baekhyun.”

fuck.

i exhale slowly, pressing my forehead against hers, breathing her in.

“i’ve waited so long for you,” i murmur, tracing my fingers over her collarbone, watching the way her pulse flutters beneath my touch.

she exhales shakily, hands sliding up my chest, warm and tentative.

“yeah? for how long?”

“since the first night i met you.”

her breath catches. “b-but i—”

“hah, i know,” i chuckle, cutting her off, my lips ghosting over hers. “you didn’t want anything to do with me, huh?”

she swallows, looking guilty, but i kiss her before she can apologize.

“you were right to be cautious,” i murmur against her lips. “but i changed for you, sweetheart. i waited for you. i’d do it again if it meant i could have you like this. all to myself.”

her hands cup my face, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones, and for a moment, she just looks at me.

searching.

memorizing.

and i let her see everything.

the devotion.

the patience.

the undeniable, unshakable truth that she belongs to me now.

she trusts me.

and i'll fucking die before i break that trust.

so when i spread her open, pressing my lips between her thighs, i take my time.

i let her feel every slow, deliberate touch, every lingering kiss, every whispered praise.

she’s already trembling, body pliant under my hands, her thighs twitching where they frame my shoulders. warm, soft, dripping for me, waiting. she doesn’t even realize how far gone she is, how much i’ve unraveled her already.

“so fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart—so fuckin’ sweet,” i murmur, voice thick, heavy with heat. my tongue flicks against her, teasing, coaxing, savoring.

a sharp gasp escapes her lips, her fingers tangling in my hair, trying to push me closer, trying to pull me away—she doesn’t know what she wants anymore.

i groan into her, drunk on the slick coating my lips, my chin, my fingers. “shh,” i soothe, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, holding her down as she squirms beneath me. “just relax, love. lemme take care of you.”

she’s still trembling when i slide a finger inside her, feeling her tense, feeling the way her walls clutch around me, untested and impossibly tight.

“breathe, angel,” i whisper, my free hand smoothing over her stomach, pressing down lightly, making her feel every motion, every stretch. “you’re doing so well.”

she whimpers, a broken sound, her hands fisting the sheets. overwhelmed. drowning.

“hey,” i murmur, my tone firm, commanding, anchoring her. “look at me, baby.”

her eyes find mine, wide, unfocused, wrecked.

“ya feel that?” i breathe, curling my fingers just right, stroking that spot that has her back arching off the bed. she lets out a sharp cry, her thighs clamping around my head. “that's how you’re gonna feel when i fuck ya full of my cock.”

she trembles, gripping at my arms, teetering on the edge, fighting the stretch but craving more.

i press another kiss to her clit before pulling back, watching her.

she looks ruined—flushed, panting, trembling, her lips swollen from biting them too hard.

and i haven’t even started.

“want you to count for me, angel,” i instruct, pressing my fingers deeper inside her, twisting them just enough to make her whine.

“h-huh?”

i smirk, dragging my tongue up her slit, flicking against her clit before pulling back. “every time you cum, i want ya to count. think ya can do that for me?”

she nods, but i grip her thigh, making her gasp.

“words, baby.”

“y-yes,” she stutters, already breathless. “i can.”

“that’s my good girl,” i praise, before sealing my mouth over her again, sucking her clit into the heat of my tongue.

she thrashes, moaning, pulling at my hair as i work her open, fucking her with my fingers, curling just right, coaxing, dragging, pulling her under.

“baek—i—oh my god—fuck!” her words dissolve into broken sobs, her body tensing, her orgasm slamming into her, making her shake apart beneath me.

“one,” i murmur against her soaked skin, kissing her clit as she writhes.

but i don’t stop.

i don’t give her time to recover before i press my tongue against her again, relentless, insatiable.

“too much—” she chokes out, but her body betrays her, hips grinding into my face, chasing more.

“mm, mm, baby,” i groan, fucking my fingers into her deeper, letting her feel it, letting her drown in it. “’m not stoppin’ ‘til i hear ya count again.”

she sobs, her thighs trembling, but she can’t resist me, can’t fight the way i make her feel, can’t stop the next wave from crashing over her.

“t-two,” she gasps, barely a whisper.

i smirk, dragging my tongue slow and deep over her folds.

“good girl. now gimme another.”

i pull her back in, take her apart again, and again, and again.

by the time she hits four, she’s shaking so hard she can barely breathe, her voice breaking on my name, her body helpless, pliant, wrecked beneath me.

i finally pull back, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, watching her struggle to open her eyes, her chest heaving, her skin flushed all over.

“you okay, angel?” i murmur, brushing her damp hair back from her face.

she barely manages a nod, eyes glazed, lips parted, her body still twitching from the aftershocks.

i hover over her, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, her temple, her lips—reassuring her, grounding her.

“you did so well,” i praise, kissing her softly, gently, letting her feel just how much i adore her.

but then i press my cock against her entrance, dragging the thick head through the mess i made of her.

“now,” i whisper, voice dark with intent. i let the tip of my cock drag through the slick mess between her thighs, teasing her, pressing against her entrance but not pushing in yet. her breath stutters, her hips instinctively rolling up, chasing friction.

so desperate already. so easy to ruin.

“let’s see if ya can count for me again.”

her eyes flutter open, glazed over, unfocused. her lips are swollen, bruised, parted as she pants, barely catching her breath from how i’ve already wrung her out. but she’s still hungry for more. she’s still gripping at my arms, still trembling beneath me, waiting for me to give it to her.

“this is the part where you tell me if you want to stop,” i murmur, even though i already know she won’t.

she doesn’t hesitate.

“i don’t want you to stop.”

mine.

fucking mine.

the second i push in, i know i’m fucked.

not just in the way i’m used to—not in that fleeting, skin-deep, feel-good-for-a-moment kind of way. this is different. she is different. and the way she’s clenching around me, the way she’s looking at me like i’m the only person in the world—i’m done for.

i’ve had plenty before. too many to count. never cared to remember. i’ve fucked for the sake of fucking, for release, for the thrill of it. but this? this isn’t just sex. this is something i need. something i’ll never be able to forget, even if i wanted to.

she’s so tight, so warm, gripping me like she was made for me, and the thought alone nearly sends me over the edge. no one’s ever felt like this before. no one’s ever been like this before.

i watch her face, see every little change—the way her brows pinch, her lips part, her breath stutters. i know it’s her first time, and fuck, the thought of being the first and only makes something primal claw at my insides. i have to breathe through it, force myself to stay in control, because all i want to do is claim. mark her, ruin her, make sure she never forgets this either.

“you okay?” i rasp, voice rough, strained. i don’t even realize how hard i’m gripping her hips until i see the way my fingers dig into her skin.

she nods, lips trembling just slightly. “y-yeah. i’m good, baby. it’s okay, keep going.”

i press in deeper, slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch. her nails bite into my arms, her thighs tense around me, and fuck, she’s taking me so well. too well. i can’t think straight. i can’t fucking breathe.

“so fuckin’ perfect,” i murmur, my forehead dropping against hers. my heart’s hammering in my chest, my pulse racing, but it’s not just from how good she feels—it’s her. it’s the way she looks at me, the way she trusts me, the way i know—i know—i can never go back after this.

she gasps, her nails digging into my back, legs wrapping around me to hold me there, like she needs me to fill every inch of her.

i kiss her temple, soothing her even as she clenches around me, whispering into her skin.

“breathe, baby,” i murmur, stroking her hair back, kissing her cheek, her jaw. “you’re doing so well. it’s okay. you can let me in.”

i go slow.

soft kisses. whispered encouragement. steady hands keeping her safe.

when i bottom out, when she takes all of me, i groan against her lips, my arms tightening around her.

“baekhyun,” she whispers, voice trembling, wrecked, drowning in me. “y'feel so—hah—so good.”

“oh, yeah? so do you, baby,” i breathe, rolling my hips, slow but deliberate, savoring the way she clenches down on me. fuck, she’s tight—gummy walls hugging my cock, gripping me like a fucking vice. like she doesn’t want to let me go.

like she couldn’t even if she tried.

it’s taking everything in me not to lose it, not to fuck her too hard, not to fill her up right here and now.

“you’re mine, baby,” i murmur against her lips, voice thick with need. i slide a hand up, cradling her cheek, my thumb tracing her lips. “you’re doing so well.”

her breath stutters, breaking into a moan as she tries to adjust, fingers dragging down my back, pressing her nails into my skin. she’s trusting me, giving me everything.

“that’s it,” i praise, voice soft but firm, kissing her temple, the corner of her mouth, anywhere i can reach.

when she starts moving with me, when she stops fighting it, stops trying to hold herself back—

i reward her.

“so, so good for me,” i murmur, kissing her deep, swallowing her little cries as i thrust into her, rolling my hips slow, deep. “so fuckin’ perfect, baby. taking me so well.”

her legs tighten around me, heels digging into my lower back, pulling me in, keeping me there.

“god, i fuckin' love you,” i rasp, the confession slipping past my lips, raw and unfiltered.

she whimpers, pulling me closer, chest to chest, breath mingling with mine.

“i love you, too, baby,” she gasps, voice shaking, wrecked.

then—

“hah—sh-shit, baek. you’re s-so big,” she whimpers, head tilting back. “i can feel you right here.”

her trembling hand presses against her lower stomach.

and i see it.

the thick outline of my cock bulging through, stretching her open, proof of how fucking deep i am.

and it fucking breaks me.

“holy shit—” i groan, something primal snapping inside me as my hips snap forward, pounding into her, fucking her harder, rougher.

her cry is sharp, breathless, her fingers curling into the sheets as she takes it, lets me chase my release, lets me ruin her.

“nngghh—fuck, baby,” i pant, dropping my head to her shoulder, my teeth grazing her skin before biting down, leaving a deep mark against her collarbone. “gonna fuckin’ cum—gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

i spill inside her, my body locking up as i empty myself, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep into her.

but i don’t stop.

my cock is still throbbing, still rock-hard, still buried deep inside her, and she flinches when i pull back just enough to thrust in again.

“b-baekhyun—i can’t!” she gasps, nails digging into my arms, her body shaking from how sensitive she is.

i groan, grinding deeper, my forehead dropping against hers.

“shh, baby,” i whisper, pressing kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her swollen lips. “you can take it. i know ya can.”

she whimpers, body arching into mine, her walls fluttering around me, already on the verge of another orgasm.

“ya feel that, baby?” i rasp, pressing my palm over her stomach, feeling myself inside her. “that’s all me.”

i shift, angling my hips just right, and she cries out, her head tilting back, her throat exposed, body trembling beneath me. her nails rake down my arms, dragging over my back, leaving angry red lines in their wake. marking me. claiming me. and fuck, it only fuels me.

makes me want to give her more.

makes me want to fuck her so good she doesn’t just feel me now, but tomorrow. for days.

her back arches off the bed, hips lifting to meet every deep, controlled thrust, chasing it, needing it. and i give it to her, steady and deliberate, my cock pulsing inside her, my body working hers open all over again.

“gonna fill ya up again, sweetheart,” i groan, voice hoarse, raw with hunger. “gonna take care of you. you want that, right?”

“yes, baek! fuck—wanna milk you dry. wanna have your babies,” she moans, her voice breaking against my lips, her legs tightening around me, keeping me locked in, keeping me buried so deep i can barely think straight.

and fuck—hearing her say it, hearing how filthy she sounds, how much she wants this, wants me—it nearly unravels me right there.

i could cum from that alone.

but i want to cum with her this time.

want to fuck it back into her while she arches her back, while she moans against my lips like she’s singing for me, like every sound she makes is meant for me and me only.

“that’s it, baby,” i whisper, my lips brushing over hers, coaxing, guiding, leading her exactly where i want her. “just let go. let me have you.”

and she does.

she falls apart beneath me, her body tensing, her walls fluttering, squeezing me tight—too tight—like she’s trying to pull me deeper, drag me under with her. her moans crack into sobs, her thighs trembling as the pleasure overtakes her completely, raw and overwhelming.

“f-five,” she gasps, the word barely leaving her lips, her body still wracked with aftershocks.

but i’m not done.

i grip her thighs, pushing them up, pressing them against her chest, folding her into a mating press, my body caging hers in.

her breath catches.

her eyes go wide.

she’s already sensitive, already on the edge of breaking all over again.

“one more, baby,” i rasp, grinding into her, rolling my hips slow, deep, making sure she feels every thick inch of me pressing into her, filling her to the brim.

she whimpers, fingers clawing at my forearms like she’s holding on for dear life.

“can ya do that for me?” i murmur, kissing her lips, her cheek, her throat. “one more, love. i know ya can.”

she nods frantically, lost in it, lost in me, in the stretch, the heat, the overwhelming pressure of it all.

“words, sweetheart,” i remind her, pushing in deeper, making her sob.

“y-yes,” she cries, voice shaking, already on the brink. “i can—i can—”

her body locks up, every muscle tightening as she clenches down around me, hard, her whole frame trembling, her moans dissolving into desperate, breathless cries as she cums again—one last time.

and when i feel her tip over the edge, when i feel her walls tighten around me like she’s trying to take every last drop—

i don’t hold back.

“shit—” i groan, my hips snapping forward, burying myself to the hilt, grinding deep as i spill inside her, filling her up just like i promised.

hot, thick ropes of my release coat her walls, my cock pulsing with every shuddering breath, every sharp inhale, my body trembling from the sheer force of it.

but i don’t move right away.

i let her feel it. feel me.

feel the way i stretch her full, how i keep her stuffed, plugged up, making sure not a single drop escapes—like her body was made to take me, to keep me.

she’s still trembling, still pulsing around me, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants as the aftershocks ripple through her. i stay inside, refusing to pull away, letting her feel every inch of me even as her body melts into the mattress, boneless, ruined, perfect.

i press lazy kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth—soft, slow, reverent.

“mine,” i murmur, voice thick with possession, my fingers threading through her damp hair, smoothing it back. i stroke gentle patterns into her skin, grounding her, anchoring her to me as she drifts, her lashes fluttering, lips parted, body completely spent.

“always,” i whisper, sealing my promise with one last kiss.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ i think this helped me get me outta my lil writing slump :') hope u guys like it n got pregnant from it!!! i know i sure as hell did!! but also???? writing in his pov was soooo much fun omg!!!! made me wish i had a dick omg i’d b unstoppable 😭 as always, lmk what u think hehe 💗💖💗💞🩷💝💘💝💗

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 .

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun one shot #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun pov #exo smut #exo fic #exo one shot #exo x reader #exo pov #x reader #kpop smut #kpop fic #kpop one shot #lisawrites

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