#One more week left woo!

[pinkytoothlesso11]

Over halfway now! But let's keep the energy going for this weeks prompts:

Sunlight/Moonlight

Check out the announcement post if you're unsure what the rules for participating are! Tag with #keenswimmers2024 and look out for the roundup post on the 20th of August for this week's contributions.

(Credit again goes to @seekerofblades and @rexnanorum for their wonderful graphic work!)

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ million dollar man ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ it had been over two weeks since you last heard from cho sang-woo. no calls, no texts, not even the smallest acknowledgment of your existence. the silence weighed on you, growing heavier with every passing day. sang-woo, your long-term boyfriend, the man you had imagined spending the rest of your life with, had seemingly vanished without explanation.

˚ ༘♡ he was everything you had dreamed of, handsome, intelligent, educated. in your eyes, he was near perfect. you had moved to south korea a year and a half ago. the two of you met only a month after your arrival in seoul. you were standing at a convenience store counter, struggling to buy an iced coffee before work. the cashier’s words blurred into a language barrier you couldn’t break through, leaving you flustered and embarrassed.

˚ ༘♡ then there he was. cho sang-woo, with his neatly pressed suit and square-rimmed glasses, stepping in to translate with a calm assurance that immediately put you at ease. he went further and insisted on paying for your coffee, brushing off your protests with a polite smile. “you can pay me back with your number,” he had said, his tone light but his warm gaze unwavering. you gave it to him without hesitation, your heart racing as he walked away with a casual, confident stride that lingered in your mind for days.

˚ ༘♡ what followed was akin to a fantasy. your first few dates were sweet and unassuming, dinners at cozy restaurants, walks through bustling markets, late-night phone calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning. before long, it became more than casual. he wasn’t simply a charming man in a suit, he was someone you trusted, someone you leaned on. yet, as your relationship deepened, so did the flaws.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo treated you well in many ways. he insisted on paying for meals, even when you protested. he offered to help with rent when he noticed you were stressed about expenses. his job at joy investments afforded him a lifestyle of financial stability, one that he willingly extended to you. however, beneath his polished exterior, there was an undeniable distance.

˚ ༘♡ it started small, little things that nagged at you but seemed too insignificant to bring up. his phone was always locked, the screen flashing dark whenever you glanced at it. he would leave suddenly, without warning, offering only vague explanations that never quite satisfied your curiosity. “work,” he would say, brushing off your questions as though they were irrelevant. and no matter how many times you pressed him for the truth, he never admitted anything.

˚ ༘♡ those moments of secrecy chipped away at your trust, leaving an uneasy ache in your chest. you told yourself it was nothing, that you were overthinking. but the fights that erupted when you brought it up told a different story. his calm facade would crack, and he would grow defensive, his words sharp and cutting. “don’t you trust me?” he had asked more than once, the accusation in his tone a slap in the face.

˚ ༘♡ despite the arguments, despite the unanswered questions, you loved him. you loved the way he smoothed a hand down your back when you were upset, the way his voice softened when he called you by name. you loved the rare instances of vulnerability he let slip, the heartfelt glimpses of the man beneath the polished exterior. you loved him enough to forgive, enough to overlook the secrets that cast shadows over your relationship.

˚ ༘♡ as you sat alone in your apartment, staring at your phone with an empty inbox mocking your worry. two weeks of silence was unbearable. the man you loved, the one who had promised to protect you, had left you with nothing but questions and a ache where his presence used to be.

˚ ༘♡ the doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of your apartment as though it were a sharp blade. it wasn’t merely unusual, it was unsettling. who would come at this hour? you glanced at the clock on the wall, its glowing numbers reminding you that it was well past midnight. your stomach churned uneasily as you stood up, your fatigue from a long shift at the café clinging to you.

˚ ༘♡ working from sunrise to sunset every day had worn you thin, but you had refused sang-woo’s offers to help you financially. he had already done so much, given so generously, and the thought of taking more was crossing a line you couldn’t bring yourself to breach. it would be an abuse of his kindness.

˚ ༘♡ the hallway was dark as you approached the door, your bare feet silent on the cool floor. you hesitated before unlocking it, your hand hovering over the latch. “hello?” you called out cautiously as you cracked it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

˚ ༘♡ before you could register what was happening, a hard shove sent the door crashing into you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, barely managing to catch yourself against the wall. your heart leapt into your throat as the figure who had forced their way inside quickly shut the door behind them.

˚ ༘♡ your confusion turned to disbelief as the light from your apartment fell on their face. it was sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ his chest heaved with each labored breath, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, his dress pants scuffed and slightly torn. his glasses, the ones you always teased him about for making him look too serious, were nowhere to be seen. instead, his face bore the evidence of recent hardships, bruises, faint scars, and scabbed-over cuts that marred his formerly pristine appearance. even his hands, the ones you’d grown so used to seeing holding a pen or a glass of wine, were scratched and battered.

˚ ༘♡ he looked like he had aged years in the short time he had been gone.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you stammered, your voice unsteady with equal parts confusion and fear, “what the hell are you doing? it’s the middle of the night, and… why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

˚ ༘♡ he opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. instead, he leaned against the door, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i…” he started, his voice hoarse and raw, but he seemed unable to finish.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, he crossed the room in a single stride and pulled you into a tight embrace. his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that felt almost suffocating, his head burying into the crook of your neck as he clung to you.

˚ ༘♡ you stood unmoving, the shock of his sudden appearance warring with the affection of his touch. part of you was relieved beyond words to have him back, while another part was angry. angry at his disappearance, at the unanswered calls and texts, at the fear and doubt he had left you to wrestle with.

˚ ༘♡ “i missed you,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

˚ ༘♡ his words tugged at your heart, but they weren’t enough to quell the storm of questions brewing inside you. “sang-woo,” you said, your voice softer now but still laced with frustration, “what’s going on? where have you been? what happened to you?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer right away, his grip tightening, as though the very act of holding onto you could keep him grounded. his breath was unstable, his chest rising and falling against yours in a way that betrayed the turmoil beneath his silence. the room felt oppressively quiet.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp, desperate for clarity. the sound seemed to jolt him, his body stiffening before he reluctantly pulled back.

˚ ༘♡ his hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket, the movement clumsy and hurried. when he withdrew, he thrust a thick stack of cash into your arms, one hundred million won, neatly bound and unnervingly out of place in your modest apartment. the weight of the money startled you, as you stared at the crisp bills in disbelief.

˚ ༘♡ “listen to me,” he said, his voice shaking but steadfast. “after this, after i take care of everything, i’ll buy us a beautiful home. somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. hold onto this for now.”

˚ ༘♡ you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the sudden shift, the money heavy in your grasp. “sang-woo,” you said, your tone rising with vexation and confusion, “where did you get this money?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, his eyes avoiding yours, and that only fueled your frustration. “tell me!” you demanded. “where have you been? do you have any idea what I’ve been through? i thought you left me for another woman or fled the country!”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw clenched, his expression fading as guilt flashed across his face, but he said nothing.

˚ ༘♡ you pressed further, your voice strained with a mix of hurt and fury. “i talked to your mother. she said you haven’t called her in ages! i went to your work. they haven’t seen you in weeks! your friends? same thing. no one knows where you’ve been!” your hands tightened around the cash, your knuckles white as your chest heaved with the distress of your tone. “how could you do this to me? how could you leave without a word, without an explanation?”

˚ ༘♡ his silence hurt more than any words could have. he looked at you, his expression a painful mix of regret and something darker, something you couldn’t place. his lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to sting your eyes. “please. i need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll tell you everything soon, i promise, sweetheart,” sang-woo murmured, his voice unsteady, as if it pained him to speak. his hand, calloused and trembling, reached out to rest gently on your cheek, his touch delicate. your heart ached as you met his gaze, those dark, exhausted eyes glistening with unshed tears. it was a look so raw, so unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ “you have to trust me,” he said, his tone soft but pleading. “you have to listen to me. i’ve already given you what you need to cover your expenses.” his hand lingered against your cheek for a monthly moment before falling away, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “i have urgent legal and business matters to deal with, but once they’re resolved… we’ll have the life we’ve dreamed of. everything we’ve talked about.”

˚ ༘♡ his lips brushed against your forehead, the kiss light but filled with a quiet desperation that made your chest tighten. “nothing could ever keep me from you,” he breathed, the words barely audible. “promise me you’ll do as i ask.”

˚ ༘♡ everything about this felt wrong, the way he avoided your questions, the haunting exhaustion in his voice, the bruises that lined his hands and face. you wanted answers. you wanted to demand he tell you everything right then and there, but the way he looked at you, so broken, so unlike the composed sang-woo you knew, kept you from saying anymore.

˚ ༘♡ uncertainty clouded your mind, nonetheless you nodded, your voice hardly above a whisper. “i promise.”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders sagged slightly at your answer, the tension in his body loosening, though not entirely disappearing. “good,” he said softly, almost to himself. he was still nervous, his eyes darting toward the door as though expecting someone to burst through at any moment.

˚ ༘♡ “i have to go,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. “but i’ll come back. i swear, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ “okay,” you replied, unsure but unwilling to push him further.

˚ ༘♡ he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, tender kiss that left you yearning for answers. then, without another word, he turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, the silence of his absence pressing down on you, dread engulfed your thoughts. your mind churned with questions, with doubts, but one thing was certain, you were relieved, no matter how strange the circumstances of his return, to have seen sang-woo again. the agonizing ache in your chest told you that his departure had left you with far more questions than answers.

a/n: my first sang-woo fanfiction!! is it controversial for me to say i love his character and he’s my favorite one in squid game? please let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[mellowwillowy]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Yan! Sugar Daddy who fell in love with you at first sight in the cafe he often visited for his daily to-go coffee. He had seen lots of beauties but you were the first to catch his breath.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who tried to woo you, he tried his best to not scare you and subtly flirt with you. It took him a huge courage to approach you and ask for your number.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who found out you were still just a college student who was most likely to be struggling with financial issues, or so he assumed from how most of the students there were.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who took his time bonding with you before subtly offering an arrangement with you, a mutual arrangement of a sugar relationship. Instead of sex, fancy dates, or a plus one to those higher-ups events, he wanted your company all the time if he could.

You were wary and hesitant but his silver-tongued nature convinced you that this would change your life for the better.

While you were inexperienced in most of it, Yulian made sure to make you feel comfortable about it and him. The weekly allowance and PPM were enough to make you never lift a single finger to work anymore.

The more you spent time with him, the less it felt like an arrangement. It felt like a man treating you with utmost respect while spoiling you with luxuries you would never imagine to have.

But with such great benefits came a great price. You noticed that you had been seeing your friends less because of the attention you had on him.

You noticed the higher-ups never stopped sneering at you for being a commoner or his pet whenever you attended the fancy events with him as his plus one.

You noticed how you had almost less to none freedom, always heavily guarded by what seemed to be his bodyguards. Who was he and why did you even need this sort of protection?

One day you decided to trick his bodyguards with your flat-out white lies so that they'd leave you alone. They did not expect someone like you to ever lie and put them at risk so they left you alone.

All you did was wander around in awe, checking the grand balcony to go to the washroom as normal people would.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who was seething in rage when the bodyguards came to him, tricked by your childish lie. But there was no way something bad would happen with this slight mistake right? You were not his spouse by any means.

But oh did everyone know you were someone he fancied for the first time in his whole life. Part of his brain just tried to look at this mistake in a bright light and it backfired.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who had to be endlessly teased by his great-for-nothing cartel friend. He had to endure the stress of losing you and the risk of not being able to take you back.

It's not like the Drug Lord couldn't help him, it was simply humiliating for him to endanger you by not keeping a close eye on you.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who could track you down in less than a week and ordered a mass slaughter on the faction that imprisoned you. You were not wounded terribly but a wound was still a wound.

Yan! Sugar Daddy was just a confidant to the Drug Lord and an infamous lawyer. You only knew he was a lawyer but never the lurking threat of his other occupation. No wonder he was always wary of his surroundings.

How could someone from such a cold underground world have the heart to fall in love with you? That was what you thought when you woke up to his concerned face.

Weeks passed and it didn't take him so long to propose to you, for you to become his spouse.

"I truly love you, dear. I have never even once seen our arrangement as something strictly business instead." He showed you a velvety box with a diamond ring in it. "I admit, it was not the best approach but I thought I could work my way into your heart while profiting you with all the benefits and luxuries you could have from me."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I wanted you to see how capable I am."

Something told you that nothing good would come out of your refusal. And instead, logic swarm into your brain. You had been in an arrangement with him for almost a year already and had never even once felt any hardships.

He was nice to you, downright kind and loving even. He cared for you deeply and wouldn't hurt you in any way. It was your fault that you broke free from the barrier of protection he granted you.

With great fame and luxuries, came all sorts of threats. He wasn't disloyal like those higher-ups. He didn't belittle you like others would. He loved you.

Even if you didn't love him, you knew how great it felt to be loved by him. There was not a single loss from this arrangement which was a marriage, right?

[pa1nrema1ns]

You've Seen the Butcher || Sung Jin-woo Headcanons (18+ MDNI)

Featuring: fluff, smut, and the lingerie he loves most on you

You slowly enter 'Cause you know my room And then you crawl your knees off And then you shake my tomb

A/N: I've been meaning to make a thirst/shameless smut post for this scrumptious man, and his appearance in the last episode finally gave me the push to do it. As always, please be mindful of the content warnings listed below.

༺♡༻ Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

༺♡༻ Lingerie set images from @martysimone

Content warnings: 18+ MDNI, shameless smut, body worship, praise, slight degradation, afab!reader, A-rankhealer!reader, established relationship, feral!Jin-woo

Sets featured (top left to bottom right): 1.) Agent Provocateur | Dianah in leavers lace + crystals | Spring Summer 2024, 2.) I.D. Sarrieri | Venetian Glass in Blue Jeans embroidered tulle + silk, 3.) Dita Von Teese | Victresse in Kingfisher Blue satin + embroidered tulle, 4.) Dita Von Teese | Rosewyn black + green embroidery on tulle + velvet straps + finishes

Dungeons are harsh, unforgiving landscapes devoid of warmth or light. There was no room for error in these dangerous outliers. Even attempting an "easy" raid in a D-rank gate can come at the cost of your life. The double dungeon incident was more than enough proof of that. Due to the unpredictability in their line of work, many hunters simply could not afford the luxury of a love life much less a committed relationship. Sung Jin-woo was one such hunter.

As the man once mocked as being the “weakest hunter of all mankind”, he had more than his fair share of life stressors: a father who's been missing and presumed dead for the last ten years, a sick mother whose hospital bills would’ve totaled in the billions of won if not for the Hunters Association, and being the sole provider for his hardworking and studious little sister. Compound all this by him nearly dying every day and it was easy to see how romance was furthest thing from Jin-woo’s mind.

And then you stepped into his life –

Prior to entering a relationship, you and Jin-woo were fellow hunters who embarked on many of the same raids together. Despite being an A-rank healer, you chose to frequent E- and D-rank gates to render aid to those in need. Many of your peers sneered at your actions deeming them to be beneath a hunter of your caliber. But you paid them no heed. You enjoyed being able to use your mage craft to help others.

You're constantly crossing paths with Jin-woo because of how often he’s injured. He's never left a raid without at least one broken bone, a nasty gash, or some other form of bodily harm. Yet no matter how grievous his wounds are, he’s always coming back to participate in more raids. You can’t help but feel for the young man especially after witnessing his sheer grit and determination. You find Jin-woo's strength of will to be admirable and in your opinion he's far more courageous than most of the A- and S-ranks you’re acquainted with.

You tend to be very hands-on when it comes to healing Jin-woo: cradling his head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair, and speaking in soothing voice to distract him from the pain. He was just so vulnerable like this; you couldn’t help but coddle him. Within the span of a few weeks, you became comfortable enough around Jin-woo to share the intimacies of your life with him. And he did as well. Ironically it’s in a dungeon of all places that a deep emotional connection develops. It isn't long before your mutual friendship progresses into something more.

Unfortunately, the former E-rank was too insecure at the time to act on his feelings. It’s not until he acquires the system and starts leveling up that he becomes confident enough to confess to you. The radiant smile that blossoms across your face and the sensation of your soft lips molding against his has Jin-woo mentally kicking himself for not doing this sooner. He’d only had a small taste but he was already addicted to you.

It's only after he falls in love that Jin-woo discovers his appreciation of lingerie.

He's never given much thought to women’s undergarments before. Sure, the intricate patterns of tulle, silk, and lace appealed to the eye, but Jin-woo much prefers you bared in all your naked glory. To the reawakened hunter there was nothing more gorgeous than the sight of your lush body writhing in ecstasy as he fucks you into oblivion.

Jin-woo absolutely adores fucking you. He just can't get enough of his pretty girl. He'll make you cum repeatedly until your mind melts and you're completely consumed by pleasure. The man revels in your softness, delights in your cute moans and sighs. Hell, he’d spend all of eternity with his head buried between your thighs if you'd let him. Jin-woo wants to drown in you and your perfect little cunt.

Making love to Jin-woo is an otherworldly experience. He's the most selfless and giving partner you've ever had, bar none. Part of this can be attributed to his high perception stat. It enables him to be fully attuned to all your sexual needs and desires. He can even sense when you're ovulating, and it’s at the peak of your fertility when your normally gentle and considerate lover becomes downright insatiable.

Running his calloused hands all over your smooth thighs while he spreads them apart. Grunting rough and low into your ear when he sees just how much of "wet and needy little slut" you are for him. Sinking his deft fingers into the fat of your hips as he bounces you up and down on his cock at a frantic pace. Every delicious drag of his thick cockhead has your eyes rolling back into your skull and pressure continuously mounts in the pit of your stomach. He's hitting all your best spots just right causing you to keen and arch against him. And just as your climax washes over you he silences your cries with his lips, kissing you to completion.

Although he can be incredibly rough with you at times, Jin-woo always ensures you receive an ample amount of body worship and after care. You’re the most cherished person in his life after all. You were there for him when he was at his lowest point. A source of solace in a world filled with violence, deception, and betrayal. How could he not treat you with the utmost reverence?

As you come down from your high, Jin-woo gently caresses your inner thighs with his hands, trailing a path of feather-light kisses from your ankles to your calves and all the way up to your hips. He then brings his face towards your soaked pussy, still puffy and swollen from being ravished earlier. Jin-woo smirks and shoots a smoldering gaze at you.

“Want me to kiss it better, pretty girl?”

Your only response is to stroke his mussed-up hair and push him directly into your cunt. Liquid heat courses through your veins as Jin-woo lavishes attention on your core. You almost tumble off the bed when he abruptly takes your aching clit into his mouth and sucks hard on it. At this rate he’d be making you cum for the sixth time that evening.

Throughout his ministrations a ceaseless stream of praise falls from his lips in between wet smacks and groans.

“You’re doing so good, so fucking good for me sweetheart.”

“You needed this, didn’t you pretty girl? Big strong hands all over your body and that perfect little pussy.”

“You’re gonna cum? Go ahead and cum then, sweetheart. Take what you need, yeah. Take what you fucking need.”

“Mhm –  yeah, that’s it! Cum all over my tongue! Good girl, perfect fucking girl!”

Suffice to say the man is enamored with every last inch of you. The very idea of impeding your mouthwatering curves with flimsy pieces of fabric seems like a crime against nature to Jin-woo.

After a series of particularly grueling raids, Jin-woo wants nothing more than to return home, wash away the day’s frustrations in a hot shower, and fall asleep with you in his arms. You had other ideas, however.

A sudden vibration from his phone catches his attention. When he retrieves the device from his pocket, he's greeted by a text from you with an image attached to it. Shit, he forgot to call or text you as soon as he closed the gate! Jin-woo hadn't been able to stay in contact while traversing through dungeons due to the interference from their magical energy, so he always made sure to reach out to you as soon as he was back. He must've been so tired that it slipped his mind. He'd also been gone longer than he intended to. Dammit, you were probably worried about him...

When he opens your text, he expects you to have sent a short message to check in on him like you usually do in these situations. However, there's only the attached image. The moment Jin-woo takes in what's seeing, he nearly ends up crushing his phone from how hard he was gripping it. The text contained a picture of you, dressed to kill in a royal blue lingerie set. Your body was splayed out provocatively over the king-sized bed you both shared. Jin-woo finds himself at an utter loss for words. You were just stunning, like sex incarnate.

An embroidered bra comprised of tulle and silk cups your supple breasts, accentuating their beauty. The matching garter belt and thong are equally flattering, trailing across the dips and curves of your figure like running water. Kohl rimmed eyes and rouge lips round out your sumptuous appearance, making you even more beguiling. Jin-woo feels as if he's been enraptured by an enchantress; he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Unable to bear being apart from you for another second, he performs a hasty Shadow Exchange with the high orc appointed as your bodyguard.

A coy smile tugs at your lips as you see Jin-woo manifest behind you from the top of your vanity mirror. His timing was impeccable, you had just finished touching up your make up. He all but pounces on you before you even have the chance to turn around. Jin-woo captures your lips in a flurry of hot, open mouthed kisses. His hands grope and wander all over your form, pinching and teasing your nipples through the sheer material of your bra. You moan and tilt your head back, granting him access to the column of your neck. You chuckle breathlessly as he mouths against the tender flesh.

"I take it you liked my surprise for you, huh Jin-woo?"

"Mhm," Jin-woo hums as he leaves a small love bite under your ear, "I loved it. You're the hottest thing I've ever seen, sweetheart. I couldn't last another moment without having my lips on your skin. Fuck, how did I get to be so lucky?"

You wrap your arms around the back of his broad shoulders and lean forward to whisper seductively in his ear.

"It's been so long since I've had you, Jin-woo. Please, don't stop. I need you inside of me."

He pulls his head back, and the look he sends you almost causes your knees to buckle. His eyes have taken on a beautiful amethyst hue and there's a voracious hunger in them. You felt like a rabbit staring into the gaze of a wolf, and it thrilled you. You loved when Jin-woo got like this – completely unhinged and feral for you.

He effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder and tosses you onto the bed like a ragdoll. It knocks the wind out of you, and you can only stare up at him as he begins to remove his shirt, his eyes never once leaving yours. You drink in his appearance as more and more tantalizing skin is revealed. The muscles of his chest and abdomen are drawn taught, and his biceps flex and bulge when they come into view. Your legs spread automatically at the sight, and Jin-woo proceeds to pin you to the bed, unable to control his lust any longer. You feel yourself sinking into the abyss as he has his wicked way with you. Neither of you end up leaving the room for the next three days.

From that point on, Jin-woo made sure to fill your wardrobe with multiple sets of expensive lingerie. He was finally beginning to understand the appeal of an S-rank hunter's exorbitant salary. One would think Jin-woo would be drawn to darker, more mature pieces that matched his tenebrous aura. But his taste in lingerie was very much the polar opposite.

Teal, sky blue, navy blue, and neutral shades of green, beige and white are his favorite colors on you. He's also obsessed with garters, sheer material, and lace. Nothing gets Jin-woo more fired up than seeing his girl all dolled up. You're a goddess in his eyes and you only deserve the best.

[sevsevteen]

Hi can you write something like yn has a crush on someone from ateez (wooyoung) or someone you like and her revealing it while being drunk

MY FIRST MULTIFANDOM FIC RAHHH ! as a caratiny this was great to write for this cheeky boy. i decided to combine two asks into one as well ~ i see wooyoung as the one who would most likely be reacting to others anywhere everywhere LOL

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

The stage was on fire.

Not literally, but with the way the pyros flared and the lights pulsed to the beat of Seventeen’s performance, it might as well have been. The award show stage felt bigger tonight - louder, heavier - and you thrived in it.

You hit your solo part mid-performance — a sharp, stylized trick with a customized baton, flipping it with ease and catching it behind your back before dropping into choreography with the rest of the team. It was clean. Fluid. Showstopping.

And someone noticed.

Not just the fans. Not just the cameras.

And Ateez’s reaction camera caught it all in 4K — his reaction the moment your trick landed.

The widening of Wooyoung’s eyes.

The slow, impressed smile.

The leaned-in head tilt as if he was trying to see more.

And the way he muttered something — "Damn, that was cool."

He clapped before anyone else. And when the stage ended, the camera panned back to the idol panel — just in time to catch Wooyoung looking at you again as you walked off.

That night, the clip made it to the internet before the group even left the venue.

🎥 [Reaction cam] ATEEZ’s WOOYOUNG during that moment 👀

“They’re feeding us a new ship and I’m not mad.”

“HE SAID ‘DAMN’?? HELLO??”

“Woo was caught slippin’…”

The next morning, the moment trended on social media.

Edits rolled out. TikToks used slowed audio of Wooyoung’s face turning. Fans dug up old behind-the-scenes footage of Seventeen and Ateez walking past each other.

And back home?

Chaos.

“Okay but— you saw that look, right?” Seungkwan shrieked, shoving his phone in your face. “He looked at you like you were the ending of his k-drama arc!”

“It was like 3 seconds,” you groaned, hiding under a pillow.

“3 seconds of love,” Joshua corrected, smirking. “He clapped. Early.”

“I clap early all the time,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, but you don’t bite your lip while doing it,” Mingyu quipped, nearly making you choke on your coffee.

“Yah!” You sat up, cheeks flushing. “Can you all not make a fanfiction in real time–”

“We’re just saying,” Vernon added, deadpan, “if you ever did date someone from another group, at least he’s got good taste.”

You huffed, trying to bury yourself back into the couch cushions.

But your phone buzzed just then.

A message. From an unknown number.

“Hello Sunbae-nim, this is Wooyoung – didn’t mean to cause a ruckus. But you were seriously cool last night. I hope you don’t mind the nonsense on ins right now :)”

You stared.

And somewhere behind you, Jeonghan leaned in to read over your shoulder with a devilish grin.

“…Oh,” he whispered. “Oh we’re never letting you live this down.”

.

The dorm was buzzing with warmth and laughter - the kind that only came after shared memories and a few bottles of soju passed between hands. It was the first night off in weeks, and Seungcheol had insisted on a casual in-dorm gathering. Food was ordered, playlists shuffled through throwbacks, and the group had sprawled comfortably across the living room floor with blankets, snacks, and way too many empty bottles.

You were curled up between Jun and Seokmin, a flushed smile on your face as you giggled at Seungkwan’s dramatic reenactment of a wardrobe malfunction on stage.

“Okay, okay- no, but seriously,” you hiccupped, eyes glassy, “who needs your shirt on if the audience is screaming anyway?”

“Yah, how much did she drink?” Jihoon asked, peering over from the other side of the room.

“Just enough for shirts to be optional,” Mingyu snorted.

You just waved them off, cheeks warm and eyes half-lidded as you rested your head against Seokmin’s shoulder. “Mmm...this is much better.”

It was like watching a robot power down. You went quiet, hands hugging an empty bottle, eyes closing peacefully despite the noisy room. Seokmin gently helped you lean back onto a cushion.

“Should someone watch her?” Jeonghan asked.

“I’ve got her,” Joshua offered, kneeling beside you with a soft smile. He adjusted a throw blanket over your legs, placing a cup of water nearby. “She’ll probably wake up soon and ask for tteokbokki.”

Sure enough, not even a minute later.

“I want tteokbokki,” came a sleepy mumble, voice muffled into the cushion.

The room erupted in laughter.

“Called it,” Joshua grinned.

You blinked sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you slowly sat up, head wobbling a little. “Where’s my– Where’s my phone…?”

“You don’t need your phone,” Seungcheol teased. “You need to drink water, and to stop flirting with the rice cakes.”

You squinted at him, lips pouting. “I’m not flirting with rice…”

Just then, a nearby conversation caught your attention.

“…speaking of stages, our Ateez juniors are killing it lately,” Chan said casually. “Wooyoung’s fan-cams are everywhere.”

At the mention of his name, your head shot up like a meerkat.

“Wooyoung?” you asked, eyes wide as a burp made its way out. “I saw. He’s kind of cute…”

The room paused.

“…what?” Jeonghan blinked.

You smiled, cheeks redder than the kimchi stew in front. “I was watching that fancam- I hope he looks at me like that forever.”

Seungkwan nearly choked on his drink. “Wait-wait, are we hearing this right?”

“Did you just…admit you like him?” Soonyoung asked slowly, equally as drunk, leaning in with an interrogating gaze.

You blinked, confused. “Like who?”

“Wooyoung,” Seokmin supplied helpfully.

“…a little,” you said with a sly smile, then hiccupped.

The room exploded.

“AHHHHH- YOU HAVE A CRUSH!”

“NO WAY.”

“GUYS, WE CANNOT FORGET THIS IN THE MORNING!”

“WE’RE TELLING ATEEZ—”

Joshua laughed as you threw the bottle in your hands at Dino, lips going up to your lips to make a shushing sound. “No, no! Don’t tell them!”

“You just called him ‘so cute’ with heart eyes!” Mingyu grinned.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts indeed,” Jun said with a proud nod.

“Stop exaggerating, and I’m not drunk,” you mumbled behind hands covering your face.

“Your face says otherwise~,” Jeonghan chipped in. “You are absolutely drunk.”

.

Music shows were always a mess of chaos — idols weaving past each other in hallways, stylists rushing in and out of rooms, someone’s encore song blaring faintly through the walls at all times. You were used to the rhythm of it all by now, the controlled madness. The tight call times. The way Seokmin always panicked five minutes before going on stage, even though he nailed the performance every time.

What you weren’t used to?

The sharp elbow to your side from Seungkwan.

“Five o’clock,” he hissed like they were on a stakeout. “Blue jacket. Flashy eyes. That’s him, right?”

You didn’t need to turn, already knowing who he meant.

Wooyoung.

The same one…who was currently walking down the corridor, the rest of Ateez trailing a few steps behind.

You took a step back instinctively.

But you were cornered - literally. With the wall behind you and a very invested Seungkwan, Dino, and Jeonghan forming a human barricade around you like you were about to be proposed to.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, flustered. “Can you not block the hallway?”

“We’re just casually standing here,” Jeonghan said innocently. “So casual. So natural.”

“Not suspicious at all,” Dino added, arms crossed.

“Shut up,” you hissed, just as a voice called out:

“Sunbae-nim?”

You turned around – and nearly tripped.

Wooyoung stood just a few feet away, hair styled back, glitter smudged across the corner of his eye like stardust. He gave you a boyish grin, hands tucked in his pockets as if he hadn’t just knocked the air out of your lungs.

You blinked. He was cute. Stupidly polite. And now just a little awkward.

“Oh,” you managed, cheeks already warming. “Hello, Wooyoung-sshi!”

His grin widened. “I’ve been hoping I’d bump into you.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh, I think I heard the stylist noonas calling us!” Seungkwan suddenly raised his voice, arms up to usher the other two away.

You mentally face-palmed, ears burning red.

“Yeah. Chan-ie talks about you a lot, you know.” Wooyoung grinned.

You blinked, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. “He…he does?”

He nodded, casually leaning against the wall. “Told me all about the other night. You guys had drinks?”

Your mouth opened. Then closed.

Then it opened again. “I will end them.”

Wooyoung laughed - full and bright, the kind that made you want to melt into the floor.

“But,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “I thought it was cute.”

You gawked. “You heard what he said and still think that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Wooyoung stepped a little closer. Not too close - just enough for you to hear the quiet confidence in his voice. “Besides, if it makes you feel better…I meant every reaction during the award show that night.”

Your body was on fire.

You backed up a step, pressing your hands to your chest like it could shield you from the intensity of that smile. “Am I dreaming–”

He laughed again. “After the music show’s over…how about a coffee? On me.”

You blinked.

Your mouth opened - again, with no sound. So you settled for a nod.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung echoed, walking backward now, one eyebrow raised like he’d just scored a point in some private game. “Tell the others I said thanks, by the way.”

Then he was gone - swallowed back into the flashing chaos of the venue, leaving you stunned in the hallway, heart stammering like a snare drum.

You were definitely going to kill the members.

But maybe…after that drink.

--

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

I was feeling inspired and wrote the first little bit of this Yoga Steve Steddie and Buckingham au I was playing with yesterday. Not sure if I'll continue with it, but I had some dialogue floating around in my head and wanted to let it out.

I'm not really experienced in writing dialogue so my apologies if it came out weird.

Part Two

------

Steve thinks Robin is being ridiculous, but at the same time, he knows firsthand how far someone will go for a crush. Robin calls him a “loverboy” which, is not completely off the mark but feels unnecessary to point out right after Steve gets ghosted…again.

But that’s beside the point. The point being that Robin has been going off about how she cornered herself into going to an intermediate yoga class to try and woo the cute girl who sits in front of her in her mandatory Writing 212 class. Apparently, Robin got a full two minutes of conversation in with said girl, a real feat since Robin usually spends the whole class psyching herself up to talk to her and then chickens out and dashes out the door as soon as class lets out. During said conversation, Robin found out Chrissy is a yoga instructor at the rec off campus, which resulted in Robin blurting out that she’s been meaning to take up yoga again (she’s never been) and that she’ll stop by a class sometime.

Which leads to now.

“-and I’ve never done yoga! I’ve never even thought about yoga except for that one time my hippie aunt Jen came to stay with us for a week and took up the entire living room every morning to do her weird stretches-” breath “and you know how clumsy I am! I’m going completely fall on my face and the angel that is Chrissy Cunningham is going to know that I’m a failed jock with no coordination and she’ll never fall in love with me!” she finally stops, taking a big heaving breath.

Steve, used to these occasional Robin Buckley rants had been leaning against the breakfast bar letting her go on for the last three and a half minutes. Sometimes it’s just better to let her get it out first.

“You done?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m done,” she replies, flopping on the sofa behind her like all the wind has gone out of her sails. Steve hates to see her upset, but at the end of the day, it’s an easy fix.

“Sweet. So I’ll just go with you alright? And when you completely biff it and fall on your face I’ll just,” he steps away from the bar and mimes falling onto the couch next to her, ignoring her over-exaggerated oof, “fall even harder, or whatever. Make a whole scene of it.” Robin glares a little at the when, but ultimately can’t be upset when they both know it’s inevitable.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes big and blue in a way that always makes Steve want to punch a wall. He doesn’t. Only did it once when they were both supremely drunk and feeling emotional, but he does wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll even find a cool yoga babe of my own to woo,” he says waggling his brows in a way that makes her scrunch up her nose.

“As if Harrington. I bet you’ll fall even more than me. You’re big jock muscles aren’t designed for flexibility,” she says with a faux pretentious accent.

“We’ll see about that, Buckley.”

------

Steve, much to Robin’s chagrin, does not fall on his face. Well, he does once, but it’s only because he’s following through on his promise to crash out for her when she falls on her face. Which she does almost as soon as Chrissy gives the instruction to lift their left leg while in downward dog. Unfortunately, it only worked the first time. The second time Robin crashed down, Steve wasn’t in a safe position to fall with her. By the time he was, the moment had passed. Luckily it’s nearing the end of the class when it happens and Chrissy mercifully releases them to relax into a corpse pose which, if you asked Robin, was perfectly fitting given the situation.

Steve though.

Steve really enjoyed the class.

Robin was right when he said his usual exercise regime wasn’t necessarily focused on flexibility and balance, but he finds yoga challenging in a gentler way than basketball or swimming. By the end of the day, he’s signing up for the full 12-week course and talking to Chrissy about what kind of equipment he should invest in.

“The most important thing is the grip. Mine was really expensive but I use it for work so I wouldn’t get the same one unless you’re planning to use it every day. If you’re comfortable giving me your number, I can send you some links to more reasonably priced ones.” Wow, Steve gets why Robin likes her so much. She’s like a walking ray of sunshine. Part of him wonders if she’s hitting on him, but she seems like she genuinely wants to help, not take him on a date.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great. Let me just…” he pulls out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over to the girl in front of him. She puts in her name and number, which, is always good. Steve is so bad with names he wouldn’t want to spell it wrong and give Robin another reason to make fun of him. She hands it back and Steve is getting ready to say his goodbyes and go hunt down Robin, who fled as soon as the class went out, but Chrissy starts talking before he can.

“You came with Robin, right? Robin Buckley?” She blurts out, clearly nervous. “We’re in class together but I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you!” It’s not that Steve thinks she’s lying, but there’s an undercut of something that makes him think Robin might not be alone in her pining.

“Yeah, we came in together.” He lets it hang, watching as her shoulders slump a little. “But we’re not dating or anything. I’m, uh, not really her type.” Her eyes go a little wide at his emphasis on type, perking up at the knowledge that Robin isn’t dating.

Oh yeah, he thinks, she’s got it just as bad.

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing | Part 5

-. —- / .-. . -.-. —- .-. -.. … / . -..- .. … - / ..-. —- .-. / …. . .-.

Part 1 found here | AO3

Simon’s rut had finished in due course, leaving everyone a little worse for wear but recharged emotionally. Johnny spent every moment not pinned to a mattress, keening, with you. He couldn’t quite tell how it was working. Each time he emerged from their room and daylight still touched their mountain you could be found outside.

Bundled up in the shawl he had picked up for you and the winter supplies everyone else had pitched in for, you seemed to be making friends with the crows. Johnny would dress for the weather and join you often sitting in silence broken by caws. Each time he sat you allowed him a little closer than the time before.

You befriended the crows; he courted you.

In passing times he coordinated with John about making sure you would be set for when they returned to missions. You would need a phone, a computer, a card to access the joint bank account, sign-in information for the local grocery store for deliveries and any other number of things. Everything that needed to be delivered would arrive before they left.

The day Simon’s rut finally broke Johnny showered quickly and found you on the back porch, setting the cashews out that no one had cared to find in the back of the cupboard.

“Care to walk with me?” Johnny smiled brightly at you despite struggling to see with the bright snow blazing into his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him before agreeing with a nod.

“Let’s not track snow in through the house, have you explored beyond the deck yet?” Johnny offers you an elbow.

The hard stare you pin him with reminds him of the feeling before a bomb blows.

“Just an elbow ya bonnie moves to and fro and not much else,” he shifted it to prove his point.

The laugh you let out comes through your nose, but you take his offer. Silence only found in a forest coated in snow is broken only by the crunching of boots. Johnny walks you around the house and down the drive. Nearly ten minutes pass in companionable silence before you speak up.

“Why a wife?”

“Mmm?” Johnny glances at you. He had been lost in his thoughts about well he didn’t really need to jump back into those thoughts right now, they involved his lips being in places they had not been invited…yet.

“Kate called me a wife. Why a wife and not pack?” Your lips are pursed as you ask.

Johnny tips his head as he thinks of how to reply. Seven more steps pass before he has an answer.

“Wife is an old word, not too common anymore. Its original meaning was a treasured one. It can still be listed in lieu of a designation on a lot of government forms. When Kate told John she had brought us a wife she told him that she brought someone we should treasure.”

You slowed to a stop, confusion and a waft of fear-laced want lifted into the air from your neck. Johnny held down the urge to lift a wrist to his nose to pull the scent in deeper. Even the sour, off notes to the want couldn’t disguise the heady pull of it.

He did, however, lift his hand from his warm pocket to press it to your cheek. Watching your eyes drift close and lips part at the touch sent a frenzy off in his body. That moment got him through a lot of rough spots after they shipped off.

Johnny thought about it now, that sweet moment where you began to understand they would care for you because you were their wife, as he aimed the truck up the drive. When the cabin finally came into sight in the bright, cold sunshine he couldn’t prevent his sigh. Three weeks home with you, while he recovered from a bad concussion, would be a blessed chance to woo you.

Parked neatly under the front porch, Johnny grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs. At least two storms’ worth of snow had settled on each step. Odd, but it’s not like you were expecting visitors. Clomping up the stairs to alert you to his presence, Johnny turned the door handle and sucked in a deep breath to call out.

Only stale air met his nose.

Stale. Cold. Air.

He hadn’t driven with a gun on his thigh but Johnny always traveled with a blade at his ankle. It appeared in his hand as he cleared the house. Each room that came up empty, no signs of a struggle, ratcheted up his concern. The back porch being covered in untouched snow told him you were gone.

Missing.

Stolen?

The knife slid home in its ankle holster, Johnny ran back to the truck and turned it around, heading into town. If you had any issues that is where you would most likely be. None of them had any voicemails when they turned their phones back on after a grueling mission.

“Old MacDonald had a farm, eieio!” You sing out in your loudest volume.

Thirteen days trapped in this tiny cell at the sheriff’s office had given you a lot of time to work out a good outlet for your anger at being contained. Laying across the thin mattress projecting your voice into the cement box at least gave you something to do.

“And on that farm, he had a pig, eieio!”

Seven weeks alone after a lifetime of being surrounded by betas had driven you a smidge wilder than Scorpio left you. Thankfully one thing Scorpio had taught you was how to get over your shyness of peeing while being watched.

“With a ‘you have the right to remain silent’ here and a ‘anything you say can and will be used against you’ ther—”

Something slammed into the bars. Letting your head loll to the side you looked at the young alpha deputy, with black hair and tattoos peeking above his collar, who stared at you with wild eyes and a snarl to rival a lion. Too bad for him you were a fucking badger.

“Do you have to keep singing?”

Catching his eye, you took a deep breath.

“Twinkle, twinkle little fuck. Being cops must really suck.”

This twisted version of the song belted out louder than Old MacDonald did.

Deputy Tweedle Dee hit the bars again and yelled toward the desks.

“Any word on those military guys up the canyon? I might kill her if she keeps up the singing.”

“Promises, promises officer!” You shout after him, cackling at the whine of distress he let out.

Damn, you really needed to see people more. A few weeks with only the crows to talk to and you started to lose it.

A commotion beyond the edge of your hearing cut through your song.

“Where is my wife!?”

The roar had you sitting upright, snow boots clunking against the floor.

They might have abandoned you and not answered their phones when the food deliveries stopped but you knew your new keepers would object to you being gone.

“Now sir, you can’t barge in her—”

That was the receptionist. Bit of a bitch but she didn’t antagonize you like the deputy did at least.

Deputy Tweedle Dee reappeared from the edge of the cell, collar pulled tight by a hand lightly covered in hair pushed him forward. The tattoo insignia came next and there he was, Johnny. His sharp blue eyes scoured you, tension around his eyes easing at seeing you physically well. The angry glare returns as he shifts his attention back to the deputy.

You didn’t know what to call him; you didn’t have a companion word for wife. You had forgotten to look it up until now.

Johnny shook the deputy. You smirked as his head bobbled.

“Let her out. Now.”

“No, I can—”

The deputy’s words were cut off with his air as Johnny twisted the shirt around his hand.

“Now.”

The menace in his voice pairs neatly with the scent of rage and vitality lifting off Johnny now.

The deputy pulls the key from his belt and opens the cell you had been trapped in. You stand and cross to the exit.

“Deputy Fuck-up,” you snark as you pass the men.

Hate flares in his eyes as Johnny lets him go. The hand that choked a man settles against your back, heat flashing through your shirt. They hadn’t given you back your coat after they threw you into lockup. The thin blanket provided did nothing to fight back the chill of the snow and concrete.

Your beta preens at Johnny’s touch. The burn of his anger in your nose has her crying out to soothe him. She will hush if you ignore her, she always has before. Walking back through the precinct you can’t help but flip off the old sheriff who is standing up behind his desk in the glass-walled office.

He hustles around his desk, hollering into the room. The ruddy red of his cheeks slinks down his neck as he gets closer. He would like Santa with his white hair if not for the short trimmed beard instead of a long bushy one.

“Now, young man! You cannot take that beta!”

“Go out to the truck please, wife,” Johnny murmured down to you as he laid a kiss to your temple.

“I need my shawl,” you inform him.

Johnny looks at you, all light disappearing from his blue eyes.

“They took it?” Frost would have puffed off his breath if the heater hadn’t kicked in then, the hum filling the space.

You nod once, eyes not leaving him as the sheriff steps up to speak to Johnny. The one who calls you wife ignored the blustering man as he shrugged off his own coat and settled it on your shoulders. His touch lingers at the zipper, scent of burning and a hint of disaster in his scent. Turning from the oncoming storm you leave the building that had jailed you. The truck is unlocked when you reach it.

Opening the passenger door you gag and physically recoil. The stench of fear and panic billows out like smoke from a broken window. Pinching your nose closed and sipping in air through your mouth you open every door of the truck despite the cold biting at your skin.

“Damn, I didn’t realize he might actually care,” you mutter, tone nasally.

Nearing five minutes later Johnny pushes through the glass doors, your shawl in hand. At his appearance, you step from the driver’s seat where you had waited and close the back doors as you work your way around to the passenger seat. Johnny climbs behind the wheel and passes your shawl over. You let it rest in your lap, running your hands over it as he begins the drive back to the cabin.

Halfway through the silent drive, he speaks.

“What the hell happened?”

Struck as if by lightning you can’t prevent but biting back.

“The fuck do you mean? What the hell happened to being someone you treasure? The food deliveries stopped two weeks ago and I couldn’t reach anyone. What was I supposed to do but walk my happy ass to town?”

Johnny glances at you from the side of his vision.

“Why not drive?”

“You really need to talk to Kate about the fuckery I went through before you make assumptions,” you growl at him, fingers digging into the plushness of your shawl.

“Interestin’,” he drawls in his accent.

“What is?” you snap

“You weren’t this feisty when we left.”

He says it as if it is an interesting animal fact and not the trait that kept you alive and assured your demise rising to the surface again.

Snapping your teeth closed you cross your arms and stare at your boots. The remainder of the drive is silent. You ignore every drifting scent coming from Johnny, unwilling to engage in any way.

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

@lucienofthelakes @gg-trini @talia-the-gemini @thriving-n-jiving @z-wantstowrite @asialovesyou09 @literallegendicon @canthavetoomuchchaos @reinekoya @jsptmoche @demothers-empty-blog @hbaasaad @sun-daddy-yoriichi @wiciclesatmidnight @kaoyamamegami @little-mini-me-world @corvid007 @skeletonsucker @feyresqueen @dreamland08

[ume17]

Back to school- Kuroo x fem! reader

genre; pure fluff

words- 0.6k

these lovely dividers are by @thecutestgrotto

warning: none. grammar mistakes, I'll edit once I've slept enough :(

Your husband has been acting a bit weird this past week. Notes everywhere, cheeks heating up, quiet mumbles. something is up. wait what- he has a crush on you?

You knew your husband was a dork. All those years of high school, teenage years, when you were dating—when you weren’t—just proved how big of a sap he is.

But lately, something was off.

Not in a bad way—if anything, it was sweet—but it was... odd. The sudden blushes when you kissed his cheek. The meek little "thank you" when you handed him his lunch. The way his face lit up whenever you called him your husband. And the notes—so many notes—stuck on your fridge, your nightstand, even your laptop.

Kuroo had always been a loving husband—the kind to bring you breakfast in bed on his day off, surprise you with flowers, and wrap you in his arms like a human koala whenever he got the chance. But this? This past week? It’s like you’re back in high school.

In fact, he wasn’t even this shy back then. The playful banter to make you think he didn’t like you, the teasing—it was all normal. So, this? This surely left you wondering. You would have thought he lost a bet had it not been those lovesick eyes of his. But that doesn't mean you'll leave this as is. Something is definitely up.

instance 1:

"Hey, can you open this?"

"Sure."

Smooch.

"Thanks." A kiss lands on your target's right cheek, which immediately turns abnormally red as he mumbles, "No problem!" he squeaks, speed walking out of the room.

This again?

instance 2:

The time you caught him staring at you in the morning before work.

"Take a picture; it lasts longer."

His eyes widen like you just caught him committing a crime. "I wasn’t staring."

You raise a brow. "Oh? So you just happened to be awake before me, watching me sleep, and then turning beet red when I open my eyes?"

Kuroo groans and buries his face in the pillow. "Let me have this."

You grin.

Oh, you were definitely going to make this worth while.

You considered letting it slide for a while, just to see how far it would go. Turns out? a whole long week more.

One lazy Wednesday afternoon, with nothing better to do, you’re curled up on the couch together, Kuroo’s face buried in the crook of your neck. The aircon is on- his warm body on you when he sighs against your skin and mumbles,

"I think I’ve got a crush on you."

Your heart skips.

You blink. "What?"

His head tilts up slightly, lips brushing your collarbone. A barely audible heavy sigh later . "I’ve got a crush on you."

You pull back to look at him properly. "You." A chuckle escapes you. "You? You have a crush on me? Your wife of three years?"

"Uh-huh." His expression is painfully sincere. "Have you seen yourself lately? The way you take down those fuzzy crawlers—"

"Spiders?"

"Yeah, those demons. And the way you haul all the groceries in one trip? And how you completely shut down Mamiya-san when he was being an ass to Yukito-kun?"

You squint. "And that made you fall in love with me again?"

"How does that not play into it? You’re unfairly attractive, and I am but a weak, foolish old man caught in your spell."

Chuckling, you pull him in a hug as a not so small smile spreads on your face.

"So that’s what the notes and flowers were for." You pause, grinning. "So what will you do now, Mr. Infatuated Rooster?"

He puffs out his chest. "Woo you back, obviously. Can’t let someone snatch you away from this old man."

His bravado should be ridiculous, but then he adds, softer this time—"You’re going to be with me till my last breath… and the life after."

Your breath catches.

Heat rises to your cheeks, your heartbeat stuttering in your chest as you only nod.

Maybe you’ll be the one with a crush next.

Forgot to tag: thank you @dira333 for the spider and grocery idea 😭

[jinkoh]

pressure points

yunho x fem!reader

summary: your physical therapy is getting very physical

tags: physiotherapist!yunho, smut (mdni), reader is painfully horny (especially for yunho's hands), tension, kissing, teasing, fingering; feat. woosan as your bffs

wc: 3.2k

a/n: started writing this back when i went to physiotherapy--but i swear it's only partially inspired by real occurrences, my therapist was very professional

masterlist

Usually, your weekly meet ups with your best friends—or girls’ night as Wooyoung liked to call it, even when you were the only one who technically qualified—were your sanctuary, your safe space, your chance to decompress after a stressful week at work. But usually your non-existent sex life wasn’t the topic of the night, nor were you interrogated over your relationship to your new physiotherapist. You were quickly starting to regret ever mentioning him or his big hands or cheeky smile or— 

“I know I'm barely one to talk,” Wooyoung said, clearly amused over the whole situation and not at all willing to change topic, “but you’re like pathetically horny.”

“No, listen,” you started, pointing at him with the pretzel stick you’d been nibbling on. “Yunho just has—”

“Yunho?” Wooyoung snorted, “You’re on first name basis with your physiotherapist?”

“Don’t make it weird, that’s just their policy and it makes it more comfortable too.”

“Mhm, right. Except you’re maybe getting a little too comfortable.”

Before you could retort, San let himself plop onto the empty chair at your table. “What did I miss?” He asked casually while scanning the drinks menu (as if he didn’t already know his order).

“Nothing much,” Wooyoung replied, “I'm getting a promotion and y/n wants to fuck her physiotherapist.”

“Woo!”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “What, it’s true.”

“It’s not! He just—it’s not my fault that he touched my hips like that!”

“Y/n, honey, he was showing you an exercise.”

“Well, yeah, but his hands are just kinda sexy and—” you trailed off when you saw San pulling a face. “What?”

San shook his head with a sigh, “Girl, you want to fuck him so bad.”

Maybe your friends had a point, because despite your tiring work day and the way your joints were aching with exhaustion, you found yourself feeling giddy for your next appointment with Yunho. The only thing putting a damper on your mood was that after today you only had one more session left, when really you wished you could keep going forever. 

The clinic was rather quiet and the lights in the back were already off—you always had the last time slot of the day and you rarely met other patrons when you came in. Today was no different, the only people you could spot were Yunho and one of his colleagues.

“Hey,” Yunho greeted you with a soft smile, briefly looking up before focusing back on where he seemed to be typing something into the computer behind the counter, “On time as always.”

“Of course,” you replied with a smile, feeling your cheeks heat up for literally no reason at all. 

“Very commendable,” he grinned and then his eyes darted up to you once more, almost as if he was accessing you, “You can already get into room 2, I’m with you in a second,” he nodded towards a door before turning to his colleague, “Mingi, can you look this over for me?”

“Sure, no problem,” the other man replied, hovering over the screen of the computer too. Your gaze lingered on the scene a second longer, taking in how Yunho adjusted the glasses sitting on his nose, but when he looked up, meeting your gaze in a question, you quickly hurried into the room he’d pointed at. It was a smaller one than usual; the mirror, yoga mats and other equipment you were used to replaced by a massage table that you awkwardly sat down on while you waited. It only took another one or two minutes for Yunho to appear in the doorframe.

“You were looking kind of tired, so I thought it’s a good idea to do something more relaxing today,” he said as he walked in, closing the door behind him. He had your files in his hand, scribbling something down before leaving the clipboard on the little shelf in the corner, “But remember you still have to do the exercises at home though. And no slouching.”

“Aye, Sir,” you replied with a playful salute that got frozen mid-air when he met your gaze with a smile and a cheeky “Good girl.” Good. Girl. How the fuck were you supposed to survive this?

“Alright,” he continued, all professional, as if he hadn’t just hit you out of left field with his comment, “we’ll loosen up your muscles a bit, in the neck and upper back area, since that’s where you’re having the most trouble. Please lay down on your stomach with your head on this side,” he briefly tapped the head rest, “and it’d be good if you removed your top so I have access to your back—I can go out for a second if you prefer.”

You knew there were no hidden motives there, after all he was a professional and this was his job. But the thought of undressing in front of the guy you’d been having somewhat inappropriate thoughts of was still making your heart race.

“Uhm, no, it’s okay,” you stuttered, turning your upper body away from him as you slipped out of your shirt, holding the fabric close to your chest. “B—my bra too?”

“No, it’s okay, we can just—” he reached out and you felt his fingers gently brush your skin as he pushed the straps of your bra down your shoulders, “move them out of the way like this.” His touch left goosebumps in its wake and maybe it was your wishful thinking, but you thought his fingers lingered a second longer than necessary. Then he pulled away though, clearing his throat and stepping aside so you had enough space to lie down. He took a seat on a little rolling chair at the top of the table and you could see his legs through the hole of the headrest.

His hands felt warm and soft as he smoothed them over your upper back a few times before he started rubbing out the sore spots in your neck. You felt the way the tension was seeping out of you, making you feel relaxed and at ease. At least until he spoke up again with his sweet honey voice.

“It’s okay if it hurts a little, but if you’re in so much pain that you want to scream, do tell me. We don’t want that.” He let his hands move to your left shoulder blade, finding one of your pressure points, “For it to hurt that badly, I mean. I don’t mind if you scream.” He chuckled and you huffed out a laugh as well while your cheeks were heating up for nth time that day. It was a good thing he couldn’t see your face right now. “Uh, yeah, I’ll let you know," you replied but all you could think about was him making you scream. Your silly brain couldn't help but wonder if he liked a vocal partner. 

Yunho seemed blissfully unaware of your inner tumult, rubbing out the knots in your back completely unbothered. “This still okay?” He asked as he moved to another point and you felt yourself gasp a little at the initial pain. It wasn’t exactly a bad pain though. Something about the light sting was almost pleasurable.

“Still okay,” you assured and he hummed in affirmation as his fingers kept moving. He was skilled and precise in his ministrations, and you knew he had to be, with this being his literal job, but the thought that perhaps his fingers were skillful in other places too wouldn’t leave your mind for the rest of the massage. 

It was over too quickly for your liking, ended by him gently moving the straps of your bra back up your shoulders. “Alright,” he said, scooting away from the table to give you some space, “That’s it for today.”

“Thanks, I really needed that,” you mumbled as you sat up, just to immediately regret your words. You sounded like a pathetic, touch starved horndog. 

“Mhm,” he hummed and you couldn’t read his expression as he took a note in your files, “I could see that.”

“So, what if I do want to fuck him?”

Wooyoung let out a giggle, “Finally admitting to it, huh?”

“Just go for it,” San advised, “It’s gonna be your last appointment anyway.” 

That was a reminder you really didn’t want to hear, so you quickly shoved the thought aside in favor of more pressing questions.. “But what’s that supposed to mean? How would I even go for it?”

“Well, do it the way you normally would,” Wooyoung said matter of factly, “You know how to flirt, right?”

“I—I don’t. Not like that. I never really tried to get into anyone’s pants before,” you admitted.

San raised an eyebrow, “So you just had people coming at you without even trying? What a flexer.”

“Don’t tease me, Sannie, you know it’s not like that. It’s just that there’s usually dating involved. I’ve never slept with anyone I wasn’t at least casually dating.”

“Date him then,” San simply replied but Wooyoung shook his head. “Way too time consuming. She wants a quick fix, not a slow-burn romance. Take this as a learning opportunity, y/nnie.”

“Well, then teach me! What do I do?”

“Oh? Teach me?” San said with a smirk, “That’s kinda hot.”

“I gotta agree, but we’re getting off topic here.” Wooyoung fished a pretzel stick out of the glass on the table and took a bite of it before he continued, “So, the important thing is to show him you’re interested. But don’t make it romantic, you don't want a coffee invite."

"Actually I wouldn't mind a coffee—"

"Yeah, and you can have your coffee—after taking care of how fucking pent-up you are." He let the rest of his pretzel stick disappear into his mouth, still chewing as he continued, "He’s your physiotherapist, there’s gotta be plenty of chances for him to get his hands on you. Just subtly let him know you really like it.”

“Yeah,” San agreed, before coming back to his initial advice: “Just go for it.”

For your last appointment he sent you to room number 4, the one with the mirror and the yoga mats and other equipment that you knew all too well. After last week's session you found yourself filled with disappointment. For a moment you stood in the doorway, until Yunho came over, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Not going in?”

San’s words were ringing in your head: Just go for it. Wooyoung’s advice on subtlety must have gotten lost on you though, but who was Wooyoung to give that advice anyway?

“Uhm, I was thinking—you know I’m feeling kind of tired today…” You trailed off, your eyes darting over to room number 2, where the ajar door revealed the massage table.

He met your words with a chuckle. “Are you saying you want a massage for our last appointment? Did you like it that much?”

“It just seemed to really help with my sore spots…”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his arms crossed in front of his body thoughtfully, “I do think we should go through the exercises I taught you at least once—to make sure you remember them correctly and can do them at home. Don’t want you coming back here in another three weeks.”

“You don’t want me to come back?”

Yunho’s eyes widened for a moment there before he let out a chuckle, “Not if it means you’re in pain again.”

“Didn’t you say it’s okay if it hurts a little?”

He shook his head in disbelief, “I feel like I’m not getting anywhere here, so let’s make a compromise—first a quick run down of the exercises and then for the remaining time you can get on the table for me, hm?”

Get on the table for me. You tried not to think anything of the words he’d chosen, tried not to let your brain warp them until they held a different meaning altogether, but it was hopeless. The worst part was, that you couldn’t help feeling like he was doing this on purpose, reveling in the way your gaze turned feverish and your cheeks flushed red with heat.

The quick run down was almost agonizing. He did keep his promise to make it short, but every time he stepped into your personal space to fix your posture, you felt your skin tingling with anticipation and need. When you finally, finally went over to room 2, you were more than ready to skip the massage and go for other activities instead. You pulled yourself together though, and did not jump him the moment he closed the door. Instead, you took off your shirt and laid down on the table like last time. Yunho sat at the head end once more, working his magic on your neck and shoulders. When he moved his hands a little further down your back, they briefly got caught on your bra.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice calm and smooth.

You bit your lower lip. This seemed like a pretty good chance, didn’t it?

“You can take it off, if you want to. I don’t mind.”

He halted for a moment, and maybe if you could see his face you’d be able to read his expression, but with your eyes facing the floor you were stuck wondering what he was thinking.

“Are you sure?” Yunho asked after a moment and there was something in his voice that made it feel like his question wasn’t just about the massage.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

It only took a second for him to unhook your bra, the fabric falling to the side of your body. His fingers seemed to trace the place where it’d sat, maybe following the light imprints it’d left behind. 

“You have pretty skin,” he said eventually, his voice just a whisper.

“Yeah?” Your heart was racing in your chest with nerves and anticipation of what could possibly happen.

“Yeah,” his index finger gently wandered over your spine, “It feels nice to touch.”

“It feels nice when you touch me, too.”

He hesitated for a moment and the brief silence was killing you. “I could do it more,” he finally said.

“I’d like that.”

“Turn around for me?”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you immediately turned to lay on your back, losing your bra along the way. The moment you were facing up, he leaned down, crashing his lips into yours. The angle was kind of awkward with the way you were technically upside down from his point of view, but neither of you seemed to really care as you devoured each other in a kiss you’d been anticipating for weeks.

When he eventually pulled away, both of you breathless, there was a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Isn’t this kind of like spiderman?” he asked and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I didn’t know my hot physiotherapist was a nerd.”

“So, I’m hot?”

You rolled your eyes before your hand reached out to pull him close again, “Aren’t we kinda past that?”

“Right,” he grinned into your lips, “I guess so.”

He kissed you again before he pulled away to get up from his chair, the angle too awkward to really touch, and he was dying to get his hands all over you. You sat up on the table, letting your legs dangle off one side, and he swiftly moved to stand between them, caging you in with his hands  on either side of your hips. 

“We’re the only ones here, right?” you asked, just to make sure.

“Yeah,” he pecked the corner of your mouth before kissing his way to your jaw and then down to your collar bone, “Mingi left a while ago and the cleaning staff only comes in the morning.”

“Good,” you leaned back and tilted your neck to give him more access, reveling in the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin. 

His hands moved to your body, one of them keeping you steady as the other tugged at the hem of your jeans. “Can we take this off?”

You nodded a little too quickly, your hands immediately flying to the button to help him undo it. 

“So eager,” he commented with that smug smile of his before he helped you drag the pants off your legs, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He let his thumb lightly rub over the thin and embarrassingly wet fabric, smile growing wider as you let out a little whimper. “Why do I feel like you haven’t been focusing on treatment at all and were instead thinking of—” he flicked his thumb over your clothed clit, “something else?”

“I couldn’t help it,” you whimpered, “not my fault your hands are—like that.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” you whimpered once more when his long fingers started to run over your folds, pushing aside your panties to touch you directly, “sexy.”

“They are sexy? Like, when I fix your posture? Or give you a massage?,” he asked, leaving more bites and kisses on your neck, “Or when I do this?” He slipped one of his fingers into you without warning, making you gasp in surprise.

“Yeah,” you pressed out, your mind starting to lose focus as he was moving inside of you, “it’s sexy.”

“That’s good to hear,” he whispered into your skin before adding a second digit and curling them inside of you. You arched off the table at the sensation of it, your body instinctively trying to get away from the intense feeling, but his other hand on your hip kept you in place. He gradually increased his pace, his fingers mercilessly abusing the sensitive spots inside of you and you were already feeling like you were losing your mind. When he moved his thumb back to your clit, applying just the right kind of pressure, you snapped almost immediately, your high washing over you in a sudden and intense wave. Yunho wasn’t letting up quite yet though, still working his skillful hands and prolonging your orgasm until the over sensitivity made you whine. When he finally pulled away, he looked at his fingers for a moment, admiring your glistening juices on them before he licked them clean one by one.

“That was nice,” he said with a smile, as if you had just done him a service and not the other way round. Still, you agreed with a hazy nod. 

He pulled your panties back into place before leaning in for a kiss. “How about I take you out for a coffee sometime?”

“So, uh, what if I don’t want to just fuck him?”

“Weren’t we over this?” Wooyoung took a sip of his beer, before your words really registered, “Wait, are you saying you have feelings for him?!”

“I—I don’t know, he’s just—” you dropped your face onto the table with a sigh, “he’s just so charming.”

"See?" San said with a triumphant grin, "So much for a quick fix."

“Well, then I hope you at least got his number.”

Now a smile spread on your lips, too, “I even got that coffee invite.”

masterlist | pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this~

[yourownutopia]

Ultraviolent Heart

╰┈➤You know how it ends. From the very beginning, you carried that knowledge like an inescapable burden, a quiet ache that shaped your every choice. Yet you stayed—for him. Jin Woo—your confidant, your light in a world of darkness—could never walk with you to the very end. But you couldn't take it anymore. It was too much to bear. So, you leave - knowing your place by his side was never meant to last.

Left behind is Jin Woo, with questions no one will answer and a gaping void where your presence once was. You are gone, and yet the emptiness you leave lingers longer than any memory. ༊*·˚

Implied Jin Woo x Isekai'd!Player2!Fem!Reader | Songfic | Heartbreak | Goodbye | Angst | Jealousy | crying

Crywolf - ULTRAVIOLENT [adrenochrome] ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚--~

Your heart is torturing me.

Knock.

The dull sound of his fist striking hard stone echoed through the air.

Once—not too hard.

Twice—with more force.

Three times—before the rigid concrete wall could no longer withstand the immense power of the Shadow Monarch. Cracks spread across the structure, and where solid stone once stood, now a large, gaping hole remained, with Jin Woo’s hand at its center—much like the gaping hole in his heart.

The overwhelming anger he felt threatened to consume him entirely. Beru flinched violently, fear creeping up his limbs as his master’s eyes glowed dangerously. He had brought bad news—perhaps the worst Jin Woo had received in a long time.

"Search more thoroughly."

The black-haired man’s voice cut through the silence like his blades through flesh. Yet, despite his usual composed demeanor, his voice quivered with rage.

Beru wanted to point out that it was a pointless endeavor. If you were still there, he would have already found you. But his master would not accept that answer.

"Yes, my king," Beru replied reverently before retreating into the shadows, leaving Jin Woo alone in his fury.

This couldn’t be true. No one could simply vanish without a trace. And yet, it seemed that was exactly what had happened.

A thousand miles an hour again.

It had been a week, and none of his shadows could locate you. Even the Hunter’s Association had been unable to find any information about your current whereabouts. There wasn’t even a hint that you had left the country.

But giving up the search would mean it was over. It would mean that a part of him was gone forever and that the memories you shared were nothing more than illusions.

He clung to the last shred of hope he had because, no matter how furious he was with you, he desperately wanted answers.

And all that stays with me

How could you do this to him? He had trusted you so much, and you had abandoned him in the most cowardly way possible—without a word. No goodbye, no note, no message—as if you had never existed. And with that, you had torn a massive hole in his heart.

The anger began to ebb, only to be replaced with a suffocating fear—a fear that had gripped him time and time again in recent days.

Is the fear inside my gut.

It felt as though he was bleeding out, choking, drowning in place. As though his heart was overflowing with pain, longing for your warmth and softness, and all the things he had never been able to say—the things you had denied him. The fear that he would soon no longer remember you gnawed at his soul.

Memories were all he had left of you, yet even they were beginning to fade. What did your voice sound like again? Your beautiful face, once so vivid in his mind, was now blurring. Were you only a beautiful dream from which he had now awakened?

You're the fear inside my gut -‘๑’-

Two years had passed since you had been pulled into this world—the world you knew so well, almost like the back of your hand. The world that had accompanied you through so many sleepless nights as you eagerly read each chapter on your smartphone.

But just as you were about to finish the story, with the last chapter ahead of you, the universe intervened. You were pulled into the story yourself, long before Jin Woo set foot in the double dungeon.

You became Player 2. The system welcomed you like an old friend, and you quickly adapted. At first, you wanted to return home, but the system refused your departure with a single window:

[You can only leave the game when you truly want to.]

And, evidently, you didn’t truly want to leave. You wanted to stay, to experience firsthand the world you had come to know so well. And so, you stayed—with the goal of making life a little easier for Jin Woo, as though that was your purpose.

Starting as a C-rank mage with a few healing spells, you participated in every raid Jin Woo was involved in, which quickly made you friends. He had admired your strength from the beginning, just as you had admired his courage and determination.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t always lend him a helping hand. Every time something story-relevant occurred, no matter how you tried to intervene, it would inevitably happen anyway—only the timing or the path there would show minor deviations.

Whenever this happened, the system would display a message:

[The story will not change.]

The system made it painfully clear that you had no influence over key story elements. And though you had never had issues with the system before, these moments felt like mockery—a cruel reminder of your limitations.

No matter how heavy your heart felt or how deeply you wished you could change things, events unfolded as they were meant to. Ultimately, all you could do was make Jin Woo’s journey a little lighter, which he accepted with gratitude. The two of you were like light and shadow—one could not exist without the other.

You’ve been my reason to breathe

Not only were you an incredible team in battle, your abilities complementing one another seamlessly, but everyone who knew you—or even those who didn’t—could see that you belonged together. He trusted you; you were the light in his life. The lifeline that kept him from drowning in a sea of darkness. The one who reminded him he was still human whenever he no longer felt like one. The one who had held his trembling hands whenever he needed it—even after those hands had taken lives.

You were the one who stayed with him through so many nights, just to keep him from being alone with himself. The one his shadows respected and whom Beru grandly referred to as "his queen."

His shadows had known from the start how Jin Woo felt about you. But he feared telling you, terrified that it might drive you away. No heartbreak in the world could compare to the thought of you no longer by his side.

Of course, you had noticed, probably much sooner than anyone else. How his behavior changed—how his cheeks would flush whenever you complimented him. How he sought your company more often, how his voice would falter when you came close. Things that had always been intimate but normal between you suddenly left him flustered.

How deeply you wished you could give in to it, but you knew better. There was no happy ending for the two of you. You knew it, and the system knew it—perhaps that’s why it had never responded to his advances. Only Jin Woo remained blissfully unaware, while you locked your feelings away and buried them deep.

The gravity that pulls me in

Despite your efforts to keep him at arm’s length—to keep yourself at arm’s length—those moments grew more frequent. Moments when your gazes lingered a second too long or his hugs lasted just a little longer than necessary. Moments when his hand found yours, and your fingers intertwined. Moments when the two of you lay side by side, silently watching the stars, just to have an excuse to share the night.

It was almost impossible to push him away when he looked at you with such tenderness, smiling at you as though you were all he needed. The thought that the two of you didn’t have a chance began to fade into the background, and as long as the system didn’t intervene, everything felt fine.

I can't escape the weight of your ultraviolent heart

Until that day.

-‘๑’-

The Jeju Island raid had been about two weeks ago, and life had returned to normal. People mourned the fallen S-Rank hunters but celebrated the victory of reclaiming the island. You hadn’t participated in the raid yourself, only watched from a distance—at least until the moment when Hunter Cha was injured and Jin-Woo rushed to her aid.

The thought sent a pang straight to your gut.

What disgusting and pathetic thoughts to have. After all, Cha had nearly died—you knew that all too well. And yet, you struggled to ignore the stabbing pain in your chest, which worsened when she showed up at the guild's office building.

As usual, when there was nothing to do, you lay sprawled on the couch, your head resting lazily on Jin-Woo's lap while he scrolled through his phone.

At first, Jinho had been a little taken aback by the closeness between you two. But he’d quickly adjusted to the fact that his two best friends behaved like a couple—despite not being one.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door, and Jinho looked up from his computer.

You were momentarily confused before realization struck. You’d spent so many days here that you’d completely forgotten about when Hae-In was supposed to arrive. If it were up to you, you would’ve bolted; the less interaction with her, the better. But that would’ve raised too many questions.

You felt Jin-Woo shift, and you immediately sat up, unwilling to give the wrong impression. The black-haired man gave you a confused look as your warmth left his lap—though he made no move to get up himself.

“Who could that be?” Jinho asked, heading toward the door. You could already hear her soft voice as he opened it.

“Is this Mr. Sung’s office?” she asked quietly. When the door opened fully, all eyes fell on the blonde beauty in the doorway.

She wasn’t just pretty; she was immensely strong. Not stronger than you, but far more graceful in everything she did. She was perfect in every way, much to your dismay.

Her eyes widened briefly when she saw you, but she quickly masked her surprise with a polite cough.

Jin-Woo had now risen as well, his gaze cool and appraising as he looked at the young Hunter whose life he’d saved.

“What brings you here, Miss Cha?” he asked, his tone cold—devoid of the softness he reserved for you.

The blonde hesitated for a moment before stating that she wanted to join the guild.

Jin-Woo’s expression didn’t change, though Jinho looked like he’d just been hit with a bombshell.

This wasn’t a surprise to you, of course, but the words still felt like a blow to the stomach.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from Hae-In on the sofa. Jin-Woo sat beside you, once again asking why she was there. The blonde reiterated her desire to join the guild, causing Jin-Woo to frown in confusion as she sipped nervously on a cola. She dismissed his speculations, her cheeks growing redder with every passing moment as she avoided eye contact.

It was almost ironic how Jin-Woo, despite his overwhelming senses, had no clue that Hae-In was flustered. Of course, you knew better. She wanted to be near him because, unlike others, he smelled good and intrigued her. And you had to accept that.

When her face turned beet red and she began fanning herself nervously, Jin-Woo paused and asked again why she was going to such lengths to join the guild.

“I want to live a comfortable life. Is that so wrong?” she replied softly.

Jinho popped up behind you, whispering, “The Hunters Guild must’ve overworked her.”

Jin-Woo’s eyes darted to you, silently asking a question: What do you think?

Of course, you hated the idea. You didn’t want to lose him to her—but what could you do?

Your contemplative expression and brief hesitation were all Jin-Woo needed. He turned back to Hae-In and rejected her request.

Your eyes widened, staring in disbelief at the black-haired man. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go—the conversation wasn’t over yet.

Hae-In lowered her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“I understand,” she murmured, looking utterly dejected.

Panic surged through you. What was happening? A deviation?

“W-wait!” you blurted out, drawing everyone’s attention. Hae-In’s gaze flickered with hope, while Jin-Woo raised an inquisitive brow.

“P-please give us five minutes, Miss Cha,” you said, quickly standing and grabbing Jin-Woo’s hand to drag him into the adjacent room.

Almost disappointed when you released his hand, Jin-Woo looked at you as the door closed behind you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, hands on your hips.

He seemed genuinely confused by your question.

“What?”

“Why are you rejecting her?!” you demanded.

Jin-Woo shrugged, his expression indifferent.

“I don’t want her in the guild,” he said flatly, his gray eyes avoiding yours.

He wanted to tell you that you were more than enough for him—that she was unnecessary. But saying so might’ve been too much in this situation.

“This is a one-time opportunity!” you argued, hoping he’d use his brain for once.

“I have you. We don’t need anyone else,” he countered, his cheeks tinged pink.

What the hell was he saying?

No, things couldn’t go this way—it would disrupt the entire timeline. Your thoughts spiraled.

“Then… have her fight Beru!” you blurted out. Jin-Woo stared at you, dumbfounded.

“And why would I do that? She’ll lose,” he said, still not understanding why this mattered so much to you.

“Then it’s a win-win. She doesn’t feel rejected, and you… get rid of her.”

He seemed to consider your words for a moment. From his shadow, the winged ant manifested.

“What do you think?” Jin-Woo asked.

The insect clicked its mandibles excitedly.

“Kekeke, that’s a wonderful idea, my queen,” it replied, clearly far too enthusiastic.

Why could you understand it? No clue. It was probably because you were also a Player, and Jin-Woo had drilled it into Beru from the start that he should listen to you as well. Besides, you liked him—and he liked you.

You looked expectantly at the Shadow Monarch, whose lips curved into a smile as he turned back to you.

“If it makes you happy,” he said, placing a hand on your head. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

-‘๑’-

"Why the hell?!" you asked the moment your feet touched solid ground again.

You, Jin-Woo, and Hae-In now stood in the middle of the training arena. You hadn’t wanted to be part of this situation in the first place, and when the black-haired man had pulled the blonde closer, it had sent a sharp pain through your chest. You wanted to leave. But Jin-Woo had grabbed you by the wrist and brought you here, knowing that words alone wouldn’t convince you to stay. For once, he had chosen to be selfish.

Clearly irritated, you pulled yourself free from his grip and moved away from the two of them, seeking refuge at the edge of the arena. You trusted Beru to avoid accidentally hurting you, but the ant could be reckless in battle.

Jin-Woo watched you walk away, his mouth opening as if to stop you, but you were already storming off. This would have consequences later...

While Jin-Woo and Cha retreated to the armory, you were finally alone with your thoughts for the first time that day. Worry gnawed at you. Everything was unfolding differently than the story you remembered. Was it your fault? Had you interfered too much? If so, why hadn’t the system reacted? And if not... then what was the reason? Something was terribly wrong... but what?

Your mind drifted back to the manhwa, trying to recall the exact details of the events. Yet they eluded you. Meanwhile, the two hunters returned. Cha was now equipped with a weapon, and Jin-Woo stood several meters away. It wasn’t until Beru’s overwhelming aura enveloped your senses that realization struck.

This wasn’t right... She was supposed to face Igris first.

Before you could voice your concerns, the battle had already begun.

The fight went horribly wrong. Beru had lost control, and if Jin-Woo hadn’t stopped him, he would have torn Hae-In apart. The arena lay in ruins, and the black-haired man stood protectively in front of the blonde, while Beru fell to his knees, apologizing profusely.

Slowly, the conversation from the manhwa came back to you. She would tell him that she was interested in him.

I’ve been splintering apart

Badump.

Your heartbeat grew louder in your ears as the other sounds faded into the background.

Badump.

Your heart clenched as your eyes remained fixed on the two of them. They looked good together... too good.

Badump.

Panic slowly but surely crept up your limbs. You didn’t want to be here when she said it. You didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want to face the truth. You had known it all along, but you had willingly ignored it. They were meant to be together.

Badump.

Breaking open from the start

Your breaths became shallow, and your pounding heart grew louder as you watched Hae-In’s cheeks flush pink. Soon, you would see his eyes light up as he realized why Hae-In had taken on all these burdens. The pain in your chest made it hard to breathe, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

Badump.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t even hear the black-haired man call your name as you bolted out of the arena. The cold air outside whipped against your face.

But you didn’t get far. A warm hand gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, forcing you to stop.

“Hey!” His voice was both frustrated and worried—clearly not understanding why you had left without a word.

“Let me go, please,” you said softly, tugging lightly to reinforce your words. But Jin-Woo didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, he held on tighter to keep you from walking away.

You bit your lower lip, holding back tears. You avoided looking at him, unable to face the concern in his eyes.

“Hey... it’s not your fault this happened. I shouldn’t have let her fight him in the first place,” he said, his voice quieter now. Was that it? Did he think you felt guilty?

The evening continued its quiet work, slowly but surely extinguishing all the colors. Deep blue blended with pale orange where the last warriors of the sun made their final stand.

Gates of heaven are closing

Much like your emotions, fighting against the encroaching darkness—the images of the two of them vivid in your mind.

“That’s not it,” you replied, your voice strained.

Jin-Woo’s concerned expression hardened further. Was it... because he had dragged you here against your will?

But that wasn’t it.

Your throat felt tight, and you swallowed hard.

“That wasn’t fair of me... I’m sorry, I—” Jin-Woo began, but when he saw your face, the words caught in his throat.

Your expression was equal parts hurt and angry. Your [E/C] eyes, usually so bright with joy, were brimming with tears.

Why was this idiot here and not with Hae-In? Had he left her standing there? Why was he making it so hard for you to do the right thing?

His eyes widened, and his heart sank into his stomach as he took in your pained expression. What was wrong? What had he done?

“Why aren’t you with her?” you managed to ask, your voice trembling. Jin-Woo reflexively released your wrist in shock. What? Who?

You seized the opportunity and ran, leaving Jin-Woo momentarily speechless as his mind raced.

Did you mean Hae-In? Why should he be with her? That made no sense to him at all.

Until suddenly, realization struck. Could it be that...? No. That couldn’t be it.

He quickly caught up to you, your gaze fixed stubbornly ahead.

“Stop,” his voice was calm, and his tone commanding, but you had no intention of listening.

When you ignored his second plea, he firmly grabbed your wrist once more.

The protest died in your throat as he pulled you into his chest, trapping you in a warm embrace.

What did you do in my head?

His scent filled your nose, and the warmth of his body spread through your limbs as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

Why?

Jin-Woo held you tightly against him, one hand on your waist—the other buried in your hair.

“Wha—” you began, your voice trembling, but he silenced you with a soft sound.

“Because I want to be with you,” the black-haired man murmured into your hair, before gently pulling you away to look into your eyes.

The cool gray of his eyes softened, as it always did when he spoke to you, catching your [E/C]. But this time, there was nothing playful in his gaze. He was serious.

Jin-Woo noticed the confusion written on your face.

One of his hands found its way to your cheek, a warm tingling spreading across your skin as he cupped your face.

What are you doing?

“You asked me why I’m not with her,” he explained, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped from the corner of your eye. He had never seen you cry before, and he didn’t like the sight. Especially not if he was the reason.

Weren’t you laying in my bed

He had never intended to tell you, but he couldn’t keep it inside any longer. It had to come out. You needed to know how much you meant to him—that she didn’t matter and that you were everything he had ever wanted.

“I just want to be with you,” he repeated, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He leaned down slightly, as if even this close wasn’t close enough. His breathing quickened as the sun’s rays fought valiantly against the darkness creeping over the sky.

Your heart pounded wildly, and your thoughts raced. Your palms grew sweaty, and you felt as though you might faint at any moment. The tension between you was palpable, begging for resolution.

You wanted to bridge the remaining inches, to tell him how you felt—to throw all your plans out the window.

Jin-Woo took a deep breath.

“[Y/N], I lo—”

[The course of the story remains unchanged.]

The window that flickered behind the black-haired man for a fraction of a second was a knife in your heart, now riddled with cracks, as you reflexively pressed a finger to his lips, stopping his sentence.

He fell silent immediately, looking at you in confusion, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Had he misread the signs after all?

Telling me I was chosen

“Don’t,” you whispered softly—your voice barely audible, but he heard it clearly.

If he said those three words, it would be over—there would be no turning back. If he said those words, you would break. If not now, then eventually—when fate ran its course. Because if you had learned one thing, it was that the system would find a way.

His throat tightened, and his chest constricted.

"I can’t—" you began haltingly, stumbling over your words. You couldn’t think of a single sentence that would make this situation any less painful for him.

You lowered your gaze, feeling Jin-Woo give up. His embrace loosened, and his arms fell limply to his sides.

You didn’t want to do this, but you had no choice. There simply wasn’t a happy ending for the two of you. Happiness together wasn’t meant to be.

Jin-Woo was hurt—he couldn’t believe how wrong he had been.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered before daring to look into his eyes one last time—eyes filled with anguish—before you turned and walked away.

-‘๑’-

The following weeks were quiet. Too quiet.

Jin-Woo and you hadn’t spoken since. Both of you were waiting for the other to take the first step, but neither of you dared to break the uncomfortable silence.

For Jin-Woo, the situation was clear: you didn’t return his feelings and wanted distance, just as much as he did. Yet it still felt wrong.

Your presence had taken over his life; he saw your shadow everywhere. Your absence had left a gaping hole, and the simplest things no longer brought him joy. Even Jinho was dejected. His shadows, too, felt the emptiness your absence had created in his heart—his inner turmoil and recklessness as he threw himself into battles reflected it.

Beru, in particular, wasn’t happy about your absence and kept asking after you until Jin-Woo firmly explained that you wouldn’t be coming back. The insect accepted it, albeit with a heavy heart.

Now I don’t even know you, and that’s the best part of it

Weeks turned into months, and Jin-Woo had regained much of his strength. He had grown more ruthless, focused solely on his goals. He had achieved so much, but none of it mattered if you weren’t there to cheer him on.

Neither the recognition from the Hunter’s Association nor the countless media articles praising him to the skies brought him any satisfaction. It wasn’t your recognition, so he didn’t need it.

He buried his heavy heart behind a wall of indifference, but he realized he was drifting further and further from any semblance of a normal life. He was rarely home, found himself in increasingly precarious situations during battles, and noticed how little he cared.

No matter what he did, nothing could fill the void.

It simply couldn’t go on like this, so he decided to do something he usually resisted.

He resolved to ask Hae-In on a date.

All I know, you’re the only thing that I see in color

While Jin-Woo threw himself into leveling up, you had shut yourself away at home for some time. Jin-Woo’s wounded face was burned into your mind; after all, it was the last thing you had seen of him.

Guilt gnawed at you, sapping your strength and will to move forward.

You had lost weight, only left your home for absolute necessities, and spent most of your time sleeping. You cried so much that you began to believe you had no tears left.

Every fiber of your being missed him.

His voice.

His scent.

His laughter.

Even his reprimanding tone when you and Beru got into trouble.

Everything about him. Your heart cried out for him, whether you were awake or asleep.

This heart is torturing me

A sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your phone screen—the numerous missed calls from Jinho had gradually become fewer, but he never gave up.

More guilt.

But what could you do to fix this? Calling Jin-Woo? Just tell him the truth? Maybe that would be the fairest way…

Countless times, you had typed his number into your phone, only to stop yourself at the last second. The fear that he wouldn’t believe you was too great. Or was it the fear that he would believe you?

You shook your head and stood up. This couldn’t go on. You had to talk to him, at least one last time—to come clean before you returned home.

You couldn’t bear the silence between you anymore.

The only pain I understand

Your eyes widened as you stared at the TV screen. A photo had just appeared on the display—your hands instantly dropped the paper cup you’d been holding, spilling the hot coffee it contained onto the ground.

With your mouth slightly open, you stared at the screen, which was displayed in the shop window of a store you had just been walking past.

You had stopped in your tracks as the image suddenly changed, revealing a paparazzi photo.

It showed Jin-Woo and Hae-In, with his arm around her shoulders.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything—maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding—but in your current state, you didn’t want to hear any of it.

Your heart had already cracked when you had to reject his feelings, but this time it felt as though it had shattered into a thousand pieces.

Your mouth went dry, and you couldn’t form a single coherent thought.

You stared at the picture as if hypnotized.

You half-expected a spiteful inner voice to appear, taunting you and telling you it had been right all along—but it stayed silent.

I can't escape the weight of your ultraviolent heart

You tore your gaze away from the screen, and your legs started moving on their own.

Faster.

Much faster.

As if you could somehow run away from it, as if these images wouldn’t follow you for the rest of your life.

Your body instinctively reacted to the pain in your soul, numbing it.

The pain ebbed away, leaving behind an emptiness that took over, shielding you from breaking down—at least for the moment.

When the door to your apartment finally closed behind you, shutting you away from the public’s eyes, every bullet hit you at once.

Your stomach churned, forcing you to vomit into the sink.

Your body doubled over, and you clung to the edge of the counter until the shaking subsided, until you rinsed your mouth and collapsed to your knees, clutching at your chest in anguish.

Your body trembled uncontrollably as you screamed out the pain you had been holding back for so long. You screamed until your voice grew hoarse, until no words could escape your throat anymore.

How had it come to this? Why had he entered your life if he was never meant to stay? Why was the universe so cruel? What had you done to deserve this?

It’s a poison in my gut

It took an eternity for your body to stop trembling and the sobs to subside. Your tears dried up, your body too exhausted to produce any more.

You sat on the floor, your back against the wall, drained of all strength. Your head throbbed, and every trace of willpower had left your body.

Weakly, you lifted your hand and swiped downward in the air.

[Do you really wish to leave the game?] [Yes] / [No] [Yes]

Jin-Woo woke with a silent scream from his nightmare, his hand outstretched, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps as he sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes darting frantically around the room.

A few seconds passed before he realized he was in his bedroom. The full moon shone through his window, bathing everything in silver light.

It was just a dream…a damn nightmare. But it had felt so incredibly real.

His hand clutched at his chest, which ached under the crushing weight of emotion. He had seen your tear-streaked face as you looked at him, whispering a faint, “Goodbye.” Relief washed over him as he realized it had only been a dream. He rubbed his eyes, only to notice the glimmer of tears on his hand under the moonlight.

But it still felt so real - he felt so hollow, as though a giant hole had opened in his chest. As if something was terribly wrong. His mind wandered to you once again, missing the warmth of your Presence once more. He was sure you had seen the News, the speculations and rumors about his relationship with the blonde S-Rank - but they were all false. He only wanted to shield her from the Spotlights, since it was him who dragged her along in the first place. The Date with Hae-In was a welcoming distraction from fighting in a Dungeon, but it felt all wrong. It just made him realize once more, that it was you he wanted by his side - as lovers or friends, he couldn't care less. He just wanted you.

His resolve hardened: tomorrow, he would visit you and ask for your forgiveness, hoping you would be willing to forgive him. Hoping the empty feeling would finally disappear, that he would be whole again.

With that thought in mind, he drifted back to sleep. But the emptiness remained.

You’re the only thing that I see in color.

[part 2]

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹�� 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ꨄ︎ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ Wow, this story just came to me while I was on the bus, listening to music…what can I say—I had to write it down before it was too late!

English isn’t my first language! I hope everything was understandable and legible.

since y'all are just suckers for drama, there will be a part two~ But first, feel free to read my series! A Jin Woo x Shadow! Reader story. [Shadowborn] Thank you for all your support! likes, reblogs & comments or just reading <3 .'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*'

♡¸.•*' ˋ°•*⁀✎ 𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎

[wtfaniii]

My boy only breaks and repairs

Summary: When he found you, you were drowning in debt and sadness, he took your heart and made sure to put it together piece by piece until one day… that same man breaks it once again

Warning: age difference, not much, death, I wanted to write something sad, sorry, I was listening to the night we met while doing this.

Hwang In-ho x fem reader Sang-Woo's daughter

He promised you to come back, that he would not do anything reckless, but he never did, you knew that your father loved you despite the hard life he led, you knew that despite his firm and indifferent attitude he cared about you.

That's why your heart broke into pieces when a small black box with a pink ribbon appeared at your door that August morning. It was a bitter presentation for what that box contained, inside were your father's broken glasses, the glass was smashed and one of its supports was broken in half.

It was easy for you to deduce that something bad had happened to him, that he would probably never come back.

You were right.

That morning you collapsed hugging the broken glasses to your chest, trying to hold on to a vague memory where you were still happy with him, when you were still four years old and he carried you on his shoulders while you ate ice cream.

Your world fell apart that day, your grandmother couldn't talk to you again because you couldn't look her in the face knowing that her son was dead and not being able to tell her just so she wouldn't go through the same pain as you.

Despite your deep pain, the same people who followed Sang-Woo so that he would pay them what he owed them did not stop, they followed you for weeks so that you would pay, they did not believe you when you told them that he was dead, they thought that you were helping him hide, so all their threats and warnings fell on you.

A year later you were just as desperate as your father, his debts accumulated and your life was in danger, you were going to give up, you wanted to end the suffering you were going through so without having a completely clear mind you stood on the edge of a bridge in the middle of the night.

But just when you wanted to push yourself forward someone came from behind you and pulled your hand to the opposite side, making you fall onto the cold and wet pavement.

You quickly stood up, believing it was one of those thugs following you, but as soon as you looked up you saw a man completely unknown to you.

But you were not a stranger to him.

After the games in which player 456 was the winner, In-ho was curious about player 218, the most intelligent and cunning man he had seen in years. ¿How was it possible that when he was about to win, he decided to redeem himself?

he thought him was stupid.

But after having done extensive research on him, he came to the conclusion that he was not stupid, he was just a poor man desperate to survive but also motivated by his daughter who was waiting for him at home, Sang-Woo knew that if you found out the horrible way in which he obtained money, betraying and killing his friends and innocent people, you would never forgive him ¿What kind of example was he going to give you? That's why in his last breath he asked Gi-hun to take care of you, unfortunately the winner was also too traumatized and hurt to keep that specific promise.

So In-ho decided take the promise, something he had never done, he investigated you and reached out to you, he believed that giving you a memory of your father would be enough to calm your anguish, that's why he left you the glasses, but seeing that this caused your descent into sadness even more he decided to take a more drastic measure.

—¿Who are you? —You asked, looking at him carefully, he could see the mix of emotions you were experiencing through your tired eyes.

—I met your father

In-ho took a step closer to you and extended his hand, waiting for you to take it.

It was a small gesture but significant, no one had given you a hand to help you stand up in a long time, you hesitantly accepted the gesture and took his hand to get up but as soon as you did the tears escaped your eyes and that was when In-ho realized how broken you were.

You realized what you were about to do, the weight of your own actions fell on your shoulders and you realized how much your father missed you.

—I miss him a lot... —You murmured through tears as this man held you in his arms.

In-ho's heart squeezed in his chest when he saw you like that, it was strange, he barely knew you but inevitably the memories of his own pain after the death of his wife settled in his mind, he knew that feeling that the world was falling apart, as if millions of blades were stuck in his body every day, each memory and the impotence of not being able to do anything to end that feeling.

He didn't say anything, he knew you didn't want to hear encouraging words, you just wanted comfort and a shoulder to cry on, he connected with you through that pain, he silently hugged you and let you vent until you were tired of crying.

He told you his name, he gave you comfort, security and help, you were in a vulnerable moment and somehow that felt like the greatest gift anyone could give you.

He gained your trust and when you least realized it, you already loved this man who could be the same age as your father.

In-ho knew that seeing you in the city was dangerous, his brother knew who he was and what he did, if he found him it would be the end of an entire empire, so he asked you to accompany him to the island.

You hesitated a little but you finally accepted, you had nothing to lose and you definitely didn't want to be alone again, you hated the simple idea, your brain and all your instincts told you to oppose that request but your heart made the affirmative decision, you accompanied him.

You didn't know what he did, In-ho made sure to keep that part of his life a secret and told you that his job was a small organization that raised money funds to donate to those in need, what a bullshit lie.

Soon you began to smile more often, an expression on your face that you thought was dead, for In-ho your smile became a small ray of light that illuminated his dark life.

One day like any other you entered him office with a radiant smile and a yellow spring dress decorating your body.

—Well… ¿What do you think? —You asked, spinning on your heels in front of him, letting the bottom of your outfit rise a little in the air.

—You look beautiful —He admitted, looking away from the paperwork that filled his desk, documents about upcoming games but that you ignored —Yellow is your color.

You smiled happily at him and walked towards his desk, cautiously he hid some papers under others and let you hug him from behind as you usually did, your arms were warm and this way he could smell your wonderful perfume.

—¿Why can't you come with me? —You asked, leaving a kiss on his neck and hugging him closer to you, as if you never wanted to let him go and it was partly true, you clung to him as if he were your support for this life.

—I have a lot of work but I promise to go next time.

It was your father's birthday and you wanted to go visit him at the cemetery, although you put an empty box it was a way to honor and remember him, In-ho was the one who motivated you to do this because it also gave you a certain peace knowing that wherever your father was were sure that he knew how much you missed him.

—I'll be back in a few hours —You responded by leaving a warm kiss on him cheek.

Even though In-ho wanted to send some guards to take care of you, he knew that would be a risk, you could ask and discover the whole truth and that was the last thing he wanted, he believed that keeping you in ignorance was the best to protect your hurting heart.

You took a boat to leave the island and when you reached the mainland millions of memories hit your mind like a huge wave during a storm, you needed In-ho by your side but you recognized that you couldn't depend on him at all times, you also had to learn to manage these complex emotions that still threatened to sink you.

You bought a couple of flowers and headed to the cemetery where a tombstone was waiting for you on top of an empty place, deep down that still tormented your soul, not being able to find him to give him a dignified burial, not being able to hug him one last time or see him to say goodbye in person.

When you arrived at the sacred place you gave him a small bow and sat down in front of him.

—Hey… Sorry I didn't come earlier… —You said seeing the name "Cho Sang-Woo" written in stone —I just wasn't ready to come yet… Now I'm fine, I'm trying to move forward… In-ho, a friend of yours arrived at the moment when I needed someone the most, as if you had sent him.

A small smile appeared on your lips at that idea, a completely wrong idea of ​​what reality was.

—Happy Birthday… —You murmured with teary eyes, leaving the flowers on the tombstone, you sat there for a few more minutes talking to him to relieve your heart, somehow you managed to feel accompanied but you also constantly wondered what happened to him.

You said goodbye to him and walked through the cemetery until you reached the columbarium where the memorial of In-ho's previous wife was, he told you about her, he showed you that side of his life that had suffered a great loss just like you.

You respectfully approached the space where her name was carved in stone and you also left her a white flower that you had bought specifically for her, you didn't know why In-ho hadn't visited her in years, he told you himself and you didn't ask because you thought it was a wound that hadn't completely healed yet, however, the real reason was more than just pain.

Suddenly a male voice made you jump a little in your place.

—Excuse me… ¿Are you familiar? —When you turned your head you found a young man with straight black hair who looked at you curiously.

—Ohh no... I just... I heard about her —you explained with a soft smile, stepping aside to see him better and allow him to approach the niche —¿Did you know her?

—She was my brother's wife.

Him response caught you off guard, In-ho hadn't told you about any brother but you didn't question either, instead you smiled kindly and greeted him with a small polite bow.

—¡Oh! You are In-ho's brother —You said after introducing yourself with your name and ends with "In-ho and me are close"

Jun-ho looked at you with surprise, as if naming him had made some 'click' in his head, his silent gaze intimidated you so you bowed a little again to say goodbye and leave there but before you could take any steps him hand on your arm stopped you, making you even more tense.

—You should stay away from him, it's not safe for you.

—¿What? ¿Why?

—¿Do you know where he is now? ¿Where do you know him from? —The questions he asked you mixed with the firm grip on your arm raised some kind of alert so you pushed him to let go.

You didn't know him, you didn't know why he said that to you and you didn't trust him, so you left there walking as fast as could but behind you heard a "Stay away from him"

While you returned to the island on the boat you laughed internally at that strange encounter but as the minutes passed and you analyzed him words better in your head, doubt settled in your body, you trusted In-ho, you believed all the things he told you so blindly that you were sure that your father would be disappointed, he taught you to be intelligent and not let yourself be guided by anyone who speaks to you with nice words.

You never investigated him supposed organization further and you hadn't realized until now how much security he had on the island for it to just be a charity.

It was strange, even the time he saved you on that bridge, ¿how did he arrive just in time? It was almost one in the morning and few cars were passing through that area ¿Was he following you? he said he knew your father ¿how come he didn't even know your last name?

Your mind began to turn and turn the situation, your stomach turned and once again that feeling of anguish that had not been in you after a long time was present, meanwhile In-ho took advantage of the time you were gone to organize the next games quickly and safely, with you on the island it was difficult to do it without you discovering it but one of the many advantages it had was that you rarely questioned what they were really doing there.

Maybe it was because for you he was a hero, a ray of hope that came to take you out of your misery and without realizing it «or maybe he was too coward to admit it out loud» he took advantage of that to have you right where he wanted, like a good girl who didn't ask dangerous questions, you stayed right where he allowed you and went out whenever he wanted you to.

It was incredibly easy how could take a person drowning in their suffering and mold them into own world.

But now that you had doubts you weren't going to stay still, thanks to Jun-ho you would now start questioning everything he did.

Something that started to be a problem.

Until one day you finally discovered it, you woke up in the middle of the night and walked in silence to him office where you found a folder full of photographs and data of people who were just as drowned in debt as Sang-Woo was, but you did not stop there in your investigation, it was night, him guards in pink overalls that at some point you saw as security you now saw as hunters from whom you had to hide, cautiously, you moved through all the corridors until you reach a floor with golden and gray tones.

You walked in silence through each of the rooms and inspected every thing and compartment there without knowing that In-ho had already woken up when he did not feel your presence by his side.

You watched without stopping and the further you advanced your heart squeezed in your chest, this was not a charity, it was a slaughterhouse.

And the worst of all was that the man you trusted, the man you slept with, kissed and touched with love was the one who pulled the strings in this place.

You arrived at a dark room full of documents perfectly arranged by year and number on shelves, each sheet contained data about the previous people who arrived on this island and they were forced to play children's games with the promise that if they got out of there alive they would win a lot of money.

Your hands were shaking and you could practically feel your heartbeat in your throat.

Until you reached the section about the year your father disappeared, your heart stopped for a fraction of a second and your hands could barely hold the page you were reading in silence.

"Cho Sang-Woo, player 218, removed"

A painful moan escaped your throat as you looked at the photo of your father along with his information with eyes full of tears, you tried to remain silent and to drown your tears you bit your hand until felt the characteristic metallic taste on your tongue.

Your body shook and your breathing began to fail, you were scared, disappointed, overwhelmed and angry, In-ho had lied to you, he knew perfectly well what happened to your father and he pretended to be another friend in your life.

Once again your heart broke into millions of pieces.

In-ho had become vital in your life, you didn't know whether to hate him or love him, he hugged you every night when you woke up crying because of the pain of loss, he motivated you to get up and not let the suffering consume you, he even opened up to you and told you about his deceased wife.

You wanted to scream but instead you just stayed on the ground, biting your hand to suppress your cry, with your body shaking and breathing failing, you felt like you had been stabbed in the back.

You didn't even notice when In-ho walked up behind you with a loaded gun in him hand and a mental battle in his head.

You thought you knew him but in reality you had no idea what he was capable of doing.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ sad girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! there is also a part one to this story, million dollar man! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ one week had passed since your boyfriend, sang-woo, reappeared in your life under strange circumstances that made your blood run cold. for two agonizing weeks, he had vanished without explanation. then, he returned, battered and hollow-eyed, his face bearing scars that seemed etched not only into his skin but into his very soul. he had come to your door clutching a bag of cash, his body trembling, his clothes soaked with sweat. “wait for me,” he had whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. you promised you would, and so you did.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your mind, every detail a puzzle you couldn’t solve. had he been involved in something criminal? was he tangled in debts or worse? the thought that he might be ensnared in something far beyond your understanding consumed you. the sight of him, standing there, so broken and afraid, haunted you. you didn’t want to believe he was in danger, but deep down, you couldn’t dismiss the fear.

˚ ༘♡ then, this morning, a text came through on your phone. it was brief, offering no answers, only an instruction, “come to my house.” no explanation, no reassurance, merely a summoning. the clock had barely struck six, but you didn’t hesitate. sleep clung to you as you threw on the white, wool coat he had gifted you months ago for your three-month anniversary.

˚ ༘♡ the streets were quiet, the morning air biting at your skin as you made your way to his home. every breath a battle against the anxiety clawing at your chest. when you reached his door, it swung open almost immediately.

˚ ༘♡ before you could say a word, he pulled you inside, his movements quick, the door closing behind you with a soft click. the air inside was warm, contrasting the chill outside, but it did little to ease the tension in your body.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re here,” he murmured, his voice low, and then his lips kissed your cheek, cool and brief, a gesture that was both familiar and foreign. the touch left your skin tingling, not with comfort but with unease. his eyes lingered on you, their usual sharpness dulled by something you couldn’t place, something sinister.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped back from him, your voice trembling but firm. “you have to tell me everything right now,” you demanded, though the weight of your exhaustion seeped into every word. the fear you’d carried for weeks had worn you down, leaving sorrow in its wake. “i can’t keep living like this, with all the secrecy and half-truths. it’s killing me.”

˚ ༘♡ as you glanced around, you noticed his home looked different, emptier than you remembered. furniture was missing, and stacks of boxes lined the walls, their presence unnerving. your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him. “are you moving? why didn’t you tell me anything?” your voice cracked with disbelief. then, anger surged, and you shoved his chest, your frustration spilling over. “this has to stop! you can’t keep throwing money and gifts at me, thinking it’ll distract me from everything you’re hiding!”

˚ ༘♡ his posture stiffened, his muscles taut under the pressure of your words. his jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as though searching for the right response. when he spoke, his voice was strained, his frustration cutting through. “if you would only give me a chance!” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone filling the room. his chest heaved and fell rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

˚ ༘♡ letting out a slow, deep breath, he rubbed his temple, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled off his glasses. without them, his eyes looked more vulnerable, the walls he so carefully built around himself momentarily exposed. “why can’t you trust me?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. “why is it so hard for you to believe in me?”

˚ ༘♡ the scars on his face had faded slightly but still marred his handsome, angular features. your eyes lingered on them, the memories of his battered appearance resurfacing with a painful clarity. tears welled up, blurring your vision, and a tightness settled in your throat. “then tell me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth he was about to share. “it was business dealings,” he began, his tone measured, “not illegal, but high-risk. it was meant to be a way to increase my earnings, and it worked. it was highly profitable and lucrative in the fiscal aspect. it was presented as a secure business opportunity.”

˚ ༘♡ you narrowed your gaze, suspicion flaring. “how much money are you talking about?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. “forty-five billion six hundred million won,” he said, his expression unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in you throat, your mind struggling to process the sheer enormity of the figure. “what?” you managed to choke out, your disbelief evident. “sang-woo, that kind of money doesn’t come without strings attached. it can’t be clean.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “do you trust me enough to believe it is?”

˚ ༘♡ you faltered, the strength of his question bearing down on you. he wasn’t explaining, he was testing your loyalty, your ability to have faith in him despite the glaring inconsistencies. deep down, doubt clawed at you, but your love for him, flawed and reckless as it was, overpowered your reservations. “i trust you,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice. “i’m sorry for questioning you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, the tension in his frame easing slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. “the investment fund ended a few weeks ago,” he continued, his tone darker now. “it got messy, very messy.” his bruised hand lifted, gesturing to the faint scars on his face. “this… was the price of my involvement.”

˚ ༘♡ the word lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, the weight of his choices crashing down on you like an unbearable tide. “why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “don’t you know I would have stood by you? no matter what?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes darkened, and his voice rose intensely, startling you. “because I didn’t want to drag you into my problems!” he shouted, the force of his words filling the room and making you flinch. the reaction caught him off guard, his frustration fading as he noticed the fear on your pallid face. he let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his disheveled hair before pacing the length of the room. when he returned, his expression softened, and he cupped your face gently, his touch warm despite the tension. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ you had hoped that hearing the truth would make things easier, that it would bring the clarity you craved. but instead, it felt as though the distance between you had grown wider. “sang-woo,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, “i don’t care what you’ve done or what happened. i only want to know that you’re safe, that we’ll be okay.” tears spilled freely down your pale cheeks, salty streaks marking the anguish you couldn’t hide.

˚ ༘♡ his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way his words couldn’t. his hand moved slowly along your back, a comforting motion that was far different than the turmoil brewing within you. “everything will be fine,” he whispered, his tone firm yet almost pleading. “i promise, it’ll all be fine.”

˚ ༘♡ despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the pang of unease in your stomach. his words might have been meant to comfort, but they felt fragile, as though they could shatter under the strain of whatever truths still remained hidden.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, his hand gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his. his gaze was steady, filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “i want to spend my life with you. to get married, have a family…”

˚ ༘♡ a shaky laugh escaped through your tears, a fragile moment of relief breaking through the tension. “alright,” you said softly, wiping at your damp cheeks. “let’s start with something simple. how about we go get something to eat?” your fingers brushed against his tired, weathered face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. “you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days,” you added with a small smile.

˚ ༘♡ sang woo’s lips curved upward, faint but genuine. “that sounds good,” he replied, his voice carrying a gentleness that was almost unfamiliar after everything.

a/n: i thought sang-woo wouldn’t tell his girlfriend about the squid game, with how concerned he is with maintaining a perfect reputation. let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Ch Nine

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to? ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au ✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range ✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: angst, mentions of blackmail, implied voyeurism, verbal abuse ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 2.3k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: July 6, 2025 ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: First of all a public apology for not responding to comments in the last super angst-ridden chapter... umm... call it method writing? Now we're in the second to the last chapter, and we finally get a full YOONGI POV! 🙂 It will still hurt, but there is a promise of hope. Thank you Aqua my love for betareading.

Series Masterlist | K’s Masterlist

Yoongi sits alone in your shared office. He’s tried to power through, go autopilot. He has a job to do, not his real job, but fine. Full-on corporate slave, it is. 

Someone’s name. Click clack. Someone’s address. Tap tap. An amount of money.

His forehead meets the surface of the table. Ow.

It doesn’t work. Nothing. Fucking. Works.

The chair across from him has been empty for more than a week now. Your mug still sits on the corner of the desk, washed, but the reddish tint of your lipstick still remains from frequent use. The post-it with your pretty handwriting that you left stuck to the monitor (reminder: reorder printer ink) flutters whenever the AC kicks on. There’s a candy wrapper stuck surreptitiously under the keyboard (he hates when you do that). 

He’s been tidying up your chaos crumbs for months now. Always scolding you (lovingly) for the random traces you leave behind. But now he hasn’t touched any of it. 

Maybe it’s pathetic. He likes to pretend you’re just using the ladies room, and you’re coming back any moment now. And you will walk in, with that grin he’s become so fond of, and your eyebrow raises like you’re still surprised that he looks at you like you’re the most beaut…

The door opens and he freaks out a little thinking he conjured you up, but when he whips his head to the door, it’s Hyun-woo.

…who keeps dropping in. It’s really getting annoying, actually. His uncle talks to him about some documents and files and things he does not care about. Yoongi nods, agrees to something, but then Hyun-woo asks about you and like a doberman his spine straightens.

“You talk to Y/N-ssi lately?”

He shakes his head, doesn’t realize his lower lip juts out when does so.

Hyun-woo hums. “She’s never taken a break this long. Do you think she’s okay?”

White knuckles grip a ballpoint before twirling it. “Maybe. We haven’t spoken,” he shrugs. It’s the truth, anyways. Doesn’t offer anything else, but there’s a funny feeling with how Hyun-woo is looking at him. 

“You’ve gotten quite friendly with her, no?” Hyun-woo walks to your table and his eyes trail over your belongings, like he is trying to sniff out any evidence.

Yoongi could feel his face grow hot, a bit possessive, but he keeps a neutral expression. He’s good at that. “She’s helped me a lot here. Like you said before, she's good at what she does.”

Thankfully his uncle gets a call and leaves him alone after that.

Yoongi exhales. His jaw kind of aches from how tight he’d been clenching it.

Danbi walks by the glass door two minutes later. Her reflection flashes past, slow, deliberate. She peers in like she’s checking for someone or something.

Yoongi doesn’t want to read much into it, because he’s used to being stared at. But she does this every day now. Sometimes lingers. Sometimes meets his gaze too directly, like she knows something he doesn’t.

He looks away and ignores her. Focuses on someone’s name on a piece of paper.  Mostly, he’s trying not to think, but even that is starting to feel impossible.

He misses you. Every hour. Every second.

He needs you to come back to him.

But if you meant what you said during that phone call, if you really think you made a mistake to be with him, then maybe there’s nothing left to fight for.

And that thought is killing him.

When Jungkook texts him to meet up with your best friend at a café in Itaewon, he gets nervous. The insane part of him wants to just call Chae and ask her what she wanted, but he stopped himself from spiraling. Respected the request. In part thanks to the mountainous amount of paperwork before him that needs to be filed and encoded. Shit, he really needs you back. This office work is getting out of hand and he gets absolutely no sense of fulfillment whatsoever even when stacks disappear.

The cafe is easy to find. He shoves his hand inside his pockets as Sejin pushes to door open for him. The digital clock by the entrance reads 6:45 PM. He shows up right on time. Chae’s already there, tucked in a corner booth, hoodie pulled over her head, large iced Americano in front of her.

He nods at Sejin, his body guard, who takes a spot at a nearby table. 

Yoongi has barely interacted with your best friend before this. Just hellos, short banter, the occasional eye roll exchanged across the table when you said something ridiculous. To be honest, he was a little wary of her at first ever since he walked into her “magic shop” mistakenly. 

Still, if you trust her—and Jungkook’s kind of crazy for her—then she must be solid. More importantly, she might have answers.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she says, as he slides into the seat across from her. “Y/N doesn’t know I’m here, okay?”

“Didn’t think she would,” he says simply. Then, cuts to the chase because it’s all he cares about: “Is she okay?”

Chae’s eyes darken. She shakes her head, “No. Not really.”

He knows as much, but Yoongi could feel the sharp twist in his chest, his heart beat speeding up. “What’s going on?”

“She told me everything,” Chae says, voice low and deliberate. “She’s being blackmailed.”

The words suckerpunch him back to last week. “What?”

“She’s been getting messages. Threats. Someone’s asking for money because they have photos of you and her that they could leak.”

Yoongi’s entire body goes ice-cold.

Everything clicks and falls apart at once. The way you started pulling away. The way your voice cracked. The obvious lies and deflection. The phone call.

He feels sick. He feels so fuckin’ sick he’s about to hurl the pile of nothing he had for lunch.

Why didn’t you tell him? 

As if Chae could hear his noisy thoughts, she continues. “She didn’t want you to get hurt. She thought walking away would protect you.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, words still evading him as she continues.

“She thinks she’s going to ruin your career.”

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Tries to steady his breathing.

“She’s not,” he whispers.

“I know that,” Chae replies. “But she doesn’t.”

Bangs prick his eyes as he shakes his head in disbelief.

She pulls out her phone. “Look. I took these screenshots when she was napping. It’s not everything, but it’s bad.”

Yoongi leans forward. The messages on the screen are blurred, but enough of them are clear. How the person is badgering you for money. How you’re denying being in contact with him at first. To your latest reply: You win. He’s yours. 

At that, something sour threatens to come up his throat. Bile.

But the person’s reply is strange, though it still flashes like a dagger: You stupid girl!!

Something feral wakes in him. His vision tunnels and a fist slams onto the table, causing the salt and pepper shakers to collide.

Sejin appears instantly.

“I’m okay,” Yoongi mutters, barely controlling his rage. “I’m fine.”

Chae stares at him, hand pressed to her chest, visibly concerned.

“Sorry, fuck,” he bows his head, then reaches for the glass of water to take a sip. “I’m just–”

Chae nods, clutching her phone. “I know. It’s scary. And she’s been handling this for a month…”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know if she wants anyone to know.”

Yoongi literally wants to punch a wall. He is not just anyone—the fuck?! How did this go from you pretty much living with him to you going into hiding? How could he have missed the signs? How did he fuck this up so fast?

Evening out his breathing, he rasps, “Is she with someone, at least?”

“She’s with her mom.”

Busan. You’re in Busan.

Yoongi sighs and they fall silent, the gentle pitter patter of the rain hitting the window, a calm contrasting the storm raging inside him.

“Please help her, Yoongi,” was the last thing Chae requested.

At that, he pulls out his phone and asks for a copy of the screenshots.

Yoongi doesn’t know what else to say for now. Just thanks her and makes his way out of the coffee shop, letting the rain pelt him as he steps out, waving off Sejin and his umbrella.

That night, Yoongi calls for Jin and Hoseok. He needs a plan.

To be brutally honest, he’d rather have Namjoon’s big-ass brains and Taehyung’s special forces brawn, but until those two are out, yeah, 2seok (according to ARMY) will have to do it for now.

The beautiful bottle of Hibiki that Hobi brought made everything better. And the bbq ribs Jin-hyung picked up on the way would’ve been fantastic if he had an appetite. They enjoyed it at least.

It’s cathartic to break down and not hold everything together for fucking once. He’s been miserable, still is. But the one thing that is preventing him from jumping off the ledge is the thought that you did not mean to break up with him. You just thought it was what he needed. But your pretty brain assumed wrong. It’s okay. He will fix this fucked up situation. As soon as he tracks the motherfucker behind this.

Drinks were had. And they've reached the point when ramyeon is the only logical next step. Yoongi had the instant ones in a cup with Jin’s face in his cabinet. His hyung squealed in delight upon discovering. He almost regrets ordering it.

“Yoongi-ah! I didn’t know you supported me like this!” Squishy lips land on his cheek and he immediately rubs it with the edge of his flannel.

“Yah, why would you do that?!”

Hobi’s a little somber, red in the face, mouth downturned as he slurps. His friend always gets like this at the end of the night. 

“What?” Yoongi asks because he know Hobi is just dying to say something,

“You were really happy with her. I could see it.”

Yoongi sighs. Drunk, feeling a bit dejected. “Yeah, well, I have shit luck when it comes to things like this…”

“…If this is life,” he talks to the soup as he pours it back in, letting the broth fall down from the spoon. “Then, I am a fork.”

By the next morning, Yoongi’s deep into it. It’s time to Sherlock fucking Holmes this shit.

He pulls strings. Calls in favors. Old favors. Big ones. Sits down with HYBE’s in-house legal team and tells them everything and that he wants clearance on everything. Surveillance logs. Footages. Anything that looks even slightly off. But more importantly, he wants you safe and unharmed. The moment your face hits the press, Yoongi’s peacing out of Bangtan–faster than Tae can opt in on their new Cypher.

You best believe wheels start turning after that.

Because Yoongi—he doesn’t shout. He doesn’t need to, because his name, his rep, his track record is enough. Min Yoongi wants, no, needs this done. The lawyers, the security team, Bang Si Hyuk doesn’t ask questions.

Even outside of HYBE, he calls someone in security next. An old friend. “Off the record,” he says to Mr. Lee, who has since retired to do private work. “I need to get to the bottom of this.”

Mr. Lee nods, resolute. Like he know he is gonna get this done for his boy. Yoongi thanks him.

Two days later, it’s Mr. Lee that calls back.

“Does this name ring a bell?”

Yoongi listens to the details in silence, jaw locked, heart thudding in his ears.

When the name drops, it takes the air right out of his lungs. 

Wow. Okay. It’s time to brawl.

That night, exactly ten days since the last time he heard your voice, he drives to Busan.

He doesn’t know if you’d really be at your eomma’s. Chae, loyal thru and thru, did not give him your location even when he commissioned Jungkook to do it on his behalf. He was pissed for a second, even snarled at Kook for his lackluster effort, but at least he knows you have a real one in your corner. 

Now, all he has is a car full of diesel, a strong gut feeling, and an address from Mr. Lee’s records.

The home he pulls up to is a pretty bungalow. He rings the door bell and an older woman’s voice calls from behind the wooden door.

“Who’s there?” 

“Good evening. My name is Min Yoongi. Is Y/N there?”

No response. But he thinks he hears footsteps, maybe a door slamming shut.

But then, it’s as if he finally has oxygen in his lungs after days of drought.

“Why are you here?” You sound small. Muffled. 

Yoongi closes his eyes, relief and heartbreak tangling in his chest. “Jagiya,” he says quietly, placing his forehead against the door you haven’t opened. “Please let me in.”

A beat of silence.

“I know everything.” He continues to speak against wood. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore…” And then he tries to keep it together, but his voice cracks, “You know I got you, right?”

He turns to leave after a few mute minutes that seem like days.

But then, the door finally opens.

A/N: Okayyyyy. How are we feeling?? :( We're getting to the final chapter and we will find out who the culprit is! Any guesses? Drop them in the notes.

As always... I'd love feedback in the comments or send me an ask. A reblog would also be fantastic if you enjoyed this. <3

Thank you for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

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[fancyfeathers]

Love the mother daughter pair, but not gonna lie, fascinated by the thought of bruce blackmailing reader, and then having to properly try and woo her back essentially. If he really wants a seemingly loving family, he has to know he needs to coax his wife and the mother of his daughter into a better mood and viewpoint. No matter how much blackmail he has, she can start gaining just as much now that she's in his life, and I doubt the daughter will start trusting him properly with the tension between him and her mother. How would bruce coax the mother back? And would Talia actually have an easier time establishing a connection? Could see Bruce feeling jealous of Talia if that was the case. Idk just the tangent my mind ran on, even if that's not the case still love the work

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

The blackmail is practically all there is he does that truly hurts him, and that’s only if she does not agree to his proposal when states his intent of gaining custody of their daughter. But after that comes to pass everything would be perfect for a normal couple, news about their engagement spreads like fire, and the wedding will probably be the social event of the century given how they were engaged once before and now it’s back on. The most perfect white wedding and Bruce treating his darling like the perfect husband.

Their daughter does not know the details of what happened, one moment it’s her and her mama having a perfect life together, traveling the world and being each other’s best friend, and then the next all of that is over, her father is back in her mother’s life and now she has siblings and none of them feel like the family she had with her mama, it feels suffocating and her mama doesn’t seem as bright as she once did.She clings to her mama every single day and is only separated when her attention is dragged away forcefully from her daughter and one of her brothers of father comes right to the littlest one’s side.

His wife does not push any of them away, she lets her husband hold her in the morning hours when they have just woken up and press kisses onto her face, she lets Dick call her mom as he runs up to hug her, she lets Jason help her daughter with her homework even though she asked her for help, she lets Tim take her daughter out to the park even if it’s their mother-daughter day they have, or used to have, every week, she lets Damian sit down by her and lay against her while she reads to her daughter. She will never be happy but she will fake it, she does not want to make a scene and have her daughter see and realize something is wrong and do something herself. She wants her daughter to be happy and have a future, go to university, leave Gotham and go back to what is left of the life they had, parents make sacrifices for their children and she is willing to do everything for her. She plays the game of pretend, acts like the perfect wife and mother and stepmother, stays calm and bites back all the internal rage she has building up inside her.

Honestly it is after every she has been through just for her daughter’s sake is when Talia starts to think a bit more highly of her, she understands the strength it takes to make sacrifices for one’s child. She also knows how possessive and protective they all are of her and her daughter, so meeting her discreetly is the best option. Like at a charity gala and someone accidentally spills something on her dress and has to go to the bathroom to clean up and-

“Hello again.”

She nearly screamed when she turned on the bathroom light and saw Talia’s reflection in the mirror. Talia helps her clean up and change into a new dress all while talking to her about what she has found out. She went from viewing her as Bruce’s house pet, because it was clear their marriage was not equal, to seeing a mother who is willing to sacrifice and do whatever it takes to take care of her daughter.

But it is during this the question arises and the answer is terrifying…

“What are you going to do if your daughter is just as trapped as you are? What if all you did for her was in vein?”

“I-I….”

“You are far too soft, you will never get what you desire for your daughter while you stay docile, playing the role of a perfect housewife, a house pet…”

“Talia…”

“I should be off now, but do take care of my Damian, he adores you as his stepmother.”

She leaves her alone in the bathroom and she just cries, feeling like a failure of a mother and she she can barely look her daughter in the eye again.

She just lays awake at night with the thoughts of the life she grew up with, she had a golden childhood and all she wanted was that happiness for her own daughter.

After that there is no chance of anyone winning her over, but she will not act out either, she just feels dead inside, like a complete failure of a mother. Her daughter clearly notices something is wrong and while her mother will stay perfectly compliant, her daughter is a completely different story.

The moment she sees her mom loose that shine in her eyes like she had when raising her on her own she knows this is all of their faults, they took her and her mom away from their life they loved and now there is nothing left of the mother who used to teach her to dance at parties, or attend her piano recitals and sat in the front row to applaud the loudest and despite the busy schedule of meetings she had she never missed one, or when her mom who could not help but boast about her daughter’s latest achievements…

Remember she is still her father’s daughter and has a level of determination that should not be tired under pressure.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (31 - Paradise Calling)

Chapter Summary: After several weeks of looking for her, you do eventually find Wanda Maximoff after she leaves Westview, but not in any way you ever imagined.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: violence, mention of blood and injury

A/N: The story continues in the aftermath of Wanda’s release of Westview. I’m still debating whether to stick with the canon concept of Billy and Tommy’s souls being real but bodiless since I started this story long before Agatha All Along entered the picture. Also, there might not be an update next week as I'll be out of town. Thanks to everyone who still continues to follow this story :) You guys are awesome. P.S. can you guess which mutant attacked y/n? :P // More author's notes here. // gif

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Hex dissolves completely at midnight.

By then, more and more of Westview have become accessible, its walls shrinking like the last breath of a dying storm. Throughout the wait, Monica’s order remains ironclad, which is that no one who isn’t a Westview resident is to step across the boundary.

It turns out to be the right call. Letting Wanda end it on her own terms—without pressure, or interference—is the last mercy anyone can offer. So they wait at the edge of town, in the solemn dark, while those inside slowly begin to come back to themselves.

And when the last of it winds down, Monica gives the signal. The military moves in, not with weapons this time, but with medics in tow. People stumble into the streets, dazed and hollow-eyed, like toys winding themselves up after years on a shelf. Some of them rush to scoop their children into their arms, while others just stand there, holding each other, staring at their hands like they’ve only just remembered what it means to move on their own.

It’s harder than anyone on the rescue team expected. Because how do you assess damage like this? These people aren’t injured in any conventional way. Their minds weren’t broken so much as hijacked. Puppeted. Made to smile and speak and move without their consent. It’s not madness, and it’s definitely not grief that they are experiencing. 

It’s something more…alienating. Locked in the backseat of your own body, watching your hands move and your mouth speak, knowing none of it is you. It’s the kind of trauma that leaves even seasoned therapists unsure where to begin. So the medics do what they can. Blankets for the cold, water for the dry-mouthed, and a hand on the shoulder for those who can’t seem to stop shaking. 

And you—you stay rooted at the edge of the ground where Wanda’s house once stood, silently taking in the aftermath. It’s the first time you’ve really looked at the lot you bought on a whim five years ago. It feels larger than you remembered, and standing here now, it stirs more regret than pride.

“There’s no sign of her,” Clint says as he approaches. He glances between you, Monica, and Darcy. “She’s gone.”

Monica exhales sharply. “Of course she is,” she mutters.

Agent Woo’s already packed up and gone too, reassigned mid-crisis to another urgent matter. Those left behind are burdened to help pick up the pieces.

“I guess she escaped?” Darcy offers.

You wince. “Don’t say ‘escaped.’ She didn’t—” The sentence stalls, the logic collapsing halfway out of your mouth.

Monica catches it and shrugs. “Yeah, maybe ‘escaping’ wasn’t her plan.” Then, more pointedly, “But what did you think was gonna happen? That she’d stick around? Turn herself in? Like you did, Y/N?”

Right. You’re still technically a prisoner. Still walking around on borrowed time, under a conditional release that’s quickly running out, especially now that Wanda’s vanished, and no one has a clue where she went.

You’d been hoping for a moment—just one—to talk to Wanda alone. And now, you’re starting to think your presence never mattered at all. The other you, her you, was the one who got through to her, who helped her bring down the Hex.

All you’ve ever done here was make it harder for Wanda.

“And her children?” you ask quietly, turning to Clint, your voice stripped down to worry.

Clint just shakes his head. “No sign of them. Or your copy.”

Everyone’s face falls at that. They’d all felt so real, the idea that they simply blinked out of existence is hard to swallow even if the theory always seemed to suggest that direction.

Darcy breaks the spell. “Shame, really. I kinda liked that Y/N.” She shoots you an apologetic grin. “No offense to the original, it’s just... we never got our moment.”

You manage a weak smile. “None taken.”

Monica claps her hands together. “Well, I guess… that’s it.” 

You turn to her slowly, frowning. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

Monica’s hands drop to her sides. “I mean… she’s gone. The Hex is down. Everyone who was trapped is free. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Clint gives a weary shrug. “Sometimes disappearing’s the only thing a person has left.” You shoot him a glare, but he honestly seems oblivious that his words just struck you straight on.

Before you can argue further, a young S.W.O.R.D. tech jogs up, tablet in hand.

“Uh, Director?” He gestures vaguely at Monica. “We found a vehicle just outside the old perimeter. Abandoned. Figured you’d want to take a look.”

Monica glances between you and Clint. “Yours?”

You shake your head no.

“Color?” Clint asks.

“Deep maroon,” the tech says. “Old Volvo wagon. New Jersey plates.”

Clint lets out a low whistle. “That’s Wanda’s.”

You’re already moving before the words finish leaving his mouth.

“Y/N—” Monica calls after you, but you don’t look back.

Clint mutters a curse and follows. Monica and Darcy hang back, letting you go.

You’re desperate for any sign of Wanda, anything that might tell you where she went. You haven’t run this far or this fast in years, and your lungs are burning from the effort. But the thought of her out there, alone and possibly hurt, keeps your legs moving, pushing through the ache.

Soon, just past the edge of the boundary, you spot the Volvo.

You slow as you approach, heart thudding in your chest.

Clint catches up beside you. “That’s definitely hers.”

You nod, already reaching for the handle. It shouldn’t open, but it does. The door gives with a soft click, swinging open without resistance. You slide into the driver’s seat and glance around. 

“She didn’t even lock it,” you murmur.

“The keys?” Clint asks.

You check the ignition. Nothing. Then the cupholders, under the seat, the center console. Still nothing.

“Glove box,” Clint says, leaning in through the open door.

You press the latch. The compartment drops with a soft thunk, and something slides forward: a single manila folder, edges crisp, your name penned in Wanda’s looping cursive across the tab. Your breath catches. Carefully, almost like it might break in your hands, you lift it. It feels like it holds everything you’ve been chasing.

Inside, everything is heartbreakingly familiar. The property deed you mailed Clint weeks ago. Photographs you never had the courage to burn when you first became convinced that Wanda wasn’t coming back. Letters and notes you randomly wrote to Wanda throughout the years she was gone. 

And resting on top of it all, catching the faint moonlight—

Your wedding ring. The one you gave her. The match to the one you still wear around your neck.

With trembling fingers, you turn the band over between thumb and forefinger; it’s still warm, as if she’d only just set it down.

“She left this car here,” you whisper. “Because she wanted me to find this.”

Clint drifts a few steps back, giving you space but not leaving. He folds his arms and waits, giving you time to come to terms with Wanda’s clear response at having found out you lied to her. And it’s not pretty.

After a long, brittle silence, he clears his throat. “So… what are you going to do now?”

It’s the same question everyone’s thrown at you all day, and you still don’t have an answer.

Instead of answering, you whisper, “Did I make a mistake, Clint? Walking away back then, leaving her to sort through the rubble alone, was that when everything started to fall apart?”

He exhales and lowers himself onto the curb beside the car. “We all made mistakes,” he says, rubbing a thumb over a scar on his knuckles. “But no one could have known it would lead to this. We were careless, sure, maybe blind to how much she was really hurting. But this,” he says, nodding at the folder in your lap, ���this was Wanda’s pain. Her choice. Not something you could have predicted.”

“I should’ve seen her slipping. I asked you to look after her and—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “And I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t there for her like you asked. I was drowning in my own mess, trying to keep my family together once we got them back… I missed the signs.”

You nod slowly and slip the ring into your pocket. Then, flat and quiet, you say, “I’ve still got about a decade of my sentence to serve.”

“I can buy you more time,” Clint offers. “Tell them Wanda escaped. Technically, this whole thing isn’t over.”

You huff a humorless breath. “It won’t matter. I don’t want to go back.”

Clint studies you for a long moment, brow furrowed. “You mean that?”

You nod again. “The second I saw her… I wanted to take it all back. The deal. The surrender. All those years I spent trying to convince myself that moving on was the right call.”

He sits with that for a while, then says, quiet and honest, “You know I can’t turn myself in either.”

You glance over at him. “I’m not asking you to.”

“I’ve got my family back,” he says. “I’m rebuilding. I can’t walk away from that.”

“I know,” you reply. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

He gives you a sidelong look. “Then what are you thinking? You planning to go back on the run? Because you remember what it was like after the Accords, right? We didn’t end up in the Raft, but we weren’t free either. We were always looking over our shoulders.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Wanda was with me back then.”

He raises a brow, watching you carefully.

“And somehow,” you add, voice soft, almost to yourself, “that made all of it bearable.”

After a long lull, Clint asks, “What were you hoping for, Y/N? When she saw you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug. “Maybe that… that she’d recognize me, at least.”

“She probably did,” Clint says. “That might be why she destroyed the Hex herself.”

You shake your head, hard, unwilling to accept that. “I doubt it was that simple.” 

The idea feels impossible. You remember the look on Wanda’s face: hurt, disappointment, the unmistakable sting of betrayal. You have put that look there before, but this time it was different. This time, that betrayal caused her this guilt she now carries with her for something she’d done out of her mourning you—

When she never should have had to mourn at all.

—

With Clint’s quiet blessing, you slip into the night, becoming a fugitive once again, determined to reach Wanda before the authorities do. It isn’t enough that Wanda released the town willingly; the damage is already done. Westview’s residents remain traumatized and disoriented, and dissolving the Hex doesn't absolve her actions. This is exactly what Tony always fought for—the idea that even heroes, even Avengers, must answer to laws meant for everyone, not just hide behind the duty of saving the world.

You don’t blame them for hunting her. You just don’t trust them to understand her.

So you go first.

You swap your jacket for a plain coat, leave your comms behind, and start reaching out to contacts you haven’t spoken to in years. A woman like Wanda can’t move without leaving a ripple, and eventually, you learn to follow a pattern: unexplained power surges in rural areas upwards north. Clint checks in with you every now and then, but you don’t expect anything more. He’s busy these days—a civilian fully occupied with being a father. 

The first few weeks blur together. Deep down, you keep hoping Wanda will be the one to find you—not because she misses you or wants to forgive, but because she finally wants answers. Isn’t there at least one question she needs to ask? Maybe she hates you too much to bother. Maybe she hates you enough to stop caring about your reasons altogether.

That thought hurts more than you’d like to admit. Still, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve put her through. You don’t know how you’ll face her when the time comes. All you know is that she’s hurting—and a hurting Wanda Maximoff isn’t just a danger to the world. She’s a danger to herself.

Late one evening, while tracking rumors of strange sightings in the forested mountains of Vermont, you feel unease settle in your gut. The trees grow denser, their branches knitting overhead, and the pale yellow moon offers little light. Shadows slither and shift across the narrow trail. You stop, breath misting in the cold air, certain now that you’re not alone.

You hold still and listen. Over the thud of your own unsteady pulse comes a faint rustle in the undergrowth. It’s too careful, too deliberate to be wind or wildlife.

“Who’s there?” Your voice is brittle, an uncertain challenge.

In the dark forest, you know you shouldn’t make a sound. But if it’s Wanda—

A low growl answers, so deep and guttural it sends a chill racing down your spine. You spin, eyes straining through the gloom, just as a shadow barrels toward you. The movement is fast, smooth, and completely inhuman.

It slams into you with brutal force, all muscle and claws—definitely not Wanda—knocking you hard to the ground.

You scramble to your feet, breath ragged, eyes sweeping the darkness in search of your attacker. The figure rises slowly, towering and hunched, its skin a sick, mottled gray. Its limbs are grotesquely stretched, ending in claws slick with fresh blood (yours).

Its face—

No. That can’t be right. Tony’s snap wiped out all of Thanos’ army. This thing shouldn’t exist. So how is it standing here? How did it survive?

“What the—” you gasp, stumbling back.

It lunges again, jaws gaping open with teeth glinting sharp and savage. You swing your arm wildly, and your fist connects with its jaw. The impact jars painfully up your arm, but the creature barely reacts, snarling viciously as it swings one massive clawed hand toward your face. You dodge by inches, claws slicing the air with a sharp hiss.

You stagger back again, trying to regain your footing. Your breath comes out in uneven bursts of fogged air. The creature circles slowly, blocking any clear route of escape. You study it, desperately searching for a weakness, but its movements remain erratic, unpredictable. 

Your combat skills are still there, but you’ve aged some, and it’s not as easy to fall back into your old rhythm and speed, especially when facing such an aggressive foe.

“Stay back,” you warn weakly, your voice trembling despite your attempt at bravado.

It snarls louder, head twitching, neck muscles spasming unnaturally as it stalks closer. You backpedal and your foot slips on wet leaves, throwing you off-balance. You hit the ground hard, skull cracking sharply against something hidden beneath the foliage. Stars burst in your vision.

As you struggle to sit upright, the beast approaches slowly, enjoying this, you realize sickeningly. It flexes its claws, taking its time.

“Wait,” you choke out, tasting copper as blood fills your mouth.

It stalks towards you leisurely as if hearing nothing. It snarls again, lips peeling back to reveal teeth sharp as blades. It raises a hand for the final blow, claws poised high—

And all you can think is how ironic it is. That this is what you craved, once.

Back when you were Ronin.

When death felt like the only honest language left, and violence was the only thing that could answer it.

You spent five years chasing this moment. And now? Now, with Wanda back in the universe. Now, when for the first time in years, you actually want to live.

Now is when death decides to show up?

Of course it is.

You laugh, or try to, but it comes out as a choked breath through blood. The creature roars, the sound tearing through the trees. And as the snow drifts down and your vision begins to fade, you manage one last word, soft as a prayer.

“…Wanda.”

—

You wake slowly to warmth, a fire crackling nearby. Every part of you feels bruised, sliced open, and carefully stitched back together. Bandages wind tight around your ribs, your shoulders, your arms. Your throat burns dry, but you're breathing. Miraculously. 

You push yourself upright, careful and slow. The world sways around you as the blanket slips from your shoulders.

Blinking up at the slanted ceiling overhead—wooden, rough-hewn, beams exposed, nothing familiar about it—you realize you’re still in the forest. The earthy, damp scent of pine needles teases your nose. There’s no electricity, just lanterns, candles, heat from flame and old wood. The furniture is simple, hand-built, and worn from use.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet sinking into a rug so soft it draws a quiet sigh from your lips. You have no idea how long you’ve been unconscious—hours, maybe even days.

Unsteady, you find the hallway, one hand trailing the wall for balance. You pass a small kitchen, simple but well-stocked. A kettle rests near the fire, still warm, like it was used not long ago.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the front door slightly ajar, a narrow strip of gray light slicing into the room, dust suspended in its path.

You drift closer.

Outside, there’s Wanda.

She sits on the porch steps, wrapped in a thick sweater, her back to you. Her hair falls in loose, tangled waves, longer than you remember. Despite the biting cold, she’s barefoot, her arms draped over her knees as she stares into the woods.

You stop at the doorway, saying nothing at first. 

She looks so… peaceful. 

“Wanda,” you say at last, barely above a breath.

She doesn’t move.

You try again. “Wanda.”

Still nothing. You can’t tell if she’s ignoring you, or if your voice is simply too weak for her to hear.

Of course it was her who found you. Of course it doesn’t mean anything’s been forgiven. You take a step back, and the door eases shut behind you with a quiet creak.

You head deeper into the cabin. It’s not large, but in your condition, it feels like a maze.

At the end of a narrow hallway, you find a door left slightly open.

Something pulses beyond it—low and red and constant. Your fingers graze the frame as you nudge it open. 

The hair on your arms rises.

Wanda’s there, too.

She’s floating a few inches off the ground, legs crossed. Her eyes don’t blink. They don’t move. Just glowing red, unwavering and endless.

She’s reading. The book in her hands is anything but ordinary. Its pages shift and shimmer, symbols rearranging themselves the moment you try to make sense of them.

You open your mouth, but your voice doesn’t come. You’re frozen.

Slowly, like she already knew you were standing there, she lifts her head.

Her gaze locks onto yours.

The book snaps shut.

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

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