#and i burst to tears right there in front of them because i was so touched (and also because i'm just really really tired and emotional)

[rimzaaa]

I've Got You

Oneshot! (Request)

Pairing: Inho (Young-il) x Fem!Reader (y/n)

Fandom: Squid Game (오징어 게임)

Summary: In the brutal world of the Squid Game, vulnerability is a weakness — but when she’s attacked during the night, In-ho is reminded that she’s not just another player. Not to him.

What begins with a bloodstained return from the bathroom ends with a vow: he will protect her — no matter what it costs.

Warnings: Sexual assault attempt (non-explicit, interrupted). Violence. Blood. PTSD/trauma responses. Protective behavior. Mentions of physical altercation and fear. Emotional vulnerability.

Author's Note: This was also an anon request and it was the first time I was writing fluff and all but I actually enjoyed it and I hope y'all will enjoy it too. Reblogs and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻

Words Count: 1044

Tag list: Wanna get tagged in LBH fics? Lemme know in the comments.

@salesmancarddd @marymun @astronomicalastro-blog1 @filthygalli @thehellhaveubeenloca @yosoylaprincesa2004 @watasinekoru @nightlark100 @drewstarkeysrightarm @doodle-with-rhy @lunaryoongie @ilovehwanginho @yxluana @sammie217 @sammat97 @alex-17s-world @mObi4girls @maah-sama @grylian @hecticspice @manager016 @mxriesss @christmascoles

The moment she stood up, he noticed.

Even behind the expressionless face, In-ho — still disguised as Young-il — tracked her every movement. She quietly slipped away from the group, heading toward the door tucked in the corner of the dormitory — the only one that led to the bathrooms.

Two other players followed minutes later.

That was the first thing that made his jaw tense.

She was capable — fierce, even — but there was something about those two men that didn’t sit right with him. The kind of men who watched too long. Laughed too loud. Waited for isolation like predators.

He stayed where he was for a while, forcing himself to wait, to watch. His eyes were locked on the bathroom door.

She hasn’t come out yet. What’s taking so long?

Something felt wrong. He knew it in his bones.

And then it happened.

“Player 206 — eliminated.”

“Player 387 — eliminated.”

He was on his feet in an instant.

His eyes were locked on the bathroom door as he pushed through the crowd, practically jogging. His chest tightened with each step.

And just then… the door burst open.

And there she was.

Stumbling back into the dorm, clothes torn at the sleeve, face pale — and hands covered in blood.

Gasps rippled through the room. Players turned to stare, some stepping back.

But In-ho didn’t move.

Because she wasn’t supposed to look like that.

Not her.

Not the one person who had reminded him — even if just for a fleeting moment — of something worth saving in this hellhole.

She stood frozen, trembling. Still catching her breath. Still unaware of how violently her hands were shaking.

That’s when it hit him.

Not panic. Not fear.

Rage.

Quiet. Cold. Deadly.

The kind of rage that made people disappear.

He moved forward quickly, stripped off the jacket of his tracksuit, and gently wrapped it around her shoulders.

Then he pulled her into his arms.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, voice steady. “I’ve got you.”

He held her close — as if he could shield her from everything she’d just gone through. Everything he was supposed to protect her from.

“I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

When he finally pulled back, her face was streaked with tears, lips trembling. He gently cupped her cheeks, brushing them away with the pads of his thumbs.

“Come,” he said softly, and guided her back to her bunk. His arm stayed firmly around her waist, his other hand cradling hers. Once there, he eased her down onto the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her.

“Tell me what happened,” he said, voice low, almost too calm. “Everything.”

She hesitated. Her voice shook.

“I… I went to the bathroom. Then those two guys — the ones who voted ‘O’ — came in after me. I tried to leave, but they blocked the door. Started yelling, asking why I voted ‘X’. They got in my face.”

Tears welled again, and In-ho’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

“Some of the others who also voted ‘X’ showed up. Tried to help me. But then they all started fighting. I tried to get out, but one of them grabbed me and—” she paused, voice breaking. “He tore my sleeve.”

Her head lowered in shame, and she couldn’t even finish the sentence.

In-ho swallowed the storm building in his chest. He pressed his lips to the back of her hands gently.

“You don’t need to say more.”

He rose and sat beside her, voice softer now. “You need to clean up. I’ll take you to the bathroom—”

“No!” she said quickly, gripping his hand tight. “I… I don’t want to go back there. Please. Don’t leave me, Young-il.”

His heart cracked at the sound of her pleading voice. He immediately pulled her into a hug, pressing her to his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, brushing a kiss to her temple.

He pulled back and said, “But you need to get the blood off. Let me grab some wet towels. I’ll be fast, okay? Can you wait for me?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

In-ho gave her one more reassuring squeeze, then stood up and headed toward the bathroom. But before he returned, he paused in front of the guards standing nearby.

His hand shot out, grabbing one by the collar and slamming him into the wall.

“Where the hell were you?” he growled, low and lethal. “I told you to watch over her.”

The guards lowered their heads in silence.

In-ho released him with a shove, his voice dangerously calm. “You’ll pay for this. All of you will.”

Then he turned and walked back to the dorm.

The lights had dimmed now. Players were settling into their bunks. He quickly made his way back to her.

Y/n laid curled up in a ball on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. But when she saw him, her expression softened with relief as she sat up.

“Y-Young-il…”

“I’m here,” he said, sitting beside her.

He took one of the towels and gently wiped the blood from her face, carefully — as if afraid to hurt her. Then he took her hands, one at a time, cleaning them tenderly.

Setting the towels aside, he zipped up the jacket she now wore — his jacket — and reached for her hands again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve protected you. I didn’t know—”

He broke off, jaw tightening again.

“But it won’t happen again. I swear it.”

Then, softly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers — gentle, comforting, steady.

She clutched the front of his shirt, kissing him back, desperate for something that felt real. Something that felt safe.

When they parted, he leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, “I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything like that happen again.”

“Please stay with me,” she whispered.

He gave a quiet nod, brushing another kiss to her forehead. Then he pulled off his shoes and climbed onto the bunk beside her, gently drawing her against him.

“Rest now,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

She curled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist as his hand stroked her back. And for the first time since stepping into that nightmare, she felt safe enough to let her eyes close.

She finally let herself sleep.

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warnings: Character death, swearing

Chapter: 5.07

“Run!”

Grabbing hold of father Gabriel by the collar of his shirt, you pull him behind you. The combination of his pleas for help and the banging noises you made while breaking down the door to let him in attracted all the dead nearby, and now they have entered the church.

When you enter the back room, Michonne slams the door shut and starts piling furniture in front of the door. “How are there so many of them?”

“They came from the school. I was walking nearby when the glass broke.”

Bob had mentioned a high school nearby that was overrun with walkers, but in the chaos of everything else that happened, it was forgotten about.

“The door is never going to hold.” you look down at the ground and notice the hatch on the floor was slightly open; it was probably how Gabriel got out without any of you noticing. “We can go out this way.”

Without sparing it a second thought, you swing the hatch open and jump down with your gun in hand to check for walkers. “It’s clear!”

“Go, go, go!” Michonne hands you Judith. “I’ll be right behind you.”

You do your best to protect Judith’s head while crawling along the dirt and gravel until you

“Where’s…”

“He stayed behind to hold the door.”

The next few minutes feel like hours as you wait to see if father Gabriel survived. Hearing movement, Michonne raises her weapon but lowers it when Gabriel crawls out from underneath the church. The machete in his hand was covered in walker blood.

Carl hands you Jace then sprints round to the front of the church and starts stabbing the walkers stuck on spikes outside in the head. Michonne thinks quickly and secures the walkers that are inside the church.

“Here, I’ll take one of them,” Carl says.

You were silently thankful because holding two babies was making you nervous since you couldn’t reach for a weapon. He takes Judith just as the wooden planks holding the church door closed start to break.

“Oh shit, we need to go.”

“We can’t outrun them,” Michonne says. “If we get lost in the woods or split up, we’ll be vulnerable. We need to stay and fight.”

A fire truck comes speeding up the dirt road, destroying the steps leading onto the church. The truck blocks off the doorway, and Abraham comes out of the driver's seat.

“Glenn!”

You kiss Jace on the cheek, “yeah that’s Glenn, who’s just saved our asses.”

“Hey, little buddy,” Glenn has a look of defeat on his face but forces a smile and takes Jace, who’s holding his small arms out to him, and brings him in for a cuddle. “I’m glad to see you.”

You hug both Maggie and Tara and Rosita, “I’m glad to see you guys, but why are you back?”

“Eugene lied. He can’t stop it,” Glenn says. “Washington isn’t the end. Where is everybody?”

Michonne’s face softens at the question; she smiles widely while going over to Maggie. “Beth’s alive; she’s in a hospital in Atlanta. Some people have her, but the others went to get her back.”

Tears of happiness spring to Maggie’s eyes. “do we know which one?”

“Grady Memorial.”

“Let’s blow this joint and go save your sister.”

—

When the fire truck pulls up at the hospital, you take in the surrounding area, and you notice the odd walker. “There are still stragglers. Carl I’m gonna need to stay with Jace and Judith and Eugene… lock the door behind us.”

“Sure.”

You kiss Carl on the side of the head before jumping out of the truck, “love you.”

The drive to the hospital was strange. Rosita explained that Abraham burst into a fit of rage when he found out Eugene was lying, and the redhead beat him for it, which explains why Eugene was barely conscious and the animosity between the group. Although Maggie was ecstatic to see Beth, she occasionally shot glares in Abraham’s direction.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl. Of course you wanted to see your brother along with everyone else, but you were concerned about Daryl; you were hoping that after Beth and Carol are rescued, he will take a moment to breathe.

“To your left!”

You swing the axe in your hand and hit the walker slowly coming up to grind you in the head. The group takes out a few more walkers who come out of the abandoned medical tents that are set up on the outside of the hospital.

“Someone’s coming.” Glenn points his gun in the direction of the main hospital doors.

“Wait, it’s just my brother.”

Something is wrong; your brother has tears in his eyes. The moment Rick steps to the side, you see Daryl walking outside carrying Beth, her body limp in his arms.

She was gone.

She was dead.

“No!” The gun slips from Maggie’s hand as she crumbles to the ground. A heart-shattering scream falls from her mouth, “no, Beth! Beth!”

—

You struggle to hold back tears as you help Rick dig a hole in the garden of a small park near the hospital. It was overgrown with grass but also had bright-colored flowers blossoming, you think Beth would have liked them. Glenn and Sasha were doing their best to comfort Maggie, but she was inconsolable.

“What happened?” You whisper.

Rick stops digging with his makeshift shovel and rubs sweat off his forehead. “Dawn… the leader of the people in the hospital, killed her. Dawn demanded Noah should stay in exchange for Beth leaving, but Beth… she stabbed Dawn in the shoulder with a pair of small scissors. I don’t even think they pierced her padded vest, but… Dawn, she shot Beth in the head.”

“Beth was a sweet girl.”

Everyone who went to help rescue your people looked utterly defeated, and Rick would be blaming himself. Hearing how Beth died explained why her blonde hair was coated in blood.

“There’s something else: Daryl killed Dawn in retaliation. I don’t think he’s handling it too well.” Rick squeezes your hand, then resumes digging. “What happened at the church?”

“It got overrun.”

Once the hole is deep enough, Sasha lays out a red blanket on the ground for Beth’s body to be wrapped in, but Daryl doesn’t move. He was still holding her and didn’t want to let go.

This was the first time you’ve all seen him like this; Daryl crying reminds you of when Merle died.

“Daryl,” you say softly. “It’s time.”

“She’s just a kid.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Daryl takes a few deep breaths and then gently lays Beth’s body onto the blanket. He walks away when Maggie goes over to his younger sister to say goodbye.

—

You find Daryl sitting on the dirt with his back pressed against a tree, a cigarette between his lips. Hearing the sound of your boots scuffing against the ground, he looks up, and underneath his straggly hair, you could see the tear stain marks on his dirt- and blood-covered cheeks.

“It’s just wrong; she was so young and had her whole life ahead of her.”

You sit down beside him. There was a fence behind the tree, so you weren’t concerned about walkers sneaking up unheard of on the rest of your group, and the fire truck was in eyeshot. You don’t press Daryl to talk about what happened; he would talk about it if and when he feels ready.

Resting your cheek against his shoulder, you sigh, “seventeen… she was just a kid.”

Daryl lets out a sob but tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. That was your Daryl, always trying to be brave and showing no vulnerability, but you could still see the real him.

“Where’s our kid and little ass kicker?”

“They are in the fire truck with Carl. I didn’t want him to remember his friend this way, so I asked him to watch over the babies while they nap.”

“Good.” Daryl kisses the crown of your hair. “They’ve been through enough already.”

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Hello, excuse me, look, I don't know if you've already done one of these, but if you haven't, could you do one where the reader is an artist, where she has a very simple art style, but her art teacher He ends up insulting her by saying that her drawings are ugly and that she doesn't know how to draw, then he ends up tearing up one of her drawings. After returning home could do what the men of Lookism Could you do something to cheer her up since she's very sad? Gun and the Goo And James Lee e Jaegyeon But if you can't, that's okay.(⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

Omg this made me cry because I have dealt with such asshole art teachers 🤢

GUN PARK

When you told Gun what happened, he listened patiently, never interrupting once. He even rubbed your back a few times as you paused mid-sentence, drowning in the embarrassment of it all especially since it had happened in front of your entire class.

When you finally finished, he handed you a glass of water and said bluntly, “The truth is, the world only cares about results.”

Your face immediately fell. Of course comfort wasn’t his thing.

“But,” he continued, “not everyone has an eye for talent. If you believe in your heart it was good enough, then it was good enough. These teachers... they’re just oldtimers who want students to be obedient pawns. They don’t want anyone stepping out of line. Don’t dwell on it too much.”

And that day, he tried cooking for a change. Your favorite dish, no less. The same one he always scoffed at for being “unhealthy.” But for once, he said, “Sometimes it’s okay.”

“You think the education system is a sham?” you asked.

“Of course.”

“That’s why you flunked your GED as an act of rebellion.”

You burst out laughing at his reaction—because a baffled Gun was rare. So you laughed even harder. He didn’t mind though. Your mood had lifted, and that was enough for him.

Quietly, he slipped a few vegetables onto your plate when you weren’t looking.

GOO KIM

“Sweetheart, I told you not to listen to them. And I told you I have every right to kill them, didn’t I?”

Goo, in all his clownery and chaos, was a man of few words when something was seriously wrong. When he came home and found you looking melancholic, he knew instantly. You tried dodging his questions, but when he cupped your face with quiet concern and softly asked what was wrong, you broke down.

Because dammit, art is art. Whether simple or advanced, who decides what's worthy? That teacher had no right to humiliate you, and honestly, you wanted to punch him but also didn’t want to get expelled.

“You know me,” Goo murmured, holding you close, running his hand gently along your back. “We could hide the body. No one would even find out. Don’t trust your man this much.”

“No, don’t go for the kill.”

He paused, but his grip on you never loosened.

“Maybe we should slowly torture him instead.”

“Yes, that’s more like it, honeybun,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead already planning. Maybe he should get Kouji on board too.

JAMES LEE/DIEGO KANG

You were picking at your food, barely eating even half of what you usually do. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you not feel like eating?” he asked, watching you carefully.

“No, it’s more like I don’t have the appetite… Oh, come to think of it, I think I’m done for now,” you replied, forcing a smile. But of course, it didn’t fool him.

“What happened?” he asked, more firmly this time.

You shrugged. “It’s just college stuff. Something trivial.”

He cut you off mid-sentence. “If it’s bothering you enough to kill your appetite, then it’s not trivial.”

That frustrated you. Even if you explained it, what would be the point? He was always brilliant at drawing, even in high school. Still, you told him anyway.

“James, I know you’ll probably agree with the teacher. I get it. Anyway… that’s what happened.” You tried to sound calm, even though it still stung. Those people who preach ‘simplicity is sophistication’ ripped your work apart like you had committed some kind of crime.

You got up to leave, but he suddenly pulled you into him. You struggled against his hold.

“I don’t want pity. Let me go,” you muttered.

“Who says I’m pitying you?” he replied calmly. “It’s true...whatever I say might not fix anything. But what your teacher did was wrong. Don’t let those small fries make you question yourself.”

You went still. You didn’t return the hug, but you didn’t move away either. His arms stayed around you as the tears finally fell. He held you close and gently massaged your scalp, saying nothing more, just staying there, as long as you needed.

JAEGYEON NA

Jaegyeon looked like he was ready to storm into your college and personally confront your art teacher.

“What the hell? How dare they tear apart your work like that?” he fumed.

You tried to calm him down. “Jaegyeon, in this city, finding an art teacher is hard enough. Maybe… maybe just let it go.”

But he shook his head, still livid. “I don’t care. Nobody gets to mess with you like that.”

Then his expression shifted. He noticed how sad you were really, deeply sad. And in that moment, he reminded himself that your peace came before any revenge. You were the priority. Always.

He saw you trying to hide a small laugh at how seriously he looked like a knight ready for battle. He sat down beside you and placed a hand on your shoulder, his gaze sincere and steady.

“Listen… whatever anyone says, what you do takes real effort. Even if it looks simple, it’s not. Screw that teacher. Anyone who can’t respect a student’s hard work is nothing but a tyrant. What he did? That was practically criminal.”

You just listened as he continued ranting about artistic justice, the crimes of your teacher, and how amazing you are. Mid sentence, you reached over and pinched his cheek.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling softly. “You really are my hero.”

He blinked, then turned bright red.

But the next second, he pulled you into a tight bear hug. “You’re the best,” he whispered. “Don’t forget it.”

[mikkomacko]

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that 10 things I hate about you TikTok I sent you. Could we maybe get a blurb for mob!nico and reader along those lines of that comment we both gasped at?!?

-🦆

The way I’m still thinking about to too omg

For anyone wondering this is the TikTok

And the comment was “It took her one time to cry for him to fix it all. That’s a man.”

I have no blurb ideas off the top of my head but I do have chatting points for this

Obviously our main one…the break up…the way Nico thinks reader is out there working and having fun and building a life while he gets the Devs ready for her.

But as soon as he actually sees her again and she’s a mess he goes back. And he’s on the verge of tears himself swearing to Timo that if he knew she’d hurt like that he wouldn’t have done it at all.

One night of drunk tears and he fixed them.

Another big moment…Switzerland of course…after he leaves her in the hospital and thinks he’s protecting her by not letting her help…she’s not so much as crying here, not where he sees it but as soon as she’s tearing up and yelling at him about Philly and how she deserves to show that she’s strong…he caves.

And immediately after he finishes up signing every mob possession and asset he has to her. When he has to make up for making her feel like she’s not good enough, he just gives it all to her. Technically speaking, she’s the boss of the Devs now.

In Vancouver, when she cried and panicked about Alex, and Jack and Luke and even Nico not being taken care of when they were kids…and he’s literally holding her so tight he’s practically squeezing the life out of her and promising her that he’ll help her more, that when she can’t be strong for the boys anymore he’s got her back.

Or the graveyard?! When she turns around and sees him and just bursts into tears and he decides right then and there that he’s going to send the Devs into a territory battle for her. She even admits that she doesn’t know why she’s crying really but it doesn’t matter to him. He saw those tears and that was enough.

Again in Switzerland when they’re bickering in bed and he calls her mean…she starts crying about being nervous and he’s freaking out. He’s like oh my god I need to get food in her or something pronto. And he’s wiping her cheek and telling her he’s sorry.

Their first fight before they’re even dating…she confused on why she can’t stay with him in a dangerous situation and gets her feelings hurt when he says he won’t bring her back to the bar if she doesn’t listen. As soon as he hears from Timo that she kind of sorta cried in the car and that’s why they came to his, Nico is sleeping against the door trying to get to her, wants to fix it as much as possible so he’s waiting her out. And maybe he’s a little cold and mafioso with how he goes about it, but he does explain himself and apologize where he needs to because he never wants to make her cry.

And idk if anyone’s noticed but in almost every single smut scene…if reader gets teary or starts crying…Nico is letting her come. Immediately he gives in. Reader even says it when they’re having sex in front of the fire place. Something like all she has to do is cry his name and sniffle, and he’ll give in. Which is exactly what he does.

There’s so many more moments that’ll be in the prequel and sequel chapters too omg

But for now enjoy all these sweet, wholesome man and boyfriend moments between Nico and reader 🫶

[theflyingfeeling]

...😭

[softservesoymilk]

Bitches be fighting (it’s the head children 😘☺️)

[chuluoyi]

only if you are up for a challenge. Naoya Zenin x f!reader in which he got her pregnant, then she left out of fear and he found her again and won't let her go :)))

when you loved me

- zen'in naoya x reader

you loved him... but you have had enough of the shit you've experienced—his arrogance, horrible family and another woman—and decided to leave him for the sake of yourself and your child

genre/warnings: angst to comfort, implied cheating, most likely ooc, honestly i almost made it a vs naoya fic with no consolation, happy ending aka naoya is decent

note: this ask... has been collecting dust in my askbox for about SIX MONTHS HAHAH, so sorry anon. i'll just leave it here and let it burn however just bc i don’t want to delete what i’ve written :’)

general masterlist

"How... how could you?"

Once, you thought, you were in love with Zen'in Naoya.

Well, you couldn't deny that he had personality flaws, but deep down, at one point in your life, you still believed that he too loved you.

You stared at him through tears brimming in your eyes, and he was just there, looking at the little being in your arms with a mix of shock and... something else you couldn't name. Dismay? Disappointment? Black rage?

"Go away, Naoya," you declared through your gritted teeth, pulling the baby in your arms even closer to you, as though fearing he might do something drastic. No way in hell would you let him after what he made you go through.

His eyes twitched as he tried to hold himself back from losing it. He took a few deep breathes in order to stay composed.

“Y/N, answer me,” he growled, still with the same condescending tone you remembered nine months ago, when you resolutely decided to leave him. “Is that baby mine?”

This was absolute madness. You had driven him insane. Naoya was certain he would go feral on you after you boldly left him without a trace, and when he found you, you were cradling this baby in your arms—which he was absolutely sure, enough to bet on his life, that the little thing was also his.

The woman he loves has given birth to his child.

You had imagined all sort of scenarios in which this very event would occur. This was one of them actually.

“No,” you firmly replied, gaze hardening. “Not yours. So kindly let yourself out of my house, Naoya.”

“Absolute bullshit!” he shouted and you flinched. His sudden rise of voice also woke the poor baby in your arms.

His heart hammered inside his chest. There were many things that made a mess of his head. You running away from him. The nights of madness he went through, wondering where you were and if you were alright. And now, the fact you had his baby without him ever knowing.

“Where were you? Why did you leave— you were having my—”

Fuck, he didn’t even know if he had a son or daughter.

You tried to console your child, now tears also streaming down your cheeks too. But it was more of frustration and anger rather than fear. “Can you blame me? Zen’in Naoya, you have made my life hell!”

“Hell?” It felt like an total insult to his pride. “How—!”

“You!” you screamed at his face. “I’ve had enough of your shit! And not to mention your father—that horrible drunkard who always looks down on me and treats me as if I were some gold digger! And also the whole of your goddamn, entitled clan—they always harass me right in front of my face!”

All of this stunned him on this place. Truth to be told, he knew a little to nothing at all about what his kin had done to you.

“I don’t need your family’s wealth! I can live on my own just fine even with your bastard!” Your tirade still hadn’t ended, but you had to put your baby on her cot first and dismiss her ever growing cries because you were tired of all of this. This life. This absolute nightmare that was caused by one fatal mistake of falling in love with Zen’in Naoya.

“But what the fuck? You’re asking why I left? How dare you ask me that after what you did!”

“What did I even do?!” His denial made a blood vessel about to burst inside your brain. “You never fucking told me what my father did! If only you did, I would have—”

“Look, you don’t even acknowledge it!” You were so tired of this. You wished you could die and just end all of this mental suffering. Why did this have to happen to you out of a billion people out there?

And yet, still, ultimately, you were happy with him. Those memories of the two of you together, just idyllically spending time together, or sometimes even playfully clashing opinions— to you, they were irreplaceable.

So, that's why...

Your heart shattered at the screeching cries of your baby. But you had to slam this in Naoya’s face.

“That was the last straw—seeing you with that fucking woman, you insufferable, demented, cheating bastard!”

That string of profanities you screamed at his face made Naoya finally lost it, as he gripped you tightly and his eyes flared with pure white-hot anger. “Say that again—say that again, you—!”

A toe-curling scream ripped out of your baby and you wrenched yourself out of his grasp through sheer will. Naoya was left reeling as he watched your horrified expression, as you plucked the baby into your arms again.

“Shh, shh,” you shushed your child amidst your own quivering lips. “Mama is here… Don’t cry…”

Right at that moment, it was as if something had pierced his chest and left a gaping hole. He really had a living baby. That baby was crying because of him.

The sting of the anger was still there, but now guilt started to overpower it as he regained his cool somewhat. “Is that a—” his breath hitched. He had to know. At the very, very least he had to know.

You didn’t immediately answer. You were still absolutely heartbroken by how it all turned out. But above all else, you could no longer deny him of his own child.

“A girl,” you sniffled.

A daughter. A daughter— in the one split second after knowing that, Naoya made the quickest decision of his life.

“Come back. Live with me,” he said, resolute. “You’re the mother of my child—I won’t let anyone lay their hand on you again. You have my word.”

Women are pain in the ass. That was what he used to think. Until you. Not when it's you. It astounded even himself how the sight of you like this was enough to drive knives into his chest.

“Look, that’s not it,” your tears were now falling free and fast, unable to hold it back longer. “How can you ask me that—when you went behind my back with another woman? Naoya, I love you—loved you. But isn’t this too cruel? How can you do this to me?”

“What woman are you talking about?” He tried to compose himself, but your accusation of him with someone whose existence he didn’t even know was getting in his nerves. “I have never been unfaithful to you! I know we don't always agree to things, but do you really think that low of me?”

“Evidently, I saw you with her. Your father made it a point that she’s your next plaything—or possibly even, fiancée!”

There was a memory that sprung into his head when you mentioned that. He recalled that vain, stupid woman, and he definitely remembered telling his father that he refused her. It wasn’t long before you disappeared.

Now everything clicked.

“Listen to me,” Naoya started, jaw clenching. “Whatever my father told you—those are all lies. I turned her down right there and then. I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that. You should have known that.”

Sobs wrecked your body and soul at this point. You knew where your place was. Zen’in Naoya was a man outside your league, his family made it so clear to you that you were nothing but dirt in their eyes. And perhaps that was why, back then, you chose to protect yourself and left him, believing he was capable of that too.

And now before you, you could see the man you loved once again.

“Come back to me.” His gaze burned you. “This time, for sure, I won’t let anyone touch you— I won’t let them even say a word about you! I will marry you, and we will raise our daughter together.”

“I… I don’t want to live there, Naoya…” you sobbed. You hated that place. Like hell would you have your pride stomped and deceived again.

“Alright, if that’s what you want. We won’t live there. You won’t have to see any of their faces again.”

Gazing into your face, marked by trails of tears, he finally, finally felt his heart break. And he thought, that in front of him now was the only woman who could upturn his whole trajectory.

“Just… come back. To me. I will take care of you. I swear it.”

[pholla-jm]

My Wife is Real

IMAGINE: MY WIFE IS REAL~ GOJO X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. use of y/n. use of she/her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who do you think he’s texting?” Nobara whispers to her two classmates, Yuji and Megumi. 

Their teacher, Gojo Satoru, sat at his desk. Legs kicked up onto the desk while he was on his phone, giggling here and there. 

It was questionable if Gojo even knew that class had started. 

Megumi didn’t even bother to pay attention. He also sat on his phone, scrolling through social media. 

“I don’t know…” Yuji ponders. “Ugh, he has to be harassing a poor soul.” Yuji gasps at Nobara’s response, “no.” 

Nobara sits up in her seat, “Gojo-sensei,” she calls out. Gojo peeks up, “oh. I didn’t know you were here.” “Maybe if you stopped bothering people, you would notice.” 

Gojo places his hand on his chest and gasps dramatically. “I am not bothering anyone.” “Then who are you texting?” “My wife, duh.” 

Nobara bursts out laughing, “hahaha, yeah… yeah right.” She wheezes. Tears left the corner of her eyes as she tried to take him seriously, but she really couldn’t. 

Yuji just stares at him in confusion, “you’ve never told me about his wife. I don’t believe you.” 

Gojo gasps in shock and disbelief at his student’s words. “Huh?! I do too have a wife. That hurts my feelings that you don’t believe me!” 

Gojo’s full focus was on his students now. Trying to convince them that his wife is indeed real. “She’s literally the best person in the whole world, and the prettiest.” 

Nobara scoffs and rolls her eyes, “stop making things up Gojo-sensei. It’s getting sad at this point.” 

Gojo pouts at her words. He then grabs his phone, typing something in his phone. He puts his phone down with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’ll see.” 

“Yeah… we’ll see.” Nobara says to Megumi and Yuji. 

Megumi on the other hand was not paying attention to a single thing that was going on. He assumed something stupid was going on, so why even bother to pay attention? Yuji just has a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember any mention of a wife. But there is no mention of one. 

“Yeah… I think you’re making this up… sorry Gojo-sensei.” “This is just getting sad…” Nobara whispers while shaking her head. 

“I can’t believe my student’s have little faith in me.” 

Only five minutes passed of slight bickering between until a knock was heard at the door. The bickering died down and all heads turned towards the door. 

Nobara’s and Yuji’s eyes widen seeing a woman at the door. 

“Who is that?” Yuji whispers to Nobara. She shrugs her shoulders, “has to be someone he hired.” 

Gojo jumps from his chair, a huge smile on his face. “Wifey!” 

He runs over to you, pulling you into a tight hold. 

You let out a strangled gasp from the impact. “Gojo,” you start, “this is the second time you forgot your lunch… and it’s only Tuesday.” 

Gojo pulls back, a faux pout on his lips, “I’m sorry.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I bet you’re just using this as an excuse to see me.” “Whoops, you caught me. Well, while you’re here. Let me introduce you to my students.” 

“Wait wait-” You didn’t get a chance to stop him because he dragged you into the front of the classroom. 

You eye the three students. Megumi had finally put down the phone, giving you an apologetic look. Nobara and Yuji were looking at you in shock. 

“Students, this is my wife, (y/n).” Gojo basically shows you off with a bright smile on his face. Hands in a jazz hand formation. You nervously smiled at the students. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello Gojo-san.” Megumi quietly said, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. You gave the boy a sweet smile, nodding at him. 

“What?! Do you know her?” Nobara and Yuji ask him. “Yes…” 

“Yes, they’ve known each other for quite awhile now…. Sorry guys. She’s a bit shy.” Gojo says while you continue to smile at them. 

“They didn’t believe Gojo-sensi had a wife..” Megumi tells you. 

You hum before turning to Gojo, “I see… I don’t blame them.” 

“Huh?! What is that supposed to mean?” You roll your eyes. “Ever so dramatic.” “...so mean.. How can my wife be so cruel?” 

“Ugh, no one cares,” Nobara sighs, “come sit down with us (y/n)-sensei. I have so much to ask you.” 

You just smile at the girl and move over to the desks. 

Gojo looks at you with a shocked look. Not believing that you were leaving his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asks you. You look back at him, “well, you wanted me to meet your students. So I’m getting to know them.” 

You give him a little smirk and Gojo knows that type of smirk. The one where he’s going to regret his actions later. 

Maybe not now, but he knows that this decision will come to bite him.

[the-librarby]

IN THE RING I

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

It’s a sketchy job advert that leads you here, but you have no other choices. Backed into a corner yourself, bartending at an underground fighting ring didn’t seem so bad.

.･:★ Underground fighter au let’s go — apologies in advance I cannot write fight scenes for shit (ironic, but it’s not what we’re really here for right?)

Happy reading!

Part II Part III Part IV

You desperately needed this job. You were at your wits end with all these interviews and trial shifts just to be told, we’ll get back to you, or managers blatantly lying about the pay until you forcibly asked them. Which is why when you saw the unassuming bartending gig posted against a public bulletin at your university, you paused, because honestly who even advertised for jobs like that anymore?

You thought it would be a job at some local bar for university students but the address spat you out at some closed down looking storefront. If not for the men walking in and out, and milling around the front with cigarettes, you would have assumed it was closed. But you stilled yourself, taking one last breath and scrunching the flyer in your hands as you stormed in with one last burst of confidence.

Grabbing the front of your leather jacket, you tugged it closer around yourself in some defence against the grimy warehouse environment. The walls are what used to be white painted bricks, but are now old and covered in all sorts of dirt, graffiti, and aged posters. You let the murmuring crowd lead you through the corridor until you reach the mouth of the venue.

It’s bare, is what you first think. No frills, and no attempt of hiding what it is. There’s an old boxing ring in the middle, its rails sagging from the weight of countless fights and its floor scuffed. The bar— a generous description for the wooden bar top which looks scrappy at best, and the three stools which have tears allowing the stuffing beneath to be exposed.

There’s barely any liquor in sight and when you look around you can see all patrons are holding some form of beer, whether it be canned, bottled, or through tap. Cautiously you approach the side where it seems to be empty, the man beside you does a double take as you slip in beside him, but you do your best to ignore him as you rap your knuckles against the grimy bar top surface to get the bartender’s attention.

“Are you Mark?” You ask as he looks over at you.

“What? Speak louder sweetheart,” he calls out.

You clear your throat and lean closer, “Are you Mark? I’m here for a job?”

“Oh, fuck no, I’m not Mark,” he laughs, placing the glass of, again, beer, in front of a customer, “Are you the girl who called about that flyer?”

The way he looks you up and down scrutinisingly makes you nervous but you stand taller, “Yes, I’m here for a trial. Can you point Mark out to me then?”

He looks over your head and does a quick scan of the venue, you try to follow his gaze but you’re lost on the throng of men walking about. The sudden whistle gets your attention though, when you look over at the bartender he’s mid wave and points down at you in gesture.

“Trial!” He calls out, pointing at you again but looking somewhere into the crowd.

When you look back at the crowd you can see an older man ambling through, he’s got a thick stature and a tea towel slung over his shoulder. His hair looks damp with sweat as it slicks back over his forehead, when he gets a closer look at you he places his hands on his hips.

“You the phone call I got?” He asks gruffly.

You smile politely, “Yes sir, are you Mark?”

He scoffs and wipes his fingertips on the towel slung over his shoulder, “Mark s’fine,” he looks down at you again, particularly at the way you tug the leather jacket over your shoulders, “Venue like this is no place for a girl,”

“Mark,” you repeat in acknowledgment, “With all due respect, I can handle myself,”

“Don’t look like it,” he comments, “Where did you even hear about this place?”

You lift the crumpled flyer in your hands, “Saw the advert at my uni,”

“Uni? You a student?” He groans, “Who the fuck is placing these things there, I don’t need no bright eyed student workin’ here, pack up kid. Go do your homework or somethin’,”

You grit your teeth in frustration, clutching the strap of your tote bag harder, “I am an adult who is asking for a chance at a trial shift, not a high school student,”

Mark sighs and lolls his head from side to side, “Listen, you seem like a good kid, but this is not the place for you. End of discussion, get out of here,”

Sensing you’re losing the fight, you lash out like you’re backed into a corner, “Fuck you! Who are you to assume this isn’t the place for me?” You shout, the bartender behind the bar watches curiously as you let loose, “I need this fucking job, and I’m more dedicated than any other half assed man applying here. If you even have anyone else lined up,”

Mark looks stunned at your outburst but quickly recovers, you cut him off before he can tell you leave again, “Let me at least do a trial, see for yourself if I can handle it,” you spit, “I’ll even do it for free just to prove you wrong,”

He looks at you with an assessing gaze for a long pause before letting out an inconvenienced sigh and looking over your shoulder, “Here all that James?”

The bartender doesn’t look over as he continues to serve customers, “Every word Sir, she can start her shift right now,”

He rolls his eyes and looks at you one last time before shaking his head, “Fuckin’ Sir,” he scoffs, “Get your ass behind the bar then, James’ll show you the ropes.”

James is an efficient teacher, although there’s not much to learn. “It’s not a proper bar,” he says, “As you can see, we only serve beer, this crowd isn’t worth anything more and liquor will only get stolen once they get rowdy,”

He elbows your arm like you’re sharing an inside joke, it puts you at ease, “Beer, got it. Can’t be that hard right?”

“That’s the spirit!” He cheers, looking towards the entrance as lots more men begin to file in, “Alright, time to prove yourself. Mark will be watching you like a hawk from wherever the fuck he is, so make a lasting impression.”

The venue was chaotic when in full swing, men were flocking to you at the chance of getting a beer before the fight started. Such a sweet sight too, many tried to start conversations and slide you their number across the bar, but you didn’t have time— nor want— to entertain their advances. So you simply cleared the bar-top and moved onto the next customer before they could cop a feel.

Amongst the busy environment there was one name that kept popping up in everyone’s conversations.

Ghost’s on tonight.

Did you put money down for him? What are you waiting for, Ghost’s gonna smash that bloke.

Finally back that Ghost, was startin’ to lose too much money that the missus is noticin’, I need a sure win tonight.

One of the fighters you assumed—a notorious one— by the way they were all betting on him, you didn’t even catch the name of the other attending fighter by the way his name drowned them out. Curiosity got the better of you when the crowd started to die down, making their way over to the ring. James was busying himself with drying glasses when you slipped beside him to help out.

“Who is Ghost?” You ask.

He barks out a laugh instantly as if he was waiting for this question, “Fucking big lad,” he explains, “One of our main fighters, been here for years,” he adds on but then shakes his head, “Just watch the fight.”

A bell rings to signal the pre-warning of the fight starting. Men gather closer to the stage, eagerly watching the emergence of tonight’s fighters, you along with them. At first you pawn it off as something to watch while you do busy work, what else was there to do at this venue?

The first fighter who comes out confidently bounces on his feet and raises his arms to get the crowd hyped. The men eat it up, cheering and booing alike at his entrance, but the fighter soaks it in all the same. He shouts something at the crowd that you can’t hear over the deafening yells, but it gets a rise out of them as they point objectively at him.

The second fighter’s entrance makes the crowd go silent. He has no flairs for the dramatic and he doesn’t even address the crowd as he chooses to face his opponent instead. Both fighters are hefty, with a thick midsection and tall height, you didn’t think there would be a weight division system in this kind of setting but you suppose it makes sense.

Ghost’s identity is still a mystery to you as unlike the other fighter he wears a mask—it can’t be a fair to have an advantage like that, right? You’re about to ask James about it when he reaches up, roughly grabbing it by the top and tossing it outside the ring.

The crowd roars as the bell signals the start of the fight.

It’s vicious, you can’t help but grit your teeth and wince in sympathy at each devastating blow dealt, but you’re completely captivated by the sight. You’ve given up on pretending you don’t care, opting to lean against the bar top and watch the fight with full attention. James doesn’t comment as he continues to stock the fridge behind you.

Ghost, you learn, is a fucking brute when it comes to his fighting style. He’s black and white with his intentions, opting for attack over defence and deals unforgiving blows to his opponent. And when the other fighter manages to land a kick, there’s barely a wince, just a grimace and a responding swing which is much harder.

The fight is over before you know it. The bell rings out again, signifying the end of it. Ghost remains standing, panting and dripping with sweat and blood. The tape on his knuckles is stained red as he reaches out to help his opponent up, his response is a poor sportsmanship slap as the guy denies his help and gets himself up before storming off the ring.

Ghost merely brushes it off and turns around, someone is already reaching out with his abandoned mask which he takes wordlessly. He shoves it back on his head despite the state of him, and exits the ring, disappearing through the doors his opponent went through.

“Alright, fight’s over,” James announces, “Get ready for the second round of service,”

You snap out of your thoughts and stand back up to your full height, “He’s fucking crazy,”

James chuckles, “Yeah, I’d steer clear of him,” he agrees, “But he keeps to himself, won’t get much out of him.”

You nod, curious but ultimately terrified of him, you can’t dwell much on it though as victorious men gather round for celebration drinks.

It’s well past three o’clock in the morning when the bar begins to wrap up. You’re exhausted and sweaty from the stuffy atmosphere, most men have cleared out by now and James has called the end of service so any other men in the building are finishing off their last drinks.

“Think you can handle the clean up? I need a smoke,” he asks, looking exhausted himself.

You smile tiredly, “Yeah, of course! Thanks for all your help tonight, I appreciate it,”

He smiles back and pats your shoulder, “Nah you did great, Mark will let you on easily,” he leans down closer to whisper, “We’re actually desperate for staff, it’s a miracle you walked in.”

You laugh but nod, it’s a relief to hear and you can only hope James isn’t lying to make you feel better. He takes off the tea towel from his shoulder and drops it on the bar top before exiting through the back entrance to the side of the bar. You sigh softly, alone for the first time all night save for the last couple customers milling around near the edge of the bar.

With rag in hand, you begin wiping down the bar, wringing out any excess alcohol which spilt until it’s all clean. Still slightly sticky in the way all bar tops are, but definitely cleaner than what it was. You drop the rag into the sink and rinse your hands when someone drops down on the stool in front of you. When you look up you’re met with the sight man in a skull printed mask. You blink in double take, trying to take his appearance in, it’s undoubtably the champion fighter of tonight’s match. He’s showered and dressed in an oversized grey hoodie, looking at you intensely.

“Sorry?” You ask politely.

“Didn’t you ‘ere me?” His tone is gruff and muffled, “A beer, bottled one,” he adds, “Please.”

You move about on autopilot to fetch him his drink, utterly mortified by your own staring. In an effort to avoid being caught again, you place his drink down in front of him without looking up. Not waiting for a response either, you turn your back and begin cleaning the glasses behind you.

“Why ‘ere then?”

The question makes you pause, you look over your shoulder with a frown, he hasn’t touched his drink yet, “Why what?”

“Why work ‘ere? No place for a girl like you,” he clarifies.

You roll your eyes and look away, “A job is a job,” you mutter.

“Plenty of other jobs.” he comments.

You turn around, glass in hand as you continue to clean. Ghost has lifted his mask over his mouth but he continues to look at you expectantly. The other men who drunkenly straggle side eye you curiously but don’t dare come any closer.

You look back at him and lean back against the low bench behind you, “This one pays well,” you explain, “Cash on weekends too,”

He nods, “The money then,”

You shrug, placing the dry glass down in favour of picking up another, “It’s why most jobs get filled, no?”

He takes a swig of his drink, it thunks against the wooden bar top on the way down, “S’ppose,” he agrees, “Can’t be pleasant havin’ drunken men pawin’ at you though,”

Is he concerned? Or just making conversation? You can’t be certain but it unnerves you, like you’re not meant to be talking to him, “Can handle myself,”

You watch as his eyes blatantly trail up and down your figure, fingers drumming against the side of his bottle, “Sure you can,” he replies, “Little thing like you, I’m sure you get scrappy in a fight.”

You bite your lip, hard, until a metallic taste tinges your tongue. His motives unclear, you can’t quite figure out his intentions whether it’s flirtatious or if he’s just bluntly calling out his thoughts.

“By whatever means.” You settle on, because it’s true.

Ghost finishes the rest of his drink silently, watching as you go about your side work. You don’t look at him until you hear his stool squeak as he stands up, he readjusts the mask over his mouth and sends you one last look before turning around and exiting the venue. You watch as he walks off through the main entrance, his figure slowly being absorbed by the dark shadows of the corridor.

You stand there for a moment, playing the conversation on repeat in your mind. You blame it on the idea of simply liking the attention, big guy like him, he’s exactly your type, it’s hard not to form a physical attraction to him. But you won’t let it get in the way of you getting this job.

Speaking of, Mark finally makes himself known, entering through the bar exit that James went through moments ago for a smoke. His eyes settle on you, “Still here?”

You smile, “Still in one piece,”

He raises an eyebrow, “For now,” he comments, “See how you go next week,”

“I got the job?” You ask, already grinning.

“For now,” he repeats, “Still think you’re stupid for bein’ here,” he grunts, but slides over an envelope.

You frown, reluctantly accepting the pay packet, “I thought this was a free trial?”

“You worked hard, take it and go home,” he replies, “Be here next week, eight o’clock.”

It’s a good fifteen minute walk home, which feels like torture in this winter season but the promise of a warm apartment is what keeps you going. The thought of Ghost keeps you company on your journey, up until you reach your front door.

[cyanide-siren]

i'm real, sweetheart

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Just a few days after Dean was killed by the Hell hounds and sent to Hell, you find out that you're pregnant. Now, four months later, he comes back.

Warnings: None, just angst with happy ending <3

☆☆

After Dean's death, you didn't eat, sleep, go to shower, leave your house for days – you were practically unable to do anything. You barely managed to get out of bed and distanced yourself even from Sam. You didn't answer phone calls and eventually turned off your phone, ignoring Bobby and Sam ringing your doorbell. You simply sealed yourself inside your house, lines of salt in front of windows and doors to keep everything else outside as well. A mere precaution.

And sitting alone at home in tears, piles of used tissues and self-pity, it truly felt like a mistake you could have avoided if you had enough self-control.

It was the worst heartbreak you had and would ever go through, at least that's how it felt like. You hadn't experienced a death of a loved one before, but of course nobody would get used to losing someone important to them, not really. It truly felt like you could never move on from this.

You had known since the beginning of getting to know Dean and how he lived his life that it would be a mistake to let yourself fall in love with a hunter.

However, something unexpected happened soon after Dean's death. Something you hadn't seen coming at all. Just a few days after his death, you had started to feel sick and would vomit over and over again until your stomach hurt like hell and throat was burning.

You were pregnant.

You had stared at the pregnancy test, those two haunting lines, for what felt like forever, sitting on the toilet seat all alone. Unintentionally you had stopped breathing, your hands were shaking and heart racing so fast you felt like a heart attack wasn't far away.

Fuck. This wasn't what you had planned. Sure, you'd like to have kids but right now? Without Dean by your side? You weren't ready to be a single mother, even though you knew for sure that Sam and Bobby would be there for you and help you. But neither of them were the father of your child.

Having a part of Dean inside you, still with you, made you burst into tears for the hundredth time.

☆☆

Four months passed. Sam had tried everything he could to bring his brother back to him, back to you, but it was useless. There was no way to bring him back. He didn't bring you to the mess of several plans he had because a voice in his head whispered that they'd all fail and you'd only get false hope when there was no real hope left anymore.

That was, until Dean one day casually showed up at his doorstep. There he suddenly was, more alive than ever, looking at Sam, Bobby awkwardly standing next to him. Sam's first reaction was obviously that this was a demon dressed as Dean or a shapeshifter but it wasn't. He was Dean, his brother.

His brother had returned from Hell among the living. How? That was a good question which didn't yet have an answer.

"Have you gone to see Y/N yet?" Sam had asked after a while of chatting and trying to figure out what was going on.

"No, i haven't," Dean mumbled, his gaze falling into his hands on his lap. He was more anxious to face you than Sam for a reason he wasn't sure about. Maybe because Sam was way more used to the life of demons and Hell than you were.

"You'll cause her a damn heart attack if you just show up at her doorstep like this," Bobby pointed out, standing next to him arms crossed against his chest.

Sam knew about your pregnancy, of course he did. Your pregnancy wasn't too far in yet to show clearly that you were expecting a child, but if you wore tight clothes such as a top, people could definitely notice your growing stomach.

"Well, how should i do that then?" Dean asked.

God, going to see you again was the first thing he would have wanted to do after crawling out of his grave. He missed you more than anything else. The thought of you was one of the only things that somewhat helped him to stay sane in Hell.

☆☆

Sam and Bobby were coming for a visit tonight to have dinner with you. Sam came over to your place quite often these days to keep you company, knowing that you barely saw anyone, having almost no social life.

When they stepped inside your house, and you saw the third, highly unexpected visitor, the entire world around you stopped for a moment. Your body froze still and for a while it felt like your organs stopped working. You weren't able to get air into your lungs, heart felt like stone and brain not able to comprehend whatever the hell was happening. It all felt like you were dreaming or hallucinating.

"Y/N," Dean said. No, it was just someone who looked like Dean. It wasn't the real Dean. The Dean you fell in love with five years ago had died, there was no doubt about it. He was dead. This man, creature, in front of you? A demon, shapeshifter – whatever kind of monster, just not a human being.

When Dean took a cautious step towards you, you suddenly got the ability to move again, instantly taking two steps back towards the kitchen counter.

"Y/N, i –"

"We already tried that," Sam said, having expected you to have even worse breakdown. "And he's not a shapeshifter either."

Before giving Dean a chance to explain himself, you quickly grabbed a jar of salt from the table, opened the lid and threw the salt on Dean's face. He closed his eyes before getting salt into his eyes, seeing this sort of reaction coming.

Nothing happened.

You stared at Dean with wide eyes, throat feeling tight and chest heavy when Dean looked at you after brushing the salt off his face and hair.

The look in his eyes was full of both sadness and relief. "Y/N, sweetheart," Dean said quietly. "It's me."

Your eyes started watering but you forced the tears to stay in. "No," you breathed out and turned away from him, starting to pace back and forth, holding your head with your hands. Panic started to grow inside you. "No, no, no. I'm going crazy. I'm hallucinating, it's not real, not real."

Sam walked towards you and laid his hands on your shoulders, making you to look him into his eyes. "Y/N, listen," Sam said calmly and spoke his words slowly, making sure you understood everything through the pounding in your head. "He's not a demon or anything else than our Dean. We don't know how, but he got back."

You only looked at Sam for a moment like he had gone crazy. Dean was dead. He wasn't just casually standing in your kitchen after the past four months of being gone.

"It's not a trick, i promise," Sam assured you, squeezing your shoulder.

You slowly turned your head towards Dean, who had kept his eyes on you the entire time. All he wanted to do right now was to grab you in his arms and squeeze your body so hard that your bodies would merge into one. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes started to tear up too.

You fully burst out crying and let the tears flow freely down your cheeks. Dean walked towards you and finally wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug he had ever given to you.

"I missed you so much," you cried, clinging on his leather jacket with your fists, afraid that he really was just an illusion and would vanish away from you any second now. That this was all a dream and you'd wake up to the cruel and cold reality where he didn't exist anymore.

"I missed you too, love," Dean whispered, breath hot against your hair.

"You're real," you sighed, still trying to convince yourself that it was all real, taking the familiar smell of him into your nose.

"I'm real, sweetheart," Dean confirmed.

"W-what happened?" you asked, pulling away from him to be able to look into his eyes, being completely at loss of words. "How did you... how are you here? You died, Dean."

"I don't know yet," Dean admitted. "I'm trying to figure it out."

You only looked at Dean for a moment, trying to take in the sight in front of you and push it into your head that he really was there.

You cupped his face hard into your hands, squeezing his cheeks as you pulled him into a deep kiss.

"Maybe we should come back another time," Sam quietly mumbled to Bobby, who agreed. Without another word, they left you and Dean alone, slowly closing the front door after them as they returned to their car.

The kiss was everything you had dreamed of ever since you had lost him. You had feared that in time you'd start forgetting how his lips felt like on yours, how his touch felt like when his hands were wandering around your body. Now you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore, having him back – hopefully longer than just for a moment.

As Dean pulled you closer against him by your waist, he felt something different against his stomach. He pulled his head away from yours, breaking the needy kiss and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?" you asked.

You were wearing a t-shirt, so there was only a thin fabric covering your belly. Dean looked down your body, and it didn't take you more than a few seconds to realize that he had noticed something different about you.

You took a step back away from Dean, covering your stomach with your arms.

"Y/N...?" Dean started, but you didn't answer right away, trying to form the words into something you could physically pronounce.

"I... i'm pregnant," you mumbled, looking away from Dean.

Dean's face fell. Had he heard you correctly? You were pregnant? He kept his gaze on your stomach which you were trying to hide behind your arms. Dean gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, slowly pulling your arms to the side to be able to rest his palm against your stomach.

"There's... a baby in here?" Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Mhm," you mumbled, feeling anxious.

"When did you find out about it?"

"Just a little after you... you know," you said and shrugged, not able to get the words of ending up in Hell out of your mouth.

"Oh," Dean sighed. He couldn't even imagine what you must have been feeling and going through, having to deal with that alone. To deal with that before having recovered from the loss of him. He, himself, had ended up in literal Hell, but he cared much more about your feelings, your sadness, than his own sufferings. You were his priority and would always stay as one.

Dean tried to process the entire thing in his head for a moment. This wasn't something he had at all expected to hear during this surprise visit of his. You weren't sure what to say either.

"Yes," you confirmed. Your cheeks were wet from tears and more was still coming, but now you managed to let out a laugh, which made Dean smile. The sad tears were slowly turning into happy tears.

"So, i... i'll be a dad?" Dean asked, not believing the words to be true.

Him? ...a dad?

He had been through misery and torture in their all forms for several decades, which for you was only four months. After all that suffering, he could simply come back home to you and find out that you were expecting a baby? His child? That was too good to be true. Dean felt like he didn't deserve such thing, especially after everything he had done to those poor souls in Hell.

Dean was able to come back to a woman who he loved and who loved him with all her heart. A woman who he could build a family with during these dark times.

"I love you," Dean said, holding your tear stained face in his warm hands.

All he wanted to do tonight was to hold you. The dinner on the table was starting to turn cold but you sensed that Sam and Bobby hadn't actually come here for a dinner, not as their main intention at least.

"I love you too," you said, the tip of your nose touching his. "But don't you dare to ever sell your soul to a devil anymore. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, pressing your head against the crook of his neck and brushed his fingers softly through your hair.

Dean was terrified, of course he was. Even though you and the pregnancy made him the happiest man alive, he was scared. Scared of a demon or other monster coming for you and ripping the happiness away from him. He didn't trust to keep good things in his life.

You were the light in his darkness, and he was going to do everything he could to keep you safe. To keep all three of you safe so Dean could provide you a life you deserved.

☆☆

[sixxels]

yearn ~ r.sukuna ~ angst.

fratboy!sukuna x reader

the smoke clings to the ceiling like guilt, thick and slow and suffocating. sukuna stares at the burn mark on his comforter, where the ash from the blunt dropped earlier, but he doesn’t move to brush it away. the room’s quiet except for the low hum of the old fridge and the occasional burst of laughter from the living room where the rest of the frat is pretending life isn’t ugly. his head tips back against the wall, eyes red and glassy, not from crying, he tells himself, but from the high.

he can still hear your voice. soft. cracked around the edges. “why are you acting like this ryo?” you’d asked, standing in the doorway of his room that night, fingers curled into the sleeves of your hoodie like you were holding yourself together. “what... what did i do wrong...?”

he’d scoffed, mean and hollow, biting down on his lip to suppress the ache in his chest. “don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. you didn’t do anything. i’m just not interested.”

“you’re lying,” you whispered. you looked so sure. so goddamn sure. like you could see right through him. like you weren’t afraid of what you’d find. “ryo, please, i know you don't feel that way, i know—”

“you don't know shit y/n,” he snapped, standing up so fast the chair he was sat in screeched across the floor. “this? whatever fantasy you’ve got going on up in your head? it’s not real. i hook up, i fuck, that’s what i do. i’m not boyfriend material, sweets. you fucking knew that.”

he’d watched something in your face shatter. your eyes went wide for a second like you’d just been slapped, and then you nodded. once. sharp. “right... i... i get it.” your voice shook, but you didn’t dare cry. not yet. you just turned around and left, shutting the door behind you like he was something to leave behind.

he’d stood there for hours after. didn’t go to the stupid party that raged on downstairs. didn’t drink. didn’t even move. because that wasn’t what he wanted to say. what he wanted was to grab your wrist and pull you back and tell you he was scared. that he’d never wanted anything more than you. that you made him feel like maybe he could be more than just some fucked-up frat boy with a god complex and too many bodies to count.

but he stayed quiet. because love from him? it was a curse. and you deserved better.

he drags another inhale from the blunt, coughs into the sleeve of his hoodie, and blinks back the memory of the next night after he had rejected you so coldly.

you were sitting on the steps outside the frat. head bowed, hair falling in front of your face. and gojo was next to you, arms slung around your shoulders, voice low and steady like it always is when he’s trying to be serious. “you don’t have to talk,” he’d said, brushing your tears away with his thumb. “but you’re not alone, alright? you’re not alone.”

and you’d leaned into him like you belonged there. like it was safe. and sukuna watched from the shadows like a fucking coward, nails digging into his palms, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. because he should’ve been the one holding you. but he knew how this played out. gojo was soft where sukuna was sharp. patient where he was reckless. the type to kiss your forehead and mean it. the type to remember your birthday without needing a calendar.

so sukuna turned around and walked back inside, pretended he didn’t see the way you clung to gojo like you were drowning and he was air.

he’s been pretending ever since.

his phone lights up with a text from some girl he doesn’t remember meeting, heart emoji at the end like he’s worth feeling something for. he doesn’t open it. just lets the screen go dark again and stares at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he got here. two years. two fucking years of falling for you in silence. laughing at your jokes even when no one else got them. offering you his hoodie when you were cold even though he played it off like he was just tired of hearing you complain. calling you sweetheart because it made you roll your eyes and smile up at him at the same time.

he still remembers the way you looked at him once, months before the fall out. you were on his bed, scrolling through your phone, and he was just watching you like a goddamn idiot. you glanced up and caught him staring, and instead of asking what, you just said, “you’ve got that look again.”

“what look?” he asked, voice rough.

“like you want to kiss me but you’re too scared.”

he almost did. right then. almost leaned over and ruined everything early. but he just snorted and said, “you wish,” and turned away, heart pounding like a fucking war drum in his chest. because he wanted to. so fucking badly he wanted nothing more than to have you, to kiss you like he meant it.

now you’re with gojo. and he can’t even hate him for it. gojo’s good. really good. he’ll treat you like you’re the center of the universe. and you deserve that. deserve someone who shows up and says how they feel instead of burning bridges just to avoid the pain of vulnerability.

sukuna doesn’t get that. he gets this. a room full of smoke and silence and regret, the weight of unsaid words choking him harder than any blunt ever could.

he runs a hand over his face, dragging his nails down his jaw until it stings, eyes fluttering shut. he whispers to the dark, voice hoarse and cracked like something long-dead, “i’m sorry.”

no one hears it. not you. not gojo. not the version of himself that still believed he could be better.

but it’s the truth. and maybe that counts for something.

he’ll never tell you. never say it out loud. never ruin what peace you’ve found just to unburden his guilt.

he’ll just sit here, night after night, loving you from a distance. too much of a coward to let you in, too in love to ever let you go.

[hoshifighting]

heyy there!!

I was wondering if you could write a fiction where the svt members give a silent treatment to the reader but she is too sensitive and starts crying (because she thinks she doesn't deserve them)

Please feel free to reject it if ur uncomfortable 😚😚

seventeen reaction when you start to cry when they give you a silent treatment

a/n: guyyyys im the worst with angst, but i tried!! 🙏

seungcheol the second you start shaking, he’s up on his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight, crushing hug. he’s warm, solid, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “my fault, my fault, my fault,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “i should’ve been better. i should’ve stopped this. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i didn’t mean it.”

jeonghan’s regretting it the whole time. too good at keeping his distance, until he sees the tears running down your cheeks. then, he freezes “hey, hey…” he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “shit, i’m sorry. you know i was just being stupid, right?” he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t cry, baby. it kills me to see you like this.”

joshua he’s always so gentle, i dont even see him giving silent treatment to someone. he’s instantly at your side, cupping your face in his hands. “please don’t cry. i hate this. i hate that i made you feel like this.” his voice wavers as he presses his lips to your forehead, his touch feather-light. “i love you, okay? i’m so sorry. i should’ve never let it get this far.”

junhui’s been avoiding your gaze, trying to keep the silence going even though it’s killing him. that first broken sob makes him almost freak out, he’s at your side, his hands trembling as he touches your arm. “oh— i— no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice in purew panic. he gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

hoshi snapd. of course he snaps. he practically flies out of his seat, rushing over to you, arms wide. “oh, shit—no, no, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he blurts out, voice frantic as he wraps you up in the tightest hug, almost lifting you off the ground with how desperate he is. his fingers stroke your back awkwardly, trying to soothe you, and his voice is trembling.

wonwoo when he sees the tears fall, something inside him bursts. he’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he can’t just sit there while you’re crying. he pulls you gently onto his lap, his hand awkwardly stroking your hair. “i’m sorry, i don’t always know how to show it… but i care. a lot. i never wanted to make you cry.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his heart racing. “don’t cry, please. or I will cry too.” wonwoo says—already crying.

woozi stands up, awkwardly hovering for a second before pulling you into a tight hug. “fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair. “i didn’t mean to push you this far.” his grip on you tightens, and he rests his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.” fingers twitching like he’s about to break any second.

minghao crouches down now too, right in front of you. he doesn’t say much at first, just gently tugs your hands away from your face, his touch delicate, like he’s scared to break you even more. “this was stupid, i shouldn’t have done this. it was childish.” he holds your gaze, his eyes serious “you didn’t deserve that.” kisses the back of your hands, laying his head on your knees begging you for forgiveness.

mingyu is already full of shame before you even start crying. but when the sobs hit, he stops dead in his tracks. he rushes to you, kneeling down in front of you. his large hands cup your face, and his thumbs brush away your tears. “fuck, i never wanted to make you cry.” his voice cracks, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his head buried in your shoulder. looks like he’s about to break down himself.

seokmin gets on his knees beside you, eyes wide and watery, his usual smile completely gone. “my love i—” he says in this tiny voice, like he’s terrified he made everything worse. his hands flutter near your arm before he finally grips your sleeve like he needs you to believe him. “please don’t cry because of me.”

seungkwan’s been fidgeting the whole time, hating every second of the silence. thinking it couldn't get worse until you break in front of him “oh my god,” he blurts out, rushing over to you, his voice frantic. he pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can. he lets out a shaky breath. “you’re everything to me. i’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

vernon is not sure how to fix it, thinking that in all ways, this sucked. the second you start crying, his chest tightens, and he’s at your side, pulling you into his lap. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to look into your eyes, pressing his lips into a line when you look away. “i’m here, okay? i’m here.” he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

chan would be standing by the door, but the second you sob again, he’s crossing the room in three big steps, hands flinching to touch you and flinching back at him again as if he would burn you if he did. he would rather sit beside you still in silence, to find the best words since he hasn't talked during this whole time.

[the-fiction-filter]

Sorry, I'm here for someone else | Theo N.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader (Y/N)

Summary: During sixth year, Theodore Nott had worked up the courage to ask you out and it turned out to be the best choice he ever made. It was the happiest time of his life, that was until winter break when his father announced that he had arranged Theodore's marriage. He didn't have any time to fix the mess he was in because the war broke out right after. Fast forward to a year or so after the battle of Hogwarts, you two unintentionally meet up once again.

Inspiration: Sorry I'm Here for Someone Else by Benson Boone 🎵

Word Count: 2.9k

I'm sorry, I'm here for someone else It's good to see your face And I really hope you're doing well I hope you're doing well

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Theodore Nott walked into the Three Broomsticks, brushing off the layer of snow from his cloak. He took a seat and stared out the window while he patiently waited. His fingers drummed against the worn wooden table. He watched as the flurries fell from the sky outside and glanced at his wristwatch. Fifteen minutes past one, he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Typical, he muttered under his breath as his jaw clenched. Of course she would be late.

He was thankful that this whole arrangement that been delayed for as long as it has. The wizarding world was still putting itself back together- the war tearing apart families, people, and the castle. He sighed; the war had destroyed him as well.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed two glasses of Butterbeer being placed on the table in front of him.

He opened his mouth to voice the mistake; he hadn't ordered anything. But the words died before they came out when he noticed who it was.

You.

There you were, giving him a dazzling smile. That perfectly dimpled smile he hadn't been blessed to see in over a year. As his eyes meet yours, he felt like he was suffocating on the warm air in the pub. "Hey Theo" you said, wiggling your fingers at him casually. Sliding one of the glasses towards him.

Theo blinked. He had to play it cool. He hadn't planned on running into you of all people. You looked the same -but different. "Um.. hey Y/N.. it's been awhile" he replied.

"Only been a year or so, right?" you grinned, your eyes dancing with amusement. He watched as you brought the glass to your lips and taking a sip. It was like you had moved on. His absence hadn't broken you unlike how yours tore his heart out.

Why did he have to see you now? Of all people. And especially right at this moment.

What does he say? The year, since you two last spoke, had gone by torturously for him. Merlin he was being flooded with every possible memory of you as he studied your face.

When he told you about the arrangement, and when his heart was broken into pieces as you cried over it and ultimately broken up with him.

Theo's eyes took the sight of you, noting all the changes in your appearance. You had a mature, confident aura around you. Even how you sat was different, you seemed firmer.

His eyes went from your eyes to your lips and watched as your tongue licked off the remnants of Butterbeer foam. His eyes trailed from your lips to your chin; he fought back a flinch looking at the scar that had formed from the battle of Hogwarts. It reminded him of how much of a coward he was and still is. His mind briefly taking him back to that day.

**The dungeons holding the Slytherins in had burst open due to some explosion. Theo and the others were grateful and pushed past Filch. A lot of them began trying to find ways to get of the castle grounds and run away from the battle. He turned around and Blaise had already disappeared without him, damn bastard he thought to himself.

"What do we do now?" Pansy shrieked turning to Theo for guidance. It was then he realized that Pansy was holding on to his arm, clinging for dear life.

Looking at her hands clasping on to his arm he said curtly, "you're going to cut off my circulation if you don't loosen your grip." Her face flushed at his response, and she eased up. Theo scanned the dungeons; he made a mental note that his wand was still in his cloak pocket and started taking steps towards the stairs.

"Wait! Where do you think you're going?" Pansy panicked, her grip tightening once more around his arm, making him stop walking.

Theo gave her a side glance, "you know where I'm going" he said as if it was obvious, before continuing his walk.

"No! Don't! She's probably dead already!" Pansy exclaimed, either she hadn't noticed the look in his eyes, or she didn't care as she continued, "that's why you want to go there right? for her? it's always been her hasn't it?! She's most likely dead, and she's your past! I'm your future, me not her!"

If looks could kill, Pansy would have surely been dead the moment she opened her mouth and started claiming you were dead. Theo glared at her and his nostrils flared, "I'm going to go find her, stay here or come, I really don't care."

He shook her hands off him violently, before walking away at a faster pace. Pansy shouted from behind him "you're too late Theodore!"

Once he turned the corner, he ran.

Pansy didn't know what she was talking about. He wasn't too late. And you. You were alive. He could feel it in his bones. That had to mean something, right?

You two were soulmates. Of that Theo was certain. And being soulmates, he would have felt if you were no longer on this Earth.

I should've been there with her, he thought as he ran as fast as he could. The sounds of dueling getting closer, he could hear spells being fired off one after another. He made it to the corridor before the Great Hall, and he saw two Death Eaters dueling with Professor McGonagall. He stayed back in fear and watched as she managed to disarm one. Once she had the upper hand, Theo made a dash for it and ran towards the courtyard.

"Where are you?" he muttered as he took in the scene before him. Several student's bodies were thrown on the ground. He saw giants being attacked by stone statues that were once on the walls of Hogwarts. He saw Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom protecting younger looking students. But no signs of you.

That was until he heard a blood curling scream. He whipped his head so fast towards the direction it came from. He saw two Death Eaters laughing as a third continued to shout "Crucio" at the figure that was contorting and screaming at their feet.

Against his better judgment he took a small step towards them. Noticing him, one of the Death Eaters' points him out, "isn't that your son Nott?"

The person casting the unforgiven curse turned around, letting his victim have a breath. It was his father. "Ah, son, I wondered where you went, come join us and watch me torture this blood traitor girl" his father said with an evil smile on his face.

Theo took another hesitant step towards them. He noticed the figure on the floor start to move. Please get up and run away he thought. Maybe if he wasted their time, whoever this girl was would have a chance to run away.

"Stupefy!" the person's voice managed to weakly say, sending a stupefy out to one of the Death Eaters and managing to only kick him back slightly.

No, not her Theo thought as he felt dread wash over him at the sound of your voice.

He felt his heart stop beating when he saw you on the ground, a pool of your blood under you. Too much blood. Theo was shocked you hadn't passed out from blood loss yet. He wanted to say something, anything to get you to not try to get up anymore. But you were always stubborn, and he was always a coward.

You started to raise to your knees, blood trickling down your chin. Your wand pointed at the Death Eaters before you. The look on your face was exhausted yet determined. You turned your eyes to him and your wand arm faltered for a second.**

Noticing his stare, you cleared your throat and pushed your hair over your shoulder, bringing him back to the present. Theo's eyes followed your actions.

Your hair was longer than he ever remembered you having it. And before he could help himself, he softly murmured "you let your hair grow out.. you always said it got in the way."

Your eyes widened slightly, being caught off guard by his memory, "oh well.. it still does" you laugh breathlessly before adding "anyways how have you been? what are you up to nowadays?" you said biting your lower lip.

Just like before you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. He clenched and unclenched his fist under the table to calm his nerves. "I've been working at the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Artefacts.. its boring really.." he trailed off his eyes never leaving your face.

His eyes once again drinking in your appearance that he was depraved of since the war. You had stared back at him with an unreadable expression. He hated not knowing what you were thinking. "I heard you became an auror" he let slip out his mouth before he could help it.

He didn't want you thinking he was keeping tabs on you. He was of course. But you couldn't know that.

An eyebrow raised, and a slight smirk on your face you replied, "whoever your source is they're correct, work has been slow lately though. Only a few death eaters lingering around.”

Theo broke eye contact at your statement, the dark wood of the table becoming more interesting to him. He remembered his father. Theo wondered if you had gotten your revenge and it had been you to drag him away. “So, what are you doing around here? Taking a break from your artefacts?” You teased, tilting your head as you waited for his answer.

He glanced back up and watched as your eyes traveled over his face and down his arms. He saw your eyes glance at his hands. Probably noticing the lacked a wedding band if the way you quickly diverted your eyes back to his face had any indication of your thoughts. There it was- that smile of yours. He groaned internally; your smile always made him come undone. And apparently it still did. "You look.. good" he replied. Fucking git, that's not the answer to her question, he cursed himself.

Ugh, she's smiling still.

He allowed himself to stare. Watching your lashes brush against your cheek as you blinked. The perfect curve of your lips. He debated on glancing at your hand like you had searched his own. Fuck it.

No ring. But who was he kidding? It didn't matter.

“I’m actually waiting.. for her..” he said quietly, in such a low voice. He didn't want to admit it to you.

Your eyes widen in shock and you laughed nervously. “Oh! Well um… I’ll leave you to it.. I just saw you-.. but yeah.. you.. you tell her I said hi.. or don’t. I don’t know..” you reached to grab your butter beer as if to ground yourself.

Electricity shot from his hand the moment it covered yours. The both of you pausing your movements.

Theo pleaded in his head with you. Please don’t go, stay with me. It was on the tip of his tongue and yet he couldn’t get the words out.

You two continued to stare at each other with his hand on yours. All the while, he waged an internal battle with himself. You on the other hand looked like you wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

Before he could make up his mind on his next words, the sound of the front door to the Three Broomsticks opening broke the spell between you two.

He couldn't hear anything besides the sound of his own heart breaking once again, as he saw Pansy making her way through.

You turned to look at what he was staring at. He could feel the change in you. You were both reminded that Theo was here for her. He was waiting for her. He wasn't there for you but someone else.

You snatched your hand back as if his touch was burning you. He frowned at your reaction. He watched you once again, figuring this would be the very last time you two spoke. God how he wanted to pull you into him. Hold you closely and never letting you go again.

He saw you turn back to him, “I should go, bye Theo” and without another word you walked away. Once again you slipped through his fingers. And once again he only had himself to blame.

"Y/N..." he said in a pained whisper. But he acted too late. Again.

“There you are!” Pansy’s shrill voice chirped. Theo turned towards her. His expression going back to the dead look he was so well known for.

Pansy started going on about her day without a care in the world. "Oh, the flower arrangements are-" she went on and on, eventually Theo drowned her voice out.

He was absentmindedly nodding his head at whatever she was saying. His body across from her, yet his mind on you. Seeing you again had shaken him to his core. His eyes zeroed in on your figure disappearing through the front door.

"Really Theodore?" Pansy scolded bringing him back to the conversation. He blinked at her.

"You two were chatting before I got here, weren't you?" she began playing with the charm bracelet around her wrist. She had noticed you speaking with him when she entered the pub. Theo looked at Pansy. She wasn't angry. She was nervous.

"You still.. think about her, right?" Pansy laughed weakly. Theo didn't bother answering. His lack of response was enough.

She scoffed. "Figures she'd be here.. I heard the war heroes were making a tradition of coming to Hogsmeade the first weekend of the school year" she rolled her eyes. "Is she still running around catching Death Eaters? I'd bet she was the one who brought your father to Azkaban" Pansy said trying to point out the obvious.

Theo’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t listen to this.

Pansy’s voice dropped. “Do you still love her?”

His head snapped toward her.

His eyes trailed down to her hand. The engagement ring sat sparkling on her ring finger. His eyes shut, he could hear his father's voice, "you will marry the Parkinson girl! You are the Nott Legacy. My legacy. That blood-traitor girl turned her wand on us, her kind! You won't taint the Nott name with the likes of her."

Opening his eyes, he realized just how much of a coward he was.

He listened to his father. Duty over desire. Stood on the wrong side of the war. Fear over belief.

Lost you.

You had chosen to fight and bleed for what was right. That last night in the courtyard, he failed you. He didn't stop your torture. He allowed your blood to flow.

And Merlin, does he remember how you looked at him hopeful. Hoping he'd do something. Chose you.

Theo stood up abruptly. Pansy panicked, "what.. what are you doing?!"

He threw a galleon on the table. Pansy's eyes widened, "Theodore! Don't! You can't do this, your family name- purity- your father" she sputtered out.

Theo looked at her, "I know what I'm doing. I'm sorry Pansy."

He meant it. He felt for the girl being caught up in this mess.

"Please.. don't choose her" she said her voice trembling.

He threw on his cloak. "I'm choosing myself for once."

Once the cold winter air hit him, he paused before sprinting off. He had to find you. You couldn't have gotten far. You had to still be around. Finally, he saw you nearby Honeydukes.

"Y/N!" he shouted before coming to a stop and grabbing your arm to spin you around.

Confused, your eyes took in his flushed cheeks and how out of breath he seemed. "What are-"

"I can't do it. I can't marry her. I'm a fool. A coward" he began blurting out.

You opened your mouth to reply, your eyebrows furrowed. Theo shook his head, stepping closer to you and placing his hands on your shoulders. "I kept choosing him. I just listened to my father, like a bloody idiot" his voice became ragged.

You stared at him.

“She talked wedding details. I didn’t—I haven’t been able to breathe lately.” His voice cracked, and he didn’t care. “And then you walked in. And I felt like I could again.”

Your expression softened, but your eyes still held caution. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I’m tired. I’m tired of letting you walk away. I should have fought for you. I should’ve been at your side during the battle. I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry I chose my father, the man who tortured you”

You blinked rapidly, your mouth opening but no sound coming out.

Theo's hand grabbed your chin. “I never stopped loving you.”

You stared at him, the air between you sharp and still. “You’re getting married,” you whispered.

“Not anymore,” he said, voice firm. “Not if it’s not to you.”

Silence stretched.

You stared at him, still guarded. “So, what now? You think you can just undo everything? You're not forgiven”

“No, I don't expect you to forgive me” he said. “I know I can’t fix the past. I know I was on the wrong side. And I know I left you bleeding in every way that mattered.”

Your eyes glistened and you fought a sniffle. “You did.”

“I know.” He took a shaky breath. “But I’m here now. And I want to choose you—if you’ll let me.”

A long pause.

And then you whispered, “You’re late.”

His heart shattered a little.

You hesitated. He panicked, maybe this wasn't a good idea.

“Not too late,” you added, softer this time. “But I swear to Merlin, if you run again, I won’t chase you.”

Theo nodded, breathless. “I won’t. I swear.”

You launched yourself into his arms.

And this time, he didn’t let go.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were always the one I should've waited for I can't lose you again, not again, not again, not again

[f0ofishies]

bonten!rindou , you found out your little psychopath boyfriend.. was an actual psychopath. you should've known that insignia tattooed on the front of his neck.

bonten!rindou accidentally leaving his blood-stained gloves in the dumbest compartment of his car. Your first arguement ever– and a huge one at that.

bonten!rindou , who made you so desensitized on the topics of how he beat another guy with some bat– or even shoot people. You'd just looked at him.. your eyes. He knew he was in trouble.

bonten!rindou that still got you to stay with him, you knew you loved him, he knew that too. There'd be no way you'd leave him– even if he was a part of a criminal organization. He stared at you, he pouted a bit.

bonten!rindou , who was late from your upcoming date because he had this huge meeting. It basically escalated another argument like before. You were pissed off.. already sleeping on your backside.

"Baby.. don't sleep yet.." His back against the doorway, he contemplated onto whether to approach you or not. Long strides of his quickened pace on the floor was heard. "Mmm, my darling.." He confided in you in his whiny voice.

You felt his pesky hands, trapped between him. You grumbled.. "Rin..not now.." You buried your head into the silky pillows. He grumbled– and his purple hair slid over your shoulder. "Just hear me out.. okay..?" The desperation in his tone made you ache.

"What is it?.." You whispered back at him, finally letting him rest beside his purple gaze, leaning in to kiss your cheek desperately. "I'm going tomorrow..." "Where–" You interrupted as he shushed you, by the way his eyes fell You could tell it wasn't good news. "A mission tomorrow, It's going to be dangerous.. and I won't be back for a few weeks."

Your eyes widened at the revelation. "But–" Your hands quickly grabbed his head, pulling him closer. "Don't– don't leave me, not when our relationship.." You panicked, babbling on about how he needed to be here– to stay with you.. to stay together. You huffed– tears welled up in your eyes.

He kissed those salty tears away, you huffed as his thumb swiped at your eyes. "Mmm.. cmon beautiful.. it's just two weeks..?" "No..!" You spouted out loud. "No– you can't.. please..."

bonten!rindou chuckled, kissing your stray tears.. it was salty to him– he always thought how cute you were when you cried. But it did tug on his heart the way you just wanted him to stay. Another plead, a wail or even a cry.. he'd just stay, he really would.

bonten!rindou who was rocking his hips inside you, "Cmon, pretty.. put your legs over me.." He huffed when you didn't listen. Tugging at your calf– he hoisted up your leg muscle against his defined chest. He wasn't very muscular but defined through the years. Your leg straightened, accommodating to the stretch with no prep.

"Rin– no more..!" Your cries could probably be heard by the neighbors.. you've had too much sex with rindou. The neighbors already got the full show at that, you couldn't care less 'bout them. He suddenly picked up his thrusts, his hips grinding against yours.

"So good for me.. so shittt–" He could feel your walls clenching around him, he's pesky thumb rimming around your ass hole. Even as much as spreading it wide.. juices of both of you sliding back out. Such a lewd sight. Your face changed into an 'o' as he did that move, you were so familiar with.

"I wish you could look at yourself– you always make such lewd expressions when I do that..!" He murmured close to your ear, those redden ears of yours matching your eyes, he could tell it was too much. You could catch a glimpse of his adam's apple bobbing– that made another moan quiver right out of you.

And just when he finally bursts his load right inside you, he can't help but keep his hips jerking slightly. Hearing another whimper for you, his signature smile catches you off guard. Rindou was a cold man, but you always had a way to tug on his heartstrings. "Promise.. promise you'll come back, dont matter the things you need to do.." It earned a laughter from him.

"Come back? Baby, you know I'll always come back.. even when you hold that ring on your finger?" oh,, Rindou Haitani, that sneaky man, had slipt an engagement ring right around your finger.

[puma-riki]

You're My Romeo! (Everybody Laughs When I Tell Them So)

I just changed your name, now its Romeo! ── . dork! maknae line x fem! reader

[ - skinship kissing est. relationship loser enha ] Hyung line maknae line

! tw. small mention of drugs

⟡ I need a dork boyfriend before I end it all guys I'm so fr, hyung line coming soon mwahaha

────────────────── ⟢

Sunoo

There's a lot of people Sunoo holds dear to his heart. You and his sister being two of them. He absolutely adores how the two most important girls in his life get along so well and even consider each other close friends.

But right now, the both of you together is irritating his soul.

He was absolutely thrilled for all three of you to go out for dinner tonight. It was supposed to be amazing, there'd be good food, a chance to sit down and catch up after so long, a nice ambience in the background as the night settled over the city, his sister wouldn't be stealing his girlfriend, and you wouldn't let her.

But of course, the universe is cruel.

"Ugh! [Name] you're literally so cute!" His sister's overly cheery voice from across the restaurant booth makes him roll his eyes for the nth time while he sips his drink.

He resists the urge to bang his head against the table.

And then you- his girlfriend, mind you- giggle at her dumb compliment and poke at your food all shy.

This has been happening all night. You and his sister linked arms when you met up at the train station, haven't shut up since, and are now sitting across from each other like you're on a date.

You've been laughing at each other's dumb jokes, sharing bites of your food, and at one point you tucked her hair behind her ear.

What's worse is you're flirting with each other. Shamelessly.

Which, he gets. It's just what girls do with their friends, he guesses. He knows you guys are just messing around with each other and having fun.

He knows it doesn't mean anything

Doesn't mean it doesn't piss him off though.

He can't complain too much though, because all the passes his sister is making on you are true. You are very cute. And very sweet, you have been making an effort to bring him into your jokes and conversations. You remind him every now and then that you still know he's there through giddy smiles and soft touches to his arm or thigh.

You being exceptionally sweet and cute would've made up for every ill fantasy he had of jumping across the table at his sister if it weren't for... that one particular moment of utter betrayal and heart break.

His sister goes to grab a perilla leaf, but as always, its stubborn. The edge tears slightly, folding weird, and holds on to the other leaves below it for dear life. Sunoo watches, eyes narrowing, when she lets out a frustrated "Ah..."

And then you swoop in.

Silently, you reach over with your chopsticks, perfectly poised, and separate a new leaf with practiced ease. You place it on her bowl of rice like you've done this a million times before, so smooth and gentle it might as well be a love confession.

Sunoo freezes. Mid-bite. Spoon hovering in front of his mouth.

In his mind, a record scratches, the light bulbs burst, glass shatters.

Not the perilla leaf. Literally anything but the damn perilla leaf.

He watches you, expression blank but soul spiraling. You don't notice. Instead, your preoccupied with finding the perfect piece of beef on the grill in front of you, and when you do you place it in his bowl.

They always say the one who helps you separate a perilla leaf is The One.

His sister gets the highest level of sought after romantic encounters right in front of his face with the love of his life. And what does he get?

A piece of damn beef!

This is sick. Sunoo's going to be sick.

"Sunoo close your damn mouth. Gosh, absolutely no decorum at all."

~

Later, when the three of you step out of the restaurant into the warm buzz of the night, Sunoo gives his sister a half-hearted hug and a fake smile, still stewing.

You hug her tighter than you hugged him, by the way.

And then she waves, disappears down the block, and the second she's out of sight- you're back.

You loop your arms around Sunoo's, lean your head on his shoulder, and snuggle into his side like nothing ever happened.

He doesn't say anything for a beat.

Then "Oh, nowww you wanna be all cute with me."

You glance up at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He shrugs and keeps walking. "Just thought I was the side piece. Didn't realize I'd be sharing my girlfriend tonight."

You bite back a laugh. "You're so dramatic."

"You helped her with the perilla leaf. And you put it in her bowl." He scoffs, "I mean you might as well have signed the marriage papers with her right in front of me."

You lean closer and rest your head against his shoulder again. "Hey, I fed you too. And I help you with your food all the time."

"Yeah, because I'm your boyfriend. Or was, apparently."

You stop walking, grab his wrist, and tug him gently to face you. With a fond look, you cradle his cheeks in your hands, thumbs brushing the pink tint rising under his skin.

"You are my boyfriend," you say sweetly, pecking his lips once. "And you're my favorite. Always."

He tries to stay mad. He really does. But his cheeks are burning, and your hands are so warm and soft, and when you kiss him again- this time on the tip of his nose- he's a puddle.

"Hmph." He loops his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder. Your body shakes slightly with laughter as your arms move to wrap around his neck. "Still should've been across from you. I would've flirted better."

You giggle, hugging him tighter. "You were sitting right next to me, you dork."

He mumbles against your shoulder, "Didn't feel like it."

Jungwon

Jungwon is acting weird.

I mean- he's always weird, but he's being weird.

You had invited him over after a very long week filled with crammed schedules and work. You're both lounging on your bed watching TV. The room is a bit chilly due to the AC running and the only light in the room is from your bedside lamp and the TV. Theres a comfortable silence laid across the both of you as you lay next to him, knees tucked in and just barely brushing his thigh as he sits up against the headboard of the bed.

It's supposed to be a chill night in after not seeing each other all week.

And it would be if Jungwon wasn't so damn restless.

He's been trying to watch the movie, he really has. But all he can think about is how you've barely touched him since he got here. Sure, you gave him a hug and kissed him when he first arrived.

But that was it and it wasn't enough.

After countless photo shoots, interviews, promotional activities, and many many hours without you by his side, He can't think of anything else but being wrapped up in your embrace. For you to run your fingers through his hair and kiss his cheeks. He's practically vibrating with need next to you and you don't even notice.

You're curled up next to him, all cute and sleepy, and completely content with letting your boyfriend wither away next to you.

You hear him sigh next to you and shift to sit up. You glance over to see him fluffing the pillow he's been laying against.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just trying to get comfortable, you know." He tries to sound casual as he moves his pillow closer to yours and turns back around. Moving closer to you now that his pillow is moved.

You hum in response, turning back to the TV. Your knees are now laid on his thigh. But it still isn't enough. At this point, He doesn't even think crawling under your skin would be close enough.

You're so close yet so far.

He could just... ask you to move closer to him and coddle him like he desperately wants you to. He is your boyfriend after all, it's not like you haven't been affectionate like that before.

Jungwon is just incredibly bad at showing and receiving affection, even if he is fiending for it. Like he is now. He always tries to pass off affection as a casual thing, like something he's doing only because it's convenient.

Except it's not. And he knows that and hopes you don't pick up on it. But sucks for him, because you do. Every time. Even now.

You clocked his attempt at nonchalance the minute he walked in the door. When you kissed his cheek upon greeting and he followed your lips on instinct when you pulled away. You can practically feel the tension radiating off him as he sits next to you on the bed now. You definitely can feel him glancing at you from the corner of your eye every 5 seconds and see his hands twitching and how he awkwardly fidgets with them like he doesn't know what to do with them.

You could say something, or just initiate cuddling with him and save him from his painfully awkward and you deprived state.

But where's the fun in that.

"It's really cold in here..." Jungwon suddenly announces, lifting the blanket you have draped over your lap and moving under it; even closer to you and closing any gap that there was between you.

"Really? I'll turn off the AC then." You move to get up and Jungwon nearly launches himself off the bed with how fast he sits up.

"No!" You turn to look at his wide eyes. Jungwon, upon seeing your furrowed brows at his sudden outburst, clears his throat. He rubs the back of his neck as he sinks slightly into the pillows.

"I mean- it's not that cold. Just... cozy. Right now. With the blanket. So, like. Don't move."

You blink at him.

He refuses to meet your eyes.

"Right," You say, lips twitching. You shift the blanket off your legs and sit up again. "It's okay. I'll just turn off the AC real quick-"

"No!" Jungwon shoots up again, so quickly you almost thought he would shoot through the ceiling. His hands fly to your wrist as if stopping you physically is somehow more subtle that just admitting he wants to stay tangled up in warmth- and you.

You break out into a smile. "You literally just said you were cold."

"I changed my mind," he says way too quickly. Then he clears his throat and adds with a shrug, "Like I said, it's not that cold. Kinda refreshing actually."

You give him a look.

He avoids your gaze.

With a grin tugging at your lips, you start to get up again anyway, just to mess with him. "Mmm, no. Now that you mention it, it is cold in here. So, I'll be right ba-"

You don't get to finish that sentence because before your feet can even touch the floor, you're yanked backwards onto the bed.

"Hey!" you squeal as your back hits the mattress and Jungwon puts his entire body over yours. He makes quick work of turning his head away into your chest to hide the pink blooming on his cheeks.

"You can't leave!" he says, but it comes out muffled because his cheek is mushed against your chest. His arms tighten around you like a vice and his body weight draped over yours anchors you to the bed. "Please, I missed you all week so just stay here and let me melt into your skin." He says it so fast and quietly you have to take a second to process what he just said.

You smile, affection blooming in your chest. "Why didn't you just say so, silly"

"I don't know... I'm bad with words... and actions." He mumbles.

You snort, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, and he melts instantly. Pressing closer, tucking his face in like he's burrowing for warmth. "You're such a baby."

To be honest, now that Jungwon is finally and completely wrapped up in you, he has no idea what you just said. He can smell your perfume and laundry detergent radiating off you and your nails lightly scratch his scalp. He is gone.

He sighs and closes his eyes. "Sure."

Ni-ki

Ni-ki likes to think he's cool. Calm, collected, unbothered, an untouchable aura with just enough energy to make people double-take. And honestly? He most definitely is. He's tall, walks like he's got theme music playing behind him, and somehow always ends up in the most expensive yet effortlessly "I didn't try that hard" outfits.

He knows his angles, never fumbles his words on camera, and gives off that effortlessly aloof energy like he doesn't even need to try.

But all of that?

Yeah, it goes straight out the window the second he's with you.

Because around you, Ni-ki becomes... himself. Less "cool guy on stage," more "dorky, lowkey clingy boyfriend who trips over his own feet trying to impress you"

And if you so much as laugh at one of his jokes or randomly compliment him? He malfunctions.

You walk down the street, hand in hand with your supposedly aloof boyfriend. You don't say anything as you notice, yet another pair of girls nudge each other and glance his way. You could tell them that Ni-ki, for all his sleek appearances, has been squeezing your hand three times every block just because "it's our secret signal" Or that he keeps brushing his pinky against yours when you're not holding hands, pretending it's an accident.

Or that earlier, when you stopped to look at some jewelry in a window display, he absentmindedly leaned his entire body weight on you like a sleepy dog.

But hey let them, and him, think he's cool.

As your walking a sudden chill breeze blows through and makes you scrunch your nose and shiver slightly. "You cold?" he asks, voice low in your ear. But before you can answer, he's already tugging you into his side, unzipping his jacket so you can fit under his arm. You huff a laugh into his shoulder.

"Was that for warmth or because you missed me?"

He gives you a nonchalant shrug that's completely ruined by the way his hand over your shoulder reaches down for yours and intertwines your fingers. "...Both."

The two of you pass a bakery. Then a claw machine arcade. Then a bookstore. He doesn't say much- letting you do most of the talking (aka letting you yap your life away to him) but every time you stop to look at something, he watches you, not the display. Like he's trying to memorize the way your face lights up when something excites you.

"You wanna go in?" you ask when you catch him eyeing a shop window.

"No," he says quickly. Then,"...Unless you do. Then yes."

You tilt your head. "You're not very decisive, huh."

"I'm very decisive." He deadpans. "I've decisively decided to do whatever you want."

You laugh. Ni-ki beams.

"Whatever I want?" You ask, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The way you look at him makes his brain melt in real time and all he can reply is with an affirmative hum.

"Ah, you really have no backbone. I could humiliate you and you would just stand there and take it." You let out a faux sigh and shake your head. Turning to face the street ahead and resuming your walk with Ni-ki right beside you.

"Yeah." He agrees, making you side eye him with a raised brow. He laughs and takes hold of your hand again. "You can do whatever you want to me. You're pretty."

Oh.

Now you look uncool, muttering a 'whatever' as you turn your head, pretending to look at a store across the street to hide your flustered expression. Ni-ki smiles but doesn't say anything. He starts playing with your hands as you walk, this time comparing them to his.

"Why are your hands so small?" he mumbles, mostly to himself. "Mine could eat yours."

He presses your palm to his, and then- because apparently because this is his thing now- starts swaying your joined hands back and forth as you walk, like two kids on a playground. It might be the least cool thing he's done all day.

Key word might.

Ni-ki doesn't know what it is about you that makes him act like an absolute idiot with no senses at all. It's crazy, really, like who needs drugs when you can just have an insanely gorgeous girlfriend who looks like she descended down on earth with wings and a halo.

Still, he tries to play it off like he's smooth, walking down the street like a cover model with his girlfriend beside him. It would be convincing too- if he weren't so busy watching you instead of the sidewalk.

"Ni-ki-"

Clunk.

He walks straight into a pole. A metal one. Full-on, loud, direct hit to the forehead.

You gasp. "Oh my god!"

He winces, holding his head. "I didn't see that."

Well no duh.

"Are you okay??" You quickly step in front of him as he steps back from the pole, reaching up to brush his bangs out of the way and check the damage.

"Yeah," he mutters, completely mortified, eyes darting left and right as if witnesses are the worst possible outcome. "Yes. Totally. I just- was checking the, uh, skyline."

"Uh huh." You gently take his face in your hands, turning it from side to side to inspect him like a mom inspecting a scraped-up kid. "That skyline must've looked so good right in front of your face."

He groans. "You're actually so mean."

"You're the one in love with me."

"...Unfortunate."

Still, he doesn't pull away. He stands there obediently while you kiss his lips once, then rub the reddening spot on his forehead with your thumb.

"You're lucky it didn't leave a bump," you say, trying not to smile, concealing it with a pout.

He closes his eyes. "Please stop fussing. You're making it worse."

You cup his cheeks and continue pouting. "What if I kissed it better?"

He almost melts. "You'd do that in public?"

"You already embarrassed yourself in public. I'm just finishing the scene."

You kiss his forehead- gently, so gently- and he just stares at you like you're the most unfair person alive.

"...I'm gonna walk into more poles if you keep looking at me like that."

"Try not to." You loop your arm around his waist, guiding him away from the pole and continuing your stroll. "I like your face. Would be a shame if it got ruined."

Ni-ki rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are pink, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, tucking you in close beside him. "So, you should watch where you're going, you dork."

So yeah, he looks cool to everyone else. But only you get this side of him: clumsy, smitten, and so totally gone for you it hurts. literally.

⭑𓂃

Taglist | @jiiyen @yangjungwonnie @amoressb @chrrific @stvrriki @hyukabean ...loading

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[midnightfict]

What History?

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — Squid Game fans have been shipping two actors not knowing they have a history together.

A/N — aaaa, writer’s block is killing me. but the reqs i've been getting is starting to help. i promise i’m currently drafting for the other reqs.

request post

— 𓆩𓆪 —

The room was brightly lit, cameras positioned at every angle, and a familiar nervousness settled in the pit of your stomach. You weren’t new to interviews, but something about these promotional videos always made you a little jittery. Maybe it was the anticipation of how fans would react, or maybe it was the fact that sitting next to you was none other than Lee Byung-hun—your former high school boyfriend and now your co-star in Squid Game Season 2.

The two of you walked into the room together, followed by director Hwang Dong-hyuk, who greeted the crew with a casual nod.

“Alright,” a staff member announced. “We’re shooting two videos today. The first segment is watching fan edits, and the second is reading fan letters. Just react naturally, have fun, and remember—no breaking into hysterics.”

Byung-hun chuckled beside you. “That sounds like a challenge.”

You smirked. “You sound scared.”

“I might as well be. Have you seen those AI edits of me and Lee Jung-jae?”

The staff gestured for silence, signaling that the cameras were rolling. You introduced yourself to the camera, followed by Byung-hun and Dong-hyuk. The screen before you flickered to life, and the first video started playing.

The first edit was cinematic—a high-energy montage of Squid Game 2’s most intense moments. Gunfights, chase sequences, close-ups of steely gazes. It had everything. The booming orchestral soundtrack made every scene feel ten times more dramatic.

Byung-hun let out an impressed whistle. “Did we actually shoot something this cool?”

You nodded. “Because I don’t remember looking this badass.”

Dong-hyuk leaned forward, squinting. “Wait—when did you do that roll behind cover?”

You snorted. “That’s the one where I landed wrong and bruised my entire arm.”

Byung-hun grinned. “Ohhh, right. And you tried to play it off like you meant to do it.”

“I did mean to do it.”

Dong-hyuk shook his head. “That’s not what you said when you screamed in pain afterward.”

Byung-hun burst into laughter. Your light punch to his side silenced him, earning a dramatic yelp.

“Give respect to your elders!”

You gave the camera a look. “He’s so dramatic. We’re literally only one year apart.”

The next edit was a deep dive into In-ho’s past, set in black and white with emotional piano music. It contrasted his life as a police officer with his role as the Front Man, highlighting the tragedy of his choices.

Dong-hyuk hummed thoughtfully. “This fan basically made a better teaser than we did.”

Byung-hun nodded. “Can we hire them?”

You pointed at a particular shot. “This scene—this is when you had to retake your mask removal, what, twenty times?”

Byung-hun groaned. “Ugh. The mask kept getting caught on my hood. Every time I tried to look dramatic, I just looked stuck.”

Dong-hyuk chuckled. “We had to cut out three takes where you sighed right into the mask.”

Byung-hun held up his hands. “No need to expose me like that.”

Then came the brainrot edit. An animation of Squid Game characters dancing to some bizarre, upbeat song.

You had the biggest grin—too silly not to laugh. The video didn’t even make sense.

Dong-hyuk had his brows furrowed, an amused but not entirely entertained smile on his face.

Byung-hun, on the other hand, sat perfectly still, eyes locked on the screen. No one could tell what he was thinking.

When it ended, you all exchanged an awkward glance.

“I mean… I like it. It’s an interesting video,” you said, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, still laughing.

Dong-hyuk fixed his glasses. “Is this what people see when they watch my show?”

Byung-hun crossed his arms. “They didn’t do me justice. Why is the Front Man not included in this video?”

The staff smirked. “Don’t worry, there’s a Front Man edit in the next one.”

The next video was different. The music was softer, the pacing slower. It highlighted your character’s interactions with In-ho—subtle glances, moments of hesitation, scenes where your characters moved in sync. It wasn’t obvious in the actual show, but with the way the editor framed it…

It almost looked like something was going on.

Byung-hun blinked. “What’s this?”

Dong-hyuk raised an eyebrow. “They created scenes that aren’t even in the series.”

You squinted. “Are we too old to understand what this is?”

It was a ship edit.

Silence.

Then, Byung-hun let out a slow, amused chuckle. “Well. That was unexpected.”

Dong-hyuk crossed his arms. “You two do have really natural chemistry.”

You cleared your throat. “I mean, our characters have history, so—”

Byung-hun nodded. “Right, right. Former police officers.”

Dong-hyuk hummed. “Well, I had another love interest in mind for In-ho, but thinking about it… your characters being shipped makes sense. Maybe I should make it canon in Season 3.”

Both you and Byung-hun snapped your heads toward him.

“Huh?!”

The crew erupted into laughter. Dong-hyuk smiled and closed the segment with a thank-you and a Squid Game 2 promotion.

After a quick makeup touch-up, a staff member placed a stack of envelopes in front of you, Byung-hun, and Dong-hyuk.

Dong-hyuk stretched his arms and grinned. “Alright, let’s see what the fans have to say. If anyone insults my writing, I’m walking out.”

Byung-hun smirked. “I’d say you’re bluffing, but we all know you’re dramatic enough to do it.”

You laughed. “Place your bets, everyone. How many letters will be about Byung-hun’s attractiveness?”

Byung-hun scoffed. “Excuse me, I am a serious actor. Not just a handsome face.”

The cameras rolled.

You picked up the first letter and smoothed it out before reading aloud.

‘Dear Director Hwang, your storytelling is a masterpiece. Every scene feels like it has so much depth and emotion. How do you come up with such gripping narratives?’

Dong-hyuk’s face lit up. “Ah, A letter for me!”

Byung-hun immediately reached over, fingers grasping at the paper. “Skip it.”

You swatted his hand away. “No, let him have his moment.”

Dong-hyuk straightened his posture, adjusting his jacket with mock importance. “Well, since you asked… My process is simple. I think, ‘What is the most stressful, painful situation I can put my characters in?’ And then I do that.”

Byung-hun leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I knew you enjoyed torturing us.”

Dong-hyuk grinned. “Absolutely.”

Byung-hun exhaled, then grabbed the next letter from the pile, unfolding it.

‘Was filming action scenes difficult? Especially the parkour scenes.’

You didn’t hesitate. “Oh, definitely. That scene where I had to jump from bed to bed? I had bruises for days.”

Byung-hun winced at the memory. “Oh yeah, you took a pretty bad fall.”

You sighed dramatically, throwing your arms up. “And no one even said ‘cut’ when I landed wrong! I had to just lie there in pain.”

Dong-hyuk raised a hand in defense. “Okay, to be fair, it looked intentional.”

Byung-hun let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “You heard it here first, folks. The director is a masochist.”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “It builds character.”

Byung-hun rubbed his temple. “I worry for your future wife.”

You sifted through the pile and grabbed the next letter.

‘To Byung-hun, was it difficult wearing the Front Man’s mask for long periods of time? It looks heavy.’

Byung-hun groaned dramatically, flopping against the back of his chair. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Dong-hyuk snorted. “He complained about it every single day.”

Byung-hun sat up, pointing at him. “Because it was a legitimate problem! The mask was so heavy, and it pressed into my face so much that I had red marks after every shoot.”

You bit back a laugh. “And let’s not forget the time it got stuck.”

Byung-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh, please, let’s forget that.”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “We have footage.”

Byung-hun immediately turned to the camera, eyes pleading. “Dear editors, if you have any mercy, don’t include that clip.”

They did.

Dong-hyuk chuckled and grabbed the next letter. “‘Director Hwang, who is your favorite character in Squid Game?’”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Yikes. That’s like asking me to pick my favorite child.”

Byung-hun smirked. “But we all know you have a favorite.”

Dong-hyuk tapped his fingers against the table, pretending to contemplate. “Well… I have a soft spot for In-ho.”

Byung-hun gasped, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck. “You love me?”

Dong-hyuk’s deadpan stare didn’t waver. “I said I love In-ho. Not you.”

You burst into laughter as Byung-hun recoiled in mock betrayal. “Wow, I won’t return to Season 3 then.”

Dong-hyuk ignored him, his expression thoughtful. “I love complex characters, and In-ho has so much depth. There’s still so much left to explore with him.”

You leaned in. “So, does that mean he’s safe in Season 3?”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “I mean, it’s possible, but I don’t know. We’ll have to find out.”

Byung-hun cut in, laughing. “What do you mean you don’t know? You created the story.”

Dong-hyuk simply shrugged. “Let’s just say… No one is ever truly safe.”

The next letter Byung-hun picked up seemed harmless at first.

‘I don’t know what it is, but…’

He stopped mid-sentence, chuckling as he glanced at the camera, then at you and Dong-hyuk. “I don’t know if I can continue reading this without someone getting mad.”

Silence fell over the room.

Curious, you snatched the letter from his hands and scanned it. A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who’s gonna get mad over this?”

Byung-hun gave you a knowing look, subtly hinting at someone you had dated during filming.

Your expression faltered for half a second before you quickly masked it with a tight smile. Keeping your mouth hidden from the camera, you mouthed, “We broke up.”

Dong-hyuk grinned and leaned forward to peek at the letter over your shoulder. “Well, well, well. They think you two have some history together because you make the characters so compelling together.”

Byung-hun cleared his throat, spitting out a joke before anyone could dwell on the comment. “Have you guys ever considered we are both just very good actors?”

Dong-hyuk stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “Seeing how everybody seems to ship you two, maybe I should create a romance movie with you both.”

You and Byung-hun turned to him in horror, simultaneously shaking your heads.

Dong-hyuk simply shrugged. “What? The fans love it. I should give them what they want.”

Byung-hun laughed nervously and quickly faced the camera. “Okay let's end it! Thank you for watching this video. Don’t forget to watch us on Netflix!”

After finishing the shoot, the three of you parted ways—but the internet did not.

A week after the video was published, fans went crazy. The shipping theories got worse. Your social media was flooded with comments. Multiple media outlets invited you and Byung-hun for interviews together, riding the hype.

One afternoon, before another press event, you texted him.

Want to grab coffee before the next interview?

Thought you’d never ask.

At the café, he took a sip of his drink and smirked. “Remember how broke we were from getting coffee every other day in high school?”

You groaned. “Oh god, that was what? Twenty—no, thirty years ago? High school was rough. I don’t even want to remember that.”

“You’re mean. So I meant nothing to you?” He feigned hurt, holding back a smile.

“Oh, shush. You know what I mean.” You playfully pushed his forehead as he held the door open for you. “Besides, we lasted ‘til university, no—”

Click.

A camera shutter.

You froze. He froze.

Through the café window, a crowd had formed. Some held up phones. Others were whispering excitedly.

Fuck. They found you.

Byung-hun exhaled. “Well, I guess there’s no turning back.”

Then, with a smirk, he grabbed your hand, laced his fingers through yours, and yanked you out of the sea of screaming fans.