#but also i could just a one-shot or something

[wqnsho]

resurface | kang dae-ho x gn! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after years of heartbreak and betrayal, you’ve learned to bury your emotions to survive. but when your high school sweetheart, kang dae-ho, unexpectedly appears in the deadly game you're also in, the walls you built around your heart begin to crack. As past and present collide, survival becomes about more than just staying alive *.✧ word count: 10.1k (yeah) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, trauma, toxic relationships, cursing, fluff, angst. your number is 389. *.✧ note: dae-ho won against in-ho by just .2%! thank you all so much for the support. my in-ho fanfic reached 1K notes already, while 1k+ of you participated in my poll! I'm very thankful for the support :> i was in the middle of editing in-ho's fic when the polls finished, when i saw how close the votes were i laughed. luckily i only needed to tweak a bit in this fic for it to be done. enjoy reading!! >:) dae-ho is such a cutiee!! long italicized texts are flashbacks. masterlist | request here

“Shit, I just moved didn’t I?” Player 196 asked in a lighthearted tone after swatting the bee that landed on her. Before anyone could answer, she dropped dead to the ground, a bullet from god knows where piercing through her skull.

The area erupted in chaos as players realized the horrific truth: to be eliminated meant death. Others tried to make a desperate run for it, while some froze, paralyzed from fear, and you were one of them. 

Your eyes trailed down to the corpse laying a few feet in front of you. Your heart dropped. That could’ve been you.

You should've trusted your gut. You should’ve known that whatever bullshit that shady man in a suit said was too good to be true. But here you were, paying the price of your stupid decisions.

The air was thick with panic as a bloody massacre unfolded before your eyes. People who ran got shot left and right, while those who stayed survived. Once it cleared those who moved, the mechanical doll turned around, its eerie voice rising in song. The players were too stunned to move. Only one person had the courage to act—Player 456. With unwavering resolve, they ran ahead and instructed you all to hide behind someone bigger than you.

The rest of you followed suit, moving quickly. You ended up behind Player 230—Thanos, a rapper drowning in 1.19 billion won of debt. You didn’t trust him, and your instincts proved right. As the game progressed, he shoved people ahead of him, ending their lives without hesitation. Yet, you had to give him some credit: the man could hold a pose.

One by one, players crossed the finish line. As the timer reached 0, the hellish game finally ended. You were shaking, your body trembling with the aftershock, but at least you were still alive. The guards escorted everyone back to the main area, where the survivors collapsed to their knees, begging for mercy, begging to go home. You could hear them, desperate, pleading. It was almost unbearable.

“There must’ve been a misunderstanding,” the square guard’s voice rang out, cutting through the despair. His tone was flat and devoid of emotion. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

His words did little to reassure anyone. Your eyes rolled at their response. Misunderstanding my ass! The chance of survival, of escape, felt more like a cruel joke than anything else. But before the guard could continue, a voice rose above the rest, sharp and commanding.

“Clause three of the consent form!” Player 456 called out, his voice filled with defiance.

Everyone turned to look at him, some surprised, others hopeful. You were no different. You hadn’t expected anyone to stand up in this situation. You didn’t even know what clause three was, you skipped that part and immediately signed the form, but there was something in the way he spoke that made you believe he knew more than the rest of you.

“The games may be terminated upon a majority vote, correct?” he demanded, his eyes never leaving the guard.

The square guard responded without missing a beat, his tone unchanged. “That is correct.”

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 pressed, his voice firm and unyielding.

There was a brief silence before the guard spoke again, acknowledging the request with a chilling calmness. “Of course, we respect your right to freedom of choice.” He paused, and in that moment, you could feel the hope that had been buried deep inside everyone start to stir. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “But first, let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.”

With the press of a button, the room shifted. The cold, sterile space took on a strange new color, bathed in a soft, eerie glow. A massive piggy bank, almost comically large, descended from the ceiling, its mechanical limbs creaking with the weight. The sound of bills filling it echoed through the room, a surreal sound that only added to the strangeness of the moment. It felt like something out of a twisted casino, a game that didn’t care about the lives it destroyed, only the money it could accumulate.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard continued, as the money filled the piggy bank at a steady pace. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you choose to quit the games now, the 365 remaining players can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share.”

“How much is that?” Player 100 asked.

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard answered flatly, almost as if it was an insignificant amount.

You could hear the gasps of disbelief that rippled through the crowd. It was hard to wrap your mind around it. You almost died for that? The amount seemed insignificant compared to the terror you’d experienced. You could hear others murmuring, their frustration and disbelief growing louder. What good was 24 million won when you had been pushed to the brink of death, when you had witnessed so much suffering?

“Twenty million? You said 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice filled with outrage.

The guard’s response was cold, calculated. “The rule was that a hundred million won would be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

The answer felt hollow, like an empty promise that was meant to keep you on the hook.

“Then how much will it be if you survive until the very end?” someone asked, their voice tinged with desperation.

“As I already told you, the total prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. Those who make it through all six games will equally divide the 45.6 billion won.”

A hush fell over the room, as the reality of the prize set in. 45.6 billion won. It was an obscene amount of money. The sum felt impossible, unreal. But at the same time, it was exactly what so many of you needed. The temptation of that massive prize loomed in the air, a beacon in the darkness. Could you really leave with only 24 million? Was that all your life was worth?

“So, if you’re the only one to survive, you get 45.6 billion won?” Player 230 asked, as if the question needed to be confirmed, just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood.

“That is correct,” the guard answered, his voice detached, like it was just another part of the game.

For a brief moment, the room seemed to breathe in unison. The weight of the prize, the gravity of the situation, pressed down on everyone. People began to murmur among themselves, the excitement in their voices unmistakable. The idea of that unimaginable sum of money—more than they had ever seen in their lives—became a tangible thing in the air. People who had been trembling in fear moments before now looked around, their eyes glinting with a new kind of hunger. The atmosphere shifted, the air thick with the scent of greed and desperation.

“So we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, voice laced with uncertainty, but also with a flicker of hope.

“As promised in the consent form, you can take a vote after each game and decide to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point,” the guard confirmed. “We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

The voting began, and the room filled with tension once again. Player 456  was the first one to vote. He stepped forward, pressing X without hesitation. Others followed, some pressing X, others O. When your turn came, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t hesitate. You stepped forward, pressing O with a sense of finality, the sound of the button clicking louder in your ears than it should have been. You placed the patch on your jacket, marking your decision, and walked back to your side of the room.

You didn’t look back.

You weren’t sure when you had made up your mind, but the choice was clear. Despite everything, despite the fear gnawing at the edges of your resolve, you knew you couldn’t walk away now. 

Out there, in the real world, the debt that had dragged you into this nightmare would still be waiting. The vultures would circle, just as they always had, but now you could fight back. You could take a step toward something better. The thought of going back to the crushing weight of your debts, to the life that had led you to this point, filled you with dread. There was nothing for you out there anymore.

The prize, the money, the possibility of escaping this endless cycle—this was the only chance you had left. There was no turning back now.

As much as you sympathized with those who wanted to leave, You just couldn’t. Here, at least, there was hope. A sliver of it. And if you survived, you could finally break free. You could pay it all off. You could start over. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had a chance—one that you couldn’t let slip through your fingers.

Your gaze wandered to the others, watching as they made their decisions. Some pressed X with shaking hands, their faces filled with desperation to leave and go home. Others pressed O with grim determination, their eyes locked on the future, no matter how uncertain. And yet, the overwhelming weight of it all crashed down on you again, heavy and suffocating.

You looked up at the piggy bank hanging high above, its golden glow mocking you with promises of salvation. If you made it—if you became the lone survivor—you’d earn it all. 45.6 billion won. Enough to erase every debt. Enough to silence the loan sharks who haunted your dreams. Enough to leave it all behind and disappear.

But as you stared at it, bile rose in your throat. Was this all your life had become—fighting for money, sacrificing everything just to survive? Your stomach twisted as your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms.

Reaching for your necklace, you clutched it tightly, the familiar weight grounding you for a moment. Its warmth offered a flicker of comfort, but even that couldn’t silence the emptiness creeping in. Here, hope felt like a dangerous thing to hold onto.

Out there, you had nothing. No one. Over time, everyone had given up on you. Your friends had drifted away, unwilling to carry the weight of your problems. Your family had turned their backs, tired of the chaos and the shame. And then there was... him.

He left without a word. No explanation, no goodbye. Just gone, as if you had never mattered at all.

When he disappeared, it felt like the last thread holding you together unraveled. You tried to move on, to make sense of it, but the truth was simple: no one stayed. Out there, you were invisible—a burden no one wanted to carry.

But here? Here, you had a purpose. As twisted and brutal as it was, the games gave you something to hold onto. Every step forward felt like proof that you could still fight, still matter, even if it was only to yourself.

You tore your gaze from the piggy bank and stared down at your shoes. It used to be white— pure. Now it’s scuffed and worn, much like you. Each scratch and stain told a story of a life lived in survival mode, clinging to scraps of hope. You couldn’t help but wonder—if you walked away now, what would be waiting for you? Nothing but the same endless cycle of despair.

At least here, you had a chance. A sick, twisted, blood-soaked chance.

And that was more than the outside world had ever given you.

In the midst of your inner turmoil, you didn’t notice someone standing beside you. They were looking at you, as if they wanted to make small talk yet didn't know how.

There was something bugging Dae-ho and he didn't know what it was. He couldn't stay still, couldn't think properly, couldn’t stay calm. He desperately needs a distraction, and he needs it now. But what could he possibly do? He can't just slap himself or shout. No way, that's too embarrassing. 

The male thought deeply before an idea popped up in his head. Eureka! He could try and talk to someone! His excitement died down as fast as it came. Yeah, he could try and talk to someone but who? His eyes scanned the crowd. To his dismay, most of the people surrounding him were scary oldies, and he was not willing to take the risk. He looked to his left, spotting a full head of hair. 

His gaze landed on you. You're young, he thinks— the white spots in your hair were less than those around him. He felt a little nervous, unsure of how to approach you, but he had no choice. This was his chance.

He coughed lightly, a test to see if you would notice him. 

No response. 

He tried again, this time a bit louder. 

Still nothing.

He began to get irritated, were you deaf or something? Shaking his irrational thoughts, Dae-ho got ready to fake cough again.

Then, out of nowhere, an old man in front of him turned and glared, sending a shiver down his spine. The male stopped, his face flushing. He needed to stop being a coward. He steeled himself, like the marine he was before doing it the right way.

He then stared at your unresponsive figure with intense, wide, and bulging eyes hoping that you would feel his intense stare and finally look at him. When that didn’t work, he began chanting “Hey! Look at me!” in his head just in case you were a mind reader. 

To nobody's surprise, his ‘plan’ flunked. Letting out an audible sigh, Dae-ho shook his head. He stopped being a wuss and garnered courage like a true marine. He should just approach you the right way, a single tap on the shoulder wouldn't hurt anybody right? Right.

As soon as his hand touched your shoulder, you ducked down and sneezed—an odd timing. He froze, unsure whether this was a sign to stop or if you were actually a mind reader and was avoiding him. But before he could pull his hand away, you reverted back to your original position— bumping into his outstretched hand.

He jumped back, startled. His cheeks flushed again as he realized he’d intruded on your space. In a sudden burst of nervous energy, he bowed deeply— a perfect ninety degrees, his hands clasped in front of him.

“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to... you see, I was feeling a little bored and wanted to talk to someone. Between you and me, I don’t want to talk to some old gray-haired people in debt. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, you’re free to slap me and ignore me!”

He spoke in one long breath, the words tumbling out faster than he could control. Then, he froze, bracing himself—waiting for a slap, a harsh word, anything to tell him he had crossed a line. Or maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to give him a sign that it was all okay. The silence that followed was suffocating, hanging between you like a heavyweight, neither of you dared to break.

When you didn’t respond, he began to doubt himself. Was this a joke? Was he imagining everything? Had he pushed too far?

And then—

“…Dae-ho…?”

The silence that was there from the beginning stretched even further as Dae-ho froze, his heart pounding. He could feel his chest tightening with every breath, his thoughts spinning in circles. Was this really happening?

He slowly lifted his head, praying, hoping that what he was thinking wasn’t true. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign that this was just some cruel illusion. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but it didn’t help. You were still there, staring back at him, just as real as the cold walls of the room around him.

“[Name]...”

How could this be real? The years apart, the silence, the pain—it had all carved its place deep inside you, wounds that never fully healed. And yet, here he was, standing before you like a ghost dragged from the past to haunt you. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

You stared at him, unable to look away, yet every second felt like a fresh wound. How could he just stand there, shaking and silent, as if you weren’t the one left to pick up the shattered pieces of your life when he walked away? Your chest tightened, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

He looked so different, yet so heartbreakingly familiar. Those same eyes that used to meet yours with warmth now avoided your gaze like a coward. The same hands that once held yours trembled at his sides, as if they carried the weight of something unsaid.

You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers to the questions that had haunted you for years. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he say goodbye? The questions burned in your chest, but no words came. The silence between you was louder than any explanation he could give—louder than the ache of the years he left you to carry alone.

And yet, some small part of you hated yourself for hoping, for wanting him to say something that would make it all make sense. But as his lips parted and nothing came, his silence was louder than any excuse could ever be.

Cheers suddenly filled the room as the two of you looked away from each other. Looking at the scoreboard, you released a sigh of relief as O won, meaning the games would still proceed. 

Following the guards orders to disperse, you walked away as fast as you could. You needed to run away for a while, away from everyone, away from him. You weaved through the sea of players, ignoring the chaotic mix of relief and despair filling the room. Every step felt heavier, your mind still reeling from the sight of him. Why here? Why now?

Your chest ached. The large room offered little solace, the murmur of restless voices and distant footsteps a constant reminder of where you were. You sought refuge in the thin, scratchy blanket of your assigned bed, pulling it over yourself as if it could shield you from the weight pressing down on your chest.

Laying in a fetal position, you tried to steady your breathing, to stop the trembling in your hands. But his face—his eyes—kept flashing in your mind, a painful reminder of everything you thought you’d buried.

Anger simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. You clenched your fists, an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. But no amount of control could erase the gnawing ache in your chest.

“[Name]...”

The voice froze you in place. 

“Can we… talk?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading.

Under the covers, you exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to keep your tone steady. “What’s there to talk about, Dae-ho?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a cautious step closer to your bed. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you here. I didn’t think I’d see you again at all.”

“Neither did I,” you replied curtly. “And yet, here we are.”

He flinched at your words, guilt flashing in his eyes not that you could see it. “I know I owe you an explanation.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “An explanation? After all these years? After you disappeared without a word? You think I need that now, here of all places?”

His lips parted as if to argue, but he stopped himself. Instead, he looked down, his hands gripping the fabric of his jumpsuit. “I wanted to explain. I really did. But I didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how?” you repeated, incredulous. “You didn’t know how to tell me you were leaving? That you were giving up on us? That you—”

Your voice cracked, and you stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. You refused to let him hear you cry. Not here. Not now.

“I didn’t give up on you,” he said softly.

His words hung in the air, but they did nothing to soothe the ache inside you. You shook your head once more, your voice trembling. “You left me alone, Dae-ho. You walked away without a word, and you left me to deal with everything by myself. Don’t tell me you didn’t give up.”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating. You could feel his eyes on your figure under the covers, before hearing footsteps walk away. You didn’t expect much, knowing that all he does is run from his responsibilities. But why did it still hurt? 

As you went to collect your dinner, you couldn’t help but overhear familiar laughter. Laughter that you used to love listening to. Silently gazing at Dae-ho’s figure, you watch in silence as he makes small talk with a group of men in the corner of the room. A small smile crept up your face, even after all those years he still has his charming laugh. You moved your gaze to the guard as they handed you your food, with a small bow you thanked them before going back to your bed. 

Looking at him one more time, your eyes widened in surprise as a set of eyes clashed with yours. Thankfully, it wasn’t Dae-ho. It was 001. There was something in his stare that made you scared. Maybe Dae-ho told them about your history and now they were angry at you, either way, who were you to care? You broke eye contact first, setting your gaze elsewhere as you retreated back to your assigned bed. Little did you know Dae-ho was doing the same, looking at you with longing eyes every time you had your back turned from him.

The next day came quickly, the game even quicker. You convinced a group to let you join their team with your gonggi skills. They were reluctant at first but had no choice but to let you in as the timer was nearing its end. Your team went through the games with ease, everyone was a pro on the games— you included. 

As the guard placed the table in front of you, you and your team squatted, the familiar weight of the stones in your hands grounding you. It reminded you of something, something far simpler, back when you were young.

“The slowest will have to buy the winner dinner, deal?” you said with a playful grin, your voice filled with mischievous confidence as you laid out the challenge.

Dae-ho’s eyes widened, shaking his head dramatically. “That’s unfair! You only say that because you’re a pro at gonggi!” he shot back, his voice half-laughing and half-complaining, clearly trying to defend himself.

Currently, the two of you, still in your high school uniforms, are sprawled on the floor of your room, surrounded by an amusing mess of half-done activities. The afternoon had been a carefree escape from schoolwork and responsibilities, as you had decided to skip school for the day. Your parents were away, so you had the house all to yourselves.

The floor was scattered with papers, a few textbooks left open, and snacks you’d absentmindedly snacked on while getting lost in your own little world. Dae-ho’s hair was a chaotic mess of clips, ties, and failed attempts at creating something resembling style. 

Meanwhile, your face was painted with makeup. Your eyes were covered in uneven eyeshadow, and your lipstick had smudged onto your cheeks in a way that had you wondering if you'd even be able to wash it off later. It was ridiculous, but it was also perfect. There was no need for perfection when you were together, just moments of unfiltered fun. You didn’t mind looking silly—it was a shared experience, after all.

You leaned back on the floor, hands resting behind your head, watching him with an amused expression. He had always been competitive, and you knew he wouldn’t let this challenge slide without giving it his all. But you also knew he wouldn’t back down.

"You're just mad because I'm about to beat you,” you teased, raising an eyebrow and holding the gonggi stones in your hand. “I’ve got this in the bag."

Dae-ho let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be defeated, but his eyes betrayed him—the challenge was on. “Fine. The loser buys the winner dinner.” he said, as the fire in his eyes burned brightly.

You smiled, leaning closer and placing the stones carefully in front of both of you. “You’re on,” you replied, your voice light but determined.

The game, which was just supposed to be a simple way to pass the time, had suddenly become a full-blown competition, complete with stakes. Dae-ho didn’t like losing, and you knew that meant he would give everything he had to win, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

With that, the tension between you both shifted. You could feel the energy change as you both focused on the stones in front of you, your hands hovering over them, ready to begin the game. The silly banter was still there, but now it was mixed with a more serious undercurrent—a challenge that was both fun and a little bit intense.

Dae-ho glanced at you once more, his expression playful but competitive, and you could see the slight smirk forming on his lips. “Get ready to buy me that dinner,” he said with mock confidence, ready to show you he was the better player.

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that, Dae-ho.”

And with that, the game began, the stones flying through the air as you both competed to see who could win the challenge, the promise of dinner hanging in the balance.

After breezing through the first rounds, you placed all the stones on top of your hand, heart racing. You nervously exhaled, forcing yourself to focus.

“I’m honestly jealous of your gonggi skills,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you sat beside Dae-ho at your favorite hotpot place, a small smile playing on your lips as you stirred your bowl of soup.

Dae-ho, who had just taken a sip from his drink, blinked at you in mock surprise. “You? Jealous of me? You’re the one who won!” he said with a playful glare, his tone lighthearted.

You laughed softly, shaking your head at him. “Not that part, silly! I always notice that you always catch all five stones with ease. Even if I’m fast, I still mess up once in a while.” You looked down at your half-eaten bowl, the warmth from the hotpot filling your chest, but it wasn’t just from the food—it was the company that made everything feel so right.

Dae-ho’s expression softened as he put down his chopsticks, giving you his full attention. He nodded thoughtfully, then smiled, and for a moment, you felt as if the world outside didn’t exist, just the two of you, sharing this simple, quiet moment together.

“Well, my lovely [nickname],” he said, his voice taking on that playful, teasing tone you knew so well. “I can always tell you a trick,” he continued, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “But it’ll cost you. My secrets aren’t free, you know.”

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, giving him a playful. “Go on, then.”

Dae-ho’s smile widened as he turned his cheek toward you, tilting his head just enough to make it clear what he wanted. You giggled, rolling your eyes but giving in, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his left cheek.

He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes making your heart skip a beat, and without missing a beat, he pointed to the other side, silently asking for more. You couldn’t help but smile, kissing his right cheek just as lightly.

Then, Dae-ho tilted his head again, offering his forehead with that trademark mischievous smile. “And this one?” he asked, his eyes glinting with excitement.

You didn’t even hesitate, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his forehead, your heart fluttering in the simple affection. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and the more you kissed him, the more the world around you faded away.

He stretched his hand out next, offering the back of his left hand with an expectant grin. You chuckled at how silly this game was becoming, but you still kissed it gently, your heart swelling with warmth. His grin only grew wider, and before you knew it, he was extending his right hand, offering it up for another kiss.

You kissed it too, your heart fluttering again at how effortlessly he could make everything feel so special. Each little moment, each silly gesture, you loved it all.

Finally, with that signature grin of his, Dae-ho turned fully toward you, his eyes sparkling with playfulness. “And this one?” he asked, tilting his face toward yours, the question hanging in the air like an invitation.

Without even thinking, you closed the space between you and kissed his lips, a soft, lingering kiss that felt full of promise and affection. The moment was so pure, so simple, that it left you breathless in the best way. Nothing mattered but the two of you, sharing this quiet, tender connection.

Dae-ho smiled against your lips, his arms subtly drawing you closer as he pulled back just slightly, a lovestruck expression on his face. “You’re the best, [nickname].” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he nuzzled you gently. His voice was soft and full of affection, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with warmth.

You leaned in, your voice teasing. “So? What’s the trick?”

Dae-ho let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be exasperated but still smiling. “Can’t I have a lovely moment with you?” he asked, his tone light and affectionate.

“Dae-ho.” you said with a small laugh, nudging him playfully.

“Fine, fine! You’re a party pooper!” he joked, giving you a nudge back before getting serious. He shifted slightly, sitting up straighter and showing you a more focused expression. “Alright, listen carefully.” He mimicked the motions as he spoke. “What I do is first calm myself down. Inhale... and exhale.” He demonstrated the breathing technique, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

He paused before looking at you expectantly. Rolling your eyes, you copied his movement. Inhale and exhale.

Satisfied, he continued. “Once you find your peace, you put all your might in your palm so the stones don’t fall. Strong foundation.”

You nodded, watching him carefully. “Got it,” you said, your gaze fixed on his hands as he continued with his instructions.

He smiled, clearly pleased by your attention. “Then you throw your hand upwards—just right. Not too low, not too high,” he said, raising one hand and showing you the perfect motion. “Count one...” He paused dramatically, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Count one,” you repeated, laughing softly at how serious he was being, yet how cute he looked while teaching you.

“Then catch!” 

You threw your hand up. It felt natural. It felt right. The stones landed, and you caught them all in one smooth motion.

“Hey! I caught it on the first try!” You grinned, excitement rushing through you. You looked up, expecting to see Dae-ho’s proud smile, the one that always made your heart race.

But instead, you met the cold, expressionless face of a guard. Reality hit like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t Dae-ho. This wasn’t your favorite hotpot place.

Your heart twisted, the warmth you replaced by the emptiness of this place. You tried to smile, but it felt hollow. The distant cheers of your teammates did nothing to drown out the silence in your mind.

You couldn’t shake the memory, his teasing smile, his quiet words, the way his lips brushed against yours. Those were moments you could never go back to. As you moved on to the next station, the sting of that memory lingered, sharp and painful. The sweetness was gone. It was just you, alone in this game, with no place for memories of simpler times.

Everything was a blur after that, your mind occupied by what happened during the second game. Gonggi was something you always bonded over, and that game brought unwanted memories back. It got to a point wherein the way you’d always made decisions, small or big, was by playing gonggi. Where to eat? Play gonggi. Who’s paying the bill? Gonggi. 

But now, as you lay at your bed, staring at the ceiling, it wasn’t the same. Your mind wandered back to that moment, remembering his smile, the way his eyes would soften when he looked at you. That warmth, that sense of belonging, was gone. The past felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

You closed your eyes, trying to push the memory away. Suddenly, the light went out. 

The light went out? That wasn’t right.

You opened one eye and saw Dae-ho standing above you, looking down at you with that nervous, familiar expression.

“Congrats, [Name]. I knew you could do it.” he said softly.

You looked up at him, emotions swirling in your chest. “Congrats also, Dae-ho.” you replied quietly. 

You stared at him as the weight of everything hung heavy in the air between you. You had so many emotions running through your veins—hurt, betrayal, confusion, anger—and yet, here he was, standing in front of you, trying to explain himself, trying to make sense of everything.

“[Name]... Please, talk to me.” he repeated, his voice soft but desperate.

You didn’t move at first. The space between you, filled with so many unspoken words. Finally, you stood up, leading him to a quiet corner between the bed frames, away from the chaos. The moment felt strangely intimate, but so far removed from anything you could have ever imagined.

Dae-ho was the first to break the silence, his voice shaking with the weight of his confession. “I didn’t want to leave, [Name]. I didn’t... but I had no choice.” He paused, his face twisted with guilt as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

“My father...” His voice cracked as he spoke, his words thick with regret. “He was... always trying to control me. Pushing me into things I didn’t want. He never let me make my own decisions. But when it came to you... he saw how much I cared. He saw how soft I was because of you, and he hated it. He thought I wasn’t strong enough to survive—how I wasn't becoming a real man, so he sent me away. He made me join the Marines. He didn’t even let me choose. I tried to fight him. I tried to say no, but he didn’t care.”

You felt your heart break all over again. “But... Why didn’t you fight harder for us? Why didn’t you try harder to stay? To... tell me?” The words were out before you could stop them, and they stung more than you’d expected.

“I... I couldn’t,” he whispered. “He had me. I thought if I left, if I did what he said, it would all be over. That he’d leave me alone. But when I came back, you were gone. I couldn’t find you. I looked for you everywhere, [Name], but you and your family were gone. And I thought... I thought I lost you forever. And I couldn’t fix it.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. “But you didn’t even try to find me, Dae-ho. You just... disappeared. I waited for you. I thought I was worth waiting for, but you made me feel the  opposite. You just left, and I had to pick up the pieces of my life without you.”

“Please don’t say that. You are worth fighting for [Name].”

His eyes filled with sorrow, and he reached out for you, but you pulled back slightly, not ready for his touch just yet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I could make it right when I came back, but... it wasn’t the same. And now I’m afraid I’ve lost you for good.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your emotions in check. “You didn’t lose me, Dae-ho. If anything, I still think about you. Every street I walk, every place I visit. I always tried to find any sign of you. You just… you never gave me a chance to be part of your life anymore. I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend everything’s okay, because it’s not.”

“I understand,” Dae-ho said quietly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I know you’ve been through so much. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but I’m here now. Let me make it right. Please…”

He paused, swallowing hard before speaking again, as if the weight of his words was too heavy to bear. “If you just vote to go home, we can leave all this behind. We don’t have to keep playing. We can go back to the way things were. We can be free. We can live together.”

His words hit you like a punch to the stomach, leaving you breathless. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was asking. He wanted you to vote to go home? That’s all it took? To end this nightmare?

You took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest. The sudden flood of emotions was overwhelming—confusion, anger, hurt, all rolled into one. “Is that what you think this is about, Dae-ho? You think you can just tell me to vote to go home and everything will magically go back to normal? That we’ll just go back to living in some fairy tale together?”

His face faltered with guilt, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The words were already tumbling out, and the anger was building with each second. “You have no idea what it’s like for me out there. I don’t have anything left. No family. No safety. No way out. If I leave without the money, I’ll be dead before I even make it out of the game. The people who own me—they’ll come for me. They’ll end me.”

You couldn’t stop the rise of panic and fury in your voice. “You think voting to go home is going to fix everything? Do you think that’ll save me from what’s out there? You think that’s going to protect me?”

You were shaking now, your words louder, sharper with each passing second. “I’m not here by choice. I didn’t sign up for this game to have some fun. I’m here because I have no other option. I need the money. I have to win. I don’t have the luxury of walking away. If I don’t make it, I’m dead. They’ll take everything I have left. They’ll take my life. And you want me to just throw that away?”

His face went pale, his hands trembling as he reached out, but you stepped back, your emotions running too high. You were drowning in your own fear, your own anger, and he was standing there, asking for something you couldn’t give. Not now. Not when your very existence was on the line.

“I’m not going to die for you to feel like you’ve done something good,” you spat, your voice cold and full of finality. “I’ll keep playing. I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep voting O if that’s what it takes to stay alive. Because I don’t have the luxury to just quit. I don’t have the luxury to go home. If I die here, then I die here. But at least I had a chance. A chance to keep living.”

You could see the regret flooding his face now, the guilt in his eyes clear as day. But it didn’t matter. You had already crossed the line, said everything you needed to say. The wound had already been made, and nothing would heal it now.

“They took everything from me,” you whispered, voice cracking with the weight of the confession. “I don’t have anything left. This game, this nightmare is all I have. If I leave without any money, without anything... they’ll take me. They’ll take my life.”

His expression was full of pain now. The words hit him hard, and you saw the guilt swirling inside him. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no words came. You saw the regret in his eyes, the apology he couldn’t voice—but it was too little, too late.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered finally, his voice thick with regret. “I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was this bad. I didn’t know you were fighting for your life.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping back from him. “You didn’t know? You never bothered to ask. You didn’t care enough to understand what I was going through. You just assumed everything would be fine, that we could go back to normal. But you didn’t ask, Dae-ho. You didn’t care.”

His face crumpled with the realization of what you were saying, and the weight of your words hit him like a ton of bricks. But you didn’t care. Not now. Not when you were holding on to the one thing that mattered to you right now—your will to survive.

“I’m sorry, Dae-ho,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but full of emotion. “But I care about surviving. I care about living. And if I have to vote O, if I have to keep playing to do that, then that’s what I’ll do.”

For a long moment, you stood there, facing each other in the silence, your hearts both full of unsaid things. But the anger slowly began to fade, replaced by a deep sadness, a sorrow that neither of you could fix.

He stepped closer to you, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry... I never wanted this for you. But I’ll always be here, [Name], even if you hate me for it.”

You looked at him one last time, the weight of everything you had said sinking in. And for the first time in a long time, you let the tears fall—not from anger, but from the overwhelming fear of it all. The fear of what your life had become, of how far you’d fallen, of the choices you had to make that never felt right.

Dae-ho stared at you as you quietly wept, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. Without a second thought, he reached out, pulling you into his arms. He wrapped you in the comfort of his embrace, guiding your head to rest against his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t speak at first, just held you tightly, as if trying to shield you from the world, from everything that had happened, and everything you feared. His hand gently rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering what comfort he could in that moment.

“I’m sorry… I know I can’t take away all the pain,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m here, [Name]. I won’t leave you. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore. Please... just let me be here for you.”

You clung to him, not knowing if you wanted him to fix everything, but just needing the solace, the warmth that came with knowing he was still here. Still trying. You didn’t know what the future held, or if you could ever truly forgive him for the past, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to feel something you hadn’t in so long—comfort, even if it was fleeting.

He tightened his hold on you, letting you cry, never pushing you away. “I’ll always be here. I promise.”

You didn’t know how long it had been, but eventually, the tears started to slow. The tightness in your chest eased just a little, and you found yourself breathing a bit easier. Dae-ho, still holding you gently, never let go. He simply let you rest against him, giving you space to process everything, even if that meant staying silent for the moment.

You looked at him, your chest heavy with everything you’d just let out. “I’m sorry too,” you murmured, voice low and shaky. “I... I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I was just... I don’t know. I was scared. I couldn’t—couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything. But I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Dae-ho shook his head softly, his fingers brushing your cheek again. “No... I deserved it. I made you carry too much, and I never gave you the chance to say how you really felt. I was so focused on my own guilt, I didn’t see how much I was hurting you.”

The weight of the words sank in, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek, though this one wasn’t filled with anger—it was filled with a sadness you hadn’t let yourself fully feel until now. “We both messed up,” you whispered, the ache in your heart growing.

Dae-ho’s gaze softened, his hand gently squeezing yours. “But I’ll try to make it right. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll keep trying, [Name]. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

You took a shaky breath, finding comfort in the sincerity of his words. “I don’t know where we go from here, but... I can’t pretend like it’s all fine. I need time.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just... sorry. For everything.”

The air between you was thick with unspoken apologies, regrets, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you could both find a way to heal from this. You both had a long road ahead, a game to survive. But for now, the silence was no longer heavy with tension. Instead, it was filled with a quiet understanding, one that neither of you had expected to find, but one that was slowly, carefully beginning to piece things together.

"This time, the vote will begin with Player 001. Player 001, please cast your vote."

The moment the announcement was made, you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. Voting had begun. This time, you were going first—before Dae-ho. He stood beside you, his presence steady and calming, but there was an undeniable tension in the air. His hand brushed your back, the soothing gesture almost feeling out of place in this chaotic, life-or-death situation.

“Choose what you need,” Dae-ho whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t be mad.”

His words settled over you like a gentle blanket, but they couldn’t remove the weight of the decision you had to make. To survive, to keep moving forward, you knew you had to vote for O. You had to keep playing if you wanted a chance at surviving, but even as you stood in front of the voting machine, you felt a sickening sense of dread.

Was it really worth it? Pushing yourself, forcing the belief that survival was your only option, knowing the outside world would swallow you whole. What was the point of living if the only person who ever made you feel truly alive has always been Dae-ho? The thought echoed in your mind, and the walls of the room suddenly felt like they were closing in around you. Dae-ho had become your anchor in this madness—your reason for pushing through.

But now, you had to choose. You needed to choose for your own survival.

Your finger hovered over the button for O, but then you thought about everything you’d been through, everything you’d sacrificed already. At that moment, it was no longer just about survival. It was about the life you had left to live. You didn’t want to keep going without him.

X.

You slammed your hand down on the button, your choice made in an instant. The harsh reality of it stung as you tore off the patch you had placed on your jacket earlier, replacing it with a new one. As you made your way to the X side of the room, your heart felt heavy, but there was a strange sense of finality to it. You have made your decision.

You couldn’t help but look over at Dae-ho. The surprise on his face was so pure, so raw. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, like a fish caught out of water, and the shock in his gaze hit you harder than you expected.

Despite the tension and the gravity of the moment, you found yourself quietly laughing at him, unable to hold it in. The absurdity of it all—of choosing to walk away from everything that had kept you going—made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. God, you felt like a fool. After your dramatic show earlier, how you had confidently claimed that you would continue voting O, ready to survive, ready to keep playing. Yet here you were, choosing X, choosing to stop. Choosing him.

Dae-ho just stood there for a moment, still processing, before going up the platform to vote. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, as if he were trying to piece together what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him. The moment was so surreal, so at odds with everything you’d said before. 

You watched him, heart hammering in your chest as he stood at the voting machine. His back was turned to you, but you could almost feel the confusion radiating off him. His hesitation was palpable, and you wondered if he understood. If he saw why you made the decision you did.

The sound of his vote pressing echoed in the silence, a soft click that seemed too loud for the room. He immediately walked to where you stood, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered. “Why... why did you choose X?”

The answer was too simple, too complicated, and maybe too painful to say out loud. Instead, you gave him a small smile, one that held so many unsaid things. “Dae-ho, I’ll always choose you.”

In the end, your vote didn’t matter. Since O won by a landslide, the next game was inevitable. But for the first time in days, or maybe even years, you found yourself smiling—a real, genuine smile—as you were introduced to Dae-ho’s little group. You exchanged pleasantries, introduced yourselves, and felt something warm stir inside you.

The following day came quickly, and with it, the next game. One moment, you were lying in bed, your mind running wild with the uncertainty of what was to come. Next, you were on a spinning platform, waiting for the music to stop. Your eyes immediately sought out Dae-ho, and when you met his gaze, he reached for your hand, gripping it tightly, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, a promise in his words. “I won’t let go.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I know.”

The rounds passed, too smoothly, almost disturbingly so. You all survived the first four rounds with ease.

But everything was about to change. 

7.

“Five women, and two men. Go!” Gi-hun’s commanding voice cut through the noise, demanding attention. Without hesitation, 007 shot his hand into the air. “I’ll go with my mother!” he announced, stepping forward. Gi-hun nodded, relieved to have a volunteer. He scanned the group again, waiting for the next person to step up.

Dae-ho raised his hand, his voice strong as he called out, “We’ll go!” He pulled you closer to him, offering a small smile that was laced with worry. His eyes betrayed his calm demeanor, revealing the weight of what was happening. The air around you both felt heavy with the uncertainty of the situation. Still, you clung to each other, walking together toward the door.

Your group of seven—007, 149, 120, 095, Jun-hee, you, and Dae-ho—ran toward the nearest empty room. The sound of your hurried footsteps echoed in the tense silence. But just as you were about to step inside, something caught your eye and made your heart drop.

Player 095, frail and struggling, was being shoved aside by a group of players. Seeing her so helpless, you couldn’t just stand by. Without thinking, you yanked your hand from Dae-ho’s grasp and rushed to her side.

Dae-ho’s heart skipped a beat the moment he felt the loss of your hand. Panic surged through him. Where did you go? He scanned the chaos around him, his eyes frantic as he searched for you in the crowded room. His heart tightened when he saw you helped 095 into the room, making sure she was safe. He could see the determination in your eyes as you ensured her well-being, but once it was your turn to come into the room, to rejoin him, disaster struck.

A group of four players, each desperately fighting for their own survival, barreled into you.

The impact was brutal. Your body was slammed to the ground with overwhelming force. Everything around you seemed to blur and slow down as you hit the floor, your breath knocked from your chest in a violent rush. A sharp wave of pain shot through your body—your limbs aching, your head spinning—but strangely, you couldn't feel it all at once. The shock of the fall seemed to disconnect you from your body, like you were floating in a painful haze.

In that split second, time seemed to stretch out. You felt a sudden sense of numbness as your body tried to process the damage, and your heart raced as you struggled to breathe. Your vision blurred, and for a moment, you feared that you wouldn’t be able to get up again. But then, the rush of adrenaline kicked in.

Determination surged through you like a lightning bolt. You couldn't afford to stay down. You had to survive.

You pushed yourself off the ground, ignoring the throbbing pain in your limbs, and scrambled to your feet. Gritting your teeth, you ran with every ounce of strength you had left, your focus fixed on the door. You had to get inside—it was the only chance left. The room was just a few feet away now, but each step felt like an eternity as you sprinted, your legs shaking with exertion and fear. Every part of you screamed for rest, but you couldn't stop. Not yet.

"[Name]! Let’s play Mingle!" Dae-ho’s voice rang out with excitement, pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised an eyebrow, already knowing his playful nature.

“With just the two of us?” you asked, teasing him. A grin tugged at your lips despite yourself, knowing that whatever he had planned would likely be a mix of fun and absurdity.

“Well...” Dae-ho scratched the back of his neck, pretending to think deeply, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. He was already scheming.

It was your third anniversary together, a day you both decided to celebrate in your usual style: by skipping class and spending it alone in your room. Both of you were still wearing your high school uniforms—uniforms that no longer felt like the serious attire they were supposed to be. The two of you had spent countless afternoons like this, laughing and simply enjoying each other's company, without a care in the world.

“I’ve got it!” Dae-ho suddenly exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he dashed to your bed. He scooped up a handful of stuffed toys with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Let’s use our children!” he declared, holding them up like he had just discovered the most brilliant idea.

You stared at him, your laughter bubbling up instantly. "Our children? Really, tiger?" you chuckled, wiping away the tears that had already begun to form from laughing too hard.

"Hey, don’t laugh! This is serious!" he protested, feigning offense, but you could see the twinkle in his eyes that told you he was only pretending to be upset. He adjusted the toys in his arms, a determined look on his face.

“Alright, fine,” you replied, still laughing but wiping your eyes. “Let’s play.” You were already game—who could resist when Dae-ho was this excited?

Dae-ho carefully arranged the toys in front of you both, giving each one a position with a level of care that made it clear he was taking this game very seriously. “Okay. For this round… Three!” he announced dramatically, holding his hands out in front of him like he was preparing to start a battle.

You didn’t even wait for him to finish before snatching up two of the nearest toys. His jaw dropped in mock betrayal, and he huffed loudly, feigning offense. "Not fair! You should partner with me. Always!" he said, acting like you had broken some sacred rule.

You stuck your tongue out at him, teasing. “Stop being a sore loser! I’m just playing by your rules.”

"Fine," he grumbled. He pouted dramatically, a little over-the-top for someone so competitive. He then scurried around the room, gathering two more toys to prepare for the next round.

The game continued in the same playful vein, with the toys being eliminated one by one. The room filled with the sound of laughter, teasing, and mock outrage as each round got more dramatic. The toys “lost” in ways that made no sense, their plush bodies being thrown to the side in exaggerated defeat.

"For this round,” Dae-ho said, his voice suddenly turning serious. “Two!” He gave you a look, as if to challenge you to keep up with him.

You smirked, ready to grab him this time. But before you could react, he swooped down and grabbed the last remaining toy, holding it close to his chest with a triumphant grin. “Hey!” you cried out in mock outrage, throwing your hands up.

"Sore loser!" he teased, clearly pleased with his victory.

You crossed your arms, pretending to sulk. “Whatever.” you muttered, rolling your eyes for effect.

Dae-ho chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. He set the toy down, then knelt in front of you. “Wait, wait, don’t be mad!” he said, holding the toy up to his face like a little puppet. He moved its tiny arms in a dramatic fashion, as if it was trying to “walk” toward you.

"Eomma! Please don’t be angry at Appa! Pleaseee!” he said in a high-pitched, exaggerated voice that made you burst out laughing.

Your faux anger crumbled immediately, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. He was ridiculous—and that was one of the many reasons you loved him.

Still holding the toy, Dae-ho slowly lowered it from his face, a more tender look in his eyes. You hadn’t noticed at first, but there was a delicate necklace hanging from the toy’s tiny paw. Your breath hitched as he gently removed the necklace and held it out to you.

"Here," he said softly, his voice unexpectedly gentle. You could feel the warmth in his words as he looked at you with such sincerity. Without warning, he leaned forward and clasped the necklace around your neck. The touch of his fingers against your skin sent a shiver through you. "Happy anniversary, [Name]."

For a moment, your heart skipped a beat as the rush of emotion hit you unexpectedly. His gesture felt like everything—a simple, yet deeply meaningful way of showing how much he cared. You blinked back the sudden welling of emotion in your chest.

Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his lips in gratitude. You then buried your face in his shoulder, hiding the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Thank you.” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Dae-ho chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, comforting hug. “Anything for you.”

In that moment, everything else faded away. There was just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth, sharing a quiet, simple happiness that felt bigger than any words could express. Time seemed to slow down, and you didn’t want to think about anything else.

As you pulled back, your laughter bubbled up again, light and carefree. You couldn’t resist teasing him once more. “You’re still a sore loser, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dae-ho replied, rolling his eyes but still grinning. “But you love me anyway.”

You smiled, your gaze softening as you looked at him with affection. “I do. Now help me with this necklace!”

Your hand stretched toward the door, the cold metal just within reach. 

Then everything went silent.

[bewaryofpity]

NEXT STEP IS LOVE - L. HUGHES

[2.0k] luke brings you to the family skate, surprising his teammates, and the usual “i didn't know you had a girlfriend” comes up, but this time luke has enough of calling you just his best friend.

warnings: none ! just some cute ol' fluff; probably really cringey 😔

a/n: she's a short one, and i’m not really fond of it but here it is anyway. sorry guys :(

“Didn’t know Luke had a girlfriend.”

“That’s because he doesn’t. That is his best friend.”

“Bullshit.” Kovacevic laughed in Jack’s face before turning his head back towards Luke near the bench.

Luke was kind of a private person so the idea of him having a secret girlfriend would have made sense to anyone, especially to the new guys he wasn't close with yet. But when Jack revealed that the girl in front of Luke was simply a friend had to be the biggest lie Kovy ever got told. Because friends don’t look at each other that way.

Luke’s fingers were trembling as he tied the laces of your skates carefully, making sure they weren’t too tight or too loose. He felt nervous having you here with him, which was strange because it wasn’t like you’ve never been around the guys before, but the new season meant new guys too. Which also meant that the same old dreaded question was going to come up at any moment.

“Good?”

You nodded in response before stretching your hands out so Luke could help you up the bench. You were wobbly at first, as he tried to hold back the teasing grin creeping on his lips, definitely not used to being on skates as often as him. 

You slowly made your way onto the ice, clutching his hand like your life depended on it. He couldn’t help but keep his gaze on your concentrated face, cheeks flushed from the chill of the arena as you found your rhythm. He was lost in his thoughts, stomach filling with butterflies when your hands squeezed his tighter. And if it weren’t for the little squeak you left out, he would’ve let you fall.

“Sorry,” he said with no hint of honesty in his voice while you shot him a playful look. 

It wasn’t long before you found your footing and let go of his hands to skate side by side. There weren’t many chances for you to hang out with Luke in these settings. The last time you skated together was when he was still a rookie, and he almost got in trouble too many times for using the rink after hours just to teach you how to skate, but you loved every single moment of it. So when he realized your day off coincided with the family skate, he didn’t hesitate to mention it and you couldn’t wait to be there for him, doing something you know would make him happy.

Though, the only thing that was different from those times was the fact that holding Luke’s hands now had your heart doing funny tricks on you. The newfound warmth that has taken over your body in his presence this past year or so was unexpected and scary because you were well aware what this meant and you couldn’t lose Luke over a stupid crush. 

If only you knew that he too got to a point where hiding his feelings for you was actually painful. He tried everything to spend as much time with you as possible. Faking being too tired to drive back to his place and sleep on your couch, missing optional skates, staying up at night before an away game just to hear your voice, letting you nap and waking you up only to convince you to spend the night at his place because i don’t want you to drive, it’s too dark outside and dangerous. It was all worth it in his eyes. But the ache in his chest everytime he had to leave you was becoming harder to suppress than he thought and he couldn’t take it anymore.

As he tried to grab at your brushing hands, Pesce stopped abruptly in front of you and almost knocked you down in the process. 

“Didn’t know Rusty here had a girlfriend.” He said with a grin before turning his attention to Luke, wiggling his brows in a teasing maner.

“Oh, no, I'm just a friend.”

“Oh.”

“His best… friend, actually.” You tried to smile as sincerely as you could. The question never bothered you before, you two were close enough that such was expected, but the way Luke couldn’t look at you during the exchange with his teammate created a pit in your stomach.  

Before he could take you away from the awkwardness of it all, Cotter skated over too. “Here we go,” mumbled Luke. 

“Meeting the girlfriend without me?” 

“Not the girlfriend apparently.”

"Really?" He asked, his tone skeptical as his eyes flicked between you. "Could’ve fooled me."

Luke groaned, not missing the way his teammates exchanged knowing looks and chuckling under their breaths. He couldn’t really blame his teammates for jumping to conclusions. If he were in their shoes, he might have assumed the same thing, it happened way too often anyway.

He grabbed at your hand and pulled you towards him, skating as far as possible from everyone. Was it really that obvious he liked you? Yet, you were still by his side, seemingly not phazed by the constant nagging and teasing from outsiders about your relationship, which could only mean that you didn’t like him back. 

Luke was tired of all of this and the months he spent burying his feelings for you, convincing himself that your friendship was enough, were all coming down on him now with everyone assuming you were a couple. Feeling heavy, he hoped the family skate came to an end soon.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about them.”

“That’s okay.”

You nodded but didn’t press further, not yet at least. Your hand came to rest around his bicep, seeking his warmth and pretending to need balance as you grew tired. 

The easy rhythm you found earlier was now gone. Luke could tell you were trying to bring yourself comfort by staying close to him, though you kept your gaze on the ground which could only mean you were absorbed in your thoughts. And he hated that it was all his fault, he hated the idea of you thinking he was embarrassed or annoyed by the assumption that you were together. Because he wasn’t, he had dreamed of being your boyfriend more times than he‘d like to admit. And he wanted nothing more than being able to call you his. 

Sensing your exhaustion, he led the way towards the bench to change back into normal shoes. The rink was quieter now, families thinning out. You leaned back, stretching your legs, and looked at him with a small frown on your lips. You didn’t have time to reach down when he brought up one of your feet to untie your skate.

“What’s on your mind, Luke?” 

Luke hesitated, his fingers fumbling with your skate laces. “Nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing, Luke. You’re too quiet, what’s wrong?”

“Does it not bother you when people ask if we’re a couple?”

You blinked at him, startled by the question. It wasn’t what you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Luke had stopped untying your skate, his hands frozen mid-motion as he waited for your answer. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw tightened.

“Bother me?” You repeated softly, the chill of the rink seemed to seep into your skin, though you weren’t sure if it actually was the cold temperature or the sudden shift in the conversation. “No, not really. I mean, it happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Luke nodded slowly, looking down at your skate again. He resumed working on the laces, but his movements were slower now, almost hesitant. You shifted slightly, your other foot tapping lightly against the rubber mat beneath the bench. 

“Does it bother you?” You tilted your head, watching him carefully. 

Luke let out a quiet sigh and dropped his hands on your leg. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “Sometimes, I guess. Not because of what they think, but… because of what it implies.”

“And what does it imply?” 

You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart began to race, the steady rhythm you’d been clinging to slowly slipping away. You couldn’t help but search his face for clues, for anything that might explain the sudden vulnerability in his tone.

Luke hesitated, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours for something — permission, maybe, or courage. And for a moment, he seemed to be weighing his next words, his brows drawing together in a way that made your chest ache. 

“Luke…”

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if he was afraid he’d lose his nerve if he waited any longer. “I’ve liked you for a while now and I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that I don’t. I can’t stand being apart from you, I need you close to the point where I am not my own person anymore. I’m tired of the ache in my chest everytime I have to leave you, not just for roadies, but every time we part ways, it’s like I’m a different person without you that I can't recognize.”

“When they say stuff like that, it just makes it harder because I want it to be true. I want us to be more than just friends. I want to wake up next to you and come home to you every day.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. You tried to open your mouth as if to speak, but he pressed on, the words tumbling out like water breaking through a dam. His words started fading in your racing mind. His confession hung in the air heavy and raw, and all of it felt like you’ve been hit by a truck. Luke, your best friend, liked you and you were glad he hadn't stopped talking because, truly, you didn’t know what to say.

Luke’s heart felt like it might burst from his chest, every beat echoing in his ears as he braced himself for rejection, for awkwardness, for the possibility that he’d just ruined everything. The silence that followed when he stopped taking felt like an eternity. And for a moment, you just stared at him, expression unreadable. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… wanted you to know.”

You dropped your foot to the ground and scooted closer to him. As he turned to face you, your hand pressed against his cheek and you leaned in to place a delicate kiss on his lips. It was soft, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make Luke freeze. His mind blanked, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. When you pulled back, your face was mere inches from his, your hand still lingering on his cheek. Your cheeks were flushed, though whether from the cold or the weight of the moment, he couldn’t tell.

His heart pounded in his chest as you bit your lip, your hand dropping from his face to rest on your lap. 

“It’s always been you, Luke.” Your gaze met his once more, the blush on his cheeks making him cuter than he ever looked. Luke’s eyes widened, still incredulous even after your kiss. 

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, a small, tentative curve of your lips as you nodded.

He leaned forward slightly clearing his throat, his eyes searching yours. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, voice barely audible.

This time, the kiss wasn’t hesitant or fleeting. It was soft and tender, a promise of everything you both hoped to build together. When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested against each other, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

“Hey, lovebird! Tone it down a bit, there’s kids around.”

Luke groaned at one of the guys’ teasing from the other side of the rink, and you laughed at his antics, the weight on your shoulders had finally been lifted off. 

“So… does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You didn’t know your cheeks could flush any more, and smiling at his question, you reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from his face.

“Eh, I’ll have to think about that.”

[bruhstories]

Bet III

p.1 here & p.2 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right.  He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying. 

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing. 

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is. 

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :( 

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her. 

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice. 

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought. 

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare  for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration. 

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask. 

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :( 

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends. 

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

[gyaruhana]

Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is. 

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch. 

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor. 

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you. 

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him. 

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end. 

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died. 

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him. 

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it. 

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him. 

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him. 

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing. 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive. 

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers. 

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers. 

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan. 

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

[jheselbraum]

Birth of a Nation revitalized the KKK in America and is perhaps the only piece of "irredeemable media" I can think of that's actually like. You know, a story, and I don't know of anything else off the top of my head that had that kind of lasting, palpably harmful impact that isn't like, direct state mandated propaganda like Mein Kampf. In 1915 the KKK was effectively dead, they'd slowly dissolved around the 1870s (particularly after the introduction of the Ku Klux Klan Act of 1871) and Birth of a Nation led to the most notorious American terrorist group reforming. As far as I'm concerned, DW Griffith has actual blood on his hands, for murders committed at the very least through the 40s (they disbanded temporarily in 1944 after America's most effective violent crime task force, the IRS, got involved, though it could be argued he's only responsible for murders committed by the KKK through the 20s, as membership declined rapidly after that once people saw that being part of a terrorist organization wasn't like how it was in the movie).

And like, look I generally don't think the word "irredeemable" can really be applied to art in any form, but there is something viscerally reprehensible about Birth of a Nation that makes us not want to watch it. Like it (arguably) pioneered a lot of film techniques but that's more of the science side of film than the art side, I'm completely certain that people would have figured out that contrasting long shots with close-ups made movies more interesting if Birth of a Nation was left on the cutting room floor. (In fact, several of the techniques 'pioneered' by Birth of a Nation were actually from earlier films, it's just that DW Griffith was more popular and his films are the ones that were remembered). But like we don't screen this movie publicly, we don't like it, we don't like the what DW Griffith had to say. Birth of a Nation just... repels people away from it. Its in person screenings are relegated to a few film classes and maybe some klan meetings, though I'm certain there are some racists on 4chan who've downloaded a copy. If you ask normal people to pick one movie to stop existing, there's no way out of it you have to pick one, chances are they'll pick Birth of a Nation, assuming they've even heard of it (my first exposure to it was in high school, some people might not get to it until college, or even later, that's just kind of what happens with something like this. It's not like you can learn about something through cultural osmosis when the culture is trying like hell to osmosis that thing out of itself). It's an acceptable loss.

Meanwhile, from what I've read, I'd say the decision to use A Serbian Film alongside Birth of a Nation is actually a reasonable one, not because of the graphic nature of it's content, but rather its themes and message and how flat it can feel because of who's saying it (DISCLAIMER: I haven't watched it, I'm not going to watch it, take this with a grain of salt). It's about a man who's forced to commit horrific crimes to survive (economically, though he may be directly threatened with death I'm not sure, he's doing it as a job basically). If you'll recall, Serbia committed genocide during the Bosnian War in the 90s, the targets being primarily Bosniaks but also including anyone in Bosnia and Herzegovina that wasn't Serbian.

The director of the film, Srđan Spasojević, had this to say when asked if the acts depicted in the film were related in any way to crimes committed during the Yugoslav Wars:

A Serbian Film does not touch upon war themes, but in a metaphorical way deals with the consequences of post-war society and a man that is exploited to the extreme in the name of securing the survival of his family.

Additionally, he described the film as "a diary of our own molestation by the Serbian government ... It's about the monolithic power of leaders who hypnotize you to do things you don't want to do. You have to feel the violence to know what it's about."

A Serbian Film is an exploitation film that's apparently considered one of the most disturbing of all time, but the film is not a snuff film as many people have claimed. A snuff film is the filming of actual gruesome crimes like murder, torture, and rape, committed for the purpose of selling the resulting film and making money. It's not "a movie that depicts gruesome crimes like murder, torture, and rape through the use of special or practical effects."

Based on the quick read-through of the Wikipedia article I did, it seems like most of what the film is trying to say is through the lens of the aftermath of the Yugoslav Wars, or at least that's how the audience largely interpreted it. The script writer, Aleksandar Radivojević, said this about the process of securing funding for the film and the state of the Serbian film industry in general.

you had this EU arts council funded production using Serbia for EU's political agitprop agenda of 'promoting tolerance and reconciliation in the post-war Balkans' by boosting sappy local projects of no aesthetic value whose sole reason for receiving EU financing was their respective authors' willingness to amplify the EU-approved message, i.e. to express 'Serb contrition over what happened in the Yugoslav Wars' via essentially making victim porn, showing small miserable Serb people who are struggling mightily while nevertheless simultaneously 'doing their part in search of collective redemption' by being extremely remorseful

Now, I'm a white American who does not experience racism of any kind, let alone the violently dehumanizing prejudice necessary to convince a group of people to commit an ethnic cleansing, but if my people had been the victims of a genocide, and I heard someone from the group of people that committed that genocide complain about media depicting his people's remorse, and saw that that guy also wrote a movie where the plot is a man is forced to commit gruesome rapes, and again, my people were gruesomely raped as a part of that guy's country's plan to wipe my people from existence, I'd be fucking pissed. Like again, I haven't seen A Serbian Film, and Radivojević wasn't the only person in the writer's room, so maybe in practice it reads less as "our government was controlling us we did nothing wrong" and more "our government is controlling us and we're monsters for listening." And we can argue the merits of the latter another time, but at least the latter acknowledges that genocide doesn't happen in a vacuum because some schmucks at the top said so, that the people bear as much responsibility as their government.

Now, is A Serbian Film actually trying to say anything about the Yugoslav Wars at all? I don't know. I haven't seen it. Maybe it isn't about the Bosnian genocide at all. But then what is it saying about Serbia? Serbian actor Dragan Bjelogrlić said this about the film and its director, a year after its release:

I have a problem with A Serbian Film. Its director in particular. I've got a serious problem with this boy whose father got wealthy during the 1990s—nothing against making money, but I know how money was made [in Serbia] during the '90s—and then pays for his son's education abroad and eventually the kid comes back to Serbia to film his view of the country using his dad's money and even calls the whole thing A Serbian Film. To me that's a metaphor for something unacceptable. The second generation comes back to the country and using the money that had been robbed from the people of Serbia, smears the very same people by portraying them as the worst scum of the earth.

OP was right, it's fucking insane that this site only uses words like irredeemable media to talk about cartoons for children. Like, no, Steven Universe or The Owl House or My Hero Academia or whatever TV-Y7 cartoon you're hyper focused on that week isn't irredeemable media. Your bar for even discussing it as a possibility is "did this story's public existence revitalize a terrorist organization and lead to several murders," a qualification which A Serbian Film, despite its content, themes, and possible interpretations, does not meet. It's offensive, and disturbing, it possibly excuses genocide, but as far as I've read, no one has gotten physically hurt because it exists.

A Serbian Film is more violently graphic than Birth of a Nation. Birth of a Nation did more to physically harm real people than A Serbian Film ever could.

It's fucking wild that the above reaction to A Serbian Film mentions next to nothing about what it's trying to say, how well it works, who's saying it and in what context, but focuses purely on the graphic and violent scenes depicted in the film. It's probably why they slapped Salo on at the end even though a cursory glance through Wikipedia (I don't care enough to read thoroughly on the plot and themes you get the point graphic exploitation films aren't inherently evil for depicting murder or rape or whatever I don't want to read about more graphic shit it's not something I personally enjoy doing) reveals that that film is strictly antifascist, though several actors were actually injured during filming. Notably, the director of Salo, Pier Paolo Pasolini, was gruesomely abducted, tortured, and murdered in 1975 shortly before Salo's release at the Paris Film Festival. He was openly gay, and a Marxist, and while his death was initially contributed to one Giuseppe Pelosi (17 at the time of the murder) after he confessed, he later retracted his confession claiming that he made it under the threat of violence to his family (which unfortunately tracks, Americans may recall the more recent case of Amanda Knox, who was arrested in 2007 for the murder of her friend and forced by Italian police to confess to a crime she didn't commit and was later exonerated from). The case was reopened after Giuseppe's retraction in 2005 and other evidence that had come to light, and as of 2023 the Italian authorities are looking at the far right group Banda della Magliana as possible suspects. While I agree that "I hear it's kind of. nasty" is frankly an understatement when attempting to discuss the graphic content of Salo, and really fucking hilarious in the context of trying to argue that Salo shouldn't exist at all, I don't know that that's really a fair criticism to make, considering the other two examples are if not directly far right (using the term because of the changing political landscape between 1915 and 2010, like I can't really call Birth of a Nation fascist because it was made before fascism was a fully congealed political ideology, even if it upholds the ideology of fascism) then at least debatably so. As previously established, the actual content of the film, as in, the acts depicted, don't immediately make a work reprehensible. Remember, A Serbian Film is more graphic and disturbing to watch than Birth of a Nation, but Birth of a Nation is worse than A Serbian Film.

Tldr; op is right, and the person whose tags have been drowned is exactly the kind of person op was talking about

'Irredeemable media' is such a funny concept to me because it's never used for stuff like Birth of a Nation or A Serbian Film. It's always The Owl House or My Hero Academia because these people only watch things for children and can't stand any conflict more complex than Super Mario Brothers.

[rose24207]

Just a salesman pt.2

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst, dark

TW: mention of death, little gaslighting, reader is a little twisted about the situation, the games in general

A/N: Wow I didn’t expect for pt. 1 to blow up like that and for so many requests about a second part. But here we go! I take requests about squid game btw. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.1

Masterlist

The room fell into an unbearable silence as you stood there, trembling, your tears streaking your face. Gi-hun’s words echoed in your ears like a bell you couldn’t unring. Your husband, your safe harbor, was a killer. A manipulative, calculating man who had built a world of lies around you.

And yet...

As much as your heart screamed in betrayal, it also whispered something darker. A small, insidious part of you—a part you didn’t even recognize—wanted to protect him. Wanted to believe that somehow, some way, this could still make sense.

“Leave,” your husband said, his voice low and commanding. It wasn’t directed at you, but at Gi-hun.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gi-hun spat. “She deserves to know the full truth.”

“I said, leave.” Your husband’s tone grew colder, sharper. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand flexed at his side as though itching to act.

Gi-hun took a step forward, his jaw set. “You think you can scare me? After everything I’ve been through because of you? I’m not afraid of you anymore. I’m not—”

“Stop,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Both men turned to look at you, surprised. You wiped your face, straightened your back, and forced yourself to meet Gi-hun’s eyes. “Please. Just… go.”

“What?” he said, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“I need to talk to him,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered. “Alone.”

“You can’t trust him,” Gi-hun argued, gesturing toward your husband. “He’s a monster. He’ll manipulate you, just like he’s done to everyone else.”

You shook your head. “I don’t care what you think. This is my marriage. My life. And right now, you’re not helping.”

Your words were harsh, but your heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Gi-hun looked at you, his face contorted with disbelief, before letting out a bitter laugh.

“Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shot your husband one last glare before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

Silence settled over the room once more. Your husband stood there, watching you cautiously, as though waiting for you to lash out or collapse. But you did neither. Instead, you walked to the table, picking up the strange card Gi-hun had left. You turned it over in your hands, the cryptic design doing little to ease your growing unease.

“Is it true?” you asked finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “What he said about the games? About you?”

Your husband hesitated, his jaw tightening. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. “Yes.”

The word hit you like a physical blow, but you didn’t falter. You set the card down and looked at him, your tears drying as a strange calm settled over you. “Why?”

“For you,” he said simply, stepping closer. “For us.”

“That’s not an answer,” you said, your voice cold. “Why would you do something so… horrific? Why would you—”

“Because it’s the only world I know,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “And it’s the only way I could give you the life you deserve. Don’t you see? Everything I’ve done has been for you.”

“For me?” you repeated, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something darker. “You think I wanted this? That I’d ever want you to hurt people—kill people—for me?”

He stepped closer still, his eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t understand,” he said softly. “The world isn’t kind to people like us. I’ve seen what happens to people who don’t take control, who don’t make the hard choices. I made those choices so you wouldn’t have to.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. Every instinct told you to run, to call the police, to do anything but stand there and listen to him. And yet… you didn’t move.

“Do you love me?” you asked suddenly, your voice raw.

His expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the man you’d fallen in love with. “More than anything,” he said. “You’re the only good thing in my life.”

Something inside you twisted at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. He was a monster, yes—but he was your monster. The thought made your stomach churn, but it also filled you with a strange, horrifying sense of power. He had done terrible things, but he had done them for you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same way.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said quietly. “But I need you to understand that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. To keep you with me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you took a shaky breath. “You’re going to tell me everything,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. “No more lies. No more secrets. If you want me to stay, I need to know exactly who you are.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by something darker. He nodded. “I’ll tell you everything.”

As he began to speak, unraveling the web of lies and horrors he’d kept hidden, you felt yourself sinking deeper into a world you didn’t understand—a world you weren’t sure you wanted to understand. But one thing was certain: you weren’t ready to let go. Not yet.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @blueyesuguru, @annimoony, @jasmineee05, @astrophe0, @riri53

[thanosscross]

Can I request a enemies to lovers with thanos?

I love ur writing n his character ty!

of course!! We love Thanos in this household <3 and thank you <3 I absolutely love the support I've been getting just in the one day this accounts been up <3 I do wanna say thank you guys along with a thank you to my fiancee with her amazing help with this <3 >< while I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers I'm terrible at writing pre-relationship fight scenes without a full blueprint, so my fiancee's help and obsession with the Enemies to Lovers trope definitely made this story into what it is <33

I fucking hate you - Choi Su-bong/Thanos x reader

Summary: You vowed to always hate Choi Su-bong, not only did he ruin your life but he was also just an asshole. Su-bong vowed to always hate y/n not only was she a bitch she costed him his only shot at a big rap career, so what happens whenever you two see each other after years in a death game for cash?

warnings: none really? Thanos being an ass for about..the first half

Growing up with Choi Su-Bong was your personal hell, he was your neighbor, and he always had something to bitch about towards you, always calling you out in front of the school, even going as far as coming up with MULTIPLE different stories to make you lose your spot as top of the class. Su-bong ruined your chance at any good future, forcing you to stay trapped in the same neighborhood you grew up in, while he started his rap career.

It wasn't like you were innocent either, while Su-bong went for public humiliation with your shared classmates, you went for his parents, charming them with your nice good girl demeanor, becoming his 'babysitter' (They never trusted Su-bong alone, even at 16/17) and tutor, snitching him out for any little thing you could find out about, making his home life even more of a personal hell for him. So you both hated each other for pretty respected reasons, you ruined each others potential futures, and never acknowledged it. After he moved away with his rap career blowing up, you thought you were finally free of him and his constantly ruining your life, until the debt came. Your mom got sick, your dad up and left one day, so financials were solely on you, shoving you deep into thousands of wons in debt.

You were close to ending it, going on a walk towards the old trainyards, whenever you ran into a way too well dressed man to be there, he offered you a fix, something you took without a second thought.

Red light, Greenlight was going great, until you and everybody else realized you weren't just being taking out of the running for the cash, you were risking your life. You stood frozen, keeping your eyes squeezed shut as you waited for the doll to turn back around "Holy shit! Holy shit! Y/n!?" You heard a grating voice shout out behind you, of course he was here, why couldn't you ever do something without him ruining it. Standing still, not wanting to move until you were allowed to, you continued to hear Thanos's shouts, as greenlight was called, you tried to hide yourself in the crowd, not wanting to interact with him, but, like always, he found someway to ruin it for you. As red light was called, Thanos's high ass skipped over slamming into you almost knocking you off of your feet, before you could make contact with the ground, two arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against him, smirking as he used to opportunity of being stuck on redlight to be close to you "Y/n! What are you doin here!?" He gasped practically shouting in your face, as the doll's head turned again you shoved him back "Let go of me, you fucking drug addict, we are NOT friends" You seethed, okay so maybe you blamed Su-bong for a alot of things that happened after he left, but you didn't care, he was an easy person to blame.

Thanos gave an overdramatic pained expression as he rested a hand on his chest, rushing to stay caught up with you "C'mon! Y/n!" He shouted spinning around you to face you as the doll's head spun "Su-Bong! Please! Leave me alone! We aren't friends! We never fucking were! I hate you! I fucking hate you so much! You ruined my fucking life!" You growled trying to hide your body behind his to keep you out of view of the doll "Psh! I ruined your life!? You ruined my life! Do you not understand that!?" He shouted, his excited playful demeanor shifted, he was angry now, how dare you say that? You were at every corner to him ruining his life. You felt the same about him though, especially right now "I didn't do shit!" You scoffed "You did drugs! In school! So yea! I told your parents! So you told everybody in school including the principal and my parents that I've fucked every teacher since the start of high school!" You shouted "I got kicked out of school for the rest of the year! Do you know how bad that ruined my life!?" You finished punching his chest as hard as you could "Uhm! Ow! And you didn't just tell my parents! I was about to sign on to a recording label and you fucked that up for me being a bitch!" He argued, if it weren't for the fact the Doll's head still faced towards you, you were sure that you would've stormed off by now.

You took off as soon as the doll's head turned back around, making it past the red colored line in the sand, trying to stay away from everybody until it was lights out. You were almost successful, until somebody used their bodyweight and arm to pin you against the wall "Why can't you just admit that you were a bitch?" He snapped, only now did you realize it was your walking curse, Su-bong "Why can't you just admit you're an arrogant asshole who only cares about himself" You snapped, trying to shove him away like usual, but this time was different than all the other times growing up, this time he didn't stumble, his body didn't even shift under it, he just stood there stiff, you'd be lying if you said it didn't scare you a little bit, now realizing maybe those times you 'beat his ass' he let you, because now, feeling trapped between him and the wall, your shoves and hits not phasing him in the slightest, truly shook you to your core with fear, he could do anything at this point, you couldn't let him see though, you'd just feed into his stupid cocky attitude even more.

"Admit. You. ruined. everything. for me. bitch" he seethed, Su-bong leaning closer to your face, you could feel his breath on your face at this point.

Su-bong smiled, the look on your face was one he had been trying to get for years, who knew all it took was just hiding the face a few punches really fuckin hurt "Go on. say it" He whispered, you shivered, your panicked eyes scanning over his face, before taking in a shaky breath "Let me go" You snapped before a hand landed on Su-bong's shoulder "The young lady said to let her go, I advise you do so" A man threatened from behind, Su-bong smirked slowly turning around before realizing the man was about half a foot taller than him "Fine. fine. but she'll admit eventually" Su-bong said, giving you one last glare, before the man, number 001, stepped closer "I'm Young Il, who was that guy?" He introduced himself watching as you fixing your jacket and huffed "An asshole I used to live by, I'm y/n" You explained, he nodded, offering you take you over to where him and his friends sat.

Thanos sat next to his bunk, watching you closely, he couldn't describe it, but seeing you talking to somebody else made him feel crazier than any drug, it had always been that way, the entire reason he started hating you was because you were always interested in everybody except him, and it pissed him off, he knew he was hot, he knew he could ask out just about any girl he sees who knows him and she'll be ecstatic, but you acted like he was scum, just because he took some pills and smoked some weed to feel better about things. Nam-Gyu huffed, noticing his friend hadn't been listening that entire time he was talking, he followed his eye line, noticing you laughing and talking with two of the men from before, the crazy guy and the one who stopped them from beating that stealing bitcoin asshole's ass.

As the lights went out, Su-bong stayed in his place, watching say your goodnights to the group you had been with, he knew you had to walk right by him to get to your bunk, he knew yours was the one right next to his, thank god. As you approached him, you never realized until you were basically tripping over him on the stairs, scoffing you caught yourself on the bed "Seriously?" You growled, letting yourself fall onto your bed, as he took in your location, he slowly crawled to you "Join my team" he offered, you laughed loudly, quickly covering your mouth to not disturb the other players "Yea...no" You laughed looking at him, you couldn't see it in the dark, but Su-bong got visibly pissed off with your response "It wasn't a question" He demanded, glaring at you, you wanted so badly to just punch him in the head, but you just turned your back to him "Goodnight su-bong" He stopped at your reply, yes you weren't agreeing, but that was the first somewhat nice thing you had said to him in awhile, even if it was to cut him off and end the conversation he wasn't done with. Huffing and falling back onto his bed, he laid on his side to watch you, half because if you got killed, he'd be damned if it was anybody but him doing the deed, and half because he didn't want you sneaking off to go lay with the old dick that interrupted him from earlier.

He watched you toss and turn for hours, not really knowing when you fell asleep because he had passed out himself, waking up whenever the loud trumpets sounded off, and the lights flicked on, he slowly sat up, quickly checking his necklace was still around his neck, and you were still in bed. You were, your blanket wrapped tightly around you, Su-bong marveled for a moment, before realizing you were still deep in sleep, unphased by the loud music and lights. He slowly moved across the stairway, ghosting a hand over your back "Y/n. Y/n it's to wake up" He said, trying to be loud enough to wake you up, you did infact wake up, but with a jolt, turning quickly and grabbing Su-bong's hand, stopping at the very last second before your fist connected with his jaw "Hey!" He protested, attempting to lean out of the way "The next game is gonna start"

The next game you played was six legs, which went as smoothly as it could have been, you stuck with Young-Il and his friends, which in the end you realized was a good choice. Making your way through dinner and lights out was your next issue, Su-bong was starting to get on your nerves and you couldn't understand why he was so clingy all of a sudden "I thought I said to join my team?" he asked you, the lights had gone out long ago, and your back was to him "And i thought I laughed in your face and told you no?" You asked turning on your side to face him "I don't like that guy, or you being around him" He stated, going to lean closer to you but you beat him to it, shoving your finger at his chest "I don't care, young-il is sweet and cares about me, unlike some people! Su-bong you are the most selfish person I fucking know, who knows if I would be betrayed and killed because of you! You ruined everything I worked so hard for! ruined my name! And you think you can boss me around!?" You shouted, every shout followed by a harsh hit to the shoulder or chest, you couldn't help it, he pissed you off. Su-bong was feeling something else though, the more you shouted at him, the more his eyes were drawn your lips rather than your words, You were too caught up in your shouts to notice though, that was until his fingers rested on your chin tilting your head up so you were making direct eye contact "Shut up." He demanded "Just go to bed, whatever the game is, you'll need sleep" He explained, you were too stunned to say anything, instead just ripping your head away from him and laying down in your bed "You shut up" You grumbled, trying to hide your flustered face, no way you were about to show or admit that you were flustered by that selfish dick.

During Mingle you tried to stick with Young-il, but Nam-Gyu, Su-Bong, and Min-su kept grabbing you and forcefully taking you with them, until it just turned into just Su-bong pulling you into a room with him "Why can't you just leave me alone!?" You cried out, you were trying so hard to avoid him, and yet he was trying his best to run into you. "I told you to stay away from young il" his voice was low and deep, you glared at him, you thought you made yourself clear last night, before you could start back up though, Su-bong was right in front of you, leaning down and pressing a finger to your lips "Don't wanna hear it" He interrupted before looking at you "Why don't you want me?" He asked tilting his head, you glared at him "Because you're a selfish self entitled asshole?" You asked like it was obvious, Su-bong huffed "Even in school, every chick wanted me, why not you?" He asked tilting his head, you just rolled your eyes "Just because I don't throw myself at you, doesn't mean I never wanted you, you just ruined it by being you" You huffed, sighing in relief hearing the lock unlock, you rushed out, desperate to just get back to the room.

Meal time was weird, you surprised yourself by sitting with Su-bong and his friends, Thanos quickly leaning over, pulling you down to sit across from him, smirking at you "Welcome to the Thanos world" He said, you just rolled your eyes at him scoffing "Don't ruin it" You warned raising an eyebrow, you continued to eat your food, finally opening your milk taking a huge drink, normally it wouldn't be your choice of drink to chug, but after running around so much, you needed literally anything. You heard Su-bong scoff this time, causing you to look up at him confused "Why do women drink something leave it on their lip, and act like they don't know?" He asked aloud, but by his eye contact you could tell it was directed towards you "I'm sorry?" You asked going to wipe your mouth but he leaned up quickly "Don't! That's disgusting" He grimaced before leaning over the stairwell to copy his actions from the night before, using his index and thumb to tilt your head up, thinking he was going to wipe it off with his jacket, you were shocked to feel his soft lips against yours. You shuddered feeling his tongue swipe swiftly over your top lip before he pulled away sitting back down, continuing to eat like he didn't just do that.

Your cheeks were bright with a blush as you now sipped the rest of your milk, careful not to get anymore on your lips, if you did, you made sure to lick your lips before Su-bong could take notice. Any crumbs left on your lips after you were done eating he was also quick to wipe those off, almost like you couldn't on your own or you needed to be supervised while you ate. Whenever lights out came it was even more odd, instead of his usual crawling over to bother you, he quietly whispered your name from his spot on his bunk "What?" You asked, your tone coming off a little bit more harsh than you intended "Sorry...it's just, did you mean what you said earlier?" He asked, you sighed turning around to face him "I thought you were really hot for awhile, all of my friends knew it, it's just, you started acting like an ass, and then I lost a trip to college because of you" You explained "And I guess I just didn't have time to think like that because I was busy being mad at you" you explained, you watched him frown and his eyebrows furrow in confusion "I..I never meant to do that..I just wanted you to like..get in trouble or something" He whispered "I was just...You planted my friends drugs on me, told my parents and I couldn't make it to a meeting I had that could've launched my rap career into space" He whispered, now it was your turn to feel bad, you didn't mean to do all of that, just get him grounded for a little bit. It was your turn to crawl to his bunk, giving him a awkward hug "I..I didn't mean to do that..I just..you ruined that for me and you were just getting off without any troubles..parties every week, so..I thought if I took the parties and stuff away it'd give you some type of punishment" you mumbled, Su-bong leaned up hugging you back "Yea..You were pretty lame" He whispered nodding along to agree with his own comment "Shut up, you were a stupid idiot" You defended pulling away from the hug "Why did I ever think I could forgive you" You giggled, tilting your head slightly as you smiled at him, never would you have thought you'd be having a civil conversation with this dickhead, let alone laughing and smiling with him "Aw, c'mon beauty flower, everybody forgives thanos" He teased, you gawked at him in second hand embarrassment, he did not just say that. "I actually fucking hate you" You said, the smile on your face an obvious sign that maybe you didn't hate him as much as you say. "What? Beauty flower? or the fact that you'll forgive me" He asked wiggling his eyebrows at you, you just laughed, you felt like a young teenager again, before your feud started with Su-bong and the drugs and debt started with you both. "Both! Don't call me beauty flower, and I will not be forgiving you" You protested, Su-bong pouted, you took your chance to shock him this time and pressed your lips against his pouting ones, his hand immediately came in contact with your ass trying to pull you closer, you just rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand moving it to your cheek pressing your lips completely against his, taking a breath of relief whenever he kissed back, his lips moving with yours like it had been rehearsed before. As you pulled away, Su-bong huffed tugging his tracksuit pants down "Now I fucking hate you" He smirked reaching for his necklace "Me first" You smirked before moving back to your bunk giving him a final wink before turning around "Goodnight...thanos" You said, not being able to believe you actually just called him that "Night, pretty girl" you heard say with a large amount of cockiness in his voice, he couldn't help it though, even now if he went home, he'd have enough for his debts, and just kissed the girls he's wanted to kiss since he learned what kissing girls was.

--

so what do we think?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Gentle

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. Minors, DNI.

Notes: No physical reader descriptions, no use of y/n. Also not beta-read. Because it never is.

Length: 3.6K

Warnings: Bradley took Reader's virginity and didn't know it; Reader was an older virgin; mentions of public sex; under-negotiated kinks; wrist restraints (belt); protected sex; vaginal sex; dirty talk; rough sex; aftercare

Summary: You expect him to be so righteously angry—a pinched expression, a knit brow, a tight jaw. But there’s something in those warm, dark eyes that looks so painfully mournful. 

It’s unfair. You both came. What’s he so put out about?

You’d almost prefer his anger to whatever the hell this is. Anger you could handle—but does he regret last night?

It’s a throwaway comment, one that you’re positive he’ll miss. The bar is bustling and so busy that it's a wonder he’s heard your friend crow it at all: 

“To seeing you with that freshly-fucked glow for the first time!” 

You aren’t scandalized by what she says. You’d told her the truth of it last night—offered sparse details and omitted names. You laugh and cheers with your friends. You’re not embarrassed by the mention, the tease.

But your insides are burning hot at the sight of Bradley in your periphery, his beer frozen halfway to his lips. You drain your drink and clear your throat, simply offering, “Getting another one,” As you push away from the table. You’re determined not to look at him as you go, praying that he just lets it pass. 

But Bradley Bradshaw has never been good at just letting things go. 

You’d been grateful for that last night. 

There had been something zipping between the two of you all day—little looks and lingering glances that had fanned your flames, blossoming into a wildfire as he’d led you into the alley by the bar the night before. You had felt the heat of him behind you, thrilled at the scent of his cologne, the bristle and prickle of his mustache and lips against your neck as his hands had grasped your hips to still you. 

You feel the heat of him as he comes to stand beside you now, smell his cologne as he sets an empty beer bottle down on the bar. Neither of you speak for a few moments. You’d hardly looked at him last night, either—pressed face-first against the brick wall of the alley, your pants around your knees with Bradley’s hand over your mouth to quiet you, his hot breath, soft groans and bitten-off swears pushed against the shell of your ear. 

It's a shame, you think, that you’re locked into this pattern with Bradley. He does have the sweetest eyes. 

“You should’ve told me.” 

He says it just loudly enough for you to hear it over the murmur of bar noise, the conversation, rattle of cocktail shaking, and the distant strain of REO Speedwagon over the recessed speakers. 

Maybe you should’ve. There had been a split-second when you considered it, but it had all happened so fast. 

It wasn’t how you’d always expected it to be. There was no bed covered in rose petals, no romantic music. You’d been so caught up in your need, in the thrill of feeling Bradley as desperate for you as you were for him.

You’d decided, as you’d showered last night, felt the ache of him between your thighs, eyed the bloom of bruises on your hips and a scrape on your cheek from where you’d been pressed against the brick a little too hard, that it was okay. You didn’t need roses or romantic music. You’d just needed the ferocity that Bradley had fucked you with, and the brush of his rough, work-worn fingertips against your neglected clit, and the moan of his voice in your ear as his hips stuttered and slapped against yours. 

“You didn’t ask.” 

You realize as Bradley shifts testily beside you that it’s the wrong thing to say, and maybe a little unfair. You tack on, “Doesn’t matter.” 

“Yeah, it does. I figured—” 

“I know. S'okay. Let it go, Bradshaw.” It’s unlikely, but worth a shot. If there’s one thing Bradley loves, it’s proving people wrong. You know as well as he does just how stubborn he can be, how by-the-book. But some things just nag and nag and he has to litigate them.

You can tell that this’ll be one of the things that he won’t stand for. Dog with a bone. Knight with a righteous cause. 

“You should’ve told me.” 

It’s his new refrain, you realize. You can’t imagine how he must’ve felt when he heard your friend, saw you laugh, waited for you to correct or argue with her. And did he notice the scratch on your cheek then? Did he think of the push of his body against yours, the quiver of your thighs as he’d stretched you wide around him, the buzz of your whimper against his fingers as he finally fucked you? 

"Doesn't matter,” You insist again. “Drop it.” 

“You should’ve told me—” 

“Lower your voice.” 

“I would’ve been more gentle.” 

“I didn’t want you to be more gentle,” You snap, finally turning to meet his eye. You realize immediately that it’s a mistake. You expect him to be so righteously angry—a pinched expression, a knit brow, a tight jaw. But there’s something in those warm, dark eyes that looks so painfully mournful. 

It’s unfair. You both came. What’s he so put out about?

You’d almost prefer his anger to whatever the hell this is. Anger you could handle—but does he regret last night? You sure as shit don’t. 

Your jaw works tightly as you fold your arms against your chest and turn back to the bar. He can regret it all he wants, if that’s what this is. 

“Anyway,” You press on, “I enjoyed myself. Thought you did, too.” 

“I did—” Small wonder, “But—” 

“‘But’ nothing, Bradshaw. We both had a good time. Just…Forget it.” 

You hear Bradley draw in a deep breath before his hand lightly comes down on the bar. When he curses this time, it doesn’t make your stomach flip with excitement. It just pisses you off. 

-- 

“Get in.”

Your annoyance has cooled and shifted to nerves. You glance around the parking lot, openly unsure. You can get a car to take you home. It could be there in two minutes, have you home in twenty. 

Bradley stands still as a statue, hand holding open the passenger side door as he waits. It wasn’t a question like he’d asked last night—”Wanna take a walk?” It isn’t a murmur accompanied by a warm hand on your lower back, steering you away from the thudding bass of the bar, from your friends as your stomach fluttered with anticipation. 

It’s an order, one that you’re tempted to disobey. 

But you climb into the Bronco and buckle up. You look straight through the windshield as he gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car. The drive is quiet, and does nothing to calm your nerves. Once Bradley parks, he just warns, “Don’t,” when you reach for the door handle. You expect him to launch into a lecture, but he gets out, rounding the car and opening the door for you. 

He’s practically your shadow as he follows you to the front door. You step aside once it’s open, unsure if Bradley will turn and head home, his self-appointed duty done. But he steps inside, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it over the back of your couch. He’s been there once or twice, but he still takes his time looking around as you lock up behind him and take off your shoes. 

“Shoes off, Bradshaw.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“You want something to drink?” You ask, stepping past him. 

“Water.” 

“You hungry?” 

“No.” 

You nod, flipping on the light in your kitchen and grabbing a couple of glasses for the two of you. You can hear Bradley's footsteps as he drifts lazily through your living room, joining you in the kitchen and taking the proffered glass of water with a murmur of thanks. The two of you sip in silence for a few moments. 

“Maybe I should’ve—” You start, then back off as you feel Bradley turning to look at you. You take another gulp of your water. “There just didn’t seem like the right moment to mention it. And bringing it up—it all would’ve felt like a bigger deal. I didn’t want that.” 

“Could’ve told me afterward.”

“We were more focused on getting back to the others.” 

“You tell ‘em it was me?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s none of their business. Besides, they wouldn't care—and they didn’t ask.” 

“Seems to be your answer for everything these days.” 

You roll your eyes, setting your empty water glass in the sink.

“Okay. You bring me home just to scold me?” 

“No.” 

Bradley steps closer, lowering his water glass into the sink beside yours. You watch his hand lift. Your eyelashes flutter as he cups your jaw, turning your head toward him, his thumb sweeping gently across your skin. 

“Look at me.” He orders. Your focus sweeps up slowly, mapping the swell of his lips, the scattering of scars, the line of his nose before your eyes finally settle on his. He’s devoid of anger, still, and the sorrow is gone. Bradley’s expression seems deceptively neutral, and that’s far more concerning than any look he’s given you before. 

“Where’s your room.” 

-- 

There still aren’t any roses, but at least there’s a real bed this time. Bradley doesn’t guide you face-first into one of your walls or against the door. He keeps a firm grasp on your jaw as his tongue slips between your lips. You wind your arms around his shoulders, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

You try to urge him back toward the bed, but Bradley slides a hand down to your throat, giving it a warning little squeeze that makes you melt. You smooth one of your hands down his front, fingers skating along the cool metal of his belt buckle. Before you can undo it, Bradley catches hold of your wrist. He breaks your kiss, using the grasp on your throat to tip your head up to the side, and smoothing his lips along the exposed skin. 

“Slow down,” He murmurs against your jaw, the buzz of it tickling your skin. 

“But—” 

“Slow down.” It’s firmer now, and you have to tamp down a grin. You know what that tone is like from Bradley. You’re certain you can wind up face-first on your bed if you play your cards right. 

You just have to piss him off a little. 

You wriggle your wrist from his grasp, tipping your head down against the press of his hand, desperate to catch sight of his belt buckle as you fumble for it with both hands. You hear the short, irritated huff of Bradley’s breath before he catches both of your wrists in one hand. Your mouth waters at the clank of his buckle being undne as he gives your wrists a squeeze and shoves them away from him. 

“Take your clothes off,” He orders. “All of them.” 

There’s steel in his voice now. You begin to turn, your hands curling around the hem of your shirt when you hear him tut.

“Face me.” 

Your face burns hot as you go still. Bradley’s expression is flat again: mirthless eyes, and a firm press to his lips. You tug your shirt up and over your head, undo your bra, then shove down your pants and underwear. 

“Get on the bed.” 

You sit, and wait.

“Lie down.” 

You should scooch back toward your headboard, but instead, you flop down where you are, feet still on the floor. You yelp as Bradley lands a slap on your outer thigh. 

“Don’t play dumb,” He warns. “Go on.” 

You finally slide back, watching Bradley undress and fish a foil packet out of his back pocket. You eye his body covetously as he walks closer, climbing over you and straddling your hips, tossing the condom by your pillow.  

“Hands up.” 

You raise them obediently, holding perfectly still and hardly breathing as he loops the belt around your wrists. He holds your eye as he winds the belt around your wrists and the bedposts, a single brow raised. You can call it off now—you know he'll unwind it, pull back, stop.

When you nod, Bradley tightens it, the leather biting into your skin. 

You want what he gave you in the alley—the rush, his force, his ferocity and bruises. But Bradley kneels on the bed in front of you, curling his hands around your ankles, skimming them up slowly. You squirm, feeling exposed and vulnerable as his hands slip over your thighs, up across your belly. 

“Bradley—” 

“Hush.” 

You suck in a soft breath as his fingers smooth over your sides, pressure just firm enough to keep from tickling you. His head dips, kissing over your belly, up to the underside of one of your breasts. You try to arch into his lips as he leans further up. 

“Please,” You whine, but his tongue sweeps between your lips before you can say another word. You wilt back against the bed, your fingers curling and flexing around one another as your wrists strain against the belt, the buckle clanking against the bed frame. You want nothing more than to grasp and pull his hair, feel the slide of the strands against your skin.

“But—” You breathe as he breaks the kiss.

“Shuddup.” It buzzes against your skin as his kisses travel back down, sucking at each nipple, sweeping past your belly button as his shoulders push your thighs wide. You pull in a shocked breath as his hot breath skates across your pussy, chased by the teasing flicker of the tip of his tongue. You whimper, chasing the slick heat before Bradley’s hands curl around your hips. You open your mouth to complain again—but it dies on your tongue as Bradley laps broadly across your lips. He buries your face between your thighs, moaning lustfully against your slick skin. Your nails dig into your palms at the rattle of his groan shakes through you.

You whine, knees tightening around his shoulders as you shove your hips down against his lips. And though you’d expected him to reprimand you, Bradley’s hand slides up between your thighs, fingers teasing at your pussy. It’s only a moment before he slips one inside, curling it before adding another. You huff softly, cunt squeezing around him as his fingers pumping in and out—and in and out again as your hips chase his manic rhythm.

Your wrists yank against the belt, hips bounding as you chase the curl and snap of your orgasm, Bradley’s name falling from your lips as your pussy rolls against his tongue. He hums, lapping at your pleasure as your cunt clutches at his fingers. Your voice quiets as you settle, cunt pulsing as Bradley nuzzles your thigh, lightly nipping at the skin and slickly soothing it as your movements slow.

As you come back to yourself, you can’t deny the thrill of catching Bradley’s eye—the heat of it as he peers over your belly; the sly glint as he laves his tongue back and forth, fingers curling in your still-pulsing opening. You part your lips, waggling your tongue and grinning as Bradley surges up. 

You whimper as you taste your arousal on his tongue, shiver as his fingers withdraw and his cock twitches against your inner thigh. Your hips tip up on instinct, chasing the heat as Bradley’s length twitches against you. He reels back just far enough to grab the foil packet by your head, ripping it open with his teeth, and sheathing his cock in the latex. 

“Please,” You mumble before he can ask or tease, “Please—Need it, Bradley, I—Oh, fuck,” You gasp as he drives into you with a single stroke. Your pussy clutches at him, your nails digging into the leather of the belt as you push your hips up into his. Bradley’s hands land on either side of your head, flexing in the fabric of your pillow case as he holds himself steadily over you. 

“Shuddup,” He groans again—But my god, it’s a tighter sound than it was before, and it makes your pussy grasp at him as his face presses into your neck. 

“Bradley–”

“Quiet—”

“I need it,” You whimper, shoving your hips up against his, “Fuck, you feel so—Mm, Bradley, please—” 

“Just—” 

“I want more, Bradley, ‘m so—” 

You gag at the sudden intrusion of two fingers sliding between your lips. Your mouth falls open, eyes glazing and tongue laving against the rough pads of his fingertips as they rub over your tongue.

You let your jaw go slack, whines spiraling from between your lips as he finger-fucks your mouth, hips slapping against yours in tandem. Your toes curl in the fabric of your sheets, wrists yanking against your restraints. Bradley plants his knees against the mattress, his hips slamming against yours as the headboard rattles against your wall. You wind one of your legs around his, sucking in a breath as his free hand grasps and squeezes your thigh. 

Bradley pushes his face into your neck, fingers slipping from your mouth to hold your hips. You can’t fight the way your voice stutters in his throat at the slow, concentrated roll of his body against yours. You try to push against him, to urge and speed his pace, but Bradley seems to neither hear nor feel your urging and whines. 

It’s no use. Bradley’s grasp keeps you pinned in place, the slow grind of his hips drawing your orgasm nearer and nearer. 

“That’s it,” He encourages against your jaw. He groans as your cunt pulses around him, your hips bucking as your back arches. 

“Faster,” You breathe, then gasp as his strokes slow and deepen. Your eyes slip closed, pressing your head back against the pillow as your push your body up against his. You shiver, knees squeezing around his hips as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightens. 

“Look at me,” He urges, hand lifting to curl around your jaw. Your head flops like a ragdoll’s, eyes blinking blearily up at him. Your heart stuttering in your chest at the heated focus on his face—the parted, panting lips, and the way his dark eyes skate from your mouth to your slightly unfocused gaze. He tuts when your eyelashes flutter, giving your jaw a squeeze before you can close them. 

“Ah ah. Eyes on me, baby,” Bradley orders. “Show me how bad you want it—Show me,” He repeats as my mouth falls open to insist, “Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear another fucking word. You’ll take what I give you,” He growls, “And when you’ve cum, you’ll fucking thank me for it.” 

Your eyes roll back into your head as you buck up against Bradley, mouth falling open in a stunned, guttural shout as you cum, cunt pulsing around his cock. Bradley curses, dipping his head and laying a bite on your shoulder as his hips continue to grind slowly and steadily, fucking you slowly through your orgasm.

You wait for him to follow, to tip over the edge, but Bradley’s hips don’t stutter and slow like they did last night. Instead, his fingers slip between the two of you, teasing over your tender, swollen clit as his tongue sweeps across the freshly laid bite mark. You hiss in a shocked breath, hips bucking up into his rough touch. 

“Br-Bradley—” 

“Gimme another one.” 

-- 

Your hands slowly slip down to rest over your head as Bradley unwinds the belt from your wrists, dropping it across his other clothes where they were discarded by the bed. You sigh contentedly as you feel the bed dip and shift beneath you, and hear the soft pad of his footsteps as he leaves the room.

You know that you should move your arms, get some blood back into them, check your wrists, but for a few moments, you just lay there and let your body settle. Your cunt still pulses from the slow, sensual rolls of Bradley's hips, the sure and even way that he’d fucked you through another two orgasms before finally coming undone himself. You draw your knees together, shivering again as you squeeze your slick thighs together. 

“Here,” You hear. Your head lolls to the side, eyes blinking open as Bradley sets a glass of water down on the bedside table. Before you can try and push yourself up, Bradley sits beside you, hooking his arms around your back and helping you slowly sit up. Your head swims a little, and Bradley shushes you softly as you close your eyes to stop your head from pounding, resting your head forward onto his shoulder. 

“Y’alright?” 

“I think so,” You mumble. 

“Give it a minute.” 

“Mm.” You lean back against the headboard, eyes still closed as Bradley’s hands gently brush over your quivering thighs. “I should get cleaned up.” 

“We will,” He says. “Water's heating up for the bath.” 

You peek open one eye, brow raising in surprise. We, huh? But Bradley holds your eyes steadily, unflinching as he picks the water up and holds it out. Your arms throb slightly as you lift them to take the cup, drawing in a sip, then a gulp. 

“Slow down,” He chuckles. 

“Mmm. That again?” You ask, passing back the glass. “All I got tonight was slow.” 

Bradley sets the glass aside, scooching closer and nudging his nose against yours. He searches your gaze for a moment before his eyes dip to your lips. 

“You deserve slow,” He murmurs, “You deserve thorough. And one’a these days, I’m gonna teach you,” His lips ghost yours, “How good gentle can be.” 

“That’s not what tonight was?” 

“With a belt around your wrists? No, baby,” He chuckled. “That’s not what tonight was.” He leans away, grinning as you lean up, lips chasing his. “I’ll go check on the bath. Finish that water.” 

“Yessir.” You watch him get up, swiping your tongue over your lips. “Bradley?” 

He turns, brows raised expectantly, and smiling when he sees you reaching for him. He leans back in when you smooth your hand over his neck, submitting to the soft, searching kiss that you pull him in for.

“For the record," You tip your head back, "You were exactly what I wanted—last night and tonight."

Relief flickers in his warm eyes, lips quirking in a slight smile as he covers his mouth with yours again.

"For the record," He murmurs. "You're gonna like gentle."

"I know I'm gonna like it," You insist, leaning back against the headboard, "Long as it's with you."

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 @nominalnebula

[ecstarry]

@into-the-jeggyverse / jewelry / 428 words // for @velanavis & @del-stars

“Is it possible for you to not be the center of attention for one moment?” Regulus grumbled.

James smirked, a smug grin spreading across his face. “What else could you possibly be doing that’s more important than admiring me?”

Regulus closed his eyes. “Anything would be more important, James.”

As arrogant as ever, James leaned back and bit into his apple, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a happy trail. Regulus absolutely did not get distracted by it. No, under no circumstances.

“You’re such a fucking slut, Potter.”

James moaned dramatically, followed by a laugh. “Oh, say that again.”

“Prick,” Regulus muttered, glaring at him.

James set the apple aside and ran a hand through his hair, eyes closed and panting, “Keep going, baby. I love it when you get mean.”

“Whore,” Regulus bit out. But his blown pupils betrayed him completely.

James turned to look at him fully. “I suck dick like one too.”

Their interaction was interrupted by a mocking laugh. Shit. He’d forgotten that Barty was in the room.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Barty said, shifting in his seat to face them, his smirk just as insufferable as James’. “Please, go on—what exactly makes James Potter such a distracting slut, Regulus?”

James’ eyes widened, and he leaned forward, clearly more than a little interested in Regulus’ response.

“You won’t do it,” James challenged. “Always too careful not to stroke my dic— I mean ego, right?”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “It’s that slutty fucking jewelry piece you wear around your neck.”

James laughed, undoing a few buttons to reveal the dainty gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. 

“Yeah, that fucking thing,” Regulus replied, biting back the thought of how often he’d pictured that pendant swinging above his face while James fucked him senseless.

“It is pretty slutty,” Barty chimed in, clearly enjoying himself.

“It was my mom’s,” James countered.

“Well, then your mom is a—”

“Lovely person, I’m sure,” Regulus interrupted, shooting Barty a warning glare. “Unlike you.”

Barty shrugged, unbothered. “I stand by what I said.”

James leaned closer, his cocky grin returning full force. “Didn’t know you kept such a close watch on me, Regulus.”

“Get over yourself.”

There was something about fighting with James that always lit a fire in Regulus. He was insufferable, smug, and annoyingly clever—but god, he was also hot.

“You’re the one who called me distracting,” James teased.

“Maybe if I find something to keep your mouth full, you’ll stop talking,” Regulus shot back.

This time, James actually blushed.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter. “Maybe.”

[acid-ixx]

Hiii, I have read all your work and it is very good :D!! I've read it several times and never get bored.

Can I ask about something? I'm curious about the characteristics or signs of yandere appearing in Tim. Will he be the last family member to become a yandere? Sorry I asked like this because I feel like he's not getting enough attention in drabbles, questions from other readers, or anything else. So I'm curious.

I hope you understand my question. Because English is not my first language.

— masterlist !

don't mind me using the tags here, i want to clarify a lot of things.

hi anon!! don't worry about your english, i understand perfectly and it's also not my first language too hehe. and to all the others who have asked about tim's (or any other characters') appearance in the series: fear not, nobody is getting ignored at all, i intend for everyone to have their designated events/moments that trigger yandere characteristics for the reader for each chapter. it's my plan to make them each as unique as possible with their intentions, motives and goals, not just them being simply "obsessed" with you, so i'm trying my best to add depth to the story.

that means the entire series will stretch out quite a lot (i already have outlined multiple arcs, flashbacks, and all the characters' individual traits and significance). it's not just going to be ten chapters, i want to remind others that there's more lore to just the neglect, your mother's dark past, and characters that haven't even been introduced to the plot yet, so if you guys prefer one-shots or something shorter, then the series is not for you folks, sorry 😭

as for tim, he is quite literally my favorite character (surprise!), so of course he's going to get special treatment. he's not going to be the last to become yandere, but his spiral to becoming a yandere takes quite a lot of time since compared to others, it's him who spends the least amount of moments with you. even in the non-neglected au i wrote, what triggered his obsession was mere curiousity.

though just because there're lesser events with him, doesn't mean there will be none. he certainly plays a major role in the "wild goose chase arc where the family tries to negotiate (kidnap) you whilst you try to escape to multiple cities/end up in a completely different country". he may not express his love for the reader well, but he most definitely knows the most about you.

oh! and the traits that he does have as a yandere looks tame when you compare it to others, but it's also because it manifests through his personal dialogue (as i reckon he's keeps most of his thoughts about you to himself most of the time (gatekeeper archetype) and he's the character with the most internal dialogue/thoughts too). he's the worst stalker you could have, the one who you should look out for the most with just how much he knows about you in such a short period of time. tim's intelligence and detective skills knows no bounds, and he won't stop exhausting himself until the very knowledge of what the blood pumping under your skin feels like and the exact temperature of your body— is extracted and stored into the terabytes of data he has into his personal batcave.

and spoiler alert: he's also the one who uncovers your mother's past and alongside bruce, what had happened between the period of time when you were dragged out of the closet and the other time in elementary when you were nearly kidnapped, which completely leads to another arc wherein it's where their obsession drives off to a completely different plane of existence, exalting vengeance on the people who tormented you; but tim's pettiness is just on a whole nother level.

and i have to stop here before i (excitedly) spoil the entire series' plot LMAO. my answer to this is a bit more casual to the other asks, so i hope it doesn't irritate anyone.

so thank you for asking this! i also have a question for you people too:

how is the current progression of the plot? i get that it isn't even 10% finished and some moments feel slow, but i try to be as immersive as possible to the readers. so for those who have read the entire thing, what do you want me to possibly add, or does anyone have other clarifications? can anyone tolerate a fanfic that can possibly lead to more than 250k words??? 😭

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ CAN I BE HIM?

❛ 𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘯𝘰. 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴— 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯? 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮? ❜

timeline: 2017 & 2018

synopsis: Amid the tangled emotions between Luna, Jeonghan, and Mingyu, unspoken confessions and lingering hopes weave a bittersweet narrative of love, regret, and the desperate longing to be chosen.

warnings: angst, multiple povs, narrative description heavy, cursing, crying, mentions of rejection, heartbreak, jealousy, regrets, unrequited love (?), sad!Luna, jealous!Jeonghan, jealous!Mingyu, lowkey possessive Jeonghan, secret feelings, confusions and realizations, acceptance, unrequited love, everyone is lowkey sad

read If Only first before this if you haven’t already! this one-shot is the aftermath of that story. this is also inspired by these request by you lovely humans: (request 1), (request 2), (request 3) & (request 4) happy reading, my loves 🤍🤎

sidenote… my heart aches for the three of them cause i have been on their shoes before… all three of them (also, i made myself cry again)… i promise, they’ll be fine 🥹🤍

“and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite.” listening to Cardigan while writing this is not for the faint hearted…

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Can I be him?

The thought crossed Mingyu’s mind as he sat on the cold floor of the practice room, his back propped against the wall. His dark eyes were fixed on Luna, who was across the room, quietly stretching. Her movements were methodical, almost robotic, as if her body was going through the motions her heart wasn’t in. She tilted her head to one side, letting out a soft laugh at something Dokyeom had said, but Mingyu wasn’t fooled.

That smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes told a different story.

Slightly swollen, rimmed with a faint red that hadn’t been there the day before, they seemed heavier today, carrying the kind of weight that only came with a sleepless night and a broken heart.

Luna’s smile faltered just slightly as she stretched her arms over her head, her gaze dropping momentarily to the floor. But she recovered quickly, plastering on the same bright expression that fooled most of the room.

Most of the room— but not the members, not him, and definitely not Jeonghan.

Mingyu’s gaze drifted from Luna to her shadow.

Jeonghan sat across the room, leaning against the mirrored wall, legs sprawled in front of him. His usual air of calm amusement was absent. Instead, he looked subdued, almost tired. His sharp eyes followed Luna’s every movement, his expression unreadable except to those who knew him best.

Mingyu could see the sadness there, the guilt. Jeonghan wasn’t the type to wear his emotions plainly, but Mingyu knew him too well to miss the subtle signs.

Mingyu let out a quiet sigh, his chest tightening as he turned his attention back to Luna.

She was so good at pretending.

Too good.

But not good enough to fool him.

Despite his reputation for being loud and playful, Mingyu was surprisingly perceptive, especially when it came to his members. He had a knack for reading the room, for picking up on the things people didn’t say.

And Luna, with her slightly too-wide smile and tired eyes, was screaming in silence.

His mind wandered back to the night before, right after they had wrapped up a grueling day of comeback promotions. They’d all piled into the van, worn out but satisfied with their progress. But something had been different. The usual chatter and teasing had been dampened by a palpable tension that no one could quite name.

He remembered how Jeonghan had broken the silence as they pulled up to the dorms.

“Can you guys give me a moment with Jiyeon?” Jeonghan had asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of urgency that couldn’t be ignored.

The members had exchanged glances but ultimately agreed, leaving Jeonghan to chase after Luna to the elevators.

Mingyu had lingered just a moment longer, glancing back to see Jeonghan jogging after Luna, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

Desperate, almost.

The elevator doors had closed, muffling whatever conversation took place between the two.

By the time they arrived at the practice room today, they had both looked… normal. Talking, laughing, pretending nothing was wrong. But it was clear as day that something had changed. Luna moved with less energy, her usual spark dulled. And Jeonghan— he looked like a man carrying a secret too heavy to bear.

Then there was the matter of Luna’s swollen eyes. She’d walked in and mumbled something about it being allergy season.

Allergy season.

The excuse might have flown with someone else, but Mingyu wasn’t buying it. He knew better.

Luna wasn’t allergic to pollen— or anything but mushrooms, for that matter. And while the other members had let it slide, choosing not to push her, Mingyu had spent the entire morning unable to shake the image of her red-rimmed eyes.

It wasn’t allergies. It was something else.

Mingyu’s chest tightened again as he watched Luna push her hair behind her ear, her focus entirely on her stretches.

Luna wasn’t looking at Jeonghan. She hadn’t looked at him directly all morning. And yet, her entire body seemed to lean in his direction, like she couldn’t help but orbit him.

Her heart was crying for Jeonghan, Mingyu realized.

Whatever had happened between them last night, it had left her raw. She was trying so hard to act normal, to be okay, but it was written all over her face.

And Jeonghan— Jeonghan’s face held an ache that mirrored hers.

Mingyu had always known Luna to be someone who wore her strength like armor. She was tough, fiercely independent, and had an almost stubborn determination to handle her own struggles.

Over the years, he’d watched her laugh off bad days, push through injuries, and hide her tears behind radiant smiles.

He knew why she did it— she hated the idea of being a burden to anyone.

Even now, when her swollen eyes and tired demeanor betrayed the storm inside her, she continued to act as though everything was fine.

But Mingyu also knew her tells.

He knew the little cracks in her facade that most people missed. The way her laughter came a beat too quickly, or how she busied herself with menial tasks when her thoughts became too loud. And he especially knew how she would retreat into herself, bottling everything up until she couldn’t anymore.

In those moments, there was always one person who could reach her— Jeonghan.

Jeonghan had a way of being exactly what Luna needed.

He was always the first to notice when something was wrong and the first to drop whatever he was doing to listen to her. No matter how busy or chaotic things got, Jeonghan would sit with her, offering his undivided attention and quiet reassurances until she felt safe enough to open up.

But not today.

Today, Jeonghan was the reason for the sadness she was hiding, and Mingyu knew she wouldn’t be going to him. Not with the way she avoided looking in his direction or the way she flinched just slightly when his name was mentioned.

Mingyu had decided then and there that if Jeonghan couldn’t be the one to catch her this time, he would.

Even if it wasn’t his place.

Even if it hurt.

He’d made it his mission to be the shoulder she could lean on, at least until she and Jeonghan could figure things out.

Mingyu didn’t need to replace Jeonghan in her life— though the selfish part of him ached to hold even a fraction of the space Jeonghan held in her heart.

No, Mingyu would happily be whatever Luna needed him to be. Because she deserved to have someone in her corner.

The practice session dragged on, but Mingyu barely registered it. His attention kept flickering to Luna, who worked quietly in the corner, tying her hair up into a ponytail as the rest of the members milled about the room. She was doing her best to blend into the background, her movements measured and unhurried. But Mingyu could see the way her hands trembled slightly as she twisted the hair tie around her fingers.

He didn’t hesitate.

Before she could finish, Mingyu crossed the room in a few long strides, his heart thudding in his chest as he approached her. Without a word, he gently turned her around to face him and wrapped her in the biggest, warmest hug he could manage.

Luna froze in his arms, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. For a split second, she didn’t know who it was, but the familiar weight of Mingyu’s biceps around her shoulders was a dead giveaway.

Her body tensed at first, stiff and uncertain, but then it melted against him. Her arms came up to wrap loosely around his torso, and Mingyu felt the tension in her shoulders ease. She sank into the hug as though it was exactly what she needed but didn’t know how to ask for.

Neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to fade away, the noise of the practice room becoming distant and inconsequential.

Mingyu rested his chin on the top of her head, his large hands moving gently to the loose tie of her hair. He pulled it free, his fingers working carefully to gather her strands and tie them properly. Luna stayed in place, her arms still around his waist, her face pressed lightly against his chest.

When he finished, Mingyu pulled back just slightly, cupping her neck with both hands as he tilted her head up to look at him. His thumbs brushed softly against her skin, and he offered her the gentlest smile he could muster.

“You did good today,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m proud of you, Lulu-ya.”

Luna’s eyes went misty at his words, her lips curving into a sad, soft smile. “Thank you, Gyu-Gyu,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mingyu’s chest ached at the sight of her.

That smile— bittersweet and fragile— made him feel both helpless and fiercely protective all at once. He knew his words weren’t much, but she deserved to hear them.

Luna’s heart ached, too.

Jeonghan was always the one to tell her these things. After every practice, every performance, every small accomplishment, he would praise her for things she didn’t even realize mattered. “You did so well,” he’d say, whether it was after a grueling practice session or after a performance or something as simple as finishing her meal.

Mingyu wasn’t trying to replace Jeonghan, and deep down, she knew that. But it hurt all the same because his words reminded her of what she had with Jeonghan. And yet, it also made her heart swell with gratitude for Mingyu.

Mingyu felt the weight of her emotions, even if she didn’t voice them. He didn’t say anything, letting the moment hang between them before speaking softly again.

“Let’s eat together later,” he offered, his voice calm and reassuring. “I’ll come to your place, and we can hang out. Just you and me.”

Luna hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly as she considered his words. “You don’t have to, Gyu…”

“I want to,” he interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You can tell me everything if you want or we can just watch something, okay?”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. Instead, she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said softly.

Mingyu smiled again, his hands still cupping her neck as he gave her a small nod. “Good. I’ll bring something over later. We’ll make a night of it.”

“Okay,” she repeated, her voice a little steadier this time.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

Across the practice room, Jeonghan now stood, his against the mirrored wall, his arms crossed against his chest. Dino and Dokyeom were animatedly chattering beside him, their voices rising and falling with excitement as they recounted some trivial story from their schedule earlier that week. Jeonghan nodded absentmindedly, his lips curling into an occasional smile to show he was listening.

But he wasn’t.

His eyes were elsewhere, fixed on Luna and Mingyu, who were still locked in that quiet, private moment.

Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on the way Mingyu’s large hands cradled Luna’s neck with such gentleness, the way he tilted her head up to meet his gaze as if she were something precious. The way Luna’s tired face softened in response to Mingyu’s words, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jeonghan didn’t even realize he had stopped nodding along to Dokyeom and Dino’s conversation until Dokyeom nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. “Hyung, are you even listening?”

Jeonghan blinked, his head turning slightly toward them. “Hmm?” he murmured, feigning nonchalance as he offered them a distracted smile. “Yeah, I heard you.”

Satisfied, Dokyeom launched back into his story, and Jeonghan gave another vague nod. But his attention drifted back almost immediately, his gaze locking onto Luna once again.

Jeonghan wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

There was a tightness in his chest, a gnawing sensation that twisted uncomfortably in his gut. It wasn’t something he was particularly familiar with, and yet, it felt impossibly loud in his head.

He watched as Mingyu’s hands lingered at Luna’s nape, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before he stepped back, giving her a reassuring smile. He watched the way Luna’s shoulders seemed to relax under Mingyu’s touch, how she nodded at whatever Mingyu said with an almost imperceptible hesitation, as if she was letting down a guard she didn’t even know she had raised.

And then, like a whisper in his mind, the thought came unbidden— Can I be him?

Jeonghan’s chest constricted at the question, his heart skipping a beat as if the thought itself had startled him. The weight of those words settled heavily in his mind, lingering like a bitter taste he couldn’t shake.

But almost as quickly as it had come, the thought shifted, his mind backtracking with a sharp pang of realization.

I was him.

His fingers curled against his thighs as the words echoed in his head, quiet but insistent. He was the one Luna used to lean on, the one she sought out when the weight of the world became too much to bear. He was the one who used to coax those smiles out of her, who knew exactly what to say to make her laugh, to make her feel seen.

And now, someone else was standing in his place.

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away, his eyes dropping to the floor. He hated how his thoughts were spiraling, how his emotions felt tangled and messy in a way he couldn’t quite unravel.

“Hyung?” Dino’s voice pulled him back to reality again, and Jeonghan glanced up, his expression carefully composed.

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone calm and even.

“Are you okay? You seem… distracted,” Dino said, his brow furrowing slightly.

Jeonghan gave a small laugh, shaking his head as if to brush off the concern. “I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

But as he glanced back across the room, his eyes catching the tail end of Luna and Mingyu’s conversation, that gnawing feeling in his chest remained.

He told himself it was nothing. Just a passing moment of jealousy, perhaps. Nothing he couldn’t shake off.

But deep down, Jeonghan knew better.

Luna knew better as well.

She knew this quiet evening with Mingyu, as comforting as it was, would inevitably end with her peeling back the layers of her conflict with Jeonghan.

She knew Mingyu well enough to recognize that he wasn’t here just to keep her company or to feed her. He was here because he cared, because he had always been the kind of person who would wait patiently until she was ready to share the weight she carried.

Later that night, just as planned, Luna and Mingyu found themselves in her cozy apartment. The smell of her vanilla perfume lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the soft citrus scent of the candle she had lit on her kitchen counter. They were supposed to order takeout, but Mingyu, ever the culinary enthusiast, had other plans.

“You know, you could just sit there and be pretty while I do all the work,” Mingyu teased as he rummaged through her fridge, pulling out ingredients with practiced ease.

Luna, standing across the kitchen island with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow at him. “And why would I do that when I can help? You do realize I’m capable of cooking, right?”

Mingyu paused, a dramatic look of skepticism plastered on his face. “Capable? Sure. But am I willing to risk my life testing that theory? Not really.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward despite herself. “Oh, please. I could outcook you any day.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu leaned against the counter, smirking at her.

“Really. I’m an amazing cook, Gyu,” Luna huffed, grabbing a wooden spoon from the utensil drawer. “I’m helping, whether you like it or not.”

Mingyu grinned, knowing she wouldn’t back down. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you a task so you don’t feel useless.” He gestured toward the living room with his chin. “Go pick something for us to watch. Something good, okay? No pressure.”

Luna narrowed her eyes at him, but she set the spoon down and wandered into the living room, already knowing exactly what she’d choose.

When she returned a few minutes later, the television glinting as the screen flashed and showed what she chose. Mingyu burst into laughter. “‘Tangled’,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“What’s wrong with ‘Tangled’?” Luna asked, feigning offense as she arranged the table in front of her.

“Nothing,” Mingyu replied, turning back to the stove. “I just knew you’d pick it. You’re predictable, Lulu-ya.”

“Predictable? I’ll have you know that this is a classic,” she said, plopping down on the couch and throwing a cushion at him for good measure.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Mingyu called back, dodging the cushion with a grin.

The sound of vegetables sizzling in the pan and the faint background score of the movie filled the apartment, creating a warmth that wrapped around them like a blanket.

When the food was finally ready, they settled on the couch with plates in hand, the coffee table serving as a makeshift dining area. The meal was simple— kimchi fried rice with chicken and some stir-fried vegetables— but it was perfect.

As the movie played, Luna found herself laughing more than she had in days. Mingyu kept up a steady stream of commentary, poking fun at Flynn Rider’s exaggerated smolder and mimicking Maximus the horse with over-the-top gestures.

It was silly and endearing, and it was exactly what she needed.

But Mingyu never pushed. He didn’t ask her how she was feeling, didn’t pry into the thoughts she was clearly holding back. He just let her exist, let her enjoy the moment, and it made all the difference.

For now, Luna didn’t have to think about the ache in her chest or the unspoken tension that lingered between her and Jeonghan.

For now, she could just be.

But deep down, she knew better. She knew that before the night was over, the words she had been swallowing all day would finally spill out. And somehow, she also knew that Mingyu would be ready to catch them when they did.

And then it did happen.

It happened in a flash, so subtle yet so significant, that Luna barely registered the words leaving her mouth until it was too late.

Mingyu stood from the couch, stretching his long limbs before heading toward her pantry. He ran a hand through his hair and casually asked, “You want a glass of wine? Thought it might as well be our dessert.”

She was mid-laugh, relaxed for the first time in what felt like ages, when the words slipped out, unbidden. “The last time I drank, I got fucking drunk and told Han I–”

The room fell into an unnatural stillness as her sentence cut short. Her breath hitched, and she froze, eyes dropping immediately to her hands. Her fingers instinctively twisted the gold rings she always wore, a habit Mingyu had seen countless times before. It was her tell, her silent admission of unease.

Mingyu turned slowly, his hand still hovering over the wine bottle. He studied her with the kind of calm that came only from years of reading people. He released the bottle without a sound and walked back toward her.

He didn’t speak, didn’t push, simply sat beside her, his broad frame a steady presence in the quiet room.

Luna felt the couch shift under his weight, but she couldn’t look at him. Her fingers kept twisting, the band of her rings cool against her warm skin. She felt a hand gently rest atop her head, and her tense shoulders eased just slightly at the comforting gesture.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until she finally closed her eyes and sighed, long and weary. She knew Mingyu wouldn’t force her to speak. But that was precisely why she wanted to.

He deserved to know.

After everything he had done for her tonight— his lighthearted banter, the warm meal, the quiet reassurance he provided without ever needing words— he deserved this piece of her, no matter how raw it felt to offer.

And maybe, just maybe, she needed this too.

“The last time I drank…” she started, her voice shaky, barely above a whisper. She forced herself to keep going, the words tumbling out like a confession she had been holding too tightly for too long. “I got drunk and told Han… told him that I liked him.”

Her voice cracked at the last word, and she bit her lip, still unable to meet Mingyu’s gaze.

Mingyu had known.

He had always known.

From the moment they had met as trainees, it was as clear as daylight. Luna’s feelings for Jeonghan were written in every lingering glance, in the subtle softening of her features whenever he walked into the room, in the way she instinctively gravitated toward him no matter the situation.

It was in the way her eyes sparkled like stars whenever Jeonghan praised her, the way she seemed to orbit around him without even realizing it.

Mingyu knew it because he felt the same way about her.

He knew how it felt to linger in the background, to notice every small detail about someone and hope they’d see you too. He knew how it felt to hide his feelings behind jokes and smiles, burying them so deeply that no one would ever guess.

The difference between them was that Luna’s feelings were as evident as the sun at noon, while his were a well-guarded secret. He had mastered the art of pretending, of hiding his heart in plain sight.

He watched her, his heart aching as she twisted her rings even harder. It was as if she were trying to ground herself, to stop herself from breaking apart completely.

“…And the next day, in the elevator, he told me we wouldn’t work.”

The quiet admission shattered Mingyu’s trance.

His eyes snapped down to her, and he saw her finally look up at him. Her dark eyes were rimmed with tears, glistening under the soft light of her apartment. She blinked rapidly, as if willing them not to fall, but her lips trembled despite her effort to keep her composure.

“Am I too hard to love, Gyu-Gyu?” she whispered, her voice so soft, so heartbreakingly vulnerable, that Mingyu’s chest tightened.

His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. He could only see the pain in her eyes, the self-doubt she had no business carrying, and the weight of her question that hung in the air between them.

Mingyu swallowed hard, his fists clenching against his knees as a bitter thought crept into his mind.

Can I be him?

Could he be the one who made her laugh, made her cry, made her feel so deeply? Could he be the one her heart longed for so desperately?

Mingyu had tried to push those feelings down for so long, telling himself it was enough just to be her friend. But seeing her like this, so broken over someone else— it hurt. It hurt more than he could have imagined.

Why can’t I be him?

And yet, even as the thought consumed him, Mingyu couldn’t look away. All he wanted, more than anything, was for her to smile again. Even if it wasn’t because of him.

Because that was what love looked like.

And right now, love was a battlefield he was losing.

He wanted to tell her so much— that she wasn’t too hard to love, that she deserved more than she was giving herself credit for, that if only she would let him, he would love her in ways she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But he also knew this wasn’t about him.

So, instead, he cupped her face in his large, warm hands, his thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks as he steadied her gaze.

“No,” he said, his voice firm yet impossibly soft. “You’re not hard to love, Jiyeonie. Not at all.”

Her tears spilled over then, and Mingyu felt his heart splinter in ways he didn’t think were possible. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, as if he could shield her from every hurt she had ever felt.

And for tonight, he promised himself he would be that person for her— the one she could lean on, the one who wouldn’t let her fall apart.

Luna broke.

It was slow at first, a trembling exhale that Mingyu barely heard over the rush of his own thoughts. Her body stiffened against him, her small frame caught in the vice grip of emotions she could no longer hold back.

Then, with a sound that tore straight through his chest, she broke completely.

Mingyu felt the full weight of her grief as her fingers fisted tightly into his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing tethering her to the earth. Her tears spilled freely now, soaking the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked her body.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move beyond the slow, soothing circles his hand traced on her back. He held her tightly, anchoring her, silently telling her she wasn’t alone in this.

It was the first time she’d let herself cry again after last night’s explosive breakdown. Almost twenty-four hours had passed since she’d stepped out of that elevator, leaving Jeonghan behind with a reassuring smile she’d fought to muster. She’d told him it was fine, told him she understood, before the doors slid shut and she was finally, mercifully, alone.

The second she’d stepped into her apartment, the dam had burst. Every ounce of strength she’d held onto collapsed under the weight of his polite rejection. She had screamed into her pillow, sobbed until her chest physically hurt, and curled into herself as the words replayed in her head like a cruel melody:

“…we can’t do this.”

And now, here she was again, sobbing uncontrollably, except this time she wasn’t alone.

Mingyu said nothing as her cries poured out against him. He stayed rooted in place, steady and quiet, letting her grief unfold at its own pace. His hand never stopped its gentle motion against her back, his other arm a firm yet tender hold around her.

He didn’t mind that his shirt was drenched, didn’t care that her nails were digging into him.

All he cared about was her.

When her sobs finally began to soften into quiet sniffles, he shifted slightly, but only to press his lips to the crown of her head in a gesture so soft it was almost reverent.

“You are not hard to love, Jiyeonie,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. He pulled back just enough to tilt her tearstained face up to meet his gaze. His hands cupped her cheeks gently, his thumbs wiping away the streaks of tears on her flushed skin. “You are far from that. In fact, you’re so easy to love.”

Her swollen, teary eyes locked onto his, and he could see the raw emotion swimming in them. Confusion, sadness, disbelief— all of it was there, but she didn’t pull away.

Luna let him hold her, let him speak.

Mingyu exhaled softly, his thumbs brushing over her skin again as he continued. “You care so deeply about the people around you. You go out of your way to make everyone feel seen and heard, even when you’re struggling yourself. You light up every room you walk into, Lulu-ya. People gravitate toward you without even realizing it because you make everything feel lighter, better. You’re kind in ways that most people can’t even fathom. You make people laugh, you make them feel safe. You make me feel safe.”

His voice wavered slightly at the last admission, but he pressed on, unable to stop the words tumbling from his heart. “You’re the type of person who loves so selflessly, and I don’t think you even realize how rare that is. You’re easy to love, Bae Jiyeon. So easy. Anyone who tells you otherwise doesn’t deserve you.”

He let out a shaky breath, the weight of his unspoken feelings threatening to overwhelm him. This wasn’t just about reassuring her— it was a truth he’d been holding onto for years, a truth he’d never been able to say out loud until now.

Luna’s lips parted slightly as she stared up at him, her wide, tear-filled eyes searching his face for something she couldn’t name. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her silence said more than words ever could.

Mingyu’s gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there for a moment too long before flickering back to her eyes. And then back again. His breath hitched, and he realized just how close they were, her face cradled in his hands, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

Her eyes held sadness, yes, but there was also a flicker of confusion, a question she didn’t yet know how to ask.

His head dipped slowly, so slowly that time seemed to stretch around them. He could feel the pull, the magnetic force drawing him closer to her, but just as his lips were a whisper away from hers, he stopped.

Mingyu froze, his breath shaky as he closed his eyes and let his forehead rest gently against hers.

He sighed deeply, frustration and guilt clawing at him as he scolded himself silently.

What are you doing, Kim Mingyu?

Luna didn’t need this. She didn’t need more confusion, more complications. She didn’t need him taking advantage of her vulnerability.

Luna nudged her forehead against his, a small gesture of concern that only deepened his guilt. “Gyu-Gyu?” she whispered, her voice laced with confusion.

He opened his eyes slowly, finding her gaze still locked on him, her brows knit together as if trying to piece together what he was feeling.

Without a word, Mingyu pulled back just enough to place a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. His lips pressed against her skin with a tenderness that conveyed everything he couldn’t say aloud.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes met hers again, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re going to be okay, Jiyeonie,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a conviction he wasn’t entirely sure he believed. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Mingyu took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stared into Luna’s tear-streaked face. Her eyes, still wide and brimming with confusion, searched his for answers he didn’t yet have the strength to give. But there was one thing he knew with unwavering certainty, one thing he could promise her.

“I’ll make sure you’re okay,” he said, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. His hands, still cradling her face, fell to her shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t know how long it’ll take or how much it’ll hurt, but I promise you, Jiyeonie, I’ll be here. Whatever you need— whenever you need it— I’ll be here.”

The words hung in the air like a vow, unspoken yet understood. He didn’t need her to respond. Her silence, the way her fingers clung faintly to his wrist, was enough.

And with that, he stayed close, letting her process everything in her own time, his presence a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

And Mingyu kept that promise.

Through the days, the weeks, the months that followed, he was there. Quietly, steadfastly, he became the anchor Luna needed as she worked through the storm raging inside her.

He was the one who showed up unannounced at her apartment with her favorite takeout when he suspected she hadn’t eaten. The one who filled her living room with laughter when he pulled out his collection of terrible dad jokes. The one who dragged her out for morning walks when she felt too drained to even leave her bed, promising her that fresh air and sunshine could do wonders for her soul.

Whenever self-doubt crept into her voice, Mingyu countered it with an unwavering confidence in her. “You’re stronger than this,” he’d say, “and I’m not just saying that because I care about you. You’ve gotten through so much, Jiyeonie. You’re going to get through this, too.”

Whenever fatigue settled into her bones or fear whispered cruel lies into her ear, Mingyu was there. He’d sit with her in silence on her toughest days, a steady presence she could lean on without judgment. He gave her space when she needed it and filled it when she asked.

Mingyu knew when to push and when to wait.

There were days when she would cry, and he would simply hold her. Other days, she would rant about how lost she felt, how fragile she had become, and Mingyu would sit there, listening to every word without interrupting.

Mingyu didn’t try to fix her. He just let her feel what she needed to feel.

And slowly but surely, Luna began to heal.

Her laughter returned, soft at first but growing stronger with each passing day. Her confidence, once so shaken, began to rebuild itself. She started to hum absentmindedly again, a habit Mingyu had always found endearing.

Even her relationship with Jeonghan began to return to normal.

The awkward silences that had once stretched between them disappeared. The lingering tension in their stares faded, replaced by the easy camaraderie they had always shared. They laughed together again, talked as though nothing had happened, and spent time with the rest of the members without the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

Jeonghan, true to form, never brought up what had transpired between them months prior. He respected her unspoken boundaries, never prying, never pushing. Luna, for her part, was grateful for that.

But no matter how much Mingyu helped her heal— no matter how many of her insecurities and doubts he managed to soothe— there was one thing he couldn’t replace.

Her feelings for Jeonghan.

Even after all this time, even after nearly a year of distance and rebuilding, her heart beat only for him.

It was Jeonghan she thought of in quiet moments, Jeonghan whose laughter still echoed in her mind, Jeonghan whose touch she longed for.

Her heart ached for him, yearned for him, and no amount of time seemed capable of changing that.

Her heart beats only for him; it longs only for him, an unyielding melody that no one else can rewrite.

And Mingyu… Mingyu was content with that.

Because if there was one thing he knew about love, it was that sometimes, love meant putting someone else’s happiness above your own. It meant helping the person you loved most find their happiness, even if that happiness didn’t include you.

After all, you would do anything for love— even if it meant helping your love with their love.

Mingyu marveled at his own heart sometimes, at its strength.

How was it possible to love someone so selflessly, to give so much of yourself knowing you might never get anything in return?

He didn’t know, but he also didn’t regret it.

Then again, Luna’s heart was just as strong, if not stronger.

She had endured the kind of heartbreak that could shatter a person, and yet she had chosen to keep loving. She had chosen to persevere, to hold onto that love even when it felt impossible.

Mingyu thought of her often, of the quiet resilience she carried, of the way she smiled even when her heart was heavy.

She amazed him, and in some ways, she inspired him.

If Luna could endure so much and still love so deeply, then who was he to do any less?

And so, Mingyu stayed by her side, his heart heavy yet full.

Because loving Bae Jiyeon— helping Bae Jiyeon—wasn’t a burden.

It was a privilege.

Jeonghan feels the same.

It was a privilege.

It was a privilege to know Luna, to stand beside her through the years as they navigated the treacherous waters of the idol world. A privilege to work with her, to watch her light up stages with an effortless grace that took his breath away every time. A privilege to call her his best friend, the one person who could read him like an open book even when he thought he was being clever.

And above all else, it was a privilege to be loved by her.

Jeonghan had known since the moment she confessed to him in her apartment, her words slurring slightly from the alcohol but her heart painfully clear.

Luna’s love for him wasn’t something fleeting or shallow. It was deep and real, a kind of love he’d never dared to believe someone like him could deserve.

But it terrified him.

The moment in the elevator the night after when he told her, “We can’t do this,” he knew he’d made a mistake.

The look in Luna’s eyes— the fleeting flash of pain she couldn’t quite mask before she quickly plastered on a smile— was something that haunted him.

He remembered the way she reassured him, her voice trembling slightly as she said, “It’s fine. I was drunk and being stupid.” And then she left the elevator, her head held high, as though the weight of his rejection wasn’t bearing down on her.

But Jeonghan knew her better than that.

He always had.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind replayed every moment of their conversation, every little detail he wished he could take back. He pictured her walking into her apartment, finally letting her guard down, finally allowing herself to cry.

The thought of her alone, her shoulders shaking with sobs he knew she wouldn’t let anyone else see, made his chest ache.

The next day, he noticed the shift immediately.

Luna avoided his gaze in schedules, her usual bright smiles now tempered, softer, almost rehearsed. She threw herself into work with a single-minded focus that even the other members started to comment on. He could see it in the way she laughed at jokes— polite, short, never reaching her eyes. He could see it in the way she distanced herself, not just from him but from everyone, wrapping herself in a cocoon of work and solitude.

And then there was Mingyu.

Jeonghan noticed how Luna began to gravitate toward him.

It started small— a lingering conversation here, a shared laugh there. But it grew, and before long, Mingyu became her shadow, her support, her confidant.

Jeonghan should have felt envious, should have felt angry, but all he felt was gratitude.

Because if anyone could help Luna when she refused to help herself, it was Mingyu.

Jeonghan knew how Luna was.

She wasn’t the type to openly share her emotions, not unless she was pushed. She was the type to bury them, to lock them away until the weight of them became unbearable. And Mingyu… Mingyu had a way of drawing people out, of making them feel safe.

Jeonghan was thankful for him, even if it hurt to watch them together sometimes.

And so, Jeonghan watched.

Silently, slyly, like a fly on the wall, he kept an eye on her.

He noticed the little things— the way her smile faltered when she thought no one was looking, the way her hands fidgeted nervously during group meetings, the way her laugh sometimes felt just a little too forced.

Jeonghan noticed how she stopped seeking him out the way she used to, how her lingering stares disappeared, replaced by a pointed avoidance that cut deeper than he wanted to admit.

He noticed, too, the way Mingyu seemed to bring back pieces of the Luna he knew.

Little by little, she began to laugh more freely, her eyes regaining some of their sparkle. She started to hum to herself again, a quiet melody that Jeonghan hadn’t realized he missed until it returned.

But even as Luna began to heal, Jeonghan couldn’t shake his regret.

He regretted the fear that had gripped him in that elevator, the fear that had made him choose the safe path instead of the one he truly wanted.

Jeonghan regretted making her feel like her love wasn’t worth the risk, like she wasn’t worth the risk.

He regretted the way he had hurt her, the way he had driven her away, the way he had made her question herself. And he regretted most of all that he hadn’t been brave enough to tell her the truth.

Because the truth was, Jeonghan had loved Luna for as long as he could remember.

Jeonghan was in love with Luna.

Hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her in a way that defied logic or reason. It wasn’t something he could pinpoint to a single moment or a singular trait.

From the moment they met as trainees, there had been something about her that drew him in. Maybe it was despite her cold outward appearance, she smiled so beautifully, so bright and unguarded, or the way she laughed, unabashed and full of life. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, like she could see straight through the facade he so carefully crafted.

It was everything, all at once.

It was the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed too hard, her giggles filling the room like sunlight spilling into a dark corner. It was the way she remembered the little things— like how he liked his coffee or how he always needed a nap after a long schedule.

It was the way she seemed to know him better than he knew himself, calling him out on his tricks and teasing him just enough to make him feel seen but never exposed.

He loved the way she carried herself, too— quietly resilient, endlessly kind, and fiercely loyal.

Luna was the type of person who gave her all to the people she loved, and Jeonghan had been one of the lucky ones to be on the receiving end of that love.

Jeonghan loved her then, and he loved her now.

But he had convinced himself that love wasn’t worth the risk.

That the friendship they had built, the bond they shared as members of the same group, was too important to jeopardize. That their careers, their futures, couldn’t withstand the weight of a love like theirs.

And so, he had told her no.

Even now, after everything, after he had hurt her, rejected her, and created a chasm between them, she treated him with the same warmth she gave to everyone else. He could see it was different now, of course— more guarded, more deliberate— but it was still there.

And it made him ache.

Jeonghan had spent countless nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment he told her no.

But now, as he watched her from afar, as he saw the way she smiled at Mingyu, as he noticed the way she seemed to come alive again under his care,

Regret was a constant companion, whispering in his ear, reminding him of what he had given up. It wasn’t just her love he had rejected— it was the possibility of something more, something deeper, something that terrified him because of how much he wanted it.

He wanted to make things right, to take back the pain he had caused her, to give her the love she deserved. But he didn’t know how.

But he was determined to make things right, no matter how long it took.

So, for now, he watched. And he waited.

Even if they could only ever be friends, Jeonghan was willing to accept that. He would rather have her in his life in any capacity than risk losing her completely. He was willing to put in the effort, to prove to her that she was safe with him again, that he could be someone she could trust. He was willing to push his own feelings aside if it meant seeing her happy.

And he hoped, with everything in him, that one day he would find the courage to tell her the truth.

But it wasn’t easy.

Even after months of careful rebuilding, after they had returned to a semblance of normalcy, Jeonghan could still see how Luna clung to Mingyu.

He didn’t blame her. Mingyu had been her rock during the time Jeonghan had faltered, the one who had stepped in when he had stepped away. And Mingyu, ever the gentle giant, had been exactly what Luna needed.

They were behind the scenes of a photoshoot when Jeonghan saw it again.

Luna’s laugh rang out, bright and unrestrained, as she squealed and called for Mingyu. “Gyu-Gyu, look at this!” she said, her voice laced with excitement. She held up her phone, waving it at him as he approached, his face lighting up in that easy, boyish grin Jeonghan had come to know so well.

Mingyu leaned down to look at her phone, his broad shoulders nearly swallowing her small frame as they shared a moment of quiet laughter.

Jeonghan watched from the corner of the room, his hands loosely clasped in front of him, his heart constricting painfully at the sight.

He was happy to see her smile like that, truly happy.

It was the kind of smile that reached her eyes, the kind of smile that had been absent for so long. And he was thankful for Mingyu— deeply, profoundly thankful— for being the one to bring that smile back.

But despite the gratitude that swelled in his chest, another thought crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

Can I be him?

The question lingered, heavy and bittersweet.

It mirrored the thought that had crossed Mingyu’s mind so many months ago, the same quiet longing, the same resignation.

But where Mingyu’s question had been born from the pain of unrequited love, Jeonghan’s was laced with guilt and regret. Because he could have been him. He could have been the one to make her laugh like that, to stand by her side, to be her rock.

But he wasn’t.

And now, as he watched her with Mingyu, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had forfeited his chance entirely.

Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on them, his heart twisting with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. He saw the way Luna tilted her head up to meet Mingyu’s eyes, her expression soft and full of trust. He saw the way Mingyu looked at her in return, his own gaze steady and unguarded.

It was a silent conversation, a quiet understanding, and Jeonghan felt like an intruder simply for witnessing it.

It was ironic.

Both Jeonghan and Mingyu were caught in the same cycle, both willing to put their own feelings aside for Luna’s happiness. Both of them aching for something they could never truly have. And yet, where Mingyu’s strength lay in his ability to give selflessly, Jeonghan’s strength was still a work in progress.

He wanted to be better for her. He wanted to deserve her.

But as he stood there, watching her laugh with Mingyu, the question lingered in the back of his mind, haunting him.

Can I be him?

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as he stood frozen, watching the scene unfold before him. Luna and Mingyu were standing just a few feet away, their heads bent together over her phone. She laughed again, her voice light and melodic, and something inside Jeonghan twisted painfully.

She looked so happy.

The kind of happiness that was effortless, unguarded, real.

And yet, all Jeonghan could think was, Am I still the one?

The question clawed at him, desperate and raw, filling him with a fear he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the sight of her smiling at Mingyu or the way she leaned into his presence like he was her safe harbor.

It was the possibility that somewhere along the way, Jeonghan had lost her— lost the part of her heart that once belonged to him.

Had she moved on? Had her feelings for him faded, dissolved into nothing but a distant memory of what could have been?

Jeonghan’s fingers tightened into fists at his sides, his chest heavy with the weight of uncertainty. He had no one to blame but himself. He had been the one to push her away, to draw that invisible line between them, to let fear and doubt dictate his choices.

But what if, in doing so, he had extinguished the flame that once burned for him in her heart?

Jeonghan’s mind raced, desperate for answers.

He thought back to every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every smile she had ever given him. He thought about the way she used to look at him, her eyes filled with a kind of quiet adoration that made him feel like he was the center of her universe. He thought about the way she used to laugh at his jokes, even when they weren’t funny, and how she always seemed to seek him out in a crowded room, as if drawn to him by some invisible thread.

Was any of that still there? Or had it all been erased, replaced by something else— someone else?

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. Please, he thought, his heart aching with the weight of his unspoken plea. Please let me still be the one.

He wanted so badly to believe that he was.

That somewhere deep inside, Luna’s heart still called for him, still craved him, still loved him. That despite everything— despite the hurt, the distance, the months of uncertainty— he was still the one she wanted.

But the fear was relentless, gnawing at the edges of his hope.

What if he was wrong? What if she had already let go? What if Mingyu had become the person she turned to, the person she leaned on, the person she loved?

The thought was unbearable, and yet it lingered, taunting him with its cruel possibilities.

Jeonghan’s eyes flickered back to Luna, watching the way she lit up in Mingyu’s presence, her smile brighter than he had seen it in months. He felt a pang of gratitude for Mingyu, for being there for her in a way that Jeonghan hadn’t been able to. But that gratitude was overshadowed by a deep, aching longing— an unrelenting desire to be the one who made her feel that way.

I can be him, Jeonghan thought, his mind racing with determination. I can be whoever and whatever you want me to be. Just don’t let go of me. Please, Nana-ya. Don’t give up on me.

The words burned in his chest, desperate and silent. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on to this hope, this fragile, flickering belief that he still had a chance.

Jeonghan just needed to know. Needed her to give him a sign, a hint, anything to tell him that he wasn’t too late.

Wait for me, he thought, his gaze softening as he looked at her. Just a little longer. Don’t let go. Don’t let me go, pretty angel.

Because if there was even the slightest chance that he was still the one, Jeonghan would fight for her. He would fight with everything he had, against every fear and every doubt, to be the person she needed.

To be the person she loved.

Jeonghan just needed her to wait. Just a little more.

He can be the one.

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[spidercat2099]

Nanami single dad au

Fluff-ish, Nanami’s sweet as hell in this

The blond man in the office always kept to himself. He was a hard worker and hardly talked to any of the other coworkers unless it was necessary. That's why, when you asked him out, he was in utter shock. Why would you want to go out with him out of all people? He asked himself.

He didn't say no though. His eyebrows raised and he asked you to clarify that you were actually asking him out.

"It's alright if you don't want to-" You began, but he cut you off quickly.

"No, no." His hands waved you down. "I'm..." He thought for a bit before speaking again. "I'm free Friday night. How does 7:30 sound?" He asked.

"I would like that." You responded, a slight smile tugging on your lips as you were excited he accepted. You were already picking out your clothes and looking for a new makeup look to impress him.

...

You'd been out with Kento for a couple of months already. It seemed like things were going well until he put on a serious face and cleared his throat.

"Miss y/n, I have to be honest with you on something." he began to say.

Your heart began to beat quickly from anticipation. You were worried it would be something bad. "Go ahead." You nod.

"I've enjoyed spending time with you, but it has been selfish of me to keep this going without telling you the truth." It seemed like he felt really guilty as he looked down at his clasped hands on the table. But if he enjoyed time with you, what could be wrong?

"I... I have a kid." He said as he looked up at you through his glasses.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't really expected him to be a father. "A... a kid?" You blink.

"I assume you wouldn't have known that before you even asked me out. I understand it's not a situation any woman would be willing to jump into. So, I wouldn't fault you for deciding to not go out with me again."

You begin to think, was there a sign you missed? Was it obvious? Wait... does he have a wife? You snap out of your thoughts. "And your wife?" you asked, not realizing how blunt you sounded.

His face shot up at the blunt question. "She... she passed away..." He looked away, now having a solemn look on his face. "Like I said, I understand if you don't want to continue-"

"Do you have pictures?" you asked leaning forward a bit. His eyebrows raised in the middle.

"Pictures?" He asked.

"O-Of the kid... how old are they?" His hand hesitantly pulled out his phone. He wasn't sure what this meant.

"His name's Yuji. He's 3 years old. He's a troublemaker but he's a good kid." He looked through his photo app for that album he had of Yuji. You could tell he was proud to have him as he showed you the pictures, telling you the backstory of each.

If you didn't already have a fat crush on this man, you definitely did now. The way he smiled at his kid was too cute.

When he finished showing you the pictures, he set his phone down and sighed. "I... appreciate you being this kind to me. But as I said, I don't expect you to want to jump into this situation. You're a young beautiful girl who I'm sure will find a man who doesn't have someone else's kid. It's a big burden-"

"Kento..." You cut him off. You didn't want to hear him be so somber on his "situation". Especially when you think about how proud he is of his kid and how hard he must work for him.

"I... I like you a lot. You having a kid isn't some kind of burden. We're both adults."

"I know that, I just don't want you to force yourself into a role you're not ready for just because you want to be with me."

"You're not forcing me to do anything." you grab his hand. "I'm deciding I still want to go out with you."

"You... you are?" He seemed touched but also in disbelief. You nod. You always knew how to surprise him. He wanted to believe it. That you were different, maybe that you were even the one that he was meant to be with. You were perfect. That's why he hadn't told you sooner, he wanted to hold on to that fantasy a bit longer. But he knew he still had to be realistic. After all, you could change your mind at any point.

Later that night, he drove you home. He opened the car door for you as you stepped out. He leaned onto the car slightly as he looked at you. "You're a very lovely lady, y/n..."

You smiled, getting closer to him as you adjusted his already neat tie. "And you're a very lovely gentleman, Kento." Your hand then flattened against his chest as your eyes made their way up to his. His head was tilted looking down at you.

Slowly, you came closer and his hand came up to rest on your waist. Your lips slowly join together with his. For a second, you pull back, just to join them again but with a bit more passion. Your hand made its way to the base of his neck as he pulled you closer. It was getting harder to leave it as just a kiss goodbye.

You wanted him. And you wanted him bad. Your breaths mingled together as your heads tilted every so often to deepen the kiss. Hid hand couldn't help but make it's way down your waist, close enough to grab your-

Beep, beep.

His phone rang and he pulled it out. He breathed heavily as he read the message. "That's... the babysitter." He explained before putting it away. "I'm sorry. I have to go." His eyebrows tilted up in the middle, feeling guilty once again for cutting things so short.

You breathe out. "It's... it's alright. Don't worry about it." You step back a bit to allow him to leave. He wasn't sure but he knew it could very well be the last time you both go out, regardless of what you said. You could've just been trying to be nice and just let him down easy later or decided to ghost him. And he didn't like that this was how the night had to end.

...

Things had gone normally for the next few weeks. You'd talk to him whenever you could at work, spend breaks together, and go out on the weekends. It seemed like things were going well.

Then, one day. He saw you at your desk while some guy leaned over it and spoke to you. He looked like he was closer to your age. And he had you laughing.

Kento wasn't a jealous person, but for some reason, he felt a pang in his heart. Like you could be taken from him at any moment and his fantasy would go down the drain. Especially when he though that's what you deserved. A guy your age who you could decide to have a family with.

Instead of walking over to say hi to you like usual, he just passed by to go to his own desk. You hadn't even noticed, since you'd been busy talking to the other guy.

Later in the day, Kento heard your voice call to him. He looked up from his computer to see you standing next to him. "Hey..." He said with a soft smile.

"Hey... I know we usually go out on Friday's but I'll have to cancel today." His heart had that same feeling again. Could it be that you realized you'd be better off without him? That the other guy was better? Maybe you'd decided to go out with him instead.

"Oh..." He said, his eyes looking away from you now. That's the one thing he always looked forward to after work.

"It's not anything serious, I just-" Then your watch began to ring. You had a meeting to go to, just sparing a minute to talk to Kento. "Sorry, I'll talk to you after the shift, okay?" You said as you left.

Kento wanted to tell you he was leaving early. The daycare only had a half day today. Of course, you wouldn't have known that. You don't have a kid, you wouldn't keep track of when schools are open. So he decided to text it to you, seeing as he won't see you that day at all. He'd have to wait until you texted him back, or until Monday to see you again.

But you never did. Not that day. Not the rest of the weekend. Was he right? You were ghosting him? Were you that type of girl?

...

On Sunday, he went to the grocery store with Yuji. It was raining, but they were in desperate need of food. So he just zipped up Yuji in a cute yellow jacket, carrying him in one arm as his other hand carried an umbrella over both of them.

It wasn't anything special as he walked around the store with Youji's hand holding his. Except, he couldn't stop thinking of you and what you were doing. Why you hadn't responded to any of his texts. He'd read a can and slowly get distracted by those thoughts until Yuji pulled on his hand because he got bored of that aisle.

After long enough, he picked up Yuji again, the other hand full of groceries and the umbrella. As he turned he saw... you.

He froze for a second, unsure if it was his imagination. You didn't live on this side of town, why would you be at the grocery store here?

"Papa, are you gonna move?" Yuji asked, poking Kento's face. "Y-Yeah, we'll go home."

When you heard that familiar voice, you looked up. His eyes widened as he realized it was truly you. You were wet, with nothing but a sweater on to protect you from the rain. No umbrella, no jacket. Just the awning of the store you stood under.

"Kento?" You called out. Yuji looked at you too, unsure of what was going on. Why was it so quiet? He just wanted to go home.

"Who's that?" He asked, pointing in your direction. "She's... a friend from work." You weren't fond of that response, but you knew how careful Kento had to be when the relationship hadn't even been established yet.

You were endeared by Yuji. He was even cuter in person. "Oh my God is that Yuji?" you got closer pinching his chubby cheeks gently. "Aren't you the most adorable thing ever?" Yuji definitely enjoyed the attention. He was giggling a lot.

"He likes you..." Kento said as he looked at his son's expression. "What are you doing on this side of town? You don't live near here." He couldn't help but feel curious.

"I left my phone at the office and the boss said I'd only be able to pick it up today. Halfway through walking here, it started to pour, can you believe that?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned.

"Bad luck, huh?" he said, trying to keep it light although he was slightly upset with you.

"Don't get me started." You looked at him with a frustrated expression, but it also felt aimed at him for some reason? But he couldn't tell why you'd be upset with him.

You held your own arms to keep yourself warm again as you turned your body away from him. "My house isn't too far from here, we should get you out of this rain." He moved his umbrella so you'd be under it too.

"Fine." Although you were upset, you couldn't deny you were freezing, and the office was still a long walk from here.

The walk home was quiet and Yuji had fallen asleep in Kento's arm. As he grabbed his key and began to unlock the door, he began to say "I would've invited you here on better circumstances, but-"

"It's fine." You said, not bothering to sweeten up your tone.

He took that as a sign that you were upset and didn't push any further. He led you in. "I'll be back in a second, I'll just go put Yuji down."

You stood by the door, sopping wet. You didn't sit down, as to not wet his couch.

He came back with some clothes in his hand, presumably for you to change into. He chuckled lightly as he looked at your usually perfectly styled hair frizzing up into curls. "Curly hair?" he asked as his hand picked up a strand an grazed it. It was funny to him that you two had been seeing each other for a while and he didn't know until now.

You turn away, your hair falling from his grasp.

"Miss y/n, I can't help but feel you're upset with me."

"Why wouldn't I be upset?" You said as you looked up at him.

"I don't know. You haven't told me. If anything I'm the one who should be upset with you." His own eyebrows furrowed at your hostility.

"Upset with me? You blew me off on Friday." You defend.

"Blew you off? You said you were busy."

"I meant when I was going to explain why I was busy. I waited for you but you didn't show. Next thing I know, the boss tells me you left early and you didn't even bother telling me?"

"I did. I texted you. Several times actually, and you didn't respond to any of them. I understand I told you that you're not obligated to continue going out with me but I had at least expected you to tell me." His eyebrows tilted upward again. You could tell he was just upset but hurt too.

"That's not it at all! I was not ghosting you if that's what you think." You defend quickly.

"You... weren't? Then why didn't you send a text back?" He asked, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"My phone had broken at the office and I wanted to go get it fixed on Friday, that's why I said I couldn't go on the date with you." You explained.

"That's why... you didn't get my message..." He realized. His hand runs through his hair in relief. You hadn't changed your mind.

"Why would you think I'd ghost you?" You asked, crossing your arms. Just a bit shaky from the cold.

"You're freezing, miss y/n. You should go take a shower and change." He lightly guided you to the bathroom.

"Kento, wait. You have to say why you thought that." You turned around to face him when you got into the bathroom. You didn't want him to get away with that. Did he really think you'd do that to him? He thinks you're the type of person to do that after a while of dating?

He sighed putting the clothes on the counter and leaning on the doorframe. "We can discuss it after you shower, okay? I don't want you soaking wet and freezing, you'll catch a cold." His thumb came up to your cheek to lightly caress it. "Please?"

Your cheeks tinged pink and your heart raced. You were still a bit upset but you couldn't help but be touched by him caring for you like that. "Fine," you mumbled, slowly closing the door and starting the shower.

...

You come out of the bathroom, practically swimming in his big clothes. He waited for you on the couch, reading a book in his comfy clothes as well. He looked up at you. "Too big?" He asked, holding back a smile. It was a bit attractive seeing you in his clothes like that.

You scoff, also holding back a smile. "Only cause you're too big." You walked over to sit next to him, not too close. You bit your cheek as you continued to hold your grudge. "So?" You asked, glancing at him. Hinting for him to explain now.

He sighed. "It's not anything against you, y/n. I just... haven't had the best experience with these things. Usually, women run at the first hint of me having a kid. That's why I gave up dating for a while. And when I saw you with that guy, I thought you might've changed your mind..."

You raise an eyebrow. "That guy?" You had to recollect your memories to figure out what he was talking about.

"On Friday. He was by your desk and making you laugh and everything. I thought you realized you'd be better off with someone like him."

"You thought I ditched you for him?" You asked, a bit in disbelief. Sure, maybe a different girl would've but... you were head over heels in love with Kento. Some random guy wasn't gonna change that. "That guy... has nothing on you, Kento." You admit. Your hand reached for his. "I told you, I like you a whole lot..." your eyes move from your hand to his face. "Do I not say it enough?"

"Well..." his ears began to heat up. You said it more than enough. "I just thought since we haven't established anything yet, you'd still look for other options. After all that would be fair."

"Are you looking for other options?" you ask.

He shakes his head slowly.

"The only reason there isn't anything established is because you haven't asked for me to establish it." You explain.

"Would... you want that?" he asked, his hand tightening its grip on yours a bit. You nod in a way that says 'duh'. He was usually a smart man, hell, he was the best employee in the company, but for some reason, he always second-guessed himself with this relationship.

He got up, not saying a word as he left. You were left a bit confused, you weren't sure where he went or if he was coming back.

But he came back quickly. He had a bouquet of roses in his hand and a box. Your eyes were wide. "This was meant for last Friday. Unless you'd like me to wait until next Friday. We're not out or well dressed so maybe it's not the best-"

You cut him off again. "What's that for?" You asked, looking at the things in his hand. He sat down next to you. "I was going to ask if you wanted to... be my girlfriend?" He asked. He placed the flowers on the table and handed you the box. "It's a necklace."

You were in shock. You really missed out on a great proposal just cause your phone broke? "Kento, you're so sweet. Of course, I would."

You placed the necklace next to the flowers, kissing him immediately. "I'll... do it again on Friday..." He said between your kisses. You didn't care. All you cared about was him. "New flowers... dinner... I'll ask again... make it special..."

...

You were nestled into Kento's arm as you both watched a movie. Kento fell asleep first. So he didn't notice when Yuji came out of his room searching for him. He dragged his blanket on the floor as he rubbed his eye.

Without a word, he crawled into the space between you both, nuzzling into Kento as he placed his own blanket on himself. You couldn't help but feel this sweet moment was exactly how your life was meant to be.

[formula-ghost]

Supermodel (FC43 x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: Franco can’t understand how you, the love of his life, could ever feel insecure—so he goes above and beyond to show you (and the world) how beautiful he thinks his girlfriend is. This can be read within the RYD universe or as a stand alone one shot!

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI. Teasing, light dom reader/ sub Franco at the beginning dom Franco at the end, body dysmorphia/reader insecurity, worship, mirror sex, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk/mentions of AFAB anatomy (reader has a vagina), use of the word whore, protected sex. Use of YN. Also the song doesn’t match the vibe of the story but I wanted to stick with the Måneskin theme lol.  

A/N: Some more Franco content! I need some more time with the Oscar fic, plus I’ll be returning to regular life since the holidays are over soon, so I figured I’d tide you over with a spicy Franco one shot. Since (in my head at least) this is set in the RYD universe, I’ve included the same tag list, and I hope you all enjoy it!

TAGLIST:  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse  @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg  @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle

Yeah, she’s a master, my compliments

If you wanna love her, just deal with that

She’ll never love you more than money and cigarettes

Every night’s a heartbreak

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Franco panted, his eyes trailing your curves up and down just as his fist squeezed tightly over the growing bulge in his pants. 

Your cheeks were flushed red, almost as dark as the wine-colored matching lingerie set you now wore before him, leaving little to the imagination. You couldn’t help it—no matter how long you’d been with the Argentine, you still got bashful when he complimented you. 

“I hope you know I mean it,” he began, leaving his spot on the bed to advance toward you. He gently brushed your hair away and kissed the top of your shoulder, looking up at you with his deceptively innocent doe eyes. “You’re the most perfect thing in the world to me.”

You smiled, blissful at the feeling of his touch. “It’s easy to say that when I’m standing in front of you in my new set.”

“I love you,” he said, as if it was as simple as telling the time. “So much. More than words can say. And I want you to remember that when you’re mad at me after I rip this off of you.”

He grabbed the strap of your bra, and you giggled, “You better not!” You playfully pushed him back on the bed. “No touching, not yet. Be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, obedient to only you. The grip you had on him was intoxicating. 

You climbed up on the bed, straddling him, running your featherlight fingertips up and down his arms and chest. 

“Mi amor,” he exhaled, “you are cruel to me.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, sarcastic yet seductive.

“Don’t you dare.”

You laughed. If he thought a bit of teasing was cruel, he would not be having fun for the rest of the night.

But, of course, he loved nothing more than ravishing your body, evident by his labored breath, laying next to you when the deed was finished. He stared at you with awe, your eyes still closed. He listened as you tried to catch your breath, placing gentle kisses on the top of your arm and into your shoulder.

You just let out a little noise in response, feeling safe and comforted by his touch. When you two were alone, he always needed to touch you in some way, much to your dismay during the sweltering hot months of summer. 

His kisses traced their way up to your neck, chin, and finally to your cheek, where he gently moved your hair out of your face to gaze on the gorgeous image of your face. 

“I wish there were better words in English to explain how I feel about you,” he said, his voice low and genuine. “Something stronger than I love you. Something more than just beautiful.” 

“You know I love it when you speak to me in Spanish,” you said, letting your eyelids flutter open to meet his gaze, only inches from your own.

“Yes, but I want you to understand what I mean.” He smiled softly. 

“My Spanish is getting better.”

“It is, you’re doing great,” he joked, nuzzling his nose into your neck, leaving you in a fit of giggles. “You’ll be talking circles around me in no time.”

“I wish. You’re fluent in yapenese,” you joked. You playfully mocked his voice, “Mi amor, you are so beautiful, the light of my life—” 

“Oh hush,” he said, smiling ear to ear. “You love it.”

“I do.”

“And it’s true.” He cupped your face, bringing you into a sweet embrace with a gentle kiss. “Join me in the shower?” 

“In a minute,” you answered, as he got up from the bed and started the warm water. After a few more moments of rest, you got up, picking up the discarded items of clothing that now dotted the floor, thrown aside in the heat of the passionate moment. 

You crossed the room to open the bureau and grab a fresh set of pajamas, before you caught sight of your reflection in the floor-length mirror. 

You had gained a little weight. It was normal, you supposed; a natural result of your many nights out with your lover. 

But you felt stuck in front of the mirror, your eyes rolling over the curves at the bottom of your stomach, what once was somewhat flat. Little thunderbolt-shaped lines now decorated the dimpled skin. And as you brought your arm up to grip the loose fat, you saw the extra flesh there too. 

“Mi amor, you coming?” Franco called from inside the bathroom. You hummed in response. 

You turned, noticing how the light caught every imperfection. The puffiness in your face, the roundness of your jaw, the lines and bumps and discoloration. You sucked in your stomach, seeing the surface flatten, then exhaled, watching with disgust how your body shifted.

“Amor?” Franco said, poking his head outside of the bathroom. Seeing you in front of the mirror, he crossed the room, finding his way behind you. He was covered only with a towel, wrapping his arms around your naked form and kissing your neck. But the sight of his flawless, athletic body behind yours did nothing to dismiss your insecurities. 

“What are you doing, pretty girl, hm?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“I’ve gained weight.”

“Did you? I didn’t notice.” His voice was tinged with a genuine confusion. 

“I look like I’m pregnant,” you said, gesturing to your bloated stomach.

“No it doesn’t,” he assured. “But if you want to be pregnant, we can arrange that.”

You ignored his attempts at banter. “I look gross.”

“Mi amor,” Franco began, his voice more serious. “Do I need to fuck you again to show you how beautiful you are?”

“Franco—”

“YN.”

You looked away.  “You could be with a model.”

“I’m with you. And you’re perfect, and I love you with my entire heart.” You bit the inside of your cheek. He continued, “Look at me.”

You brought your gaze back to his. “Your body has changed a little bit, so what?”

“It’s easy for you to say. You’re an athlete.”

“That doesn’t matter. No more of this talk. You’re beautiful. End of discussion. Now, let’s stop wasting water and get in the shower.”

You weren’t really feeling any better. If anything, you felt worse, now self conscious of your nakedness as Franco ran his hands up and down the soapy surface of your skin. You wanted nothing more than to get out of the shower, put on your clothes, and bury yourself so deep under the covers that you’d forget that you ever even possessed a physical form. 

And, much to Franco’s dismay, that’s what you did, turning away from him as you laid your head down to sleep. He pushed himself up next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He tapped his foot on your leg, initiating you to throw it over his is like you usually did every night. 

“You know,” he whispered, “this is when you’re supposed to pretend like you like me.”

“It’s not you, Franco,” you whispered back. “I love you. But it’s not something you can fix.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But that won't stop me from trying.” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, and you fell into a tense sleep.

Although Franco hadn’t initially noticed your physical changes, he now noticed your emotional ones. You wore loose clothing more often, as if to hide your body not only from the outside world, but from yourself. You skipped breakfast occasionally when you were having a really bad day. And now, when you made love, you wanted the lights out, preventing him from seeing the shapes of your body.  

He knew that what you had said was true—he couldn’t fix this. No matter the amount of love he showered you in, he couldn’t change the way your mind thought when you looked at yourself in the mirror. And it broke his heart knowing that you couldn’t see the same version of yourself that he saw, the perfect girl who he loved so dearly.

Your pain was beyond his fixing, but not beyond his helping. If he had showered you in love before, it was monsoon season now. Flowers every week. More lingerie to model for him.  Touching you nearly every second of the day. More sex than your body could handle. 

Of course, you welcomed his affection. But none of it helped that wound deep inside of you. 

It was at work, of all places, that he got the idea. 

“We’ve got a meeting with the new sponsors today,” his manager explained as they quickly trotted down the long hallway to the conference room. “That luxury brand I was telling you about? I’ve sealed the contract, they’re just here to plan the promo materials.”

Now, sitting in the conference room, the brand representative explained it to him. “The idea for the campaign is risque luxury. We want something… elegant, yet dangerous. Formula 1 fans are the perfect audience. Most of the shots for the initial campaign would just be in-studio, and then, we’d need you to wear some pieces we provide at official Formula 1 events.”

“That all sounds fine,” he said. 

“Great! We’re still looking for some more representatives for the women’s line, but when we find them, we can set up a date for the shoot.”

“Wait, like a female model? I’d need to pose with her?”

“For the first shoot, yes. And if we can get some shots of you and whoever we choose at official events, that’d be perfect.”

“Uh, well, I have a girlfriend. I can't just…be taking random women to events.”

The rep laughed. “Oh, it’s not like that. The models are all professionals. I assure you that no one would be trying to take you away from your partner.”

“If you all need a female model, why not just use her? We’ll be seen together a lot more than anyone else, no?”

His manager shot him a death glare. Was it highly unprofessional to be suggesting his own girlfriend for a job like this? Absolutely. Did he care at all? Absolutely not. 

The rep asked, “Oh, does she model?” 

“Eh… no, not professionally. But this could be her big break, no?” Franco laughed, and the rep did too, for obviously different reasons. But Franco was, unfortunately, serious. 

“Does she have social media?” the rep asked, and Franco pulled up your instagram as the rep scrolled through. 

“Well, first of all, she’s beautiful,” the rep said, clearly trying to be polite. “But, modeling is not just about being pretty.”

“Then why am I here?” The room erupted in laughter, but Franco hadn’t intended the statement to come out like a joke. “No, I’m serious. I drive Formula 1 cars. What are my modeling qualifications?”

“Well,” the rep began, carefully choosing his words, “you have the Latin American market in a chokehold—”

Franco cut him off. “My fans love her, too.”

The rep pursed his lips. “I’m sure they do.” 

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult—”

“Not at all,” the rep said, cutting Franco off as well. “Let me ask, though… is this a deal breaker for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we get a real model, are you saying you wont pose or be seen with her?” 

Franco looked at his manager across the table, who was nothing short of fuming. He began, “You said the theme was ‘risque luxury.’ I’m not going to pose for risque photos with another woman, no.”

The rep sighed. Franco continued, “And honestly, I still don’t even understand why you all even want me to model for you. Nobody in Argentina can even afford these outrageous prices—”

“Okay Franco, that’s enough!” his manager said, a false happiness in her tone. She turned to walk the rep outside, saying, “This has been a wonderful meeting, we can’t wait to hear from you…”

Once he had exited the building, she returned, looked at Franco, and said, “I hope you know you just lost us that contract.”

“Did you sign me up to do a photoshoot with a random woman?”

His manager paused. “...It’s business, Franco.”

“C’mon,” he said, “you knew about this, and you didn’t say anything?”

“I thought you’d understand. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.”

“You knew that was too much.”

She sighed. “Yeah, okay, I took a gamble hoping you wouldn’t care and I lost. But that sponsorship money is coming out of your bonus.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to promote this overpriced shit anyway.”

“You’re the bane of my existence, kid,” his manager said, patting him on the back as she walked out of the room.

At the end of the day, all Franco could think about was coming home and collapsing in your arms. When his manager was mad at him—which was often, given his refusal to be media trained—it was his favorite way to destress. 

So when he arrived home and collapsed on top of you, interrupting whatever mindless show you had been watching, you just smiled to yourself. As he exhaled, you placed one hand through his soft curls, and threaded the other under the collar of his shirt to scratch his back. He melted into your touch.

“Hello,” you said, placing a kiss on his head. “Long day?”

“She’s mad at me again,” he murmured, closing his eyes. 

“What’d you do this time?”

“Why do you assume I did something?”

You softly chuckled, “Because I know you.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he pouted.

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

He sighed. “I fucked up a sponsor contract. But really, it wasn’t my fault! They wanted me to pose with a bunch of models to sell their overpriced jewelry.”

You hummed. “I thought you liked doing photoshoots?”

“They’re fun, yeah, when they don’t want me to touch random women,” he frowned. You could hear the genuine disgust in his voice.

“I think you’re the only man in the world who would turn down the opportunity to be surrounded by models,” you laughed. 

He lifted his head up to look at you. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“Why would I want a bunch of random women touching on me when I have a girlfriend?”

You laughed again. “Because they’re models.” 

He gave you a look of confused disgust and said, “Oh, hush, YN. You’re the only woman I want within a hundred feet of me at any given time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that other women are beautiful.”

He looked at you sternly. “Um, no. This is when you tell me I’m not allowed to look at, let alone touch, anyone other than you.”

“Franco, you know I’m not like that.”

“You are, though! What has gotten into you, lately?”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m fine.”

Franco sighed. “No, you’re clearly not. What do I have to do for you to understand that you are the only woman in this world that matters to me? I don’t care what you say, you are the only one I want, the most beautiful girl in the world—”

He leaned up to kiss you, but you dodged his affection.

“Hey!” he protested. You got up from the couch, feeling overwhelmed by the whole interaction. 

“YN, come back—” you just ignored him as you went back to your shared bedroom, barricading yourself in the attached bathroom and exhaling. 

Franco was right. The insecurity had been eating at you for weeks, and somehow, Franco’s commitment to trying to make you feel better had made it worse. Most girls would be happy that their boyfriend (especially their young, famous, athlete boyfriend) wanted nothing to do with other women. But somehow, it just made you fear the worst—when Franco finally saw you as you saw yourself, and you became nothing more than just another one of the many women he ignored.

“YN, come out and talk to me,” you heard him softly plead from outside the door.

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute,” you said through the tears that welled up in your eyes.

“No need to apologize, take all the time you need,” he said. “But when you’re done, promise you’ll come talk to me about it?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah,” you answered weakly.

“Okay,” he said. You could hear how he pressed his forehead to the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your voice was shaking.

You just needed 5 minutes to breathe and calm down alone. That’s what you told yourself as you took another deep breath and wiped away the tears that now spilled over the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered to yourself. “I’m okay, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You’d say it until it was true. 

When you'd finally calmed down somewhat, you still waited in the bathroom, not wanting Franco to see your puffy, bloodshot eyes, the evidence of your tears. But he knew you were crying. And he knew you’d keep your word and talk to him when you were ready.

He knew you inside and out. So when you silently emerged from the bathroom and found him in the kitchen washing dishes, he knew no words were needed. You slipped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his back as he turned the water off and dried his hands.

He turned around and met your embrace, holding your head beneath his chin and enveloping you in his strong arms. His tender touch brought the tears back.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.”

“No,” you corrected. “You’re so good to me. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“It breaks my heart to see you hurting like this. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Just hold me,” you said, burying your head deeper into his chest, smelling the familiar scent of his cologne and the warm comfort of his breath rising and falling. 

The next day, Franco woke before you, spending a moment staring at your sleeping form before he had to get up and leave for the day. 

He knew you had been struggling, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how your mind saw something so much more different than his saw. It broke him to know you thought of yourself so negatively.

But he’d hold you all day everyday if it meant it helped even a little bit. He would do anything.

So, when your alarm began screeching and you lazily turned it off, he let you sleep in, simply pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he went into yet another one of endless meetings with his manager before the season started.

She walked in and slammed a stack of papers on the desk. “I don’t know how you keep getting away with this shit every fucking time,” she said.

Franco raised a brow. Her tone wasn’t angry, as he expected, but rather…frustrated?

“The contract,” she continued. “The rep called me last night. They want you to do the campaign no matter what. They’ll let you do it with YN.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes. We’ll have to get her in here to sign the contract, then we’ve got fittings and we still need to set the date for the actual shoot…”

His manager’s voice faded into the background as Franco remembered the previous night. The idea of you, dolled up in designer clothes posing next to him, had excited him at first. Now, he was unsure if that would just make things worse.

He had to be…deliberate in bringing it up. At home that night, as you two ate dinner, he decided to choose his words very, very carefully. 

“So, you remember that contract I said I lost?”

“The designer stuff?” you asked. He nodded. 

“Yeah. Well, I…actually didn’t fuck it up as bad as I thought I did. They still want us to do the campaign.”

“That’s good. It’ll get your manager off your case.” Your gaze drifted to the plate of food in front of you. The unspoken question lingered in the air. 

“Please don’t be mad at me—” he began, but you cut him off. 

“Franco, you’re a professional. I trust you.”

“Well, um… they want you to model.”

You looked up at him, perplexed. “Me?”

“I showed them your social media.”

“And they want…me. To model for them.”

“Well, they want you to do the campaign with me, yes. And wear a dress of theirs to a fancy event or two.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a model. And all my followers are just your fans, anyway.”

“Other driver’s girlfriends have done it, why can’t you?” He put down his fork and looked you in the eye. “YN, I think this would be a great thing. I can show you off to the world, and they’ll dress you up and make you feel beautiful. You’re beautiful without it, of course, but you know what I mean. I can’t make you say yes, but I’d love to do this with you.”

You took a beat to think. You couldn’t deny that you wanted the experience of going to lavish galas in designer gowns and seeing Franco grace the covers of magazine and social media home pages. Besides, you thought, if you truly looked bad they could just photoshop you to hell and back.

“Okay,” you answered, “let’s do it.”

So, a few weeks later, you found yourself in one of those cloth chairs that you had only seen in movies, having powder liberally applied to your face by a makeup artist. 

“The heavy makeup is just for the lights. They’re warm and harsh, so it’ll drown you out and make you look greasy if we don’t apply this much.”

You hummed in response, afraid to move your face. “I can tell this is your first time,” the artist said. “Just relax and let us work our magic, yeah? When they all say celebrities are fake, this is what they mean.”

You would have chuckled if you weren’t already sweating with nervousness. “Close your eyes,” she said, and you obeyed, only flinching as she generously sprayed setting spray over your makeup. 

“Alrighty, off to hair for you.”

Hair was the same—a nervousness that clearly identified you as an outsider to this world of glitz and glamor. You coughed when she nearly drowned you in hairspray. 

Then it was time for the final touches, the dress and jewelry. 

You gasped as they brought it out. A long silver satin gown, custom measured to hug your curves perfectly. Your neck was adorned with diamonds, your lips blood red, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulders. 

When you finally made it into the studio, Franco was already there, clad in a simple yet elegant black suit to contrast against the shiny fabric of your dress. He wasn’t facing you when you first entered, but hearing the click of your heels against the wooden floors, he turned and stopped in his tracks. 

“Oh my God,” he exhaled. “You look…” He was, quite literally, speechless.

You let out an awkward laugh, unused to having so much attention on you. 

“Amazing!” the brand rep said. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

And that, you did. The first shots were simple: you resting your arms on a chair while Franco sat, looking off into the distance, his perfect side profile on display. Both of you staring down the camera, arms placed in dynamic positions. 

Then you switched to the more sensual shots. Franco kneeled before you, kissing your hand, allowing you to show off the ring they had placed to contrast your black gloves. Another one, a shot of you holding his cheek as he gazed up at you in admiration. 

Then you switched, with him taking the more dominant role in the poses. His hand around your neck, showing off his own ridiculously expensive rings, as you tilted your head upwards towards him and he glared at the camera. A shot of Franco holding you up against a wall; his arm was draped above you to show off a watch, but his other hand found your waist and his head was turned as if to kiss you while you stared at the camera.

“Okay, play with the pose a bit,” the photographer instructed. “Let’s get some candids.”

You turned away from the camera, trying to ignore the incessant clicking and flashing in the background.

He smiled. “Hi, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you replied, smiling as well. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Franco leaned closer to your ear to whisper, “I really want to rip this dress off you.”

“Franco!”

“Oh, that was good!” the photographer yelled. “Whatever you said, do it again, her expression was golden.”

You laughed as you both repositioned, standing in front of the dark backdrop. 

“How much will it cost if I damage this dress?” Franco asked, looking at the photographer.

“Probably more than quadruple my salary,” the photographer laughed. “So please don’t.”

“But I have an idea. Just hear me out.”

Franco leaned down and gripped the strap of your dress in his mouth, eliciting a gasp from you and a thousand clicks of the camera. 

His most bold suggestion, though, was the shot from the floor; he laid down and had you crawl on his chest and kneel above his head, draping his shoulders in the luxurious fabric and showing off your bedazzled garter beneath a silt in the dress. Though the photo would only expose a little bit of thigh, you couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline that the position gave you. 

When the shoot was over, it hurt your heart a bit to have to take off the dress and jewelry. Franco could tell. A sad smile painted your face as they carefully removed the diamonds from your neck and ears. But the one that hurt most was the gorgeous diamond ring, which you gently slipped off your gloved finger with a pang of sadness.

Franco was right; it had been fun to dress up and show off, but it was over now. So you said a silent goodbye to this false world of luxury as you walked off to the dressing room, and Franco went over to the brand rep who was packing up your jewelry. 

“A lovely job, both of you!” he said. “I’ll admit, I was hesitant at first, but you all definitely proved me wrong. These photos will come out amazingly.”

“How much is the ring?” Franco asked, gesturing to the lockbox that it was now hidden away in. 

“Ah, I could tell she liked it. Are you thinking of popping the question soon?”

“Ah, well…” Franco said, nervous now. It hadn’t occurred to him that it was an engagement ring. 

The rep laughed. “Well, this one’s from the new collection, expertly crafted. Usually goes for around $130,000, but that’s just with the base without any modifications.”

Franco choked on his own saliva. He certainly wasn’t making that much money yet, and besides, he didn’t know if his little working-class heart could ever justify spending that much money on a shiny rock. 

But for you? Anything. 

The rep could sense his hesitation. “Well, if you decide to go for it, here’s my card. Maybe we can work something out.” Franco nodded and accepted the card, stowing it away in his wallet after he changed out of his suit. 

Once you arrived home, the mountain of makeup and hairspray that you were both still covered in acted as the perfect excuse for a shower together.

As Franco lathered shampoo into your hair, he whispered, “You looked beautiful today.”

You smiled. “I felt beautiful.”

The photos were released a few weeks later, sending the internet into chaos. 

YN!?!?!?! CAN FRANCO FIGHT?

Does YN know that we’d all kill to be her right now

The hand placement!! The look in his eyes!!! That man is IN LOVE!!!!!

You chuckled to yourself as you read through the comments on your Instagram post. 

You saw the most important comment: the one from Franco. 

Eres el amor de mi vida <3 

You felt butterflies rise up in your stomach as you tapped the little heart to like the comment, as if that same man wasn’t taking you to the F1 Grand Prix Gala in Monaco tonight. 

You wanted nothing more than to walk in on his arm, basking in the glow of the photoshoot. It wasn’t just the glamor of the shots or the makeup that made you feel better; it was Franco. The way he looked at you like you were a goddess—you finally understood what he meant when he said he wanted you to see yourself as he saw you. 

As you donned the loaned dress from the same brand—less extravagant than the gown from the shoot, but still gorgeous—you were so thankful you had let Franco talk you into this. 

Everyone was abuzz at the event, and you were getting kudos left and right from strangers, which was slightly embarrassing, but you soaked in the attention anyway. But the best feeling was your lover’s hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowded ballroom.

You stepped out onto an empty balcony, drinking in the clear night air, now alone from the crowd. Of course, he followed like a lost puppy. 

“Mi amor,” he said as you leaned against the ledge, “I don’t know what’s more beautiful, you or the night sky.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “That’s too much, even for you.” 

“Maybe,” he joked. “And, maybe, we should get out of here. I’m tired of pretending to like all these old rich people.”

“That sounds lovely.”

You two sped home, where Franco wasted no time taking off your dress and decorating the floor with it.

“Let me worship you,” he said, grazing his lips over the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Don’t you already?” you joked, evidence of your returned confidence.

“I do,” he said, “because you’re divine. I want to taste you.” He grabbed your panties with his teeth, pulling them down slowly, enjoying the burning desire you both felt as his skin grazed against yours. 

But even now that he had you fully undressed, he still teased you, gently kissing your thighs, looking up into your eyes with every kiss. You pushed his hair back, softly inhaling with every inch of skin that his mouth touched. 

“Franco…”

“Mi ángel,” he exhaled. “Mi reina, mi cielo, mi vida.”

With a featherlight touch, he brought his mouth to your wetness, kissing your clit before rolling his tongue around the soaked bundle of nerves. Your breath hitched.

He brought two fingers to your entrance, teasing you until you were dripping with want for him. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me.”

His praise felt like your native tongue, the way your bodies and words naturally curved to each other, fitting together like you were made for this. 

He echoed your thoughts, continuing, “You take me so well.” He curled his fingers to hit that sensitive spot inside of you that made you see stars, eliciting a moan. 

“I live to pleasure you, mi amor.” He brought his mouth back to your clit, pointing his tongue and swirling circles around it as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. 

You squirmed under him, overcome by the pleasure of both his hands and his words. As he continued his movements, he never shifted his gaze from you.

But you looked away, to the mirror in the corner that had been moved as you got ready. You had a perfect view of Franco pleasuring you, and God, was the sight beautiful. 

Franco saw you looking and stopped, eliciting a frustrated whine from you. 

“Come here,” he said, climbing on the bed. “Keep facing the mirror.” He positioned himself behind you, grabbing your chin to keep your face straight as you both gazed at your reflections. “I want you to watch me fuck you. I want you to see how perfect you look when I take you.”

You wordlessly nodded, loving the vulnerability of being at the mercy of the man who worshipped you. 

As Franco unwrapped and put on a condom behind you, you studied the patches of red that colored your cheeks, flushed from your lover having nearly brought you to the brink of orgasm only moments before. 

He spanked you and you playfully yelped. “Don’t you dare take your eyes off this mirror.”

“What if I do?” you asked. “Will you punish me?”

He spanked you again, the other side this time. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Then, slowly, he placed his hands on your hips and found his way to your entrance, filling you with a swift but gentle motion. You both let out a low moan. 

“Even your pussy is perfect,” he said as he began to move. “Taking every inch of me.”

“Yes,” you moaned. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, increasing his pace and intensity, making you scream. “I want to fuck this pussy every day for the rest of my life.”

His words went through one ear and out the other; you couldn’t focus with his fucking you into the mattress with every thrust.

You cried and closed your eyes, hanging your head as you tried to hold back the waves of pleasure that were building in your core. But Franco roughly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back up.

“What did I tell you? Look at yourself, getting fucked like the perfect little whore you are.” You loved it when Franco was a little rough with you, but combined with the praise, it nearly sent you over the edge.

“Now,” he said, slowing down his pace, “since you didn’t do what I told you, you don’t get to cum.”

You whined in protest as Franco pulled out, leaving you feeling cold and empty. “Please,” you begged. 

He laid down on the bed. “If you want it, do it yourself,” he teased. “Ride me. If you want to cum, you have to watch as you make yourself cum on my cock.” 

You didn't argue, instead just obeying and sinking yourself down on him. You watched in the mirror as he disappeared in you, mesmerized by the way your bodies connected. 

His hands found your waist again as you began to bounce on him, chasing your release with an relentless pace. 

“Fuck, Franco, I’m close—” you moaned, and you felt his hand come down hard on your ass again. 

“Are you watching?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me how beautiful you look.” If he had said this at any time other than in the heat of your passion, you would have cringed. But now, moments away from an orgasm, you obeyed.

“I fit perfectly on top of you,” you began with a shaky voice. “And I look…I look perfect riding your cock.”

“What else?”

“I look beautiful covered in your love bites.”

“Good girl,” he growled, matching your pace, fucking up into you. “My perfect, beautiful girl.”

With his final statement of praise, you shook, letting yourself drown in waves of pleasure as he continued fucking you through it. 

He had switched back to Spanish now, babbling away what you assumed to be your praises as he chased his own orgasm, quickly finishing from the heavenly feeling of your walls gripping around him. 

When you all collapsed in a pile next to each other, he threw an arm around you, wordlessly holding you in his embrace. His words could never truly make it better, he knew that.

But thankfully, his words weren't needed anymore. Now, you believed him. 

[wtfaniii]

I can do it alone, but he can also save me

Fem reader x Hwang In-ho / Fem reader x Hwang Jun-ho

Part 1 // Part 2

•Summary: Jun-ho's girlfriend was a decorated policegirl, strong and brave, she, along with Gi-hun were taken to the games to stop them, however, there was a setback in between

•Note: Thanks for the support! Here I bring you the second part of this one shot that is personally one of my favorites.

•Warning: Maybe some drama, Some violence and attempted abuse, ¡Don't worry! this man arrives on time like a prince on a white horse

N/A: I haven't checked this yet, sorry if it has spelling mistakes

Gi-hun had told some participants that the next game would be dalgona, but it was not so and now they were upset with him, surrounding him and complaining about his mistake, calling him a "liar."

—You guys decided to play these games —the girl said standing in front of Gi-hun —Face the consequences and don't expect someone to come and save us.

—He's a fraud! —Player 100 shouted at him, pointing at accusingly and with contempt.

—ibelieve in him word —001 interrupted, standing next to her.

Due to the first impression that the two made on all the players, the complaints immediately stopped and retreated.

—It's nothing, I really believe you —Young-il said with a friendly expression

—And if you allow me... I would like to be on your team.

The next game would be in teams of five players, counting the girl, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho and now Young-il, they were full, however, when they were talking to get to know each other a little, a woman with the number 222 on his uniform approached them cautiously.

—¿Can I be on your team? Please —Jung-bae was going to interrupt her to tell that they were full but the young woman finished his sentence first —I'm pregnant.

The five pairs of eyes fell on the small bulge of her belly and noticed that it was true. Immediately, the woman spoke. —I'll look for another team.

—¿Are you sure you'll do it?— In-ho asked, looking at her carefully. A person who looked out for someone else's well-being in these games was rare to see, but considering the situation, it was quite understandable. He wouldn't give up his place if he wasn't so interested in his enemy.

She nodded confidently and left to find another team, it didn't take long, after all, most people took advantage of having someone like her on their team just by considering the word "police" in their introduction.

Once the teams were formed and they were told what had to do, they sat on the floor to wait the turn.

As time passed and gunshots mixed with screams sounded in the background, the young woman thought silently.

¿Will Jun-ho be okay? She really hoped so, she had known him for four years and knew that there were times when he could go to extremes to get what wanted.

It was something she loved about him but right now just worried about.

—¿What game are you going to play? —246 asked sitting next to her, momentarily taking her out of his thoughts.

—Gonggi —answered immediately, she was very good at that game, it had been his favorite since she was a child.

The others nodded and continued talking, she didn't go there with the intention of socializing too much.

For starters.

She was only there because Jun-ho had asked her to.

Jun-ho...

She just hoped him could find her and Gi-hun in time.

The policeman had no intention of stopping now, even without having the tracker active and with the fact that apparently someone was sabotaging them from inside, he was not going to stop searching.

The woman he loved was in those games, that wasn't going to be the plan, she was only supposed to be Gi-hun's bodyguard but things didn't go as planned.

—I think we should stop, it's almost time to eat and we're a bit far from the shore.

—We can't be so close now —he said, somewhat irritated and helpless. —Every minute they spend on that island is a danger.

He felt guilty for having dragged her into his own problems.

He remembered the last conversation he had with her before he lost sight of her.

[...]

—We are police officers —Jun-ho said, showing his badge to the guard who was guarding the entrance of the place

—Just like everyone else tonight —the man said with a mocking laugh, pointing at the long line waiting to get into the Halloween party.

Jun-ho didn't have enough patience to tolerate this, so with no other choice he went up to the man and took his gun out of his pocket.

—¿Do you want to see if this is a toy?

The guard stepped back in fear, giving them free passage.

The girl smiled proudly and waved her hand as if it were hot while sighed.

—That's my man —she boasted to the guard as they crossed the entrance. Jun-ho managed to hear her and inevitably a sly smile appeared on his lips.

—We have to find him before they do —he said, referring to Gi-hun searching the crowd but no masked pink guard was visible.

—It will be faster if we separate —she added, taking out her weapon and pointing it at the ground just to be ready in case used it —When we leave here it will be fondue night —she said without losing her charming touch.

It was something they both shared, despite being in tense situations like this, comments like that were never lacking, especially from the girl and that was something Jun-ho adored, her daring was part of what made the policeman fall in love with her.

—Maybe I should drag you into my problems more often —He replied with a smile and separated from her.

The girl was the first to find Gi-hun and surprisingly they let her get into the limo with him.

Jun-ho was unhappy about that but he couldn't change her mind and just when they thought they could intercept the front man of those suicide games they were forced to make a last-minute decision by shooting at the tires of the cars.

[...]

His stomach turned just remembering what people go through inside those games, he trusted that she could survive but the odds of not making him tremble and want to vomit.

—Okay... we'll call off the search —He relented after a few minutes.

He looked up at the sky and asked whoever would listen him to keep the woman he loves alive.

Meanwhile on the island, they had managed to get through the second game alive, she was sitting with Gi-hun's team silently watching around them when 001 sat next to her.

—Hi... —he greeted her with a soft smile, hoping that the mask being Young-il was convincing enough to fool her —I'm curious... if you're a police officer, ¿how did you end up here?

—¿Debts? —She replied with a false smile —My job was to take care of Mr. Seong but it didn't turn out the way I had in mind —she admitted, looking away again but feeling Young-il's intense gaze on her.

—So... ¿you're here as an undercover agent? —he asked, feigning surprise and curiosity.

He himself was the one who gave the order to allow her to also get into the limousine to accompany Gi-hun.

In-ho knew his brother would be worried about her, searching for her relentlessly, but it was inevitable, he needed to meet her in person and be sure how good of an influence she was on Jun-ho.

Or at least he thought it was a good excuse.

—Yeah... —She looked at him silently and attentively when she noticed a certain peculiarity in him appearance —¿Do I know you from somewhere? I feel like I've seen you before...

Him face seemed familiar but she couldn't figure out why. In-ho kept eye contact with her, waiting for her answer.

It was a pity, if she recognize it him had no other option to let her die in the next games but luckily for the girl she denied it.

—Forget it, I'm just stressed ¿And why are you here?

—My wife is sick and pregnant.

She looked at him with pity as he told her his story, it wasn't a lie, it was just that it happened years ago and he couldn't do anything to keep her alive.

—I'm sorry —The girl said after he finished his words.—I promise we'll get out of here and I'll help you as much as I can with the expenses.

The police had money, not to say that she was a millionaire but she lived in a good social status, she was willing to help him only because her heart was softened by him story.

–You barely know me, ¿why would you do that?

—My boyfriend has also had a somewhat hard life and I took this job for a reason, to help others.

She did not consider herself a saint, but if she had the opportunity to do something good for other people, she would do it regardless of the consequences.

—Also... I think I'm pregnant —She said with a small smile.

How chaotic and unfair could fate be that just one night before she was to go to the medical laboratory for her results, she was taken to those games against will.

On the other hand, she could also feel a slight connection with this stranger, which was why she revealed that to him so naturally, but she still didn't know exactly why.

—I have to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back.

He nodded and watched her leave but his eyes also noticed three other suspicious looking players who followed her into the bathroom.

Without thinking twice he also stood up.

Not even two minutes had passed since she entered the bathroom when a woman grabbed her by the collar of the jacket and threw her backwards, making her fall on back.

–¿You remember me? —the woman demanded, looking at her with disdain and annoyance

—No —She answered standing up.

—You threw my husband into prison and won't be out for another twenty years —The woman pulled out a small pocket knife and another woman stood behind the police girl to hold her —I thought about how to kill you for days.

—Very cute, I still don't know who you are.

Those words only made the woman even more furious as lunged at her and tried to stab her,

Her hard training served her well in this unarmed fight.

But she was counting on another man to come in to help the two players who were trying to kill the young policewoman.

—Three against one unarmed is not fair... —she gasped for air as saw that he had a small opening in his head, her had hit himself on the sink at one point during the fight.

—¡It was also not fair that my husband was sentenced to twenty years in prison for attempted abuse!

—Oh, believe me, I tried to make it forty.

A kick to the face from one of them managed to stun her long enough to give them time to pin her down on the cold, damp bathroom floor.

She couldn't hear clearly what they were saying but when she saw how the man placed himself on top of her, their intentions were quite clear.

She didn't have enough strength to continue defending himself, her felt bleeding from his leg from the knife and the cut on his head hurt, but like a hero coming to save the day, Young-il walked through the door and shouted "Hey!"

That small interruption was enough for her to hit the man in the genitals with her knee, making him move away and moan in pain.

She was too stunned to see what was happening, but before she knew it, he had her in him arms and walked out of the bathroom leaving the two women unconscious on the floor and the man with a bleeding nose.

—¡You should do a better job as guards! —he yelled at the two pink soldiers guarding the door, she didn't know it but that scolding was enough to fire those two.

He carefully led her to the men's room where, due to his front man advantages, he was able to have a guard deny another player access until he said so.

—Thanks... —Her murmured as he dropped her on the ground—But I had it under control.

She let out a giggle that made his ribs hurt, In-ho refrained from laughing, now he had to focus on fixing her wounds.

—Being a police officer you made many enemies —He said while using his jacket with some water to clean her.

—You have no idea.

In-ho continued to clean her wounds and after a few minutes everything was better for her, the girl stood up cautiously because of the wound on her leg and thanked Young-il with a small bow.

—Thanks for helping me, for the second time.

—I hope it doesn't become routine —he said with a soft smile, looking her up and down unconsciously.

When they came out of the bathroom there were suspicious glances but neither of them cared.

It was cute, she liked the way this man treated whenever her found himself in trouble, in a way he reminded her of Jun-ho,

She liked that even though she could defend herself, there was still a knight in shining armor who would arrive in the worst situations.

Young-il, the gentleman who arrived just in time and the only one who knew about her suspected pregnancy.

tag list:

@raya4643 @lvspedri @iloveoldermen0204 @ravenslocked

[caitified]

Hihi really love your fics. Its my first ask haha. Was maybe thinking if you could do a fic of CC and a teammate, teammate can be either a rookie/vet but is kinda cold to CC (really just kinda awkward with new people). When CC gets shoved roughly on court, reader gets all up in the opps face and protects CC and their relationship deepens from there?

Thank you!

rookie season

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none, i got carried away so you’re getting their entire backstory sorry 🙊

the first time you and caitlin clark really crossed paths was in the championship game during your senior year at lsu. she was the face of iowa basketball, and you could tell from the moment you saw her on the court that she had something special. she was confident, fierce, and competitive—just like you. but in the end, your team pulled ahead, winning the title in front of a packed crowd.

as the final buzzer sounded, you couldn’t help but catch her eye. there was a mutual respect, but there was also that playful rivalry. on the court, you were opponents, but off it, you could tell you had a little bit of a thing for each other. you knew that fire in her eyes. it mirrored your own.

after the game, you shot her a quick text. “close, but not close enough. see you soon clark,” you wrote, the taunting light in your words meant to sting just a little. but it was all in good fun.

caitlin stared at the message for a long time, a frown tugging at her lips. she was already upset about the loss, but this—this was a challenge, and she couldn’t ignore it. she hated losing, but she hated being underestimated more. her fingers hovered over the screen for a few seconds before typing out a response. “i’ll get you next time. count on it.”

the rivalry continued through the years, even as you went your separate ways. after graduation, you entered the wnba, getting drafted to the indiana fever, and had an incredible rookie season. caitlin, meanwhile, went on to dominate her final year at iowa. but despite her skill and talent, she couldn’t overcome south carolina in the national championship. when she lost, you couldn’t resist—sending her a cheeky text. “looks like you came up short again. better luck next time.”

you expected her to get a laugh out of it. it was playful, just like before. but caitlin’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. she stared at the message, hurt more than she’d care to admit. the loss had stung, and your words felt like salt in the wound. still, she didn’t reply. she couldn’t. not yet.

then came the 2024 wnba draft. when caitlin’s name was called and the indiana fever picked her, now you were on the same team. and things only got more awkward from there.

every time caitlin interacted with other players, like katie lou or aliyah, she noticed something. you were always friendly, always smiling, always making an effort to bond with them. it was easy. natural. but with her, it was different. you barely spoke to her beyond the bare minimum, and every time she tried to start a conversation, you gave short, one-word responses. it confused her.

“why doesn’t she like me?” caitlin thought, watching you laugh with katie lou as the team played cards in the lounge after practice. “i don’t get it.”

every time you teased or joked around with your other teammates, caitlin felt the sting of your coldness. it was like she was invisible to you, even though you were teammates now. it made her question herself. was it because she lost that championship? because of how things had gone down in college? did you still think of her as just an opponent? the thought ate at her.

then came the game against one of the toughest teams in the league. caitlin had been getting pushed around, more than once, and the tension on the court was palpable. you could see her jaw clench, her shoulders stiffen. when the opposing player—a notoriously aggressive forward—got in caitlin’s face, pushing her and swearing, caitlin didn’t back down. but it was obvious she was starting to lose control.

you didn’t even think about it. you just reacted. before anyone could stop you, you were between them, your body protecting hers. you stood tall, staring the other player down, your voice cold but firm. “you don’t get to do that to her,” you said, the words leaving no room for argument.

caitlin stood behind you, a mixture of shock and gratitude on her face. she didn’t expect you to step in. she’d always been the one to fight her battles, but something in the way you had defended her made her heart race. it was different. personal. and for the first time, she realized just how much she needed that support from you.

after the game, when everything had calmed down, caitlin found herself alone in the locker room, her thoughts swirling. she hadn’t expected you to protect her like that. it made her feel something deep, something she couldn’t put into words. and she wanted to know more. wanted to understand why you acted the way you did around her, why you kept your distance.

you were sitting by your locker, wiping down your sneakers when she walked up to you. the silence between you two was thick.

“why didn’t you say anything before?” caitlin asked, her voice soft but edged with curiosity. “you’ve been so… cold with me. i don’t get it. i mean, you’re nice to everyone else, but with me… you act like i’m invisible. i just wanted to know why.”

you looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time with something softer in your gaze. the rivalry between you two wasn’t there anymore. not really. “i didn’t know how to be around you,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. “in college, you were the one i had to beat. and then you got drafted here, and… it felt weird. like i didn’t know how to treat you.”

caitlin blinked, processing your words. “you didn’t know how to treat me?” she repeated, her voice catching slightly. she had hoped for something else, but hearing you say it made her understand. maybe she had been too focused on trying to prove herself to you. “so, you’re not… mad at me?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

“no,” you said with a small smile. “not mad. just… confused. i didn’t know if we could be something else after everything. i guess i wasn’t ready to let go of the rivalry.”

caitlin let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, her shoulders relaxing. she smiled, a genuine one this time. “maybe it’s time we let it go.”

from that moment on, things changed. you and caitlin started to talk more, really talk. you found common ground, sharing laughs, teasing each other, and slowly, the barriers you had built up started to crumble. the more you got to know her, the more you realized there was more to her than the fiery competitor you once knew. and maybe there was a lot more between you two than you had ever expected.

not me lying and saying i was gonna post a few days ago. i’m so sorry i’ve been so busy. enjoy. REQUESTS R OPEN

part two? let me know

[sanjisprincesss]

“We listen and we don’t judge!”

Summery: basically the “we listen and we don’t judge.” Trend with DC characters.

Ft: Bruce Wayne x reader, Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Barry Allen x reader, Clark Kent x reader, Diana Prince x reader, Wally west x reader, Hal Jordan x reader.

Warnings/content: crack fic and no warnings.

Izzy’s notey: “we listen and we don’t judge” we all say in unison! Also I knoww old trend.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

You held your phone, staring at Dick as he squirmed, clearly not thrilled about being part of this trend. “Alright, Dick. You know the drill: We listen, and we don’t judge.”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “Fine, but you might regret asking for this one.”

“We won’t judge!” you assured him.

He sighed, looking embarrassed. “Okay, sometimes… I wear my old acrobat costume to bed. Just for nostalgia, I swear! I haven’t used it in years, but it still fits, and… it’s comfy.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you sleep in a costume that’s meant for performing stunts?”

He shot you a glare. “I don’t judge your weird habits, alright?”

You laughed. “Dick, that’s adorable. I mean, who needs pajamas when you have your acrobat outfit?”

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

Jason leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed. “You really want me to do this?”

“Yes! We listen and don’t judge, Jason!” you exclaimed.

Jason groaned. “Fine. Sometimes, after I get a really bad headache from patrol, I’ll go to the store and buy a stuffed animal. A big one.”

You blinked, then tilted your head. “What? Like, a teddy bear?”

He nodded begrudgingly. “Yeah. Sometimes a penguin or a dog, too. Just something to squeeze while I try to relax.”

You burst out laughing. “Jason, that’s the most surprising thing I’ve ever heard about you!”

“Shut up!” he shot back, but you could see the faintest blush creeping up his neck. “I said no judging!”

Tim Drake (Red Robin)

Tim’s face was already flushed when you asked him to do the trend. “You sure about this?”

You nodded eagerly. “We listen, and we don’t judge.”

He sighed, rubbing his face. “Fine, but this is embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe. Your secret is safe with me!”

Tim hesitated before giving in. “Okay, sometimes I get too attached to fictional characters. Like… I cried over the death of a character in a book I read when I was thirteen. And I still feel bad about it.”

You blinked. “A book character?”

“Yeah! I know, it’s silly. It was just this whole dramatic scene, and I couldn’t help it!” He sighed dramatically. “I haven’t lived it down since.”

You smiled warmly at him. “Tim, it’s okay. Fictional characters can hit hard. I’m right there with you!”

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

Bruce stood, arms crossed, looking more irritated than usual. “This is a waste of time.”

“It’s not a waste! We listen, and we don’t judge!” you coaxed.

“Fine. But I’m not sharing anything personal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We all have our embarrassing moments, Bruce.”

He let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. “Sometimes, when I’m alone in the Batcave, I play chess against myself. And I take it… very seriously. Like, I’ll lose a match and get genuinely angry at myself.”

Your jaw dropped. “Bruce, you play chess against yourself?”

He shot you a death glare. “I said no judging.”

“I’m not judging!” you reassured him quickly, trying to stifle your laughter. “Just… never expected you to be a competitive chess player with yourself.”

Barry Allen (The Flash)

Barry’s eyes were already twinkling with mischief as you asked him to participate. “Alright, I’m in. We listen, we don’t judge.”

“Exactly,” you said, holding up your phone. “You go first.”

Barry shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, so, um, sometimes I… binge-watch cooking shows. But not for the recipes. I just like watching people eat the food. It’s… calming.”

You blinked, staring at him. “Wait, what? You watch cooking shows… for the food they eat?”

Barry flushed, his face turning red. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird. But it’s like I can almost taste it if I watch closely enough.”

You giggled. “Barry, you’re a grown man, and you’re watching people eat? That’s adorable.”

“I said no judging!” he protested.

Clark Kent (Superman)

Clark cleared his throat nervously as you asked him to share. “Alright, you’ve got me here. We listen, and we don’t judge, right?”

You grinned. “Right. No judgment.”

Clark sighed, a little embarrassed. “Sometimes I… listen to pop music when I’m flying. And, uh, I might even sing along. Really loudly. Like, off-key.”

You tried to hold back your laughter. “Superman? Off-key?”

He looked at you sheepishly. “I know, it’s not my best talent, but it’s… it’s relaxing.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughing out loud. “Clark, I love you even more now. The image of you singing pop songs in the sky is too perfect.”

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

Diana crossed her arms, looking calm as ever but slightly embarrassed. “I suppose I’ll share. But remember, no judgment.”

“We won’t judge!” you promised.

She exhaled slowly. “Sometimes, after a long day, I listen to classical music. But… I pretend to conduct the orchestra with a broom. Like, full-on, dramatic movements.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. “Wait, you pretend to be a conductor… with a broom?”

She nodded, her face flushed. “I can’t help it. It’s soothing, but I don’t let anyone see.”

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach. “Diana, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

Wally West (Kid Flash)

Wally immediately sat up with excitement when you asked him to participate. “Oh, I’ve got a good one for you!”

“We listen, and we don’t judge,” you reminded him.

Wally’s grin widened. “Okay, so, sometimes I get really into cartoons, right? And I end up laughing so hard that I snort. Like, uncontrollably. And it’s not cute.”

You blinked, trying to process it. “Wait, you… snort?”

He nodded, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Yeah. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop. It’s embarrassing.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back laughter. “Wally, that’s honestly the cutest thing I’ve heard.”

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I knew you’d judge me!”

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

Hal leaned against the wall, already grinning. “Alright, alright. I’m ready for this.”

“We listen, and we don’t judge,” you reminded him.

Hal’s eyes shifted to the side. “So, sometimes when I’m bored, I, uh, use my ring to do… ballet poses. You know, just floating around in midair and doing pirouettes and stuff.”

You blinked. “Wait, you do ballet… with a Green Lantern ring?”

“Yeah, well, I’m great at it,” he said confidently. “I might even look graceful sometimes.”

You snorted, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “Hal, you’re a big tough guy and you’re doing ballet? That’s amazing.”

“You said no judging!” he shot back, but you could see he was trying not to smile.