#but at the same time. play stupid games win stupid prizes.

[squeakadeeks]

if i had a dollar for every time a religious missionary knocked on my door to "spread the good news" while i was actively in an acute mental health crisis i'd have 2 dollars, which isnt a lot but also. how many times does this have to happen before they stop coming.

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[lvrhughes]

I Didn't Mean For This | M. Rempe

word count: 2.19k

pairing: Matt Rempe x fem!reader

summary: Matt makes a bet with his teammate that he can get any girl in the club.

warnings: Matt's an asshole? angst?

requested: yes

notes: this took a little longer than I hoped to write and the ending kind of sucks, imo, but I hope y'all enjoy!

“I don’t think you could get any girl in here.” 

It was a stupid argument, starting between Braden and Matt. Forcing their teammates into the conversation, with Matt claiming he could have any girl in the room. 

“Let’s settle this, Matt you get with her,” Jacob pointed to the first girl he saw, somewhere around Matt’s age, she was gorgeous, “For a week then you’ve won, if not, Braden was right.” 

Matt nodded, he could do this. He made his plan, running through what he would do to gather your attention, ignoring his teammates remarks about how immoral this was. 

His movements were precise, walking over to you with a goal, leaning against the bar you sat at, watching you glance up at him when he slid beside you. 

“Anyone sitting here?” He spoke softly, testing the waters. 

“No, it’s all yours.” 

He smiled, sliding down onto the stool beside you, his hand lingering on the tabletop beside yours for a minute longer than necessary. 

“What’s your name?” He was the first to speak, initiating the conversation, asking you simple questions about your life and answering as if he were genuinely interested. 

Within the hour, he’d learned all he needed, he had your name and your number and a date set up for tomorrow night. 

“See you tomorrow Matt.” You held a shy smile as your friends returned to drag you away from the bar and back to your apartment. 

Nervous would’ve been an understatement, waiting for Matt to arrive the following night. He had messaged ten minutes ago, claiming he was just leaving his apartment, he’d been at yours in fifteen minutes. You paced the room nervously, anxiously cleaning up random things in your kitchen, before being interrupted by a soft knock on your door. 

Opening it quickly to reveal Matt, dressed in well-fitting jeans with a button up, holding a bouquet of roses. He was quick to push the roses towards you, telling you how beautiful you looked and that the flowers were for you. 

“Thank you.” you almost whispered, shocked at how formal he was being, quickly finding a vase for them to stay in before following him out, taking his outstretched hand, letting him lead the way. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we could do something different than go to a restaurant.” He spoke softly, opening the door of his car for you before walking around to his side. “I was thinking we could go to the arcade.”

It was a quick drive to the arcade, Matt’s eyes occasionally drifting from the road to you during the ride. He was quick to remove himself from the driver's seat, running in front of the car to open the door to the passengers side, holding his hand out for you to take. 

“What a gentleman.” Your tone was soft, joking, watching him smile at the words. 

“Mama raised me right.” He grinned, leading the way into the arcade. 

The night moved fast, playing every game that caught your eye, letting Matt win prizes for you, it was something of a movie that made you sad when it came to an end. 

Leaving at the same time the arcade closed, hand in hand with Matt while he led you back to his car, driving you back to your apartment slowly, savoring his time with you. 

“I wish this night would never end.” He whispered, his hands on your hips, standing outside your apartment door. 

“Me too.” 

Without thinking, he was kissing you. Your lips molded together perfectly, his hands keeping you pulled tight against his body, your hands tugging through his hair. 

He pulled away panting, his forehead pressed to yours while you smiled, pecking his lips once more before turning inside, whispering a ‘good night’ while he stared as you closed the door behind you. 

His walk down the hall was slow, his hands gripping his phone where he rewatched the video, listening to the conversation that had just played through before sending it to Braden. The simple ‘6 more days’ text that followed had him smiling, opening the door to his car while he simply liked the message. 

It was no more than a day later when Matt showed up at your door again, holding takeout and sporting a shy smile. 

“What are you doing here?” The smile on your face was confirmation enough, he made the right choice coming over.

“I wanted to surprise you, I was thinking dinner and a movie at home?” He suggested, raising his hands that held the bags of food.

“That’d be amazing, thank you.”

It wasn’t till he was leaving that night had he remembered about the bet, sending a quick message to Braden stating ‘5 more days and I win’ with a smile on his face. 

It wasn’t till three days after that he’d shown up again, appearing at your door with bags of goodies after you claimed you couldn’t hang out because you were sick. 

His knocking was soft on the door, hoping to not wake you if you were sleeping, waiting to hear the pad of your footsteps coming to the door. 

“Matt?” Shock  filled your voice, standing wrapped in a blanket as you opened the door, your voice rough with a cold as you spoke. 

“Brought you some things to make you feel better.” He smiled, shifting your body to the side, sliding into your apartment before picking you up, his bag of goodies left beside the front door for now. 

“Matt you’ll get sick!” you were smiling as he carried you, bringing you into your bedroom and laying you down gently.

“It’ll be worth it to spend time with you.” 

When he snuck out, at nearly midnight once he was sure you were asleep, his phone flashed the three messages from Braden. 

‘Any progress?’

‘I think I might win this tbh’

‘Shit where are you man?’

A smile covered Matt’s face, laughing at his teammates messages before quicking typing one back.

“Let me in.” Matt’s voice, muffled through the door, filled your kitchen. 

“One second I need to take the cookies out.” You yelled back reaching in the remove the hot tray from the oven, knicking your arm on the top as you pulled them out, muttering a soft ‘fuck’ as you placed the cookies and went to open the door. 

“Baby, what happened?” Matt’s eyes immediately dropped to the red patch on your arm, his hands reaching to hold your arm to look. 

“I just hit my arm on the over, I’ll be fine.” 

“No, we’re taking care of this.” 

He had a determined look in his eyes, as if he’d never take no for an answer, leading you into your bathroom to clean the burn himself. 

The sight alone was something you wouldn’t mind seeing everyday, sat on the counter while he rummaged through your items, finding all the ones he needed before gently cleaning the burn. 

His touch was gentle, as if he were scared of breaking you, his eyes always on you, his heart racing as he tried to focus. 

“Thank you, baby.” You whispered, leaning up to kiss him when he finished, letting his body melt into yours. 

Leaving was almost the worst part of the night, at least in Matt’s opinion. He dreaded walking through your door, clinging onto your body a little bit longer before he had to leave, walking slowly through the halls. 

Glancing at his phone he saw the message from Braden, reminding him of the bet he’d forgotten about, his mind only focused on falling in love with you. 

‘You won man, gg’ 

He ignored the message, fighting the urge to block Braden for reminding him that this started as a bet. Guilt flooded his body as he walked, how could he have been so cruel to make her a bet? 

He deleted the messages, spending the night forgetting that the bet had ever been made, trying to drown the feeling of guilt in the morning when you messaged him a thank you for last night.

‘Open the door’ 

The message woke you up, coming through at 7 am on a saturday morning, Matt’s contact photo filling your screen when he deemed you hadn’t answered fast enough. 

“Open up, I brought you something.” You could hear the smile in his voice, slowly moving from your bed as he spoke, rummaging for something else to put on. 

“Let me get some clothes on.” You groaned, dropping your phone onto your bed to get dressed, picking it up right after before heading to your door. 

Opening it to reveal Matt holding two cups of coffee and a bag of food, greeting you with a hug whilst balancing the order. 

“I missed you.” He whispered, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear, letting your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him down. 

“Missed you too.” 

It had been months, three months since the first date. He was the picture perfect boyfriend, more than anyone could want.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, constantly, laying almost on top of you on the couch, watching whatever stupid show was playing on the television. 

“I love you.” You’d whisper back, glancing down to see the smile on his face. 

Those were your favorite days, lazy days with Matt. He would lay with you all day, showing constant affection, whispering sweet nothings. It couldn’t get better. 

His phone buzzed from the counter, laying discarded from this morning while you both had lounged on the couch. Matt was cooking, something he did rarely but nonetheless loved, urging you to grab his phone and read the message for him. 

“Okay it’s from Braden, ‘Are you still with her?? You won the bet you can drop her now’” Your voice lowered as you read, dropping the phone to stare at Matt, where he froze in horror. 

He turned quickly, facing you with a look of guilt along his features, his mind moving quickly through things he could say to you. 

“Baby,” He tried, your hand raising to cut him off.

“What the fuck does that mean, Matthew.” Your voice was filled with venom, watching his eyes widen at the words. 

“I- Fuck.” He stuttered, nothing sounded good enough anymore for him to say, his mind frozen trying to think. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“What does that mean?” The words were sharp, pushing an urgent tone as you glared towards Matt. 

“Baby I can explain-” 

“Don’t fucking ��baby’ me!” The yell caught him off guard, flinching back towards the stove where he stood in front. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But you have to let me explain.” He begged, his eyes filling with more guilt as time passed. 

“You have five minutes before I kick you out of my house.” 

You could hear the several ‘thank you’s mumbled from him as you walked back to the couch, sitting in the corner whilst Matt followed and sat on the other side. 

He paused for a moment, looking at you while you held a glare at him. 

“What are you waiting for? Speak.” The words made him almost recoil, having never heard you be so venomous. 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry.” His words broke when he reached to run a hand through his hair, planning his next words. “It’s okay if you never forgive me but you need to know I love you.” 

Your eyes never softened, keeping the hard glare at the tall man while the gears turned through his mind on how to explain this. 

“You deserve the truth, this was a bet.” 

It was like the world had gone silent, everything had stopped spinning, the leaves had quit falling and all was over. You had been a bet to him. 

“But listen I fell in love with you, Baby believe me. I would never lie about that-” 

“No? You’ll just lie about the rest of our relationship! None of it was real!” 

There were tears streaming down your cheeks, covering them with a shine that reflected the light of the room. Matt’s eyes clouded over, leaning his head back to keep the tears from dropping. 

“It was real! I love you, baby please.” Matt’s pleas were useless, the words being ignored as you tried to make the room stop spinning in your mind and the tears to quit falling.

“Get out.” 

Matt froze, all his pleas fell silent as he stared at you wide eyed. His hands dropped in his lap, his eyes scanning your face while you just stared back at him. 

“What? Baby please-” 

“I said get out, Matthew.” 

You moved quickly, walking past his figure on the couch to open the front door, holding it open whilst gesturing for Matt to go through it. 

“I was a fucking bet to you and you thought that this would all be fine? Get the fuck out of my house Matthew!” 

He moved slowly, grabbing the discarded phone from the kitchen counter as he passed, mumbling out more apologies as he walked through the door, turning to say more as the door shut in his face.

[fanaticsnail]

"Mine"

Masterlist here

Word count: 7,000+

Synopsis: Upon viewing you and your boss, Doflamingo, get a little too close to one another, Corazon feels the urge to finally state a claim over you. He loves you, and now wants you to understand one thing and one thing only: you belong to him. You are his, completely.

Warnings: Rosinante Corazon X f!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, possessiveness, jealousy, mean dominant Rosinante, drinking alcohol, marking, edging, kissing, sucking, licking, yandere behaviour, pet-names used, Corazon doesn't speak, cum play, bukkake, aftercare, friendly relationship with Doflamingo.

Notes: This gorgeous art was done by @skullfacedlady, who this fic is dedicated to as a gift for her art of my OC Tobiuo and art for my Doflamingo fic 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes'. Let's fuel our obsession with the Donquixote brothers together. Enjoy your dominant Rosinante.

Donquixote Rosinante was not a jealous man. He was cool, calm and collected; level-headed and leading with his head before his heart. There was nothing outside of his control that had him up in arms, fiery, or aggressive about anything.

Silent, a swift word he used to activate his devil-fruit ability at a moment's notice. A moment to create silence in the world around him free of the noise he was plagued by. Silent, was how he found himself now as he watched you laugh alongside his brother at some witless joke whispered down into your ear. 

Other than the mission he was undertaking as a spy for the world government, a bid to satiate his brother's horrid temper and ensure he doesn't make too much ruckus, he was completely silent.

Always silent. 

Although he was yet to make a move romantically towards you, there was an unspoken understanding and appreciation for one another lingering beneath the surface. The touch of a hand, the passing of a shared cigarette between fingers, the smile he thought was reserved for him and him alone. That same smile he was witnessing being gifted to his older brother without a care in the world. 

Doflamingo knew no bounds, there was no limit for him. He was unhinged, ferocious, and brutal. If Rosinante pursued you, Doflamingo could still manage to coax you into his bed with ease should you let him. That thought alone had the younger blonde’s blood boil with a scorched blaze. 

He was a marine, a spy, a confidant to the military while being completely sound in his masquerade as a loyal minion for his older brother. The only time his mask of undying loyalty began to slip was at this very moment: witnessing your hands wander over Doflamingo’s arms, the way your eyes darted between focus on each of his, the curl of your pout as you whispered back up at him with a soft smile. 

The way he grit his teeth, the growing snarl curling his upper lip, the way his eyes were fixed to your hand tapping his brother's shoulder, all of it revealed the way his soul growled to possess you in this moment. You didn't know his true nature as a marine, nor the fact that he was not as mute as you knew him to be. 

To you, he was ‘sweet Corazon, the heart of the Donquixote Pirates you served with, the baby brother to your captain and boss.’ He was sure you didn't see him in a flirtatious light at all, and he was growing more restless at the thought of making you look at him through lust-colored lenses. 

He wanted you so desperately, and he remained consumed with intrusive thoughts of claiming you as his own. Where he would usually gulp back his own desires, casting all aside for the sake of the mission from Marine High Command, he could no longer ignore thinking of the way you'd look in the thralls of pleasure wrapped around his cock. 

His eyes continued to burn holes of flaming desire against your skin, never once leaving your smile and craving more than anything to be the reason for such radiant beauty. He wants to make you laugh, see you smile, hear what you're offering to his older brother and reciprocate the gentle touches. 

And then he wants to make you whimper, whining for him and him alone. He wants to be the source of your pleasure, to have you mewl in bliss while he ruts his painfully hard cock deep within the crevices of your body. He wants to mold you to the shape of him, make you forget any other tryst prior and feel you fall apart and become drunk off what he was giving you. 

Doflamingo continued to offer you crude commentary regarding several mannerisms of the troop he had surrounded himself with. The guests at the soiree had all arrived in their best garb, all enjoying the riches and spoils of the Donquixote pirates at their mansion. 

All he needs is one moment. A single moment alone with you, away from this crowd, and away from the talons of his older brother. Just a single moment, and you could fall apart on his fingers, lips and cock the way he so desperately wants you to. Just one chance was all he needed, he was sure of it. 

While the man who captained you was not interested in you romantically, you were spreading untruths if you said you didn't enjoy his clever analogies and crassness from time to time. He had a mind to invite a few of his regular concubines to the soiree, but opted to take you with him as his date instead. 

You, his counselor and battle strategist. He knew he could come to you for all that ailed him. From desiring to know the method of attack to cause the most damage, to perching on the sofa in your office and talking about his mother. He enjoyed your ear, and you enjoyed listening to his thoughts. 

The one thing you didn't plan on was sneaking glances at his younger brother once he returned to the family. Rosinante was another creature entirely. Where Doflamingo's loud chirping and chattering was harsh and boisterous, his younger brother was silent and reserved. Rosinante intrigued you, and you couldn't deny yourself the knowledge that your wandering eye had stuck to him almost immediately. 

As Doflamingo leaned over to stoop at your ear, you cocked your head up to the side and readied yourself to hear his next lewd remarks. 

“Watch now, you see him?” Doflamingo’s lengthy fingers reached up to your chin and gingerly traced along your jaw to turn your gaze. A young man was being regal and respectful with a blushing young woman, extending his hand toward her and inviting her to dance. 

“I see a well-mannered young man offering a young debutant a dance,” you shrugged with a small smile. Doflamingo's grin widened further, leaning close enough you could almost feel his tongue against your neck alongside his wine-tainted breath on your skin. 

“Well I see a young idiot who got fucked in the ass by their cabin driver moments before entering the ballroom,” he purred, prompting you to laugh a very shocked scoff with your brows raised. 

“Doflamingo,” you gasped at him, gently tapping his chest and smiling up at him with lips partially parted, “You shouldn't be talking about young ladies like that. It's not polite.” He raised his wine glass, cocking his head to the side and offering it out to you to clink his rims with it. 

As your glasses rang at the contact, you raised the liquid to your lips. Doflamingo’s hand snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to him as you took a tasteful amount of wine between your lips. 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” Doflamingo uttered in a nonchalant whisper, prompting you to choke back and burn your throat with the liquid. He chuckled at your fluster, gripping your waist tighter and giving your hip a gentle squeeze. 

“So closed-minded,” he clicked his tongue in a flurry of chastising ticks, gently tapping your nose with his index finger, “Such a shame, little lamb.” You closed your eyes and focussed on breathing through your prior choked inhale as Doflamingo soothed his thumb over your hip bone. 

“You're incorrigible,” you whisper playfully up at him, prompting him to lean in a low stoop and raise the hand containing his wine glass up to your lips. He balances it within his coiled four fingers and tidies your lip with his thumb. 

“You love it,” he whispered huskily down at you, “That's why you accepted my personal invitation to attend by my side, is it not?” You floated your gaze down to the thumb at your lips before shooting him a warning look at his rose-tinted glasses. 

“A little unhinged commentary never hurt anybody,” you shrugged as you gently raise your glass to tap with his once more. He purred his hum down at you, squeezing your hip bone again within his talon-like grasp before he released you from his grip. 

“And what unhinged commentary do you have on the menu this evening?” he asked you, prompting you to hastily gulp back your glass and place it on the tray of the traveling vendor beside you. Pondering in deep thought, Doflamingo's eyes met with his brother’s intense glare directed at you. 

Beneath the shroud of his glasses, he was certain he was safe from notice. Doflamingo assessed his brother's stance and trailed the tension on his shoulders and the possessiveness in his eyes. A cruel smirk drew up on his features just as you turned to face him. 

“I heard a rumor that Diamante and Pica like to hold hands while they take a piss-,” you began, only to halt as Doflamingo's deep purr crooned down at you.

“-Are you fucking my baby brother?” you snapped your head up at him and widened both your eyes and lips in response. He didn't bother moving to face you, instead training his eyes on the way Rosinante’s hardened stance leaned against the wall. 

“Why would you assume such a ridiculous thing, sir?” you asked him, no room for teasing or earlier playfulness in your tone. He finally tore his eyes away from Rosinante and back towards you. 

“Have you the way he's been looking at you?” Doflamingo stooped low, gently raising your chin with the tilt of his index finger. “He looks like he's trying to burn your clothes off with his eyes. Can't say I blame him,” he trails his finger down your neck to your clavicle, teasing at the hem of your formal garb, “You are a gorgeous specimen. Especially in that dress.”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Doflamingo tugged at your shoulder strap and hoisted you closer to him, turning you to shield you with his feathered coat. 

“Do you want to fuck my baby brother?” he whispered, his voice low and unwavering. You darted your eyes between his and slowly bobbed your head in a soft nod. 

“Oh, how delicious,” he uttered down at you, slowly walking you backwards and caging you against the wall with his hand resting on the tiles beside your head, “How soon do you want to fuck my baby brother?” You gulped, stifling your rising blush and biting your tongue in shame. 

“Oh,” he taunted you with his voice shuddering in delight, “Oh, you want him now.” He leaned forward, crouching low and pressing his chest against your own. “Oh, little lamb,” he whispered, his face mere inches from yours, “This is an entertaining discovery. I bet you're soaked through those pretty panties right now, aren't you-?” 

“-I don't appreciate being on the receiving end of such crassness, Doflamingo,” you cut him off with your warning tone, managing to stifle your blush and bite back at his taunt. Doflamingo rumbles a dark chuckle through his chest as he gently reaches forward and toys with a loose strand of your hair. 

“I know,” he shrugged dismissively, continuing to toy with your hair and plucking at your shoulder straps, “I'll stop in just a moment.” You knit your brows inquisitively at him, clamping your teeth down in a tight snap. 

“What are you doing, Doflamingo?” you arch your brow high as his unoccupied hand draws down to enclose around your wrist. He elevated your arm up to circle his shoulders and card through the wispy strands of his blonde hair bordering the scruff of his neck.

Doflamingo looked over his glasses down at you, the ruby hue of his knowing eyes piercing your soul with every passing moment. You took a moment to assess him, knowing truly that he had no interest in you aside from close friendship, but perplexed by this new intimate closeness between you.

“Isn’t it obvious, little lamb?” he cooed down at you, his eyes full of mischief and playfulness, “I have a feeling he’s just as possessive as I am,” he nudged your forehead with his chin to rise your head up further. “Let’s see where it takes him, shall we?” 

Doflamingo held you against him for a few moments longer, whispering more shameless commentary while waving away any attendants who offered you food and beverages. You enjoyed his crass words, gently soothing over the back of his neck as you enjoyed the warmth from his almost friendly embrace. He was many things: a tyrant, a villain, a truly evil man with a maniacal laugh and a darkened heart. But most importantly, he was truly your friend. 

After several more minutes of being contained beneath the shroud of Doflamingo’s feathered cloak, he released you from hiding within his wings and ventured over to the dancefloor, stealing away a guest and twirling them on the waxed tiles. You spared a glance over to the wall Rosinante was perched on and found an unfamiliar absence in its wake. 

You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you at his notable disappearance. Instead of wallowing in this newfound pity, you simply chose to shrug it off and head over to the bar to get yourself another drink. As you called your order over the mahogany benchtop, you felt something make contact with the back of your dress and slip from your hem to fall to the middle of your back. 

Turning to your side, you notice first the darkened feathers of a broad coat before the maroon hood of the man beside you. His purple glasses were drawn up the bridge of his nose, his painted lips curled in a grimace as he gestured to the barkeep for two glasses of amber liquid. 

His hand remained fixed on the middle of your back in an act of possessive ownership over your form as he paid his Berry for the drinks. You searched his face, your eyes wandering over eyes avoiding yours, the tips of his ears tinted with a soft rise in aggressive blush, and his lips forged against one another in a tight, thin line. 

He was angry. 

His hand felt heavy and covetous, the grip increasing on the back of your dress while attempting to remain poised and composed. Continuing to monitor his expression from your peripherals, you gently brush the rim of your glass with his in a gesture of gratitude. 

“Thank you, Corazon,” you whisper, gently leaning your head to brush against his bicep in a soft bob of familiarity, “It is for me, isn’t it?” He offered you nothing in return: no smile, no look, no acknowledgement at all. Raising his own glass to his lips and gulping it back in a hefty swig, he sighed out a silent breath at the burning sting of alcohol. Placing the glass on the countertop, he finally turned to you with his eyes darkened and glaring through his eyelashes as you sipped at your drink. 

His hands clapped over your own on the glass, pulling your hand towards his face and turning your glass and placing his lips over the stain left on the rim of your glass from your lip paint. Without tearing his eyes away from yours, he gulped down the rest of your liquid with his lips casting over your own mark: sharing a kiss without your lips ever meeting. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, his gaze hypnotizing you with the tension falling from his shoulders in a possessive rage. Releasing your hand and back, he fished out his cigarette carton and flintlock lighter, his eyes held a daring challenge in them before he turned and made his way towards the heavy doors. Thrusting them open, his intentional and weighty steps feeling foreign in comparison to his usual light footedness. 

Quickly darting your eyes over to the dancefloor, you notice Doflamingo’s gaze catch yours. Shooting you a pouting mock-kiss, he waved you on with his blessing to leave the space unchaperoned by him. You sucked your lip into your mouth and sheepishly trailed after Corazon with your head hanging low to shroud your bashfulness. 

The wind hit your face as the setting sun fled over the coastal line of the Dessrossian sea. The blue of the moonlight rose the shadowy corners of the city and made way for the hum of low lamplight. 

Sitting on the seastone wall, legs crossed at the knees and gazing up into the night sky sat Rosinante inhaling his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke, his chest seemed to deflate in somber yearning. His smoky breath picked up in a swirl on the wind that caressed his skin and blew at his golden hair beneath the red signature hat. His feathered cloak laid on the top of the barrier beside him, the feathers rustling with the breeze. 

Your heart began to flitter with an anxiousness and adrenaline spike you had not yet met its equal. The need to draw him into your arms, take him away from all the frivolity, and press sweetness against his lips with your own had become too much. The way his lips parted with every exhale, the danger and mystery held within his expression propelled your chest to set ablaze. The desire to declare your intentions then and there, claim his lips and body with yours grew exponentially. 

Hissing a final shaky breath through your teeth, you halt your inhibitions and set to declare your infatuation with the younger Donquixote brother. Your feet marched towards him, no longer caring that your desperation for him was exposed beneath your steely expression. As you stood before him, he upturned his head and gazed down his nose at you. 

“Corazon?” your whisper was all the warning you managed to choke out before your hands sought his cheeks and propelled you into his arms. He parted his knees to take you between them, immediately circling his arms around your smaller frame and clasping the back of your dress into heaping fistfuls. 

Lips finally meeting, you tentatively pressed your confession into his skin with a gentle kiss. A shocked squeak left your mouth and was swallowed by his, as his own kiss deviated from your prior sweetness. There was no softness in his kiss, the sweet Corazon you so desperately yearned for had been replaced by another beast entirely. 

Corazon’s lips were hungry, consuming your desire and feasting on the whimpers you called to him with. His hands forced your back to arch against his chest, the tilt of his head and circling of his chin mouthing at you set the pace of the kiss and grew your need for him. A sense of urgency was felt in his kiss, the need to state his claim over you rising with his wild lust. 

Pulling away from your lips, he gazed into your eyes to search for any uncertainty within. Both heavily panting and breathless, you felt the possessiveness Doflamingo had warned you about burn into his aura. His smudged lips were parted, eyes glassy with blown pupils. He released his right hand from your dress and drew it up to his face. 

Tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, he reached up his thumb and claimed a portion of red paint from his cheek on the rounded pad. Immediately thrust his hand forward, he held your left breast in his much larger four fingers while smearing the paint within your cleavage. A choked gasp fled from you as he focussed his attention onto your breast, molding the flesh beneath his palm. 

Huffing through a laugh, he tore his eyes from your breasts and arched his brow up at you with a knowing smirk playing on his face. You knit your brows together in puzzlement before looking down at your chest. Lying central over your heart, your eyes widened at the paint over your exposed flesh. A single word was depicted: no questions, no inhibitions, and no care for any passerby to see the mess he had made on your skin. Corazon’s unwavering gaze never left you as you read over his word.

“Mine.”

A gasp was the only sound he allowed to leave you before he circled his arms over your waist and intentionally fell backwards over the wall, taking you with him as you fell. A hand clapped over your lips to stifle a soft yelp of shock, Corazon fell onto his back with a thud. As soon as he landed, he gave you no time to process the change in position as he replaced his palm with his lips once more. 

In a swift movement, he switched your positions and placed your back on the plush grass bordering the elevated pier between the ocean shore and the Dressrosian castle. Your shocked whimper was claimed by Corazon as his lips collected yours with passion and vigor. There was no hesitancy in his lips, no wavering in his movements, nor stalling his lust for you. 

You made him jealous in the ballroom with his brother, the jealousy unwarranted due to the fact he considered his love to be unrequited. As soon as you placed your lips on his, all of his withheld emotions and prior resignation all but fled him. He was not going to let you go. You were his, and his possessive tendencies revealed themselves to you by each time he drew down his lips to ravish you. 

Trailing his lips and teeth down to your cheek and the tip of your chin, he mouthed at your neck and pressed kisses at your rapidly beating pulse point. Sucking a heart-shaped mark into your skin, your back arched as his hands drew up over your breasts and toyed with your peaked buds. You let out a yelp as he heaped the dress within his balled fists, splitting the material of the dress Doflamingo purchased for you, and rendering it unsalvageable. 

Leaving you no time to protest, his lips found one of your puckered nipples and rolled it with his tongue. His other hand toyed with your unoccupied breast, matching momentum and maneuverability he was pressing into you with his lips. You drew up your hands to clap one over your lips, while the other found the top of Corazon’s head and scrunched around the red material of his hat. 

Removing his lips from your chest while continuing to pinch your nipple, he sought out your consent to continue ravishing you. His eyes seemed almost innocent, his head cocking to the side as his brows arched in the center of his forehead. His lips held the sweet smile you knew and loved him for, a vast contrast to the criminally unashamed touch he was teasing you with. 

“You-... ah-... asking for my consent to continue?” you moaned as he joined his unoccupied hand to squeeze at the flesh his lips were occupied with prior. He shook his head before his lips kissed above his smudged writing, drawing your attention to the mark he made prior.

“You-... nnngh-... You asking for-... fuck, Corazon-,” he placed his knee between your legs, making contact with the damp material of your soaked panties and grinding it up against you. You felt the rumble of his soundless chuckle purr and vibrate against your skin, his lips curling into a smile as he continued to mouth at your skin. 

Searching your rapidly clouding mind for any question you had to form on his wordless behalf, you found revelation just as his fingers began to snake down below your panties and gather your slick atop his considerably larger fingers. Dipping his middle and unity finger in a coaxing grind against your entrance, you yanked his head up to gaze back into your eyes and release your skin from his relentless attack of his urgent kisses. 

“Corazon, you-... you want to claim me as yours, don’t you?” you gasped as his lips halted their descent and his eyes darted back up to meet yours. His hazelnut orbs burn into you with his silent unwavering desire, daring you to deny him through his lengthy eyelashes. At that moment, that split motion and hardened intensity, you knew within your soul that you belonged to him and him alone.

There was no other, no friend nor foe that poured into your mind other than your sweet Corazon. He owned you in every sense of the word. Your heart, your mind, your spirit was all his. Always had been, and will always ever be. Unbreaking in his heavy eye contact, he prowled back up towards you and caged your head between his lowered elbows. Testing you with his eyes, he swayed his head slowly from side to side, hovering his lips above yours as you chased him.

“Say it,” his lips motioned, his breath tingling your skin where his vocal fry never spilled, “Say it.” You whined, pouting and avoiding his eyes while your body bucked up involuntarily to brush against his thigh. 

Your open dress caused the wind to prick up and caress your skin with its icy breeze: a drastic contrast between the hot body trapping you beneath him. Corazon’s eyes never left yours, ablaze with the desire to see you admit defeat and title him as yours, and yours alone. Gazing down his nose at you, his tongue soundlessly clicked a few more times in daring you to admit that key phrase that granted him the pleasure of enjoying you exclusively. 

“Yours,” you managed to gasp out, your back arching as your head drew up to seek his out, “I’m yours, Corazon.” He angled his chin, clicking his tongue while urging you to cry out for him more. Gently dragging his fingers backwards and forwards along your slit, he tentatively bullied his lengthy digits into your body and hooked them up to expertly seek out the underside of your clit and massage it with his thick fingers. 

“Fuck, I’m yours,” you curse at him, his brows arching up as he continued to bully his fingers into you, collecting your slick on his middle and unity fingers while his thumb tapped at your clit. Roughly propelling you closer to ecstasy, he held you hostage against your release: the bob and contraction of your walls squeezing against his digits halting his movements and edging you away from your ignition. 

Your hands sought out his cheeks, roughly bringing his face towards you and wordlessly asking for his kiss. He denied you, holding his head away from your lips and teasing you with his eyes. Desperation clawed at you, forcing you to buck up against his hand to chase your high, only to be championed away from eruption by the skilled ministrations of the blonde above you. You keened for him, trying to gather more of him as he held off his lips and your approaching climax with expert precision.

“What? What do you want me to say?” you desperately gasped for him. He arched his brow, continuing to hold your bliss at ransom until you declared what he was searching for. He leaned down, his bottom lip gently brushing with yours before pulling away and focussing his thumb against your clit. Arching your back, you grabbed at his wrist channeling its ministrations against your hyper-sensitive body to draw more of him against you. 

“Corazon, please,” you whimpered, tears beginning to gather in your eyes, “I only ever want to be yours. Only yours.” You reached your hands up to his stomach, snaking your digits across his abdomen and desperately reaching for the hemline of his pants. As soon as he felt your fingers slip beneath the surface, he pulled his hand away from your dripping pussy and removed your hands immediately from his body. 

Clasping your wrists above your head in a single girthy hand, Corazon used his other to unbutton the front of his pants before returning it to your needy pussy. Each touch was highly sensitive, your entrance contracting around an absent touch, and your voice whined for him to let you finish. 

“Please. Please, Corazon!” you sobbed, arching your back and squirming against his hand pinning yours above your head. “What do you want? What do you want? Please, I'll do anything. Anything you want.” 

Truthfully, Corazon didn't know what he wanted. He enjoyed this new shift in power: watching you helplessly squirming to seek out more of his touch against you, seeing the desperation in your eyes, hearing the hopelessness in your soft cries. You were experiencing all of the emotions he felt moments prior while his heart was held at ransom watching you with his brother. 

He wanted to see you cry, hear you whine, feel you sniffle as you keened for him; helpless to the pleasure he was desperately withholding from you. He was so tired of being kind and sweet to you, always kind and sweet to you. 

No, he wanted to be mean. 

His unwavering gaze darkened as he pierced you with his eyes, the smudge of his former mark on your chest spreading through the dewy desperation of your glistening perspiration. You had never looked so beautiful to him, bare for any passerby to witness if they truly focussed on you. Each part of you was perfect to him, every sucked breath, whimper, and sniffle. 

After spending a moment to take you all in, he had no choice but to see you unravel by his touch. A show just for him, with you as the star performer. 

Thumb pressed against your swollen pearl, he finally focussed his entire attention on coaxing you from that edge by pistoning his hand in and out, adding his index finger to the stretch and massaging your g-spot. Scissoring his fingers, dancing his digits expertly on your most sensitive and desperate nerves, your eyes finally ignite with the white of euphoric lightning. 

“O-Oh, fuck!” you yelped, feeling how tightly wound you were, his hands rapidly beckoned your ecstasy like a musician toying with their specialist instrument. You bit your lip to stifle your whimpers, your vision blurring beneath your glassy orbs and light bursting behind your eyes. 

Corazon's jaw shuddered as he felt your body shake and tremble beneath him. His eyes never left your face as he watched your eyes clamp shut and contort in ecstacy. Back arching, hips rocking to match his pace, your body danced hypnotically as you rode through your high. Your slick gushed in his hands, christening him with your essence as he ceased his relentless momentum. 

“Corazon,” you pant with your chest heaving as your lungs expanded. Removing his lengthy digits from your pussy, he teased at your entrance, collected a sample of your essence and gripped his newly exposed cock. Leaning up onto your elbows, you were enchanted by his hand pistoning his shaft, giving his knob a gentle squeeze while lubricating it with your slick. 

Leaning back to sit on his calves, he beckoned you over with a wiggle of his finger. As you attempted to sit, the exertion from the intensity of your euphoria prevented you from rising. Falling back onto the grass, Corazon clicked his tongue at you before biting back a rising smirk. 

He was absolutely smitten with the fact that just his hands had left you feeling like an oversensitive mess trembling on the ground. His patience was never ending, enjoying the show of how helpless you looked while catching your breath. Instead of chastising you for being unable to move, he shuffled forward, staining his knees with the green tint of the plush grass. 

Bringing himself down to cage your body beneath his, he tilted his head with a playful smile drawing up his lips. A soft whine fled from your lips as you felt him line the tip of his cock against your slit. Dragging the blunt tip over your entrance up to your sensitive clit had your body trembling from the heightened oversensitivity. 

“Corazon,” your whispered cry for him had his eyes widening and pupils dilating to a blown-out eclipse of those brown eyes you had grown to love. The man who caged you beneath him resembled a beast: wild with desire and consumed by the need for satisfaction. 

His sweet smile was now mimicking a grimace, the resemblement to his older brother now understandable by the curl of his lips. Caging your waist within his two hands with ease, he elevated your hips from the ground as he sat on his calves. A squeak of shock fled from your lips, the gentle caress of grass searing against your shoulders and pricking your skin. 

Lining up his tip fully with your slit, his wrists snapped you down as if you weighed nothing, sinking his blushing cockhead within your drooling cunt immediately. Crying out at the stinging stretch, you thrust your hands behind you and anchored yourself against the earth by gripping the grass beside your head. 

At the soft cry, Rosinante stilled. His discipline holding by a thread as his eyes take you in. Seeing that deep furrow on your face as you adjust to his great size has him rocking you gently to test out your resolve. Snapping your eyes up at him, you mirror his unhinged smirk and attempt to peer up at him with your shoulders bearing your weight. 

“If you're going to fuck me, fuck me,” you taunt him, your eyelashes fluttering innocently at him, “I can take it. I'm yours.” Your smirk turns soft, the dewy sweat smearing the lettering written over your chest, and heaving with every inhale of breath. On seeing the red paint etched over your skin, his blood boiled like a drop of water into a crackling pot of hot oil. That sizzling danger igniting fire within his soul had his hips immediately rock forward and bury his entire length into your slick heat. 

Eliciting a strangled cry of shock at the intrusion, your voice caught itself in your larynx as your jaw fell slack. Eyes wide, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, smile ghosting at the corners of your lips, your back bowed as the crown of your head flew back to the ground. His cock pressed against your cervix, pulsating its engorged mass deep within your body. Not a single regret cascaded over your mind at the first rock of your much smaller body over his giant steely cock. 

As if only testing your resolve, his thrusts remained shallow: his cock buried into you and only withdrawing a single inch to press back in. Each gasp from your lips mirrored the flutter of your walls contracting around him, drawing him forward and prompting him to growl deep within the chasms of his chest. 

Nodding to him, you slapped his large hands circling your waist and gestures to his cock with your digits. 

“C'mon, Corazon,” you tease him, angling your head to the side and peering at the corner of your eyes and grinning from ear to ear, “You call this fucking me-! Ahh-!” 

The switch flicked, his motions throwing and jolting your body with each heavy thrust. You were a limp doll in his hands, your much smaller frame a pretty cocksleeve for his looming body towering over you. He pumped his cock into your cunt, using your pussy as a channel for his lust. 

His belt jingled and rustled as his pants slunk to his knees, your dress collecting the stain of green from the grass beneath you. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, Corazon panted heavy breaths with his unsyncopated rhythm. Each in-thrust hit the sensitive convex of your g-spot before brushing past and bullying your cervix. Hit blunt tip hit that marker within your body that had you scream in ecstasy, lips parting and drool falling from the corners of your lips. 

Corazon cracked open his eyes and found himself lost in the vision of you splayed out beneath him. Just from meeting his eyes on your body; clothes ruined, back arching, eyes blown with lust, and breath catching in sweet, choked, little mewls, he felt himself almost topple over that cliff of bliss. Your pussy fluttered around him, coaxing a soundless cry to flee from his lips while his hips rutt into your cunt recklessly. 

The coil within your abdomen swelled before binding together in a woven ring. You could barely form a cohesive word. Your arms, along with the rest of you, remained unresponsive to your mind as you felt your release almost snap within you. 

On queue, Rosinante moved one of his hands so his thumb met your clit while the remaining four circled your hips. The pad of his larger digit gently swirled your clit in messy circles, his desperation to feel you cum against his cock driving him to the brink of reckless insanity. As the larger blonde continued to rutt and buck into you while dragging your smaller frame against his, the crude slaps and sloppy momentum had lightning flash behind your eyes.

“C-Co-! Nghhmn-, Cora-!” your choked whimper was caught on your tongue as your body gave in to the call of your release. Your back bowed as you met your crest, the final crescendo being conducted within the symphony of your bodies joining as one. Your pussy gushed against his cock, a creamy ring forming at his base as you contracted around him. Each pulse and wave of your fluttering walls had Corazon crying soundlessly while biting his cheeks to ground himself from toppling immediately after you. Focussing on you first, he continued holding the pace and fucking you through your bliss. 

Falling away from that edge and floating back to the surface, you felt Corazon withdraw his cock from your oversensitive pussy with a rough 'pop'. Gently falling your body to the ground with his larger left hand, his right immediately circled his cock and began pumping the thick shaft over your body. His eyelids fluttered as his glassy orbs rolled back, his lips soundlessly uttering a single word once his gaze pierced yours. 

“Mine.”

At that, his cock leaked in hot spurts, dousing your stomach and breasts in scorching splashes. You could almost feel his chest vibrating with the sounds he couldn't release verbally, his lips repeating several mouthed curses and iterations of your name. His cock twitched in his palm as he rode his high over your body. 

You were mesmerized in the way he moved. His wrist slightly curled it's way inwards with every instroke, uncoiling on the way out, his pearlescent seed finally coating the red mark he wrote against your skin with his lip paint. He drank in your sight: lips parted, clothes torn, tousled hair, flushed cheeks, panting chest, and covered in ropes of his cum.

Riding through his high, he collapsed over you. His hands moved to cage you beneath him, knees on either side of your hips as his breath tickled your face. His lips found your cheek, moving in that single word repetitively. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he nipped at your jaw, his tongue darting out and dragging down your neck towards your pulse. You whined at the movement, already feeling oversensitive from the two climaxes in sequence. Rosinante’s chest wiggled with his soundless chuckle, rolling back onto his knees and gawking at you. 

You were perfect. 

Gently reaching up to the beam beside him, he collected his feather coat and laid it beside you. His motions were gentle, intentional, and almost sweet in comparison to his prior roughness. He hooked his arm beneath your legs, the other splayed on your upper back as he moved you onto the dark quills of inky feathers. Without a care to the mess he made of you, he curled in the corners and swaddled you within the larger back and sleeves. 

“Corazon…?” you whispered after him, his eyes finding yours and granting you a soft smile while continuing to gather you into his material nest. “What are you-?” 

He reached forward, touching your lips with his fingers before gesturing up to the manor suite his bedroom door was adjoined. Satisfied with you safely tucked within the feathery quills of his lengthy coat, his eyes widened briefly in shock before his features softened all together. 

Firstly tucking his cock back into his pants, he redid his belt before fixing his shirt. You giggled at his silliness, watching each motion with interest while your body began to ache with the overexertion of taking his mass within your body. You attempted to move, wincing as you felt the sting of his bruising kisses and harsh movement against your body. 

At the soft hiss, Rosinante surged forward, caressing your cheek and checking you over. 

“I'm alright, Corazon,” you whisper with a soft smile, “Just a little achy. I'll be fine. I'm-.” 

Your words halt as something shrouds your eyes, warming your head, and eclipsing you with comfort. Eyes fluttering shut, you welcome the embrace of Corazon’s soft hat crowning your hair, the hearts dangling down on your chest and dancing on your skin. The feeling of his arms hooking beneath your legs once more returned, this time beneath the quills of his feathered cloak. 

Looking up at him as he hoisted you into the air, the sun warmed his skin with a soft pink. The orange and red mixing with the hues of purple over the Dressrosian horizon as he raised to full height. His hazelnut eyes fell over your face, his eyelashes fluttering and orbs darting their focus within your own. 

“Mine.”

He mouthed the words once more before walking with you cradled against himself towards his quarters. The gentle touch soothed your skin, the safety of his arms barricading you in his sweet hold as he ushered you to his room with a soft skip in his step. 

You truly felt it: mind, body, spirit, and soul. You were his. Truly, his. 

You belonged to Donquixote “Corazon” Rosinante. 

The only thoughts that withheld you from submitting completely was the knowing smile Doflamingo shot you from the double-arched doors over Rosinante’s shoulder. That unhinged grin, filled with amusement had you dreading the way you were likely going to give your boss a play by play over what had just occurred between you and his younger brother. 

For now, there was this: a man who was nuzzling against your neck, inhaling your scent, and attacking your cheek with soft kisses. The same man who coated your body in a spray of his cum, staining you and marking you as his. The man who had you climax so hard you saw each star littering the sky with renewed vibrancy. 

The man who held your heart completely. 

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane

[witherby]

I think a really cool day idea for Conner and mouse would be like the circus scene from Teen Titans were Robin let Starfire try some cotton candy and it’s really cute 



I remember that scene!!! Robin's absolutely lovesick expression was so romantic to me, even back then.

I didn't replicate that one-for-one, but they're certainly at a carnival! I hope you like it!

The Littlest Wayne: Carnival

(features: established relationship, Conner Kent x gn!Reader, fluff, discussions of structures that aren't OSHA compliant, kissing)

Masterlist is Here!

"That doesn't look safe."

"None of these rides really are," you admit, queueing into the line to ride the Wave Swinger with your boyfriend. "Pop-up carnivals are designed in such a way that they can be thrown up and taken down within a day or two. You can't really afford to bolt anything down because it isn't going to be there in a week."

Conner looks at you with incredulity. He looks like he's trying not to pout, which is adorable. You barely refrain from kissing him.

"Then why are we lining up to get on one?"

"S'part of the vibe," you explain, lifting your hands for emphasis. One of them is interlaced with your boyfriend's, so his arm gets swung around, too. "You don't really go to these things to walk around and then leave again. You gotta ride a ride while wondering in the back of your mind if this is how it ends. You gotta spend way too much money playing a rigged game to win a prize that wasn't worth even a third of what you spent to earn it. You gotta eat a bunch of deep-fried foods that shouldn't be deep-fried and feel incredibly nauseated for the next two days about it. That's the real Carnival Experience™."

"This doesn't sound fun, M," Conner says. "I can take you on a flight and pretend to drop you a couple times. I can ask you for an absurd amount of money and not pay it back for like a week. I can cook you dinner and narrowly avoid giving you food poisoning. We don't have to be here."

"Trust me, it wouldn't be the same," you insist, moving up in the line. This swing ride is one of your favorites, next to The Whip, but you haven't seen one of those in a few years. "It's also the atmosphere. You're surrounded by fun, neon colors and happy strangers and screaming children — it's all part of the experience."

"Yeah..." Conner grimaces, gaze a little distant. "I could do without the screaming children."

"Oh, right," you frown, digging out a specialized pair of earbuds from your pocket and offering them to him. They help muffle out extra sensitive sounds for him, like breathing and footsteps and other people's heartbeats, so he can better control what noise he chooses to perceive. "Here."

Conner takes them, briefly letting go of your hand to put them in, then un-tenses his shoulders and offers you a thin smile.

"That's better," he admits, "but I still think getting on rides knowing they aren't bolted down properly is stupid."

"Welcome to the carnival," you grin. You both shuffle forward in the line, close enough now that you'll be able to get on next round. "You're gonna love this."

"I can fly, M. I don't think I'm gonna care."

Then it turns out he cares. He cares a lot. He actually cares so much. When you and Conner get strapped into your seats, he's white knuckling the chains keeping his chair suspended off the ground.

"You're joking. There's one little bike chain keeping me in this chair and there's a single hook on top holding me up. You're actually joking."

You start spinning and twisting around in your own chair, gleeful. "Isn't it great?"

"No??"

"Alrighty riders. Please refrain from bouncing, spinning, twisting, or yanking on the chains. When the ride is in motion do not grab onto other riders' chairs. Keep the strap secure across your waist while the ride is in motion, and do not attempt to remove it until it comes to a complete stop again. Enjoy."

Conner flinches when the chairs lift into the air. He watches the ground get pulled out from under him, shitty carnival music starting to come out of the speakers while the lights on the ride start flashing. If he weren't invulnerable, he'd be losing his mind right now. How are you able to enjoy such risky activities!? Are you insane!? Actually — you're the one civilian child to a family of crime fighting vigilantes. Of course you're insane.

He looks up to make another comment, but the words quickly die in his throat. Because you look stunning.

You look great all the time, of course. Conner loves to look at you, and you know that. But as the ride starts to spin and your chair starts swaying with the wind, you throw your head back and laugh. You spread your arms out to your sides and kick your feet, eyes closed and hair fanned out.

You're practically ethereal when you're having fun. Conner watches the colorful lights dance over your skin and feels himself falling even more in love with you than he already is. He never wants the ride to end, if it means he gets to see you like this forever.

Using the trick Clark taught him, he speeds himself up to slow the world down, giving himself more time to admire you. To you, it's just a couple minutes in the air, but to him it's hours of unbridled admiration. When you're finally lowered to the ground again, he's unlatched himself from his seat and come around to kiss you.

"Let's go find another ride," he mumbles against your lips. You smirk, victorious, and grab his hand. He's utterly helpless to do anything but trail after you.

"Knew you'd come around. It's the Carnival Experience, babe; it pulls everyone in! Never should've doubted me."

"Yeah..." He says, smiling like a lovesick idiot. It's definitely the rides and games and people making him feel this good, and not the echo of your happy heartbeat or the image of your carefree smile under the neon lights burned into his memory. "Shouldn't have doubted you."

[planetaryupscaled]

The Bet

Male OC x Tzuyu

Tags: 1k, smut

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

Tzuyu was sitting in the deserted communal lounge, her face buried in a book. She wasn’t, technically, hiding. That would have gone against the rules.

She was just getting some alone time without all those hands running aimlessly over her body, fingertips trailing her figure and peering beneath her garments, lips and teeth caressing and nibbling every inch of her skin...

Her cheeks flushed, and she felt scorching hot in the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing. She bit her lip and sighed.

The words on the page she had been reading and re-reading for the last ten minutes without really understanding the meaning blurred, as she became engrossed in her thoughts once more, still puzzled as to how she had gotten up in that situation.

A shy, prudish, inexperienced freshman like her was playing with fire. Or worse, with the rampaging hormones of a bunch of college boys.

She made a lighthearted, drunken mistake, but she was paying its price with her body and no end in sight.

Betting with her buddies while inebriated sounded innocuous, and she was confident it wasn’t anything they were going to follow up on anyhow.

But she was wrong - dreadfully wrong.

It was all a game in her eyes. And she was pretty sure she was going to win at the time. But she lost, and the guys eagerly demanded their prize.

She had turned into a real-life sex doll for them: she had to let them touch her body, grab, and grope her as they liked, and offer herself whenever they wanted.

This was her retribution for being so irresponsible and stupid. Worst of all, she was beginning to like it, even though she would never say it out loud.

She had been feeling so dirty and depraved. Tzuyu had only had one previous boyfriend, her high school beau, and she’d never experienced sex or pleasure.

And now, whenever a hand reached for her, a small bolt of electricity would rip through her body, giving her shivers and stealing her breath. Being forcefully exposed in front of others was humiliating, but it gave her sensations she had never expected to feel.

Even though the guilt and shame were eating at her, her body was sending her new signals and feelings that she had never experienced before.

She was drawn sharply back to reality when she was pulled back by her hair.

Electricity coursed through her as she saw two dark eyes upside down, mischievously staring at her.

“Did you plan on staying hidden for much longer? We were worried by your sudden disappearance...” Hyeon inquired, keeping her head tilted and caressing her throat.

His fingertips were ice cold, but her skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“I had to study. You know, exams...” she mumbled, while he played with the sweatshirt zip, loosening it. His hand crept under, reaching for the bra.

Hyeon cupped his hand around her breast and began massaging it. He let her hair go and did the same with the other hand.

“I see,” he said quietly, “then go ahead and read. I’ll help myself.”

Her vision blurred when he gently pinched and twisted her nipples. She was embarrassed by who she had become, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to put a stop to it.

Tzuyu sighed as she felt a twitch in her womb. She closed her eyes and leaned against Hyeon’s body, allowing him easier access to her. Against her neck, she could feel already the bulge in his pants.

She blushed again, both from her thoughts and from his gentle touch on her skin. She could feel she was getting wet.

Hyeon drew his hands away from her sweatshirt after what seemed like an eternity. As he leaned over her, he reached for her skirt. He unceremoniously lifted it, revealing her underwear. He slid the fabric to the side, A light touch on her labia made her moan.

“You’re such a slut Tzuyu, you’re already wet...” he chuckled as he gently stroked her.

He pushed two fingers into her warmth, provoking her another moan. She held her breath and widened her eyes as she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

Jisung and Suho were sitting on the desk on both her sides; she hadn’t noticed their presence. They were stroking their erections through their shorts while enjoying the little show.

They laughed as she violently blushed and tried to cover herself. Jisung smiled, bending over to grab her cheeks and kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sucking her lips.

“Come on baby, stand up,” Hyeon said, pulling his fingers out of her and grabbing her arms.

He pushed her against the desk, ignoring her weak protests and whining. Her hair covered her face completely, blocking her view. She could hear the other two guys unzipping their shorts and the light clank of their belts hitting the ground.

Several hands caressed her skin and lifted her clothes to reveal her body. Someone took her wrists and pressed them against her back.

As fingers grabbed the hem of her undies and pulled them off, she bit her lower lip and held her breath.

A hand caressed and squeezed her buttocks, followed by a slap. As she tried to wiggle out from underneath the guy who was blocking her, she was hit with a harder slap that took her breath away.

“Stop squirming or you’ll hurt yourself,” Jisung said, pulling her head up by her hair. Her gaze met his as she groaned beneath his hands. He kissed her once more, firmly holding her head. While Jisung’s tongue was playing with hers, someone gently rubbed his sex on hers. He pushed his way through her soaked labia and inside. Her moans got lost in Jisung’s mouth, which was still devouring her lips.

The third person let go of her wrists and grabbed one of her hands, pressing it against his erection.

Tzuyu noticed it was Suho masturbating with her hand. She gave in to his grip, wrapping her fingers around his hardness and letting him guide her. Jisung let her mouth and head go, and Hyeon grabbed her by the hair, pushing his length deep into her.

Jisung then kneeled on the desk and presented her with his member, stroking it on her cheek, and lips. She disclosed them and welcomed him, clasping her semi-closed eyes in his as he entered her warm mouth slowly. Hyeon’s tight grip on her head guided her rhythm as her tongue twisted around his girth.

It was the first time they pulled something like that on her, she had never been taken by more than one person at the same time.

Tzuyu thoughts were clouded by pleasure.

With each thrust in her mouth or sex, electricity scurried through her entire body. Her desperate, rising moans were suffocated in her mouth.

Hyeon let go of her hair, which was replaced by Jisung’s grip, and groaning sank his fingers into the soft skin of her hips.

She tilted her head, her senses dulled and inebriated, as they both went faster and deeper. Shivers ran down her spine, and a tingling warmth propagated through her like wild, uncontrollable waves.

Hyeon came into her depths and collapsed on her back. His skin was warm and sweaty, his breathing heavy.

Then it was Jisung’s turn, who came into her mouth, pressing her head against his groin while his throbs slowed and he softened, slipping off her lips.

Suho let go of her hand and rushed for her.

He rolled her over, moved her to the edge of the desk, and positioned himself directly above her head.

Then bent over her and plunged his erection into her mouth.

Tzuyu grasped his thighs, overwhelmed, her mind empty of all but bliss.

One of the guys parted her legs and buried his face in her, holding on to her knees.

Two hands completely unzipped her sweatshirt and reached for her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

She was totally helpless, which really just heightened her arousal. Her body was stiffening and twitching as tension built up within her.

The guy eating her, bit her labia, ascending to the clit, then circled it with his tongue, first gently caressing it, then with frantic strokes that left her screaming and squirming under his mouth. He firmly gripped her thighs, lapping and sucking her and pushing her over the edge.

When she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he slid two fingers into her, moving them slowly.

Her orgasm burst violently, her back arched, and every inch of her body shivered, pervaded by a tickling ecstasy that released her tension.

Suho came soon after, filling her mouth once again.

She stopped shaking after a good minute or two. She could feel her heart rate lowering, but she kept her eyes closed.

She was feeling warm and fuzzy. She didn’t want to face yet the actuality of what had just occurred.

The three guys were busy pulling up their pants and composing themselves.

to meet the three pleased stares. Tzuyu quickly shut her legs and tried to put back her hoodie, embarrassed.

Jisung seized her hands and held her back.

“Don’t bother covering, cutie; no one else is here. Even if that were the case, anyone would have adored the show.” He reached for her mouth and kissed her.

“When is this prize thing going to end?” she sighed, as she sat on the desk.

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Suho joked as he buckled his belt. “ You seemed to be having a good time two minutes ago.”

She blushed again, looking away.

“It will end when we unanimously decide that the payback for the lost bet is adequate, obviously. And I’m sure tonight at least a couple of gentlemen will be interested in discussing with you what just happened, so don’t go and hide again,” Hyeon added.

He gave her a wry grin and a nonchalant nod before heading out of the room, followed by Jisung and Suho.

Tzuyu was alone again.

The sun had begun to set, and the communal lounge was getting darker.

She retrieved her underwear and put it on.

Her mind was a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. She was heated and out of breath. She couldn’t understand why she would enjoy the whole bet and prize thing; it was so wicked and dirty. It wasn’t like her, to do things like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it.

Tzuyu knew she could demand they stop at any point, and if they refused, she could simply go talk to the student representative. They’d be in big trouble.

But perhaps she just didn’t want it to stop.

She sat at the desk, her head buried in the soft sleeves, until it was completely dark, with just the streetlamps from outside shedding some light on the walls through the large windows.

She took a deep breath and smiled, wondering who would be the first to take her that evening.

[aweina]

HI CAN I REQUEST MIKE SCHMIDT X FEM READER?? MAYBE SOME FLUFF I JUST- UGH I NEED HIM. anyways. PLEASE? THANKS! REMEMBER TO HYDRATE!

ᥫ᭡. winter heart , mike schmidt ( fluff )

you and me, hugging ? if you want …

tags fem + gn reader. pining. friends to ( redacted ). mike tries to be a meanie but he can’t. special abby cameo.

“cold?”

mike quirks a brow at your shivering form, the lack of warm layers and no sign of any other winter accessory made him visibly cringe.

“o-obviously.” your teeth clattered with heavy pronunciation, clinging to yourself for some ounce of warmth. “t-the forecast are liars, i’ll never trust them a-again.”

he huffs a laugh at your retort, his breath condensing into the winter air — swirling aimlessly into the filtered blue atmosphere. mike was extremely amused, he could tell you that. during the coldest seasons, you decided to only wear a sleeved shirt constructed with the thinnest fabric he’s ever seen.

you play dumb games, you win stupid prizes. he believes wholeheartedly.

at the same time, he grew concerned. your reddened nose sniffled in the cold air, shakily clinging onto your shirt like it could get any warmer. your brows were furrowed in discomfort, the moisture of your lips stolen by the crisp breeze. even in this condition, you stayed with him to watch abby — who was bustling in the frozen playground with her new friends.

instinctively, mike tugs down the zipper of his oversized fleece hoodie — the bulky layers he wore combating the bitter cold. he turns to your shivering form, suddenly feeling shy about his decision, but seeing you in such a vulnerable state for his own sake made him feel guilty. mike bites back a self-encouraging sigh, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the fluttering feeling inside his core. with his gloved hands snug in his pockets, he widens his arms to open his furry jacket — coughing dumbly to catch your attention.

you turned to him and tilted your head in confusion, darting your eyes towards his flushed face to the baggy graphic t-shirt and the oversized jacket that cling to his body, somehow it felt like a mockery to your cold state.

“haha … nice jacket, i know you’re much more warmer and smarter than me. you don’t have to rub it in.” you jested through a freezing hiss, rolling your eyes at his attempt to push your buttons.

“w-what? wait no! just come here, please.” his voice sounded a bit more desperate than he intended it to be, but he usually doesn’t offer this treatment to anybody.

still confused, you shuffled towards him with caution. you silently gasped when you got closer, feeling the comforting warmth radiating off his body.

mike gulps nervously, feeling your panting chest grazing his. it was a strange feeling, how in sync your heartbeats were — they danced in the rhyme together, the tempo seemed to quicken as you approached him closer and closer. finally, he finds the courage to wrap his fleece jacket around your quivering body, hesitantly hugging you through the thick fabric.

your eyes widen in realization, he’s hugging you. mike schmidt is hugging you. he felt so warm and cuddly, all the lousy layers of old t-shirts he forced himself to wear felt like laying on soft pillows. the fur threaded in his jacket brushed its warmth against your frozen skin. but the thing making you burn up was the fact you’re so close to mike, shyly wrapping your arms around his frame while your head is nearly tucked into the nape of his neck — but you hesitated to go any further.

“are you warm?” mike’s voice was gentle in your ear, the flush of his body melted your bitter coldness in an instant.

you slightly nodded, still a little disoriented from this predicament.

feeling more comfortable, mike takes his gloved hand out of his pocket, assuring your stiffness as he petted your head, guiding you to rest in the nape of his neck. his warm pulse tapped softly against your forehead. you could hear his life line — every breath he takes. this felt like heaven, being held in mike’s arms. then he’s not protesting, his melting grip was tighter — protective like someone could snatch you away from his arms. he loved the way you smelled, delicate perfume and fresh laundry. if he could keep this close and take in your scent, he would if it wasn’t so creepy for him to do.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. the childlike chants and laughter faded into the background, the bitter cold didn’t feel so bad anymore. it felt like your hearts were clinging onto each other, feeding the aching starvation of touch and warmth. he needed this, you needed it too.

“are you guys finally dating now?”

a youthful voice forced you both out of a love trance, eyes widened and heads snapped towards the smaller figure. it was abby, a huge grin on her flushed face — half covered with a comically large knitted scarf.

“abby … don’t.” mike winced at her bluntness, but he still held you in a warm embrace.

you allowed him to cling onto you, equally flustered at her words but much more comfortable, even playful at the weird circumstances.

“i’m still patiently waiting for your brother to ask me out.” you teased the younger schmidt, earning an excited giggle and an exasperated sigh from the older schmidt.

maybe he should’ve just offered you his jacket if you were going to embarrass him in front of his younger sister.

add. note : hope you enjoyed some fluff anon !! and thank you, stay hydrated too because we’re all thirsty for grumpy security guard mikey ㅜ ㅜ

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (21)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 21 - Surrender

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 22

PREV : Chapter 20.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

“Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us,” informed Gi-hun.

Finally, In-ho thought. This was the moment he’d been waiting for – when the masks of caring and kindness would drop and desperation would drag out the raw, selfish instincts buried within every human.

He glanced at you, watching your face pale as you gaped at Gi-hun. The wide-eyed shock, the flicker of fear – it was all too telling. You didn’t expect this.

Yong-sik’s voice quivered as he asked, “Really?”

Gi-hun nodded solemnly. “Because if they kill us, they’ll be able to win the vote and increase the prize.”

Yong-sik’s next words practically trembled with panic. “So what do we do?”

In-ho spoke up without hesitation, “Let’s attack them first.”

He didn’t miss the sharp look Gi-hun shot him, surprise flickering behind the man’s usual stoicism. It was as if Gi-hun didn’t expect someone like In-ho, calm, wise, seemingly rational, to propose something so brutal.

But In-ho met his gaze steadily and continued, “They’re probably thinking we’ll just wait for the second vote. We can use that to our advantage. We’ll attack them first once the lights go out.”

Player 047 quickly voiced his support. “That’s right. It’d be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked, we’ll be at a disadvantage. Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning.”

Player 145 nodded, his voice grim. “I agree.”

In-ho swept his gaze over the circle of players. No one objected. Of course not. When survival was on the line, no one ever wanted to be the one left defenseless. Even the quiet ones and those who hesitated would follow when the alternative was death.

Plus, if everyone gets to leave, Gi-hun’s entire plan to sabotage this game would end in failure too. In-ho wouldn’t have to play this double role anymore. The games would continue next year, this time without Gi-hun’s interference standing in the way.

But then Gi-hun’s voice cut through the agreement like a knife. “We can’t do that.”

The silence was immediate. In-ho locked eyes with him again, widening his eyes ever so slightly, as if trying to get him to realize something.

“But we have to get out of here,” In-ho said, injecting confusion and hidden frustration into his voice. “You said it yourself. Staying calm won’t get us anywhere now.”

Gi-hun remained undeterred. “That doesn’t mean we should kill each other. That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

Jung-bae asked questioningly. “They?”

Gi-hun’s eyes scanned the group before he replied, “The ones who created this game. The ones who watch us play. If we’re going to fight someone, it should be them.”

Bold. Stupid. But bold, In-ho mused.

Dae-ho frowned. “Where are they?”

Gi-hun’s gaze lifted upward. Instinctively, everyone followed his line of sight, heads tilting toward the unreachable heights above. In-ho did the same but only for appearance's sake. He already knew exactly what was up there. He’d spent enough time behind those very walls.

His gaze dropped back to Gi-hun, his face the perfect mask of dark realization and tension. Is this his plan?

“On the upper levels are the rooms they control the games from,” Gi-hun continued confidently. “The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we’ll be able to win.”

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on In-ho. Gi-hun was talking about the masked leader, the mastermind behind it all – without realizing that the very man he wanted to overthrow was sitting right in front of him. In-ho, the one in disguise, the one pulling the strings, was right there, hidden in plain sight.

Nevertheless, In-ho stayed quiet, his gaze locked onto Gi-hun with an almost calculating patience. This was exactly what he had been waiting for – the moment when Gi-hun would finally reveal his plan to dismantle the entire game management. And now, Gi-hun had spilled it, right to the man he was aiming to destroy.

Still, In-ho could easily spot the problems in Gi-hun’s plan. It felt rushed and made out of pure emotion instead of careful thinking. It was like a last-minute attempt to go after something huge, without really understanding how risky it was.

That's when you spoke up, “Are you saying you plan to overthrow this whole management?”

There was something in your tone – a mix of disbelief and curiosity – that made him glance at you a beat longer than necessary.

Gi-hun’s determined, grave eyes locked onto yours. “Yes.”

The room plunged into a heavy silence. In-ho could sense the weight of his words sinking into everyone. The enormity of the plan hung in the air like a storm cloud.

In-ho broke the silence, speaking calmly yet there was an edge in his tone and face. “How are you going to fight them? They have guns.”

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. “We’ll fight them with guns too.”

“But we don’t have any,” Jung-bae chimed in.

Gi-hun turned to him, unflinching. “We’ll take their guns.”

Jung-bae stared, caught between shock and exasperation. Gyeong-seok hesitated, then asked for certainty. “From those masked men?”

Gi-hun gave a single, firm nod.

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho interjected, letting just enough caution seep into his tone. He needed to play this carefully to convince Gi-hun to rethink this. “Even if we manage to take a few guns, we’ll still be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun didn’t back down. “What then? Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive?”

In-ho froze.

Gi-hun pressed further. “Is that what you want, Young-il?”

In-ho didn’t answer. He kept his dark, contemplative gaze fixed on Gi-hun. It was at that moment In-ho noticed something else - Gi-hun had changed. Whether for the better, the worse, or exactly as In-ho had expected, he wasn’t sure. But the shift was undeniable.

“Do we…” Hyun-ju’s voice broke the tension, “...stand a chance?”

Gi-hun’s gaze shifted to her. His determination never wavered. “We do if we catch them off guard. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

In-ho kept the act intact as he asked, “How are you going to take their guns?”

Gi-hun scowled, his mind clearly racing. “Once the fight begins tonight, we’ll have our chance.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, everyone waiting for him to elaborate.

“When the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quietly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us. We have to hide until the fight ends.”

In-ho's gaze turned dark. Hide? That’s your plan? And let the rest of the X players not in this group get ambushed?

“Don’t get caught up in the fight,” Gi-hun added firmly.

“What?” you interjected out of the blue, your voice sharp with frustration.

In-ho looked at you right away. He was intrigued by your reaction, knowing how consistently kind you had been towards other players. Would you challenge this plan? Or would you, like so many others, choose self-preservation and let others fend for themselves?

In-ho knew this would be the moment when your true nature revealed itself. Was your kindness genuine or merely a fragile façade, easily cracked under pressure?

Jung-bae then echoed the unspoken concern. “But that would put people on our side at quite a disadvantage. Without us in the fight, they’ll be outnumbered.”

In-ho watched Gi-hun carefully, waiting for the hero's justification.

“I know,” Gi-hun said, his eyes flicking between you and Jung-bae before shifting to the rest of the group. “But if we fight with them and some of us end up dead or injured, it will ruin our entire plan. We can’t beat those bastards with a lower headcount.”

In-ho's gaze darkened as he realized something. “Are you suggesting that... we make a small sacrifice for the greater good?”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes locked with In-ho’s, reading the weight behind the question. Yet, he still nodded.

“If we miss this opportunity, the sacrifice will be even greater,” Gi-hun replied, voice thick with resolve. “Even if it takes a sacrifice, we must put an end to this game now.”

In-ho’s gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenching. He felt the bitter irony sting at the back of his throat. How poetic, he mused. The so-called hero willing to let others bleed for his vision of the greater good.

In-ho recognized Gi-hun’s desperation – not just to defy the management, but to prove something deeper, something personal. Gi-hun was fighting back to show that he wouldn’t become what the game wanted him to be. Yet, the irony wasn’t lost on In-ho. In trying so hard to resist the system, Gi-hun was playing right into its hands.

In-ho's lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a disbelieving smile, before he forced it down. He realized in this moment, that all this time, before this, he was silently rooting for Gi-hun. Not because he believed in him, but because there was a part of him that wanted to be proven wrong. Just like Gi-hun had once proven Oh Il-nam wrong, In-ho wondered if he could do the same for him. To prove that humanity still had something worth fighting for. That someone could stop this entire game and still walk away with their soul intact. But now, he knew the answer.

Gi-hun, the so-called hero, was willing to let others die for his plan – a sacrifice for what he called the greater good. Isn’t this exactly what the game is about? In-ho mused darkly. Sacrificing the ‘trashes’, letting only one stand victorious. The world out there no longer have to deal with those 455 trashes who got eliminated. Gi-hun hadn’t broken the cycle; he had fallen into its trap.

If Gi-hun continued with this kind of view, he could become the very role he despised, becoming the next Front Man. It was ironic, almost poetic. In his fight to dismantle the system, Gi-hun was unknowingly positioning himself to inherit it, repeating the same cycle he swore to end.

Gi-hun pressed on. “Once the lights come on, the soldiers will come to settle the situation. They’ll try to break up the fight first. They won’t pay attention to the dead. They will scan our trackers to identify us. That’ll be our window.”

In-ho barely heard the next words over the building tension, until your voice broke through, sharp and angry. “Are you really going to leave our allies like that?”

Every head turned to you. In-ho's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. His dark gaze brightened, an unexpected spark of curiosity igniting as he studied you.

“You’re telling me you’d hide under the bed and let the O players attack everyone in this zone? All for your plan?” you countered in a heated tone.

For the first time, Gi-hun faltered, the iron in his expression cracking just for a moment. But then the walls slammed back into place, and his face stiffened into resolve.

“This is the only chance we have. Once this game is stopped, this game will no longer use us as pawns,” he said.

In-ho’s gaze flicked to you again, studying the frustration burning behind your eyes.

“If I weren’t close to your group or involved with any of you, would I even know about this attack? Would you warn me?” your voice rose, the emotion cracking through your words. “Would I be left to fend for myself against an ambush while you and the others hide?”

A flicker of intrigue deepened in In-ho’s gaze. He noticed how fiercely determined you were to challenge Gi-hun’s plan, driven not by self-preservation but by a rare, precious sense of kindness. You really care about them all, In-ho thought, unlike the others here who remained quiet and agreed with Gi-hun's reckless plan.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched, the pressure mounting. “It’s not about leaving anyone behind. It’s about ending this game once and for all.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help our people now,” you shot back. “We have to fight back, not just accept them as inevitable.”

In-ho felt a sharp tug of interest. You weren’t playing the same game as Gi-hun, weren’t blinded by some self-righteous end goal. You saw the people around you as it is – people with family and lives.

But will that kindness survive when the lights go out? he wondered.

Gi-hun’s brows furrowed, his voice rising in frustration. “Do you think it’s better to retaliate and play into their hands? Attacking back is exactly what they want. They want us to kill each other. To entertain them.”

Undeterred, you spoke up, “We’re not going to kill them. We will defend ourselves. We can alert our people about the attack. Get them prepared. Get them to a safe spot where capable men can protect them. If needed, we can subdue the O players without bloodshed.”

Gi-hun faltered, your words cutting through his confidence. But, as always, he clung to his plan. “If we join the fight and lose even a few, it will ruin our chances of overthrowing this game. We must preserve all the best men we have right now.”

You didn’t back down. “Then we have to join the fight. Defend without bloodshed. Defend as a team. If we join the fight, more capable men will survive the ambush. They will join you willingly.”

In-ho studied you carefully, a flicker of something deeper sparking within him. There it was again. That unwavering kindness, that relentless fairness, that loyalty that refused to bend, even here. In this brutal place, where humanity was stripped bare, your kindness still burned bright.

While Gi-hun had crumbled, you stood firm. It was you – not Gi-hun – who defied his cynical belief in humanity’s rot. And in that moment, as he watched you push back against Gi-hun’s cold logic, In-ho felt it again – a spark of admiration. He should feel bitter at being proven wrong, but he liked it.

Still, he must wait until the lights go out.

Gi-hun stared at you, and for once, he had no response. His jaw tensed, his mouth opened slightly as if to argue but nothing came out. The group sat in thick, uncomfortable silence.

You rose to a crouching position, your focus never leaving Gi-hun. “Go ahead with your plan. I’m not stopping you. If you don’t want to join the fight, that’s fine. But the others deserve to know about the attack.”

The weight of your words lingered in the air as you stood fully, turned on your heel, and walked toward the other X players, ready to warn them, to prepare them.

In-ho’s gaze followed you, a sharp curiosity burning behind his eyes. You’re willing to risk everything. Not for some grand victory, but just to protect the people around you.

For a moment, In-ho felt the strong urge to follow you. To watch you closely, to see if your kindness was truly as genuine as it appeared. But he stopped himself. He turned his focus to Gi-hun. The latter was staring in the direction where you had left. He looked conflicted. He looked like he wanted to say more, to justify his plan, but the words caught in his throat.

In-ho’s gaze shifted, catching the subtle ripple through the group. Your words had landed deeper than he expected. The others seemed to have snapped out of whatever spell Gi-hun’s logic had placed them under. Yong-sik’s mother and Jun-hee watched you from a distance, their worry etched deep in their expressions. Gyeong-seok and Hyun-ju were on the verge of standing up. Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged uncertain glances.

You, your thoughtfulness and your kindness managed to sway them more than Gi-hun ever did.

In-ho seized the moment, staring darkly at the speechless Gi-hun. “Rethink your plan, Gi-hun. I know you’re angry at the game makers and that you’re still grieving your friends from the last game, but don’t lose sight of the people here too. They’re counting on you.”

Gi-hun didn’t respond right away. His jaw tensed, the inner turmoil clear but there was something in In-ho’s words that anchored him, pulling him back from his tunnel vision.

With that, In-ho stood up. Without another word, he left the circle, his eyes locked on where you had disappeared. Player 047 and 145 followed him immediately. Gyeong-seok and Hyun-ju exchanged a look before standing too, clearly choosing to follow where you had gone. In-ho didn’t look back but he could feel the balance tipping away from Gi-hun’s plan and toward something else entirely.

In-ho watched you as you moved between the beds, warning other X players about the danger. He noticed how determined you looked, how focused you were. But you were alone and that was enough for him to step in.

He walked over quietly and placed a hand on your shoulder.

You jumped a little, spinning around fast. But when you saw it was him, you relaxed, though you were still catching your breath.

“How many people have you warned?” In-ho asked gently.

“A couple,” you answered.

Before he could say anything else, more footsteps approached. Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, player 047, and player 145 came over, gathering around you. Their eyes shifted between you and In-ho, waiting to hear what to do next.

“What else can we do?” Gyeong-seok asked, his voice serious.

You answered quickly, “Warn all the X players if you can. Tell them we’re only defending ourselves, not attacking. Make sure they hold onto their forks and water bottles to use as protection. Get the women and older people to safer spots, under the stairs, or near the walls. And before the Os attack, have them hide under the beds for more safety.”

In-ho raised an eyebrow, impressed by your quick thinking. It made him want to help you more. “We should also have some people guarding those spots. We need to make sure someone’s watching over them during the attack.”

“Got it. I’ll take the left side of the zone,” Hyun-ju said right away.

Player 047 pointed to the right. “We’ll cover this side. Let’s keep it quiet so the Os don’t figure out what we’re doing.”

They split up, leaving you and In-ho standing there. His hand stayed on your shoulder for a moment longer, steady but gentle.

“You’ve done enough,” he said softly. “Now go find two beds next to each other. One for you, one for me.”

He saw it in your eyes. You understood exactly what he was doing. He wanted to stay close, to watch over you when the chaos started, to guide you, maybe even protect you.

***

“Lights out in ten seconds.”

In-ho lay flat on his back, the thin blanket pulled casually over his chest. His gaze traced the high ceiling, his mind already calculating the next moves. You were on the bed right beside him. He could sense the tension in the way you lay still. Alert and waiting.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”

Darkness swallowed the dormitory, leaving only the faint glow of the O and X lights on the floor. The piggy bank light was dark tonight. A small twist for effect done intentionally, In-ho mused.

He didn’t move yet. But from the corner of his eye, he saw you slip quietly out of bed. You weren’t the only one. Other figures – women, elderly – moved through the shadows, hurrying to hide beneath beds or shuffle toward safer spots.

You crawled under your bed, positioning yourself carefully. In-ho stayed where he was, eyes closed now, feigning sleep. It was the perfect bait.

In a few seconds, loud and fast footsteps echoed through the dormitory, growing closer as the ill-intent O players approached the X zone. In-ho could almost feel the adrenaline spike before the chaos erupted.

The silence shattered by heavy footsteps, metal scraping, and the first shrieks of panic. In-ho didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that it had begun. Then, he felt it. Someone was lunging for him.

In-ho snapped into motion, grabbing his blanket and yanking it around the attacker’s neck. The O player barely had time to react before he was pulled hard, the blanket tightening like a noose, his body jerked against the bed’s metal frame. A clean, swift maneuver. The attacker struggled as In-ho tied him to the railing.

Screams erupted across the dormitory – raw, human, desperate.

In-ho sat up, his calm broken only by the sharp flicker of the dormitory lights as they began to pulse erratically. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. With each flash, he caught snapshots of the chaos. X players grappling with O attackers, beds flipping, shadows lunging with glinting forks.

A loud thud yanked his attention back.

A body hit the floor right beside your hiding spot. In-ho’s gaze dropped to it. It was a fallen O player, groaning, clutching his arm where a shard of glass was lodged deep into his flesh.

He cast a glance under your bed, watching as you tensed, but stayed hidden. Smart. But there was fire in your eyes. He could see it even now. You wouldn’t sit still for long.

And he was right. You didn’t stay under the bed for long.

The moment you noticed X women being cornered by O players, you bolted out from your hiding spot. No hesitation. No second-guessing. You sprinted toward them, leaving the safety of the shadows behind. You didn’t even glance back to see if In-ho was following. You didn’t care about the odds or the danger. You cared about saving them.

Reckless, In-ho thought, rising from his position and following close behind. But kind. Genuinely kind.

It was that rare kind of kindness that burned too bright in a place like this. Selfless, dangerous, but undeniably real. He found himself watching you more than the enemies, waiting for the moment when that kindness would finally crack under pressure. But it didn’t.

And he didn’t let you fall.

Every time an O player lunged your way, In-ho was there, intercepting the attack. Every time a broken glass bottle or a fork came close, he blocked it.

Then, chaos brought you both face-to-face with six O players, their forks raised, teeth gritted. In-ho didn’t think. He grabbed you and pulled you behind him, shielding you with his entire body as he backed you against a wall.

No one’s getting through me to her, he thought grimly.

In-ho swiftly subdued five of the six attackers without any bloodshed, just like you wanted. The last one staggered to strike, but before In-ho could finish him off, Gi-hun intervened, his blow knocking the man unconscious. It was timely, but entirely unnecessary.

His dark eyes flicked to Gi-hun, studying him. Something had shifted. This wasn’t the Gi-hun who’d planned to hide while the Os attack the other X players. No, this was the Seong Gi-hun in 2020 who couldn’t stop himself from interfering, from saving everyone he could.

You changed him, In-ho realized. You reverted him to the man who tried to save everyone no matter how doomed the effort.

It was ironic. Gi-hun was supposed to be the one proving In-ho wrong. Instead, it was you – your stubborn, your naivety, your relentless kindness – that was doing it.

***

The brief but intense shootout between In-ho, Gi-hun, Hyun-ju, and the remaining capable players against the pink guards ended in their victory.

In-ho remembered during the shootout that the pink guards were caught off guard by him fighting alongside the players. Their hesitation was thick with disbelief. They expected him to drop the act right then, to step forward as the Front Man and end this charade.

Not yet, In-ho thought. I still have work to do.

He needed to stay embedded within Gi-hun’s plan, to sabotage it from the inside. But more than that, his gaze drifted briefly to you. We’re not finished. Not yet.

A furious yell snapped him out of his thoughts. “You goddamn bastards!”

In-ho’s head jerked toward the sound. Player 047 stood with his MP5 raised, his face twisted in rage. Five O players stood before him, their hands thrown high in surrender, eyes wide with fear.

But before a shot could be fired, Gi-hun sprinted into the scene. He grabbed the barrel of 047’s gun and shoved it downward. “No!”

“Move!” 047 barked, struggling against Gi-hun’s grip. “Do you not see this?!”

In-ho followed his gaze. Blood smeared across the floor, bodies crumpled like discarded toys. The dormitory had become a graveyard of greed and desperation.

“They are not human,” 047 spat, voice trembling. “They’re vermin, blinded by money!”

He raised his weapon again, fury crackling off him in waves.

But Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He gripped the gun tighter, locking eyes with 047. “This is not why we took these guns. If we do this, we’re no better than the masked men.”

In-ho watched intently, his gun resting against his abdomen, though his focus was far from idle. From the corner of his eye, he noticed you approaching, your eyes darting between Gi-hun and player 047. In-ho’s dark, contemplative gaze didn’t waver from the two men locked in their standoff.

047’s grip on the MP5 finally slackened. His teeth clenched, his face a twisted mask of rage and grief, but he lowered the weapon. His shoulders sagged with defeat, the fight draining out of him.

Gi-hun gave him a solid pat on the shoulder before he turned and walked toward the center of the dormitory, raising his voice above the low hum of scattered whispers.

“Everyone! Don’t be scared. Gather round, please!”

The command echoed through the space, pulling X and O players out from hiding.

In-ho didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on Gi-hun, his face an unreadable mask hiding a storm of irritation. The hypocrisy was hard to ignore. Gi-hun now stood there, posturing as the leader, the savior of the players, when not long ago, he had been perfectly willing to sacrifice others for the so-called greater good.

How convenient, In-ho thought bitterly. First, he's okay with hiding under beds and letting others take the hit, and now he acts like a brave leader? It annoyed him. Gi-hun's idea of being a hero was full of contradictions, and In-ho wasn’t fooled for a second.

“Young-il, you okay?”

Your voice cut through the lingering tension, soft but laced with concern. In-ho shifted his gaze toward you, his cold, calculated mask softening like ice melting under the sun. His sharp eyes scanned you, checking for injuries or anything out of place.

Once he ensured you were unharmed, a smile stretch across his face, warm and disarming. “I’m okay. How about you?”

Before you could answer, he lifted his left hand and placed it gently on your head. He felt the way you stiffened – surprised – before your cheeks flushed. You nodded, voice soft, almost shy. “I’m fine.”

The reaction tugged at something unexpected inside him. His smile widened as he brushed his hand through your messy hair, smoothing it down before tucking a stray strand behind your ear. It was a simple act, but the way you smiled back, soft and genuine, sent a ripple through him.

Withdrawing his hand, he returned both to his gun, resting it easily but alert. But he couldn’t shake the pull of curiosity.

“Where did you learn to use a pistol?” he asked, his tone light but intrigued.

“Oh,” you said, patting your pocket where the weapon was tucked. “I bought one after… the loan sharks attacked my parents.”

In-ho’s smile faded instantly. He locked eyes with you, something heavier slipping into his gaze. “Have you ever used it before?”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, hesitation thick between the words. “I have. I was scared.”

There was a rawness to your voice, enough to pull his focus deeper.

“They stalked me at my part-time job,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of the memory. “They threatened me, said they’d… hurt me if I didn’t pay up. I didn’t think they’d wait for my shift to end, but they did. They followed me home.”

Something dark stirred within In-ho. Anger, sharp and biting, clawing its way to the surface. It wasn’t anger at you, but at the world that forced you into that situation.

“They chased me through alleyways,” you continued, “but I got lucky. Before they could grab me, I managed to pull the pistol and I… I shot them.”

You were kind, too kind. And bastards like those loan sharks took advantage of that. But they didn't know you were prepared for self-defense.

You didn’t look at him as you spoke. You didn’t need to. In-ho could feel the weight of your words. The fear, the survival instinct, the guilt tangled in it all.

He stayed silent, not out of judgment, but because he wasn’t sure what the right words would even be. You did what you had to do, he thought. But saying it aloud? It didn’t feel right.

“Then I ran to the subway,” you added quietly, your voice thinner now. “That’s where I met a man in a suit. He asked me to play Ddakji with him.”

The recruiter, In-ho realized. Of course.

The memory lingered, thick in the air between you. He could see how deeply it still clawed at you, but you tried to mask it, chuckling weakly.

“Now, I’m here. I didn’t think I’d be fighting for my life here too. But at least… well, I hope I’ll survive and go home with a share of the prize money.”

In-ho studied you for a beat longer. There was no mask here. No act from him. Just raw hope, frayed around the edges but still burning.

“You will,” he said softly.

For the first time since he stepped into this place, In-ho felt something felt it. A hope for a player to survive. He wanted you to walk out of here unscathed, prize money in hand, free from the cruelty that had swallowed so many before. You deserved that much. In a world rotten at its core, you were like a rare bloom pushing through concrete. Fragile, yet stubbornly alive.

This realization stirred something deeper, darker within him. His admiration for your kindness had evolved into something more potent, more dangerous. Seeing your raw, selfless nature untouched by the corruption around you made it harder for him to fight the growing infatuation. And for once, it felt less like a crime to let himself feel it. It felt safe to love you because he knew you cared for him too and that you would never disappoint him.

“You will survive,” In-ho said again, nodding slightly, the words almost foreign on his tongue. “Those loan sharks won’t trouble you anymore once you leave this place.”

He watched as you offered a small, warm smile, your shoulders easing for the first time in what felt like forever. His words had actually soothed you.

But then, you lifted your gaze back to him, and your next words hit him harder than he expected.

“You will survive too,” you said, your tone filled with quiet conviction. “You must survive this place too. You must win this game again and… maybe we can meet up outside...?”

Your voice faltered slightly at the end, uncertainty bleeding through, but the sincerity was unmistakable. In-ho blinked, momentarily caught off guard. For a split second, his mind short-circuited.

You want to see me again? he thought. He wasn’t used to this. To someone caring, without an ulterior motive.

But the pause lasted only a breath before he pulled himself together. He smiled – a small but genuine one – and let out a quiet chuckle, glancing at the floor to hide the flicker of something warmer in his eyes. Then, stepping closer, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you forward.

“Of course,” he said, voice softer than he intended. Then, as if the thought had just struck him, he added, “Why don’t we set up a meeting place now?”

You froze for a beat, your wide eyes locking onto his, before your expression broke into something lighter – almost hopeful.

“Now?” you asked, half-laughing in disbelief.

He nodded, his grip still gentle but firm around your shoulders. “Yeah. Time and place.”

You hesitated, clearly caught off guard, but after a few moments, you glanced up at him, determination creeping into your features.

“How about Seonyudo Park?” you suggested.

A soft chuckle escaped In-ho before he could stop it. “Oh, that one park with the bridge where you can look out over the Han River?”

You nodded, visibly nervous, but he could see the hope shining behind your eyes. He tilted his head, pretending to think it over, although in truth, he’d already decided.

“Sure,” he finally agreed, locking eyes with you again. “When do you want to meet?”

You hesitated before blurting out, “One month after we leave?”

In-ho blinked, your suggestion catching him off guard again. One month? What's with that big time period?

You rushed to explain, “It’ll give us time to heal and sort things out. But if one month is too long, I’m fine with sooner – maybe one or two weeks?”

But In-ho shook his head, a real smile creeping onto his face. “One month it is. Seonyudo Park, a month after we’re out. Around sunset? The view’s amazing at that time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling now too. “That sounds perfect.”

Perfect, In-ho echoed in his mind, though the word tasted strange. Hopeful. It was a dangerous emotion. And yet, he didn’t hate it.

As you smiled at him, something heavy and unfamiliar twisted in In-ho’s chest. It wasn’t just admiration anymore – this was deeper. Every soft glance you gave him, every hesitant yet hopeful word, was tightening the hold you unknowingly had on him.

He’d spent years building walls so high nothing could get through. But you? You’d somehow slipped past every defense without even trying. Your kindness, your resilience, the way you still held onto hope in a place designed to crush it. It pulled at something he thought had died long ago.

A small smile lingered on his lips as he watched you look away, clearly flustered. He found himself wanting more of that – to see you smile like that again, to be the reason for it.

Not only that. He found himself anticipating your upcoming meeting. He felt normal – like a man anxiously overthinking about his upcoming date with someone he’s been looking for for years. He no longer felt like a husk of man. He had a purpose now – to pursue a life with you outside this island.

***

[Back to present…]

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, watching the live feeds of the current game. The players had finished selecting their gumballs, and it wasn’t until they grouped into their assigned teams that you noticed it – player 100, the greedy old man, was on the same red team as Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother.

Your stomach twisted. That's not good.

Even worse, Thanos’ deranged old friend, player 124, had also landed on the red team.

But then your gaze flicked to the blue team. Player 226 – player 100’s most loyal lapdog – stood stiffly with them. You could sense the frustration simmering beneath the surface of his face. The separation between him and player 100 wasn’t sitting well with him.

You noticed your fellow friends were already on edge, and Jun-hee’s frown deepened as her gaze locked onto player 100. You could practically read her thoughts. She hadn’t forgotten how vocal he’d been during her labor.

The tension didn’t last long. Triangle-masked guards then motioned for the players to move. The players were led out of the room and into the next game’s location.

You watched as the cameras shifted into another massive room. The floor stretched out in a massive expanse, either painted or pasted over with a giant image of white and orange flowers arranged in circular patterns, each ring drawing closer to the center. This room looked more like a surreal park playground. Scattered around the corners were pieces of park equipments: a colourful swing set, a metal slide, and colorful merry-go-rounds.

Suddenly, the announcer’s voice echoed through the massive space. “Welcome to your fifth game. The game you will be playing is Why Did You Come to My House.”

The players exchanged tense glances, some frowning deeply as they recognized the title right away. Gi-hun’s jaw tensed. Jun-hee glanced at Yong-sik’s mother with concern, while Dae-ho visibly swallowed hard, his face pale.

The announcer continued. “All players have been split into two teams. At the start, one player from each team will compete in rock-paper-scissors to determine which team attacks first.

“The two teams will form parallel lines, standing hand-in-hand. The game begins with the defending team moving forward, singing the first line of the song. The attacking team will step back. Then, the attackers will step forward, singing the next line. This continues until the defenders ask, ‘Which flower?’ Each player in the attacking team will then point at a player from the defending side. The targeted player will be determined based on the majority votes.

“The mentioned player and an attacker will face off in rock-paper-scissors. The loser will be immediately eliminated. The rounds will continue until one team loses all its players.”

The announcement ended, leaving only a chilling silence.

Gi-hun’s friends exchanged glances. You realized then that Jun-hee must have told them about the game. None of them looked surprised but it still pressed down heavily on them. Knowing what was coming hadn’t eased the fear. If anything, it made the hopelessness clearer.

They were separated by half into opposite teams. They would be forced to play against each other.

Gi-hun stood quietly, his brows furrowed deeply as he stared at the ground, lost in thought. You could see it in his eyes – he was already trying to figure out a plan. A loophole. Something. Anything that could get them all out of this alive.

Seeing that the game hadn’t started yet, your friends on the blue team moved toward Gi-hun and the others. Dae-ho looked the worst of them all. His face was pale, his hands shaking as he wrung them nervously. His eyes darted between his friends, searching for answers.

“There’s gotta be a trick, right?” Dae-ho stammered, his voice thin with panic. “Some kind of loophole that’ll let us all make it through? We can’t j-just play this straight!”

Gi-hun didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched tightly as he stared down at the floor, lost in thought or maybe just lost in the hopelessness of it all. The silence dragged on, heavy and suffocating.

Dae-ho’s panic grew. He turned toward Jung-bae, calling him along with his ‘hyungnim’ honorifics. “Right, Jung-bae? There’s gotta be a way, right?”

Jung-bae hesitated. His eyes locked onto Dae-ho’s trembling figure, and for a moment, he looked as lost as the rest of them. Then he forced a wide, playful smile. It seemed clearly exaggerated, but laced with forced optimism. He even chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“Of course,” Jung-bae replied, nodding. “There must be a way. We just have to look for it. It’s not gonna hurt to try something, right?”

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief at the small sliver of hope.

Hyun-ju, ever the calm one, stepped forward, her arms crossed as she looked over both teams. “What if we just… avoid targeting each other?”

She paused as her friends turned their gaze onto her. She glanced at each of them as she continued, “Like, you guys in red team avoids targeting us from the blue team. And us from the blue team does the same.”

Jung-bae perked up at that. “Oh, that’s possible! That way, we can at least hold off eliminating each other.”

But Myung-gi quickly shook his head. “That won’t last. The other players will do the same for their friends.”

“Then it’s not just the other team we have to worry about,” Se-mi spoke up, forcing a wry smile. “We’ll be fighting our own teammates too. That’s where things get ugly.”

Jung-bae shifted his gaze between Myung-gi and Se-mi, looking hopeless again, as he said, “Wah, you two really know how to kill the mood, huh?”

The mechanical hum of the loudspeaker kicked in, followed by the cold, distorted voice of the announcer.

“All players, the game is about to begin. Please form a line with your team. Position yourselves parallel to the opposing team. Select one representative from each side to play rock-paper-scissors to determine the attacking and defending teams.”

Slowly, the players began to shift, their feet dragging across the floor, but one thing was clear. Everyone was hesitant to part ways with their friends.

Gi-hun hesitated, exchanging glances with his friends. There was an unspoken reluctance, a deep-rooted fear in parting ways. The reality was sinking in. This was the first game that separated them to compete against each other.

Jun-hee’s gaze lingered on Myung-gi, her eyes filled with unspoken thoughts. Myung-gi was quick to notice and gazed back at her.

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly with a tight smile. “We’ll figure things out later.”

Jun-hee didn’t speak for the first few seconds. Then, she gave a small nod. They then parted to join their respective teams.

Dae-ho's entire body was visibly trembling now. He looked like he didn’t want to part with his friends in the red team at all, his wide eyes darting desperately between Gi-hun and Jung-bae, silently pleading for someone to stop this. Just then, Hyun-ju stepped closer. She placed a firm hand on Dae-ho’s shoulder.

Startled, Dae-ho turned his head to her, noticing the grim yet forced smile on Hyun-ju’s face.

With that, Dae-ho took a shaky breath and, though still trembling, followed Hyun-ju as they made their way back to the blue team, Myung-gi walking alongside them in heavy silence.

Yong-sik, gripping his mother’s hand, hesitated before finally releasing it. “Be careful, Mom.”

Yong-sik’s mother refused to let go of his hand, her grip tightening. She pulled him closer, her voice trembling as she spoke, “Yong-sik, I know this is hard, but we’ll figure something out. I promise. Just... stay out of trouble, okay? Don’t do anything reckless.”

Yong-sik looked at her with wide, fearful eyes, his hand shaking slightly in hers. He didn’t want to let go either, but he knew he had to. They had to play the game. Finally, with a shaky breath, he nodded. She managed a strained smile, swallowing her tears as she slowly released his hand.

With heavy hearts, they slowly moved into position. The red and blue teams now faced each other, a straight line of anxious faces and clenched fists. The space between them felt massive, like there was a line they shouldn't cross.

“Pick your representative,” the announcer’s voice echoed again.

Player 100, the greedy old man, stepped forward with a wide, smug grin.

“I’ll volunteer for the red team,” he announced, his voice loud and filled with cocky confidence.

Gi-hun and his friends stayed perfectly still, exchanging tense glances but saying nothing. They all knew better. Staying in the shadows seemed like the safest bet. Volunteering would only make them a bigger target.

As soon as player 100 made his move, player 226 – his ever-loyal lackey – stepped forward from the blue team.

“Then it's me for blue,” he said, his voice carrying a similar arrogance.

They faced each other across the divide.

“So, we’re not brothers anymore, huh?” Player 226 smirked, his jaw tight.

Player 100 chuckled darkly. “Tch. Brothers? In this place? I was only ever looking out for myself.”

Player 226’s face twisted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “I followed your lead this whole time, and now you’re just throwing that away? Like a coward? Shows how pathetic you really are, old rot.”

Player 100 sneered, his grin widening. “Pathetic? Boy, you were the fool who followed me around like a lost puppy. And now you expect loyalty? You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. You just have no brains.”

Player 226’s jaw tightened, fury rising. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one out, old fucker.”

“That is, if you get the chance,” player 100 snapped back. “If I win as the attacking team, you better believe I’m coming for you first, son of a bitch.”

The other players couldn’t help but react to the heated exchange. Gi-hun glowered. Jung-bae and Jun-hee exchanged glances. The mother stayed quiet. Dae-ho and Yong-sik's gaze flitted between the two. Hyun-ju, Semi, and Myung-gi simply watched on impassively.

Player 100 and 226 then raised their fists, preparing for the most important form of decision-making in their entire life.

“On my mark,” a manager spoke up as he stood to their side. “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Player 100 threw out a rock. Player 226 put out a scissor. The result was instant.

The room filled with tense silence before the loudspeaker blared, “The red team will be the attacking team.”

Player 226 paled while player 100 immediately threw his fists into the air, cheering loudly and with wild exaggeration.

“Hah! I told you! You scummy bastard!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the vast room. He spun around with his arms stretched wide, pumping his fists into the air as if he’d won the entire game already. His laughter was sharp, echoing mockingly as he shot a smug glance at player 226.

Player 100 then spun around to face his fellow red teammates, his grin wide and malicious. “Alright, listen up! For the first round, we vote for player 226. No mercy!”

The red team stood silent for a tense beat, most of Gi-hun’s friends exchanging uneasy glances but staying quiet. However, the O players on the same team quickly nodded in agreement. Their movements were stiff and forced. It was clear they were just trying to appease him, hoping to stay off his radar for as long as possible.

Player 100 sneered, clearly pleased with their response. “Good. Stick with me, and maybe you’ll last longer.”

Player 226 clicked his tongue in annoyance, his face twisted in frustration as he muttered under his breath, “Rotten old bastard.”

He shot a final glare at player 100 before storming off to stand in line with the blue team.

Player 100, still riding the high of his victory, threw an agitating smirk at him before casually strolling back to join the red team.

Before the tension could stretch any further, the loudspeaker blared to life again. The announcer stated, “All players, the game will begin shortly. Teams, form your lines and hold hands with your teammates.”

The players hesitated only for a moment before moving into position. The red and blue teams formed two parallel lines as instructed.

The announcer added, “A song will play to guide your movements. Teams will step forward or backward in turn. Follow the lyrics accordingly. Once the song sings ‘rock, paper, scissors’, players of the attacking team will point at a player from the defending team. The targeted player will be based on the majority of votes.”

The players braced themselves as a children's song began to fill the massive room, its playful melody clashing cruelly with the deadly game. Everyone was tense as they held their teammates’ hand.

Meanwhile, player 100 grinned wildly. He swayed mockingly to the beat of the song, his over-the-top movements making it clear he was savoring every moment. Across the field, player 226 glared daggers at him.

The song’s melody echoed through the vast room, its cheerful tone a cruel contrast to the tension crackling in the air.

As the first line rang out—

“Why did you come, why did you come, why did you come to our house?”

—the blue team, acting as the defenders, stepped forward in unison as if they were the ones asking the attacking team with the lyrics. The red team, as the attackers, stepped backward.

The second line followed:

“He said he came, came, came to look for flowers.”

Now it was the red team’s turn to advance, delivering the answer to the defending team through the lyrics. Player 100 led the charge, taking exaggerated, wide strides, his grin stretched from ear to ear. He locked eyes with player 226, his manic glee on full display. The blue team retreated, their steps cautious and calculated.

When the third line echoed—

“What kind of flowers did he come, come to find?”

—the blue team moved forward again. Player 226 pushed himself to the front, his chest puffed out as if trying to mask the nerves twisting in his gut. He fixed player 100 with a hard glare, attempting to show bravado.

The fourth line dropped.

“He said he came, came to look for rose flowers.”

The red team advanced again, but this time player 100 didn’t just walk. He lunged ahead of his teammates, rushing forward with his malicious grin stretching wider. His eyes locked on player 226, the sheer venom in his stare unmistakable. The blue team hastily stepped back.

Then came the fifth and final line.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

It was the moment of decision.

Almost immediately, most of the red team thrust out their dominant arms, fingers aimed squarely at player 226. The aggressive, near-unison movement felt like a death sentence, their fingers all pointing at the same target.

But not everyone joined in.

Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother pointed toward other blue team members, deliberately avoiding their own friends in the opposing team: Yong-sik, Myung-gi, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Se-mi.

The majority had spoken. Eight out of 12 red team members picked player 226. He stood under the crosshairs of almost every outstretched arm, his face paling. Across from him, player 100’s grin widened even more as he muttered, “Don’t run away now, boy.”

The manager overseeing the game stepped forward, his voice booming even behind that square mask of theirs.

“Eight people have voted for player 226. Now, player 226 will get to choose one out of the eight to compete in a rock, paper, scissors match. The one who loses the match will be eliminated.”

Player 226 scoffed loudly, his frustration boiling over. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jabbed a finger straight at player 100. “You. I’m not going down without dragging you with me, you self-righteous gramps.”

Player 100 blinked, clearly not expecting to be singled out so directly. His smug grin faltered for a second before he quickly masked it with bravado, though there was a nervous twitch in his eye.

“Hah! You really think I’m wasting my time on you?” player 100 sneered. “You should be picking someone weaker. Someone you actually stand a chance against.”

Player 226’s eyes darkened with pure loathing. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

He turned to the manager, raising his voice. “It’s the rules, right? I get to choose?”

The manager, calm and unbothered, nodded once. “Correct.”

Player 100’s jaw tensed. His cocky mask wavered again before he threw his shoulders back, forcing a wide, arrogant grin. “Fine! Let’s play your stupid game. But don’t cry when you lose, kid.”

Player 226 clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. The supervising manager then stated, “Player 226 and player 100, please step forward.”

Both of them stepped forward from their respective teams. They then stood face-to-face. The manager stood silently at their side. The air between them crackled with palpable tension. Every eye was locked on them. Player 226’s jaw was clenched tight, while player 100's forced bravado was starting to crack, beads of sweat glistening at his temple despite his wide grin.

“On my mark,” the manager’s voice cut in, monotone and cold.

Both players raised their fists, ready for the throw.

The manager began, “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Their hands shot out in unison.

Player 100 threw out rock. Player 226 put out scissors.

The manager announced with finality, “Player 100 wins. Player 226 is eliminated.”

Player 100 hollered triumphantly, his voice echoing off the high walls as he pumped both fists into the air. “Ha! I told you I’d crush you! Look at you now!”

His laughter rang out, loud and mocking, as he exaggerated every move, basking in his victory. But player 226 wasn’t hearing any of it.

His face went pale, eyes wide with disbelief as the realization hit him. He’d lost. Completely and utterly. His chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked breaths as he staggered back a step.

The other players stood frozen. Gi-hun’s jaw clenched as he watched player 100 revel in the moment, disgust flickering in his eyes.

“Over-the-top prick,” Jung-bae muttered, glaring at player 100’s dramatic celebration.

Jun-hee and Yong-sik's mother frowned deeply.

You, watching from the Front Man’s quarters, frowned in distaste. Player 100’s smugness was unbearable, the pure glee in his face making your stomach turn. But your focus quickly shifted to player 226, who stood frozen, panic now flooding his expression.

The heavy stomp of boots echoed as triangle-masked guards began advancing toward him.

Player 226 snapped out of his shock, his survival instincts kicking in. He threw his hands up, waving frantically. “Wait! Just-just one more round! I can do better! I-I wasn’t ready!”

But the guards didn’t slow. They raised their MP5s in perfect unison.

“No, wait—!”

The gunfire was deafening.

Player 226’s body jerked violently in each shot hitting his body before crumpling to the ground, a growing pool of red staining the white floor beneath him. His outstretched hand twitched once before going limp.

The massive room fell into an eerie silence, the echoes of the gunfire lingering in the heavy air.

Player 100 let out one last victorious laugh, though it was quieter now, almost uneasy as the reality of what had just happened set in. The other players stood rigid, their faces pale, the brutality of it all sinking deeper than before.

You inhaled sharply from where you sat. The guards then stepped back towards the wall, their weapons lowered, as the manager announced, “The next round will begin with the attacking and defending teams switching positions. The blue team will now be the attacking team, and the red team will be the defending team.”

As the rounds progressed, you noticed the plan in action. Gi-hun, Jun-hee, Jung-bae, Yong-sik’s mother, and the others subtly avoided voting for their friends on the opposing team. They were careful, trying to be subtle, ensuring no majority votes landed on their allies. By staying in the shadows and never drawing attention, they reduced their chances of being singled out for the deadly rock, paper, scissors match.

The strategy worked for a while. One by one, the O players on the blue team, were picked off. Each elimination was met with the same cold routine – play the which flower procedure, votes, a quick game, and then gunshots. The pool of players shrank in each round.

You noticed player 100’s smug demeanor slowly fade as he observed the pattern. His eyes darted between the remaining players, realization creeping over him. Being an O player himself, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the blue team’s O players were being taken out systematically. His cocky grin faltered.

Player 100’s frustration boiled over, his voice rising above the murmurs of the room. “They’re taking out all the O players! We’re next if we don’t do something!”

He jabbed a finger toward the blue team, his face twisted with indignation. “Switch it up! Start voting out the X players on their side!”

His voice echoed through the vast space, making heads turn.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest as you watched from the Front Man’s quarters. Your eyes scanned the blue team, picking out the X players. They were:

Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, Se-mi, and Myung-gi. All of them were your friends or acquaintances. There was one more X player, a quiet man who had kept to himself.

Only one O player remained on their side, standing nervously at the far end, clearly aware that his time was running out.

Shifting your focus to the red team, you tallied the survivors. The X players there were Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik’s mother, and a short boy labeled player 125.

But what truly caught your attention were the remaining O players. It was player 100 himself, the malicious player 124, and another nondescript man who hadn’t spoken a word the entire game.

The room fell into a heavy silence as the red team prepared for their turn. The manager’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Red team, you will be the attacking team this round. Make your selection once the song reaches–”

“Rock, paper, scissors, I know!” player 100 barked. He then pivoted to face his fellow red teammates. “Everyone! Next, we vote for the X!”

Before anyone could react, player 124 stepped forward, his finger jabbing out toward the blue team. “Let’s vote for him!”

All eyes shifted to Myung-gi, who froze as the accusing finger landed squarely on him. His expression twisted into surprise before he quickly masked it, his jaw tightening as he glowered at player 124. The two locked eyes, past grudges crackling between them.

From where you sat in the Front Man’s quarters, you couldn’t help but glance over at Jun-hee. Her face had gone pale. Her worry was written all over her.

Myung-gi, however, chose to stay silent. He didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Instead, he squared his shoulders and stood still, his fists clenched at his sides.

That’s when you noticed player 124 sidling closer to another red team member. It was the nervous boy labeled player 125. He told him, “Min-su, don’t make me mad now. Let’s win this again. One more game.”

Min-su flinched at the tone, his head dropping as he refused to make eye contact. He nodded once, his shoulders shaking slightly in fear.

The next round began. The melody played again, leading into the inevitable moment.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

Hands from the red team shot forward.

You held your breath, leaning forward in your seat while carefully supporting the baby sleeping in your arms.

Player 100, player 124, another O player, and Min-su all pointed at Myung-gi, their votes locking him into the spotlight. Meanwhile, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother each pointed at the last O player left on the blue team.

The female announcer’s voice rang out. “Player 333 and player 104 received four votes each. In this case, player 333 and player 104 are required to break the tie by competing in a rock, paper, scissors game.”

All eyes turned to the supervising manager. Myung-gi and player 104 stood frozen. The former’s face was unreadable, but player 104 looked as though he might faint.

“Wait,” Myung-gi called out. “If one of us loses… does that mean we’re eliminated?”

The manager shook his head. “No. The loser of this rock, paper, scissors will be the chosen player and will get to pick their competitor from the red team for another match.”

A beat of silence passed before Myung-gi and player 104 raised their hands.

The manager began, “On my mark. Rock, paper, scissors.”

Both players threw their choices forward.

Myung-gi’s hand came down as scissors.

Player 104 laid out rock.

The result was immediate.

“Player 333 loses. You will be the targeted player. You will now select your opponent.”

Myung-gi exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the ground.

Jun-hee’s eyes shimmered with pure desperation. Her hands trembled at her sides, her lips parting in terrifying dread. Her wide, glassy eyes locked onto Myung-gi, The fear, the worry. They were all there, visible on her face, but she forced herself to stay silent.

Myung-gi finally lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Jun-hee for a long while. Something unspoken passed between them – regret, apologies, and fear. He swallowed hard before shifting his stare to player 124. He glowered resentfully.

“Fine,” Myung-gi said suddenly, his voice sharp and cold.

It was as if something inside him had snapped into place, as if resigned to fate. But there was a part of him that still burned to fight back. He straightened his shoulders, exhaling slowly before lifting his arm, his finger pointing straight at player 124.

“I’m dragging you with me,” he growled.

Player 124 scoffed, the sound dripping with derision and loathing. “Tch. Brave talk for a scammer.”

The manager’s voice echoed through the room. “Player 333 and player 124, please step forward.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Myung-gi stepped out from the blue team’s line, his face a hardened mask of resolve. There was no fear in his eyes – only sheer defiance – as he strode forward, positioning himself before the manager. He glared at player 124.

Player 124, meanwhile, was livid. His jaw worked as he struggled to suppress his rage and another emotion, but he forced a chuckle, then broke into a mocking laugh.

“Oh, MG Coin, you really think you have outplayed me?” he sneered. “You’ve been a walking failure since the start. This’ll just be another loss for your record.”

The insult hit like a slap, but Myung-gi didn’t flinch. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared but he kept his focus locked.

Suddenly, player 124 turned around and reached beneath his white shirt, pulling out a necklace shaped like a small ‘t’. His hands trembled as he unclasped it, revealing a hidden compartment inside. Nestled within were two small, circular pills. You frowned in confusion. Is that his meds?

With a sharp flick of his shaky wrist, he popped both pills into his mouth, his head tilting back as he forced them down. His hands trembled violently, but he clenched his jaw. For a moment, the shaking intensified. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his body stilled. The trembling faded completely, leaving him standing eerily calm.

Everyone watched him quietly. Some players exchanged tense glances, clearly understanding what he had taken, while others remained baffled. The silence thickened until the hot pink-clad manager broke it. “Player 124, step forward.”

Player 124's demeanor shifted entirely. Gone was the twitchy, agitated man from before. Now, he carried himself with an unsettling calm and confidence. His eyes gleamed with a kind of clarity, though a faint, manic edge still lingered.

He waved the manager off with a casual flick of his wrist.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he drawled, striding toward Myung-gi with an easy swagger. His smirk widened as he closed the distance, his voice lowering into a taunting sneer. “Still think you can beat me, MG Coin? You’re about to fold faster than your worthless crypto.”

You narrowed your eyes from the Front Man’s quarters, suspicion prickling at the back of your mind. He’s high. It explained the sudden calmness and confidence.

“On my mark,” the manager declared.

The two players squared up, their hands raised in preparation. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Even you, watching from the Front Man’s quarters, leaned forward, feeling the pounding of your own heart echoing in your ears. The baby in your arms shifted slightly, but you barely noticed.

Everyone was silent – so silent it was suffocating.

The manager said, “Rock.”

Both Myung-gi and player 124 tensed, their fingers twitching.

“Paper.”

Myung-gi’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving player 124’s.

“Scissors.”

Their hands shot out. Your breath hitched.

Myung-gi chose paper. Player 124 threw rock.

“Player 333 wins. Player 124 is eliminated,” the manager’s voice echoed.

Gasps of relief rippled through both the red and blue teams. You quickly scanned the players, recognizing the source of the reactions to be Myung-gi's acquaintances and even his ex-girlfriend. Jun-hee stood among them, her hands pressed firmly against her chest. Her expression, a mix of exhaustion and quiet joy, made it clear just how much she had been holding her breath.

Meanwhile, player 124 didn’t flinch. Instead, he stood perfectly still, his head tilted slightly to the side, a lazy smile curling at the edge of his lips. His wide eyes glistened, glassy and calm, almost... serene.

“Ha,” player 124 chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Well, would you look at that?”

His voice was light, easy, devoid of any tension. He turned his head toward Myung-gi, his grin stretching wider. “You are a really lucky bastard, MG Coin. Real lucky shot.”

Myung-gi stared at him, stunned by the reaction. There was no rage, no screaming, no accusations. It’s just that eerie calmness.

Player 124 walked closer to Myung-gi and daringly inched his face closer to his menacingly. “What kind of person are you, really? You scammed hundreds or thousands of people. You already got a girlfriend and a baby. And now you got really lucky in this game too. Meanwhile, I'm one of your victims. I used up all my money on your coin scam. My whole family disowned me. And I got unlucky? This is really, really unfair.”

Myung-gi stayed silent, locking eyes with the manic yet eerily calm gaze of player 124. The words cut deeper than he expected, hitting something raw inside him. In that moment, it all sank in about how lucky he really was and how many lives he’d left in ruin. The people who had fallen for his scam weren’t just faceless victims; they were desperate and broken too. Deep down, he knew he should be the one standing in player 124’s place. Maybe then, he could finally begin to atone for everything he’d done.

Two triangle guards advanced toward player 124 and Myung-gi, their shoes thudding against the floor. The sound echoed, drawing both players’ attention. Player 124 remained eerily calm. He straightened his back, lifting his chin with a strange serenity, his glassy eyes still glinting with that unsettling, drug-fueled calmness.

With a soft sigh, he exhaled through his nose, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, this is it, huh?”

The guards arrived to stand before player 124. Still, he didn’t flinch. He let out another chuckle, almost giddy now. “Man, you guys are so serious all the time. Relax! It’s just a game, right?”

Even as the guards raised their weapons, player 124 remained eerily calm, as if the weight of reality hadn’t hit him… or more likely, the pills numbed him beyond fear.

“Later, losers,” player 124 murmured, flashing one last grin.

Multiple gunshots cracked through the massive room. Player 124’s body collapsed to the floor, still wearing that unsettling smile.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Myung-gi exhaled shakily, his heart still pounding as he processed what had just happened. Even in victory, the unease lingered.

Player 100 muttered curses under his breath. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he glared at Myung-gi’s retreating figure. “Damn cockroach… can’t believe he pulled that off.”

But the victory wasn’t what gnawed at him. It was the numbers. There were only three O players left.

In the red team, it was just him and another unknown male player. In the blue team, it was the last O player who had won against Myung-gi and narrowly escaped being the targeted player.

Player 100 could feel the walls closing in. His eyes darted toward Gi-hun, who stood quietly, hands at his sides, gaze calm. Too calm.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?” player 100 yelled, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You planned this from the start! You’ve been whittling us down!”

Gi-hun turned his attention to him.

“Don’t act like you’re innocent,” player 100 spat, taking a step closer, his voice rising with each word. “You’ve been playing the long game, getting rid of every O one by one. Keeping your little friends safe while the rest of us drop like flies. You slimy little rat!”

Jung-bae couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He stepped forward, placing himself between Gi-hun and player 100.

“Hey, back off,” he snapped, his eyes wide. “You’re the one who’s been throwing people under the bus since the start. You act like you’re a top dog when all you’ve been doing is stabbing people in the back.”

Player 100 sneered. “Oh, look, Gi-hun’s little lapdog has something to say.”

Jung-bae didn’t miss a beat. “Hey! At least I’ve got loyalty. something you wouldn’t recognize if it bit you.”

Before the tension could escalate further, Yong-sik’s mother stepped forward, her hands raised slightly in a calming gesture. “Enough, enough. This isn’t the time for bickering. We’re all barely holding on here. Fighting each other won’t change that.”

For a moment, there was silence. But player 100 wasn’t having it.

He whipped around to face her, his face contorted with frustration. “Oh, great! The fragile mother wants to play peacemaker now? You think you’re innocent in all this? You helped take out my fellow O players too! Don’t act like you’re some kind-hearted saint.”

His words cut through the tension like a knife, and the sheer force of his accusation made several players shift uncomfortably. He continued, “Spare me your pity act, grandma!”

Yong-sik’s mother flinched but quickly squared her shoulders, refusing to back down despite the sting of his words. Her hands trembled, but her chin lifted in quiet defiance.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” she snapped, her voice cracking with emotion, though she tried to hold her ground.

“Back off, you greedy old scum!” Yong-sik shouted from the blue team's line. “You don’t talk to my mother like that!”

Player 100's face twisted in rage, veins bulging at his temple as he jabbed a finger at Yong-sik. “You little brat! Always hiding behind your mommy! You think that’s gonna save you in here? You will sacrifice your mother sooner or later!”

Yong-sik’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, but he said nothing. It's as if player 100 hit a nerve that stunned him.

Player 100 then swung his gaze toward Gi-hun and Jung-bae. “And you two, and your friends? Don’t think for a second I don’t see what you’re doing. You’re nothing but cowards, hiding behind everyone else’s sacrifices.”

Gi-hun stayed silent, his face solemn, while Jung-bae rolled his eyes. “Fine, old man. Whatever. Are you done yet?”

Player 100 snorted but didn’t push it. He turned sharply on his heel and stormed back toward the red team’s line. He made sure to position himself as far from Gi-hun and the others as possible, sidling up next to the only remaining O player on his team – a man who flinched slightly as player 100 stood beside him.

Player 100 crossed his arms and threw one last glare at Gi-hun’s group before muttering under his breath, “Bunch of backstabbing rats. We have to do something fast.”

However, player 100 didn’t have time to form a plan. The next round began swiftly, with the blue team taking on the role of attackers while the red team stood defensively. As the song reached its final line of lyrics, the blue team reacted in near-perfect unison. Hands snapped forward, every finger – except one – pointing directly at player 100. The lone exception, the solo O player, hesitated for a fraction of a second before shifting his aim toward Jung-bae.

“Player 100 has been chosen as the targeted player,” the manager’s voice echoed coldly through the room.

For a split second, player 100 stood frozen, his mind racing to catch up with reality. Then, his face contorted in disbelief and pure rage.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls. “You all voted for me? ME?”

His eyes darted wildly between the blue team members, searching for anyone who looked even remotely guilty but they all stood firm and determined. His gaze finally locked onto Gi-hun as if instinctively blaming him.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?!” player 100 snarled. “You wanted me out from the start!”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He simply stared back, his face unreadable.

Jung-bae responded instead. “No plan, old man. You just made yourself the biggest target in here.”

“Cowards!” player 100 spat, though the edge of desperation in his voice was impossible to miss. “You all ganged up on me because you’re too scared to face me one-on-one!”

The manager’s voice cut through the noise again. “Player 100, step forward and choose your opponent from the blue team.”

Player 100’s chest heaved as he clenched his fists. His bravado was clearly cracking, but he still barked, “Fine!”

He jabbed his finger straight at someone in the blue team. All eyes followed. Your heart sank as your eyes widened in shock, dread tightening in your chest. It was Dae-ho.

Dae-ho, naturally pale, now looked as if all color had drained completely from his face. His skin was ghostly white, his wide eyes shimmering with panic. His arms trembled uncontrollably. It's like his body couldn’t decide whether to fight or flee.

Player 100 grinned wickedly, the sadistic pleasure unmistakable on his face. “You, ex-marine. Let’s see if all that training makes a difference here.”

Dae-ho didn’t respond. He could barely breathe, his throat dry, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out the noise around him. His legs felt like they might give out at any second.

Gi-hun’s mouth went ajar. He was obviously worried. Jung-bae, however, wasn’t one to stay quiet.

“Pick on someone your own size, you pathetic old man!” he shouted across the room, his voice sharp with anger.

Player 100 threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, please. I’m giving him a chance to prove himself. Ex-marine, right? Big, tough guy? C’mon!”

Jun-hee stood rigid, her face once again displaying immense concern towards another friend of hers – a man who had taken good care of her since they met here. Yong-sik’s mother pressed a hand to her chest, her face pale with concern. “Oh no...”

Meanwhile, Dae-ho stood there, frozen. His mind replayed the worst-case scenarios over and over. He knew the rules. He knew what would happen if he lost. He knew what would happen if he refused to play.

Player 100 then stepped out of the red team's line, standing before the awaiting manager. “Move it, ex-marine!”

The manager glanced at Dae-ho and finally stated, “Player 100 and player 388, please step forward.”

Swallowing hard, Dae-ho finally stepped forward, his legs shaky beneath him. His shoulders hunched slightly, as though he was carrying the weight of his past along with him.

Watching from the Front Man’s quarters, you felt a pang of concern cut deep. You knew Dae-ho carried some heavy burden from his past. You remembered the way he ran and hid during the gunfight in the revolt. His fear was palpable. His instinct to flee overpowered his marine training. It wasn’t cowardice; it was trauma.

Seeing him now, trembling and vulnerable, stirred something in you. He wasn’t just another player in this nightmare. He was your friend. He was someone you’d laughed with, and someone who encouraged you when things got rough. Now, he stood alone, facing off against player 100’s cruelty with barely a thread of composure holding him together. It hurt to see him like this, knowing there was nothing you could do but watch, hope, and silently will him to survive.

Once the two of them stood before each other next to the supervising manager, player 100, smug as ever, derided, “Don’t pass out before we start. Wouldn’t want this to be too easy.”

Dae-ho swallowed visibly. Everyone could tell drops of sweat began to roll down his temple and neck. His trembling hands betrayed him as he tried to pretend to be brave in front of the smug player 100, but failed spectacularly. You frowned deeply for him. You wished you could be there for him.

“On my mark,” the manager announced without hesitation.

Dae-ho jolted violently, his wide-eyed gaze snapping between the guard and player 100. His entire body trembled so intensely that it looked as though his knees might buckle beneath him at any moment. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths as fear clawed at every part of him. The weight of the moment crushed down on him, leaving him paralyzed for a beat too long.

The manager began, “Rock.”

Player 100 grinned maniacally as he prepared one fist.

“Paper.”

Dae-ho hastily braced himself as his entire body still trembled immensely.

“Scissors.”

Both hands shot out. You and the entire room held its breath as the outcome was revealed.

Dae-ho’s hand shot out, the movement rushed and desperate. He laid out scissors. Across from him, Player 100 threw down paper.

For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then the manager’s distorted voice echoed through the space. “Player 388 wins. Player 100 is eliminated.”

The words hit Dae-ho like a delayed shockwave. He blinked, his mind taking an agonizing moment to catch up to the reality of what had just happened. He’d won. Against all odds, he’d actually won.

The realization slammed into him, and with it came an uncontrollable surge of emotion. He let out a shriek, his voice cracking into a high-pitched yell that echoed through the room. His whole body trembled, this time not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming relief flooding through him.

Cheers erupted almost immediately. From the blue team, his friends shouted loudest. Yong-sik, Hyun-ju, Myung-gi, and Se-mi sprinted toward him. Without hesitation, they crashed into him in a messy, joy-filled group hug, their arms wrapping tightly around each other as they bounced in place, laughing and crying at the same time. Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and the mother joined in afterward.

You sat forward in your seat, heart racing, hands tightening around the baby sleeping in your arms. Relief surged through you so hard it nearly made you dizzy. Dae-ho had done it. You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath until you let it out in a shaky exhale.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, but it was bittersweet. Seeing him so close to breaking hit you in the chest. You wished you could be there, to tell him how proud you were.

But this moment? This victory? It was his. And you felt every ounce of his triumph, your heart full of hope… and fear for what came next.

“You did it!” Yong-sik hollered, gripping Dae-ho’s shoulder.

“You did great, Kang Dae-ho!” cheered Jung-bae.

Dae-ho couldn’t stop smiling, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The fear that had almost consumed him moments ago was gone, replaced with the comforting weight of his friends surrounding him.

But not everyone was celebrating.

Player 100 stood frozen, his face twisted in disbelief. “No! No! That’s not possible! You cheated! That was rigged! I had him beat!”

His protests grew more frantic as triangle-masked guards began to advance, their weapons raised and ready.

“Wait! Listen to me! He didn’t win fair!” player 100 shrieked, backing away as the guards closed in. “He was hesitating and saw I was about to throw a paper! You all saw it!”

But the guards didn’t falter. In a final act of desperation, player 100 tried to run. But it was too late.

Gunfire echoed through the room. The cheers stopped instantly. Everyone turned in time to see player 100’s body jerk violently before collapsing to the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath him.

Dae-ho’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene. The room hung heavy with silence, the weight of the moment pressing down hard.

The next few rounds blurred by in a haze of quick decisions and swift eliminations. Hands darted out, rock-paper-scissors was played, and gunfire echoed when the unlucky ones lost. There was no time to process, no room for emotions. The game had taken full control.

Minutes passed until the room thinned out, leaving only those who mattered most to you as the survivors.

In the red team stood Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik’s mother, and Min-su. Their faces were pale, their shoulders heavy with the weight of what was coming next.

On the blue team were Myung-gi, Dae-ho, Yong-sik, Hyun-ju, and Se-mi. They stood in a tense line, their eyes darting between the players on the opposite side, fear written clearly on their faces.

You sat back in the Front Man’s quarters, heart pounding, your hands trembling as you cradled the sleeping baby in your arms. These were your friends. Every single one of them, except for Min-su whom you had never talked with before. For your friends, however, they were people you had fought alongside, cried with, and in some cases, nearly died for. And now, they stood lined up against each other.

They can’t possibly vote for each other… right?

But deep down, you knew this game wouldn’t stop until it forced them to. After all, In-ho did say: “The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

The victorious energy from Dae-ho’s win had been snuffed out completely, replaced by an oppressive sense of dread. Eyes met across the room. Some glanced away quickly, unable to handle the weight of it. Others, like Gi-hun, held the gaze of his friends on the opposing team.

No one spoke for a long time. Until Jun-hee’s soft voice broke through the tension. “What are we going to do now…?”

Her question floated in the air, unanswered. The words were fragile, barely above a whisper, but they echoed loudly in the hollow space.

Yong-sik rubbed the back of his neck. “This… we can't really back out now, right?”

“No,” the manager suddenly spoke up, surprising Yong-sik since he didn't intent on asking them. The manager continued, “The game will continue until one team loses all its players.”

Everyone fell quiet. The manager's words echoed in the tense space like a chilling reminder. Eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders sagged under the oppressive weight, and the air thickened with a heavy, suffocating silence.

Gi-hun’s fists clenched at his sides, the pressure almost visible in his posture. He spoke up, “There has to be another way.”

Gi-hun’s eyes flicked upward, landing on the cluster of CCTVs positioned high on the room walls. Because of this, it felt like he was staring right at you.

You stiffened in your seat, the baby still cradled safely in your arms, but all your focus locked onto Gi-hun. It wasn’t possible for him to see you but somehow, it felt like he could. His eyes burned with intensity with the weight of a plan forming in his mind.

Gi-hun stepped forward, leaving his team’s line and walking straight toward the supervising manager, who stood silent by the side.

“What if the majority of us decide to stop right here, right now?” Gi-hun asked, his voice calm but loud enough to echo across the room.

A ripple of hope stirred through the surviving players. Heads turned, eyes widened. Everyone was caught off guard by the question.

Gi-hun turned his head again, glancing up at the CCTVs, as if daring whoever was on the other side – daring the Front Man – to intervene.

“It’s in the rules, isn’t it?” he said, his voice grew stronger, the conviction clear. “Rule No. 3: ‘The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie, players will vote again.’”

You felt your heart pound harder. He was right. The rule was there, buried in the fine print of the consent form every player had signed. You remembered it, as did they.

The players glanced around at each other, their eyes now wide with hope. Jun-hee clutched her chest, tears glistening as the realization dawned. Yong-sik’s mother whispered something inaudible, her hands shaking as if in prayer. Even Myung-gi, who had stood hardened for most of the game, allowed a sliver of hope to creep into his expression.

“Come on,” Gi-hun pressed, looking directly at the manager now. “We’re following the rules. If the majority of us want out, if we decide that this is over, then it’s justified.”

For a moment, there was silence. Thick, heavy, and pregnant with the weight of possibility.

You sat at the edge of your seat, your throat dry, silently begging for it to work. Let this be it. Let this nightmare end here.

But then the manager tilted his head slightly, his distorted voice cutting through the room. “That rule does not apply during the game. It only applies to the vote after every game.”

The words hit like a physical blow. The hope that had bloomed so fast was snuffed out in an instant. The players froze, their faces draining of color, the weight of their situation crashing back in with brutal force.

Gi-hun’s shoulders sagged, the fight momentarily leaving him.

You frowned in despair. The anger and helplessness clawed at your chest. It had been so close. Too close.

The players stood motionless in their lines. Each one of them stared blankly ahead, their minds spiraling into dark corners.

Jung-bae, standing in the red team’s line, let out a long, ragged exhale, rubbing his temples as if the headache building inside was finally too much to bear.

Yong-sik stood stiffly in the blue team’s line. Across the room, his mother stood in the red team’s line, her gaze locked onto her son. Neither could reach out, neither could offer the comfort they both craved. Yong-sik’s eyes shimmered with unspoken fear. His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, her chin quivering slightly, but she lifted her hand just enough for him to see. It was a small, fragile wave. It was a desperate attempt to reassure him. Yong-sik’s throat tightened, and he managed a weak nod in return, but it felt hollow.

Jun-hee stood in the red team’s line, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles bone-white. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep tears at bay, but her focus wasn’t on her surroundings. It was across the room. Her eyes locked onto Myung-gi, who stood rigid in the blue team’s line.

Myung-gi’s eyes darted across the room until they landed on her. Their gazes met, a silent current of emotions passing between them. Myung-gi didn’t need her to speak. The way her shoulders sagged and her jaw trembled said enough.

He offered her the faintest nod, though his own expression was tight with pain. His mind raced even now, desperately searching for a loophole that didn’t exist. But in this moment, with Jun-hee’s gaze locked onto his, there was only the bitter truth of their situation.

Dae-ho shifted uncomfortably, wringing his hands together,. His breathing was shallow, and his gaze flicked nervously to his friends before falling to the ground.

Then there was Hyun-ju. She stood still, her posture rigid, but there was a hollow look in her eyes like she had already seen this ending long before anyone else. Her shoulders rose and fell with slow, measured breaths as if she was forcing herself to stay grounded while everything crumbled around her.

And then, so slowly it was almost imperceptible, she nodded so slowly.

Her gaze was downcast, unfocused, as though she was staring through the ground rather than at it. The smallest, most fragile smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It was an expression so soft, so hollow, it almost didn’t feel real.

It wasn’t a smile of joy or hope. It was the kind of smile someone wore when they’d accepted something too painful to say aloud.

“Maybe... maybe this is it,” she whispered to herself, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the heavy silence. “At least... half of us still make it out.”

The words hung in the air, delicate yet heavy, but her fellow blue team members heard her all the same. Their heads subtly turned toward her, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and sorrow. No one spoke, but the glances they exchanged reflected the same haunting thought. They all knew she was right, even if none of them wanted to admit it.

Hyun-ju lifted her head slightly, her hollow smile softening into something faintly warmer. It wasn’t a smile of hope or joy, but a gentle, almost sad acceptance, like someone making peace with the inevitable. Her eyes flickered toward her fellow teammates, landing first on Myung-gi.

He caught her gaze almost instantly. After a beat of hesitation, he gave her a slow, solemn nod. The tension in his jaw relaxed just enough to show he understood what she meant. There was no malice in it, no bitterness. It’s just reluctant agreement.

Next was Se-mi. She didn’t hesitate. She nodded back to Hyun-ju before casting her gaze toward Dae-ho. Her eyes softened as she noticed him trembling again, his whole body rigid with barely contained fear.

Meanwhile, Yong-sik’s attention had shifted. Instead of reacting to Hyun-ju, his eyes flicked across the room to his mother. She stood with her head lowered, lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to his gaze. Yong-sik bit his lower lip, the weight of the moment crushing him, but he didn’t call out to her. He just pondered.

Dae-ho, however, was falling apart. His breath came out in short, shallow bursts, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as his body trembled in trepidation. Every second dragged out, thick with pressure, until he flinched at a sudden bump against his arm.

Se-mi had nudged him lightly with her elbow. He jolted in surprise, whipping his head toward her, his eyes wide and panicked. She simply raised an eyebrow, her usual laidback demeanor revealing itself.

“Don’t think too much about it,” she said, her tone casual despite the situation. She offered him the smallest of smirks before adding, “It’ll go how it goes. Freaking out doesn’t change that.”

Dae-ho blinked at her, caught off guard by how calm she was, but a tiny bit of the panic ebbed away. He sucked in a shaky breath and managed a weak nod in return.

But Hyun-ju’s smile didn’t waver. She let out a soft sigh, her voice barely more than a whisper as she spoke, “I'm sorry if this feels forced on you. Of course, you all are free to continue with this game.”

For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of her words settling over them. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Yong-sik finally broke the silence. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. “No, it’s alright. It’s hard to accept, but... the red team deserves to pass this more than we do.”

His words hung in the air, fragile and somber, yet they carried something. It wasn’t the answer anyone wanted, but it was the one they needed. A sense of reluctant acceptance washed over the blue team.

Hyun-ju’s smile widened before she slowly turned to the supervising manager. Her shoulders straightened as she braced herself.

“Excuse me,” she called out, her tone loud and clear, cutting through the thick tension of the room. “Is it possible if we, as a team, surrender altogether?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Every head snapped toward her, wide, shocked eyes landing on Hyun-ju and the entire blue team. Even some of the guards visibly turned their head to her at the question.

On the red team, reactions rippled like shockwaves.

Gi-hun’s eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly as if he wanted to speak but found no words. Jung-bae’s face contorted in pure disbelief, his jaw dropping as he gawked at Hyun-ju. Jun-hee gasped softly, then turned her gaze to Myung-gi, her heart sinking when she noticed the calm, resigned acceptance etched across his face. Yong-sik’s mother clutched her chest as she stared helplessly at the blue team before locking eyes with her son across the distance. His solemn, distant expression confirmed the fear blooming in her chest, leaving her paralyzed.

Min-su, on the other hand, simply stared in stunned silence, his gaze locking on Se-mi. There was something in the way he stared. But Se-mi didn’t meet his gaze, her focus and resigned smile fixed on the ground.

From the Front Man’s quarters, your heart raced in your chest, your hands tightening protectively around the baby in your arms. The suddenness of Hyun-ju’s request left you breathless. You knew her – knew the way she held things in – but this? This was more than courage. It was sacrifice.

A storm of emotions swirled in your chest. Sadness. Fear. And a gnawing helplessness that you couldn’t do anything but watch.

The manager, silent for what felt like an eternity, finally spoke. “If a team collectively wishes to forfeit, it is within their right. If you are certain, all players in the blue team will be eliminated.”

Hyun-ju slowly turned her head, her calm eyes meeting each member of the blue team. Myung-gi was the first to nod, steady but quiet in his acceptance. Yong-sik followed, his jaw tight as he dipped his head. Se-mi, laidback as ever, offered a small, resigned smile before her nod. Dae-ho hesitated, his whole body trembling with fear, but he eventually looked back at Hyun-ju and nodded albeit tremblingly.

Hyun-ju’s smile widened, still faint but now with a hint of gratitude, before she faced the supervising manager once more. Her voice was firm. “Then, we wish to surrender as a team.”

Your felt overwhelming cold of fear grip your heart. Your chest tightened painfully. Hyun-ju’s voice echoed in your mind, the strength in it, the acceptance… it cut deeper than you expected. You hated this feeling, this helplessness, watching the people you cared about walk willingly into their end. It felt like your heart had cracked open.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Yong-sik’s mother’s voice ripped through the silence, raw with fury and panic. Her hand shot out toward the blue team, trembling violently, her knuckles white as she gripped her chest. “Are you all out of your minds?!”

Her face twisted with anguish, eyes darting between the members of the blue team, but her gaze locked hard on her son. Yong-sik stood rigid in the blue team’s line, his jaw clenched, refusing to meet her eyes. Her voice cracked as she tried again. “Yong-sik! Say something! You can’t…! You can’t be okay with this!”

But he didn’t respond. His silence said everything.

“Damn it!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

Gi-hun stepped forward, his jaw tight. His voice was rough, caught somewhere between anger and pleading. “This is suicide! There must be another way, everyone! Don't give up yet!”

Jung-bae scoffed in disbelief, throwing his arms up. “Hey! You think sacrificing yourselves is going to fix anything? Didn't we promise to have a drink together once we leave? Hey, Kang Dae-ho!”

Dae-ho jumped in surprise upon hearing his full name, his wide eyes snapping to Jung-bae. His entire body trembled, though not as violently as before. But he remained silent. You realized that fear was still there, but he believed this was the right thing to do.

Jun-hee didn’t say anything at first. But then, she stepped out of her red team's line with quick strides, each step echoing in the heavy silence. Myung-gi’s head jerked up at the sound, his eyes widening as she approached. Her glare was sharp, but there was a crack of vulnerability beneath it.

“Don’t be stupid, Myung-gi,” she snapped once she stood before him, her voice thick with emotion. “You said you wanted to make it up to me. This isn’t how you do it!”

Her words hung between them, raw and trembling, leaving Myung-gi frozen. His lips parted as if to respond, but instead, he let out a slow breath, his expression softening. Then, after a beat, he smiled – not out of amusement, not out of defiance, but with a quiet sadness, a smile that held both regret and acceptance, as if he had already come to terms with this.

“Jun-hee,” Myung-gi began softly, his voice steady but filled with a quiet sorrow. “Once you pass this game, you finally get to leave. There are no more O players left, so you’ll have the majority vote. You can end this. Take our daughter and the money, and start over. Give her the life we always dreamed of.”

Jun-hee’s glare faltered. She recognized that look on his face – calm, responsible, determined. It was everything she had once wanted from him, the very thing she had begged to see in him. And now, when she finally did, it was for something she never wanted. Her breath hitched as her vision blurred, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I really want to be there for you and our daughter,” Myung-gi continued, his lips pulling into a resigned smile. “But what matters most is you two surviving. You need to live, Jun-hee. You need to take care of her. If I know you two are safe, I can leave this world without regret.”

A tear slipped down Jun-hee’s cheek, then another, until they came freely, streaming silently as she stared at him, disbelief and heartbreak written all over her face. Her hands trembled at her sides.

Myung-gi stepped forward. He reached up and gently brushed her tears away with his thumb, his touch warm despite the cold finality in his words. “Tell my daughter I love her. Tell her that I love her mother.”

A sob finally broke past Jun-hee’s lips, her body shaking as she let the tears fall. Myung-gi didn’t move away. He stayed, brushing away every tear as they came, holding onto this fleeting moment with her for as long as he could.

You watched from the Front Man’s quarters, your grip tightening on the sleeping baby in your arms. The rawness of their exchange cut through you like a blade. You glanced down at the baby, a deep ache settling in your chest. She had no idea what was happening, oblivious to the sacrifice unfolding for her. Her tiny fingers twitched in her sleep, curled against your chest, as if searching for something she would never get to hold. Her father was about to leave this world, choosing to give her a future he would never be a part of.

Then, as you brought your gaze back to the live feed, you noticed something else.

Beside them, Dae-ho, who had been trembling moments ago, now stood still. The violent shaking of his limbs had quieted. He had been terrified – of death, of the unknown – but now, something in Myung-gi’s words seemed to settle the war inside him. His eyes no longer darted around in panic. Instead, they were calm and downcast, almost at peace.

Yong-sik took a shaky breath before finally speaking, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “I’m sorry, Mom... for everything I did. I have always inconvenienced you. But you never gave up on me, even when I made things hard.”

His mother’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if to say something, but instead, she shook her head, tears already welling in her eyes. Without hesitation, she rushed toward him, her trembling hands reaching for him as though afraid he would disappear the moment she let go.

“No, my sweet boy, no,” she whispered desperately, her voice cracking as she grasped his arms tightly. “You don’t have to do this. We’ll find another way. Please, my son, I can’t—”

Her breath hitched, and she cupped his face between her hands. “Let’s go home. Let’s get out of this together.”

Yong-sik’s body tensed as he fought to hold back his tears, but as his mother pulled him into a tight embrace, he finally let go. His arms wrapped around her, clinging to her like he had when he was a child. His chin rested over her shoulder, and his voice broke as he said, “It’s my fault you almost died in the third game, mom. I always put you in a tough spot. Now it’s my turn to repay you.”

His mother let out a soft sob, shaking her head fiercely. “No, you don’t owe me anything, Yong-sik! You’re my son. I would do anything for you!”

She gripped him tighter, her fingers clutching his back as if refusing to let him go. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

But Yong-sik didn’t respond. He just held her, his own tears finally slipping free, soaking into the fabric of her clothes. The two of them stood there, locked in their grief, their cries blending into the suffocating silence of the room. Nothing else existed in that moment. There was only a mother and her son, clinging to each other as their world fell apart.

Dae-ho shifted his gaze toward Jung-bae and Gi-hun, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something. But hesitation flickered in his eyes. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words.

Before he could speak, Jung-bae cut in, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Hey! Don’t you dare say anything sentimental!” he barked, his tone attempting to mask the thick emotion wavering beneath.

For a moment, Dae-ho just stared at him. Then, an amused chuckle escaped his lips, shaking his shoulders. He sniffed, wiping at his nose before suddenly straightening his form.

With a snap, he raised his hand in a crisp salute. His posture stiffened, mimicking a soldier standing before his commander. And then, in a loud voice – though cracking mid-sentence – he yelled, “Victory at all cost! Thank you for everything!”

He paused as a wave of emotions surged through him, his salute hand trembling ever so slightly. With a sharp inhale, he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay composed. Then, with a deep breath, he yelled, “I apologize for every mistake I made!”

Jung-bae’s expression twisted, his brows furrowing as if deeply offended. He scoffed loudly, shaking his head. He muttered something under his breath, low and unintelligible, before striding toward Dae-ho with sharp and wide steps.

For a tense moment, it seemed like he might hit him. But instead, once he reached him, he placed both hands firmly on Dae-ho's shoulders. His brows furrowed as he searched Dae-ho’s face.

“Are you sure about this?” Jung-bae asked, his voice lower now.

Dae-ho held his gaze for a moment before giving a few rapid and repeated nods. “I'm sure. I get to die like a man, and my father will be proud of me.”

Jung-bae exhaled sharply, blinking rapidly as his eyes glistened, but he held it in.

Gi-hun came to stand with them, his expression now clouded with frustration and concern. He exhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto Dae-ho. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

Dae-ho held his stare for a long moment before shaking his head with a faint, sorrowful smile. “Not this time. But I'm sorry. At least I can make up for my mistakes this way.”

“Don't be an idiot,” Gi-hun snapped, his voice laced with agitation and concern. “I understand why you left us in the revolt, so stop sulking and rethink this!”

Dae-ho forced a chuckle, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Eh, Gi-hun, let me go with some dignity! I was starting to look all cool there for a second!”

Jung-bae scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. “Dae-ho, you should at least try to fight back. Maybe there’s another way.”

Dae-ho turned toward him, his smile tinged with sadness. “Nah, it’s fine. At least this way, I get to decide my own elimination, not through losing a game.”

A tense silence settled between them. Gi-hun glanced down as if searching for the right words.

Suddenly, he let out a slow breath, lifting his gaze once more. “I’m sorry… for getting mad at you. About that time. I should've understood what you were going through.”

You perked up at this, your curiosity piqued. What happened to Dae-ho? Did he tell them what caused his PTSD-like reaction?

Dae-ho’s eyes widened, as if caught off guard by the apology. He hesitated before forcing a grin, reaching out to pat Gi-hun’s shoulder playfully. “Eh, it’s alright. No hard feelings.”

But as his hand lingered for just a second, his smile wavered. A shadow passed over his face, as if a memory was pressing too heavily on his mind. “I… sometimes wonder why I was the one left standing when they weren’t. When I hear a gunshot, it all comes back. Every moment on that island. I should’ve done more. Or maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have made it out at all.”

His voice barely rose above a whisper, but the weight of his words settled heavily in the air.

Dae-ho finally looked back up at Gi-hun and Jung-bae, his expression shifting. It was no longer sorrowful, but determined yet nervous. “That’s why I don’t want to go out feeling sorry for myself. If this is how it ends, then I want to face it on my own terms. So let’s not turn this into some depressing farewell, alright? Just promise me one thing. You two better make it to the end.”

Gi-hun and Jung-bae stared at Dae-ho for a long while, their expressions unreadable at first, but the weight of his words settled between them like an immovable wall.

Jung-bae's face twitched, his eyes glistening as he struggled to hold himself together. With a sharp sniff, he quickly rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, muttering under his breath, “Damn dust...” as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to break.

Dae-ho noticed immediately. A small, sad chuckle left his lips, though his voice cracked as he spoke, “You’re such a lousy liar, Jung-bae.”

Jung-bae scoffed, still refusing to meet Dae-ho’s gaze. “And you’re crazy for doing this.”

Dae-ho’s smile wavered. His throat tightened, and before he knew it, his own vision blurred. He sniffed and blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of emotions washing over him. But there was no use. He could feel the tears threatening to spill.

Gi-hun watched Jung-bae and Dae-ho tear up. And before he could stop it, he felt it too – his own vision blurring as his throat tightened. He blinked rapidly, tilting his head up slightly, willing the tears away. Taking in a sharp breath, he exhaled in frustration.

Then, as if gathering every ounce of strength he had left, he turned to Dae-ho and glanced at everyone else. His voice, though steady, carried an unmistakable plea. “At least wait, everyone. Play a little longer. Give it more time. Just... don’t be so quick to throw everything away.”

Hyun-ju challenged his gaze as she responded calmly, “It’s pointless. You know it as well as we do. Instead of fighting something we can’t change, we’re choosing to go on our own terms.”

Gi-hun clenched his fists. “That’s not true. We’ve found ways before, we’ve made it through when it seemed impossible. Why are you giving up now?”

“Because this game isn’t made for us to win,” Myung-gi cut in, shaking his head. “The only way to win this is to have the other team lose all its players. It cannot be you guys.”

“That’s not a reason to just accept it!” Gi-hun shot back. “If we keep playing, we might find another way!”

“But I don't want to play anymore,” Yong-sik countered, his voice quieter but no less firm. He had pulled away from his mother's embrace but they still side-hugged one another. “I don't want to experience losing in this game. I want to die voluntarily.”

Gi-hun’s eyes darted between them, searching for something that would change their minds. But there was no hesitation in their faces, no flicker of doubt. It was a decision they had already made.

Nearby, Min-su hesitantly stepped toward Se-mi, his expression unsure.

“Se-mi...” he called with her ‘noona’ title. His voice was quiet, almost pleading. “Are you really going to do this?”

Se-mi, standing with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, glanced at him before flashing a small, laidback smile.

“Yeah,” she said simply, nodding. “At least this way, I feel like I win. Not on this game’s terms, but mine.”

Min-su stared at her, his eyes wide, his frown deepening with sadness. “But...”

He trailed off, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of her choice had just hit him.

Se-mi let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “Don’t look at me like that. I made up my mind a long time ago.”

Min-su swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He looked down, struggling to find the words, but Se-mi simply patted him on the shoulder. She then told him, “After this, leave. Now you don't have Nam-gyu bullying you.”

Min-su's lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. His wide eyes shimmered with something unreadable – frustration, sadness, maybe even guilt. He blinked rapidly, looking anywhere but at Se-mi, as though forcing himself not to break.

Yong-sik’s mother desperately tried to reason with them, her voice cracking as she pleaded, “Please, all of you, think this through! You don’t have to do this! There has to be another way!”

But Hyun-ju turned to her with a gentle smile. “There’s no need. This is what we want. And more than that…”

She hesitated for a moment, then continued, her voice softer now, “I’m grateful. Truly. For everything. Even if it ends here, I got to experience what it’s like to have a mother who loves unconditionally, without judgment. That was more than enough for me.”

Yong-sik’s mother’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she gawked at her, overwhelmed by the words. She shook her head slowly, grief-stricken, but Hyun-ju simply gave her a final, reassuring nod. The mother immediately rushed over, embracing her tightly.

The hot pink-clad supervising manager stepped forward, his voice booming through the room in a deep, distorted tone. “All players, return to your team's line.”

Jun-hee visibly flinched before she turned toward Myung-gi, her lips parting as if to speak but unable to find the words. Myung-gi closed his eyes briefly, as if steeling himself, before exhaling and offering Jun-hee a small, sad smile.

Yong-sik’s mother’s grip on Hyun-ju tightened, her head shaking in silent denial, even as she knew there was nothing left to be said. Yong-sik, standing beside her and Hyun-ju, swallowed hard. His eyes were red-rimmed.

Min-su turned away from Se-mi. He took a hesitant step back toward the red team’s line but his movements were reluctant. Se-mi, however, remained as she was, hands in her pockets, her gaze steady, unflinching, as if she had already accepted this moment long before it arrived.

Dae-ho swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he turned to Jung-bae and Gi-hun one last time. No words were spoken, but the message was clear. Jung-bae blinked rapidly before he let out a slow, shaky breath.

Gi-hun froze in place, his breath hitching as the reality of the moment sank in. His mind screamed for a solution, something that could stop this, but deep down, he knew nothing could save them. His friends, the people he had fought alongside, were about to be taken away, and once again, he was powerless to stop it. A deep ache settled in his chest. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let this happen again, yet here he was – watching, helpless, as the game prepared to take them away.

The triangle guards positioned themselves directly behind the blue team. They did not wait for the red team members to walk back to their team's line. Instead, they raised their MP5s without hesitation, aiming them at the red team members' back.

The supervising manager stepped forward and announced, “The blue team has been eliminated. The red team wins. All surviving players, return to the dormitory.”

The blue team did not flinch. They remained still, standing tall despite the doom that hovered just inches behind them. The red team, on the other hand, froze.

Yong-sik was the first to break the silence, his voice shaking but he knew what must be done. He turned to his mother, gently gripping her arms. “Mom, please… you need to go. You don’t have to see this.”

His mother shook her head fiercely, tears streaming down her face. “No! I won’t leave you! I can’t!”

His jaw tightened, and his hands trembled as he gave her a pleading look. “If you stay… then what’s the point of me doing this? If you die too, then my choice means nothing!”

His voice cracked toward the end, a mix of desperation and frustration seeping through. His mother opened her mouth to argue but found herself unable to speak. Her whole body trembled, her heart shattering.

"Please, mom," he whispered, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Go. Just go.”

Yong-sik took a shaky breath and gently pried his mother’s hands off of him. She resisted at first, her grip tightening in desperation, but he held firm, his fingers pressing gently over hers until she finally let go. Once her hands slipped away, she stood there, her arms limp at her sides, her hollow eyes filled with unspeakable sorrow as she looked at him.

Myung-gi turned to Jun-hee next, his voice quieter but just as firm. “Jun-hee, you have to go.”

Jun-hee shook her head slowly, her tears falling freely. “But...”

Myung-gi smiled sadly. “Come on. This is for her, for us. If you stay, all of this will be for nothing.”

Jun-hee’s breath hitched. But as she stared into his steady eyes, her resistance wavered. With a choked sob, she took a step back.

Dae-ho, standing beside them, turned to Gi-hun and Jung-bae, his expression lighter than the situation deserved. “Alright, you two need to get out of here. No second chances.”

Gi-hun clenched his jaw, glaring at the guards. Jung-bae only stared at him in despair with a pair of glassy eyes. He then spoke up, “Dae-ho...”

Dae-ho placed his hands firmly on Gi-hun and Jung-bae’s backs. Without a word, he pushed them back, forcing them to walk away. His expression, though calm, carried a quiet finality.

“Enough of that,” he said, his voice lighter than the moment deserved. “Ex-marines like us shouldn’t cry anyway.”

Gi-hun inhaled sharply, his vision blurring for a moment, but he didn’t resist. Jung-bae, on the other hand, exhaled harshly, rubbing his face as if trying to erase the emotions threatening to surface.

Dae-ho offered them one last big grin that revealed all teeth, eyes teary and shining with something between acceptance and defiance. “Go on. Get out of here already.”

The red team members hesitated, their feet unwilling to move, but the inevitability of the moment forced them into action. Slowly, begrudgingly, they took a step back. Then another. Their eyes never left the blue team, their expressions a mix of heartbreak, frustration, and helplessness.

A sharp metallic click shattered the heavy silence. Then another. The sound of the triangle soldiers unlocking the safety of their MP5s sent a ripple of dread through the red team. Their breath hitched collectively, their bodies stiffening in response.

Yet, the blue team did not waver.

Despite the tension pressing down on them, they smiled. Some were grinning widely, while others were barely-there curves of their lips. Though they smiled, each one carried a tinge of anxiety, their resolve fighting against instinct. But the message in their eyes was clear. This is our choice.

Jun-hee bit down on her lip, her hands trembling as she forced herself to step back. Gi-hun’s fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Jung-bae frowned forlornly. Yong-sik’s mother covered her mouth, muffling a sob as her tears spilled freely. Min-su’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his gaze darting between the soldiers and Se-mi.

But the blue team remained steady.

From the Front Man’s quarters, you sat frozen, gently holding the sleeping baby. You wanted to look away, to shut your eyes and block out what was about to happen but you couldn’t. Your friends, the ones you had laughed with, fought with, survived with, were standing on the precipice of death, and all you could do was watch.

You felt tears roll down your cheeks, silent and unchecked, as you watched helplessly. The weight of the moment crushed down on you, suffocating, unbearable. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to look away, to spare yourself from what was about to happen but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The triangle soldiers adjusted their grips on their weapons, fingers hovering over the triggers. The sound of your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else.

From the live feed, you noticed the red team members were still walking backward, their movements heavy with reluctance. The first to turn away was Yong-sik’s mother. She forced herself to turn, her back now facing her son. You knew why. She couldn't bear to watch. A strangled sob escaped her lips as tears streamed down her face, her shoulders trembling as she walked away, each step dragging.

Min-su was the next to turn away, his shoulders hunched with guilt. Jun-hee followed, her silent tears streaking down her face. Jung-bae was next as he furiously wiped at his eyes, unwilling to let the emotions show. Gi-hun, however, couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The triangle guards braced themselves, their fingers tightening around the triggers. The blue team stood still, their backs facing the soldiers.

Then—

Gunshots.

You, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik's mother, and Min-su jolted in surprise and frightening anticipation. The deafening sound tore through the tension, cutting through the air like a knife.

Your eyes widened.

The shots didn’t come from the massive room where the fifth game was playing out.

They came from below.

For a brief second, confusion flickered across the red team’s faces. The blue team, who had braced themselves for their fate, also hesitated, their gazes shifting ever so slightly. And then, just as quickly, they snapped their attention back to the triangle guards.

But none of them had fired.

Instead, the guards themselves stiffened, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. A moment of eerie silence followed, save for the distant echoes of more gunfire reverberating from beneath them.

A blaring alarm resounded through the facility, its sharp wails bouncing off the walls and shaking the already tense atmosphere. The sudden noise startled the baby in your arms, causing her to stir before breaking into distressed cries. Your breath hitched as you looked around, uncertainty crawling up your spine. Something else is happening.

Then, the female announcer's robotic voice cut through the alarm, steady and void of emotion. “Attention, all guards. Maintain position and prepare for immediate engagement. Execute defensive measures as required. Repeat: Maintain position and prepare for immediate engagement.”

It was that moment you remembered about the kind 011 guard and Gyeong-seok.

NEXT : Chapter 22

PREV : Chapter 20.1

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! In-ho's Flashback P.O.V. is here again. What do you think about his P.O.V? Then, what about the fifth game? What do you think about Nam-gyu and player 100, and Min-su being put in the same time as Gi-hun? What do you think about player 100, 226 and Nam-gyu's death? How about the fact that Myung-gi and Dae-ho were at risk of getting eliminated? Then, about the blue team volunteering to surrender, what do you think about them all? And about the emotional aspects? And theeen, what about the gunshots that came from below? What do you think that was? I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Anyway, plagiarism is incredibly frustrating, especially after I had countless all-nighters spent writing and refining ideas. So it’s disheartening when readers told me that they see someone lift entire scripts/dialogues that I wrote (and not even in the Squid Game series) and romantic concepts from my story into theirs. If my work inspires you, the least you can do is give proper credit. That’s all it takes to keep things fair. Respect me as a writer, and respect the readers who deserve diverse styles and fresh perspectives, especially in Hwang In-ho fanfics. Readers, if you see any stories that do this, please alert me and leave a comment for them.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[myjayisarockstar]

first date

boyfriend!hyung line x gn!reader

synapsis: quick scenarios on where the hyung line would take you on your first date together

genre: fluff; no warnings needed

wc: 693

a/n: this was written in like 20 minutes so i apologize if it is literally horrible

Heeseung

He would 100% take you to an arcade for your first date. With his love for games he thought what better of a place for a first date right. He will get competitive when it comes to certain games but most of the time I can see him trying to let you win unless you’re just god awful at it. If it was a one player game and you didn’t know how to play it, Heeseung would take the chance to show off a little by showing you how to play. This man is very playful and will definitely tease you if you’re really bad at a game. BUT he will find it so endearing when you start pouting at his words and will immediately apologize and tell you he was joking. The night would end with the two of you getting ice cream and talking about all the stupid arcade prizes each of you won. Heeseung WILL be getting you a plushie no matter what, even if it takes him an extra 1000 tickets he is determined to make sure you walk out of that date with something he won for you.

Jay

I can’t think of Jay doing anything other than a nice dinner date out for a first date. He’s a very classic type of guy and will take you out somewhere more upscale since he has the means to do so (he just wants to spoil you ). He also just wanted an excuse to see you dressed up in something pretty. Will be the perfect gentleman from the time he picks you up to the time he drops you back off at home: opening the car/restaurant door for you, pulling back your chair and pushing you into the table, if you’re walking on the sidewalk he will be walking on the street side, and so so much more because this man is so smitten by you. If you even think about paying for this meal he will quickly stop you and tell you that you never have to pay for a date as long as you’re with him (he loves to spoil his favorite person).

Jake

Picnic date. Jake is the type to love the outdoors and would LOVE to sit out in nature with you. He will also insist on making all the food himself so it can be more special (even though his cooking expertise is limited). On the day of your date he will show up with everything packed in a cute picnic basket and a picnic blanket in hand. He made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apple slices, and some crackers along with a couple thermoses of ramen because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook. Jake will take you to the prettiest park he knows to make sure the scenery is perfect for this date. You two will have such a lovely time enjoying each other's presence and talking about literally anything until the sun goes down. You two will watch the sunset together and it will make for the perfect romantic ending to this date.

Sunghoon

It would be a crime if I made Sunghoon’s literally anything except for ice skating. He genuinely would not know anywhere else to take you so his first instinct was to take you back to his own element. Sunghoon was fully prepared to be taking it slow with you while skating because not everyone has the same experience as him, so he will be holding your hands guiding you through the rink until you start to get the hang of skating (also sees it as an opportunity to be close to you). Fair warning he will laugh at you if you fall and eat shit, but will eventually help you up off the ice and back to your feet. And if you ask if you can simply sit and watch him skate how he used to, his heart would literally skip a beat. He would pretend to protest for a minute but would eventually oblige and show you some of his old tricks he used to do on the ice.

[simonsrileyhusband]

Hey, sorry to bother with the request but can I suggest a Loser/pathetic Simon scene?

Like you both are out on a date, and Simon is super nervous. This is pretty much a loose prompt (although I might suggest an overly happy reader/person reading type and make it somewhat gender neutral). ANYWAYS!!! Thanks sk much for even reading this and dealing with my stupid ideas. 🤷‍♀️ (angst, fluff, smut, all the same for this ig ❣️)

its not stupid, i love this prompt.

simon has never been the calm or nonchalant type of guy. his face turns red when he sees you walking to him, his hands start shaking when you grab his arm and kiss his cheek as a greeting.

he can't stop staring at you, he loves your outfit and the way you did your hair today. simon loves it all, he is so in love that he can explode.

you were the one to bring up an arcade as a date idea, and even when he has a hard time around so many people, he find your laugh comforting. the two of you play almost all of the games and simon made sure to win a prize in every single game he played. blushing every single time you compliment his strength.

a plushy, a silly trophy, a ticket for a free drink, another plushy and another one.

the night ends up with the two of you sitting on a tiny photobooth, more like, you sitting on simons lap, since he takes up most of the space on the booth. you kiss his lips gently as the camera flashes, his cheeks burning and his breath heavy.

"i had so much fun today, si."

"d-did you?"

"mhm, thanks for the gifts."

you kiss his lips again, but this time he follows your movements as best as he can. his shaky hands on your waist, clinging onto the fabric of your shirt.

"fuck- i... wow, i mean, shit-... im gonna shut up."

[steddieas-shegoes]

coming in clutch

@starrystevie asked two days ago for someone to write enemies to lovers Steddie on the same hockey team and one of them gives the other his stick from the bench and so I volunteered and yesterday afternoon started writing this and it got to almost 6000 words by this morning. Oops?

This is therapy for me, as a Bruins fan, who is suffering tremendously this season. I can't believe some people live like this all the time. I am so, so sorry. I promise you fixing it with Steddie helps ease the ache a little. It's bitch4bitch, what's not to love?

rated e, minors dni | 5801 words | also on ao3 | cw: mention of injury, hate making out for the drama | tags: modern au, hockey au, enemies to lovers, feelings realization, sorta love confessions, anal fingering, anal sex, handjob, life is a series of connections

🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒

If there’s one thing Eddie Munson knows, it’s that Steve Harrington will steal the show.

With less than two minutes left in the game that will determine if they clinch the wild card spot for the playoffs, it could still go either way. They need a goal to tie it, and the point will be enough to get in, even if they lose in overtime.

The Rangers don’t even get anything if they win this one except a pat on the back, yet they’ve pulled their goalie in hopes of ruining the only chance the Bruins have of getting into the playoffs. If Eddie wasn’t seething with rage about potentially starting his offseason much sooner than expected, he’d respect the hell out of them for it.

How they got into this much of a mess is beyond him…or really it isn’t. It’s well within reach.

He knows from the beginning shit was hitting the fan and then it just…kept hitting the fan.

They started bad and they don’t play well from behind in games, so how could they catch up when their entire season went to shit so early on?

It should never come down to one win, not for them.

But he knows that some of the issues are that Steve was handed this captaincy before he was ready, and Eddie’s done nothing to truly help him. He wears an A, but it’s more for Asshole or Annoyance than Assistant. He knows it, Steve knows it, the team knows it.

It’s making everything harder.

Coach already lit him up a few times over stupid shit this season, things he can’t get away with for much longer. His time will be cut short on this team if he can’t-

The whistle blows and there’s a penalty on Hargrove. Not surprising, but it’s enough to get Eddie out of his own head and focus. There’s barely a minute left and they’re facing a long offseason if they don’t get their shit together.

He won’t see more ice time today. He’s third line right now, a demotion from his usual first line after a string of shitty, stupid penalties. Coach will send the first line back out for the last minute to increase their chances of scoring.

The puck drops and they make the fastest line change they’ve managed the entire game.

Steve’s skating to the puck, eyes on the prize. He’s good at it, despite Eddie hating that he feels constant competition with him. They don’t even play the same position. Eddie’s a defenseman for fuck sake. Steve’s a center. The only competition is what’s made up in his own head.

Steve gets there first, manages to pass it to Sinclair, who passes it to Hagan. It’s beautiful, but it’s not enough.

The puck is cleared out and they have to rush to it to start setting up again.

They don’t have time.

And then Steve tries to shoot it to center ice and his stick breaks. It’s the worst timing. Eddie feels his heart sink in his chest at the realization that this is it. They’re done.

Steve’s skating to the bench, yelling about needing a replacement when he should just get off the ice, let someone else out there. They’re gonna lose anyway.

Eddie throws Steve his own stick. It’s not the right curve, and not the right length. It’s not even the same brand.

But if there’s one thing Eddie can respect about Steve, it’s that he’s a damn good player. He makes shit happen, even when no one else can. He’s been their saving grace this season, arguably the only reason they’ve managed to even have a shot at the wild card spot.

He may hate his guts, and he may be annoyed that he got picked as captain, and he may also find him impossible to be around most of the time, but he can see that he’s one of the best players in the league.

Steve’s never skated harder than in this moment, and Eddie can’t feel his face as Steve sneaks the puck between the legs of Wheeler, winds back, and shoots.

None of their players get to it in time.

It goes in their empty net.

The bench is so loud, Eddie can’t even hear himself think.

They’ve tied it up.

The clock says 24 seconds.

It’s as good as done.

They’ll have overtime, of course, but they squeaked in the playoffs. They get at least four more games.

Steve skates to the bench and hands Eddie his stick, but doesn’t say anything.

That irks Eddie a little.

“Not even a thank you for getting the assist on that one?” Eddie asks because if he’s one thing, it’s a shithead.

“Shut up, Munson. Could’ve scored an empty net from the locker room,” Steve replies with an eyeroll, his smile dropping in annoyance.

A for annoyance, after all.

“With a broken stick?” Eddie pushes because he loves to push and because Steve always pushes back.

It’s their game.

Steve sits on the bench, catches his breath for a moment while the arena celebrates his goal.

“How about a thank you for getting us to the playoffs?” Steve says back.

It’s unlike him to be self-centered like this. It throws Eddie off.

For once, he doesn’t have a damn thing to say.

The goalie gets back in the net and the Rangers finish off the regulation game with their tails tucked between their legs.

Eddie doesn’t get sent back out, but neither does Steve.

Coach leans down to say something in Steve’s ear and he grits his teeth together, jaw clenching painfully.

When they’re about to start overtime, Coach taps his back and tells him to go.

“But it’s first line?” Eddie asks.

“I said go, Munson!” Coach says, leaving no room for argument.

So Eddie goes. He’s not gonna argue with the coach, and he’s damn sure not gonna be the reason there’s a delay in starting.

He skates to the blue line and sees the focus on Steve’s eyes.

This game can end either way to him and he won’t care, but Steve wants this win. He wants the two points, not just one. He wants to say they overcame a shitty game to pull off a win.

He would never admit it, but his effort is for Steve. His speed and hits during the first shift are to give Steve every opportunity to pull off this win.

If Steve wins, they all win.

Eddie should have had that mindset for every game. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to fight for their lives just to get a shot at the playoffs.

It’s not a great shift, but they manage to shut the Rangers down a few times.

Steve is red-faced on the bench, watching the second line move with a fire they were lacking for much of the first 60 minutes. That’s been a pattern this season, something Eddie isn’t sure they’ll get over with this group.

It ends during the third line’s shift.

The Rangers get a breakaway and score.

It’s a loss, but they’ve still won something. They aren’t leaving completely empty-handed.

The walk down the tunnel is interrupted by the broadcast person yelling for Steve to stay back to do the post-game interview and accept third star of the game. It always sucks accepting a star away from home ice, but Steve’s used to it by now.

He’s the guy who comes in clutch. He’s always a star.

Eddie’s only a little jealous over it.

The rest of the team is pretty quiet despite their playoff spot.

Coach stands in the center of the room.

“We got lucky,” he says. His tone is calm, but there’s something hidden beneath it that Eddie can sense is anger. “We won’t get lucky in the first round. Get your shit together before next week or you might as well start scheduling your tropical vacations.”

He leaves the room.

No one says anything as they get undressed. No one speaks when Steve comes in the room and wordlessly undresses. No one utters a word when he’s the first to leave, even though that’s the first time that’s happened in the history of ever.

Eddie follows him.

He should give him space. Now isn’t the time to work him up more.

Now is the time to be a good teammate, a good alternate captain. Behave and follow the rules and be a good example off the ice. Leadership saw something in him to give him the A in the first place, now’s his chance to prove he respects them for it.

“Since when do you walk out without a speech?” Eddie calls after him when they’ve exited the building. This arena is relatively normal, but there’s a lower level of parking just for VIP. He doesn’t see anyone else yet, but that’s not surprising. Their bus is parked a few rows away, doors up to start loading equipment for the haul to the airport.

“Since there isn’t a damn thing I can say to get this team motivated and I’m done trying!” Steve yells back without turning. “If you’d like to try, go right ahead.”

“Doesn’t seem like something a captain would do.”

Steve freezes, turns.

His face is bright red and Eddie knows immediately he pushed too far.

“Maybe you should be the captain if you know so much about what it takes, hm? Maybe instead of passing me your stick to score you could score one once in a fucking while. Maybe,” Steve takes a shaky breath, exhales it right into Eddie’s face. He didn’t even notice how close he was before. “You could start acting like a leader and less like a fuckin’ nuisance.”

Eddie scoffs.

“I’m sorry I helped? Was I supposed to let the opportunity to score go? Would you rather have not tied the game? Do you wish we were going home for the summer instead of just the next few days?”

Steve’s chest is brushing against Eddie’s.

Neither of them showered, so there’s a faint scent of sweat clinging to his nostrils, but Steve must’ve freshened up with deodorant and cologne before getting changed. Cedar and pine overtakes the locker room smell as Eddie’s eyes dart down to Steve’s lips.

“Did you want me to do all the work for you?” Eddie grins.

It’s painful, when their lips crash together. Eddie doesn’t care.

Steve’s mad, he’s loud, and he tastes like victory. It has nothing to do with their game.

“C’mon,” Steve says against his lips, and Eddie isn’t sure exactly what he wants. They’re kissing in public, in a place that could be filled with their teammates any second. Steve’s hands are against his chest, pulling him impossibly closer by his shirt. “More. You want more out of me, take it.”

Eddie’s not always the smartest guy in the room. He’s, like, smart, but sometimes he misses some obvious shit. Unobservant, his uncle calls him.

But he can read people pretty well if he has a second to really see them and he thinks he’s seeing something Steve didn’t mean to show. He knows what Steve’s really asking and he knows he can give that to him.

“No.”

Steve stills. He pulls away, hurt clear on his face before he manages to school his features. It’s eery how quickly he was able to do it.

“Knew you weren’t up for it, anyways,” Steve mutters, but Eddie doesn’t let him walk away.

His grip on Steve’s wrist is tight enough to cut off circulation, tight enough to bruise. Steve doesn’t react at all.

“I’m not taking anything from you. You’re gonna take what you need from me.”

Steve’s brows furrow, and Eddie allows himself a moment— just one— to think that he’s cute like this. If they weren’t teammates, and if Eddie could stand him for more than a few minutes at a time, maybe they could do something.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“No? Like how you didn’t need my stick to score earlier?”

Steve’s mouth snaps closed, but Eddie doesn’t feel as smug as he normally would. He can hear voices coming and he knows that if they leave here now without something worked out, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.

“When we get back, come to my place,” Eddie orders.

“And if I don’t?”

Eddie laughs.

Steve likes to win. He’s gonna come just to see what his prize will be.

He boards the bus and ignores his half-hard dick in his slacks.

Steve always finds a way into his brain. And now he’s found a way into his bed.

~~~~~

The bus ride is quiet, but most of the guys are busy texting significant others and coming down from the adrenaline of the game. The flight is silent, everyone taking a power nap before they have to get back home. They’ll have a day off tomorrow, but most of these guys are married and have kids, or fiancées who haven’t quite figured out that a day off is needed for recovery, not for filling the calendar with other events.

Steve is far away from Eddie, barely even visible unless Eddie leans into the aisle and squints.

He doesn’t do that more than once, doesn’t wanna draw attention to whatever it is that’s happening between them.

Eddie is the first off the plane, but he walks slow enough to his car that a few teammates catch up and tell him his quick reaction saved their asses. He laughs and thanks them, tells them they’ve got some work to do if they’re gonna win the first round, and gets in his car.

Somehow, Steve’s already at his door when he gets home.

“Eager?” Eddie asks.

“You tell me,” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and places it over his crotch. He’s already hard.

“Did you touch yourself on the way here?” Eddie feels like he’s been struck by lightning, energy zapping through him at the speed of light. Realizing Steve’s into this is rewiring his brain.

“Obviously,” Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie unlocks his door and pushes Steve inside. He pushes him down the hall and right onto the bed. He pushes until Steve pushes back.

“I thought I was taking from you,” Steve says as he sits up, taking his shirt off and throwing it to the ground.

“You are. But only when I’m ready to give. I need a second,” Eddie says as he strips his own shirt off. He walks to his bathroom to throw some water on his face and pretend for a second that the sweat dripping down his spine isn’t a ridiculous reaction to Steve.

“It’s been a second!” Steve calls to him.

Eddie smirks at himself in the mirror before heading back to the bed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I assume you’ve got something specific in mind?”

Steve eyes him up and down. “Take everything off.”

Eddie does as he says. Steve’s surprise that he didn’t argue is obvious.

“Get lube and condoms.”

Eddie reaches into his bedside drawer and gets out his unopened bottle of lube and the only three condoms he has that may or may not be expired. He doesn’t have time to fuck around much, and most of the time he does, it never gets far enough to need a condom.

His traitorous stomach swoops at the thought of Steve being inside him.

Steve looks at him like he’s starving and Eddie’s a five course meal on a table in front of him, and Eddie likes it. He likes that Steve wants to devour him.

He’s pulled into a bruising kiss, can taste blood on his tongue when he swallows spit that’s just as much Steve’s as his own. Eddie knows if they kiss like this for long enough, Steve will barely have to touch him at all to get him there.

As if reading his mind, Steve’s hand is on his dick, stroking it slow enough to drive him insane. Eddie blushes, but doesn’t let it hold him back from pushing Steve more.

“You gonna take your clothes off or are the lube and condoms just for decoration?”

Any hand is better than his own, but Steve’s hand might be the death of him. He tightens his grip around him, leaning in to bite Eddie’s collarbone.

He’s sensitive there and somehow Steve knows it, and Eddie might die tonight, but he can’t let Steve know he’s making him feel this fucking good. He wants Steve to take what he wants, but he doesn’t wanna give it easily.

“You like this with everyone or am I special?” Steve asks before he licks a stripe up Eddie’s neck.

It’s gross. It’s hot as fuck. Eddie’s lightheaded.

“Just you, sugar. Or should I call you Captain here, too?”

Steve pulls back like he’s been burned.

“I’m not your captain right now.” He’s glaring at Eddie, making him wish he could shrink into the mattress, down through the floor. “I’m Steve. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eddie’s nodding along, but he feels like he’s teetering into uncharted territory, some kind of rough terrain that most people don’t get past the fence to explore.

Steve starts taking and Eddie lets him.

First, it’s rough hands pushing him around until he’s in the position Steve wants him: face down, arms under the pillows, legs spread so Steve can see him.

Then, it’s teasing touches, laughing when Eddie gasps and moans, nipping at his skin after a soft brush of his fingers.

It’s hot and cold, it’s hard and soft, it’s push and pull.

It’s the first time Eddie feels like he understands who Steve is.

The lube is cold as Steve spreads it around his entrance, more teasing, more taking. Eddie doesn’t mind. He’s always loved the build-up as much as the finale.

Steve’s quiet, focused, as he works his fingers into him. He’s meticulous about it, looking for the best reactions.

When Eddie whines into the pillow, spreading his legs further apart to make more room for whatever Steve wants from him, he realizes that this will change everything. He should’ve realized it sooner. He may regret it tomorrow. He may not.

“You ready?” Steve asks.

Eddie feels empty. Steve’s fingers aren’t there anymore, aren’t stretching him and prodding every sensitive part of him. He whimpers pitifully at the loss.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve’s cock is pushing against his entrance, and Eddie thinks he was severely mistaken about Steve before.

Because why is Steve being gentle? Why is his hand rubbing Eddie’s spine as he pushes into him slowly? Why are his lips against Eddie’s shoulder, not kissing so much as resting there, his hot breath a comfort that he’s right there paying attention to everything Eddie’s doing?

Why is this the best Eddie’s ever been fucked and why does it feel less like getting fucked and more like making love with every passing moment?

Steve’s big, which Eddie knew already. There’s just a difference between seeing it and feeling it. He fills him up, makes him wonder if he’ll be sore tomorrow.

Kind of hopes he will be.

“Take it,” Eddie mumbles against the pillow.

Steve grabs his hair, strong grip, but gently pulling. “What?”

“Take me.”

Eddie’s not sure where those words come from, but he feels the way Steve responds. His cock twitches inside him, his hands grip his waist harder, and Steve moans against his shoulder.

His own cock is trapped against the sheets, but it’s fine. He’s in no rush. Steve will take what he wants and Eddie will wait. He’ll wait all night if he has to.

He feels good like this, at Steve’s mercy.

He didn’t think he’d be able to relax under him. He thought the fight he always has to assert his own dominance with Steve would carry over here, too.

But it’s easy to let Steve have this.

He knows that Steve needs this just as much as Eddie needs to be used.

“You’re quiet. Everything okay?” Steve whispers against his skin. A check-in to make sure Eddie doesn’t need to stop.

“I’m good. Feels good. Keep going.”

The softness never goes away, but Steve’s moving faster, breathing heavier, putting more weight on Eddie’s back. It’s almost too much, the pressure inside him, surrounding him. The scent of Steve, the scent of both of them mingling together and staining his bedsheets.

He’ll have to wash them tomorrow. He won’t.

“God,” Eddie says as he fists the pillow under his head. “Right there.”

Steve’s nailing his prostate, almost more than he can handle. It feels like when they reach their groove on the ice, like despite their disagreements and different styles of play, they’ve meshed together for this moment to make something happen.

“Yeah? You like letting me have you like this?” Steve asks.

It feels out of place here, but Eddie’s allowing it all. If this is what Steve needs, if this will help, then he’ll let Steve have everything.

“Mhm. C’mon, want you to come,” Eddie begs.

He doesn’t want this to be over, though. He finds it shocking how much he wants Steve to keep fucking into him for hours, finding new positions and ways to make Eddie question his existence. He wishes Steve wasn’t wearing a condom, wishes he could fill him up with his cum, plug him up so he stays filled until morning.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking these things. He’s never wanted that with anyone, let alone Steve.

Steve’s hand covers the back of his neck, applies just enough pressure that Eddie knows it would be hard to move.

He’s coming before he even realizes the tug in his belly is there, moaning into the pillow as Steve’s hips meet his ass with every thrust. It’s too much, but Eddie’s giving himself.

That’s all this is.

It’s everything now, but tomorrow it’ll be nothing.

And the day after that, when they have team meetings to review tape for their first round matchup, it’ll be even less than nothing. It’ll be like nothing ever happened and Eddie never let Steve fuck him into his mattress. It’ll be back to tolerating each other for their job, and Eddie poking at him until Steve is riled up and the coach is yelling at both of them to get their shit together.

And then when they inevitably lose in the first round, they’ll go all summer without speaking and Eddie may get traded to a team that will put up with his antics.

Eddie sniffles.

“Eddie? Shit.” Steve pulls out, which is wrong and terrible and not at all what he wants. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

“No,” Eddie’s voice is shaking and he feels stupid. How did this happen? How did he get to this point? Over Steve Harrington? “Sorry, I’m okay.”

“You’re clearly not okay.” Steve turns him over so he’s on his back and that makes everything so much worse.

His release is sticky across his stomach and the head of his cock, and he’s flush from his cheeks to his toes. Tears have fallen, leaving tracks down his face.

He doesn’t paint a pretty picture.

“What’s this about?”

“I didn’t expect this,” Eddie admits.

It can’t hurt. Honesty is only a small vulnerability compared to letting a man fuck you.

“Expect what?”

“This. You to be soft and caring. You don’t even fucking like me. I thought you’d be quick, come on my back, and then find a reason to leave,” Eddie says, covering his face with his hands. It sounds even dumber out loud. Jesus.

“The thought did occur to me,” Steve says.

Eddie peeks through his fingers to see Steve smiling with an eyebrow raised.

“What the fuck is happening.”

Steve snorts. “You threw me your stick during the play so I could score the goal that sealed us a shot at the Cup. I’ve been hard for, like, six hours now, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude while you’re staring at my dick!” Eddie argues.

“You annoy the shit out of me,” Steve rolls his eyes. “More than anyone else I’ve ever played with.”

“Okay. My dick’s already soft, you don’t have to talk me down, Steve,” Eddie groans, covering his face again.

Steve pulls his hands away, laces their fingers together, squeezes. Eddie’s stomach flutters.

“But you’re good. And you know you’re good. That’s why you’re as frustrated as I am about how this season’s been. It has fuck all to do with me being captain, and everything to do with nothing going right for us.”

Steve’s right. He’s always right, even though Eddie rarely acknowledges it.

“Does this kind of talk get you off or should I do something for you?” Eddie tries to joke, to push.

But Steve doesn’t push back this time.

He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in, kisses him soft, so gentle it feels like a whisper of something Eddie’s absolutely terrified to name.

“Let me take a little more,” Steve says against his lips.

He lifts Eddie’s legs and slides back into him, and Eddie moans at the overstimulation. He’s definitely gonna be sore when he wakes up, but he doesn’t mind so much right now.

“That’s it,” Steve groans as he moves in and out, holding Eddie’s legs apart so he can make sure he gets as deep as possible. “Let me have it.”

Eddie’s never come twice like this, without his cock even being touched properly. But here he is, barely even hard again, and cum is leaking onto his stomach as he whimpers his way through another orgasm.

“Fuck, so good.” Steve’s hips stutter as he tenses his hands around Eddie’s thighs. “That’s it, baby. Let me fill you up.”

It’s not real, but for a second Eddie can picture it. He pretends he can feel it inside him, and his cock twitches, but otherwise doesn’t act like it can do anything else tonight.

Steve lets his legs drop as he pulls out, and Eddie winces at the feeling of emptiness it brings.

Eddie closes his eyes, tries to figure out how he’s gonna ask Steve to stay.

“Is it okay if I stick around?” Steve asks before he can think of something.

“Yeah, of course. Shower’s all yours if you want it,” Eddie offers, sounding breathless still. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels like the world around him is spinning.

“You wanna join?” Steve asks him, seriously.

“Showering together doesn’t seem like a teammate thing to do,” Eddie replies.

“Neither is watching a teammate come twice.”

“Point made.” Eddie groans as he turns on his side, reaching a hand out until he makes contact with skin. He thinks it’s Steve's thigh, but he can’t be sure with his eyes closed. “Go on without me. I can’t feel my legs or my…anything.”

Steve doesn’t get up, and he doesn’t say anything. After at least a minute of silence, Eddie blinks his eyes open to see Steve staring at him.

“Are you gonna be fucking creepy all night? I rescind my permission to stay if you are.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s just. I’ve seen you mostly naked so many times, but I never noticed this scar.”

Steve gently brushes a finger across the scar on Eddie’s abdomen. It’s barely an inch in length, and you can’t even see it unless the light hits it just right.

Eddie looks down at it, at the way Steve’s fingertips graze the outer edges. He doesn’t think about it much anymore, but he remembers when it happened.

“Junior hockey. Kid’s skate got me just as I was falling. My chestie rose up too high and didn’t protect the spot,” Eddie shrugs. It could’ve been a lot worse. He was back on the ice within three days. “Accidents happen.”

Eddie watches Steve’s face morph from curious to confused and then shocked.

“That was you?” Steve asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie leans up on an elbow, looks back at Steve as if he’s lost his mind.

“I…holy shit. They never told me the player’s name. Just said he was getting stitches in the locker room and would be fine,” Steve is rambling, gesturing wildly and shaking his head. “They wouldn’t let me check on you. I tried as soon as the game was over.”

“I’m still confused.”

“It was my skate. I tripped over a player’s stick as you were falling. I didn’t even realize it actually hit you until I saw the blood on the ice.” Steve scoots down so he’s eye level with the scar and then he does something that changes Eddie’s DNA.

He presses his mouth to the scar, his lips parting just enough for his hot breath to cause goosebumps to break out across Eddie’s skin.

“Why did you give me your stick?” Steve whispers.

Eddie swallows. He feels heavy, weighed down by whatever this is.

“You had a chance. You just needed a stick,” he whispers back.

“Eddie. You would rather lose than help me any other time.” Steve tilts his head to look up at Eddie. “Why did you pass me your stick?”

“I-” Eddie breathes in. “I wanted to do something right. I wanted you to look at me and not see someone failing for once. I wanted to be good enough to wear the A.”

Steve’s forehead drops to his hip, and it takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s laughing.

“What’s funny about that?” Eddie’s ready to pull away, kind of wants to make Steve leave now that he’s feeling like he’s being made fun of.

“I just cannot believe that you would think you aren’t good enough.” Steve looks back up at him, grinning, eyes shining with amusement. “Who do you think chose you for the A?”

Eddie thinks about it. He always assumed that the coaches just picked the guy with the most NHL experience out of the few options they had. He never thought he’d be A or C material professionally, so he accepted the offer, grateful to be given the chance.

He felt like an idiot for wasting the opportunity this season.

He didn’t produce the way he knows he can, and he let his stupid jealousy of Steve get in the way of everything. It’s not like he wanted the responsibility of being captain. He knows now he probably isn’t cut out for any type of leadership role with the team.

“I thought the coaches?” Eddie frames it as a question because now he isn’t sure.

“They wanted to name Hagan. I suggested you instead.”

Eddie’s breath catches. “You suggested me? Why? You fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Steve raises a brow and gestures at their current state. “I don’t sleep with people I hate.”

“I thought it was spur of the moment! Like you were so mad at me that the only thing you could do to get it out of your system was fuck me!”

Eddie’s head is spinning.

“I mean, it was spur of the moment. I never had any intentions of acting on anything I felt for you.”

Eddie’s head is going to explode.

“Harrington. You’re really making my head hurt. Like, I have never felt this confused after getting fucked.”

Steve laughs, which doesn’t help anything. It almost makes it worse.

He crawls back up so he’s only inches from kissing Eddie.

“I chose you. They said I had to pick someone who would compliment me on and off the ice and you were the first and only choice I could make. You’re an incredible player and the only defenseman I trust on this fucking roster,” Steve leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. “If I’m annoyed with you, it’s because I’m annoyed at myself. I’m making your job harder by losing the room. I don’t even know how it happened.”

“You haven’t lost the room,” Eddie interrupts, placing his hand on Steve’s hip. “They love you. You’re the hero.”

“I don’t wanna be the only guy who comes through, though. I want everyone to succeed.”

“They will. It’s just not our year. It happens. We started off bad and we never got back on track.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “It’s my job to make it work.”

“It’s everyone’s job to make it work. You can’t do it by yourself. They don’t hand Stanley Cups to a player, they hand them to a team.”

Steve smirks. “They do hand them to a player first, though.”

Eddie smacks him. “Don’t argue with me. I’ve had my brains fucked out of my head.”

They stare at each other, both of them smiling fondly.

It’s such a stark difference to everything they’ve been this whole season. Eddie doesn’t know how to handle the electricity between them. He thought it would fade once they were done, once Steve cleaned up and they got dressed. In the morning, he’d leave, and they’d go back to being a mediocre team and he’d probably end up traded or losing the A.

But now, he’s looking at Steve with something he’s pretty sure is affection, maybe even love. It’s ridiculous, which is why he isn’t gonna say anything.

“So, are we good?” Steve asks.

It’s such a jock thing to say. It throws Eddie off yet again.

“Um. Yeah.” He pulls away slightly, considers turning around and getting under the blankets. “We’re good. Hit the showers or whatever.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Eddie has got to figure out how to get a read on this guy. Seriously, the whiplash he’s getting from Steve’s words and actions might break his neck.

“You want to?”

“I don’t kiss people I don’t want to kiss.”

“Alright, then.”

It’s so soft, it practically melts what little brain Eddie has left. He’s not sure he’s ever been kissed like this, like he’s precious and like this moment needs to be cherished.

“Are you still gonna be a bitch?” Eddie ruins it.

Or, he thinks he does. But Steve is just smiling at him, amused, like he wants nothing more than Eddie’s attitude.

“Depends on if you’re gonna keep giving me problems.”

“Oh, so this is like a thing for you.”

“What?”

“You like disciplining me. Oh, this will be so fun.”

Steve shakes his head and falls against the pillows. Eddie turns his own head to smile at him.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says after a minute of just watching Steve exist in his bed.

“You answered yourself.”

“You’re irritating.”

“So are you.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“Everything is a competition,” Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, smirking. “And I’m winning.”

“We’ll see about that.”

[thewritingrowlet]

The Outing Trip pt. 4, ft. tripleS Dahyun

tags: throatfuck, creampie, first time anal, daddy kink, rough

length: 13k+

author's note: @octoberautumnbox wrote a Dahyun fic recently, and it motivated me to do the same. In this finale of The Outing Trip, Dahyun takes all the spotlight, just like I promised some time ago—hope you like this one <3

-

“Girls, wake up, please”, you poke their exposed cheeks, “we have to leave soon”. Xinyu and Nakyoung open their eyes at nearly the same time. “Good morning”, Xinyu softly says, “what time is it?”. You quickly glance at the clock, “uh, just over 5 am”. Xinyu taps Nakyoung’s arm then points at you, “take care of him, Naky-yah”. Nakyoung, in her half-awake state, nods and gets off the bed. Your jaw drops in shock when you see Nakyoung get on her knees in front of you, “yo, what are you doing?”. “Xinyu said you like morning blowjob“, Nakyoung lets out a yawn, “give me your cock, please”. You put a palm on Nakyoung’s forehead when she leans forward, “no, I don’t consent. Besides, I already gave you my cock a few hours ago—let’s just wake up regularly, okay?”.

You lift Nakyoung up and place her back in bed with Xinyu, who immediately scoots over and hugs her. “If you two don’t get ready in time, I’m leaving you here”, you leave for the bathroom after delivering a kind warning to the sleepy cuties. As you’re standing under the shower, your brain wants to recap today’s events. First and foremost, Xinyu found out about your little affair with Dahyun and slapped you for it. You were so damn lucky that Xinyu was willing to forgive you. “Fuck, I almost lost everything”, you sigh, “play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Jung Jisung”. The second thing was arguably bigger than the first, as Nakyoung let you get in her ass; something that Xinyu has never done before, “I wonder what Xinyu thought about that”. Lastly, the latest turn of your relationship: you have Nakyoung, who has now reached the peak of her third wheel duties and become your side chick.

When you get out of the bathroom, you’re met with the sight of Xinyu on top of Nakyoung, kissing her passionately. “Girls, please”, you roll your eyes, “we’ll have plenty of time for this at home”. Xinyu gets off Nakyoung and pecks you on the lips, “I love you so much, oppa”. “I love you more, Xinyu-yah”, you reply to her. You then walk towards Nakyoung and peck her forehead, “I love you as well, Nakyoung-ah”. “Love is in the air—how cool is that?”, Xinyu exclaims. You push Xinyu towards the bathroom, “take a shower and be quick about it, ‘kay?”.

You sit on the bed next to Nakyoung, who’s smiling rather sexily for some reason, “I feel like we have things to talk about”. “If it’s not about sex, I don’t want to hear it”, Nakyoung deflects. You wanted to talk about this whole love triangle thing, but it’s not exactly related to sex, so you decide to keep it for later.

-

“Babe, look”, you nudge Xinyu’s arm and point at the sight in front of you, “that’s quite the welcoming party, no?”. Xinyu squints as she tries to make out who those people are, “that’s… Yooyeon-unnie and Jungwoo-oppa—who is that girl holding his hand?”. “I feel like I’ve seen her before, but I don’t know who that is”, you say. Xinyu lets out a laugh, “what are they even doing, oppa?”. You lean to whisper in her ear, “I’m more concerned about Nakyoung-ie. How will she react to seeing Jungwoo and this girl holding hands?”. Xinyu’s grin disappears as the realization hits, “oh, yeah, you’re right—I’ll keep an eye on her, oppa”.

The bus rolls into a stop, and the co-driver opens the doors for you and the others to get off. You understand that these people are desperate to get home, so you let them get off first while you and your girlfriends stay behind. As you wait for your turn with Xinyu, you see Chaeyeon walking in front of Dahyun, the latter covering her head with the hood of her sweater. “Oppa, unnie, we’ll be leaving first”, Chaeyeon waves with a smile, “see you guys soon!”. You and Xinyu smile at them and wave back. “We’ll see you soon, Chaeyeon-ah”, you choose to not say Dahyun’s name, considering that Xinyu’s wounds are still very fresh—it doesn’t feel right to ignore her, though.

You look behind you and see that everyone has gotten off, which means that it’s now your turn. “Let’s go, baby”, you take Xinyu’s hand and pull her onto her feet, and at the same time, you gesture to Nakyoung to follow you. “Let’s not say anything about our situation, okay?”, you whisper to Nakyoung and Xinyu.

Everyone waves at you as soon as you step outside. You give each person present a high five, including Jungwoo’s new girl. “Jisung-ah, this is Suyeon. Babe, this is my president, Jung Jisung”, he introduces you to her. “Ah, they’re dating”, you quickly glance at Nakyoung and see that she has her resting face on. “You look familiar—we’ve met before, haven’t we?”, you say to her. Suyeon confirms your suspicion and says that you interviewed her when she tried to join the council. “Can I ask how you are nowadays? Jungwoo told me about your misfortunes”. Suyeon and Jungwoo look at each other lovingly, so you estimate that everything is going well for them. “No one will hurt her ever again”, Jungwoo says with a beaming smile.

You invite your friends to get congee for breakfast, but only Yooyeon agrees to go—Jungwoo says that he’s promised Suyeon that they’ll visit Suyeon’s parents today. “Safe travels!”, you part with them and lead the three girls to your car. “I hope this thing didn’t die”, you press the ignition button while pressing down on the clutch pedal with a foot, “come on, Jennie; I need you right now”. As if hearing your pleas, your car roars to life after a few seconds. “Ah, very good, Jennie”, you praise your car, “c’mon, girls; aren’t you hungry?”

-

“Hello, welcome to Congee Club. A table for 4, I assume?”, a staff greets you as you enter the congee place. “Yes, please”, you follow the staff to your table, “do you have anything else other than congee, by any chance?”. The staff hands you a menu sheet, and you see that they also offer a different type of noodles; “we can put the same toppings on the noodles”, the staff adds. You look at your friends and collect their orders: Yooyeon wants congee with shredded braised chicken, Nakyoung wants congee and quail eggs, and finally, Xinyu wants the same thing you’re getting, which is noodles with extra boiled chicken on the side. The shop gives out complimentary hot tea, so you don’t need to worry about the drinks. “Alright, they’ll be out soon”, the staff takes the menu sheet with her and leaves your table.

“They’re dating, aren’t they”, Nakyoung says, seemingly unhappy about Jungwoo and Suyeon, “fuck!”. Nakyoung’s curse was loud enough for other patrons to hear, thus turning their heads to look at you. You offer those you can see a smile to defuse the situation, and at the same time, you pinch Nakyoung’s thigh. “Keep it down, Naky-yah—goodness me”, you scold her. “But Jungwoo-oppa should’ve been mine, oppa”, Nakyoung complains, “now I won’t have a chance to be with him”. You want to say “well, you have me”, but you decide against it and say something else. “First of all, it was you who decided to dip”, you put up your fingers as you narrate your thoughts, “secondly, there are plenty of fish in the sea; you’ll find someone else”. Your words aren’t exactly the most comforting, but you’d like to think that they’re what Nakyoung needs to hear right now. “Fuck you, oppa—respectfully”, she says to you with a pout.

Seeing that you and Nakyoung are done talking, Yooyeon takes her turn to speak with you. “How was the trip, Jisung-ah? Did you manage to, y’know, talk to her?”, Yooyeon makes quotation marks with her fingers. “I mean, yeah, but it wasn’t exactly fruitful”, you summarize, “basically Xinyu found out about me and Dahyun-ie and slapped me for it”. Her eyes widen as she looks at you and Xinyu, “but you didn’t break up, did you?”. You shake your head, “no, Xinyu was kind enough to forgive me. I also promised her to never do such thing again”. Xinyu moves her hands closer to yours, indirectly asking you to hold them, so you do just that. “I love you, baby, and I’m sorry for everything”, you say to Xinyu, earning a warm smile from her and Yooyeon. “I don’t know who I’d side with if you broke up, honestly—it’s not even my relationship haha”, Yooyeon chuckles, amused with herself.

“Oh, hey, it’s here”, you point at the staff, who is carrying a tray full of food in her hands. “Thank you very much!”, you take the bowls from her hands to help distribute food to your friends. Xinyu gestures to Nakyoung to swap seats with her so that she can sit next to you, and you help them by moving their bowls accordingly. Xinyu wraps an arm around yours and leans against your shoulder, “feed me, oppa”. “Sure, baby”. You move her congee closer to you and sprinkle some pepper into it, just the way she likes it. “Choo-choo”, you guide a spoonful of congee towards her mouth, and she welcomes you in with a smile. “Everything is better when you’re with me, oppa”, she says, letting out a happy hum after. All the while you’re taking care of Xinyu, Yooyeon is looking at you, but she quickly looks away when you make eye contact with her.

-

“Hah, finally—home sweet home”, you punch in your passcode and enter your apartment with Xinyu. She puts down her duffel bag at the doorway and runs towards the bedroom, leaving the door open for you. “You alright, baby?”, you lean against the door frame and observe your girlfriend, “do you need anything?”. “I need—“, a big yawn cuts her off, “I need you right here, oppa”.

Right before you get in bed, Xinyu stops you and asks you to help her undress. “Are we having sex?”, you ask to make sure. “No—well, not yet at least”, she throws her clothes onto the floor, “I just want to feel your skin on mine”. Since her intentions have been made clear, you take off your clothes. You don’t just toss them away, though—you fold them tidily, and you do the same for Xinyu’s. “Ah, sorry about that”, Xinyu grins sheepishly as she watches you fold her clothes.

You quickly look at the clock, “ah, 10 am; plenty of time to chill”. Xinyu opens her arms, “come here, daddy”. You get on the bed while letting out a sigh, “you can’t just call me that—now I have a boner, thanks to you”. She covers her mouth to hide her giggles, “do you want help with that?”. You pinch her exposed nipple, earning a yelp and a slap on the wrist from her. “I want you tonight, Xinyu-yah; I’ll empty my tank for you”, you say to her. “Just tonight?”, Xinyu puts on a dramatic pout, “what about tomorrow? Are you bored of me?”. You pull her into your arms and tangle your legs with hers. “How can I get bored of you, baby? I love you so much and you always love me back”. Xinyu lets out a squeal, “I can’t with you, oppa”.

“Babe, I’m sorry for bringing this up right now”, you start cautiously, “I want to make it right with Dahyun-ie and salvage whatever relationship I have with her”. “And how do you want to do that, oppa?”. “That’s a good question, actually”, you scratch your forehead in confusion, “any ideas?”. “Maybe you can spend a day with her, oppa”, she suggests, “tell her I’m away or something like that. I’ll stay at home while you, uh, conduct your business”. You ask her if it’s okay to spend next weekend with Dahyun, to which she says yes—one condition, though; “if you’re having sex with her, you must wear protection; you can only have raw sex with me”. You agree with her terms and thank her for letting you talk about this. “You don’t have to thank me, oppa. I’m just trying to help”, she says, pecking your chest after. You start feeling emotional, but you hold your tears in for now, “I’m so thankful for you, baby. I’m so sorry for cheating on you”.

-

Well, here it is, Saturday morning on the following weekend. Dahyun has managed to avoid you the whole week, but today, you hope that you’ll be able to catch her. It is still pretty early, and Xinyu is still sleeping—wouldn’t want to leave without saying bye to Xinyu, would you?

You look around the apartment to find something to do to kill some time, and your brain suggests cleaning the apartment. “Well, let’s clean this place, shall we?”. First, you plan out the route: you want to start by mopping the floor and vacuuming the sofa, then wipe the kitchen counter and dining table with wet cloth, and finally, you’ll end the, erm, shift by cleaning the bathroom. “That is a sound plan”, you say to yourself.

Before you start mopping the floor, you grab the vacuum cleaner and use it to pick up fallen hair and the like so that it doesn’t get dragged around by the wet mop. You run the long nozzle of the vacuum cleaner under the sofa and TV shelf, since it’s most likely where dust ends up. Once that’s done, you dump the vacuum cleaner into the bin to be thrown out later.

You then make your way towards the laundry area where you keep the mop and bucket and take them to the bathroom. After filling the bucket with water mixed with some mopping solution, you’re now ready to mop the floor. You start from the window of the living room and snake your way through, reaching under the sofa and TV shelf to make sure that you don’t miss a spot.

When you go back to the bathroom to rinse the mop and change the water, you hear a thumping sound coming from the living room, so you check it out; you see Xinyu squirming around on the floor in front of the bedroom while rubbing her butt, seemingly in discomfort. “Did you slip, baby?”, you lift her and place her on the sofa, “sorry about that, baby”. “Aaaaah, oppaaaaa”, Xinyu whines, “I didn’t know it was weeeet”. You laugh at her, “just stay here, okay? I’ll get back to you after I’m done”.

Now that Xinyu’s comfortably lying on the sofa, you resume your work and mop the bedroom floor. “Might as well make the bed while I’m here”. You pull the sheets around until they’re straight and tidy up the pillows and blanket before running your mop around the bedroom floor. “What the fuck—is this cum?”, you bend forward and take a closer look at the persistent stain in front of the bed. You run your mop aggressively over the stain, but you can still see the outline of it. “Ah, fuck it; I’ve got bigger fish to fry”.

“Oppa”, Xinyu calls out to you when she sees you coming out from the bedroom, “can I help with anything?”. You carefully tippy-toe towards her and join her on the sofa. “Just sit still and look pretty, please”, you peck her cheek, “are you okay? Does your butt still hurt?”. Xinyu shakes her head, “no, it was more embarrassing than painful”. “Yeah, well, you should’ve paid more attention”, you tease her, earning a pinch on the cheeks from her.

“Babe, can you clean the kitchen, please? I’m going to clean the bathroom”, you ask for her help. Xinyu taps her chin, “and what do I get for helping you, oppa?”. You replicate her gesture and tap your chin, “hmm, what do you want?”. “I want your cum”, she says with a smile, “ah, actually, you’re going to be fucking Dahyun-ie a lot so I guess you should save your load for her”. You don’t know how to react to that, so you opt to stay silent, just to be safe. “Alright, fine. I’ll help you”, she jumps off the sofa, “you owe me pizza and pasta, oppa”. That, you know how to react to. “Alright, cool. Let’s meet here again after we’re both done”.

You’ve breezed through your task, and you assume Xinyu has too. “Babe?”, you call out to her from the bathroom, “you want to shower, or no?”. “One second!”, you hear a reply from her. You hear her rapid steps, and soon, she appears at the door of the bathroom. “Shower! Shower!”, she exclaims as she starts undressing. “You thought I wanted to shower together?”, you say to her in a flat voice, teasing her. “You didn’t? Oh, sorry”, Xinyu turns around and makes to leave the bathroom. You reach for her wrist and stop her, “I was just kidding, baby; of course I wanted to shower with you”. “That’s what I thought”, she comes in for a quick kiss, “I’d like to have a load, oppa”. She did say that you should save it for Dahyun, but you don’t have the heart to decline her claim to your first load—she is your girlfriend, not Dahyun. “Of course, baby”.

“I hope one day we have a bathtub, oppa”, she says, seemingly out of nowhere, “I’d love to have sex in a tub”. “I mean, we can move to an apartment that has one”, you shrug, “do you want to?”. Xinyu didn’t expect such an answer, as she was only yapping mindlessly. “M-maybe next semester, oppa”.

You ask her to sit on the toilet and kneel in front of her, just like you usually do. “Okay, then”, you start, “you said you want my first load? How do you want it?”. “Fuck me and cum inside; just like how we do it best”. You exchange smiles with Xinyu before getting down to business. She grabs your chin and invites you for a warm kiss, to which you respond warmly by, well, kissing her.

“I wish I knew other ways to show my love other than saying I love you”, Xinyu pouts, feeling stumped. “You don’t need to worry about that, baby; I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it”, you assure her. You’re flustered when you see her shed a tear. “Y’know, my ex used to make me feel like I was always lacking, and now, you always make me feel like I’m the best girl there is—God, if only you know how grateful I am for you, oppa”, she adds as more tears escape her eyes. “I don’t think we can have sex in this mood—why did she bring up her ex, though?”, you think, and you’re most likely correct. Xinyu needs comfort more than she does cum—no big deal, though; it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been blue-balled (if you even can call it that). “Babe, I’ll help you shower and then we can cuddle, okay? Let’s keep the sex for next time”.

-

Xinyu plants her head on your chest, her favorite resting spot. “What time are you leaving, by the way?”, she asks. “I think I’ll have better chances to see her if I go to her restaurant”, you eye the clock on the wall, “I’ll probably leave in 2 hours”. Xinyu only lets out a hum, thus making you curious about her feelings. “How do I say this, oppa”, she sighs, “I don’t feel as hurt any more about the fact that you cheated on me”. “Really?”, you’re surprised to hear that, so you ask her to elaborate. “I mean, my ex also cheated on me, so I understand why someone would do such thing—never expected that you’d be like him, though”, she chuckles at the end.

You’re somewhat offended to hear Xinyu clump you up with her ex, but you literally did the same thing he did. “Like I said, the plan is to see Dahyun-ie and part ways with her, like, properly”, you remind her, “will you let me do that?”. “Sure”, says Xinyu, “just make sure you make the right impressions. I don’t want Dahyun-ie to think that I hate her, because I don’t”.

-

You were briefed by Xinyu before you left; she told you to get a bar of her favorite chocolate and a bag of Doritos to give to Dahyun as a little present. She also told you to give Dahyun this letter that she has written when you leave on Sunday. You didn’t expect Xinyu to take this sort of stance, but she probably only wants to help make sure everything ends well and everyone gets to be happy.

Xinyu’s words of “make sure you make the right impressions” keep repeating in your head as you’re walking towards Dahyun’s restaurant. You can’t believe your luck; Dahyun is attending the cashier. “Hello, welcome to—“, she’s surprised to see you, “o-oh, he-hello, oppa”. “Hi”, you show her a calm smile, “how are you, Dahyun-ah?”. Dahyun declines you the opportunity to have a conversation, shaking her head and re-focusing on the POS tablet in front of her. “What can I get you today?”, she asks, not looking at you. “One double smash burger and fries, and one iced lychee tea, please”. “Sure, please wait”.

Waiting is what you’re doing right now. You have no one else to talk to because your friends aren’t here with you—that guy with the headphones sitting at the other table probably wouldn’t appreciate you disturbing his lunch. “I probably should text Xinyu”, you think, so you pull out your phone and string together a message for her. Xinyu is probably asleep right now; it says that she was last online around 30 minutes ago, which is right after you left the apartment. The image of your sleeping girlfriend makes you feel sleepy yourself, and this restaurant table looks very comfortable to sleep on right now. You cover your mouth as you yawn; “surely Dahyun-ie will wake me up, right?”.

-

You don’t know how long you’ve been sleeping on the table, but it for sure still doesn’t feel enough. In your sleep, you can feel someone running their hand softly on the back of your head—not sure why your brain wants you to open your eyes, though. “Hm?”, you mumble as you open your eyes, “oh, hi”. “Hi, oppa”, Dahyun greets you in the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard from her, “tired?”. Well, yes, you are tired; “I spent the whole morning cleaning the apartment, Dahyun-ah”. She points at the tray full of food in front of you, “well, I have just the thing for you, oppa”.

Dahyun starts walking away from your table when she sees that you’re fully awake, but you stop her in her tracks by grabbing her wrist. “Please, sit with me”, you gesture to the empty seat next to you, “I want to talk”. She hesitates at first, but she eventually takes a seat next to you. “Oppa”, she says, her voice tiny, “I’m sorry”. “No, no, no—I’m sorry”, you slowly reach for her hands, “I’m the one who fucked up”. Dahyun stays silent momentarily before replying to you. “Do you like me, though, oppa? Do you think that I’m attractive?”, she asks. “I mean, yeah—have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?”, you think that it’s obvious, “you are attractive”. Dahyun smiles slightly and thanks you for the praise. “Go eat, oppa; nothing else is worse than cold fries—I won’t leave”, she says. You put a fry in your mouth and start chewing. “This isn’t regular fries, is it? What is this taste?”, you wonder. Dahyun tells you that she asked the cook to add a seasoning mix that she has come up with. You then take a fry and bring it towards her mouth, “have a bite, sweetie”. She holds your wrist while she takes the fry with her teeth—you’re surprised when she pecks your hand after; “thank you, oppa”. You take a moment to smile at her before turning your attention back to your food—it’s all about making the right impressions today.

Aside from the occasional hums of enjoyment, you’re quiet when eating. “You like it, oppa?”, she asks the obvious. “Of course I do, sweetie”, you state the obvious. You expect her to tell you off for calling her by a pet name, but she doesn’t seem to be mad about it. “I have a feeling that you’re trying to get in my pants, oppa”, she chuckles, “are you?”. The unexpectedness makes you cough a few times. “I mean, I’m simply trying to part ways with you properly. If I need to get in your pants for that, I’ll gladly do so”, you whisper to her. Sometimes you feel like you’re being too honest with people, and today is one of those times.

Dahyun taps your thigh a few times as she stands up from her seat, indicating that she wants you to follow her. She then takes you to the empty office where she kissed you last time. “I imagine Xinyu-unnie won’t like this”, she says as she closes the door behind you. You chuckle in response, “well, this was her idea”.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“What did she say?”

“I told her that I wanted to make it right with you, and she suggested that I spend this weekend with you; we can do whatever we want.”

“Cool—very cool.”

Dahyun plants her hands on your chest as she gets on her toes to kiss you. “That’s your teaser, oppa”, she says, “let’s go back; you still need to finish your food”. You stop Dahyun from turning around by holding her wrist again—there’s something about you and holding girls by their wrists. “Not so fast, cutie”. You lift her up by her thighs and come in for a deep kiss. “I’m sorry for hurting you”, you say softly, “I should’ve realized earlier that I could never cater to two hearts at the same time”. Dahyun shows you a gentle smile, “Trust me, I’m not hurt, oppa. I was more concerned about you and the unnie than myself”.

The selflessness is touching, you must admit, but it doesn’t change the fact that you cheated on Xinyu with Dahyun. “Why did you avoid me last week, then?”, you ask. “You literally go everywhere with your girlfriend, oppa; I didn’t want to risk getting slapped or yelled at in public”, she defends herself. You tell her that she doesn’t need to worry since Xinyu would never do such thing. “No, no, no”, she wiggles a finger in front of your face, “she slapped me at the resort when she found out about us”. Xinyu never told you about it, presumably because she’s embarrassed with herself for being violent. “I’ll ask her about it”. Dahyun wiggles her finger again, “no, there’s no need for that; as far as I’m concerned, I deserved it”.

Dahyun taps your forearms to signal you that she wants to be let down, so you gently lower her to her feet. “Eat your food, oppa”, she says, “you don’t want to make me throw it out, do you?”. No, you don’t. Wasting food is not a good thing—wait, hold on, let’s tease her a bit. “That burger isn’t the only thing I’m eating today, cutie”. “Oh my God, oppa, what the fuck are you saying”, she fans her red cheeks with her hands, “come on, let’s go back”. That’s as good of a reaction as you can get from someone who isn’t your girlfriend. Not only that, but you also did no buildup prior to the dirty talk—guess Dahyun is more perverted than you know.

“Hey, dude, don’t you have a girlfriend already?”. The guy from the other table surprises you as soon as you leave the office room with Dahyun. “Excuse me?”, you ask, unsure of his intentions—just in case he tries anything stupid, you move Dahyun until she’s hidden behind you. “You. Have. A. Girlfriend”, he repeats, emphasizing each word, “why are you still trying to get into my Dahyun-ie’s pants?”. You quickly look over your shoulder and see that Dahyun is shaking her head—even if you’re clueless as to who he is and what his relationship is with her, you can tell that she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“Alright, let’s—yo, yo, relax, man!“. You’re not sure why the guy thinks that it’s a good idea to reach for Dahyun, but you’re certainly not a fan of it. “Move!”, the guy yells at you, “she’s mine, not yours!”. “Not with that attitude, bro”, you plant your hands on his chest as you try to maintain some distance between Dahyun and this guy—what is his name, anyway. The guy finally realizes that his arms (that are built like shoestring fries­) can’t compete with yours, so he gives up trying to push you and retreats. “Fuck you!”, he spits at the floor in front of you and leaves the restaurant, not forgetting to grab his belongings on his way out.

You grab some napkins from the register area and use them to wipe his spit off the floor, ignoring the nastiness of it. “Thank you, oppa”, Dahyun kneels in front of you and helps you wipe the floor, “that guy has been trying so hard to get close to me this past week”.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“What’s his name?”

“Park Jaewon.”

“Is he from the university?”

Dahyun nods, “I heard that he used to have a crush on Xinyu-unnie, but obviously you got to her first”

“Not to be mean, but I don’t think Xinyu would’ve fallen for him”, you sigh, “how did you know him?”

“Well, he slipped a note with his name and phone number written on it between some cash a few days ago.”

You stand up and look at his table, which he left dirty, “I’ll help you clean that up”. Dahyun grabs your wrist to stop you (the same way you did hers), “no, just go back to your table, please. I’ll take care of this”. You try insisting, but she insists harder, so you do as she asks and go back to your table to finish your food. It doesn’t feel right to just sit back and watch someone clean things up, though.

Dahyun joins you at your table after putting away the empty plate and cup, and you can see that her mood is worse than it was prior to the incident. “You alright, sweetie?”, you try to gauge her mood, “can I do something for you?”. She leans against your shoulder and lets out a sigh, “I really want to be in your arms right now, oppa—you said we can do anything we want, right?”. “Yeah, we can”, you take a sip of your tea, “you don’t live with your parents, do you?”. Dahyun shakes her head, “no, but we need to wait until my mom comes before we go—she should be here soon”.

You and Dahyun wait for Mrs. Seo by exchanging stories from your pasts. She tells you about this guy who fell for her after hearing her sing and how he recommended her to audition to become an idol. “He was so confident that I’d make it, even if I wasn’t the least bit confident about my skills”, she says, enjoying reminiscing about the memory, “I hope he’s doing well, wherever he is now”. You ask if she dated him, and she said yes; they were each other’s first time. “That’s touching”, you smile, “can I ask why you two broke up?”. “I was a fool, oppa”, Dahyun’s smile gradually disappears, “I told him that I was bored of our relationship, even though he had been very kind and loving to me”.

You never dated anyone before Xinyu, and you wonder if boredom is a real threat to relationships. You can only hope that she will never get tired of you, because you’re certainly not ready to see her leave you out of boredom. “Why are you quiet, oppa?”, Dahyun asks, saving you from drowning in your own thoughts. “Sorry, cutie—I was just thinking about Xinyu”. “Tell me something about the both of you, oppa”, Dahyun requests, curious about your life.

“Xinyu is… my everything”, you give her the most honest answer possible, “I know I cheated on her and that’s fucked up, but I really mean it”. Dahyun asks you to continue, so you continue. “I’m not going to deny how attractive she is, but for me, she’s way more than looks and curves; she has been the best girlfriend that I could ever ask for”. She nods at you, seemingly in approval of your impressions of your girlfriend.

“Do you see a future with her, oppa?”

“Yes”, you barely hesitate, “yes, I do.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Do you see a future with me? Do you think I have a chance to be with you, oppa?”

You try your hardest to crank the gears in your brain to answer her question, and you think that you have one—well, here goes nothing:

“I mean, there’s always a chance for someone to be with someone.”

You’re not sure if the answer is satisfactory (or if it makes sense), but Dahyun nods anyway, so it probably is. “Here’s my advice, oppa: sometimes you need to not be so open to opportunities or possibilities—did you not learn anything from our little adventure?”. That is a great line, and you did not expect her to say something like that. You scratch your temple in cluelessness, “I don’t know what to say, Dahyun-ah”. Heh, not even the narrator knows what to say—that was quite the advice, Seo Dahyun.

Shortly after, salvation comes to your aid in the shape of Mrs. Seo, who is seemingly in a good mood. Her gaze lands at you and Dahyun, so you stand up and promptly bow in respect. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Seo. Have you been well?”, you ask. “Ah, hi, Jisung-ah”, she waves at you, “I’ve been superb—thanks for asking!”. Dahyun taps your thigh, signaling to you that the two of you can now leave the restaurant. “Mrs. Seo, I’d like to go out with Dahyun-ie tonight. Is that okay?”, you ask, trying to be polite. “Dahyun-ie is old enough to make her own decisions, so you should ask her first—if she’s okay with it, then so am I”, she replies.

You quickly look at Dahyun, and she looks right back at you. “Right”, you clear your throat, “we’ll be leaving then. Have a good day, madam”. Dahyun is smart enough to not hold your hand when you’re still inside the restaurant and wait until you’re out of her mom’s sight. “You’re funny, oppa”, she comments, “is that how you ask for permission to go out with a girl?”. “I mean, I was just trying to be polite”, you defend yourself, “come on, cookie; I think we have somewhere to be”.

Dahyun says that she needs to make a quick stop at a convenient store first, so you drive towards the closest one, which is about 5 minutes away from the restaurant. “Wait here”, she says as she gets out of the car. Dahyun’s short stature disappears behind the store’s shelves, so you can’t tell what she’s getting. You’re reminded, however, that you’re supposed to give some things to her, courtesy of Xinyu. You reach towards the floor of the middle row, and you can feel that the plastic bag is there, “oh, nice, I didn’t forget to bring it”.

Dahyun doesn’t take too long to return, as she opens the front passenger door after a few minutes. “Alright, we can go to our apartment, oppa”, she says. “Our?”, you make sure you didn’t mishear. “Oh, sorry—I meant my apartment”, she corrects herself, letting out a chuckle at the end, “I’ll show you the way”.

-

Dahyun sang during the whole ride, thus making the trip feel very short, and now you find yourself sitting in the parking lot of her building. “I believe you’d like to come up with me”, she says. Well, yes, you would; you didn’t come here just to drive away again right after. You offer her your hand, and she holds it without thinking twice. “I have a feeling that today will be the last time I get to spend time with you like this”, she says, her tone that of… sadness? “Cutie, you’re the one who told me to not be so open to all possibilities”, you try to reason with her. “I know”, she sounds defeated right now, “come on, let’s get to my apartment now”.

You find yourself standing in front of her unit after a short walk, and Dahyun uses her other hand to unlock her door for the two of you. “Welcome, oppa”. You enter her apartment and take a look around, “so clean, Dahyun-ah”. “It’s not hard to keep it clean when you don’t have too many things to begin with”, she moves to stand in front of you, “so, what do you want to do now?”.

“Allow me to do this one last time, sweetie”. You bend down slightly and give her a fleeting kiss. “Wait”, she gasps, “please, one more time”. She gets on her tippy toes while her arms wrap around your nape, “please, one more time, oppa”. She’s asking very nicely, so you reward her with a kiss that’s deeper than last time. “I wish you were mine, oppa”, she says, her eyes glassy from unreleased tears, “I love you, Jung Jisung”. You wonder if you should say it back, considering the circumstances and all that. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”, Dahyun protests, “you had no problem saying it back at the resort”. “Sorry”, you inhale deeply as you prepare, “I love you too, Seo Dahyun”. You see that the dams in her eyes have broken, thus releasing tears onto her cheeks. “Thank you, oppa”, she says, “I’m thankful for you, even if you were never really mine”.

Dahyun lets go of you and walks towards her bedroom. “Have a seat, oppa. I’ll be right back”. You sit down on the sofa and lean back as you start re-considering if this peace-making thing is a good idea or not. “Fuck, what if this doesn’t work?”, you palm your forehead, feeling stressed and concerned, “God, help me, please”.

She comes out of her bedroom after a short while, and you see that she has changed into a tight-fit shirt and a short skirt that barely covers half her thighs. She moves to kneel in front of you and plants her hands on your thighs. “What are you doing, cutie?”, you ask, trying to not have a boner. “Seducing you”, she licks her upper lip sexily, “I want to get in your pants, the same way you want to get in mine, you cheater”. “That’s very sudden”, you blink your eyes rapidly in confusion, “why the, uh, office look, then?”. “Don’t think that I never notice how you drool every time Xinyu-unnie wears a shirt”. “Fuck, she knows it—Xinyu is crazy hot in a shirt, too”, you think to yourself.

Your silence confirms that Dahyun is right, hence the giggles. She teases you further by unbuttoning the first few buttons of her shirt, thus exposing more of her chest. “Who’s hotter, oppa: me or your girlfriend?”, she leans forward just enough for you to be able to see her cleavage. You can come up with an answer by comparing each other’s assets, but at the same time, you feel like that’s a waste of time—it’s not like Dahyun will tell Xinyu your answer, is it—so to answer her question: “you’re so fucking hot, Dahyun-ah; I like your proportions”. You don’t care if that sounds weird or stupid; you’re here to do whatever you can to make her happy, so that you’ll feel less guilty about all of this.

Dahyun keeps the smile on her face as she maintains eye contact with you. “Oppa, thank you for liking me”, her voice changes from seductive to cute, “let me do something for you, oppa—let me make you happy”. She digs for your belt and unbuckles it before zipping your jeans down, eager to reach your cock. You notice that she’s struggling to pull your jeans down, so you help her by pulling them down together with your boxers.

“Oppa, you’re bigger than my ex, now that I think about it—you’re long even if you’re not hard”, Dahyun chuckles as she strokes your cock to peak hardness. You’re not sure if you want to be compared to someone by penis size, but it fuels your ego, nonetheless. “Who’s better at sex: me or him?”, you give her a taste of her own medicine. “He liked vanilla more than anything else, so in terms of variety, you’re better than him”, she reminisces. She gives you a peck on the underside of your cock, “my fucking God, I love worshipping big cocks”.

She wants to take you in her mouth, but before she has the chance to do so, you halt her and lift her chin, making her look at you. “Yes, oppa?”, she shows you a very beautiful smile—one that you hope was yours. “Wait, no, I already have Xinyu—not this shit again”. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, “this is very likely our last time doing this, baby; let’s make it a memorable one”. Dahyun leans against your hand, which you notice can fit perfectly in a handful, “you’re such a good boyfriend, oppa—you’re even going out of your way to make it up to me”. You caress her cheek gently, enjoying the softness. “I want to make everyone happy, Dahyun-ah, and I don’t care if it’s stupid or a waste of time”, you say to her. “Maybe not everyone, oppa; you just need a handful of people in your life”, she smiles, “I hope you don’t disappear from my life, because I don’t want to give up on us just yet”.

You realize that you’re back in square one again; Dahyun wants you and hopes to be with you, but you can’t hurt Xinyu for the second time. “One thing at a time, Jung Jisung—one thing at a time. Just look at the girl in front of you and don’t worry about anything else”, says the voice in your head. “Alright, baby”, you give Dahyun a quick peck on the forehead, “do what you want to me”.

After being shown the green light, Dahyun parts her lips and puts your tip in her mouth, and you can’t help but to throw your head back. “That’s so good”, you chirp, “fuck, baby, you’re great at this”. You hear some lewd sound coming from her but pay no mind to it; she’s probably trying to get used to your girth stretching her jaws. With a grunt that’s barely audible, she starts going down on your shaft, slowly but determinedly. You encourage her by placing your hand on the back of her head and petting her gently. You let out a moan after a particular move from her; “fuck, that’s good, baby”.

You know that she’s capable of taking your whole length, so the fact that she’s only taking half of it isn’t exactly satisfactory for you—you are naughty like that. With your palm already sitting on the back of her head, you hold it firmly and pull her towards you, forcing your cock deeper into her mouth, and possibly, her throat. The lewd sounds she’s making right now are music to your ears, making you more eager to reach her throat. “I know you can do it, baby”, you grit your teeth and thrust forward, “oh, fuck—come on, baby”.

Dahyun taps your butt rapidly, indicating that she needs a break, so you retreat from her throat and lean back on the sofa again. “Fuck, oppa”, she coughs a few times, “oh, God, I love it”. “I’m sorry for not asking earlier, baby, so I’ll ask now: do you want it rough?”, you ask in a gentle voice. “Isn’t that obvious already?”, she looks at you with signs of lust drunkenness on her face, “you can be as rough as you want, daddy”.

Well, there it is, the daddy kink that you know and love—there’s something about that word used in a sexual context that arouses you beyond help. You help Dahyun stand up and carry her to her bedroom. “No man has ever been to this bedroom, oppa”, she giggles, “even if I’m not a virgin, I can still have my firsts with you”. “That’s cute, baby”, you comment.

You stop in front of her bed and gently lower her. “For future reference, baby, there are two things that I like seeing girls wear: a sleeveless top, and a shirt”, you say. “I figured, since unnie wears those two things a lot—oh, it’s called a blouse, by the way”, she giggles, “come on, fuck my face again”. You figure that she was the naughty one in her past relationship, because no previously innocent girl would say such thing to her man; “heh, no wonder she was bored of her ex”, you think. While you’re busy thinking, Dahyun has put herself in a position where her head hangs off the edge while the rest of her body is lying flat in bed. “Should be easier to fuck my throat in this position, oppa”, she says, “please, in here”.

“Just so we’re clear, I won’t stop for anything”, you warn her with your cock in hand and ready to go. “I don’t—ghlk”, the sound Dahyun makes when your cock interrupts her speech fuels the fire of lust in your head. “Touch yourself—if you don’t cum with me, I’m taking your ass”. You don’t exactly intend to take her ass, but the threat itself is usually enough to make a girl do as you say—look, Dahyun is touching herself over her panties. “Aren’t you a good girl”, you praise her, “I’ll start now”.

You hold her plump tits and use them as handles while you move your hips back and forth. “Oh, fuck”, you groan; the way her lips wrap perfectly around your cock makes for a really good stimulation for you. You see the way her throat bulges when your cock is fully lodged in there—not even Xinyu has done this with you. “Keep comparing her to your girlfriend, that’ll do you good”, the voice in your head says. You put a palm on her neck and squeeze gently every time it bulges, earning all kinds of sounds from Dahyun. “You’re really good, baby—hah, fuck”, you praise her with heavy breaths.

You’re almost ashamed that you’re already so close to your orgasm, but this is just too good. You let go of her breasts and fix your hands on the bed instead, getting ready to fuck her throat harder and faster. “Be good, baby; I’m so close”. She’s been very good for the last few minutes, but it doesn’t hurt to remind her. You lean forward just a little bit and start fucking her properly, not caring about her well-being. You’re too busy abusing her throat that you don’t notice that Dahyun is no longer touching herself even though her hand is still placed over her pussy. With a grunt and a curse, you blow a load deep in her throat, possibly sending it straight to her stomach. You close your eyes and savor the high of your orgasm while your cock is still lodged in Dahyun’s airway. That is, until you feel weak taps on your thighs, as Dahyun is desperate for air. “You want to breathe, baby?”, you tease, and you see her nod slightly, “one sec, okay?”. You retreat slowly from her throat, and you see that her makeup is now ruined, and her face has spit and tears all over it. “You look beautiful”, you chuckle, “good job, baby”.

She gathers the last bit of her strength and reaches her arms out to you. You’re not sure what she exactly wants, but you take her hand anyway and help her move into a better position. “You… you used me”, she says, her voice feeble, “you fucking used me, and I fucking loved it, daddy”. “You’re so fucking naughty, Dahyun-ah—no wonder your vanilla-loving ex bored you”, you shake your head, amused by her craziness. “I wish he was as naughty as you are, daddy—fuck, I can’t breathe”, she rolls around as she tries to get as much air as possible.

While she’s busy trying to get herself together, you decide to see if she did cum with you as you commanded. You hike up her skirt and see that it’s not too drenched, just some leaky wetness decorating it.

“You didn’t cum, did you?”

“I-I didn’t”

“Have you always been this disobedient?”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you cum?”

“Because I want you in my ass, daddy.”

Fuck: that’s one more girl who offers you her ass. Again, once again, Xinyu has never done this with you. You pull her into a sitting position in front of you and hold her shoulders. “How sure are you?”, you ask. “One. Million. Fucking. Percent”, she smirks, “I know the unnie is too scared to take you in the ass, so do it to me, daddy”.

“Fine—do you have lube?”

“In the wardrobe, in the bag from the convenience store”

Aha, so that’s why she wanted to make a stop at one earlier.

“You didn’t expect it, did you, daddy?”

You walk towards her wardrobe and see the bag sitting on a rack, next to some panties and bras. You fish the lube out of the bag and right before you close the wardrobe, your eyes land on some ties that are sitting on a lower rack. “Should be able to have fun with this”, you grab one and close the wardrobe behind you.

“Hands”, you say, and Dahyun crosses her hands behind her back. You tie her wrists together firmly and tell her to lie down on the bed while you slather lube on your cock. “This is my first time, daddy”, she reveals, and you almost drop the bottle due to the shock. “Are you sure you want to give it to me?”, you look at Dahyun, who now has her ass in the air. “Think of it as my commitment to never give up on chasing you, no matter how long it’ll take”. You’re not entirely sure why she’s so hell-bent on being with you, and a part of you thinks that she wants to be with someone who’s comparable to her ex, who she has described as someone who is kind and loving, just like you are.

“Fine”. You continue coating your cock with lube so that you won’t hurt her too much. You then move behind her and untie her hands. “Oppa? You okay?”, she asks, unsure of your intentions. “It’s not right to do it like this on your first time, baby”, you put on a gentle smile, “on your back, please; I want to see you”.

Dahyun rolls onto her back and spreads her arms and legs, hoping that you’ll fill the space with your body. “You’re so kind, daddy”, she pecks you on the lips once, “I swear to God, unnie is so lucky to have you”. You want to say that you’re the lucky one, but you don’t feel like talking about your and Xinyu’s relationship with Dahyun, especially when you’re about to fuck her ass. Dahyun airs her annoyance for not getting an answer, but you ignore her, opting to start unbuttoning her blouse instead. “O-oh”, her cheeks start turning red, “y-yes, you can do that, I guess”.

“Take a look at yourself in the mirror and tell me what you see”, you command her. The mirror is right in front of the bed, so Dahyun doesn’t need to get off the bed to look at it. She eyes herself from top to bottom and lets out a wow; “I can see why you like seeing girls in a blouse, daddy—fuck, I look so hot like this”. You chuckle, “told ‘ya”.

You pull her backwards gently by her shoulder until she’s lying flat on the bed again. “One last time: are you sure you want to get fucked in the ass?”, you make sure she hasn’t changed her mind. “Take me, daddy”, she guides your hands towards her skirt, indirectly giving you the green light, “even if you can’t be mine, you’ll be the only person to be in my ass”. “Sweetheart, you deserve to be with someone who loves you and you only—I’m not the perfect guy that you think I am; trust me”, you start pulling her skirt down by the waistband, “that being said, let’s make this a memorable one, hey?”.

Your hands coincidentally land on her thighs, and only now do you notice how soft they are. She starts moaning when you run your hands back and forth on her thighs. “You like my thighs, daddy?”. “They’re so soft, baby”, you pinch them lightly, “they feel perfect in my hands”. “I don’t know—oh, fuck, what are you doing, daddy”, Dahyun’s words are cut off when you touch her pussy over the wet panties, “am I not so perfect for you, daddy? Oh, fuck, I’m so wet”.

You ask if you can pull down her panties, and she gives you permission with a nod. “You’re really wet, aren’t you, baby?”, you tease her by putting a finger on her nub and pressing down on it, “you’re wet for your senior’s boyfriend”. “Oh, oh, God—y-you’re supposed to be mine, not hers!”, Dahyun screams when she feels more stimulation on her nub, “oh, please, just fuck me already”.

You move to sit in between her legs and aim your cock at… which entrance? “She wanted me to take her ass, but fuck, her pussy is so tempting right now”, you try to quickly come to a decision, “ah, fuck it; pussy first, ass later”. You guide your cock towards her pussy and go deep right away, earning a long and loud moan from Dahyun. “Oh, fuck, daddy”, her breathing is irregular thanks to your cock that’s stretching her, “w-why not my ass? FUCK!”. She lets out a scream when she feels you hitting her deepest spots. “Your pussy is too good to miss out on, baby”, you say, and you wonder if that was too vulgar a sentence—perhaps misogynistic, even.

You fall forwards onto her body without letting up your pace, eager to bust again. “Let’s go, baby”, your breathing is becoming irregular too, “hah, fuck, you’re so good—how are you so good”. Dahyun doesn’t need to answer that—it’s not like she can, anyway; she’s too busy moaning and screaming. “Oppa, I—”, she interrupts herself with a scream when your cock hits a particular spot, “fuck, please let me cum with you”.

You know how you can help her achieve that: by putting her in a mating press—your favorite position to fuck Xinyu in. She appears to know what to do, as shown by how she’s holding her legs back to give you all the space you need. “Yes, daddy, yes”, she approves of your actions, “please, I’m so close, daddy”. You don’t know how close you are, but that’s of little importance right now; you’re trying to send Dahyun flying across the finish line. “Cum for me, baby—be a good girl for me”, you say with troubled breaths.

It's as if your words had control over her body; she announces that she’s about to explode shortly after you told her to cum and be a good girl. Unlike at the resort, she can scream to her heart’s content now (fuck the neighbors, by the way). You retreat from her warmth while her orgasm takes her to the 7th floor of the sky. You lie next to her and pet her head gently, throwing praises at her as you do.

“Wait here, okay? I have some stuff for you”. You get off the bed and get dressed; you want to give Xinyu’s parcel to Dahyun now, just in case you forget tomorrow. When you walk out of her unit, you see one of her neighbors—a female, a bit older than you probably—standing in front of her door, as if waiting for you. “Ah, you must be Dahyun-ie’s new boyfriend”, she says, “please keep it down, okay? It’s been a long week, and I want to rest”. “I’m sorry, miss; we’ll keep it in mind”, you smile and bow in respect before continuing your way to your car—a part of your brain wonders if the lady heard Dahyun say “daddy”, and the probability of it makes your cheeks turn red.

You quickly fetch the parcel and some water bottles and make your way back to Dahyun’s unit. You saw her unlock the door, so you know what her passcode is. “0, 8, 0, 1, 0, 3”, you mumble as you press each number, and the lock unlatches right after, “right, cool”. You put the bag on the sofa before checking up on her—you also make the time to check your phone, in case Xinyu texted or something, and apparently there’s none. “I wonder what’s going on in your head, sweetie”, you say to yourself, letting out a sigh after, “right, need to tend to Dahyun-ie”.

You open the bedroom door and find her asleep, still naked and sweaty. You walk back to the sofa and grab some water for her. “Sweetie”, you poke her tummy to wake her up, “I have some water for you”. “I’m tired, oppa”, she says in a weak voice. You help her sit and guide the bottle to her mouth, and she parts her lips slightly to let water into her mouth. “Why are you not naked, oppa? Are we done? Do you not want to cum?”, she fires a barrage of questions at you.

“You’re tired, though.”

“No, I’m not”

“Oh, please, you were literally sleeping.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was just waiting for you to come back from God-knows-where.”

You realize you can’t defeat her when she’s this insistent; “okay, fine—how do you want me now?”

“I should be asking that question—how do you want me, oppa?”

You flip her over and drag her by the legs until she’s bent over the edge of the bed. “Do you mind if I do it in this position?". “Not at all”, she says, “fuck me again, oppa”. As you’re getting undressed, you’re reminded of your little meeting with her neighbor. “Sweetie, the lady next door heard us—she told us to keep it down”, you forward the message to Dahyun. “Lady next door? Haseul-unnie?”, she laughs, “as if she doesn’t get loud every time her fiancé is banging her in the ass”. You’re perplexed, “how do you know she was taking him in the ass?”. “How can I not?”, she says, “she keeps screaming you’re in my ass every single time they have anal”.

Well, shit, now you’re not sure if your boner is from imagining Miss Haseul taking her fiancé in the ass or if it’s from Dahyun bending over in front of you, but since you can’t fuck Miss Haseul, you’ll use it to fuck Dahyun instead. You clear your throat and shake your head to get your focus back. You then hold your cock in one hand and hold Dahyun’s waist in the other. “Are we ready?”, you ask, and she hums in response.

Dahyun jolts at the first contact; “gently, please; I’m sensitive”. You nod—even though she can’t really see you—and slowly ease your way into her pussy until you’re fully enveloped by her, earning soft moans from her at the end. “So big, so big”, she mindlessly chants, “how are you so big, oppa?”. “Dad’s genes”, you grit your teeth thanks to how tight Dahyun feels post-orgasm, “fuck, I can’t take this anymore”.

With the way she’s gripping you, you just want to keep pounding away until you bust—speaking of busting, you haven’t asked where she wants your cum, so you take the chance to do so now. “I’m fertile”, is the answer you get, and as amazing as it is to cum inside, cumming inside a fertile girl doesn’t sound like the best idea right now, so you take a mental note to pull out when it’s time to bust.

You close your eyes and slap her butt a few times before slamming into her with all your might. “Fuck, I’m close”, you announce. You’re shocked when you hear Dahyun scream from the top of her lungs, so you open your eyes and make out of the situation: she’s putting her index finger in her ass while your hips are crashing into her butt cheeks. “Here, I’ll help”, you coat your index finger with your spit and shove it into her rear, stretching it further. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”, she can only scream out profanities as you’re stimulating her in two holes at once, and you must admit, this is very naughty and arousing at the same time.

You want to increase the chance of having Dahyun cum with you, so you snake your other hand around her thighs and start rubbing her nub recklessly while still fucking her ass with your finger—fingers, rather; you’re forcing your middle finger into her rear. “Fuck, that hurts so good—please, more”, she says, her voice weak from exhaustion—perhaps overstimulation, too. You’re given the idea to spread your two fingers, the same way you’d spread them when fingering a girl’s pussy. “IT HURTS, OPPA! IT HURTS!”, she reacts the exact way you hoped. “If you can’t—oh, fuck—if you can’t take this, you can’t take my penis”, you say while your fingers are still making scissoring motions in her ass.

You almost failed to notice that you’re about to cum because you were so busy playing with Dahyun’s asshole—luckily for you, however, your brain manages to remind you in time. You retreat from her pussy and her ass while yelling out a profanity, and true enough, you start spurting cum all over her butt cheeks, some of them dripping down her thighs. While all of this is happening, she’s squirting like a fountain and her legs are shaking. With the last bit of your energy, you help her get comfortable and join her in bed after for a quick cuddle.

“We’re done, baby”, you say after getting yourself together, “we can rest now”. You can feel how fast Dahyun’s heart is beating and how sweaty she is on your skin, and you’d like to think that this is a sign of a job well done. “I-I’m tired”, she weakly says, “you used me like I was a cheap slut”. Truthfully, that doesn’t sound like a good thing, but she says that it is—she was trying to imply how rough you were. “Y-you haven’t fucked my ass y-yet”, she unnecessarily reminds you. “With—hah, fuck—with the way you reacted to my fingers, I’m not putting my penis in there”, you deflect, “let’s just rest for now, please”.

-

Bzzt bzzt

Bzzt bzzt

In your sleep, you hear your phone, that’s sitting on the bedside table, vibrating, so you grab it. The way your phone lights up in the dark bedroom makes you squint, but you manage to see that it’s Xinyu—she’s calling you in the middle of the night, presumably because she can’t sleep. You carefully move Dahyun off your body and sneak out of the bedroom to pick up the call.

“Hello, this is Jung Jisung.”

“Hello, this is Zhou Xinyu.”

“Are you okay, baby?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t sleep, oppa. It feels weird to not have you in bed with me.”

“I’m sorry, baby”

“I’m starting to regret suggesting you this idea, actually—when are you coming home, oppa?”

You move your phone from your ear so that you can see the time: 01:10, it says.

“Probably in a few hours, babe”

“Ugh, fine”, Xinyu airs her annoyance, “I won’t sleep until you’re here.”

“No, please don’t do that”, you air your disapproval, “please try to sleep, baby—look, I’ll come home before 9.”

“Don’t worry about me, oppa. I’ll just turn on my laptop and study or something—you should go back to Dahyun-ie.”

You’re starting to feel really bad, but your sleepover at Dahyun’s place isn’t quite done yet. “Is that Xinyu-unnie?”, Dahyun’s voice startles you. “Oh my God, fuck”, you sigh, “yes, this is Xinyu—babe, Dahyun-ie is here”. Xinyu asks you to put her on speaker, so you do so.

“Unnie, hello”

“Hi, Dahyun-ah. How are you?”

“I’m tired, unnie”

“Did oppa fuck you too hard?”

Dahyun looks at you as she tries to come up with an answer.

“K-kind of.”

You hear Xinyu laugh over the phone, probably amused with you and Dahyun.

“Well, I’m glad, because otherwise all of this is a waste. Anyway, I’ll go now—I’ll find something to do.”

“You should try going to sleep, baby”, you say to Xinyu, hoping that she’ll listen to you.

“No you, no sleep”, Xinyu says, “Dahyun-ah, ask oppa about a peace package—I have some stuff for you. Goodbye, you two.”

Xinyu hangs up the phone right after, leaving you with Dahyun in the dim living room, in the middle of the night. “What peace package, oppa?”, she asks. You point at the plastic bag on the other side of the sofa and tell her to open it. “What is—oh my God, chocolate? Chips? These are my favorites, oppa”, she digs through the bag and sees the small, folded piece of paper sitting in the bottom, “what is this?”. She unfolds the paper and starts reading its content out loud.

“Dear Seo Dahyun

This is Zhou Xinyu, the girlfriend of Jung Jisung.

First, I want to make it clear that I don’t hate you. I understand why you fell in love with my boyfriend, and while I can’t let you steal him from me, I’m letting him see you one last time so that the two of you can “break up” properly.

Now, I’m sure you understand why I don’t want to lose my boyfriend; the things that made you fall in love with him are the same ones that make me keen on keeping him mine.

Lastly, I’d like to apologize for slapping you at the resort. I was just so angry to hear that the two of you had been fooling around behind me. Once again, I do not hate you. I’ve forgiven you the same way I’ve forgiven my boyfriend.

With love,

Xinyu”

Dahyun folds the paper into its previous shape and puts it back in the bag. “How kind”, she says, “yeah, thanks, unnie—thank you as well, oppa”. She takes your hand and pulls, signaling to you to stand up, so you do so, and she wraps her arms around your body. “I love you so much, oppa”, she softly says, “can we go back to bed? We still have time until you need to go home”.

You climb onto the bed, and Dahyun climbs onto your body. “Oppa”, she taps your chest lightly, “I don’t want to go to work tomorrow—I mean, today”. You were about to ask, “what work”, but you’re promptly reminded that her parents run a restaurant, and just like them, she can’t really take a break. “Okay, so?”. “Please fuck me again so that I can tell my parents that I’m tired, because I will be”. She moves to sit on your lap and starts stroking you to get you hard. “Please, oppa. One more round”, she sounds very desperate, “this will be our last, I promise”. You sigh, “okay, fine; one more time”.

Dahyun lifts her butt off your lap and guides your cock into her pussy, moaning softly as she does. “Your girlfriend is so lucky, oppa; she gets to get fucked by this big cock of yours all the time—oh, fuck, yes”, she says. “We always say that—oh, fuck”, you’re cut off when she rolls her hips, the same way Xinyu usually does it, “we’re lucky to be with each other—oh, fuck, you’re so good at this”. “S-stop thinking about her, oppa”, she protests, and you want to remind her that she was the one who brought it up, but that’ll probably kill the mood, so you zip it and just enjoy the moment.

As she’s bouncing up and down on your cock, you notice how her tits are also bouncing, as if teasing you. You move your hands from her waist and put it on her tits, playing with them to your heart’s content. Dahyun approves of this, placing her hands over yours, “you like them, oppa? You like how perfect they are for you?”. You really want to put them in your mouth, so you move to sit and bend forward until your mouth can reach them. “Oh, yes, daddy”, the daddy kink makes a return when you start sucking on her tits, “just stay with me and don’t come back to your girlfriend at this point”. You think that it’s just heat-of-the-moment thing, so you let it pass; you don’t want to keep bringing up the same thing repeatedly.

“Oh, fuck”, Dahyun stops abruptly after a few minutes, the exhaustion apparent on her face, “I’m tired, daddy; fuck me, please”. Fucking her from below is exhausting, and you know you’ll run out of energy before she can cum, so you ask her to get off and bend over the edge of the bed like earlier.

Once she’s comfortable with her position, you stand behind her and take a good look at her curves—fuck, that butt looks very plump and tasty. You gather your might and spank her hard, earning a scream of pain and surprise. “Oh, that hurts, daddy”, she whines, rubbing the spot you slapped to cope with the pain. Seeing that she’s distracted, you take other hand and slap the other butt cheek, thus earning another scream. “Fuck, that hurts, daddy—please, it hurts”, she whines again.

You commit yourself to not think too much this time, since it’ll be the last time you’re doing this. Dahyun has proved to be able to take minimal intrusion in the rear, so you slather spit on your index and middle finger and slowly ease them into her ass. “Fuck! Fuck!”, she lets out screams due to the stimulation. You use your free hand to press down on the back of her head, “quiet, you—remember what your neighbor said”. “Y-yes, daddy”, her voice is muffled, but it’s still loud enough for you to hear.

“Fuck, where is the lube?”, you look around the dark bedroom for the white bottle, “ah, shit, it’s behind me”. “One second, baby”, you move into a position that allows you to reach it, barely able to grab it. The sound of the cap snapping open doesn’t seem to reach her ears, as she’s still letting out moans and grunts from the ass play. You slather lube recklessly all over your cock and throw the bottle onto the bed after. Dahyun lets out a sigh of relief when you remove your fingers from her rear—if only she knew what’s coming next. With your lubed-up cock in hand, you spread her butt and guide your cock towards her rear. She lets out a surprised gasp when she feels the tip of your cock on her entrance, “are you going to fuck my ass, daddy? Are you going to pop my last cherry?”. Without saying a word, you move your hips forward and force your way into her ass, and Dahyun can’t do anything else aside from pressing her face into the bed. The tightness makes you grit your teeth, “you’ve never put anything in here, have you? Fuck, you’re so tight, baby”.

You lean forward and plant your hands in the bed, eager to fuck Dahyun’s ass into the morning. “Remember: don’t be too loud”, you remind her. “Y-yes, daddy—OH, FUCK!”. Well, there she goes, screaming from the top of her lungs when your cock is fully in her ass—so much for “keeping it down”. You slowly move your cock back and forth in her ass until you think that she’s gotten used to it, because even if you’re impatient, you don’t want to hurt her more than this.

“Nghh, nghh”, is all the sound that she makes as your cock hits the deepest points of her ass with every pump. “You’re doing great, baby”, you praise her, “fuck, you’re doing so fucking great”. “I’m yours, I’m yours”, she chants softly, “fuck my ass, daddy; make it hurt”. You retreat as far back as you can without pulling out and slam roughly into her ass in one go, earning another scream of pain. “Oh, please, make it hurt, daddy”, she eggs you on. “Bet”.

You straighten your back again because you figure that you’ll be able to thrust harder like this. You match the rhythm of your spanks with your thrusts, making sure that she’s well-stimulated. “Daddy, daddy”, she asks for your attention, “you’re stretching my ass, daddy”. Well, yes, you can see that, but it’s fine; sometimes—if not most of the time—stating the obvious during sex is good.

Taking someone in the ass from behind (especially during your first time) proves to be difficult, and Dahyun is learning that first-hand. She can’t control how hard and deep you’re fucking her, as she’s just stuck lying in bed as you’re stretching her ass with your shaft. “Fuck, it hurts—it hurts so fucking bad”, the thought runs in her head endlessly as you pump her ass (seemingly) endlessly, “c’mon, Seo Dahyun, you can do this—make him happy”. When there is will, there is way; Dahyun, to your surprise, starts fucking herself on your cock, matching the timing with your thrusts.

“FUUUUCK! OH, OH, FUCK! IT HURTS! DADDY, PLEASE!”, she’s no longer holding in her screams, and you’re starting to feel concerned. You pull your cock out of her ass and move to soothe her, feeling apologetic. “I’m sorry, baby—fuck, I’m so sorry”, you softly run a palm up and down her back, “we can stop right here, baby”. You help her get on the bed, and she instantly squirms around while palming her asshole, seemingly in so much pain.

This is the problem with having little experience, because you’re now clueless as to how you can help her cope with the pain. “Daddy, it hurts”, tears start flowing out of her eyes and onto her cheeks, “it hurts so much, daddy”. “Fuck, I’m so sorry for that, baby”, you pull her in for a hug, feeling very regretful—sure, it was her idea and all that, but considering that: (a) a penis doesn’t belong in someone’s ass, (b) it was her first time, and (c) you were doing it rough, the burden of guilt is equally heavy—if not heavier—on you. “Did-did you like that, though? Y’know, taking my cherry?”, she still has the energy to think about your pleasure—how touching. Truthfully, you’re not sure what to say to that, but she probably wants to hear you say yes, so you say yes; “I did, baby; you’re so fucking amazing”. “I-I’m glad—oh, fuck, my ass is on fire”, she replies, still rubbing her ass with her palm.

-

“Huh? What time is it?”

The sun is up, its light filling the bedroom where you and Dahyun are in. You look to your left and see that she’s still sleeping peacefully, and you’re reminded of the situation before you fell asleep with her. You spread her butt cheeks gently and check on her asshole. “Doesn’t seem to be wounded or anything—fuck, I hope she’s fine”, you think to yourself as you inspect the result of your, uh, work.

You get off the bed and grab your phone to see the time; 8:20, it says—only a bit more to go before you can go home to your girlfriend. Your brain wants to get a shower, and you almost forgot that this isn’t your apartment. “Oh, fuck, need to wake her up”. You poke her cheek repeatedly to wake her up, and you see that she’s gradually opening her eyes. “Good morning, baby”, you greet her with a smile and cheek rubs, “do you want to shower?”. She nods slightly, “help me shower, oppa”.

You carry her in your arms and walk towards the bathroom with her—oh, hey, she has a bathtub. You open the toilet and make her sit on it. “Are you okay? Is your butt still in pain?”, you ask while kneeling in front of her, concerned about her well-being. She shakes her head, “I think I’m fine, oppa—fuck, you were going crazy last night”. “Well, it was more like this morning but yes”, you try to make a little joke, “I’m so sorry for that, baby”. She shakes her head again, “no, you don’t have to; I offered you my ass and you took it—the responsibility is mine as much as it is yours”.

You give her a peck before standing up and observing the layout of the bathroom; there’s a shower on the wall above the bathtub. “How do you usually shower, baby?”, you ask. She tells you that she usually just stands up in the bathtub under the shower and lets water run all over her body. “Let’s use the bathtub today, oppa”, she suggests, so you plug the drain and let water the tub for a few minutes.

You kneel in front of her again and show her a smile, “hi, baby.”

“Hi, oppa”, she returns the smile twice as sweetly to you, “you’re having a boner.”

“Yes, I can feel that—just my morning wood; no big deal.”

“What about my first time having anal, oppa? Is that a big deal, or no?”

“Of course, baby; every first time is a big deal.”

“Maybe I’ll start training my ass after this. I want to be able to take guys in the ass.”

“I mean, your body, your choice—but I’d say don’t do it too often; just the thought of you forcing things up your ass makes my heart ache.”

“Says you, who literally fucked my ass”, she chuckles, “but sure, I get your point. You’re such a sweet guy, oppa.”

Dahyun comes in for a kiss, and you welcome her warmly. “Even if I can’t have you for now, oppa, I will always be ready for you to come running to me”, she says with hopefulness in her voice. “I’m not cheating on Xinyu ever again, but yes, I get your point”, you say with a smile, hoping that it sounds rational to her.

Dahyun sees that the tub is decently filled with water, so she tells you to add some body wash into it and mix it around. “Let’s have a bath, oppa”, she says. You lift her and gently place her in the bathtub before joining her in it. “Let me take care of you, oppa”. She moves to sit on your lap and takes you in her pussy for a quick morning sex. “Fuck, it’s way easier to have normal sex”, she says between moans. “It was your idea to have anal sex, baby”, you remind her, “you’re such a crazy girl”. “I know—now quiet, please; I want to ride you”.

-

Now that the both of you are fully dressed, you’re now ready to say goodbye to her. You ask her to sit on the sofa and get on one knee in front of her. “Baby, listen to me, please”, you hold her hand and call her by a pet name one last time, “thank you for loving me, seriously. I know that we can’t be together for now, but I can feel how sincere your love is. You really deserve to be with someone who loves you unconditionally”. Dahyun accepts your kind words with a precious smile. “Thank you for everything, oppa. If you’re really not meant for me, then I hope that one day I’ll find someone like you”, she says, her eyes glassy. “No, baby; you deserve someone that’s better than me”.

You get on your feet, and Dahyun does the same. She wraps an arm around yours as you make towards her front door. “Can I walk with you to your car, oppa?”, she asks. “You don’t have to, baby—you should just rest”, you stop at the doorway and look at her, “goodbye, Dahyun-ah. It’s been such a pleasure”. “Goodbye, oppa. I’ll see you around”, she replies. You come in for a quick kiss before walking out of her apartment and closing the door behind you.

-

As soon as you enter your apartment, you see that Xinyu is sleeping at the dinner table. She hears your footsteps and starts opening her eyes slowly. “Welcome home, cheater”, she says weakly, “now I can finally sleep in peace”. You know what she means, and you lift her from her seat and carry her to the bedroom. You gently lower her onto the bed before reaching for the AC remote. She’ll be sleeping through the afternoon, so in case it gets hot, you turn on the AC for her. “Good morning, oppa”, she says, “how was it?”. “I’d like to think that it was successful”, you pull her into your arms, “she’s fine, I’m fine, and you’re fine”. “Did you—”, a yawn cuts her off, “did you cum in her?”. “No, I didn’t”, you say, “she said she was fertile, and I didn’t want to risk getting her pregnant”. “Good thinking”, Xinyu pecks your cheek, “okay, I’ll sleep now—see you in a few hours, oppa”.

[mesopotamism]

Carve (Choi Su Bong AKA Thanos x Reader)

You never expected to see him again – but if it had to happen, you never expected it to be here. (PREVIOUS FRIENDS -> STRANGERS/ONE-SIDED ENEMIES -> FRIENDS AGAIN -> LOVERS)

tw: mentions of blood, a knife, hospitals, references to mental illness, mentions of psychiatric care, mentions of non prescription meds LOL, metaphor of an injury, it’s set in squid games so that is kinda expected.

(WHERE ARE MY FREAK NASTY TOUCH STARVED BITCHES. MENTALLY ILL POS DRUGGIE LOVERS RISEEEEE)

Chapter 1: 2.6k words

The stinging, antibacterial smell of tile was something you were all too used to. You couldn’t even find it in you to feel surprised, at first, waking up in that godforsaken room; encased by beds all around you, the walls a white and green pattern that was far too cheerful for the situation.

Even here, with all these other losers, you scoffed at their stupidity as they stood, looking around in shock. Anyone who thought that signing up for an undisclosed game for money was going to put them in a safe situation is deluded, you thought. Anyone who didn’t feel a sense of dread upon seeing the gray van pull up to the meeting point, in the dark, alone, their breath freezing in the air…was an idiot.

The same numb feeling encased you now, seeing that your clothes had been stripped of you and replaced, along with your belongings, as it had encased you when you saw the narcoleptic gas billowing from the car vents last night. Maybe it was the all-too-sterile environment around you that comforted you, knowing that blood had been spilt already, and you would not be the first. All in all; you weren’t surprised by anything that had happened in the last 24 hours. Playing stupid games, winning stupid prizes, it all didn’t matter when the only other alternative was to end it all.

Curiosity pricked your mind, however, when personnel emerged, wearing masks, each adorned with a shape. The shapes differed – some had a triangle, some a square – but all of them wore the same, uniform, pink tracksuit.

You climbed down from the bunk bed, eyes squinting from the light bouncing intensely off the bright white and green walls. You knew you should focus on the personnel, but their pink clothes hurt your eyes the worst. Everything was in too much color.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome,” the front guard, wearing a square mask, began. As he tried to begin, shouts of dissent erupted from the crowd.

“Hey, where are my clothes?”

“Did you drug us? In that van?!”

“Where are our phones? I need to text my parents - they don’t know I’m here…”

If you have a family, why be here? Why resort to something as hopeless as this? You thought. You focused on the ground, trying to avoid the color bursting from around you - but even your sneakers were squeaky white and clean.

Out of the sea of people, a complaint stood out to you from them all.

“What about my shoes? Those were limited fucking edition!”

For the first time, from the time you were smacked in the face by a man in a suit who offered you money to play a children’s game, to being drugged in a van and waking up in this sterile bell-jar, a shudder of shock ran down your body, freezing to the bottom of your spine.

“All of your belongings are being kept safely. They will be returned to you once the games are over.”

“And what if something happens to them, huh?! You gonna pay for them?”

“Like I said, all belongings, including clothes, shoes, electronics, and anything else, will be returned after the games.”

“You motherf—”

The screen above the guard flashed to life, showing a video clip of that violet-haired idiot staring at the screen with challenge flashing in his eyes, taking a hit from his blue and yellow vape.

It really was him.

“--Player 230, Choi Su-Bong, debt of 1.9 billion won.”

Your shock had faded slightly from that point, and resignation had taken its place. It was unlikely to see him here, but yes – very like him to do. That fucking idiot.

“Kim Hyun Ju, debt of 1.2 billion won. Kang Mi-na, debt of 850 million won.”

As the guard continued to name and berate each person who had spoken up, you turned your head in the direction of where that idiots’ shout had come from.

A shock of violet carved into your vision through the sea of brown and black hair. You couldn’t help it - you stared. Even after being humiliated, his eyebrows raised sharply in challenge, his lips somewhere between a pout and a grimace, like a petulant child. His hand messed absently with the zipper at the top of his green tracksuit, and – as if the amount of color wasn’t enough – his nails were painted an array of bright colors.

You studied his hand as it twitched absently on the zipper. You could recognize his hands just as easily as his face. They were hard to miss, as he never talked without waving them around in ridiculous, emphatic expressions, or without holding a substance to his mouth. The vein that trailed up the back of his right hand disappeared into the green cuff of his jacket, and you knew – you could picture – where it continued to go, and where it ended, under the fabric.

His hand stilled. You shifted your gaze back up to his face, to find him looking back at you.

You fixed your expression into one of indifference as fast as possible, but you knew your eyes had given you away. You turned your eyes back to the front as naturally as possible, forcing your neck to slow the movement and appear natural. Your heart rate raised slightly, and you knew Su-bong too well to doubt that his eyes were definitely burning through the back of your head.

The guard began to talk about the games themselves, drawing your attention back to the front. The guards ordered people into lines to sign the consent forms, and you shifted idly to your right to suit a line. As you crept up to the front, you saw out of the corner of your eye the same unkempt violet hair swaggering to the front of the line, as player 124 grabbed player 333 by the shoulder next to him.

“The amazing Myung-gi from MG Coin? Right?” 124 spoke.

“...Who are you?” you heard 333 ask him nervously.

“You may not know me, but I know you, MG Coin,” Thanos spoke up. “I was subscribed to your channel.”

You can see Su-Bong shift closer to 333, who backs nervously away by a step.

“And I lost a shitload of money, asshole,” Thanos’ voice drops as he sidles closer to 333.

“As did I,” 124 chimed in.

You couldn’t help but have the edge of your mouth quirk up a bit. It made complete sense that Thanos would lose everything to something as brainless as a crypto scam. At least he wasn’t the only one – his new groupie was now eyeing the scammer with the same predatory smile.

“...You’ve got the wrong person,” 333 responded unconvincingly, trying to walk past them. Thanos pressed a large hand firmly to 333’s shoulder, holding him in place.

Good fucking luck, dude, you thought out to the scammer – player 333. Not only was he the smallest of the three, but it was clear from Su-bong’s body language that he was still as apt to pick a fight as he used to be. In highschool and college, he only ever won fights more than half the time – and usually, that had been from enlisting more groupies, as player 124 had turned into now – but whether he lost or won, he never lost the pettiness and gall needed to elicit one.

“I watched your content all day, every day,” Thanos continued. “Now I even see you in my dreams, motherfucker.”

He set his elbow on 124’s shoulder.

“Your name is Nam-su, right?”

“-Gyu, Nam-gyu, remember? From Club Pentagon.”

“Ah, right, right,” Su-bong responded airily.

You jerked your attention from them, read the consent form diligently, and quickly marked your name. Forcing your head away from the child’s fight Thanos was picking, you hung at the back of the room, waiting for new directions. You thought about how he had met your eyes earlier, and couldn’t help the stab of bitterness you felt that he hadn’t indicated his recognition since.

You took a deep breath of the sterilized air, and closed your eyes. For a second, you were happy to imagine yourself back between those white walls, the beeping of machines, the creak of those old hospital doors opening and shutting. When you wiggled your toes, you could almost imagine the feel of the tile on your sock-clad feet. The only sort of freedom you got in a place like that – to walk around in just socks.

“Señorita, excuse me,”

Your head snapped up, meeting his eyes. Close. He was so colorful, and so close. He raised his hands to his chest, pressing his palms against himself.

“Not gonna say hi?”

“You didn’t,” you reply as evenly as possible. He hadn’t really done anything, and he already felt like a thorn lodged under your skin.

He scoffed, switching back to Korean, his voice taking on his usual air of petulance.

“Hey, you saw me first. You were watching me pretty hard…” he dipped his voice, and you made yourself stay still as he leaned closer. The scent of his body hit you like a ton of bricks, carved through you like glass. Just how it used to be. The faint, sour scent of man-made stimulants and hallucinogens. A cologne far too macho and expensive for his style, or his bank account. Coupled with the perfumed smell of hair product, he travelled coolly through your sinuses, filling your head with the heady scent of him, him, him.

“It’s hard to miss you with that nauseating fucking dye job,” you say bitterly, and he laughs.

“Wow, so mean,” he says, clutching his chest and bending his knees so his face is level with yours. “You’re not still hung up on-”

“--Attention, players. Please line up and follow the path into the hallway as marked. Player identity photos will be taken before the first game begins.”

You brush past him, clipping him with your shoulder as you do so. You hear player 124 ask him a question, but if Thanos responds, you don’t hear. You file into the middle of the line, away from the way he overwhelmed every sense you had.

…….

The hallways were even worse than the dorm. You reminded yourself to feel grateful for the white linoleum when you went back later as you messed with the end of your braid. As you observed everyone lining up to take their photos in a line of booths, commotion and grumblings of discomfort arised from over your right shoulder. You turned your head to see Thanos and Nam-gyu pushing their way ahead in line.

He stopped when he pushed far enough to be in line with you, rolling his shoulders back as he swaggered. You saw him look at you from your periphery – you could even see his jaw work and roll. God knows how much dental work he’s gotten from substance abuse at this point. His underbite was definitely slightly worse than you remember. You ignored his gaze.

“What’s going on with you? No hello for your old frie-”

A lanky, sharp-featured man appeared from a line over from Su-bong, peeking over his shoulder.

“You’re Thanos, the rapper,” the man said lowly. Thanos looked him up and down in surprise.

“Oh, shit!” the man said in surprise, bursting into one of Thanos’ verses. He pointed at Thanos knowingly. “The runner up from the Rap Battleground Final!”

Thanos’ expression turned to face forward, closing off from you. As everyone shuffled forward in line, you stole a glance at him. His expression was pained, distant.

The man persisted. “I’m Gyeong-su, big fan. I’ve been to several of your concerts, please take a picture with me…” the man begged quickly as Thanos started to step towards the photo booth. Many other people felt comfortable approaching after Gyeong-su had, and they chimed in.

“Me too!”

“Me too, please!”

It didn’t take any sort of feat to see the way Su-bong’s expression brightened with confidence and ego, but it made your heart twist all the same, seeing him try to fix his face and pretend to be irritated by their request instead of elated. It reminded you of who he was before, when he’d been himself, not this caricature of Su-Bong – Thanos – standing before you.

Nevertheless, nostalgia hit you seeing him not-so-humbly accept a photo with the players, and you felt faint surprise at how many people continued to push past you to join in, even more that young adults still remembered who this washed-up rapper was.

Suddenly, Su-bong’s head turned, his cool brown eyes meeting yours. He extracted his hand from the herd of crowded bodies, beckoning towards you with two fingers curling towards himself. He jerked his head to the space next to him.

“Hey, I don’t mind having one more person.”

You raised your eyebrow in slight offense.

“Come on,” he encouraged again in English, turning his fingers up and back to the floor, as if he expected you to comply with ease.

A ding sounded from in front of you, and you released the end of your braid, turning to see a guard beckoning you in to take your photo. You rolled your eyes at Thanos’ offer and walked into the booth, missing his slightly deflated expression. As you emerged a moment later, you caught the end of 124 ushering the other players away from the rejected photo, just soon enough to catch Thanos raising his hands to flip off the camera. The way his lip curled was so reminiscent of his stage mannerisms, you had to look away.

Was it bad, you thought to yourself, that he was throwing you off more than the scent of antibacterial liquid masking blood had in that dormitory? That his voice set you more at unease than the modulated ones behind masks? Or was it simply your body adjusting to the whiplash that was experiencing someone again that once had been normal, and yet had long ceased to be?

“I’ve got five days to bother you, I’ll get you to talk,” he commented as he sidled up to you, running his palms over the flat sides of his bright hair. You glanced up, catching his profile as he fell into step with you. For once, he didn’t turn to face you, instead pretending to be fixated on seeing what lay ahead in the hallway. Although, he didn’t need to look back at you; the sight of his upturned smirk told you enough. It nauseated you. Or, maybe it was just the sickening amount of color and detail about him that sickened you. His violet fucking hair, spiked like he’d rolled out of bed – the thick black tattoo that ran from his neck, to his hand, and disappeared down his back – his fingernails, painted neon, individually, with care – that heady scent of powdered drugs and rich cologne – even his pooling brown eyes that threatened to fool you, weaken you. If anyone was to make someone feel sick through experience alone, it’d be him, you thought bitterly. He cut through reason like a knife, and carved his name on you like he deserved to own everything. After all of these years, you felt him again, in the last place you wanted. Running a blade over the long-faded scars of where his name was once etched into your traitorous, weak soul.

(I’ve written fics for YEARS but never posted on tumblr! Sorry the format is jank - but if literally one person reads this I’ll die happy. THANKS LOVE Y’ALL)

[7s3ven]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU. oliver wood

( master list )

IN WHICH… Nothing would make Oliver Wood happier than getting a new broom as his Christmas present. That, or Y/N Malfoy finally noticing him. When the two collide at Hogsmeade, Oliver is overjoyed. Perhaps this Christmas, he’ll get two gifts.

“I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas is you.”

“Ah, he’s staring again.” Fred Weasley nudged his twin brother George and pointed over at Oliver. “Do you think he’ll ever actually talk to her?”

“I’ve seen them talk once.” George uttered, his mouth full and his cheeks puffed out. “It was in their second year.”

Fred lightly snorted and waved a hand in front of Oliver’s face. “Wood, you there? You’re drooling this time while staring at her.”

Oliver was snapped out of his trance by the twins’ loud laughter. He frowned. “Knock it off.” He told the pair, taking a sip from his goblet.

“Oh, come on mate, you gotta talk to L/N otherwise she won’t even know you exist.” Fred sighed and quickly added, “And quidditch talk doesn’t count.”

Oliver huffed and rolled his eyes. Talking to Y/N was an almost impossible feat, not just to him. She was Draco Malfoy’s older sister and was basically untouchable. She was Slytherin’s prized queen and the chances of Oliver even being able to talk to her with her posse around was close to zero.

“I’ll talk to her eventually.” He uttered the same excuse he had been using since fourth year. His crush had lasted way too long but he was still determined to win Y/N over.

She wasn’t like the other Slytherins with their mean glares and tendencies to outcast people who weren’t pureblood. She was… nice. Her friends, however, weren’t.

“You’ve fancied her since third year, Oli.” Fred uttered, “Probably before that as well! Just make a move already!”

Oliver’s crush hadn’t begun during first year. It had started before that when he was rushing around Diagon Alley trying to find all his school supplies.

Oliver panted as he attempted to catch his breath. All afternoon he had been rushing from shop to shop to find all the books he needed for his first year at Hogwarts.

He held a pile of novels in his arms and momentarily stopped to marvel at the window of a broom shop. His awe was short lived as someone crashed into his back, sending his supplies everywhere.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I just wanted to look at the new broom!” A H/C-haired girl hurried to pick Oliver’s things up. She shoved everything into his arms, apologizing again.

“You… like Quidditch?” Oliver asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Huh? Of course. Who doesn’t? My father took me to see a game once and it was amazing. Some day, I want to join Hogwarts’ team.”

It was as if Oliver had met his dream girl.

“You’re going to Hogwarts too?!” Oliver exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.

“Yeah! I assume you’re also going, so maybe I’ll see you around.” She outstretched her arm to shake Oliver’s hand, but a black cane pushed her back.

“Don’t socialise with the trash, Y/N.” A man with long blond hair uttered, scowling. Oliver instantly recognized the man as Lucius Malfoy.

“I’ll see you around, Quidditch boy!” Y/N shouted as her father led her away.

That day, Oliver was reminded of where he stood in the scheme of things. He was a lowly half-blood while Y/N came from one of the most esteemed families.

Ever since that day, Oliver had been a little frightened to talk to Y/N, just in case she also referred to him as trash.

Y/N never did end up joining Slytherin’s Quidditch team. Her brother did instead. Oliver guessed it has something to do with her refusal to cheat, and Slytherin was infamously known for cheating.

“Say, are you going to Hogsmeade today, Oli? Perhaps to do a little last minute Christmas shopping?” George questioned, his lips curling into a smirk that could only mean one thing. Trouble.

“If you want to play one of your stupid pranks on me, forget it.” He stood up and silently walked away.

“Ah. He’s in a bad mood because of Y/N again. Jeez.” George rolled his eyes as he stabbed his fork into a carrot.

Oliver was going to visit Hogsmeade, but only to look at Quidditch shops and browse through the technique books. A Hufflepuff girl had asked him out, but he politely refused her offer.

Oliver shoved his hands deep into his warm pockets as he trudged through the thick snow. Hogsmeade wasn’t as busy as it usually was, but that was probably because most sane people wanted to avoid the cold.

The Quidditch captain made an immediate beeline for the broom store. He smiled as he gazed at the window display before entering.

“Good morning!” He kindly greeted the owner, who was an old lady hard of hearing. He immediately walked towards a shelve of books, running his finger over the hard covered spines.

The door opened again, the rusty bell attached to it quietly chiming. “Good morning, Gen!” A feminine voice shouted, piercing the calming atmosphere. Oliver peeked through the books, curious as to who the newcomer was. He could see their winter outfit but not their face.

The girl skipped over to the books, standing on the opposite side of Oliver. She locked eyes with him, and he could see her eyes squint as he smiled, meaning it was a genuine one.

The pair occasionally glanced at each other, jumping when they accidentally made eye contact. The girl tucked a strand of H/C hair behind her hair, quietly humming under her breath. She walked around to the other side of the bookshelf, almost crashing into Oliver.

His heart leaped in his chest as he grabbed Y/N and steadied her. “Sorry.” He said, not being able to muster up any more words.

Y/N silently stared at his face before she gasped. “Oh! Quidditch boy!” She exclaimed, grinning. “I knew I recognized those eyes!” When Oliver sent her a confused look, she laughed. “I’m the girl from Diagon Alley! Before first year, remember?”

“I remember… I’m just wondering why you do.”

“I spent most of my first year looking for you! But I never got your name so it was a bit hard. Then when you joined the Quidditch team and played your first match, I recognized you. I wanted to talk to you after but you seemed to have so many fangirls. I got shy!It’s been ages, jeez. How are you?”

Y/N grinned, an action that set butterflies free in Oliver’s stomach. His cheeks flushed red as he nervously smiled back.

“I’ve… been good. How about you? You never joined the Quidditch team.”

“Well, I don’t exactly like Flint and Draco is already on the team. They don’t need two Malfoy’s.” Y/N sheepishly smiled and laughed.

“I saw you play as a chaser during flying class. You were great. You should join the team some time.” That compliment coming from Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s very own keeper, was a huge deal. “You’d be a wonderful addition. If only you were in Gryffindor.”

Y/N quietly laughed. “Maybe we’d actually be able to spend time together.” Her gaze flickered to the book Oliver was grasping, “Are you going to buy that? I’ve been looking for a copy of it.” She smiled, and Oliver didn’t have the strength to keep the book to himself when she was looking at him like that.

“No.” He uttered, “I was only looking at it. Here.” He handed it to Y/N.

“Are you sure?” She asked, to which Oliver nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you borrow it. See you at school, Oliver.” She grinned again, skipping off to purchase the book.

Oliver stared at the ground, chuckling to himself as his cheeks turned rosy red.

School was finally coming to an end. Thank goodness. Oliver didn’t know how much more studying he could take before his brain gave up.

He returned to his dorm, tired and relieved to finally be returning home today. From his dorm, he heard his friends gasp.

“Ay, mate, there’s something on your bed for you.” One uttered as Oliver ended.

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at his mattress. A badly wrapped present sat on it along with a small card and the book he had let Y/N take.

Oliver grabbed the card, curiously staring at the cursive writing.

Consider this an early Christmas gift and my overdue apology on my father’s behalf (for calling you trash). You’re fun to talk to and I hope to see you around next year.

Merry Christmas, Oliver.

- Y/N

Oliver peeled the wrapping paper, almost choking when he saw the newest edition broom. It was shined and groomed to perfection and Oliver was sure he was going to pass out from excitement.

He slowly grasped the book, opening to the first page that was tabbed by a green sticky note.

On the blank page was the writing,

Merry Christmas, Oliver Wood

And underneath was the signature of Oliver’s favourite Quidditch player.

“She’s freaking amazing.” Oliver muttered under his breath, wondering how Y/N had even managed to pull all this off.

Oliver flipped through the pages, noticing how Y/N had annotated the book on his behalf. He was only falling deeper in love.

“I’m going to find Y/N.” He announced to his friends, who cheered.

“Go get ‘er, tiger!”

Oliver hurried out of the common room, wondering where on earth Y/N would be. The castle was huge, it would take him all day to find her. Luckily, he spotted Draco Malfoy walking down the corridor.

“Malfoy.” Oliver called out.

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. “If you’re looking for my sister, she’s at the Black Lake. Don’t tell my parents you like her otherwise my stupid ship will be ruined.” And with that, he walked off.

Oliver ignored his odd words and rushed to the Black Lake. He saw Y/N sitting alone and humming to herself as she picked at the green blades of grass.

“You didn’t have to get me a broom, you know.” Oliver said, startling Y/N. She jumped slightly.

“You scared me! It wasn’t that much anyway… and it was on sale. So you don’t need to worry.”

Oliver spluttered. Not that much money? It was more than him and his friends’ bank accounts! Even if they combined all their money, it still wouldn’t be enough.

“The book by itself would have sufficed.” Oliver uttered as he took a seat next to Y/N.

“Yeah. But I had to up my game because other girls were eyeing you up.” Y/N grinned as she stood up, dusting the dirt off her skirt, “Merry Christmas, Oli. See you next year.”

Oliver spent his days before Christmas with the Weasley twins and more of his friends. Even Harry Potter was there. But one person was missing, much to his disappointment.

On Christmas Eve, he pondered what Y/N’s words at the Black Lake had meant. “I had to up my game because other girls were eyeing you up”. Did Y/N… like him back?

Oliver sighed, rushing to turn the lamp on his desk on. He pulled out a thick piece of parchment paper and began to messily scribble down his thoughts and everything he didn’t have the courage to say to Y/N in real life.

Oliver stared at his letter, sighing. He tried not to think too much as he rolled it up and sent his owl to the Malfoy Manor.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting by her window, relaxing as the fresh breeze blew through her hair. She heard a quiet chirp and opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar brown owl in front of her. It cooed and tilted its head.

Y/N slowly took the letter that was attached to the owl’s leg and got comfortable before she unravelled it.

Dear Y/N,

I know this letter may be unexpected and strange, especially since it’s Christmas Eve but those words you told me at the Black Lake are still stuck in my head. It feels a little lonely without you around. I’m going to be honest here… and hopefully you won’t laugh at how I pour my heart out.

I like you, Y/N. Not just for your looks or your family. You’re gorgeous, but there’s so much more to you that other guys can’t see for some reason. You’re kind and caring and you may as well be in Hufflepuff. Your ambition is admirable and you really know how to light up a room, even if it’s a room as big as the Great Hall.

You don’t look down on other people because they aren’t pure blood or come from a family like yours. Instead, you help them. There’s so many qualities that make you stand out from the crowd and I’m not expecting a reply any time soon, but I just thought you should know all this.

Santa Claus won’t really make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day. Y/N, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Please Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas… is you &lt;3.

- Oliver Wood

P.S, thanks for the broom and book. I’m still trying to find a gift to top that.

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile as she read Oliver’s letter. Her room door was suddenly slammed open. Y/N couldn’t react fast enough and all she could do was place the letter face down on her bed.

“Father.” She greeted him, surprised that he was even home. He was supposed to be on a business trip. “What… are you doing here?”

“Receiving love letters already, Y/N?” Her father carelessly grabbed the parchment, his gaze scanning over the beautifully crafted words. After a moment, he nodded. “What is his blood status?”

Y/N looked at the ground, thickly gulping. “… Half-blood.” She uttered after a second of hesitation.

Her father silently nodded, his stern face never changing. “I’ll allow it.”

“W-What?” Y/N stumbled over her own words. Ever since she was young, her father had preached about the importance of marrying another pure blood so this was entirely out of character for him.

“That Wood boy…” Her father thought for a moment before clicking his tongue, “He’s staying at the Weasley’s house. The elves have packed your bags already. You leave tomorrow morning.”

Y/N was speechless. Was this her father or a random intruder?

“Good night, Y/N.” And with that, he left. Y/N sat on her bed, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to process what had just happened.

A knock on the door interrupted breakfast for the Weasley family, Oliver, Harry, and Hermione.

Oliver, as charming as ever, stood up. “I’ll get it.” He offered, walking over to the door. He twisted the door knob and yanked it open, coming face to face with Y/N.

She smiled. “I hope I’m not intruding.” She uttered, peeking over Oliver’s shoulder. “I just wanted to quickly say one thing.”

Oliver could feel the prying eyes of Fred and George and he exasperatingly sighed, shutting the door behind him. “Yes?” His heart leaped in his chest as Y/N leaned forward with a grin.

“I like you too, quidditch boy.”

[inmyheaddd]

play stupid games, win stupid prizes - jameson hawthorne x reader

a/n: this feels different from my usual writing style, idk if i like itt, lmk what u guys think! warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes??, possibly ooc jameson (his fboy era), popular reader x popular jameson wc: 1k masterlist

you couldn’t have been more reckless. really. jameson hawthorne? out of all the people?

it was supposed to be a one time thing, a stupid 7 minutes in heaven dare at a stupid party, his stupid friend who gave him your number, and his stupid decision to text you after the party. and your stupid decision to text him back.

—

lunch break finally came. you were sitting in the cafeteria as your friend swirled her iced coffee, “girl, how’d you get jameson hawthorne to literally be thirsting over you?”

you giggled and looked at him briefly, he was sitting a few tables over, but you could see the way his eyes were fixed on you. 

you shrugged as you turned your attention back at your friends. “guys, it’s not even that big of a deal, we’re barely even together.” the smile on your face said otherwise, one of your friends raised her eyebrows at you.

“i promise! besides, he’s the king of “casual,” and “mixed signals,” you know? i shouldn’t get my hopes up.” 

“i mean, this whole thing has been going on for 2 months now, things with him usually last a week. he’s definitely feeling something.”

“stop!” you exclaimed with a laugh, “you’re actually going to get my hopes up. don’t do that!” you snuck a glance over to his table, and he was talking to his friends.  

like he could sense your gaze, he looked at you, offering you a wink with his signature smile. you smiled back and looked back at your friends, only to find them all looking at you with the same expectant, knowing look on their face. 

“what?” your voice pitched higher, you felt like you were in court.

“you look so in love, it kind of sickens me.” your best friend piped up. 

“i’m not in love.” you shot back. a little crush was way different.

—

it was the end of the school day, jameson found you after class and walked to the car park with you. “i saw you at lunch today,” he glanced at you before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, steering you both to his car. 

“yeah? i saw you too.” you tried to bite back a smile as you glanced up at him. 

he hummed, “you seemed excited, what were you talking about?” the teasing tone in his voice was as clear as day.

“not you,” you replied, rolling your eyes at his cheshire cat smile, and when it only widened at your reaction, you continued. “i can assure you.”

he chuckled, “yeah well, some of your friends can be very loud. i wouldn’t be too sure.” 

you pursed your lips, “hmm, i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you shook your head, trying to change the subject before your cheeks could heat up any more. “where is your car anyway?” 

“relax, princess. i know where i’m going.” he chuckled, before finally arriving at his car. 

it was new, you realized. bright red, convertible, lamborghini, and the license plate was different. 

it wasn’t his usual “WRECK2002”, and after looking for another second, you noticed something.

“are those our initials?” you couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of jameson picking it out. it was cute in a way. 

“yes, they are. you like it?” his hand traveled up and down your back as he watched your reaction.

you hummed, “it’s alright, i guess.” you said smiling at him, knowing fully well you were obsessed.  

his grin widened as he cocked his head to the side. “guess i’ll have to do better next time, then.” he replied with another wink, before he opened the passenger seat door for you. 

“guess so,” you said, not tearing away from his gaze once as you got in. 

he closed your door for you, and then began to lean over the window. 

his lips hovered over yours, teasingly close, making your breath hitch. your eyes flickered down to his lips.

but then he pulled back, moving a strand of hair out of your face and giving you a grin. you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips, and he he chuckled at that. douchebag.

—

he got into the drivers seat and started the car, one hand on the wheel as he leaned back in his chair. 

you tried to ignore the way his adam’s apple was on full view, the way his jawline looked so sharp, you really did, but it was damn near impossible. 

“where to, princess?” 

“my house, obviously. where else?” you replied with a hint of sarcasm.

he shot you a look, one corner of his mouth lifting. “and here i thought you’d want to take a detour. maybe show you a few of my favorite spots?”

“and what might those be?” you asked, playing along, even though you already knew where this was going.

“let’s see…” he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, pretending to think. “well, there’s this one place, it’s called my bedroom.”

you rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re nothing if not predictable, jameson.”

“predictable?” he repeated, feigning offense. “i’ll have you know, i’m full of surprises.”

“oh really?” you asked, leaning back in your seat, watching as he drove with one hand casually draped over the wheel, the other resting dangerously near your leg. “surprise me then.”

he glanced at you with an amused look on his face briefly, before turning his gaze to the road. you couldn’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes and his turned up lips. “you should be careful what you wish for.”

—

he pulled up to your house, and before you could move, he was already opening your door, standing so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

his eyes flickered to your lips, and your hands found their way to his chest. just as he was about to break the space, you took a step back, on your tiptoes reaching up to ruffle his hair. 

after muttering a small, “thanks for the ride,” and walking off, smiling to yourself in achievement, jameson let out a scoff of amusement, maybe even disbelief.

just as you got to the door, you turned around, giving him a little finger wave.

jameson was still standing there, dare you say even gobsmacked. his head was tilted to the side, and his eyes were narrowed ever so slightly. he had a challenging grin on as his face as he waved back, sending you a chin nod.

—

as you lay in bed, facetiming your friend and giggling nonstop about what happened, a thought crept in. whatever this was with jameson, you silently hoped it wouldn’t end up like everything else with him usually did —wrecked.

taglist: @sweetlikeanangel @x-liv25-jamieswife @thecircularlibrary @wish-i-were-heather

@whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @sheisntyou @maybxlle

@anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @emelia07 (if you would like to be added or removed lmk 🤍)

[mandiemegatron]

One Piece has made "putting your prized, favourite, iconic hat on your s.o. as a form of claim, protection, comfort, promise, etc" now one of my favourite comfort/romance tropes.

Now apply this to the boys and their hats 🤭💕

I am SO sorry this took so long to finish but I got hit with a wave of sad and really needed my boys comfort 🥺💖 this was such a cute idea, I just couldn't not finish it !

ミ★ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘗𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘗𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘠𝘰𝘶! 𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘓𝘢𝘸, 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘯 ♡ ★彡

Law ;

This man didn't let anyone touch his hat. Even when it came to wash day, he was overly protective the entire time you washed it, breathing over your shoulder with wide and concentrated eyes. It was like he was waiting for you to make one wrong move so he could sweep in and show you "how it's done," though every single time, you always cleaned it with love and warmth. The action caused Laws heart to feel like it was in a vicegrip, torn between ripping his beloved hat from your hands and watching you wash it with such soft motions. He always found himself holding his hat to his face when he got to his office, his spotted hat hiding his burning face from the outside world as he breathed in the clean smell, the fabric smelling like laundry detergent and the gentlest whiff of your perfume. He secretly loved it.

It was a rough battle. Most of the Heart Pirates walked away unscathed, but you, with your terrible luck, walked away with a gnarly gash on your arm. Law had sat you down in the infirmary, his hands almost rough as he looked you over, a deep set frown on his face as you tried to wave him off. "It's just a slice, Captain," you murmured, not wanting to show him any signs of pain. He grunted in response, making sure you didn't have any other cuts to your soft skin before setting to work on your injured skin. You went to bite out a retort but fell quiet as he uncharacteristically plopped his hat on your head, the action stunning you and lulling you into a soft silence. When he was done, he ripped his gloves off and tossed them aside, humming to himself as he stared at his handiwork before grinning down at you and taking his hat from your head. He smoothed out your flyaways with a comment of, "If I knew it was that easy to keep you quiet, I'd have done that ages ago." You didn't sleep well that night, tossing and turning while thinking of how soft and warm his hat felt. You idly wondered if his arms would make you feel the same.

You were winning, for the first time ever, probably thanks to the alcohol running through all five of you. Card games were a big thing on the Polar Tang, and it didn't matter how bad you sucked at them, your best friends and your Captain always made sure to drag you along to play. "If I have to play, then so do you," Law would retort every single time you tried to refuse. You sat at the small round table, you and Ikkaku the only ones still wearing most of your clothes. Shachi and Penguin were down to their boxers, with Law in his spotted jeans and topless, though his prized hat still sat atop his head. "I'm coming for that hat," you bit out, slapping a card down with a laugh. "Draw four, mofo!" Law only rolled his eyes as he picked up four cards with a "Tsk," before groaning out, "Pass." You let out a triumphant laugh as everyone else placed a card or drew, bringing it back to you. You grinned and slapped down your last card, pointing at Law with a wide grin as you laughed, "Hat, please!" He had the most cards, which made him the loser and with a loud sigh, he took his treasured hat from his head and gently placed it on your head. Your eyes met and he grinned as your cheeks bloomed into red, his tattooed fingers reaching out to pull at them jokingly. "You look so stupid right now," he chuckled out, ignoring the pointed looks the other three were giving you two. "Yeah, but I'm your stupid, and you love it," you bit back before you could stop yourself, causing all three boys to burst out into laughter. You shared a look with Ikkaku, who simply gave you one in return that said, "I told you so!"

Shachi ;

This man was the living embodiment of 'Sharing is Caring', and share he did! There was nothing Shachi loved more than watching your face burn brightly whenever he plopped his orca hat onto your head. Every time, he'd grin and press a bashful kiss to your cheek before walking off, either tying his hair up or tossing his old green one on, just to feel less naked. Every chance he got, he'd throw his hat onto your head and it would pull you out of whatever trance you were in, whether you were reading or cutting veg for dinner prep, the stunned look on your face always caused his heart to swell. He knew it was real love when he put his hat on your head and you frowned, pulling it away from your head with a comment of, "This fuckin' stinks, Shachi, I'm gunna wash it for you." No one ever offered to wash his things ever, and your little acts of love truly made him fall harder for you every damn time. When you came back a few hours later, coming up behind him and placing the orca hat back onto his head, he turned in his seat and grinned up at you, pulling you into his lap and covering your face in a million kisses. "It smells like you!" He laughed out, your own laughter mixing with his at his actions. When he pulled away to smile lovingly down at you, you knew then and there that you'd love him forever, pulling him into a real kiss that caused Penguin and Uni to burst into loud, "OOOOOHHH!!!"s, knowing in the back of your head that you just inadvertently caused Shachi to owe them both money.

It was terrifying, watching your beloved crew get beaten down by these Pirates. You fought as hard as you could, to the point you had angry tears streaming down your face as you somehow fought back two men who were too strong for you. In a cheap shot, you were hit from behind and fell to the ground. You vaugely heard your name be screamed out, your eyes squeezing shut as you waited for the final blow only for nothing to come. You stared up as nearly sobbed as you saw Shachi and Law standing in front of you, both their swords impaling the two men you were fighting, watching with wide eyes as the pirates fell to the ground, dead. Law ran off, shouting for his other crew members as Shachi turned and fell to his knees, bringing you to his body. You sobbed openly, clinging to him tightly as he pulled you from the ground and lifted you in his arms. Everything around you two fell away into silence as he stared down into your watery eyes, a deepset frown on his face as he bit back tears of his own. Gathering you into a safe space, he ripped his hat from his head and placed it on yours, pulling it down to cover your eyes as he rasped out, "You'll be safe here. I'll be right back." Luckily, Bepo was nearby and protected you from any leftover men who staggered too close to you. When the fight was finally over, with the enemy dead and bleeding into the ground, you were pulled into a tight embrace, knowing by touch it was Shachi and you clung to him in response. Penguin, Ikkaku and Clione kept asking if you were okay, only to fall silent as Shachi glared up at them, holding you tighter to him as a sign for them to fuck off. When they finally did, you looked up at your bloodied and injured boyfriend and bit back another sob as he slowly got out, "I'll never let anyone hurt you, ever." You gave a heavy nod and hid your face in his neck, not bothering to hide your tears as he continued, "I'll always protect you. Always."

Waking up next to Shachi every day was a blessing and a curse, considering the part-fishman was a living furnace. On cold nights and days, it was a blessing waking up toasty and warm in his arms, his hat squished between your heads. (He really needed to stop falling asleep with it on.) On the days it was too hot on the sub, it was a mission to pry yourself from your grasp, almost struggling to breathe as he would only pull you closer and hold tighter. Even during chore time, he'd be clinging to you and would pout everytime you ripped your hand from his, both your palms already sweaty. "Please babe, you are killing me," you nearly sobbed out, your boiler suit tied around your hips as you paused doing dishes to fan yourself with a handmade paper fan. Shachi was dressed similarly, though his arms were tucked around your waist tufhtly, his face pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and neck. "Mm, but you're so tempting," he purred out, nipping at the side of your neck that caused you to shiver. You simply pulled away and glared at him, ignoring the goofy grin on his face as he made grabby hands towards you. "You better stop," you hissed out, shaking your fist at him only to stop as he plopped his hat onto your head and walked away pouting. "FINE, but only because you asked sooooo nicely..." You only rolled your eyes and went back to washing dishes, knowing you'd have to make it up to him in the showers later.

Penguin ;

This man was not a sharer. At all. You had to BEG the guy to try on his hat, to which he only let you wear it for a hot second before ripping it off your head and stuffing it back onto his own. You'd always pout, tugging on his boiler suit like a child begging their parents for something in the store, and he'd give a heavy sigh and reply, "No, now stop asking," though his tone was always playful and never hurtful. You'd often ask why he'd never share his hat with you, and he'd always respond, "It takes away from my dangerous and mysterious nature~" with a wiggle of his fingers in your face, causing you to burst out laughing. He loved hearing you laugh, and even though his answer never changed, it always pulled laughter from you. It wasn't hard for him to fall for you, your bright smile and loud laugh causing him to hide his burning face further under his namesake hat. How could he hide his love for you if you were wearing his hat?!

Penguins heart fell as he watched Bepo carry your unconscious body into the infirmary, rushing in after the mink only to be stopped by Shachi at the door. He tires to pull away, but Shachi holds tight, only shaking his head as the doors snap shut. "No, no no, let me go Shachi, they can't be alone, they need me-" Shachi only held tighter, murmuring lowly to his best friend, "They're in the best hands on the entire Grand Line. Just be patient." Penguin roughly pulled away, glaring at Shachi and trying to open the door again only to be stopped as Bepo walked out, a solemn look on his face. Penguins heart shattered, and he fell to his knees, pulling his hat low over his face as he silently sobbed into it. Bepo and Shachi shared a long look, frowns on both their faces as they bent down to comfort Penguin as best they could. When Law finally emerged from the infirmary, the three boys lifted their heads and sighed a breath of relief when he finally spoke. "They'll be fine. They got hit hard during the fight, but they'll pull through -" Penguin didn't even let him finish, pushing past him and immediately going to your side. His heart fell through the floor, seeing your bruised skin that wasn't hidden under bandages. Pulling a chair beside your bed, he ripped his hat from his head and gently tugged it onto yours before gathering your hand into both of his. He silently wept into the back of your hand, ending up falling asleep at some point. When he finally woke, your hand was slowly running through his messy hair, a tired but loving expression on your face as his eyes met yours. He shot up and held your face in his palms, uncertainty all over his face until you croaked out, "Just kiss me already, stupid." He didn't think twice, leaning down and capturing your lips in his own as gently as he could. He pulled back when you winced, pain in your eyes as he stared down at you. "You look like shit," you joked out, causing him to give a broken laugh of his own. "You look worse," he barely got out, holding your hand in his again. You simply grinned in response, commenting lightly, "At least I got your hat." He gave his own grin in response and leaned over to kiss you again, slowly removing his hat from your head to stuff onto his own. "Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I love you."

Thank you SO much for this ask, I hope this was okay! I wanted to add more but after writing that almost angst with Peng, my heart just would NOT let me write anymore 😭😂 thank you for always being a solid mutual, I love seeing you in my inbox and my notes !! I hope you all enjoyed this little blurb 🤭💖

If yall want me to add to any of these, please let me know ! 💖💖💖💖