#but the regret and guilt are something I know all too well

[lych33dragoncookie]

Ooooohhh how glad I am he was characterized well this update. No, he doesn't hate himself. No, he doesn't feel any guilt for his own actions, past or present. No, he's really not all that sad, all things considered. Loneliness and sadness are, really, not exactly synonymous. Loneliness can very well manifest in other ways; as, in the end, it is an emptiness. A lack of something. How each person individually handles it is where it really varies. Shadow Milk Cookie, at his core, is angry. He's not sad, he doesn't feel guilt, remorse, regret, nothing of that sort. He's too caught up in his own little tangled web of contrivances and excuses he uses to bury any and all more rational feelings under childish sadistic urges! In his eyes, nothing that happens to him is fair, if he doesn't get his way, if he doesn't get exactly what he wants, it's not fair, he feels like he SHOULD have gotten what he wanted, like he should ALWAYS get exactly what he wants, and the only way he ever deals with any burden that MAY be on his mind, however briefly, is to lash out. Thrash, inflict pain, break shit, throw a little goddamn tantrum. He's already assumed, for so long, that he knows better, he SHOULD get what he wants, he's ALWAYS in the right, and if he can't get what he wants, he WILL take it by force.

He chooses to be this way, he SO desperately wants to be in control, he SO desperately wants a world that is strictly his', and that's just kind of inevitably a lonely road, since to him, no one will ever be important as he is to himself. And, for a moment there, he got his childish needs fulfilled; someone just like him, someone who can just as well be important, and do everything he wants them to do. Essentially; he just wants another of himself. He doesn't WANT actual love, any actual meaningful relationships, he just wants someone JUST like him. Never have his views or beliefs contested, never have to change. That won't fix the loneliness, but he doesn't care. He doesn't WANT it to be fixed. He just wants to have all his own petty little urges met.

He is awful. He is positively, extremely, irredeemably awful. But he is human. And that alone, the fact that there are feelings there that will inevitably rise up for anyone in his position, no matter how absolutely irrevocably and horribly evil, is enough for someone like Pure Vanilla to hold on to hope. Somewhat misguided hope, yes, but hope nonetheless; the very thing that makes every facet of his being. They may remain opposites and apart for all of time. After all, both of them choose to be opposites, both knowing what they could be if they didn't choose to. They both wish they weren't this way, that they could be on the same page, but they very well may never be. And that's both their choices to make.

God this update was fucking good.

[mintyys-blog]

NO REGRETS— bucky barnes

WARNINGS: Implied sex, post-intimacy regret, self-doubt.

You wake up before the sun rises, the faint glow of dawn barely seeping through the curtains. Bucky’s arm is draped across your waist, his warmth seeping into your skin. His breathing is steady, peaceful. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the solid weight of him beside you, the safety of his presence.

Then, reality crashes down.

Oh, God. What did you do?

One date. One amazing, laughter-filled, electric first date, and you ended up in bed with him. You weren’t that kind of person—at least, you didn’t think you were. You barely knew him. What if he thought less of you? What if this was just another night for him?

Your stomach churns, and you carefully start to move, peeling his arm off you inch by inch. If you could just slip away quietly, maybe you could forget this ever happened. Maybe—

“Where are you going, doll?”

His voice is thick with sleep, rough but gentle, and it stops you cold. His grip tightens just slightly, like he can feel you slipping away.

“I—I should go,” you whisper, not looking at him.

Bucky shifts beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His metal fingers brush a strand of hair away from your face, and you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to meet his gaze.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard. “I just… I shouldn’t have done this. We barely know each other. It was stupid.”

Bucky is quiet for a moment, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sighs softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

“You think I’m the kinda guy who’d just leave you after this?” His voice is steady, careful. “That I don’t care?”

You finally look at him, expecting to see disappointment or even amusement at your naivety. But there’s none of that. Just concern.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I don’t know you well enough yet.”

He nods, taking that in. “That’s fair,” he says. “But let me tell you what I do know—I don’t do casual. Not with you. I asked you out because I like you, not because I was looking for a one-night stand.”

Your throat tightens. “But what if this was too fast?”

“Then we slow down,” Bucky says easily. “We do this at your pace, however you need. But don’t regret this, doll. Not if it meant something to you, because it sure as hell meant something to me.”

The sincerity in his voice knocks the air from your lungs.

“You mean that?” you whisper.

Bucky lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I mean that.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but this time, they’re not from shame. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, like you’re something precious—like he’s not planning to let go anytime soon.

And for the first time since waking up, you smiled. The guilt washing away.

Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOWING SMOKE

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after rafe betrays her trust, y/n exposes his lies at a party, humiliating him in front of everyone—and walking away without looking back.

based on this ask !! i hope it’s what you asked for anon, sorry it’s not super soul-crushing but it’s very angsty and includes cheating >:( fuck cheaters !!

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: cheating, angst w/ no happy ending, allusions to sex, alcohol consumption, cursing, bad bitch!reader, asshole!rafe, mentions of daddy issues, reader finally putting rafe in his place, i’m thinking season 1/2 rafe because he was a cocky little shit🙄 (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The air at the Boneyard was thick with salt and sweat, the bonfire crackling like a living thing, casting long shadows over the shifting sand. Laughter and music mixed with the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the party in full swing. But Y/N wasn't here for fun.

Her grip on the red solo cup was tight, knuckles white from how hard she was holding it. The drink inside had gone warm, untouched. It wasn't why she came.

She was here for Rafe.

Her heart wasn't racing anymore. The initial sting of betrayal had settled into something colder, something sharper. She had spent days, weeks, pretending not to notice the whispers, the way people looked at her with pity. She had ignored the concerned glances from JJ, the hesitance in Pope's voice when he said, "Maybe you should talk to Sarah." She had brushed off Kie's sighs, the way she muttered, "You're not gonna like what you hear."

She had known. Deep down, she had known.

And then Sarah had confirmed it.

"I didn't want to tell you," Sarah had said earlier that evening, voice low, like she could somehow soften the blow. "But you deserve better. Rafe's been seeing other girls, Y/N. He's been lying to you."

Lying. Cheating. Playing her for a fool.

And then she had seen it with her own eyes.

Rafe Cameron, her Rafe, the boy who had spent countless nights tangled up with her, whispering things he swore he meant—his hands were on another girl. Blonde, pretty, giggling at something he said while he leaned in just a little too close.

And suddenly, all the times he'd shown up late, all the unexplained disappearances, the half-hearted apologies, they made sense.

She had been so fucking stupid.

But Y/N felt nothing now. No heartbreak, no regret. Just ice-cold clarity.

Rafe Cameron had walked into her life when she was at her weakest, slipping through the cracks her ex had left behind. He had smiled, kissed her, whispered things that felt too easy, too smooth. It was never supposed to be anything real, just something casual, just a way to forget. But then it had changed.

He had changed.

Late-night conversations that lasted until dawn. Foreheads pressed together, words left unspoken. His arms around her waist, his voice low when he admitted, "I don't do this, but with you..."

Lies. All of it.

And now, she was going to make sure everyone knew exactly what kind of person Rafe Cameron really was.

She spotted him easily—he was impossible to miss. A walking ego dressed in an expensive polo shirt, short sleeves clinging to his toned biceps. A sight that would usually make her knees weak—not anymore. He was laughing with his friends, head thrown back, completely unaware of the storm heading his way.

Y/N pushed through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs, the knowing glances.

"Rafe."

Her voice cut through the music, through the party.

He turned, blue eyes locking onto hers. For a split second, there was something unreadable in his expression—maybe surprise, maybe guilt. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar smirk, the one he always wore when he thought he could charm his way out of anything.

"Baby," he drawled, tilting his head. "Didn't think you'd show."

"Yeah?" She took another step forward, voice sharp. "Well, I had a few things I wanted to say to you."

Something in her tone made the smirk slip.

"Tell me, Rafe," she continued, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is she prettier than she was on the internet?"

A hush fell over the crowd. Conversations died. Even the music felt quieter.

Rafe's brows furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me." She crossed her arms. "You've been screwing around, haven't you?"

Murmurs spread through the party, people shifting closer, drawn to the unfolding scene like moths to a flame.

Rafe let out a short laugh, but it wasn't confident—it was forced. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit."

Her voice was steady. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't break. Not for him.

"You knew my last love let me down," she said, tone cutting. "It was your one perfect opening, wasn't it? You saw me hurting, and you thought, why not? You wanted something easy. Someone easy. And the moment it stopped being fun for you, the moment it got real, you did what you always do. You ran."

Rafe's jaw clenched. "Y/N, stop."

"No." She took a step closer, her voice unwavering. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You're just a spoiled little bitch with daddy issues, aren't you? You think money fixes everything, that you can get away with anything. But you know what, Rafe? You just look stupid."

Someone in the crowd—JJ, probably—let out a low whistle.

"You look stupid going out," she continued, her voice rising. "If she's got a pulse, she meets your standards now. It's pathetic."

Rafe's face darkened, but he said nothing. Because he knew she was right.

"You couldn't point her out in any crowd, could you?" Y/N's voice was mocking now, full of venom. "She doesn't matter. None of them do. They're just distractions, just more girls to help you bury the baggage you've been carrying."

A few gasps echoed through the crowd. Even Topper, standing nearby, looked disappointed.

"Man," Topper muttered, shaking his head. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah," JJ piped up, crossing his arms. "I mean, we all knew you were an asshole, but even for you, this is low."

Rafe's hands curled into fists at his sides. "Shut the fuck up, Maybank."

"Or what?" JJ grinned. "You gonna hit me? Take your anger out on someone else because you can't handle the truth?"

Pope, standing next to Kie, shook his head. "She deserves better."

Sarah, arms crossed, looked at her brother with something like disgust. "You don't even look sorry."

Y/N let out a cold laugh. "Of course he doesn't. Because he's not." She turned her gaze back to Rafe. "You know what the sad part is? I actually believed you. I actually thought, maybe this time, it's different. But it never is, is it?"

Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to find the words.

Y/N took one last step forward, lowering her voice just enough that only he could hear. "I'll say what they won't, Rafe. I know everything they don't. And I see you for exactly what you are."

He swallowed, throat bobbing. For the first time all night, he looked truly unsettled.

Good.

Without another word, Y/N lifted her drink—still untouched—and, with the sharpest satisfaction, poured the entire thing over his head.

Gasps. Laughter. Cheers.

Rafe stood there, drenched, humiliated, and for the first time in his life—completely powerless.

Y/N turned away, not sparing him another glance. She walked past the crowd, past the Pogues, past the remnants of something that had never been real.

She didn't cry. She didn't look back.

And as she disappeared into the night, Rafe Cameron realised—too late—that he had just lost the only person who had ever truly seen him.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope this was somewhat what you asked for anon !! if not, feel free to drop another request with specifics and i’d be so happy to write that :)

editing the few drafts i have so i can upload them asap !! just in case anybodies wondering why i’m uploading so much, it’s because i have pre-written some of these requests form weeks ago and have only just gotten around to editing them :)

[mingot-studios]

Why do people think Nanami purposfully killed the kitten??

Like, did you see her reaction when it went over the waterfall?

That is NOT the reaction of someone who killed something on purpose.

She was very young in these scenes and clearly didn't grasp the gravity of what she was doing or what would happen after she did it until she saw the consequences too little too late!

SHe was an angry child who had not thought her plan through and clearly, she felt regret for what she did

She's crying and begging her brother to forgive her!

How does one come away from this episode and think she truly wanted to hurt that kitten?!

Noralities, I'm talking to you!

[eastofedean]

8i've been thinking about the last asks i got today. and i think it's better for me to take a step back from this account. i know the anon didn't mean anything by it, but i still feel like i am being a negative presence on here and weirding people out with who i am is nothing i want. so, i am not deleting or anything. i am just gonna be less present with sharing personal things or leaving tags. I'll probably be more active on my second account where i don't have that many followers :)

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Baby Bang

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader is pregnant (just that, nothing deep)

Genre: established relationship, flufffff

Summary: You've been distant lately, and Chan can't understand why. Because this is very unusual for the two of you as you two are on each other all the time. And Chan panics as you guys are getting married in a few months, and this sudden change is unraveling him.

Clueless Masterlist

Chan paced the living room, a deep frown etched into his forehead. You hadn’t touched him in days. Weeks, actually. That alone was already a catastrophe, considering the fact that you two were basically like bunnies.

But now? Nothing. You were dodging his touches like he was contagious. He reached for your hand? Oh, look, you suddenly needed both hands to text someone. He tried for a kiss? Whoops, you conveniently yawned. Bedtime? You were already asleep. 

And that diamond ring glittering on your ring finger? It made him wonder if you were regretting saying yes to him already.

He’d spent way too many nights staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe was punishing him for something he didn't even know he did.

Chan sighed and opened the group chat. This was bad. He needed to vent.

Chan: She’s avoiding me.

A rapid barrage of notifications followed, and Chan barely had time to process one before another arrived. 

Minho: Y/N? The one who’s practically glued to your lap 24/7?

Hyunjin: LMAO. Not possible. I won't believe it.

Seungmin: You obviously did something.

Chan: NO, I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!

Chan: She’s been acting weird for WEEKS. 2 weeks to be exact. No kisses. No hugs. No… anything.

Jisung: No sex? BRO. Are you okay?

Felix: What if she’s planning something? Like a surprise? Maybe a wedding thing?

---

Chan paused. That was… not unreasonable. But no. You’d never kept secrets from him before. Like you've given him enough surprises before so he knew this was different.

---

Minho: OR. She’s finally come to her senses about you seducing her into saying yes? 

Chan: Minho. I will come to your house and end you.

Jeongin: But seriously, hyung. Did you say something? Do something? Forget an important date? You’re kind of a workaholic.

---

That hit a little too close to home. Chan frowned, scrolling back through his mental timeline of your relationship.

---

Chan: I didn’t forget anything. I swear. We were fine until a couple weeks ago, and now she’s avoiding me like the plague.

Changbin: Well. There’s only one logical explanation.

Changbin: She’s been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone.

Jisung: YES. I second this. The real Y/N would NEVER do this. 

Felix: Omg guys! 

Chan: GUYS.

Hyunjin: Okay. What if she’s mad because you’re not initiating? She’s waiting for you to grovel.

Seungmin: That makes no sense. If she’s mad, why not just say so?

Hyunjin: IDK, some people like drama.

Jeongin: That’s your toxic trait, Hyung.

Hyunjin: IS NOT!

---

Chan groaned, dropping his phone onto the couch. He missed you. Like, really missed you. Sure, he wanted to rip your clothes off 90% of the time, but he also missed the simple things - your cuddles, your soft laugh, the way you’d always need him by your side when you're stressed. 

The cold shoulders and polite smiles were killing him.

---

Minho: Just confront her, idiot. Corner her in the kitchen and ask her what’s wrong.

Chan: You think I haven’t tried that?! Every time I ask, she changes the subject.

Jisung: Okay, hear me out. Seduction.

Chan: What?

Jisung: Set the mood. Candles. Sexy music. Flex those ridiculous arms. She won’t stand a chance.

Felix: Worth a try. 

---

That night, Chan put the "seduction plan" into action. He dimmed the lights, skipped the candles, and put on a romantic playlist. He even went full drama, lounging on the couch with his shirt conveniently unbuttoned.

When you walked in, your eyebrows shot up as you asked, “What's up?”

Chan said nothing, just held held his hand out.  You froze, guilt flashing across your face, and Chan knew he had you. You placed your hand on his and let him pull you close.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and it’s driving me crazy. Did I do something wrong?” His voice cracked, and that set you off.

Your eyes filled with tears, and in an instant you were in his lap, clinging to him like your life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, Channie! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then why -”

“Shhh,” Chan fell silent as you pressed a finger to his lips. “Just know that I love you, Channie.”

Chan was suspicious. Because, well, you’d shut him up in the best way possible, last night - all he remembered was his shirt coming off and yeah.

You’d seduced him. Thoroughly. And while his brain had short-circuited at that time, he was now absolutely certain that you’d dodged his questions on purpose.

At least he can't complain about you not touching him anymore, right?

---

Chan: It didn't work.

Minho: WHAT didn't?

Chan: She kinda caught me off guard. And avoided my questions.

Jisung: I thought we agreed on YOU seducing her and you got seduced??

Felix: Soooo… you still don’t know what’s going on?

Chan: NO. She’s hiding something, I know it.

Hyunjin: Maybe you’re overthinking. Or, maybe she’s secretly a spy.

Changbin: She’s NOT a spy, Hyunjin. That’s ridiculous.

Hyunjin: And alien clones aren’t?

Minho: Why are we even helping you? You let her seduce you and then just… forgot your goal.

---

Chan groaned, flopping onto his back. It wasn’t his fault! He was weak when it came to you. All it took was a look, or a whisper of his name and his brain turned to mush.

Still, Minho had a point.

---

Chan: Okay, fine. What do I do now?

Felix: She’s probably just stressed? Weddings are a big deal. She might just need time to sort her thoughts.

That gave Chan pause. Weddings were stressful. Maybe that was it?

Hyunjin: My bet’s still on spy.

---

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick in your hand for the hundredth time now. You’d known for two weeks, but the reality hadn’t gotten any less terrifying.

You were pregnant. Pregnant. With Chan’s baby.

The thought sent your heart racing. You loved him more than anything, but… you’d never talked about kids. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he panics when you bring it up? 

There were only a few months until the wedding. You didn’t want to dump this on him now and risk throwing him into a spiral.

---

That night, Chan decided to take Minho’s advice (for once). No more distractions. He was getting answers tonight.

When you walked into the living room and his eyes locked onto yours - you froze. He looked so handsome, and a little…worn out? You felt so guilty for doing this. 

“Come sit,” he said, patting the couch beside him.

You hesitated, but complied, heart pounding.

“Baby, we need to talk,” Chan said, his voice soft but firm.

You swallowed hard as you murmured, “About what?”

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks. And you obviously don't trust me enough to talk it out. I’m worried. What's going on? Is it the wedding?” He was giving you that puppy eyed look, and your heart shattered.

“No, Channie, it's not like that...”

“Then what is it? Please, just tell me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to spill everything - but then you panicked. The words caught in your throat, and instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Here he was - caught off guard (again) but quickly melting into the kiss. You climbed into his lap, your hands tangling in his hair, and within seconds, all thoughts of questioning were gone.

---

Chan: SHE DID IT AGAIN.

Minho: You’re hopeless.

Seungmin: At this rate, she could rob a bank and get away with it.

Felix: Honestly, I’m impressed.

---

Chan sighed, glaring at the group chat before throwing his phone across the bed. Whatever you were hiding, it was big. And he was determined to find out, one way or another.

Little did he know, in the bathroom, you were rehearsing how to tell him the truth: that in just a few months, he wasn’t just going to be your husband.

He was going to be a dad.

Chan was officially losing it. His imagination had gone to some very dark places (thanks to Changbin’s clone theory and Hyunjin’s spy nonsense), but now he just felt defeated. What was so big and terrifying, that you felt like you couldn’t share it with him?

Chan: I give up. She’s unbreakable.

Jisung: Hey don't lose hope.

Minho: Pathetic.

Jeongin: Just sit her down and don’t let her leave until she talks.

Chan: I’VE TRIED THAT.

Chan was ready to lock himself and you in a room till you cracked, but unfortunately he was already cracking under the stress. And then a lightbulb went off in his head. There was just one person in the world who might be able to get through to you.

Felix.

---

Felix was, to put it lightly, concerned when Chan cornered him in his kitchen.

“Lix, you have to help me,” Chan said, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Help you how?” Felix asked cautiously.

“Can you please try to talk to her?” Chan literally begs. “She loves you, Lix. Maybe she’ll tell you if you ask?”

Felix hesitated, torn between loyalty to Chan, who was literally his brother and his friendship with you. But ultimately, his desire to help won anyway.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll talk to her.”

---

Later that afternoon, you opened the door to find Felix standing on your porch, holding a box of cookies and his sunniest smile. 

“Lixie?” you asked, surprised. “So good to see you!”

“Just wanted to check on you, love,” he said, coming forward to hug you.

You stepped aside to let him in, and the two of you settled on the couch.

“I baked these for you,” he said, watching your reaction closely as you opened the box and munched on a cookie immediately. “You’ve been looking a little stressed lately.”

You stopped mid-chew, guilt gnawing at you.

“I’m fine, Lix. Just… wedding stuff, you know?” you said, carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Is it really just the wedding?” Felix tilted his head, unconvinced.

You froze, your hands tightening around the box.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I won’t judge.” Felix said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand over yours.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and as you put the box aside gently. Felix scooted closer as he saw the tears fall, and before you knew it, the truth came spilling out.

“I’m pregnant, Felix,” you whispered. “And I don’t know how to tell Chan. We’ve never talked about kids, and I don’t even know if he wants them. And now the wedding’s so close, and I’m scared I’ll ruin everything. I already got my wedding dress and I don't think I'll fit into it anymore because by that time-”

Felix’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, he looked like he might burst into tears himself. But then he let out a strangled laugh.

“You’re… you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, sniffled and managed a soft, “Yeah.”

Felix threw his arms around you, nearly knocking you over. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! I’m so happy for you! And for Chan! You’re gonna have the cutest baby in the world!” he gushed, his eyes sparkling with happy tears. 

You couldn’t help but laugh through your own tears. 

“You don't think this is a disaster?” you asked softly, wiping your tears away. 

“Disaster?” Felix pulled back, shaking his head. “Of course not. This is amazing! But you have to tell Chan. He’s going insane trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I just… I’m scared.”

Felix gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Chan loves you more than anything. Trust me, he’s gonna be over the moon. And I'll always be here for you. Seriously, sweetheart, this is the best news ever.”

---

Hyunjin: Well? Did she tell you?

Jisung: SPILL, FELIX.

Chan: Felix? Please. I’m dying here.

Felix hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He couldn’t betray your trust, but he also couldn’t leave Chan hanging.

Felix: She’s okay. She’s just… working through something.

Minho: And you’re being suspiciously vague.

Seungmin: Should've known that sending her best friend to investigate wasn't your strongest idea… obviously he's gonna take her side! 

Felix: I promised I wouldn’t say anything. But it’s nothing bad, I swear.

Chan: Seriously?? Nothing bad? Then why is she avoiding me?

Felix: Just… be patient with her, okay? She’ll tell you when she’s ready. I promise it's all ok. Trust me. 

Chan frowned at the message, his heart twisting.

You had spent the whole night rehearsing what to say to Chan, your stomach churning with nerves. Morning came far too quickly, and as you watched him shuffle into the kitchen with his hair messy and his sleepy face, you nearly chickened out.

But Felix’s words echoed in your head. He’s gonna be over the moon.

“Channie,” you said softly, placing your mug of tea aside and taking a step towards him. 

He looked up from the coffee maker, his sleepy eyes brightening instantly. You were trying to talk to him, and somehow that was enough. Anything was better than you avoiding him. 

“Morning, baby.”

You smiled nervously, gesturing to the table. “Can we talk?”

His brow furrowed, worry flashing across his face as he nodded and sat down opposite you.

“Is everything okay?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you said, “You know how I’ve been… weird lately?”

Chan nodded, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Well,” you continued, “there’s a reason for that. And I’ve been scared to tell you because it’s big. Like, really big.”

“Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise, I’ll handle it.” Chan said, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his.

Your eyes filled with tears as you finally said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chan froze. Completely. His mouth hung open, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as his brain processed your words.

“You’re… pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears spilling over.

“Yeah. I found out a couple of weeks ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it, or if it was too much with the wedding coming up -”

Chan cut you off by pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His body shook as he let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and you realized he was crying.

“Channie, are you okay?” you asked nervously, your own voice shaking as you stroked his hair.

“Okay?” he choked out, pulling back to look at you with tear-streaked cheeks and the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “Baby, I’m better than okay. I’m… I’m gonna be a dad?”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the pure joy on his face.

Chan laughed, his tears flowing freely now.

“Holy crap. I don’t know what to say?! We’re having a baby. A baby!”

Before you could say anything else, Chan was  peppering your face with kisses, squeezing you in the tightest hug ever.

“I love you so much. Baby, you’re…I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this on your own.” he said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, clinging to him as he pulled you onto his lap. “And…I've never been more scared about anything my entire life? I mean, I adore you, and I know I want this with you, our baby already means the world to me…but not knowing if you would want that too? It's been killing me, we've never even joked about this before, Channie… “

“You could’ve told me sooner, baby,” he said softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I thought we were clear about this, with you, I'm ready for anything! But I get it. And I love you even more for worrying about me. But baby, we’re in this together. Always.”

---

Chan: GUYS. I HAVE NEWS. HUGE NEWS 🤩

Jisung: Finally!! 

Hyunjin: I told you she's a spy!! No one ever listens to me!! 

Minho: He’s too happy for that, you idiot.

Chan: WE’RE HAVING A BABY.

Jeongin: Excuse me, WHAT?

Changbin: STOP. Really?! 

Seungmin: Wow, plot twist

Felix: Oh thank godddddd😭😭😭😭

Felix: I was dying here

Chan: SHE TOLD ME THIS MORNING. I’M GONNA BE A DAD. WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS. OMG.

---

It felt like everytime he said it, it felt a little more real.

---

Jisung: Congratulations, bro. Wow. 

Hyunjin: I AM CRYING. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE REPRODUCING.

Chan: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chan: MY BABYGIRL AND I ARE HAVING A BABY😭💖

Minho: Jokes aside, this is such great news!! Congrats. Now go take care of your pregnant fiancée instead of spamming us.

Chan: I think I'm gonna faint

Changbin: Congrats, bro. But also… HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE SHE WAS GOING THROUGH SOMETHING?

Chan: I NOTICED! I just didn't think she was, you know

Jisung: Avoiding you because she was growing your spawn, apparently.

Hyunjin: “Spawn” makes it sound like a little gremlin. Oh my Gawd 🤣

Felix: STOP. My baby’s gonna be so adorable I’ll CRY 😭

Minho: Okay, Felix, you’re suspiciously calm about this. Did you already know?

Felix: 👀

Hyunjin: YOU KNEW.

Chris: WHAT?? FELIX, YOU KNEW BEFORE ME?!

Felix: SHE TOLD ME FIRST, OKAY? SHE WAS NERVOUS, AND I PROMISED I WOULDN’T SAY ANYTHING.

Jisung: Wow. Betrayal.

Chan: SO YOU JUST LET ME SUFFER FOR WEEKS??

Felix: Yes. And? I'd do it again for her.

Changbin: LMAO savage.

Jeongin: Shame on you for trusting him when everyone knows he works for her

Chan: Thanks for being on her side, Lix

Felix: Anytime 💖

Hyunjin: Omg, imagine Baby Bang. Tiny curls, tiny dimples 😍

Chan: STOP I’M ALREADY CRYING AGAIN 😭

Jeongin: I've never been this excited for a baby really. You'd let us babysit won't you? 

Changbin: Oh yeah. Group uncle duty.

Hyunjin: We're gonna be dancing before we can even walk Baby Bang 🤝

Felix: For sure!

Chan: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING EXCITED FOR US!

Jisung: Save your tears for the wedding, Daddy Bang.

Jeongin: When do we throw a baby shower? Felix?

Felix: Already planning it.

Hyunjin: This baby’s gonna be so loved.

Chan: THANK YOU, GUYS. I LOVE YOU ALL 😭

---

Chan added Y/N to the group chat.

Chan: SURPRISE, BABY! WELCOME TO THE CHAOS.

Jisung: AHHH THE QUEEN IS HERE!

Hyunjin: ALL HAIL THE BABY-MAKER 👑

Minho: Congrats on creating life and also tolerating Chan for this long.

Felix: YAYYYYYY YOU’RE HERE! 😭 We’ve been dying to have you here!!!

Jeongin: Thank you for gifting us Baby Bang. We promise to only slightly corrupt them.

Changbin: We’re all crying. I’m crying. Hyung is crying. Everyone’s crying.

Y/N:😂

Y/N: Oh my God, you guys.

Minho: This is us being tame.

Hyunjin: Soooo, what does it feel like, hm? Asking for research purposes, of course

Chan: Oh yeah, totally not gonna run off and impregnate someone 🙄

Hyunjin: What's it to you Christopher? You can do it, but I can't?! 

Chan: Oh please

Minho: I told her to get a collar for this damn puppy and look who's here yapping

Y/N: Leave him alone guys!

Hyunjin: I respect you, Y/N. I respect you. So I'm gonna shut up (Mr Know, let's do this face to face huh)

Minho: Gladly.

Felix: Honestly, Y/N, we’re just honored to be part of this. 

Y/N: Thanks guys, this means a lot to us. 

Changbin: And we’re going to spoil them rotten.

Jeongin: Rotten is an understatement.

Y/N: 🤭🤭🤭

Minho: You won't even know what hit you for the next 18 years. Or 30.

Chan: GUYS. Stop scaring her. Baby, they’re joking.

Felix: We’re not.

Hyunjin: Nope.

Jisung: Absolutely not.

Y/N: I'm all in for that hehe

Chan: I love you guys

Jisung: Chan’s in his feels again.

Felix: We have a wedding and baby shower to plan! 

Hyunjin: OMG. A pregnant bride. You’re gonna be so GLOWY.

Y/N: Thank you for being this excited for us. I love you guys 😭💖

Felix: We love you too!! 🥺💖

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8

[4linos]

they call you clingy pt. 2

ot8 x fem!reader

genre: slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. (mostly) happy endings.

wc: 8916

(read they call you clingy pt. 1 first)

bang chan

When Chan returned home later that night, he was overwhelmed with guilt. He expected to be greeted with a warm embrace, maybe even a soft joke about how awkward he had been earlier. But when he entered your shared bedroom, he was greeted with silence. The lights were dark, and you sat on the edge of the bed, back to him. "Y/N?" He called out quietly, almost pleading.

You did not respond.

Chan's heart fell as he got closer, but you flinched when you felt him behind you. He stood there for a while, unsure of what to do, before finally speaking, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said. It was a terrible joke. Please… please look at me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for him to see the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes were red and swollen, and your expression was tight, like you were holding everything in. The sight broke him, and he stepped forward, kneeling in front of you, trying to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was frustrated, and I let it all out in the worst way. I’m so sorry, I should’ve never said that. You’re not clingy. I don’t think that at all. I was wrong. I never should’ve made you feel that way.”

You shook your head slowly, your voice cold. “No, you meant it. I heard the way you said it. You don’t want me around. You think I’m suffocating you.”

“I don’t,” Chan whispered urgently, his hands reaching out to touch yours, but you pulled them away. “I don’t think that. I swear. I don’t want you to think that at all. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to believe him, but the words still stung too much. The way he had looked at you with indifference, how he dismissed your presence like it was something burdensome. It wasn’t just the words it was the way it made you feel so small, like you weren’t wanted.

You stood up suddenly, avoiding his touch. “I just need some space, Chan. Please. Just leave me alone tonight.”

Chan flinched, but he didn’t argue. He nodded, his heart breaking as he quietly walked out of the room. He knew he had crossed a line, and the weight of that reality hit him hard. He didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning on the couch, feeling the distance between you both like a wall that couldn’t be scaled.

The next morning, Chan woke up early, with his mind still filled with guilt. He'd apologized the night before, but he knew it wasn't enough. He needed to express how sorry he was and how much he cared. He crept quietly into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast, hoping to get it right for once. When the smell of pancakes and coffee filled the apartment, he returned to your bedroom, gently knocked on the door before opening it slightly.

You sat on the side of the bed, looking out the window. Your back was still turned to him, but when you heard him enter, you had stayed still.

Chan took a deep breath, his voice soft. “I made breakfast… for us. Please, can we just eat together? I want to talk.”

You didn't say anything at first, but eventually nodded and stood up, following him into the kitchen. You both sat silently, the tension hanging between you like a cloud. Chan pushed the dish of pancakes toward you, his hands shaking slightly. He took a breath and spoke again, his voice full of earnestness.

"You were not clinging, Y/N. I was wrong. You aren't suffocating me. I adore having you around; I always do. I… I'm not sure why I said that. My frustration clouded my judgment, and I hurt you. I'm really sorry."

You didn’t answer right away, but the tightness in your chest slowly loosened. You looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

You sighed softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “It just hurt, Chan. I… I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re never a burden,” he said quietly. “You’re my partner. I want you to be with me. Always. You nodded, the words finally sinking in. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “No, I deserve it. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you both ate in silence, the unspoken understanding between you filling the room with a quiet comfort. The hurt was still there, but you knew you could heal it together.

lee know

The warmth from the burns on your leg persisted, but the coldness in your chest stung the most. You sat on the edge of the bed, carefully placing a cold compress against your skin, hoping that the discomfort sting would ease.

Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what had just transpired in the kitchen. Minho, your Minho, had yelled at you, and the words cut worse than anything physical could. You couldn't understand how it had come to this.

You had tried so hard to help, to lighten his burden, but instead you had made matters worse. The kitchen was a wreck, your leg was on fire, and your heart felt like it had been ripped open by the very person who had always made you feel safe. You wanted to believe it was just a moment of frustration, something that could be forgiven, but the distance between you both felt insurmountable.

When Minho’s voice called from the living room, it felt like the world’s weight pressed on your chest. “Hey... can we talk?" He sounded tired, but there was an undertone of hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen.

You didn’t respond, hoping the silence would send the message you weren’t ready to face him just yet. But moments later, the sound of his footsteps in the hall brought you back to reality, and before you could register, he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

His expression shifted from confusion to panic when he saw you sitting there, the cold compress against your leg, and your tear-streaked face. His eyes widened, a rush of guilt flooding over him.

"What... what happened?" His voice was quieter and more uncertain now. He took a step forward, peering down at the reddening skin on your leg. "I—oh God, did you burn yourself?" His eyes scanned yours for a response, his hand quivering slightly as he reached out to touch your leg. You didn't say anything. You couldn’t find the words. The burn hurt badly, but the heaviness of his words in the kitchen made it intolerable.

Minho's hands shook as he gently led you to lie down on the bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice cracked slightly as he rubbed a cool cloth on the burns, the chill alleviating the sting slightly.

You finally let yourself to cry, tears rocking your chest and the emotional weight coming down on you. You didn't understand how much you were holding back until the tears started pouring freely. "I-I'm sorry for the soup," you said through sobbing. "I didn't mean to ruin everything. "I just... wanted to help."

Minho's face softened, expressing regret and disbelief. He wiped your tears away with his thumb, his voice barely audible. "Stop. I don't care about the soup. Not when you're hurt. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

His words felt like a balm to your wounded heart, but they didn’t erase the ache. You buried your face in his chest as he leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You don’t deserve that... you never deserve that.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten even more. You clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, needing his warmth, his presence. “Minho... I just—everything went wrong today. And then you... you made me feel like I was a burden.” Your voice trembled, and the weight of your emotions finally broke free.

Minho’s arms tightened around you as he whispered into your hair, “I never meant to make you feel that way. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. But you are not a burden. You never will be. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You could feel his hands softly comb through your hair, comforting you as you kept crying into him. The tears weren't simply over the soup, the burn, or the day's failures. It was all about trying to keep things together, to be strong, and not show how overwhelmed you were. And everything came tumbling down in his arms. "I should have been there for you today." "I should have seen how much you were struggling," Minho said, his voice thick with regret. "I'm not upset at you. I should never have said that. I'm so sorry."

You nodded into his chest, the tears slowly subsiding as his comforting words washed over you. Despite everything, despite the mess and the hurt, there was still love between you two, even if it was lost in the chaos for a moment.

“I love you,” Minho whispered, his hand gently wiping away the last of your tears. “Please, forgive me.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. There was nothing but tenderness there now, no trace of the frustration that had clouded his expression before. “I love you too,” you said, your voice still shaky, but steadying. “I know you didn’t mean it. I just... I just had such a bad day. Everything went wrong, and I was just trying to fix it... and I ended up making it worse.”

Minho kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment. “You don’t have to fix everything. You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Let me help you.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief settle over you as his arms wrapped around you again. “I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, hugging him tighter. “I just... I wanted to help you. To make it better. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“I know,” Minho whispered back. “And you didn’t make it worse. I promise.”

As the silence between you two grew, the storm within you began to calm. It wasn't entirely mended yet, but for the first time that day, you felt like you weren't going through it alone. You felt at ease in his embrace, and you gradually began to hope that things can get better again.

changbin

Changbin's breath came out in weak, raspy gasps as he stood there watching you walk away. Every instinct in his body shouted for him to go after you, to draw you back and explain himself, but something in the air held him still. The severity of his own words resonated in his thoughts, a jarring reminder of the damage he had just done. You were hurt. And now, so was he.

He watched as your form disappeared through the exit, the door closing softly behind you. The gym suddenly felt suffocating. The weight of his own anger and frustration, which he had not yet fully comprehended, seemed to settle in his chest like a stone. He turned over, and his face flushed, his head dizzy with regret. He never wanted to make you feel like this, never wanted you to feel like a burden. His mind was spinning with confusion, but one thing was painfully clear: he had messed up. Badly.

He stood there for a long time, eyes fixed on the door, as if begging you to return, but he knew it was pointless. He had said too much. The damage was done.

You'd never felt smaller than you did at that time. Changbin's words felt like a hefty blow to the chest, knocking the air out of you. You weren't expecting him to snap. Sure, he'd been distant before, but this was different. The sharpness in his voice, the way he stared at you with irritation and anger, hurt in ways you couldn't articulate.

You didn’t know how long you had been walking for when you found yourself in the parking lot, your car now looming in front of you like a silent reminder of what had just transpired. You stood there for a moment, your hands trembling as you fumbled to unlock the door. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the chill in your chest felt much worse.

Why was he so angry?

You understood that sometimes people needed space, but you had no idea that your presence, which you expected to bring you closer, would make him feel overwhelmed. The realization hit you hard: He had been letting you to follow him about because he didn't know how to express his need for space. And, in the end, when he exploded, it broke the fragile link you had formed with him.

Your eyes stung with the promise of tears, but you pushed them away. You weren't sure if you were ready to let them fall yet.

You got in the car and drove aimlessly at first, wanting to get away and clear your mind. The drive seemed to go on forever, but you couldn't escape the agony in your chest. You eventually pulled over onto a quiet street and parked. You allowed the silence to settle in, the only sound being the faint hum of your car's engine.

Your phone buzzed, and you looked at it nervously. It was a message from Changbin. Your finger hovered over the screen, unsure whether to open it or not. But the yearning for an explanation, some attempt to make sense of it all, was overwhelming. So you opened it.

Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. Can we please talk?

You bit your lip, your eyes scanning the words over and over. His apology felt sincere, but it didn’t erase the sting of what he had said. How could it? And yet, a part of you still wanted to hear him out, to understand where he was coming from, even if it hurt.

You debated texting him back. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to hold onto the distance you felt was needed right now. Another part wanted to reach out, to explain that you weren’t trying to smother him, that you just wanted to be close.

Instead of responding, you did the one thing you never thought you’d do: you called him.

The phone rang a few times before he answered. “Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost nervous.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Can we talk?”

A long silence passed. You could hear him take a deep breath on the other end. “Yeah. I think we need to.”

-

Back at the gym, Changbin had barely managed to collect himself before his phone buzzed in his hand. When he saw your name on the screen, he almost couldn’t believe it. He had messed up so badly, and yet, you were still willing to talk to him. His heart beat faster as he swiped to answer, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

“Y/N?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t imagining this.

“I… I’m still upset, Bin,” you said, your voice shaky. “I don’t know what to think. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was invading your space. I just… I wanted to be close to you.”

“I know,” he whispered, guilt flooding his chest. “I should’ve told you sooner. It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to feel like that… like I’m pushing you away. But I just… the gym was the one place where I could just be by myself, clear my head. And when I didn’t have that anymore… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you’d like it. That maybe it would be something we could do together.”

“I do like spending time with you,” he said, his voice steady now, more sincere. “I really do. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking it out on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry for how I said it. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “I just wanted to be close to you. I didn’t realize I was making you feel suffocated.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I know. And I should’ve communicated better. I just didn’t know how.”

“I understand,” you replied softly. “I just… I need a little time. To process this.”

Changbin’s heart sank, but he understood. “Yeah. I get that. Take the time you need. But please know I’m here. I don’t want to lose you over something that should’ve been a misunderstanding.”

You inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t fixed, not yet, but you could feel the tension easing a little, the sharp edges of the pain starting to soften.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “We’ll talk more when I’m ready.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Changbin replied, his voice full of warmth despite the distance between you. “I’ll be here.”

The call ended, leaving a quiet, uneasy space between you two. You were unsure where this would lead or what would happen next. But perhaps, just maybe, you can find your way back together.

hyunjin

The next morning, you woke to a cloud of confusion still hanging over you. Hyunjin's remark from last night, as well as the way he pushed you away, played on an unending loop in your memory. The hurt was still fresh, but you were beginning to wonder why. Why had everything changed so dramatically? Why had Hyunjin, who you had always trusted, suddenly become distant?

You'd barely slept, your mind knotted in a web of despair, confusion, and betrayal. Everything seemed odd as you tried to get through the day. The calm hum of your daily routine had been replaced by a heavy silence in your chest. Your phone remained silent, and you weren't sure if that was a relief or something else entirely. You couldn’t decide whether to hope Hyunjin would reach out to explain himself or whether it was better to just forget it all.

But then, in the late afternoon, your phone buzzed. It was a text from him.

Hyunjin: Can we talk? I need to explain.

Your stomach twisted, both nervous and cautious. You stared at the message, weighing the possibility of opening the door to this conversation. You didn’t know if you were ready to hear whatever he had to say. Still, part of you needed answers, even if they were painful.

After a few moments of hesitation, you typed back.

You: Where?

Hyunjin: Meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Please.

You took a deep breath and, despite everything, found yourself getting ready to meet him. Part of you was angry, but there was another part, the part that still missed him, that needed to understand. You had always believed in the strength of your friendship. You didn’t want to just throw that away without knowing what had really happened.

When you arrived at the park, the air felt cool against your skin, and the trees around you swayed gently in the breeze. The park was quiet, mostly empty, with only a few scattered joggers. You found him near a bench, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his posture tense. He stood as soon as he saw you, but neither of you moved closer at first. There was an awkwardness between you two that felt thick enough to cut.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice almost faltering. "You wanted to talk?"

He nodded but didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, staring at you as if he wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, after a long pause, he exhaled sharply and took a step closer.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low and unsure. "I know I hurt you last night, and I—I need you to know that wasn’t my intention. I’ve been… I’ve been a mess, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings.”

You furrowed your brows, the confusion growing. “Feelings? What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin seemed to hesitate, as if he was unsure whether to voice the words out. But after a moment, he added, his voice breaking slightly: "I—I like you. More than just a friend. I had for a while, but I wasn't sure how to deal with it. So I tried pushing you away. I figured if I detached myself from you, it would go away. That I could let go of these feelings."

The words struck you like a thunderclap. For a while, you just stood there, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of what he had just revealed. Hyunjin... liked you? Was it why he had been so distant? All the time you'd spent wondering what had changed, what had gone wrong… it was this?

He looked at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, guilt, and something else that you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I thought… if I pushed you away, I could just forget. But the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. And last night, I just… I didn’t know how to act around you anymore. So I lashed out. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stood there, silently absorbing his words. The knot in your chest relaxed, but it was replaced by something else: a rush of feelings you couldn't quite describe.

You had no idea how to handle this revelation. You had been wondering what had happened to your friendship, why things seemed so tense, and now it all made sense. But it was overwhelming. You never saw it coming.

"I don't know what to say," you confessed gently. "I did not..." I didn't realize you felt that way. All I saw was you slipping away, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. I didn't realize it was about this."

“I should have told you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I was so afraid of ruining everything, of losing our friendship. But instead, I ended up pushing you away. I thought if I could stop being close to you, I could stop feeling this way. I was wrong."

You felt a mixture of emotions rise up relief, anger, sadness, confusion. But beneath it all, there was something else: you understood now. He had been trying to protect himself, even if it meant hurting you in the process. It didn’t make his actions right, but it made them a little easier to comprehend.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

Hyunjin took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were immediately. I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to try. I want to be honest with you now. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I couldn’t let you think you didn’t matter."

You paused for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you still felt hurt, but another part of you your heart, maybe was softening. You had always cared about him. The idea of more than just friendship… it was a lot to process, but you realized that in some way, you were willing to listen, to figure out what this meant for the two of you.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t care. I do. I care a lot. We just need time. To figure this out.”

Hyunjin nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet hope. “I’ll give you time. I won’t push you. I just needed to say it. To be honest.”

The two of you stood there for a while, neither of you moving, but there was a shift a change in the air. For the first time in weeks, it felt like there might be a way forward. Maybe it wasn’t simple, maybe it wasn’t easy, but at least you had the truth. And that, you realized, was enough to begin again.

HAN

The silence lingered for what seemed like hours, the kind of silence that enveloped you both like a thick cloud. You hadn't moved, still curled on the bed, eyes locked on the wall, as if it might give some answers. You couldn't get the idea that something inside of him had permanently shifted, that whatever had cracked tonight had been building up for a time and was now beyond your control.

Jisung said nothing, did not try to pull you closer, nor did he give his usual soothing words of regret. But he had not left either. His presence next to you, despite its normal comfort, suddenly felt like a distant recollection, a piece of him that had vanished.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard him shift on the bed beside you. His voice was barely a whisper, but you could tell he was struggling, his words thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the weight of the apology, like he had been holding it back for so long it had become a raw, painful thing.

You stayed silent, not sure what to say. He had hurt you, and though you wanted to forgive him, you couldn’t shake the sting of his words. His harshness had cut deeper than anything he’d said before, and you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the day, or something more, something that had been building up between you two for a while.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N,” he continued, his voice shaky, as if the apology itself had become difficult to express. “I’m just… I’m just tired. I don’t know how to deal with everything. But that doesn’t excuse how I snapped at you. You don’t deserve that. You never do.”

You eventually allowed yourself to turn towards him, your gaze scanning his face, and you saw the weakness there, the same vulnerability you had always seen beneath his normal confidence. His fists were clasped in his lap, and his shoulders bowed, as if he were bracing for the impending storm.

"You are not a burden, Y/N." "You're not clingy," he continued quietly, his voice much lower now, as if the apology was gradually peeling away the layers of irritation and hurt. "I just.. I'm not always sure how to let you in. I am so overwhelmed that instead of accepting your help, I push you away."

Your heart squeezed. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was battling with himself, trying to figure out how to make it right without knowing how.

“I’ve been so used to dealing with everything on my own,” he continued, looking at the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. I didn’t want you to see me as weak. But instead, I ended up hurting you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and it took everything in you not to reach out and wrap your arms around him. You knew he had been struggling, you knew it. But hearing him admit that he had been keeping things from you, afraid of showing his true self, only made the ache in your chest grow.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I think you're strong. But you don’t have to do everything by yourself, Jisung. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He shook his head, eventually meeting your eyes. His eyes were filled with sadness, but there was also a quiet desperation in them, as if he didn't know how to mend the rift between you two.

“I just... I'm so sorry. I don't know how to ask for help," he said, his voice full with sorrow. "But when you try to help me, I... I push you away because I'm not sure how to let you in. But you aren't a burden, Y/N. You have never been one. I just didn't know how to handle anything on my own, so I ended up pushing you away when all you wanted was to be there for me."

The honesty in his words was almost too much to bear. You had always known Jisung to be someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, someone who could make light of even the darkest situations. But now, seeing him like this, so raw and open, made your chest tighten.

“I don’t want you to push me away anymore,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to help you. But I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out.”

Jisung's lips twitched, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't find the right words. Instead, he simply nodded, the impact of his quiet screaming loudly. He didn't need to say anything else because you could feel the pain in his chest and all the frustration he'd been carrying around for too long.

For a long time, the two of you merely sat there, your quiet now distinct. It wasn't the crushing stillness of earlier, but one filled with empathy, even if neither of you understood exactly how to mend anything.

After a while, Jisung reached out, his hand hesitating before softly stroking your arm. The warmth of his fingers across your skin brought back memories of how simple things had been between you two. He didn't say anything unnecessary, but you could sense his apology in the way he held his hand there, letting you know he was sincerely sorry.

"I'll try to do better," he answered simply and softly. "I will try to let you in more. I do not want to push you away anymore."

You nodded, your heart still heavy but not as broken as it had been moments ago. “I just want to be there for you, Jisung,” you said softly. “I don’t want you to have to go through everything alone.”

The quiet stretched again, but this time, it felt different. It felt like a beginning. Neither of you knew how to fix everything right away, but you both knew that you wanted to try. And sometimes, that was enough.

Jisung shifted closer, his hand still resting on your arm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so distant from each other. There were still things left unsaid, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were both here, both willing to try again.

felix

The hours passed by in agonizing silence, the kind that made everything seem more impossible than it actually was and stretched and clawed at your thoughts. Nothing could take away the icy emptiness that had descended between you and Felix, even as you lay there, wrapped up inside yourself, listening to the gentle buzz of the night.

When the world got too much, he would wrap up with you and reassure you with soft touches and quiet words. You recalled the warmth you had previously enjoyed. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago. His distance was more than just physical; it was something that made your chest hurt since you didn't know how to make it better.

But as much as you wanted to lie there, to let the hurt consume you, you couldn't. You couldn't just wait and wonder if things would somehow improve on their own. You were the kind of person who needed closure, who needed to understand what was happening. And right now, Felix was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

You sat up, wiping at your tear-streaked face, and glanced towards the living room. The faint glow from the TV still flickered through the hallway, casting a cold light on the darkness of the apartment. You could feel the weight of the choice pressing down on you: Should you leave him be, give him the space he seemed to want, or should you push through, confront him, and demand answers?

You hesitated for quite some time. But then you made a decision. You needed answers. You needed to understand why the person you loved had abruptly shifted into someone you didn't recognize. You moved along the hallway, the apartment's silence more oppressive than before.

Felix kept his position on the couch, his eyes looking blankly at the TV, his posture tight and walled off. You stayed there for a moment, studying him, trying to determine whether he noticed your presence.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen. His face remained unreadable.

"Felix," you said again, your voice steady but laced with emotion. This time, there was no hesitation in your tone, no softness. You needed him to hear you.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the tension in the room shift slightly, as if he knew you were waiting for him to say something. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter than before.

“I told you I don’t want to talk,” he said, almost in a whisper. But this time, the words weren’t as sharp. There was something else in his voice, something you hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t anger, but a deep exhaustion, a weariness that seemed to go beyond just physical fatigue.

You didn’t take a step back this time. Instead, you closed the distance between you, sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand brushing lightly against his. It was small, a gesture that once would have meant nothing, but now it felt like everything. You needed him to know you were still here, that you hadn’t given up.

“Felix,” you repeated, softer this time, your voice trembling with vulnerability. “I know something’s bothering you. And I get it. You don’t have to talk right now, if you’re not ready. But I need to know—am I the problem?”

When you asked the question, his head snapped towards you, his eyes wide with amazement, as if he had never considered it before. For a brief moment, his gaze softened, and you thought you caught a glimpse of the old Felix, the one who used to share everything with you, the one who would always turn to you when the world got too much.

"Of course not," he said gently, his voice husky. He took a deep breath and wiped his face with his palms before running them through his hair. "You aren't the problem. "I just...I’m a mess right now, okay? I did not mean to push you away. I didn't know how to deal with it, and I thought if I could draw back, maybe it would get better.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in what felt like days, you understood. Felix had always been the strong one, the person who seemed so capable of handling everything on his own. But now you saw how much he was struggling beneath the surface, how much he had been hiding.

"You don’t have to carry it all alone," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Felix, we’ve always been a team. You can lean on me. You don’t have to push me away just because you’re having a hard time."

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze flickering to the floor, then back up to you. The tension in his shoulders finally seemed to ease, and he let out a long breath. It was as though a weight was slowly lifting, and for the first time in days, you saw a glimpse of the Felix you had known and loved.

“I’m scared,” he admitted softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m scared of being a burden. I’m scared that if I show you how much I’m struggling, you’ll leave. I’m scared you won’t love me if I’m not always the one who has everything together.”

The rawness of his confession hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just sat there, your heart aching for him. You had always known Felix to be strong, but in this moment, you realized just how vulnerable he was beneath it all, and how much he had been carrying alone.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Felix,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I love you, all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Felix finally looked at you, his eyes wide, his expression almost disbelieving. The walls that had been built up around him seemed to crack ever so slightly, and you could see the relief in his eyes. He swallowed hard, then reached out, taking your hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his grip tightening around your fingers. “I’ve been pushing you away for no reason. I was just so scared.”

You shook your head gently, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, Felix. You don’t have to be scared. We’ll get through this together.”

For a minute, you just stood there, the two of you having an unsaid understanding. There was still a lot to sort out, and the path ahead would be difficult, but you knew that if you were both ready to try, you could do it.

As Felix drew in closer, resting his forehead against yours, you felt the warmth of his presence return, as well as the relief that you hadn't lost him despite everything. Not yet.

And for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that things could be better.

seungmin

The morning light filtered softly through the kitchen windows, casting a dull glow over the room. Seungmin walked in, a faint sigh escaping his lips as he poured himself a cup of coffee, his mind still half-occupied by the rehearsals and everything waiting for him outside the walls of this apartment. But as he sat down at the breakfast table, he was immediately hit with an unexpected shift in the air.

There was no cheerful greeting from you, no attempt to share a quiet moment together before the day began. Instead, you sat across from him, silently eating your breakfast, your gaze fixed on the plate in front of you. Usually, you’d be making something small, even if it was just a quick toast or coffee, a gesture that made mornings feel connected. But today, the stillness felt suffocating.

Seungmin frowned, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He didn’t quite understand why you weren’t speaking, but he knew something wasn’t right. He set his cup down, meeting your eyes for the briefest of moments before his voice broke through the quiet.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone a bit strained, not sure if he was even ready to hear the answer.

You did not respond immediately away, keeping your gaze fixed on your food and your jaw tight as if the words you wanted to say were locked between your teeth. But they didn't come, and your silence spoke louder than any argument. Seungmin waited, his patience dwindling as time passed.

Finally, you scoffed, making a little but harsh sound that seemed to cut through the air, and you stood up from the table, pushing your chair back with an audible scrape.

"I don’t know, Seungmin," you shot back, your voice tinged with frustration, barely holding back the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I don’t matter to you."

He blinked, taken aback by the intensity of your words. Before he could respond, you stormed off, the door to the bedroom slamming shut behind you with a force that rattled the still air. Seungmin sat there, the taste of the bitter coffee suddenly unfamiliar in his mouth, his mind spinning. He hadn’t expected this. Not after everything that had happened last night.

The rest of the day felt like a blur. He went through the motions work, meetings, rehearsals but your words lingered in his mind, a constant hum of unease. By the time he returned home that evening, the tension was unbearable. He hesitated by the front door, unsure of what to expect. Normally, he would have found you sitting on the couch, or you would have greeted him with a small smile, asking about his day. But tonight, there was only silence.

He walked into the apartment, his footsteps faltering slightly as he noticed you in the corner of the living room, avoiding his gaze completely. You sat curled up on the couch, eyes fixed on the television but not really seeing anything at all. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you, and the hollow feeling in his chest deepened.

"Can we talk?" he asked carefully, his voice laced with concern. His eyes searched yours for any sign that you were ready to listen.

You didn't respond immediately, your body rigid and remote. His heart fell as he saw the look on your face, as if a part of you had closed off, trapped behind a door he couldn't open. "Please," he said, getting closer. "I don't know what's going on, but..." "I can't fix this unless you tell me."

You snapped your head up, your eyes burning with a mix of pain and frustration. Your voice was more emotional than usual. "You don't get it, do you, Seungmin?" You stood up abruptly, raising your voice with each word. "I have tried. I've been trying for days to get you to come see me and realize that something is wrong! But all you have done is brush me off, make me feel like I’m too much for you, like I’m just… clingy."

His eyes widened in realization, the words you had uttered earlier in the morning returning to him with a crushing force. He had no idea it had gotten this bad, nor did he realize how much his words had hurt you until now. And it stung when the weight of his own stupidity fell on him. You carried on, your voice cracking as you talked.

"You've been really distant, Seungmin. And when I try to talk to you or look for your attention, you just push me away. You make me feel as though I am a burden. And I can't keep pretending that I don't feel it.”

Seungmin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there, completely stunned, his chest tightening with regret. He had been so wrapped up in his own stress and exhaustion, so focused on his own battles, that he hadn’t realized how far apart you had grown, how much pain you had been quietly carrying.

He swallowed hard, stepping closer, his voice small now, barely a whisper. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I… I didn’t realize how much my actions were hurting you."

But your anger had already started to bubble back up. You shook your head, arms crossed tightly against your chest. "How could you not realize, Seungmin? How could you not see how much I’m struggling with this? I needed you, but you’ve been so… so cold." You paused, your breath shallow. "I needed you to care. To see me."

The words stung like salt in an open wound, but Seungmin couldn’t deny the truth in them. His heart clenched, and without thinking, he moved toward you, pulling you into his arms before you could step away.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible, or like you were too much. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I forgot to see you, to notice what I was doing to us." He held you tighter, his grip desperate now, like he was trying to hold onto something he feared was slipping away. "Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you."

Your body trembled against him, but for the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t pull away. You rested your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath, your emotions swirling but slowly softening under his touch.

"I just need you to be present, Seungmin," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. "I need to know that you’re here with me. That I matter to you."

"I hear you," he whispered softly, gently touching your face and lifting your head to meet his gaze. His embrace was raw and vulnerable in a way you had not seen before. "I hear you, and I promise to do better." I will make you feel seen. I will make sure you understand how much you mean to me."

You nodded softly, your heart aching but glad for his genuine remarks. The path to healing would take time, but for the first time in a long time, you felt confident that he would accompany you on it.

I.N

The next day, Jeongin arrived at your apartment, his normal bright smile on his face as he walked through the door. It was as if yesterday had never happened. His aura was light and carefree, as if he hadn't just disrupted the peace you had previously enjoyed in your relationship.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from his cold demeanor the night before. The hurt persisted, and you couldn't shake the weight of his words. Stop being so clingy. It wasn't the first time someone had made you feel small, but it hurt more than you expected, especially coming from him.

You didn't answer as usual, and you didn't greet him with the warmth he had grown to expect. Instead, you kept your distance by giving him short, clipped answers. You preoccupied yourself with little things in the apartment, refusing to make eye contact in the hopes that the stillness would bridge the gap between you. The tension in the room, however, was palpable.

Jeongin didn't seem to notice right away. He went about his usual business, jokingly discussing his day and laughing as if everything was alright. When he reached for your hand, you automatically pushed it away, indicating that something was wrong. His smile faltered, and the warmth in his eyes was gradually replaced by confusion.

"Hey," he said, voice soft, the smile still not fully gone but now laced with a hint of concern. "What's wrong?"

You looked up at him, saw the real confusion in his eyes, and almost let it go. Almost let go of your pain for his smile, for the Jeongin you adored. But the words you'd been keeping in all day sprang to the surface. "What was that yesterday?" You snapped, your voice filled with emotion. The anger, hurt, and confusion you'd been harboring all night had finally bubbled over. "You were an entirely different person. One minute you were fine the next you were pushing me away, telling me I was too clingy. What was that?"

Jeongin blinked, taken aback by your strong tone, his eyes wide as if he had not expected such an outburst. His posture tensed, and for a brief period, you could see the walls he had built to protect himself from whatever discomfort was brewing inside. But that didn't erase the fact that his actions had harmed you more than he knew.

"If you want to act like that, maybe we should just break up," you muttered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, a mix of hurt and frustration in your voice. "I don't want to be with someone who suddenly treats me like I'm a burden just because they're worried about what others think.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jeongin’s expression faltered, his brows furrowing as if the idea of you breaking up was the last thing he expected. His eyes softened slightly, and his voice became almost breathless as he spoke, not quite believing what you’d just said.

“Wait… what?” His voice wavered, the hurt in his eyes clear now. "No, no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

You crossed your arms, feeling the burn of frustration building again. You needed answers. “Then what was it, Jeongin? Why did you act like that? I thought we were fine, but now… now I don’t know where I stand with you.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands running through his hair as he paced for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words. After a beat of silence, he stopped in front of you, meeting your eyes, this time with a vulnerability that was both unexpected and painfully familiar.

“I… I love you," he began, his voice steady but filled with an edge of fear. "I love you so much, but I was afraid… I was afraid that if we showed too much PDA, the members would tease me relentlessly. They’re always joking about stuff like that, and I didn’t want them to make fun of me, of us."

The explanation hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned. Was this actually the reason? Was he so concerned about what his members thought that he distanced himself from you, his girlfriend, in front of them? You struggled to wrap your head around it.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" The question fell out of your mouth before you could think. The thought of it twisted something inside you, the possibility that he might consider you as something to hide rather than something to be proud of.

Jeongin’s face immediately morphed into one of panic, as if the very suggestion cut him deeper than anything you could have said. “No! God, no. I would never—” He stepped forward, his hands reaching for you, but you instinctively took a small step back. He stopped, his hands falling to his sides, the hurt in his eyes obvious now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his confession hanging between you two. "I never meant for you to feel like that. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want the members to think I was soft or that I couldn’t keep my cool. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m sorry for pushing you away, for making you feel like I didn’t care about you."

His words were a mix of regret and sincerity, and as he spoke, you could feel the depth of his struggle, the dread of being judged and ridiculed that kept him from completely being himself with you. It wasn't that he didn't love you; it was just that he hadn't understood how to balance his feelings with the demands of his life.

You stood there, silent for a moment, contemplating what he had just said. Your heart was still raw, but you could see remorse in his eyes and feel it in the way he stood, as if he was waiting for you to decide what to do next.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter than before, but the hurt remained beneath the surface. "I don't care what others say, Jeongin. I care about us. I want to be able to express my love for you without having to worry about what others might say."

He nodded quickly, his stare focused, and took a slight step toward you. "I promise I won't do it again. I will never make you feel that you are too much, or that I am embarrassed by you. You are more than just someone I care about; you are someone I am proud of. And I will do better. I will."

You held onto his gaze, seeing the honesty in his eyes and sensing the truth in his words. It was not a simple fix. There was work to be done and trust to be rebuilt, but you could tell right away that he was eager to give it his all.

"I just need you to be honest with me," you muttered, feeling the tension between you begin to ease. "That's all I want."

Jeongin's expression softened as he made one final step forward, closing the gap between you. His hands met yours, and his contact was warm and grounded. "I'm here. I'm actually here. And I will make sure you never feel that way again."

//

(❌ proofread)

masterlist.

[frmisnow]

play pretend ! ₊⟡⋆ nsfw.

the premise of fake dating your best friend, for just a weekend, is hilarous.. and scary. but what happens after is even scarier.. it's just play pretend right?

warnings / includes — sex, heavy fwb themes, bit of angst

shame coated you when you woke up in one of the guest rooms, carefully placed onto the bed at about 3am by no other then jungkook while you were dead hungover. pure rotten shame rests in your cheeks, paints them red when you say bye to his family a few hours later as jungkook couldn't quite even look at you.

everything about him was different. the way he moved around you, the way he avoided looking directly at you. hell, even his voice sounded quieter, less confident, like he didn’t know what to do either.

something had changed him, for the worse.

and it was all your damn fault.

you had thought the car ride would give you both time to defrost, pretend that whatever happened the night earlier did in fact not happen, crack some jokes but to no avail — long, defening silence.

silence and shame don't go well together, the color they create on the canvas of yours, it soaked through you. stayed with you for the next five days, it's the color of the message you send him at 11 pm on saturday, asking him how he was doing.

it's the ugly color of the 'delivered' button that stays there for the following two days.

the dress you wear to the next party is bright, anything to drown out the guilt that was eating you alive.

the music is loud, and so are you. laughing a little too hard, moving a little too close to anyone who shows you attention. you take another sip of whatever is in your cup, the liquid burning its way down your throat but dulling the ache in your chest.

and then there’s him.

you don’t see Jungkook immediately, but you feel him before your eyes catch his across the room. you feel the way the air shifts, the way your stomach churns when you notice the familiar set of his jaw, the way his eyes flicker toward you.

you almost drop your drink.

because it feels like a candid flashback of that night—only now it’s all so different. why did things have to be so complicated?

you’re pressed against some guy you barely know, his lips grazing your neck in a way that should distract you. you’ve been letting it happen, letting him flirt, letting his hands wander because it’s easier than thinking about the mess you left unresolved.

but then there’s jungkook. he stands on the other side, the neon light painting his face; his look wasn't judging. maybe light disappointment but more observing then anything, really. and it reminded you of how you used to stare at him whenever he was going after various girls at these exact sorts of parties.

it makes you sick, makes the unfamilar hands on your body feel foul and uninviting, it's not the fire burning through you like it had that night, it's cold ice, slowly creeping through your veins, making it's way to your brain.

said ice whispers things you don't want to hear, reminds you of things you don't want to think about.

"fuck, i think i like you."

you run of upstairs to the nearest balcony, the house was familar one of your mutual friends', this place was where you used to play spin the damn bottle in high school. now it feels haunted, just as univiting as the guy's hands felt a few minutes ago, why did everything feel so distant now? first jungkook, now everything else. why was it so consuming?

you light up a cigarette, you didn't usually smoke but you wanted to feel that fire again, the warmth, the pure need from a week ago. you regreted not having fucked the guy because you were sure he could've made you forget for longer then this cig could.

“thought I might find you here,” he says behind you, kneeling next to you yet keeping a safe distance, his voice low and cautious.

"you shouldn't have," you respond coldly, because anger is a better emotion to feel then regret and you had plenty things to be frustrated about, "you've been avoiding me for a whole week, don't pretend like you give a fuck." you don't meet his eyes, just take another drag.

but you see him flinch in the corner of your eye. great, the guilt sits in you once again.

he shifts slightly, and you can feel the tension radiating off him , “i know I’ve been a jerk, but it’s not that simple—”

“then make it simple.” your voice is sharper than you intended, but the hurt has festered for too long. you finally turn to face him, “i need to know what you want. because this? whatever this is? it’s fucking misery.”

the words hang heavily in the air, and for a moment, silence stretches between you. jungkook looks like he’s grappling with his thoughts, the tension in his body palpable. then, slowly, he closes the distance between you, his eyes softening as he cups your face in his hands.

“can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice a whisper, as if the question itself is laced with vulnerability.

you nod, and the moment your lips touch, it’s like everything else fades away. the kiss starts soft, gentle, as if he’s savoring the moment, and you can feel your heart begin to race.

it's nothing like the previous fire you had wished to experience earlier, it's delicate warming sunlight, brushing over your skin, washing away the hideous color that had built over the last few days.

“friends with benefits,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and sweet. “we get to have this-” he kisses you again, slow and lingering, “—without the pressure of expectations.”

“expectations?” you echo, your mind racing as you try to process his words.

“yeah,” he replies, his lips brushing against yours, each touch sending shivers down your spine. “we can enjoy each other without worrying about where it’s going. just... pure fun.” his hands toy with the hem of your dress, before returning your gaze.

time slips quick, it all feels so raw, so different from that night yet all so much better.

his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, driving deep inside you with a primal urgency. you can feel the way he fills you, stretching you perfectly. you're so glad you aren't drunk, that you'll remember this in the morning and the day after.

you claw at his back, nails digging in, urging him on, needing more, wanting all of him. and he curses, runs his mouth like the talkative brat you knew he always was, degrades you one second, tentatively kisses your cheeks the next.

his hands rest on your tighs as he kisses along your clit once again, sweet, real. taunts you 'for the mess you made on your friend's coach' but he doesn't give you time to feel guilty, just starts nuzzling his face back into your pussy, licking along.

no, jungkook will never make you feel the same guilt again. you're sure of it, well — not that you could really properly think under these conditions anyway.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | it was never meant to be (1/2)

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, franco colapinto ୨ৎ : synopsis : your f1 boyfriend's publicist suggests he should date someone with more status in front of the camera, he agrees to it, but what happens to your relationship when his "fake relationship" with her blossoms into something more.

୨ৎ : genre : heartbreak, angst, sad themes ୨ৎ : tws : arguing, break-up, cheating ୨ৎ : word count : 2703

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

୨ৎ part two (carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri) ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : got this idea from my sister, she lowkey cooked.

ʚ・max verstappen

the hotel room felt colder than usual, despite the late spring air outside. you sat on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling slightly as max paced in front of you, his movements restless, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“you promised me,” you said, your voice quiet but filled with an unmistakable tremor of pain. “you promised me it was just an act.”

max froze, his back to you, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a shaky exhale. he didn’t turn around.

“what happened?” you pressed, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. “what changed?”

his silence was louder than any answer he could have given.

you stood, the ache in your chest unbearable as you closed the space between you. “look at me, max,” you demanded, your voice sharp now, desperate. “say it. tell me it wasn’t real. tell me you didn’t—”

“i can’t,” he interrupted, his voice hoarse, raw. he finally turned to face you, his blue eyes filled with guilt and something else you couldn’t quite name. regret? pain? relief?

your breath hitched, and the room spun for a moment as the truth settled like lead in your stomach. “you fell in love with her,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

he didn’t deny it.

“how could you?” you choked out, tears spilling freely now. “you swore to me, max. you swore it was just for the cameras, that it was me you loved. how could you let this happen?”

“i didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice breaking as he ran a hand through his hair. “it wasn’t supposed to happen. i thought i could do it—i thought i could keep it separate. but… things changed.”

“things changed?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger. “what about us? what about everything we’ve been through? you don’t just fall out of love with someone, max! you don’t just replace them like—like they’re nothing!”

“you’re not nothing,” he said quickly, stepping closer, but you recoiled, the hurt too fresh, too raw. “i didn’t want this to happen. i didn’t plan it.”

“but it did,” you said bitterly, shaking your head. “you let it happen. you chose her. all those nights you spent with her, all those events, all those ‘pretend’ moments—somewhere along the way, you stopped pretending, didn’t you?”

he looked down, unable to meet your eyes.

you laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. “i gave everything to you, max. i stood by you through everything—through the wins, the losses, the endless travel, the pressure. i loved you when you couldn’t even love yourself. and now you’re telling me that wasn’t enough?”

“it’s not about enough,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “you were everything, but… i changed. i don’t know how to explain it. i just… i’m not the same person i was when we started this. and maybe that’s why—”

“don’t you dare blame this on change,” you snapped, your hands balling into fists. “this isn’t about change, max. this is about you breaking every promise you ever made to me. it’s about you deciding that what we had wasn’t worth fighting for.”

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“sorry?” you repeated, your voice shaking with disbelief. “you’re sorry? do you even realize what you’ve done to me? to us? you’ve destroyed everything, max. everything.”

he didn’t respond. he just stood there, his shoulders slumped, his eyes glistening with tears he refused to let fall.

he tried to step closer, his hand reaching for you, but you shook your head. “i hope she was worth it,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the pain. “because you’ve lost me.”

with that, you turned and walked out, leaving him standing there, the echo of your words hanging in the air.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the evening was quiet, save for the soft hum of the london skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of lewis’s penthouse. he stood by the counter, his back to you, shoulders tense as he gripped the edge of the marble. you could feel the weight of the silence between you, a chasm that had only grown wider these past months.

“just say it, lewis,” you said, your voice soft but trembling. “i deserve that much.”

he exhaled, long and shaky, before finally turning to face you. his brown eyes, usually so warm and full of life, now held only guilt and a sadness that cut deep.

“it wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he said, his voice barely audible.

your chest tightened, and you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “what wasn’t supposed to happen, lewis? you falling for her?”

he winced at your words, his jaw clenching as he looked away. “you know it started as a pr thing,” he said, almost defensively. “the team thought it would be good for my image—me and someone high-profile. someone who fit the brand.”

“and you agreed,” you said bitterly. “you promised me it was just for the cameras. you swore to me, lewis.”

“i thought it would be,” he said, his voice breaking. “i thought i could keep it separate. that it wouldn’t mean anything. but…”

“but what?” you snapped, taking a step closer, anger overtaking the ache in your chest. “you spent so much time pretending that you forgot it wasn’t real?”

his silence was deafening.

“i gave up so much for us,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “the constant travel, the scrutiny, always being second to your career. i did it because i loved you, lewis. because i believed in us. and now you’re telling me you fell out of love with me because you fell for her?”

“it’s not that simple,” he said, his voice rising slightly, though there was no anger behind it—only desperation. “you don’t understand what it’s like, the pressure, the expectations—”

“don’t you dare make this about your career,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “i stood by you through all of it, lewis. i was there when no one else was. and now you’re throwing it all away because someone ‘fit the brand’ better than i did?”

“that’s not what this is,” he said, his tone pleading. “i didn’t plan for this to happen. i didn’t want to hurt you.”

“but you did,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “you already did.”

he looked at you then, tears glistening in his eyes, and for a moment, you saw the man you fell in love with—the man who promised you the world, who told you that love was the only thing that mattered. but that man had made a choice, and it wasn’t you.

“i’m sorry,” he said, the words trembling as they left his lips.

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. “sorry?” you echoed, your voice cracking. “sorry doesn’t fix this, lewis. sorry doesn’t erase the nights i stayed up worrying about you, the times i put you first, or the pieces of myself i gave up to love you.”

he flinched but didn’t say a word, his silence cutting deeper than anything else.

you took a shaky step back, your breath hitching. “i hope she gives you everything i couldn’t,” you said, your voice trembling with heartbreak. “but just know—you didn’t lose me, lewis. you gave me up.”

with that, you turned on your heel, walking toward the door with as much strength as you could muster. the tears blurred your vision as they fell, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. not for him. not anymore.

ʚ・george russell

the door creaked as you stepped into the flat, soaked from the rain, your coat dripping onto the floor. george stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, a mug of tea untouched in his hand. he turned as you entered, but the usual warmth in his expression was gone.

you closed the door behind you, hanging your coat on the rack with deliberate slowness, trying to steel yourself for what you knew was coming. “you texted me to come home early,” you said, your voice careful. “what’s going on?”

he set the mug down and ran a hand through his hair, the strands disheveled as though he’d been doing it all evening. “we need to talk,” he said, his voice soft, almost too soft.

you froze, your heart sinking. “george…”

he met your gaze, guilt etched deeply in his features. “i don’t know how to say this,” he began, his voice shaking slightly, “but i have to be honest with you.”

your chest tightened as you stepped closer. “honest about what?” you asked, though the dread pooling in your stomach already told you.

he exhaled shakily, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. “i’ve been trying to keep things together, to keep this… us. but i can’t lie anymore.” he looked at you, his blue eyes clouded with regret. “i don’t feel the same way i used to.”

the air left your lungs. “what?” you whispered. “what are you saying, george?”

he hesitated, but the words came anyway, cutting through you like a knife. “i’ve fallen for her,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “the girl i was set up to date for the press. it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did.”

you stared at him, disbelief washing over you in waves. “you promised me,” you said, your voice trembling. “you promised it was all fake, that it was just for appearances.”

“i thought it would be,” he said, his tone desperate. “i thought i could keep it separate, that it wouldn’t mean anything. but somewhere along the way… it stopped feeling like an act.”

your head shook as tears welled in your eyes. “and what about me, george? what about us? do i mean nothing to you now?”

“you mean everything to me,” he said quickly, stepping forward, but you backed away, the distance between you growing. “you were there for me when no one else was, when i needed someone who believed in me. but…” his voice broke, and his shoulders sagged. “it’s not fair to you if my heart’s not in it anymore.”

“not fair to me?” you snapped, the anger bubbling to the surface. “what’s unfair is that i stood by you through everything—your career, the pressure, the public eye—only for you to fall for someone else because she ‘fits the narrative’ better.”

his silence was deafening, his expression pained but offering no defense.

“i gave you everything,” you said, your voice breaking. “and you’re throwing it away like it’s nothing. for what, george? for someone who plays the part better than i do?”

“it’s not like that,” he pleaded, but you raised a hand, stopping him.

“no,” you said firmly, tears now streaming down your face. “you don’t get to justify this. you don’t get to pretend this is about anything but your choices.”

he reached out, but you stepped back, shaking your head. “i hope she makes you happy,” you said bitterly, your voice steadying despite the pain. “because you just lost the one person who loved you for who you really are—not the perfect image the world expects you to be.”

the words hung in the air as you turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind you.

… weeks later

the flat was empty now, your things gone, and george sat alone in the quiet, staring at the spot where you used to sit on the couch with your legs tucked under you, reading or laughing at something he said.

his phone buzzed, a text from her lighting up the screen. he stared at it for a long moment, but he didn’t reply.

because the truth was, she might’ve been the perfect fit for his career, his brand—but she wasn’t you. and now, as the weight of his choices settled over him, he realized what he had lost wasn’t just love. it was you. and no pr stunt could ever fix that.

ʚ・franco colapinto

the sound of the rain tapping against the window was the only thing that filled the space between you and franco as he sat across from you, his hands clenched into fists on the table. you’d been waiting for this moment for weeks, months, really. deep down, you had known it would come sooner or later. you had known that the pressure, the expectations, the image—none of it could last. but even when you anticipated it, even when you braced yourself, hearing it from him felt like a punch to the gut.

“i never wanted to hurt you,” franco said, his voice low, his eyes avoiding yours as he spoke.

“then why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice steady, but your heart a mess of emotions. “why now?”

his gaze finally met yours, and there was guilt there, but there was also something else—a sadness that wasn’t enough to change what was happening. “i thought i could keep things separate. that it wouldn’t change anything between us.” he paused, letting out a shaky breath. “but it did.”

you swallowed hard, the words you had prepared for this moment now stuck in your throat. “you fell for her, didn’t you?” you said, the bitterness in your voice more evident than you wanted it to be.

franco’s silence was all the confirmation you needed.

a small, dry laugh escaped you as you wiped your eyes, the tears threatening to spill. “i knew it would happen,” you whispered, the ache in your chest growing with each passing second. “i knew you’d choose her. you always had to. it was never about us, was it? it was about the image, the brand, the plan.”

“no, it wasn’t like that,” franco said quickly, his voice desperate as he reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “i didn’t want this. i thought i could just go along with it, make it through for the sake of everything. but… it’s not just a plan anymore. i care about her.”

the words felt like they were suffocating you. “i tried to pretend i was fine with it,” you said bitterly. “i convinced myself i was okay with the idea of this being temporary, that it would all go back to normal. but hearing you say it out loud… hearing you admit it… it makes it real. and that hurts more than i thought it would.”

he opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand. “don’t,” you whispered. “don’t try to explain it. i don’t need the explanation.”

“i never meant for this to happen,” he said again, his voice faltering. “you have to believe me.”

“i do,” you said, your voice quiet, the tears now falling freely. “i do believe you. but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

you stood up, your legs feeling weak beneath you, the reality of it all settling in. you had known this was coming, had prepared yourself for the moment he would look at you and admit the truth. but somehow, hearing it—hearing it from him—made it feel like a wound that had just been freshly opened, a wound that had been bleeding for far too long and was finally exposed.

“i thought i was enough for you,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, your hands shaking as you wiped away your tears. “but i guess i was never going to be enough for what you really needed.”

franco stood up then, stepping toward you, but you shook your head, unable to meet his eyes. “don’t.” your voice cracked as you spoke. “you’ve already made your choice.”

for a long moment, neither of you moved. the weight of everything hung heavily in the room, suffocating the air around you both. finally, he took a step back, his shoulders slumping. “i’m sorry,” he said quietly. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

“i know,” you said softly, the words barely escaping your lips. “but sometimes… sometimes it’s the things we don’t want to happen the most that hurt the most when they finally do.”

and with that, you turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that echoed in your bones.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[hoshifighting]

Rivals to Lovers — Mingyu

— Synopsis: You were willing to do everything to win the science fair and claim the $500 prize, hoping to outdo Mingyu, your college rival. You successfully win the prize, but your excitement took a hit when you found out that Mingyu actually wanted to use the prize money to support a dog adoption campaign. — WC: 9.1k — WARNINGS: smut, angst, fluff, some messages archives! sabotaging a school project, which could be interpreted as a form of cheating, pet adoption, rumors, guilt/regret, oral (f. receiving), bulge kink, face slap, dirty talk, mentions of fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, creampie, creampie eating, big cock!mingyu.

You never thought you'd have a rival. Enemies? Definitely not. You never even wanted one. Why bother? For what? Life is hard enough without unnecessary drama. But things have just changed.

Your science professor has announced a competition. The task? Create a clay volcano for the upcoming college science fair. It’s a throwback to middle school projects, something you haven’t done in years. The prize, however, is enticing: $500.

"Easy," you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your name is consistently at the top of all your class grade scores. This should be a walk in the park.

But then there’s Mingyu. You and Mingyu are always neck and neck academically. Your rivalry isn’t born out of animosity, but there’s a real tension between the two of you. It’s as if the universe decided to pair you up as academic sparring partners.

As you sit in the lecture hall, the announcement still fresh in your mind, you can’t help but glance over at Mingyu. He’s already deep in thought, probably planning his volcano. Typical. You shake your head and chuckle quietly to yourself.

The whole college is buzzing with talk about the upcoming science fair. Everyone seems to have an opinion on who’s going to make the best volcano and walk away with the prize. Your name comes up a lot, but so does Mingyu’s, along with a few other students. The competition is heating up.

One afternoon, you’re in the library when Mingyu saunters over, a cocky grin on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, leaning casually against the table. “I hope you’re ready to lose. My volcano is going to blow yours out of the water.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a spark of irritation. “Oh, really? And what makes you so sure?”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Just a hunch. You might as well not even bother showing up.”

You narrow your eyes, your competitive spirit ignited. You didn’t intend for this to be such a cutthroat competition. It doesn’t even affect your grade; you just wanted the prize. But now, with Mingyu’s teasing, you’re ready to do whatever it takes to win. Even if it means cheating.

The week before the fair, you’re working overtime. Your room is a chaotic mix of clay, paint, and scientific paraphernalia. Not only are you perfecting your volcano, but you’re also hatching a plan to sabotage Mingyu’s. You overheard him mentioning he’s going to use bicarbonate for his lava. Perfect.

It’s late one evening when you spot Mingyu in the hallway. He’s carrying a bag of supplies, looking as smug as ever. You can’t resist the urge to confront him.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you call out, walking up to him. “I hope you’re not getting too confident. You might just be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

He stops, turning to face you. “Oh, please. I’ve got this in the bag. Maybe you should focus more on your project instead of worrying about mine.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I am focused. More than you know. Just don’t come crying when you lose.”

Mingyu’s expression darkens, and he steps closer. “You know, for someone who claims to be so good, you sure talk a lot of trash. Maybe it’s because deep down, you’re scared you’re not as great as you think.”

Your blood boils, and you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. “Watch it, Mingyu. You might be good, but you’re not unbeatable.”

“Neither are you,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with irritation.

The tension is thick, and for a moment, it feels like you might actually come to blows. But then a passing professor gives you both a stern look, and you back off, muttering under your breath.

That night, your resolve hardens. You’re going to win this. You’ll work doubly hard on your volcano and ensure Mingyu’s project doesn’t go as planned.

On the day of the fair, the hall is packed with students and faculty, all eager to see the displays. You manage to sneak into the lab when no one’s around before the presentations begin. You swap the bicarbonate inside Mingyu’s volcano for salt, ensuring his project will be a complete flop.

Your volcano stands proudly, a testament to your hard work and determination. As you watch Mingyu set up his project, you can’t help but smirk, knowing what’s coming.

When the time comes for the demonstrations, you go first. You add the substances, and your volcano erupts perfectly. The foam drips beautifully over the clay, drawing gasps and applause from the other students. The professor praises you, saying, “Perfect as always, Y/N.”

You beam with pride, soaking in the admiration. As you watch Mingyu with crossed arms, you can’t resist a little tease. “Good luck, Mingyu. You’re gonna need it.”

He gives you a sharp look but then turns his attention to his volcano, the picture of confidence. 

But as soon as he adds the final ingredient, nothing happens. 

The salt just mixes with the vinegar, and the expected eruption is a complete failure. Mingyu gives a strained smile to the professor, who watches with disinterest, as he tries to stir the mixture, but nothing happens.

The crowd murmurs, and you see Mingyu’s face fall. You look on from your table, feeling a rush of satisfaction. As Mingyu continues to fumble with his project, you walk out like nothing happened, feeling no guilt at all. 

Your name is called as the winner, and you step forward to accept the prize. As you hold the trophy, you feel a surge of triumph. Maybe this rivalry has gone too far. But for now, you’re on top, and that’s what matters. The envelope with the $500 is in your hand.

As you leave the university building, you slip the envelope into your bag. Some students congratulate you, and you give them your best smile as you advance to your car. Turning the key in the ignition, you glance at the group sitting by the fountain. There, a very frustrated Mingyu sits with his friends Joshua and Wonwoo, who are trying to comfort him. You look over your shoulder at them before getting into your car and driving away.

Over the next few days, the campus buzzes with talk about the volcanoes—mostly about your perfect eruption and Mingyu’s epic fail. Every time you stumble upon him in the hallway, you flash a devilish grin, ready to tease him, but he just walks away, mumbling an apology.

Was this really too much? You begin to wonder. The comments about the science fair slowly die down within the week, but Mingyu remains resentful. This puzzles you. Determined to confront him, you find him alone in the grandstand, reading some books.

You sit down beside him. He immediately starts gathering his things, but you hold his book down, stopping him.

“Are you really going to be all pitiful because of this stupid science fair?” you ask, your tone sharper than intended.

He huffs, looking up at you with frustration. “What do you want, Y/N? You want me to congratulate you? Fine. Congratulations! I don’t know what the fuck you did with that stupid money, but I wanted it. I really wanted that $500. Is that what you want to hear?”

You stay in shock, his words and tone catching you off guard. You and Mingyu have never argued like this before. You've never seen him lose his cool.

“Mingyu, I—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. He gathers the rest of his books and stands up, looking down at you with anger.

“You know what? Forget it. Just forget it,” he mutters before walking away, leaving you alone in pure disbelief.

Why did Mingyu want that money so badly? You try to ask some of your classmates, but no one knows. As you walk out of the university door, you hear Joshua's voice nearby. Glancing around, you see him apparently alone. Deciding to take the moment, you approach him.

“Hey, Joshua,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Can I ask you something?”

He looks up, surprised, but nods. “Sure, what’s up?”

You ask, “Do you know why Mingyu wanted that $500 so much?” 

Joshua frowns, contemplating whether or not to reveal the reason. After a moment, he breathes out and says, “Mingyu is a volunteer at a dog shelter. He wanted to use the money for a dog adoption campaign there.”

Your shoulders fall. “That’s why he wanted the money so badly?“

Joshua nods. “Yeah, he’s been volunteering there for years. He’s really dedicated to those dogs.”

Back at home, you sit on your bed, staring at the envelope on your bedside table. You haven’t even used the money yet. Closing your eyes, the regret beats at your door, relentless and insistent. You grab your notebook and start stalking Mingyu's social media.

When you pull up his LinkedIn, you see that he’s been volunteering at the kennel for five years. There are countless photos of him playing with puppies and grown dogs, some with disabilities, some older. Your heart clenches at the sight.

As you scroll through the photos, you see the joy and love on Mingyu's face, surrounded by the dogs he cares so deeply about. The realization hits you hard—his frustration and anger weren’t just about losing a competition. They were about losing the chance to help those dogs, to make a change.

You look back at the envelope, untouched and alone. The victory that once felt so sweet now tastes bitter.

You know what you have to do. 

The next morning, Mingyu arrives at the dog shelter, adjusting his volunteer shirt on his torso. He greets Mrs. Lee, who immediately coos at him.

“Why are you here today, Mingyu? It's Saturday, the sun is shining. You should be hanging out with your friends.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I was planning to make up some extra hours here and help with the donations later.”

Mrs. Lee's eyes light up, and she claps her hands. “No need for that, dear. A kind lady came by today and covered the donation. She gave us $500! Isn't that great?”

Mingyu frowns in confusion. Donations of that size are unusual for this shelter. “Really? Who was it?”

Mrs. Lee continues, “She's outside playing with the puppies. It's such a cute scene—you need to see it!”

She holds his hand and leads him to the open field. There, you are, lying on the ground, surrounded by a flurry of excited puppies. They lick your face and jump on you, their clumsy movements making you laugh. The scene is one of pure joy and innocence, and Mingyu can see that both you and the puppies are enjoying every moment.

He stands there, watching in awe. As if sensing his presence, you look up and meet his gaze. A smile spreads across your face, and you gently push the puppies off you, standing up and dusting off your clothes.

After a moment, Mingyu's expression turns serious. He waits for you to notice his presence. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice sharp.

You look down, avoiding his eyes. “I heard that you volunteer here and—”

“Yeah, I know. Joshua told me. What do you want?” Mingyu cuts you off.

You take a deep breath, looking everywhere but at him. A puppy cries at your feet, trying to get your attention, and you pick him up, nestling him in your arms as you caress him. “I’m sorry, Mingyu. If I had known that this was the reason you needed the money, I would have helped you with your volcano. Or I would have donated this earlier.”

He stands there, reluctant. “Did you really donate all the prize?”

You nod. “Yes. I’m really sorry.”

Just then, Mrs. Lee appears again, beaming. “Look, Y/N, who’s ready to go home!” In her arms, she holds a caramel puppy with a cute pink bow.

Mingyu's eyes widen. “Lola!”

Mrs. Lee continues, “Yes! Lola is finally getting a home. She’s such a sweet girl.”

Lola was a caramel dog who had a problem at birth and only had one eye. 

You smile softly, looking at Lola and then back at Mingyu. “I heard about Lola from Joshua. She deserves a good home.” “I fell in love with Lola,” you continue, sniffling the head of the puppy. 

Lola wriggles in your arms, her little tail wagging furiously. Mingyu watches you, trying to hide the way his heart throbs at the sight.

“Lola had a hard time getting adopted,” he says quietly. “I never thought you’d be the one to take her home.”

You smile, looking down at the puppy who’s now nuzzling into your neck. “I couldn’t resist her. She’s special.”

Mingyu nods, his expression softening even more. “Yeah, she is. She’s been here for a while, you know. I was worried she’d never find a home.”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Well, now she has one. I’m going to make sure she’s happy.”

He pouts a little, thinking about how Lola won’t be teething his pants or his shoelaces when he arrives at the shelter anymore. “I’m going to miss her.”

“You can visit anytime,” you offer, then stop to think if it hadn't sounded too appealing. “I mean, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, a small smile forming. 

You shrug, feeling a sense of relief and a twinge of regret. “It’s the least I could do. I’m really sorry for what I did, Mingyu. I hope this makes up for it, even just a little.”

“It does,” he admits. “Seeing you with Lola… it’s a good sight. She looks happy.”

“She is,” you say, watching as Lola’s eyes droop sleepily in your arms. “And so am I.”

Mingyu chuckles softly. “I guess she found the right person after all.”

For a moment, you both stand there in comfortable silence, watching the puppies play. The rivalry that once felt so consuming now seems distant, replaced by a shared understanding and a newfound… respect.

“Maybe we could work together next time,” Mingyu suggests, breaking the silence.

“I bet you want to work together because you know I'm the best, right?” you tease, a playful glint in your eye.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, laughing. “Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Y/N.”

As you turn to leave the shelter, Lola nestled contentedly in your arms, Mingyu watches you go, a smile lingering on his face. 

[...]

In the days that follow at college, Mingyu's friends find it strange to see the two of you greeting each other kindly, for what they believe is the first time. You don't force anything, knowing that pushing for kindness right now would feel hypocritical.

Mingyu always wondered why you were so gentle to everyone but him, but he also remembered that he wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, given your rivalry and his constant teasing. Now, seeing this different side of you, the resentment he held begins to fade.

In the quiet moments of your day, you reflect on the past weeks. How quickly things had escalated between you and Mingyu, from academic rivals to almost enemies. It felt strange, now that the tension was easing, to think about how much energy you had spent on trying to outdo him. You wonder if it was worth it.

The next day, you see Mingyu in the hallway. He’s standing with Joshua and Wonwoo, and they glance at you as you approach. You give them a small wave and a genuine smile.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you say.

“Hey, Y/N,” he replies, his tone surprisingly warm.

Joshua and Wonwoo exchange bewildered looks, but you don’t pay them much attention. “How’s Lola settling in?” Mingyu asks.

“She’s great,” you reply, the memory of her wagging tail bringing a smile to your face. “She’s already made herself at home.”

Mingyu nods, his expression softening. “That’s good to hear.”

As the days pass, you notice the way people react to your newfound harmony with Mingyu. They seem curious, whispering to each other as they watch the two of you interact. You and Mingyu aren’t best friends overnight, but the hostility is gone, replaced by a cautious but genuine friendliness.

Well, that's what you thought until now.

You walk into the hallway, the usual buzz of students replaced with an unsettling silence. Eyes follow you, not with curiosity but with judgment. The whispers you once ignored now feel like sharp blades. You push the bad feeling down your throat, trying to keep your head high as you make your way to the courtyard.

As you approach your friends, you notice their uneasy expressions. They exchange nervous glances, unsure whether to walk away or stay put. “What’s going on?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

One of your friends steps forward, looking uncomfortable. “There’s a video, Y/N,” they begin hesitantly. “On the university blog... it shows you sabotaging Mingyu’s volcano. It’s a little dark, but it’s you.”

Your heart sinks, a cold chill spreading through your chest. “What?” you whisper, the word barely escaping your lips.

Another friend chimes in, their voice low. “People are saying you might get kicked out of the university. They’re already talking about disciplinary actions.”

You feel the weight of their words settle on you, heavier than you could’ve imagined. Your thoughts race as you try to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Kicked out? You’d worked so hard to get here, and now it might all be over because of a moment of weakness and petty rivalry.

Your mind drifts to Mingyu, the awkward but promising start of a truce between you two. You wonder if he’s seen the video, if he knows the full extent of what you did. The thought makes you feel sick.

You glance around the courtyard, suddenly hyper-aware of the stares and whispers. Your friends stand by, uncertain and uncomfortable. You can’t blame them; they didn’t sign up for this drama. The fear of repercussions, the shame of being caught—it's all too much. You swallow hard, fighting the urge to cry.

“I—I need to go,” you stammer, turning away from the group. You don’t wait for their reactions as you walk briskly toward the building's exit. The video, the possibility of expulsion, Mingyu—all of it spins around in your head, a chaotic mess you can’t straighten.

The thought of your parents, the disappointment in their eyes if they find out, makes you feel even worse.

You sit in your car in the parking lot, tears streaming down your face as you watch the damning video on your phone for what feels like the hundredth time. The grainy footage shows you sneaking into the lab, swapping out the bicarbonate for salt in Mingyu’s volcano. Your heart sinks with each replay, the weight of your actions pressing down on you.

Then, a notification catches your eye. A new comment appears right after the post, marked by the blog admin so that it's fixed at the top. It’s from Mingyu.

kmingyu_1577: "hey everyone, just wanted to clarify that this video doesn't tell the whole story. the truth is, i had already messed up my volcano. the bicarbonate i used was expired, and i didn’t realize it until it was too late. y/n knew about it and was just trying to help me out. it’s not her fault. please stop the hate."

You blink through your tears, rereading the comment to make sure you didn’t misinterpret it. The comments below start shifting, the tide of public opinion turning. Relief and understanding replace the initial anger and disappointment.

“Wow, Mingyu’s so mature about this.”

“Glad to know the truth. Poor Y/N, she must have been so scared.”

“Thanks for clearing this up, Mingyu. You’re a good guy.”

You sit back, stunned. Why would Mingyu do this? After everything, why would he cover for you?

You hear a knock on your window, and your heart sinks. There he is, Mingyu, standing outside your car with a serious look. You’re too embarrassed to face him, but you roll the window down slowly, your hands trembling. He gestures for you to step out, his expression softening just slightly. You nod and step out of the car, trying to discreetly dry your tears, but the redness of your nose and eyes betrays you.

Mingyu stands in front of you, his posture relaxed but his eyes full of unease. He takes a deep breath, his voice calm as he speaks. “Why did you do this, Y/N? I mean, you're incredibly talented and intelligent. You’ve always been at the top, outshining everyone. There’s no need for you to resort to something like this. It doesn’t make sense... not for someone like you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you can’t bring yourself to look up. You feel the weight of your actions pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. But then you feel his hand gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and you see the genuine concern in his gaze.

“Y/N, you’re so much better than this. You’ve always been more than just your grades, more than just this rivalry we’ve had. You have so much potential, so much to offer. Sabotaging my project... it’s not who you are. It’s not who I believe you can be.”

You sniffle, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They spill over, running down your cheeks. Mingyu’s eyes soften even more, and he sighs. 

You feel the lump in your throat grow, and a sob escapes your lips. “I’m so sorry,” you choke out. “I just... I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to win so badly, I lost sight of everything else. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Mingyu steps closer, his expression easing as he listens. He hesitates for a moment, then wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. You freeze for a second, surprised by the gesture, but then you melt into him, the sobs coming harder now. He holds you tightly, one hand gently rubbing your back.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers. 

You cling to him, feeling the regret starting to lift, just a little. The heat of his embrace feels like a safe haven. Mingyu doesn’t let go, even as your tears soak into his shirt. He just holds you, steady and patient.

Eventually, your sobs quiet down, and you pull away slightly, wiping your eyes.

A question lingers in your mind, and you finally find the courage to voice it. “Why did you leave that comment?” you ask. “You didn’t have to say those things, you didn’t have to defend me like that. After everything I did... why?”

“I can’t lose my favorite rival that easily. Our rivalry... it’s pushed both of us to be better, to work harder. And I think, deep down, we both know that.” 

You chuckle softly. “So, you’re saying you did it because you need me as your competition?”

Mingyu laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Instead of tearing each other down, why don’t we join forces for a change?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Join forces? What do you have in mind?”

He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Well, there’s a whole new batch of freshmen who think they can waltz in and take over. They’re talented, sure, but they have no idea what they’re up against. I say we show them how it’s done. What do you think? Team up and teach them a thing or two?”

You can't help but smile; the idea sparks a sense of harmony you hadn’t felt in a while. “So, you’re proposing an alliance?”

“Just think about it,” he replies.. “We could be unstoppable. The dynamic duo.”

Later that day, you scroll through the university blog and notice a new post: a photo of you and Mingyu sharing a heartfelt hug in the parking lot. The caption reads, “The unexpected truce: rivals turned allies?” Below the post, a comment catches your eye:

JoshuaHong_223: “I always thought they would make a powerful couple.”

[...]

You walk into the library, scanning the rows of bookshelves. Your mind is still buzzing with the encounter you had earlier. As you turn a corner, you spot Mingyu sitting at a table, surrounded by a pile of books. He’s focused, scribbling notes, but your presence doesn't go unnoticed. He looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees the expression on your face.

You stride over to him, your steps quick. When you reach his table, you crouch down to his level, trying to keep your voice low but unable to hide your frustration. “Mingyu, can you believe what just happened? One of the new freshmen had the nerve to confront me in the hallway. Can you imagine?”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, closing his book slowly as he leans back in his chair. “Seriously? What did they say?” He keeps his voice calm, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “They came up to me, all smug and confident, and basically implied that they were going to knock us off the top spot. Like they could actually compete with us.”

Mingyu’s lips twitch into a slight smirk. “Wow, bold move. Did they really think they could take you on just like that?”

You nod, still fuming. 

Mingyu chuckles softly, leaning forward with an amused twinkle in his eye. “Guess they have no idea what kind of competition they’ve signed up for. Ya! this could be fun. A little extra motivation to keep us sharp.”

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “Fun for you, maybe. I just don’t like the idea of someone thinking they can walk all over us.”

He reaches out and gently taps the back of your hand, a reassuring gesture. “Relax, Y/N. We’ve got this. If they want a challenge, we’ll give them one.”

You sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a bit. 

You’re walking towards your car, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders, when you hear that all-too-familiar voice. It’s one of the new freshmen, and her tone is dripping with smugness. You freeze, feeling a surge of irritation as her words cut through the quiet of the parking lot.

You turn around sharply, spotting her standing a few feet away with a smirk on her face. Her attitude is infuriating, and you feel your patience snapping. Mingyu, standing a distance away, watches with a knowing look, sensing that you’re about to lose your shit.

As you close the distance between you, you see her expression shift from confident to slightly uncertain. You get right up in her space, your chest touching hers. “Listen here,” you say, your voice low and controlled but bounded with anger. “I’ve had enough of your crap. I’m not afraid to beat your ass.”

She narrows her eyes, not backing down. “Oh? And what are you going to do? Risk getting kicked out of the university again?”

You scoff, shoving your bag through the open window of your car. The motion emphasizing your frustration. “Really? You think you can scare me with that? You’re just a freshman, and you’ve got some nerve talking to me like that. The parking lot is outside university grounds. No one here can touch us. And I'm not afraid to beat your ass.”

Her eyes widen as she processes your words, the confidence draining from her expression. “You think you can just intimidate me and get away with it?”

You lean in closer, your voice a dangerous whisper. “I’m not here to play games. If you’ve got a problem, we can sort it out. But don’t think for a second that you’re going to walk all over me without consequences.”

As you push your chest into the girl’s, you feel her shove back, her rage matching yours. The confrontation is heating up, and just as you’re about to respond, Mingyu strides over and steps in between you, pulling you back against him. His arms wrap around your shoulders and arms, his chest pressing against your back.

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Mingyu says, his voice authoritative. “Let’s not escalate this further.”

You struggle slightly, but his hold is steady, keeping you securely against him. 

“How about you give me a ride and let me help you get away from this situation?” He whispers exaggeratedly.

You look over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, and sighing. Mingyu releases you from his embrace but keeps a protective hand on your back as you both walk towards your car. The freshman watches, but she doesn’t make a move to follow.

As you open the car door and slide into the driver’s seat, Mingyu gets in beside you, placing your bag on his lap, and settling into the passenger seat. 

As you focus intently on the road, your jaw clenched and your eyes angrily fierce, Mingyu can’t help but notice the vigor of your expression. The anger from the conflict still simmers beneath the surface, and every so often, you grip the steering wheel a bit harder, your knuckles white. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than he intends, his eyes admiring the mad energy that radiates from you.

He’s seen you angry before, but this—this is something different. There’s a raw, magnetic energy about you when you’re like this, and he can’t help but be captivated by it.

Mingyu bites his bottom lip, trying to steady himself. Part of him is charmed by how hot you look when you’re mad. It’s as if your anger fuels a side of you that’s irresistible. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the distracting thoughts. This isn’t the time for that.

He straightens up in his seat, looking out the window, focusing on the blur of trees and buildings rushing by. The silence in the car is thick, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of gears. 

Mingyu knows he needs to break the silence, to offer some kind of reassurance. But he’s also aware that now might not be the best time for his usual teasing.

Oh, maybe that's why he liked to tease you—the sight of you mad.

His hand, initially resting awkwardly at his side, slowly finds its way to your thigh. The touch is tentative at first, his fingers feeling the warmth of your skin through your jeans. He gives it a firm squeeze, trying to offer some comfort.

“Hey, Y/N,” Mingyu says softly. “Try to relax a bit. You’re too wound up.”

You soften your jaw, releasing some of the tightness, and let your shoulders relax. You lean your head slightly against the headrest. Mingyu’s thumb begins to make slow, soothing circles on your thigh. His touch is like a balm, easing some of the tension from your body.

You pull up in front of Mingyu’s home, the car coming to a gentle stop. The quiet of the night envelops you both as you turn off the engine. Mingyu glances at you, his eyes softening as he gives a small, grateful smile.

“Thanks for the ride, Y/N,” he says sincerely. 

He reaches out, his fingers pinching the tense curve of your neck. 

“Ouch!” You pout. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases with a soft laugh, his fingers lingering for a moment.

You can’t help but sulk slightly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Well, you did just see me almost start a fight.”

Mingyu’s smile widens, and he leans in closer. “Let me help with that. I’m pretty good at taking away tension.”

Before you can respond, he starts kissing the curve of your neck with an unhurried, conscious trail of saliva. The sensation of his warm lips against your skin is making you melt against the seat. His hand moves to the other side of your neck, his fingers kneading the tense muscles with gentle strokes.

The combination of his kisses and the soothing massage leaves you in a state of blissful ease—but probably wet. You close your eyes, your head tilting back slightly as you surrender to the feeling. 

Mingyu’s touch eventually slows, and he pulls back, a satisfied smile on his face. “Thanks for letting me help with that. You’re much better now.”

You nod, still slightly dazed from the unexpected massage. “You’re welcome. I—”

He cuts you off with a soft chuckle, opening the car door. “Oh, and before I forget,” he says, glancing back at you with a touch of playful seriousness. “Send me a message when you get home, okay?”

You nod again, managing a small smile as he steps out of the car. “I will.”

Mingyu closes the door with a final, lingering look, his smile wide as he heads up to his front door. 

As Mingyu is about to open his front door, you call out to him. “Hey, Mingyu!”

He pauses, turning back with a curious eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“You nasty! Making a move like that right before you leave.”

Mingyu chuckles, his eyes twinkling with naughtiness. “Oh, was I too forward? I just wanted to help you relax. Maybe I got a bit carried away.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “A bit carried away? You practically turned my neck into a love nest.”

He grins, stepping closer to the car. “Well, if it means getting you to loosen up a bit, I’d say it was worth it. Besides, I thought you might enjoy it.”

Your cheeks flush slightly as you fight to keep your composure. “I—well, I did. But don’t think you can just get away with it.”

Mingyu leans against the car door, his expression smug. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m sure you’ll be thinking about it on your ride home.”

You give him a mock glare, trying to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Fine, fine. Just don’t think you’re off the hook for being a tease.”

Mingyu’s eyes twinkle with delight as he starts to head back toward his door. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances to get back at me. Until then, keep that bottom lip tight between your teeth. It’s kind of sexy when you do.”

You let the bottom lip escape from your teeth, your expression gawked. 

“Don’t forget to text me when you get home, or I might have to come check on you.”

With that, Mingyu heads inside, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a tight grip on your bottom lip as you drive away, the naughty exchange lingering in your mind.

(open the photos)

The next day, Mingyu looked like he’d barely slept. His pristine appearance was disheveled, his eyes a bit glassy, and there was a certain exhaustion about him that was hard to miss. It was clear that your midnight message had taken a toll on him.

His tired eyes and the slight stubble on his face made it evident he’d been up all night, likely replaying your audio moaning and the hickey photo in his mind. You couldn’t suppress a smirk at the thought of how your little game had left him looking so disoriented.

“Morning, Mingyu. Rough night?” you teased, unable to resist the opportunity.

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “You have no idea. What was that last night?” His voice was incredulous.

“You looked like you needed a wake-up call.”

Mingyu’s face flushed slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to take it that far. Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“Just keeping things interesting. You know, making sure you don’t get too comfortable. Besides, you started it.”

He shook his head, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Yeah, well, you definitely made your point. I think I might be feeling this one for a while.”

“Glad to hear it. I'll consider it a compliment.” You smirked, enjoying the way he was visibly trying to regroup.

Mingyu gave a reluctant chuckle, finally being able to see the humor in the situation. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you that. Just don’t make a habit of it. I need to survive the rest of this semester.”

Certainly, you and Mingyu hadn’t exactly become best friends overnight, but the dynamic between you two had undeniably shifted after what happened last night. 

There was a new kind of tension in the air, an electric undercurrent that had nothing to do with animosity and everything to do with the teasing games you both seemed so fond of.

Mingyu was too attracted to your fiery expressions to let things slide, and he had to admit—something was thrilling about the way your usual small spats had taken a new direction.

 But the teasing? That still remained, stronger than ever.

You were in the last class of the day, and you could tell from the way Mingyu’s gaze kept drifting toward you that he was aware of everything you were doing. 

Earlier, you had been sliding your middle and ring fingers slowly inside the slit of your book, your smile widening as you noticed his eyes glued to your movements. Mingyu hadn’t missed a thing.

In the lab, he had been at the table right next to yours, and when you crouched down to pick up something “accidentally” dropped, you made sure to lift the front of your skirt just enough to give him a glimpse of your thighs. The fabric had risen provocatively, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes blackened, nor how he subtly adjusted his position as if to ease some tension. 

On the third provocation, it clicked for him—he finally understood the game you were playing, and he was more than ready to play along.

Now, in the current lecture, you found yourself seated right beside him. You were doing your best to focus on the lecture, but when you glanced sideways, you saw him palming himself through his pants. 

The motion was subtle enough not to draw attention from others, but obvious enough for you to notice the perfect outline of his cock pressing against the fabric. Your breath hitched as your thighs instinctively pressed together under the table.

Mingyu caught your reaction immediately, and you saw a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He licked his finger slowly, before using it to turn the page of his book, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. It was a blatant taunt, a silent challenge that he was not backing down.

But you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand. Not just yet.

You shifted in your seat, leaning back slightly as you let one of your legs brush against his under the table. The touch was light, almost accidental, but the way his body tensed told you he felt it. 

You let the edge of your shoe graze up the inside of his calf, teasing your way higher as you pretended to be engrossed in your notes. Mingyu didn’t move, his breath growing shallower, but he didn’t pull away either.

Your hand slowly made its way to your lap, where you began tracing small circles on the fabric of your skirt, inching the hem higher just enough that he could see your fingers playing with the material.

You knew his eyes were glued to the action, his own hand still resting against his thigh, tense, almost daring you to keep going.

Without warning, you let your fingers dip beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing over the sensitive skin of your upper thigh. You could practically feel the restraint he was forcing on himself. His stare darted between your face, your hand, and the bit of exposed skin, as if he couldn’t decide which to focus on.

Then, leaning in slightly as if you were about to whisper something in his ear, you let your hand trail higher, just shy of the edge of your underwear. You didn’t touch yourself, but the implication was clear. Mingyu’s breathing hitched, and you could tell he was holding back a groan. His eyes were burning into you, the heat between you two palpable.

He wasn’t going to let this go unanswered. Not a chance.

Mingyu’s hand moved from his thigh to the edge of his desk, fingers tapping rhythmically as he tried to maintain his composure. But when you let out a small, barely audible sigh—one that could have been mistaken for frustration, but you knew better—his resolve broke.

Mingyu leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Keep going like that, and I won’t be able to focus on anything but you. Is that what you want?”

You bit your bottom lip, glancing at him through your lashes, and nodded ever so slightly. Mingyu’s eyes darkened further, and he let out a quiet, almost desperate laugh.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Because I’m going to make you regret teasing me like this when we’re alone.”

The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of the lecture, you didn’t waste any time. Gathering your things quickly, you slipped out of the classroom, moving fast through the hallways with a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. 

The rush of the chase made your heart race, knowing full well that Mingyu was right behind you. The game was on, and you had no intention of making it easy for him.

You headed straight for your car, hoping to put some distance between you and Mingyu, but before you could reach the driver's side, a firm grip caught your arm.

A strong hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around. Mingyu was right there, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge.

“Running away from me, are you?” he teased, his voice low and laced with a smirk.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a laugh as you looked up at him, your eyes gleaming with the same playful energy.

 But before you could respond, Mingyu’s hand slid up to your jaw, his fingers firm yet gentle as he pressed you against the side of your car. Your back hit the cool metal, and you widened your eyes in surprise, your breath catching in your throat.

There were people around—students lingering in the parking lot, walking to their cars, chatting in small groups. But the way Mingyu looked at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race, made it clear that he didn’t care who was watching. 

And from the heat in your gaze, he could tell you didn’t either. 

The next thing you knew, the scene had shifted. 

You were no longer in the parking lot, but somewhere far more yours. Your clothes were discarded in a trail leading to the bed, and now, Mingyu’s body was pressed flush against yours. 

The teasing, the back-and-forth, the playful banter—it had all led to this moment, and now there was nothing holding either of you back.

You hated yourself for not being able to resist him.

Despite everything, despite knowing you shouldn’t be this weak for him, here you were, looking into his eyes, your jaw slack as you practically drooled. 

Mingyu had already made you cum more times than you could count, his fingers and mouth driving you to the edge and beyond, and now, as he hovered above you, you struggled to take him in, feeling stretched to your absolute limit.

“Too big, too big… Mingyu—ah!” you cried out, your voice breaking as his cock pushed into you, filling you to the brim. 

Mingyu’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he licked his lips, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling beneath him. “Too big, huh?” he teased. “Should I have mercy on you?”

Before you could respond, his fingers reached down to your clit, pinching it just hard enough to make your back arch off the bed. The loud moan that escaped your lips was involuntary. 

You felt a flush of embarrassment wash over you, ashamed of how desperate and clingy you were being for him, how you couldn’t control yourself around him.

“Shhh,” Mingyu chided softly. “You don’t want to be too loud, do you? Lola’s right in the next room.”

You had made sure to put the dog away, closing the door before things heated up. Frustrated, you slapped him lightly on the chest, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it only made him chuckle.

“You’re such a crybaby,” Mingyu whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy as he started to rock his hips, each thrust making you sob. “First crying on my shoulder… now crying on my cock. What am I going to do with you?”

Your eyes drifted down, catching sight of the bulge from his cock pressing against your belly, making the stretch inside you all the more real, all the more intense. Mingyu noticed too, his gaze following yours before his hand, the one that had been tormenting your clit, moved up to caress the bulge. He pressed down on it, the added pressure making you gasp, your legs spasming around him.

“Motherfucker,” you grit through your teeth, the words almost a growl.

Mingyu only smirked at your reaction. “Watch your mouth,” he scolded, his voice low as he began thrusting harder, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust. “You… need… to… learn… some… respect.”

With every thrust, your body tensed and then melted back into the sheets, the rhythm pushing you further into a state of desperate need. 

Your chin quivered as you cried out, your voice trembling. One hand slid up his back, fingers digging into his skin, while the other wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your legs locked around his waist. You held him tight, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Mingyu smiled, leaning in so his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “You’re so cute when I fuck you like this,” he murmured. “All grumpy and stubborn outside, but here… you just melt for me.”

You wanted to respond, to say something back, but the pressure was too much, too intense, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body strung tight like a bow ready to snap.

And then it did.

Your entire body tensed, every muscle tightening as the pleasure yanked through you. Your back arched off the bed, pressing your chest against his as your nails dug into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks along his back.

Your legs tightened around him, trapping him in place as your body convulsed, your walls clenching around his cock in a desperate attempt to pull him even deeper. Your vision blurred, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you sobbed his name, the sound of it broken, completely broken.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—everything was white-hot pleasure, consuming you completely.

Mingyu stayed with you through it all, his own breath hitching as he watched you come undone beneath him.

Your body was still trembling from your orgasm, but Mingyu didn’t give you a moment to recover. He continued thrusting into you, relentless despite how tight you were around him. 

Sensing your haze, Mingyu pulled back slightly from your embrace, his strong arms still cradling your trembling frame. His hands found their way to your face, and before you could process it, he gave you a light slap, just enough to snap you back to reality. 

The sting on your face was a shock, but it was the way your body reacted—clenching tighter around his cock—that caught both of you off guard.

He watched your eyes widen. The effect it had on you was unmistakable, and Mingyu, ever the tease, decided to test it again. Another slap, this time a bit firmer, and the response was immediate—your walls squeezed him so tightly that he hissed through his teeth.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me—” His voice broke off into a moan as his hips stuttered, a hand flying to the pillow under your head to brace himself. 

He came hard, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as his head fell back, eyes rolling as his release filled you. He stayed there for a moment, savoring the high, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he drank in the way your body clung to his.

You looked up at him, your breath still coming in uneven gasps, annoyed at how effortlessly he pulled you under his spell. 

He looked too good, too smug, and it pissed you off—especially when he came with that full, satisfied grin plastered across his face. The sight of him, made your irritation spike, but it was quickly overshadowed by something else when he started to move again.

Mingyu wasn’t done. He raised himself up slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel confused. What was he planning now? Before you could ask, he began to lower himself, and your confusion turned into shock as the realization hit you.

He’s not going to… You thought to yourself, eyes widening as you watched him get lower.

But he was. 

Mingyu was about to do the nastiest shit, and the excitement was written all over his face. The look of surprise + disbelief on your face only fueled him further, making him more determined to see this through. He lowered his mouth to your core, the mix of your juices and his cum still leaking out of you, and without hesitation, he began to eat you out, his tongue lapping up the mess he had made.

The overstimulation, plus, something so dirty it made your head spin. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him in a trance. You could barely process what was happening—his lips, his tongue, all of it working on you again, despite the fact that you were already so sensitive, and full of his cum.

“Mingyu, what the fuck—” you started, but the rest of your sentence was lost to a moan as his tongue flicked out to taste more of you—and… him. His own cum smeared across his lips and chin. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He teased even as he continued to lap at you, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive flesh until your hips were twitching uncontrollably. “Too much for you? Or do you like watching me clean up my own mess?” 

You tried to speak, tried to tell him to stop or keep going; you weren’t sure anymore, but all that came out were broken moans and gasps. He hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through your already overstimulated body. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue worked you over.

He finally pulled back, leaving you breathless and trembling, your body still humming with the orgasm he'd just given you. You looked down at your pussy, glistening from his attention, but something didn’t add up. There was no trace of the mess he had made earlier, just the slickness from his saliva. Confused, your eyes flicked back to him, then back down to yourself, your mind struggling to piece together what the fuck had just happened.

Mingyu caught your fogged look and let out a deep, satisfied laugh, the sound was rich, deep, and so incredibly self-satisfied.

He stuck his tongue out, showing you the clean, pink muscle—without a hint of the mess you expected—and you nearly lost it. Did he really swallow it all? Your mind raced, and the disbelief was written all over your face.

“Fuck... did you just…?” you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You were too stunned to finish the thought.

He grinned, leaning on his elbows, completely unbothered by what had just transpired. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a low, teasing drawl. “Swallowed every drop.”

Your eyes widened, shock flooding your system. You could hardly believe it. And the worst part? He looked so damn proud of himself.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Not even you had tasted him like that, and yet he had done it without a second thought. The realization hit you like a truck, and before you knew it, you were pulling him back to you, needing to feel him, taste him, and confirm that it had really happened.

Your lips crashed into his, and you kissed him with an appetite that surprised even you. His mouth was warm and soft, the remnants of his earlier work still lingering, and it only made you more desperate. 

Mingyu’s hands slid into your hair, tugging slightly as he deepened the kiss, feeding off your urgency. When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, he gave you a smug smile, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip.

“Taste good, doesn’t it?” he teased. “Thought I’d save you some, but… I couldn’t help myself. It was too fucking good.”

You stared at him, still trying to process everything, and he just laughed again, the sound rumbling through his chest as he watched you grapple with the situation.

[...]

You didn’t know how you managed to sleep after everything that had happened. By all accounts, you should have been wide awake, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. But exhaustion won out, and not only did you fall asleep—you practically passed out. The weight of the night’s events melted away as soon as your head hit the pillow, dragging you into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Morning crept up on you gently, the first thing you noticed being something warm and wet against your face. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with Lola’s excited little face, her tongue happily lapping at your cheek. You groaned, half-heartedly trying to push her away, but she was relentless, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

“Lola, come on… let her sleep,” came Mingyu’s voice, a shout-whisper from somewhere near the foot of the bed. You could hear the fun in his tone, despite the fact that he was trying to be serious.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, surprising even you with its lightness. It felt strange, this casual morning after, as if last night hadn’t completely turned your world upside down. 

You wiped at your face Lola's excitement was contagious, and soon you were sitting up, rubbing your eyes and grinning at her.

Mingyu walked over, his hair still mussed from sleep, an easy smile on his face as he watched you. “Guess she missed you,” he said, shrugging as if to say he couldn’t be held responsible for Lola’s antics.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you replied, your voice still thick with sleep as you scratched behind Lola’s ears.

[666kuna]

Dilf! Sukuna

Dilf! Sukuna who kept a secret from his kid that he got a date with the kid’s teacher. Yuuji only found out about it when he was at a sleepover; when Megumi's dad, Toji asked him if he was excited to get Miss (y/n) as his new mommy.

"NO WAY? WHY DIDN'T DAD TELL ME?!"

"Kid, I thought you knew."

"NO I DIDN’T, ON SKIBBIDY I DIDN’T DO MEGUMI AND TSUMIKI KNOW TOO?!"

Yuuji immediately ran upstairs to interrogate the both of them after that.

Toji chuckled as he took out his phone to dial Sukuna's number. Sukuna on the other line could be heard chopping some things up.

"Hey, it's me, Toji. Just letting you know that your driver came by like 10 minutes ago with Yuuji."

"Yeah, I know. The notification popped up a while ago, I forgot to say but thanks for doing me this favour, Toji.”

"No problem, anything to help a desperate old man in love out." Toji teased the other before he burst into laughter.

Sukuna, on the other line, erupted into a flustered mess when he heard the most infuriating statement given by Toji knowing that he was more than right about what he just said. Sukuna IS OLD, Sukuna IS IN LOVE but he was just caught off guard by Toji's statement.

"YOU BASTARD!"

"Okay, I was joking, also just to let you know. I told Yuuji about your silly little date, old man and he seems okay with you dating his teacher. Just a little surprised that you didn't tell him."

"Well… I could tell that he was tired of me asking about her all the time."

"You're a freak, old man, has anyone ever told you that?"

"That's what your wife said too." Sukuna retorted before immediately hanging up, knowing that he was treading on a thin line for that response.

It was only after he hung up that a collection of thoughts seemed to surface on his mind. Sukuna has never been with another woman since the random woman he fooled around with that caused him to end up with Yuuji. He decided that he was going to leave his bad and reckless lifestyle to properly better himself just for his kid.

By the time he got Yuuji, he had already built up more than enough wealth to ensure that Yuuji would be able to live a more than comfortable life. Sukuna in his prime was a very controversial womanising celebrity chef, whose life was only surrounded with endless scandals and controversies. Although he has left it all behind, the guilt and regret ate him up on some nights. No woman would want to be with a man that had such a notorious history of cheating,’Rightfully so.’ he thought to himself. What if you found out something about him after the date? Silence rang through the whole house without Yuuji. With all the helpers already gone back into their rooms and only the sound of boiling and trickling water accompanying him, he realized that he didn’t want Yuuji to live a lonely life like him.

Art credits to @/woshihedawei on X

[with-my-calamitous-love]

HE SAW FOREVER SO HE SMASHED IT UP

katsuki bakugou x reader

the times bakugou broke your heart

heavily inspired by mbobhft

1) the denial

“are we breaking up?”

“…yeah.”

“oh.”

his reasons made sense. he had a job, a goal, a burning drive to prove himself as the best. he was burnt out, his fingers worked to the bones. he couldn’t give you not just what you wanted, but what you needed. and that killed him more than it did you.

it made sense. the gears turned. the writing was on paper. like almost everything he did, it worked out. of course it worked out for katsuki bakugou- he’s the best.

it wasn’t all that set in stone for you, however.

he could have given you a million more reasons before the tears spilled. “i’m an asshole.” true. “i don’t treat you right.” fair. “you deserve so much fuckin’ better, [y/n.]” yeah, he was right.

but you always liked to challenge the acceptable.

at first, it didn’t hit you as hard as you thought it would. you walked through your room, too numb to pay mind to the tears that rolled down your cheeks, and silently packed up his sweaters into a box. the necklace he gave you, the ‘k’ pendant, came off your neck like a butterfly lands on a branch, knowing that its death is inevitable and doing nothing to stop it.

at night, you cried, and cried, and cried. you called him about 27 times. he never answered. he texted you to make sure you were okay, but your tear-blurred eyes kept you from seeing the keyboard clearly. you left him on seen and prayed that he was worried, prayed that his heart would explode at your lack of an answer, prayed to god that he would come over just to check on. suffice to say your prayers were left unanswered.

you thought he’d call. but he didn’t. but your soul remained devoted, eyes glued to your phone screen and hands shaking. he has to call. he has to tell you goodnight. he has to tell you that you’re an idiot. he has to tell you he loves you. he’s going too, idiot.

right?

2) the anger

if he wanted you dead, why didn’t he just say?

your heart burned for anger. for salvation. for revenge. you knew katsuki bakugou knew anger well, but he had no idea the way your soul flared like a whole new depth of hell.

you laid in bed, awake, eyes excruciatingly drive from crying your tear ducts may as well have been burnt off. memories of him haunted your brain while your fists tightened.

you regretted giving him your heart. your love. your late nights and early mornings. your fights, your passions, your 2ams and your smiles. you hated the way you let him draw the laughter out of you, how he showed parts of himself to you he had never shown anyone.

and those little things that made up your love, he was going to use on someone else. you knew it.

he was going to cook them his special fried rice his mom taught him how to do. he was going to teach them how to punch because he doesn’t want them to get hurt- something he did for you. he was going kiss them how he kissed you, love them in a way that should have only been you.

but he shouldn’t. in fact, he should look back at what you had, and regret every. single. thing. he did to let is end. he should regret everything he didn’t do to keep you. he should burn alive from guilt. scream. cry. fight for his life while his body is doused in gasoline. attempt miserably to tear the fire off his skin while it burned him to a crisp. he should die screaming.

he should deserved it, after all. because he heard your screams, and put his headphones on.

3) the bargaining

please. you wailed. who do i have to talk to? what do i have to do to get him back!?

you suddenly thought of so many scenarios in your head, scenarios fuelled by false hope. things you’d do to kiss him one last time, to hold him, to love him and be loved by him. you’d dry the ocean water. you’d turn stones into gold. you’d bring him to heaven and back. you’d get out of bed. you’d compromise more. you wouldn’t forget to kiss him. you’d love him. you’d love him so much harder. please.

suddenly everything seemed possible. if someone answered your calls, if someone made a deal with you, you’d offer up everything. you were sure you’d place everything on the line for him. you want it all back- his yelling, his snark, his nicknames, his attitude, his everything- no, your everything. you’d pluck out your own eyes for his red ones, or your heart for his heroic soul that loved you brighter than anyone else. being loved by katsuki bakugou was something you wouldn’t trade for anything- turns out you couldn’t trade it either.

4) the depression

everything smelled like him. your sheets blossomed into his sweet, burnt scent, the one that he’d leave behind whenever he slept over simply because he left you. all your jackets felt like his chiseled arms, wrapped around you as if you’d be gone in a moments notice. his voice was everywhere. the songs on the radio, the words you read on your phone, and the memories that played like your favourite movie soundtrack.

you wondered if he knew you couldn’t get out of bed. sometimes you imagined him calling your ass lazy, and then dragging you out of bed with a kiss to your forehead and a breakfast he cooked for you. maybe then you’d rip off the sheets and face the day. but right now, your bed was the only place you could mourn.

it was cruel, in a sense. letting you fall in love with him only to leave. letting you fall in love with his stupid smug smirk, his laugh, his teasing, his anger, his unreasonable handsomeness, his millions of pet peeves and trigger words, his clinginess, his distance, his days and nights, ups and downs, his hate and love all tied into one. he made you love him, knowing you would never get to love another katsuki bakugou.

5) the acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing how badly he fucked up.

part 2 soon!

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[navybrat817]

Fall for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Longing, insecurities, "just friends" (for now), Steve is a good friend, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Friday Feels inspired by a nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a special kind of torture for Bucky to watch the person he loved flirt with someone else.

To be fair, he couldn't say for sure that you were flirting. Being friendly? Yes. You had a warm and welcoming personality, the kind he was drawn to the moment you two crossed paths months ago. One of the things he loved about you was how genuine you were. It was only natural that you pulled others in as well. Your compassion, charm, beauty, everything called to him.

You were the whole package, inside and out.

“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered. He hadn't wanted to go to the bar, but Steve assured him it was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. Not a lot of patrons on a night like this. Somewhere no one would bother them. He added at the last second that you were going.

Bucky grabbed his leather jacket to go as soon as those words left Steve’s mouth.

Instead of having a drink with you like he wanted or just talking, he simmered in silence in a booth while you stood at the bar. He narrowed his eyes as the guy you were talking to moved an inch closer. A bit too close for his liking.

Steve said his name was Will. They had met each other at some point in passing. Short blonde hair and a trimmed beard. Ex-military, but still built like he had a war to fight. Behind the guy’s blue eyes lurked pain, guilt, and regret that most would miss due to his general stoic demeanor. Bucky could relate all too well to horrors that haunted even the strongest of men.

But when Will looked at you, his eyes lit up. They held a sense of longing. Hope.

Once again, Bucky could relate all too well because that was how he looked at you.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Steve said, grabbing a beer from the bucket and setting it down in front of him. “Just talk to her.”

Bucky took a swig, but didn't take his eyes off you. He was afraid if he looked away that Will might convince you to leave with him. “Talk to her about what?”

His best friend sighed. “You know what.”

Steve knew how he felt about you. Talking about his feelings wasn't easy, but he had to tell his best friend. And it wasn't the first time Steve encouraged him to speak up. He said you had the right to know so the two of you could figure out how to move forward, whether as a couple or just friends, instead of dancing around it.

But how could Bucky admit how he felt when he didn't deserve someone like you?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“We're friends,” Bucky stated. The words tasted as bitter as the beer he sipped. No, not bitter. He couldn't feel that way just because he had a piece of you when he wanted all of you.

Was he selfish for that?

He nearly shattered the bottle in his hand when you giggled at whatever Will said. Something akin to jealousy settled in his chest and he had no right to feel that way. The two of you weren't together. You were single and didn't owe him a thing.

But he knows if you gave him a chance, he’d treat you well. Better than any other guy before him. He would do his best to make you happy. Maybe that wasn't enough.

“Will is a good guy, but he isn't you, Buck. You’re still one of the best guys I know,” Steve said.

“You don't have to kiss my ass, punk,” he muttered, immediately regretting it. He was only trying to help and God knows he had done more than enough for him over the years.

Steve shook his head. “And you don't have to feel sorry for yourself, jerk.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. Maybe he was. He was sorry for so many things.

As if you sensed his sadness, you looked over your shoulder and met his gaze. You smiled at him, the kind of smile that stole the very breath from his lungs and made his head spin. He wanted to believe it was a smile you reserved only for him. And the softness in your beautiful eyes, he imagined he could see his future in them.

Could you see the endless love he had for you in his?

His heart ached when you turned away and put your hand on Will’s arm. Of course, you were attracted to the guy. Why wouldn’t you be? The thought of you kissing him though, being intimate with him? He felt sick enough to finally look away.

Bucky glanced at his distorted reflection in the beer bottle. A long time ago, he would've called himself handsome. Not because he was full of himself, but because he knew himself then. He knew how to walk the line between confidence and cockiness. He was full of life and wonder once. Now the weight of his sins showed in how he carried himself.

Sins you never judged him for.

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

Steve nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was so lost in his mind that he hadn’t heard you call out to him. He should’ve known since you were the only one who called him Jamie. When he looked up from his seat, he saw that you were no longer standing next to Will as he was still at the bar. And there was nothing but concern in your gaze as you set your drink down on the table.

“What? What happened?” He asked, not smooth at all.

Your eyes flickered to Steve and then back at him. “I asked if you’re okay. You don’t look too well.”

“Not feeling so great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “This place…”

“Oh,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him. He inhaled, your sweet scent soothing the pain in his heart and making it race all at once. “Well, why don’t we head out? There’s no reason to stay if you don’t want to stay.”

He gently smiled. You were always willing to go with the flow and change plans if things ever got too loud or too much for him. “I’m fine. Besides, you just got your drink and you haven’t had a chance to play pool with Sam or Natasha,” he argued. He didn’t want to spoil your night.

You put your hand on his arm, but it seemed different than when you touched Will’s arm. This was tender, soothing. “If being here is making you uncomfortable, then I don’t feel like sticking around. They’ll understand. Steve, please, back me up on this.”

“She’s right. You two should go,” Steve said, conveniently leaving himself and the others out of the equation.

Bucky spared Will a glance, who was now talking to the guys he went into the bar with. He swallowed hard before the next words left his mouth. “What about your new friend?”

“You are my friend, Jamie,” you said. He winced inwardly at the reminder. Friends. You were just friends. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s just go. How about a movie at your place? Something low-key so you feel better.”

“You sure?” He asked, wondering just how eager he looked to leave with you.

“I’m sure,” you smiled, making his heart warm again.

“Okay. You convinced me,” he said. Not that it would’ve taken much. Your smile could bend the will of just about anyone.

“You know, I hear healthy conversations are also good to help people feel better,” Steve chimed in, earning an elbow to the side from Bucky.

You raised an eyebrow and slid out of the booth. “Yeah. Sure. Jamie and I can have a healthy conversation and you all enjoy the rest of the night.” You offered Bucky a hand to help him out. He didn’t want to let go. “C’mon. We have a movie waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky teased, proud of himself when you giggled.

Steve gave him an optimistic smile and he couldn’t help but return it. He wasn’t sure if Will had given you his number or if you planned to see him, but maybe he’d take a chance and tell you he had fallen for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, you had fallen for him, too.

Just maybe.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be a thing? Did Will give you his number? Will Bucky say how he feels? What's going to happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you’re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

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[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman////The Frontman's Secret

Anonymous request: Hi can you write a imagine for Hwang In-ho thanks

Warnings: Violence, Deaths, Trauma, Betrayal, Paranoia, Pregnancy, Manipulation, Emotional Distress and spoiler alert 🚨 

You and the players are gathered around sitting down, sharing a rare moment of calm amid the chaos. The tension of survival has made every bite of food feel like a luxury. Laughter and hushed conversations weave through the air, but you’re mostly focused on Jung-bae. You’ve always respected him for his calm demeanor and resourcefulness, so when he leans in slightly, his tone quieter and more serious, your attention shifts entirely to him.

“Y/n,” Jung-bae begins, his voice soft but deliberate, his eyes carrying a weight that immediately makes your chest tighten. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. You remind me of my own daughter. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve started seeing you as one, too. And because of that, I feel like I need to tell you something. About Young-il.”

At the mention of Young-il, your boyfriend, your heart skips a beat. The edges of your vision seem to blur as you focus entirely on Jung-bae’s expression. There’s something there hesitation, fear maybe, but mostly guilt. He lowers his voice even more, glancing around to ensure no one else is listening.

“You remember the Mingle game, right? When it came down to two players in each room?”

You nod, your mind racing as you recall the chaos of that day. The screams, the betrayals, the cold calculation it took to survive.

“Well…” Jung-bae exhales sharply, like he’s trying to summon the courage to say the words. “Me and him..Me and Young-il. we ended up in the same room. There was already another player in there when we got there, and…”

He falters, looking at you with an expression that’s equal parts regret and urgency. “Y/n, he—”

“Jung-bae,” a firm, familiar voice interrupts. You turn to see Young-il standing there, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed in that way that sends a chill down your spine. He’s always had a knack for commanding attention, but there’s something different about him now something darker.

“Am I interrupting something?” Young-il’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows exactly what Jung-bae was about to say. His gaze shifts between the two of you, lingering on Jung-bae just a little too long.

Jung-bae straightens, his expression carefully neutral. “No, we were just—”

“I don’t think Y/n needs to hear any unnecessary stories,” Young-il cuts him off, his tone final. He moves closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. The gesture feels possessive rather than protective, and it takes everything in you not to recoil.

You glance back at Jung-bae, whose jaw is clenched tight, his eyes darting between you and Young-il. There’s something he wants to say, you can see it in the way his lips part slightly, but he doesn’t. The room feels suffocating now, the earlier camaraderie all but gone.

“I think we should all get some rest,” Young-il says, his voice softer now, directed at you. “It’s been a long day.”

You nod slowly, even as unease twists in your stomach. Young-il hand lingers on your shoulder a moment too long before he turns and walks away.

As he disappears into the shadows, you look back at Jung-bae. He’s still sitting there, his eyes filled with frustration and a silent apology. You don’t know what he was going to say about Young-il, but now, more than ever, you feel like you need to find out.

Later that night, you find yourself sitting on one of the worn-out beds with Young-il. The dim light overhead casts long shadows across the room, and the silence is heavy, broken only by the faint sounds of other players shifting or murmuring in their sleep.

He sits next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence, but his body language is off. His arms are crossed loosely, and his gaze is distant, staring at a spot on the floor as though it holds some deep secret.

You study him for a moment, your mind replaying Jung-bae’s unfinished words over and over again. You’ve tried to push it aside, tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, but the unease refuses to leave you. Finally, you can’t hold back any longer.

“Young-il,” you begin softly, your voice cutting through the quiet. He turns his head slightly, looking at you with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone calm and gentle, but there’s something underneath it a tension you can’t ignore.

You hesitate, feeling a lump form in your throat, but you push through it. “Did… did something happen in that room? During the Mingle game?”

The question hangs in the air like a heavy cloud. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his face unreadable. Then, he exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Y/n, where is this coming from?” he asks, turning his body slightly to face you. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

You look down at your hands, twisting them nervously in your lap. “Jung-bae said something earlier. He started to tell me about what happened when you two were in the same room, but…” You glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of the truth. “He didn’t get to finish.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his expression softening, but his eyes remain sharp. “Jung-bae talks too much,” he says lightly, his tone laced with an edge of annoyance. “Nothing happened in that room, Y/n. You know how these games are people are always looking for someone to blame, always trying to stir up doubts.”

“But—”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, reaching out to take your hands in his. His grip is firm but not unkind, and his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I care about you more than anything. You know that, right?”

You nod slowly, but the knot in your stomach only tightens. His words should comfort you, but instead, they feel rehearsed, like he’s trying too hard to convince you.

“I just… I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly.

He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “There’s nothing to tell,” he whispers. “I promise you.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You want to believe him. But as you sit there, his hands holding yours, the shadows in the room seem to grow darker, and the doubt in your heart refuses to fade.

The following morning, the air is heavy with unspoken tension as the group prepares for whatever the next challenge might bring. Everyone moves with a quiet urgency, the weight of the games pressing down on them. Jung-bae sits on the floor near Gi-hun, pretending to sharpen a makeshift tool. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he’s buying himself time to gather his thoughts.

Gi-hun notices his demeanor and frowns slightly. “You’ve been quiet this morning,” he remarks, sitting down beside Jung-bae. “Something on your mind?”

Jung-bae doesn’t respond immediately. He keeps his focus on the tool in his hands, his expression distant. Finally, he exhales deeply and sets the tool aside, turning to face Gi-hun.

“Gi-hun,” Jung-bae begins, his tone unusually serious. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow. “A favor? What kind of favor?”

Jung-bae leans in closer, lowering his voice so only Gi-hun can hear. “I want you to promise me something. If anything happens to me. if I don’t make it through this game. I need you to take care of Y/n. And not just her. everyone in our group. But especially Y/n.”

The words hit Gi-hun like a punch to the gut. He stares at Jung-bae, searching his face for an explanation. “What are you talking about? Why would you say that? Are you… are you planning something?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jung-bae says quickly, shaking his head. “I just… I need to know that she’ll be safe. That someone will look out for her.”

Gi-hun narrows his eyes, his suspicion growing. “Why are you talking like this, Jung-bae? You’re not making sense. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jung-bae insists, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He looks away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about what it takes to survive here. The things we’ve had to do. The things we might have to do.”

Gi-hun crosses his arms, still unconvinced. “This isn’t like you. What’s really going on?”

Jung-bae hesitates, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. For a brief moment, it looks like he might say something more, but then he shakes his head again. “It’s nothing. Just… promise me, okay? If I’m not here, you’ll look after her.”

“Jung-bae…”Gi-hun begins, but the older man cuts him off.

“Promise me,” Jung-bae repeats, his voice firm, his eyes pleading.

Gi-hun sighs, the weight of the request settling heavily on his shoulders. “Alright,” he says reluctantly. “I promise. But you’re going to have to tell me what this is really about sooner or later.”

Jung-bae gives him a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Gi-hun. That means a lot.”

As Gi-hun watches Jung-bae stand and walk away, his concern only deepens. There’s something Jung-bae isn’t telling him, something important. And though he doesn’t press the issue now, he makes a silent vow to find out what it is.

Later that day, you’re sitting with Young-ll in the dimly lit at the dormitory, trying to distract yourself from the weight of the competition. The two of you exchange light conversation, your laughter quiet but genuine small moments of humanity in a place that feels anything but human.

“You know,” Young-ll says, leaning back against the wall, “I was never much of a team player before all this. Guess this place has a way of forcing you to see people differently.”

You nod, resting your chin on your knees. “Yeah. It’s funny how survival makes you care about people you probably wouldn’t even notice outside of here.”

Young-ll chuckles softly, but his smile fades as his gaze shifts to something or someone behind you. You follow his line of sight and see Gi-hun approaching, his expression as serious as ever. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Y/n, Young-ll,” Gi-hun greets, sitting down next to you. He glances between the two of you before settling his gaze on you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jung-bae’s been acting really weird lately.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Young-ll speaks first, his tone casual but with an edge of defensiveness. “He’s just nervous,” Young-ll says, shrugging. “The games are getting down to the wire, and everyone’s feeling the pressure. It’s normal.”

Gi-hun frowns, clearly not convinced. “It’s more than that. He’s been avoiding people, staying quiet, and the way he talks. it’s like he’s expecting something bad to happen. Like he’s preparing for it.”

Young-ll leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Can you blame him? These games mess with your head. Everyone’s scared, everyone’s paranoid. Jung-bae’s probably just dealing with it in his own way.”

You glance between the two men, sensing the tension in their voices. “Maybe we’re all just overthinking it,” you suggest cautiously, though you can’t ignore the knot of unease forming in your stomach.

Gi-hu looks at you, his brow furrowed. “Maybe. But if something’s going on, we need to know about it. We’re supposed to be a team, and if someone’s hiding something—”

“Gi-hun,” Young-ll interrupts, his tone firmer now. “Drop it, alright? Jung-bae’s fine. He’s been looking out for us since the beginning. Don’t start questioning him now just because he’s a little on edge.”

GI-hun opens his mouth to argue, but then he stops, exhaling sharply. “Fine,” he mutters, leaning back against the wall. “But I’m keeping an eye on him. Just in case.”

Young-ll shakes his head, giving you a quick glance and a reassuring smile. “He’s overthinking it,” he says softly, as if to put you at ease. “Jung-bae’s just nervous, like I said. No need to worry.”

But even as he says it, you can’t help but notice the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It’s brief, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make you wonder if Young-ll truly believes his own words or if he’s just trying to convince himself.

As Gi-hun stands, brushing off his knees and heading toward the rest of the group, you and Young-ll sit quietly, watching his retreating figure. His concern about Jung-bae lingers in your mind, intertwining with your own growing doubts. The atmosphere feels heavier than before, the unspoken questions filling the silence between you and Young-ll.

You glance over at him, studying his profile. His expression is calm, maybe too calm, as if he’s deliberately masking something. The way he dismissed Gi-hun concerns earlier had been convincing, but now, in the quiet, you wonder if there’s more to it.

“Young-ll,” you begin softly, breaking the silence. He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice casual, though his eyes betray a flicker of something guarded.

You hesitate for a moment, then press on. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on? Between you and Jung-bae, or… just in general? If there’s something you’re not telling me, I’d rather know.”

Young-ll’s expression hardens for a fraction of a second before he forces a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re worrying too much, Y/n,” he says, his tone light but firm. “Jung-bae’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unwilling to let it drop. “Young-ll, please. I can tell when someone’s holding back. If there’s something I should know, just tell me. I can handle it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting past you as though he’s trying to find an escape. The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain, until he finally meets your eyes again. But instead of answering, he leans in without warning, his hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is sudden, catching you completely off guard. Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, the world seems to blur, the weight of the games and all your questions momentarily falling away. His touch is warm, his presence grounding, and yet there’s something desperate about the way he holds you. like he’s trying to distract you, to keep you from asking any more questions.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes search yours, his expression a mix of longing and something you can’t quite place fear, maybe, or regret.

“You don’t need to worry, Y/n,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just trust me.”

But as he pulls away completely, the doubt in your chest only deepens. His kiss may have silenced your questions for the moment, but it hasn’t erased them. If anything, it’s only made you more certain that Young-ll is hiding something. And you’re determined to find out what it is.

The tension in the air is palpable as you and Young-ll sit together in the dimly lit corner of the room, the quiet hum of the environment only accentuating the weight of the conversation unfolding between you two. The games have worn on you both, the stakes getting higher with every challenge, and despite the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders, there’s a shared silence that speaks volumes.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you ask the question that’s been gnawing at you. “What do you think happens if we actually make it out of here? If we survive and manage to get out of this hellhole… what happens then? Do you think we’ll be able to go back to some kind of normal life?”

Young-ll shifts next to you, his expression thoughtful. His eyes seem far away, almost like he’s not truly seeing you as he focuses on something in the distance. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Part of me wants to believe we could go back to normal, that we could forget this place and pretend like none of it ever happened. But I think we both know it’s impossible. After everything we’ve been through, after the choices we’ve made, nothing can ever be the same again.”

You nod slowly, feeling the truth in his words. The games, the violence, the way everyone around you has changed. it’s left its mark. Even if you made it out alive, you wonder if you could ever truly find peace again.

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking at him, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “But even if everything’s different, I don’t want this to be the end of it. I don’t want this to be the last chapter. I want to rebuild something… whatever that might look like. After all this, I just want to try to find some kind of peace.”

Young-ll turns to you, his eyes softer now, more intense, and there’s a kind of vulnerability in them that you haven’t seen before. His gaze locks with yours, and suddenly, everything feels a little too close, too personal.

“You’re not hearing me, Y/n,” he says, his voice deep and firm, the words more urgent than before. “I don’t care about ‘normal.’ I don’t care about rebuilding a life that doesn’t make sense anymore. What I care about… is you. No matter what happens, no matter where this game leads us, no matter what we face once we get out of here, I need you to promise me something.”

Your breath catches at his intensity. Something in his words feels different, like there’s more hidden beneath the surface than he’s letting on. The air between you thickens, and you feel the weight of the moment press against your chest.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Young-ll leans in just a little closer, his hand reaching for yours, fingers brushing softly against your skin. His eyes are full of something you can’t quite place something you don’t want to understand just yet.

“Promise me,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper, “that you’ll be with me. No matter what happens, wherever I go, I need you by my side. Promise me you’ll stay with me, Y/n.”

The sincerity in his voice hits you hard, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades into the background. His plea feels genuine, raw, and you find yourself drawn to him in a way that almost scares you. He’s asking for more than just companionship; he’s asking for loyalty, for a bond that might be impossible to break.

“I promise,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be with you. No matter what happens.”

What you don’t know, what he hasn’t told you, is that his request is not just a plea for partnership. It’s a plea for something darker, something far beyond the world you thought you understood. Young-ll isn’t just asking you to stay with him in the aftermath of the games. He’s asking you to join him in something much more dangerous something he’s already deeply entrenched in.

In the shadows of this twisted game, Young-ll is not just a player. He is the frontman the key figure in the organization behind the games. His role isn’t just to survive; it’s to control, to lead, to maintain the structure of the very system you’ve been fighting against. But this isn’t what he wants to offer you.

Deep down, he does care for you. Despite everything, despite the ruthless nature of his role, he loves you in a way he never thought he could love anyone. He’s seen the horrors of the game, the choices it’s forced him to make, but when it comes to you, he’s different. He wants to pull you into his world, but not just because it’s all he knows. He wants to protect you, to make you part of his life, part of the future he’s building one that, for better or worse, will never be ordinary again.

As you sit there, your hand in his, promising to stand by his side, he feels a surge of hope mixed with a deep sense of regret. The life he’s built, the world he’s a part of, isn’t one you can easily escape. But he’s determined to bring you into it, hoping against hope that love can somehow change things.

And as the promise hangs between you two, neither of you knows what the future holds, but for the first time in a long while, you both dare to believe that, together, you might just survive whatever comes next.

The night has grown quieter, the dim light casting long shadows across the room as you and Young-ll finally rejoin the rest of the group. You both had stepped away earlier to talk, the weight of the conversation still heavy on your shoulders, but now, you find yourself swept back into the rhythm of the group. Despite everything that’s happened the tension, the games, the unknown future there’s a strange comfort in being surrounded by familiar faces, even if only for a moment.

As you sit down, the laughter of your friends fills the air, the conversation shifting to lighter topics, even though the uncertainty of the situation looms in the background. Hyun-ju, ever the bubbly one, leans forward, a teasing smile on her face as she looks from you to Young-ll.

“So,” she says, her voice playful yet genuine. “When are you two getting married?” Her words hang in the air, and for a second, it feels like the room goes quiet, all eyes now on you and Young-ll.

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question, and Young-ll chuckles lightly, looking a little more amused than you expected. “Marriage?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not even out of here yet. Isn’t it a little early to be talking about that?”

Hyun-ju laughs, clearly not taking the question too seriously. “I mean, if you two end up making it out of here alive, it seems like a good reason to celebrate, right? Maybe it’s better to plan ahead in case we don’t make it. If you’re going to get married, though, you should invite everyone here. You can’t leave us out of it!”

The suggestion is lighthearted, almost playful, but there’s something in the way she says it that makes the conversation feel more real than it should. It’s as though, for just a moment, the horrors of the games and the looming danger that surrounds you all are forgotten in favor of something that resembles normalcy something that feels far away from this nightmarish reality.

You glance at Young-ll, unsure of how to respond, but before you can find your words, Jung-bae, who has been sitting quietly nearby, suddenly coughs loudly. His eyes flicker nervously toward the floor as he shifts uncomfortably on floor, as though the conversation had caught him off guard.

The atmosphere shifts almost imperceptibly, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. You can sense that something is off with Jung-bae, his unease palpable. His gaze lingers on the group for a moment longer than necessary, his hand gripping the edge of the table in a way that suggests he’s trying to stay calm, but there’s a tension in his posture.

Hyun-ju, unaware of the sudden shift in energy, continues to smile, waiting for a response, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Jung-bae’s discomfort. He hasn’t spoken much since you and Young-ll returned, and you can’t help but wonder if his reaction is tied to something deeper.

You glance back at Jung-bae, your mind racing as you recall his earlier words. He had tried to warn you about something involving Young-ll something that happened in that room but he never finished the conversation. He had been interrupted by Young-il, and you still haven’t gotten the full story. The anxiety building in his chest now seems to speak volumes.

The room, which had been filled with lighthearted chatter only moments before, suddenly feels heavy. The playful banter around marriage, which was supposed to lift your spirits, only makes everything seem more fragile more uncertain. Jung-bae’s cough had broken the moment, but it also revealed the thinly veiled tension between the group, the underlying secrets that have yet to come to light.

You exchange a glance with Young-ll, who seems unfazed by the playful teasing, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. his expression still relaxed, but you sense that, like you, he knows something isn’t quite right.

Hyun-ju, still waiting for an answer, leans forward, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Come on, you two. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You could be the first to escape and get married. Maybe we could have a big celebration once we’re all out of here if you both want that, of course.”

The room goes quiet again as her words linger in the air. The awkwardness thickens, and you wonder if the playful remark has touched on something deeper that no one is ready to talk about. Jung-bae’s fidgeting only amplifies your suspicion. Something is clearly bothering him, but he doesn’t seem ready to share.

You turn your attention back to Young-ll, who’s still sitting beside you, a small, thoughtful smile playing at the edges of his lips. His calm demeanor is a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in your head. But as you meet his gaze, you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on if he’s hiding something from the group, something that ties back to Jung-bae’s strange behavior.

But before you can say anything more, Gi-hun, who’s been silent until now, clears his throat, looking at Jung-bae with a concerned frown. “You okay, Jung-bae?” he asks. “You’re looking a little off tonight. Did something happen?”

Jung-bae freezes, his eyes darting around the group as though looking for an escape. His lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, he seems to hesitate before responding. But all he says is, “I’m fine. Just tired. I think we all need rest, that’s all.”

His words, though spoken with an air of finality, don’t seem to convince anyone. The tension is thick now, and though Hyun-ju tries to keep the mood light by continuing to joke about the hypothetical wedding, it’s clear that something deeper is at play something that none of you are ready to face.

As the conversation dies down, you sit back, quietly processing everything. The uncertainty of the future, the unease you feel from Jung-bae, and the unspoken tension between you and Young-ll. Despite the lightheartedness that’s returned to the group’s banter, you know that what’s truly happening beneath the surface is far more complicated, and it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

The room is filled with the low murmur of conversation as everyone eats, the exhaustion from the day’s events hanging in the air. You sit at the table with the rest of the group, the food almost tasteless, but a necessary distraction from the overwhelming weight of everything around you. The tension is still palpable, but for a moment, it feels like you can breathe, even if just for a while.

As you glance around the dormitory, your eyes settle on Jun-hee, who’s sitting quietly, her hand resting lightly on her stomach. Despite her exhaustion, she’s doing her best to eat, though it’s clear that her mind is elsewhere. You notice the untouched milk beside her plate. She’s been struggling to keep enough food down lately, and you know it’s because of her pregnancy.

You nudge the carton of milk closer to her, your voice soft but insistent. “Here’s mine. You need it more than me.”

Jun-hee looks at the milk for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she shakes her head. “Thank you,” she says quietly, “but I don’t need it.”

You shake your head gently, not ready to let her off the hook so easily. “Just take it. You do need it,” you insist, your voice firm but caring. “You know, because of your baby. And besides, I can’t have white milk.”

Her eyes soften slightly at your words, but she hesitates, clearly reluctant. You can see the hesitation in her expression, but before she can respond, a familiar voice interrupts the moment, and you feel a slight shift in the air.

“I was about to give you my milk,” Young-ll says, his voice light with playful teasing. You look up, and there he is, standing by your side with a grin on his face and a carton of milk in his hand. “Now that I know that you can’t have white, what a coincidence we have. I can’t have white milk either.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a small laugh escaping your lips at the sheer coincidence. He’s always been one to bring humor to tense moments, and this is no exception. You shake your head, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“You too?” you say with mock disbelief, eyeing him dramatically. “What is it with you and milk? I should’ve known, of course. You and I are basically the same person.”

Young-ll chuckles at your response, the playful glint in his eyes not entirely masking the underlying seriousness that’s always there. “What can I say?” he replies with a shrug. “Great minds think alike.”

You glance back at Jun-hee, who’s still holding the milk carton you offered her. The smile on your face fades for a moment as you turn your attention to her, noticing the concern in her eyes. The lighthearted exchange between you and Young-ll has offered some much-needed relief, but you know it doesn’t solve everything.

“You should take it, Jun-hee,” you say softly, your tone gentle but persistent. “We all need to stick together, especially now. We’re all in this mess together.”

She meets your gaze, her lips pressing into a tight line before she finally nods, taking the milk from your hands. “Thanks, Y/n,” she says quietly. “I’ll drink it.”

You watch her for a moment, relieved that she’s accepted, but you can’t shake the worry that continues to settle in the pit of your stomach. The games are far from over, and even in this small, quiet moment of connection, you all know that danger is never too far away.

As everyone continues to eat, you glance back at Young-ll, catching his eye. For a brief second, the world around you feels like it’s standing still, just the two of you in your own bubble. The fleeting moment of calm doesn’t last long, but for now, it’s enough.

The evening wears on, and the group begins to scatter after dinner, some retreating to their beds while others linger in small groups, talking in hushed tones. You find yourself standing by one of the walls, trying to collect your thoughts. The weight of everything happening around you the games, the tension, the unspoken secrets feels heavier than ever.

As you lean against the wall, lost in your thoughts, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Jung-bae walking toward you, his expression tense and hesitant. There’s something in his eyes, something heavy, like he’s carrying a burden too big to bear alone.

“Hey,” he says quietly, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is nearby. His behavior is strange, almost paranoid, and it immediately puts you on edge.

“I need to talk to you,” he says finally, his voice low. “About something… important.”

You nod, stepping closer to him. “What is it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued. Jung-bae has been acting strangely for days now, and you’ve been waiting for him to open up. Maybe now you’ll finally get some answers.

Jung-bae hesitates, running a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s about Young-ll,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something you need to know, something that happened during the Mingle game. I’ve been trying to tell you, but…”

His words trail off, and you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. It’s clear that whatever he’s about to say isn’t easy for him. You step even closer, lowering your voice to match his.

“What is it, Jung-bae?” you ask, your heart beginning to race. “What happened?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, the sound of laughter echoes across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. You both turn to see Jun-hee and Hyun-ju walking toward you, their faces lit up with smiles, seemingly oblivious to the heaviness of the moment.

“There you two are!” Jun-hee says, her tone cheerful. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

Hyun-ju grins, her eyes darting between you and Jung-bae. “Are we interrupting something?” she teases, her voice light and playful.

You glance at Jung-bae, whose expression has shifted back to neutral, the tension in his face now replaced with a forced calmness. Whatever he was about to say, it’s clear that he’s not going to continue the conversation with Jun-hee and Hyun-ju here.

“No, you’re not interrupting,” you say quickly, trying to keep your tone casual. “We were just… talking.”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she steps closer, linking her arm with Jun-hee’s. “Well, now that we’ve found you, why don’t we all sit together for a bit? It’s too depressing to be alone right now.”

You glance at Jung-bae again, hoping for some kind of signal that he’ll continue the conversation later, but he avoids your gaze. Instead, he nods at Hyun-ju, forcing a small smile. “Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

The four of you walk back toward the center of the room, but your mind is still spinning. What was Jung-bae about to tell you? What did he mean about Young-ll? The unanswered questions hang over you like a storm cloud, and as much as you try to focus on the present moment, you can’t shake the feeling that something big is about to come to light.

Jung-bae walks beside you, his shoulders tense, his gaze fixed straight ahead. You don’t say anything, but you make a mental note to talk to him again as soon as you get the chance. Whatever he’s hiding, you need to know. And deep down, you have a sinking feeling that whatever it is could change everything.

The room is dark and quiet, save for the faint sounds of steady breathing and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Everyone is sprawled out in their designated sleeping spots, exhausted from the day’s events. It’s a rare moment of peace, though it feels fragile, as if it could shatter at any second.

Jung-bae sits against the wall, his knees pulled up slightly, arms resting on them. His eyes scan the room, landing briefly on each sleeping figure, but they linger the longest on you. You’re curled up on your side, your face peaceful in sleep, though the faint furrow in your brow betrays the stress you’re carrying. Jung-bae’s heart aches as he watches over you.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice whispers nearby, pulling him from his thoughts. He looks over to see Gi-hun sitting up a few feet away, his sharp eyes catching Jung-bae’s. Gi-hun moves closer, careful not to disturb the others, and sits down beside him.

Jung-bae shakes his head, sighing deeply. “No. Too much on my mind.”

Gi-hun leans back against the wall, his expression thoughtful as he studies his friend. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” he says, keeping his voice low. “We all see it especially Y/n. Whatever it is you’re holding back, you need to tell her. Why haven’t you?”

Jung-bae’s shoulders tense, and he lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he says, his voice strained. “I want her to be happy. More than anything. But I also fear for her safety. What if what I tell her makes things worse? What if it puts her in danger?”

Gi-hun tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening. “You care about her,” he says quietly. “That’s clear to everyone. But keeping things from her isn’t protecting her. It’s only making her worry more. You’ve seen how she’s been looking at you lately she knows something’s wrong.”

Jung-bae closes his eyes for a moment, the weight of Gi-hun’s words sinking in. “I know,” he says finally. “And it kills me to see her like that. Just like I told you before, I see her as my daughter. She’s been through so much already. It would break my heart to see her hurt because of something I’ve done or something I’ve failed to do.”

Gi-hun nods slowly, his expression understanding. “I get it,” he says after a moment. “I really do. But keeping her in the dark isn’t the answer. She deserves to know the truth, whatever it is. And she deserves to hear it from you.”

Jung-bae looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting as he processes Gi-hun’s words. “I just don’t want her to think I don’t care about her happiness,” he says softly. “Because I do. More than anything.”

Gi-hun places a reassuring hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder. “She knows you care. Trust me, she does. But if you wait too long, it might be too late. You’ve got to tell her before that happens.”

Jung-bae glances at Gi-hun, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and anguish. “Thanks, Gi-hun,” he says quietly. “I’ll think about it. I just… I need to find the right moment.”

Gi-hun squeezes his shoulder gently before letting go. “I get it,” he says. “But don’t wait too long, okay? We don’t have the luxury of time in here.”

Jung-bae nods, his gaze drifting back to where you’re sleeping. His chest tightens as he watches the rise and fall of your breath, his mind racing with the weight of his decision. He knows Gi-hun is right, and deep down, he knows he can’t keep this from you much longer.

But even as he resolves to tell you the truth, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers fears of what might happen when he does. For now, he stays where he is, silently keeping watch over you, hoping that when the time comes, he’ll find the strength to do what’s right.

The quiet hum of the room seems to fade as you sit across from Young-il, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face. The tension of the games has been wearing on everyone, but here, in this moment, it feels like the rest of the world is far away. It’s just the two of you, stealing a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Young-il has been unusually quiet tonight, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that’s both comforting and unnerving. You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “You’re staring,” you tease lightly, trying to break the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his hand reaching into his pocket. Your brow furrows as you watch him, unsure of what he’s doing. When he finally pulls his hand back out, your breath catches in your throat. There, in his palm, is a small ring simple but beautiful, its understated design perfect in its elegance.

Your eyes widen as realization dawns. “Young-il…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He shifts closer to you, his usually confident demeanor tinged with a rare vulnerability. “I know this isn’t the way I would’ve wanted to do this,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “And it’s definitely not the perfect place or time. But nothing about this situation is perfect, is it?”

You shake your head slightly, unable to find the words as your heart races.

Young-il takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he continues. “About us, about what we’ve been through, and about what might come next. And no matter what happens—whether we make it out of this or not I know one thing for sure: I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your breath hitches as he holds the ring up, his voice trembling just slightly. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The weight of his words, the depth of his feelings, and the sheer courage it must’ve taken for him to ask you this here, in the middle of all this madness, overwhelm you. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Relief washes over his face, and he slips the ring onto your finger with care, his hands steady despite the gravity of the moment. It feels warm and solid, a promise of hope in a place where hope is so hard to come by.

But before you can fully process the moment, his expression grows serious again. “Listen,” he says, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You can wear the ring, but you can’t tell anyone about this. Not yet.”

You blink, confused. “Why not?”

He hesitates, glancing around the room as if to make sure no one is listening. Then, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I have a feeling,” he says. “A feeling that it’s only going to be us me and you that make it out of this alive. And until we know for sure, I don’t want anyone else to know. I don’t want this to become another target on your back.”

His words send a chill down your spine, the weight of his foresight sinking in. You nod slowly, understanding his reasoning even if it makes your heart ache. “Okay,” you say softly. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks as he gazes at you with a mix of love and determination. “I mean it, Y/n,” he says. “No matter what happens, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you survive. To make sure we survive.”

You swallow hard, the enormity of his promise and your own feelings threatening to overwhelm you. But you nod again, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “We’ll survive,” you say firmly. “Together.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips grounding you. For a moment, it feels like nothing else matters not the games, not the danger, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. It’s just you and him, clinging to each other in a world that seems determined to tear you apart.

As he pulls back, his fingers brush over the ring on your hand, a small, secret smile tugging at his lips. “It looks good on you,” he murmurs.

You manage a small smile in return, your fingers curling around his. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

The two of you sit there in silence, your hands intertwined, as the weight of your secret promise settles between you. It’s a risk, but it’s also a lifeline a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love can still find a way to shine through.

The room buzzes with quiet chatter, the tension momentarily eased as the group finds comfort in each other’s company. Young-il sits off to the side, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observes everyone. His role as the Frontman is a secret he’s mastered keeping, and every move he makes is careful, deliberate. He’s learned how to blend in perfectly, to mask his true intentions behind an easy smile or a well-placed joke. But tonight, his thoughts aren’t on strategy or the games. they’re on you.

His eyes flicker to where you’re sitting, laughing softly at something Hyun-ju said. For a brief moment, the corners of his lips lift in a small, genuine smile. Then his expression hardens again, the gravity of the situation pulling him back to reality. He knows the danger that lies ahead, knows how fragile life is in this twisted arena. And he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety.

He waits, watching the group closely. They’re distracted, deep in conversation, their guard lowered for just a moment. It’s the perfect time. Rising to his feet, he stretches casually, as if he’s simply restless, before moving quietly toward the shadows where a pink-suited guard stands near the corner of the room.

Young-il’s movements are subtle, his steps light as he approaches. The guard, who had been standing stiffly at attention, straightens even more as he notices Young-il. There’s a flicker of recognition in the guard’s stance, an unspoken acknowledgment of who he’s really dealing with.

Young-il leans in, his voice a low, commanding whisper. “Listen carefully,” he begins, his tone firm but quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. “I’ve got an order for you, and you better make sure it gets through to every single one of you.”

The guard doesn’t respond verbally, but the slight tilt of his head signals he’s listening intently. Young-il’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping even lower. “No matter what happens in these games, no one and I mean no one is to harm Y/n. Not a scratch, not a bullet, nothing. She’s off-limits.”

The guard shifts slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the directive, but he remains silent. Young-il takes a step closer, his presence looming, his voice carrying a sharper edge. “She’s going to be my wife once this is all over,” he continues, his tone filled with an intensity that brooks no argument. “And if any of you so much as think about touching her, you’ll answer to me. Personally.”

The guard finally nods, a quick, nervous motion that shows he understands the weight of what’s being said. But Young-il isn’t done. He straightens, his gaze piercing as he delivers his final warning. “If she’s hurt because of your incompetence or worse, your defiance you’ll wish for death before I’m through with you. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard whispers, his voice trembling slightly.

Young-il holds his gaze for a moment longer, ensuring his message is crystal clear. Then, with a slight nod, he steps back, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he murmurs. “Make sure the others know.”

Without another word, he turns and walks away, his posture relaxed but his mind racing. As he moves back toward the group, he catches sight of you again, your laughter soft but bright in the dim room. For a moment, his chest tightens, the weight of what he’s doing and what he’s risking hitting him all at once. But he pushes it aside, steeling himself. He doesn’t regret his decision. You’re worth every risk, every sacrifice.

Sliding back into his seat near you, he meets your curious gaze with a small smile. “What did I miss?” he asks casually, his tone light.

“Not much,” you reply, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Where did you sneak off to?”

“Just stretching my legs,” he says smoothly, leaning back as if nothing happened. “You know how cramped it gets in here.”

You give him a skeptical look but let it go, turning back to the conversation. As the others continue talking, Young-il glances down at the ring on your finger, hidden from view but glinting faintly in the low light. His resolve hardens. No matter what it takes, he’ll make sure you’re safe. Because in this brutal world, you’re the only thing that truly matters to him.

The room is dimly lit, the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead the only sound cutting through the heavy silence. Most of the players are sprawled out on their makeshift beds, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them. The tension that normally lingers in the air is subdued for the moment, giving way to a rare and fragile stillness.

One player, however, can’t seem to settle. She tosses and turns on her thin mattress, frustration etched into her face as she glares at the locked steel door. After what feels like an eternity, she finally sits up, her movements abrupt and sharp. Muttering under her breath, she makes her way toward the door, the light clinking of her footsteps barely audible over the soft breathing of the sleeping players.

Reaching the door, she knocks firmly against the small window, startling the pink-suited guard stationed outside. He stiffens slightly before stepping closer, his expression hidden behind the eerie, faceless mask. He slides open the small metal window, his deep, distorted voice cutting through the stillness. “What do you need?”

The player folds her arms, her irritation clear. “I need to use the bathroom,” she says, her tone sharp and impatient. “I can’t sleep like this.”

The guard doesn’t respond right away, instead glancing into the room briefly, his posture stiff. “Go back to bed,” he says firmly. “You can wait until morning.”

The player’s eyes narrow, her frustration bubbling over. “Are you serious?” she snaps. “You’ve let people leave before! What makes this any different?”

The guard stands motionless, his silence only fueling her anger. She steps closer, her voice rising despite the risk of waking the others. “Then why did you let Y/n and Young-il go to the bathroom earlier?” she demands, her words laced with bitterness. “That’s not fair! You’re playing favorites, and we all know it!”

Inside the room, a few of the players stir at the commotion, mumbling sleepily as they shift in their beds. The guard tenses but doesn’t react to her accusations, his hand moving to the edge of the window.

“You can’t just ignore me!” the player hisses, her voice low but insistent. “I saw them leave. I know what I saw. You let them go, but you’re telling me to just hold it? What kind of crap is that?”

The guard leans forward slightly, his voice colder now, almost menacing. “Return to your bed,” he says slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate precision. “Do not cause trouble.”

The player glares at him, her fists clenching at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters under her breath, but she doesn’t press further. The guard, clearly done with the conversation, slides the window shut with a decisive clang, cutting her off entirely.

Fuming, the player turns away from the door, her movements jerky as she stalks back toward her bed. She throws herself down onto the mattress, her frustration simmering as she glares at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, outside the door, the pink guard remains still, his posture tense. His mind races as he replays the front man’s words, her accusations hitting uncomfortably close to the truth. He glances down the hallway, his thoughts lingering on Young-il’s earlier command.

“She’s going to be my wife once this is over. No one touches her.”

The guard swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. He knows better than to question orders, especially when they come directly from the Frontman himself. Even so, the growing tension among the players doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the carefully maintained façade of control begins to crack.

Back inside the room, the player lies awake, her mind racing as her frustration simmers. She glances over at you and Young-il, who are sound asleep on opposite sides of the room. A bitter sneer curls at her lips. “Favorites,” she mutters under her breath, her words a venomous whisper.

But for now, the room settles once more, the uneasy silence creeping back in as the tension lies dormant, waiting for the right moment to explode.

The next morning, the group gathers for breakfast, the mood subdued but focused as everyone eats in silence. The room is filled with the sound of utensils scraping against metal trays, the occasional murmur of conversation breaking the quiet. You and Young-il sit on one of the lower bunk beds, sharing your breakfast and quietly talking, stealing rare moments of calm amidst the chaos of the games.

As you’re mid-laugh at something Young-il says, the same player from the night before approaches you both, her expression sharp and accusatory. She plants herself directly in front of you, arms crossed, her gaze narrowing as she glares at the two of you.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Must be nice being the favorites, huh?”

You and Young-il exchange a quick glance, confusion flickering across your faces. Before either of you can respond, the player presses on, her voice rising slightly. “You know what’s not fair? The fact that last night I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I got told no. Meanwhile, you two got to stroll out whenever you wanted! What were you even doing? Let me guess? fucking in the bathroom? Wasting the chance while the rest of us suffer?”

The accusation catches you off guard, your cheeks flushing slightly at her boldness. “What are you talking about?” you ask, your tone defensive.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she snaps, pointing a finger at you. “I saw it with my own eyes. You and him sneaking out together like it’s some kind of date night while the rest of us are stuck here. It’s not fair! Some of us actually follow the rules, and you two just—”

Before she can finish, Hyun-ju, who’s been listening from a nearby bed, cuts in with a sharp laugh. “Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You expect us to believe that? Everyone was asleep last night. You probably imagined the whole thing.”

The player spins to face Hyun-ju, her frustration boiling over. “I know what I saw!” she insists. “They left the room! I heard the door open and close, and they weren’t here for a while. What were they doing, huh?”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, unfazed by the player’s outburst. “Seriously, just let it go,” she says with a shrug. “Even if they did leave, who cares? It’s not like it’s your business. And besides, if the guards let them go, then maybe you’re the one who should think about why you didn’t get permission.”

The player’s face flushes with anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters. “They’re playing favorites, and you all just let it happen. No wonder they’re so cozy over there. they’ve got the guards wrapped around their little fingers.”

You feel Young-il tense beside you, his jaw tightening as he places the tiny tray down. He meets the player’s glare with a cold, measured look. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “If you have a problem with the guards, take it up with them. Don’t come over here accusing us of things you can’t prove.”

The player scoffs, her eyes flickering between you and Young-il before turning away in frustration. “Whatever,” she mutters. “Favorites. That’s all you are.”

As she storms off, Hyun-ju chuckles softly, shaking her head. “She’s losing it,” she mutters, leaning back against the wall. “Honestly, the paranoia in here is getting ridiculous.”

You sigh, leaning into Young-il slightly as the tension settles. He places a reassuring hand on your knee, his expression softening as he looks at you. ���Ignore her,” he murmurs. “She’s just trying to stir up trouble.”

You nod, though the accusation still lingers in your mind. The games have been wearing on everyone, and it’s becoming harder and harder to tell who’s really trustworthy. But as you glance at Young-il, his calm presence grounding you, you remind yourself that you’re not in this alone. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

The room begins to settle down after the tense meeting about the rebellion. The players quietly move to their respective beds, though the air is thick with anxiety and unspoken fears. Everyone knows the plan is risky, but there’s no turning back now. As people murmur their last goodnights and lie down to rest, Jung-bae approaches Young-il, his expression serious and heavy with concern.

He hesitates for a moment, glancing briefly at you sitting a few feet away, and then speaks in a low voice, keeping their conversation as private as possible. “Young-il,” he starts, his tone measured, but there’s a clear urgency behind his words. “Listen to me. When things go down later today, I don’t want Y/n out there with us. She needs to stay here ,where she’ll be safe. I don’t want her to get hurt or worse, shot.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his arms crossed. His expression is calm but unreadable, his dark eyes narrowing as he considers Jung-bae’s words. “I understand your concern,” he says slowly, his voice steady but firm. “But she’s coming with me. Wherever I go, she goes. That’s the way it is.”

Jung-bae frowns, his frustration evident. “Young-il, this isn’t a game. today not just another day. It’s going to be chaos out there. You can’t guarantee her safety. Do you even realize what you’re asking of her?”

Young-il leans forward, his voice dropping even lower, but his tone grows sharper. “I know exactly what I’m asking,” he says firmly. “But don’t you think I’ve thought about this? I’ve thought about her safety, her life, everything. And the truth is, I want her by my side. Not just because I can protect her, but because I need her with me. If something were to happen to me today or the next day… I want my time with her. I want her time with me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jung-bae stares at him for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He glances over at you again, his protective instincts warring with the reality of the situation. “You’re asking for a lot,” he says finally, his voice tinged with frustration. “She’s not just another player to me. She’s… like a daughter. I don’t want her in harm’s way.”

“And you think I do?” Young-il retorts, his voice growing colder, though he keeps it low enough to avoid drawing attention. “You think I’d risk her life if I didn’t believe I could keep her safe? I’d rather die than let anything happen to her. That’s why she’s staying with me. No matter what happens today or after that I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

Jung-bae sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it, Young-il. You don’t know what it feels like to—”

“To care about someone so much that it hurts?” Young-il interrupts, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Trust me, I know. And that’s exactly why I’m not leaving her behind. Because if this is the end… I want her to know how much she means to me. I want to spend every possible moment with her, no matter what the risks are.”

Jung-bae looks away, his jaw tightening as he struggles to respond. He knows there’s no changing Young-il’s mind, but the thought of you being part of the rebellion still fills him with dread.

Finally, he exhales slowly, nodding once. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if anything happens to her… it’s on you. You’ll have to live with it.”

“I already live with more than you can imagine,” Young-il replies, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken, something dark. “But this is one thing I won’t fail at. She’ll be safe. I promise you that.”

Jung-bae gives him one last, searching look before turning and walking away, leaving Young-il alone with his thoughts. He watches you from a distance, his gaze softening as you sit quietly, oblivious to the weight of the conversation that just took place.

As he approaches you, his expression shifts, the hard edges of his demeanor softening into something more tender. Whatever today brings, one thing is certain: he’ll do everything in his power to protect you, no matter the cost.

The air is thick with the deafening sound of gunfire and chaos. You cling tightly to Young-il’s hand, your heartbeat racing as adrenaline surges through your veins. You’ve never experienced anything like this, and the sheer terror of the moment makes your grip on him almost desperate.

Suddenly, Young-il raises his gun, and before you can even process what’s happening, he fires two precise shots. Player 047 lets out a sharp groan, followed quickly by Player 015 collapsing to the ground, a pained cry escaping his lips. The scene feels surreal, and you’re frozen in place, staring at the lifeless bodies in front of you.

“Young-il!” you gasp, your voice trembling with shock and disbelief. “Why did you—”

Before you can finish, the static crackle of a walkie-talkie cuts through the chaos. Gi-hun’s voice comes through, urgent and full of concern.

“Young-il, what’s going on? Have you guys made a move yet?”

Young-il, calm and composed despite the chaos around him, picks up the walkie-talkie and responds, his tone heavy with feigned despair. “I’m sorry, Gi-hun. It’s over. They got us… and they took Y/n with them.”

You look at him in disbelief, your mind reeling from the lie he just told. What is he doing?

Gi-hun’s voice crackles back through the device, more frantic this time. “Young-il, what’s going on? Are you still there?”

Young-il remains silent for a moment, his hand tightening around the walkie-talkie. The groans of the dying players nearby provide an eerie, convincing backdrop.

“Young-il! Say something!” Gi-hun shouts through the walkie-talkie. “Come on, Young-il! Young-il!”

Without a word, Young-il raises his gun again, silencing the groans of the injured players with two more shots. The sound of the gunfire reverberates in the air, sending a chill down your spine.

He then turns off the walkie-talkie, his expression unreadable as he speaks into the communication device meant for the guards. “Let’s wrap things up,” he says coldly, his tone commanding and final.

He turns to you, his dark eyes locking with yours. There’s something in his gaze a mix of determination and something you can’t quite place. You take a step back, your mind racing with questions.

“Why did you shoot them?” you ask, your voice shaky and barely above a whisper. “Why did you lie to Gi-hun?”

Young-il steps closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate. He holds out his hand, his expression softening slightly, though there’s still an intensity in his eyes. “Just come with me,” he says quietly. “I’ll explain everything. But not here, not now.”

You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. Every instinct tells you to run, to demand answers, but something in his voice something raw and almost pleading stops you. You look at his outstretched hand, the same hand that just pulled the trigger moments ago, and then back at his face.

His gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior. Slowly, reluctantly, you reach out and take his hand. His fingers close around yours, firm but not forceful, as he pulls you closer.

“We don’t have much time,” he says softly, his voice low and urgent. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just trust me.”

As he leads you away from the carnage, your mind races with questions, doubts, and fears. You don’t know what’s happening or why he’s done what he’s done, but for now, you follow him, hoping that his promise to explain everything will bring you some clarity in the chaos.

Hyun-ju had been pacing anxiously, clutching the walkie-talkie as she tried to reach Dae-ho. The cool night air was heavy with tension, her voice breaking through the silence as she called, “Dae-ho? Dae-ho, answer me!” The static crackled in response, but no words came. She tightened her grip, her heart pounding with unease. Something wasn’t right.

Deciding she couldn’t wait any longer, she hurried back toward the dorms. Her steps quickened, echoing in the empty hallways. “Dae-ho! Dae-ho!” she yelled, her voice carrying desperation. She pushed open the door to the dorm, her eyes darting around frantically. “Dae-ho, where are you? Has anyone seen—”

Her voice faltered as she spotted him, hunched over in a shadowy corner. She rushed toward him, her pulse racing. “Dae-ho!” she called again, her tone sharp with concern.

He gasped at her approach, his wide, teary eyes meeting hers. His shoulders were trembling, and he looked like a man on the verge of breaking.

“Dae-ho,” she asked, her voice softening as she knelt beside him, “what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His head hung low, and his hands were shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Where are they?” she demanded, her voice shaking now.

Hyun-ju’s eyes flickered with confusion and alarm. She glanced around and froze when her gaze landed on a bag nearby. Its contents spilled slightly open, revealing a stockpile of ammunition.

Dae-ho’s face crumpled as he shook his head, his voice cracking with each word. “Forgive me. I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I’m sorry.”

Before she could finish, the shrill sound of an alarm cut through the air. It was deafening, echoing throughout the dorm and sending a chill down her spine. Gasps and screams erupted from the other players, who scrambled to make sense of the chaos.

The dorm lights flickered, and the metallic voice of a masked manager came through the speakers. “Everyone, face down on the ground immediately!”

The command was cold, final. Players froze in terror, dropping to the floor in submission. Hyun-ju instinctively tried to get up, her adrenaline surging. But a firm hand grabbed her arm.

She turned to see Geum-ja, her expression steely and calm despite the panic around them. “Don’t,” Geum-ja said quietly, shaking her head. Her grip was firm but not harsh. “This isn’t a good way to die.”

Hyun-ju hesitated, her heart thundering in her chest. She glanced at Dae-ho, who was now curled up, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again, his words like a broken record. The weight of the situation pressed down on her like a crushing force, and all she could do was lower herself to the ground, her mind racing with fear and questions.

The masked guards stormed in moments later, their footsteps heavy and deliberate. The tension in the room was suffocating, and Hyun-ju’s eyes stayed fixed on Dae-ho, silently pleading for answers as chaos unfolded around them.

Over the speakers, the woman on the PA stated.“Attention, Players. The day has ended. It's time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you do not comply with these orders, then you will be eliminated.”

“No, don't it!”

Once more, the woman repeats herself. “I will now repeat the instructions. Attention, players. The day has ended. It’s time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you don’t comply..”

“Let’s put down our guns. If we surrender, they might not kill us.” Jung-bae tells Gi-hun since the both of them are out of ammunition. “Ah, shit.”

The player numbered 145 and the other player are trying to shoot down the pink guards who keeps coming, and the players notice that they no longer have ammunition, so they know that they’ll have to surrender. “The player numbered 145 talks over the walkie-talkie.”Advance team, do you copy? We're out of ammo over here. I'm gonna surrender.”

The guards quickly came and made their way, and they started shooting at the players, and the player 145 pulled his arms up.”Wait, please don’t shoot. I have a sick daughter at who—.”before he could finish he was shot.

Jung-bae gets down on his knees. “We surrender.” He tells the two guards, and he places down the gun, and as both Jung-bae and Gi-hun are kneeling down, footsteps can be heard, and they look up, and they see the frontman and lots of guards walking towards them. “Player 456 Did you have fun playing the hero?” The front man asks, breathing deeply. ”Now witness the consequence of your little game.” He shoots Jung-bae on the chest, and Jung-bae looks at his best friend. Hoping that Gi-hun will keep his promise of protecting you, “Gi-hun.” He said before hitting the floor

Gi-hun screams as he cries, trying to rush over to his best friend, ”Jung-bae!” But he gets pinned down to the floor by the guards who’s holding a gun at Gi-hun’s head as he cries again for his best friend.

The woman on the PA Informed that a another player has been eliminated. “Player 390, eliminated”

Young-il or should I say his real name Hwang In-ho made his way to his private quarters where you are waiting for him. Hopefully, you will forgive him and forget what he did because, in the end, all he did was to keep you safe and alive