#is left with the guilt of everything he's done

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BEGIN AGAIN

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a revenge plan turns complicated when y/n falls for rafe cameron—the one person she was never supposed to love. but was it ever just revenge?

based on this ask !! this request has been in the works for a couple weeks (hence the 5k word count😝), i really really enjoyed writing this and as soon as i read it i knew i had to make it inspired by ‘begin again,’ and i hope you don’t mind me taking creative liberty on this one anon, so thank you !! <3

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

WARNINGS: some angst but a fluff ending, cheating (jj to reader), soft!rafe, cursing, allusions to sex, revenge plan to lovers (?), alcohol consumption, rafe has a normal family in this one (😀). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (i got insanely carried away🫣)

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N could still feel the sting of JJ's words, the way they sliced through her like a dull knife—slow, painful, irreparable.

"It just happened, okay?" he had said, desperation laced in his voice. "It didn't mean anything, baby. I swear."

But it did.

If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have done it. If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have shattered her trust, her love, her belief in him with a single, reckless mistake.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling with the force of her breath, hands curled into fists at her sides. The night air was thick with humidity, the salty ocean breeze doing nothing to cool the fire burning inside her.

"You cheated on me with Kiara?" she spat, her voice trembling, though not with sadness—no, sadness was something she'd felt the moment the words left his mouth. Now, it was only rage. "And you expect me to just—what? Pretend it didn't happen?"

JJ ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking more disheveled than usual. "I was drunk, Y/N. It wasn't planned. It wasn't—"

"Don't," she cut him off sharply. "Don't stand there and try to make excuses." She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know what hurts the most, JJ? It's not even just the cheating. It's the fact that I defended you to everyone. My parents, my friends. They all told me I was stupid for choosing a Pogue over every other guy who actually makes sense for me. But I didn't care, because I loved you."

Her voice broke, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep it together.

"And what did you do with that?" she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes blazing. "You threw it in my face. You embarrassed me."

JJ's jaw clenched. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. You know that."

"Yeah? Well, you did."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Y/N could see it in his face—the guilt, the regret. But it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. It never would be.

She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "We're done, JJ."

His head snapped up. "Y/N—"

"Don't," she warned, her voice final. "You made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

And with that, she turned and walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She didn't cry.

Not when she got home, not when she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, not even when the memories of JJ and everything they had crashed over her like a tidal wave. No, she didn't cry.

She just got angry.

Because she had been loyal. She had been good to him. She had given him everything, only for him to betray her with Kiara of all people—the one girl she had actually trusted.

And now? Now, she wanted him to hurt.

Which was exactly why she was standing in front of Tannyhill, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was reckless. Dangerous, even. But she didn't care.

She needed this.

She needed revenge.

And she knew just the person to help her get it.

—

Rafe Cameron was a lot of things—arrogant, temperamental, a little unhinged—but he wasn't stupid.

So when Y/N showed up at his door at nearly midnight, looking like she was on the verge of either committing murder or breaking down completely, he knew something had happened.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes scanning her face. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, straightening her shoulders. "I need your help."

Rafe raised a brow. "With what?"

"Making JJ regret everything."

A slow smirk curled at the corners of his lips. "Interesting."

She exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Are you in or not?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really wanna do this?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, he just studied her, as if trying to figure out how serious she was. Then, something shifted in his expression.

"Alright," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "Let's make him suffer."

The plan was simple.

Make JJ jealous. Make him see what he lost. Make him regret ever touching Kiara.

But some point during that evening, the lines blurred.

Because Rafe was Rafe—intense, intoxicating, dangerously charismatic. And Y/N was already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

So when they ended up in his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them, it wasn't just about JJ anymore.

It was about the way Rafe looked at her, like she was the most interesting thing in the room. The way his hands skimmed her waist, his touch possessive yet careful. The way his breath fanned against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Still thinking about JJ?" he murmured, fingers tracing slow patterns on her hip.

She met his gaze, lips parted, heart pounding.

"No," she admitted, and it was the truth.

Because in that moment, it wasn't about revenge. It wasn't about making JJ jealous.

It was about the fire in her veins, the ache in her chest, the desperate need to feel something other than betrayal.

And Rafe—Rafe was more than willing to oblige.

His lips crashed against hers, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Nothing except Rafe Cameron.

—

Y/N lay beside Rafe, her body still humming from the events of the night. The air between them was thick with something she couldn't quite name—satisfaction, exhilaration, maybe even something deeper. The sheets were a mess, tangled between them as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

Beside her, Rafe propped himself up on one elbow, smirking down at her. His hair was tousled, his lips still slightly swollen from their heated encounter. There was something different about the way he was looking at her, but Y/N shoved that thought away before she could entertain it. This wasn't about them. This wasn't about feelings.

It was about revenge.

"So, how do you wanna play this?" Rafe asked, tracing his fingers lazily over her bare shoulder.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes sharp despite the haziness of their moment. "We make it obvious enough that JJ notices," she said, her voice steady, as if the way his touch sent shivers down her spine wasn't affecting her. "But not so obvious that it looks fake."

Rafe chuckled. "So, we make it look real then?"

Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was doing—he liked to mess with her, push her buttons, see how far he could get under her skin. But she wouldn't let him win.

"Exactly," she said, rolling onto her side, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're his biggest enemy, and I'm his biggest mistake. Nothing will drive him crazier than seeing me with you."

Rafe's smirk widened. "You really are ruthless when you want to be."

"You have no idea."

Rafe hummed in amusement, and with that, their arrangement was set.

This was about JJ. About making him regret everything.

At least, that's what Y/N told herself.

—

The first time they made their "relationship" public, it was calculated. Rafe had picked her up from the country club in his Pogue-killer truck, windows down, music blasting—just in time for JJ to see them as he passed by on his dirt bike.

JJ had stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenching so hard Y/N thought his teeth might break.

Rafe had played it up, resting his hand on her thigh, flashing JJ a taunting grin before speeding off.

Y/N had expected to feel triumphant.

Instead, her stomach twisted in a way she didn't understand.

—

The first time Rafe showed up early, it threw her off.

She had told him to meet her for coffee on a random Wednesday, expecting the usual—him strolling in twenty minutes late, making some sarcastic remark, turning their little arrangement into something that felt like a joke.

But when she walked in, he was already there.

Sitting at a corner table, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw her, he stood up, gave her a small nod.

"You're early," she said, eyebrows raised.

"You sound surprised."

"I am surprised."

Rafe smirked, pulling out the chair for her. "Sit down, princess."

She hesitated before taking the seat, watching him as he slid into the chair across from her. It felt... strange. Unfamiliar.

JJ had never been early.

JJ had never pulled out her chair.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on the game they were playing. That's all it was—a game.

Still, she couldn't ignore the way her chest tightened when Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she was something worth paying attention to.

After they made their orders, they sat with their freshly brewed drinks.

"Didn't take you for a latte girl," he teased, nodding at her cup.

Y/N raised a brow. "Didn't take you for someone who hangs out anywhere that doesn't serve alcohol."

Rafe smirked. "Touché."

It should have been a quick meeting—just another public sighting to stir the pot. But somehow, they ended up talking.

Really talking.

Y/N had expected him to flirt, to push the boundaries of their deal, but instead, they talked about their childhood—about summers spent at the club, about the times they'd been forced to sit at boring Kook events together as kids.

Rafe had made her laugh. Genuinely laugh.

She had almost forgotten why they were doing this in the first place.

—

A week later, he picked her up for a party, and she made a point to wear heels.

JJ had always hated when she wore them, always made a face, always grumbled something about her being too tall next to him.

But when she climbed into Rafe's truck, he barely glanced at them before smirking. "Damn," he muttered, eyes dragging up her legs. "Trying to make it harder for me to behave?"

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach did something weird. Something dangerous.

Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over her thigh, his fingers warm and steady.

It was meant to be for show.

For JJ.

So why did it feel like something else?

Later that night at the party, Y/N and Rafe were standing just close enough that people whispered.

JJ was across the yard, watching them with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.

Y/N should have been paying attention to him, should have been relishing in the jealousy that was the whole point of this.

But instead, she was too focused on Rafe's hand on the small of her back. The way his thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against her skin.

When she turned to look at him, he wasn't watching JJ.

He was watching her.

—

A couple days later, she almost slipped up.

They were walking down the street after grabbing dinner—something casual, something that wasn't supposed to feel like a date.

She was about to bring up JJ, to remind herself why they were doing this in the first place.

But before she could, Rafe started talking about his family.

"My dad's obsessed with old westerns," he said, shaking his head. "Every Christmas, like clockwork, he makes us watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Y/N blinked. "Seriously?"

Rafe chuckled. "Swear to God. Every single year. Sarah and I know every damn line."

She found herself laughing, imagining Rafe and Sarah rolling their eyes as Ward Cameron sat in front of the TV, quoting the movie word for word.

JJ had never talked about things like that.

JJ had never let her in like that.

She pushed the thought away, but the seed had already been planted.

—

Then came the night that the shift between them had started to show.

It was late, and they were sitting on the hood of Rafe's truck, looking out over the water.

The party was still going strong down the beach, but they had drifted away from it, neither of them in the mood for drunken chaos.

Rafe took a swig from his beer, then turned to look at her.

"You ever gonna tell me why you were with him?"

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rafe tilted his head. "I just don't get it. You're smart. You've got standards. And yet..." He let the sentence hang.

Y/N huffed, kicking a loose rock off the side of the truck. "He was... fun. He made me feel like I wasn't just another Kook girl. Like I wasn't just..." She trailed off, feeling stupid for saying it out loud.

Rafe was quiet for a second before saying, "He didn't deserve you."

She turned to look at him, expecting the usual sarcasm, but there was none. Just quiet certainty.

Her throat tightened.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know that now."

And when Rafe threw his head back, laughing at something she said a few minutes later, she thought it was strange.

Strange that he thought she was funny.

Because JJ never did.

—

Another night, they found themselves in his truck, parked by the beach. It had started raining, heavy droplets drumming against the windshield, the air thick with the scent of salt and rain.

Y/N had been rambling about something—some ridiculous Kook drama that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't actually matter.

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe had reached across the console and tucked a strand of damp hair away from her face.

Y/N had gone silent, her heart doing something it definitely shouldn't have been doing.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe had only smirked. "No reason."

But there was a reason.

And it scared her.

She knew things were getting complicated when she started noticing things about him she shouldn't.

Like the way his voice softened when he said her name.

Or the way he always made sure she got home safe, even when they weren't together.

Or the way he never pushed her, never made her feel like this was just some game.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between their act and reality started to blur.

And Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to figure out what that meant.

—

The moment that nearly shattered her resolve happened at another party.

They had been standing close, laughing about something she couldn't even remember now. And then, without thinking, she had reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of his face.

It had been instinctive. Natural.

But when she realised what she had done, her breath hitched.

Because Rafe was looking at her like she had just changed everything.

And maybe... maybe she had.

Y/N kept telling herself that this was just revenge.

That the way her stomach flipped whenever Rafe touched her was just part of the plan.

That the way she found herself looking for him in crowded rooms was just to keep up the act.

But deep down, she knew.

She had fallen for Rafe Cameron.

—

The room was still heavy with the lingering heat from the night—sheets twisted around their legs, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the thick humidity of the night. Y/N lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the whirlwind that had completely changed her life in the past few weeks.

Rafe lay beside her, his body close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but far enough that there was space between them—a silent invitation, as if asking her to fill it. His hand rested on his stomach, but his fingers were almost touching hers.

The silence stretched comfortably between them. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't forced. It felt...right.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a glow over his face. He was still as handsome as ever, his jaw sharp, eyes intense even when he was relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But it wasn't the same cocky smirk that had first drawn her in—this was something different. It was real. It was genuine.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling too. "What are we doing, Rafe?" she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe turned his head, his blue eyes locking with hers. There was a quiet intensity in them, a look that said he knew exactly what she meant but wasn't sure how to say it either. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotion. "But I think it's something good."

Y/N's heart fluttered, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. Rafe was always the tough guy, the one who hid behind arrogance and bravado, the one who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But with her, it was different. She could see it now—the cracks were there, but they weren't flaws. They were pieces of him she could understand, pieces that were human, not just a cold façade.

She reached out, her hand finding his, fingers brushing gently over his knuckles. He didn't pull away. Instead, he laced their fingers together, holding her hand with a tenderness that surprised her.

"Do you regret this?" she asked, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. She had to know. There were so many things between them, so many things left unsaid, but that was the one question that had been haunting her the most. Did he regret it?

Rafe blinked, the intensity in his gaze softening as he turned his hand to squeeze hers. "No," he answered, his voice steady but with an underlying depth she couldn't ignore. "I don't regret it." He let out a breath, his gaze turning towards the ceiling, as if trying to find the right words. "I thought it was just supposed to be a game, you know? Make JJ jealous, show him that you could move on...but it's not a game anymore."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced. She didn't know how she felt about that—about the fact that it had started with a plan, a scheme, to get back at JJ for everything. But as the days passed, the more time she spent with Rafe, the more she realized just how much they had in common, how well they fit together.

Her fingers traced the lines of his hand as she spoke. "Neither did I," she confessed. "I started this thinking I'd get back at JJ, but...I don't know, something just changed. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about him."

Rafe's eyes met hers again, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, but with warmth now. "I know what you mean."

They both lay there in the quiet, holding hands, letting the moment stretch out. There was something peaceful about it—something intimate that neither of them had ever expected when this all began. What started as a plan to make someone else jealous had somehow turned into something much deeper, something neither of them had seen coming.

Y/N shifted slightly, turning onto her side to face him fully. She couldn't deny how she felt anymore. The chemistry between them was undeniable, but it wasn't just that. It was the way they laughed together, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the room, the way he protected her without even thinking.

"Rafe," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Her heart raced in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth. She had said it before, in the past—I love you—but never like this. Never in this way.

Rafe's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling a little faster now, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands, as if needing to touch her to make sure she was real. His thumb brushed over her cheek, soft and slow, sending a wave of warmth flooding through her.

"You're not the only one," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm falling for you too, Y/N."

Her breath caught in her throat. The words she had always wanted to hear from him, the words she had never expected to come, were there now. And they were real.

Rafe leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss, soft and slow, like he was savoring it. It wasn't heated or urgent like some of their previous kisses—it was gentle, sweet, and full of the unspoken feelings they had been holding back. It was everything they hadn't been able to say out loud.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, and they both just breathed, their hands still entwined, hearts racing in sync.

"I never thought I'd say this," Rafe said quietly, eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath, "but you make me feel like I'm actually worth something."

Y/N's chest tightened. She could feel the weight of his words, the vulnerability he was offering her. He had always been the guy who seemed so confident, so sure of himself, but in this moment, Y/N saw something different. She saw the cracks in his armor, the part of him that had never believed he was good enough for anything—anyone.

And Y/N? She couldn't let him think that way. Not anymore.

"You are worth everything, Rafe," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "More than you know."

For a long time, they stayed like that—just holding each other, letting the night wash over them, the silence comfortable and full of promises. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the understanding that something had changed. Something real had blossomed between them, and neither of them was running from it anymore.

"I've never felt like this before," Rafe admitted after a while, his voice soft but full of sincerity. "With you, it feels like...like I could actually have something real. Something that isn't just a mess."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "You have it, Rafe. You have me."

And for the first time in a long time, both of them believed it.

—

It had been a couple of weeks since the night Rafe and Y/N had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Their relationship had progressed quickly, but neither of them had hesitated. They had fallen for each other in a way that felt right—organic and effortless. The label was there, official now, and it felt like both of them had finally found what they were looking for.

But as expected, the whispers started circulating quickly. Word of their relationship had gotten out, and it wasn't long before people started noticing—especially JJ.

The evening was warm and humid, a perfect night for a party at the Boneyard. The music was thumping, people were scattered around the yard, drinking and chatting, while others danced under the string lights. Y/N, Rafe, Topper, Sarah, and a few other Kooks were lounging around a table near the fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting casually. For the first time in weeks, Y/N felt at ease. There were no whispers, no judgment about her being with Rafe—only the people she cared about and a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time.

Y/N had spent most of her time with Rafe over the past couple of weeks, getting to know him in a way she never had before. She had always known the confident, rebellious side of him, but she was starting to see the softer side—the one who cared deeply and would go to any lengths to protect the people he loved. They had spent lazy days by the beach, late-night drives, and spontaneous trips to places that weren't on any map. She was falling for him harder every day, but it wasn't just the physical attraction. It was the little things—how he cared about her, how he made her feel, how he treated her like she was everything. He had given her more than she could have ever imagined.

She glanced at Rafe as they laughed with Topper, Sarah, and the others, her hand naturally finding his under the table. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, she just savored the feeling of being with someone who made her feel seen, understood, and loved.

But as she was about to say something to Rafe, a familiar figure appeared in her peripheral vision. She stiffened. It was JJ.

JJ stormed over, his face a mixture of anger and desperation, his jaw clenched as he walked straight toward them. Y/N's heart skipped, not knowing what to expect. She knew this confrontation was coming—it was inevitable.

Rafe noticed it too, his hand tightening around Y/N's as JJ approached, but he didn't move. He didn't flinch. He stayed calm, but Y/N could see the subtle tension in his shoulders, his jaw tight as he prepared for whatever was coming.

"Y/N," JJ said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. His eyes were frantic, scanning her face. "We need to talk."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her grip on Rafe's hand tightening. She could feel the anger brewing inside her, but she was trying to keep her composure. Rafe gave her a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing the back of her hand gently.

"I don't think we need to talk, JJ," Y/N said coolly, her voice steady despite the boiling fury inside her. "But if you really need to hear it from me, I'll tell you. I definitely don't want to be with you anymore."

JJ's eyes widened, his face contorting in disbelief. "What the hell, Y/N?" He snapped, glancing at Rafe briefly, his expression turning hostile. "This isn't about him, is it? You don't really like him. You're just trying to get back at me for what I did. It's all a game to you, isn't it?" His voice wavered, a hint of panic creeping into his words.

Y/N could feel the heat rise in her chest, but she didn't back down. "It's not a game, JJ. It's not about you anymore. It's about me." She stood up, her voice booming over the music, silencing the chatter around them. People had stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation unfold.

"You're such a horrible person," Y/N continued, her words sharp and cutting. "You broke me, JJ. You cheated on me with Kiara—our friend. You think I can just forget that? You think I'm some fool who's gonna let you walk back into my life after everything you did?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. "You humiliated me. And you have the audacity to stand here and beg for me back like nothing happened?"

The words tumbled out of her, each one heavier than the last, and with each syllable, Y/N felt like a weight was being lifted off her chest. She was finally letting him have it. All the hurt, all the frustration, the betrayal she had been carrying for weeks—it was all spilling out now, and she couldn't stop it.

"I wish I had gotten with Rafe sooner," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Because with him, I know what it's like to be truly happy. He doesn't lie to me, he doesn't cheat on me. He shows me what love really is. What I've always deserved."

The group around them murmured, and she noticed Rafe's expression go from unreadable to... something else. He was staring at her, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His face softened, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time she'd seen him like this—vulnerable, open, and completely in awe of her.

"Y/N..." JJ began, his voice faltering, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Shut up, JJ," Y/N snapped, glaring at him. "I don't want to hear it anymore. You lost me the second you cheated. And now you're just proving how pathetic you are by begging me to take you back." She shook her head in disgust. "You don't deserve me. And you definitely don't deserve to have me back."

The words echoed in the air as Y/N turned her back on him, her chest heaving with emotion. She felt alive, empowered, and something else—something she hadn't felt in so long. Free.

The group erupted into cheers. Topper raised his drink in the air, Sarah clapped, and a few others cheered Y/N on. It was like she had just dropped a bomb, and the energy in the air shifted. The Kooks were no strangers to drama, but this felt different. This felt like the culmination of everything Y/N had been holding in.

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He just stared at her, wide-eyed, his face unreadable. And for a brief moment, Y/N wondered if she had gone too far. But then, without warning, Rafe stood up. He took her hand in his, pulling her gently away from the crowd, leading her toward the exit.

Y/N didn't say anything as she walked with him. She just wanted to get away from the scene, to take a breath and let the adrenaline settle in her chest. The confrontation had been messy, but it had been cathartic. She had finally stood up for herself, and in doing so, she felt like she had reclaimed something she thought she had lost forever.

When they reached Rafe's car, Y/N paused, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the scene. She turned to face him, her brows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry for making such a scene back there," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just... I couldn't hold it in anymore."

Rafe looked at her, his expression softening, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her into a kiss.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she melted into it instantly. His lips were soft against hers, the kiss slow, deep, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that one moment. She kissed him back with equal intensity, the heat of the night surrounding them, but the only thing she could focus on was him—the way he made her feel.

When they pulled apart, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "I've never had anyone defend me like that before," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "No one's ever stood up for me like that, Y/N."

Y/N's heart swelled, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a protective embrace. "I meant every word," she whispered. "I love you, Rafe. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Rafe's eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you too, Y/N." He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss that held all the unspoken things between them.

In that moment, Y/N knew. She had fought for herself. She had found her strength, and now, she had found her true love too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a labour of love and i had SO much fun writing it and i’m so sorry it’s taken a while anon, i just wanted this to be PERFECT !! this has got to be in my top three faves that i’ve written and i hope it’s what you wanted <3

i’ve had this in my drafts (as well as a few more) from the past month of requests, and i’ve just been editing them all now (that’s the toughest part💔), but i’m getting there so thank you all for being so patient <3

[luvashli]

ESCAPISM

SYNOPSIS -> After a painful breakup with Heeseung, you lose yourself in a wild night of partying. Niki becomes your distraction, leading to heated dances and passionate kisses. But as morning comes, you’re left wondering if it was just an escape or something more.

PAIRING -> nonidol!ni-ki x fem!reader (ex!heeseung)

GENRE -> oneshot, romance, drama, angst, suggestive, emotional, mature

STARTED -> 2/12/2025

STATUS -> complete

WC -> 2.7k

Note -> This oneshot is inspired by the song “Escapism” by Raye. While the story contains suggestive themes and intense emotional tension, it does not include explicit smut.

click here for the song “Escapism” by Raye

Masterlist

It happened last night.

You sat across from Heeseung in your favorite café, the one you always went to after his late-night practices. The air between you was thick—he was fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie, avoiding your gaze, while you stirred your coffee without drinking it.

You could feel it before he even said the words.

“Y/N… we need to talk.”

Your fingers tensed around your spoon. Those words never meant anything good.

“About what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung finally looked at you then, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t see the warmth that used to be there. Instead, you saw hesitation. Guilt.

“This… us,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Heeseung, what are you saying?”

He sighed heavily, finally meeting your eyes. “I think we should end this.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

“Why?” you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, frustration flickering across his face. “You know why, Y/N. This… this isn’t working anymore. I don’t have time. You don’t have time. We barely see each other, and when we do, we’re just fighting or pretending like everything’s fine. It’s not fine.”

Your stomach twisted. Yes, things had been tense lately. Late-night arguments over missed dates, his phone always buzzing with notifications he wouldn’t let you see, the way he seemed distant even when he was right in front of you.

But you loved him. And you thought he still loved you, too.

“You’re giving up on us?” you asked, your voice cracking.

His jaw tightened. “I just… I don’t think we’re good for each other anymore.”

You felt like you were drowning.

“So that’s it?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, looking down at the table. He wouldn’t even fight for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

And that was the part that hurt the most. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t cruel. He was just… done.

You walked out before he could see the tears spill down your face.

---

The city hums beneath you, neon lights flashing in sync with the pounding bass inside the club. The music is loud—loud enough to drown out your thoughts, loud enough to replace the echoes of his voice from last night.

"I think we should end this."

Cold. Empty. Like the months you spent loving him meant nothing.

So now you’re here. Dressed in sin, drowning in liquor, looking for something—someone—to make you forget.

The champagne fizzes in your glass as you swirl it absentmindedly, perched at the bar with your legs crossed, your heels dangling from your feet. You don’t trust the people you came with. They’re friends of friends, girls who smile too wide and whisper too much. But that doesn’t matter. Tonight, nothing matters.

Then, he walks in.

Ni-ki.

He moves like he owns the room—tall, lean, and effortlessly confident. His dark eyes scan the crowd, taking in everything, calculating. But then they land on you.

And they stay.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he approaches, his presence commanding in a way that makes your skin tingle. He leans against the bar beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne—something clean, sharp, expensive.

"Buy me a drink?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," he replies smoothly.

He orders two wines without breaking eye contact, and the bartender slides them over. You take a sip, letting the bitter warmth spread through you, letting it replace the ache in your chest.

"Rough night?" he muses, watching you.

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. "More like a rough life."

He doesn’t push for details. He just clinks his glass against yours. "To forgetting, then."

And just like that, you fall into the night with him.

---

The alcohol makes everything blur��makes it easier to laugh, easier to let go. One drink turns into three, into five. You’re on the dance floor now, the bass vibrates through your chest, the rhythm pulsing like a second heartbeat. The club is packed—bodies moving, drinks spilling, neon lights flashing across the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of color. But none of it matters.

Because the moment Ni-ki pulls you into him, hands firm on your waist, the entire world narrows down to just the two of you.

Your body moves instinctively to the music, swaying with the beat, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Ni-ki’s grip tightens, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you, only heat and the electric tension that’s been building between you all night.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something wicked in them—something teasing, something daring. He’s testing you, seeing how far you’ll let this go.

So you decide to push back.

You turn in his arms, pressing your back against his chest, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles. His sharp inhale is almost lost beneath the pounding music, but you feel it. You feel everything—his hands spreading across your stomach, his breath against the shell of your ear, the way his fingers flex like he’s barely holding himself together.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice low, laced with amusement.

You glance over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips. “Maybe.”

His response is immediate. One hand slides down, fingers splaying over your hip, guiding your movements with a firm, calculated grip. He’s in control now, and he wants you to know it.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder as you move together, the tension between you tightening with every sway, every roll of your hips against his. The heat of his body is overwhelming, the scent of his cologne intoxicating, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game.

But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Ni-ki leans down, his lips brushing against your jaw, the touch featherlight, teasing. His fingers trail up your arm, over your bare shoulder, until they find the strap of your dress, tugging it just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of warning and promise.

You turn in his arms again, chest pressed against his, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket. The air between you is thick, heavy, charged. Your heart pounds, and you know—you know—that if you lean in just a little more, his lips will be on yours.

“And if I don’t want to be careful?” you challenge, tilting your chin up, eyes locked onto his.

Ni-ki’s smirk deepens.

“Then we have a problem.”

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the music thrums around you, drowning out everything except the way he feels against you. The way he looks at you—like he already knows exactly how this night is going to end.

And for once, you don’t care about the consequences.

So you let yourself get lost in him, in the music, in the escape.

Because tonight, that’s all that matters.

___

By the time you stumble out of the club, giggling as the cold night air bites at your skin, you’re too far gone to care about anything but him. His hand finds yours, steadying you as you both slip into the back of a waiting taxi.

The city lights blur past the window, but you’re not looking at them. You’re looking at him. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his lips part slightly as he watches you.

The air inside the taxi is thick with tension, crackling like electricity between you and Ni-ki. The city blurs past outside the window, neon lights flashing across his sharp features, casting shadows across his cheekbones. His hand rests on your thigh, just barely, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

Your breath hitches, your body already reacting to the unspoken pull between you. You don’t know what it is about him—maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s daring you to do something reckless, or maybe it’s the way he hasn’t asked you any questions, hasn’t pried into the wounds you’re trying to drown in champagne and cheap thrills.

“Are you always like this?” he asks suddenly, voice smooth, teasing.

You turn to him, tilting your head slightly. “Only when I don’t want to feel.”

His eyes flicker with something—understanding, maybe. A silent acknowledgment that he knows what it’s like to run from something, too.

You don’t ask what he’s running from. And he doesn’t ask about you.

His gaze flickers down to your lips, and something dark flickers in his eyes. You don’t miss the way his fingers tighten slightly against your thigh, the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips.

You should wait. You should think. But you don’t want to.

Instead, you shift closer, closing the space between you until your breaths mix, until you can feel the warmth of him against your skin.

“And right now?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

“Right now, I don’t want to feel anything at all,” you breathe.

That’s all it takes.

Ni-ki moves first. His hand slides up, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh, igniting something in you that’s been burning all night. He catches your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up just enough to bring his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow at first, deliberate—like he’s testing you, like he’s seeing how far you’ll let this go. But you don’t hold back. You press into him, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer, deeper.

And just like that, the tension snaps.

He groans softly against your lips as his hands slide to your waist, tugging you toward him, his grip firm, possessive. The taxi is moving too fast, or maybe not fast enough, because you can’t get close enough to him, can’t feel enough of him.

You bite his lower lip, just enough to make him inhale sharply, his fingers tightening around you in response. His hands are warm, rough in a way that makes you shiver, in a way that makes you forget everything except the way he’s touching you.

Your back presses against the cool leather of the taxi seat as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, sending heat spiraling through you. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress, tracing slow, agonizing patterns along the inside of your thigh, teasing.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath uneven.

You smirk, tilting your head back slightly, your own hands slipping beneath his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. “And you like it.”

His responding chuckle is dark, low. “Yeah. I do.”

The driver clears his throat loudly. You barely register it, too caught up in the feeling of Ni-ki’s mouth on your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

“We’re almost there,” the driver mutters.

You exhale sharply, forcing yourself to pull away, your pulse racing. Ni-ki watches you, his lips swollen, his breathing uneven, his fingers still pressing into your thigh like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

“Hotel,” he says to the driver, voice rough. “Now.”

And as the taxi speeds up, you realize something.

You may not want to feel.

But with Ni-ki, you’re going to.

___

The elevator ride is suffocating.

Not because there’s no air, but because every inch of space between you and Ni-ki is filled with tension so thick, it’s almost unbearable. His fingers press into your waist, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. You can feel his breath against your temple, the scent of liquor and something undeniably him mixing in the confined space.

Neither of you speak. You don’t need to.

The ding of the elevator doors opening barely registers before you’re moving, stepping out onto the hotel floor with Ni-ki’s hand gripping yours, leading you down the dimly lit hallway. His pace is hurried, purposeful, like he’s barely holding himself together. Like he’s been waiting for this all night.

The second the hotel door swings shut behind you, the restraint shatters.

Ni-ki is on you in an instant, pressing you against the door with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. His lips crash against yours, hungry, demanding, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You moan into the kiss, fingers threading into his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his throat. The sound sends a rush of heat straight through you, making your knees weak. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel anything but him.

Ni-ki’s hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, tracing over your curves like he’s memorizing every inch of you. His fingers hook into the straps of your dress, dragging them down your shoulders, his lips trailing after them, kissing a slow, burning path down your collarbone.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, voice rough with desire.

Your head tips back against the door as his mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. Your hands move instinctively, slipping under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugs it off easily, then tugs his shirt over his head, revealing toned skin and sharp lines that make your mouth go dry.

You don’t get the chance to admire him for long before he’s lifting you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs as he carries you toward the bed. You gasp, arms wrapping around his shoulders, but he just smirks, pressing another hot kiss to your lips as he lays you down against the cool sheets.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, hovering above you, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You don’t hesitate.

“I want this,” you whisper. “I want you.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Ni-ki kisses you again, slower this time, savoring the way you melt beneath him. His hands explore your body with an intoxicating mix of tenderness and urgency, fingers skimming down your waist, gripping your thighs, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches.

He takes his time, pulling your dress down inch by inch, watching the fabric slip away from your body with a hunger that makes your pulse race. His lips follow the path of his hands, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, your hips, teasing you, torturing you.

“You’re driving me insane,” he mutters against your skin, his voice raw.

You smirk, arching into him, dragging your nails down his back. “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

The night dissolves into a blur of heat and tangled sheets, of whispered names and desperate touches, of lips and hands and bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. Every kiss, every touch, every breath is an escape—an escape from reality, from heartbreak, from the pain you refuse to acknowledge.

And for a few fleeting hours, nothing else matters.

Not Heeseung.

Not the past.

Not the consequences.

Only this. Only him.

---

Morning comes too soon.

The sun cuts through the curtains, painting the room in harsh light. Your head is pounding, your throat dry, your body aching in a way that isn’t just physical.

You blink, trying to remember. Flashes of last night come back in pieces—his hands, his lips, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Beside you, Ni-ki stirs. His arm drapes lazily over your waist, his face buried in the pillow. Peaceful. Unbothered. Like this is just another night for him.

And maybe that’s all it was.

You slip out of bed, pulling the sheet around you as you search for your dress. The air is heavy, suffocating, and the second you find your phone, you see the unread messages from him.

Heeseung.

I shouldn’t have ended things like that.

Can we talk?

You inhale sharply, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Last night, you thought you had buried the pain under alcohol, under Ni-ki’s touch. But now, in the quiet of the morning, the weight of everything settles back onto your chest.

Your chest tightens.

You should feel something. Anger. Sadness. Relief. But instead, there’s just... nothing.

Because this was never about getting over him.

It was about escaping.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re still running.

Would you like a part two?? Let me know :))

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@crimson-reaper576 @luvleyylina

[casedclosedbye]

Bottled up

Bucky Barnes x Reader Angst

Wc: 1k

Summary: After bailing him out of jail once again, your frustration boils over as you express how exhausted you are from always being the one to fix things.

It’s been two hours since you bailed Bucky out of jail for the third time this month. You had driven to pick him up without saying a word, your hands clenched tightly on the wheel as your pulse raced. Bucky hadn’t said anything either. He never did. The silence between you both in the car was suffocating, the only sound the tires screeching against the asphalt as you sped down the darkened streets. Every bone in your body screamed at you to stop, to breathe, but your blood was boiling.

You could feel the frustration building, rising with every second as you turned into the parking lot. You were losing it. You were so damn tired.

You slammed the car into park, barely giving the tires time to stop before you threw it into gear and spun to face him.

“You know why, Bucky?” Your voice was tight, strained with the venom that had been sitting inside you for days. “You don’t like opening up even to me. You bottle it all up, and all your frustrations go right over your head! You’re making it worse!”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he stared at you, clearly caught off guard by the sudden explosion of anger. “I don’t—”

“No! Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice shaking as the words spilled out. “I’ve already told you countless times that you can talk to me. I’m your girlfriend! I’m not just here to fix everything for you, but I *can’t* help if you don’t let me in! But what do you do? You go out, you start a fight, you drink your problems away like you’re invincible or something. You don’t trust me, Bucky. You don’t trust anyone. You just think you can do it all alone, and it’s eating you alive, and you won’t let me help!”

His jaw tightened, and he glanced out the window. But you weren’t done.

“I *know* you’ve been through so much. I get it. I really do,” you continued, voice rising, hot tears threatening to spill over, but you didn’t stop. “But you’re not *trying*—it’s always me doing something! I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces! I’m the one worrying myself sick every damn time you get into a fight because you can’t talk about it! I can’t keep doing this, Bucky. I can’t keep giving and giving when you don’t even try to meet me halfway.”

He sat there, silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m so, so, so fucking tired of this,” you whispered through gritted teeth. “I’m the only one trying. I’m the one who gets up and picks you up every single time, and I keep *worrying* about you, and for what, huh? For you to just keep doing the same thing? You think I’m not scared too? You think I don’t lose sleep every night wondering if the next fight is going to be the one where you don’t come back?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped to yours, something unreadable flashing in them, but you didn’t stop.

“You keep picking fights like you’re immortal,” you spat. “You’re not immortal, Bucky. One day you’re going to die. You’re going to pick the wrong fight with the wrong person and I won’t be there to fix it, and you’ll be gone. Just like that. And what will I be left with? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Your voice cracked at the end, and a single tear finally escaped.

You saw the guilt flash across his face. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make him open up. It wasn’t enough to make him feel the pain that you did.

“Please, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now. “Please just let me in.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. His breath was shallow, and his gaze dropped to the floor of the car. The guilt in his eyes was overwhelming, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from feeling the hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to let anyone in. I’ve never... I’ve never learned how.”

Your heart sank. He was still closed off. You could see it in the way his shoulders were hunched, the walls so high you could practically feel the distance between you. It hurt. It hurt more than you could put into words.

“I know,” you whispered, your tears falling freely now. “But I can’t keep doing this. I just... I just need you to try, Bucky. I need you to try for us.”

There was a long pause. Bucky stayed silent, the guilt eating away at him. He was processing. But it was too late. You couldn’t stop crying. The sobs came in uncontrollable waves, your body shaking from the weight of everything you’d held inside for so long.

Bucky reached for you slowly, his hand trembling as he touched your cheek. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

You shook your head, pushing his hand away gently. “You need to try. *We* need to try. But if you can’t... if you can’t let me in, then I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

His face twisted in pain, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You didn’t know how to fix this. You didn’t know if it could be fixed.

For the first time in a long while, Bucky looked truly broken.

And that was all you needed to see to know that you were both losing.

[shocked-collar]

tips for writing Lawrence? I really admire your writing.

IUKJ,MSEDNGBLKJGLESJLSDERG FIRSTLY THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I'M LITERALLY SO STRUCK??? MY WRITING???? ADMIRABLE???? I FEEL LIKE MY TEETH ARE GONNA FALL OUT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

*fixes suit and tie* anyway

reminder that i am not gato and these are all my interpretations. the best part about fandom communities is that each mind thinks so alike yet independently, and the way you write a character won't be exactly the way another person does and that's your own personal magic touch.

Just like Ren, Lawrence has certain rules I like to stay attached to. The problem with HIM though is he's such a wild card it's hard to know when these rules apply.

Rule one is to remember Lawrence is isolated. He's used to being on his own and doing things on his own so he doesn't expect or even reach out for help. The idea of another human being kind or helpful for no reason is foreign, if not unrealistic to him.

Rule two is to remember that Lawrence has a very, very specific routine he lives by every week, rarely with interruptions. He's a homebody. He likes things his way and can't have them any other way. It's irritating and gives him a very strange sense of urgency when they're not. This is dangerous because that urgency can very quickly become aggression, as can a lot of things.

Rule three is to remember Lawrence is human. He's pretentious as fuck and speaks so poetically of death, wants to die so very badly, has done incredibly terrible things to people in the name of art, mentally separates himself from the public, believes he's better off locked up somewhere, yet reacts as any other person does to very many things. He says he wants to die, yet cries when his life is threatened or he's scared. He's certain he hates people and people hate him, yet yearns for the company of others who understand him and partakes in communities, even if just online. He says he's better off inside, yet left his house to meet a friend 2 weeks into talking online. He's a 'terrible person,' yet only takes MC home because he didn't want to leave them out there all alone. He's more human than he realizes.

Rule four is to remember he's proficient in gaslighting. Lawrence doesn't think the way other people do! Everything and anything can have meaning, and it's usually what he wants to see. He can make up anything on the fly if it protects him from guilt, fault, sorrow, anxiety, whatever it is he needs to be shielded from. He's quite the brat, so challenging him on any of his interpretations makes him irrationally bothered and he may not even speak to you anymore afterwards. He also uses this mental-protection to keep his world view in order, like in the situation in BTD2 when Ren leaves and he takes it out on you. It was REN who insisted you hangout a while, it was REN who left on a whim- but to Lawrence, you being there at all was the problem and it's all your fault.

Rule five is to keep the image of creepy in mind! Lawrence embodies the type of person you wouldn't want to be caught alone in an elevator with. He just radiates 'bad person' vibes, and his smell and quietness of his voice doesn't help.

And finally, rule six is to remember that Lawrence is a wild card. How he behaves depends on pretty much every single individual circumstance in whatever situation he's in. If he's uncomfortable he could be irritable, if the room has more than 2 other people in it he could be feeling intimidated, if he's meeting with a friend online he could be hesitant and scared, if something scary happens big or small it could launch him into a panic, anxiety, or aggressive attack, if someone's talking and their mouth sounds too wet it could make him hurt himself, if he's bored but nothing seems entertaining enough it could force him to dissociate, he could like this taste or feeling one day and absolutely hate it the next, his opinions on specific people change like the static on TV...

I like to think of Lawrence like an alligator, as they're opportunistic feeders and usually don't attack without provocation. Problem is with Law, you don't really know how you provoked him half the time. He's such an interesting, confusing character that I'm not even sure how to write it down in a way that makes sense. It all really depends on how YOU want to write him.

AGAIN, I'm not sure I helped??? this one is. a lot worse than rens imo. BUT I DID MY BEST AND AGAIN THANK U SM FOR LIKING MY WRITING HEEHEEHEHUEHENRKJDFGNDFLKJGGF

[ludicleaf]

Either we haven’t talked about it enough or I’ve somehow failed to see posts about it, but uu!spoke’s character is so perfectly Young Hearty Protagonist.

I’m not caught up with the series so this is probably inaccurate. Add a dash of headcanon and Writer’s Projection, and tada, you’ve (probably) got Out Of Character! But! I digress. This is my take (for now)!!!

He’s torn constantly, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. This man is in actual agony. He just wants to do right, to set morals for himself that are good and just, that are RIGHT, all the while balancing said ability with the churning guilt that all of this is HIS fault. In a way, everything he didn’t want to do came to be because of him. It all leads back to him.

Of course, there’s the butterfly effect, but that only does so much to convince someone whose world is now on the verge of death thanks to his own actions. He set things into motion and he continues to do so.

Because with the flower siblings (ouch, btw, but amazing showcase of character), that was because of HIM. He technically had a choice (could’ve spared them), but he didn’t (he needed to kill rose to get closer to his goal, and if he left her alive, he’d risk dangerous consequences), but he DID, IF he had just chosen a different path in the past, if he had never done what he chose to do—and that’s what I love about him. It’s tragic. Spoke is locked onto a path and by the stars above is that guy trudging along on it.

But the point remains is that he’s still, like… a kid. He wants to be told he’s doing the right thing. He wants to be forgiven, and it doesn’t matter who that forgiveness comes from. Like in EP22, he constantly tells Leo and Mapicc that he doesn’t care for Ash’s praise, and that he’s only so enthusiastic about upgrading his level because it brings him closer to his goal. But we still see him preen at comments and get excited over validation—so much so that even the others comment on it—like come on bro, actions speak louder than words and man im covering my ears bc it is LOUD over here!!!

He’s a determined fighter, for sure. But he’s also just an insecure person trying to make up for their past actions. Which, considering his circumstances, is the worst combination of all.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

this isnt a poll submission thingie i just needed to make sure you (the mod of this blog) knew about the only good reylo fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457191

okay that made me snort

[dirtytransmasc]

thinking about how Spider was neteyam's big brother. losing my mind. ripping out my hair.

was 'teyam scared of storms or the dark? did he confide these "childish" fears to his big brother? did he get shy with all the attention he got in the village? did he hold Spi's hand when he got nervous?

did Spi have habits with 'teyam like 'teyam had with lo'ak? did Spi mess with his hair or reach for his shoulder or cuff his neck?

did Spi ever worry for 'teyam after he "stepped up" and became the Big Brother when the humans returned? did he worry something would happen to him? did he want to protect him despite being a human? was he proud? did his pride outweigh his fear?

did he think about 'teyam after he was taken? did he wonder where he was and if he was safe?

what was Spi thinking when he saw the bullet hole in his baby brother's back? did he freeze when he saw the blood, when he realized he failed to protect him?

what was 'teyam thinking? when he looked to Spi, did he want him to be the big brother again, did he want to stop being brave and let Spi do it? did he want to say something?

I have so many questions. I don't think my heart could take the answers.

[dulltoned]

I’m not sure where this head-canon originated, but I heard about the idea of the song Branch was singing when Grandma was killed was him singing to his brothers, so they’d come back,,,, and that just kills me. Especially when you listen to the lyrics:

And I need you now tonight

And I need you more than ever

And if you only hold me tight

We'll be holding on forever

And we'll only be making it right

I know the whole Brozone thing 99% probs wasn’t planned during the first movie but like???? Those lyrics fit so well to a kid desperately singing for his brothers to come back and make amends? Can someone please hug Baby Branch???? That’s literally so sad.

I'm a really big fan of the headcanons about Branch practicing because he thinks his brothers will come back. It's just one of those general headcanons that started popping into a lot of people's heads since it was such a natural conclusion to come to. We saw Branch immediately assume that the show's failure was his fault and the only person who tried to assure him that it wasn't was Floyd but even Floyd left in the end. It would only make sense for this small trolling who thought that he was responsible for his brothers leaving-- because he wasn't a good enough dancer, a good enough singer-- to desperately try to prove that he could be better if it meant that they'd come back. For that to have led to his Grandmother's death? That's just another layer of trauma and heartbreak to add to Branch's already terrorized character.

[angy-grrr]

I don’t get why ppl keep saying bkdk is dead or Horikoshi broke off bkdk. If that were true, this extra would look very different as you pointed out multiple times. The extra was still heavily focused on them and I hate how ppl are letting one no dictate the entire relationship. Izuku asks him to be a special lecturer too. I think the no just needs more clarification but other than that it is mostly fine. If a ship were to be shut down by the creator, it would look very different. Same logic for if a ship were to be canon, it would look different than what we got in the end for izu///ocha. This extra was bad in different ways from ships. It was just a whole lot of nothing that doesn’t meaningfully add anything to the story but I guess we shouldn’t be surprised since it is an extra. It is still an ambiguous ending that can be pretty fixable by one shots by Horikoshi in the future or even better by fanfiction lol. Except for the Toga part. That is just inexcusable

himiko-chan :(

and yeah! like even tho 431 is terrible not only for pairs but also for the whole story, it only confirmed Katsuki feels something really strong for deku and he doesnt notice bc he doesnt consider himself to be that great; they keep talking, and they keep being in each other's lives with no problem -they also imply they will work on communicating their feelings, as the special lecture is about this topic and deku also thinks katsuki doesnt see himself in a high regard. This is actually something that could be used in the future, as their relationship and arc isnt completely finished -in the way that they arent at a point of no miscommunication, no yearning, etc. They still need something to work with in regards to themselves and each other in the process. When it comes to midoriya and uraraka, idk what exactly could develop from what 431 tell us -seems to be mostly about paying attention to the ppl in your life instead of just letting life happen I guess? But idk what conversation or arc they could have together that wasn't resolved already, it was a really weird choice to focus on them as if there needs to be more explored -which is why choosing to not make them talk to each other nor think of the other in these years is potentially interesting, like the only way they could actually need to talk things up or have a separated special moment is if they just stop being friends and want to talk more from now on. Like, if they kept their friendship these years and were part of the other's life, there wouldnt be a moment like this at all.

I think it hurt mostly ochako -and deku if we interpret it as "deku just wants to be teacher, he is super happy about it, and loveeees so much his ex bestie after 8 years of no contact and never thinking about her"-, more than the bkdk relationship.

It would be interesting to see those one shots, if he does them -I know he said he wanted to do more things and little drawings and content for it, but idk if he will do something elaborate or just one page of something silly. I think he still has to opportunity of working with the material and make something at least not this bad -or completely ignore 431 and just continue with their adventures like 430 implies lol If he wants to double down with the "romance" I have no idea how he could do it with what he has tbh, unless he just ignores the plot and their personalities.

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[dramarants]

don’t even look at me if you wouldn’t consider sealing yourself in an ice coffin with me to stay by my side should I suffer an untimely death 😩

[opens-up-4-nobody]

You don't understand how unhinged I feel trying to construct an ending for Bleach that I personally would enjoy while knowing Bleach does not deserve my time and also not remembering enough to actually make anything coherent. And yet here I am.

[bravevolunteer]

it's been long enough that i can say this again, i firmly believe there was NOTHING holding michael there when he got scooped

[ivyues]

Laptop Delivery - Bang Chan

Practice got a little more eventful thanks to an forgotten laptop.

It was a peaceful morning. Fresh from your shower, you padded into your kitchen, planning to grab a quick breakfast before heading to uni. But something on the counter stopped you in your tracks – Chris' laptop.  

Your heart sank. He’d stayed over last night but had to leave early for dance practice. The sight of his laptop sitting on the counter screamed trouble. Normally, he wouldn’t bring it over – it was too precious, filled with tracks, demos, and other vital material for the group. You knew his schedule was packed, and forgetting something this important could only mean bad news.

You snapped a picture of it and sent it to him with the caption:

"Forgot something?"

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought that it might be much more important. Without hesitation, you called him, even though you knew he was at practice.  

After a few rings, he picked up, slightly breathless. "Hey, baby. I’m… kinda at practice right now – what’s up?"  

"Did you leave your laptop here on purpose?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.  

"What?" His voice was sharp with confusion. "No, I thought I— wait, let me check the picture you send me."  

A muffled curse followed as realization hit. "Oh shit, no. I’ve got a meeting with some producers right after practice. I can’t believe I left it there." His tone was laced with stress.  

Chris hesitated. "I—" he started, then stopped himself. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was probably considering rushing back to your place after practice, which would make him late for the meeting. Worse, you wouldn’t even be there to open the door since you'd already be at uni by then.

"I… could… bring it to you," you offered cautiously, knowing what value the device had to the group.  

"Really? Would that be possible?" His voice softened, a mixture of relief and guilt.  

"Yeah, but I’d have to leave now. I still have uni today," you said, already moving to grab your things.  

"Ah, that's amazing. You're an angel," he said warmly. "I’ll text you the room number."  

Skipping breakfast, you grabbed his laptop and headed out. On the way, you planned to stop by a bakery for something quick after the delivery, before heading straight to class.  

-----

At the JYP building, you knocked lightly on the practice room door, despite Chris’ text saying you could walk right in. The door opened to reveal Felix, his face lighting up with a grin.  

"Hey!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug.  

"Hi, Lix," you replied with a small smile. From across the room, Chris’ head shot up, his eyes locking on you. Relief and affection softened his expression as he quickly made his way towards you.  

"Hey," he murmured, stopping just in front of you.  

"Hi," you replied, reaching into your bag to pull out his laptop. As soon as the sleek silver device emerged, the room fell silent.  

The members froze, eyes wide. It wasn’t just a laptop to them; they knew what was inside – tracks, demos, lyrics, everything. The fact that you were holding it was proof of something bigger: the trust Chris had in you.

But before anyone could speak, Chris gently pulled you into the room, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he softly pulled your mask down.  

And then, he kissed you.  

It was natural, familia – something the two of you had done countless times before. But here, in the quiet practice room, with – unbeknownst to you – all eyes on you, it felt different. His lips were warm and soft, a silent expression of gratitude and love.  

The members didn’t move, still processing what they were seeing. None of them had expected this. Sure, they knew how much Chris cared about you, but seeing it displayed so openly caught them off guard.  

When he finally pulled back, his ears burned red, and he muttered a sheepish "I’ll call you later, okay? Thanks again", as he took the laptop from your hands.  

You, cheeks blazing, barely managed a nod as you stepped back. The silence lingered for a beat longer before you mumbled, "Y-yeah. Bye, everyone."

You turned and left, closing the door behind you.  

The moment the door clicked shut, chaos erupted.  

"YAH, HYUNG!"  

"I can't believe you just did that!"

"PDA MUCH?!”

"Channie hyung, what was that?!"

"Wow, so smooth. Too bad your ears give you away."  

Outside, you heard the screaming teasing very clearly and couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks still burning as you walked down the hallway. Chris could handle the teasing – he brought it upon himself after all.  

masterlist

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[player042]

HEARTBEAT | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: during the third game you reunite with dae-ho who is everything but thrilled to have his pregnant girlfriend surrounded by death. requested here.

warning: pregnant!reader, established relationship, hot baby daddy dae-ho 😫 angsty and emotional, mention of financial struggles, survival themes, please enjoy ♥️

word count: 2.8k

The door slammed shut behind you, the loud clank of the mechanism sealing you and Dae-ho inside the small, dimly lit room just as the timer hit zero. For a moment, the air felt charged, thick with all the words left unspoken. You stood frozen near the wall, your hands instinctively cradling your belly, while Dae-ho's tall frame loomed near the door. His jaw was clenched tight as you heard gunshots and screaming coming from the other side of the door, his eyes were fixated on the floor as if forcing himself to maintain composure.

Neither of you had so much as exchanged a meaningful glance in front of the others, too scared of what even a flicker of familiarity might invite in this place where alliances were fragile, and vulnerability was a target. But here, in this room, with no one else watching...

"Dae-ho," you breathed, the sound of his name cracking the tension like a dam breaking.

His head snapped up, and within seconds, he crossed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, desperately. It wasn't soft or tender, it was raw, like he'd been holding his breath for days and could finally exhale. His lips moved against yours as if trying to drink in everything he'd been forced to repress since seeing you again.

"You're here," he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands slid to your shoulders, down your arms, as though reassuring himself that you were real. "God, you're really here."

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words hit you. "I didn't want you to know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That's obvious," he said bitterly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze softened, his worry bleeding through the anger. "You shouldn't be here. What the hell were you thinking? You're pregnant. And you joined this… this hell?"

Tears stung your eyes as you turned your head away, breaking his gaze. "What choice did I have?" you said, your voice cracking. "We're drowning in debt, Dae-ho. The baby needs a future. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to rely on me," he snapped, his hands dropping to his sides, his frustration spilling over. "I would've-" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "I would've done something. Anything. But you just- You didn't even tell me. You just left me out of this."

"I didn't want to drag you down," you said, your voice trembling. "You've already done so much for us, Dae-ho. I couldn't-"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. "Don't give me that. You didn't drag me down. You're the one thing in my life that kept me sane." He stopped pacing and turned back to you, his gaze piercing. "And now you're here, risking not just your life but our child's. Do you have any idea what it felt like seeing you out there? Pretending I didn't know you? Pretending I didn't care?"

"I didn't want to need you," you confessed, "Because needing you… it scared me. It still does."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he looked away, his hands balled to fists before he relaxed them again. "You can need me, damn it," he said softly, his voice low but fierce. "You think I don't need you just as much?"

You pressed a hand to your stomach, the guilt and fear twisting inside you, whispering,"If they know we're connected, they could-"

"I don't care what they do to me," he cut in quickly, his voice rising. "You should've thought about what it would do to me if something happens to you. If something happens to our baby."

The silence that followed was heavy, the air between you thick with regrets. Finally, Dae-ho took a deep breath and stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders again. His voice softened, though the edge of desperation still lingered. "We'll figure this out, okay? We'll keep our distance in front of the others, but I need you to promise me something."

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "What?"

"You don't take unnecessary risks," he said firmly. "You stick to the safest options. You stay out of the way whenever you can. And if there's even a hint of danger, you let me handle it. Got it?"

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I'll try," you said finally, knowing it was the best promise you could give.

He exhaled, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "That's not good enough," he murmured. "But it'll have to do."

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the reality of your situation loomed over you. His arms wrapped around you gently, one hand resting protectively over your belly.

"I'll get you out of here," he said softly, his voice full of conviction. "You and the baby. I swear it."

Dae-ho held you close for a moment longer before stepping back, his hands still lingering around your waist. His gaze softened, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.

"You should stick to Jun-hee," he said, his voice firm but kind.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"She's part of my team and she's pregnant too," he explained. "If you two stick together, it'll make it easier for me to keep an eye on you. I know I can't be obvious about us, but at least this way, I'll know you're not alone. And I can look out for both of you without drawing attention."

You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way he looked at you, pleading, almost desperate, made you pause. "You're really planning to take care of two pregnant women in a place like this?"

He huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… what I do. I can't not try to help. You know that about me."

"That's not an excuse," you said back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You're acting like this is all on me, but what about you? Why are you even here, Dae-ho? You didn't exactly tell me you were planning on joining these games either!"

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "I was trying to protect you," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want you to know. I thought I could-"

"Could what?" you interrupted, "Fix everything? Take on the world by yourself? You think that's what I wanted? You think I wouldn't have tried to stop you if I knew?"

"I didn't want you to stop me," his shoulders slumped, "I thought if I could win… I could pay off everything. For both of us. For the baby. I didn't want you to worry about anything anymore."

You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice, but the frustration didn't subside entirely. "So you thought it was okay to risk your life without telling me but not okay if I want to do the same? That's not protecting me, Dae-ho. That's keeping me in the dark."

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But when I saw you here…" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "I didn't know whether to be furious or terrified. And now we're both in this mess."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, you sighed, the fight draining out of you. "As you said, we're in this together now," you said, your voice quieter. "Whether we like it or not."

He nodded, his eyes locking with yours. "And as I said, I'll make sure you make it out of here," he said firmly. "You and the baby. No matter what."

"And what about you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What happens to you, Dae-ho?"

"That doesn't matter," he said without hesitation. "What matters is that you survive."

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, and you shook your head. "I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Not again."

"We'll figure it out," he assured softly, reaching out to take your hand. "One game at a time. But for now, promise me you'll stick with Jun-hee. Please."

You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Finally, you nodded. "Fine. But promise me something too."

"Anything," he said without missing a beat.

"You don't do anything reckless," you said, your voice firm. "No heroics, no self-sacrificing. If we're getting out of here, we're doing it together."

His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Deal."

For the first time since joining these games and for the first time for a very long time, you felt a flicker of hope, fragile, but real. Whatever came next, at least you weren't alone.

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, and before you could say another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, but it wasn't until his arms wrapped gently around your waist that your breath hitched. He rested his forehead lightly against your stomach, his large hands cradling your sides with the utmost care, as though you might break.

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He didn't respond immediately, just stayed there, holding you as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, his cheek pressing against your belly. His warm breath fanned through the fabric of your shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, tender, almost reverent.

"I can't believe it," he murmured, his gaze softening as it dropped to your stomach. He placed a hand there, his palm warm and loving. "There's a piece of us right here." You couldn't help but smile.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, the words almost a prayer.

"Hey, little one," he murmured, his words directed at the life growing inside you. "It's me… your dad."

Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his hair. The soft strands slipped between your fingers, grounding you in this surreal moment. Dae-ho closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for comfort.

"You probably can't hear me yet, but…," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "I need you to be strong, okay? Just like your mom. And I promise,  I'm going to do everything I can to keep you two safe. You're my whole world now, you know that? Both of you."

A lump formed in your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You hadn't expected this, this unfiltered love pouring from him. It made the weight of your circumstances feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.

"I bet you're going to be just like her," he said with a small chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your side. "Strong, smart, way too stubborn for your own good."

You let out a teary laugh, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Hey, don't encourage that."

He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at you with a crooked grin that melted your heart. "Can't help it. It's in the genes."

His gaze softened as he looked back at your stomach, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the fabric of your shirt, his lips lingering for a long moment. The action was so tender, so full of love, that it nearly brought you to your knees as well. He rested his forehead there again, his arms tightening around you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. For not being there when you needed me. For making you feel like you had to do this alone."

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your own voice cracking as you cupped his face, guiding him to look up at you. "You're with us. That's all that matters."

He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands slid down to hold yours. "I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. I'll fight through hell if I have to. I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."

The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you knelt down with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his. 

"We'll survive this," he repeated softly, his breath warm against your temple. "And when we get out… we'll make a real life together. The three of us."

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you realized it was the moment to tell him. "Four," you said softly, your hand covering his where it rested protectively over your stomach.

His body stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Four?" His voice was cautious, almost as if he were afraid to hope.

You nodded, your throat tightening as emotion swelled. "Before I came here, I had a doctor's appointment, and… we're having twins, Dae-ho."

The silence that followed was deafening, his stillness unnerving. For a moment, you worried you'd broken him, but then he slightly leaned back on his knees, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"Twins?" he repeated, the word barely audible. His hand shifted, trembling slightly as it moved to cradle your stomach. He said nothing for a while, just staring at you as if trying to comprehend what you'd just revealed. His lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping as his thumb traced over the fabric covering your belly.

"Twins," he repeated again, this time with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "We're having twins?"

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tears streaming down your face. "Yes. I wasn't sure how to tell you… or when. But yeah. Two little ones."

His head dropped, forehead again pressing gently against your stomach as he let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Two," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know whether to cry or laugh."

Your fingers softly tucked a strand of hair away from his beautiful face, "You can do both," you said gently, "I did."

He tilted his head up to look at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes took your breath away. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. "Twins," he said again, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even know how I was going to handle one. Now there are two of them. Two little… us."

The way he said it, so in awe, so full of wonder, made your chest ache. "I wasn't planning on telling you here," you admitted, "Not in this nightmare. But I couldn't… I couldn't keep it to myself anymore."

"I'm glad you didn't," he said, his voice steadying. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you didn't even realize had fallen. "No matter what happens in this hellhole, no matter how dark it gets, knowing they're waiting for us? It's everything."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Dae-ho, we can't let this place take us."

"It won't," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. "I won't let it. We'll make it. I'll make damn sure of it."

His hands slipped back down to your waist, his fingers splaying over your belly as though he could somehow shield the life growing inside you from the horrors outside. "Two little heartbeats," he murmured, his voice softening. "Do you know what that means?"

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "What?"

"It means we're going to need twice the strength," his gaze locked with yours, "But it also means we've got twice the reason to fight. Twice the reason to win."

You leaned forward, your noses almost touching, your hands covering his on your stomach. "We'll do it together," you assured quietly. "The four of us."

"The four of us," he echoed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it left you breathless. "You're stuck with me now. Forever."

You let out another teary laugh, the sound mingling with his soft chuckle. "I've been stuck with you for years, Dae-ho. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, the world outside that room, the horrors of the games, didn't exist. It was just two lovers holding onto each other and the heartwarming hope bound on a fragile string of the future that was worth fighting for. You allowed yourselves to feel it, this unwavering love, this promising hope that had been buried beneath the fear. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind you both why you were fighting, to survive, to protect, and to make it out of this nightmare as a family.

And whatever came next, you knew you wouldn't face it alone.