#really has something for everyone in there

[wqnsho]

crossroads | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after losing his wife, hwang in-ho buried his emotions. but when he meets you, a player in his deadly games, his carefully guarded walls begin to crumble, forcing him to confront feelings he thought he’d left behind. *.✧ word count: 20.3k (i'm deadass) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, mentions of exploitation and abduction, implied suicide, additional character (player 143 - hanni) , usage korean words and suffixes, angst, fluff. reader has no canon age but has a kid. backstory is inspired by acrobatic silky from dandadan. your number will be 132. *.✧ note: requests are open! (please). I wrote this to the entirety of squidgame season 2, so it's gonna be long. (from the second game till the end). i wanted to add an oc decided to add my baby hanni instead so i hope it doesn't come off as cringe. part 2 will be posted once season 3 comes out :D i love in-ho so much he's so yummy. masterlist | request here

As everyone shuffled into the area for the second game, Hwang In-ho smirked beneath his mask, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. Among the players, Gi-hun stood out, his gaze darting around the unfamiliar room. Instead of the playground with shapes on the walls that promised, the players were met with two gigantic circles on the floor. Discontent quickly erupted as the crowd realized they’d been tricked. Voices rose in anger, some calling him a fraud, others voicing their disappointment. Most dispersed in frustration, but In-ho, ever the calculated observer, comforted his "friend" with feigned concern. Inside, however, he was ecstatic.

In-ho, operating undercover as "Young-il," watched Gi-hun carefully. He observed the way his mind worked, his expressions shifting as he processed the situation. Every movement and every decision captivated him. This “hero” was an enigma In-ho couldn’t stop studying.

The guards began dictating the rules of the second game. Instead of the anticipated Dalgona candy challenge, players were introduced to the Six-Legged Pentathlon. Teams of five would have their legs tied together and had to complete a pentathlon on a circular path within five minutes. Failure meant elimination.

The scramble to form teams began. In-ho found himself grouped with Gi-hun and two others, players 388 and 390. They needed one more member, and player 388 eagerly volunteered to recruit. Soon, he returned with player 096. Before they could finalize, a loud yet nervous voice interrupted them.

"Excuse me, can she join your group?"

All eyes turned to you and another woman, player 222. Your determined gaze contrasted with 222’s startled expression.

In-ho’s eyes scanned you, noting the [hair characteristic] [hair color] hair framing your tired but kind [eye color] eyes. Your presence radiated something unusual for this cutthroat environment. As 222 tugged at your arm, whispering protests, you stood firm, making it clear your decision was final.

"I'm sorry, but we're already—" In-ho began, only to be cut off.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice steady. "She's pregnant."

The words hung in the air, silencing any objections. Reluctantly, they agreed, replacing 096 with 222. You bowed deeply in gratitude, offering an apologetic smile to 096 before turning to leave.

"I'm really sorry about that," you said earnestly. "But if you'd like, can you team up with me? I'm very skilled at gonggi. I promise! Cross my heart!"

Player 096 hesitated before nodding, following you to form a new team. As you and 096 walked away, two pairs of eyes lingered on you—In-ho’s, as he silently praised your selflessness, and 222’s, her expression a mix of guilt, gratitude, and betrayal.

In-ho couldn’t shake his fascination. Your kindness, despite in a setting like this, reminded him of someone dear, slowly stirring feelings he thought long buried.

Luck favored In-ho’s team; they were the last to compete. This allowed ample time to strategize as they observed the others. Your team’s turn came, and In-ho found himself unexpectedly invested. You and your teammates executed the challenges flawlessly, clearing the first four games in under three minutes. As your team moved on to the final station, In-ho couldn’t suppress a small sigh of relief. But that relief quickly turned to tension when the last player started messing up.

In-ho’s gaze never wavered from you. He knew your team was skilled, but with only 30 seconds left, the stakes were higher now. His heart raced, the pressure mounting as the seconds ticked down. Would they pull it off? The jegi soared into the air, and In-ho held his breath, watching with bated anticipation. The first kick, then the second, the third… each landing perfectly, and still, there was no room for error. It was the final kick that would determine everything. His pulse quickened as your teammate sent the jegi flying, and with one flawless strike after another, they nailed the fifth and final kick.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but all In-ho could hear was the pounding of his own heart. The relief that washed over him felt far too intense. He paused. Why was he cheering so loudly? Why was he worried? His eyes lingered on you as your team crossed the finish line, your victory adding warmth to his chest that he couldn’t explain.

His mind raced, trying to shake off the strange emotions. But then—[eye color] clashed with his black ones, and the world around him seemed to stop for a brief, breathless moment. There was no game, no betrayals, no stakes. It was just the two of you, alone in your own world. You gave him a small wave, and his chest tightened. He waved back, but the gesture felt like a lifetime of unspoken words.

As you were escorted away, the warmth lingered, and In-ho stood there, rooted to the spot, wondering why his chest felt so heavy and yet so alive.

Back in the main area, you found yourself bonding with a cheerful teen, Player 143. Since the first game, you, 143, and 222 had found a quiet camaraderie. You found 143 comforting 222 at the corner at the finish line and decided that you’ll protect those two with all your might. 143 had a bubbly energy that reminded you of home. Her lighthearted teasing about your "crush" on 001 made you laugh, despite the grim circumstances.

"Sure, sure, whatever you say, you little rascal," you replied, ruffling her hair. Her youthful spirit was a balm in this harsh environment, offering a welcome distraction from the tension of the games.

The conversation shifted as she shared bits of her past. Hanni, as she revealed, told you that her debt stemmed from an exploitative contract with her peers, which promised fame and opportunities but left her and her friends in the dark about everything. Despite the weight of her story, she kept her optimism, her dreams still burning brightly. You couldn't help but wonder how someone so young had ended up in such a terrible game, but something was inspiring about her ability to hold onto hope in such a hopeless place.

When she asked about you, you hesitated for a moment but then decided to share. "My name’s [Name]," you began. "I’m a fashion designer and a part-time preschool teacher. I also… have a talent for guns."

Hanni’s eyes widened in surprise. "Guns? How does that fit into designing clothes and teaching kids?"

You chuckled softly. "It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’ve always been drawn to shooting ranges. It started as a hobby, and somehow, it turned into something I’m pretty good at."

You paused, feeling the weight of the conversation shift. The topic of your debt hung in the air. You faltered, not sure whether to open up, but the teen’s unassuming curiosity made you want to share more.

However, before you could speak, the last group of players returned, signifying the end of the game. Hanni immediately perked up, her attention shifting to Player 001 and their group as they found a place to sit together, which was conveniently located just a few steps from your bed. She gave you a sly grin before playfully pointing toward him with her eyebrows.

"Hey, hey, unnie! Look, it’s your man!" she whispered-yelled, clearly enjoying playing matchmaker.

You chuckled before waving her off with a signal to be quiet. The last thing you needed was for word to get out about your little crush, especially in the middle of a deadly game.

As you shushed Hanni, she had other plans. With rapid hand gestures, she invited Player 222 over to your small corner. The unsuspecting woman gave the two of you a confused look before excusing herself from her group of men and heading your way.

When she reached you, you both greeted her gently, concern evident in your voices.

“Welcome back unnie! Congrats on finishing the game, I knew you could do it!”

"How are you feeling? Is the baby alright? Are you in any pain?"

Player 222, shook her head and waived off your concerns, giving a small smile. "I’m alright. Thank you for asking."

Hanni, the chatterbox, didn’t waste a moment. "By the way, unnie, can we know your name? I really don’t know what to call you other than 222. You don’t have to tell us if you’re not comfortable, though!"

Player 222 chuckled softly at the teen's eagerness. "Well, I suppose I could introduce myself." She smiled and then shared her name—Kim Jun-hee. She explained how she had been scammed, abandoned by her boyfriend, and now found herself here, in this deadly game, pregnant and alone.

You offered her your sympathy, relating to her pain. You’d been in similar situations, dealing with your own painful experiences with men over the years. "Unfortunately, we all have our stories," you said, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. "We just have to keep going, don’t we?"

The three of you sat there for a while, chatting about your pasts, your dreams, and your shared longing for a life outside of this twisted game.

"When I get out and get justice, I’ll become a popular idol with my friends!" Hanni declared excitedly, her eyes shining with ambition.

You and Jun-hee exchanged surprised glances, both of you impressed by her optimism despite everything. "You’ll definitely make it, Hanni. You have the spirit for it," Jun-hee encouraged her with a smile.

"Of course we will! And when you’re on TV, you better send us some VIP tickets for your show!" you added, making Hanni beam.

"You better pose cutely for those photocards, okay?" Jun-hee teased.

Hanni shot her a playful look. "Of course! Will this pose be enough?" She asked as she gave a dramatic pose, and you all laughed.

"Hey!" Hanni looked at the two of you with an exaggerated pout. "You’re not doubting me, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "No, no, I’m sure you’ll make it. Just don’t forget us when you're famous, alright?"

As Hanni and Jun-hee bickered over the finer details of idol life, you couldn’t help but smile with a bittersweet feeling in your chest. These two didn’t deserve the cards they’d been dealt, and they certainly didn’t belong in this twisted game. But at least for a brief moment, you all found comfort in each other’s company.

You silently prayed for them—no, for all of you. For everyone here who didn’t deserve to be part of this nightmare. You hoped you could all make it out alive and live better lives. But deep down, you knew the path ahead would be treacherous, and the price of survival would be steep.

The conversation ended when the pink guards entered the room. Everyone watched in anticipation as the guards displayed the updated prize pool: 20.1 billion won, or 78,823,530 won per person, with 255 players still alive. The room was suddenly filled with murmurs. Most were in disbelief that the money per person was still under 100 million, some even demanded a recount. The guards paid no attention to the chatter and continued speaking.

"We always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. Therefore, you will take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here, please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner."

Once the guard finished speaking, Jun-hee ushered the two of you to join their group. Hanni nodded with a smirk before standing up. You rolled your eyes, hoping she won't cause a scene once she made her way down. "The two of you go first. I'll follow you shortly," you said, making hand gestures for them to go ahead. Thankfully, the two of them followed without question, although you were sure Hanni whispered something to Jun-hee as they walked down the stairs.

With the girls out of sight, your gaze drifted back to the piggy bank hanging from the ceiling. ‘78 Million won...’ The number flashed in your mind, but instead of the excitement you’d hoped for, a deep sense of emptiness settled within you. Your hand unconsciously rubbed your stomach as memories of what was lost surged into your thoughts.

A pained expression flickered across your face as you stared at the money. It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough to make up for everything you had sacrificed, everything you had lost.

“Just one more game...” You whispered to no one in particular.

The moment you made your way down to the others, the group welcomed you warmly. You offered a polite smile and greeted them back. As was customary, you bowed to the familiar men you had met earlier.

"Thank you again for accepting Jun-hee into your group earlier. I’m glad you all got out safely," you said, your voice sincere.

"Ah! No, no, don’t worry about that, it’s all fine!" Player 390 immediately replied, his voice light and reassuring. He waved his hand dismissively. "If anything, we should thank you! That girl quickly finished her game, gave us much more room to breathe."

You smiled at his words, feeling a small spark of warmth. "Really? Well, I’m glad. Before we found you, she kept boasting about her skills in ddjaki and how she won multiple times with the salesman. Glad to know she wasn’t lying."

Jun-hee rolled her eyes at your comment before giving you a playful shove. You laughed, brushing it off before turning your attention back to the group.

"My name’s [Name] by the way. [Last name], [Name]. I’d rather you call me that rather than this stupid number," you said with a teasing grin.

The rest of the group followed suit, introducing themselves in turn. Player 456 was Gi-hun, Player 390 was Jung-bae, Player 388 was Dae-ho, and last but not least, Player 001 was Young-Il—whose name, when revealed, earned an unexpected pinch from Hanni. You tried not to show any discomfort at the gesture, but you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. Who were you to ruin a teenager’s fun, though?

As everyone continued to chat, the conversation quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was just nice to talk with someone, anyone, who wasn’t a threat to your survival.

“Woah, ex-marines, huh? I don’t tell this to anyone, but I have a collection of guns at home…” you mentioned, trying to make light of the situation.

“That so?” Jung-bae remarked, his tone casual, as if discussing firearms was just another part of his day.

“Woah, that’s so cool! When did you start collecting?” Dae-ho chimed in with enthusiasm, genuinely interested.

“Let’s see... maybe when I was 19? That’s when I got introduced to shooting ranges, and that’s where my addiction started,” you replied with a nostalgic smile. The conversation felt like a brief escape from the madness of the games.

But then, just as quickly as it began, the conversation slowed. You couldn’t help but notice that, in the midst of it all, everyone was still acutely aware of the situation—life or death hung over every word. You looked up once more at the piggy bank. The money glinted in the low light, but it didn’t comfort you. It only served as a reminder of how far you had come and how much you had lost.

You stared at it for a while, lost in thought. The weight of everything—the game, the choices, the people who would never make it out—pressed down on you, and it was hard to escape the ache in your chest. Your mind wandered, consumed by memories and questions, as you stood frozen in place. Too engrossed in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice familiar black eyes fixed on you. In-ho watched your every move intently, shamelessly staring as you absentmindedly stared into oblivion. His gaze was steady, silently studying you from where he stood. But you were too lost in your thoughts to feel it. There was something about you, something he couldn’t quite place, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It wasn’t the same as before—his cold indifference slowly shifting into something else he didn’t know how to name.

Maybe it was the way you carried yourself despite everything. Or maybe it was the faint sadness he saw in your eyes, something that mirrored his own. But as he continued to watch, something unfamiliar stirred inside him—an unsettling warmth that didn’t make sense, something that he thought he stopped feeling a long time ago. He quickly turned his attention away, pretending to focus on the group.

But that warmth lingered, an ache in his chest that refused to fade. What was it about you?

Hanni gave you a playful shove, snapping you out of your trance. Her bright smile flickered for a moment, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You could feel her gaze linger on you, a slight shift in her expression that suggested she noticed something was off. You returned a hesitant smile, one that you hoped would mask the swirl of thoughts in your mind.

As the group huddled up, you quickly placed your hand on top of the pile, trying to shake off the discomfort despite the underlying tension. Hanni’s smile faded as she watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Something in her seemed to pause, a flicker of doubt creeping into her gaze as if she was starting to see through the facade you were putting up.

It was as if she could tell that there was more to looks, something that wasn’t quite aligned with what you let on. But, instead of pressing, Hanni gave a soft shrug, her playful demeanor returning. Yet, the doubt lingered in her eyes, like she wasn’t fully convinced of the person she found comfort in.

"In one, two, three... Victory at all costs!" Hanni and Dae-ho shouted, their voice full of energy despite the dark atmosphere.

"Victory at all costs!"

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

Young-il's gaze swept over the six of you, his eyes calm, but with an unwavering trust and determination in them. He nodded subtly at Gi-hun, as he began to move forward without hesitation. As he stepped up to cast his vote, you exchanged a brief, fleeting moment of eye contact with Young-il. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, but there was something else there too. You couldn't quite place it, but it made your chest tighten. The moment passed quickly, and you looked away, focusing on the task at hand.

When it was finally your time to vote, you felt the weight of everyone's eyes on you, but you didn’t allow yourself to meet anyone���s gaze. You couldn’t stomach the judgment, the disappointment that would be there. Instead, you stepped forward, heart pounding, and pressed the "O" button, committing to the choice you knew you had to make. A cold knot formed in your stomach as you did, but your mind remained focused. You weren’t about to back down now, no matter what the others thought.

As you turned and walked back to your side, you kept your head low, trying to hide the turmoil brewing inside. You heard some murmurs around you, a mix of disbelief and anger from your teammates, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. The guilt gnawed at you but so did the hope that this one last game would be enough. You glanced at the piggy bank hanging overhead, feeling the weight of the prize pool, but also the weight of your decision.

The voting ended with 140 votes for “O” and 117 for “X,” meaning the third game would proceed tomorrow. Some players cheered, relieved that they could move forward, while others were disappointed, worried for their survival. You stood frozen as the room around you buzzed with varying reactions. You could feel the stares of your team members who clearly weren’t happy with your decision. You couldn’t meet their eyes, couldn’t bear to see the betrayal there.

Jung-bae’s hand suddenly clapped on your shoulder, pulling you out of your reverie. You looked at him, searching his face for some sign of judgment. Your eyes went down and stared at the "O" patch on his tracksuit. His gaze was full of understanding, a silent comfort that you couldn’t quite put into words. He gave you a quick nod before turning his back, signaling the two of you to move forward, away from the team.

You ignored the whispers, and the betrayed looks from Dae-ho and Hanni. You couldn’t let it matter now. Call it selfish, call it greed, but 78 million won was not enough. Just one more game, and then maybe, just maybe you could end this.

Once the guard handed you your food, you took it mechanically, your hands numb as you walked back to your bed. You couldn’t face anyone—not Hanni, not Jun-hee, and especially not the ones who still believed in you. The weight of their disappointment was more than you could bear. Before you could even sit down, a loud voice called out for you.

"Hey! [Name]ya!" The sudden intrusion startled you. You turned, your heart racing in your chest, and saw Jun-hee and Hanni behind you. The former’s concern was written clearly across her face.

“Why?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.

You avoided her gaze, not trusting yourself to speak. “I... I have my reasons,” you said, your voice cracking just a little, even though you tried to sound convincing.

Hanni, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, muttered under her breath, "I hope it’s worth it." Her words were heavy with something you couldn’t quite define—was it disappointment? Concern? Either way, it cut deeper than you expected. You wanted to say something, anything, to make her understand, but you couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything felt so fragile.

Before you could open your mouth, two sets of hands grabbed each of your arms, forcing you to stand up. With a startled yelp, you asked, "What are you doing?" in a nervous tone. The two remained silent, their grip firm as they dragged you toward where the group was sitting. You quickly noticed that Jung-bae was also being pulled along by Dae-ho, confusion and tension radiating from him. It wasn’t until you reached the group that the weight of everyone’s gaze settled on you. You couldn’t escape the questioning looks from your teammates.

You and Jung-bae exchanged guilty glances before finally looking your teammates in the eye. “I… I’m very sorry, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, Young-il,” you started. Jung-bae hesitated for a moment before following your lead, offering a quick bow. “I’m sorry too, Hanni, Jun-hee, Young-il… Gi-hun, I’m sorry.”

When nobody acknowledged your apologies, Jung-bae went on to explain his reasoning, his voice faltering slightly. “You see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle my debt. So—”

“Jung-bae.” Young-il cut him off sharply. His tone was cold, his expression unreadable, as if disappointment weighed heavy on his words. “You of all people shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t righteous, not twice, not even once.”

The words stung more than Jung-bae expected, and the silence between them grew thick. Without waiting for Jung-bae to respond, Young-il turned to you, his gaze steady and searching. “And you,” he began, his voice quieter but no less firm, “You’ve made your own choice,” He continued, his voice measured, “but don’t try to justify it as something you had no control over.”

You looked at him one more time before looking down, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest, tightening your throat. Your mind raced, but there was no way to explain it—not to them, not to yourself.

“I know…” you whispered, the guilt rising like a tide, swallowing your words. “And I’m truly sorry…”

The sincerity in your apology felt hollow. You had made the decision. No one had forced you, but the pull of the money, of the chance to end it all, had made it feel like a necessity. And yet, as you stood there, with their disappointed gazes burning into you, it felt more like a betrayal than a choice.

“But looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted,” Young-il said, his voice calm, like he had already made peace with it.

“Right? So it’s not really our fault,” Jung-bae added quickly, trying to make light of the situation.

Dae-ho, who had been quietly observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Honestly, I get why you did it. Even for me, ¥78 million isn’t enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for ‘O’ too.”

Hanni and Jun-hee didn’t say much. They nodded, agreeing in silence but not wanting to add anything more. Everyone was feeling the pressure. The reality of it all was sinking in too fast.

Jung-bae, still holding on to hope, added, “Next game, I promise. I’ll—”

“Next game?” Gi-hun’s voice cut through the air, sharp and honest. “Next game, we might have to kill each other.”

The room went still at his words. Everyone seemed to freeze. Gi-hun was right, and his words hit harder than anyone expected. No one spoke right away; the thought of what might happen in the next game was too much to face. The quiet grew heavy as the reality of what they were really up against settled in.

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped when Young-il spoke up. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. We all know there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.”

With that, he handed his milk carton to Jun-hee, saying he didn’t drink plain milk. Jung-bae did the same, offering his bread to Hanni, saying he didn’t deserve to eat. Everyone’s gestures, though small, felt like they were all trying to comfort each other in their own way, but it only made the situation more real.

Dae-ho, trying to lighten the mood, asked for Jung-bae's milk carton, but when the male shot him a glare, he stayed quiet, not wanting to argue.

A soft laugh slipped out of you, and without thinking, you handed your milk to Dae-ho. He immediately accepted it with a soft, grateful smile and mumbled a quiet thanks. 

You found yourself sitting next to Young-il, feeling more tired than you’d ever felt before, the mental and physical exhaustion had settled into your bones, dragging you down. The male was silent beside you, his presence heavy yet comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn’t intrusive, just there—steady, unyielding, like a silent support.

After a long silence, he spoke, his voice low and steady. “You did what you had to do.”

You blinked at him, not sure whether to be relieved or uncomfortable. “Did I?” you asked softly. “I voted to keep going. I went against you all. I wanted to believe it would be worth it, but I’m not sure anymore.”

“You can’t change it now,” he said, his tone gentle, almost comforting. “We all made our choices. It’s over. What matters now is what we do next.”

For a moment, you felt a knot in your chest loosen. He turned to you, his gaze unwavering, “You made a choice,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And no one else can tell you whether it was right or wrong.”

The simplicity of his words hung in the air. You couldn’t fix what had been done, but hearing those words from him somehow made it feel a little less like you were alone in your decision. The guilt that had gnawed at you seemed to quiet, even if just for a brief moment.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. There was a quiet sincerity in it, more than you realized. It was the kind of reassurance you hadn’t known you were craving.

He nodded once, acknowledging your thanks with a slight tilt of his head. “Don’t mind what Gi-hun and I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice steady but softer now. “In a place like this, it’s hard not to be on edge. Everyone’s just trying to survive.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. “Yeah… I get it. It’s just hard to not feel like the bad guy sometimes.”

“You’re not,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours for a moment before shifting away. “We all made our choices. Doesn’t make anyone better or worse. Just… human.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and before you knew it, the two of you had slipped into an easy conversation. It wasn’t much, shared observations about the others, light teasing about Dae-ho being comparable to a golden retriever, favorite movies and hobbies, but it felt like a break from the weight pressing down on you both.

At one point, you let out a genuine laugh, surprising even yourself. Young-il turned his head, his gaze curious as he asked, “What’s so funny?”

You shook your head, a small smile still lingering on your lips. “I don’t know,” you admitted, brushing a hand over your face as if to hide the slight flush there. “Maybe it’s just everything… or nothing. Maybe I just needed to.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening slightly, though he still didn’t smile. “Laughing over nothing, huh? Guess there’s worse ways to handle this mess.”

“You should try it,” you said lightly, teasing just enough to test the waters.

He huffed, not quite a laugh but close, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe one day.”

For a little while, it was just the two of you, sharing quiet moments and fleeting bits of lightness in the shadow of everything else. The sound of quiet conversations and muted movements surrounded you, but it all felt distant, like you and Young-il existed in a world apart from everyone else. Eventually, the men began excusing themselves to head toward the bathroom. Young-il stayed seated a moment longer, his reluctance obvious in the way he lingered.

“You’re stalling,” you teased softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

He huffed, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I am.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Go. They’re waiting for you, and if you stay any longer Dae-ho might wet the floor.”

He chuckled. For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze meeting yours. “Fine,” he said, shaking his head as he stood slowly, there was a flicker of something—playful or thoughtful, you couldn’t quite tell. As he walked away, you watched him join the others, the soft smile still lingering on your face.

Once the coast was clear, Hanni slid over almost immediately, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Jun-hee joined her just as quickly, both of them zeroing in on you like a pair of mischievous siblings ready to pounce. “You’re smiling,” Hanni said, a teasing tone lacing her words.

Jun-hee, tilted her head, her expression somewhere between amused and curious. “We’ve been with you since the first game and that’s not like you. Care to explain?”

You blinked, immediately feeling awkward. “Really? Now? In a place like this?”

Hanni leaned closer, her expression turning more playful. “C’mon, we’re not gonna bite. Just curious.”

With a chuckle, you let out a dramatic sigh before rubbing your temples. “This isn’t the time for that. We’re stuck in a death game, not a dating show.”

“So, what you’re saying is if we are in a dating show you would totally go for him?”

You raised an eyebrow at Hanni, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I never said that," you replied, shaking your head in disbelief.

Jun-hee joined in, her voice teasing but not unkind. “Come on, don’t play coy with us. You have to admit, something’s up.”

You let out a sigh, but this time it was more amused than anything. “You two are unbelievable.” You leaned back, trying to shift the mood. “Look, it’s not like that. We’re just… having a conversation. It's not that deep.”

But they didn’t back off. Hanni gave you a knowing look, her eyes twinkling. “Having a conversation my ass! You’re out here giggling like a highschooler!”

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

You crossed your arms, trying to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “I’m not giggling, I’m just—” you paused, trying to find the right words, “I’m just… enjoying the conversation, alright?”

Jun-hee leaned in, her eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. “Uh-huh. Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help yourself from laughing again. “Just so you know, we’re stuck in a life-and-death situation, and I’m way past the age of having crushes and all that nonsense.”

Hanni leaned back with a satisfied grin, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Sure, whatever you say! We’ll let you off the hook for now, but don’t think we’ve forgotten.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. Despite the playful banter, the weight in your chest lightened. The tension between you all had shifted, and for the first time in a while, things didn’t feel so heavy. The teasing was light, comforting, and in the middle of everything that was going on, it was exactly what you needed.

You gave her a half-smile. “You’re not gonna let me live this down, are you?”

Jun-hee joined in with a gentle laugh. “Probably not. But it’s good to see you smile for once, even if we’re making fun of you.”

“You two are such troublemakers, you know that?”

Hanni shrugged innocently. “What can we say unnie? We just like seeing you flustered!”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. “Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Lights out in ten minutes. Please prepare for bedtime.”

Currently, you and the group were passing out mattresses, following Gi-hun’s insistence that all of you sleep on the floor together, huddled under one of the bed frames with someone keeping watch. While the rest of you questioned whether such precautions were necessary, none dared to speak up, not wanting to provoke Gi-hun’s temper.

As you handed a mattress to Dae-ho, who passed it to Jung-bae, the latter decided to voice what everyone else was thinking. “Hey, is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.”

Gi-hun didn’t look up as he smoothed a blanket onto the floor. “Once the lights go out, someone might attack us.”

That caught everyone’s attention. Kneeling down to sort through pillows and blankets, You, Dae-ho, Jun-hee and Hanni paused, curiosity piqued. “Why would anyone do that?” Dae-ho asked cautiously.

Gi-hun let out a humorless chuckle. “The prize money goes up every time someone dies. It’s part of the game they designed.”

You frowned, giving his words some thought. At first, his claim seemed far-fetched, but the more you considered the desperation you’d seen in yourself and in others—the way some eyes lingered too long on the prize board—it started to make an unsettling kind of sense.

“That’s insane,” Jung-bae muttered, shaking his head. “Nobody’s that cold. Nobody’s gonna—”

“Nope, Gi-hun is right. You shouldn’t be so sure,” you cut in, your tone sharper than usual. All eyes turned to you. “We’re lucky to have each other, but outside of this group? Desperation changes people. If someone thinks they have a better chance alone, or if they’re blinded by that kind of money, they won’t hesitate.”

Young-il narrowed his eyes at you, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “You’re saying we should expect someone to try and kill us tonight?”

You shrugged, your expression grim. “I’m saying we’d be stupid not to prepare for it.”

The weight of your words settled over the group like a heavy blanket. Even Hanni and Jun-hee, who usually tried to keep things light, exchanged uneasy glances. Gi-hun nodded as if your words confirmed everything he’d been thinking.

“Well,” Dae-ho said after a moment, his voice forced and upbeat, “at least we have each other, right?”

“Exactly,” Gi-hun said, setting down the last mattress. “We stick together, we’ll make it through. Now, everyone settle in. And keep your eyes open.”

Reluctantly, the group followed his lead, arranging themselves in a tight circle under the frame. You caught Young-il’s eye as he sat down across from you, his expression unreadable but his gaze steady.

Morning arrived faster than you expected, and soon, the guards were leading you to the next game.

The circular room you entered was unsettling. Bright, white walls surrounded a massive platform in the center, and atop it stood three eerie carousel horses, their painted eyes glossy and cold. Around the perimeter of the room were several doors, painted with plain colors.

You stared in quiet dread, trying to piece together what this setup might mean. The atmosphere was heavy, the air almost suffocating.

A light shove jolted you back to reality.

“You okay?”

Young-il stood beside you, his hand brushing your arm. His face, though calm, held a trace of worry as he took in your frozen stance.

“Stay close to me,” he said firmly. “And don’t freeze up now. I know it’s hard, but mistakes…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Just don’t make any. Not here.”

You nodded, swallowing hard, and forced your legs to move as the guards directed everyone to the platform.

The rules were announced in the same monotone voice you’d grown to fear. This game wasn’t just a test of strength or skill—it was a race against time. Mingle. A game where players had to form groups according to the number that appeared and enter a room within 30 seconds. Failure to do so meant death.

The tension in the room became unbearable as the platform filled with nervous shuffling.

Hanni, standing beside you, clutched at your jacket with trembling hands. Her grip was tight and desperate, her pale face mirrored the fear you felt but tried to bury.

You placed a steadying hand over hers. “Stay close to us okay?” you murmured, glancing at her wide, frightened eyes. “We’ll figure this out.”

The platform began to spin, the movement disorienting as the room blurred around you. An eerie, childlike song played from unseen speakers, the melody jarring in its mockery of innocence.

Just as nausea began to creep in, the platform screeched to a halt.

12

Panic erupted immediately. Players screamed and shoved, desperate to find others to form a group.

“We need two more!”

“Who has five?”

Gi-hun moved quickly, scanning the chaos. He approached a nearby cluster of players, tapping one on the shoulder. “How many are you?”

“Four,” Player 120 replied.

“That makes us eleven,” Jung-bae said, pulling the rest of you closer into a huddle.

Before you could fully regroup, others swarmed around, shouting over one another in frantic bids for survival.

“Join us! We’re five!”

“No, come with us! We’re seven!”

The crowd was chaos. People were being pulled apart and dragged into groups as the countdown loomed. Hanni clung tighter to you, her breathing uneven. Suddenly, Player 120 ran off and dragged a woman toward your group. Her face was pale, and her steps stumbled as if she could barely keep up with the force pulling her forward.

“Here! This makes twelve!” Player 120 shouted, shoving the woman into your group before anyone could react.

“Come on,” you urged, grabbing Jun-hee and Hanni by the arms. “Let’s go. Stick close to me.”

Gi-hun directed your group to room 44. One by one, you made sure everyone got through the door, your eyes scanning for anyone falling behind. Once inside, Young-il slammed the door shut.

The locks clicked as the timer hit zero.

A chilling silence followed before the sound of gunfire tore through the room. Cries of desperation from players left behind filled the air, only to be abruptly silenced.

Hanni trembled violently, her hands covering her ears. You knelt beside her, brushing her hair back in an attempt to soothe her. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” you said, though your own hands weren’t quite steady.

The tense quiet was broken by a sudden, sharp voice.

“You are all alive thanks to me!”

The outburst came from the woman 120 dragged, her wild eyes scanning the group. She began to approach Jun-hee with a strange intensity, her smile twisted and unsettling.

You immediately stepped in front of the girl, blocking her from view. Your movements were calm, but your heart pounded as the woman’s gaze landed on you instead.

She tilted her head, her smile widening. “There’s a reason you’ve lived this long,” she said, her tone cryptic. “A reason you were brought here.”

Her words hung heavy in the air as she looked past you, her focus shifting to Gi-hun.

Before she could say more, the announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, listing the eliminated players. The doors unlocked. Everyone returned to the platform.

Another round began.

4

All seven of you froze, exchanging frantic glances. The tension in the room was suffocating, everyone hyper-aware of the seconds slipping away.

"I'll find one more," you said abruptly, already moving before anyone could protest.

Gi-hun called after you, his voice strained with alarm, but you were already lost in the chaos.

"Wait—!" Hanni started to follow, but Gi-hun grabbed her arm.

"No!" she yelled, pulling against him. "You go! I’ll wait for [Name]-nim!"

"But—"

Young-il stepped in, placing a firm hand on Gi-hun’s shoulder. "Go, Gi-hun. She won’t move unless [Name] is back. I’ll stay with her."

Gi-hun hesitated, his jaw clenched. He looked between them and the dwindling time before nodding sharply. "Take care of them."

Without another word, he ushered Dae-ho, Jun-hee, and Jung-bae into a room. Once inside, Gi-hun hesitated to shut the room, opting to keep it open for a bit as he watched over your group.

Meanwhile, Young-il stayed by Hanni's side, his sharp gaze darting through the chaos, searching for any sign of you. The noise of panicked shouts and pounding footsteps filled the air, but he barely noticed. Instead, his attention was fixed on the spinning platform and the frenzied crowd.

Hanni clung to his arm, her small frame trembling against his. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, her grip tightening with each second that passed. Young-il glanced down at her, his usually stern expression softening for a moment.

"You’ll be okay," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the storm around them. He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, giving her a firm yet gentle pat.

Hanni didn’t seem to hear him. Her lips moved in a near-silent mantra, repeating over and over, "Please come back. Please come back."

Her words hung heavy in the air, a fragile plea against the backdrop of chaos. Young-il’s jaw tightened as he turned his focus back to the crowd. He had to believe you would return, not just for Hanni's sake—but for all of theirs.

Inside the room, Dae-ho’s voice broke the silence. "Will they make it?" he asked, his tone trembling. Gi-hun didn’t respond, his gaze fixed outside, searching for any sign of you. With ten seconds left, hope began to waver—until a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Hey! I found someone! Let’s go!"

Bursting into sight, you ran towards an empty room with Player 256 in tow. Without hesitation, you grabbed Young-il’s outstretched hand, pulling everyone toward the door. The locks clicked shut just as the timer hit zero.

Inside, your legs gave out, but before you hit the ground, you felt a strong pair of arms catch you. Young-il steadied you, his worried face inches from yours.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.

You nodded quickly, pulling yourself upright. "Thanks," you said, flashing a weak smile before turning to Player 256, who looked pale and shaken.

"Are you alright? Sorry for dragging you like that. I just saw you on the floor and didn’t think twice."

The young man gave you a pained smile, his breaths still uneven. "I’m fine. Thank you—really. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead."

You patted his shoulder gently, suppressing a sigh. "What’s with young people getting into so much debt these days?"

Before you could say more, a small figure collided with you, wrapping their arms tightly around your waist.

"Don’t ever leave me again, unnie." Hanni sobbed, her voice muffled against your shirt. Warm tears soaked through the fabric as she clung to you.

Your heart twisted at her desperation. "I can’t promise you that, Hanni. But Jun-hee’s always there when I’m not okay?" you murmured, gently running your hand through her hair, trying to soothe her.

Her grip on you loosened a little, but her wide eyes stayed locked on you. “I know… but I still need you two with me,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of that same hope she always had.

You gave her a soft smile, brushing away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. “We’re not going anywhere,” you said, holding her just a little tighter.

The announcer’s voice suddenly boomed through the speakers, listing the names of the eliminated players. The stark reminder of the game’s stakes sent a chill through the room.

As the list ended, you glanced toward Young-il. His eyes betrayed the fear he had been holding back, relief washing over his face as he met your gaze. For a brief moment, it felt like the world had paused, the chaos outside fading into the background.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He gave a small nod, his lips pressed into a thin line.

The sound of the doors unlocking snapped you both back to reality. Player 256 bowed deeply to you before sprinting off, murmuring another hurried "thank you" as he disappeared into the crowd.

Taking Hanni’s hand, you and Young-il moved quickly to find the rest of your group. Voices called your names, and you followed the sound until you spotted them.

"There they are!" Jung-bae shouted, relief evident in his tone.

Young-il barely had time to react before Jung-bae threw his arms around him in a tight hug. Meanwhile, Jun-hee rushed toward you and Hanni.

The three of you broke into a tangle of hugs, clutching each other tightly, the fear and relief of survival intertwining in an unspoken bond.

“I knew you were gonna be okay!” Jung-bae exclaimed in relief, pulling Young-il into a tight hug. Jun-hee did the same with you, and you returned the hug, pressing a few affectionate forehead kisses on her before patting her head gently. Gi-hun looked at you and Young-il, his face breaking into a relieved smile. “I was so worried. I’m glad you all made it.”

“Luckily, [Name] found someone in time. If she stayed with us a little longer, she might’ve had a hard time,” Young-il chuckled, praising you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “If anything, I was lucky. I found the guy on the ground. I hope he’s okay.”

The two of you then turned to Jun-hee, asking if she was alright. She reassured you, telling you how glad she was that the three of you came back safely.

“Wait a minute.” Young-il’s voice cut through the conversation. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. “If the next number is eighth, then we won’t need anyone else, right?”

Everyone looked at him with confused expressions. “Why?” Dae-ho asked, genuinely curious. Young-il didn’t respond immediately; instead, he just nodded, thinking.

Jung-bae snapped his fingers, pointing at Jun-hee’s stomach. “Ah, it’s in her tummy.”

A sudden realization spread across Dae-ho’s face as he finally understood. “Ohh, that’s right. That makes eight.” The group shared a lighthearted laugh, while Hanni rolled her eyes, quietly laughing to herself. She muttered something about how corny the joke was. You couldn’t help but laugh, pinching her cheek and telling her to just go with the flow.

“What if it’s twins? Triplets?” you joked.

Amid the laughter, a pair of lingering eyes belonging to Player 333 was watching the group with an unreadable look on his face.

The atmosphere shifted slightly before you were all instructed to return to the platform. The tension in the air was palpable. Another round started.

3

“You three, go–” Gi-hun began, but Young-il cut him off.

“No. I’ll go. You stay with them.”

You all looked at him in surprise, not wanting to leave him behind. However, there was no time to waste. With a determined nod, you immediately grabbed Jun-hee and Hanni before running toward the nearest room. Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho followed closely behind, while Young-il ran off to find two other players.

You three finally approached the only vacant room near you. As you opened it, your blood ran cold. A figure was curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, its stillness unnerving— as if they had already given up already. You glanced at the timer—20 seconds. Your heart raced. Grabbing Jun-hee and Hanni’s arms, you yelled for the curled up figure.

"Hey!" you shouted. The person stirred and looked up at you, confusion in their eyes. You raised the arms you were holding, signaling clearly. The person understood, standing up and moving toward the door. You pushed Jun-hee and Hanni toward the player, making sure they would be safe with her. Once inside, Player 380 quickly closed the door. As you ran away, you heard their voices calling out to you.

“Hey unnie! Come back!”

“[Name]nim!”

You cursed your heart for being soft and getting attached, you cursed your mind for wanting to be a hero. With 13 seconds left, you turned and ran as fast as you could, hoping to find a room, or maybe even Young-il.

10 seconds.

You frantically scanned the area, but there was almost nothing. No sign of Young-il. No sign of anyone else making their way to a room. No group of two finding their last member.

8 seconds.

Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed your arm. You were shocked but didn’t hesitate. You had no time for hesitation now. You kept your pace, determined to survive.

6 seconds.

You spotted someone standing idly, diagonally to you. Wasting no time, you shouted to them. Together, you ran toward the person, desperate to find the last empty room.

4 seconds.

The two of you reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her toward the nearest open door.

2 seconds.

The three of you rushed inside.

1 second.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

The timer rang. 0 seconds.

Back in room 27, Hanni and Jun-hee peeked anxiously through the window, watching the chaos unfold outside. As the announcer listed the eliminated players, they held their breath, waiting. The second your number wasn’t called, they exhaled in relief.

Inside your room, you collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath. This was the consequence of playing the hero. You were too old for this, yet here you were again, caught in the madness. Once your breath steadied, you looked at the player you had dragged in. You froze in shock. It was Player 149—the mother of Player 007. The two were peas in a pod, but you hoped nothing bad would happen now that they were separated.

Deciding not to disturb her, you let her have some space and turned to the person who had saved you. Standing up, you immediately bowed in their direction. When they didn’t make a sound or movement, you slowly lifted your head.

To your shock, you were met with Young-il’s face.

Your shocked face clashed with his angry one, but before you could process it, you leapt at him and wrapped him in a tight, warm hug. His initial surprise faded as he returned the embrace, his anger melting away. As he gently patted your hair, he quietly asked, “What happened?”

“The room we entered was already filled with someone. I wanted to stay with Jun-hee and Hanni, but there were no more rooms nearby. I couldn’t let Jun-hee run anymore, so I left them there and ran,” you explained, your voice muffled against his shirt.

He patted your head again before slightly pushing you away to look at your face. Still holding you, the two of you locked eyes. “You’re lucky I was there to save you like a superhero.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “Thanks, superhero.”

You gave him a sweet smile before pulling away and knelt in front of the older woman. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

She snapped out of her thoughts and bowed, immediately responding, “Yes, yes. I am. Thank you so much for saving me.”

“Where’s your son?”

“Sorry?”

“Weren’t you with him?” Young-il asked, his concern growing for their safety. You watched her closely, hoping nothing bad had happened. Her eyes bounced between you and Young-il as she tried to formulate an answer. “Oh, well, I lost him. He told me to wait while he brought one more person, but in all the chaos, I lost him.”

“He didn’t come back?” Young-il’s question made her stand up abruptly.

“My son isn’t that kind of person!” she said, standing defensively. “We may be poor, but he has a good heart. He’d rather be bullied than hurt another person. He’ll never harm anyone, so watch what you say about him!”

You stood up quickly and gently placed your hands on her shoulders, trying to ease the tension. “Ah, it’s nothing like that, ma’am. It’s just that the two of you have been together from the start, so we were worried when we saw you alone. We didn’t mean to upset you.”

She looked at you for a moment before averting her gaze, calming down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Young-il added, apologizing as well.

The doors opened then, signaling it was time to move on. With a bow, you grabbed Young-il’s hand, pulling him toward Jun-hee and Hanni’s room. When you saw the two of them, your eyes met, and without hesitation, you let go of Young-il’s hand and hugged them both tightly. You whispered your apologies as they cried into your neck. Young-il watched the scene with a bittersweet smile, the sight of you and the others reminding him painfully of his late wife. It felt like a love he could never return to, yet he couldn't look away.

Once they stopped crying, you gently pulled away and pointed them toward Young-il. Without hesitation, they ran to him, wrapping their arms around him and thanking him.

The four of you then returned to the platform, where you met the rest of your group. A silent understanding passed between your team and player 120’s team, as you all stood next to each other, ready for the next round. The music started. The platform began to rotate. 

6

“Three women and three men, go!” Gi-hun shouted. Luckily, you all had enough members so only finding the room was the problem, Jun-hee and Hanni stuck close to you as you followed Young-il, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae to a room. 

When you returned to the platform, you immediately noticed the lonely figure of player 120, with player 095 nowhere near, you assumed the worst. Standing close next to her, you offer comfort by rubbing her back. “It’s gonna be hard but please stay strong, she now lives through you.” She gives you a pained nod as you placed yourself between Hanni and Young-il. 

“What do you think will be the next number?” Jung-bae asked you all.

It was quiet for a moment as everyone contemplated the answer. Without hesitation, Hanni spoke up. "Two."

Gi-hun looked at her, silently asking her to explain her answer. Instead of her, Young-il’s voice broke through the tension. "Yeah, she's correct. It's two. There are 50 rooms, and 156 people are still alive. Everyone will have a pair, but there won't be enough rooms. That's how they conduct these games."

Everyone else looked at him, some expressions confused, others with a hint of surprise, as if they hadn’t expected him to be the one explaining. And they were right.

2

The group stood in silence for a second, each person wondering who would pair with whom. The fear of the rooms being occupied quickly spread so without a second thought, Young-il grabbed your hand and hurried you away. Hanni called your name, and the others followed suit. Dae-ho grabbed Hanni, Jung-bae grabbed Gi-hun, and Player 333 grabbed Jun-hee as they all ran to secure an empty room.

You and Young-il reached the open door of an empty room, but before you could step inside, another player tackled you to the ground. As Young-il rushed to help you up, the player bolted for the room you had been eyeing. Without hesitation, Young-il grabbed the man, yanking him away and throwing him outside with unexpected force.

"Go in!" Young-il shouted at you, as he held the player in his grip.

Your heart was racing, adrenaline flooding your system. You scrambled to recover and quickly glanced around, making sure the coast was clear. With urgency, you rushed inside, positioning yourself near the door, ready to barricade it in case someone tried to steal the room from you. You signaled for Young-il to come in, and as he rushed in after you, you slammed the door behind him, using your body to hold it shut while the player left outside shouted curses at you.

Suddenly, Young-il pulled you into his arms, his hands gentle but firm, as he placed your head against his shoulder. You melted into him, the brief respite giving you both a moment of peace. But that moment quickly shattered when your eyes caught a figure in the corner of the room.

Your breath hitched. In a panic, you pushed away from Young-il and shouted at the figure, your voice trembling, "Leave! Get out!"

The timer was ticking down, and every second felt like an eternity. Panic surged within you as you watched the figure not move—your heart raced. The seconds were slipping away.

12 seconds.

"No way, we got here first," the man argued, his voice laced with defiance.

“Well your partner is not here isn’t he?! Get out!”  you demanded, your voice firm despite the tension.

11 seconds.

“Shut your tramp whore! We got here first! Make yourself useful and get out of the room!” he spat back, growing angrier.

10 seconds.

Without a word, Young-il lunged at the man, grabbing him by the throat and forcing him toward the door, his strength overpowering the man’s resistance. You watched in horror, your eyes flickering between the timer and the brutal scene unfolding before you. With only three seconds left and the man still struggling. Young-il didn’t hesitate. His actions were swift and decisive, final and cold. With one swift move, the room fell silent, and the door locked.

0 seconds.

Young-il stood over the lifeless man, his face distant, his expression hollow. It was a look that didn’t belong on him. In the short time you’d known him, he’d always had this warm, protective energy, this quiet tenderness that made you feel safe. But now, his usual caring nature seemed clouded by something else.

Without thinking, you crossed the room to him, gently taking his hands in yours. You could feel his tension, his unwillingness to meet your gaze. Your heart ached to see him like this, and you whispered softly, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice barely above a whisper, as though he was apologizing for something you hadn’t even asked him to do.

“What for?” you asked, trying to meet his gaze. He avoided it, looking down at the body in the room, his face shadowed with regret.

“You did what you had to do, Young-il. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here. We’d be dead. So, thank you.” You squeezed his hands, trying to convey the depth of your gratitude, even if the words felt too small.

“But—” he started, voice faltering.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” You could feel his fear—fear that you might look at him differently now. You could see it in his eyes, that vulnerability he tried to hide. You slowly reached up, your hand finding his cheek, your touch gentle and comforting. His eyes closed as he leaned into it, the tension melting from his body for just a moment. "Murder is something I’m used to, Young-il. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine… as long as you’re here."

The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken words. The closeness, the way your fingers lingered on his skin, the way your breaths synced together—it felt like everything was leading to this moment. Slowly, instinctively, you both leaned in, drawn to each other like magnets.

But just as your lips were about to meet, the loud sound of the doors unlocking shattered the moment. You both froze, hearts pounding in your chests, reality crashing back in. You pulled away quickly, your face flushing with embarrassment.

You stepped back, flustered, and gave a quick bow, mumbling, “I—I should check on Hanni and Jun-hee.” You turned to leave, nearly tripping over your shoes in the rush. That shared moment lingered in the air, and even as you fled, your heart still raced with what almost happened, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on your back, the connection between you stronger than ever.

After the third game, you found yourself back in the fort Gi-hun had organized. The group was scattered, tending to their own thoughts or conversations. Across the room, Jun-hee was deep in conversation with Player 333, the man you now knew was her ex-fiancé—the one who’d abandoned her. Hanni stood by your side, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern as the two exchanged words that seemed both loaded and cautious.

Meanwhile, Gi-hun instructed the others to count the remaining players and determine how many wanted to continue playing.

“There are 55 players who voted in favor of continuing,” Jung-bae reported as he returned.

“Are you sure?” Gi-hun asked, his voice tense.

“I counted twice.”

Dae-ho pointed to the “O” patch on Jung-bae’s uniform. “Did you count yourself?”

Jung-bae glanced at the “O” patch on his chest, pausing before muttering, “Fifty-six.”

“Fifty-seven,” you added, raising your hand while still keeping an eye on Jun-hee and her conversation.

Dae-ho exhaled heavily, frustration evident. “We have forty-five on our side. We’re outnumbered by twelve.”

The weight of the statement settled over the group like a cloud of despair.

Young-il stood up, breaking the silence. “It may seem like a big gap, but if six of them change their minds, it’s tied. Seven, and we win.”

“But what if some of the X votes switch to O?” Dae-ho countered.

“They likely won’t,” Young-il replied evenly. “Those who voted X wanted out even when the prize was smaller. Now they can leave with even more money. Why risk their lives again?”

You joined in. “Me, and Jung-bae will definitely vote X. That’s two already. If four more switch sides, it’s a tie. Five more, and we win.”

Gi-hun nodded decisively. “Then let’s go try to convince them.” 

“No,” Young-il said firmly. “That’s too risky. Most of them want to continue playing. If we start making moves, they won’t sit back and let us sway their votes.”

Gi-hun’s frustration boiled over. “So we just stand here and pray they change their minds? What if we lose again? Are we supposed to march into another game like sheep?”

Hanni hesitated before speaking, her voice soft but steady. “Gi-hunnim, I don’t think it’s wise to provoke them. They might do the same to us, and they have the upper hand. People are here for money. If we start something, it could lead to a fight before we even vote.”

Her words calmed the rising tension, and the group fell into silence as guards entered the room, signaling the start of the next vote.

After the third game, only 100 players remained. The prize money now totaled 35.6 billion won, meaning each player will earn 356 million won if they would go home now. Jung-bae approached Gi-hun, his face grim yet determined. “With that kind of money,” he began, his voice low but certain, “some might change their minds. If we can convince six more people to vote X, we’ll tie. Seven, and we win.” His words hung in the air, filling the room with a fragile sense of hope.

The guards soon interrupted, announcing that the voting would proceed in reverse order of player numbers. The tension thickened as Gi-hun approached the booth, the echo of his footsteps amplifying the silence. “Player 456, please cast your vote,” one guard intoned, his monotone voice chilling in its detachment.

One by one, players approached the booth, many clinging to their original decisions. The scoreboard slowly reflected the changes. When it was Jung-bae’s turn, he strode forward with purpose, slamming his hand on the X button. As he returned to Gi-hun’s side, he showed off his X patch and declared, “Seven more to win,” his voice carrying the first flicker of confidence the group had heard in hours.

Player 380 voted X. Relief swept through your group—six more to go.

Player 185. X. Five more.

Your turn came, and you didn’t hesitate. X. Four more.

Player 125. X. Three.

Player 120 followed, then Player 015. Each X vote brought you closer to the tie. When Player 007 slammed the X button, he shouted, “Let’s go home!” and tore off his O patch triumphantly.

“That’s seven!” Jung-bae yelled, grinning in excitement. “We did it!”

The celebration was short-lived. The next player, an elderly woman, calmly voted O. The room fell silent as her choice appeared on the scoreboard: 49 for X, 50 for O.

Everyone turned toward the last player, Player 001. The atmosphere shifted, the tension nearly suffocating. The air felt heavy with anticipation as he slowly made his way to the booth. Young-il’s slow steps toward the voting booth felt endless. Every step seemed deliberate, as though he were savoring the weight of the moment.

Hanni, looking at Young-il, quietly gripped Jun-hee’s arm, her face pale. “What’s wrong?” Jun-hee asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Hanni hesitated before speaking, her words barely audible. “Young-ilnim... he scares me sometimes.”

Jun-hee frowned. “Why? Did something happen?”

“When we were waiting for [Name]nim during the third game, I thought I saw him making eye contact with the guards,” Hanni murmured. “It was like... like they knew him. I don’t know, maybe I imagined it, but it didn’t feel right.”

Jun-hee’s brows furrowed, her protective instincts kicking in. “We should tell [Name]nim.”

“No!” Hanni shook her head rapidly. “I don’t want to ruin what they have. [Name]nim deserves to be happy. If I’m wrong, I don’t want to mess things up.”

Jun-hee looked at her with a mix of worry and understanding, her hand coming to rest on Hanni’s shoulder. Before either could say more, the sharp sound of Player 001’s vote echoed through the room.

X.

A stunned silence followed before the scoreboard updated, displaying an even 50 for X and 50 for O. Young-il turned to the group, a smile on his face as he raised his hand in an okay sign. Your side erupted into quiet cheers, exchanging looks of disbelief and relief.

“It’s a tie. We did it!” Dae-ho exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders in excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking him back as a rush of emotion coursed through you.

Relief swept through the room, but a palpable tension lingered as everyone waited to hear the outcome of the tie.

"Wait, since it’s a tie, what does it mean?" Player 100 asked.

The guard responded flatly, "Clause Three: If the voting ends in a tie, players will vote again. To give you time to think, the vote will be conducted tomorrow." He glanced around the room, his gaze cold and impassive. "Until then, please consider your future carefully."

As dinner commenced, your team welcomed new members—Players 120, 149, 007, and 246. The mood was a bit lighter, though tinged with underlying anxiety. Small talk carried the group through the meal, with some making half-hearted jokes to distract from the harsh reality of their situation.

“I’m surprised by the food today,” Hanni remarked, biting eagerly into her roll of gimbap. “I thought it would be bread and milk until the end.” You gently nudged her to slow down, worried she might choke.

Jun-hee, chewing thoughtfully, leaned closer to Hanni. “I was so scared earlier, especially with Young-ilnim. I thought for sure he’d vote O like the first time.” She hesitated, then whispered, “Hey, we really should tell her—”

“Tell me what?” you interjected, raising a brow.

“N-nothing!” Hanni stammered, her cheeks coloring as she avoided your gaze.

“Hmm, I’m watching you two,” you teased, making a gesture before turning your attention to Dae-ho, who was animatedly chatting with Jung-bae.

“I really thought you were going to vote O, like on day one,” Dae-ho admitted, glancing at Young-il. Jung-bae, clearly done with the male's rambling, stuffed a piece of gimbap into his mouth before addressing Young-il directly. “Thank you, Young-il. You gave us another chance.”

Young-il shook his head slightly, his expression neutral. “I just want to stay alive. The money’s enough now, so I need to get out of here. Alive.” His eyes flickered briefly to Gi-hun as he emphasized the last word, the intensity of his gaze sending a chill through the group.

The moment was interrupted by Player 246, who spoke up, his voice laced with apprehension. “Do you think we’ll be able to win the second vote?”

Reality hit like a blow, extinguishing the fragile flicker of hope that had momentarily lit the group. A somber silence followed until Young-il broke it. “We’ll have to go for broke,” he said, his tone measured but firm. “Like Gi-hun said earlier, we should try to convince some of them to change their minds before the second vote.”

“Will they, though?” Player 007 asked, his skepticism clear. “Most of them are blinded by the money now.”

“My son,” his mother chimed in with an oddly cheerful tone, “When you’re hungry, you start to miss home. All we have is this good roll of gimbap, and everyone will feel the pangs of hunger tomorrow.” Her logic was far-fetched, but no one dared contradict her.

007 stood and tried to address the opposing team, using the oll of gimbap as leverage. However, instead of having the result he expected to get, he got the total opposite. The men shouted over each other, their voices rising to a chaotic crescendo. Gi-hun, visibly conflicted, stared at his gimbap before unrolling it. Inside was a fork, its sharp prongs gleaming ominously. A weapon.

Unbeknownst to most, a fight had broken out in the bathroom. The announcement of eliminated players startled everyone into silence. Gasps and murmurs filled the room as the piggy bank suddenly rang. With 95 players remaining, the prize money now stood at 36.1 billion won, increasing each player’s worth to 380 million won.

“What’s happening?” Jung-bae whispered, his voice trembling with unease. His question hung unanswered as the bathroom doors opened. Players emerged, bloodied and bruised, their faces marked by fear and rage.

Player 124 from Team O stumbled into the middle of the room, his voice shaking with anger. “Listen, Team O!” he shouted. “When we were in the bathroom, these X bastards tried to kill us! They killed some of us, including my friend—”

“Bullshit!” Player 047 from Team X shouted back, cutting him off. “You’re the ones who started it!” He gestured toward where Team X sat, his voice rising with fury. “They threatened one of our people! They attacked us to win the second vote!”

The room erupted in chaos. People were shouting, pointing fingers, and some even started pushing and shoving. The tension in the air was thick, and it felt like everyone was on edge, afraid of what might happen next. You could feel the anxiety creeping in as everyone seemed to turn on each other.

In the midst of the chaos, Player 100 quickly rounded up the O team, ordering a headcount. Player 047 did the same with the X team, trying to keep control. The numbers were close, with 47 players on the O team and 48 on the X team. The X team now had the advantage in the voting.

“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said, sitting down. “That means we lost three, and now they have the upper hand.” A player on their team pointed out, “We still have a better chance. We’re one vote ahead now.”

Jung-bae, trying to stay positive, spoke up. “As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win by one vote tomorrow.” The room quieted down as everyone whispered amongst themselves, the weight of the upcoming vote heavy on their minds.

Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence. “Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 stood up, trying to rally his team. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, we’ll make it through.” His words were filled with determination, and the room filled with a low hum of agreement from his team.

Once everyone started to settle down, Dae-ho leaned in, speaking in a low voice to your group. “Those guys are acting really suspicious. They’re planning something, I can feel it.”

Jung-bae, not paying much attention to the others, just waved him off. “Whatever. Once we win tomorrow’s vote, it’ll all be over.” He sounded confident, but you could tell he was just trying to keep the morale up.

You turned your gaze to Gi-hun, his face unreadable. You knew he was thinking about the situation carefully. After everything that had happened, you weren’t sure what he was planning. But something about the way the O team had been looking at you all, with a certain malice in their eyes, told you that there was more to this than just a vote.

Finally, Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension. “Once the lights go out, they’ll attack us.” The group went silent at his words, the weight of his statement sinking in. 007’s eyes widened in disbelief as he asked, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” You replied this time, everyone looked at you waiting for your explanation. “These people, they didn’t vote O because they wanted to play. They voted O to get more money. And now that they know killing increases the prize, they’ll do whatever it takes to do it.” 

Young-il, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up. “Then we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise.” His suggestion was met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded, adding, “We have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, we’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”

But Gi-hun wasn’t on board with the idea. “No. We can’t start a fight like that.” Everyone looked at him, confused. “We need to stay calm. If we kill each other, that’s exactly what they want.”

Jung-bae frowned, clearly not understanding. “Who are they? Who are you talking about?”

“The makers of the game,” Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. “They’re the ones who want us to kill each other. They’re watching us right now.”

The room fell silent as the others absorbed this revelation. You felt a chill run down your spine. “Where are they?” Dae-ho asked, his voice tight. You could hear the fear in his words, even if he was trying to hide it.

Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He simply looked up at the ceiling, his gaze steady. “Up there,” He murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. Slowly, everyone looked up at the ceiling, following his gaze. Gi-hun’s eyes were fixed on the higher levels. “The control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, we’ll have leverage.”

Young-il’s skepticism was evident. “How are you going to fight them? They’ve got guns.”

“We’ll take their guns,” Gi-hun answered plainly, locking eyes with Young-il. His words weren’t a suggestion—they were a plan.

“From the masked men?” Player 246 asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

Gi-hun nodded resolutely. “Yes. We’ll catch them off guard. They won’t expect it.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Young-il said, shaking his head. “Even if we manage to steal their guns, we’ll be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun’s eyes hardened. “What’s your plan, then? Sit around and wait to die? Watch as they pick us off, one by one? Is that your idea of survival?” His voice was harsh, the desperation in his words cutting through the tension.

The silence that followed was thick, as everyone contemplated the harsh reality they faced.

120 spoke up, her voice uncertain but full of fear. “Do we even stand a chance?”

“We do,” Gi-hun said, his voice unwavering. “If we strike first, we catch them off guard. They’ll never see it coming. The people running this game think we’re powerless, but we have the upper hand now. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

“How do you plan to take their guns?” Young-il asked again, his skepticism still evident.

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate, as if he had already thought it through.  “Once the lights go out, we’ll have our chance.”

Lights out in 5 minutes.

As everyone made their way to their beds, Jun-hee excused herself, telling you she needed to talk to someone. You offered to go with her, but she waved you off, saying she’d be quick.

You turned to Hanni, who had a distant, absent look in her eyes. She wasn’t fully there, trapped in her own thoughts. You rubbed her back gently to snap her out of it. Poor Hanni. She was so young, and she didn’t deserve any of this. She shouldn’t have been thrown into this nightmare.

She deserved a future, a chance to grow and live, not this. It pained you to see her face filled with confusion and fear. There was so much darkness surrounding her, and she was so small, so vulnerable. It made your heart heavy.

“Stick close to me, okay?” you whispered, your voice soft but firm as you brushed her hair behind her ear. “If you can’t find me, go to Jun-hee, okay?”

Hanni nodded, but her expression didn’t fully match her words. You could see the uncertainty in her eyes. You gave her a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead, trying to offer what little comfort you could. Rocking her gently, you tucked her in, smoothing the blanket around her, and gave her one last kiss before heading to your own bed.

Lights out in 10.

The countdown echoed. You lay down, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. The seconds felt like hours.

9. What if this is the night? The thought couldn’t help but cross your mind, but you pushed it aside. You couldn’t afford to think that way now. You had to stay focused.

8.

7. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears was almost deafening, the pressure of the countdown like a vice around your chest.

6.

5. Keep it together. You told yourself. Focus. You had to be ready.

4. You thought about Hanni, about Jun-hee. What would happen to them if you didn’t make it? The thought alone made your chest tighten.

3. You forcefully removed them from your thoughts. This was not the time to think about them, they'll be fine, they'll be safe. They'll get out of here alive.

2. The darkness was getting closer. The room was quiet, but you could feel the tension, the electricity in the air. Everyone was waiting, bracing themselves.

1.

The lights flickered and then went off, plunging the room into darkness. Your mind immediately went to Gi-hun’s words: Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.

It was quiet.

Then it was loud.

The sounds of screams and footsteps filling the air as people were attacked and killed left and right. You could hear the unmistakable sounds of struggles, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. Panic rippled through the room. You prayed silently, hoping that Young-il, Hanni, Jun-hee, and everyone else would make it through the night. You clung to the hope that you would survive, that you wouldn’t be one of the unlucky ones who wouldn’t make it to the morning.

After minutes of waiting, the sound of doors opening signaled the end of the wait. You immediately crawled out from under the bottom bed following phase 2 of Gi-hun's plan.

Playing dead, you stayed as still as possible, listening for the guard’s footsteps. When you heard one approach, you tensed. As the guard scanned your ID, you reached out and grabbed them, pulling them into a headlock. They struggled, fighting to break free, but you tightened your grip, whispering a soft apology. With one swift movement, you snapped their neck. The familiar crack echoed in your ears. Without hesitation, you grabbed their gun, firing at nearby guards, taking them down one by one.

Quickly, you crawled under another bed, planning your next move. The guards on the upper beds were your next target. You fired a shot at an unsuspecting guard, laughing quietly as they looked around, confused. Before they could react, you shot again, taking them out.

From bed to bed, you moved stealthily, inching closer to the stage. Hidden in the shadows, you waited, watching the guards’ every move. You knew patience was key—waiting until they were close enough. When the retreat announcement echoed through the room, you sprang into action. Leaping from your hiding spot, you unleashed a spray of bullets, taking down the remaining guards one by one. Even as they tried to retreat into the gate, you kept firing, not giving them a chance to escape.

But just as the last guard made it to the gate, you pulled the trigger, only to hear a click. You were out of bullets. Panic surged through you. You needed to reload, but before you could, you heard Gi-hun shout, "Hold fire!" You stopped, nodding as you obeyed his command.

Jung-bae and Player 246 rushed forward and forced the last guard to his knees, making him raise his hands in surrender. Slinging your empty gun over your shoulder, you quickly ran to the back, where Hanni and Jun-hee were waiting for you.

“Unnie!” Hanni whispered-yelled as you came into view, her eyes lighting up in relief. Jun-hee was right behind her, giving you a big smile and waving you over with an expression full of warmth. You didn’t hesitate, pulling both of them into a tight hug. The moment felt comforting, but the danger still lingered in the air. You held their faces gently, searching for any signs of injury.

“Are you both hurt?” you asked, voice steady but filled with concern.

In the background, you could hear Gi-hun telling everyone to come out, reassuring them that you wouldn’t hurt them. His voice was low but commanding, a sense of authority settling over the group.

Jun-hee and Hanni shook their heads before telling you they were okay. You exhaled softly, a sigh of relief escaping you as the weight in your chest lifted slightly. You gave them a small smile.

“When you mentioned collecting guns and gunmanship, I really thought you meant some online FPS game,” Hanni said, trying to lighten the mood, a playful glint in her eyes. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Really now? Well, I might be old, but not that old. I’m still strong enough to do these things,” you said, flexing your arms with an exaggerated grunt. Your muscles were hardly impressive, but the action was enough to make the three of you laugh. It felt good—too good for the situation you were all in.

You continued to smile as the laughter settled, but your thoughts flickered back to the reality. “Alright, you two, go ahead. I’ll catch up with you soon. I need to collect the guns and ammo from the guards first,” you said, your tone firm but affectionate. You ushered them toward the center before you set about your task.

As you moved toward the fallen guards, your hands quickly went to work, collecting the weapons and ammo. You moved with precision, and were so in the zone that you barely noticed a figure following you.

“Are you alright?”

A sharp breath caught in your throat as you jerked your head toward the sound. In an instant, your fingers gripped the handle of your gun, and you pointed it at the source of the voice. When you saw who it was, your tension loosened, but only slightly. Your breath came out in a shaky exhale as you lowered the gun.

“Young-il, you scared me!” you said, pressing a hand to your chest, heart still racing from the sudden scare.

“Ah? That so?” he replied, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m very sorry then.”

“Oh, shut up. That’s not the look of someone who’s sorry,” you shot back, though a smile tugged at your own lips.

The two of you shared a brief laugh before the tension in your bodies dissipated enough for you to focus on the task at hand again. “Help me out with these, will you?” you asked, gesturing to the weapons scattered on the ground. He didn’t hesitate, moving to gather the magazines and guns.

The two of you worked in relative silence, the only sounds the shifting of metal and the occasional clink of ammunition being loaded. Despite everything, the atmosphere between you felt strangely light. It was as if, for a moment, the world outside was forgotten and it was just the two of you working together. You didn’t know why, but it was oddly comforting.

“May I ask how you’re so familiar with guns?” he asked, genuinely curious now. He hadn’t expected you to be the type, but he wasn’t in a position to judge anymore.

You hesitated for a moment before replying, your voice softening. “Well, I used to have an aunt who was really into guns. She married a fellow gun enthusiast, and together they opened up a shooting range near our home. At first, I wasn’t that interested. Guns weren’t my thing, really.” You paused, remembering the past. “But then I started noticing someone—someone I had a crush on. He was always reading about guns, and I thought maybe I could get him to teach me. I thought it’d be a way to connect, you know?”

Young-il nodded as he stayed quiet, finding comfort in your voice as you talked him away. You took a deep breath before continuing, the words spilling out freely.

“When I asked him about it, he just brushed me off. Told me that girls like me should stick to cooking and cleaning and that guns were for ‘big boys’ like him. Some bullshit like that.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “I didn’t take it well. It pissed me off, actually. And from that day on, I got serious about guns—just to prove I could be as good as any guy.” You let out a bitter chuckle. “Now, I’ve got a collection at home.”

The air around you seemed to shift. The lightheartedness had drained from the conversation, and you felt the past creeping up on you. Young-il must’ve noticed the change in your mood, because he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he gave you space, knowing you needed it.

A few moments passed before you spoke again, your voice distant. “A few years after we met again, things just... happened. One thing led to another, and I ended up having a beautiful baby girl.” You smiled softly, but it quickly faded. “You should meet her. I think she’d like you.”

Young-il’s face softened for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. You felt the smile fade completely as you continued. “I’m happy to have her, I really am... But it wasn’t supposed to happen that way. The guy... he wasn’t in it for the right reasons. He just wanted to drain me dry and disappear. He never told me about his debt. And the collectors...”

You trailed off, the heaviness of the past taking over. Young-il stayed quiet, giving you the space you needed to process everything.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” Young-il said gently, his voice softer than before.

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile. “No, no… it’s okay. You deserve to know.” A brief silence passed between you two before you started explaining, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air.

“When the collectors came to my house, I found out that he had put my name and address down as the guarantor. In their eyes, I owed them around 1 billion won, but that was far from the truth. They told me that since I was their ‘favorite’ debtee, they struck up a deal. They’d lower the debt to 800 million... and another form of payment to cover the remaining 200 million…” You paused, your breath catching in your throat. “In return... they’d keep my kid hostage until I paid them every last cent.”

Young-il looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and sympathy. He didn’t know what to say, but his expression was enough. He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it, opting for silence. After a while, he let his mouth open. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It must’ve taken a lot of courage to tell me, especially to someone you’ve only just met.”

Grabbing the last available gun, you smiled back at him, but it was a smile tinged with sadness. “It’s alright, Young-il,” you said, your voice steady despite the heaviness in your heart. “I know this is not the right time for these things, but you’re definitely more than just someone I’ve only just met.”

Young-il froze, your words sinking into him like a knife he hadn’t seen coming. He kept his face neutral, but inside, a storm raged. He had tried to suppress it—whatever it was that made his chest tighten whenever you spoke to him, that made his thoughts drift to you in moments of quiet. But now, hearing you say those words, the feelings he had buried clawed their way to the surface.

His gaze flickered to you, trying to gauge if you understood what you had just done. But your eyes met his with a casual earnestness, as if you hadn’t realized the impact of your words. Of course, you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You didn’t know that every small interaction with you chipped away at the walls he had built around himself. That every glance, every word, every fleeting moment made it harder for him to maintain the facade of indifference he had perfected over the years.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his jaw tightening. What was he supposed to say? That you were right? That you were more than just someone he’d met in the chaos of the games? That you had become something he didn’t know how to handle?

No. He couldn’t say any of that. Not now. Not ever.

So instead, he said nothing.

“Are you ready?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside him.

He nodded once, stiffly, as if the motion required more effort than it should. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and even.

As you turned away, he lingered for a moment, watching you. His chest ached with a mix of emotions he didn’t want to name—ones he thought he had locked away when he lost the love of his life. He had told himself there was no room for them, especially not now, especially not with you.

And yet, here they were, threatening to unravel him.

He shook his head, forcing himself to follow after you, his steps heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel—not here, not in this place where feelings were a liability.

But as much as he tried to bury it, he knew it was too late. He had already let you in, even if you didn’t know it.

You stood beside Young-il, both of you observing the remaining players, the silent anticipation thick in the air. The guns and ammo laid before you, the weight of the upcoming mission pressing down on everyone. Gi-hun, at the front of the group, finally broke the silence, his voice steady yet resolute.

“We will capture those who captured us, putting an end to this game, and making them pay.”

The weight of his words hit hard, but there was no turning back now. Everyone knew what was at stake. Beside Jun-hee, Hanni's gaze lingered on Young-il, watching him carefully. There was something off about him, something she couldn’t quite place, but she was determined to figure it out. She was always one to notice the little things.

Gi-hun’s voice rang out again, more direct this time. “Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward.”

For a long moment, no one moved. Fear was a suffocating blanket that kept them frozen in place. Then, Jung-bae stepped forward, his presence almost a defiance against the tension in the room.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice firm, though tinged with his own nervousness. “We’re scared too. But this might be our last chance to make it out of here alive.” A beat of silence followed, heavy and thick. Then, with a quiet resolve, Jung-bae continued, “Fight with us, so we can go home together.”

One by one, four men stepped up, their faces a mix of fear and determination. They grabbed their guns and ammo, preparing for the fight ahead. Gi-hun began instructing everyone to check their ammo, his eyes scanning the group for any sign of hesitation. Jung-bae handed out radios, the weight of their importance not lost on anyone.

“We’ll be using channel 7, the lucky number,” he announced. Everyone nodded in unison, following his instructions.

Gi-hun turned to Young-il, who was checking his ammo with meticulous care. “Thank you for earlier,” He said, his voice quieter than usual. Young-il didn’t look up, his focus still on the gun in his hands. “You can buy me soju when we get out,” he muttered, his voice gruff but carrying a faint hint of amusement.

You overheard their exchange and couldn’t resist the urge to tease. “What about me? Where’s my thanks?” You pushed the ammo back into its place, a smirk playing at your lips as both men glanced at you in surprise. Your chuckle filled the tense air, lightening the mood for a brief moment. “I’m just messing with you. Good luck out there, Captain. Get us out of here.”

Gi-hun smiled back at you, nodding before turning to check the rest of the team.

Meanwhile, Player 120, noticing Player 246 struggling with his ammo, stepped forward without hesitation. She called for everyone’s attention, and the group grew silent as she began to demonstrate how to operate the gun in her hands.

“This is the MP5, a submachine gun,” she said with a confident grin, her hands moving smoothly as she demonstrated how to load, unload, and switch the mode of the weapon.

You couldn’t help but watch her, fascinated by the fluidity of her movements. There was something almost hypnotic about the way she handled the weapon, and you felt a rush of excitement. You exchanged a glance with Young-il, catching his teasing look. Your eyes narrowed playfully in return.

“What?” you said, your voice light, but with a hint of a challenge. “It’s not every day you find another girl with the same interest as me.”

“Well, I didn’t say anything,” Young-il replied, his tone nonchalant, but there was a subtle spark of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you. His lips quirked slightly, as if he was trying to suppress a smile but failing just a little.

You shot him a playful glare, your eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. "Just saying, it's rare to find someone who gets it." You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly as you met his gaze, your voice teasing but with a quiet warmth.

Young-il raised an eyebrow, his smirk lingering. "I get it, trust me," he said, his voice a lot softer.

As player 120 returned to her spot, You and Player 246, who seemed just as curious as you, looked at her in astonishment. “Where did you learn so much about guns?” 246 asked, his tone a mix of awe and genuine interest. You were itching to ask the same thing, and when Player 120 answered, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Ah, I was a sergeant first class in the ROK Special Forces,” she said, her tone casual but proud.

You practically beamed at her answer. “Wow,” you muttered, feeling a newfound respect for the woman who had so confidently shared her experience. You turned to the male beside you, ready to share your thoughts, but as your gaze flickered over to Young-il, you noticed something you hadn’t seen before—a distance in his expression, something off. The familiarity of his stoic face was still there, but there was a coldness behind it now that you couldn’t place. You felt your chest tighten, and for a moment, your confidence faltered. The words you wanted to say got stuck in your throat. Was there something bothering him?

You hesitated for a second before turning your attention back to Player 120, deciding not to press. You wanted to focus on the task ahead, but that nagging feeling in your chest refused to subside.

Gi-hun’s voice broke through the quiet, cutting through your thoughts. He pointed a revolver at the guard on the ground, demanding that he remove his mask. You felt your stomach turn as the young guard’s face was revealed. He looked no older than 25, his eyes wide with fear. Jung-bae’s reaction mirrored your own—he was visibly disturbed by the sight. He approached the guard, his voice filled with genuine concern. “Do your parents know what you’re doing?”

Before the guard could answer, Gi-hun cocked the revolver, silencing the room in an instant. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

His voice was low, almost a growl, but it carried with an unyielding edge. “Take us to your captain.” His words hung in the air, final and unwavering.

You followed the group, positioning yourself toward the back of the line just in front of Player 120. Before stepping through the door, you cast a glance back and saw Hanni and Jun-hee's worried faces. You offered them a warm, comforting smile, trying to reassure them, even if you weren’t sure how much comfort you could offer in that moment.

As you stepped through, you seized the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the other woman in the group.

“Hey, uh… my name’s [Lastname] [Name]. I just wanted to say, I really admire how fearless and knowledgeable you are with guns, especially for a girl. Not that it means much, I’m a girl too. It's just... the only other woman I knew who was into guns was my aunt,” you said, trying to keep the tone casual despite the nerves gnawing at you.

Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, gave you a surprised but warm smile. “Nice to meet you, [Name]. I didn’t expect you to be so open, especially with how tense everything is.”

Before you could respond, the sound of Gi-hun’s revolver firing cut through the air. The loud shot echoed, silencing the recorded announcement urging everyone to return to their beds. “Down!” Gi-hun barked. Your eyes snapped up, spotting the movement of pink guards approaching from the corner.

"At one o'clock!" Gi-hun yelled, his voice urgent. You quickly ducked, instinctively reaching for your weapon. Hyun-ju, without hesitation, took cover and began firing.

“Cover me!” she shouted as she moved, using the new position to get a better shot. You returned fire, covering her as she positioned herself to pick off the guards. Every few moments, you switched between ducking for cover and popping up to fire. The rhythm became second nature, the cacophony of gunfire almost drowning out your thoughts. Bang, cover. Bang, cover.

“Cease fire!” Gi-hun ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. You dropped behind cover, a sharp breath escaping you as the last of the guards fell. Gi-hun quickly checked in with everyone. You gave him a thumbs-up, signaling you were good.

"Alright, we move up," he said, his voice steady as always. You nodded, scanning your surroundings. Your eyes flicked to the CCTV camera near you. With a quick movement, you raised your gun and fired, taking out the lens. You saw Hyun-ju doing the same on her end. The two of you exchanged a brief nod, silently acknowledging the trust that had formed in the chaos.

Gi-hun led the group forward, signaling everyone to check corners as you moved.

Suddenly, you all halted as Gi-hun interrogated a guard. Gun to his face, the guard meekly pointed ahead. “The entrance to the management area is around the corner. The control room is right above it,” he said, fear evident in his voice.

“Move it then,” Gi-hun ordered, pushing the guard forward.

The guard hesitated, then started to reach for his mask.

“What are you doing?” Gi-hun demanded.

“I need to get my mask to bypass security,” the guard replied quickly. Gi-hun hesitated but allowed the guard to move, sensing no immediate threat.

But then, the unexpected happened. The guard froze, staring blankly ahead, paralyzed. Before you could react, a bullet pierced his skull, sending him crumpling to the ground. Chaos erupted immediately as the sound of rapid gunfire filled the air. Guards flooded in, and you scrambled for cover, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The gunfire was relentless. You moved, ducking and shooting, ducking and shooting, covering every angle as you fought for your life. The intensity of the moment was blinding, but you couldn't afford to lose focus.

“I’ll go for the management area!” Gi-hun yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Will you be able to find it? Should I come with you?” Young-il called after him, a note of concern in his voice.

“No,” Gi-hun responded sharply. “I’ll go with Jung-bae. You need to buy us some time.”

Young-il nodded, his gaze sharp. Gi-hun and Jung-bae moved off in one direction, leaving the rest of you to handle the remaining guards.

Noticing two of your friends had bolted, you immediately motioned for cover, weaving between Young-il and Dae-ho. You glanced at Young-il, asking where they were going and what their instructions were. Young-il quickly relayed their plan, his voice steady despite the urgency.

With a firm nod, you raised your gun, ready to provide the cover fire needed. The next few moments were a blur of bullets and evasive maneuvers as you helped keep the guards at bay. You could only hope that Gi-hun and Jung-bae would find what they needed before it was too late.

As you continued to fight off the guards, you noticed Dae-ho's frantic movements. He was wasting bullets, shooting wildly without even aiming. The gunfire echoed around you, but his shots were going wide, not hitting anyone. You could tell he was struggling.

When he ran out of ammo, you placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him. “You good there, Dae-ho? Do you have some extra ammo?”

His eyes were wide, panicked, and full of fear. You could see the signs of someone who had experienced more than they should have, someone who had been pushed to the edge. His reaction was familiar to you—too familiar. He was struggling with some kind of trauma, possibly PTSD. Despite his fear of gunshots, he had still volunteered to fight, a true marine in spirit, but the weight of it was starting to break him.

Young-il noticed the exchange, his gaze shifting between you and Dae-ho. You handed Dae-ho some of your extra ammo, keeping your voice calm as you tried to keep him grounded. “You have to be resourceful. It’s okay to take a breather. I’m here to cover you.”

Dae-ho gulped, nodding shakily as he began to reload. You took the moment to shoot a few guards, hiding behind cover to keep your position steady.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere!” Player 047 shouted, his frustration evident. “Let’s follow them up to the upper level!”

You immediately shook your head, disagreeing with the idea. “We might get surrounded if you don’t have a plan! We need to wait for Gi-hun and Jung-bae’s signal!”

Young-il nodded, agreeing with your assessment. “Let’s wait until they find the control room.”

You were about to reposition when a bullet grazed your cheek, the sharp sting making you flinch. Blood seeped out, but thankfully it wasn’t anything fatal. Still, the pain was enough to remind you of how dangerous the situation was. You cursed under your breath as you pressed a hand to your face, trying to stop the bleeding.

Young-il noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he shot the guard who had fired at you, his sharp eyes never leaving your form as he checked on you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah… thanks, ah shit, that hurts!” you winced, but you quickly resumed your position, peeking out to shoot, then ducking back into cover. Peak, shoot, hide. Peak, shoot, hide.

But then came the dreaded sound of an empty magazine clicking. Shit, you were out of ammo. You reached for your pockets, frantically searching for spare magazines when Hyun-ju’s voice rang through the hall. “Everyone, check your magazines!”

The tension in the air grew as you all checked your remaining rounds. It was bad for everyone—almost all of you were running on fumes, ammo running dangerously low. Even Young-il was out.

Just as you were about to panic, the radio crackled to life.

“Young-il, Dae-ho, [Name], can you hear me?” Jung-bae’s voice came through, sounding strained.

Young-il looked at you, signaling for you to cover while he responded. You nodded, raising your gun to keep the guards in check.

“Yeah, we hear you. What’s the status?” Young-il replied, his voice steady despite the chaos around you.

Jung-bae’s voice came back quickly. “I think we’re below the control room now! But we need backup and more ammo!”

“We’re running low on ammo too!” Young-il yelled.

“There should be spare magazines in the soldier’s pockets in our quarters. Go get them!” Gi-hun ordered.

“Got it!” Young-il responded immediately, turning to the group. “Did you hear that? They need backup! Four of us will go, and the rest will stay here. Join us once you’ve gotten more magazines.”

“Who wants to go with me?” Young-il asked, looking around. Without hesitation, you raised your hand, determination in your eyes. “I’ll go!”

Young-il looked at you with a troubled expression, about to argue, but before he could stop you, two other voices spoke up in agreement. Player 047 and Player 015 both volunteered to join, and Young-il, after a final look at your determined face, gave a resigned nod. “Alright, follow me.”

The four of you moved cautiously, alert as you made your way toward the stairs. The hallways were dimly lit, bathed in an eerie purple hue that made everything seem surreal, almost as though you were walking through some twisted version of reality. The stairs seemed endless, twisting upward in the haze of the purple glow.

Young-il gave the order for you three to go ahead of him, signaling you to take the lead. Without hesitation, you followed. What you didn’t notice however, was Young-il making eye contact with the CCTV camera, and silently ordering the guards—through hand signals—not to shoot you.

As you turned the corner, your eyes immediately locked onto Gi-hun and Jung-bae. Relief surged through you for a second before you remembered the danger. “Did you find the control room?” you asked, your voice a mix of urgency and hope.

“I think it's right up there, but we can’t go this way,” Gi-hun said, his voice tense. “I want you to find another way.”

“I did a scan of the layout here,” Young-il said, sounding calm, but there was a quiet determination in his voice. “I’m sure there’s a way to go around them.” He turned to you, his gaze steady but full of unspoken concern. “You stay here with Jung-bae and Gi-hun. You still have more ammo, so guard them, okay?”

You blinked, feeling your heart tighten in your chest. “What?” you asked, surprise creeping into your voice. “Are you sure about that?”

Before you could press further, Young-il’s voice softened but carried an edge of finality. “I want you guys to keep their focus on you. We’ll hit them from behind.” He paused, his gaze meeting yours for a long moment, his eyes betraying just how much this weighed on him. There was tenderness there in his look, desipte that, there was no room for argument.

You saw the worry in his eyes, but also something else—a protective instinct that almost made your heart skip a beat. You knew there was no way to change his mind so you just nodded, pushing down the tightness in your chest and grabbed your last magazine. “Take this, Young-il, and be safe.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you. “You sure?”

You nodded firmly, despite the fear gnawing at your insides. “Dae-ho will be back with more.”

His hand brushed yours as he took the magazine from you, and for a split second, it felt like time slowed down. The touch, however brief, left a lingering warmth in your palm, and when his gaze lingered on you, there was an almost imperceptible softness in his expression that made your heart flutter, even if only for a moment.

With a final, decisive nod, Young-il, 047, and 015 ran as you peeked out from the wall, your pulse racing as you provided cover for him and his team. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could feel the familiar sting of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

After a while you heard Young-il’s voice crackle over the radio: “We found it. Start attacking and draw their attention. Then we will hit them from behind.” Gi-hun’s voice followed shortly after, giving you the go signal. There was no turning back now.

Your grip on the gun tightened, and as you moved into position, you didn’t hesitate. With one last glance at Gi-hun and Jung-bae, you stepped out from your cover and opened fire, the rapid succession of shots echoing off the walls. You kept your aim steady, focusing on their movements, keeping them distracted. Each shot rang out, but the weight of the situation pressed heavily on you—your mind was focused, but there was a constant undercurrent of worry, the feeling that you were too far from where you needed to be.

It had been a few minutes since you saw Young-il. The soldiers were still there, and a tightness formed in your chest. Something wasn’t right. You pushed the thought away, staying focused on the fight at hand, but you couldn’t ignore the nagging worry. Every time the radio buzzed, your heart skipped a beat, hoping to hear something from him.

And then, your prayers were answered. Hope rushed through as your radio buzzed to life. However, everything came crashing down when heard his voice. Weak. “Gi-hun… Jung-bae… [Name]… I’m sorry…”

Your stomach dropped. You could barely breathe as the world seemed to slow around you. You grabbed for your radio with shaking hands, putting it up to your mouth as your heart raced. “S-stay where you are, Young-il. I’m coming.” The words barely left your mouth before you were already running, ignoring the shouts from Gi-hun and Jung-bae as you pushed forward.

Your feet pounded against the ground as you ran, the urgency flooding your veins. You couldn’t think. Your focus was a single thought—get to him, and get to him now. The radio fell silent as it slipped off your hands, and you were left with nothing but the sound of your breathing and your footsteps echoing in the halls.

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to accept it. But as the minutes passed, and the distance between you and your goal seemed endless, something inside you shifted. Desperation took hold of you, and with each step, it felt like you were running out of time. Tears blurred your vision, and you wiped your eyes, but the fear that gripped you didn’t let up.

You stumbled, tripping over your own feet, the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. Your mind screamed at you to keep going, but your body couldn’t take it. You hit the ground, scraping your palms. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You needed to find him.

And then, you saw it. A flash of white. A shoe, just barely visible around the corner. Your heart skipped a beat. Ignoring the pain, you propped yourself up, the desperation pushing you forward.

You ran toward it, praying, hoping—maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance. But as you turned the corner, everything seemed to stop. A sudden thud behind you—the sound of heavy footsteps, too close. You spun around just in time to see a black-clad guard standing before you.

Instinct kicked in. You raised your gun, fingers wrapped tightly around the grip, your eyes locking on the target. You squeezed the trigger, but instead of the sharp report of a shot, the only sound was the click of an empty chamber. Panic surged in your chest. You were out of ammo.

Before you could react, the guard lunged forward, and with brutal precision, he slammed the barrel of his gun into your face. The impact was jarring, sending you stumbling back, your vision spinning and your body fighting to stay upright. Blood poured from your nose, warm and thick, but you had no strength left to retaliate. The world blurred as your knees gave way beneath you, and you collapsed to the floor, the darkness swallowing you whole.

The last thing you heard was the guard’s voice, distant and cold, as he spoke into his radio: “I have Player 132.”

And then, the world went silent.

“Good.” In-ho’s voice replied, “bring her to where I am.”

As Jung-bae and Gi-hun knelt with their arms behind their heads, In-ho, wearing his uniform, walked down to greet them.

“Player 456,” he said, voice masked. “Did you have fun playing hero?”

Gi-hun looked up at the familiar voice, anger flashing across his face. Before he could respond, he watched as his enemy gestured to the black-clad guard to step forward. As the guard approached, both Jung-bae and Gi-hun’s eyes went wide. In the guard's hands was you, battered and bruised, unconscious and lifeless. Blood soaked your clothes, and your head hung limply. The guard dropped you unceremoniously to the ground. Your body hit the floor with a sickening thud, and they couldn’t look any longer, their hearts shattering at the sight. Despite only meeting each other for a short period of time, you had felt like a little sister to them, someone who had always been there, and now you were being discarded as though you meant nothing.

In-ho, unfazed, pulled out his Deagle and aimed it at your motionless body. A surge of anger flooded Gi-hun, but he was too late to stop what was happening. He had helped you through so much, and now, despite everything, he couldn’t even protect you.

“Look closely,” In-ho’s voice cut through the silence, “at the consequences of your little hero game.” Before turning the gun towards Jung-bae.

Jung-bae, his face pale with fear, barely managed to speak, his voice trembling, “Gi-hun—”

A loud bang echoed through the room, and Jung-bae’s body crumpled to the floor, lifeless, blood pooling around him.

“No!” Gi-hun screamed, unable to contain his grief. He scrambled over to Jung-bae’s body, pulling him close. His eyes then flicked to yours, and he rushed to hold you too, calling out your name in agony. “No, please...”

He tried to charge toward the masked man, his anger and desperation overpowering him, but the guards quickly tackled him, pinning him down. The sound of his cries filled the room, but none of the guards moved to stop it. He wept for both you and Jung-bae, unable to process the loss.

In-ho stood watching with cold indifference, finding satisfaction in Gi-hun’s torment. With a simple gesture of his hand, he commanded the guards to knock Gi-hun out. As the guards subdued him, In-ho turned his attention to the aftermath.

“Clean up this mess,” he ordered. The guards began clearing away the bodies, but when they reached for you, In-ho stopped them. “Leave her be.”

Once the area was cleared, In-ho instructed everyone to leave, and the guards filed out. Alone in hallway, he looked down at your peaceful face, his expression softening for a moment. He removed his glove and gently wiped the blood from your cheek.

The action seemed to rouse something in you, as your eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, you blinked, taking in the unfamiliar sight of black shoes in front of you. Your senses kicked in immediately, and with quick reflexes, you grabbed the revolver hidden beneath your shirt and aimed it at the figure in front of you.

Your finger squeezed the trigger, but instead of the expected thud of a body dropping, you heard the sharp crack of shattering glass. The CCTV camera behind the masked figure had been destroyed. The sound echoed, and for a brief moment, everything paused.

In-ho didn’t flinch. His gaze never left you, cold and unwavering. You, on the other hand, stood frozen, unable to process what had just happened. The gun in your hand felt foreign, heavy. The glass that scattered across the floor seemed to mock you—your aim had been off. You hadn’t meant to miss. But what had you really aimed for? The camera? Or something else?

His posture remained unchanged. Silent. Watching. Calculating. He didn’t seem angry or pleased. He was just... waiting.

The silence pressed down on you, suffocating. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked between the broken camera and him. You weren’t sure what you expected—more movement, an immediate response, or maybe... nothing at all. The question lingered in the air, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask it. You were waiting, too. Waiting for the next move.

Your body tensed. Was this the end? After all this was the enemy Gi-hun told you about. Every thought in your head felt like it was colliding, spinning in a storm. Taking a step back, your body reacts before your mind could catch up. What was he going to do? Was he still going to kill you?

Suddenly, the words you hadn’t even realized you were thinking slipped out, barely a whisper. “W-what do you want?” The sound of your voice startled you, hoarse and raw from everything leading up to this point.

“Answer me!”

He didn’t answer, he simply extended his arm, his palm open. A gesture. A question. It felt like he was waiting for something more than just your answer—maybe a reaction, maybe a choice. But you didn’t know if there was even one left to make.

The silence stretched out, thick and heavy. Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else. And then, for the briefest of moments, everything cleared. A strange, unsettling calm swept over you. The fear, the anxiety—it all faded, replaced by something deeper, darker. You were done running. Done fighting. It was all too much.

Without thinking, your hand lowered, the revolver slipping from the aim you had kept steady for so long. Slowly, almost in slow motion, you brought the gun to your temple. Your breath hitched, shallow and ragged, but the world around you felt distant, quieter.

It wasn’t a decision. It was a release. A way to escape all of it.

But just as you gathered the strength to pull the trigger, you heard a slight sound. The faintest of movements. The sound of unclasping. You blinked, dazed, as something shifted in the air.

His hand lowered.

And then, with slow, deliberate motion, he removed his mask.

Your heart stopped.

For a moment, everything else ceased to exist. The room, the tension, the gun still pressed against your temple—everything blurred. The world shifted.

You stared at him, unable to process what you were seeing. The face that had once been a stranger now felt... familiar. But it wasn’t supposed to be him. It couldn’t be. The man standing in front of you wasn’t the same one who had fought beside you, who had once shared your vision, your cause. No, this wasn’t him.

And yet... it was.

"...Young-il?"

The name escaped your lips like a memory you weren’t sure you wanted to reclaim. He didn’t answer. He just raised his hand again, his gesture the same, his eyes locked on yours.

It wasn’t just a question—it was an invitation.

You stared at his outstretched hand, the choice heavy in the air. The revolver trembled in your grip.

This time, the decision was yours to make.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Odyssey would have been a lot shorter if Odysseus gave the Cyclops weed instead of wine.

[prokopetz]

I am looking for something in a ttrpg that seems difficult to pull off and I'm wondering if you're aware of anyone who's made something that can handle branching timelines, overwriting of timelines, and/or stable time loops as a core functionality of play.

I'm really looking for something that actually has specific mechanical rules for repeated time travel, setting things up for a future or past version of your character to complete, multiple copies of a character existing at once, etc. any advice? even a pointer of where to look for such games or something that has rules that could be bent to accommodate time travel in a way that isn't functionally "go to another location where everyone wears silly clothes" would be greatly appreciated!

The only published tabletop RPG I'm personally aware of that's taken a serious crack at game-mechanically systematising time travel the way it's depicted working in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure – which is essentially what you're describing here – is Aetherco's now-out-of-print C°ntinuum: roleplaying in The Yet.

Coincidentally, C°ntinuum is frequently cited as a justification for why no other notable game has made a serious attempt of it since.

[harmoonix]

🩵𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘁

☆ Birthday Edition ☆

It is said that moon in water natives are born with psychic abilities. They also possess a good amount of spiritual knowledge

Planets at 29° are heavily karmic. They talk about ending something in your current lifetime. I love to call these 29° planets, the 'bloodline enders' xx

Moon x Mercury aspects. These aspects are good at communication and expression, especially if they're in good aspects like trine or sextile

Jupiter x Moon aspects, these aspects are known to make people's day feel better. They are a joy in your life, and they bring so much optimism with it, too

Moon in earth signs, they may hold a tight affection with the material world. They may have valuable things that can satisfy them or make them happy

Vesta asteroid in the 5th/7th house can make them very committed/devoted to their relationships and partner

Juno in aspects with Venus, can bring harmonious relationships between the couple and lots of affection/sensuality

Juno in the 1st house can experience marriage or relationships way younger in life. It can happen unexpectedly

Jupiter x Neptune aspects, these aspects bring a hypnotic energy to the energy. Making you tied to them and their vibe, almost refreshing

7th house lord in the 10th house would prefer to make their relationships more public, or this is a chance multiple people will know about your relationship

5th house lord in the 7th house can indicate dating when young, dating since shcool( higher school lovers), dating

Jupiter in Cancer is often found in charts whose native has a step mom/dad and even siblings (of course, it won't apply to everyone)

Moon in the 5th, 9th, 11th houses, Moon here tends to be very active and loved to interact/socialize, can be so great to hang out with them

Pluto x Mercury aspects can be very appreciated for their dark humor and personality. Showing to the world that not everything is that serious

Jupiter in the 11th house, in this house Jupiter can grant you with beautiful friendships

Jupiter x Ascendant aspects their energy is so special, natives with these aspects can often bring so much positivity in others life

Uranus x North Node aspects, you never know what to expect from life. Everything can be unpredictable and indecisive

North Node in the 7th house, their destiny can be marriage. They will definitely evolve and learn a lot from that

Moon/Neptune/Mercury in the 1st house, they can be the shy type native until you get to know them better

Venus in the 10th house, they can be known for something ex; their beauty, their personality, their appreciation, etc

Venus in Air signs, they may hang out with large groups of people, loyal to their friends, and love to meet new people

Sagittarius over their 1st/3rd/6th or 10th house can indicate they loveee to try new things because they can get bored quite fast/having multiple hobbies

A water/earth sign over their 2nd house can indicate they have a gentle/soft spoken, calm voice. Really chill natives

North Node in their 1st house can be a big indicator in finding themselves. This native needs to find his power in himself

Pluto in their 3rd house can indicate the person may have tendencies to talk dirty, loves to joke, dark humor vibe

Lilith in the 2nd or 10th house can indicate the native doesn't have much confidence in them. They need empowerment

Libra/Taurus/Pisces Moon natives, these are artisan placements. They like to create and invent things, passion for romance

Earth Risings, I know this can vary from person to person, but they have beautiful skin colors. Their skin color might be their beauty mark (all skin colors)

Saturn in water signs have issues with opening up with themselves. They love intense but they also fear to love

People with Mars x Ascendant aspects can often have marks on their body. (Can be birthmarks) but also random scratches and signs on it

Saturn at 0° degrees is born with no karmic debt from a previous life. This is because they create their own karmic life in the current one

We are in 2025!!☆ I'm so happy a new year finally started!! I hope we are all gonna have a good year! ☆☆☆ + Is my b-day today so special post 🥰

Love all 💖💖💖

[wileys-russo]

Not sure if you’re taking requests but I’m a sad and anxious American who could use a bit of happiness rn. Thank you in advance but also no worries if this doesn’t spark anything.

Just a little fluffy something with Leah or Alessia at home, “there’s no way these are vegan” after surprising them with homemade brownies

special brownies II l.williamson, a.russo

"less you can't eat brownies, we have a match tomorrow." leah reminded sternly as you carded your fingers through the moody strikers hair, her head resting in your lap as she groaned loudly at your other girlfriends words.

"yeah leah a match i have to play on my period! at least let me eat some sort of warm chocolate if i can't curl into a ball and die." alessia mumbled miserably, rolling over and pushing her face into your hoodie covered stomach.

"don't!" you mouthed at the older girl who scoffed and was clearly ready to say something that absolutely would not help the situation. "i'll make you brownies for after the game tomorrow baby, i promise." you assured alessia, rubbing her back gently as she huffed, clearly not happy but somewhat accepting of the offer.

"with ice cream?" "with ice cream." "that vanilla bean ice cream in the blue container?" "yes lessi, i will make sure to buy that exact ice cream just for you."

"you're going to bake brownies from scratch?" leah snickered, lifting your shared girlfriends legs and settling herself onto the sofa, alessia digging her heels into leahs thigh mumbling about a foot massage, making the defender roll her eyes but oblige none the less.

"yes i am. are you going to try and tell me i can't? little miss 'childrens menu'." you narrowed your eyes skeptically, feeling alessia chuckle lightly before leah squeezed her foot too hard and her head popped up to shoot her a glare.

"well babe i think we all remember the last time you tried to bake. i, at least, can admit that i am not a good cook. which is why i'm dating one and a half of them!" leah grinned, quickly assuring the grumpy striker that she was the one and you were the half.

"half!" you protested, a little pinch to your thigh meaning you resumed scratching alessia's back where you'd paused momentarily, glaring daggers at the other girl a few cushions down.

"you do your best baby, and your best is good. but maybe you could just buy some brownies? that little cafe leah loves does them with the chocolate chips, we can grab a coffee and then heat them up later after the game." alessia mumbled into your chest, patting your thigh in an attempt to show support.

"do you both really think i'm that incapable of making brownies?" you asked in disbelief, the silence in response practically deafening. "wow! well the truth comes out." you scoffed in offense, both blondes heads snapping toward you as you attempted to wiggle out from alessias grip.

"no come on love don't be like that! baking just isn't for everyone. same as football isn't for everyone or maths isn't for everyone, its fine!" alessia held on tightly, tugging you back down and shuffling her body to lay on you more as you crossed your arms.

"everyone has their own special skill set baby girl, yours just doesn't include baking. more like...burning? hey i bet if we were ever stranded on a desert island you'd be able to get a fire going!" leah was clearly trying to be on the same supportive track as your other girlfriend but failing miserably as even alessia cringed at the attempt.

"no baby she didn't mean that don't-" but this time you managed to pull yourself free and roll out from beneath alessia, shooting up to your feet and taking turns glaring at the two blondes still laid up on the sofa.

"tomorrow i will not be coming to your game. i am going to spend the afternoon here baking and you will both come home to the best fucking brownies you've ever tasted-no actually the best vegan brownies you've ever tasted because i am that confident that i can do it. even without dairy!" you announced, stomping off to go sulk by yourself and look up some recipes.

"wait but babe you're still going to get regular ice cream right? not vegan ice cream? right? babe!"

~

you'd been so confident, you really had, which had made the fall from grace and back into reality a difficult one.

the reality that your girlfriends doubts weren't so far fetched and you might not actually be capable of baking, all the more prickly an acceptance to swallow.

which is what had lead to this disgustingly sneaky switch, the evidence of your previous three attempts scattered strategically around the kitchen for your lovers to see, and the evidence of the store bought brownies you'd rushed out to buy instead well hidden at the very bottom of the trash bins.

you'd just taken them out of the microwave to warm them up, very carefully stacking them up on a plate when you heard alessia's car in the driveway, leah playing passenger princess today.

they'd done their best this morning to grovel and sweet talk and try their very hardest to change your mind about coming to the game but you were stubborn by nature and once it was made up there wasn't much to be done to change it.

so they'd trudged off to the match like kicked puppies and you'd spent your afternoon burning chocolate and yelling at the oven trying to shift the blame before inevitably accepting your fate.

however you'd made such a fuss and a point both last night and this morning about your abilities that you may have accepted your fate, but you had no intent on letting your girlfriends do the same, the art of deception hopefully saving you the further embarrassment of eating your words with an audience.

"you did it!" alessias eyes lit up as she entered the kitchen first, hair damp and scraped up into a bun. "congratulations on the hat trick baby." you smiled, pecking her lips a few times before her loving gaze dropped down to the sweet treats on the counter.

"i think she plays better on her period." leah mused as she wandered in, the younger blonde shooting her a dirty look in response as leah kissed her cheek apologetically and wrapped you in a hug.

"you're so much prettier when you don't talk." you teased, squeezing her face in your hand with a wink as leah pulled a face and blew a raspberry on your cheek.

"less!" you laughed, turning around a few seconds later and already finding the striker with a mouthful of brownie, crumbs down the front of her hoodie and a blissed out look on her face.

"what? i was promised these!" she defended still with a mouthful of food making you wince and push her lightly. "yes you were babe and you more than earned them." you chuckled, leah reaching around you to take one for herself.

"babe there's no way these are vegan!" the milton keynes local scoffed after a mere sniff causing your eyes to roll as she took a cautious bite. "are too." you gestured your arms around to the plethora of substitutes piled around the kitchen as leah hummed skeptically.

"just tell her she did a good job, shut up, and stuff your face with chocolate leah." alessia defended, hugging you from behind as you smiled gratefully and kissed her jaw, pushing away from her as she shoved the other half of the baked good into her mouth and sent crumbs showering down on you.

"well i need a quick shower but ice creams in the freezer-" you kissed alessia's cheek since her lips were preoccupied making out with a brownie.

"-whipped creams in the fridge." you pecked leahs lips knowingly. "oi!" the defender grabbed at you as your hand collected with her ass with a wink, escaping to the bathroom for a shower and leaving them to their brownies.

which may have been a mistake.

when you returned it was to a welcomingly quiet living room, both of your blondes laid on the lounge watching a film, which judging by the bored look on leahs face and the concentrated one on alessia's, the film had been the strikers choice.

offering them both a cup of tea which was met with a resoundingly quick yes from each you disapeared to the kitchen, not hearing leah get up to follow you much to alessia's grumpy protests at being left alone.

"you know babe i noticed something very interesting about your brownies." leah hummed causing you to jump a little not having thought anyone was with you, flicking the kettle on to boil and raising an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"well you know i love a good jigsaw, yeah?" leah questioned, grabbing the plate of brownies which was remarkably untouched given alessia's desire to inhale the lot of them just moments before you ducked off for a shower.

"but with a jigsaw, all the pieces...have to match up." leah nodded down as your eyes dropped, leah having lined up the brownies which sure enough weren't even close to matching up together the way they would if you'd baked them in the tray you'd claimed to.

"well thats because-" "oh no no my girl, i wasn't asking." leah interrupted with a shake of her head and a finger pressed to your lips. "i know you didn't bake those, and they sure as shit aren't vegan." leah smirked knowingly, pulling your body closer into hers as she leaned down, lips ghosting your own as right as you tried to kiss her she pulled away, smirk growing wider as her hands slipped up your hoodie.

"the only question i want the answer to is, how are you going to make it up to us for lying baby?"

[luvmanifesting]

PURE CONSCIOUSNESS 101

what exactly IS pure consciousness? well its a state of consciousness where you’re detached from the 3D and mainly aware of the 4D. your 4D is anything that is within you. (imagination, inner conversations, playing a song in your head..etc etc) THAT is your 4D, you can induce pure consciousness at any time of the day and absolutely anywhere. most people prefer to induce pure consciousness at night because thats when the body becomes more relaxed in preparation for sleep. you can always set the intention to wake up in pure consciousness, fall asleep and then lucid dream and THEN induce pure consciousness or sleep paralysis (i don’t really recommend sleep paralysis) but hey, do what makes you comfortable. you may think that its too good to be true but its not, everyone has the ability to induce pure consciousness because its simply a meditative process. the traditional way people induce pure consciousness on TUMBLR is usually by closing your eyes and repeating the phrases “I AM” or “I am in the void state” or “i am pure consciousness” it doesn’t matter what affirmation you use just as long as its the intention of inducing it. you cannot fail this because it is impossible. news flash.. you induce pure consciousness as soon as you fall asleep every night.

you cannot force pure consciousness thats a thing most of you guys do, you wanna rush because you desperately wanna show your haters wrong. stop that, you don’t force yourself to sleep right? you don’t force yourself to breathe.. so stop trying to force pure consciousness. that will only keep you in the awake state. (awake state being you reading this right now and everything you see around you).

whats also common when people wanna induce pure consciousness is they wonder when they’ll start getting symptoms (floaty feeling, tingling, senses going out) etc, guys that’s simply just your brain checking to see if you’re awake, one of the reasons you “tap out” of pure consciousness was because you placed your awareness back on your body. as soon as your senses go out then you’re there. theres no “but i got floaty feelings and then i affirmed and i got nothing” well then you were not pure consciousness. and then theres your fear that comes into play whenever inducing pure consciousness.

you’re scared of failing, (you literally can’t fail a mediative state this isn’t rocket science) you’re panicking because you swore to yourself you would induce pure consciousness over the break and live your dream life and then you didn’t. *loud heavy sigh* you can’t fail this guys, its okay to be worried but this isn’t something that just can never not work for you.

now lets see pure consciousness from a law of an assumption pov, as we all know our best friend is law of assumption, works instantly and effectively. all you have to do is assume. “well ayami how do i assume?”. my response would be that the sky is glittery with magical rainbows. you would reply with “no its not” i would reply “yes it is” 1 second later the sky is glittery and has magical rainbows. why? because it was my assumption. i didn’t need any stupid proof, it was my assumption so it had no choice to happen. now if you told me “ugh im such a master at inducing pure consciousness” and i said “no you aren’t” you are NOT going to say “oh you’re right im not” YOU ARE GOING TO SAY “um what’re talking about yes i am? you’re just jealous i can induce it instantly and effortlessly”. okay now bam you can instantly and effortlessly induce pure consciousness whenever you want because thats your assumption and you stood firm to it no matter what was said or shown to you. starting NOW you will assume that you’re a master at inducing pure consciousness and you will stand firm in that state no matter what the hell is shown.

now go induce pure consciousness.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 LOVERS ROCK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: there are very few things that leave dazai osamu at a loss for answers. you are one of them. more specifically, it's your relationship (is this a relationship?) with him that has him so disconcerted, and dazai is getting to his breaking point.

(wordcount: 3.6k; nsfw [kind of, very suggestive so will label nsfw], ada!reader, dazai has SEVERE trust issues & paranoia, this is set like half a year after he joined the ada, dazai also has a bad relationship with sex that is mentioned in his narration, he is terrible at communication too, accidentally hurts reader a little [nothing major])

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hiiiiiii guys <.< so i'm actually really proud of this ehehe. this is a universe that i'm tempted to expand on like wykyk, but we'll see.

Dazai hates giving up control. 

Ever since he was a kid, he’s been hyper-independent. First with his family, because they were never around and he had to learn to be self-sufficient otherwise he’d die a slow, painful death. Then in the Port Mafia, he quickly learned that asking for help is a weakness and being dependent on others is a vulnerability that people would take advantage of to subvert his influence and usurp his position as an underboss. As long as he’s remembered, it was all but a death sentence to rely on any other than himself. 

It wasn't until he became a member of the Agency that he finally began to allow himself to depend on others—banking on Ranpo and his mind, Kunikida and his ideals, Yosano and her tenacity. But even then, he never allowed himself to lose complete control over a situation, drawing things out in a way that would always leave him with a firm hand guiding the chess board. 

Until he met you, at least.

He wasn’t sure what made you so different—he still isn’t entirely sure, it’s a thought that frequently plagues him, and because of it, he can never allow himself to be fully comfortable with you. You joined the Agency a month after him with lips that spoke pretty words and gave him even prettier smiles. You’d been kind to everyone, but Dazai likes to think you were especially kind to him. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Dazai liked the idea of it.

Well, he didn’t at first. 

In fact, he was rather hostile to it. To you. The longing he felt for the casual, soft touches you laid upon the other members of the Agency felt more like a weakness than anything else. It scared him. He’d never desired anything of the sort before, he’d always been okay on his own—thrived in it, really—and now he was suddenly seeking you out at all hours of the day, and he didn’t even fully understand why. Every time he sought you out, it ended poorly with him saying something uncalled for and your expression twisting as you tried to hide your hurt. 

And yet he still continued to seek you out. He made the same mistake over and over again: constantly forcing himself into your space after getting jealous watching you doll out casual affection to the other detectives, waiting for you to give him the same attention, and then lashing out in some manner when you finally did.

He supposed it didn’t help that Dazai was uncomfortable in general with people touching him, which naturally made him even more hostile because why was he longing for something that made him uncomfortable? 

He also still isn’t sure how you managed to break through all of his walls—or why you even persisted when it became clear that he was at best incompetent when it comes to dealing with real emotions, and at worst, borderline malicious. 

But you did. And it scared him. Scares him.

Dazai lets out a shaky breath when he feels your lips ghost against his neck, fingers twisting the sheets below him. Your hands are sliding against his sides, gentle and soothing, and a part of him wants to melt into the sheets while another part of him wants to flip the two of you around, press you back down into the mattress and rip control over the situation back from you.

As if you can sense his conflict—maybe you can, Dazai has come to realize that unlike everyone else at the Agency, who he can fool with his mask of exaggerated dramatics and clownlike behavior, that you had somehow learned how to see right through him—you pause for the sparest moment and trace your lips back up his neck to brush them against his own, soft and comforting, as if to soothe his discord.

And it works somehow. Dazai doesn’t know how you do it because he can’t even quell his own mind when it starts to spin out of control, but the brush of your lips against his is enough to ground him again. 

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, eyes searching his face for the answers that he knew his lips might not give.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice rough and cracking over the word. 

He thinks maybe a part of it is the way you always check on him to make sure he’s doing alright. For Dazai, sex has only ever been transactional—he was young when he was first carted off to a whorehouse so he could be taught how to use his body for intel and other miscellaneous advantages. No matter how hard he tried to enjoy it, he always found it to be underwhelming at best and loathsome at worst. And he did try to enjoy it, he forced himself to seek out women in his free time to try to learn to enjoy the activity that so many other people seem to find comfort and pleasure in. 

It wasn’t until you that he could.

His first time with you was earth shattering. He’s not exaggerating when he says it completely altered his perspective on intimacy. It was embarrassing, almost—he remembers giving you quick, flirty smiles, and he remembers the sly comments he whispered to you at the bar the members of the Agency were at to celebrate Yosano’s birthday. 

He knew that morning that he wanted you in his bed by nightfall—partly because he thought it would get you out of his system, that maybe all he needed was a good fuck to stop acting like he was brainless whenever you were around, and partly because he was curious. He was curious to know if that genuine demeanor of yours continued behind closed doors, or if it was all just a mask you liked to put up in public. 

Dazai’s hands were on you before the two of you even left for the night—they were creeping up your inner thigh, lingering on your bicep, he was resting his chin on your shoulder as he stood behind you, warding off any man that might try to approach you with cold looks you couldn’t catch. Eventually, like he planned, you asked him if he wanted to go back to your apartment, and Dazai agreed, of course, eager to get his questions answered. Eager to free himself of whatever shackles you’ve put on him.

And it all went downhill from there.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, frown deepening and hands stilling on his waist when you don’t find an answer you like on his face.

Dazai tries to play it off—you’re here for sex, not all of his unstable thoughts. He gives you a practiced smile and slips his hand under your shirt to rest on your lower back, pulling you firmer against him—an easy tactic, one of the first he learned to distract his partner when he slips up.

He should have known better than to think you would fall for it.

Instead of returning to the lingering line of kisses you were leaving on his neck, you sit back to study him, and Dazai feels seen. He shifts under your scrutinizing gaze, averting his eyes to the ceiling and counting the seconds that pass as he waits for you to ask that dreaded question. 

“What's wrong?” you ask him quietly.

Dazai can evade it. He knows that he can—even if the sex is ruined, because he knows you’re not going to have sex with him if you think something is wrong, he can evade this question by refusing to answer. You never press it, although sometimes your lips curve down in a disappointed frown that makes him feel even worse than before.

But Dazai finds himself hesitating.

“I-“ he starts to say before cutting himself off abruptly, horrified by the realization that he was just about to admit to you what he was thinking. “Nothing.” 

The anticipation that had sprung to your eyes when he started to speak dissipates when he blows you off, and it makes his chest tighten. He feels your thighs tense and knows you’re about to get off of him, so his hands fly to your hips to keep you in place.

“Something,” he corrects, voice just a little too raspy for comfort. “… Something.”

You settle back down on top of him, tilting your head to the side. 

“Tell me?” you offer quietly, your hands drop to his arms, sliding up and down the bandages that cover his forearms slowly. Soothingly. He hates it.

“I just don’t understand this,” Dazai admits. “It’s… confusing.”

It's possibly the first time he’s ever spoken these words out loud. It’s a weakness he’s never allowed anyone to be aware of—even when Dazai has no idea what’s going on, he’s careful to put up an impenetrable facade of confidence, one that even the keenest eyes can’t see through.

And here he is, bare of masks and facades, admitting his weakness plainly to someone who could easily take advantage of it.

Oh.

“This as in…?” you prompt with a pondering frown.

Is that it?

“This,” he repeats more insistently as his mind races. “Us.”

You, he accuses silently.

You have the ability to destroy him. Dazai realizes, disconcerted, that this is what is confusing him. He's allowed himself to be weak in front of you. He's lowered all of his guards. He's let you in through his many walls of defenses. You’ve settled down in the treacherous beating thing in his chest that he’s tried to rip out too many times to count, and Dazai waits for you to take advantage of it. He waits for this to go wrong. Waits for you to prove yourself to be a Trojan Horse in the form of dazzling smiles and a beautiful face. 

But you don’t, and that’s what Dazai just can’t understand. He doesn’t understand what you’re getting out of this—he knows what he’s getting out of it. He’s getting comfort, he’s able to pretend he’s capable of being loved, he gets you. But you’re not getting anything out of this, so he feels like he’s just been biding time before the other shoe drops.

“… What about us do you not understand?” You sound perplexed, and it agitates Dazai. Worse, you can tell it agitates him because immediately you run your thumb over the pulse point on his wrist to soothe him. You add quickly with a small smile, “I'm not understanding now, help me?”

It is beyond disconcerting that even though he knows it was a ploy to distract and soothe him, it works anyway. Dazai needs to do something about this.

“What do you get out of this?” Dazai decides to ask the question plainly instead of dancing around his words, partially because of the agitation and partially because he just needs an answer. Desperately. “What do you get out of what’s going on between us? I don't understand why you keep agreeing to meet me, why you initiate it sometimes. I need to know what it is you get."

Sex is transactional—it always is. Each party has to get something out of it, and if you don't know what the other is getting, then you have made a perilous mistake somewhere along the line. Dazai has known this since the beginning, but he allowed himself too long to bask blindly in the comfort of your arms and bed. He can’t keep doing this without knowing what you’re getting, It’ll come back to haunt him.

You’re still confused by his question even with the explanation, he can see it in the way the thoughts race behind your eyes as you try to piece it together. 

Eventually you settle on a smile that’s almost playful as you answer with, “You?”

Dazai’s frown deepens at your words, his expression becomes a bit colder. He thinks you’re evading the question because you don’t want to answer it, and that’s dangerous. You joined the Armed Detective Agency not long after him—were you a plant sent to get close to him by one of his old enemies? By Mori? His thoughts start to spiral dangerously. These are questions he should’ve been having months ago when you first joined the Agency, not now. 

“What are you really getting?” His grip on your hips tightens. “Tell me. Stop avoiding the question.”

Your expression becomes a bit more alarmed when he closes off from you, he thinks maybe his grip on your hips might be painful from your wince but he can’t afford to let go until he has his answer. 

“You, Dazai,” you say again, more insistently this time. “I get you. I get to spend time with you. be with you. That’s what I get.”

“But why?” Dazai presses, raising his voice, holding you tighter. He is hurting you now, he can tell from the way you try to bat his hands away, but he couldn’t let go if he wanted to. His blood pressure is rising as he realizes how badly he might have messed up. All of Ango’s efforts—Odasaku’s last request—all down the drain because of one mistake. “Why? What information are you trying to get? Who sent you? Who are you work-“

“What?” you demand. The confusion in your eyes is almost believable—Dazai thinks you must’ve been sent by someone important if you’re this good of an actress. His thoughts track back to Mori and his mind starts to fog with fury. “Who sent me? What are you-Dazai-I want you because I care about you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

The fog clears, Dazai stares at you blankly, hands loosening on your hips. He's not sure he heard you correctly, so he says: “What did you just say?”

Your expression softens a bit, and you repeat, “I care about you. I want you because I care about you.”

“No, you don’t,” Dazai says immediately. Instinctually.

“Yes, I do.” Dazai has never seen you get irritated before, but your face twists when he instantly denies your words. “I do, Dazai.”

“You don’t,” he insists. “You can’t. You don’t even know me, you don't care about me.”

He thinks he almost would have preferred that you had some ulterior motive to this. He hates the way his chest swells with hope—hope is dangerous, more dangerous than any other emotion. Fear, anger, sadness, none of it compares to the light that tries to bloom within his rotted chest. He tries to cut it off before it can spread, but it’s notoriously hard to snuff out; it clings to anything it can get a hold on even as he tries to push it away. 

The idea is… more tempting than he expected. It’s concerning, that should be enough to clear his head, but it’s not. His fingers cling to your shirt desperately, he searches your face, trying to find the sparest indication that you may be lying.

He finds none.

Still, Dazai knows better. He knows this won’t last. you’ll find out who he was, all of the things he did, and then you’ll leave him. You’ll see him for what he is, and you’ll leave him. This will never last. 

Nothing good ever does for him. 

“But I do care about you,” you insist, and you’re cruel now, because you reach out to cup his cheek and Dazai leans into your touch. He can’t help himself from it. “I care about you deeply, Dazai.”

“You can’t,” he repeats, and to his horror, his voice wavers. “You don’t know who I am, you don’t know what I’ve done, and when you do-“

“We all have skeletons in our closet, Dazai,” you interrupt him quietly. “I don't think there’s a single ability user out there that doesn’t. I don't need to know your past to know I care about you.”

That’s not true, he wants to say, but can’t force the words out. Instead, he says hoarsely, “It would change how you see me. I'm not who you think I am. I’m-”

A monster. A demon. His blood is black—has been since the day he was born, will be until the day he dies. He is not someone who should be cared for. He's someone who should be left to rot, someone the world would be better off without. He doesn’t deserve this, not when there are so many other people in the world who are unfailingly good and do deserve it. 

“It won’t,” you say again, but Dazai knows it’s not true, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know how awful he is. You don’t give him the chance to protest though. “I care about who you are today. I care about who you are tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. Not who you were months ago. The past is the past, Dazai, leave it there.”

“It's not that simple,” he rasps. 

“It can be,” you say softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, “if you let it.”

“It can’t be that simple,” he disagrees. There’s an odd lilt to the voice—pleading, almost, begging you not to give him hope only to rip it away when the truth inevitably comes to light. “It can’t.”

“It can for us,” you tell him again, and Dazai finds himself believing you. Wanting to believe you. Wanting to believe things can just be that simple. That easy. 

“Why?” Dazai breathes out, eyes searching your face for answers. “Why me? Why not someone…”

Someone better. Someone good. Someone deserving. 

“Because you’re you,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, you lean down to ghost your lips against his and it fogs his brain with a pleasant warmth he’s only ever felt with you. “Do I need a reason more than that?”

Dazai wants to say yes, because him being him is a reason for you to not want him. He’s despicable, he’s cruel, he lashed out at you for weeks all the while forcing himself into your space because he wanted to be near you but didn’t understand why. 

“I love your smile,” you say, thumb running along his bottom lip, “and I love even more when I’m the reason for it.”

“But-“

“And I love your eyes,” you continue, fingers trailing up his face to trace under his eyes. “I think they’re the prettiest shade of brown I’ve ever seen.”

“I know that’s not true,” he rasps—he knows very well that his eyes are unnerving, too black and too empty. People have been unable to look him in the eye for long even when he was a kid. “I-“

“But most of all, it’s just you,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. “You make me happy. I like being around you. I always look forward to the time we get to spend together—missions, at work, after work. I’ll take you in whatever way I can get, Dazai.”

You don’t let him avert his gaze this time, you force him to look at you, force him to see the truth of your words reflected in the adoration on your face. No one has ever looked at him like this before, and it makes him feel bare. Seen. He’s always felt seen with you, but never like this.

“I was… mean to you.” He still tries to argue with you, lashes fluttering shut. “I was cruel for months because-“

You laugh at him. “Mean? You were like a puppy trying to snap at my hand to scare me off.”

Dazai gapes. “A puppy?” he demands, seriously offended. “Don’t compare me to a dog. I’m more like a… A…”

“A…?” you press, a pretty smile flickering at your lips.

“A panther,” he supplies confidently.

“A kitten,” you correct.

Dazai groans dramatically, flinging his head back, but he finds himself smiling. He finds his chest full of warmth, light and bubbly, and when he looks back up at you to meet your eyes, he finds the same emotion swimming on your face. He thinks again that no one has ever looked at him like this before—not with such fondness, not with adoration, not with…

No, Dazai doesn’t dare think that word.

“I care about you too,” he admits. He’s hesitant, like he’s scared to say the words out loud.

“Even with all of the skeletons hidden in my closet?” you tease, leaning down to brush your lips against his again, and then a second time, and then a third. He basks in it, eyes sliding shut as you kiss him gently—it takes a few moments for your words to register.

“They’re not worse than mine,” he replies, the pads of his fingers running up and down your thighs absently. After a couple of seconds pass, he asks, “… What skeletons do you have?”

You tilt your head to the side and say playfully, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Dazai isn’t ready for that, so he just tosses you a smile and a wink before murmuring, “How about you show me something else instead?”

You laugh at that, tossing your head back and giggling so genuinely that your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound. His lips part to make another suggestive comment, but he finds himself breathless at the sight of you. 

You’re beautiful, and Dazai can’t help but think again that he doesn’t deserve this. You.

“Deal,” you agree.

This time when you lean down to press your lips against his, Dazai’s hands are content to rest on your thighs. His fingers don’t itch to wrangle control from you, and his mind isn’t plagued with paranoia-induced thoughts.

He thinks, maybe, that he can get used to this. Used to you.

[mytherapyisreading14]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Spencer gets jealous when you work together with a police officer on your current case.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut, some Angst and Fluff (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, making out in public, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), multiple orgasms, creampie, dom!spencer (kinda)

Word Count: 6,5k

Author’s Note: I spent the whole week writing this one even though I should be studying for my final exam next week (not stressed enough to study yet oops) and don’t really like how it turned out even though I don’t know why. I rewrote it a couple of times but I think I’m just gonna leave it like that. Check out my other work here.

Spencer sits at his desk, his brow furrowed and his eyes fixed on the situation happening in front of him. It looks like a normal day at the office — the sounds of keys being typed, phones ringing, and the hum of the coffee machine. But at that moment, Spencer is oblivious to all of it. His gaze is fixed on the table next to the window, and he can’t take his eyes off the scene.

A police officer, a young, good-looking man named James, is having an animated conversation with you — his colleague, friend, and the woman he’s been in love with for years. The conversation seems relaxed and full of laughter, as if you two are sharing funny stories from your personal lives. You laugh again and again, a gleam in your eyes that he knows all too well.

But that’s not all. James reaches for the documents he wants to hand you, and as he does, his hand touches yours for a moment. The touch is fleeting, almost accidental, but Spencer feels an uncomfortable sensation spreading through him — jealousy. “She’s laughing... he’s making her laugh,” Spencer mutters grimly to himself, still staring at you.

"What's wrong?" he suddenly hears Luke’s voice, who sits down at his desk with a smile. Luke has been watching Spencer for a while without him noticing. Spencer tries to concentrate, wiping his hand over his mouth as if that would drive away the thoughts. But it doesn’t help.

"Nothing," he grumbles, not moving. “Oh yeah?" Luke asks, grinning crookedly. "You know, you look like you're about to explode with anger at any moment. Can't you see you're driving yourself crazy?" Spencer was about to get upset, but he decides to stay calm.

“I... I'm just concentrating on my work," Spencer mumbles, his gaze constantly drifting toward you. Luke grins, knowing exactly what’s going on. "If you really want her, you'll have to do more than just watch." Spencer blinks. "What?" he asks. “You have to show everyone that she's no longer available. Put a ring on her finger, and the officer won’t come near her anytime soon," he says to tease him.

Spencer feels his throat go dry. Ring? That is the point where he perks up. He is about to say something else when suddenly a new laugh from you reaches him. James just made a joke — and you are laughing again. Spencer can no longer just watch. Hearing you laugh at something he said feels like a punch to his stomach.

“That's enough!" he growls, standing up abruptly, anger boiling up inside him. Luke raises an eyebrow and watches him. "Are you all right, man?" Spencer walks over to you without further ado. You are sitting at the desk, James just left to get more files, and your eyes are fixed on the stack in front of you. Spencer steps in front of you with firm steps.

“Do you have a minute?" he asks, his voice much calmer than he feels, while he tries not to make the words sound too harsh. He tries not to let jealousy flash in his eyes. You look up and smile at him, completely unaware of what is going on inside him. "Sure, Spencer. What's up?" you ask. “We need to talk." The quiet jealousy inside him is like a cold, steady pressure.

It isn’t just the flirting between you and James. It’s the way he looks at you, the way you react to him — having a conversation with the only woman he really wants. Spencer takes a deep breath and keeps his gaze on yours. “In private,” he adds when you make no sign of standing up. You look at him, confused. “Uhm… okay,” you say, and follow him.

Spencer and you are now standing behind the closed door of the small office. The room suddenly seems much smaller than it usually does. The air is heavy, almost uncomfortable, and Spencer has already turned around, his gaze returning to you. “So, how far along are you with the files?" Spencer asks harshly, phrasing the question less out of interest and more like a challenge. The words come quickly, almost too quickly.

“We're halfway through," you answer calmly, as if you don’t even notice the tension. “Halfway through?" Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, the lines on his face stiffening. "Damn, we should be much further along! We barely have any time left, and you're spending all your time with him instead of focusing on work!" You blink in surprise. "What are you talking about? James? We're well organized and work together. What's going on now?" you ask, confused.

“Oh, come on,” Spencer continues, now visibly upset. “The guy isn’t even interested in working on the documents. He’s just using the whole thing to flirt with you. It’s all just a game for him. And you’re falling for it!” He clenches his hands into fists. “He’s only doing this because he wants to get you into his bed, and he has no idea about the work we’re supposed to be doing here!” Spencer shouts.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. A spark of anger shoots up inside you, and you take a step closer to him. “That’s not true, Spencer,” your tone is sharp now, the words harsh and disregarding the tension between you. “We just get along well, okay? That’s all!” you say.

“Oh, really?” Spencer snorts derisively and shakes his head. “You know exactly what he wants. And it has nothing to do with work, you can be sure of that. He talks to you, flirts with you, and you let it all go like nothing’s happening!” He spits out each word as if he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

You feel your heart rate increase. You clench your fists now too. "You have no idea, Spencer!" you hiss. Your anger continues to grow the more you hear his words echoing in your head. "You have no idea what's really going on here, and most importantly, it’s none of your business, okay? You are not my boyfriend." You secretly hope that he will object and tell you that this is what he wants, but he just keeps looking at you.

The air between you is electric, so thick and charged that it almost feels like it could explode. Spencer stares at you, his face tense, but you can see a mixture of anger and... disappointment in his eyes. But when you said that it was none of his business, it seemed as if something inside him was breaking. You can see it in his eyes.

"I understand..." he says with a bitter smile, but it sounds more like disappointment than an answer. You can’t stay in that place any longer. You want to get out of that room, away from him, from this tense situation, from his accusations. You just leave him standing there, without another word. You open the door and quickly leave the room, heading back to the office, where the rest of the team is still going about their daily lives.

-

Spencer sits at his desk, his eyes fixed on the maps in front of him, but his thoughts are everywhere — except at work. His gaze keeps drifting to the desk where you are sitting with James. You’re speaking to each other; he says something, and you laugh. Again. Spencer can’t stand it. The thought that this guy is getting closer and closer to you burns inside him like fire.

The moment you left the small office is burned into his memory. Your words, his reaction — it had all been a blow to him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He felt hurt, disappointed, and even though he buried it deep inside, he knows that something inside him had broken.

At that moment, Luke appears again. He leans casually against the table, watching Spencer for a while before breaking the silence. "You look like you’ve just been through some personal drama," he says with a crooked grin that lightens the atmosphere but doesn’t obscure the seriousness of Spencer's face. "What happened, man? What’s wrong with you? Is it because of these two?" he asks and points over to you and James.

Spencer sighs and wipes his hand across his face before slowly turning back. "Nothing. It’s nothing." But even he knows he can’t hide behind that answer. “Come on," Luke urges, sitting down on the edge of the desk and leaning back. "I saw that. You’re not just annoyed. You look like you’ve just been through an argument. What happened?"

Spencer slowly turns Luke and shakes his head. "It’s... nothing important." He feels like admitting it would only weaken him further, so he continues in a short, clipped tone, "She’s just... she doesn’t understand me. I told her not to talk to the guy. And she... she doesn’t want to listen. So what?” Luke looks at him in silence for a moment. Then he snorts softly.

“You know, Spencer," he begins in a serious tone, "you both just have to stop ignoring what’s obvious." Spencer stares at him, unsure of what to say next. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer says. “Oh, come on," Luke says, looking straight at him. "You’re in love with her, and she’s in love with you. You two are just ignoring it like a couple of idiots."

Spencer blinks, his eyes widening for a moment as if the thought of Luke saying that caught him completely off guard. "What?" he blurts out. "What are you talking about? That’s not true. I’m not in love with her. I’m just trying protect her from getting hurt by that idiot.”

Luke leans in closer. "You look at her like she could change your life, and you roll your eyes every time James or another man is around, like it’s a personal attack on your precinct. And her? She’s just as torn, but she won’t admit it." Luke takes a moment before adding, "You two act like you're untouchable, like it’s just a working relationship, but that’s not true. You want each other. So stop lying to each other’s eyes."

Spencer opens his mouth, trying to say something, but then nothing comes to mind. What should he say? It’s the truth. But admitting that feels like losing all control. He feels weak and hurt, and the thought that Luke could see through it so easily doesn’t make it any better.

"I..." Spencer begins, but stops before he can reveal anything else. Instead, he turns back to his map and stares at the documents in front of him. He can’t look at Luke. "Just let it go," he says finally, his tone harsh. "I have to keep working; there’s still a lot to do." Luke sighs and shakes his head as he steps down from Spencer's desk. "You’re a stubborn man sometimes, you know that?" he says with a grin that shows no joy. "But if you keep getting in your own way, it’s no wonder you're wearing yourself out so much."

Spencer hears Luke walking away. But even now, Spencer can’t free himself from the thoughts that torment him. All this time, he believed he could control his feelings for you. But now that Luke brought it up so directly, he became painfully aware that he had become embroiled in something far more complicated than he had ever wanted to admit.

He looks back over to your desk, where you and James are still talking, but this time in a more relaxed manner. Spencer can almost feel the look James is giving you — and it’s driving him crazy. He snorts and tries to focus back on his work, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. You are in his head, over and over, always have been. And the more he tries to ignore it, the stronger the feeling becomes. He can’t escape it.

At the end of the day, Spencer and you avoid each other. Spencer sinks back into his work, conversations with you are kept to a minimum, and at some point, you and James disappear together into a meeting that Spencer doesn’t even try to follow. It’s as if they are the only two sharing the room, while Spencer is lost in the loneliness in his head.

-

When all the work is finally done, the team decides to go to a bar to end the evening in a relaxed manner. Luke is now trying to persuade him to come along. "A little relaxation, a beer – that's good for everyone," he says. “Come on," Luke says. "You've been thinking about her and your stupid fight all day. A little fresh air, a beer, and a few relaxed conversations – that will do you good. And besides... it's always better to hang out with us than to sit around alone, right?" he asks.

"I don't know, man," Spencer grumbles as he stares at his book. "I'm really not in the mood to talk to people today." Luke shakes his head. "You say that every time. Come on. I'll get you a beer, and then we'll talk about something else. Otherwise, you'll go crazy!" Spencer sighs and looks at Luke.

"Will she be there too?" he asks, and Luke nods. Spencer knows you’ll still be mad at him, but he's a little relieved because it means that if you’re at the bar, at least you won't be spending the evening alone with James.

And even though Spencer doesn’t really want to be around, it’s way better than sitting in his room, thinking about you. So he gives in. "Okay, okay, I'll come with you. But if it gets too much for me, I'll leave," he says. “All right," Luke replies, immediately setting off and clapping his hands happily.

-

When they enter the bar, the mood is relaxed, and the music in the background isn’t too loud. It is a nice place – exactly what Spencer needs to clear his head. The stress of the day is suddenly far away, and he feels a little bit better. But when he looks around the room, he pauses for a moment.

At a table at the back of the bar, there are all the people from the police team they are working with on the current case. Spencer stops abruptly when he spots them. And to his horror, he notices that James– the guy who had been getting on his nerves all day – is there too.

But that isn’t the worst part. What upsets Spencer most is the sight of you. You are sitting right next to James again. He has a charming expression on his face as he explains something to you, and everything about his body language screams, "I'm interested in you." Spencer feels the wave of jealousy and frustration building up inside him again. "What the hell...?" he mutters quietly as he turns to look at Luke. "What are they doing here?"

Luke, who is heading towards the bar, looks around in confusion, then at Spencer. "What?" he asks. “All the people from the police team... and James. Why the hell are they here?" Spencer snorts as he tries to stay calm, but anger is seething inside him. Luke blinks and then looks around at the faces as well. "Uh..." he finally says, scratching his head.

“I didn't know they were invited too. I thought this was just for us. Really...?" He is visibly surprised. "That's weird. Well, whatever. We're here, they're here – it's not the end of the world, is it?" Luke says. “At least not for you," Spencer says and rolls his eyes. “I didn't know, man," Luke says apologetically. "If you want, we can leave. But I thought you wanted to distract yourself a little. Come on, it'll be fine."

Spencer really just wants to get out, but he knows he can’t just disappear without being noticed. The whole group already saw them, and it would be even weirder to just turn around and leave. So he takes a deep breath to stay calm. “I'm staying," Spencer finally says, even though the thought of just standing there almost drives him mad. "But if that guy talks to her like that again, then..."

"You're exaggerating," Luke says, patting Spencer on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to drink first, okay? That will make it easier to bear." Spencer nods, even though he feels the restlessness inside him. “I urgently need something to drink.” Luke grabs two beers for them, while Spencer just stands there, trying hard not to look in the direction of the table where you and James are sitting.

But every time his gaze happens to wander there, he feels his muscles tense. James is still talking to you, and this time he seems to be paying particular attention to you. Spencer can practically feel Jame’s gaze – the gaze of a man who wants more. “Man, you really have to relax. Running around like a caged tiger all the time isn't going to help you,” Luke says.

“The problem is, I don’t want to see him making out with her,” Spencer admits. “I mean, what the hell? We're working on the same case, and he..." He exhales sharply. "That guy is the last person I want to get along with."

Luke shakes his head, but his grin slowly disappears. "Okay, I understand. But if you really want to prevent him from getting involved with her, you have to pull yourself together, otherwise everything will just revolve around him. Just relax. Drink something, talk to the others. And if you really want to change something, you have to do something instead of just staring."

Spencer nods, but the restlessness inside him remains. While Luke puts the beer in front of him, Spencer continues to stare in the direction of the table where you and James are sitting, while an unpleasant feeling does not leave him alone. When Luke goes over to sit down at table next to yours where Rossi, Matt and Tara are sitting, he follows him lost in his thoughts.

-

Your POV

The evening in the bar is slowly dragging on, and you try to relax as much as possible. But despite the conversations and the more relaxed mood, there is this one constant feeling that you can't shake off: Spencer's gaze. You feel it all the time – not directly, but still clearly. Again and again, you notice how his eyes fix on you from a distance, every time you laugh or get into a conversation. And you know it isn’t a coincidence.

The jealousy in him is almost tangible, but you can also see his insecurity. It’s as if he’s losing himself in his own thoughts. He keeps clenching his fists, as if he can’t control the situation. And while you are angry at him – at the way he behaves, at the way he’s closing himself off from his feelings – you also feel some pity for him.

You are both caught in this kind of self-denial. You think that he might feel as much for you as you feel for him, but he just never really dared to admit it. He had always been a little distant at times – almost as if he didn’t want to get too close to you. Perhaps out of fear of admitting to himself that he felt more for you. And you? You aren’t much better. You never address your feelings for him directly, for fear that he wouldn't return them, or worse, would just ignore them.

When James had shown interest in you, it had been a painful but somehow useful moment. The sudden attention he’s giving you seems to be working – at least in theory. Penelope and Emily advised you to use the opportunity to make Spencer jealous. It’s a risky gamble, but you know it might be the only way to get Spencer to come out of his shell. You hesitated at first, but over time you realized that you had to at least try.

James is funny, has a quick quip on his lips, and manages to make you laugh. And while you get along well with him, you feel Spencer’s gaze only getting more intense from one moment to the next. It’s almost like an invisible competition – James is flirting with you, and Spencer is watching from afar without lifting a finger. Why is he doing that? Why can’t he just walk up to you and show you what he really feels?

Every time you notice Jame’s gaze on you, you also feel Spencer withdrawing more and more into himself, his eyes lowering to the table and occasionally playing with his hands. He seems to be struggling to pull himself together, but you know he’s seething inside. And you... you are angry at him, yes. Angry that he never made the first move, angry that he doesn’t dare to show you how he feels about you.

But at the same time, there’s also a little bit of pity, because you know how vulnerable he really is. He doesn’t want to admit that he feels the same way, and it’s easier for him to watch you from afar rather than face the fear that his feelings for you bring with them.

And then... the moment when James turns back to you and puts his hand on your arm as he whispers something in your ear – a joke, a charming compliment that you can barely hear - you see Spencer’s look out of the corner of your eye. He stares at you, his jaw clenched, and you can see the anger and jealousy building up inside him.

For a moment, you feel... powerful. And guilty at the same time. Is that really the right way? Is there really any point in provoking him like that? “You can calm down,” Penelope whispers to you as she sits down next to you. “He’s been looking at you like that all evening, and we all know he’ll have to make the first move at some point. He won’t be able to ignore it forever.”

You take a deep breath and nod, even though you are torn inside. What if it just doesn’t work? What if he never dares? And what if he just wants to keep you in the friend zone without ever crossing the line? You look over to Spencer again – his eyes are still on you, but this time there is something different in his gaze. Doubt? Hurt?

“He just needs to see that you’re no longer available,” Emily says, as she advised you. “And then he’ll react. It’s just a matter of time.” James asks for another drink and turns back to you with a charming smile. Spencer’s gaze continues to burn into your back. But now that you’ve dared to use the situation to your advantage, you know: It’s a risky game, but perhaps the only thing you can do to bring the truth to light. You didn’t even know he would get this jealous.

But you can’t bring yourself to spend the whole evening here and continue to be stuck in this tension. It’s too much. “I’m going to the bathroom for a minute,” you say with a slight smile that is more polite than genuine joy. You turn to James, who is about to lean toward you again. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods and gives you a meaningful smile. “Sure, take your time. I’ll wait for you here.” You stand up, run your fingers through your hair, and walk toward the bathroom, looking over your shoulder once more to scan the room behind you. Your eyes immediately find the one spot that turns your stomach: Spencer.

He is still sitting in his seat, and you feel the atmosphere between you thickening. He has seen you. And you cannot miss his eyes – they are burning in your direction, as if they are blocking out everything else. It’s that look that you’ve felt from him too many times – a look that doesn’t let you go, a look that is full of anger and uncertainty at the same time. And yet, there is something else.

You pause for a moment when you notice that he’s watching you intensely. A brief hesitation, then you give him a look – almost like a small awakening between the two of you. It’s the moment when everything around you seems to go quiet. A moment that only exists between you and him.

Luke, who had been following the whole scene with a watchful eye, turned to Spencer when he noticed you moving away from your seat. “It’s now or never, Spencer,” he says, his tone serious. “If you really want her, now’s your chance. You have to do something. Otherwise, she’ll go back to him.”

Spencer glanced nervously in your direction as he saw you heading to the bathroom. For a moment, he just stared, then he abruptly stood up, dropped his beer back on the table, and walked in the direction you had disappeared.

-

You are washing your hands when the door opens behind you and Spencer appears. He walks towards you, his gaze hard and determined, but also somehow… vulnerable. The determination in his eyes reveals that he hasn’t come here without a conversation.

"Spencer?" you ask, and he takes a deep breath. Then he says in a tone so hard and yet so quiet that you can practically feel the inner conflict within him: "I don't want you to go back to him." You look at him, completely surprised by the sudden turn of events. Your eyes narrow slightly as you consider the words. "What?"

Spencer seems to force himself to repeat it again as he takes a step closer. "I don't want you to go back to him," he repeats, and this time it sounds final.

"Why?" you ask challengingly. Now that he said it like that, he sounds even more jealous than he did this morning in the office.

"Because I want to be the one," he finally says. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I want to be the one who makes you laugh. I want to be the one who touches you, who tells you... things you want to hear. Not him. Me." For a moment, there is silence between the two of you. The words he had just said hang in the air.

You look at him—really, for the first time in a while, you see him clearly. Without the wall of insecurity and reserved distance that he had always built around himself. Without the anger that he had shown you again and again since he came back from prison.

"Why didn't you say that earlier? I could never be sure. I tried to talk to you but most of the time you were so distant," you finally say. “Because I... because I didn't know how," Spencer says. "I didn't know what you really felt. And... I didn't want to lose you. After everything that had happened with Maeve, then my time in prison... I was just afraid that you would be taken away from me too."

You look deep into his eyes. He loves you. For a long time. But he never admitted it to himself. He let himself be too guided by the fear of having lost too much if he had said it. And you? You hesitated just as long. But this moment... this moment is the turning point. Now you know.

"I don't want to lose you either, Spencer," you say quietly. For a moment, he just stands there and looks at you, but then he takes a step closer, and suddenly the distance between you is gone. Without another word, he pulls you towards him. His lips find yours, and in that kiss is everything you've ever wanted.

You run your hands through his hair, something you always wanted to do, and press yourself closer against him. He kisses down your neck, grazing a spot with his teeth before he bits down, leaving a hickey. Then leans closer to your ear and a shiver runs down your spine. In that moment, when the two of you finally give in to your desires, something snaps.

“You were driving me crazy today, angel. I had to hold myself together all day while he was busy flirting with you. But you’re mine.” He goes back to kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue and biting down on your lip. You press even closer against him. “Touch me, Spence, please,” you whisper, but he pulls back and chuckles. “Now you want me to touch you? After you spend the whole day hanging out with this idiot?” he says, not giving you what you want right away after what happened today.

“Yes, please. I only want you,” you say, roaming your hands over his body but he turns you around and your back presses against the wall. “Woah, Spence,” you squeak but he shuts you up by pressing another kiss to your lips. His hands begin to slowly trail underneath your top and squeeze your breasts through your bra. “We’re leaving. Now. I waited way too long for this. I’m not going to fuck you in a bathroom, at least not now,” he says with a smirk on his lips and you clench your thighs together in excitement.

He leans down to place one last kiss on your mouth before he takes your hand and pulls you out of the bathroom after him. He doesn’t even bother to tell the others you are leaving now, the only thought in his mind being you. To your advantage, the hotel is almost directly across from the bar. It's only about a 10 minute walk, but this time it feels even shorter as Spencer takes long, quick steps to get there as quickly as possible.

When you stand in front of the door of his room Spencer let’s go of your hand to reach for the keys in his bag. As soon as unlocks the door he pushes you in and closes the door before pressing you against the next wall. You can feel how hard he already is. His mouth is back on your neck in instant, kissing the spot where he left the hickey.

His hands trail back under your top again, but this time he immediately unclasps your bra. He squeezes one of your nipples before tugging at your top to show you that he wants it off. You help him and begin to open the buttons of his shirt too before it joins your top on the floor. While kissing you Spencer guides you to the bed and when your knees hit the bed frame you drop with your back on the bed.

Spencer takes the opportunity to take off your jeans and underwear in one motion, taking a step back to admire you from afar. “You’re so beautiful. And all mine,” he says, his eyes sparkling with lust. He comes closer and leans down, placing kisses all over your body and you keep running your fingers through his hair. It’s even softer than you thought. When he leaves another hickey you tug at his hair, earning a groan from him.

To hear this sound coming from him turns you on more than you could’ve imagined and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. Spencer’s head is now going down, in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs before running a finger through your folds. “You’re so wet. Is this all for me?” he asks, slipping a finger inside you. “Only for you, Spence,” you moan, lifting your hips to show him you want more.

But he stops and pulls away from you. “No, you’re not allowed to move,” he says with a smirk on his face. “Why not?” you ask, eagerly waiting for him to continue his actions. “Because I said so,” he simply says and then you understand. He wants to make you wait and even more desperate for him. It’s some kind of power play, he wants to show you that he’s the one who is in charge.

“Listen to me and I’ll give you what you want,” he says while his finger slowly trails circles on your clit. “Do you understand?” he asks, locking eyes with you. “Yes, I understand,” you say. All you want is for him to keep touching you, it’s addictive. “Good girl,” he says before slipping his fingers back inside you. You shiver and he immediately notices the affect the words have on you.

“Interesting. You like being called a good girl, am I right?” he asks, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. “Ye - yes,” you whisper. “I can’t hear you,” he says while you try to hold yourself back to not arch into his touch like he told you to. “Yes, I - I like it,” you say. He seems satisfied with your answer and adds another finger. You feel the pleasure shoot right through you and you’re afraid you’re are no longer able to control your body.

“Please, I’m so close,” you whimper but he stops again. He‘s definitely driving you crazy. “No. I want you to come on my tongue,” Spencer says and leans down, immediately licking a stripe up your pussy before sucking on your clit. “Oh…” you exhale at the warm feeling of his tongue. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he says. You feel him moaning against you and a shiver runs down your spine when he swirls his tongue around your clit.

His hands push into your thighs, making sure to keep them apart to keep on eating you out. Then he adds a finger and your entire body is on edge. You start to lose yourself in the pleasure and when you look down and see his head buried between your thighs, diving restlessly into you, you start to lose yourself.

“Spence, I - can I -“ you are no longer able to form a sentence, far too lost in the pleasure already. You’re glad he decides against teasing you for it this time. “Come on my tongue, angel,” he says and sucks on your clit to set you over the edge. Your orgasms crashes over you and you keep moaning his name when you come. Spencer chuckles and comes up to kiss you, giving you a moment to recover. You can taste yourself on his lips and push your tongue in his mouth.

“Need you now, Spence. Please,” you whisper in his ear. “What do you need, angel? You have to tell me,” he says. “You Spence - I need you inside me.” His hands reach for his belt and he unclasps it before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper. He pulls is pants and boxers down and your gaze wanders down his body and your eyes widen when you see his cock. He is bigger than expected, his tip already glistening with pre-cum.

He begins to stoke his cock lazily, enjoying the look you give him. “I don’t have a condom,” he says when he leans down to you. “I’m on birth control,” you tell him as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in to give him a kiss. You can feel how he lines your cock up your entrance, slowly sliding through your folds and over your clit to tease you.

“Spence, I need you inside me now,” you say and lift your hips again but he gives you a disappointed look. “I thought I told you not to move?” he says, pressing you back down with one of his hands. “I - I forgot. And it’s not fair when you drive me crazy the whole time,” you say and he chuckles. “Look at you, so desperate for my cock. Well, if you don’t want me to drive you crazy then I’m going to fuck you stupid, is that what you want?” he asks. “Yes Spence, please, fuck me,” you breath out and he finally pushes inside you.

“Fuck,” he sighed when he feels you clench around him. “I can get used to this.” You never felt so full before. He starts to thrust in and out of you, hitting your G- spot. You wrap your legs around his waist and feel him even deeper inside of you. “Harder,” you beg him and his thrusts become more intense as he fucks you faster and deeper. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. So wet and warm, just for me. Tell me, who does this pussy belongs to?” he says and grabs your hips harder, his fingers digging into the skin, leaving bruises there.

Your mind is going blank at the pleasure and you’re not able to answer him. But then one of his hands leaves your hips and grabs your hair, pulling your head back. You moan and open your eyes to see Spencer looking down at you. “I asked you a question. Answer me,” he says, his eyes sparkling with lust. “You - belongs to you, Spence,” you moan and grab his back to hold your shaking body steady. You’re close now, Spencer can feel it too.

“Yes, all mine. I’m the one who gets to fuck you,” he says and he thrusts so deep inside you that you can’t help but arch your back. Spencer can feel that you’re close and he starts to circle your clit with his thumb again. “I want you to come for me, now,” he says and you let go. Your orgasms hits you and you moan his name when you come, feeling his cock twitching inside of you before he finishes too.

He pulls out of you and collapses next to you on the bed. He places a gentle kiss on your head. “Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, still exhausted and not able to form any words. He pulls you into his arms and starts to stroke your hair. “I’m glad you’re all mine now,” he says and you turn your head to look into his eyes. “My heart always belonged to you, Spence. And that will never change,” you say, cuddling closer to him. “I love you so much,” he says and strokes your cheek gently.

You lean forward to kiss him. “I love you too, especially when you get jealous,” you say with a smirk on your lips. He rolls his eyes jokingly and he pokes your ribs, causing you to giggle. “Hey, stop that!” you say, trying to hold down his hands, effortlessly. You’re underneath him in a heartbeat and he starts to kiss down your neck again. “I’m far from done with you tonight, angel.”

[theotherchaospixel]

TW: some arachnophobia near the end

Look, I don't know what else to tell you, I've studied it; all manner of glyphs, of languages, of cant & song, all sorts of dialects & accents, none of them can really solve our problems, much less yours or mine. Magic has its place, & it's outside of my house. I have a knight friend who recently got that new Joffrey of the Forest special, that enchanted jar filled with a book or two's worth of scrolls that give the power to reach out into the Great Ether & pluck out answers & ideas in response to anything you might say... Alicia I think they were calling it... and, call me crazy, but I don't really need a jar that's always listening to me, even if can keep track of time with slightly less effort than a hourglass or sundial. And moreover, half the time it doesn't even do what that snake oil salesman says it should: I could ask it something like "Are onions lethal to my dear Blueborb familiar Bocifer?" and it would take a few seconds, shine with a familiar blue flame to tell you it was working through its manuscript of scrolls, and tell you in that eerie, uncanny, seething screech "Sorry, I don't know." And it is always listening, that's how it knows when it is being called, how it can tell to start running through its manuscript. Sets me on edge. All for the sake of a little more gold in the vault of an aristocrat.

What really irks me & shocks me to the core though is how seemingly okay with everything everyone seems to be... I mean, I get it. It's hard to be appropriately mad, hard to feel appropriately mad, for so long, so consistently, at a so so many things. There was all this hubbub about the new king, and, first of all, screw that guy, but second of all, its just really not my field; that was always something for ambassadors & chancellors & paladins & all those religious & political types. My thing is magic, not really the same thing. I can say that with the king's fetid approval of that Reptole - at least, I suspect he's a Reptole, a lizard guy, only thing to explain all the problems he's got pretending to be human - but that Reptole whose claim to fame is a name, we are definitely not headed in a great direction, at least not one that gives me a whole lot of hope.

I mean, that Reptole's whole thing was that new enchanted horseless carriage which he claimed was sword-proof, bite-proof, slash-proof & claw-proof & even fang-proof; that new carriage which acted as part guillotine if you interacted with it's storage incorrectly, which is to say at all; that new carriage which, after only a few days of use, would begin sparkling & throwing glitter everywhere indicating that one of the spell scrolls had deteriorated too quickly; that new carriage which is a nightmare as a pilot, due to his brainless decision for the sake of a little more gold that all spell control macros - you know, the ones that help you drive the thing - would operate via spell, rather than artifice, via magic rather than instant-feedback woodwork, thus ensuring panicked pilots have no idea how to do what they need to do in emergency situations; that new carriage - which I heard from other wizards - explodes in a great fireball comparable to those of dragons if you leave it along for too long; that new carriage which - speaking of dragons - would cost naught but a dragon's hoard just to earn the privilege of seeing the inside of, to earn the privilege of all it's faults. That same Reptole also spent a hoard himself getting ahold of that carrier pigeon network, because he didn't like that people said mean things to him sometimes, and in spending said hoard, made what I would charitably call... unusual decisions, immediately ensuring that the handful of people who previously earned money off of it or gave money to it would stop using it as quickly as possible. I mean it feels like common knowledge that he's earned nothing in his life, & sits upon a throne of lies, cheats, & theft, and, from my place as wizard, he clearly has absolutely no idea what he's actually talking about. And he gets to be buddies with the new king. For the sake of a little more gold. Fun.

On the subject of message transits & the webs these spiders weave to connect us flies, there's the now long dead Vineyard delivery system, which I'm sure many of us still mourn due to its then-novel approach to literal bite-size information transit, where you could just visit your local vineyard and just pick out grapes, hops, blueberries, of all different flavors, of all different messengers, of all different creeds. It sucks that everyone saw how popular that system was & decided to attempt to make their own versions for the sake of a little more gold, all of which have already spoiled since their planting, and because we craved & still crave the original flavor so badly, I feel like maybe we didn't realize how drunk the subpar copycats made us.

There's the Facionomicon system made by Markules, which - I know we joked when he may have actually gone to the dungeons for his wrongdoing that he may infact be a Reptole in disguise... that's neither here nor there - which he original wrote just to get his hands on wenches. There's the Scribo Instantis system of sigils which got popular directly after the original Vineyard developers stopped growing their vineyards. There's the aforementioned carrier pigeon system. There's the Vestri broadcasting sigils that had its start... jeez, was it really 18 years ago?... those sigils which nowadays are mostly just used as a mechanism for Mister the Minotaur's plays, which are really kinda all the same business-disguised-as-charity thing now. And... I'm digressing, the point that I wanted to make was because of all these new innovations in magic, so many people seem to either assume magic can solve all of our problems or realize that in many ways magic is the cause of all our problems. I don't think I should really weigh in on that, again, I don't think it's my department, I'd just as soon leave it to the artificers & astrologists & diviners. I can say that because of what magic has done, everyone nowadays is constantly struggling with this inner question of what a problem really is, what solutions could solve it without introducing so many more, & for me personally, I often wonder if there's a way out of this mess that some of us have made for the rest of us.

And geez, don't even get me started on the Self-Actualizing Glyphs that seem to be EVERYWHERE now. I hate them. I hate them so so much. I look around and listen to the whistles of the pigeons & to the calamitous & raucous whispers from the Vestri sigils, & to clamours elsewhere, and it seems I am far from alone, that almost no-one actually likes their incessant & nebulous omnipresence. Speaking as someone who knows magic & also has eyes, the Animate Paintbrush SAGs are ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. I've seen insides of a troll more appealing. I've seen dragon mouths & giant spider webs & vicious hornets nests & beehives prettier. And I can't even explain it; I make the mistake of viewing a Vestri broadcast comedy act on the Animate Paintbrush SAGs that pop up within the pages of the Facionomicon, and there's a visceral part of me, a beast or spider which crawls along my spine & drinks from it, which massages my brain with the discomfort of a spoiled fruit, which assaults my eyes with the gentle, violent touch of a Gelatinous Mass. Ugh. Ugly as sin. And then you hear the comedy act explain that in response to the depictions within the Facionomicon, there seem to be hundreds of people who just... accept it... and it's probable that these people are simply simulacra, Prometheons, animated only by more Self-Actualizing Glyphs, all resulting in a section of the world where no-one speaks to no-one. All these things, and yet continuously you see new posters for the newest pocketbook, and they say "ooo look at us, we have a SAG now! buy our stuff!" and I have to ask why. Why, why, why, why, why? There's entire acts in the Vestri sigils that people put effort into not bothering to make, using SAGs the entire way through their act, forgetting that soul & heart & spirit is where the real magic is.

Everywhere I go nowadays, it just... it seems my beard has grown an inch longer, my hair a bit whiter, my hands a bit more calloused, my sight just a bit worse... & everything, everyone, everywhere, is demanding not a slice, but the entire pie of what little time I may have left on this world... and... I decide put all this time & effort into the practice of magic. I've seen it contorted into mechanized horrors one could only dream of, or see in nightmares, I suppose. It seems that a small handful of people with a dragon's hoard or two from their grandfather's grandfathers have decided that they're going to make everyone else miserable for the sake of a little more gold, as has always been the case, and... in all this turmoil & advancement, I think maybe they forgot that real magic demands personal sacrifice; every time you choose to make magic happen, you lose a bit of yourself to bring it into being, and... that very act makes that part of you immortal. Empires rise & turn to ruin, but the simplest of creations, the smallest artifice of woodwork, the most minute weaves of story can last forever with just a little bit of heart, a little bit of soul. Even if your memory fades, even if no-one knows who you were, even if no-one ever gets to grasp the flecks of dust that once surrounded your being, real magic lasts forever.

Wizards have as much faith in magic as software designers have in software - none at all. A wizard is explaining to the rest of the party why they won't use magic to solve all their problems.

[rafecameronssl4t]

F1 driver!Rafe x Reader! As someone that loves watching F1, I'm so happy you're doing this, and damn fans can be vicious sometimes so it gave me an idea. Maybe Reader is getting hate online, with jelaousy comments, saying that ''she's not pretty enough, she's so basic looking, I don't understand what he sees in her, I guess anyone has a chance with Rafe,''. And gradually the words get to her, making her really self concious when she's around him in public, girls near him that are (in her opinion) prettier and eventuallys she tries to break up with him, but he does not let her (not in a toxic way, more so because he loves her and isn't going to let anyone come between them)

Public eye || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: So sorry this took awhile!!!!!! But thank you for the request it was sm fun to write :)

Warnings: angst, mental health struggles, bullying and online harassment, if theres anything else lmk!

Word count: 2, 946

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!Rafe x fem!reader au masterlist)

Your fingers hovered hesitantly over the comment section of the video, your heart beating just a little faster as you stared at the screen. The clip, a simple moment of you and Rafe walking into the paddock, was already gathering attention. He was beside you, his hand casually draped over your shoulder as you both made your way through the crowd, looking every bit like a power couple.

You could still hear the soft hiss of the shower jets from the bathroom, Rafe taking his time to wash off the stress of the race. You should have been doing something productive, but the pull of curiosity was too strong. Lately, your presence on social media had been growing—both the praise and the hate.

You’d never been one to look at the comments, always avoiding the spotlight, but today… something felt different. You clicked on the comment section, your thumb hovering nervously over the screen as you scrolled down. The first few comments were harmless, even flattering. “You two are perfect together,” one said. “Her smile is contagious,” said another.

Your lips curved into a faint smile as you read through them, the warmth of their compliments offering a brief comfort. For a moment, you forgot about the nagging feeling building in your chest. But then the tone shifted. You could feel your stomach tighten as the first negative comment appeared. “She looks so out of place with him,” one user wrote, followed by another comment: “She doesn’t belong in paddock.”

Your fingers trembled slightly, but you tried to push the discomfort aside. It was just one comment. You kept scrolling. More criticisms followed. Someone commented on your outfit: “Why does she dress like that? She looks like she’s trying too hard.” Another user posted, “She looks so stiff next to him. Does she even smile?” A sharp sting pierced your chest, and you tried to shake it off, but it wasn’t easy.

You’d spent so much time trying to dress right, trying to look the part, but now it felt like none of it mattered. “Her resting face is so rude,” one person said. Another added, “She looks miserable. Why does she always look so cold around Rafe?” You couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop. You knew you had a more serious expression, but it hurt to see it picked apart like this, as if your face wasn’t enough.

You quickly scrolled past more hurtful comments, but the damage had already been done. The video, which had once seemed like a simple moment between you and Rafe, now felt like an invasion of your privacy, like everyone was judging you. You glanced back at the bathroom door, where the sound of Rafe still hummed softly from the shower, completely unaware of the thoughts swirling in your head.

Your hands tightened around your phone, and you felt the familiar weight of insecurities settling in. You weren’t sure why this time felt worse than before. Maybe it was the fact that you were constantly being compared to Rafe’s world now, his fame, his fans, his life in the spotlight. It felt suffocating at times, and the negativity from strangers only made it worse.

You took a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together. This wasn’t about you. It was about Rafe, and his world. You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t need their validation, but the ache in your chest remained. Before you could sink any deeper into the spiral of your thoughts, the bathroom door creaked open, and Rafe’s voice, still heavy with the sound of water dripping, called out to you.

“Hey, everything alright?” Rafe’s voice was soft as he stepped into the room, the steam from his shower trailing behind him. His towel hung low on his hips, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His brows furrowed slightly when his eyes landed on you, the tension in your posture giving you away. You swallowed hard, quickly flipping your phone face-down on the bed as you forced a small, unconvincing smile.

“Yeah, just… tired. It’s been a long day.” Rafe didn’t seem entirely convinced. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he were debating whether to push further. Instead, he let it slide, disappearing into the closet to grab a pair of boxers. When he returned, his tone was casual, though there was an edge of curiosity in his voice.

“Did you want to walk in with me tomorrow?” he asked, tossing the towel into the hamper before slipping on boxers. He moved with practiced ease, his body language as relaxed as ever. It was a question you’d heard countless times before, something routine between the two of you, but tonight, it felt heavier. Different. You nibbled on your bottom lip, his question tugging you back to the comments you’d just read.

She looks out of place next to him… She doesn’t belong there. The words replayed in your head like a taunting echo. You hesitated before replying, your voice quieter than usual. Your fingers toyed with the edge of the duvet as you hesitated. “Uh, I think I’ll come a bit after,” you said finally, trying to sound casual, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Rafe paused for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he considered your answer.

His brows furrowed just enough to show that he noticed the shift in your tone, but he didn’t push. Instead, he hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he climbed into bed. Once settled, he turned his attention back to you, his head propped on his hand as he studied your face. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

You nodded quickly, your smile brighter this time, though it still didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. I promise, I’m fine,” you said, hoping the words sounded convincing. But even as you said them, your mind was still swirling with doubt, the insecurities clawing at the edges of your composure. Rafe didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let it slide for now. Instead, he reached out and tugged you gently toward him, his arms wrapping around your body in a warm, familiar embrace.

His lips brushed softly against your temple before trailing down to your shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, like an anchor. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you nestled into his chest, the comfort of his presence momentarily dulling the ache in your heart. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice almost trembling.

~

Walking into the paddock alongside Rafe’s PR manager, Mia, you couldn’t shake the weight of countless eyes on you. It felt suffocating, as though everyone’s gaze was dissecting your every move, every expression. The hum of chatter and camera shutters blended into an almost deafening background noise, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they were saying—or thinking.

Were they silently judging you? Waiting for you to stumble, to make some minor misstep they could pounce on? The thought sent a sharp pang of anxiety through your chest. It wasn’t just paranoia; you’d seen how quickly narratives could form online, how a single bad photo could spiral into accusations and labels. If you weren’t smiling enough, they’d say you were cold, ungrateful. If you stood too close to Rafe, they’d call you clingy. Too far, and you’d seem distant, uninterested.

Your grip on your paddock pass tightened, glancing briefly at Mia, who was confidently walking ahead, her phone in hand, seemingly oblivious to the tension building inside you. She had a way of carrying herself that made it seem like none of this affected her—like the noise bounced off her shield of professionalism. You envied her for that. The click of a camera somewhere to your left made your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t dare look, afraid of what expression might’ve been caught. You straightened your posture instead, forcing a faint smile that felt unnatural, plastered on for the sake of appearances. The effort felt exhausting, but it was what you’d learned to do in this world—pretend you didn’t notice, pretend it didn’t hurt. As you walked, you could feel whispers trailing in your wake, the murmurs mingling with the mechanical hum of the paddock.

Were they talking about your outfit? Your hair? The fact that you weren't walking in with Rafe? It was a never-ending game of scrutiny, and you felt like a chess piece on a board you barely understood. "Hey, are you good?" Mia's voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Her tone was light, accompanied by a small chuckle as she caught the distant look in your eyes.

You blinked rapidly, turning to her with a startled expression. “Sorry, what?” you asked, your voice slightly shaky. She chuckled again, tilting her head curiously. “Are you okay? You seem nervous,” she repeated, her eyes scanning your face as the two of you approached the Ferrari area. “Yeah! Yeah—I’m fine, just jet lagged,” you replied quickly, your tone a little too chipper to be convincing. You added a casual shrug for good measure, hoping it would sell the lie.

Mia’s gaze lingered for a moment, but she slowly nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Alright, if you say so. I’ve got to go organise Rafe for his interview. Will you be okay by yourself? I think Austin’s around here somewhere,” she said, glancing around the bustling paddock. “Yeah, of course, go ahead. I’ll look for him,” you assured her with a polite smile.

She nodded, giving you a quick wave before disappearing into the chaos, leaving you alone amidst the buzz of mechanics, media personnel, and fans. You continued walking, your eyes darting around in search of a familiar face. The usual hum of the paddock felt louder now, almost oppressive, as you noticed more phones and cameras turning in your direction. A knot tightened in your stomach.

Normally, you could brush it off, but today the weight of their stares was unbearable. Biting your bottom lip nervously, you quickened your pace, practically darting into the safety of the Ferrari garage. The moment you stepped inside, a voice called out to you, making you pause. “Y/n!” Relief flooded your chest as you spotted Austin waving you over from the balcony of the hospitality area.

“Hey!” you greeted him warmly, embracing him in a quick hug. “Rafe should be done with his interview pretty soon,” Austin said, glancing at his watch. You hummed in response, setting your things down on the table before joining him at the railing. The two of you leaned against it, looking down at the sea of people navigating the paddock below. “Yeah, Rafe and I were planning to head back to OBX for a week after—”

Your words trailed off as your eyes froze on a group of girls huddled together, their phones unmistakably aimed in your direction. Their whispering and laughter sent a chill through you, making your shoulders stiffen visibly. Noticing your silence, Austin followed your gaze. His brows furrowed in concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but probing.

You swallowed hard, tearing your eyes away from the girls. “I-uh—I’ll just sit down for a bit,” you muttered, moving back toward the table. Austin watched you carefully, his confusion evident. “Do you know them?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. After a moment, he sighed, his tone shifting to something more knowing. “Have you been reading comments again?”

The question made your head snap up, your eyes meeting his. You didn’t respond, but your silence was enough. “Y/n,” he said gently, pulling out a chair across from you and sitting down. “You know those are just jealous people who wish they were in your position, right?” “I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But they still hurt, Austin.”

“I know they do,” he admitted, leaning forward. “But think about it—what they’re saying about you… Is any of it true?” You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to your phone as you hesitated. “They’re not,” Austin continued firmly. “Because they don’t even know you. But we do. Rafe does. Don’t let them get to you. They’re just miserable people trying to make someone else miserable too.”

His words sunk in, easing some of the tightness in your chest. A small smile crept onto your lips, the warmth of his reassurance breaking through the cloud of doubt. “Thanks, Austin. I really appreciate it,” you said, your voice softer now but filled with genuine gratitude. He grinned back, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence.

“Anytime. Now, let’s get you smiling again before Rafe gets back, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.” You chuckled lightly, feeling just a little lighter as the weight of those comments began to fade, replaced by the comfort of a friend who truly understood.

~

The jets in the bathroom continued to hum, the sound blending into the background as you stared at your phone screen, your chest tightening with every cruel word you read. The image of you and Rafe walking into the paddock, so innocuous and routine, had somehow become the catalyst for a torrent of negativity.

Your throat constricted, and you bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. But it was too much. The weight of their words pressed on you, an avalanche of insecurities crashing down. You dropped your phone onto the bed as though it had burned you, standing there frozen for a moment, your hands trembling.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Rafe stepped out, a towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water clinging to his skin. His carefree, post-shower demeanour faltered the moment his eyes landed on you. “Hey,” he said cautiously, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” You shook your head, quickly wiping at your cheeks, but the tears had already betrayed you. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His tone was firmer now, his blue eyes scanning your face for answers. He glanced at your phone lying facedown on the bed, and his expression hardened as he pieced it together. “Did you read the comments again?” The lump in your throat grew, and you couldn’t speak, your silence confirming his suspicion.

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Y/n, why do you let them get to you? They’re just a bunch of—” “It’s not just them, Rafe!” you snapped, cutting him off. The words spilled out before you could stop them, sharp and heavy. “This is my life now—being constantly judged, criticised, compared. It’s exhausting. I can’t do this anymore.”

His brows furrowed in confusion and alarm. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying I can’t be with you anymore,” you said, your voice breaking as the words left your lips. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.��� Rafe’s face fell, his confident façade cracking in an instant. “What? No. No, that’s not happening.” “Rafe—”

“No!” He stepped closer, his voice low but desperate. “You’re not doing this because of a bunch of idiots online who don’t know anything about us.” “It’s not just them!” you cried, the dam of emotions finally breaking. “It’s everything! The constant attention, the pressure, the way people look at me like I’m not good enough for you. And maybe they’re right! Maybe I’m not!”

“Don’t you dare say that,” he interrupted, his voice rough with emotion. He reached for your hands, holding them tightly even as you tried to pull away. “You are good enough. You’re more than good enough, Y/n.” “I can’t keep living like this, Rafe,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I feel like I’m losing myself.

Rafe’s grip on your hands tightened as if letting go would make your words true. “I don’t care what they say. None of it matters to me. You matter. You’re the only thing that matters.” Your lips trembled as you looked into his eyes, the sincerity there almost too much to bear. “But what if I can’t handle it?” “Then I’ll help you handle it,” he said firmly, his voice softening as he pulled you closer.

“You’re not doing this alone. I love you, Y/n. I don’t care what those people think. They mean nothing to me—nothing.” You let out a shaky breath as his words washed over you, your resolve weakening under the weight of his conviction. Rafe cupped your face gently, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “Please don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “We’ll get through it together. I promise.”

For a long moment, you just stood there, your forehead resting against his as you tried to steady your breathing. The pain was still there, raw and jagged, but so was the love in his voice, in his touch. “I don’t know if I can be enough,” you whispered. “You already are,” he replied without hesitation. “You’ve always been enough for me.” And somehow, in his arms, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter.

[jjkbambi]

the best man! luigi mangione x reader

summary it’s your brother’s wedding this weekend. best man! luigi and you are in charge of finding something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue to gift your sister-in-law for the wedding!

no warnings! just fluff and vibes. slight enemies to lovers? he’s your brothers best friend, so naturally there’s a bit of a push and pull. comfort + slice of life . pls tell me if u like!

for the first and last time, your brother entrusts you with his shiny silver credit card.

the fancy card was shoved in the back of your scuffed clear phone case, and yet, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of pride swinging it around. it felt like everyone around you now knew about your exclusive access to mediocre airplane food and flight points no one ever knew how to use. of course, the real perk was priceless: this thing was doing a great job at stroking your ego.

“i’m sure we won’t find something borrowed at swarvoski, y/n.”

your brother’s last-minute plea to fulfill the wedding tradition of something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue came with two conditions: an unlimited budget and the unspoken punishment of spending the weekend with his best friend.

“luigi, all diamonds are borrowed,” you huff. “we didn’t find them under the mall or in america.”

luigi had dropped by your house far too early in the morning for you to be in a good mood. he hadn’t been fair, either, proudly announcing that he’d already fulfilled two out of four of the needed items on the list. something old: the beloved couples prom photo glossed over and re-framed, tossed at the back of his car for all those with eyes to see. and something blue: a pair of bright blue oval sunglasses the boys had found in tokyo. you tried to tell him that, objectively, the glasses were really fucking ugly and there was just no way anyone could give that to a woman on her wedding day. luigi wouldn’t listen. he tried to sell you on the idea that the foreign souvenir was sentimental, proof your brother had been thinking about her despite time and distance, but you were already settled on the idea that oval sunglasses hadn’t been a good idea since the nineties.

you stare down the case of rings intently. before you can find one that catches your eye, luigi interrupts again, “she’s already getting two rings.”

“she has two hands,” you argue.

“you have two shoulders; you don’t wear a bag on each everyday.”

“you don’t see me everyday.”

“right.” he agrees seemingly just to agree. the brunette boy leans over the counter, casting his masculine judgement over the case of brightly colored jewelry.

just as the quiet settles in, he comes with a grumble, “these are impractical.”

they’re supposed to be. they wear bold, unconventional jewels. to his point, their gallant design teetered on the edge of gaudy, yet there’s the one. the white idyllia cocktail ring: a mix of cut gemstones, with a delicate flower design at its heart. the petals were a collection of smooth yellow stones, curled in a way that almost looks like they’re caught mid-bloom, while the rhodium plating gives it a nice silver contrast. it’s sweet but striking, the kind of piece that demands attention without screaming for it.

“they’re cocktail rings,” you say, defensive.

luigi lifts one shoulder up to shrug. “they’re tacky.”

“you wear hybrid shorts and souvenir tees—“

“are you two alright over here?” the sales associate chirps, all bright eyes and perfect teeth.

“we are perfect,” you reply through a small, forced smile, your headache blooming like a bad omen.

she’s tall, polished, and dangerously cheerful for how early it is. “what’s the occasion?”

“a wedding—” you start.

“oh, wow, a wedding?” she gasps, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “congratulations! you two make such a beautiful couple.”

the sheer horror of spending any more life tethered to luigi hits you like a truck. you open your mouth to deny it, but before you can, luigi nods with a polite, “thank you.”

he doesn’t even flinch, casually inspecting a display of bracelets while you’re left to choke on your indignation. you freeze, caught between correcting the mistake and just letting it slide. but before you can make up your mind, luigi leans in, casually gesturing to a row of silver tennis bracelets. “we’re actually just picking out something nice for her before the big night,” he says with a playful grin, his tone light and teasing.

the sales associate beams, clearly oblivious to the tension between you two. “how lovely!“ she sings. “you’re both so lucky to have each other.”

“so lucky,” you manage.

luigi, on the other hand, doesn’t miss a beat, turning to the associate with that effortless charm you’ve heard so much about but never actually seen in practice. “we were just talking about how much we prefer simpler jewelry, you know? nothing too flashy. like those rings over there, totally not our thing, right babe?” he grins, nudging you playfully before adding, “these thin bracelets look nice, though.”

“tennis bracelets,” you correct him, trying hard not to look annoyed.

“whatever you want, babe,” he says with a wink, clearly having way too much fun with this.

the sales woman says something chirpy before fluttering off to grab a tray of options, and luigi leans closer to you with a stupid playful smirk. “you know, it’s fun messing with people sometimes,” he tells you.

you rub your temples in attempt to soothe your storming headache. “you’re just being annoying,” you say, deflated. “i’m gonna go grab a coffee. please just don’t get an ugly color like yellow or green.”

he cocks his head to the side. “i like those colors?”

that doesn’t surprise you. “you’re one of a kind, mangione,” you hum, the words almost losing their bite as you slip the shiny silver card from your case, tapping it lightly against his chest. “have fun. just text me when you’re done.”

luigi opens his mouth to reply with something, perhaps incentive to stay to keep you between him and the sales associate, but before he can get it out, the winter chill finally gets the best of you. you make a sharp, purposeful exit, walking fast enough to look like you know where you’re going, but not so fast it’s obvious you’re trying to escape.

the cold air bites at your skin, but your instincts were right: espresso is the only thing that’ll fix your morning. you settle by the fountain, wrapping your hands around the warmth of your cup, grateful for the quiet. just as the steam from your drink begins to settle, you hear the rustle of gift bags. expensive gift bags.

you look up. luigi, brown-haired and a bit late. “you didn’t answer my texts,” he says.

you blink, then glance over at your phone.

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) Where are you

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) I hate this mall

Luigi Mangione (Penn) is now sharing his location with you! Would you like to share it back?

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) Fucking answer me

3 missed calls

“oh my god,” you say, eyes widening. “luigi, i swear i’d never do that on purpose.”

before he takes the chair beside you, he gives you a telling look. you would.

“pep,” you frown, the childhood nickname rolling off your tongue seemingly ticked him off more. “seriously, my mind hasn’t been working all day. i haven’t slept and—you know. everything’s just been weird.”

“alright,” he sighs, trying. “what’s bothering you?”

“you’d think it’s stupid,” you say, trying to dismiss the purpose of your sadness entirely. at the end of the day, you didn’t want to get into your dip in depression with your brother’s best friend. all your woes would just turn into an endless run of joke material at next year’s thanksgiving. “what’d you buy?”

“silver thing.” luigi answers, sliding the giftbag toward you. “shiny, impossible to hate. we’ll have to pull together something more interesting for something borrowed.”

you nod, flying through the clouds of gift wrap to get to the beautifully extravagant

yellow

box.

your lips pull into a straight line.

“they were out of the other color boxes. but the bracelets silver,” he tells you.

you touch the box gingerly and try to take the high road. there was no reason to end a bad week worse. “i’m sure it’s nice,” you manage.

luigi crosses his arms over his chest. “look in the other bag,” he says, slightly pushy. you brighten up, slightly at this—he was a smart guy, but was he wise and willing enough to invest in options?

you turn to the other bag with the other box, also mustard fucking yellow, but smaller and more delicate. pulling the top open, you reveal the white flower ring you’d been eyeing earlier—its petals a soft, intricate design that now seems even more beautiful in your hands.

“you kept looking at that ring,” luigi points out. “it’s yellow.”

you first look at him, then the ring. did he seriously buy this just to prove a fucking point?

“it’s white and gold.”

“says yellow on the receipt.”

you sigh, shutting the lid and dropping it back into it’s fancy gift bag. “i guess we’ll have to ask the bride.”

“we can go back and ask the sales associate for all i fuckin’ care,” he says, his tone firm. you laugh at how silly this is.

“you swiped my brother’s card for a ring, just so we could argue about it?” you say, rolling your eyes. “somehow, i’m the one everyone calls crazy?”

“no, i put that one on my card,” luigi corrects. “you can keep it.”

you freeze, looking up at him, confused. he wasn’t the type to indulge in unnecessary accessories. he hated consumerism. hell, he’d gone off about capitalism all the way over here. “what do you mean?”

“you liked it.” he shrugged. “it’d look good on you anyway, just keep it.”

you blink, momentarily thrown off. it sounds so silly, but as you look at him, you realize it’s the nicest thing that’s happened to you all week. you feel a warmth spread through you, unexpected but welcome. you lunge in for what was probably your first ever hug.

“aw, pep,” you say, tone soft and musical.

he pulls back, “no—we don’t have to—”

“no, seriously, you have no idea how awful this week has been for me,” you sigh into his neck. his warmth feels nice. warranted. he’d allow it. “thank you.”

“tell me,” luigi says into your hair. he hugs his arms around the small of your back, gentle, soft, barely there.

“hm?”

“tell me what happened.”

you try to mask the tension in your chest as you search for the least emotional way to explain your drop in enthusiasm. you pull away and start cautiously.

“well… my boyfriend pulled out of the wedding.”

“…oh.” he blinks, slow to a reaction. “is he okay?“

“we broke up,” you truth. the words feel foreign on your tongue, awkward in their simplicity. of all the people you expected to have this conversation with—gossiping over coffee about your ex—instagram user luigi.from.fiji was nowhere near the top of the list.

“oh,” luigi says. you feel him turning in, his gaze sharpening, studying you closely. you deliberately adjust your hair and look away, trying to escape the intensity of his attention.

“it’s whatever.”

“it’s not whatever. are you okay?” he asks, the concern in his voice making it clear he’s not going to let you off the hook that easily.

you put a hand on his wrist. “just don’t tell anyone. everyone in the family still really likes him.”

“y/n, i wouldn’t do that,” luigi swears. “and for the record, i never liked him.”

“you met him, what, once?”

“first impressions only take seven seconds,” luigi says, his tone shifting, a hint of a smile in his voice. “he wore a band tee to my parents’ country club. any reasonable person would’ve at least read the dress code before stepping in. it’s fuckin’ golf, not bowling.”

“luigi mangione, the fashion police,” you retort mockingly.

luigi relaxes into his seat, chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “so what happened? what’d he do?”

“everything just started to suck,” you admit, your voice softer now, like you’re still trying to make sense of it all. “he forgets what weekend the wedding is, forgets he has a trip planned with his boys. it’s like everything else comes first, and i’m just… somewhere in the background. i asked him if he knew when my birthday was — and he just stood there, silent.”

“so you broke up with him?”

“does that surprise you?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

he raises his hands in defense, a small laugh escaping him. “i was surprised you gave him a chance,” luigi argues, his gaze reuniting with yours, a different comfort in his gaze. “i’m not surprised you left him. surprised it took you so long, sure.”

“oh, fuck off,” you dispute, playful but sharp. “you don’t get to have an i told you so moment right now. you met him once then moved away!”

luigi scoffs. “it’s not rocket science, you know. i didn’t have to be across the street to see that you’re way too pretty to be wasting your time. honestly, i don’t know how anyone could ever forget someone like you.”

you hate that you flush at the compliment, quickly shaking your head back into reality. “you don’t have to be nice to me just ‘cause i had a shitty week, pep.”

he rolls his eyes. unbelievable. even your gentlest moments were shielded by your wall of contretemps. “i’m not being nice just because of that,” luigi says, his voice dropping a little lower. “i’m being nice because you deserve it. shitty week or not.”

you feel light-headed, like the ground beneath you is shifting with every word. the afternoon sun hasn’t even touched you yet, but it feels like you’ve been swept away by a storm. “thanks, i guess,” you say, suddenly shy and unlike yourself.

he leans forward — just a touch closer, his lips curling into something warmer, more certain. “you’re welcome,” he says, his gaze never leaving yours. it’s as if he’s trying to read the very contours of your soul, tracing each flicker of thought that dances across your face. his eyes move slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to miss even the faintest shift in your expression, as though every moment with you holds something worth studying, something worth remembering. “and in case you didn’t know—if you ever need someone to make you feel special, i’m always around. not just ‘cause you deserve it, but because i’d be lucky to get the chance.”

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, time seems to slow down. you can’t even really help the smile that tugs at your lips. “you really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

luigi chuckles softly, a hand brushing lightly against yours. “only when it’s you.”

[minnietrys]

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU DONT KNOW HOW I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS

YOUR SO GOODDDD

I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF you could write something where player 120 met fem! Reader in a bar and then they make out XD

I just want to read smuts about this woman

Pookie I got you. I started brainstorming when I saw this so I have multiple ideas for this so I just started writing and let it lead, I did end up giving them a past so hopefully you like it!

So with my further do I present:

Is it casual now?

◯ Cho Hyun-ju x Fem! Reader

△ Alt! Universe- You and Hyunju are kinda like friend with benefits but you to be more

▢ oral(f!receiving), fingering, pet names, rough, kinda made her a bit toxic…2k words

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Okay so this is my first ever smut and I just gathered all the info and tips I learned from reading smut so hopefully it’s good and if it is expect more soon :p

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

‘Casual’ that’s what you and Hyunju were according to any of your friends that asked. But oh boy how that hurts you in every way.

Was everything she has done to you that casual? Was spending hot hours of the night together that casual to her? Was all the marks she left behind that casual? Was that sore morning feeling she left that casual?

Oh how that word casual was used so wrong in this situation. 

But here you are doing nothing but staring at her from across the table. With a drink in your hand trying to wash away that stupid word from your head. Maybe even trying to enjoy the celebration as causal friends.

“Unnie? Are you okay?” youngmi words snap you out of your train of thought. “Oh yes, sorry youngmi. What happened?” You asked with a complete sorry tone.

“Ah nothing, but we were just about to cut the cake! Also you look out of it? Are you sure you’re still up to continue celebrating?” she asked with those adorable sincere doe eyes. To be honest you always seen youngmi as younger sister but didn’t really like that her and Hyunju were also close. It made you feel green inside.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss the celebration of your 21st! It’s a once in a life time and the only day I can watch you get wasted for the first time” you laughed out while she gasped “are you sure it isn’t you who going to be getting wasted” youngmi said in a teasing tone.

“Ha ha ha your so funny, that only happened once” you said in a defensive tone with a pout but you notice someone staring at you from your peripheral vision. You felt your mouth go dry and your body tense up.

So you decide to look back at her but there she is staring at you a smirk looking you up and down like your some kinda of piece of candy. Did she just lick her lip, oh how you felt your legs start to shake.

“Uh excuse me youngmi, I have to the restroom.” You excuse yourself but not without feeling someone eyes follow you.

Once you finally reach the restroom all you could do was sigh. Maybe you were just a girl she banged but how she treats you makes you feel different.

Gripping the sink you take a deep breath and hear the door open. Looking up into the mirror you see her. She walking up to you, slowly pushing your hair that covered your neck to aside. You feel her breath on your neck making you release an airy moan.

“You know it’s not fair. You all over everyone else here but not daring to look at me.” She grips your hips pulling them back to met hers. “It’s quite rude actually. One day you’re in my bed and the next you ignore me, come on baby that no way to act.” She says in that pouting tone while she bites your ear in a teasing way.

Turning you to face her, your arms automatically move to around her neck waiting for her next action. But she just keeps moving her eyes from between your eyes and lips with that damn smirk that makes you weak to your knees.

Grabbing your chin she pulls you forward so your lips would met. A never ending battle with your mouths start. Tongue against tongue, tongue moving from in and out of your mouth, you felt like you were going wild.

Till she grips your neck to pull you away. You notice the string of saliva that connected your lips together. The hand around your neck gets your attention but is easily lost when she squeezed your neck making you whine while your eyes round back.

“Wow, you really know how to win a girl back with that face and noise don’t you” she laughs out with a smirk but not daring to move her hand not when she has you where she wants you.

“Mhm—please…” you manage to get out of your mouth. “Please? Huh you asking for something but I don’t know what you want. Your going have to use more words baby” oh how you hate when she does this, she knows what you want.

Gasping out “you..please…unnie” you start gripping her hair. “Aw the baby wants her unnie” Hyunju says in a teasing pout while she put her knee between your legs making you moan out and grip her harder.

“Okay here what I want you to do, your going to walk your pretty self to my car and wait patiently as I go tell the others we are heading out, if you don’t you won’t get anything from me got it.” She said sternly while looping a piece of your hair around her finger and staring at you like she ready to eat you.

Whining as she lets you go “ah come on, walk or I just go back and sit down but judging by the look on your face you won’t want that.” Ugh she just keeps pushing all the buttons that make you feel so weak. 

Slowly walking away with a stumble from your shaking legs you make it to the door but not without turning once more to look at her with that begging expression. All she does is smirk in return and wave in a teasing way.

You’re not really sure how you did it but you managed to make it to her car, well with a few strange glances on the way. Getting into the passenger seat you fully take in what happened.

Shit I’ve fallen for it again… you thought as you threw your head back on the head rest. Why couldn’t you catch a break with this women were you really that stupid, yo— your thoughts get cut off when you heard the driver side open.

You felt a hand grip your chin forcing you to look at her, “come on, what can unnie do for you?” again with that hungry look in her eyes while she lets her thumb rub and play with your bottom lip. You couldn’t help it you started sucking on her thumb while trying your best to give her those ‘fuck me’ eyes.

Groaning she pulls her thumb out of your mouth and starts attacking your lips with hers. You pulled her in not getting enough of her taste it’s so addictive. Suddenly you feel one of her hands squeezing your breast over your top, you couldn’t help but like out a moan causing her tongue to dart straight into your mouth.

Pulling her away “Unnine..please f-fuck me..please” you let out with a crying while a few tears row down due to the need for pleasure. “You see baby that all you had to do, use your words” Hyunju says while wiping away the tears and gives you a small peck on your cheek.

“Now do me one huge favor and recline your seat back” she said with a sweet smile like what you guys weren’t about to do something freaky in her car.

Once doing so her hand suddenly gripped your thigh pulling your shut legs apart causing a moan to exit you due to the sudden action. “You look so pretty when you’re turning into a mess but you’re eternal when you’re a full mess” she whispered as she pushed your skirt up exposing the wet mess hiding under causing her to bite her lip.

You felt yourself tremble as she slowly started to trace the lines of your folds over your undies and pressing sweet kissing on your neck causing you to whine. But you started to push into her hand hard looking for the sweet friction “Ahah what did I say about being impatient baby..” she warns as she was taps at where you clit is located.

“I-I am sorry, I just need you so so so bad unnie please” you cry out trying to beg for her to fully touch you.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely but you better not start crying when you can’t handle it” she warned as she pushed you panties to the side and finally felt her thumb meet your clit making you let out a relived moan.

Your finally get that sweet sweet pressure you be looking for all night but the sudden feeling of two fingers entering you cause your legs to shut close.

“Hey I thought you were going to behave-” she growled out as she forced your legs back open with her other hand causing you get even more wetter. “Good now be a good girl and take what I give you” she said as she gave a rough thrust causing your hands to fly to hers, gripping it as if she going to tone down her thrust.

Moan after moan that’s what she pulling out of you and how that makes her movement go faster.

“Mhm! Unnnie…please—” cutting off your pleases she sticks her tongue in your mouth while gripping the back of your neck making her tongue travel more further. Continuing her abuse with her hand, she finally hits that sweet spot that makes you see star causing you to throw your head back. So she starts her recoloring her previous marks from nights before. She wants people to look at neck and just know your off limits, to know that your being taken care off.

“Hyunju!” You scream out as the hot knot in your stomach finally popped but that doesn’t matter Hyunju will continue her abuse til your done riding out that delicious high.

Sighing in delight Hyunju pulls her fingers out and makes you look at her as she stuff her soiled finger in her mouth causing you to moan.

“Mhmm~ quite a wonderful taste, now I am craving the taste but from the source” she smirks as you whimper and try to close you legs but she is already out of the driver side walking to the passenger side. Opening your door she push the button to make your seat go back as she just smiles.

She slot herself knee deep in the passenger seat while looking into your eyes she rubs and kisses your thighs. You couldn’t help but moan oh man is this casual now?

Opening your thighs she slowly leads her kisses to your folds. Groaning as she comes lips to clit she starts sucking causing your hands to grip her hair. “Ngh—unnie” you moan out causing her suck harder.

Pulling away she groan just getting a glance at your state “you really are eternal” she said was she licks your clit down to your slit. “Mh—please”that’s it, that’s all it took for her to enter you with her tongue groaning at the taste.

You start to squirm in pleasure, you just can’t get enough nor can handle it. But your put to sudden stop as she slaps the side of your thigh and grips your hip letting her nails press into your skin. All you could do was whine and shred those tear Hyunju loved so dearly.

A sudden loud moan leaves your mouth as her thumb starts circling around your clit adding more pleasure on top of what you’re already experiencing. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to twist with all the amount of pleasure so you start trying to push Hyunju head away.

“Unnie please I’m close—” you really tried to push her away but that woman won’t budge she kept her mouth where she wanted it whiling pushing in her nails even deeper into you.

“Wai—” you were cut off with your loudest moan of the night causing the knot to finally pop all over Hyunju. Gasping for air you start to calm down but that calmness is quickly gone with Hyunju rubbing her fingers over your slit.

“Mhm you did such a good job, and tasted so good” she said as she licked the leftover juices on you and her lips. “How about we head to my place?”

Oh you already know what she means…another ‘causal’ fuck with no strings attached. “Please” she mutters with that sad puppy look as she rubs up and down your leg so you just bit back that remark and nodded.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Ahh um let me know thought because I had to pause and rethink if I’m doing this right



[5sospenguinqueen]

C2 or Sainz2 | Charles Leclerc x Sainz! Reader

Summary: Because being teased relentlessly by his teammate wasn’t enough for Charles, he decided to fall in love with Carlos' sister, and endure twice the bullying. 

Warnings: fluff, swearing, a suggestive comment, a tiny hint at the loss of C2

Requested: Yes by @1800-love-me

F1 Masterlist

Sorry it took so long but I couldn't get inspo and then, the loss of C2 compelled me

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by scuderiaferrari, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc nice weekend home before we’re off again for 3 weeks 

10,161 comments

ynsainz take this down! i can’t have people seeing how cute my baby is because then they’ll want to steal him

→ charles_leclerc for everyone talking about how sweet this is, she’s talking about leo

→ ynsainz people thought i was talking about you????

user1 is that an engagement photo??

→ carlossainz55 no. he hasn’t asked me for permission

→ ynsainz he doesn’t need to

→ carlossainz55 i’ll kill him and myself 

→ charles_leclerc oh 

user2 yn looks so pretty in this post 

user3 can’t believe they’re celebrating their 4 year anniversary already 

→ user4 i love that carlos joined ferrari and charles instantly stole his sister 

ynsainz just posted

liked by fernandoalo_official, lilymhe and others

ynsainz ¡vamos! carlito. i know you’ll kick ass later otherwise you’ll be a disgrace to our home town 🇪🇸

5,516 comments

charles_leclerc you didn’t wear a monaco top when i was racing there?

→ ynsainz they don’t sell them? 

→ arthur_leclerc if you really love him, you would’ve made one

→ carlossainz55 she’s not monegasque so why would she

→ pascale.leclerc she will be one day 

→ user5 !!!

user6 i love that yn treats carlos like her little brother, instead of her being the baby sister

→ ynsainz mentally, i am older

→ carlossainz55 ay, no

user7 can charles fight?

→ charles_leclerc yes

→ carlossainz55 no

user8 yn sainz is my favourite thing about f1

user9 the sainz-leclerc family is definitely the best thing ferrari has done

scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, olliebearman and others

scuderiaferrari our favourite thing to photograph 

13,333 comments

user10 i swear charles looks at carlos in the same way he looks at yn 

→ ynsainz try being at family dinner. i don’t exist to either of them

→ user11 i love when she roasts the both of them 

ynsainz alternative caption: they may suck on track but our drivers excel at staring lovingly into each other’s eyes

→ charles_leclerc you told me i was your favourite driver! 

→ carlossainz55 ¡vete a la mierda! it’s been me since she was born

→ ynsainz it’s actually lewis

→ iamrebeccad great, now he’s crying. thanks, yn

user12 wait until max sees this post. he’ll be asking red bull to post him and charles again

→ user13 poor yn has to keep fighting all these drivers for her polly pocket boyfriend  liked by ynsainz

→ charles_leclerc, no, ma chérie, you’re to tell them i’m big

→ user14 um, charles, that’s not something you’re meant to say on the internet

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by alex_albon, lorenzotl and others

charles_leclerc driving, dinner and… 

12,094 comments

user15 and date night! 

landonorris was she as bad at karting as carlos says?

→ charles_leclerc i mean, she is definitely not as good a teammate as carlos

→ ynsainz omg just date him already! 

→ ynsainz at least there isn’t multiple videos of me being a bad driver on the streets of monaco 

→ charles_leclerc low blow, mon amour

→ arthur_leclerc ha, she’s got you there

user16 charles saw all the comments saying we’d steal his girl and decided to remind us who she belongs to  liked by charles_leclerc

user17 …being dicked down! yn getting all the d’s liked by ynsainz

user18 countdown to carlos sainz meltdown in 3…

→ user19 2…

→ user20 1…

carlossainz55 GET OFF MY SISTER

carlossainz55 THAT IS NOT HOW YOU TREAT A LADY OF HER STANDING

→ ynsainz what if she liked it

→ carlossainz55 ew ew ew ew ew

→ charles_leclerc ma belle, stop trying to get me castrated

scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by iamrebeccad, lec and others 

scuderiaferrari competition always give us the best of C2

15,884 comments

user1 carlos being the spanish version of charles. their love was written in the stairs

→ ynsainz okay, i get it! the whole universe is against me

user2 they’re literally twins. same expressions, same body language

→ ynsainz take this down before i puke

→ charles_leclerc she’s refusing to kiss me now

carlossainz55 i definitely won. admin clearly counted the points wrong

user3 they’re always so competitive haha

→ ynsainz we’re not allowed family games night anymore because it always ends in tears

→ carlossainz55 yeah, charles’

→ charles_leclerc no! yn, tell him

→ charles_leclerc that was one time and we agreed not to talk about it! 

carlossainz55 just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and others

carlossainz55 the second best couple i know just got engaged. congratulations, hermanita. i am so happy for you  tagged: ynsainz, charles_leclerc

21,667 comments

user4 did you cry?

→ ynsainz yes, he did. but only because he was losing the love of his life to his siter

→ carlossainz55 oy, you should be nice to me. i helped set up those flowers

arthur_leclerc i am so happy for yn to join the family 

→ charles_leclerc @/carlossainz55 see, this is how family reacts. not calling us the second best couple

→ carlossainz55 but i know me and rebecca 

scuderiaferrari we take full responsibility for this. after all, we made C2 teammates. we expect to see a ferrari themed wedding

→ ynsainz don’t give them ideas! 

pierregasly i cannot believe he finally did it. only taken him 3 years of talking about

→ ynsainz that is the cutest thing i’ve heard

→ carlossainz55 not if you had to listen to him plan it 55 different ways 

oscarpiastri does this make yn my step mother

→ ynsainz no. don’t you dare call me that

→ charles_leclerc yes it does, son

user5 charles better not wear that bloody ferrari suit to his own wedding

→ carlossainz55 already convincing him to do it

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

request open, i write for most drivers (aside from a few) and some of the retired drivers

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @iloveyou3000morgan @justaf1girl @teamnovalak

[fieldofdaisiies]

Being mated to ... with Azriel, Eris & Lucien

To kick off this new year I thought to go back to the roots, and start with something I did when I first started posting on here. (warning: it includes explicit content). Hope you enjoy!

Being mated to Azriel would include…

SFW

flying over Velaris in the dead of night

late night conversation about everything and anything

forehead kisses

you putting lotion on his hands and massaging them

massaging his winds after a long day of flying

bathing together and almost falling asleep in the warm water and his arms

kissing his hands

Azriel buying you beautiful jewellery

neck kisses

holding each other the whole night

soft kisses in the morning that turn into long kissing and cuddling session and make you stay in bed at least an hour longer

massaging Azriel’s tense shoulders after missions

talking to him throughout the whole night after especially demanding missions

NSFW

love bites, this male marks you so every other male knows your‘re his and only his

Azriel doesn’t really do soft love making, only in the beginning when you start sleeping together 

he prefers it rougher and very passionate

he loves when you sit on his face

wing play

slightly public sex, but Azriel loves it when flying

he always comes aftet you, always wanting to bring you pleasure first

Azriel using his shadows to pleasure you

Being mated to Eris would include…

SFW

lazy Sunday mornings in bed, reading while it rains outside and you cuddled closely together 

dancing in the rain

going for long walks with his smoke hounds in the forests of the Autumn Court

him consulting you with court business

Him never making any decisions without talking to you first

kisses on your forehead

kisses on your knuckles

kisses on your cheek

bathing together

Eris buying you random small gifts he knows will make you smile

kissing your knuckles 

cooking with you

him introducing you to everyone as the High Lady of the Autumn Court

Eris building you a library

Eris reading to you

you telling him jokes to cheer him uo after demanding court business

NSFW

soft and slow love making for hours in front of the fireplace

Eris love coming inside of you so his scent sticks to you for weeks, making it clear to everybody you‘re his

Eris has a thing for lingerie, he wants you to keep wearing it while he buries his face between your thighs

fucking you on his throne while you‘re wearing his crown

or the other way round, sitting on his throne while you‘re kneeling between his legs

he makes you come at least 3 to 4 times before he allows himself to do so

bathing together which often leads to love making in the bathtub

Being mated to Lucien would include…

SFW

hiking through beautiful nature

skinny dipoing in private lakes because why not?

forehead kisses

selfmade gifts

Lucien giving you best hugs

falling asleep on him and him holding you the whole time

Lucien giving you back and feet massages

Lucien making you laugh

kissing your knuckles

bringing you flowers whenever he returns from his emissary business

cooking for you

shameless teasing

Lucien reading your books to you (also the smutty ones which make him grimace and laugh)

Lucien kissing your nose

Lucien tickling you

he tells you ar least once a day, every day, how beautiful you are

Lucien making you believe in yourself

Lucien teasing you endlessly when he catches you checking him out

NSFW

sex…a lot of sex — Lucien loves it, loves it when you love it and loves making love to you

he loves making you feel good, making you feel like a queen

it‘s about your pleasure, and always your pleasure

he could spend eternity between your thighs, addicted to the taste of you

sometimes he enjoys to take his time with you, slow and passionate love making

other times he likes it a bit rougher, fucking you so that your neighbours will hear and the poor bed starts to groan beneath you

he loves when you sit on his face, especially when you turn so you can stretch down his body and take him into your mouth as well

he loves making love to you outside, beneath trees or next to lakes/ponds

Lucien is the king of aftercare

[summervb]

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐭 | thanos (player 230) × fem!reader

summary | Thanos constantly harasses you until you stand up to him

warnings | strong language, drug use, physical confrontation, kissing

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

It all started with a look—one of those glances people give you when they underestimate you. Of course, you were used to it. Here, no one expected much from a girl like you: small, quick, and quiet. And Player 230, whom everyone called Thanos, was no exception.

From day one, that jerk had decided you were his personal entertainment. He provoked you whenever he could, shoving you as he passed, making sarcastic remarks about how "weak" you looked, and making it clear that if he ever had the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to crush you.

You put up with it because there wasn’t much choice. In this place, showing weakness was a death sentence, and an open confrontation with someone like him could be just as dangerous. But today, something inside you snapped.

It was the fifth game, a test of endurance and precision. Everyone was tense, including the guards patrolling the room. You focused on your strategy, ignoring the murmurs and stares. Then, as always, he showed up.

“Look who’s here, our little rat. Ready to run away when things get tough?”

His voice echoed behind you, and you could hear the smug grin in his tone. You didn’t bother turning around.

“Don’t you have anything better to do, 230?” you replied, trying to stay calm.

He let out a laugh. “No, not really. Watching you fail is the only entertaining thing here.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, a gesture that was anything but friendly. You swatted it away, turning to face him.

“You know what? That’s enough. I’m sick of your crap.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly recovered his mocking expression. “Well, well. The little rat has claws.”

Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t going to back down. Not this time.

“And what about you? What do you have? Besides a big mouth and a small brain?”

A murmur rippled through the room. The other players were watching the scene unfold with interest, some even smirking. It was rare for anyone to stand up to Thanos, let alone in public.

For a moment, you thought he was going to hit you. He stepped closer, and you could feel his heavy breath, mixed with the unmistakable stench of something chemical. Drugs. You’d noticed it before—his dilated pupils, his slightly clumsy movements.

“You know what’s funny?” he said, leaning toward you. His voice, usually loud and commanding, sounded almost… confused. Like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh at you or with you.

“What?” you snapped, not breaking eye contact.

“I like your attitude.” The grin on his face widened, but this time it didn’t seem mocking. It was different, disoriented.

What happened next took you completely by surprise. Before you could react, his hands grabbed your arms—not forcefully. He looked at you as if he were seeing something new, something he didn’t fully understand, and then… he kissed you.

It was quick, clumsy, and so unexpected that for a moment, you didn’t know how to react. Your brain took a few seconds to process what was happening, but when it did, you shoved him away with all the strength you had.

“What the hell are you doing?” you yelled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He stumbled back, a satisfied smile plastered across his face.

“You’re sexy when you’re angry, you know?”

Your blood boiled. The air in the room seemed to freeze. The other players stared at you—some horrified, others trying to stifle their laughter. The guards, as always, did nothing, letting the chaos unfold on its own.

“You’re insane,” you said, not bothering to lower your voice.

He took a step toward you, but this time, you stepped forward first.

“No. I’m warning you—don’t come any closer.”

Something in your tone must have reached him because he stopped. He blinked a couple of times, as if trying to process your words, and then let out a low, almost raspy laugh.

“You know, I think I like you more than I thought.”

You couldn’t believe it. This idiot was definitely high and didn’t seem to have any idea how inappropriate his behavior was. But instead of feeling intimidated, a wave of fury surged through you.

“If you ever touch me again,” you said, pointing a finger at him, “I swear you won’t walk out of the next game.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. And then, to your surprise, he nodded.

“Fine, little rat. But don’t be surprised if you change your mind someday.”