#tempt you (evocatio) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amoristt · 6 days ago

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tempt you (evocatio)

「 ✦ seong gi-hun / reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // genderless reader, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn but in a oneshot way, post games gi-hun, reader wants to take him away from all this, songfic

a/n: this song has been on LOOP since i started writing this omg. i love nbt so much and i loved writing this!!!! word count: 6k || original request (x)

・❥・The man that had showed up at your doorstep that frigid, stormy night was not the same man you'd once known. Shared the same face, same hair, same body- albeit soaked to the bone with the downpour. But there were more differences beyond his hair dropping streams down his face and the fading wounds. There was this... sense of him. A somber, wounded aura that carried an eternal frown and dark eye circles. He looked lost, like a shell of himself, gutted from the inside out.

Six months had done a terrible, terrible number on him. Six months had chewed him up to grueling bits and spat him out at your doorstep this broken, mangled thing.

Gi-hun wouldn't talk about it- whatever it was. He wouldn't talk about much of anything at all, really. That was one of the other changes you noticed about him right off the bat- your old friend would have filled any and all silences with endless chatter and laughter. Now, he existed in silence, like a melancholic ghost.

You'd always been so fond of him- and he, of you. He chose you more often than he didn't, sought life from you and you did all the same. Even with his problems, even with your own, you both found solace drinking on your balcony overlooking the small city, watching busy bodies scurry below like insects. Two struggling souls trudging through the meddling marsh that was life and it's many, many choices. Almost too many to handle.

You loved when he chose you.

Which is why when he'd showed up now, without so much as even a hello, you couldn't turn him away. Not even after the silence. Not even after you'd spent more nights thinking of him until it felt as thought your head would crush under the sheer density of his absence.

Or perhaps, it was the guilt you felt- the guilt that had saddled you like a pony and rode you until you were weak in the knees and sick in the head.

He'd come to you, then, strained and desperate pleading for funds to pay for his mothers surgery. A good cause- more important than anything else he'd ever 'borrowed' for. But back then, you had only just started working, and you could barely afford the roof over your head. He left that day with his tail tucked between his legs and you remembered thinking, man, you had fucked up something so good.

And when he never came back, you knew it to be true. And it killed you.

The most heart twisting change, standing before you now, was his smile. Or so, the lack of it. Oh, how you loved his smile- even when he was being an ass, even when he was lying. You loved that toothy, boyish grin and the uptick to his voice as he spoke with you. His expression was miles below now, with a frown so drawn that it carved deep lines into his skin.

He just needed some sleep.

Specifically, he needed someone with him while he slept. Something about paranoia and nightmares. It was certainly an odd request- but you were sure he knew you would be the best candidate for the job. Working from home and leading a rather... Introverted lifestyle, you seldom had visitors, and you never saw your bed before 6am. You spent countless evenings with him before, laughing amongst the latest hours of the night.

This was different. No laughter. No drinking, or telling jokes and stories until the birds began to chirp. No room for the good things in life.

Just sleep.

He needed a watch dog, and in his tired eyes, you made the perfect hound.

You were softer with him after you let him saunter inside your little home, probably softer than you had ever been in your entire life. Every step trailing him was quiet, like you would spook him if you moved too quickly. He stood in the middle of your living room dripping water onto your floor, unmoving, until you brought a towel. When he didn't react, those eyes so far away and abandoned, you decided to just towel him off yourself.

Removing his wet coat was a far more nerve wracking process. Not because he was upset- it was actually quite the opposite. He wasn't anything. Just stared into nothing, lost in a thick fog as you undid all the buttons and peeled the heavy fabric off his broad shoulders before tossing it to hang over a kitchen chair.

Whatever had happened to him while he was gone had changed him. Damaged him. It made you feel bad for the nights you cursed him, your anger getting the better of you when he never returned a call or text. Guilt had turned you into this unsettled, bitter beast. You missed him- you missed your friend. You always dreamed of him coming back, but you never expected this.

A part of you wondered if maybe you should get him to a hospital, for all you knew, he could have been concussed or injured. But when you tried to even bring the idea up he was quick to shoot it down. Even quicker to grab your arm when you tried to get up, like a knee jerk reaction, fingers grasping around your wrist tightly, then gentler when he realized.

He just wanted to sleep.

So, you let him.

That first night, you sat at your kitchen table, watching him rest. A thousand and one questions bounced around behind your eyes, your skull became quite full of burdened wonders. What had happened to your old friend, to make him so damn afraid?

During the hours he made quite the symphony of sounds. Sometimes it was these quiet little sighs, sometimes they were tense, ground out huffs. His brows would knit with the frustrations of his dreams, fingers gripping into tight fists before loosening to open palms over the softness of your couch. All these agonies that he couldn't run from, always finding him, even in his dreams.

You wanted to sooth him, run your fingers through his thick unkempt hair and hush all those petrified whimpers.

The birds warned of the sun before it showed face over the earth, the sky fading from a murky black dotted with stars into a softer hue, a halo of blue engulfing the distant horizon. Surely when he rose, he would be akin to a zombie, bleary eyed and drained after such an egregious rest.

Gi-hun awoke on his own just before brazen golds would streak over the clear morning sky with nothing but a slow rise to his feet. He looked... Decent, enough. Wiped the tired from his eyes and settled his hands on his lap. You watched him from the living room doorway, leaning against the frame, pity building quite the foundations within the cavity of your chest. He looked so defeated. You wished you could grab him by the shoulders and shake him out of it, snap him back into that bright soul you'd once known, but something about the state of him told you this wasn't something that would just go away.

Something had happened to him. Something so altering it rebuilt the very presence of him.

When he realized how you lingered, watching him, he stood and bowed before you. And then he was grabbing his semi-dry coat and slinking to the door, slipping outside without another word.

It didn't sit right with you. You had this gnawing, chewing feeling that perhaps you should have tried to convince him to stay. It felt too much like that day he'd left, so broken. It ripped chunks into your conscious until you ran to your door and threw it open, peeking down the hallway of your apartment complex. You saw the outline of him down the hall.

Come back when you need to, you'd called. He only looked back long enough to offer you a respectful bow before he was gone around the corner.

He didn't come back for nearly five days. Five days that you spent thinking about him incessantly. Between having missed him while he was gone and always wondering where he'd went, now that he was back, you somehow had more questions than answers. What was going on with him? Was he in danger? Is he still in danger? He'd said he was paranoid- paranoid about what? He clearly trusted you, but would he ever trust you enough to tell you?

The second night that he showed up, it was the same story, minus the rainstorm. He slinked into your domain but this time he slid his shoes off at the door, sauntered to your living room and plopped himself down on your couch. He fell asleep quicker that time, slept deeper, too. You took the time to catch up on some reading, but it was hard to focus on the writing when every now and then Gi-hun would make this pathetically sad noises. Noises that you wished you still wished you could soothe and hush.

Before he had gone to sleep, he'd told you this would be the last night he came. He would not tell you why, but he reeked of shame. You spent the entire night wishing, praying this would not be the last.

He broke your heart again. Whether he knew it or not.

That morning, you tried to make conversation. You kept it light- if he had plans that day, if he slept well. He didn't entirely ignore you this time, but offered little more than nods or soft hums of confirmation. But it was something. You could always do something with something.

Just don't disappear again. Even like this.

He left that morning with a gentle thank you and nothing more.

It seemed, to your dismay, Gi-hun had been true to his words.

Night after night rolled on, the days blurring into weeks and then into months. Your life had become interrupted, rocked by his two mere visits, unsure why you were so affected by the man. He was like a parasite under your skin, a creature who'd taken up housing within the confines of your mind. His sunken in features, his melancholic thousand yard stares, the way he was entirely shrouded in depressing mystery.

You hadn't realized how much you had missed him, hadn't realized how much you appreciated his company those two nights. Even sad. Even barely even a company at all, you loved him there.

Two months had passed by the time you saw him again. With an arm full of groceries and your mind lost elsewhere, you meandered up the stairs to your floor. Dim lights lit the way as you went, step by step through the complex full of sleeping bodies. You were lucky your local grocery store was open at all hours of the night, being as it was currently four in the morning. It felt all too natural for you.

Daylight brought too much... Energy. Skittering glances and chirpy tones that you really struggled to keep up with. The night was safe. The night was quiet.

You're so lost in thought that you almost don't realize there's a figure standing down the hallway. Well, you do notice them, but you don't realize they're standing in front of your apartment until you're just a couple doors away. They hadn't seen you yet, standing as still as a statue before your apartment with their hands limp to their sides.

Fear rippled up and down your spine as you took in the sight of him. In the low light, you could barely make out a few key details- short black hair, a heavy dark coat and even darker pants. No one you could immediately recognize. You rarely had visitors in the daylight let alone in the middle of the night.

What the hell could they possibly want with you at this hour?

There's something familiar about the figure, you realize, as you too stand there stuck in place watching them. The way they lean forward, almost curling into themselves as they stood. The low hang of their head.

The person raises their hand to your door, making a fist, unaware that your home sat vacant. You expected them to knock, bracing for the sound, but they freeze, almost like they're too nervous to actually draw the attention. Just barely an inch from your door. Hovering. Torn between choices, choices, choices.

Their confidence fails them. Their arm falls loosely to their side.

They take a step back- just close enough under the light for you finally get a good look at their face.

Your breath leaves you all at once.

With so little light, it's difficult to really see their features. But you'd know them anywhere- you just aren't sure how you hadn't recognized them the second you'd taken the ghastly state of them.

Gi-hun.

A wave of heart-wrenching distress drew your quizzical expression into a deep frown, worsened when he took another step back and fully committed to taking his exit. You never would have known- wondering why he had left you still. Wondering why you couldn't do more for him, why you couldn't be the hand that delivered mercy for him.

Or at the very least have been the hand that held him through it all.

Seeing him like that, you also couldn't help but wonder if this has happened before. Had he really been so close this entire time? Just merely struggling with the courage to be and exist around you?

When he turned to face you, he didn't meet your eyes. He didn't even realize it was you standing before him. He's quick to flick his heavy hood over his head, eyes focused sharp onto the floor.

"Gi-hun?"

And suddenly he's a deer that's stopped dead in the glare of beaming headlights. Bewildered, off guard, his hands still shoved roughly into his pockets when he flicks his gaze up to meet yours. Your name tumbles off his lips in stammers.

"You look terrible." Your voice comes out much more... Deadpan than it had sounded in your head, but you can't stand the idea of him just walking out. You've got him now, you can't just let him go. "Come on, let me get my stuff in and you'll lay down."

You hope that the way you don't leave room for no convinces him to just stay with you. It's the easy route- let you slip that invisible leash over his throat and guide him into the warmness of your home. To be a creature that is cared for, sheltered and fed and sleeping easy, away from it all.

For a moment, he didn't follow, and that disappointing stone began to snowball into something larger in your gut, but then, step by step, he gave into you. He stood a foot behind you while you unlocked the door, this somber and uneasy presence over your shoulder.

It was like coaxing a beaten animal. Every movement calculated, slow. Every word something sweet and digestible.

He certainly must have been tired that night. By the time you were done putting groceries away, he had already slipped his boots off at the door and laid out on the couch, accepting the giving hand of slumber. You wished you could have spoken with him, but you couldn't imagine stripping him of this.

You spent the rest of your night watching over him like some sort of guardian angel. This omnipresent being hushing his qualms and drawing him in with whisper light touches and kind words. A bed of feathers, a head full of clouds.

When the sun rose and morning dew settled over your windows, you expected him to leave just as quietly as he'd came. The thrumming, erosive need of your own rest started to diminish your flame, but... he didn't leave. Hypnotized by the glorious sun, maybe, or content to watching birds flutter past your windows. The world wakes up around him. This is the first time in 8 months that you've seen him basked in daylight.

He was just as beautiful as you always remembered. Some of him had changed- he was a little skinnier, a little more hollow, but he was still him. The golds and yellows mapped the outline of him in shimmers, poured honey into those dark, autumn eyes.

Perhaps you had been wrong about the call of daylight. This felt safe.

"Good morning." You'd said, leaning your elbows on the table, overlooking him. "Sleep well?"

He actually spoke to you, that day. A simple and sweet sound. "I did. Thank you."

"You said you weren't gonna come back."

"I know."

"I'm glad you did." You swallow. He turns to look at you, brows knit in perplexion. "I've been worried about you, you know."

Infatuated, is more like it.

"Worried?" He says, like he cant believe it. Like he doesn't know the state of himself.

Or, perhaps unsure as to why you would ever bore concerns about someone as small, as insignificant, as him.

"Well, yeah." You push away from the table, turn away from him, using the excuse of preparing coffee as a means to escape his watchful eyes. Ironic, considering you spent almost all of your recent time together taking in every detail of him. "I was worried something had happened to you. Or that you weren't sleeping well."

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"I can tell. That's why you're here, right?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I worried you."

"Don't be. I'm just, y'know-... Like I said, I'm glad you're here. Makes me feel better."

He was quiet for a time.

"Thank you."

You turn to face him, almost expecting him to be standing with his coat in hand, ready to dip and escape the moment. Vulnerability, even despite using you as his watchman, was never something he enjoyed. Not then, not ever.

He's still sitting on the couch. You jump at the chance to keep him around, even if it's only for a few extra minutes.

"I'm making some coffee, I'm gonna make you a cup."

Once again, there is no room for no. He doesn't fight you.

What a lovely feeling that was.

Exhaustion was a cheap, cheap price to pay for his company.

You became his routine. This steady and true piece of him, all comfort and no worries. Silence was a virtue that went understood and, at times, appreciated.

He couldn't say, and you didn't have the bearings to ask. You didn't even know where to start. So you let him into your domain and offered up the few things you did have: a warm home, a comfortable couch. Sometimes you made him tea, sometimes you made coffee. Sometimes he slept through the night bearing thrashing slumbers. Sometimes he murmured named you didn't recognize.

Sometimes he didn't sleep at all, but still regarded your very soul next to him enough to charge his lethargy. You gained nothing except he, himself.

Color began to return to his face over the weeks. He even smiled at times and the way he sighed out something dripping in relief after he'd walk into the barrier of your home was reward enough.

Staying longer was a slow, slow tumultuous process, but when it was done, it was done. And it was perfect. You made time for him- real, safe human companionship. Words would never do justice the thickness growing between you both, filling the gaps and the crevices until there was no space left at all.

With time, your own sleeping schedule had become so twisted you rarely found the ease to sleep at all. So willing to watch him, so willing to stay up with him if he decided that day was as good as any to linger. You gave it all for him- your time, your kindness, your softness so reserved but ready for him.

Gi-hun had become your routine jus as much.

You began to fall asleep with him. You'd sit on the couch upright, tip your head back against the plush cushions and he'd curl up next to you, resting a pillow between your legs and his head. Sometimes you wished he wouldn't.

Let me cradle you, let me hold you. Let me take this all away.

When his dreams turn into darkness that threatens to swallow him whole, you pet down his hair and stroke your thumb over his angular cheekbones, and oh, how he sweetens up. How those hard, jagged edges soften into mounds, soothed by the very touch of you. Oh, how your heart would swell. Flutter in the cage of your chest and try to break free, burrow it's way into his own chest and beat for him.

When he would rise with the early sun, there would be these moments, these fleeting moments, where you would catch the pieces of him shimmering in the golden haze.

Bits of him would poke through that endless sky of ravenous clouds, fingers clawing and tearing and dragging until, if even more a moment, he could see you on the other side. Like sun blitzing through the storm, these great halo's of light that shone over you like the finest of golds.

But then it would all come crashing over him all again. Those beautiful lights would suffocate with the weight of his demons, and he would tuck himself among the noise, hiding.

Lonely in that heaven of his, shutting the gates just before you could find yourself slipping through.

Like two magnets drawn so fiercely, pulled in this undeniable gravity, just as equally shoved apart when the friction threatened to become too much.

Let me in.

He still, even now, clams up whenever you'd try to pacify those tensions, raw and flayed to the very nerve.

The split ends of him would gather and settle at the very tip of his tongue. You don't understand the bear trap, the lingering look in his eyes when he is desperate to tell you but just can't find it himself to spit the damn words out. He's reaching through the void, searching for you despite sitting a merely foot away. Perhaps he's afraid to let you in, because, to bring you in would be to share the grief. And he could never do that to you- his safehouse. He companion. Something untouched and undisturbed from the dirty paws of his inner monsters.

The little pieces of him that chipped off like rust and scattered over your touch were always that of guilt. That was the center piece of him- a great table cloth stained in remorse you couldn't quite put your finger on.

What have you done, Gi-hun?

What have they done to you?

One night, when the words that left his tongue were too heavy to burden, he'd told you that he was sorry. Sorry, for making you be this necessity for him.

"You shouldn't have to put up with this." He'd said, with eyes that refused to leave his lap. Refused to see you beside him. You just touched his shoulder gingerly, reminded him that you were there, you would always be there.

"I don't have to. I love putting up with you."

"You don't deserve this-... this work.

"It's hardly work."

"It is. It's rotten work."

Gi-hun's eyes were far away, and so you drew him back to you, watched those beautiful irises take you in. Right next to him. Your hand the beacon of light guiding him through the dark seas, the hand that leads as it touches his arm. So small in nature, so significant in meaning.

"Not to me," You whispered, and you could see him in his expression, your Gi-hun. "Not if it's you."

Tonight he's smoking out on the balcony by the time you're finished with a shower. He should be sleeping- catching up on the rest he always sought to capture in his hands, always evading him without you, for some reason. The moon is high, the stars are twinkling. It's a gorgeous sight if not for the fact that he's out there in a t-shirt and it's freezing. You pluck his blanket from the couch and slide the door open, cringing at the cold air.

"What are you doing?" You sigh, tossing the blanket over his shoulder.

"Thank you." Gi-hun takes a long drag from his cigarette and clutches the blanket to himself with his other hand, as if only just now realizing how cold he was. Smoke and hot breath leave him in great plumes of grey that swirl into the night. Snowflakes dot the balcony railing and catch in his hair.

The wind is so cold it's almost freezing your soaking wet hair, but you couldn't imagine leaving him out here alone.

You sit beside him on the bench. "...Can I stay out here with you?"

Gi-hun nods. It's silent for a long time between the two of you, this comfortable, pleasant energy mounting in the gaps between your bodies. It's a feeling you've gotten used to, one that you've come to appreciate the sparing times you get it.

You could do this forever, you think. Just enjoying the existence of him.

"Your hair."

You blink at him, and he's looking at you. Really looking at you. He reaches out and gently catches frozen strands on his fingers.

"You should go back inside. It's too cold out here." And then he's holding his cigarette between his lips so he could pull the blanket from around his shoulders and toss it over yours instead.

"We should both go inside." You're both shivering messes. He doesn't answer right away, but he puts his cigarette out in the ashtray before leaning his elbows on his legs. You reach out and tentatively touch at his arm. He doesn't immediately- pull away like he's had before, always so scared of the touches, so you take it further. Little steps here and there. Always testing the waters of him.

You trace your thumb over his knuckles. He watches you with this delicate expression, pliable and tinted. Gentle, you take his hand into yours.

"Let's go inside."

It's not so much of a command than a plea. But he takes it as one anyways and lets you bring him to his feet. He stands a whole head above you but moves like you're carrying him, leaning into you ever so subtly. There's something different about him tonight. He's willing, not fighting the way you're taking care of him. The hard lines of him are blurring just enough for you pass right through them. The gates of him are opening with splinters of light striping your fingers.

A sense of him that he's ready, maybe, to topple over and spill all of his guts onto the hardwood floor right before you.

You bring him to the couch and he sets himself down gently beside you. For a time, you're both silent, but you're still holding his hand and he's still letting you and his eyebrows are drawing into these pensive lines that you cant stand to see anymore.

Stop thinking. Stop worrying. Look at me.

"Gi-hun." You whisper.

Look at me.

His eyes don't tear from their hold forward, unfocused and far away, that lucidity of him slipping through your fingers like sand.

Please, look at me.

Your hand leaves his so you can gingerly move his face to look at you, your fingers catching his jaw, barely, just barely begging with your actions for him to just look at you. He doesn't fight you. His eyes finally meet your line of sight and he's clearly struggling with something deep, deep within the confines of his very soul. Lines of guilt, traces of shame, short shallow breaths of apprehension.

Why are you so afraid of me? When you are so lonely?

Oh, there's tears forming in his eyes. There is something different, tonight. You bring your other hand up to catch the other side of his face.

Let me fix this. Let me help you, fix this.

"Gi-hun."

There you go, finding pilled tears gathering at your waterlines all the same. Sapping the emotions from him, feeling for him. An extension of him. All these feelings flowing through you like a trickling stream turned into roaring rivers. His expression falls all over again like its his fault. There is so much of him underneath it all and you want to drag it out, you want to save him in a way he never thought he'd have again.

He swallows hard, struggling to gag down the emotions threatening to spill out.

His skin is soft under your palms. Smooth. You want more.

"Let me in." You whisper. "Talk to me."

Your fingers are holding him so sweetly in your grasp, taking the weight from him, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the sides of his cheeks. Any moment now, you're sure he'll back away like the frightened animal realizing it's been ensnared. He always does, with shameful eyes and guilt eating away at him in droves, unable to cope with himself and unable- unwilling to let you help him.

The old him would nip at heels for a scrap- a beggar, a taker. But not anymore. He wouldn't let you in the way a wild animal wouldn't feed from your giving hand.

You want so much more of him. You want to pull him from the fire that lapped up every bit of life he had left to offer. You gently pull him into you, a winged hug.

Gi-hun doesn't answer you.

But he lets you bring him in. He buries his face into the cradle of your neck and he breathes so, so deeply that you're sure it must hurt his lungs to finally suck air so real that everything else must feel stale in comparison. His heart is thrumming like a drum against you and it reminds you that he's alive, reminds him that he's alive, and moving under your skin and letting out quiet breaths into your warm flesh that lights you on fire.

Was this was the way in? Gentle hands, a cooing voice, arms that could never seem to hold him tight enough?

You would do it for a lifetime. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed.

"It's okay."

He gives in. Falls into you like Icarus seeking the fiery hot glow of the sun, unfurls himself and clutches you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to this life. Like you're the only thing worth being tethered to.

Tears are stinging your eyes, your lower lip is trembling something awful. He's right there, everything you've been praying for, longing for. Shaking into shattered bits and pieces right in your very arms.

Fall apart, I will rebuild you.

When he drags back, you re-find the sides of his face.

Don't go, don't go.

He's looking at you with raw, real emotion. Simmering embers flaring into open flames when his eyes meet yours, fingers that seem to try and find their way into the very being of you. He's flicking fervent glances from your lips to your eyes- you can't take it anymore.

Give it all to me.

You drag him down to kiss you. And he, despite himself, let's you.

He braces himself with one hand on the backrest of the couch behind your head and let's you take him in. His other arm is caught in the air, hovering just above your arm, so desperate to touch but so afraid to break this perfect, perfect moment.

Always thinking. Always hesitating.

You lean into him, deepen the kiss and drag him into you, clashing like those magnets, all hands and shifting bodies. Finally that broad hand finds you, the knuckles grazing your shoulder up to your neck, to the curve of your jaw. He rests it there, holds you, cups you like a precious thing to him. All those frustrations are spilling from him in the form of pensive brows and sighs against your lips.

You drink them in, greedy and hungry to take, take, take.

Give it all to me. Let me carry it for you. Let me breathe you in and never breathe you out.

The hand he braced himself with twists into the fabric of the couch. You lick into his mouth and fuck, he lets you. Make's a small noise in the back of throat that makes you shiver. He's moving in tandem with you, this timid game of push and pull until it flames into something far more fervent.

Let me give you this.

You make sweet sounds to spur him on, and it seems to work. He's losing his edges, he's finding himself through you.

It takes only one swift nudge at his chest for him to fall back onto the cushions, head nestled on the arm rest, one leg slung over the edge of the couch and the other outstretched underneath you. He looks perfect like this, kiss-drunk and running on pure devotion. All else non-existent except you.

"Gi-hun," Your voice reaches him in a whisper, barely able to be heard at all. His breaths are leaving him in shallow pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Spotlighted under the focus on him, so drawn to you, so full of you, that you could see yourself in the mirrors of his beautiful eyes. When you lean down to kiss him again, capture him into you even further, he props himself up on his elbow to meet you there.

Straddling his hips came as natural as the tide reaching to the moon. And his hands come to find you equally as instinctive- but he thinks too much into it- hesitates all over again just an inch or so above your skin. You break the kiss only long enough to settle them onto you, your skin warm against his palms from underneath your thin night shorts. He breathes out something strangled and fond. Looks at you like you put the stars in the sky one by one, just for him.

You would if you were able to. Just to show him, just to prove how much he meant to you. Show him something better, kinder.

Gi-hun, in all his devastation, had fallen so far from the the light that he truly never believed there would be sunlight ever again. He would always be this buried, maimed creature. But he finds it in you, this glowing angel that unfurled great, great wings and carried his damned soul from the pits of hell. He finds it in this, his beating heart, your gentle voice, his fingers shaking but they search for you all the same.

You let them find you. Let them drag along your warm skin. You lean down to kiss him once more and he's all too greedy to take you in, one of those hands placed on your hips reaching up to hold your jaw and keep you there. He needs this. He needs you. Even if he can't find the words to tell you, he needs you.

You kiss life into his very being, breathe the air back into him. He's getting antsy, he's starting to squirm, that emptiness in him replaced with something of heat stricken substance, a fire coaxing and drawing.

More, more, more.

Flushed, skin warm and twitching under your wandering touches. Brought back to life by the taste of your lips and the seeking touch of your hands slipping underneath his shirt.

#squid game #gi-hun x reader #seong gi-hun x reader #seong gi hun #seong gi-hun #imagine #angst #hurt comfort #WAAAA I HOPE U LIKE THIS ANON #it was supposed to be short but oh well ive never made anything short a day in my life #gihun x reader #seong gihun x reader

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