#the thing is. he thought he loved his kids

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ in which: itoshi sae feels inferior to itoshi rin; even if for just a moment

includes: itoshi sae! x reader. 1.7k wc. fluff and humour (i promise the title is just dramatic). silly itoshi brothers but we love them. kind of ooc rin. includes some swearing but it's meant to be lighthearted <3

itoshi rin being sick was somehow more of an inconvenience to sae than it was to rin himself. his brother falling ill during his stay at sae’s place was already a disgusting coincidence. now, sae had to watch the unfortunate scenes unfold in front of him without a choice.

“woah, you’re burning up, rin,” your voice filled the room, holding the thermometer up to check it again, your voice laced with concern. rin only nodded, his quiet nature amplified by the haze of his fever. his half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks made him look pitiful, almost drowsy.

to sae, it was nauseating how pathetic he looked—and worse, how effective it was.

“here, i got you medicine,” you said, helping him sit up from a lying position. “say ahh,” you sang sweetly, holding an ibuprofen capsule to rin’s lips and following up with a glass of water. he obediently parted his lips without a word, swallowing with a slight grimace but no complaints.

meanwhile, sae stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, scowling like a cat. rin must have it so damn good right now, he thought bitterly. crashed out on his bed, coughing like a mess, and worst of all—being pampered by you! him spreading germs all over the room was annoying enough, but the fact that you were doting on him? that was the real problem. sure, rin was sick, but did you have to treat him like royalty? it made sae feel almost childish how much it irked him. he knew you were just being you—kind, caring, and attentive. you weren��t a complete jerk like sae; of course, you’d take care of your boyfriend’s little brother.

but still, the sight of you meticulously adjusting rin’s pillow, tucking him snugly into the blanket you and sae usually shared, and gently brushing his hair out of his face like he was some spoiled kid—it was enough to drive sae up the wall. and if all that wasn't bad enough, now you were feeding him. feeding him.

rin opened his mouth again without so much as a sigh, his quiet compliance somehow making the scene even worse. sae glared as you dabbed the corner of rin’s mouth with a tissue, your expression always remaining soft and tender.

sae’s patience finally cracked as he scoffed. “pick up your own damn spoon,” he muttered under his breath.

you finally tore your gaze from rin to look at sae, laughing lightly. “it’s okay, sae. he’s sick. it doesn’t bother me.” it didn’t bother you, but it sure as hell bothered him. watching rin quietly accept another spoonful while sae fumed in the corner felt like a fresh insult every second.

“is the soup good? i tried my best,” you asked, giving the bowl another stir, awaiting his answer. your expression was so stupidly expectant that it effortlessly tugged at sae’s heart. rin, naturally, noticed the way his older brother’s jaw tightened from the corner of his eye, sae’s glare sharp enough to cut through steel—nonverbally screaming at him to be nice. rin wasn’t dumb—he knew better than to even consider giving a bad review of your cooking, especially with sae simmering in his spot by the door. and besides, the soup was actually delicious. “it’s good,” rin said, glancing at you. he took another spoonful for good measure, his movements deliberately slow, before adding, “it’s like our mom’s cooking.”

your face lit up instantly, a warm smile spreading across your lips. “i’m glad! good thing i asked for her recipe,” you shared, feeling accomplished. then, after a thoughtful pause, rin continued, “nii-chan should try some.” that last line, paired with the smallest, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at rin’s lips as he subtly shifted his posture toward sae, was so perfectly calculated it could’ve been a soccer play. rin didn’t even bother looking at his brother; he didn’t need to. the strained silence from sae’s corner was reward enough.

sae’s knuckles flexed against the doorframe, his patience wearing thinner than ever. try some? was rin actually inviting him to participate in this ridiculous display? no way in hell. you turned to sae with an inviting smile, completely oblivious to the brewing tension. “sae, you can have some if you want. i made more just in case…” his eyes flickered to you for a moment, and he opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a quiet, disgruntled, “i’m fine.”

rin didn’t look up, but his breath released ever so slightly faster—barely perceptible—like he was holding back laughter. and yet, rin wasn’t done being petty. he shifted slightly under the blanket, letting out a low sigh that seemed almost contemplative. “my back hurts.”

he murmured quietly, drawing out the words just enough to give them weight. his gaze flicked briefly to sae—long enough for him to notice—before turning to you with a soft, almost too-casual tone.

“i think i need a massage.”

before sae could even process the audacity, you were already setting the soup aside. “oh no! here, turn around—” “it’s fine,” sae absolutely snaps, stepping forward and snatching you up from the bed. he firmly guided you toward the door. “i got him. just bring a hot towel, will you?” “huh? oh, okay…” you blinked, a bit startled by his sudden intervention, but nodded. “if you need anything—anything—just call, okay?”

you shot rin a sympathetic look as you left, sae’s hand still firm on the small of your back until you were out the door.

the moment the door clicked shut, it was as if rin’s back was in pristine condition—like he was born with the perfect spine. he sat up straight, stretching with ease, his back suddenly requiring nothing but a headboard to rest on. sae responded with nothing except his expression, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. without a word, sae lifted his leg and dug a kick square to rin’s back. “what the fuck?!” rin hissed, flinching forward. “back pain, huh?” sae asked flatly, mocking his claims. “you’re too old to be attention-seeking, dumbass,” he said, giving him another shove with his foot. “go back to okaasan, since you like being babied so much.” “fuckin’ hypocrite,” rin kicked back with both legs, shoving sae’s leg away with surprisingly good strength for someone whose supposed bones were crackling just a second ago. “you’re the one fuming for her attention.” sae rolled his eyes, unable to accept the fact that he was probably right. “she’s my girlfriend, you fucker,” despite the possibility, he defends, his voice sharper now. “and yet here you are,” rin said smugly, leaning back against the headboard, “competing with a sick kid.” sae opened his mouth to retort but froze. damn it. he was competing. and somehow, rin was winning.

“here’s the towel—” you finally walked in, but not without sensing the tension hanging in the air. “did something happen?…” you quickly remarked, in a suspicious manner. “no.” both rin and sae responded in perfect unison, their tone almost too quick, too practiced. you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only one who wasn’t in on whatever strange, silent competition they were having.

“rin’s feeling better,” sae suddenly spoke out, his voice way too casual, as he bolted for the door. “call if you need anything.” “ah, okay…” you blinked, eyes lingering on him watching him go before shaking your head. maybe you did imagine that awkwardness.

you quickly turned your attention back to rin and handed him the towel. “you should get some rest. i’ll attend to some chores.” rin gave a quiet nod, already looking more comfortable with the towel draped over him. you gave him a smile, relieved to see him at least looking better, before stepping out of the room. you found sae in the kitchen, carefully dishing out a bowl of soup. the act was too adorable; you couldn’t resist. you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a gentle backhug. “what do you want?” sae asked, his voice trying to sound neutral, but you could hear the softness underneath it. you rested your chin on his shoulder, feeling his warmth, and smiled. “why are you sulking?” you asked softly, your tone full of concern. “i’m not,” sae replied, though the words came out more quietly than he intended, a little hint of frustration still there. you could feel his tension, so you just squeezed him a little tighter, letting the silence settle for a beat. “i know you’re worried,” you said, voice gentle and sincere, “but it’s okay. he’ll be fine. i’m making sure of it.” sae remained quiet for a moment, but there was something different in the way his shoulders eased under your touch. he wasn’t used to this kind of reassurance, but somehow it always worked.

there was always something disarming about your presence, the way you seemed to understand him without asking for anything in return. he didn’t quite know what to do with this feeling—this overwhelming need to just be close to you. without making any effort to break the hug, sae's hands gently moved to rest on yours. he turned slightly so he could look at you, his eyes soft and filled with something tender you couldn't quite place. there was a subtle shift as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. he paused, just for a moment, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. the kiss lingered longer than usual, a silent reassurance in the simple gesture. “i’m not worried,” sae whispered firmly, trying his best to rely his feelings. “since you’re taking care of him, i’ll just take care of you.” you blinked, your chest tightening with warmth at his words. it was rare for sae to lose his guard, and in these moments, his affection always spoke far louder than anything he could say. you could feel the space between you narrowing as he moved even closer, his lips brushing near yours. “isn’t that right?” he whispered, his voice low and filled with a quiet confidence.

AH-CHOO! a loud sneeze rang through the hallway, shattering every sense of peace in the house. sae froze, his entire posture stiffening, as he shot a death glare toward the room where rin was.

god he’s gonna kill him.

a/n: this is such an old draft omg...finally got inspired to publish it bcz i currently feel like sae lmao. still figuring out my writing style so i hope nobody minds the randomness of my works T-T

[wqnsho]

second chance | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: hwang in-ho joined the games with one goal: to monitor and manipulate seong gi-hun. but everything changed the moment he saw his childhood friend among the players—a face he never expected to see again. *.✧ word count: 21.7k (are you even surprised) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, choking, guns, explicit depictions of injuries, panic attacks (reader experiences one) usage korean words and suffixes, mentions of cho sang-woo, reader moved from in-ho's place to gi-hun's place (gyeonggi-do to ssangmun-dong), softie in-ho because its you, angst :D *.✧ note: I ACTUALLY THOUGHT CROSSROADS WILL BE THE LONGEST THING I WRITE, SURPRISE SURPRISE SECOND CHANCE IS HERE. hope you guys love it!! masterlist | request here

Your life wasn't supposed to go in this direction. 

Ever since you were small, people knew great things would come to you. You were talented and smart in every way, shape, or form. Teachers would gush about how bright your future was, and neighbors would brag to their kids about your achievements as if they were their own. So why were you here now, standing in a room surrounded by strangers for a chance of winning some money? 

Currently, all of you watched as the screen displayed various people getting slapped left and right. Announcing their player numbers, names, and how much money they owe. The sheer amount of debt displayed beside each name was staggering—hundreds of millions, even billions.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the whispers around you. People were muttering under their breath, some recognizing names and faces, others lamenting their own debt in comparison. The tension in the room was suffocating, a shared humiliation that weighed heavy on everyone.

Player 132. [Last Name] [Name]. 562 million.

The words echoed in your ears like a slap to your face. Your own name, your own shame, displayed for everyone to see. A few heads turned toward you, but you refused to meet their eyes. You scratched the back of your head in shame, keeping your eyes on the ceiling as if you could avoid the weight of judgment all around you.

'Well... at least it wasn't from that stupid crypto bullshit,' you mumbled under your breath, though the bitter smile on your lips faded as quickly as it appeared. As the guard moved to another person, the crowd around you blurred into an indistinct mass of voices. You didn’t care to listen. You let yourself drown in your thoughts, tuning out the chaos.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Life was supposed to be a series of steady steps upward, not a freefall into the abyss. When your family moved from Gyeonggi-do to Ssangmun-dong, everything changed. 

Your father, once the pillar of the family, walked out one day without a backward glance. Which left you and your mother to fend for yourselves. He left for some woman he barely knew. Someone who didn’t have to deal with the mess he’d left behind. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, your mother decided she had better things to do than raise a child. 

One morning, you woke up to an empty house and a note on the dining table. The words were hurried, impersonal, as if she didn’t pushed you out and raised you. Worst of all, she didn’t even spell your name right!

The pain of abandonment never left you. It festered, growing into a heavyweight you carried everywhere. You tried to survive, piecing together odd jobs and small victories, but it was never enough. Debt piled up faster than you could manage, dragging you into this nightmare.

The first game was announced— Red Light, Green Light. 

You had doubts. The game seemed too simple, almost childish, like something even teens could survive without breaking a sweat—just a game, right? But as soon as the first shot rang out, you realized how wrong you were. Bodies fell like dominoes, blood staining the grass in vivid red. The sound of death was deafening, and the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your breath caught in your throat, as the world around you erupted into chaos. People screamed, some running, others collapsing in terror. You couldn’t move. The simplicity of the game suddenly made sense—it wasn’t without cost.

Death was suddenly real, closer than it had ever been before. Your entire life flashed before your eyes—every mistake, every regret, every moment you had taken for granted. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not here, not now.

Luckily, a player stepped up and took charge. Player 456. He was calm and collected, advising everyone to hide behind the larger players, claiming that the robot wouldn’t be able to see you if you stayed out of its line of sight. His plan was simple yet effective, and with his guidance, you managed to survive the round.

As you returned to the main area, the tension from the first game clung to the air like a thick fog. Every breath felt heavy, and the adrenaline that had pushed you through the chaos now left your limbs trembling. Despite it all, a deep sense of gratitude toward him lingered in your chest. You wanted to stay close, to follow his lead. There was security in his presence, a grounding force that kept the worst of your fears at bay.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room. Guards entered in perfect formation, their masks as eerie as the silence that fell over the crowd. The sight of them sent a shiver down your spine. One by one, people began to plead for their lives, collapsing to their knees, their voices breaking with desperation as tears streamed down their faces.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” the main guard, marked by a square on his mask, said in a monotone voice. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

Before he could continue, the same player who had spoken during the first game—Player 456—interrupted with a sharp shout.

“Clause three of the consent form!” The room froze, all eyes, including yours, turning to him.

His words were sharp, filled with a sense of urgency and strength “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?” he demanded, his voice firm.

“That is correct,” the guard replied, his tone unwavering, as though the question had been anticipated.

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 said, his words igniting a spark of hope in the crowd. It was as if a door to freedom had cracked open, and everyone could almost taste the possibility of escape.

“Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice.”

A collective sigh of relief spread through the crowd, a fleeting moment where fear was momentarily pushed aside by a glimmer of hope. For the first time, you felt something that resembled a shift in the balance of power. They weren’t in control—at least, not entirely.

“But first,” the guard continued, “let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.” He pressed a button on his device, and the room suddenly dimmed.

A low hum filled the air, followed by the descending of a massive glass piggy bank from the ceiling. It gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, casting eerie reflections across the players’ faces. The sound of wads of cash clinking together echoed through the room, loud and clear, like the jarring noise of a twisted casino jackpot.

The players stared, wide-eyed, as the money poured into the glass bank. It was hypnotic—the sound, the sight, the overwhelming promise of wealth. Some players instinctively stepped forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, while others lingered at the back, still fearful but unable to resist the allure of the prize.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard announced, his voice as flat and emotionless as ever. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the remaining 365 of you can equally divide this amount and leave.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Player 100, who was standing near you, called out, his voice filled with disbelief. “How much is that?”

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard replied without hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, as a wave of murmurs spread across the room. There was a mix of disbelief, anger, and confusion.

“Twenty-four million? We almost died for that?” Player 124 scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of it too. Twenty-four million wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the terror, the near-death experience, the trauma of the first game. Yet, at the same time, the number was hard to ignore. It was money. A lot of it. Enough to make you forget the panic, at least for a while.

“You said the prize was 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice rising with frustration.

The guard’s response was calm, almost detached. “The rule states that 100 million won is added for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

There was a brief silence as everyone processed the implications of this. The numbers didn’t seem to add up at first. But as the calculation sank in, the possibility of even more money stirred the crowd.

“How much will it be if someone survives until the very end?” someone asked, their voice trembling with hope.

The guard, unbothered by the growing tension, simply stated, “As I already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. If you are the sole survivor, you will receive the full amount.”

The room erupted into a chorus of gasps, whispers, and shouts. Some players looked at each other, their expressions shifting as greed began to seep into their eyes. Others remained still, haunted by the terror of the first game. The promise of so much money was a heady temptation, but it came at the price of their lives.

“So, we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, their voice tinged with hope, as if the very idea of escape was now within reach.

“Yes,” the guard confirmed. “As outlined in the consent form, you may vote after each game and decide whether to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point. We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

You stood there, torn. The terror you’d felt during the first game still clung to you, wrapping around your chest. But the temptation of the prize money—of being free from the crushing debt that had haunted you for so long—was overwhelming. This could be your only chance to escape. A chance to climb out of the pit you’d been stuck in, buried under mountains of bills and threats. If you walked away now, you’d return to the same miserable existence, drowning in debt, with no way out in sight.

Your mind raced. You had fought so hard just to survive, and now, standing in this room, you were faced with a decision that could change everything. The terror from the first game still gripped your chest, but the lure of the money was almost impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about survival—it was the chance to escape the suffocating weight of your debt, the years spent trying to climb out of a hole you’d fallen into.

The voting started with Player 456. You watched as he cast his vote, the air thick with tension. The red light from the voting machine flickered for a brief moment as he pressed his choice, a clear "X." One by one, others followed, some hesitating, while others quickly made their decision. The chaos of it all felt overwhelming. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had already made up their minds, whether they were giving in to the temptation of the money or if they were too afraid to continue.

When your number was called, your legs felt like lead as you approached the voting machine. Each step was agonizingly slow, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. The room seemed to shrink, and you could feel every eye on you, even as you tried to ignore them.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the button. The thought of pressing it, of choosing to continue, made your stomach twist in knots. For just a moment, you hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides.

Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the circle.

The blue light illuminated your face, a cold reminder of the choice you’d just made. A guard stepped forward, handing you a blue patch marked with the same symbol as your vote. You accepted it with shaky hands, bowing slightly before pinning it to your jacket. As you returned to your spot in line, your heart pounded in your chest.

God, why did it come to this? What could have gone so wrong? Had you done something to upset the gods? Or were you simply born unlucky, destined to live a life riddled with hardships?

You couldn’t stop questioning yourself—your decisions, your choices, the countless crossroads where you might’ve taken a different turn. You missed the early moments in your life when everything felt so simple, so light. Back then, there were no looming debts, no sleepless nights spent worrying about survival, no constant weight pressing down on your shoulders.

You had it all once—a lovely family with successful parents who made sure money was never an issue. You had good grades, a tight-knit circle of friends, and a future that seemed full of promise. You were happy, truly happy.

And you weren’t always alone. Aside from your parents and friends, there was someone else—someone who had been a constant in your life, a steady presence you could always count on. He wasn’t just a friend; he was the friend. The one who stood by you no matter what, even when the world seemed to turn its back on you.

When the bullies in school targeted you for reasons you never understood, he was the one who stepped in without hesitation. You still remembered the way he’d square his shoulders, his voice firm and unwavering as he told them to back off. He never cared if he got in trouble for standing up for you; all that mattered to him was that you were safe.

He wasn’t just your protector, though. He was the person who could make you laugh when you were seconds away from tears. He had this knack for knowing exactly what to say or do to lighten your mood, whether it was pulling a silly face, cracking a joke, or nudging you with that mischievous grin that always made you roll your eyes but secretly smile.

He was the one who stayed up late with you when you were cramming for exams, even though he wasn’t the most studious person himself. He’d throw pencils at you when you started to drift off, only to shove snacks in your face the next moment and tell you to take a break. He had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, as if just being around him made everything a little brighter.

And as much as you tried to deny it back then, he had become your everything. Your safe haven, the person you trusted more than anyone else. He was the one you turned to when life felt too heavy to bear, the one who never made you feel like a burden for leaning on him.

He was your partner in crime, the one who’d sneak off with you during boring school events, laughing as the two of you got caught and had to face detention together. He made life feel like an adventure, even in the quiet, simple moments.

But above all, he was your first love. Though you never said it out loud, it was there—in the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at you, in the way you found yourself searching for him in every room you walked into. It was in the way you felt safe and seen in a way no one else could make you feel.

He didn’t know, of course. How could he? You were just kids, too shy to even admit it to yourself most of the time. But looking back now, it was clear as day: he wasn’t just your best friend. He was the boy who had stolen your heart, even if he never realized it.

You paused. The faint buzz of the voting machines around you barely registered as you froze in place. Why were you thinking about him now, of all times? You clenched your fists, trying to will the memories away, but they pushed their way into your mind regardless.

You remembered the way he shouted at you, his voice filled with anger and frustration. The argument had been sharp, the words he threw at you cutting deeper than you ever thought possible. He had been upset that you were leaving, but instead of asking you to stay, instead of saying goodbye, he stormed off.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed; the wound was still raw. He was your best friend, the boy you loved so deeply you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit it back then. And he let you leave without so much as a goodbye.

Your chest tightened as the memories overwhelmed you, crashing over you like waves. You had convinced yourself that you were over it—that it didn’t matter anymore. But clearly, that wasn’t true. The emotions you had buried deep, the hurt and the unanswered questions, all clawed their way back to the surface.

Did he hate me? The thought stung, even now. Did I mean so little to him that he couldn’t even say goodbye?

The pain lingered, sharp and vivid despite the years that had passed. You could still see it, like a scene burned into your memory—the moment he walked past you on your last day of school. His face had been a mask of cold indifference, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours as though looking at you would cost him something precious.

You had called his name, your voice trembling with desperation and a plea you couldn’t quite voice. You just wanted him to stop, to look at you, to give you a reason, a sign that he cared. Anything to make the ache in your chest a little less unbearable.

But he didn’t.

He just kept walking, his steps steady and unyielding, leaving you standing there. The knot in your throat had tightened until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. He left without a word, without even a glance. And in that silence, you were left with nothing but heartbreak and questions that would never be answered.

And now, here you were, those same feelings dragging you down as the votes continued. The sound of faint button presses and shuffling feet filled the air, each vote drawing everyone closer to an answer.

You hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers flashing on the screen, but the tension in the room was suffocating. The votes were neck and neck—X and O, tied. A deuce. The final vote could change everything. You could feel the unease creeping over the room like a storm cloud ready to burst. The fate of the game rested in the hands of the last player.

The tension was unbearable. Everyone held their breath. It felt as if time itself had come to a standstill, the anticipation hanging in the air.

You forced yourself to look up, to see who the final person would be. Your heart pounded louder in your chest with every second, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on you. Your gaze fell on the figure walking toward the voting station. You couldn’t immediately register who it was—your mind too wrapped in the urgency of the moment. The final decision.

 But then something hit you. A familiarity. A sinking feeling in your chest.

And then your breath hitched.

It was him—.

In-ho.

Your world seemed to tilt on its axis as you watched him. It was like a punch to your gut. Your chest tightened painfully, and your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. You had spent years trying to push him out of your mind, trying to move forward, but in that moment, it all came rushing back with a force you weren’t prepared for. The ache in your chest deepened, and you realized just how much you had never really healed.

Your mind swirled with the years you’d spent without him. The countless nights you had stayed awake, wondering what had gone wrong, why your friendship ended that way.

He was standing there now, in front of you, like a ghost of your past. He was so close, yet you couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t understand what you were seeing. Was this a dream? Was this some cruel twist of fate?

You watched his every move as if in slow motion. There was no hesitation in his actions. His hand reached out to press the button with a deliberate, practiced motion.

And then, he voted. O.

The cheers erupted around you, but they felt distant, muffled, like they were happening in another world. You could hear the excitement rising from the others around you, the shift in the air as the vote swung in favor of continuing the game. 182 to 183.

But none of that mattered to you.

All you could think about was how the boy who had once meant everything to you was here, in the same room, playing the same dangerous game. The same boy who had walked away from you all those years ago, leaving you in silence. 

You stared at him, unable to move, to speak. It was as if time had stopped, like the world around you had turned to static. Your mind was racing, a torrent of emotions swirling inside you. The hurt you had pushed down for so long had exploded back to the surface.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, your body frozen in disbelief. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of the past, the weight of everything that had happened between you two. The questions that you had carried for so long—about why he left, about why he never said goodbye—pushed their way to the surface, raw and painful.

Your mind raced, but your body refused to move. You were trapped in this moment, unable to escape the overwhelming emotions that came with it. There was no easy way out.

The past was alive in front of you, and it had never felt so real.

Hwang In-ho was a man who prided himself on always being in control. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated, and designed to maintain his upper hand. He wasn’t one to take risks without knowing the outcome, nor did he leave anything to chance. His sharp intellect and knack for strategy had always kept him one step ahead of everyone else, whether it was in the games or in life outside of them.

So when he learned that Seong Gi-hun, the man who had also escaped the game’s clutches once, was coming back—not as a desperate participant, but as a threat to everything the games stood for. In-ho knew he had to act. It wasn’t just about the rules or the money; it was about protecting the intricate system he had helped sustain, the foundation he had sacrificed everything to uphold.

The idea of Gi-hun winning was infuriating. He wouldn’t allow it. Not because he believed in the games' morality, but because their collapse would mean his own failure. It would mean admitting that he, the one who always stayed ahead, had lost control.

And In-ho did not lose. Not to anyone. Certainly not to Seong Gi-hun.

The solution was clear: he had to join the game.

Adopting the alias "Young-il," In-ho entered as Player 001, his plan meticulously calculated. Every detail was accounted for—his presence would be unassuming, his actions deliberate. The goal was simple: get close to Gi-hun, observe his every move, and ensure the game remained firmly under his control.

It wasn’t just about safeguarding the system he had come to embody; it was about reaffirming his dominance. To In-ho, this was more than strategy—it was a statement. A test to prove that no matter the odds, no matter who opposed him, he would remain two steps ahead.

That was his purpose. His only focus.

Or so he thought.

Everything changed the moment he saw you.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In-ho’s steps faltered, his carefully calculated composure slipping for the first time in years. His eyes locked onto your figure amidst the sea of players, and for a fleeting moment, he thought it was a cruel trick of his mind—a phantom conjured by guilt and memory.

But no. The wide, shocked eyes staring back at him were unmistakably yours.

The realization struck him like a physical blow, an ache spreading through his chest that he couldn’t ignore. You were here. You were really here.

You shouldn’t be here.

He froze, his usually sharp mind scrambling to piece together an explanation. What were you doing here? What had happened in your life to bring you to this place of desperation and death? He remembered you as you once were—bright, warm, full of life—and now, the thought of you standing on this stage of horrors felt wrong in every conceivable way.

Memories of you came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The way you used to laugh, how you’d pull him out of his brooding silences with a simple touch, the way you always seemed to bring light into his otherwise shadowed world. Those memories clashed violently with the reality before him. You didn’t belong here. Not in this uniform. Not in this nightmare.

He felt his mask of indifference. The armor he’d built over years of pain and regret started to crack. For so long, he had mastered the art of detachment, burying every emotion deep beneath a layer of control. But now, with you standing there, all of it came flooding back. Guilt. Regret. Anger.

And something else. Something he couldn’t name but had tried to bury long ago.

The look on your face gutted him. Recognition, confusion, hurt—it was all there, as raw and unguarded as the day he’d last seen you. You looked at him like he was a ghost, like you couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you. That look shattered something in him, something he hadn’t realized was still breakable.

For the first time in years, In-ho felt unsteady. His carefully constructed walls, the ones that had kept him in control, in power—shook under the weight of your stare.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He clenched his fists at his sides, a desperate attempt to regain control, to force himself back into the cold, calculating mindset he’d mastered. He couldn’t let you see how much this affected him. Not here. Not now. This was a game—a deadly one—and emotions were dangerous, liabilities he couldn’t afford.

Even as he tried to steady himself, forcing his gaze away and focusing on the task at hand, something inside him rose above the chaos. He knew, without a doubt, that he had to protect you.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t part of his plan. But it was undeniable. Seeing you here, dressed in the same uniform, facing the same deadly stakes, ignited something in him that he couldn’t ignore. He had joined the game to regain control, to manipulate the outcome, to ensure Gi-hun wouldn’t tear everything apart. But because the one person he never wanted to see in this hell was standing right in front of him, the thought of sticking to that plan seemed impossible.

And no matter what it cost him—his control, his plan, his very life—he couldn’t let you die.

It was time for the second game: the Six-Legged Pentathlon.

You walked hand in hand with another player—Player 222, Kim Jun-hee, as she had introduced herself earlier. Together, the two of you moved through the crowded room, searching for three more players to form a team. Your eyes flicked down to the frail figure beside you, her grip on your hand trembling slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of protectiveness.

Earlier, before the announcement of the next game, you had found her curled up in the corner of the bathroom, clutching her stomach with a pained look on her face. She had been trying to hide her tears, but they slipped through anyway, leaving tracks down her pale cheeks. The image of her broken composure stuck with you, and even now, the weight of it hadn’t lessened.

The look on your face as you crouched beside her was indescribable. When you asked her what was wrong, she was silent at first, her gaze vacant and lost as if the weight of the world was too much to carry. Slowly, her shoulders sagged, and she spoke in a low, quiet voice, each word heavy with the burden she was trying to carry. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was everything. Her words were a confession, a painful release of all the fears that had built up inside of her. She spoke of being alone, of how no one wanted to team up with her, and the overwhelming worry that constantly gnawed at her. But it wasn’t just that.

She talked about her child. The one thing in this nightmare that kept her going, even if only by the thinnest thread. Her mind was consumed by the thought of them. She wondered if they would survive. But what hurt the most was the months of silence from the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Her fiancé, who had disappeared without a trace, left her to wonder if he was dead or alive, only to learn he was in the same hellish game. She never imagined she would have to face this—alone, scared, with no one to lean on.

Something in her tone, the hopelessness wrapped in every syllable, struck a chord deep within you. For a moment, it wasn’t Jun-hee you saw—it was yourself. 

You had been there before. You knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to watch everything you had built slowly crumble, to be left in a world where trust was a distant memory. The same fears she voiced were the ones that had haunted you—the fear of losing your loved ones, the dread of facing a future where you had nothing, and the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to suffocate every hope you had left.

Her pain was your pain, her desperation mirrored your own. You had been there—fighting for survival, clinging to any hope that things could get better, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It wasn’t just empathy you felt for her; it was the haunting reminder of your own struggle, a shadow of the darkness that had once consumed you. You didn’t want her to experience the same isolation, the same crushing hopelessness that had almost broken you. You knew too well how it felt to be lost, to question whether you’d ever make it out alive, to wonder if there was anything left to fight for.

As you looked at her, a quiet resolve settled deep within you. You wouldn’t let her walk this road alone. You wouldn’t let her fall into the same despair that had once threatened to swallow you whole. You could no longer stand by and watch someone else go through the torment you had endured alone. You would be her strength, her anchor—just as you had longed for someone to do for you when everything seemed to be slipping out of your grasp.

Without hesitation, you reached out, your hand finding hers, cold and trembling. You squeezed it gently, offering a steadying warmth that you both needed. “Then you’ll come with me,” you said. “We’ll figure this out together.”

You weren’t going to let her face this nightmare by herself—not when you knew the crushing weight of solitude so well. You wouldn’t let her fall down the same painful path you’d been on. From that moment on, you refused to leave her side.

You were supposed to focus on your own survival, you know that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her behind. Something about her reminded you of someone else, someone you had been a long time ago. You couldn’t save everyone here, but maybe, just maybe, you could save her.

Meanwhile, In-ho’s plan was progressing smoothly. He had successfully gained Gi-hun’s trust and joined his team. Together with two others—Player 388 and Player 390—they were only one person short of completing their group. In-ho kept his head down, maintaining his facade as the amiable and harmless Player 001. He had positioned himself perfectly, right where he needed to be.

Until he heard your voice.

“Hello, excuse me. Do you have space for two more?”

His head snapped up instinctively. There you were, standing just a few feet away, holding player 222’s hand as you looked at Gi-hun and the others, avoiding him altogether.

In-ho couldn’t help but stare.

“We’re sorry, miss,” Gi-hun replied apologetically. “We already have four members.”

You didn’t falter, keeping your small smile. “That’s not a problem,” you said firmly. “Would you be willing to have her instead?”

Before anyone could respond, you gently nudged Jun-hee forward. She hesitated, glancing nervously between you and the group, but you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

In-ho stayed silent, watching the interaction unfold. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Irritation bubbled under the surface. Of course, you would do something like this. Even in a place like this, where survival meant looking out for yourself, you were still thinking about someone else. Always putting others before yourself, even when it didn’t make sense to do so.

You never change.

And yet, despite the frustration clawing at him, He couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A part of him—a part he didn’t want to acknowledge—was happy.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much this place had changed the both of you, there were still parts of you that remained the same. That stubborn kindness, that fierce determination to protect others—it was one of the things he had always admired about you.

It was one of the things that terrified him.

You still carried that same hope, that same belief that people could be better, that kindness had a place even in a place like this. It made his stomach twist. The fact that you hadn’t hardened, hadn’t become cynical like everyone else—it was both a relief and a danger. You couldn’t afford to trust anyone here, not without consequence.

What if you trusted the wrong person? What if you let your guard down just once and someone used that against you? He had seen it happen before, in a way that made his insides tighten with dread. People here weren’t to be trusted, and you were too pure, too unguarded. He’d seen how quickly things could turn, how easily alliances could break, how one wrong move could be the end of someone’s life.

It made him want to reach out, to warn you, to pull you away from the people who might betray you. But instead, he stayed silent, his heart racing faster than his thoughts could keep up with.

His gaze shifted to the girl you had taken under your wing. She was trembling, showing a strong facade. In-ho couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness for her too—though he would never admit it out loud. She was vulnerable. She didn’t belong here. But you were giving her a chance. You were always giving people chances, even when they didn't deserve them.

He tore his gaze away, looking anywhere but at you. He hated the way you made him feel, even after all those years. Torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to pull away, he couldn’t reconcile the two. He had built walls for a reason—so that no one could get too close, so that no one could hurt him again. And yet, there you were, slipping through those cracks, reminding him that even after all this time, even after all the distance, he still cared.

“What about you?” Player 388 asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. I’ll find a group somewhere.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing with worry.

You nodded, your tone firm but kind. “Of course. If you want, you can help me?” you offered, though it wasn’t a question so much as a gentle suggestion.

The male nodded without hesitation, as though it was the most natural thing to do. He saluted you with a small smile, his expression brightening as he turned to lead the way. You followed quietly, walking side by side as the two of you engaged in light, casual conversation. The sound of your voices seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere of the game, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, navigating the chaos in your own way.

In-ho watched the interaction unfold from a distance, his gaze fixed on you. His chest tightened as he observed the way you interacted with Player 388, the ease with which you formed connections, the comfort you seemed to give others despite the grim situation. For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing it was him walking beside you instead of that other player. He longed to be the one you relied on again, the one you trusted in a world where trust felt like a luxury.

He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides, trying to suppress the emotions that stirred inside him. It wasn’t supposed to matter. You had your own path to walk, and he had his. But the feeling gnawed at him, more intense than he liked to admit. A part of him wanted to be the one to keep you safe, to be the one to stand by your side. To be the one you turned to, the one who could offer you something real in the midst of all the chaos. But another part of him feels like that’s impossible to achieve now.

Busy with his inner battle, he didn’t notice the curious watchful eyes of the female beside him.

Luckily, you and Player 388—Dae-ho, as he introduced himself—found a group of four not long after starting your search. Players 149, 007, 120, and 095 stood in a tight circle, whispering among themselves as they looked around for their missing fifth member. Their faces were a mix of tension and determination, but they didn’t seem hostile, which was more than you could ask for in this environment.

Dae-ho, ever the confident one, strode forward with an easy smile. “Excuse me… do you need more members?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

All four turned to face you both, their eyes scanning you up and down. There was an unmistakable wariness in their expressions; trust wasn’t exactly in abundant supply here. Finally, Player 120 spoke, her voice measured. “I’m sorry, but we only need one more.”

Dae-ho didn’t even flinch at the rejection. Instead, his grin widened, his tone growing more playful. “Well, you’re in luck! You see, [Name]nim here is a master at spinning tops. Quick hands, sharp focus—everything you’d need for precision games like these. How could you possibly pass on a deal like that?”

You blinked at him, both amused and exasperated. Was he seriously pitching you like you were a product at an auction? Despite the absurdity of it, his tone was so casual, so confident, that it managed to disarm the tension in the air, even if just a little.

You gave Dae-ho a small shake of your head before stepping forward yourself, bowing politely to the group. “I may not be a master,” you began, sending a pointed but amused glance toward Dae-ho, “but I’ll do my best to contribute. Please, if you’ll have me, I’ll work hard.”

The group exchanged glances, their hesitation apparent. It was weird for them, hearing a casual and almost teasing tone in an environment where death is prominent. Still, after a moment, Player 120 gave a curt nod. “Alright. You’re in.”

Relief flooded through you, and you turned to Dae-ho, a small smile breaking across your face. “Thank you,” you said, your tone filled with genuine gratitude.

Dae-ho gave a casual wave of his hand, as if dismissing your thanks. “Thank me after you survive this game [Name]nim.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his unshakable confidence. “Alright Dae-ho, see you later.”

As you turned back to your new team, introductions were exchanged before quickly discussing strategies. Despite the palpable tension in the air, they seemed cooperative enough. Each player carried their own air of quiet determination, though the stress of the situation was evident in the tightness of their voices and the stiffness in their movements.

Your team was one of the teams to go first. When it was your turn, you grabbed the top and string with trembling hands, whispering a small prayer under your breath. Slowly, you began winding the string tightly around the body of the top, starting from the bottom and wrapping upwards. But as you reached the middle, the string suddenly slipped free, unraveling entirely. You froze, your shaky hands betraying you further as you fumbled to pick up the loose string.

A lump rose in your throat as panic surged through you. You knew you were good at this. Spinning tops was your childhood talent, something you had always taken pride in. But now, in the most critical moment, your nerves were getting the best of you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked at Player 120, your voice trembling. “I… I’m sorry. I swear I’m good at this. I’m just… really scared.”

Player 120’s expression softened, and she knelt beside you. Her voice was calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. You just need to take a deep breath and focus, alright? You’ve got this.”

Her words anchored you, and you nodded, inhaling deeply. As you exhaled slowly, a memory surfaced—something that always helped you when you were scared. Turning to 120, you asked hesitantly, “Could you… could you cover my eyes?”

She blinked at you, puzzled. “Cover your eyes? Why?”

You offered a nervous smile. “I promise it’ll help. It’s… just something I do.”

With a shrug, she moved behind you and placed her hands gently over your eyes. As darkness enveloped your vision, you felt a strange but comforting familiarity take over.

“What’s up with this weird ritual you do?” In-ho’s voice was teasing, his hands warm as they covered your eyes back then. “You’re always doing this!”

“It’s not weird!” your younger self had retorted, pouting.

“Is too!” he laughed. “Nobody else does this, you know.”

“Well, I get really scared when I see what I’m doing, okay?” you’d replied stubbornly. “So I thought, ‘What if I just don’t look?’ It helps me focus.”

You smiled softly at the memory, your hands finally steady as you began winding the string again. This time, it wrapped perfectly around the top, tight and precise.

When 120 uncovered your eyes, you felt a renewed sense of determination. But before you could proceed, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“To effectively spin the top, first, you must hold the loose end of the string firmly in your hand,” In-ho called out, his voice carrying an authoritative tone. He paced in front of you like a drill sergeant, his arms folded behind his back. “Next, throw the top onto the ground with a flicking motion. Pull the string sharply to make it spin. Understood?”

You straighten your posture, snapping a salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

The two of you broke into laughter, a sound so pure and unexpected that it momentarily dissolved the tension in the air. When he handed you the fully wound top, his fingers brushed yours lightly. “Alright, [Name],” he said, his smile softening, “show me what you can do.”

Gripping the top tightly, you turned to him one last time, your eyes filled with uncertainty. He gave you a reassuring thumbs-up and a wide smile, and somehow, it was enough to calm your racing heart.

With all your might, you threw the top onto the ground, pulling the string sharply. It spun perfectly, steady and unwavering. Relief washed over you as you watched it spin continuously.

The cheers erupted so suddenly that it startled you out of your thoughts. Your teammates—149 and 120—rushed to your side, shaking your shoulders in celebration. Their excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself smiling, laughing, and letting the moment sink in.

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down!” 120 said, her voice mixed with happiness and haste. She led the group to the next station, the victory fueling your collective determination.

In-ho watched from a distance, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t let himself indulge in for years—a flicker of joy, the kind that came from something genuine. Seeing your face light up with relief and triumph stirred something buried deep inside him, something he thought was long gone. He couldn’t stop himself from cheering along with the others, maybe louder than necessary. Perhaps it was his way of masking the whirlwind of emotions inside him, or maybe it was just his heart acting on its own. Either way, he didn’t care to stop.

As your group crossed the finish line. The room became lively again. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pure and unrestrained, even as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel it: pride, joy, and the simple relief of success.

Amidst the commotion, your eyes instinctively searched the crowd—and then you saw him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight made your breath catch, your smile faltering for a second before returning, softer this time.

And then it happened. Your eyes locked. Everything else seemed to fall away—the noise, the crowd, the weight of the game itself. It was just the two of you in that moment, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between your gazes.

His dark eyes, cold and guarded the first time you saw them, were now filled with longing, happiness, maybe even a glimmer of pride. It was as though he was telling you, I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you. But there was something deeper, too—something unspoken. His gaze held a vulnerability that he wouldn’t dare put into words, a quiet hope that you might still see him the way you once did.

You felt it, too. A warmth spreading through you, unexpected and disarming. The wall between you, built by years of distance and unspoken words, seemed to crack ever so slightly. For a brief moment, you forgot the tension, the pain, and the uncertainty. You saw him—not as an enemyl, not as someone you had grown apart from—but as the In-ho you once knew.

His lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still held a quiet sincerity. He wanted to say something, you could feel it. But words were unnecessary. The way his gaze softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his presence seemed to pull you closer—it was enough.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, but it left something behind. A spark. A fragile yet undeniable hope.

As you were all escorted back to the main area, you found yourself glancing back at him one last time. He was still there, watching, his expression unreadable now. But you saw the faintest nod, as if to say, Please, let’s talk soon.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. A chance to fix what had been broken. A chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you. A chance to reconcile, to find your way back to each other in a world that had done everything to pull you apart.

Your eyes remained locked with his until the door behind you closed.

Player 149 invited you to join them for a chat, a way to pass the time as the second game continued. With a small nod, you followed them to their little corner, settling on the stairs just behind Player 120. The group was warm and welcoming, and soon you were learning their names, hobbies, and bits of their lives outside the games.

Player 149 introduced herself as Jang Geum-ja, a kind but sharp woman who spoke with unwavering pride about her son, Player 007, Park Yong-sik. Her love for him was evident in every word and action—she had joined the games solely to pay off her son’s debt, determined to give him a better future despite the grim odds.

Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, exuded a quiet yet approachable aura. A transgender woman with dreams of starting fresh, she joined the games not only to clear her debt but also to complete her medical treatments. Her plan was to move to Thailand and begin a new chapter in her life, one filled with hope and authenticity.

Finally, there was Player 095, Kim Young-mi, a soft-spoken woman with a warm, unshakable belief in the goodness of others. She and Hyun-ju had formed a close bond, their friendship blossoming into a dynamic partnership that made them inseparable—like two peas in a pod, finding strength in each other amidst the chaos.

As the room began to fill with players returning from the game, your eyes instinctively darted to the doors each time they opened. Your stomach twisted with worry, though you tried to stay composed. You were searching for Jun-hee and her group, your concern growing with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you spotted familiar faces walking through the doors. Relief surged through you as you quickly excused yourself from the group and descended the stairs. Without hesitation, you rushed straight to Jun-hee.

"Are you okay? How are you? How’s the baby? Did you feel nauseous? Do you want me to massage your back? Or your feet? Need to go to the bathroom? Pee? Puke?—"

Jun-hee's face turned bright red as she raised a hand to shush you. “Stop, [Name]nim, you’re embarrassing me,” she whispered, glancing nervously at her group. Despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“Hey! It’s [Name]nim!” Dae-ho’s cheerful voice cut through the moment as he jogged over to you.

“Dae-ho! Looks like I owe you a proper thank-you now, huh?” you said with a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing.

The three of you exchanged warm words, laughter breaking through the otherwise somber atmosphere. Nearby, the rest of Jun-hee’s group—456, 390, and In-ho—watched the scene unfold. As 456 and 390 moved away to sit down at their spot, In-ho lingered, his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer before he turned to follow the others.

Moments later, you found yourself joining the group, introducing yourself properly. 390, a man with a friendly demeanor, grinned and replied, “Ah, how could we forget you? Thank you for giving Jun-hee to us. She’s really skilled in ddjaki! The name’s Park Jung-bae by the way.”

Your eyes widened. “Jung-bae? Are you Young-sun’s husband?” You asked, pointing a finger at him.

Jung-bae blinked in surprise. “Huh? How’d you know my ex wife?”

“I live in Ssangmun-dong! I visit your pub often. Young-sun would always keep me company when I stopped by.”

Recognition dawned on his face. “Ah! I remember now! You’re the one who splurged like crazy that one night. You even had to crash at our place because you were too wasted to leave! Young-sun told me you were whispering someone’s name... what was it... In-h—”

Panic shot through you as you clamped a hand over his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you hissed, glaring at him.

Jung-bae’s eyes widened, and with a nervous nod, he raised his hands in surrender. You slowly released him, muttering an apology under your breath as you tried to regain your composure.

Dae-ho and Jun-hee, however, were staring at you, their mouths slightly agape. Who knew the kind person they looked up to was a raging alcoholic? Behind them, In-ho’s expression shifted subtly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Was it anger? Hurt? Curiosity? You couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty only made your heart race faster.

Breaking the awkward silence, Jung-bae cleared his throat. “W-well, speaking of Ssangmun-dong, my buddy here also lives there. We’re best of friends!” He gestured toward Player 456, who waved at you with a sheepish smile.

You bowed politely, offering a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Seong Gi-hun,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“What a small world,” you said, grateful for the distraction as the three of you fell into an animated conversation about your shared hometown.

From a short distance away, In-ho watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on you, his mind racing. Why were you talking about Ssangmun-dong like it was the greatest place in the world? What about Gyeonggi-do? What about the memories you shared there? What about him?

He paused, a flicker of something he refused to name surfacing in his mind. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be—he wasn’t allowed to feel that way, not after everything he’d done to you. The very thought felt absurd. Yet, the knot tightening in his chest as you spoke to others wasn’t easy to ignore.

A nudge from Dae-ho jolted him out of his thoughts. He blinked, realizing all eyes, including yours, were on him, waiting for his introduction. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and forced a polite smile.

“My name’s Oh Young-il. Young-il sounds like ‘zero one’, and that’s my number, see?” He gestured to the 001 embroidered on his jacket. Dae-ho raised his brows, impressed by the coincidence, but your gaze lingered on him, a storm of confusion hidden behind your composed expression.

You knew his real name. You knew that he was Hwang In-ho, not Oh Young-il. So why was he lying? The thought gnawed at you. Had he changed his name after getting married? But there was no wedding ring on his finger. Maybe he’d taken it off? No, no. The contradictions piled up, yet a part of you didn’t want to accept the truth. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, deliberately avoiding you. He was hiding something, and you wanted to know what it was.

The moment was interrupted as the heavy boots echoed across the room. Guards marched in, their presence commanding silence. The atmosphere shifted instantly as the square-masked guard stepped forward.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game,” the guard began, his voice monotone yet eerily loud. He pressed a button on a remote, and the massive piggy bank descended from the ceiling once again. Wads of cash began to tumble into the glass container, the sound of bills hitting each other. Eyes across the room were glued to the spectacle, greed and desperation lighting up every face.

“The results of the second game are as follows: 110 players were eliminated. Therefore the total prize money accumulated is now 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Despite the staggering amount, you couldn’t shake the pit forming in your stomach. 78.8 million won. It was a fortune—more money than you could have ever imagined—but instead of relief, all you felt was disgust.

How could you be thinking about the money when 110 people had just died? Faces flashed in your mind, the terrified screams, the sight of bodies collapsing. And yet, here you were, wondering if it was enough to pay off your debts. The thought sickened you, and your throat tightened as bile threatened to rise. When did I become this person? You had stepped into the games for survival, for a better future, but now you couldn’t tell where desperation ended and greed began. The numbers on the screen blurred as hot tears welled in your eyes, your breaths coming quicker. I’m no better than the ones who created this place. Am I even human anymore? You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to silence the spiraling thoughts, but they refused to stop.

You felt your body tremble, your vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt around you. The walls felt closer, the hum of voices blurring into a distant buzz that drummed in your ears. Every blink brought a sting to your eyes, tears welling and threatening to spill over. You tried to focus—on the floor beneath your feet, the faint pattern of the tiles, anything—but it all blurred together, a haze of shapes and colors you couldn’t ground yourself in. Deep breaths came shallow, catching in your throat, each inhale fighting against the tightness in your chest. Your hands twitched at your sides, desperate for something to hold onto, but all they found was empty air. You whispered to yourself, hollow words of comfort you couldn’t even hear over the pounding of your heart. Your pulse throbbed in your ears, drowning out everything else. All you could feel was the weight of guilt pressing down on you, the silent judgment of the room—even if it existed only in your mind. You were spiraling, untethered, a storm of shame and helplessness that swallowed everything in its path.

Suddenly, a hand gently rested on your shoulder. The warmth startled you, and you whipped your head around to find its source. It was him. In-ho. Or Young-il, as he’d introduced himself. But he wasn’t looking at you; his head was turned toward the commotion among the players, who were now arguing loudly about the rules. His hand, though, remained on your shoulder, steady and deliberate.

Before you could process it, he began to rub your shoulder in slow, soothing circles. His fingers worked gently, almost instinctively, massaging the tension from your stiff muscles. You stared at him, stunned into silence. His expression remained neutral, his attention seemingly elsewhere, but his touch told a different story.

After all these years, he remembered. He remembered how you used to freeze up during moments of intense stress, how just a simple touch—steady and grounding—could help you calm down. You hadn’t needed to explain it to him back then; it was something he’d noticed, something he’d done instinctively. And now, after everything, he was still the same. His hand stayed on your shoulder, firm yet gentle, just like before.

He remembered how you hated when people stared at you in moments of weakness, so he kept his eyes elsewhere. He knew you felt exposed, ashamed even, as if everyone was silently judging you, so he never let that happen. 

He remembered how you felt guilty for needing comfort, for drawing attention to yourself, so he never made a big deal of it. No words, no questions—just a quiet, unwavering presence that said, I’m here.

And you were thankful for that, more than you could ever put into words. It gave you hope. Hope that maybe, after all these years, there is still something left between you. 

With a grateful nod, you looked away as his hand left your shoulder, already missing his warmth. The commotion around you had ended, and people were drifting back into small groups, discussing their next move. You knew you had to focus, to think through the decision, but your mind felt like it was breaking into pieces. Should I vote X? If it wins, you’d leave with 78 million won—not nearly enough to erase your debt, but at least it would mean you were alive. Or should I vote O? That meant continuing the games. No guarantee of survival, but a chance at something greater—a chance to fix everything.

You tilted your head to gaze at the piggy bank hanging above, its glowing light taunting you. Before you could fully weigh your options, a conversation behind you caught your attention.

“Oh, don’t worry. I want to stop here,” In-ho’s voice said casually.

You froze, listening.

“I should go and be with my wife at the hospital,” he added.

Oh.

It was like someone had snuffed out the flicker of hope you’d just found. The energy drained from your body in one cruel wave as the words settled in. A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, and you swallowed it down, shaking your head. Of course, he has a wife. How could you have thought otherwise? You felt like a fool for hoping, for thinking even for a second that those small moments meant something more.

Dae-ho’s voice broke your spiraling thoughts. “I’m telling you, we’ll get out this time,” he said with determination, tugging at the patch on his jacket like it was the source of all his problems. “A marine should think strategically and know when to retreat,” he added, giving Jung-bae a playful shake.

Jung-bae, looking utterly rattled, nodded weakly. “R-right… that’s true,” he muttered, though his nervous glances betrayed his doubts.

“We have to end the games here,” Gi-hun said firmly, stepping into the circle of your group. His eyes met yours briefly, and you nodded. It was a silent agreement, one that seemed to lift his spirits slightly.

In-ho, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with something that could only be described as malice.

Dae-ho clapped his hands, calling everyone back to attention. “Alright, let’s huddle up!” he said with a grin, thrusting his hand into the middle.

One by one, everyone joined in. Your hand landed just below In-ho’s, and you tried not to think about it, about how the warmth of his hands made you feel .

“In one, two, three… Victory at all costs!”

“Victory at all costs!”

“This time the vote will begin with Player 001. Please cast your vote.”

All eyes turned to him, including yours. In-ho met your group’s collective gaze with a calm, unreadable expression before walking up to the platform. Without hesitation, he pressed the X button. The distinct chime echoed in the room as the counter for X increased by one.

The next player—Player 006—stepped forward. Without much deliberation, they also pressed X, their vote adding another mark to the tally.

“Player 007.”

Your eyes flicked upward at the familiar number. It was one of your teammates from the second game, Yong-sik. You spotted him in the crowd, watching him lean down to exchange hushed words with his mother. Her expression was tight, desperate, begging him to vote X but he simply nodded before walking to the machine. His hesitation was visible as he stood there, torn between his choices. Then, the sound of O being chosen played, the button glowing bright blue as his vote was registered.

Your heart sank as you saw his mother’s face fall, her grief and disbelief plain for everyone to see. You averted your eyes, unable to look at either of them any longer. You understood both sides of the story—the desperate hope of a mother to save her child so they can go home and the equally desperate desire of a child to pay his debt fully, leaving his mom with no more worries.

The votes continued, each press of a button punctuating the room like a drumbeat of tension. Finally, your turn came. You felt the weight of the decision like a physical burden pressing on your shoulders. Part of you wanted to vote O, to take the gamble, to fight for a chance to win enough to pay off your crushing debt. But the thought of your group—the first people in years who had truly accepted you—stopped you. You had promised yourself that you would protect them, that they would go home safe to their families.

You stepped forward and pressed X. The red glow of the button reflected on your face as the counter ticked up. You removed your blue patch as a guard gave you a red one. You stuck it to your jacket before, giving a small bow to them before retreating to your spot.

As you walked back, you felt In-ho’s gaze following your every step. His eyes burned with intensity, but you didn’t look his way. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not when you knew the truth now. He had a wife—a life far removed from you. Whatever feelings you might have clung to in the past didn’t matter anymore. You would not degrade yourself into becoming a mistress in someone else’s story.

The voting continued until suddenly, a commotion broke out. Gi-hun stormed to the center of the room, shouting for people to vote X and urging them to end the games. His words rang out with desperation, but before he could fully plead his case, In-ho cut him off.

In-ho’s voice carried an edge of anger as he stepped forward, his composure cracking. “There’s no guarantee you’ll survive the next game! Do you really want to risk your lives for a few more million won?”

The room fell silent for a moment, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Player 100 stepped forward, shaking his head with disdain. “And what if we don’t risk it? We leave here with nothing but debt and regret. One more game, and we’re looking at at least 240 million each. That’s life-changing money!”

His argument ignited the room, and chaos erupted. Voices clashed, some siding with In-ho, others with Player 100. It spiraled into a shouting match, each side growing louder, more frantic.

You stood still, detached from the chaos. As much as you wanted to support your friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to intervene. This wasn’t a debate to be won; it was simply another game of chance, with lives hanging in the balance. The outcome wasn’t up to persuasion or reason. It was up to luck.

Finally, the vote was tallied. O won against X by a wide margin, 139 to 115.

Your stomach churned, fear creeping in as you processed what it meant. You weren’t scared for yourself but for Jun-hee, her kind heart too soft for the brutality of these games. You weren’t worried about your own safety but for Dae-ho, whose unwavering faith in others had been betrayed as Jung-bae—someone he admired and respected—voted O.

When the vote ended, your group regrouped, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. You found yourself behind Jun-hee as she ate her portion of the day’s dinner. Her small frame trembled, though she tried to hide it, her hands shaking as she clutched the bread's wrapper.

Without a word, you placed your hands on her shoulders, massaging gently to ease her tension. You moved to her lower back, your fingers pressing lightly, offering what little comfort you could in such a bleak moment. She didn’t say anything, but the way her breathing slowed told you that it helped, even just a little.

Without a second thought, Dae-ho stood up, his face conflicted as he grabbed Jung-bae by the arm and dragged him over to your group. His eyes darted nervously between you, Jun-hee, Young-il, and Gi-hun before his gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, [Name], Jun-hee, Young-il,” he started, his voice low, his words laced with guilt. “Gi-hun, I’m sorry…” His apology hung in the air, sincere but laced with discomfort.

He went on to explain his decision to vote O, his voice shaky but determined. “You see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors have been harassing my ex-wife and kid. They’re threatening them, and if I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle the debt. So…” His words trailed off, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes.

Before you could speak up in defense of Jung-bae, In-ho cut him off, his frustration still fresh from the earlier commotion. His tone was cold, a sharp edge beneath the calm exterior. “Jung-bae,” he started, his voice low but heavy with disappointment. “You of all people shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t twice as righteous.”

You felt a twinge of sympathy for Jung-bae, but In-ho’s words were true. Deep down, you understood why In-ho was so disappointed.

In-ho’s gaze flicked back to Jung-bae as he continued, his words almost regretful. “But looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right? So it’s not really our fault,” Jung-bae quickly added, eager to find any shred of justification. He seemed relieved, like the pressure had been lifted slightly, but his eyes flickered nervously to the others, waiting for confirmation.

Dae-ho, who had been silently observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. His movements were casual, though his eyes were thoughtful. “Honestly, I get why you did it. 78 million won isn’t enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for ‘O’ too.”

You nodded in agreement, a soft murmur of approval escaping you. You understood the temptation, the overwhelming urge to fight for more when it felt like everything was slipping away. The money was too much to ignore.

Seeing the subtle nods of agreement from the group, Jung-bae’s confidence grew. He straightened his posture, eager to make up for his earlier decision. “Next game, I promise. I’ll—”

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

The room went completely still. Everyone froze, the silence thick and suffocating. Gi-hun’s words hung in the air, their weight sinking into each of you. He was right, and the grim truth of it was enough to stop all conversation. There was no sugarcoating it. The next round could very well be the end, and the thought was unbearable.

The quiet that followed was heavy, the dread and uncertainty sinking into your bones. You couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down your spine, the magnitude of what was to come settling over you like a thick fog.

Annoyed by the uncomfortable pause, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “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.”

The group seemed to agree with your statement, the momentary discomfort fading as they all began to refocus.

In-ho, ever the quiet observer, handed his milk carton to Jun-hee without a word, his gaze flicking to her briefly before he looked away. “I don’t drink plain milk,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the gesture was nothing more than a small, unnoticed act.

Jung-bae, following suit, offered his bread to Jun-hee as well, his eyes shadowed with guilt. “I don’t deserve to eat,” he said with an awkward chuckle, trying to mask the heaviness of his words with forced humor.

You watched the exchange, your heart twisting slightly, but before you could speak, Dae-ho leaned in, his voice light but with an edge of concern. “I’ll take the milk carton?”

When Jung-bae shot him a glare, Dae-ho hesitated, then pulled back, not wanting to push it further.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of what was ahead. The uncertainty, the danger—it all felt too much. But in this moment, you focused on your meal, knowing it was the only thing you could control for now.

You found yourself sitting beside Dae-ho, your bread in hand, chewing quietly as you both took a brief moment of respite. Dae-ho seemed lost in thought, his eyes darting toward you, hesitant yet full of unasked questions.

“If you have any questions, just ask me, Dae-ho,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’m not gonna bite, you know?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, caught off guard by your casual invitation. But he took a deep breath, calm now, and turned to face you fully. “Do you have kids at home, [Name]nim?” he asked, his voice low but sincere. “It’s just... whenever I see you with Jun-heesii, it reminds me of my mother taking care of me and my four sisters.”

You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of discomfort as you realized the question would require a vulnerable answer. In-ho, sitting nearby, seemed to listen in, his curiosity piqued. Part of him, though, wished you didn’t have any children, that you weren’t settled in on with somebody, a selfish thought he quickly pushed away.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” you murmured, a soft laugh escaping you as you fidgeted with your bread. “I actually don’t have any kids or a husband... I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Boys don’t really look at me like that, if you know what I mean. Life wasn’t that nice to me, especially after we moved. I didn’t have the time or luck for any of that…”

Dae-ho’s expression softened with guilt. He immediately regretted asking the question, but when he saw the faint longing in your eyes, he paused. There was something more behind your words—something unspoken, something that told him you longed for a family, for the chance to live that dream.

In-ho, overhearing, felt a pang in his chest. What had happened to you? He knew things had ended badly between the two of you, but he never expected life to treat you so harshly. You were kind, generous, and had always believed in the goodness of people. He couldn’t understand why life had been so difficult for you. You didn’t deserve that.

Before the silence could grow any heavier, Jung-bae mischievously broke it with a suggestion. “Well, if you like, I can set you up with someone back in Ssangmun-dong. Right, Gi-hun?”

Gi-hun, who had been quiet up until then, blinked in surprise, his confusion evident. “Huh? Who?”

“You know! Sang-woo! The Pride of Ssangmun-dong!” Jung-bae grinned, clearly amused by his own suggestion. “I think he and [Name] would make a great couple, don’t you think?”

At the mention of Sang-woo, Gi-hun’s face shifted. His expression faltered, a wave of guilt and sadness clouding his features. A pained smile tugged at his lips as he nodded absently. “Yeah... I think so too,” he murmured, his mind clearly elsewhere as he drifted off into his own thoughts.

The sudden change in Gi-hun’s demeanor caught your attention. His usual angry and tense self had been replaced with something quieter, a deep sadness that seemed to pull at him. You looked to Jung-bae for an explanation, your brows furrowed in concern.

In a soft voice, Jung-bae filled in the blanks. “Gi-hun and Sang-woo were childhood friends, but... he’s been missing for years.”

You nodded, understanding the pain behind Gi-hun’s words. You could relate to that feeling—the ache of a long-lost connection. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your own heart as well. Even though the lost connection was right in front of you, and he still felt so far away.

Gi-hun’s sadness wasn’t a good look on him. He was always either grumpy or happy, never in between. You wanted to change that. You thought back to when you missed In-ho so much, you’d drown your sorrows in alcohol and chatter to Young-sun about him. Maybe, just maybe, getting Gi-hun to talk about Sang-woo could help him, even if it was just for a little while.

“Hey, Gi-hun,” you called softly, breaking the silence. “Tell me more about this Sang-woo guy. Who knows, maybe we’d click together, you know?”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your question. But something in his gaze softened as he began to talk. He recounted bits and pieces of his childhood with Sang-woo, his voice lighting up with nostalgia. His eyes shined as he described his friend’s strengths, quirks, and all the little memories they shared.

From the way Gi-hun spoke, you could see how much Sang-woo meant to him. The same way you felt about In-ho, the weight of love and loss behind every word. You silently prayed for their reunion. Gi-hun deserved happiness, and you wished for him to find it—whether through Sang-woo or another way.

In-ho’s jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. If they were going to give you a partner, they should give you someone who can protect you—someone who knows you, your likes and dislikes, your type... His thoughts were possessive— jealous. His hands clenched into fists, though he forced himself to stay composed. He wasn’t sure why the thought of you with someone else hurt so much, but it did. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.

As the conversation shifted and laughter filled the space, In-ho stayed silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions heavy in the air. The conversation ended when they all went to the bathroom, leaving you and Jun-hee alone. She wasted no time asking a question that had been bothering her ever since she noticed something strange.

“[Name]nim, do you know Young-ilnim? Like, before the games?”

You were taken aback, your surprise evident in the way your eyes widened. What prompted her to ask such a thing?

“No, not that I remember,” you replied, a small ache tugging at your chest. It was hard to say those words. “Why do you ask?”

Jun-hee hesitated, her gaze flickering down to her hands. “It’s just that… I always see Young-ilnim looking at you, or staring at you. Especially when you helped me during the second game. His stare... it was like there was something there.” She trailed off, her voice quiet, unsure if she had crossed a line. “I thought you two might know each other. Sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, no... don’t apologize, Jun-hee. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her with a small smile. “Maybe I just remind him of someone?”

The conversation shifted, and though the topic ended there, you couldn’t help but linger on what Jun-hee said. In-ho, looking at you? Your mind spun with questions that you couldn't quite answer. But before you could dive deeper into your thoughts, the group returned from the bathroom, and the moment was gone.

Gi-hun gathered everyone, asking them to bring their mattresses and bedding to your designated spot. You all exchanged confused looks but did as instructed, gathering pillows and blankets. It was clear there was something important going on, and it wasn’t lost on anyone.

As you and Jun-hee handed out the bedding, the tension in the air grew. Jung-bae spoke up. “Hey, is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under here.”

Gi-hun continued setting down blankets without looking up. “Once the lights go out, someone might attack us.”

His words grabbed everyone's attention, and you paused, glancing around. Dae-ho, curiosity now evident in his eyes, asked, “Why would anyone do that?”

“The prize money goes up every time someone dies. It’s part of the game they designed,” Gi-hun explained, his voice tense with the weight of the situation.

You frowned, the idea feeling far-fetched at first. But as you thought about the desperation you’d seen in people—and the way some of the others eyed the prize board with hunger—it started to make a disturbing kind of sense. Gi-hun’s words seemed to settle over the group like a cold shiver, but In-ho wasn’t convinced. “Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting,” he said, shaking his head. “Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun turned to him sharply, fury in his eyes. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here, you have no idea how people can change in a place like this…”

In-ho trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable. “I see… I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, but Gi-hun, though still angry, nodded with some understanding. “We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.”

“I’ll take the first watch. You should decide the order for the rest,” Gi-hun added, continuing to spread the last of the blankets.

It wasn’t long after that you found yourself lying on the bottom bed, the silence in the room heavy. You couldn’t tell what time it was, but sleep seemed distant. With your eyes closed, you tried to rest, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of Jun-hee’s question, of In-ho’s gaze, and of all the tension in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t stay still any longer. You quietly rolled out of the bed, careful not to disturb Jun-hee beside you. As you stood, you rubbed your eyes, still groggy but wide awake. You walked over to the one who was supposed to be keeping watch.

“Hey... get some sleep. I’ve got it from here,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the darkness.

When no response came, you paused, your heart beating a little faster. Had you imagined it? You slapped your cheek lightly, half-expecting to wake up from a dream, but the sting was real. This was no dream. You were still in the game. But who was supposed to be guarding?

As you glanced toward the guard, your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dim light, stood In-ho, staring at you with wide, almost startled eyes.

“In-ho...” you whispered, the name escaping before you could stop it.

He blinked, his expression unreadable. “[Name]... sit down, will you?” His voice was quiet, laced with an undercurrent of tension. You did as he asked, your body moving on its own, though the atmosphere between the two of you felt thick with unspoken words.

You sat there, your knees pressed together. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. There were so many things unsaid between you, so many apologies left unspoken, so many reasons left unexplained. Neither of you seemed to know where to start, but the distance between you had never felt more real. You had shared a bond once, and now it was hard to find the words to bridge the gap that had formed.

In-ho shifted slightly, as if searching for something to say, but still, nothing came. Neither of you moved for what felt like hours, both of you stuck in a place neither knew how to navigate.

The silence between you and In-ho lingered, thick and suffocating, each of you carrying the weight of the years since you’d last spoken. Finally, In-ho shifted, breaking the stillness, his voice low and tight.

"[Name], I—I'm sorry," he started, his words hesitant, as though testing the waters.

"I shouldn't have acted like that, not when you were leaving. On our last day together, I—" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours, searching for the right words in the dim light. "I was so angry, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t mean to push you away. I never should have let my emotions control me like that, especially when I knew you were going away."

Your chest tightened at his words. The apology you’d waited for, yet feared to hear, was finally being spoken, but the bitterness still clung to you. You swallowed hard, forcing the anger down, trying not to let it rise again. It felt like you were walking a fine line, torn between the hurt and the understanding you wished you could give him.

"You know," you said softly, voice wavering, "I was angry, too. You pushed me away, In-ho. I never got to explain myself, to tell you why I had to leave. It hurt so much that you didn’t even give me a chance." You paused, trying to steady yourself. "I don’t know what you thought, but I wasn’t running away from you. I... I never wanted to hurt you."

In-ho’s eyes flickered, regret and guilt tugging at his expression. His hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed at his side, as if searching for the right words but struggling to find them.

"I thought you were just... leaving, leaving me, leaving us." he said quietly, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know if I could let you go. But you were going, and it felt like I was losing you, like you’d be gone for good. I was angry that you didn’t even try to stay. I thought you had already made your choice." He swallowed hard, his gaze still on the floor. "I thought you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you."

Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was it. The truth you’d wanted to hear, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. The anger you’d carried for so long still clung to you, but in this moment, it was tinged with understanding.

"I didn’t know you felt that way," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I thought you hated me for leaving. I thought I’d ruined everything, and you’d never forgive me for it." You took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in your chest. A tremor crept into your voice as you fought to hold back the emotions welling up inside you. 

"I understood why you did it," you said, voice cracking slightly. "I understood it at the time. You were scared, just like I was. But it didn’t make it hurt any less." Your voice dropped. "I didn’t know how to feel. You were the one person I thought I could rely on, and then you turned away without a word. And I had no choice but to carry that weight with me."

Your eyes locked onto his, your heart aching at the sight of the guilt in his expression. “I spent so much time angry at you, blaming you for leaving me like that. But now... now I know we were both just lost. I didn’t know how to handle it, and neither did you.”

In-ho’s face softened, his expression full of regret. "I wish I had known how to handle it better. I wish I had been braver... for you, for us. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of shutting myself off."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, both of you silently processing what had been said. Then, as if a dam had broken, you continued, feeling a rush of emotions that you hadn’t been able to express before.

"All those years... I kept wondering if I could’ve done something different. If I could have convinced my parents to stay. But I was too proud, too scared. And when we left, it felt like the world just... stopped. I couldn't move forward, not without you. I didn’t know how to move on. And I don’t know if I ever truly did." Your voice cracked, the weight of it all coming crashing down in that moment.

In-ho’s breath hitched as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was scared, too. I didn’t know how to handle the idea of losing you. But I realize now... that by pushing you away, I was only making it worse. I’m sorry, [Name]. I’m so sorry for everything.”

You both sat there in the quiet, the weight of the past hanging heavily in the air between you. In-ho’s voice broke through the silence again, softer this time. “I should’ve been better for you. I should’ve told you how I felt, not let my fear take over.”

Your heart ached hearing the sincerity in his words. He was so close now, but there was still a lingering distance between you. His hand hovered near yours, unsure if you’d let him in. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. The touch was like a lifeline, pulling you both back from the uncertainty.

In-ho’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand finally resting on top of yours. He shifted slightly, moving a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze now, something you hadn’t seen in him before. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to swallow hard to keep them from spilling over. For so long, you’d carried this burden of unspoken words, of lost time. But now, sitting here beside him, it felt like the weight was lifting, bit by bit.

In-ho seemed to sense your struggle, his hand gently squeezing yours. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted you to feel abandoned or alone.”

The words were all you needed. With a shaky breath, you leaned toward him, resting your head on his shoulder. The closeness between you felt like a reunion, a connection rediscovered after years apart. In-ho’s arm slipped around you, pulling you just a little closer, as though he never wanted to let go again.

He ran his hand through your hair, slowly, gently, as if trying to calm the storm inside you. The motion was soothing, and for the first time in so long, you felt at peace. The anger and the hurt slowly started to fade, replaced by something new—something warm.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

In-ho paused, his breath hitching as he processed your words. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his face inches from yours. “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

You both sat there in the quiet, letting the words hang in the air, surrounded by the unspoken promise of a new beginning. The past wasn’t something that could be erased, but it didn’t have to define you anymore. What mattered now was that you were here, together, in this moment.

In-ho held you close as you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you’d kept inside for so long. You felt his chest rise and fall against you, steady and warm, as his presence grounded you. After a long moment of silence, he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with concern and curiosity.

“What happened to you, [Name]?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. “What happened all of this? I’ve been wondering for years.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as the memories threatened to spill out. But, in his embrace, it felt safer to finally speak the truth. Slowly, you opened your mouth, your voice a whisper against his chest.

“I didn’t want to leave, In-ho,” you murmured. “But I had no choice.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of your past pressing down on you. “My parents... My father left for someone else, and my mother... she just disappeared. One day she was there, and the next, she was gone. I was... alone.”

You felt In-ho’s grip tighten around you as you spoke, but he said nothing. He just listened, offering his silent support.

“I tried to hold it together,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But the bills kept piling up, and I couldn’t see a way out. I was working non-stop, just trying to keep up, but it never seemed to end. So, I thought, maybe a small loan would help... just to get by for a little while. But it only made things worse. I kept borrowing, and the interest kept stacking up. Eventually, I couldn’t keep up at all. To cope with everything, I started drinking. I just needed something to numb the pain.”

You paused, trying to steady your breathing. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and now there was no stopping it.

“After a while, it became a habit,” you said, your voice shaking. “I couldn’t face the world without it. And... I lost everything. My job, my sense of myself. I kept pushing people away because I didn’t know how to fix anything. I didn’t even know how to fix myself.”

In-ho’s hand gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer against his shoulder as if to shield you from the weight of your own words. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence settle between you. Then, his voice broke through the stillness.

“I’m sorry, [Name], I wish I was there with you during those times,” In-ho murmured, his voice filled with regret, each word heavy, like it carried all the years of silence and distance between you.

You let out a quiet sigh, the ache in your chest growing as you tried to push back against the weight of the past. The pain, the loss—it was all there, hovering just beneath the surface, but you chose to focus on what was right in front of you now. You chose the present. “It’s okay, In-ho,” you said softly, trying to steady your voice, but your heart was louder than it had been in years. “What matters now is you’re here with me, just like before.”

He was still so close to you, your bodies pressed together in the embrace, his breath uneven against your shoulder. His hand traced the back of your neck, his touch gentle, as though trying to reassure you, to hold you together. But there was more to it—something unspoken, a pull between you that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence, felt so right, and yet, it stirred something deeper, something dangerous.

His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters. He lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel that silent question in the air, one you had both ignored for so long. Could you finally give in? Could you finally let go of the years that had kept you apart?

You wanted to lean in. You wanted to close that distance, to feel his lips against yours and forget everything else. All the pain, the years apart, the weight of the world—it could disappear, just for a moment. But your mind raced with doubts. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was just a fleeting feeling? What if you were getting swept up in the moment, in the desperation of it all?

And then, In-ho’s lips brushed against your forehead, his kiss tender and almost like a promise. You didn’t hesitate this time. The distance between you seemed to disappear, and without thinking, you leaned in. Your lips parted, and your breath mingled with his as you slowly closed the gap, inch by inch. Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was all so familiar, yet so new. You could feel everything—the pain, the longing, the need. You wanted to erase the distance, to bridge the gap that had haunted you both for so long.

But just as you were about to close the distance completely, just as you were about to feel his lips against yours, something flashed through your mind. The memory of him speaking of his wife, of the woman who was supposedly ill in the hospital, came crashing back. Your chest tightened. He was already married. You pulled back suddenly, your breath caught in your throat.

“What about your wife, In-ho?” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. The words had been building inside you, but you couldn’t stop them. The questions came rushing to the surface. The connection, the closeness—it felt so real, but how could it be? How could you trust this moment when he had a sick wife waiting for his return?

In-ho froze, his eyes widening for a brief moment. Then, as though realizing the weight of what he’d said, his expression softened. He reached for you immediately, his hands cupping your face gently, almost desperately, like he couldn’t bear the space between you now.

“No,” he said, his voice low and strained. “You don’t understand. I lied to them. The wife... the illness... even my name. I did it for safety.” He explained as fast as he could.

“I swear to you, [Name], I wanted you. I always have. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve been waiting... waiting for you. All these years.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping over everything you had believed. The confession shattered your doubt. The years apart, the silence, the feelings that had never gone away. You had thought he was moving on, that he had a life without you, but now he was telling you that it had always been you. That he had always wanted you.

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, and for the first time in years, you saw it—his vulnerability, his sincerity. He had waited for you. He wasn’t lying now. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and in that moment, you whispered, almost to yourself, “I never stopped thinking about you, either.”

That was it. Your hands, almost on their own, moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The hesitation, the doubt, all of it was gone. You leaned in again, this time with no fear, no second-guessing. You could feel his lips, just inches from yours, and this time, it was going to happen. There was no turning back.

But just as you closed your eyes, just as you felt the warmth of his lips moving toward yours, the room suddenly lit up. The loudspeaker crackled to life, its cold, mechanical voice slicing through the moment like a knife.

“Third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.”

The announcement shattered the moment like glass and reality rushed in. You pulled away quickly, both of you flustered, eyes wide as reality snapped back into place. In-ho let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. His gaze, still soft from the moment, quickly shifted into irritation.

You, too, felt your cheeks burn with the sudden shift. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all washing over you. “Of course,” you muttered, voice a little shaky. “Couldn’t be that easy, huh?”

In-ho shot you a look, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “I swear, they have the worst timing.” He shook his head, clearly irritated by how things had unfolded, but there was a trace of humor in his voice that made the tension feel lighter.

You both sat there for a moment, the awkwardness of the interruption still hanging in the air but somehow feeling less heavy. It was like you’d both just come back from the edge of something important—and the abrupt break made you laugh despite the weight of everything. In-ho let out a short chuckle too, the irritation in his eyes still there but fading, replaced by a sense of shared frustration with the situation.

You glanced at him, eyes still lingering as you both realized how close you'd come to crossing that line. But there was no point in lingering on it now—not with the game calling you back to reality.

“Guess the universe isn’t ready for us yet,” you said, shaking your head.

In-ho gave a soft, exasperated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “Yeah, well, it never really was on our side before,” he muttered, then stood, adjusting his clothes and brushing off the frustration like it was nothing.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before turning your back, to tend to the pregnant girl you had been caring for. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t feel quite as impossible as it had before. In-ho followed suit, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary. For a moment, the room felt like it belonged to just the two of you again. But the third game was calling, and you both knew you had to face it. Together, this time.

The third game was Mingle. A game where you had to form pairs based on a number assigned and get into a room within 30 seconds. As the platform spun beneath your feet, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. It reminded you of times spent playing this game with friends back in Gyeonggi-do. You remembered one time in particular, when he had gotten into a fight with a common friend, because of the said game. You laughed softly at the memory, causing In-ho to glance over at you, curiosity in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low but still full of interest.

“Nothing,” you said with a soft chuckle. “I just remembered how Byung-hun was angry when you pulled him off of me, so you and I could be partners instead. Didn’t peg you to be a jealous kid.”

In-ho immediately bristled, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Hey, I wasn’t jealous. He was hurting you by gripping you so hard.”

“It didn’t even hurt!” you teased, but the corner of your lips twitched upward, unable to keep a smile off your face. “You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever you say…” In-ho muttered, stepping onto the platform. You followed him, shaking your head but smiling at the same time.

After four rounds, you all began preparing for the final one. The rounds were nerve-wracking, the tension palpable, but you had made it this far with the help of your amazing group. The platform began to spin, the music creating a frantic rhythm as it played in the background. You found yourself standing beside Jun-hee, instinctively holding her steady to keep her from stumbling as the platform jerked beneath your feet.

“What do you think the next number will be?” Jung-bae asked, his voice alert as he looked around.

Without hesitation, In-ho spoke up. “Two.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing at In-ho, silently asking him to explain.

“There are 50 rooms, and 126 people still alive. Everyone will need a partner, but there won’t be enough rooms. This is how they conduct these games.” In-ho’s eyes were sharp, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of awe at how quickly he had figured it out.

And as it turned out, he was right.

2.

Everyone paused, looking around at each other, wondering who would pair up with whom. Before you could grab Jun-hee to pair up, In-ho suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you along with him. The rest of your group—Dae-ho with Jun-hee, Gi-hun with Jung-bae—quickly followed, all of you rushing to find a room.

You spotted an open door and, without thinking, you shouted. “Over there!” You both sprinted toward it, but before you could step inside, a man suddenly tackled you to the ground. Your head slammed hard against the floor, and for a moment, everything spun.

In-ho’s face twisted with fury as he watched the man try to crawl into the room you had been aiming for, disregarding you entirely. Without thinking, he reached for the man, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him away from you.

“Get in the room!” In-ho shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. You were dizzy and nauseous, the world spinning around you, but you didn’t hesitate. You stumbled to your feet, still feeling the lingering effects of the impact, and forced yourself into the room, fighting through the haze in your head.

But as soon as you entered, something coiled around your neck, a vice-like grip tightening with brutal force. You gasped, your throat constricting as you tried to draw in a breath, but the air seemed to vanish. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping into the periphery of your sight. Panic surged like a tidal wave, and you clawed at the hands choking you, but they were relentless. Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one feeling more like a plea for life than a simple breath.

The world around you was fading, your chest tightening, your limbs growing heavier. You struggled harder, your body thrashing, trying to free yourself, but the darkness was swallowing you whole.

And then—just when you thought you would lose consciousness—there was a shift. The grip loosened. The constriction around your throat vanished in an instant, and you gasped, desperately drawing in the breath you had been fighting for. The air tasted sharp, bitter, as if the world itself was trying to punish you for the terror you had just experienced.

And there he was—In-ho.

He stood over you, his face a mask of fury, eyes wild and unrecognizable with the force of his anger. His knuckles were white, gripping his fist tightly, as though the act of hitting the man who had attacked you had only just begun to settle in. His face was twisted in a way you’d never seen before. Something inside him was unraveling—breaking.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned on the man who had attacked you, and the sound of his fist meeting the man’s face was deafening. A sickening crack echoed through the room, sharp and cruel, as In-ho’s punch sent the man crashing to the floor. But In-ho wasn’t done. The fury inside him was a beast, a monster he couldn’t control. He grabbed the man by the neck, his fingers tightening with savage force, twisting, until there was an awful snap.

The sound of a life being crushed, broken beyond repair, sent a shockwave through your body. Your stomach turned violently, and your chest tightened, as though you could feel the man’s life draining out of him, just like your own hope of ever seeing In-ho as you once had. It wasn’t just the man who had died. In-ho had killed, and something inside him had died, too.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t move. You stared at him, frozen by what he had just done, your heart racing as the gravity of the moment began to settle in. His chest heaved, each breath coming out ragged and uneven. But it wasn’t the man’s blood on his hands that terrified you the most. It was the look in his eyes. Dark. Soulless. As though he was searching for something—anything—to bring him back to the man he once was. But it was gone. That warmth. That kindness. All of it.

"In-ho..." you whispered, your voice cracking as you reached for him, but he wouldn’t look at you.

His gaze was distant, bloodshot, as though he couldn’t even recognize the person standing in front of him. For a brief moment, you feared you were losing him—losing the man you thought you knew.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

“In-ho,” you whispered again, more urgently this time, your voice thick with unshed tears. “Thank you. For saving my life. Again.”

His jaw clenched, the guilt settling into every line of his face. “I’m sorry, [Name],” he said, his voice breaking, and you could hear the remorse in every word, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, your heart hammering as you let out a shaky breath. “What are you sorry for?” Your voice was stronger now, fueled by a strange mixture of anger and desperation. “That bastard almost killed me, and I’m glad he’s gone. I’m glad he’s dead. What’s there to apologize for, In-ho? You saved me. You did what had to be done.”

But In-ho’s gaze softened for only a moment before it hardened again, his hands curling into fists. He was still haunted by what he had done. You could see it in the tight set of his shoulders, in the way he stood, as though he was trying to hold himself together. But the cracks were showing, and you couldn’t let him fall apart in front of you. Not when you needed him most.

Before you could say anything else, the adrenaline that had kept you both on edge began to fade, and the weight of everything—the violence, the pain, the fear—settled into the pit of your stomach. You threw your arms around him, not caring about anything else. Not the blood, not the death, not the mess that surrounded you.

You held him tight, pressing your face into his chest as sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw. “I thought I was going to die…” you whispered between breaths, your voice trembling with the weight of the fear you had felt. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know what was going to happen...”

In-ho didn’t say anything at first. He just held you, his arms coming around you in a protective, desperate way, like he was trying to shield you from the madness, from the horrors that were closing in on you both. His chest was shaking with the same unspoken terror, his breath ragged in your hair as he held you closer, as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

You closed your eyes, pressing harder into him, the weight of his words sinking into your heart. But no matter how tightly he held you, there was a part of you that was already broken, already afraid that the man you had just seen—the man who had crossed a line he never should’ve had to—was never going to come back.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

You both stood there in silence for a long moment, caught in the aftermath of what had just unfolded, the weight of the violence and the fear finally catching up to you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you knew—no matter what happened next, you weren’t alone.

After the third game, the group gathered in the makeshift fort Gi-hun had set up, each player lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere was heavy as they processed the brutal reality of the games. Gi-hun asked Jung-bae to report the number of players who had voted to continue. The tally revealed 56 players had voted O, while the X team remained outnumbered by twelve votes.

In-ho suggested that if six players switched their votes, it would result in a tie, and seven switches would tip the scales in their favor. The tension was palpable as everyone prepared for the vote. When the results were announced, it was a tie. Relief spread through the group, prompting cheers, but their celebration was short-lived.

The guards announced that a tie meant another vote would take place the following day. Dinner was served, and while the group shared light moments to ease their nerves, the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the stakes.

That night, chaos erupted when a fight broke out in the bathroom between the two sides. The O team accused the X team of initiating the attack, while the X team retaliated with their own accusations. The conflict escalated quickly, spreading through the room like wildfire. By the time order was restored, Team X had gained an advantage, now numbering 48 players compared to Team O's 47.

“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said grimly, sitting down. “We lost three overall, but we’re still ahead by one vote.”

Jung-bae tried to remain optimistic, his voice steady. “As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win tomorrow.”

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 turned to the group, his voice firm. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, and we’ll make it through.”

The group murmured their agreement, but Gi-hun’s expression remained tense.

Dae-ho leaned in, glancing toward the opposing team. “Those guys are acting really suspicious. They’re planning something—I can feel it.”

Jung-bae waved him off. “Whatever. Once we win tomorrow’s vote, it’ll all be over.”

“No. Once the lights go out, they’ll attack us.” Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension.

The room went silent. Player 007’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, They know we’re at an advantage,” He said, voice steady despite the situation. “They’ll try to kill some of us tonight to even the odds and raise the prize money.”

“Then we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise,” In-ho suggested, his tone firm. His words were met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded and added, “We have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, we’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”

But Gi-hun raised a hand, his expression grim. “No. We can’t start a fight like that.”

The group turned to him, confused by his sudden objection. Gi-hun’s voice cut through the growing tension, calm yet weighted. “We need to stay calm. If we kill each other, that’s exactly what they want.”

“Who are they? Who are you talking about?”

“The makers of the game,” Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. His words hung heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs around the room. “They’re the ones who want us to kill each other. They’re watching us right now.”

A chill ran down your spine as you processed his words. The room fell silent, each player lost in thought. Dae-ho broke the quiet, his voice tight. “Where are they?” 

Gi-hun slowly looked up, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Up there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. You all follow. His eyes seemed to pierce the walls as though he could see straight into them. “The control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, we’ll have leverage.”

In-ho scoffed slightly, though there was no mockery in his tone. “How are you going to fight them? They’ve got guns.”

“We’ll take their guns.”

“From the masked men?” Player 246 asked, his disbelief evident.

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

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

Gi-hun’s gaze 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 rose slightly, the desperation in his tone cutting through the tension.

The silence that followed was suffocating, each player wrestling with the grim reality of their situation. You could see some heads nodding in reluctant agreement, while others remained still, their fear paralyzing them.

Player 120 spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling. “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?” In-ho asked again, his skepticism still evident.

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. His determination was clear, as if he had already played the scenario out in his head. “Once the lights go out, we’ll have our chance.”

Lights out in ten.

The countdown began, the numbers pounding in your skull like the beat of a war drum. You lay stiffly on your bed, your muscles tense and ready to spring. Your heart raced as Gi-hun’s instructions echoed in your mind—Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.

You clutched the edge of the bed, your nails digging into the rough wood. The seconds dragged, each one stretching impossibly long, amplifying the terror building in your chest.

One.

The lights flickered violently before plunging the room into suffocating darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. You could hear every breath you took, each one louder than the last, as if your own body was betraying you.

For a brief, terrible moment, the room was still.

The silence was suffocating, a heavy void pressing down on you as though the darkness itself were alive. You held your breath, every muscle locked in place, straining to catch the faintest sound.

Then the chaos began.

Screams erupted, raw and animalistic, tearing through the suffocating silence like claws raking through flesh. Heavy footsteps thundered across the room as bodies scrambled and collided in the dark. The sound of someone slamming into a metal bed reverberated like a gunshot, followed by the sickening, wet crunch of bone meeting steel.

The sharp clang of makeshift weapons rang out, chaotic and dissonant, punctuated by the grotesque, unmistakable sound of flesh being pierced. It was chaos, raw and brutal, an orchestra of horror conducted by desperation.

You didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. Instinct took over as you dove to the floor, crawling under the bed as Gi-hun had warned. Your breath came in short, panicked bursts, and you pressed yourself flat against the cold floor, willing the shadows to swallow you whole.

The room was a nightmare brought to life. The desperate shrieks of the dying mingled with the guttural grunts of attackers. Somewhere close, you heard a chilling, high-pitched laugh—a sound that sent icy needles of fear racing up your spine. The stench of sweat, blood, and raw terror filled your nose, a nauseating cocktail that made your stomach churn.

A body hit the ground nearby with a sickening thud, so close you could feel the vibrations reverberate through the floor. You froze, every nerve in your body screaming as you listened to their gasping breaths turn into choking, gurgling sounds.

You wanted to turn away, to block out the awful noise, but there was nowhere to go. Even pressing your hands over your ears couldn’t drown out the terrible symphony of suffering.

The screams were getting closer. You clenched your jaw, biting back a whimper as you pressed yourself tighter against the floor, your trembling fingers digging into the cold metal beneath the bed.

Your heart stopped when you felt it—a hand clamping down on your shoulder, strong and unyielding.

Your blood turned to ice, the chill spreading through your veins. Panic seized you, and you thrashed instinctively, your mind consumed by the singular thought that someone had found you. You opened your mouth to scream, but a second hand covered it before a sound could escape.

For a moment, terror blinded you, until a familiar face appeared as the lights flickered.

It was In-ho.

His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room with laser focus. “Quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, barely audible over the chaos.

Relief swept over you, so sudden and overwhelming that it left you momentarily breathless. But it didn’t last. 

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, followed by the sickening sound of someone being dragged across the floor. You flinched violently, but In-ho’s hand tightened on your shoulder, grounding you. His grip was firm, steadying you even as your body shook uncontrollably.

The two of you stayed motionless, his presence the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the violence raged around you. Every scream, every thud, every awful, wet crunch seemed amplified in the darkness, etching itself into your mind. You wanted to shut your eyes, to block it all out, but the terror kept them wide open, unblinking.

Gradually, the chaos began to subside. The screams turned into weak sobs, the sounds of struggle fading into an eerie, oppressive silence. Then came the mechanical hiss of the doors opening, cold and detached, signaling that the nightmare was over.

But you knew better. It was far from over.

In-ho’s hand finally relaxed on your shoulder, and you turned to him. His face was unreadable in the dim light, but there was something in his eyes—something fleeting, unspoken. Before you could say a word, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. Then, without waiting for a response, he crawled out from under the bed, disappearing into the shadows.

You stared after him, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. The display of affection, so sudden and unexpected, left you reeling. By the time you snapped out of your stupor, he was already gone.

The sound of gunfire shattered your thoughts, sharp and jarring, each shot echoing like a death knell in the enclosed space. You curled into yourself, covering your ears as tears pricked at your eyes.

Please let them be safe, you prayed silently, over and over again, the words a desperate mantra. Please let them succeed.

After a while, Gi-hun’s voice finally rang out—calm but commanding—it felt like the first breath after being submerged underwater. “Hold fire!”

The gunfire stopped.

Slowly, you crawled out from under the bed, your limbs trembling so violently it was a struggle to move. The room was a battlefield, littered with bodies and soaked in blood. Your eyes darted frantically, searching for one face, one person who mattered more than anything in that moment.

Your heart leapt when you spotted Jun-hee crouched nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Jun-hee,” you whispered hoarsely, stumbling toward her. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to you like a lifeline, her body trembling against yours.

The two of you stayed huddled together, finding solace in each other’s presence, until Gi-hun’s voice called out again.

“It’s safe to come out now.”

When everyone was told to gather in the middle of the room, you lingered, pretending to adjust your shoes. Jun-hee gave you a worried glance, but you waved her off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right there. Just... something I need to do.”

She hesitated before nodding, her small frame disappearing into the growing crowd.

Your heart raced as you scanned the room, the chaos of bloodied survivors and flickering lights making it harder to find him. But then you saw him—a familiar silhouette, half-hidden in the shadows of a secluded corner.

In-ho.

He was focused, his movements precise as he disarmed a fallen attacker, slipping the weapon into his grasp. His stoic expression didn’t falter as he worked. Even now, in the aftermath of chaos, he was calculating, steadfast, and unshaken.

Your breath hitched. You knew this wasn’t necessary. You knew you should be with the others in the middle of the room like you’d been instructed. But the ache in your chest, the fear gnawing at your sanity, pushed you forward. You couldn’t leave without speaking to him—without feeling the warmth of his presence one last time.

When you spotted him in a secluded corner, hunched over a stash of weapons he was collecting from fallen players, your resolve solidified. Silently, you crossed the chaotic room, weaving past overturned beds and scattered bodies. Your heart thundered in your chest, not from fear, but from the weight of what you needed to say.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, your steps quick and silent. When you reached him, you didn’t wait for him to notice you. You immediately threw yourself into his arms, catching him off guard.

“[Name]!” he gasped, his voice sharp with surprise as he caught you. He always caught you. His hands steadied you automatically, even as confusion flashed across his face. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be with the others. It’s not—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face and kissed him deeply. The movement was so sudden, so full of everything you’d kept locked away, that it caught him off guard. He froze, his lips still against yours, the cold metal of the gun slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you thought your heart might shatter. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he kissed you back. His hands moved to your waist, holding you as though you might slip away if he let go. The kiss deepened, his lips trembling against yours, and you could feel the war inside him—the pull of his duty against the part of him that wanted to stay here forever.

His lips moved against yours, his hands gripping your waist as though anchoring himself to you. The kiss was messy, desperate, and full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling with his, your voice broke. “In-ho…” You could barely get his name out.

“[Name],” he murmured, his voice low and trembling. “You shouldn’t be here, you know that.”

“I don’t care.” You gripped the front of his jacket, your tears spilling freely now. “I don’t care about any of that. I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked, betraying the lie. His hands shook where they rested on your waist. “But you—you need to go back. You need to stay safe. I can’t…” He trailed off, his eyes darting away, as if meeting your gaze might break him completely.

“In-ho,” you choked out, clutching his jacket tightly. “Won’t you stay, In-ho? For me?” your voice crackled with desperation.

His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. For a second, you thought he might say yes. But then, his face crumpled, and he shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want to—I want to so badly. But I can’t. I have to help them, [Name]. I have to make sure they have a chance.”

You tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong for him, but the floodgates opened anyway. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face against his chest. His arms wrapped around you fully now, steady and grounding, even as your world fell apart.

Of course, this was In-ho. The one who always puts others before himself. The one who bore every burden silently, who carried the weight of guilt and responsibility like it was the only thing keeping him alive. This was In-ho—your In-ho. The man who had always been so much more than you deserved.

And yet, even if it hurt, you loved him for it. You always would.

“What about me?” you whispered, tears streaming freely down your face. “What about us? Don’t we matter?”

His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears even as his own filled his eyes. “You matter,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’ve always mattered. More than anything. More than anyone. But if I don’t do this… none of us will make it out of here.”

“In-ho…” Your voice broke, and he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered into your hair, his voice unsteady but full of resolve. “I swear, I’ll come back to you.”

“Please,” you choked out, clinging to him like your life depended on it. “Please, In-ho, don’t make me lose you again. I can’t—I can’t do this… not without you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to memorize the feel of you. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Deep down, you both knew his promise was a fragile thing, held together by hope.

He leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His lips met yours once more, this time in a lingering kiss, slow and deep, filled with everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. The chaos around you faded into a distant hum, and the weight of the moment lightened just enough for you to feel the depth of his love. A love as desperate and fleeting as the seconds you shared.

When he pulled away, his lips brushed against your forehead, a soft sigh escaping him as if the kiss had stolen the last of his strength. “I’ll be extra safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the agony tearing him apart. “I promise, [Name].”

The promise felt hollow, like a brittle shell barely holding together.

You nodded weakly, though every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull him close, to make him stay. But you knew. You knew who he was—knew that In-ho was the kind of man who always put others first, and there was nothing you could say or do to change that.

“I’ll come back to you,” he said, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as you. “You have to believe that.”

Your voice wavered as you whispered, “I believe you, In-ho.” But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

He took a step back, his hands lingering on your arms before they fell away entirely. The warmth of his touch disappeared as he turned, moving toward the shadows with quiet determination.

Your heart shattered as you stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. It felt like every part of you was being ripped apart, your chest heaving with silent sobs. You wanted to scream his name, to demand he turn around, to beg him not to go. But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the raw, suffocating pain of letting him go.

As his figure grew smaller and smaller, the reality of what just happened sank in. The promise he made, the kiss he gave, the pain in his eyes—they all felt like goodbyes masquerading as hope.

As the silence closed in, the thought struck you with brutal clarity. This was the last time you would ever see him.

And it broke you, how painfully right you were.

[rafecameronssl4t]

C&L Airways || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: inspired by that scene in 50 shades of grey when Christian casually says he bought an airline lol

Warnings: just some rare fluff 🥰

Word count: 986

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of the kitchen, casting a warm glow over the spacious room. The soft hum of the tv playing, accompanied by the occasional clink of plates and utensils as breakfast was underway. You stood at the counter, a damp towel in hand as you carefully wiped down Madeleine’s small fingers after she’d managed to smear blueberry puree across her cheeks.

Rafe stood across from you, leaning against the marble counter with a cup of coffee in hand. He was shirtless, his toned chest and defined arms on full display, the golden hue of his skin catching the morning light. His other arm was casually crossed over his chest, his expression relaxed but sharp, the way it always was.

Leo sat at the breakfast bar beside Madeleine, swinging his little legs as he dug into his scrambled eggs and toast. Occasionally, he glanced up at his baby sister, giggling when she babbled nonsensical sounds in response. Madeleine, perched in her high chair, was busy waving her tiny hands in the air, her soft blonde curls bouncing with every movement.

You brushed a stray hair from your face, glancing over your shoulder at Rafe. “Do you want to go shopping with the kids and I later?” you asked, your voice casual as you worked on Madeleine’s stubborn curls. Rafe took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on you. “Sure,” he replied, his tone low and easy.

You looked at him, a little amused. “When was the last time you went shopping, though?” Rafe’s lips quirked into a slight smirk. “Houston, last week.” That caught your attention. Straightening, you turned to face him, an eyebrow arched. “Houston? What did you buy there?”

His smirk deepened, and he took another sip of his coffee, drawing out the moment just long enough to intrigue you. “An airline,” he said casually, as if he were talking about buying a pair of socks. You froze, blinking at him in disbelief. “You bought a what?” “An airline,” Rafe repeated, his tone nonchalant.

He placed his coffee mug down on the counter, crossing his arms fully now as he watched your reaction with clear amusement. You let out a breathless laugh, your hand resting on the back of Madeleine’s high chair for support. “You’re joking.” “I’m not,” he said with a chuckle. “Thoughts on C&L Airways?”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around what he’d just said. “As in Cameron and Loughrey?” “Yeah.” He shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Thought it had a nice ring to it.” Your gaze darted between him and the kids, who were entirely oblivious to the weight of what their father had just casually announced.

“You literally just bought another yacht and business jet like… last month,” you said, fixing Rafe with an incredulous stare as you adjusted Madeleine’s bib. “Yeah,” Rafe shrugged, utterly unbothered. “That’s for the kids.” You paused mid-wipe, turning to him with an incredulous laugh. “A yacht and a private jet, Rafe. For the kids? You know they’re still in booster seats, right?”

“It’s an investment,” he said, raising his coffee cup to his lips, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Shaking your head, you placed the cloth down and gave him an exasperated look. “Rafe, you don’t just buy an airline.” “Sure you do,” he replied smoothly, his smirk growing. “When the opportunity’s right.”

You placed your hands on your hips, shaking your head as a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re unbelievable.” “And you love it,” he teased, his voice dropping slightly. You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small laugh that escaped. Rafe chuckled, pushing off the counter and walking over to you.

His hand brushed your waist as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he turned his attention to Madeleine, who squealed with delight at his proximity. “Well,” you said, still a little dazed. “I guess I’ll have to add ‘flying on our own airline’ to my to-do list.” “Sounds like a plan,” Rafe murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

He glanced at Leo, who was grinning at him with toast crumbs on his face. “What do you think, buddy? Want to fly on C&L one day?” Leo nodded enthusiastically. “Can I fly the plane, Daddy?” Rafe laughed, ruffling his son’s hair. “Maybe one day.” You watched the interaction, your heart softening despite your earlier shock.

As much as Rafe could drive you crazy with his larger-than-life decisions, moments like these reminded you why you’d grown to love him—his undeniable charm, his devotion to the kids, and the way he always kept you on your toes.

[fushiguho]

✰ finally domming toji & he’s a brat about it… at first!

cw fem! reader, dom! reader, light bondage, premature orgasm, a little cum feeding :/

“you’re a mean little thing.” toji grouses between little pants of incredulity as you push him in his chest, forcing his bare back against the silken sheets. “c’monnn, this isn’t you. what happened to my sweet girl?”

“jesus, do you ever stop talking?” you bite, throwing a leg over his burly hips, straddling him. “should’ve gagged you.”

he sucks his teeth, scoffing. “doll, i don’t think that’s necessary.”

you huff an agitated breath. “then shut up. you promised to let me have this.”

tonight, your boyfriend has finally, finally given you the chance to call the shots… or try to, rather. however, he’s having a hard time letting go, relinquishing his inborn desire to assume power. it’s rare to see him like this, beneath you. still, he’s grasping at straws, hanging on to any fleeting shred of power that he can muster as you begin to tie his wrists.

nervously, you fumble with the thick piece of rope that you hold in your hands. a sleazy little grin kisses his beautifully scarred lips. toji almost can’t help but to laugh as you attempt to bind his wrists to the wooden headboard. something between a wince of pain and a groan of pleasure leaves him as you pull through the final loop, finishing your double column tie.

he groans. “a little tighter, yeah?” it’s hardly a joke, but he pulls at his restraints roughly, wrists aching.

you pout, dropping your head to the right in feigned concern and you can hear the breath that catches in his throat. toji, far too stubborn to admit, loves you like this, bad. it took a lot to get here—days of begging, bribery, orgasms. he’d only be kidding himself if he said this isn’t turning him into such a… whore. after all, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

something warm and dangerous twitches against your inner thigh. the sweet tune you hum as you trail an idle finger down, down, down his heaving chest makes his hips rut beneath you, a fruitless attempt at finding release. a guttural sound is parting his lips when you take one of his hardening nipples between your thumb and index.

“you know, i could get out if i wanted.” it’s breathless, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you did a good job…” he pauses, gaze flickering up to observe his bounded wrists before tugging at his restraints, “but this won’t hold me, pretty girl.”

you scoot down a bit, revealing the pretty, achy bulge that rests so angrily between his strapping thighs. briefly, his eyes meet yours, the subtle furrow in his brows making your core tighten with need. a slow, teasing finger skims the stubble beneath his waistband. his stomach caves, sinking in his ever growing arousal.

“you know, maybe i should gag you.” you finally reply after some thought. the notion lingers on your conscious as you drop your head, kissing him through his underwear. “you’re insufferable when you’re not in charge.”

toji can’t help the near feral buck of his hips, an ensuing growl dragging from his mouth. he can feel himself losing his fucking mind as you drag a warm palm over his clothed cock. a violent shudder rattles his body, an unintentional gasp pulling his jaw slack.

“baby, it h-hurts… c’mon now, you’re being mean.”

“take your cock out then.” you challenge, backing away slightly to watch as he struggles. “show me you what it is you want.”

scoffing, he rolls his eyes, looking like the grumpiest of bears as he ruts his hips helplessly, desperately attempting to wriggle out of his underwear with his hands tied above his head. you smile, a pretty little giggle leaving your lips. watching toji struggle to find relief makes a warm, electrifying heat pool between your thighs. how the fuck could he ever deny you of this?

“fuuuck! i can’t!” it’s merely a high-pitched whine as he huffs frustrated little breaths through his flaring nostrils. “help me! you tied me t-too tight, i can’t do it.” he’s whimpering now, chest heaving in time with the mindless jerk of his hips. “baby, i need you to take it out for me. p-please okay?”

never. you have never seen him like this and you’re not sure how there was a time that existed before. a raw moan of relief is belting from his lungs when you finally slip a hand down his tightening briefs. your fingers brush over the twitching length of his erection, collecting the syrupy precum that adorns the head of his weeping cock.

with your other hand, you’re tugging his underwear down and his head is deliriously nodding back to rest against his pillow. your fist wraps around the base of his cock, squeeeezing. the messy tip drools, rivulets of pretty, pearlescent arousal drip, drip, dripping down his throbbing shaft.

“god, j-just put it in your mouth. don’t be like that… why are you being liked this, huh?” instinctively he tugs at his bindings, attempting to reach out for you but finds that he can’t.

he is so fucking desperate for it, yet he can hardly stomach the thought that it’s him begging like a slut to feel your tongue on the head of his cock. god and he’s just pitifully unaware of how he’s fully whining—the usual bass of his tone lost in the pathetic quaver of his crackling voice, reaching an octave so high that it shocks even you.

still, you shake your head, a bewitching smile gracing your lips. instead, you’re shifting lower, lolling out your tongue as you peer at him through batting lashes. toji’s breath hitches as you drool down the length of his cock. a longggg string of saliva tethers your bottom lip to his cock head as you start to stroke him from the base.

toji’s mouth gapes, yet nothing of coherence is uttered. he babbles mindlessly, those dark, drunken eyes stupidly following the hand that works at his cock, utterly enthralled by the subtle twist of your wrist as you near the weeping head. he curses to himself, needy hips still attempting to buck underneath your weight.

with your legs on either side of his body, you keep him grounded as you pump up and down his angry shaft. your warm, wet lips are trailing along his tightening abdomen. the poor boy writhes beneath your touch, his body reacting in a way you didn’t know was possible—his spine bows, hips bucking almost carnally as his stomach caves, arousal swirling deeep in his core.

“please.” it’s merely a breath as you nip the soft skin behind the shell his ear, soothingly dragging your tongue along the forming bruise. “will you kiss me at least?”

you peck the corner of his gaped mouth once, pulling away before he can even register your fleeting lips. toji turns his head, chasing your teasing lips and you smile, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock which pulls the filthiest little groan from him.

he pouts, thick brows furrowing slightly. “you’re being mean.”

“oh, you poor babyyy.” his cock jerks against the palm of your hand at your sweet, condescending tone. “maybe i should keep you like this forever, hm? actually think i prefer this.”

“mmh—why? you like torturin’ me?”

you nod, bringing a hand up to his pretty, contorting face. he can hardly help the subconscious part of his mouth as you tap your fingers against his bottom lip. like an obedient boy, he’s swallowing around the digits with a satisfactory gurgle of unwitting pleasure. curiously, your fingers creep farther down his throat, the tips brushing the very back of his wet tongue.

saliva drips from the corners of his mouth and he gags once, his sable, lust-ridden eyes welling with thick tears. the smile that mars your face is sick, but it’s pulling a loud moan from the depths of his chest. another helpless sound leaves him when your hand tightens around his weeping cock.

“god, i’m so close.” toji gasps around the digits in his mouth, peering down at his furious cock and your jerking hand. his jaw is falling slack, head dizzily slumping to one side. “f… fuck, it feels so good—your hand feels s’gooood. g-gonna cum, can’t h-help myself. you are just sooo pretty like this, baby.”

“yeah? you gonna cum for me already?” the coy tilt of your head makes his stomach sink. a victorious smile cracks along your face. “hardly touched you.”

toji nods dumbly, breath hitching. his hips stutter pathetically, rocking against the agonizing jerk of your fist. the most beautiful sound leaves him, something like a whimpering gasp, his heaving breaths shuddered and choked. it’s loud and shameless and like nothing you’ve ever heard. several, long ropes of pearly white cum follows, coating the expanse of his chest and abdomen like it was meant to.

it’s perfect. everything about this image is perfect. toji looks so pretty drenched and heaving in his own arousal. you watch as his warm, sticky seed trickles down his perspiring skin. you almost can’t help the curious fingers that are dragging along his pectorals, collecting the mess.

“don’t.” is all he mutters as you creep the cum-soaked digits toward his lips.

you smile sweetly. “open.”

and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he does. he takes your fingers into his warm mouth with a deep, guttural groan, sucking on them until nothing remains. a triumphant smile graces your lips as you push them further, forcing a proper gag from the depths of his throat.

“okay! okay, you’re doing too much, doll… untie me now.” he grouses, drool pooling against his tongue.

you hum in contemplation, tracing mindless shapes against his skin. “and if i don’t?”

“if you don’t and i get out on my own,” he pauses, lifting his head slightly to take in this beautiful sketch of you before smiling something sinister. “you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

it’s a threat and you know it is, so why does it make your core tighten with a need you’ve never known? why does it make your mind race at the possibility of punishment? discipline? it’s merely a warning, yet your cunt aches at the thought of him escaping, it makes your body burn with a fire the begs to be doused and it’s toji who must do it, so you challenge him.

“then why don’t you get out and make me regret it.”

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

juno - spencer reid x afab!reader

reader finds out how good spencer is with kids and can't keep the thoughts from pouring in

requested!

genre: fluff, smut wc: 2179 warnings: established relationship, daydreamer!reader, talk of pregnancy, p in v, unprotected sex(duh), brief breeding kink, i love yous, reader has hair?

my first time ever writing smut!!! keep your pitchforks to yourself please!!!

You've known for a long while of your boyfriend's affinity for the young souls out there. Perhaps he was one of them. Perhaps he was just an overgrown one of them. It was something spoken about early on, his love for kids. He mentioned that he's the godfather of his coworker's little boy and how he's always wanted one of his own. A boy or girl, it doesn't matter. As long as he got to raise one with the fatherly love he never quite received.

That was all fine and well to know until you actually got to see Spencer with a child. Babysitting Henry was supposed to be a way of letting JJ and Will have some fun for once. It turned out to be much more confusing. He was sweet, gentle, and spoke in a soft tone that drove you oddly insane. When he started doing card tricks, you thought your heart would explode.

That's why right now you're sitting in the car completely silent. You've never been one to shut up so it's no surprise that he knows something is off. It's not your fault that you're suddenly lost in an alternate reality in which you're in a large house with a small baby. Maybe two. It's not like you wanted to get started right away. Nonetheless, something about the idea was appealing.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks softly, eyes narrowed.

Technically, yes, you're fine. Too many thoughts but fine.

"Yeah, of course," you hum. "You were really good with Henry today."

A bright smile breaks out on his lips as he lets out a breath that's just barely a laugh. "You think?" his brows furrow, glancing over at you almost nervously.

You nod, shoulders loosening. "I do." While fiddling with your necklace, you add, possibly with too much meaning, "you'll be a really good dad."

His face turns red and he focuses on the road. Before long, the thoughts swarming in that head of his refuse to stay inside and he speaks gently, "is that what you're thinking about?"

A topic you've talked about—your tendency to daydream. It's not a thing you've kept hidden. In fact, it's your favourite pastime. However, it's a little awkward to tell your boyfriend that you're imagining him getting you pregnant.

But you were never a good liar.

"Yeah," you admit, fingers still at the pendant on your chest, eyes watching the passing scenery and streetlights.

"And?"

To that, you're not sure there's any response that doesn't seem insane.

"And what?" you ask cautiously.

After a quick glance in your direction as if he's testing the waters, he clarifies, "are you opposed?"

"To what?"

"Kids."

Oh. Well, no, not in the least. The idea of raising a family with Spencer is thrilling and you believe it's something you do want. You've always liked kids and kids have always liked you but the thought of seriously settling down has never truly crossed your mind. Until now, you suppose.

You shake your head, eyes lingering on his jawline. "No. You know that," you mutter softly.

"I do... but we've never talked about it. Just because you like children doesn't mean you necessarily want them," Spencer says like it's the most simple thing.

"True." The singular word is almost impossible to hear. You add gently, "but, I do."

He nods, turning his head to look at you in a way slightly different than all the other times. You can't quite place it, though. What you do know is that it definitely caused some major butterflies in your stomach. Then again, that happens a lot. But when his right hand moves from the steering wheel to your thigh, you're sure that look meant something. Something good, you think.

You're even more sure when, the moment you get to his apartment, he kisses you deep, lips parting to make way for his tongue. It's not rough at all. Loving, mostly. Like he's ensuring that you know you're cared for. You smile wide, unable to stop the giggle from leaving. Pulling back with an equally lovesick smile, he laughs, "what?"

Hardly a second later, you place another peck to his still grinning lips before answering with a bright, "what's going on?"

His eyebrows raise. "Nothing... I don't know what you mean," he says in easily a whole octave higher than usual. Your eyes narrow as you search his eyes.

You beg dramatically, "tell me."

He sighs then runs his fingers through his hair, unsure if he wants to bring it up. "About what you said... in the car... you meant it?"

"What I said...? About kids?"

Spencer nods. "Yes."

"I meant it, yes." It's spoken hesitantly. You're not positive where this conversation is heading.

"I just... like the thought," he shrugs, leaving you to walk towards the bedroom.

Really confused and a little intrigued, you follow, watching him start to unbutton his cardigan. "The thought?" you hum, crossing your arms in an attempt at nonchalance.

"Of you... pregnant," he mumbles like he doesn't want you to hear, letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground before picking it up to put it in his laundry bin.

He didn't need to say it like that. He could've said the thought of starting a family, of having a child. You're not a profiler but the way he decided to word the sentence makes you think something bigger has been revealed. Freudian slip or intentional, he's not telling you everything that's on his mind.

"Pregnant. Really?" You picture it and, perhaps it's because you'll be the one carrying it, but all you seem to be able to picture is chubby ankles, morning sickness, and mood swings.

Simply, Spencer nods, eyes finally meeting yours. You smile up at him sweetly as his hands come to cup your face. "There's just—I don't know... something appealing about it. About being the one to..."

Now, you get it.

"Oh. Like—oh! So, that's what...?" you babble purely out of shock.

Who knew Spencer Reid had the fantasy of impregnating you floating around in his brain?

His hands drop to your shoulders, squeezing gently. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—just forget—"

To his surprise, you cut off the soon-to-be-ramble with your lips on his. It takes a second for him to understand what's happening but he does, mouth moving against yours eagerly, his hands sliding up to your face. While smiling, you drag your hand down his neck and to his tie, tugging it loose. Once he clues in to where you want this to go, his fingers slip under your shirt, gripping your waist firmly. The tie comes off, dropping to the floor and, soon enough, your shirt's gone, too.

He takes a few steps to the bed before lowering you onto it carefully. As if handling glass, he glides his hand down your stomach, to the button of your jeans.

"Can these come off?" he pants against your lips.

Nodding desperately, you whisper, "yeah."

With a nod back, Spencer unbuttons the jeans and pulls them down your legs. His palms slide up your thighs as he presses another kiss to your mouth. "Go lay down?" he suggests softly.

You comply immediately, moving up on the bed and laying your head on the pillows to watch him undo his shirt one button at a time. Next, his belt comes off. And then his pants. When he's left in only boxers, he positions himself above you before kissing down your neck. Your back arches and he uses the opportunity to move his fingers to the clasp of your bra.

You aren't at all unfamiliar with his skill but, every time, it continues to catch you off guard how, in a few minutes, you're at his mercy, willing to do anything he asks of you. Then again, when are you not?

He tosses the bra aside to join the rest of the discarded clothes on his bedroom floor. His attention is, of course, then drawn to your chest, one of his hands grabbing at you while the other suddenly starts small circles over your underwear.

"Spencer, I don't need that," you mutter breathily. You don't really want his hand at the moment.

His head lifts from your neck, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Spencer asks quietly, "are you sure?"

There isn't much you're capable of doing at the moment so you nod. He takes the answer and hooks both index fingers into the waistband of your panties. His eyes fall directly to the newly revealed area the same way they always do, adoration spilling out of him at the sight of the collecting wetness. A small smile on your face, your hands drift down to take off his boxers.

With the last barriers removed, your lips connect again and his hand moves to line himself up with you. The kiss breaks when he looks down to watch himself push into you, a whimper leaving you and a shaky breath leaving him. He quickly bottoms out and you whine.

Softly, he murmurs, "you okay?"

"Yeah, just," you laugh, "...full."

Spencer breathily chuckles with you, nodding like he's trying to get himself together. "Right."

After a deep breath, his hips start slowly, letting both of you adjust to the feeling of each other again. No matter how many times you do this, you still always need a minute to get used to him. Your breaths come out in gentle pants and occasional whimpers until he speeds up and you can't contain yourself. Desperate moans of pleasure spill from your lips as he moves.

"Doing so good—feels so good," he mumbles, eyes now screwed shut.

"Really, really good," you nod eagerly, voice soft. Your hands paw at his back in search of anything to hold on to.

The sensation is almost too much you think you might burst. Although, when he starts to whimper, that's when you really lose it. The way he sounds and the way his face scrunches up, it's intoxicating. You need more of it.

You cry with want, "harder... please."

Like always, he attempts to give you everything you need and desire. He nods, hips quickening and lewd sounds coming from your bodies. A small gasp leaves you. Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to hit your deepest point. It's a feeling you'll never quite get used to. The moment he reaches that spot, it's never long after that it's over.

Letting out a gasp, you clench around him, causing his movements to falter and become more frantic. A breath quickly leaves him before he's asking, "inside, right?"

You whine, "mhm," dangerously close to slipping off that ledge. Your mind brings you to images of you pregnant, his baby growing inside you. This time not so scary. You imagine this moment in a very different time, when his release will signal a new start and not just an end.

His mouth finds your shoulder, pressing careful kisses to the skin. The hand not holding his body weight finds the sensitive point between your legs, eliciting a loud moan from you. Desperately, you cling to him, arms wrapping around him for any more contact. That familiar feeling builds deep in your gut and you whine, finding your eyes rolling back.

It happens quickly, the finish line getting closer and closer until it's gone and you're in another universe of pleasure. Your hips try to escape but Spencer doesn't let that happen. His hand moves from your center to your hip, holding you down with little force. The fog clears just in time to watch him reach that very same ecstasy. Lips parted against your shoulder, he whimpers, movements becoming even sloppier until they slow.

The odd warmth spills from you. His breaths come heavy as he relaxes against you and pats your head—an interesting choice of affection after sex but somehow suitable. When he pulls out, you sigh shakily, watching him go to the bathroom. Before long, he's back with a damp cloth. He opens your legs again, running the fabric over you with a tenderness you couldn't possibly describe.

He joins you after discarding the cloth. An elbow holds him up so he can look at you, looking so perfect, lips swelled and hair splayed delicately over the plush pillows. He's staring. Mind wandering, he pictures a world in which you're rounder and perhaps with a ring on your finger. You're deep into pregnancy, probably grumpy with him but he doesn't care because you're his. Only his, forever.

Again, not today, not now, but someday. When the funds are appropriate and you know it's the right choice. Not that he ever doubted.

Just above a whisper, he says, "so... that doesn't mean I want—"

"I know. I'm glad," you grin, still quite dazed but completely content.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead and he sighs. "I love you."

"I love you," you mutter back.

As previously stated, Spencer Reid is a man that's good with kids. You presume he's even better with you, though.

[ayukas]

r/UberEATS 014 are u a coward

r/UberEATS posted by

u/finickydriver141・14 hr. ago

my customer's little brother broke her heart and i don't know how to fix it

hi. this probably isn't the right subreddit to post on but i'm an uber eats driver if that helps...

so anyways, i've been delivering to this customer for a while now, and we've gotten really close, almost like a talking stage? idk. well, last night, she told me about this huge argument her and her brother had, and i wanna help fix things because i kinda like her. a lot.

tl;dr: her little brother lied to her two years ago and ruined her friendship with her best friend. now she's upset because she found out the truth and feels like she let him down, but imo, i think the kid is just being a brat lol. i wanna step in and make things better for her, let her know that she shouldn't feel guilty, but i don't really know how to go about it.

for context, her brother (let's call him A) basically told her that her best friend (we'll call him B) stole all his bread back when B was babysitting him. she got super upset and immediately cut B off because she loves her brother more than anything and thought B broke their trust. fast forward to now, A admitted that he lied about the whole thing because he felt like he was too mature for a babysitter (which is true to a certain extent... I GUESS...) now she feels guilty for not realizing that A hated having her take care of him like that, and she's convinced that he hates her.

here's the thing though, if A feels like he's so mature and independent, why did he feel the need to lie and cause this mess? i get that he did what he did to prove he was mature enough to take care of himself but lying to your sister and ruining her relationship with her best friend is kind of the opposite of maturity, right?

anyways, what should i do to help her? i tried asking B for A's number so i could talk to him, but B refused so now i'm stuck.

should i go over to her house when she's not around and beat him up or like... take his bread? or should i just let it go and focus on comforting her? it breaks my heart to see her sad :/

⬆️ 8 ⬇️ 💬 79

u/rainsinheaven・14 hr. ago

this seems so familiar

u/back2u・13 hr. ago

right?! omg i think this is the same uber eats driver from that love confession post

u/purplecarrot・13 hr. ago

sounds like a bunch of miscommunication and overdramatics to me

u/jjanguu・11 hr. ago

i vote to beat him up

u/mrkrabs_58・11 hr. ago

This is not related to Uber Eats

u/finickydriver141・10 hr. ago

im an uber eats driver so it IS related GTFO MRKRABS58

u/cooingpenguin・9 hr. ago

i think op is in love with the girl lmao

u/yuwushi・3 hr. ago

hi. dm me. i'm A's friend.

u/finickydriver141・2 hr. ago

prove it

u/yuwushi・20 min. ago

i can't prove it without doxxing them... just dm me bro are u a coward. what's wrong with you.

u/finickydriver141・18 min. ago

WHO THE FUCK ARE U CALLING A COWARD

u/lovable_star・2 hr. ago

convince B to give u A's number again!!! if ure preaching about maturity then communication is the best way around this whole situation

previous / masterlist / next

notes DID EVERYONE ENJOY SMTOWNNN i know i did (save me dreamies love me right cover. save me) also can u guys tell this smau is lowkey coming to an end soon (っ◞‸◟ c)

taglist @ddolbyong @nmbr1stickerenjoyer @wonpoem @jeonghansshitester @kukkurookkoo @dudekiss3r @https-yeonjun @nahyuckers @slayhaechan @luvvhaechan @chenlezip @ryuvrsie @aerivrs @snoopyjimin @yukisroom97 @snowyseungs @thegracerammy @purezitas @sundamariis @nctrawberries @sehunniepot @holyhaech @belleilichil @cyjzzl @haechology @ant-onie @n0hyuck @axo-l0tl @goquokka @jich3nle @gela0205 @irlrenjun @leevipipi @kodasity @taroddori @hyuckies18 @hibernatinghamster @renjunniex @haechyuckan @i-lovegood @chan-yeoldelling @lampcults @jae-n0 @jeongintwt @sunghoonsgfreal @injvns @sewergirlfriend @fluermeijisblog @pinklemonade34 @t-102

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟHeartache → Stray Kids x reader ˚₊· ꒰🍃꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊ during an argument, they raise their voice at you, uttering hurtful words.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊ maknae line! x fem! reader 

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊ discussion, angst, established relationship.

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊ shouting, insults, fights, anxiety, insecurities (on both sides). Any scenarios, names and groups mentioned are pure fiction! Similarities to real events are purely coincidental. × In some scenarios not everyone is an idol. ×

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊ 2,4k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊ I finally got the inspiration to release the second part of Runaway! If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you go there first :) English is not my first language! I apologize in advance for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. Enjoy reading! ^-^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆¡!

Jisung has always been in love with you. You’ve known each other since high school and have always had a strong friendship, never caring about unpleasant comments questioning the possibility of a friendship between a man and a woman. Consequently, over time, he fell in love with you more and more each day he spent by your side, but he never confessed, and you never showed that you felt the same because you wanted to hide it at all costs. Jisung was always very popular because of his talents, so you never thought you deserved to date someone as amazing as him.

Time passed, you were both adults, and Jisung ended up debuting as an idol. Even after so many years, he never had the courage to tell you how he felt, so he just suppressed his feelings. After a long time, he got involved with an idol he met during his trainee days. You didn’t know this, as he couldn’t reveal it to the media, but even when he had the opportunity to tell you, he couldn’t muster the courage. Perhaps his deepest feelings held him back.

You were at Jisung's dorm for a movie marathon, taking advantage of his day off. He got up to go to the bathroom, leaving you to choose what you were going to watch. Jisung's phone, which was beside you on the couch, was vibrating desperately. You were never intrusive, but Jisung had never stopped you from touching his things. Thinking it might be one of the boys or even Jisung's staff wanting to warn him about something, you picked up his phone and checked his notifications.

The contact of a woman, with a heart emoji next to her name, lit up the phone screen, with several messages saying she missed him and that she would visit Jisung in his dorm later. You knew you had no right to meddle in Jisung's life, but the fact that he had hidden this from you, even though you were supposedly someone he trusted, hurt you deeply. When he returned, he was confused by the sad expression on your face. “What happened, little one? Are you okay?” He was utterly confused until he noticed his phone in your hands. His expression shifted from concern to irritation in a matter of seconds. “What were you doing?”

“When were you going to tell me, Jisung? Why... I don’t understand. Are you with someone? Why didn’t you tell me? Since when have you become so cowardly as to forget your trust in me?” At this point, you were both standing, staring at each other, your upset expressions obvious. “And since when do I have to give you any explanations, huh?” He didn’t know why he was so angry, but his confused feelings were preventing him from being clear at this moment. “WE’RE FRIENDS, JISUNG! I’m not just anyone you can simply ignore. I care about you too, you idiot.” Despite your raised tone fueled by anger, you tried to explain your feelings, but Jisung just couldn’t hear you at that moment.

“MAYBE IF YOU WEREN’T ACTING LIKE A FANATIC, I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU!” He exploded, gesturing wildly in complete desperation.

Silence. Those three seconds of silence felt like three hours. This chilling silence was broken by your faint sniffles. You raised your hands to hide your tears. Turning away from him, Jisung could tell he felt shattered inside at that moment. Your tears brought him back to his cruel current reality. “Fanatic? I... I’m not a fan of yours, Jisung. To be honest, now I’m just an idiot who trusted you.”

You didn’t bother to grab your jacket; you just ran to the door. As you opened it, you bumped into Jisung's girlfriend. He tried to run after you, but it was already too late. Now, all he could do was cry—not just because of the argument but because the arms that comforted him weren’t the ones he wanted.

𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗¡!

You had been in a relationship for a little over three years. After Felix proposed to you, you both moved to Busan so you could settle into a calm life before getting married. He was a kindergarten teacher, and you opened a small café near the house you were finishing paying off together. You were the typical cute couple, never having serious fights and always being very happy with each other. Even though the life you both dreamed of was almost finally stable and fulfilled, Felix's family didn’t accept the life he was living. Felix was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, so his family expected him to live like an heir prince; however, he chose to live a quiet life with you, which was clearly reason enough for his family to dislike you.

With only a few months left until the wedding, Felix’s father was making his life a living hell, doing everything he could to make Felix give up on you. For this reason, Felix had been depressed for several days. You didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t want to tell you so you wouldn’t get upset, which left you increasingly worried about his condition. He wasn’t eating properly, woke up many times in the middle of the night, and always got startled when the phone or the doorbell rang.

During a walk you took on weekends, throughout the entire route, you noticed he was hyperventilating, and every time you asked him about it, he would just force a smile and say it was nothing. When you were on the corner heading back home, you finally mustered the courage to question him. “Felix… please, don’t lie to me.” You grabbed his arm, making him stop. He looked back at you, his expression completely exhausted. “Lie about what? I already told you it’s nothing. Please, leave me alone.”

His tone wasn’t angry—it was more tired. He didn’t want to be so rude, but the pressure his father was putting on him had really messed with his mental health. He freed himself from your weak grip, quickly walking home.

After you entered your small and cozy living room, while Felix was taking off his jacket, you stopped in front of him in another attempt to make him talk.

“Don’t you trust me? Felix, I’m not here to judge you. I’m really, sincerely worried about you.”

He just ignored your desperation, going upstairs to the bathroom. You followed him without a second thought, determined to make him speak. “Love, you can count on me! I—”

“COULD YOU PLEASE STOP?! Please, I’m begging you, let me breathe! Just for a moment.”

He stopped at the top of the stairs, making you stop halfway up. You were startled by the look Felix gave you. He had never, ever, yelled at you. You weren’t angry with him, but it did affect you in some way. Before you could say anything else, you just apologized, walking past him and locking yourself in the bedroom.

He immediately rushed to the bedroom door as soon as you entered, his hand hovering over it, wondering if he should knock or not. He rested his forehead right there, finally allowing himself to cry after holding back for days. He really needed this relationship to work.

He couldn’t live without you.

𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍¡!

Seungmin was the ideal partner from your point of view. He was a surgeon and heir to a hospital franchise, and you were a dermatologist from a family of politicians. People always had high expectations of your relationship: from your family and friends to the media, which saw you as a reference. Seungmin wasn’t exactly the temperamental type of man; to be honest, he always preferred to withdraw from problems until things calmed down so he could resolve the situation clearly and organized. However, the course of the days was draining all his patience and usual calm. The hospital was chaotic, and Seungmin’s father was dumping all his frustrations on his son, leaving him stressed.

Your father met with you earlier during a lunch that was apparently a family gathering but turned out to be another ploy for his threats. There were some problems happening in politics, so he needed some distraction for his troubles, and obviously, your marriage would be the perfect target. He wanted you to announce a pregnancy as soon as possible so that the media could focus on you, giving him time to sweep everything under the rug. You didn’t give your father an answer, saying you would think about it. Seungmin was clearly irritated with him but said nothing.

At this moment, you were lying on your bed, finishing reading your book while waiting for Seungmin to finish changing after taking a long hot shower in an attempt to calm himself down… which didn’t exactly work. He sits next to you, so you close your book, looking into his tired and irritated eyes. “babe…”

“Are you really going to keep going with this?” Seungmin interrupts you, his expression neutral. However, behind his eyes, there’s a clear flame of disappointment and a bit of anger. Not at you, but at this moment, he didn’t care to distinguish where it came from. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused. “You no longer live for yourself. Are you really going to keep doing your father’s will?”

“Seungmin, he just wants what’s best for both of us-”

“HE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT YOU! He never cared and won’t in the future. You’re just a means for him to get rid of the media. Are you really that naïve?”

You look at him dumbfounded, feeling not just sadness but pure shock. Deep down, you knew he was right, but his bluntness truly shook you. You don’t hide your tears but say nothing. You just get up, leaving to God knows where, leaving him behind with a heavy heart. “I’m sorry…”

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍¡!

You and Jeongin had been trainees for just over a year. You both started around the same time, so you were relatively close… or almost that. For some unknown reason, Jeongin decided that he would hate you to death. From the first time you performed together, he would look you up and down as if he didn’t want you to breathe in the same space as him. What you didn’t know was that Jeongin was hopelessly in love with you, but since this relationship would never be possible if it depended on the company, he masked his feelings with anger, so you wouldn’t get close to him in any way and make the situation worse for him.

JYP prepared a project, a program aimed at presenting the two groups that would debut: the boy group Stray Kids and the girl group M4ya, the group you were part of. During one of the stages, the proposal was to unite the units of each group, with the objective of exploring their talents. As the main vocal of M4ya, you ended up getting the project alongside Seungmin and Jeongin. In the beginning, you were mostly nervous because you never understood his behavior and were afraid you would end up fighting. You trained together for hours, adjusting your vocals while giving and receiving tips from each other.

It was a very important project, since it would be the first time you were doing something independently, without the help of vocal teachers, just relying on your learned abilities. Seungmin was being a great help to you, since, as you were nervous, your voice wasn’t coming out the way you wanted. Maybe a little insecurity was also clouding your mind, so Seungmin offered to help. At the end of the recordings, you politely bowed, thanking him for his help and effort. When Seungmin left, leaving just you and Jeongin, he rolled his eyes at you while speaking calmly, “It doesn’t surprise me that your voice was failing so much. You look like a chicken in the butcher shop before being sold, you’re shaking so much.” You stared at him, this time tired of his teasing.

“You know, I’ve really been ignoring your behavior the whole time I’ve known you, but I would like to know why you’re like this. I never did anything to you!”

“So you think you’re a saint?” He let out a small, disdainful laugh. “No wonder you’re so snobby.”

“Then tell me, Jeongin! WHY? Why do I deserve so much criticism?” He massaged his temples, his voice was irritated at that moment. “WHY CAN’T YOU STOP BEING SO INSECURE?! So, you need that much validation, huh? Spare me.” He laughed, turning his back while fixing his bag, ready to go to the dorm. However, not long after, he stood frozen in place upon hearing your sniffles. You ran your hand over your face, hiding it from Jeongin. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you were too sensitive at that moment.

“You know, Jeongin, I shouldn’t justify myself to you, but I’ve always tried my best to get here, and all I hear in return for my effort is criticism after criticism. So, yes, maybe I am a little insecure girl who doesn’t know where to go without validation, just like you said. Just don’t come any closer, please. Leave me alone.” He was shocked, not having processed the situation. He never thought it could come to this point, and now he was agonizing with hatred, surprisingly, for himself. “I messed up so much now.” He crouched on the floor, running his hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to contain his tears of pure frustration.

ε ї з — like × reblog! by: @hyunjinners ❜ɞ

ε ї з — taglist: @oc3anfloor @apple-kiwi

[diaryofawhoretbh]

Hi could u do thanos x preg reader playing the games basically just like 222 n 333 so hear me out.. imagine we befriend 222 :3 n were basically talking ab our pregnancies (however u write it help) and ab baby stuff then topic of baby daddies comes around and 222 mentions that her baby daddy is here n we r like no way ours is too and we decide to meet near bunks w our baby daddies n when thanos n 333 see each other they r like no way and 222 and we have to hold them back from fighting. So we and 222 force them to get along bc 222 and we are close so why shouldnt they be too

love this request so much!!! i hope i did your idea justice 🫡🫡 i tried to write this quickly. pls let me know if this isn't what you wanted.thank you for requesting, enjoyyy!!

NOT proof-read, sorry!!!!

fine line | thanos (choi su-bong)

the barracks were quiet, save for the soft murmur of other players trying to get some rest. you sat on your bunk, legs stretched out in front of you, feeling the familiar weight of your belly.

jun-hee, player 222, sat next to you, her hand resting on her own swollen stomach. it felt strange, being surrounded by danger and fear, yet finding a kind of peace in talking about the one thing that kept you both going: the babies.

“i can’t believe we’re both pregnant in here,” jun-hee said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “i always thought the world would be different by now, but… i guess this is just how life works out, huh?”

you smiled, nodding. “yeah. it’s crazy. but honestly, it’s kinda the only reason i’m still here. these little ones, they’re everything.”

junhee rubbed her belly gently, a soft smile on her lips. “same here. i didn’t expect this kind of life, but it’s like… being a mom now, it’s like i have something bigger to fight for.”

you let out a soft laugh. “i get you. even in a place like this, we’ve still got our kids to think about.”

jun-hee looked over at you, suddenly more playful. “speaking of kids, i’ve got to tell you something. my baby daddy is here too.”

you raised an eyebrow. “wait, really? no way. who?”

junhee’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous grin. “player 333. you know him as myung-gi.”

you blinked, then let out a low whistle. “myung-gi? as in that coinmg guy?”

jun-hee nodded, not even a little ashamed. “yep. crazy, right?”

you let out a laugh, a bit of disbelief in your voice. “wow, that’s... that’s wild.” you leaned back, looking at her with a grin. “your baby daddy is the reason me and my baby daddy are in debt."

junhee’s eyes widened slightly. “i apologise on his behalf... but wait, is your baby daddy here too? no way.”

you nodded, your grin growing bigger. “yep. he is. and… trust me, it’s not who you’d expect.”

jun-hee tilted her head, curious. “who is it, then?”

you leaned in a little, lowering your voice as though sharing a secret. “it’s su-bong...ah sorry thanos.”

jun-hee’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “what? no way. you’re telling me that your baby daddy is thanos?”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “yeah, believe it or not. crazy, huh?”

jun-hee shook her head, unable to suppress a laugh. “this is... way too much. okay, okay, we need to meet by the bunks. i want to see this. you and me, we’ll introduce them to each other.”

you raised an eyebrow, feeling a little hesitant. “you think that’s a good idea? i mean, myung-gi and su-bong don’t exactly… get along.”

jun-hee smirked. “it’s gonna be fine. trust me. they’re both here for the same reason now. i’m sure they can at least pretend to get along. for the sake of us, and our babies.”

you were still nervous, but the excitement was enough to push you forward. “okay, fine. let’s do it.”

the two of you carefully stood up, waddling over toward the area where the men were usually hanging out. you spotted su-bong in the corner, his large frame looming over the other players, while myung-gi was off to the side, doing his own thing.

as you and jun-hee dragged each man to the agreed meeting spot, both men’s eyes immediately flicked toward you. there was a sharp tension in the air as they both realized who the other was. myung-gi’s brow furrowed, and su-bong’s fists clenched at his sides.

jun-hee crossed her arms, giving you a look. “this is gonna be fun.”

you took a deep breath. “fun? more like intense.”

before you could do anything, both men started toward each other, their bodies tense and ready for a fight. su-bong’s deep voice was the first to break the silence.

“you,” he muttered, eyes narrowed. “what are you doing here?”

myung-gi sneered, taking a step closer. “don’t act like you’re in charge here. you think you can just walk around like you own the place?”

jun-hee quickly stepped in between them, arms raised. “hey! no fighting. not now, not here. we’re pregnant, okay? we’re trying to make it out of here alive, and you two are gonna work it out.”

you added, stepping up beside her. “yeah. no more fighting. our kids need us to be smart. we’re in this together.”

the two men stared at each other for a long moment, tension thick in the air. but as the seconds ticked by, something in their eyes softened—just slightly.

jun-hee, ever the mediator, was the first to break the silence. “come on, guys. we’re both in this for the same reason. for our kids. so, no more petty grudges. can you just... act like adults for once?”

you nodded, giving them a pointed look. “we have to work together. for them. our little ones deserve a chance.”

su-bong let out a frustrated sigh but nodded slowly, his fists unclenching. “fine. for the babies.”

myung-gi gave him a long, hard look before exhaling sharply. “yeah, fine. but don’t think this means we’re friends.”

jun-hee raised an eyebrow, her voice light. “we’re not asking for that. just... can we at least get through this without tearing each other apart?”

the two men exchanged a last heated glance before reluctantly stepping back. you and jun-hee gave each other a silent nod of approval.

“alright,” jun-hee said, her tone softening. “that’s a start. we can make this work.”

you smiled, feeling a little lighter now that the tension had eased, even if just for a moment. the road ahead was still long, but maybe, just maybe, with a little teamwork, you could all make it out of here—alive and with your babies.

[operahousebookworm]

I was endeavoring to explain elsewhere why "13yo girls devouring the works of Stephen King" was such a common millennial experience, and I think a big part of it is his novels are ALL interiority. Yeah there's supernatural forces and creepy setpieces and all, but especially in his novels, it's all internal monologue and deep memory and so so much voice. And this is all fascinating as hell when you're just starting to realize there's an adult world out there and trying to sort out how people move through it. (Especially when packaged with the aforementioned horror elements.)

You really see it in the Kubrick film of The Shining vs. the book. The film is about an evil hotel. There's not really a rhyme or reason to why these specific creepy things are happening, they're just creepy and look cool. Its primary vibe is discomfort and there also just happen to be these people here who low-key hate each other. Stans try to talk about how it's all about the psychological effects of isolation but the characters are broken and shut-off from each other from the beginning.

(These people are all ready to draw blood right this second and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

The book, meanwhile, is an absolute masterpiece of interiority, consisting (mostly) of three interweaving internal monologues of very distinct people who desperately want to connect with each other and cannot manage it. Jack loves his wife and adores his kid so goddamn much but he cannot control his rage and addiction, which leaves him constantly trying to make up for things he barely remembers doing. Wendy sees that her son has a special bond with his father that she cannot replicate or share, even though she's been the dependable one taking care of him. She sees herself repeating a pattern from her own upbringing and she hates it so much but she cannot will the jealousy away. Danny sees his parents breaking and wants to fix things, thinks he could fix things if he were either more gifted or more normal. They are all struggling against the forces that shaped them, swimming upstream with everything they have even as they're inexorably pushed toward the sea.

The hotel is merely feeding on them. Not on their anger or paranoia, but on their frustrated and helpless love. The fact that they keep trying to connect and keep getting it exactly wrong is what creates the opportunities for the evil to slip in and amplify those things they all hate about themselves, widening the gaps between them. They refuse to give up on each other, their chapters all show how badly they want to make things work, and that makes the tragedy inevitable.

And I should probably shut up now BUT this is why so many people remember the topiary scene as the most terrifying part of the novel, and why it's not in the movie. Because in the novel it is a sloooooow build of dread as Jack faces their impending isolation and tries to fulfill his duties as caretaker. The wrongness is just lurking at the edges until it starts rapidly closing in, and the increased intensity is Jack working himself into an absolute panic at the thought that if he could just push his limits just a little further and see them all at once, he could render this whole threat harmless. Sure, a thing that only moves when you're not looking at it is scary, but it's terrifying to Jack because the sense of being millimeters shy of your own salvation and still falling short is his whole damage.

And on film it would die completely. Increasingly close-up shots of shrubbery, intercut with a dude losing his entire mind about it, is pure B-movie camp. Small wonder it didn't make it in.

A lot of fiction these days reads as if—as I saw Peter Raleigh put it the other day, and as I’ve discussed it before—the author is trying to describe a video playing in their mind. Often there is little or no interiority. Scenes play out in “real time” without summary. First-person POV stories describe things the character can’t see, but a distant camera could. There’s an overemphasis on characters’ outfits and facial expressions, including my personal pet peeve: the “reaction shot round-up” in which we get a description of every character’s reaction to something as if a camera was cutting between sitcom actors.

When I talk with other creative writing professors, we all seem to agree that interiority is disappearing. Even in first-person POV stories, younger writers often skip describing their character’s hopes, dreams, fears, thoughts, memories, or reactions. This trend is hardly limited to young writers though. I was speaking to an editor yesterday who agreed interiority has largely vanished from commercial fiction, and I think you increasingly notice its absence even in works shelved as “literary fiction.” When interiority does appear on the page, it is often brief and redundant with the dialogue and action. All of this is a great shame. Interiority is perhaps the prime example of an advantage prose as a medium holds over other artforms.

fascinated by this article, "Turning Off the TV in Your Mind," about the influences of visual narratives on writing prose narratives. i def notice the two things i excerpted above in fanfic, which i guess makes even more sense as most of the fic i read is for tv and film. i will also be thinking about its discussion of time in prose - i think that's something i often struggle with and i will try to be more conscious of the differences between screen and page next time i'm writing.

[movie-robotnik-positivity]

Here's a MASSIVE Sonic 3 interview, featuring scriptwriters Pat Casey and Josh Miller, as well as co-producer Tyson Hesse. This was recorded before the film's release so minimal spoilers.

I really suggest watching the whole thing, there's plenty of cool info about the production of these movies. I compiled some of the highlights under the cut:

- It was SEGA's request to make Movie Sonic an alien. This is a remnant from when they were commited to the "Two Worlds" idea, before they changed their mind on that.

- According to Pat Casey and Josh Miller, part of the reason that the Sony version of the movie fell apart is that they (along with Jeff Fowler, Tim Miller and Neil Moritz) wanted Sonic to be the main character, while the studio pushed for the human actor to be the star.

- There was an outline where Sonic befriended a kid (based on E.T). Tim Miller thought the character was pointless, since Sonic is already the kid, so they decided to pair him up with an adult instead.

- They refer to "The Little Mermaid", "Superman" and "Hellboy" as inspiration for Sonic's story in the first movie.

- The Master Emerald and the Chaos Emeralds were combined to avoid having eight different macguffins in one film, and also to avoid comparisons with "Avengers: Infinity War".

- Pat Casey and Josh Miller feel like part of the job is to NOT be lore experts, but rather people who can look at these things purely as a movie.

- Jim Carrey doesn't like to repeat himself, so they always try to throw new stuff at him every movie so he's more likely to return. This led them to the idea of having him play Gerald. The studio immediately loved the idea, and so did Jim.

- One of the things they knew had to change was the ARK, as the idea of a space colony orbiting Earth for 50 years without anyone noticing didn't mesh well with the grounded world they had set up.

- In some versions Gerald Robotnik was alive as a chaos energy ghost, stuck in-between time.

- They felt Shadow's backstory was extremely important, but knew they could only have so many flashbacks, hence why they wanted to pull aspects of it into the present (such as Gerald).

- Gerald's inclusion was also done to keep Shadow's story from feeling like a retread of Knuckles'. It also helps that while Knuckles' conflict is based on a misunderstanding, Shadow's isn't.

- Tyson Hesse thinks that while keeping Gerald alive at first felt weird to him as a long-time fan, it gave Ivo a lot more to chew on as a character and kept his story from getting stale.

- Jim Carrey's multiple comments regarding Robotnik's broken childhood and hidden vulnerabilities inspired them to explore that side of the character in Sonic 3.

- Pat Casey and Josh Miller's always like to add a little bit of heart where they can. They point to the baseball scene and the bucket list in the first movie, as well the scene between Agent Stone and Tails in 3.

-Jim Carrey first does his scenes exactly as scripted, then tries his own versions, which almost always end up being funnier. Very little of what's in the script actually stays.

- Keanu Reeves was the number one choice for Shadow. With every other character there was a lot of deliberation, but with Shadow they don't think other options were even considered.

- At one point Idris Elba was worried about Knuckles' fear of ghosts being out of character, so they did some research and found out it was already a thing. They can't remember if they got that character trait from somewhere or if it was coincidental.

- Sonic 3 and the Knuckles series were worked on at the same time. Pat Casey and Josh Miller weren't involved, as they were busy with the movie script. Tyson Hesse was involved during the initial stages of the show, leading the story department, but had to leave as soon as production on 3 started.

- They've kept almost the exact same creative team thorough all three movies, including their VFX Supervisor and Animation Director. This helped streamline process, as everyone is already familiar with each other and how things work.

- They point out how rare it is to have a franchise where everyone involved wants to keep coming back. They attribute this to the fact that these movies are entirely staffed by nice people who get along, which isn't too common.

- They claim that the Sonic 3 set was one of the calmest sets they've ever been in. Even all the Gerald and Ivo stuff, which seemed so complicated to make, was hardly an issue.

- With Sonic 2 they ran into some problems due to relying on a single VFX vendor. For Sonic 3 they ran the movie as if they were the VFX vendor, they had all the animators in-house and had all the character assets made internally.

- Tyson Hesse claims that SEGA was completely changed by the movies, and that everything coming out is being done better than it was before. He hopes fans will be able to appreciate how much the movies lifted up the franchise.

[colorlessjay]

s6dean is like so. so this kid. this son. was he like. did you?? plan him??

and s16cas is like lmao NO??

I imagine it going something like this: "Damn Cas. Never thought of ya as a dad type. Is the whole Apple Pie 2.5 kids life something you've always wanted or is this a new thing?"

"You're under the impression I planned to have children" Castiel laughs softly, as if the notion was silly "Oh no, Jack was an accident"

Dean pauses what he was doing, knife hovering over the onion he was cutting "... uh... a little harsh to say that about your son.."

Castiel takes a moment, his brows frown slightly before he lets out another, more hearty laugh "Perhaps I have worded myself harshly by your standards, but it's the truth. Jack refers to themselves as such. My husband finds it amusing how blunt we both are" There's a fond smile on his face as he cooks "He says Jack is like a mini me... It makes me so proud"

Dean chances a glance at Castiel's face and sees the hard lines of age. His heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest seeing such a warm expression on someone he's so used to seeing stoic and cold

He wonders when he'll get to see HIS Cas look like that too...

"Jack's the second best accident that's ever happened to me" Castiel adds on, a clear joke that even makes Dean chuckle

"Oh yeah? What's the first?"

Castiel turns towards Dean, his smile fond and loving as he says "Falling in love"

The statement was directed at Dean, so warm and pure and real. But Dean couldn't explain the sudden feeling of a bullet lodged in his chest

His husband is a lucky man...

-----

Anyways, boop boop

[gravedwe11er]

Mecha AU Deadlock angst? Mecha AU Deadlock angst!

Or, I saw a post mentioning that someone is gonna have to explain human lifespans to the bots, and my brain ran with it. Based on the @keferon mecha AU.

CW: Discussions of death and mortality

Human and cybertronian lifespans are such wildly disparate things. Deadlock struggles with this newfound knowledge.

Forty local stellar cycles. Maybe fifty, if he’s one of the lucky ones.

Now, even before his crash-landing on this planet, Deadlock knew enough about organics to be aware they’re generally not as long-lived as mechanical species. Comes with being so breakable all over, if he had to guess, but-

That’s barely half a fragging vorn.

Even if he gets lucky, even if, for once, Deadlock doesn’t fail at keeping the people he cares about safe, the little organic medic is going to be dead in half a vorn. ‘That’s just how things are, for humans,’ Swerve said. ‘I’m sorry,’ Swerve said.

Slag, and what about Roddy? Deadlock’s pretty sure the pilot is younger than Ratchet, but still- that gives him, how long, a vorn? Less? Even the very thought of it just feels so damn wrong. The little guy’s so bright, how could anyone with an EM field like a fucking Prime have the lifespan of--

Deadlock desperately wants to shoot something.

Instead, he drives towards Ratchet’s workshop, transforming the moment he’s out of sight and heading straight for the doc once he finds him in the garage. It’s yet another testament to the man’s caring nature that he lets himself get picked up with only token grumbling, throwing a concerned look Deadlock’s way but not pushing the matter.

The human medic has always been scarily good at reading him. In moments like these, Deadlock can’t help but be overwhelmingly grateful for it.

Hugging the man to the side of his helm, he soon feels a small, calloused hand running gently down one finial. Deadlock wants to scream. The injustice of it all making his processor spin, his spark thrumming with pain and fear and overwhelming grief. How can he bear to lose all this so soon? He’s only just found him, the first glimpse of something like peace in eons, and he can’t deal with the thought of him gone, he can’t-

Ratchet grunts in his servos, knocking loudly on one of Deadlock’s fingers, and with a jolt he realizes just how tight he’s been holding the man. Immediately, he loosens his grip, gently petting down the doc’s back in silent apology. After a moment, a warm ser- hand pats his cheek.

“Feel like telling me what’s eating you, kid?” Ratchet asks, before lightly pushing against Deadlock’s face.

Responding to the wordless request, Deadlock pulls his cupped hands away from his helm, just enough so he can look into the human medic’s opti- eyes. He scrambles for a way to express his racing thoughts, vocalizer hissing with static, before abruptly spitting out, “Are you dying?”

To his surprise, the man bursts out laughing. “Shit, where’d you get that idea?” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Now, as much as I’m sure a bunch of my previous employers would love to dance on my grave, let me assure you that I’m perfectly fi-“

“But you’re not!” Deadlock almost shouts, engine growling. “He said- decay of organic components, and human lifespans are-“ his voice gets stuck in his throat, vocalizer jamming, and he offlines his optics for a moment. Tries to get his slag together, at least a little.

When he turns them on again, all the mirth has left his human’s face. The medic’s eyes are serious, a sad sort of expression on his face, and Deadlock wants to curl himself around the man and never let go.

“Right,” sighs Ratchet, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was sort of hoping you knew about that already.”

The last flutter of hope he was harboring vanishes. “So he was right? You only live for- eighty, ninety of your years?”

“Afraid so, kid,” says the man, suddenly looking so fragile in Deadlock’s palms. “Look, I know it’s not a lot to your kind, but-“

“And there’s nothing to be done? Can’t you- figure something out?”

He’s reaching and he knows it, but the human looks so- accepting of it. Like it’s a perfectly normal thing, to barely get to live at all before your body breaks down and dies, just like that!

Ratchet shakes his head with a wry smile. “Not how that works. People have been trying, sure, but nobody ever really got anywhere. And even if we did manage to drastically expand our lifespans somehow, the psychological effects it would have… we’re just not made for that, Deadlock,” he says, patting Deadlock on the nearest finger; a ghost of a touch, but still comforting. “I, hah, appreciate your faith in me kid, but not even I can do miracles.”

“I just don’t- how the fuck can you be so alright with that?” Deadlock asks, feeling utterly miserable.

The man snorts. “What else is there to do? It’s not like worrying about it would fix anything, and I’m not going to waste my life thinking about my death.” Then the human’s gaze softens, and he stands up to be more optic-level with Deadlock. “Listen to me. I know this is a hard pill to swallow, but there’s nothing you, or anybody else, can change about it. The only thing you can do,” he says gently, reaching a hand towards Deadlock’s cheek, “is make the most of it.”

Deadlock exvents, suddenly feeling deeply tired. “Right. Right, I guess I just- gotta make it count, then,” he mutters, carefully leaning into the contact and the comfort it brings.

Ratchet smiles at him. “That’s the spirit. Have fun with Roddy- safe fun,” he quickly adds. “Take him on drives, or, hell, feel free to bum around my workshop as usual, if that’s what you want. You know I don’t mind the company, provided you behave yourself,” says the doc, his words punctuated by a mock-threatening look. “Just… try enjoy the time you have with us, okay?”

“Mkay,” he answers, voice still choked with static, before pulling the little medic to his chestplates. This close to his spark, he can read the human’s odd, tiny EM field with perfect clarity – concern, quiet affection and a deep kind of care rolls off of him in waves. Sometimes, Deadlock wishes he could tangle their fields together properly, synchronizing their frequencies in an embrace only possible for his kind, but- this is good too. More than good, really – it’s something unique to the two of them, and that makes it perfect as far as he’s concerned.

“Now, I’d really like to know which tactless bastard just dropped all this on you,” jokes Ratchet, the vibrations of the man’s voice tickling pleasantly against his plating, “so I can go brain them with a wrench for it.”

Despite himself, Deadlock snorts. “I think Swerve might be a little outside your size class, doc.”

“Oh, don’t you underestimate me, kid!” the medic grumbles, but he’s laughing too, and the return to the usual banter eases some of the weight on Deadlock’s spark.

Forty stellar cycles, maybe fifty.

He’ll make those years count.

He’ll make them be enough.

(Maybe, if he repeats it a few hundred times more, he’ll make himself believe it, too.)

[thewertsearch]

Anonymous asked: just read through your entire liveblog and wow. what a place to catch up. do you have any predictions about what the postscratch versions of the guardians will be? what about the guardian versions of the kids?

So.

Mom Lalonde, Grandpa Harley, Nanna Egbert, and Bro Strider, reborn as the story's protagonists, and thrust into a Playerdom I never expected them to bear. The consequences of this reveal are likely to kick in on the very next page - and since that's a page I'm clicking on tonight, this is my last chance for some blind speculation.

There are an absolute mountain of angles I could potentially cover here, and it's impossible to address all the implications of this twist, so I'm just going to touch on a few key questions that Act 6 will need to answer sooner rather than later.

Without further ado, let's dive into our first question.

Who, exactly, is raising these kids?

The simplest solution, of course, would be a one-to-one exchange between each Player and their Guardian. That certainly seems to be the case for Jade and Grandpa, who have been directly swapped. This would imply that Rose raised Mom, Dave raised Bro, and John might have raised Nanna. (More on that later.)

Still, that's not the only possibility. There's no reason why Dave couldn't raise the adolescent Mom instead, for example, with Rose adopting the younger Bro in his stead. That particular configuration has a lot of character potential, actually, because Bro Lalonde would undoubtedly be an unholy terror, and Mom Strider might just be one of the coolest characters I've ever conceived of.

This aesthetic, with those shades? Come on.

...all that said, though, I'm fairly sure we are just getting a one-to-one swap. That's how it appears to have worked for the trolls, and the one post-Scratch Player with a confirmed Guardian already matches this pattern.

Plus, swapping the kids with their own parents is just so interesting, on a character level, as it'd add a whole new dimension of analysis to the fucked-up relationships between Bro & Dave, Mom & Rose, and Grandpa & Jade.

Seeing how they all treat each other, now that the roles have been reversed, would be incredibly illuminating, and might shed some light on the thought processes of the pre-Scratched Guardians, as they were raising their own respective charges.

Anyway - now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about each individual family.

The Egberts

Astute readers will notice that I only mentioned the Guardian-Player parallels for three of our Players above - and that's because when it comes to the fourth, there's a slight complication.

Namely, Dad Egbert no longer exists.

This means that Nanna's home life can't parallel John's, because the man who raised John was never even born. It's possible, then, that John will simply raise Nanna himself, as her grandfather.

Honestly, that's the scenario I'm hoping for, here. Out of our four original Players, I think that John would be the best parent by far - he's sweet, resilient, and has a natural talent for nurturing the positive qualities of the people he loves. If a baby lands in his backyard, he's going to rise to the challenge, octogenarianism be damned.

...now, here's where I'd speculate a little about Nanna's personality, but she's the one post-Scratch Player I can't really get a bead on. We only ever interacted with her Spritesona, whose personality was obviously corrupted by the presence of the jester doll.

As a result, I don't really have a clue what Nanna will be like. The only thing I'm sure about, if John's the one raising her, is that she'll be loved.

The Striders

First of all, I have faith in Dave.

I think he's more or less guaranteed to be a better Guardian than his brother ever was. Granted, I don't think Dave would be particularly paternal, but I also think he'll be able to refrain from beating Bro's ass with a puppet, which is progress.

I think Dave would be a laissez-faire type of guardian, who allows the younger Bro a lot more agency and autonomy than other kids his age, but also struggles to be the adult in the room when his kid needs guidance. He's not going to be as traumatized as his younger self, but I bet it's still borderline impossible to have a serious conversation with him. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Kid Bro turned out to be the more mature of the pair.

In a nutshell, Dave was born to be a cool uncle, but was forced unwittingly into a parental role instead. He's doing his best.

Quite frankly, I'm very worried about Kid Bro.

If we assume that every Paradox Clone keeps the same Veil item as last time - and there's no reason why they wouldn't - then Bro will be coming down with Lil' Cal, the cursed puppet created by Gamzee's Chucklevoodoos.

I'm still convinced that long-term exposure to this abomination was the main reason Bro was so batshit insane, and while the younger Bro won't have been around it for quite as long, he'll still have thirteen years of an evil Juggalo's Rage miasma being beamed into his brain.

I think Kid Bro will be a little batshit, but not completely batshit. We'll see a child with the potential to become the deranged ventriloquist who tormented Dave, but one who can still be saved, if we can just get that hell puppet away from him.

Separated from Cal, I still think Bro will be a memelord, and I'm sure not all his interests came from the puppet. I think this guy was always destined to be a pretty bizarre dude - but with luck, this iteration of him will be a little more pleasant to be around.

The Lalondes

Rose... could go either way, honestly.

Just like Dave, I don't think she's the type who'd willingly choose to be a parent. Rose doesn't want a baby, she wants a library full of cursed tomes, a coven of witches to scheme with, and to live in an enormous gothic castle with her wife, Kanaya Maryam. Her ideal lifestyle couldn't handle a kid, and I think she's self-aware enough to know that, and adopt a hundred mutant kittens instead.

That said... if she had to raise a daughter, I think she'd try her best to do right by the girl. I think some part of her would absolutely resent the fact that she's a background character in someone else's life - especially if, like the Sufferer, she remembers being a Player - but she'd do everything she could to keep that resentment to herself.

Rose would be an alright mother. A little cold, maybe, and more than a little distant, but she'd still love her Roxy.

As for Roxy, I can only assume she's a gigantic fucking badass. Even among the Guardians, her barehanded combat feats were always astounding, and I think she and Kid Bro will be the primary combatants of their session.

I also think she'll be one of the most analytical, scientifically-minded Players we've ever seen. Her adult self was experimenting with Ectobiology even outside of Sburb, which suggests to me an intense curiosity about how all this shit works, which isn't present in most of our other heroes. Like Rose, she'll be a researcher, and maybe even a Seer - but while Rose searched for the truth via magic and mysticism, Roxy's research will be entirely scientific.

Honestly, the most exciting thing about finally meeting Roxy is the milestone it'll represent. I'll finally, finally have encountered every character I knew about prior to starting the comic.

The Harleys

Grandma Jade was still the Witch of Space, and was clearly aware of that fact.

This tells us that:

John, Rose and Dave also retained their Titles, even if they don't know it.

Grandma Jade was probably aware of Sburb and its secrets, especially if she was living near the Frog Temple.

Grandma Jade was the Witch of Space. She's gone.

...and I have a theory about what happened to her.

I think that when Grandpa was a baby, Jade travelled to Anachronism Island, just like her predecessor did - but this time around, it wasn't Bec who greeted her at the Temple.

No, I think Jade had a fatal encounter with the new First Guardian of Earth - a corrupted First Guardian, spliced with the same HONK code that created Scratch. Kid Grandpa clearly survived whatever happened next, and I think it's horribly plausible that the new First Guardian is a pseudo-Guardian to him, the same way Becquerel was to Jade.

In other words, this kid might be completely compromised, manipulated by English's servant since infancy. Let's not forget that he's the one who suggested making the bunny to Jade, which is the reason Jack was able to ascend in the first place...

...but someone suggested it to him, first.

Anyway, those are my high-level thoughts about the new timeline's key players. We'll be starting Act 6 in an hour or so, and I've got a feeling that we're about to see Nanna standing in a very familiar room.

After all, it just so happens that today...

[emchante]

oh my god, why would you mention daniel cumming in his pants? that's like... way too hot 🫠

like the idea of older divorced dad daniel cumming in his pants like a goddamn teenager because that's just the effect you have on him?? yes. even better if it's a time where you're just fooling around and making out on the couch and grinding against each other. and he just can't help it and cums in his boxers, and he's maybe a little embarrassed about it before he realizes how hot you find it

oh nonnie you have me dead with this ask. it’s been marinating in my inbox for awhile now, and every time i see it.. i go a little feral. let’s jump back into this au, shall we?

18+ content below, minors dni.

it happens to daniel. a lot.

it’s been with him all his life, gets too excited over the smallest things. he remembers a time with his ex, cumming just from the dirty talk she had whispered in his ear, while being sat atop his lap. no grinding, no nothing. just the words were enough to send him over the edge.

and you? he thinks the issue has gotten worse since he first lay eyes on you. the time he watched you through his window like a perv, watching as you innocently fended to your garden? he could’ve came without the palming, but alas he needed to touch himself, trying to ground himself as he thought about the filthiest scenarios with you.

and now that you’re his.. well it happens all too often. the first time it happened though, he was more embarrassed than ever.

the night had started innocently enough. you had come over, opted to make dinner for him and the kids— nothing unusual. it was nice, it felt super domestic when you were all sat at the table, chewing away at the food with some small chatter in between.

it was as soon as the kids were upstairs though, that you were all over him. he hadn’t expected it, that you’d jump onto him. he caught you with ease, both hands holding your ass as he tried to kiss you back with as much energy you had put into it yourself.

he had to ask though, where this all suddenly came from. he tried to pull back, tried asking you about it, but your lips just kept attacking his. “sweetheart,” he tried, before being caught in another kiss. “i need to—” another kiss, “ask what’s going—” another, “on?” he finally finished, and you pulled your head back.

“what do you mean?” “don’t get me wrong, i love the attention.. i love this a lot. but it’s so sudden, what changed from dinner to now?” he asks, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips.

he really doesn’t remember what happened between then and getting to the couch. something about you complimenting him, how hot he looked when he wasn’t trying. he didn’t care though, because things were only getting hotter.

his back was against the couch pillows now, you on top of him as your lips fought for dominance. his large hands were resting on your hips, occasionally squeezing them to try distract you, trying to cheat his way into winning.

your hands were on his shoulders, gripped tightly onto them as you tried to hold your ground against him. it made it easy for to start grinding down onto him, seeing as you had a way to keep yourself stable.

you felt daniel falter, the grip on your hips loosening as his fingers went slack momentarily, along with his mouth. you had won the battle for dominance, tongue slipping into his mouth as your hips continued to grind rhythmically onto his. 

it takes a couple moments for daniel to snap out the daze, but when he comes back to his senses he’s replicating your movements, bucking his hips up to meet your moves. his hands find their way back to the original spot they were rested in before, putting more strength into making sure your clothed cunt was hitting against his erection.

he felt giddy, like he was on cloud nine. your tits bouncing in front of him, your cunt rubbing against his cock, your mouth owning his, and the soft praises that escaped you between breaths— it was all too much, really.

that’s all it took for him to cum right then and there in his boxers. his head tilted right back, eyes squeezing shut as his mouth once again went slack. the moans that escaped him were delightful, ranging from higher, more whine-like moans to deep, breathy groans. his hips continued to buck, though a stutter momentarily made it’s way into the rhythm as he rode out the orgasm completely.

you watched as he came down from his high, chest panting as his eyes couldn’t open fully from being in such a daze. it took him a minute before he realised what had happened, the sticky feeling in his boxers reminding him where he was.

his eyes widened as he tried to sit himself up properly, but with you still on top of him he didn’t make much progress, and his eyes warily looked into your own.

your hand moved up to cup his face, thumb slowly dragging over his cheek before teasing his lips gently. “what’s up, dan?” you asked dragging your thumb off his lip, letting it pop back into place. you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed, a gulp evidently just passing.

“i— come on, sweetheart,” he starts, shaking his head lightly as he sighs. “i fucking came in my boxers like a teen. you’ve got to understand my issue?” he laughs dryly, anticipating the laugh that’ll escape you. whether it’s a teasing laugh or a grossed out laugh, he doesn’t want to know.

that’s why it surprises him when it doesn’t come, and you’re just watching him with a raised brow. “why is that an issue, dan?” you ask him, allowing your free hand to trail down his body. past his shirt, lingering over his crotch before moving to the waistband of his slacks and boxers, and slipping your hand in.

you feel his cock already hardening again, as well as the slight jerk of his hips. still sensitive. “this,” you start, squeezing his cock as he lets out a low groan and tries to squeeze his thighs together, “is fucking hot, daniel. you have no idea” you murmur, moving your face right infront of his again.

“let me show you how much i love it.”

so.. divorced dad! daniel is back..? 👀 neglected our resident dilf for too long! he’s back with a bang<3

[alexrosa13]

What a Lie

Caleb x female!reader

Genre: fluff/suggestive/angst

Warnings: minor writing suggestive content!, reader is the mc, mention of past trauma/mental health problems, Caleb getting slapped (out of love), reader cries... a lot... cause that's how I feel with his comeback

Note: husband came back from the military guys, it was written for the official contest made by L&Ds, if you'll like my work please consider sneaking a peak to my Twitter/X and leaving something behind to boost my chances for the win, thank you <3 (should I write some additional memories later on? expect something hot)

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I feel a little nauseous and my hands are shaking

I guess that means your close by

My throat is getting dry and my heart is racing

I haven't been by your side

In a minute but I think about it sometimes

Even though I know it's not so distant

Oh no, I still wanna reminisce it

Memories of your childhood started flowing down your mind.

The day when you scraped your knee and Caleb took you back home on his back, while trying to calm you down, eventually his ramblings managed to distract you from your cries and a joyful laugh replaced sobs, laughing with tears still lingering in your eyes.

The day when a boy in your school pushed you with succeeded in making you fall and drop all the things previously in your hands. Caleb was close by that day, and noticing the situation rush to your aid, 'threatening' the boy, which almost made him pee his pants, since Caleb was older, and of course that the older kids in school were always scary. After that he helped you gather your things and back at home you thanked him with a bone crushing hug.

Or the day where you were running around with water guns, playing with the other kids in your neighbourhood. By the end of the fun you were both left with wet clothes and hair, but the joy was worth it. Noticing you shaking slightly when the wind blew towards you, he was quick to wrap you in his hoodie and take you home, when you spend the evening playing the games until your granny had to force you two to go to bed.

I think of that night in the park

It was getting dark and we stayed up for hours

What a time, what a time, what a time

You'd cling to my body

Like you wanted it forever

What a time, what a time, what a time

For you and I

What a time, what a time

For you and I

First day of Summer, your teenage years. Right after lunch you two left for a 'short trip' for ice cream, somehow spending the rest of the day walking around, sharing the memories, the one that you made together and those created with and by your friends.

Talks about the future weren't as scary as they will be someday.

Without noticing it the sun has set, your silhouettes visible only because of the street lamps. You were lying on the grass in the park, the area quiet with no one else around. You watched as the fireflies danced in the distance.

"Caleb?" your quiet voice caught the attention of the older boy to you.

"Yes?" his response calm. He heard the hint of the hesitation in your voice.

"Promise to stay with me forever?" your voice broke down, he looked at you, the tears visible in your eyes, threatening to fall down.

"Pipsqueak..." one of his hand went to brush the tear that managed to leave your eye "I promise." he stroked your hair, in a soothing gesture.

None of you knew what the future was planning to throw your way, but both of you believed one thing: that you will stay together, always.

I know we didn't end it like we're supposed to

And now we get a bit tense

I wonder if my mind just leaves out all the bad parts

I know we didn't make sense

I admit it that I think about it sometimes

Even though I know it's not so distant

Oh no, I still wanna reminisce it

Living with the traumatic past wasn't easy. No matter for how long the thoughts of the past events left your mind, they always had a way to remind you of their existence. Never ending cycle.

"It's okay, ssh, it's okay." his gentle voice broke through the sound of your sobs, it was middle of the night, your mind played tricks on you making you mistake what's the reality and what's not.

After about half an hour of silently crying into you pillow your unconscious mind made you walk to his room.

You opened and closed the door silently, he stirred in his bed, clearly not asleep yet and looked your way.

"Pipsqueak?" you looked at him, but your consciousness was closed inside of you, he felt like he was starring at the ghost.

He sat down fast, brushing the covers aside and rushing your way, hiding you in his arms the moment he found himself close enough.

The sobs shook your body with your head falling to snuggle in his neck. The voices in your mind quieting down, leaving only silence behind. The warmth of another human body next to you kept you grounded, making you come back to reality.

You spend minutes, maybe even an hour in his arms, not moving, just listening to his breathing and the beating of his heart. He didn't ask, he just stayed there with you knowing that you needed him, giving you time to calm your thoughts down.

When he noticed your steady breathing and the exhaustion visible on your face he picked you up, carrying you to his bed. He lay down behind you, dropping the covers over you two. One of his arms worked as your pillow, while the second hugged you to him. Slowly you started falling asleep, with a calm mind, last thing that you heard before you doze off was:

"Goodnight pipsqueak." and a gentle kiss on your head.

I think of that night in the park

It was getting dark and we stayed up for hours

What a time, what a time, what a time

You'd cling to my body

Like you wanted it forever

What a time, what a time, what a time

For you and I

What a time, what a time

For you and I

The last night with Caleb home before he had to leave for his aircraft training. You were happy for him, of course you were, but... That didn't help the feeling of sadness that came together with the realization that you won't see him for months to come.

No matter how selfish you wanted to be and keep him with you, you knew how important it was to him, you wouldn't dare to get in the way of his dreams. Shutting down your phone you stood up from your bed, making your way to the room where you always felt the safest. That would change after that room won't have a resident anymore.

You knocked gently on the door, almost sure that he wasn't asleep yet, and your suspicions were confirmed with a quiet 'come in' from the other side of the door.

You grabbed the handle and opened them, they let out a quiet creak.

You noticed that most of his stuff was packed. The messy room that used to be full with various little things now clean and empty. You couldn't help the feeling of your heart tightening up. Finally your eyes meet his, he looked at you expectantly, he probably guessed that you'll visit him tonight, just like you did every time you needed him.

He stayed quiet, waiting for you to say your thoughts, which you did with a shaky voice and your eyes dropping down.

"I'll miss you." you didn't talk about your deep thoughts and problems much, most of the time deciding to stay silent and enjoy the peace that came with the presence of the other. It was also probably because you knew each other so well that you knew what the other was thinking about, no words needed.

"Oh c'mon pipsqueak, I'll be back before you know it. I'll be texting and calling you whenever I can. You won't even notice me gone in between all of your plans and training to become a hunter." he smiled, unbothered. He wasn't worried about your relationship changing for the worse, you two were too close to just forget about each other and start treating the other like a stranger.

Noticing your sulking form he stood up from where he sat on his bed, placing the photo of you and him that he was looking at before you came to him back on the shelf. He walked up to you, grabbing your chin with one of his palms, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"You know; goodbyes are not forever." the smirk on his lips made you scoff. He really couldn't treat that situation seriously, could he?

"So you won't miss me huh? Okay, got it." your voice let out the annoyance you felt at his indifferent demeanor.

"Of course I will, but I know that I'll see you again." his hand went up to mess up your hair, you caught his arm with both of your hands, but because of the sudden movement you stumbled a bit, your body falling his way. Luckily his fast reflexes managed to catch you in time, pulling you close to his body in the process. Your breaths stopped for a moment, your hearts starting to beat faster, none of you wanted to look the other in the eye right now.

The atmosphere in the room changed. Something unspoken lingered in the air. For the first time in forever you wondered what the other was thinking with no clue if your suspicions were right. You didn't know if you should move away, stay in one place or... Move closer..?

You felt his hand gently caressing the back of your neck.

"Tell me you don't want this." he whispered with his head dropping to yours, it was one of those times when you got a reminder of just how tall he is. Your forehead rested on his torso, the words not leaving your mouth.

What did you want?

Uncertainly your hands went up to his face, your palms gently caressing his cheeks. The hand on your neck made you raise your head up, the other one coming to hold your chin, his finger softly tracing your lips.

"Please tell me you don't want this." his voice even quieter than before, the words leaving his mouth with his face centimetres away from yours.

"I don't want to lie." you swallowed nervously, was it really happening?

He looked at you for a moment longer, trying to catch a glimpse of uncertainty in your eyes, finding none his body decided what to do before his mind could.

His lips came to meet yours, slow and gentle at first, but the very moment you reciprocated the affection his hand left your neck to wrap itself around your waist, pulling you even closer to him and deepening the kiss.

You lost track of the time, everything else not important right now, millions of unspoken feelings finding their way onto the surface. You felt a tear tracing your cheek, not even sure when you started crying.

After what felt like seconds, which probably were a couple of minutes, you broke the kiss with the need to breath. You opened your eyes, your gaze finding his, the longing in his eyes will probably stay in your mind forever to remind you of him every time you'll try to fall asleep.

Once more, there was no need for words, both of you knew what the other one thought and wanted, your heavy breathing met the quietness of the night, and in the next second your hands grabbed his t-shirt to pull him back in harshly, his palms matched your fierceness, pulling you by your waist and the back of your head. The noises of heated kisses and quiet moans filled the air, you hugged his neck, standing on your toes to get even closer to him.

You'll miss him so much.

For you and I

For you and I

For you and I

First months without him made you feel so lonely, it felt so weird to not be able to walk up to his room and hug him to sleep, or wake up without him making you breakfast.

He kept his promise, calling and texting you when he could, but that didn't happen often, since rookies were rarely given a time to spend on their phones.

You were staring at the photo of him smiling with the necklace you gifted him perfectly visible, the plushie that he won at the arcade for you when you were teenagers tightly wrapped in your arms.

The night you spent with him months ago still in your head. That man turned your world upside down, changing your attitude towards him drastically. You felt like you were fourteen having a crush on the boy from your class and planning all the things on how to win him over.

Soon he'll be here. Where he belongs, with you.

But until then the memories of him will have to somehow be enough.

You played the voice message he sent you a couple days ago again. The words leaving his mouth were already memorized by you, his voice brought you a sense of calm nothing else could.

He was cruel to leave you for so long after sharing his feelings for you the night of his departure.

But... You were cruel too, letting him have you the night he had to leave, making him leave with the memories of your warmth and comfort, with the memory of your quiet pleads to remember about you and to come back to you, you were so fragile in his arms, the walls you build up around yourself collapsing the moment his skin touched yours underneath the covers, with the moon being the only witness to your love.

What a time, what a time

For you and I

What a time for you and I, yeah

What a time, what a time

For you and I

The tap out ceremony after finishing the training was today, Granny let you go there by yourself, saying something about having a doctor appointment. Caleb will stay at your apartment for the first days, since your rooms in your childhood home are currently in a not really good state.

You were excited and nervous at the same time, your heart threatened to break through your chest with how strong it was beating.

You got there and saw all those people, soldiers, standing in perfect rows, people looking for their kids, siblings, lovers. A lot of noises full of joy could be heard from everywhere around you. Slowly, you walked forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy who's been living in your mind rent-free for the past months.

It took you some time, but you finally noticed him. He wasn't facing your way, so he had no way of knowing you were already there. You felt your eyes getting glossy, and your hand went to cover your mouth. You stood there for a moment, finally seeing him in person after what felt like forever spent without him by your side. How much has he changed?

Not letting your thoughts distract you for too long you finally took slow steps his way, walking between the lines of other people waiting for their close ones.

You found yourself right before him, his gaze stayed focused ahead of him, emotionless expression still on his face, waiting for your touch.

You took a moment to admire him. He looked almost nothing like the boy that left, a man now, one could say. Did he change on the inside too? Is he still your Caleb?

With a deep breath you stepped even closer to him, your arms behind your back. Standing now centimetres away from him, your smile widens and finally you shoot up to embrace him in the hug that you needed for months now.

He didn't miss a beat, instantly hugging you back, and picking your body above the ground.

"I told you I'll be back." he said, with his mouth right above your ear. You didn't respond, just hugged him even tighter, letting the gesture speak instead of words.

You were finally home.

I think of that night in the park

It was getting dark and we stayed up for hours

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

You'd cling to my body

Like you wanted it forever

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

For you and I

What a lie, what a lie

For you and I

He was right there, the same..? But different...

How could he... After so long...

Your expression gave out the million thoughts stucked in your head.

You started at him, was it really him?

You had enough of crying after that guy, blaming yourself for what happened, that you should go inside of the house with him, or maybe said one sentence more to keep him outside, anything.

And now... It all didn't matter. He was here, changed, but still him.

More tears lingered in your eyes, you felt like you were drowning, couldn't breath, your heart racing. It couldn't be real. He couldn't be real.

He looked at you indifferent, as if not moved at all by the sight of you before him.

You felt your knees giving up, before collapsing under you and sending your body to the ground. But before you could hit the hard floor your body stayed above it, before gently getting lowered down. You heard steps coming closer to you, but your eyes stayed focused on the floor, not really understanding what is happening right now.

You felt a hand holding your chin, making you raise your head and look the man in the eyes. It couldn't be...

"What? You don't recognize me anymore?" his tone cold, was it really the very person who plugged your mind everyday?

"Caleb..?" your voice so quiet that you almost didn't hear it yourself. You saw his gaze soften, more and more tears started filling your eyes. You started at him, not knowing what to do now. You believed he was dead for so long.

"It's me. I'm back." he said, his tone changing for something softer this time, dropping his cold demeanor.

You raised your hand slowly towards his face, he looked at it for a moment, letting you take your time with processing the situation.

But then you did something unexpected...

The sound of a slap echoed in the room, he looked at you in shock. You did not just do that.

"That..." your voice shook, with sadness, but also anger "Is for your 'death'." the last word came out snarky.

"Pipsque-" you pulled him by his uniform's collar crushing your lips with him, he stayed frozen, his eyes widening. He wasn't expecting that. Before he had a chance to reciprocate your angry kiss you already pulled back, pushing him away from yourself.

"And this... Is for your return." tears fell down your face, he stared at you in awe. You weren't crying. Little drops were still making their paths on your face, but there were no sobs, no shaking of your body, not even sadness left in your eyes. There was numbness... But also hope in your gaze. One thing that he wished at this very moment was that he'll manage to make everything okay. He has to make everything okay.

For you and I (For you)

For you and I (For you)

For you and I (For you and I)

For you and I, yeah

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Sung Jinwoo fluffy boyfriend headcanons

warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, manhwa and anime spoilers, OOC, tooth-rotting content.

Special thanks to @pa1nrema1ns for collaborating with me on this piece. Enjoy~! :3

divider by @cafekitsune

Sung Jinwoo would definitely not expect him, of all people, to be appreciated and loved exactly for who he is and not because he is an E-Rank Hunter. Even after he had reawakened, he does not see that he was no longer a scrawny kid trying to keep his little sister in school and make sure his mother still gets the best medical treatment possible at the hospital, but an incredibly attractive individual.

After officially becoming Korea’s tenth S-Rank Hunter, he wouldn’t be inclined to enter a romantic relationship because he would believe the person pursuing him was only interested in his wealth and fame. He would rather spend the time he isn’t leveling up with his family. End of discussion.

Now, if someone had shown genuine affection for him and his loved ones before the Double Dungeon incident, that’s another story entirely. In this scenario, you have done just that; being supportive, helping take care of things around the apartment while he was gone, and wishing him to have a good day with a tight hug before seeing him off with an unspoken promise to come back safely. Of course, you always packed his backpack with first aid supplies and a lunch the night before. He couldn’t eat anything from a dungeon, like the plants or carcasses of monsters. That would send him straight to the hospital again and cause Jinah to worry about him.

Giving him a hug speaks louder than words. To him, it tells Jinwoo that you care about him. You didn’t view him as someone lesser for his level, lack of power as an E-Rank, or why he had chosen such a dangerous career. You knew why he was doing it and the thought made him warm inside.

He’s had no one outside of his small family to speak positively about him, lift his spirits, or remind him he needs to take care of himself. Feeling your arms around him gives him the motivation to make it through those long, brutal dungeon raids. He would come back to you no matter what.

When he becomes the Player of the System, that motivation becomes his resolve to get stronger. If not to survive another day as a Hunter, then returning to you and Jinah. He regrets keeping the existence of the System a secret from you until after he completes the Job Change Request and the Red Gate incident, though, but can you blame him? He really wasn’t sure how you would react to seeing the hundreds of soldiers currently under his command as the Shadow Monarch.

He scolded Igris when his second-in-command unintentionally scared the living daylights out of you by morphing from beneath your feet while you were making breakfast for him in the kitchen. Jinwoo made it clear to the others after that to not sneak up behind you or let anything happen to you when he wasn’t around. He would assign two or three soldiers as bodyguards like how he did with Jinah and his mother.

He will keep a photo of you on his person.

If anyone thinks about publishing a trashy headline being in a relationship with someone else, he will show up in their office and threaten to sue them to the ground unless they write an article he will dictate for him, word for word. Jinwoo has a lower tolerance for the bullshit that’s posted on social media, and it will get worse when it involves you or his family.

When he’s ensured an incredibly long day of dungeon raiding or being persuaded by the Association (more like forced) to give an interview about himself to appease the public and boost his reputation, Jinwoo would unwind in your arms as soon as he gets in the door.

His favorite thing is to lie down on your lap and feel your fingers gently massaging his scalp or drag your hand through his hair. 9 times out of 10 he’ll fall asleep like this. When this happens, it might be a good idea to order takeout, and have it delivered because Jinwoo will not wake up. He’s a tired baby, so let him rest but not too long or else he won’t enough sleep and he’ll act like a grumpy cat all the following day.

He might appear to be a man who is always calm and composed, planned every scenario in his head and knows how to get the job done, at least when he’s out in the world. But in his home? He will allow himself to be vulnerable and just relax.

He found it adorable when you whined at his ‘glow-up’ and how you missed his ‘adorable, squishy self’, whatever that meant. He doesn’t think he’s changed that much, at least when he’s with you. He still feels appreciated and loved as much as when he was an E-Rank, if not more confident and with a bigger wallet so he can spoil you properly.

No matter what happens, even if time itself gets rewound and your memories of him vanish in the blink of an eye, he will find you again. He will always love you, he will give you the life and happiness you deserve, this he vows.

Taglist: @lovelyevil @swallowtail-lotus @aria-tempest @lanxianschoenheit @ixchelhernandez4 @toast-on-dandelioms @constellation3fanfic @sleep-all-day-everyday @mydearestbeloved @thetruepair @charming-mage @heirloomgem @mochinon-yah @cloise @ghostdoodlen @the-dumber-scaramouche @rogueofbullshit @hoodiepandaninja16 @crxscnt