#to be one step behind from being good enough | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suksatoru · 23 hours ago

Text

rabid royals

{prince!itoshi rin x princess f!reader}

summary: despite being arranged to marry his older brother itoshi sae, rin can't keep ignoring the way he feels about you forever. your reciprocation of his affections only makes the tension thicken and fold in a way that couldn't be ignored, and chaos was only inevitable by the time sae realized what was going on between you and his little brother.

warnings: arranged marriage, angst (but we THUG IT OUTT), fem!reader, brief sae x reader, rin is basically a lovesick puppy no one make fun of him, infidelity, cursing, & if you've read the prologue for this, it appears again as a flashback!

word count: 11.2k (asjadkj this took me wayy longer than expected !!)

Rin had been in his older brother's shadow for as long as he could remember. He was always one step behind, always lacking in some sense, always coming close, but never close enough. Ever since they were little kids, Rin had always borne the label of second best like a bad costume he couldn't take off.

Sae's always been destined for greatness, Rin was sure of it. Not only did his older brother possess an unbeatable mindset for himself and the Itoshi name, one he'd polished and carved expertly for the world to see, but Sae had the talent and skills to back up every ambition he wished to pursue. No matter how impossible a task or business deal seemed—if Sae was the one at the center of the ordeal, it was sure to go his way no matter how the situation fared before he entered the picture.

Despite it all, it was the small bits and pieces of him, the aspects of a person that made them human, which Sae lacked considerably.

A good husband, even just a decent one, would go and make sure you're okay. The words lie heavy on the curve of Rin's tongue, but he swallows them down the moment Sae's sharp gaze cuts to his.

"Rin, go check on her, will you?"

A wordless nod from his younger brother is all he gets in return, and Rin leaves Sae's room right after to go look for you.

Five doors down from his own room and three rooms down from his brother's was where you resided. It was decided that once the wedding was over, you would move into Sae's room with him. Rin knocks once on your door, waiting for your usual gentle voice to call him inside. He stands outside patiently, but after a near minute passes with no response, he knocks again, thinking you didn't hear him the first time.

"Y/n?"

Rin's hesitant call of your name is met with silence once more. His hand finds the doorknob, and he frowns once he realizes the door is unlocked. With a single, fluid motion, he twists it open and steps inside, only to be met with your empty bedroom.

His gaze sweeps over everything in front of him—the crumpled sheets and comforter of your bed, the little trinkets and gifts from your homeland littering your dressers, the assortment of necklaces laid out on the floor, and the empty spot beside the door where your outdoor boots usually resided.

Ah. So that's where you were.

A crease forms between Rin's brows when he realizes your hat is still hanging from your bedpost, and he grabs it without a second thought before he exits your room and closes the door behind him, heading straight towards the manor's gardens outside.

You didn't take very good care of yourself. You were still young—clumsy in getting adjusted to the new world you found yourself thrown into, and Rin can't even fault you for it. Who he's wished to reprimand many times is Sae, who doesn't seem to care about your well-being in the slightest. It was beyond frustrating to see Sae take no interest in the woman who would bear his children and take on the Itoshi name, but Rin's not sure what he expected from someone as emotionless as Sae. He'd imagined the one exception to Sae's coldness would be his own wife, but it seemed even you weren't spared.

Rin used to understand his brother better than anyone. They'd always come to each other when things got tough, and to Rin, it felt like he could face the whole world and win if Sae was by his side. But in the past few years, in which his nii-chan had gotten further and further into the political world outside the walls Rin was raised in, was when they finally began to drift apart. Rin simply didn't understand Sae's logic anymore. His principles and basis on seemingly everything had been flipped like a switch. Before, when they were children, Sae would spend every minute of his day with Rin, doing tasks for their parents together and spending time just being brothers. Now, the elder brushes off any attempt Rin makes to spend time with him, labeling it as a waste.

If Sae wasn't able to take good care of you, thanks to his persistent tendency to be isolated all the time, couldn't he have asked Rin to marry you instead? The marriage between you and Sae was purely political, so did it really matter which brother you married? At the end of the day, it was a union between kingdoms, not people. The bitter thought that he'd make a better husband himself is one Rin pushes down almost instantly in silent shame.

Stupidly enough, Rin had fallen for you. The sight of your smile and the echo of your laughter were the things to make his heart stutter—the things that allowed him to feel what love was like. But Rin believed his only option was to reject his heart, because to go after you was to wage war on his own brother.

Rin's fingers dig deep into the soft material of your hat as he approaches the glass doors leading outside. He takes a quick glance at his reflection in the manor's hallway mirror, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his way, before opening the door that led outside.

The chill that hit his face was unexpected as it was biting. Every gust of wind carried traces of snow, and they curled around Rin slowly, gliding through the air leisurely and wrapping him in a cold embrace.

You're a little ways down the main pathway parting the middle of the garden. Rin ducks back inside the manor and grabs a shawl hanging from one of the closet's hooks before leaving the manor and tightening his own coat around him.

"Y/n," he calls out gravely, and when you turn around, whatever thought was forming in Rin's mind is forgotten within an instant when your eyes meet his. He tightens his grip on the shawl and your hat, suddenly feeling himself get warm despite the cold that surrounded him.

Your cheeks are tinted a rosy red, and there are dozens of snowflakes hanging from the strands of your hair like it was the most natural place in the world for them to be. Plump lips are parted in surprise at his sudden appearance, and there are puffs of cold fog slipping past your lips as you wait for Rin to gather his thoughts.

"It's... It's cold. You should wear this." He murmurs, holding out the hat and shawl for you as he avoids your gaze. Rin can't stop himself from imagining the way your eyes must be widening in surprise, or the way your mouth must be forming that 'o' shape you make whenever you're particularly bewildered, and he can't stop himself from turning anyway to look at you, because when was the last time he's gotten to be this close to you without Sae or anyone else in his vicinity?

"Oh—sorry, sorry! I promise it wasn't snowing when I first came out to walk. I must have been too deep in thought to notice when it first began to fall," you assure with an embarrassed smile. Rin doesn't respond, his lips merely settle into a firm line before he raises the shawl in his hands and wraps it around your shoulders, twisting the fabric and pulling it close to ensure no cold seeps through.

"You need to be more careful, you'll get sick." He mumbles, lips twitching downwards into his usual frown before he digs his fists into the pockets of his coat, blowing another stray strand of hair from his face as you look down at the shawl he put around you with a gentle smile.

"I promise to remember next time, Rin. Thank you."

Rin huffs quietly in response with a short nod. Your eyes are drawn to one of the stray snowflakes that had fallen right over the gentle curve of his cheekbone, and you have to resist the urge to brush it off of him.

"Good," is all he says afterwards, his eyes flitting towards you hesitantly before they instantly dart away. In his mind, Rin blamed his horribly obvious and skittish movements on the cold before straightening his back and quietly bidding you goodnight.

Normally, Rin's steps were short and confident—never slow and always with a destination in mind. But as Rin turned away from you, his steps seemed to falter, like he wanted to say something more, but he ended up not saying anything else and walked back to the manor instead. Your eyes stay trained on his back as you nudge your nose against the comforting yarn of your scarf.

Your gaze doesn't leave Rin until he disappears inside. You lick your snow-coated lips to ease some of the tension you felt thrumming through you before turning back to the garden's pathway.

Rin looked breathtaking in the snow. His pale skin blended into the winter wonderland outside the Itoshi manor seamlessly, and his chiseled green gaze only seemed sharper in the moonlight. You noticed the way the snow seemed to swirl around him, too. You wouldn't be surprised if it was Aphrodite herself swirling a finger around Rin's figure and sending the snowflakes in a spiral that revolved around him and him only. Rin was just that beautiful.

Since the Itoshi manor was located up North, the land was in a perpetual state of winter, which also meant the garden they had outside had plants and flowers made for the everlasting cold; it was an environment they could thrive in. You admire the snow-coated petals of the flowers and how, despite the harsh conditions around them that would've already killed any regular flora, they stood tall, petals resilient and flourishing despite all odds.

The wedding was set to take place three weeks after you'd moved into the manor. It's been about a week since you've arrived, and the past few days have been filled with you visiting all sorts of people—the head chef, dressmakers, florists, and even the royal jeweler—to help prepare for the big day.

Sae wasn't there for any of it.

Frankly, you weren't too upset by it. He was busy beyond belief with securing the last details of his arrangement with your home nation. Marrying you was only a portion of the alliance, as there were still a dozen other things he had to review and arrange. Sae didn't have time to waste on something as trivial as choosing what color flower assortments each table should have as a centerpiece.

You tried to tell yourself it didn't matter—you shouldn't be this bothered. The servants were exceptionally kind to you, and you had even taken quite a liking to your personal handmaid (she was an older woman with a gentle soul, always sneaking you pastries and sweets from the kitchen to snack on just because she could), and Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi liked you well enough. Truthfully, you were being taken care of like a princess by everyone. Especially Rin, who sought you out every day with the simple intention of wanting to be near you. Sometimes, he wouldn't even make his appearance known to you; he lingered nearby, quietly and hopefully, just in case you wanted company.

But it was during the night, when you went to bed alone in a bedroom that felt too big for just one person, when you truly began to realize how lonely you felt.

Marrying someone made them your person. If Sae wasn't interested in forming any real relationship with you, then, well, you wouldn't have someone to call your own.

The thought of being alone frightens you more than anything else.

You couldn't really be alone with Rin around. Not when he doted on you every day, silently but steadily. But how long would that go on for? How long was it until he got married? The prospect of Rin marrying someone else sends a sharp pain straight through your chest, one that causes you to physically recoil and flinch before you shove your face back into your pillows with a groan.

No, seeing someone else marry Rin was something you never wanted to happen.

The night passes by in a blur, and so does the next morning. Eventually, you're heading towards the kitchen with the head chef—laughing softly at an old story she's telling you about the Itoshi brothers.

"They used to be very picky eaters—the oldest sir especially. When he was eleven, he sent his younger brother's birthday cake back to the kitchen because the frosting was vanilla, apparently not to his liking at all."

You have to stifle your laughter as you try and imagine an eleven-year-old Sae Itoshi getting upset over Rin's birthday cake not being the right flavor. Your lips twitch downwards as you think about how much their relationship has changed over the years—actually, you're not sure if you've even seen the two exchange any sort of pleasantries with each other. Not even once.

"Now, dear, I'll leave you to the cake taste testing—just call me in when you're all done. The spoons and napkins are laid out for you, so please enjoy what the bakers made. If you have any complaints, feel free to let me know at the end so I can pass on your message!"

You send her a tight-lipped smile, nodding your head and trying to hide your disappointment at being left alone once again.

"The sir is inside to help as well. Good luck!" She bows before her departure, and you still at her words.

Sir?

Sae had left early this morning to travel to a nearby city for a day trip of sorts, so that meant...

When you open the kitchen doors, Rin is sitting on a stool, staring intently at the assortment of cake slices placed on the table in front of him, and his head raises when he hears the door open a moment later.

It clicks closed behind you, and you stare at him wordlessly. For a moment, Rin thinks he may have crossed a line by asking the chef to assist you today with the cake testing after hearing you were doing it alone, but then your lips stretch into a smile so bright it makes something in his chest ache.

"Rin! You're here!"

You shuffle over to where he is, and Rin blinks rapidly as you drop yourself into the seat beside him. You're wearing a cozy sweater and plaid skirt to match, both a deep brown that complement you stunningly. Your hair is pulled back with a matching bow, and although this outfit is much simpler than what you usually wear, Rin is aching to let you know how pretty you look.

He has a feeling no one else has told you today.

"Hello," he murmurs, and the tips of his ears turn pink from the subtle scent of your shampoo, which is intoxicatingly sweet. Rin watches you get settled silently, grateful you seem happy to see him. Mindlessly, your finger reaches out to swipe at the frosting of one of the cakes, and you lick it with anticipation before your eyes shine with satisfaction.

"Yummy! So, you'll be helping me out today?" You grin, and Rin huffs, crossing his arms over his sweater. You note that his hair looks fluffier in the warm golden light of the kitchen, and his demeanor seems to soften at the sight of your smile.

"Yeah... Nii-chan is busy, like always, so I... I just don't want you to be alone."

You pause at his words, and his honesty cuts a little closer to your heart than you want to admit. You let your hands fall in your lap, taking a moment to let his confession sink in.

He doesn't want you to be alone.

"...thank you."

Rin's eyes widen a fraction when you scoot your stool closer to his, but his attention is quickly redirected when you pull a plate towards the two of you to begin—the air is tinged with the sweet smell of sugar and fruit, the atmosphere is domestic and calm, and Rin finds himself melting into the moment.

The next hour is filled with the two of you trying a variety of cakes. There were nearly thirty plates on the surface of the table, all spongy soft, decorated with heaps of creamy frosting, and layered expertly.

Rin wants nothing but to be good company for you, but he's not quite sure how to. He grew up with only one person close in age to him, and that was Sae. He didn't have any friends, only his nii-chan. But as they got older, the rift between them grew until it was an ocean—one Rin was sure to drown in if he ever tried to cross it. Losing his brother like that made Rin's heart retreat, and he's never made a connection with someone after Sae. He knows he doesn't talk much, and he's not as interesting as his brother, but...

"Rin, you're spacing out again!"

He's snapped out of his trance when you call his name, turning to see you laughing as you hold a spoonful of cake to his lips. Rin blinks owlishly before mumbling a sheepish apology under his breath and scooting closer to you.

"You want me to try this one?" He questions with a raised brow, and you nod enthusiastically.

"This one is really good! The cake is so tender, like a cloud on my tongue, and the chocolate is super rich. But, if you ask me, these strawberry wedges in the frosting are the best part." You grin, and Rin makes an attempt to smile in return—it's wobbly and unsure, but it feels right to smile at you.

He parts his lips for you, and you feed the bite to him. The realization that your mouth had been on the very same spoon makes him clamp down on the spoon in embarrassment, but then his taste buds get a feel of the cake, and his eyes widen a bit.

"Oh... this is really good."

"I know!"

After that, you feed him every bite right after your own. The sheer variety of cakes is what surprised you the most—there was dark chocolate, coconut cream, peppermint, honey lavender, and toasted coconut—all made with love and dedication. All made for you. Your chest feels warm and light at the thought.

Finally, there was one slice of cake left untouched. Tucking a leg under you, you reach across the table to grab it, pulling it towards you and Rin .

"This one is called Blackberry Elderflower," you comment, taking the label off the plate as Rin's brows furrow in thought.

"It looks okay, but I'm not sure if it can beat our first-place cake." Rin says firmly, and you can't help but laugh at the accusatory glare he offers the slice of cake in front of you.

"It was delicious! It had the perfect balance of sweetness, and those strawberries were heaven-sent, I'm sure of it." You grin, and Rin grunts in response, nodding his head.

Rin is the one to reach for the spoon this time. He carefully slices into the cake before bringing the bite to your mouth, hovering it over your lips before speaking.

"Remember, this is the last flavor. Savor the taste and consider it carefully—what we think about this one decides the final cake." Rin says, and when you nod with parted lips, he places the bite in your mouth and watches you carefully.

"Hmm. Alright, your turn."

You take the spoon gently from his grasp and dig it into the cake. Despite being perfectly capable of feeding himself each bite, Rin made no move to stop you.

His tongue darts out in anticipation, and he chews slowly once it's in his mouth. You try and fight back your smile as you watch his eyes suddenly widen, almost comically so. Rin's lips twist into a scowl as he's left completely appalled that another flavor actually managed to beat the chocolate cake you two were initially infatuated with.

"This is delicious." he mumbles in defeat.

"Uh huh! This is the one."

You're smiling again, picking up the cake's label and flipping it over to read the list of ingredients neatly printed on the back. Your legs swing back and forth on the stool you're sitting on, and Rin takes a moment to look at you. Really look at you. He only has to blink once before coming to his undoubtable conclusion.

Sae is really stupid sometimes.

If it was Rin marrying you instead—good gods, he'd abandon everything for you. He would take such good care of you; he knew he would. Truthfully, he was ready to bend his own body backwards and break every bone he possessed if it meant he'd get to see you smile. It took his breath away every time—because your smile gave him hope like no other.

Your cheeks are round and full with cake, and you let out a pleased hum as you swallow. Rin can't tear his gaze away from you—you're so close and just... there. It's impossible for him to do anything else but admire you. You're sitting close, close enough where if he shifts, his knee would bump against yours under the table.

You turn to look at Rin, and he's already looking at you.

His gaze is sharp, intense in a way that you haven't seen before. Not since...

He murmurs your name quietly, almost ashamed of himself, almost, and your heart leaps to your throat in an instant when his hands twitch in his lap, reaching for your face.

His fingers are soft and hesitant as they brush against your jaw silently in question. When you make no move of protest, stilling and watching him with round eyes instead, his index finger nudges your jaw towards him before he cups your cheek so tenderly that you nearly shiver.

"Rin..." you whisper, and he only tugs you closer. Rin's eyes are filled with a desperation you haven't seen before—a hunger that hasn't been satiated in too long, and he's trying to stop himself from moving any further. His other hand grips the kitchen counter as if he's physically trying to ground himself.

His hold on you softens, and he's close enough to where his nose is just about to bump against your own. Rin swallows the lump in his throat and stares at you silently with his mind screaming at him, because he has never wanted something in his life before so badly.

"What are you doing?"

Sae's voice cuts through the air like a knife, and Rin lets go of you in an instant, reeling back like he'd been physically struck at the sound of his older brother's voice.

Sae stands in the doorway, one hand still perched on the door he'd just opened and his gaze trapped on the two of you. He squints, eyes narrowing and lips settling into a thin line before Rin suddenly moves away from you. His chair drags loudly against the floor as he does, and he looks upset.

If Rin's mad, you're not sure if it's at himself for letting it get this far or if it's at his brother for interrupting. Again.

Rin's murmuring under his breath about how there's somewhere he needs to be, pushing past Sae before he has a chance to even say anything, and moving straight for the exit. He's barely a blur of green before he's gone within seconds, leaving you and Sae alone in deafening silence.

Sae is still in his uniform. It's pressed as pristinely as usual, with his shimmering silver sword hanging low on his hip. He regards you silently before speaking up.

"Did you two decide on a flavor?"

If Sae's angry, he does a remarkable job at hiding it. His voice is just as even and calm as it always is, but there is something terrifying simmering in his gaze—something as hot as molten lava, and it's threatening to boil over. Your lips part, but when nothing comes out, you have to take a moment to collect yourself.

"Yes, but I... I'm sorry, I didn't—we were just—"

"Don't worry. Rin will get over his little crush on you soon enough."

Now you were stupefied. You stare at him, rendered speechless, and he stares back in silence. Sae makes a mental note of how you kind of look like Rin when he's about to cry—his brother would make the same face when they were younger. Parted lips, wide, glossy eyes—and since the one thing Sae absolutely cannot stand is crying, he sighs through his nose and looks away.

"Come with me."

He beckons you over with two fingers, and you practically scramble out of your seat to follow him. He's halfway down the hall when you're out the kitchen door—and you have to walk as quickly as you can to catch up. Keeping your head low, you don't say anything.

Sae stops short in front of his bedroom door, fishing out a small golden key from the breast pocket of his uniform before inserting it into the doorknob and opening the door. He holds it open for you, and you walk in silently, stiff as a board.

There were no personal touches in Sae's room. It's large, larger than your own room—and it feels even emptier, too. It was also spotless, but you expected nothing less of him. The moment Sae grabs your hand is sudden and you have no time to react before he places the key in the palm of your hand.

"This is the key to the master bedroom you and I will share. You can come here anytime before the wedding to move in all your stuff. I'm rarely ever home, so there's no need to worry about me getting in your way or anything like that."

His tone is clipped and sharp, leaving no room for negotiation. You nod your head slowly, turning the key over in the palm of your hand as you observe it. Sae walks over to his dresser, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a small, velvet box—he opens it a moment later before handing it over.

"This is for you."

You open it, and inside is the most beautiful ring you have ever seen. It has a thin golden band with an elegantly cut emerald gem resting on the hilt, one that glimmers spectacularly in the dim light.

"It should be to your liking. I had my royal advisor pick out the best one he could find." Sae hums, watching you carefully as you slip it onto your finger. The band alone must have cost a fortune; forget the gem—you can feel the sheer quality of it by touch alone.

"Thank you."

Your voice is a little breathless, your eyes weary, and your head bowed. Sae looks back towards his desk, where a number of scattered documents resided on top.

"Don't thank me. I didn't do anything."

Then again, with the riches Sae had, this ring probably meant nothing to him.

"All right, you can leave now."

Sae's back is turned towards you a moment later, and he busies himself with the documents on his desk. The way he doesn't spare you even a glance more lets you know just how important Sae found you in the moment. You stand there for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat and holding the small velvet box close to your chest.

He hears you shift behind him as you start heading towards the door. Your brows are bunched together, and a plethora of emotions explode in your chest. You're confused with his reaction to you and Rin's proximity, angry at his constant avoidance, and just... sad.

You take your leave quietly, but Sae's voice, softer than you've ever heard before, catches you on the way out.

"Good night."

You don't have the strength to respond without your voice breaking, so you close the door quietly instead.

Maybe you should feel more remorse for feeling nothing for Sae and everything for his brother. But you yearned for Rin. Quietly, passionately, and undoubtably.

Sae didn't understand the way either of you felt—he thought Rin's feelings for you were some form of a minor crush, but you knew it wasn't as simple as that. It never had been.

Sae may not have known it, but he didn't stand a chance with you since the night you first met Rin.

flashback ⋆˙⟡

You had arrived at their family's magnificent manor in a simple satin gown, a bowed head, and a broken heart.

Initially, you had no idea what the Itoshis looked like, didn't even know their names, and spent most of the evening indulging in mindless chatter and eating small pastries instead of getting to know your betrothed. It seems like he wasn't interested in marrying you either, since he never bothered to come down and introduce himself.

No one stayed with you, mingling throughout the party and getting drunk on different sparkling drinks instead, and you found yourself gliding down the long halls of the Itoshi manor like a ghost. You walked with no destination in mind until you heard the gentle melody of someone playing the piano. Magically, at that.

The angelic sound seemed like a safe haven for you in the perpetually dark night, and you followed the music with tentative steps.

Soon, you found yourself in front of a tall, oak door and bowed your head through the frame to peer inside. A strand of hair fell in front of your eyes, and you pushed it away before your gaze fell onto the boy playing the piano inside. You couldn't see his face, only his back faced you. Pale, slender fingers play the instrument in front of him like it was his destiny, and after all the rage and heartbreak you felt throughout the day leading up to that night—a rare serenity of calm filled the empty hollowness in your chest, warming you entirely.

The boy looks to be about your age, and he remained entirely entranced by the piano in front of him as the pads of his fingertips danced—you watched his skilled fingers perform stunningly for no one at all. Well, besides you—but Rin didn't know you had been watching him. Not until he heard you sit on the piano stool beside him, smiling shyly with eyes twinkling in the dim moonlight that spilled through the glass panes.

His heart skipped a traitorous beat when you asked him to teach you how to play. His lips parted, as if you'd rendered him speechless. And you had.

"I... who are you?"

"No one important. Tell me, what's your name?" You questioned softly, curious eyes peering up at Rin with a shine he'd never once seen before. He tells you his name and asks you for yours in return before repeating it to himself quietly.

Rin didn't tell you how he forbade everyone, even his own family, from entering his music room. He merely slid a few inches over to give you more room and explained the history of how the piano came to be before placing his palm and fingers over yours.

Rin taught you a simple tune he came up with on the spot that night. It only spanned a few keys and held a slow tempo so you could follow along easily, but it was inspired entirely by the feeling he felt in his chest the moment he saw you smile at him.

He held his breath as he watched you play on your own only an hour later, a rare smile gracing his features. There was something about the way you treated his piano, careful fingers pressing down on the keys like they were glass—like they were alive and you were afraid to hurt them—before the tension eased and ebbed out of your form with time.

You'd arrived at the ball at six and spent a little under an hour at the actual event. You had spent the rest of the night with Rin's hands splayed over yours.

Sae was late to his own party for no reason in particular, arriving in a pristine suit and his bright pink hair gelled and styled for the occasion. To say he was intrigued to learn you'd been missing for the majority of the party from your mother and father's panicked expression was an understatement.

The first ten minutes with you gone? Sure, it made sense. You could have been in the bathroom or in line to get some sort of refreshment. After thirty minutes, he decided maybe you're out getting fresh air on the manor's balcony, or perhaps you're strolling through the gardens and giving the forgotten flowers outside some much needed attention. But once your time being missing hit the hour mark, his mother approached him and told Sae to go get his brother, who also hadn't come down in a while.

Sae knocked on Rin's music room door twice, tapping his foot impatiently outside as he thought about your whereabouts. Perhaps you did go to the manor's balcony for some fresh air, but maybe you fell off the twenty-foot railing and were lying dead somewhere. For some reason, the thought doesn't seem to stir much of anything in his chest.

He realized he'd been waiting outside the door for far too long and twisted the doorknob with an impatience he didn't usually allow himself to feel.

It took Sae a moment to understand the sight in front of him. Rin, smiling softly with his hand over yours, and you—hair pinned back to reveal lovely eyes and painted lips stretched into a smile so magnificent that Sae actually had to blink in order to confirm the graceful sight was indeed real.

And then it just clicked. Neither of you saw him, neither of you recognized the true identity of each other, so he took a step inside. The tension in the air shifted, and finally, you noticed him.

"Rin, just what do you think you're doing with my wife?"

When it came to avoiding people he didn't want to talk to, Rin had the qualifications of a professional. His lean frame allowed him to push through crowds of people easily without making a disturbance, and he was sneaky—taking advantage of all the spots he used as a kid when playing hide-and-seek with his brother to seemingly vanish into thin air whenever you got too close.

It wasn't that Rin wanted to avoid you; no, that wasn't it at all. He was just sure that he wouldn't be able to hold himself back if he saw you again. It didn't make sense how someone like you could end up with someone like Sae—it was absurd and horribly unfitting.

He's been doing his best to fill his time with things that don't remind him of you, but it's difficult. Dueling with the guards isn't helpful because he finds himself getting distracted and tripping over his own feet when he gets a glimpse of you passing by in one of the manor's windows above, sitting in on Sae's meetings is far too boring for him, and all the servants in the manor were busy preparing for the wedding—everywhere he turned, he was surrounded by the mere mention of your name, and it was maddening.

Accepting the fact that he can't not think about you, Rin makes the decision to expand the song he taught you the first night you two met.

He'd spent the majority of his day in his music room, playing and scribbling down every note on his sheet as the song progressed and grew into something beautiful—he was spinning the little melody he taught you that day into a full number that was playable, and he imagined himself performing it for you one day.

Maybe you'd lean your head on his shoulder while he played, or maybe you'd ask him to teach you the song—both possibilities are enticing, and Rin can't help but wish they were true.

There's something wrong with him. He shouldn't be thinking of playing the piano for you—he shouldn't be thinking of you at all. But there's no point in even attempting to stop himself, you'll intrude on his thoughts whether he likes it or not.

"You're so stupid," Rin mumbles to himself, pulling the piano cover down and resting his cheek against the cool surface with a sigh. The song was done now, he'd played it over more times than he could count and until his fingers ached—but it was ready.

He uses his pen to write your name in the title spot at the top of the sheet, and after looking around to absolutely ensure his brother wasn't hiding somewhere in the shadows, Rin draws a small heart right beside your name.

It's as if every time Rin does anything regarding you, Sae emerges from the depths of hell itself to find him, and the sharp bangs that sound against Rin's door a second later seem to confirm his suspicions.

"Rin! Shit, get out of there now, we have a big fucking problem—"

Rin stuffs the sheet in his music folder in an instant, kicking back his feet and getting off the piano stool within another second before swinging open the music room's door.

Sae is standing on the other side, and Rin can immediately tell something is wrong. The bags under his brother's eyes are heavier and more prominent than usual, and his hair is a bit of a mess, seemingly because of how much he'd been running his hands through the pink strands.

Rin has never seen his brother look like this. Sae was the calm one, the one more composed than everyone else in the room, and the one who had absolute control. But now, seeing his brother's clenched jaw, the frenzied look in his eyes, and the incoherent words he mutters under his breath as he drags Rin by the elbow and back into the music room has him dumbstruck.

"Nii-chan, stop. What the hell happened?" Rin hisses, tugging his arm out of Sae's grasp as the latter slams the door shut behind him. Sae knows how much Rin despises having other people in his music room, so the fact that he disregards that fact entirely and barges in anyway lets Rin know his brother isn't in the right state of mind.

"The wedding's off—I made a big fucking mistake. Her parents are going to demand she go back home, there's no doubt. And when that happens, we're going to lose our biggest trading partner yet. I don't know what—"

"Off? What the hell are you talking about? What did you do?" Rin snaps, watching Sae's fists coil harder—and before his brother can punch something out of rage—Rin stands in front of him and grabs hold of his shoulders.

"You need to tell me what you did. How am I supposed to help if you won't tell me what's going on?" Rin questions, and Sae pushes his brother off roughly, looking away in anger. His brows are pinched together, and it takes him a moment to get the words out, but they're as clear as day once they leave his lips.

"I got another woman pregnant."

Rin stills, and for the first time in his entire life, he sees the heat of regret in his older brother's gaze.

"I don't even know who it was. Whoever it is—she left the baby on the goddamn doorstep of the manor and fled. There's only some shitty note left behind telling me to deal with it. Shit, I'll find that woman and kill her if I have to. Who the hell does that?" Sae murmurs, more to himself than to Rin, as he sits down on his piano stool with an exhausted sigh.

"Who's going to raise it? The servants can't, it needs an actual mother of royal lineage—all the women I had relations with were lower class, never noblewomen—it will be virtually impossible to find a new wife that would accept a boy who isn't a hundred percent royalty, not when we're about to lose our biggest trading partner yet. I have my month-long trip to Spain two days after the wedding is supposed to happen—I can't miss that either, it's too important." Sae sighs, and Rin stares at his brother, speechless.

"You don't know who the mother of this child is?" is all Rin can manage to say as Sae shakes his head no.

Wordlessly, Rin sits beside Sae on the piano stool. He stares hard at the ground, and Sae sits beside him with his head in his hands. He was obviously stressed out, but Rin has nothing to say. This was his older brother's fault—and he had messed up badly.

Unbeknownst to them, on the other half of the manor, you're peering into the small bundle lying in one of the servant's arms—you can already tell what's going on. The baby has a full head of unmistakable pink hair, and everyone around you is panicking.

"Can I hold it?"

She looks up at you suddenly with wide eyes, smiling hesitantly while using her free hand to pat your shoulder comfortingly.

"Of course, dear. Are you feeling alright with all this?" The woman questions softly, and while her touch is gentle, her eyes are concerned. You shrug wordlessly, smiling at the baby in her arms.

"I'm not sure what to feel right now. But this baby didn't do anything wrong, so I'd like to hold it. Though I can't tell if it's a boy or a girl. Do you know which it is?"

"It's a boy." She says softly, lowering the baby into your arms as you hum.

He looks just like Sae. With delicate pale skin, tiny green eyes, and a little frown tugging down his lips—you know in your heart that this was his son.

You don't know what's going to happen now—you were never given a choice with this wedding, but you know there was no world where your parents would have you marry Sae knowing he had been seeing other women casually enough to produce a baby.

For now, you simply snuggle the little bundle closer to your chest with a quiet sigh, pressing your body further into the cushions of the couch as the sound of chaos around you turns to static.

It's been nearly a week since the surprising arrival of the Itoshi heir, and the day of the wedding was only getting closer. Unfortunately, it seemed like the entire manor was buzzing with panic and stress.

Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi have already formally apologized to you, but you had yet to see Sae. There was no time to inform your family back at home about the news, because by the time they received the letter that the wedding needed to be called off, they would already be here at the manor for the wedding. There was absolutely nothing that could be done to stop them in time.

Right now, you're rocking the baby boy back and forth in your arms, humming quietly and yawning to yourself, wondering what Rin must be up to.

There was a chance he'd attend the emergency council meeting scheduled for tonight after dinner to figure out what to do with the baby and you—you'll have to finally face Sae, but you're almost... relieved you don't have to marry him. Yes, of course the entire situation was disastrous—but while everyone around you seemed to be spiraling because of the news, you found yourself able to catch your breath for once.

"How can such a cute baby cause so much chaos..." you mumble to yourself as his nimble little fingers play with one of your bracelets. You wondered when he'd get a proper name and who would take care of him when you ended up leaving—the reminder that you had to go also reminded you that you'd have to leave Rin behind, too.

Rin. You'd remember him forever.

You arrive to the meeting early, since you didn't have much else to do after lulling the baby to sleep. The meeting room in the Itoshi manor is lavish and large, designed with high ceilings and glass panes that shimmered in the sunlight. There are about fifteen chairs lining both sides of the long table, each cushioned and empty. Well, besides Sae's seat, where at least a dozen envelopes and a hundred documents were laid out in front of him. He hasn't noticed you yet, too busy with the mountain of work in front of him, but when you place the ring box he'd given you in front of him, he looks up.

"It's okay," you start before he can say anything, and you watch his body stiffen at your words before he sighs. He rubs a tired hand across his forehead before speaking.

"I stopped when I knew you and I were arranged to get married. I just didn't think..." he trails off, and you can hear the bitter resentment in his voice.

"It's okay." You say more firmly this time, before awkwardly patting his shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. Sae looks up and watches you with narrowed eyes, silently questioning if you were some sort of a saint. He half expected you to slap him, yell at him, something, but you just stood there in front of him, quiet and in deep thought.

"I don't know what will happen," you start, and he raises his eyes to meet your gaze as you continue.

"—but I know you're under a lot of stress. You work very hard; I've only ever seen you working since I've arrived, so I hope your council finds a solution that works for us both." You conclude, and as the others begin to enter the meeting room, you don't wait to hear Sae's response before you move to take your seat.

The royal council members are the first to arrive in a hurry. They're discussing a number of things as they find their seats and immediately recapture Sae's attention, swarming him. A few relatives enter the room with Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi before Rin finally makes an appearance.

He seems a bit overwhelmed by all the noise and people clamoring into one room, and your heart rate quickens at the sight of him. Rin looks even more handsome than usual, sporting a dark sweater that complemented his hair and a simple pair of pants to match. You can see his gaze sweeping over the room before it lands on you, and his back straightens once he sees you.

Maybe Rin sees the silent plea in your eyes, the need to not be alone, because his feet shift towards your direction before he moves and takes the empty seat right next to you. He doesn't say hello, and neither do you—but having Rin next to you is more comfort than you could have hoped for in a time like this.

You try your best not to look at him, but your body betrays you, and your gaze finds him anyway. Rin looks up the same moment you do—bringing about a single second of the most intense eye contact of your life before you both look away in embarrassment a second later. Sae watches the entire scene unfold in front of him with his brows pinched together in thought.

You were three years younger than Sae and two years younger than Rin. You were all in the same general age range—but Sae knew he had much more real-world experience than you and Rin did combined. You, being a girl, and Rin being the youngest, just meant you were naturally both sheltered and innocent. Unfortunately, Sae was forced to grow up quicker, and he knew how horrible the world could be.

Sae cared more for Rin than he let on. Of course he knew he could have had his brother marry you instead—truthfully, it would have made his life easier. But Sae had no idea what kind of person you were. If you were anything like the royal women he knew, you'd be a snob: you'd be selfish, unkind, and have your own personal agenda—all the things he didn't want Rin to encounter. Sae had no interest in subjecting his brother to such filth. He knew he was heartless, but Rin's heart bruised far too easily.

You were different than what Sae expected. He wanted to find something about you to criticize or to frown upon. Something he could flesh out and show Rin saying, 'Look, she's not good for you.'

But when Sae watches his little brother's sly attempt to hold your hand under the table without anyone noticing, he can only sigh quietly in resignation.

"Alright, let's get this meeting started. There are a few major things we can clear now, so let's do that."

Quickly, the murmurs of everyone's prior conversations faded as Sae cleared his throat and stood up.

"The wedding doesn't need to be called off," he starts, walking around the table as his royal advisor quickly raises his hand with an exasperated sigh.

"Sir, with all due respect, there's absolutely no possibility her parents will allow you to—"

"That's not what I'm saying. The wedding will continue, but it won't be mine."

Sae rounds the table, approaching you and Rin with relaxed steps. Rin feels you go rigid in his hold, and he does the same once Sae comes and stands behind you two. Before either of you can react, Sae's hand is under the table and snapping around Rin's wrist—pulling it out from under the table as he holds up your intertwined hands for everyone to see.

The look of absolute mortification on Rin's face almost makes him smile.

"It's a good option. We'll have these two think about it and let us know what they decide later, but it'll most likely work out. I'll allow it, since these two can't seem to keep their hands to themselves or their eyes off of each other. It's disgusting how obsessed they are with one another."

You and Rin look towards Sae, identical faces of absolute bafflement: you both stare at the elder with wide eyes, flushing with embarrassment at his bold move. Sae doesn't spare either of you another glance as he turns towards the other council members, who mumble their agreement at the prospect.

Sae lets your intertwined hands go before heading back to his seat. You don't dare to look at Rin now—you always knew there was a possibility of you marrying him, but you never thought it would actually come to pass. Now you needed to talk to Rin more than ever before anything was confirmed. He sits there, stiff as a board and silent just like you, but he doesn't let go of your hand. If anything, his grip tightens just the slightest bit.

A serious look crosses over Sae's face as he sits back down, and everyone seems to be holding their breath as they wait for Sae to address the real issue at hand.

"The boy... he's going to be a problem. No one will marry me knowing I have a half-blood son. I'm sure you all know how picky people are with keeping their royal bloodline pure and all that. But that means he won't have a mother, and I won't be here often enough to raise him."

The murmuring starts again at once, concerned whispers flooding the room instantly as everyone tries to come up with some sort of a solution. Suddenly, a voice from the back rises.

"Could we put it up for adoption?"

There's an uproar of protest as everyone turns to the voice in bewilderment. The council member sinks into their seat with embarrassment, apologizing profusely for even suggesting the idea—but Sae doesn't seem bothered by it at all. His chin is perched on his fist, and he merely sighs before leaning back in his chair.

"It's a possibility if we can't come up with a solution. Stop being so rowdy and give me a better idea instead of complaining."

Some people were suggesting having the boy be raised by the servants in the manor, but Sae was insistent on making sure he had a proper mother and father. Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi were too old to take care of a baby—so that was out of the options, too.

You and Rin could take care of it. If anyone's thinking it, no one has the courage to voice it. Sae considers the idea silently as everyone discusses solutions noisily around him. He knows he can't speak the possibility into existence yet—he didn't even know how Rin would react to possibly marrying you; it seemed like too much to dump a baby into the picture too. Sae was running out of options, that was certain, but he wasn't going to force anything onto Rin until you two had talked.

Sae glances up to look at you and Rin. Both of you sit side by side, with neither of you speaking. Rin's brows are furrowed, and he seems to be in deep thought. You look nervous, peering up every few minutes with a small frown at every obnoxious suggestion said in regard to what to do with the baby. At some point, Rin's hold on your hand had become considerably tense, and you brushed your thumb over the back of his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

There was also the possibility that Rin didn't want to marry you. The entire situation was becoming far too messy, and you could feel yourself sinking further and further into your seat. After another hour of arguing that led to nowhere, Sae ended the meeting curtly and stated there would be another meeting some other time. Now that everyone had been dismissed, they were beginning to file out of the meeting room to leave. You look over at Rin hesitantly, only to find he was staring at Sae. You couldn't make out his expression nor what it meant.

"Do you want to talk to him, Rin?" you question softly, and Rin swallows the lump in his throat before nodding slowly. You gently pull your hand out of his grasp; his touch lingers on you for a second longer before you pull away completely, and you blend into the crowd a moment later and disappear out the exit with everyone else, leaving Rin and Sae alone.

You had absolutely no idea what would happen now.

Marrying Rin? It almost sounded too good to be true. But what would happen to Sae's son? There were far too many factors to consider.

With not much else to do, you found yourself walking down the manor's hallways in an attempt to try and clear your head. There was an inordinate amount of things going on, and you needed to take a step back and think about what you wanted to do.

You liked Rin. You liked him a lot. But you had no idea how he felt—you two had never once discussed what was between you, and you can imagine he must feel just as conflicted as you did. You knew there was something between you two, but would Rin ever want to go further?

It wasn't an appropriate time to go look for Rin now. The sun had set hours ago, and it felt like the manor was asleep with the lack of people you saw in the halls. With no other idea on what to do, you head back to your room.

You would just have to find Rin tomorrow. Getting ready for bed, your movements feel more sluggish and slow than usual. There's a gnawing feeling in your chest that won't go away—telling you that you're not going to be able to sleep peacefully until you talk to Rin. You're not sure how you'll be able to rest with so many issues untied, but there didn't seem to be anything you could do about it now.

Rin was most likely asleep now since it was so late. You could knock on his door and check since he was only a few rooms down, but you quickly shake away the thought with a sigh. Slowly, you untie your hair from your usual updo, take off your makeup, and slip into a simple nightgown. The soft fabric hugs you in a warm embrace, and after brushing out your hair, you walk towards your bedside table to blow out your candle when you hear a sound.

It's muffled and soft, so quiet you almost miss it at first. You don't move, listening closely to see if you can hear it again, and just when you think it's gone away, it starts up once again.

Slowly, you lower yourself onto your knees and allow your head to dip low enough where you can press your ear against the floor. You hear it much clearer now; the gentle vibrations coming from Rin's piano are as distinct as they are marvelous—blending together as naturally as watercolors.

The revelation that Rin was awake in the music room right beneath you is startling.

You've never heard him play at this time of night before. The melody he strings together has you sinking onto the ground completely, and the sound of his music is just as soothing and magical as you'd remembered. You picture Rin's slender fingers moving about the piano as artfully as they did the night you first met him, and you let yourself stay on the floor for a few minutes longer to listen.

By the time he starts up his next song, you've already grabbed your candlestick and started your path downstairs towards his music room.

There was no way you'd be able to sleep knowing Rin was awake—there was no use in even trying, because you were sure you'd end up staying awake to listen to him play anyway. Your footsteps are hurried and purposeful, and while you're not entirely sure what you'll say to Rin once you find him, you know you can't wait any longer to see him.

You open the door as quietly as you can, slipping inside and gently locking it behind you. You watch Rin's fingers come to a slow stop, and you move forward until you're standing right beside his piano stool. You're holding your breath, clasping your hands together nervously as he turns to look at you.

"Hi, Rin." You offer with a hesitant smile.

"...Hello."

He moves over wordlessly to make space for you to sit beside him, and you make sure to keep a little more distance than usual between you two once you're seated, only because you're not sure how Rin felt. His response is immediate—brows pulling together as his lips tug into a small frown, but he doesn't say anything, just quietly watching as you carefully place your candle on the edge of his piano's top.

The warm glow of the candle highlights every feature of yours in a fiery gold, and Rin's eyes widen a bit when he sees your hair is down. You're in a simple nightgown and not wearing any makeup either, and he's positive his heart is stuck in his throat. The soft curve of your cheek looks far too kissable in the candlelight, and he inhales sharply when you finally turn to look at him.

"I heard you playing from my room and couldn't ignore it." You smile, and Rin makes a small sound of embarrassment in the back of his throat once he realizes he must have kept you awake. Before he has the chance to apologize, you speak up.

"I wanted to talk to you either way; I don't think I'd be able to sleep until I did. But if it's too late for you, or if I'm interrupting—"

"No—no, I just... came here to clear my head. Couldn't sleep either." He mumbles quickly, discreetly moving the music sheet with your name written at the top back into his folder and out of your sight as you smile, relieved. Rin notices it doesn't reach your eyes, and he tries his best to mask his concern. His brother always told Rin he had a horrible poker face, so Rin does his best to school his expression into something neutral.

"Do you want to marry me?"

Okay, maybe Rin would have been able to appear as calm and collected as Sae usually does if you hadn't asked him that question outright. He becomes flustered in an instant, stammering as the tips of his ears turn a bright shade of red. He tries to string together enough words to form a coherent sentence, but after an entire ten seconds of stuttering, he simply clamps his mouth shut to avoid any further embarrassment before he takes a steadying breath.

"Yes."

You lean back a bit at his words, almost as if you weren't expecting them.

Rin's never been good with communicating how he felt. He often found himself retreating when his emotions got too overwhelming or confusing—facing them head-on was something he's always struggled with, but he wants nothing more than to lay his heart bare for you to understand. He watched his brother slip away because they couldn't talk, couldn't voice their thoughts when they were upset, and Rin didn't want to lose you because of his inability to trust—so he tries his best.

"I feel happy when I'm around you, it's as simple as that. I would never say yes unless I knew what I wanted—I was... I was mad at myself when I found out you were marrying nii-chan. It wasn't something I wanted. I'm not well versed with all the business stuff he does, and I know he's in a tight spot, but he would never ask me to marry someone I didn't want to. We can figure this out together, you and I—there's really no one else I'd rather be with than you."

Are you sure, Rin?

Rin had said yes to his brother then, and he's saying yes to you now. He's never been more sure of anything in his life. His future, his hopes, and his dreams all depended on what you said now.

You're already looking at Rin when he looks up to meet your gaze. Your eyes are glossy, and your smile is just as sweet as he remembered it to be. He can't stop his lips from twitching at the sight—can't stop looking at your lips at all. And when you lean forward, you can just barely hear the hitch in his breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

You whisper the question softly, but Rin doesn't have the strength to respond. Instead, he leans forward to meet your lips. They brush over your own once, tentatively, before his hand moves to cradle your face. Carding his free hand through your hair, his mouth molds against yours.

The kiss was gentle and timid, undoubtedly imbued with every bit of love you and Rin felt for each other, and there wasn't a single other place either of you would rather be than in each other's hold.

seven years later ⋆˙⟡

Akio stands outside his parents's bedroom door, shifting from one foot to the other before turning to look at his two younger siblings behind him. Haru and Akie are yawning, still clutching onto their blankets and stuffed animals tiredly, but they smile lazily as they peer up at their older brother.

"I can't believe you two followed me." Akio huffs, irritated, but Akie merely nuzzles into her older brother's arm with a yawn.

"You were loud. And we wanted to come!"

"Let me go in first. You guys can come in after, kay?"

The pair nods, and Akio slips into the bedroom as quietly as he can, letting the door click close behind him. It's already six am—there was a chance you and Rin were still tired, but the little pink-haired boy was ready to start his day. Slowly, he approaches the bed, poking your cheek once to confirm you're asleep before huffing and lifting one leg up and over the bed.

He crawls onto the heap of blankets, squeezing himself into the small spot between you and Rin on the bed easily as the latter stirs in his sleep. You must sense the little boy, because your eyes flutter open a moment later.

"Oh, good morning." You smile with a sleepy giggle, pressing a gentle kiss onto Akio's cheek as he huffs, snuggling into your side.

"Ma, it's six already. I can't believe you guys are still sleeping." The little boy murmurs, turning to look at Rin with a scowl—adorably appalled at the peaceful expression gracing his features.

"You're an early bird—but me and your papa like to sleep in. He's very tired, you know?"

Akio mumbles something into your chest, winding his arms around you in a bear hug as he pokes Rin's stomach with his foot.

"Dad's going to teach me how to make eggs for you. And the twins. But I really just want to make them for you."

You laugh quietly, but the sound is still enough to wake up Rin. Akio quickly rolls off of you, poking Rin's cheek with his finger as he slowly begins to wake up.

"Wake up, lazy."

"Go away."

Akio winds his arms around Rin either way right after, and you watch Rin tiredly pat the boy hanging off his back. The door creaks open a little further, and you see your twins heads poke through right after. Rin finally manages a small smile, sitting up and pressing a kiss to your forehead before beckoning the rest of the children inside.

They come in squealing, immediately hopping onto the bed and climbing onto you and Rin. Your husband yawns, circling his arms around any kid he could get his hands on while closing his eyes.

You pepper everyone's faces in good morning kisses, and after Akio's made sure he's disrupted you and Rin's sleep enough, he drags himself and the twins outside to brush their teeth and get ready for the day. Once they're out, you bring the blanket around you closer and brush your nose against Rin's.

"Hi."

"Hi, pretty."

Rin's touch is gentle as he cradles your cheek, and you both spend a moment simply staring at each other, admiring the face you've come to love more than life itself. He pulls you into his chest, breathing you in as you slump tiredly into his embrace.

He taps his pointer finger against your waist slowly, and every tap was to the rhythm of the song he'd made for you so many years ago—just as he did every morning.

a/n: oh my god...it's done...hollllyyyyYYY MOLY this took me a while but yay i'm so happy with it!! :D sae's kind of a deadbeat i'm sowwyyy 😞 rin and reader are happily married and sae's prospering overseas and doing business :p maybe one day he'll settle down, but who knows!! thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it :))

tags: @rroxii @tsukimoon-chan @rainychi2 @cheriiepies @jukiamae @hotdogkongmalaki @theogfruitl00psmunch3r @danhoneyyysblog @mfreedomstuff @introspectiveintroverthere @ocean-mochi @kajironunaji @minasgirl @jiavirie @literallyn0ne @ankol-heap @ysvanielle

281 notes · View notes

sapphicstrawcore · 2 days ago

Text

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ “It’s just a ride, babe.” (Sevika x you)

—Final girl pt2 ! (pt1)

synopsis: highschool au ! Halloween night. The air smells like cotton candy and fake blood, and your girlfriend looks criminal in a crimson leather jacket under flickering orange lights. The amusement park is packed, loud, and just spooky enough to make your heart race—for more reasons than one. You’ve been together for a few weeks now, and Sevika’s still everything: steady, smug, a little too hot for someone who isn’t even scared in haunted houses. But if you’re scared ? Sevika is there to help you forget about it.

girls kissing :: fluff :: she loves your butt :: teenagers being in love and horny

⊹ �� ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖ The second Sevika parks, you’re already unbuckling. You shove the door open, boots hitting pavement with a loud clack clack clack as you sprint around the front of the car like it’s a race.

Your high-heeled thigh boots were definitely not made for running, but who cares—it’s Halloween night, you’re finally here, and the air smells like caramel apples and cheap fog machine chemicals.

“Janna,” Sevika mutters behind the windshield as you fling open her door. She’s still sitting there, one hand on the steering wheel, the other caught mid-reach—your body half-blocking hers, eyes already lit up with excitement.

You grin at her, breathless. “Let’s go!”

She lifts an eyebrow, chuckling low in her throat. “What, you gonna drag me through the gates?”

You trap her hand between both of yours and pull gently. “Maybe.”

Another scream cuts through the air—not like someone’s hurt, but like they think they are. Terrified. Somewhere inside the park, a chainsaw revs and fake thunder rolls across the sky. You both glance toward the massive, glowing archway that reads ZAUN: NIGHT OF TERROR, ringed in flickering orange bulbs and fog pouring from beneath it. Shadows of moving figures flicker against the light—some masked, some running, some chasing.

You beam.

Sevika snorts, finally stepping out of the car. Her crimson leather jacket creaks as she adjusts it, one hand going instinctively to the cigarette tucked behind her ear. She looks down at you—your smoky eye makeup, your black mesh sleeves, the heels she definitely made fun of earlier—and hums.

“You’re gonna fall in those boots,” she says, but she’s smiling, just a little, in that way that makes your stomach flip. Her eyes were not on your boots. More on your ass looking really good in this short dress.

You lace your fingers through hers, cheeks warm of excitement and something else you won’t name. “Then catch me. And I know your eyes are not on my shoes.”

She huffs a laugh, already letting you pull her toward the entrance.

Behind you, another scream echoes through the night.

Perfect.

⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖ You don’t let go of Sevika’s hand.

Not when the first fog machine hisses past your legs. Not when a stilt-walker in a bloody clown costume lurches through the crowd. Not when someone in a plague doctor mask jumps out of a dark corner, shrieking. Not even when you trip a little on uneven pavement—but you recover like a champ, playing it off with a breathless laugh.

Not even when you nearly trip over a hay bale someone dumped in the middle of the path for aesthetic.

She doesn’t let go either.

She’s not saying much—just walking beside you like she always does, tall and grounded and somehow completely unfazed by the chaos of chainsaws and fake corpses all around. Her hand is warm and steady in yours, callused at the knuckles, her thumb occasionally grazing your palm.

You’re buzzing.

The park’s loud and chaotic and full of orange lights and screams echoing from every direction. Your favorite night of the year, and Sevika’s next to you in that damn leather jacket like she was built for this. Half the girls in the park probably stared when you walked in. Good.

You tug her forward, too hyped to stand still. “C’mon, we have to do the coffin drop ride before the line’s insane—”

You walk ahead just a step too fast, laughing as you go, but then—

—just as you take another too-fast step—she lets go of your hand.

Smack!

Your gasp echoes louder than it should. Not painful, but firm. Possessive. Enough to make your cheeks burn instantly.

You feel it jiggle under her palm. And so does she.

You spin around so fast your heel nearly catches. “Sevika!”

Shes grinning now, not even trying to hide it. One brow raised, hands in her jacket pockets now, completely unbothered. Leather jacket open just enough to flash the edge of her black tank top, hair tucked behind one ear, and that same cigarette still perched there like it belongs.

“Where do you think you’re going, babe?” she says, calm as anything. “You’re practically running.”

You narrow your eyes, pressing your lips together to hide the way you’re definitely smiling. “I was excited.”

“Mm.” She takes a step forward, tilting her head like she’s sizing you up. “Looked more like you were running from me.”

You stare at her. “That is not what that was.”

“Mm.” she steps just a bit closer, “ you complaining ?”

Your brain short-circuits just a little, but you manage a roll of your eyes, nose scrunching as you turn away.

“I hate when you do that.”

“No you don’t.”

She’s right.

After a beat, she adds, “You’re looking for it.”

She’s even more right.

Because you’re still smiling when you walk ahead again, cheeks hot, ears burning—and she’s still behind you, hand brushing yours, smirk like she knows she’ll do it again the second she feels like it.

And just to tease you, she slaps your ass again but more gently this time, making you laugh and try to run away in your high thigh boots and your short dress riding up just enough, your hot girlfriend running after you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖ You’re laughing before you even step inside.

It’s dim. Cold. Lit only by flickering green and purple LED strips lining the floor and ceiling. The entrance door shuts behind you with a click, and instantly you’re surrounded—mirrors in every direction, all warped just enough to feel off.

You take one step forward and immediately flinch—face to face with yourself. Again. And again. And behind you? Sevika. In four different places at once.

“Okay, this is—this is so dumb,” you giggle, holding out a hand like it’ll help. “Who even builds these things?”

Sevika snorts behind you. “Sadists.”

You spin around—and bump into her chest.

Not her reflection. Her. Real, warm, solid Sevika.

You squeak as her hands come up instinctively to catch your waist. She’s laughing too now, low and steady, that gravelly kind of laugh that always makes your stomach dip.

“I thought you were over there,” you breathe, pointing to one of the many Sevika-shaped reflections to your right.

She shrugs, trying really hard not to laugh. “Guess I’m everywhere.”

You groan dramatically and push at her chest, but she doesn’t budge. Her fingers tighten on your waist for just a second, enough to make your pulse spike. It’s dark enough that you know she sees the heat in your face—but you keep walking anyway.

“Okay, okay, we gotta get out of here. This was your idea.”

“It was yours.”

Liar.

You turn a corner—and immediately bonk your head gently against a mirror. “Ow!”

Sevika barks out a laugh behind you. “Babe. Come on.”

“I swear this thing is cursed.”

“I swear you have no sense of direction.”

You shoot her a glare through the nearest mirror, only it’s not her—it’s you, scowling at your own reflection. You whirl around, eyes wide, already disoriented again.

“Wait. Sev—?”

“Here.” Her voice echoes from somewhere to the left.

You spin again, only to catch her reflection—then a second later, her hand finds yours. Real. Warm. Confident fingers lacing between yours like she’s done this before.

“How do you even know where we’re going?” you mutter, tugging her close so you don’t lose her again.

She smirks, brushing her shoulder against yours. “I don’t.” You shoot her a look.

“…But you panic cute.”

You smack her arm. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet—” she tugs you slightly forward, pulling you closer as another dead-end mirror looms in front of you “—here you are, willingly trapped with me.”

The laughter doesn’t stop as you stumble into another wrong turn and crash together again—your back hitting her chest, her arms looping around you instinctively, like it’s not even a thought.

The mirrors around you feel closer now, trapping you in this warped little world of flickering lights and too many reflections. All of them showing the same thing: you and Sevika, pressed too close, shadows and smirks, her eyes sharp and knowing, yours wide and unsure if you should look at her or the mirror—or maybe just close your eyes entirely.

“Pretty sure this maze is just an excuse to make out in the dark,” you say breathlessly.

Sevika tilts her head. Her grip at your waist doesn’t change, but something in her gaze sharpens—like she’s seeing through the joke for what it really is.

She raises a brow.

“Wanna try?” she asks, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Your stomach drops and flips all at once. You blink up at her—lips already parted like your brain can’t decide what to do with itself. Her smirk widens, but it’s not cocky this time. It’s warm. Patient. Teasing in the best, loving way.

You try to scoff. You try to act normal. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sevika leans in, slow and smooth, voice low like it’s meant just for you—even if ten other fake versions of her are saying it all around you in reflection.

“But you’re thinking about it.”

God, you are.

You glance sideways. A hundred mirrors show you the same moment: her mouth close to yours, her hand at your waist, your hand still clutching hers like you’re scared to let go and get lost again.

Your smile falters for a second. The nerves spike.

“It’s just a maze,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

“Exactly.” Her thumb grazes your hipbone, slow and grounding. “No one’s watching.”

You look back at her—really look—and you know what she’s doing. She’s giving you the chance to back out. That same quiet, practiced confidence, but never pushy. Never rushing you. She knows you haven’t done this before. Not like this. Not with a girl like her.

But God, you want to.

So you nod, almost shyly. “Okay.”

She doesn’t hesitate.

Sevika’s hand lifts from your hip to cradle your jaw, fingers warm against your cheek. Her lips find yours in one smooth, confident motion, like she’s done this before—because of course she has—but she still kisses you like it matters. Like she wants it to matter.

And everything else—the mirrors, the stupid maze, the faint sounds of screams echoing from some distant haunted house—fades.

It’s just her.

And her mouth is soft but sure, her thumb brushing gently along your cheekbone, your body relaxing slowly into hers like it belongs there. The kiss deepens, just slightly at first—enough to make your knees weak and your heart race in that dizzy, fluttery way that feels brand new.

You barely realize your arms have looped around her shoulders until she smiles into your mouth.

You’re both breathing a little bit harder, but you don’t stop the kiss. If anything, she press her body to yours even more.

You feel one of her hand go down slowly, controlled, until she’s squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs through the fabric of your thin dress, playing with the hem of it with one of her fingers.

She’s teasing, playing.

And you’re falling for it.

Your cheeks are burning. Your breath comes fast. And your reflection in the mirror?

Yeah. You’re absolutely wrecked in the best way.

When she finally pulls back, it’s slow. Deliberate. Like she knows you’ll chase after her lips if she gives you the chance.

Sevika’s close, forehead brushing yours, eyes half-lidded and voice low. “Still think this maze is dumb?”

You let out a laugh—breathy, giddy, a little dazed. “Okay… Best attraction here, actually.”

Her grin returns, wide and wolfish. “Told you.”

You smack her shoulder weakly, but you’re still smiling too hard to make it count.

⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖ You finally find the exit to the mirror maze—only after a solid ten more minutes of kissing behind glass corners, accidentally scaring yourselves with your own reflections, and laughing so hard you nearly collapse against each other.

You’re flushed. Dizzy. Maybe a little kiss-drunk. Maybe damp down there, and Sevika hasn’t let go of your hand since.

The second the cool outside air hits your face, you’re gasping like you’ve just come up for air. The fog machines around the park spit out fresh plumes of thick mist, the shrieks of other thrillseekers cutting through the music that pulses from distant speakers.

You barely have time to recover before Sevika stops short, tugging your hand gently to pull you beside her.

She’s staring straight ahead—eyes lit up, grinning like a kid in a candy store. “Hell yeah.” She looks at you, tugging your hand again. “Come on.”

You follow her gaze—and your stomach plummets.

Towering above the entire park, lit with flickering orange and red lights, is the biggest roller coaster you’ve ever seen. It rises like some demonic steel serpent into the sky, curves at an angle no sane person should survive, and disappears into a cave structure surrounded by grotesque demon statues, glowing red eyes and all. Above the queue entrance, in bright flashing letters, it reads: a few threats of death.

It’s ridiculous, it shouldn’t be that scary.

But does it work ? Yes.

Yes, it works. You’re scared.

You blink. And then again.

“Absolutely not.”

Sevika laughs—cackles, actually. “Oh, we’re doing that.”

Your grip on her hand tightens like it’ll anchor you to the earth. “That thing looks like it’s possessed.”

“Probably is.”

You glare at her. “Stop that. There are literally demons guarding the entrance.”

“Yeah, they’re hot.”

You slap her arm.

The closer you get, the worse it looks. Fake flames shoot up from the entrance. The costumed staff aren’t even trying to be welcoming—they’re dressed like tired corpse-faced executioners. The biggest grotesque demon guarding the entrance is saying in a deep robotic voice things like “YOU WON’T MAKE IT OUT ALIVE” and “SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR SOULS.”

Sevika looks absolutely delighted.

You stop dead in your tracks. “Sev. No.”

She finally looks at you—smirking, but not teasing. At least not only teasing. “Don’t be scared, baby. You told me you liked roller coasters.”

You sighs and play with her fingers in your hand like it will make you less anxious. It doesn’t work. “I do. But this is all very scary. You know— everything.”

“Hey.” Her voice drops a little as she steps in front of you, blocking your view of the terrifying gates of doom. “You really that scared?”

You scowl, which is 80% covering up panic. “Obviously.”

Her eyes flick over your face, lips twitching—not mocking, but softening. She leans in slightly, brushing her nose against yours, voice quieter. “I’ll hold your hand the entire time.”

You exhale. “Yeah, I know…”

“Good.”

She kiss your lips for half a second before pulling back with a shit-eating grin and jerking her head toward the entrance.

“Let’s go, babe. Death’s waiting.”

“Stop saying things like that!”

She’s already pulling you forward, laughing under her breath. You go. Of course you go. Because you’re in deep now—and not just with the haunted rollercoaster.

The line moves slow.

Which should be a good thing—more time to breathe, to calm down, to mentally prepare.

Instead, every few steps forward, you get a better view of the ride.

The screams. The drop. The way the cars disappear into total blackness and don’t come out again for a full ten seconds.

You press closer to Sevika, trying not to look like you’re hiding even though you absolutely are. Her hoodie smells like smoke and blueberry gum, and you tuck your face into her chest like that’ll block out the sound of the girl in front of you shrieking “WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“Babe,” you mumble into the soft fabric. “This was a mistake.”

“Nah,” Sevika says lazily, totally unbothered, hugging you just like you’re hugging her —or hiding in her—. “We haven’t even gotten on yet.”

“That’s the problem.”

She snorts. Her arms are around you, keeping you pressed to her like she’s already claimed you as hers, no take-backs.

You try to slow your breathing. You try to focus on the fact that people survive this every day. You try not to think about your funeral playlist.

Then—you feel it.

Her hands going lower.

Until you feel a light pat on your ass. Then another. And another. Rhythmic.

You freeze.

“Sevika,” you mutter, muffled against her hoodie, “are you playing the drums on my ass right now?”

“Yup.”

You lean back to look at her, and she’s got the most infuriating little smirk on her face. Like she’s fully enjoying herself. Like she knows what she’s doing and is thriving off your reaction.

She shrugs, totally unbothered. “You looked tense. Music helps.”

“Oh my God.”

You try to glare at her, but she just drums a little faster, making an actual melody and grinning like a menace.

“Stop that,” you hiss, glancing around. “Someone’s gonna see.”

“It’s dark,” she says. “Foggy. Nobody’s looking.”

“I’m looking!”

“Then you’re welcome.”

You smack her chest lightly, face burning, but you don’t move away. Because her arm feels good around you. Because her teasing is actually helping, somehow. Because she’s acting like this is fun, and that energy’s infectious.

You settle back into her chest with a sigh.

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, lips brushing your temple. “But it helps you relax.”

The line shuffles forward again, closer to the front. You can see the coaster now—almost time. Your stomach flips.

But Sevika’s still there, arms around you and both hands casually drumming a lazy beat on your ass like the most relaxed, annoying, hot girlfriend in the world.

And weirdly?

You’re starting to feel okay.

When it’s finally your turn, your legs feel like jelly. You walk toward the ride like you’re marching to your death—and it looks like it, too. The carts are all black with red claw marks painted on the sides, the kind that glow under the UV lights. The staff members stand waiting, dressed like demonic priests in long robes and blackened eyes, and the closer you get, the worse it gets.

“Keep your hands and legs inside the cart at all times…” one of them says, voice low and raspy.

“Unless you want them ripped off,” another adds with a manic grin.

You shoot them a look.

“Please don’t do that,” you mutter, climbing into the seat, still clinging to Sevika’s hand. “Just be normal. Why can’t anyone here be normal?”

The last staff member pulls the bar down with a loud click, leans down to double-check your seatbelt, and murmurs:

“Don’t forget to pray.”

You stare at him, deadpan. Your eyes almost in furry.

“Fuck off.”

Sevika loses it.

Her laugh is loud, warm, and entirely too delighted. She’s sitting beside you, already settling in like this is the best night of her life.

“Janna,” she says, still chuckling. “You’re such a menace when you’re scared.”

“You brought me here.”

“Hell yeah. And it’s worth it. You look like you’re about to cut someone’s throat.”

You barely have time to respond before the cart jerks forward. Your heart stutters—and then the dreaded clack-clack-clack begins.

The climb.

It’s steeper than you thought. Way steeper. You lean back into the seat, clutching the safety bar like it’s a lifeline, your whole body tense. The higher you go, the more the park falls away beneath you. Lights blur. Screams echo somewhere behind. And the wind picks up, cold and sharp against your face.

Sevika, of course, is chill as hell.

She’s got one arm stretched along the back of your seat, legs wide, like this is just another lazy Friday night. She glances over at you once, takes in your death grip on the bar, and raises an eyebrow.

“You breathing?”

“No.”

She grins.

“Want me to distract you?”

Your eyes dart to her. “How the fuck—”

Before you can finish, she leans in and kisses you. Just like that. Slow and sure, mouth warm against yours, like she’s got all the time in the world.

The coaster hasn’t even crested the top yet.

Your brain short-circuits. You melt into it without meaning to—half from nerves, half from how casually she just does it. Like kissing you at the edge of death is the most normal thing in the world.

When she pulls back, you’re breathless.

“Don’t look down.” she says, smirking.

“What ?”

Because you’ve just reached the top.

And there’s a full second of silence, suspended in the air, Sevika’s hand still brushing your thigh.

And then—

the drop.

You don’t even have time to scream at first. Your stomach flies up into your throat and your soul definitely tries to escape your body. It’s like falling into a black hole—your vision blurs, wind slaps your face, and Sevika is yelling something next to you that you cannot hear over the way your own voice finally rips out of your chest.

You scream so loud you don’t even recognize your own voice.

The cart whips around a corner. You slam into Sevika, who barely budges, one hand gripping the bar, the other still casually around your shoulders like she isn’t about to be launched into hell.

She throws her head back, laughing.

“YOU GOOD, BABY?!”

“NO!”

Another twist. You scream again. The cart drops out from under you in a sudden dip and shoots back up before you can even process it.

“I HATE YOU,” you yell, eyes squeezed shut.

“YOU’RE HAVING FUN!”

You open your eyes just long enough to see a loop coming—and immediately regret it.

“SEVIKA—“

“I GOT YOU!”

You don’t know what she means by that, but a second later, your body flips upside down, the world spins, and you swear you see your life flash before your eyes.

Then it’s over. Just that part.

The coaster doesn’t stop. It never stops. Another turn, another drop, and you’re halfway in Sevika’s lap at this point, your hand clawing at her thigh like you can anchor yourself there.

She just laughs again, breathless and thrilled.

“You’re insane!” you scream.

She looks over, wind tossing her hair, cheeks flushed, grinning like a devil. “So are you!”

Somewhere in the chaos, she leans in and presses a quick, open-mouthed kiss to your cheek.

“You’re doing so good, baby—” another sharp twist—“you’re not even crying!”

You punch her arm mid-turn.

“I WILL IF THIS THING DOESN’T END—”

You can barely breathe. Your throat is raw. Your heart’s sprinting. Sevika’s laughing like she’s drunk on adrenaline and the sound of your terrified shrieking. And weirdly?

You kind of love it.

The ride finally starts to slow—braking hard, jerking you both forward. Your head whips back against the seat, and your hair’s probably a disaster, but you made it.

You slump against Sevika, chest heaving, body still buzzing with panic and… okay, fine, maybe a tiny bit of exhilaration.

Your eyes are wet and you feel a tear running down your cheek but you don’t sob. It’s just the shock.

Beside you, Sevika exhales a deep breath—satisfied, like she just got laid. She stretches her arms out over her head, grinning wide, thriving.

Then she looks over. And sees you.

The only thing she can do at the moment is laughing.

She reaches over, gentle now, brushing her thumb under your eye to catch a stray tear. Then she leans down, presses her lips to your temple, and grins.

“Wanna go again?”

You groan.

“Only if I get to scream into your mouth this time.”

She laughs so hard the guy in the next row stares.

As silly as it can seem, it’s already too much for me to write sexual tension lmao. I kinda feel naked and exposed. Probably won’t write more than girls kissing and curious hands 💔 I LOVE my teasing sev headcanon though, it was so fun writing her playing with reader’s ass like that😔 most probably because I love doing that too ngl

dividers: @/cursed-carmine

taglist: @lonerslug @sevikasswifee @ahintofchaos @blessupblessup @riotstemple29 @lia-winther @shxdy0ariia

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #lesbian #wlw imagine #sevika imagine #sevika x y/n #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika

197 notes · View notes

sereia4skz · 9 hours ago

Note

What if Minho with too friendly reader who loves snakes? Like he doesn't trust humans, and this one is so annoying! Why did he start to like them?

One-shot, if it's possible 🥺

2k Followers Event | warmed stones

pairing: minho x reader

synopsis: minho doesn't trust easily... good luck snake lovers

warnings: naga!minho

event masterlist: #2kShootingStars

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

AN: tsundere minho has my heart

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

You liked snakes. Minho found that...suspicious.

Humans usually flinched. They whispered the word like a curse: snake. As if being part serpent made him monstrous by default. Fangs. Scales. A slithering tail longer than a horse's reins and strong enough to crush stone.

They forgot the warmth of sunbaked scales. The patience. The precision. The quiet power of listening. You didn’t forget. You kept bringing him snacks.

"You like eggs, right?" you said the first week, balancing a bowl of soft-boiled ones in your hands. "High protein. I read that snakes- well, some snakes…"

Minho stared. Not at the food. At you. Smiling. Again. Always smiling. Not afraid. Not exactly welcome, either.

"I don’t eat things touched by people I don’t trust," he said flatly.

"Fair enough," you chirped, setting them down anyway. "I trust you, though."

Minho recoiled as if you’d tried to pet his scales without permission. You practically glowed with sunshine and chaos and too many questions. Talking to you felt like chasing fireflies with fangs, sparkling, impossible, and vaguely insulting to his dignity.

The next day, you returned with a basket of warmed stones. “For your basking spot. They hold heat longer if you want to nap through the rain.”

He didn't thank you.

Two days later, he rearranged the stones to suit his coils.

It went on like that.

You, barefoot in the grass, humming nonsense songs and mumbling about the others in the rescue wing. Minho, watching from the shaded edges of the atrium, arms crossed, tail coiled and tail twitching, always twitching.

You called him Mr. Hissy once.

He hissed. You laughed.

Somehow, that was worse than being insulted.

⋆｡°✩

You were used to it by now. Every day around the same time, you wandered into the atrium, hands full of fruit, herbs, and perhaps a few flowers tucked behind your ear, only to find Minho in his usual spot. Coiled on the sun-warmed stone near the indoor pond, half-shadow, half-golden scales, and entirely uninterested in your existence.

"Good morning, handsome!" you called, as always, the moment you stepped through the greenery.

His tail twitched. Not a flinch, not a startle. Just a barely-contained sigh made of muscle and scale.

"I brought blueberries." You held one out like a peace offering, though it had never actually sparked peace. "I know you said you don’t like sweet things, but these are fresh. I picked them from the outer ridge, where the sunlight hits just right. See?"

He didn’t move. Just shifted the tilt of his head, watching you through narrowed eyes, molten-gold irises unblinking.

"You talk too much," he murmured finally, voice as smooth and sharp as obsidian. “Do you pester all the residents like this?”

"Only the ones with beautiful eyes," you said sweetly, not mentioning that's most of the ones on your charge because there, that barely-there flick of his tongue, is hope.

You sat a respectful distance away, as always, but close enough to feel the warmth of the stone, close enough to let your presence be known without forcing it.

You just liked snakes. That was all.

And he… well. He was the most mesmerizing one you’d ever met.

Minho didn’t trust humans. Not the ones who hunted him for his scales, not the ones who locked him in glass-walled exhibits, not the ones who saw a tail and assumed a threat.

But you were… Different? Annoying, absolutely. Endlessly cheerful. Prone to naming his shed scales like they were pets. You’d once called him “shiny noodle” with utter sincerity, that's worse than Mr.Hissy. He still hadn't forgiven you.

But you never reached for him without permission. Never stared like he was a monster. Never asked questions he didn’t want to answer.

⋆｡°✩

One late afternoon, after a spring storm had rolled through Haven, you came into the atrium soaked to the skin. Hair plastered to your cheeks, mud on your knees, a trembling baby basilisk bundled in your arms.

You didn’t speak at first. Just knelt beside the stones where Minho rested and gently unwrapped the shaking creature.

"He was caught in a net near the creek," you said softly. "I think he’s scared of me. But he stopped shaking when he saw you."

Minho didn’t reply.

He just uncoiled, slow and silent, and lowered himself beside you. One hand, still human, reached out to brush over the basilisk’s scales. A hum, low and thrumming, poured from his chest like a lullaby you didn’t understand.

The creature stilled. So did you.

After a while, you murmured, “You’re really good with them.”

He looked at you then, golden eyes brighter in the fading light. “They know I’m one of them.”

You tilted your head. Minho blinked. Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth twitched. A smirk.

“You’re too loud to be a snake.”

You gasped. “I could be a loud snake! A very friendly garden snake. I’d bring everyone flowers.”

Minho actually laughed, quiet and low, but real, and something in your chest melted.

Later, when you curled beside him just close enough to feel the warmth of his coils (with his quiet, begrudging permission), he didn’t move away.

You weren’t sure when it changed.

Maybe the moment he let you braid clover flowers into his hair. Maybe the night he found you crying in the greenhouse after losing a selkie to old wounds, and he didn’t say anything, just coiled the end of his tail over your feet like a blanket.

Maybe it was when you changed. When your cheerful rambling turned softer around him. Less performative, more comfortable. Like your voice was a familiar wind he’d grown used to.

Now, on a quiet evening humming with crickets and soft light, you sat beside him once more.

Minho’s head rested against the stone. His eyes were half-lidded, but alert. You reached out, hand hovering.

“Can I?”

He didn’t answer with words.

He just shifted slightly, and his tail wrapped around your ankle, lightly. A whisper of contact.

Your hand settled gently on his arm.

“You used to hate me,” you murmured, smile playing on your lips.

“I still do,” he said, but his voice lacked venom.

“Oh yeah?” You leaned in, grinning. “Is that why you followed me to the library last night? And left a dried lily on my desk?”

“I did not. Maybe it was that garden snake you keep around,”

“I knew it wasn’t the garden snake! She doesn’t even like lilies-”

“Neither do I,” he muttered. “But you do.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple @sunfk88 @sillyseob @rougegenshin @yaorzu-blog

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know #lee minho #stray kids minho #monster x reader

165 notes · View notes

forthebrokenheartedthings · 1 day ago

Note

Can you write about Bucky getting jealous and the reader pokes fun at him about it?

AN 💌: Thank you for the req, nonnie! 💕 I hope this is what you were looking for.

The Warning

Summary: When a well-meaning SHIELD tech starts flirting with you at the bar, Bucky tries—really tries—to keep his cool. But when you lean in close and touch the guy’s arm just to see how far you can push him, Bucky decides he’s had enough. No warnings, no speeches—just a searing, possessive kiss that leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind exactly who you belong to.

You felt Bucky’s stare before you ever looked up.

It was a tangible thing—like the press of a palm between your shoulder blades, impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes on the SHIELD tech in front of you, but you couldn’t help the little spark of wicked satisfaction that lit your chest.

“…it’s honestly groundbreaking work,” the tech was saying, gesturing with one hand. “I mean, we’ve never seen this level of adaptive targeting.”

“That’s impressive,” you said, voice low, leaning just a little closer.

The tech’s eyes flicked down to your mouth. He swallowed.

Behind him, you could feel Bucky’s attention narrow to a razor’s edge.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you murmured.

The man’s brows shot up, eager. “Sure.”

You smiled sweetly and let your fingers drift down to lightly touch his forearm, watching Bucky out of the corner of your eye. “I don’t understand half of what you’re saying.”

The tech let out a nervous laugh. “Oh—well, I could…explain it? Over coffee?”

Bucky moved then, but not toward you. Not yet. He set his drink down on a nearby table, deliberately. Rolled his shoulders like he was working out a kink in his neck. His eyes stayed locked on where your hand rested on another man’s arm.

You slid your fingers away—slow, deliberate—and finally met Bucky’s gaze head-on.

He didn’t look mad, exactly. He looked…dangerous.

“Coffee,” you repeated, smiling wider. “That’s generous of you.”

“Yeah—if you’re free—”

“She’s not,” came a voice behind the tech, low and final.

The poor man flinched. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

Bucky stepped in then, close enough that his arm brushed yours, and gave the tech a look that could have frozen lava. “Move along.”

The technician’s eyes darted from you to Bucky and back. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Move,” Bucky said again, quieter.

The tech didn’t need telling twice. He practically stumbled backward into the crowd.

You tilted your head up at Bucky, trying to look innocent. “You always this polite?”

His jaw ticked. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

He turned fully to face you, blue eyes sweeping over your face. “You know exactly what.”

You pretended to think. “You mean…talking to someone who was being perfectly nice to me?”

“Touching his arm,” Bucky corrected, voice low and rough.

“Hmm.” You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing his chest. “Didn’t realize you were so territorial.”

He didn’t answer. Just kept looking at your mouth like he was considering whether to kiss you or scold you.

You went up on your toes so your lips brushed his ear. “Maybe I did it on purpose.”

That did it.

His hand shot out, curling around the back of your neck. There was no warning, no growled threat, no clever retort—just a swift, possessive pull that crashed his mouth to yours.

The kiss stole every word, every thought from your head. His hand fisted in your hair, angling you exactly where he wanted you as his mouth moved over yours—hungry and certain, like he’d been waiting all night for this. Your hands flattened against his chest, and you felt the solid wall of muscle beneath your palms, the faint hitch in his breath when you kissed him back just as fiercely.

He didn’t stop until your lungs burned. When he finally broke the kiss, he hovered close enough that his lips still brushed yours when he spoke.

“You’re mine.”

Your heart tripped over itself. You swallowed, trying to catch your breath. “That…wasn’t very subtle.”

“Good,” he rasped. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

You felt your mouth curve into a dazed smile. “You know, you could have just said you were jealous.”

His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, smudging the taste of him across your lips. “Didn’t feel like talking.”

And from the stunned hush in the bar around you, it was pretty damn clear no one would be asking you out again anytime soon.

#bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky x you #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #thanks for the ask!#bucky barnes imagine #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader

171 notes · View notes

goobstars · 3 days ago

Note

I need need NEED more Jax that’s bold like in GOODIES or FALLING IN LOVE BECAUSE OH MY GOD YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD AND YOU DESERVE SO MANY MORE FOLLOWERS. You feed into my delulu so well. My favourite writer

𝐋-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃

summary : the only "l-word" you thought you felt towards jax was loathe. the arrogant rabbit always taunted you by saying you had a thing for him, but what if he was actually right?

tags : romance, enemies-to-lovers type deal, censored profanity, alcohol, and this does take place in the bar adventure.

note : well, DON'T I JUST HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU! this one has been in the works for a bit because, like you, i like when this guy is bold. i hope this feed into your delusions, and enjoy!

loathe.

that is what you felt towards jax ever since you jointed the circus.

he believed he was all that, and he constantly made everyone's life in the circus hell. including yours.

you didn't know if he hit his head or something before being put into the game, or if he's just insanely cocky, but jax was seemingly convinced you had a thing for him. your digital days were filled with consistent taunts about how much you wanted him, and if you even glanced at him, he would go on about how you were always looking at him.

just like how he was now.

zooble had informed caine to use the suggestion box after he complained about how it was hard to appease everybody when nobody liked the same things. so, as you all went on "lightening round" adventures, one of them ended up being a bar.

zooble was behind the counter mixing drinks for everyone, and everything appeared like it would in an old black-and-white movie. you all were dressed up in formal attire while soft jazz music played in the background.

now, if you were being honest, you had looked at everyone around you. the outfits everyone had on were unique and fitting. but, as soon as you turned your attention to examine jax's outfit, he was already looking.

you wanted to comment on the fact he was already staring at you, but before you could, he spoke up.

"staring again?" he questioned as he circled his index finger on the glass in front of him, and he tilted his head towards you to gift you a cocky smirk. "i know i'm good looking, but at this point, it's just concerning..."

his elbow was placed on top of the counter as he leaned his cheek against his palm, and his eyes looked you up and down. the grin on his face only seemed to grow as you placed your glass down on the counter with a glare.

"i'm staring at you because you look stupid." you bluntly spoke, but jax only shrugged at your words. "keep telling yourself that, doll. i know it's hard to admit when such a view is in front of you."

"the view in front of me is making me want to abstract..." your mumble was quiet enough so the others couldn't hear, but jax still could. though, your statement didn't make him stop. he only let out a slight chuckle.

"whatever you say..."

"why are you so keen on trying to get me to admit i like you when i obviously don't?"

the irritation in your tone was stronger than the alcohol behind zooble, and jax only rolled his eyes. "if it was obvious, i would've stopped a long time ago, doll. and i don't think you like me..." his words fell into a whisper as he placed both of his elbows on his thighs, and he leaned forward before tilting his head.

"i think you 'l-word' me..."

a laugh left his throat as soon as you scoffed, and you stood up from your chair in irritation.

your face felt hot as you stormed over towards the door, and everyone went silent in confusion except jax. "I WAS JUST TEASING!"

his statement was overcrowded as he laughed, yet it was eventually muffled once you opened the door and stepped outside.

like kinger had said earlier, it was pouring. luckily, the bar's roof went over the side a bit, so you were able to shift away from the door and towards a wall. you leaned against the brick as you eyed the street in front of you.

water trickled into the gutter in a small stream as the rain continued to fall, and a quiet sigh left your throat at the tranquility around you.

why did jax have to be so irritating? he was only making a fool of himself with his constant taunts.

or, maybe it was you who was the fool, for you noted the way your heartbeat quickened anytime he did tease you. was due to the anger he caused you? anger caused adrenaline spikes, but so did the 'l-word' he was referring to earlier.

you didn't want to think about the second thought being an option.

yet, what if that was the right option?

were you in denial? is that why you treated him the way you did?

before you could ponder any longer, you heard the bell to the bar ring, and you peered over towards the door.

"there you are—" the familiar voice made a frown tug at your lips, and you crossed your arms as you eyed jax. "why are you out here?"

the rabbit only shrugged at your words as he strode towards you before eventually stopping in front of you, and he slipped his hands into his pockets. "ouch, doll—i thought you'd be happy i came to keep you company!

you narrowed your eyes at him, and he removed one of his hands from his pockets to place it on his chest. "i'm hurt...usually, people are happy when they see their crushes."

as you attempted to ignore him, that only seemed to urge jax on. "see? you didn't deny that i was your crush."

at his words, you hastily grabbed both of his suspenders, and you tugged him down to meet your gaze.

his suspenders were gripped tightly in your hands, and you could feel the fabric digging into your palms. despite your attempts to scare him away, all he did was smirk.

that's all he ever seemed to do.

"what? is someone upset that i found out you love me?

"and if i do?"

your heart spoke before your mind could.

your mouth shut while jax stood there for a moment—his eyes slightly widening. why did you say that? it was obvious he was just saying all of that to get a rise out of you, but now, you had made things worse for you.

slowly, jax removed his other hand from his pocket, and he placed it beside your head as he put one of his feet behind the other. his eyes were slightly lidded while he peered down at you.

"you love me?" he questioned after a moment, and as soon as you slightly nodded your head, he let out a chuckle. he leaned in towards your ear before speaking.

"prove it."

within a second, your lips were against his, and your action shocked you.

and you could tell it surprised jax, too.

he remained frozen for a moment before his free hand traveled to your waist, and it rested there while his fingers slightly gripped your skin. it was an odd feeling, to say the least. you were kissing the person you always rambled about hating, but your current action was proving all of those words wrong.

you both eventually pulled away from each other, and once he cleared his throat, you truly expected him to state how much he hated that—how much he hated you.

but instead, you were only met with a grin.

"wow, you really do love me..." a chuckle echoed from him, and you only shrugged.

"yeah..." you mumbled, and he tilted his head. "what was that? didn't quite catch what you said, doll..."

"i will beat the living s*#$—"

your threat was cut off as jax placed his mouth against yours once again, and you felt his hand slide to the small of your back. his hand pushed you more into him before he pulled away.

"you're going to what?" he taunted with a smirk as you fell into silence, and you only stared up at him with lidded eyes. the corners of his mouth faltered a bit while his eyes flickered over your face, for the expression you had was one he had never seen before.

though, the only expressions he's really ever seen from you were anger or irritation.

so, seeing you peer up at him with your eyes holding a certain gleam was new. usually, jax didn't care for new things, but this was something he could get used to.

this was something he wanted to get used to.

"i love you too, doll..."

#𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc #tadc x reader #tadc x you #tadc jax #tadc jax x reader #tadc jax x you #jax #jax x reader #jax x you #x reader #x you #tadc fanfiction #tadc fanfic

235 notes · View notes

a5p3nnn · 19 hours ago

Text

Pay me properly - Landlord Toji

Your heart pounds in your chest as you step into his apartment.

Rent's due. Your bank account might as well be a sick joke.

Toji leans against the counter, shirtless, sweat-slicked from the gym—his dark hair pushed back, veins crawling up his thick arms. A lit cigarette dangles from his mouth, lips curling upward when he sees you hesitate to enter in the doorway.

“Are you really just gonna just stand there,” he drawls, “or are you finally ready to stop playing house and pay me what you owe?”

You gulp hard. “Listen Im really sorry but I just don’t have it this month.”

He exhales smoke slowly with a sick grin, letting the tense silence fill the room.

“You think I didn’t expect that?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Cute little thing like you living above me, acting like I can’t hear the way your bed creaks at night.”

Your breath hitches.

“You’ve got two choices princess,” he continues, pushing off the counter and walking toward you, each step feeling like a threat to your existence. “You can get out. Or…” He grabs your jaw, his rough padded thumb dragging across your puckered bottom lip. “You pay me in another way.”

Heat begins to flood your stomach.

You hate him his arrogance, his confidence, his stupid fucking smirk. But even now, your thighs press together.

“Say it,” he murmurs. “Beg for your rent.”

You blink up at him with damp teary eyes. “Please… I’ll do anything. Just don’t kick me out. I'm working on getting a job.. so just please."

Toji grins, slow and twisted.

“That’s more like it.”

He shoves you onto the couch with one hand. You're beneath him before you can even blink, legs spread as he tears your pajama shorts down. His hand grabs your face again, harder this time, forcing you to look at him as he kneels between your thighs.

“Didn’t think you’d end up like this, huh?” he mutters before pressing you into a rough kiss. “Whoring yourself out to your landlord. Letting me wreck you like it’s some form of payment.”

You whimper—but you don’t stop him.

“Look at this,” he sneers, dragging a finger between your folds. “Already wet? Fuckin’ slut. You want this.”

“I don’t—”

“You do.” He pushes two thick fingers into you suddenly, and your back arches with a sharp cry. “You like being treated like trash. You came down here knowing just what I’d do to you.”

He pumps his fingers hard and fast, thumb rubbing harsh circles over your clit.

“You’re just a dirty little brat who needs someone to ruin her.”

“Toji—fuck—!”

“Louder. Let the neighbors hear what kind lousy of tenant you are.”

You moan his name like it's your way of worship, gasping, legs trembling as he pulls away.

You whine at the loss.

He undoes his pants slowly, deliberately, letting you see the size of him thick and heavy.

“Crawl,” he says, voice deep and cruel. “Mouth first. You don’t get to pay me with your cunt until you’ve earned it.”

You drop to your knees without thinking. His cock slaps against your tongue as you suck him in, choking on the stretch. He groans low in his chest and grips your hair tight.

“That’s it,” he growls lowly. "Knew that mouth was good for something."You're better than the rent. Maybe I’ll charge double next month just so I can ruin you all over again.”

When he’s had enough of your mouth, he yanks you up, bends you over the couch armrest, and shoves into you from behind with no warning. You scream, half pain, half pleasure, as he slams into you relentlessly.

“So fucking tight,” he snarls, smacking your ass hard. “You’re gonna let me fill this pussy, huh? Stuff you full like my personal fuck toy.”

You can barely speak you can only moan, cry, drool onto the couch as he breaks you apart from the inside out.

“Who owns you?” he demands, voice dark and low against your ear.

“You—fuck—Toji, it’s you—!”

“Say it louder.”

“You own me!”

And you mean it.

You come again, legs giving out, walls spasming around him until he groans, gripping your hips and slamming in deep one final time filling you up completely.

“Rent’s paid, baby,” he mutters, breathless and satisfied. “But I’ll be collecting again tomorrow.”

#jujutsu kaisen #daddy toji #jujutsu toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #zenin toji x reader #yandere toji #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji zenin #landlord #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk yandere #toji #jjk smut #smut

160 notes · View notes

evilminji · 2 days ago

Text

I just had another Xanxia Thought Child!

Everyone~☆! Congratulate my baby on being born!

*clap clap clap* (ﾉ ˃ˋᗜˊ˂ )ﾉ🎉🎉🎉

Cause like? Here we are? Assuming our Reincarnated Children AREN'T living in Interesting Times™ before they die? And that's no fun~! We should be giving that kid anxiety! Some pre-packaged heart demons! Maybe a twitchy murder finger!

A deep, DEEP seated loathing for Demonic Cultivators and, specifically, their undead minions.

You picking up what I'm setting down? ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ yeah~, that's right!

Zombie Apocalypse.

OC got lucky, originally, was out in the middle of nowhere, camping. Yes... lucky. Oh so very, very "lucky". She had supplies. She had shelter. Everything she'd need for the coming days. Oh, and a front row seat... to watch as everything fell apart.

Got to sit, miles and miles away, and listen, over the phone. As her family sobbed and screamed. Terrified and confused. Chaos, wet gurgling and ripping. The crunching of broken things and mindless groaning in familiar voices. Yes... so very lucky.

She didn't have to watch it.

Just listen.

See the news stations fall, one by one, as cities were over run. Watch as news sites stop updating. As infrastructure starts to fail and her connection begins to get spotty. Then, inevitably, as figures start to shuffle along the horizon. Mindless and wandering.

Like everyone else who survives those first terrible days, there is a steep learning curve. One she barely survives. But... she does. And that matters. She makes friends. She watchs them die. Keeps her promise, made again and again, that they won't come back. That she won't let them hurt anyone.

Civilization falls, yes. But it comes back. It always has. She finds her way to a city state. Prays for the day that "the billions" will end. Cause, after all, they say that if they're careful? Eventually the infection WILL die out. They just gotta contain it. Keep looking for a cure.

Hope is a stubborn thing.

But zombie swarms don't care about hope. They hunger. And what is the city, if not a shell waiting to be cracked? Like tides, they come. Slamming against the walls. Again. Again. AGAIN.

One day... one of the fuckers finds some weak point they must have missed. A breach. They start pouring in. Oc is on wall duty. OUTER wall duty. There are rings, because things like this might happen and everyone planned for the worst.

She's part of the team that stays behind.

Trapped between the second wall and the outer wall, trying to drive them back. Seal the gap. Cover fire rains from above. Each step, a hair from nashing teeth and clawing hands. There are so many. So, so many.

Too many, in the end. At least for her.

She's separated from the group.

A death sentence.

So fast...she barely feels being torn apart.

It's strange. The sky was so blue that day. Beautiful, really. Felt out of place for hell on earth. It was the last thing she saw. Endless... so beautiful and endless. She... she had just enough time to realize what was about to happen. To think "ah...", feel this strange... calm, settle deep.

That it would finally all be over. To end like this.

How unfair.

Oh well... at least she get to-

Then she's fucking blinking and there's a GOD DAMN ZOMBIE.

Naturally, she hit it with a wok. She was unaware there WAS a wok near-by. And also? Why is she in a kitchen? Like... an OLD as fuck one? But also not old? Clearly used one. Feels vaugly like the ones people rigged up during the early days... but like... not. And also Chinese. Questions for later!

Wait. No. Why the FUCK is she a ZYGOTE?! *flexs tiny "baby" hands* *is actually like 8* Ah... so she's in hell. Well fuck you too, god. I guess.

There is a scared child scream.

Religious crisis later! Zombie smashing now! She finds one trying to claw into a cabinet. Smart kids! Trapped themselves, but still! Smart. Good to put a barrier between themselves and the zombie. She crushes its skull with the wok. Rescues her... sib..lings? Oooh that's a weird head rush.

Okay, not hell. God just thinks they're fuckin FUNNY. I see how it is.

Well I'm about to be hilarious. (New life motto:Get!)

OC proceeds to Experienced Zombie Fighter her way through several houses. Rescuing who she can. Calls a retreat. Gets everyone to a defensible location. Oh joy, back to the swewers. She did NOT miss this.

Turns out? Town is being attacked by a small Demonic Cultivator sect. They brought zombies.

She's about to bring pain. Who the FUCK weaponizes ZOMBIES. Wanna uses nukes for a fist fight next? You idiot!? You ABSOLUTE BAFOON?! Is setting aside that whole "cultivation sect" thing to freak out over later.

(What? Like her neighbors old web novels? Those Xanxia things that he loves to talk about? Misses like crazy cause no one can find any physical copies of stories like that, here in the west?)

(...could...could find.)

OC starts to fuckin Ambush Predator them. You learn to fight dirty, in the apocalypse. Cause there ARE bastards out there. And not everyone was willing to be a decent fuckin human being. You're "cultivation" or whatever isn't gonna do SHIT, if you're too concussion to use it!

Blow to the head! Slit the throat before they recover.

Move on to the next one.

Kill as many fuckin zombies as you can along the way.

It is AS she's doing this? Somebody just sorta? *Yoink* scruffs. This small, filthy, murderous child? Sassy and immediately tries to stab them? Good reflexs! Taking that knife though. It's clearly cursed. Who gave you that? Did you take that from one of the demonic cultivators? Honestly, next time just use a kitchen knife. You don't know where their knives have been!

Blinking, she stops struggling to actually look at the adult holding her in air jail.

Huh. Bright colors. Doesn't seem to be on Team Zombie. Better check. Oi! How do you feel about Zombies? "Utter abominations. A crime against the dead." Oh, hey~! A reasonable and well adjusted adult! Hi~☆! ( ^-^)/"

Is her complete 180 from vicious, seething, hell child to calm and agreeable young lady mildly off putting? Yes. But, meh. The Cultivator thinks it's kinda cute. He bets she bites. Adorable.

Him and HIS team are here to murder the Demonic Cultivators and purge the Zombies. Wanna come with him? You have a talent for killing things. And, you know, a spiritual root. Mostly the first one. A fine quality! Good for ALL sorts of terrible demonic nasties. I'm assuming your parents are dead?

....wow. You're really bad with kids.

So I've been told! Is that a yes?

Only if oc can either bring her siblings or, should they not have spiritual roots, you help her arrange something equally beneficial. And just like? Rest of his team? Find him calmly debating with this filthy, blood covered child? That he's just? Holding directing out in front of him at eye level by the back of her shirt?

She's just hanging there from his grip. He looks quitely thrilled.

Oh... oh no. Who let him around a child? He traumatizes children! Why IS THAT CHILD COVERED IN BLOOD!? Shixiong what have you DONE!? (Adopted! Presumably! This IS how one obtains children, right?) (NO!!!)

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hdgnj @leftnotright @spidori @lolottes

#minji's writing #Undead Heart Demons Au #xanxia #cultivation #wuxia #zombies #zombie apocolypse au #zombie apocalypse #could be svsss #could be something else #she just has a SEETHING ptsd based trauma hatred for zombies

106 notes · View notes

widowsweet · 2 days ago

Note

could you write something about the winter soldier having a crazy intense and possessive obsession with a Ex-Widow!Reader?? No pressure if u don’t feel comfy tho ❤️❤️

My little Widow

Obsessive!Winter Soldier x Ex-Widow!Reader

Summary: She ran. Changed her name, her life, her country. But no one escapes the Winter Soldier.

WC: 2,3k

Warnings: Obsession, psychological tension, suggestive language, Red Room trauma, stalking, unhealthy dynamics. (16+!)

A/N: Hope you like it!! Thank you for the request! Please forgive any writing mistakes — I admit I’m not that good at writing this kind of stuff LOL. Enjoy the read!

Read while listening to Angel by Massive Attack

He had found her.

It took years—maybe longer than it should have. But he found her.

A house in the middle of nowhere, tucked between low hills and overgrown grass, with a weathered wooden fence and the muffled sounds of chickens in the distance. It looked like a dead place. But he knew. She was here.

He knew.

The Soldier watched from a distance. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe deeply. The body trained to kill remained still beneath the cover of trees, while his eyes tracked her every step across the yard.

She had changed. Older. Hair longer. The lines of her face softer. But the way she moved—quiet, alert, like someone who still expected an attack even while carrying a bucket of water—that, he recognized. That was hers. That was his.

Because he had shaped it.

He remembered.

Not everything. Not with clarity. But he remembered.

The little girl, dark eyes locked on his. The sound of a piano behind the ballet room door. The heavy silence that filled the air whenever she stepped into the training space.

He had trained her. Pulled her arm roughly. Bound her wrists. Threw her to the ground. And in every movement, there had been a strange control—almost involuntary. He hit her, yes, but never like he hit the others. Never enough to break her.

She was different.

She was only his.

Even back then, he knew. Not in words. But in instinct.

She was the only one who never looked away.

The only one who struck back with precision.

The only one who made the blood boil beneath the metal.

And then she ran.

Since then, he had been looking for her. Not under orders. Not on assignment. But because something inside him needed to see her again. To understand if she was still real—or just a memory implanted in his mind, a shadow he could never quite erase.

The night was dense, made of silence and shadows.

No headlights. No voices.

Only the dull chorus of crickets in the dark and the soft rustling of tall grass stirred by the cold wind.

He stood motionless among the trees, boots sunk in wet earth, body fully camouflaged by the night. It took no effort. He was born in silence—shaped to vanish even when present.

His eyes never left her.

She had stepped out of the house minutes ago, wearing a fitted white corset top and a long, flowing skirt that brushed against her boots with every step. The fabric moved with the breeze, soft but heavy. She carried a metal bucket in both hands, the weight of it clinking faintly with each step.

She was probably going to wash the chickens’ feeder—some nighttime routine she kept without realizing she was being watched.

But he saw.

He saw more than that.

He saw the glint.

Clipped to her belt, caught in the dim porch light, there was a familiar flash—silver, sharp, cold. A weapon.

Not hidden. Not ornamental. A part of her.

Always alert.

Always sharp.

She moved with that same contained gait, the weight of the past echoing in her legs, her shoulders, in the way her eyes scanned the corners before she turned them.

Something tightened in his chest.

Not pain.

Something older.

Recognition.

She hadn’t forgotten how to survive.

She hadn’t become some sweet civilian who left her front door unlocked.

She was still the one he remembered. The one who didn’t flinch.

The only one who passed through him… and came out alive.

The wind picked up, and she stopped—lifting her head for just a moment, as if she felt something shift.

He didn’t move.

But for a second, her gaze went straight into the darkness where he stood.

The wind picked up, and for some reason, you stopped.

Lifted your head, like the air itself had changed in density. You stood there, in the middle of the yard, still holding the bucket in your hands, feeling the leather belt at your waist grow heavier than usual. Your eyes narrowed as they locked onto a specific point in the darkness — the kind of shadow that looked too thick, too still. Like something was there. Someone.

But there was no sound.

Just the hum of crickets. The rustling of the grass. And the sound of your own heartbeat pounding harder than it should.

You didn’t think much. You just turned around and headed back toward the house, climbing the wooden steps without making a sound — like stepping through a minefield. The door creaked as you closed it, and for a second, you just stood there, staring at it.

Then you started locking it.

First the main lock. Then the second latch. The horizontal bolt. The lower deadbolt. The one at the top. One by one. It wasn’t paranoia. It was instinct.

The living memory of a place where danger never knocked — it simply walked in.

You turned, crossing the room with silent, precise steps. Your eyes swept across the space like they already knew something was wrong, even if everything looked exactly the same.

The bookshelf in the corner was just as you left it: packed with all the books you read when things got too heavy. When the memories came in waves and you needed words that weren’t the ones shouted at you back in the Red Room.

But behind the shelf… was a different story.

You shoved it aside with your hip, quick, like someone who’d done this a hundred times. The frame slid a few inches to the left, revealing a low opening hidden in the wall. That was where she kept everything. Everything tied to who you really was — or who you never stopped being.

Inside, there was a small, concrete storage room. Cold. Bare. Lined with metal crates and weapons hanging from hooks on the wall.

You scanned them like old friends.

Grabbed the biggest one. The one you’d never used, but always kept clean. The one that made it clear you weren’t here to play house.

Before that, you reached for your waist and pulled out the gun you always carried — the one glinting under the porch light just minutes ago — and placed it down on the small metal counter inside the armory. You needed both hands for what was coming.

You were ready.

Back in the living room, the silence felt different.

More… alive.

The air had weight now. Thickness. And even with every door bolted shut, you could feel it. Feel him the same way she used to back then — long before he’d even enter the training room.

He was here.

Maybe not inside the house.

But close enough for you to know…

You weren’t alone.

The air felt different — heavier, almost electric.

And then, it happened.

A sound.

Sharp. Small. But cutting.

Like the scrape of something across wood.

Maybe a light vase. Maybe a lock deliberately nudged.

Just enough to set her on edge.

Just enough to confirm it.

You knew it was him.

Because he never made noise.

He was a shadow. A blur. A silent ghost.

If something moved, it was because he wanted you to hear it.

Because he knew that you knew.

Your hands tightened around the grip of the gun. Finger already firm on the trigger.

Your eyes — trained and cold — scanned the room like it was hostile territory.

You pointed toward every corner. The narrow hallway. The kitchen door. The living room window. The mirror. Under the stairs.

Cold. Fast. Almost automatic.

You were built for this. Trained to shoot before thinking.

But with him…

With him, it would never be enough.

He could come from the right. From the left. From above. From inside the damn walls.

You would never truly know.

Not with him.

You started stepping backward. Slow, deliberate steps. Gun raised. Focus locked.

Your heart was pounding so loud you swore you could hear it echoing against the walls.

Every breath was measured.

Every muscle in your body coiled tight.

It felt like you was back in the Red Room.

Like that forgotten, buried piece of your past had crossed oceans just to look you in the eyes again.

One more step.

Then another.

And then—

THUD.

Your back hit something.

Hard. Solid. Cold.

Your entire body froze before you could even turn around.

You didn’t need to look to know.

You knew that silence.

That presence.

You knew him.

And the moment that truth settled in your bones, you snapped back into herself.

You turned fast — breath sharp, ragged — eyes blazing and finger ready on the trigger. The gun came up in one swift, practiced motion, aimed directly at his chest.

But he was faster.

Before you could even steady your aim, his vibranium arm shot up, catching the barrel of the weapon with an iron grip.

The metal groaned softly under his fingers, and you stood there — frozen, face-to-face — like two ghosts recognizing each other across a battlefield.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly. You weren’t breathing. You were surviving.

Heart racing, blood roaring in your ears, hands trembling just enough for you to feel it — not out of fear, but disbelief.

He was real.

He was here.

And he hadn’t changed.

His eyes met yours with that same predatory stillness. That same quiet hunger. Cold… but not dead.

Not anymore.

There was something obsessive burning behind his gaze — feral and locked onto you like a target he never forgot.

A target he never let go of.

You couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t move.

And for a split second, neither did he.

Only the tension between you moved — stretching, pulling, suffocating the air between your bodies. You stayed completely still, eyes locked on his, breathing fast and shallow, but never looking away. You were frozen, but not weak.

His hand was still wrapped around your gun, like the metal was a part of him. And then, without a word, he ripped it from your grip with ease and threw it across the room. The sharp sound of it hitting the wall echoed through the house like a warning. You didn’t flinch, but your muscles coiled. Your body tensed as he began walking toward you with firm, heavy steps that made the floor creak beneath him.

He approached like a storm that had taken too long to break, and you stepped back, one measured movement at a time, never faltering. Your eyes never left his. Not once. Not even when he got close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body.

That’s what he always loved about you. You never looked away. Never lowered your head. Never backed down like the others. You never gave him the fear he was trained to crave.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice rough and worn, like words didn’t come easy to him anymore. His eyes scanned your face with restrained hunger, like he had been waiting for this exact moment. “How long I’ve been looking for you.”

One more step from him. One more retreat from you.

“I searched every fucking corner of this world,” he continued, something bitter caught in his throat — like even your silence had betrayed him. “And nothing. No trace. No shadow. Just emptiness.”

He breathed in like the air between you was yours — like he needed it to keep himself going.

“I missed this. Your presence… the sound of your steps… the way you smell.”

And that — that was enough to make your whole body lock up.

Not out of fear. But because of the weight in his voice. The familiarity that hit deeper than you wanted it to.

You said nothing. Didn’t blink. Didn’t give in.

Until your back hit the cold wall of the room, and you realized there was nowhere left to go.

He had finally reached you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath brush against your skin.

Close enough for you to know — with every nerve in your body — that he was no longer a ghost.

He was here. Physical. Present. Obsessed. And he had never, not for a second, stopped wanting you.

He stared at you for a moment, drinking you in like a man starved—like the very sight of you was the first real thing he’d seen in years. Then, without warning, his metal arm snapped up and clamped around your jaw, fingers tightening just enough to tilt your head to the side. Not enough to break. But enough to bruise. Enough to remind you who he was. Who you were.

Your hands shot up instantly, gripping his wrist with both of yours, trying to hold him back. Not resisting fully. Not surrendering either. Just bracing. Reacting. The instinct was still in you, buried under the years but far from gone. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t loosen his grip.

He leaned in, his face inching closer until his nose was buried in your hair. You could feel the cold press of metal burning against your skin, and the contrast of his breath—warm and steady—ghosting along your scalp. He inhaled. Deep. Slow. And then let out a quiet sound from his throat. Low. Guttural. Like it settled something in him. Like it fed something feral.

Then he lowered his head until his lips were just by your ear, not quite touching. Just there. The heat of his mouth enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You’re my little widow…” he whispered, voice low and rough like gravel dragging through smoke. “You’re not running from me again.” His words sank into your skin, heavy and final.

“You’re gonna be my good girl… just like you used to be.”

110 notes · View notes

animasola86 · 2 days ago

Text

🚩 FORCED: 07

It's inspection time, and you can be sure that your new master will be very thorough...

a morally gray man!your new master✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Inspection. Objectification. Anal fingering, anal insertion/spreading, anal gaping. Spanking. Bondage. Pussy slapping. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Forced orgasm. Squirting. (Brief mentions of human trafficking/forced prostitution, enemas) (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 4.1k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: If this is the first post of the series you come across, lemme quickly recap: Reader (age unspecified, but over 18) has hair long enough to braid and female genitalia, is referred to as Doll, finds herself in the clutches of a man who made her a part of his unusual collection of girls, and today, it's inspection time! This man has no name, no physical descriptions, he could be anyone - hence the fandom tags I am still occupying with this story. Make him your favorite blorbo, call him whatever you want, imagine him however you want. I usually keep my characters vague so you can fill in the blanks!

For more information, check the Author's Notes on chapter 1.

Chapter 5+6 🔻 Chapter 7 🔺 Chapter 8

He brought you into another room, and somehow this one gave you even more shivers than the punishment room. There were white tiles on the floor and on the walls, it was cold and bright and sterile, and the chair in the middle of the space wasn't making things better. The last time you'd been in one of those was during your latest visit to the gynecologist, though you couldn't remember seeing those thick leather straps dangling off the one in your doctor's office.

Swallowing hard, you let him pull you to a little platform that turned out to be an old-fashioned scale. He turned you, hands on your hips, then made you spread your legs a little and raised your arms before making you cross them behind your head, causing your chest to jut out more, your bare breasts jiggling slightly with the motion. The posture made you feel even more exposed than you'd been the entire time, and the clinically bright lights emphasized every inch of your naked skin, adding to the burning shame circling your guts.

“This is the pose you assume when I ask you for an inspection, understood?” he told you, watching you curiously.

You nodded. “Yes, master.”

“I'll show you more poses later. For now, let's take a look at you...”

He took a step back and tilted his head, his eyes raking over your naked body, his gaze cold and impassive. You barely dared to breathe under his scrutiny. Heat crashed through you, you could feel it pulsing in your cheeks (and in your cunt).

Your mind was still reeling from what had happened in the other room, and for a moment you wondered how the other girl was faring, and how his men were taking care of her. But then you felt the man's hands on your face, and your attention snapped back to him.

You blinked, inhaling sharply when he traced his fingers along the shape of your head, the touch warm and surprisingly gentle. His thumbs pressed lightly against your cheekbones, following the line of your jaw, before he rubbed them against the corners of your mouth.

“Open wide,” he told you, and you did, parting your lips. “Tongue out.” You had no idea how he did it, but you followed suit immediately, his low voice sinking into you, activating instincts you never knew you had. You saw him nodding, and more of the good warmth flooded your lower body.

He hooked his thumbs into your open mouth and pulled it a little wider, still staring at you as if you were either art on display or a pig ready to go to the slaughterhouse. You froze, held your breath, tried not to move. When he moved his hand and used his fingers to push your upper lip up, you frowned, being reminded of being at the dentist, but that feeling quickly disappeared when he took his hands away and grabbed your chin, turning your head, left and right, and your lips quivered, your jaw twitching, your tongue wanting to retreat back into your mouth.

“Keep your mouth open,” he snapped, and you flinched at the harsh tone.

Doing as he told you, you felt tears burning up in your eyes, your pulse droning in your ears. Drool gathered on your tongue, but you didn't dare do anything about it. With one hand still on your chin, he raised his other hand and started poking at your lips, trailing them with his index finger, before he placed the same finger on your tongue, moving your head so he could take a deeper look into your mouth. It felt so weird, and yet you were paralyzed by it all, unable to protest.

“I gotta say, doll,” he said when he added his middle finger into your mouth, both digits rubbing roughly over your tongue, pushing deeper. “I am really impressed. You've barely put up any fight so far. Almost seems as if you want this, huh?”

His eyes met yours, and you felt a strange sensation crashing down your spine, cold shivers that gathered scorching hot between your thighs. A smile grazed his handsome features, and it would have distracted you if he hadn't pushed his fingers against the back of your throat, making you gag and jerk against him. His hand curled around your throat, holding you in place as spit and bile filled your mouth, dripping past his fingers. You felt dizzy.

“We gotta work on your gag reflex,” he said quietly, more to himself, while his fingertips kept teasing at the back of your throat, tickling another uncontrollable convulsion out of you. He sighed and pulled his hand back. “As much as I like a sloppy mess, you have to control yourself around me,” he added, rubbing his spit slick fingers over your cheeks. “We'll start your throat training after your inspection, don't worry. You will be a good fuckdoll for me, won't you?”

You stared at him, still lightheaded, but now also terrified at whatever he had planned with you. He gently slapped his hand over your lips, forcing your mouth closed. You swallowed instinctively, your heart fluttering.

He let go then, stepped back and turned towards a table you hadn't noticed before. While you remained standing on the platform of the scale, shaking from the exertions, you heard the clinking of metal. Breathing harder through your nose, you closed your eyes for a second, trying to center yourself, to calm down. Nothing you could do anyway.

“Tell me, did I save you from a boring life, doll?” he asked over his shoulder, still rummaging through a variety of tools you couldn't see.

You frowned, blinking your eyes into focus as you stared at his broad back. Save me? you wondered, your mind racing. You forced me into... whatever this is, manipulated me to sign a fucking contract, took advantage of me, used me... As the first tear fell from your lashes, you looked down, breathing harder. You might have had a boring life, but you never wanted this. How dare he –

Suddenly he was back, his hand grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze up, making you stumble and gasp. His gaze was dark, eyebrows knitted, an angry scowl on his lips.

“You want this,” he hissed, and your eyes widened as you feared he might be able to read your mind. “I knew it the moment you begged me, so submissively on your knees, desperate for my guidance. You need this, doll, you need a strong hand. Don't worry about your old life now, that's in the past. I took care of it. You are mine now,” he added, leaning closer until you felt his hot breath on your quivering lips. “And I decide what I'll do with you. It's my right, you gave me your life, remember?” A dry laugh escaped him. “Well, don't worry if you don't, it doesn't matter. Your new life is with me, as my servant, my cute little fuckdoll, hm? Aren't you? Say it!” he suddenly yelled, the volume of his voice causing you to flinch.

More tears spilled down your cheeks, a panicked little sob gurgling in your sore throat. “Y-yes,” you gasped out, and his gaze darkened even more, his fingers tightening around your jaw, bruising it. “M-master,” you quickly added, your eyes flicking nervously over his hard face, looking for the things he wanted you to say. “I... I am your... your fuckdoll...”

The words stung, the realization of what you were hitting you low in your stomach, making it hard to breathe.

“That's right,” he said, quieter again, almost soft, his hand easing down your jaw to curl around your throat, pushing against the tight collar. “My little fuckdoll. You know what that means? I will use you whenever I want, however I want. I will make you scream and I will make you cum. Everything you do is in my hands now. I decide for you. If I want to strap you to a fucking machine and leave you there for the day, I will do so. If I want to see your pretty tears, I will spank you until your ass is bright red and you won't be able to sit for a week. If I want one of my pets to shove her hand into your tight cunt, I will arrange it. And you will let it happen, all of it. Won't you, doll?”

You were shaking badly now, the images he painted tightening the knot in your guts. Cold misery filled your throat like bile, your heart clenching, your lips wobbling. But you held his dark gaze, issued the tiniest of nods, as you croaked out another “yes, master”, and with that confirmation came a strange calm, a numbness, defeat. You were his to play with, and there was nothing you could do about it. You had no idea where you were, how to get out, how to even get past the tall man staring down at you. He was too strong, his realm of pain and depravity like a labyrinth you were stuck in, and you just knew there wouldn't be an exit anyway.

You were not a fighter, and while it had hurt to hear him say that, he was right. Maybe you wanted this after all. To be used, to be guided, to have a purpose? No worries, just... sex in whatever form he threw at you, just servitude? Your life for him?

“Alright,” he broke the moment, his palm rubbing along your wet cheek before he slapped it playfully. You flinched. “I'm not done inspecting you. There's still so much to be done before you can fully service me, you know?”

You inhaled sharply, swallowing hard, trying to push the thoughts away. Focus on him. Or on your own survival. Maybe both? Maybe – Your thoughts were once again interrupted when he hooked his finger into the hoop on your collar and pulled you forward, and you stumbled, gasping for air as the wide leather band cut into your neck. He shoved you against another table, your stomach hitting the hard edge, causing you to groan quietly.

“Bend over and put your hands on your ass cheeks,” he instructed. “Pull yourself open for me.”

Shame crashed through you, a different kind of panic crawling down your spine. But you did what he told you, you leaned against the table and bent forwards until your breasts were squished between your body and the cold surface, and your hands moved slowly behind you, shaking badly, but you managed to place them like he had said. You forced yourself to keep your mind empty, not to think about the humiliating position, so you inhaled deeply and closed your eyes, your head turned as you rested your cheek on the table, your fingertips digging between your ass cheeks, pulling.

“Good girl,” you heard him say, and the praise was almost enough to distract you from the cold air hitting your puckered hole. Or the cold lube he squirted on your skin that he then rubbed into you until his finger breached your sphincter. You gasped instinctively. “What a pretty ass you have. So tight. Was I your first, hm?” You choked out a confirmation. “How special,” he whispered, poking deeper before pulling his digit back, only to replace it with two.

You strained against the penetration, holding your breath, tensing up against your better judgment. This should be easier now, after having a hook up your ass, his cock and an unrelenting dildo pumping into your depths, but somehow you had recovered, your muscles tight again, having forgotten everything. Good for them, bad for you. His two fingers felt way too much, especially with how he scissored them to stretch your hole. You squirmed slightly on the table, falling from not daring to breathe to panting uncontrollably.

“I'll have one of my pets give you an enema later,” he then said nonchalantly, making it all worse. “I like my toys squeaky clean, you know?”

You could only whimper as he drilled his fingers deeper, poking at your walls. He might have added another one, you couldn't tell, you felt full already, your rim stretching against his knuckles every time he shoved his hand forwards. He repeated the motion for a while, or so it felt, coaxing little gasps and wails out of you when he pushed particularly deep. And suddenly the pressure was gone, his hand pulled back, but then you felt him grabbing your hands, and without fighting it, he made you curl your own fingers into your stretched hole, holding yourself open.

“Look at you, perfect,” he cooed, giving your exposed depths a little poke that made you flinch. “Stay like that,” he then told you, and you felt too embarrassed and helpless to move anyway.

You heard his footsteps echoing through the room while you forced yourself to dissociate. You almost calmed down a little the longer he stayed away, doing whatever he did with those clanking metal objects, but when he returned, you still issued a surprised shriek when he pushed something cold and hard past your fingers and into your ass.

It was long and thin, scraping against your knuckles, and it kept going, delving deep, deeper than his fingers anyway, its smooth surface sliding easily inside, almost soothing with how cold it felt against your warm muscles. He gave it another prod, then loosened the grip of your fingers. You felt your hole clenching, trying to close around whatever object he had inserted, but when you heard a strange cranking noise, you knew it wouldn't close. Instead he made it move inside you, let it expand, and it felt like it was opening you up even further, those cold metal prongs pressing into your walls, stretching, widening, and the pressure made you whimper.

“Easy, you're doing great,” he said, his voice moving behind you as if he had crouched down to take a closer look at your probably very wide rim and exposed insides. A new wave of shame crashed through you. “Look at that pretty hole. The things I will push inside you,” he sighed, his hand rubbing over your ass cheek before he gave you a sudden slap that made you flinch and clench around the stretching tool in your ass. “And so responsive too. We're gonna have so much fun with your little hole, doll.”

He stood up then, his hands resting on your hips for a moment, fingers digging into soft flesh as he stepped closer, and you could feel the heat of his crotch, the hardness of his bulge, against your sensitive skin. He gave you a little push of his hips, which caused the object stuck inside you to slip deeper, stretching even more of you while your rim puckered up, willing to close but being forced to stay open, the cold metal slowly warming up. A long breath slipped past your tingling lips.

“Hmm? You like that?” he whispered, folding himself over you, repeating the hip thrust, pressing you onto the hard table until your breasts started hurting from his weight. “I can mold you however I want,” he said quietly, his breath ghosting your ear. “I could make you my anal slut, would you like that? We could just ignore your little cunt, maybe I'll give you a chastity belt? Or just tape it shut? Do you want to be denied, doll? Or maybe you'll learn to come from anal alone, wouldn't that be the dream?”

His voice was so soft, but his words were vile, and you alternated between hot and cold shivers, your cunt clenching when it was mentioned, your ass tightening around the object inside it, while your stomach fluttered and your heart skipped a beat.

“But you just arrived here, didn't you?” he continued, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You're still fresh. Would be a shame to deny any of your holes. Don't worry, doll, I'll use all of you. From your tight little ass to your beautiful cunt to your throat, you will service me with all you have.”

He leaned back then, giving you another push that made you gasp, before you felt his fingers between your ass cheeks, fumbling with the object stuck deep inside you. He poked around a little, then slowly pulled it back, without cranking it back to its original size. It was much bigger now then when it had entered you, and you strained, groaned as the hard metal caught on your rim, stretched it further than before, and your muscles ached, screamed, while you forced yourself to remain quiet, your hands finding purpose on your thighs, fingernails digging into your skin.

Eventually it popped out, and the loss of pressure was such a relief that you sighed audibly. “Look at that gape,” you heard him say after he put the object away with a clank. “Beautiful. Now, clench for me, come on,” he added, and you were confused, you thought you'd already clenched, but your muscles didn't seem to respond very well just yet. “I said, clench!” he repeated a little louder, harsher, and before you could follow through with another attempt, he slapped his hand down on your ass cheek, so hard you were shoved firmer against the table, and a squeak escaped you, then a scream when he did it again, and again. Your skin was burning, tight and bruised, when he finally stopped, the echo of his slaps still resounding in your head, your whole body shaking badly.

You rested your entire weight on your torso, your breasts aching, your legs too weak to support you anymore. “There we go,” his voice tried to push through the droning of your pulse in your ears. “Nice and tight again, hm?” He slammed his hand down one more time, this time between your burning ass cheeks, right against your swollen hole. Another scream ripped from your throat.

Suddenly he pulled you up, and you stumbled against him, your hands clawing at his clothes to find any kind of support. He grabbed your throat and held you up, and with how wobbly your legs were, you rested all your weight into that grip, quickly realizing how stupid that was when you started choking, your lungs burning, dark spots dancing at the edge of your blurring vision. Before you could faint, he curled his free arm around your chest and hoisted you up a little, and you sighed and gasped, raspy breaths filling your lungs.

You blinked, dizzy and disoriented, and the next thing you knew, you were sitting on the chair you had wondered about earlier. It was a strange chair, your legs were raised and strapped to leather padded stirrups, your ass hung off the edge of the seat (fortunately, because it was still tight and hurting from his spanking), and your wrists were secured in thick bindings. There was even a strap pressing into your sternum, keeping your shoulders in place. You couldn't move if you wanted to.

And you were glad you couldn't, because suddenly the seat moved and you were reclined backwards and lifted up, and you realized he was sitting on a stool between your wide spread legs, your cunt right on display, inches away from his face. You had no idea this was even possible, but you felt yet another wave of humiliation, and the worst thing, it created these strange tingles low in your body, muscles that shouldn't be clenching, warmth that shouldn't settle.

“Huh, is my little fuckdoll excited?” he commented on the wetness you felt dripping from your cunt. “Aren't you special. I knew you were the right choice.”

His words made you frown, but you decided to ignore them and stare at the white ceiling instead. Nothing else you could do about this anyway. You certainly didn't want to be aroused by all this, but your body was betraying you, and even more so when you felt his hands rubbing along your inner thighs, causing them to twitch in their restraints.

“Before we do anything else, let me take a look at you,” he said, his warm breath so close to your core you couldn't help but clench harder around nothing.

You expected him to insert another object into your cunt, like a doctor would to spread you open and take a look at your insides, like that thing that had been in your ass, but instead he used his fingers, first one, then two, before he hooked them into you and pulled your cunt open. You heard him inhale deeply, and while a deep blush crashed over your face, he suddenly blew into you, making you gasp and flinch, straining against your bindings. A low chuckle escaped him, while you turned your head away in shame.

He kept his fingers inside you, stretched your hole wider, and you could only imagine how he hovered in front of your spread pussy, possibly looking all the way to your cervix. You were too hot and bothered and frankly still ashamed to react in any way, and you could barely issue a little mewl when he removed his fingers and rubbed his palm over your wet labia. When he focused on your clit though, you were forced back into focus with a literal slap.

The sting was imminent, the throbbing pain shooting through your entire body, and he did it again, his flat hand straight to your hooded clit, and not a gentle tap but a real slap, powerful, painful, once, twice, and you wailed, winced, gasped. The worst thing about it? It only made you wetter, and he noticed. His hand moved lower, and when he spanked your pussy, the squelching noise made you sob in embarrassment.

He didn't comment on it, though, instead he slid his fingers along your slit and up under the hood of your clit, and when he gently tugged on your soft flesh and exposed that sensitive bundle of nerves, all you could do was hold your breath, unsure what came next. You didn't expect to feel his warm mouth, his hot tongue poking at the throbbing bud, and the instant twitch it caused in your restrained legs. He kept at it, almost carefully closing his lips around your clit, prodding it, licking it, but then he sucked, and you cried out as the lights exploded behind your eyelids.

He leaned back instantly, his fingers slipping between your folds and into your weeping core, and as he started pumping them in and out fast, his other hand went down on your clit, tapping it, slapping it, harder with each thrust of his hand, and you convulsed in the chair, gasping soundlessly, unable to move, but the twitches had to be released as you felt that tension snapping apart like a coil bursting under the pressure. You came hard, and he kept fingerfucking you through it, until you heard those wet squelches growing louder, and you felt the contractions, the fluttering of your walls, your hips jerking, pumping, as you squirted uncontrollably around his fingers.

It kept going, and he kept going, shoving his digits deep, curling them, stimulating all the sensitive spots inside you, bullying every inch of your cunt, coaxing more and more squirts out of you, and while you could only whine and whimper and cry, held back by the leather straps keeping you in place, you quickly felt exhaustion washing over you, overstimulated as you were, with each jerk of his wrist the tension within you built up again, and again, muscles tightening before they fluttered, pussy pulsing, clit throbbing, pain and pleasure mixing in a way you'd never known before.

Somehow his voice made it through the haze in your head. “What a good cunt, look at you, what a show. I bet you could make a good amount of money like this. My perfect little fuckdoll is such a great squirter too, beautiful. I'll make sure to share your talent with whoever pays the right sum, don't worry.”

With your mind slipping and your body shutting down under the constant assault, you still wished you were too far gone to register his words, especially the ones coming next (because he had the ability to always make it worse).

“But that's enough attention for your cunt. Let's get you ready for your enema now, shall we?”

Chapter 5+6 🔻 Chapter 7 🔺 Chapter 8

End notes: Yup, the topic of the next chapter is indeed enemas as we venture further into the "things I've always found strangely fascinating and always wanted to write about even though I know barely anything about them" territory. Strap in (Reader will be)!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

78 notes · View notes

a-bit-of-writing · 3 days ago

Text

How They React to a Shy Reader {Karlach, Astarion & Gale}

This is a reader request featuring these three characters. As the title implies, this is my take how these three would react to a shy reader.

Karlach

When Karlach first meets you, you're quiet, hesitant, unsure where to place yourself in this loud, unpredictable world.

“Hey there, soldier! What’s your name? C’mon, don’t be shy – I don’t bite!”

You mumble your name. Eyes down. She immediately clocks you as someone who’s probably used to being overlooked or overwhelmed.

“Aw, you’re like a little mouse. It’s okay. No pressure! You can talk when you’re ready. I’ll just keep being loud over here until you feel like jumping in!”

She gives you space without leaving you behind. She never forces you to speak, but she makes it very clear you’re welcome.

Karlach’s energy is usually at a 10 but with you? She instinctively dials it back a little.

When the campfire is quiet, she’ll sit beside you without demanding conversation.

“Mind if I hang here? Silence isn’t so bad when you’ve got good company.”

When you flinch at loud arguments or step back from crowded fights, she notices and she subtly positions herself between you and the chaos.

“Hey, I got you. Just stick close to me, yeah? Nobody messes with my crew.”

The first time you voluntarily join a conversation? She beams like you’ve just pulled off a critical hit.

“Oh YEAH! Look who’s chiming in! Get in here!”

She fist bumps you. She ruffles your hair (if you let her). She absolutely makes a huge, joyful deal about it. Not to embarrass you, but because she’s genuinely proud of you.

She sees you becoming more comfortable over time – offering small jokes, shy smiles, maybe even light teasing – and every time, she meets you with big Karlach energy.

“Look at you, being all bold now! I knew you had it in ya!”

Anyone who tries to talk over you? Anyone who dismisses you? Oh, they won’t do it twice.

“Hey! They were talking. You got something to say? Say it to both of us.”

She is ferociously protective of your voice.

She encourages you to speak up but if you’re not ready, she has no problem speaking for you.

“They don’t wanna deal with your crap right now. Move along.”

Karlach knows you’re capable of more – even if you don’t believe it yet. She’ll nudge you toward the front when a situation’s safe, letting you try things first, but she never abandons you.

“Wanna take the lead on this one? I’m right behind you, promise.”

When you succeed? She celebrates like you just won a world championship.

“YES! Look at you GO! You’re a total badass, you know that?”

When you finally initiate a hug, Karlach absolutely freezes for a second, then scoops you up in the warmest, safest bear hug imaginable.

“Aw, come here! Took you long enough!”

“Sorry, sorry – am I crushing you? Nah, you’re fine. I could hold you like this all day.”

You: “I think I finally feel… like I belong here.”

Karlach: visibly choked up, voice softening

“Damn right you do. You’re one of us. You always were.”

“And anyone who says otherwise can go through me.”

Astarion

When you first meet Astarion, you can barely meet his eyes, your words trailing off whenever he gets too close.

“Oh my. Are you… blushing? How deliciously precious.”

He thrives on your shyness. At first, it’s all a game to him – a new plaything, a puzzle to prod at.

“Do continue – your flustered silence is simply enchanting.”

But the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes:

You’re not just flustered. You’re genuinely shy. And yet… you keep coming back to him.

“So curious. You’re terrified of me, but you never run away.”

Astarion is used to people either fawning over him or shrinking away completely. You? You’re a strange mix of both – interested but hesitant.

He absolutely teases you:

“Careful, darling, you keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you fancy me.”

“I do so love the sound of your stammering. Truly, it soothes me.”

But he’s shockingly attuned to your limits. He pushes, but never to the point of real discomfort.

When you genuinely freeze up? He pulls back immediately, voice softening.

“Oh now, I didn’t mean to scare you, little dove. Take your time. I can be… patient.”

The first time you make a teasing comment back?

He lights up like it’s his birthday.

“Oh! Oh, there you are! Well done, my sweet.”

He starts looking forward to your little victories:

The way you hold eye contact a little longer

The first time you initiate conversation

When you voluntarily sit beside him at camp

Each moment becomes a small treasure for him.

“I must say, watching you come out of your shell is my new favorite form of entertainment.”

But it’s not just entertainment anymore and that’s what rattles him.

Astarion insists he’s just enjoying the game.

But when someone else talks over you? When someone brushes you aside?

Oh, he immediately intervenes with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“How terribly rude. You’ll address them properly, or you won’t speak at all.”

When you wander too far from camp?

“Tch. Honestly, you’re lucky I was nearby. Do try not to get devoured, my sweet.”

When you freeze in battle?

“Stand behind me. Go on. I’ll handle this one.”

The more you open up, the more Astarion finds himself genuinely invested.

He’ll even let his guard down with you:

Casual touches linger a little longer.

His flirtations become less performative, more gently sincere.

He’s still dramatic, of course:

“Careful, darling. I might start thinking you’re actually fond of me.”

But there’s a softness in the way he says it now.

The first time you hold his gaze without flinching?

He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? Staring now, are we? My, my. Who taught you such wickedness?”

You: nervous but determined “I guess I’m learning from the best.”

He falters. Just for a moment.

“Tch. Be careful, sweet thing. I might just make you my favorite.”

When you finally initiate contact

Maybe you gently touch his hand. Maybe you lean into his side at the campfire.

He stills – completely.

“Oh. Well… isn’t this lovely.”

“…I suppose I can tolerate this. For a little while longer.”

(He absolutely doesn’t move away.)

Gale

When you first meet Gale, you’re quiet, hesitant, almost visibly folding into yourself.

Gale notices immediately but he doesn’t comment on it. He simply adjusts, lowering his voice, softening his presence.

“Ah, no need to rush, my friend. I shall simply... enjoy the quiet until you’re ready to share more of yourself.”

He offers his hand to help you over rough paths. He gives you the first serving of camp stew. He never pushes.

His patience is genuine – it’s not a tactic. He simply likes your company, even in silence.

Gale has a natural tendency to explain, to elaborate, to narrate but with you?

He watches carefully to make sure you’re not getting overwhelmed.

“If I prattle on too much, you’ll tell me, won’t you? I’d hate to drown out that lovely quiet voice of yours.”

When you offer small contributions, soft jokes, or hesitant opinions, he listens as if you’ve just shared something extraordinary.

“Oh, what a marvelous point. You’re quite sharp, aren’t you?”

“I do hope you’ll share more of those thoughts with me.”

The first time you voluntarily engage in a lively discussion? He beams like you’ve just solved an ancient riddle.

“Oh, splendid! You’re joining in! I was beginning to worry you’d leave me to monologue all by myself.”

Every little step – whether it’s joining camp banter, cracking a small joke, or asking about magic – he celebrates with genuine warmth, but never in a way that draws too much attention to you.

He carefully avoids embarrassing you. His joy is for you to see, not for the crowd.

He finds your shyness endearing, but his curiosity grows the more you reveal.

“You hold back so much, yet what you do share… well, I find myself treasuring it.”

He loves the little things:

The way you fidget with your sleeves when nervous

The way your eyes light up when you do talk about something you love

The soft humor that peeks through when you’re comfortable

He might casually invite you to stargaze, to teach you simple spells, to offer safe spaces where you can open up at your own pace.

“I thought you might enjoy a quieter moment. The world does tend to be a bit… loud, doesn’t it?”

Gale never swoops in to speak for you but he notices when others try to talk over you.

He redirects conversations, clears space for you to speak, and offers gentle encouragement with small nods or phrases like:

“I believe our friend had something to say?”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

In battle, he always keeps an eye on you – positioning himself nearby, subtly adjusting the formation to ensure you’re safe.

“You’re quite capable, but humor me – I prefer to keep you in my line of sight.”

You: softly “Could you… maybe teach me that spell?”

Gale: visibly delighted

“Why, of course! Oh, this will be grand. We’ll make a proper magician of you yet.”

He immediately offers you the safest, most beautiful cantrip because he wants you to feel empowered, not overwhelmed.

You: shy but growing bolder “You do love hearing yourself talk, huh?”

Gale: mock scandalized

“What? Me? Perish the thought! I simply… appreciate a well-spun sentence.”

But oh, he is so proud of you for saying it. He practically radiates joy.

#my: stories #my: headcanons #fandom: baldur’s gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 #baldur’s gate gale #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur’s gate karlach #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 karlach #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #karlach x reader #astarion x reader #gale x reader

143 notes · View notes

everyones-doormat · 1 day ago

Text

BETWEEN VISITS

masterlist | kang sae-byeok x reader

synopsis: you volunteer at the children’s shelter. sae-byeok only drops by for her brother, always keeping her distance. but over time, things slowly begin to change.

genre: angst, fluff

You volunteer at the children’s shelter four days a week. Mostly just arts and crafts, some tutoring, a little cooking when someone forgets to prep dinner. It’s not glamorous or anything, but it helps.

You’d heard from the coordinator that Cheol’s case was special. He escaped from the North, no documentation, no permanent guardian, just a sister. Apparently she’s barely older than a kid herself. Theres no photo of her on file, or intake interview, only a name scribbled at the bottom of a transfer form.

You didn’t expect her to be so beautiful.

—

You learnt her name the usual way, through filed documents, whispered conversations, bits and pieces of staff gossip while restocking paper towels in the supply closet.

“Kang Sae-byeok, she crossed with her brother a few months ago,” another volunteer murmured beside you, handing over another box.

You pause. “How old is she?”

“I’m not sure—nineteen, maybe? She doesn’t talk much, just keeps to herself,” they paused, breathing a small laugh, “Cold as hell,” they froze, looking down, “I mean, understandably.”

You nod, unsure what else to say.

—

You don’t speak to her for the first two weeks. But you always wave when you see her.

Sometimes she watches you hand out juice boxes to the kids.

Sometimes she sits on the stairwell outside the art room door, chewing her thumbnail like she wants to disappear into the wall.

Sometimes she stares straight at you like you’re the one being strange.

She never waves back.

She’s not officially a resident, but Cheol is. He stays in one of the youth dorms while she worked whatever jobs she could find. Maybe delivery or some other kind of late night work.

She came and went like a ghost. She’d come it bringing him food, checking his homework, or just to see him.

She never spoke to the staff.

But you noticed her noticing you.

Every time you walked in, her eyes found you. When the kids begged for storytime, she watched. When one of the girls hugged you and wouldn’t let go, you caught Sae-byeok staring from across the room, her mouth tight like she didn’t know how to process softness when it isn’t transactional.

—

The first time she speaks to you, it’s because she thought you crossed a line.

You’re hauling a box of donated clothes down the hallway when she steps in front of you, blocking your path with the same silent intensity she always carries.

“What did you say to him?”

You blink, confused and a little stunned. “…To Cheol?”

She steps closer, jaw sharp, “He said you asked about our family.”

You frown. “I didn’t—” you pause, “I only asked what he liked drawing.”

She stares at you with hard eyes, like she’s trying to catch you in a lie.

You sigh. “Look, I’m not a caseworker, I just volunteer. Handing out stickers and doing finger paintings, that’s my jurisdiction.”

A long moment passes, her jaw slowly relaxing.

“…Sorry,” she mutters, voice barely audible.

You nod, “It’s okay.”

She doesn’t say anything else, just walks past you after that, her shoulders tight, head down.

—

The next time she speaks to you, it’s a week later. You're on the floor of the common room, helping a group of kids build a crooked cardboard rocket. Cheol’s nearby, frowning hard as he tries to glue the fins on straight.

You’re mid-sentence saying something about being careful, when a shadow moves behind you.

You glance up.

She’s there.

She not looking at you, but watching Cheol. She standing close, close enough that you hear your own breath hitch before you cover it up with a cough.

Cheol doesn’t see her, he’s too focused, his tongue poking out in concentration.

She shifts her weight, her hands in her pockets, still not looking at you. “You’re good with him.”

You tilt your head to face her, “With Cheol?”

She nods once.

“I like him,” you say.

She doesn’t answer, just watches the rocket take shape.

You don’t say anything else, you don’t want to break the moment.

The room is loud—scissors clattering, someone crying over glitter, and too many kids shouting over each other—but the space between you stays quiet.

“Why do you come here?” she asks, blunt, but not suspicious.

You look up again, “To the shelter?”

Another nod..

You think about it for a second, “Because someone should.”

That makes her look at you, she studies your face like she’s trying to figure out if that’s a line or if you actually mean it.

You hold her gaze.

After a few seconds, she looks away again.

She doesn’t say anything else, but she stays until the rocket’s done. And when Cheol turns around, proudly holding it up, she reaches out to adjust the crooked fin for him without saying a word.

When he runs off to show someone, she watches him go.

Without turning your way, she mutters, “thanks.”

You don’t ask what for, you just nod.

—

She doesn’t talk to you again for a while. But something shifts.

She starts to lingering after coming to see Cheol. Not every time, just enough that you start noticing.

Some days she leans against the door. Other days she leans against the windowsill during storytime, pretending not to listen while kids yell out wrong guesses about what comes next.

You keep waving when you see her.

She still doesn’t wave back.

Until one Thursday night, after dinner, when the room is half-empty and the floor is sticky with spilled juice, you feel her watching again.

You’re wiping down a table. You don’t look up until you hear her voice.

“You always clean up by yourself?” her voice is low, even.

You glance over. She’s leaning against the door, sleeves shoved halfway up.

You shrug, “Depends, sometimes Cheol helps. But only if I bribe him with extra dessert.”

Her mouth twitches.

She glances over at her brother, he curled on the floor with marker, drawing what looks like a lopsided rocket.

“He listens to you more than he listens to me.”

You shake your head, “He looks up to you.”

She doesn’t answer, just keeps watching him.

But then she asks, “Do you have siblings?”

You pause, surprised, “Yeah l have one older sister.”

She nods.

You wait a beat, “You?”

Her jaw shifts slightly, “Just Cheol.”

You nod, “Right.”

Deciding the change the subject, you toss cloth into the bin, and lean back against the counter. “You don’t usually stick around this long.”

“I had time.”

After a moment, she glances toward the kids. Cheol is laughing, doubled over with someone’s hoodie tied around his head like a cape.

After a while, she says, “Why do you really come here so much?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, l guess l wanted to help out.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

You wipe your hand on your jeans, “I mean, at first it was just something to do. But… the longer I stayed, the more it felt like I should. Like maybe if I could make this place easier for someone, even for a couple hours, that was enough.”

She doesn’t interrupt, just watches you with that blank expression.

You add, quieter, “The kids make it easy to stay.”

Her gaze drifts back to her brother. “You’re patient with them,” she says.

You smile a little, “They’re easier than adults.”

She hums like she agrees.

After a beat of silence you clear your throat, nodding towards the fridge. “Want to help me bribe your brother?”

She raises a brow, “With what?”

“There’s one muffin left.”

She shakes her head, “He won’t go for just one.”

“He’s eight, he’s easy.”

She starts walking toward the kitchen, but stops, glancing back over her shoulder.

“He’s nine.”

Then she disappears around the corner.

You smile to yourself.

The next time you wave to her in passing, she twitches her fingers in return.

It’s not a full wave, but it’s close enough.

new mini series perhaps??

taglist: @monkey4lifer , @ikalyyy, @bleedingwhiteroses222 , @chaotic-luvrs, @starfire21, @saeshairtie, @katieschry1

#kang sae byeok #sae byeok x reader #kang sae byeok x reader #squid game #kang saebyeok #sae byeok #kang saebyeok x reader #kang sae byeok squid game #squid game fanfic #fanfic #067 x reader #player 067

107 notes · View notes

honeymoonjinmain · 2 days ago

Text

namgyu x reader 𖹭 hyunju x reader || 17.7k

It takes at least twenty dead people before you acknowledge that this isn't a regular gameshow. Now, you have to decide who to align yourself with before you're the next to be eliminated.

001 - 13.5k || Six Legs - 9.7k || One More Game - 17.7k || O X || Ao3 link

cw: nsfw mdni, canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content in later chapters (we're getting there i promise) but sexual references in this one, 'namgyu being manipulative' should just be the baseline going forward, drug use an: thank you for the love on this fic, i had SUCH a damn blast writing this chapter and i hope you enjoy reading it just as much <3

One More Game

The gun fires, and you get up on your knees for a better view as Hyunju chants their forward march to the first station. It’s the young girl who reaches out for a ddakji square, and you can hear the rush of blood in your ears as you watch her fail time and time again.

“What are you doing?” the lady shrills. “Pick it up and throw it!” Beside her, Yongsik desperately holds a finger to his lips, but she’s already spooked 095, whose hands shake violently as she raises the blue tile again.

You see Hyunju speaking quietly to her, and the girl adjusts her grip on the tile, before sending it down.

While you can’t see the outcome itself, the immediate outburst of cheers paired with the overhead PA confirming the success douses you in a cold flush of relief.

Hyunju cuts their celebrations short to focus on moving to the next station. You glance up at the clock. Still a good four minutes left. They move efficiently, but their good spirits evaporate when Yongsik misses the first stone throw.

Cries of triumph and defeat ring out from the other side of the room, but your eyes don’t leave your friends for a second.

Efficiently, they march forwards, bend to let him pick up the small slab of rock, and retrace their steps backwards. Behind the line again, you see Yongsik holding the rock aloft, scared to make the throw. His mother speaks to him, but you can’t read her lips well enough to follow along.

He reels his arm back, and with a loud curse, lets the stone fly. You’re so worried about how far away it’s going to fly if he misses that it takes you a second to process their victorious cries. From beside you, Thanos and Namgyu erupt into screams so loud it’s like they’re the ones that have passed. You can’t make a sound.

The team moves forward. They’re moving much closer to your area of the circle, and it’s almost impossible to force yourself to remain in place and not distract them. You hear the low voices of Namgyu and Thanos discussing something, and you have half a mind to tell them to be quiet.

Instead, you squint as they reach stage three, with Geumja playing gonggi. The clock ticks down mercilessly; just over three minutes with just as many stations to go. The older woman begins tossing and catching the colourful plastic stones, and you scoot forward a little to see how she performs at your chosen game.

On the first round, she fumbles, but quickly composes herself and begins again. Taking note of the order she chooses to pick the stones up in, you let out an anxious sigh when another stone falls from her grasp further into the game.

“Old hag!” the woman cries. “What are you-?” Her voice is cut off with a squeak as Hyunju swiftly clamps a hand over her mouth, another on the back of her head to keep her hold in place. Only when she stops whining in complaint does Hyunju remove her hands.

Even with the heightened stress within and around you, Hyunju’s domineering act builds heat between your legs. As you tighten your thighs and shift on your knees, you wonder if she would’ve done the same to you if you had spoken out of turn in her team.

Beside her, however, the game continues. You see Geumja has all five pebbles resting on the back of her hands. Yongsik mutters something in her ear and her face steels. “You hussy,” she curses, “you disgusting rotten whore!”

With one deft flick, she sends the pebbles in the air and swings her hand around to catch, revealing a complete handful to the guard. Once the pass is confirmed, the whole room cheers around you.

Carefully, the five get back on their feet, and yet again it’s Hyunju keeping them all on track. By the time they reach the fourth station, they have less than two minutes left. You twist around in position to see the dark-eyed women twisting the rope around the base of the spinning top. You frown. That’s not…

Namgyu scoffs. “Lunatic doesn’t even know how to wind it up right.”

Fear has made you snappy, and you turn to him sharply. “What did I fucking say?”

This time, he doesn’t back down, tilting his head in challenge. “Your friends are all gonna die because you left them with that old witch for us. You must really like me,” he jibes with a shit-eating grin.

Irritation bubbles up within you, but a glance at the clock shows they have less than a minute left, and so you ignore him completely to stare wide-eyed at the lady who has stopped trying completely. Her lips move, desperately rising in volume with each word. “The gods have left us to die! The gods are going to let us die, we’re all-”

Get again, player 044 is interrupted by Hyunju. This time, it’s with a sharp smack to one cheek, followed by a heavy backhand to the other. The whole room gasps; you do as well, but for an entirely different reason.

She bends down to pick the spinning top up herself, gripping the woman by the jacket so she can hold the sharp spindle close to her face threateningly. Hyunju seems full of contradiction; you’ve seen her flustered at small doses of praise, cool and collected when guiding you and her team, and now… As she darkly swears to kill the woman herself if she gives up on them, you decide this might be your new favourite side of her.

For her part, the woman wipes the blood from her dripping nose away and focuses in, swiftly twisting up the string and letting the top fly. You could cry watching it spin so beautifully, but as the team celebrate and keep moving forward, your eyes catch the clock.

Less than thirty seconds left, and they’d yet to even arrive at Hyunju’s station.

“Knock knock,” Namgyu murmurs under his breath to Thanos. “Oh, hello, 500 million.” The rapper snickers as Namgyu lets out a languid puff of air. In a flash of desperation, you turn to lunge at him, shoving his shoulder to knock him back. “What the fuck?” he complains in shock.

“If you can’t stay silent for thirty fucking seconds,” you hiss, “I’ll strangle you and get this whole team killed.”

If you weren’t on the verge of having a heart attack, you might find a sliver of irony in the way he reaches down to fiddle with the waistband of his sweatpants with a laboured breath. Instead, you’ve already spun back around anxiously to watch the fifth station.

Everyone stands up; in a rush, you do too and begin physically pushing your way through the crowd. Twenty seconds.

The guard hands Hyunju a shuttlecock laden with metallic streamers. He holds up his open hand as the voice overheard instructs her to kick the jegi five times.

To your surprise, Hyunju hastily requests her teammates look away. The whole team joins in with her to get the rapt crowd to look away too.

You flip around hastily, frantically gesturing at those moving too slowly. Above you, another clock. Fifteen seconds.

The previous cheers have fallen silent as you all rely on the rhythmic swoosh and tap of the jegi on her shoe. One, two, three, four, five.

“Success.”

You’re so relieved you could scream, and you hear the team themselves crying out in celebration too, but the numbers ahead remain steadily blinking down. Seven seconds.

Turning back around, you shout so loudly your voice scratches its way out. “Go! Keep going!”

Five seconds. You can’t look at the time anymore.

They move steadily towards the finish line, and you frown as they grow blurred in front of you. Distantly, you realise you’re crying, and you hastily wipe them away to keep your sights on them.

Those last few seconds feel like an eternity, and when the ribbon finally splits down the middle and the crowd erupts into unfettered triumph, you feel like you’re going to have a heart attack. Uncaring of who you knock on the way past, you rush forward, skidding to a stop as an armed guard steps directly in front of you. Behind him, the team continues shouting and jumping in victory, and you’re pissed at the interruption.

“Listen,” you growl, “I’m not interacting with a team playing the game, am I? They already passed it. I’m not breaking your bullshit rules.” The wet sheen of tears on your face probably don’t strike a very threatening image, but after a pause, the guard steps aside.

You don’t hesitate to run ahead, almost knocking Hyunju over with the force at which you grab onto her.

“Hey, hey,” you hear her soothe, hands rubbing your upper arms. “We made it, we’re okay. We’re okay.” Her face is flushed and practically glowing with the relief of making it through the second game.

“I was so scared. Shit, Hyunju, I was fucking terrified.”

“I’m sad I won’t be there to cheer you on,” she admits with a rueful smile, letting out a cleansing exhale once a guard finally comes along to remove the cuff binding her to player 044. “But I know you’ll do just fine.”

You force yourself to ignore the sick dread pooling in your stomach. “Of course. I just learnt from the best.”

Hyunju straightens up to give you a pleased smile. “You’re going to play jegi?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff playfully, “I was talking about Geumja.”

You’re rewarded with the warm sound of Hyunju’s laughter as the woman herself comes up to you. “There you are, dear. All of this is a bit much for my nerves, you know. I’m looking forward to your ox bone soup, young lady.”

Once again, the two of you share a tight hug, but before long the stoic guards are ushering the five out of the game hall. The vast majority of your high spirits leave with them, as you are again faced with the reality of needing to survive the ordeal yourself.

Wiping the last of your drying tears away, you drag your feet all the way back to where your own team is sitting. Semi and Minsu greet you with silent nods as you arrive. Namgyu is listening in while Thanos bitches about taking his pill too soon, but looks up as you approach.

He swipes across his nose and stares at you from beneath his lashes, leaning back on his hands.

You take a deep breath at his uncharacteristic silence. “I was a little aggressive just before.” The half-apology feels stilted, but you don’t want to be on his bad side when your life depends on his cooperation.

“Mhm.” Namgyu languishes in it, upper teeth dragging over his lower lip. He cuts your gaze only to make sure Thanos is watching. He doesn’t give you anything else, content to let the moment drag out as long as it needs to.

With a huff, you try to ignore the rapper as he chuckles and pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Listen,” you continue, “I apologise. I was just worried about my friends, and you weren’t helping.”

He pretends to consider this, eyes rolling playfully up at the ceiling before he sighs and looks back at you. “Poor apology for someone who threatened to assault me.”

Semi speaks up lowly. “Hey, knock it off.”

“Mind your own fucking business,” he snarls without so much as looking at her. His gaze is still trapped on you. “Has nobody ever told you ‘words hurt?’”

“‘Words hurt?’” You blink at him in disbelief. “You beat up someone yesterday!” Nothing. “Weren’t you telling me just this morning that you were a forgiving guy?” you try at last.

Like you’ve said the magic words, his eyes gleam and he perks up. “That is true,” Namgyu croons. He sweeps a hand over the sand between him and Minsu, brushing some loose pebbles away. “Sit.”

Following his order both outwardly embarrasses you and secretly excites you. Once you settle back down, arms clasped around your legs, Thanos lets out a few slow claps.

“My team, I love you. Like a movie, man,” he compliments Namgyu with a rough clap on the shoulder. “Like fucking, fucking cinematic shit, bro.” You flinch as a single gunshot kicks off the next race; you hadn’t even realised the next set of players were ready. Thanos doesn’t spare them a look, too hyped up. “We’re gonna win, we’re gonna get so fucking rich, like Admiral Lee Sung. Don’t matter if we die, my rap lives on forever.”

“Yi-Sun,” Namgyu corrects, concealing a huff of irritation, before a self-satisfied grin stretches across his face. “Plus we get our bonus from MG Coin. He better fucking survive.”

Thanos frowns, brows pinched together and a childish pout. Peeking out from around Namgyu, he lifts his chin up at you in a single nod. “You do crypto?”

A surprised scoff comes out unbidden. “As if.”

“Well, if you do,” he carries on blithely, voice hushed like he’s imparting some life-changing advice, “stay away from MG Coin. Shit’s a scam.” His eyes snake through the crowd around you until he points at somebody further down with a derisive grunt. “That motherfucker there. I was legit before he stole all my money.”

You follow his aim to be greeted by the same player he’d been openly attacking in the dormitory yesterday. Player 333 sports a slight black eye on his pretty face, and while his teammates talk animatedly around him, he’s quietly watching the players on the track.

“Well, next time I go to make poor financial decisions, I’ll be sure to run them by you first.”

Thanos seems to miss the sarcasm in your voice, fist hammering his chest twice with a proud look on his face. His gaze drops slowly to the cross he’s now running his thumb over, clearly debating whether he takes another before his current high wears off.

Between the two of you is Namgyu, who twists around to lean in close to you again. “You know, maybe you should start running all your decisions by us first.” He pats you on the knee condescendingly. “It doesn’t seem like you have very good judgement.”

“Words hurt,” you recite flatly.

With a sigh, he adjusts his position again. Instead of facing you head-on, he swivels back to the front and scoots across to his right until your sides are flush against each other. This way, he only his to tilt his chin towards you slightly before he’s murmuring right in your ear. “Besides,” he cautions, “you’re already at two strikes now. You know that, right? I want us to be on good terms. But you need to start behaving.”

The shouts around you you’ve been slowly managing to tune out suddenly fall away, and you startle as pelts of gunfire fill the air around you. Namgyu starts to chuckle, then pulls away with a single hyena cackle. He doesn’t so much as notice the glares other players give him. “I knew you were a pussy.”

“Shut up,” you mutter weakly, yet you make no move to scoot away from him. His inky gaze remains on your for a few moments longer, before he sighs and watches a new batch of coffins fill up.

Following their path across the sand and back into the hallway they came from, your skin begins to prickle. At first, you can’t work out why, but then it hits you. You only have such a clear line of sight because all the teams in front of you have been and gone.

All of a sudden, you feel like you’re standing at a cliff’s edge. The shaking has returned with a vengeance, moving from your hands to be full body tremors. “The next two teams, get ready to play.”

“Let’s geddit,” Thanos chants, springing to his feet and coming over to yank Minsu up too. “Come on, cutie, time to put our seatbelts on.”

Beside you, Namgyu is still riding whatever high Thanos has put him on. He stands up calmly at first, but then gets swept up in the excitement, grabbing the two other men by the waists to slot himself in between.

You swear under your breath as you force yourself up on trembling legs.

“Hey.” A hand wraps around your wrist and helps lift you up. It’s Semi, who’s managed to bring a kind smile to her pale face. “Let’s get this over with. Anyways,” she says teasingly, “just think of the sweet, sweet promise of a cold, overcooked fried egg for dinner.”

“You’re right, we have so much to live for.”

Semi chuckles. “That’s the spirit.” Just before you join the others to get padlocked in, her eyes dart to Minsu and the way Namgyu is playfully wrestling him. “Are those two… I mean, I know you don’t really know them either. Are they just assholes, or actually dangerous?”

“I’ll let you know when I work it out,” you return apologetically.

Too soon, you’ve reached the starting line where the others are waiting for you, two significantly more enthusiastic than the other. To your relief, your spot in the line-up is beside Semi, although Namgyu is the other player bracketing you.

For a while you stare straight ahead. It’s like they say to those afraid of heights: all you have to do is keep your eyes on the horizon. Don’t look down. The first station is just up and around the start of the curve. A guard there waits with two tiles.

As you follow the track around, your eyes end up crossing paths with Daeho. He sits right at the back of the dwindling crowd with his team. He gives you a broad smile and two thumbs up. You feel a tug on your leg, and Daeho’s eyes drop.

Before you can hold back, you look down.

The first word that comes to mind to describe the sickly roiling in your stomach is vertigo. The cuffs your ankles are being locked into feel simultaneously right below your nose and a hundred feet away. The heavy duty metal of the padlocks glint up at you, almost like it’s mocking you, saying this is how you die. At once, your knees give out, and you drop like an anchor.

You land hard on your hands. The pain radiates around the bones in your wrists but it’s such a distant throb that you barely even notice it. It’s all you can do to not break out into hysterics.

When someone crouches down, you’re surprised to look up and see that instead of Semi, it’s Namgyu. He twists awkwardly in the cuffs to try and face you, one hand pulling on your upper arm until you sit up into a squat, and the other snaking around the nape of your neck to make sure you’re looking right at him.

“We don’t have time for this now.” As glossy as your vision has become, you can’t tell if the look he’s giving you is annoyance or concern. “Let’s make a deal. Come on, look at me,” he hisses when your eyes flicker to the guards above. “Let’s make a deal. Whoever passes their station in the fewest tries wins. Whatever you want.”

You sniffle. Who knows how it came so quickly to your stress-addled mind, but you have your answer right away. “You have to personally apologise to MG Coin.”

His face falls in disbelief, lip curling in disgust. “Seriously?”

Above you, the impassive woman on the PA system. “Players, the race is about to begin.”

Semi yanks you up by the arm and asks if you’re good, but your focus is occupied by the man to your right.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he whinges, head lolling back. “Deal.”

Thanos yells out, “we step on one!”

“We step on both numbers, idiot,” Semi calls from across the two of you. Her arm is tight around your shoulders, a steady presence.

Knowing you’re short on time, you quickly lean to whisper in Namgyu’s ear. “What do you get if you win?”

The dark-haired man grins and links your arms together. “You let me see your tits,” he answers immediately.

You reel back in surprise, letting out a weak laugh. “You didn’t even have to think about it.”

“No, I’ve been thinking about it.”

The gun rings out, and Namgyu’s biting down hard on his lip in concentration as Thanos takes the lead in counting out your steps.

Now that the time is started, your fears are slowly hardening into determination, adrenaline taking over. There’s nothing left to do now but survive.

Thanos’ enthusiastic cheering leads you all the way to the first station, where Minsu unnecessarily spends precious seconds debating which colour tile to go for. Semi snatches the red one and passes it to him. “Just like the X patch,” she points out gently. “Get us out of here, Minsu.”

He takes a deep breath, raising his arm, and sends it down. It lands right on top of the blue tile, but doesn’t have enough force to lift it off of the ground.

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” you reassure hastily, “just pick it up and try again.”

He does so with trembling hands. He lets out a single miserable sob before he lifts his hand and tries again. Just like last time, the impact is too weak. He picks it up quickly, but what little confidence he started with has clearly been shaken.

At the end of the line, Thanos laughs. “My boy Minsu wants to stay so bad he’s gonna let us die in here. I knew you didn’t really wanna leave the Thanos world.”

Semi goes to scold the rapper, but Minsu has already flung the red tile down sharply, almost viciously. Seconds stretch out like stop-motion as you all wait with bated breath while the corner of the blue tile rises, rises…

“Success.”

You could scream in joy at the sight of the blue tile flipped on its back, but - more than likely just eager to get to his own station - Thanos wastes no time on celebrations and moves you along to the second one.

Once you stop, you take a moment to look up at the ticking timebomb above you. 03:52 and counting. You lament the extra time Minsu’s failed attempts have eaten up as Semi’s arm lifts off of you.

She squares up and hunches slightly at the waist to get a better angle, laser focused as she practices the motion once, twice, three times, then lets it fly. True to her word, she has excellent aim, and the rock strikes the carved stone over with a satisfying snap.

Your lips mouth exclamations of relief yet no noise comes out. She wraps her arm back over you and the five of you continue to take careful but long strides in unison.

Despite knowing it was coming, seeing the gonggi station in front of you fills you with a strange flash of surprise. Or perhaps that’s just your heart on the verge of giving out. You squat down, as do the others, and take a quick peek at the time left. 3:07.

Staring at the five coloured pieces in front of you, you vow to yourself to take no longer than forty-five seconds to save a good minute each for the remaining duo.

You pick up the plastic stones - red, blue, yellow, green, and purple - and roll them across the small tabletop. The first round is always the easiest, but in your rush to save time you fall into the same pit as everyone else, and the third piece you pick up slips out between your fingers while you open up for the fourth.

“Motherfucker,” Namgyu mutters vindictively to the PA above as it announces your failure. He unwinds his arm from yours to free up space, but immediately grabs two handfuls of your shirt down by your waist.

You suck in a deep breath, remembering how smoothly Geumja had done it. Rolling the stones out again, you methodically work your way across the table. With each one you throw up and catch, your hand latches around them tighter and tighter.

Once all five are in your grasp, you roll them out again. One is further away from the rest, so you pick it up as your starter. With a deep breath, you toss it carefully up, and pick up two more before it lands back in your palm. So far, so good.

The last two are further apart still, but a quicker swipe successfully completes the second round.

You roll again. Picking the yellow one in the centre this time to break the remainders up into separate sections, you deftly scoop up the red and blue into your hands, letting out a sigh when you catch the yellow again.

Semi makes a low noise in the back of her throat as you realise your mistake.

“Fail.”

You’d picked two pieces up instead of three. Glancing up at the time again, shame and panic prickle over you as you see you’ve already drained the clock down to 2:15, and you’re right back where you started.

Whether the others are comforting or cursing you, you have no idea. Because apart from the stones you’ve rolled out onto the tabletop yet again, the only thing your brain is registering is the ice-cold burn of two fingers lazily running back and forth along the skin just below the hem of your T-shirt.

First piece. Second piece.

“Should I just take this off now?” Namgyu muses quietly in that lilting undertone as he tugs lightly on the hem of your shirt. Third, fourth, fifth piece. Second round. “Seems like you’re trying to lose.”

Both sets of doubles, tossed up and caught in your hand. You let out a self-soothing breath, eyes flicking back up to the clock. Just over two minutes. You roll for the third round.

Distantly, you know the crowd is cheering you own, yet somehow it’s still the soft-spoken murmur at your ear that rings as loud as a bell. “Might as well. Everybody here already thinks you’re my slut.”

You make sure to pick up three pieces first this time, and the next two come easily. On the penultimate round, you shiver as the soft fingertips give way to the teasing drag of his nails. You pick off the green stone that rolled further out from the group, and hold your breath as you toss it, gathering the others in your hand and quickly flipping your cupped palm up to catch the green.

All five in your palm, the background noise of support soothes you, and you carefully throw them up to flip your hand again. Four land perfectly across the dips of your fingers, but the yellow sits dangerously out on the edge of your little finger.

You breathe in slowly, realising you’ve unintentionally lined your breath up with Namgyu, the warm air on your neck fluctuating in tune with your chest.

Namgyu’s eyes stop looking down at the pieces, and instead you feel his gaze on you. He laughs breathily. “See; I knew you could behave.”

At once, you’re flicking them in the air, the touch on your side disappears, and your fingers are closing tightly around the pile of stones.

The whole room freezes as you all silently scan the table. Turning your palm up, you carefully open your fingers and confirm all five coloured pieces are resting in your hand.

“Success.”

Like a set of speakers suddenly turning on, the cheers around you erupt into full, deafening volume. You all carefully help each other up to your feet, and with a pump of his fist, Thanos guides you towards Namgyu’s station. The relief doesn’t last long as you check the clock. 1:38, with both Namgyu and Thanos to go.

Namgyu hasn’t looked at you once since you completed your mini-game. He’s laser-focused on the spinning top as he winds the string first around the axle on the top, and then the carved grooves below.

Thanos is hyping him up like he’s a high-level athlete as he winds and winds.

His hands are perfectly steady; clearly, the drug he took is still hijacking his nervous system. Above you, the clocks tick down, but you’re more interested in how dexterous and delicate his fingers are. The smooth, careful path of his middle finger pressing down the string in gradually loosening spirals is mesmerising, almost lewd in your heightened state.

He pauses for a moment once he’s ready to throw, working his jaw in determination.

With a quick snap, the top is flying its way out of the unraveling string, and clatters onto the rainbow pattern below. The room holds its breath, but the rhythmic swirl of the top holds true.

You loop your hand back around his elbow the second the guard acknowledges your win, and march forward.

Thanos is so hyped up he’s practically howling as you all move along to the final mini-game. Your heart stutters in your chest, however, when you glance up at the clock, which has already dipped below a minute. Namgyu had clearly taken longer than you’d noticed, as distracted as you were.

The guard reminds an eager Thanos that he has to kick the jegi five times, but he’s already snatching it out of his gloved hands so he can start. You appreciate the urgency, but by the way Semi’s grip on your shoulders is iron tight, you’re not the only one that worries the drugs he took might have messed with his coordination.

Precious seconds slip by as he shakes out his limbs and stretches like he’s gearing up for a jog. Finally, time slows as he tosses it into the air, eyes following it like a kid with candy. The first kick comes easily, as does the second. To your surprise, he manages to catch the jegi with his foot five times in a row right away.

The room cheers but, to your confusion, he just keeps going.

“Hey!” Semi yells. The time dips below fifteen seconds. “We need to fucking go. Wake up, dipshit!”

Namgyu promptly throws a fist into his stomach. Thanos buckles at the waist, and the reflex arc stops his foot from making the next kick. “My fucking high score, bro,” he complains in an injured tone, but reluctantly moves forward, letting Namgyu take over the one-two count.

As you get to single digits and see the finishing ribbon straight ahead, you have to force yourself not to bolt forward for fear of making them trip.

The distance and the seconds both close in quickly, but one last wide step is what makes the difference between life and death.

On your right, the two men yell and jump up and down in joy, Namgyu’s ankle yanking yours up. Semi and Minsu are hugging tightly on your left, the boy shaking with sobs.

It feels like all your strings have been cut at once, your legs barely strong enough to hold you upright. Blessedly, the guards waste no time in coming to free you from the heavy metal cuffs.

While you wait for them to hurry up and get down the line to you, you’re craning your neck around Namgyu and Thanos to try and catch sight of Daeho. You manage to track him down and smile at the sight of him clearly trying to hide the tear tracks down his own face as his whole team celebrate like the victory is their own.

Each win gives those remaining hope, and once your second leg is finally freed, you’re racing off through the small cluster of teams to reach them.

“You did it!” Daeho hoots enthusiastically. This time, he’s the one embracing you, so tightly you can only breathe shallowly. You’re surprised at his open display of affection until you remember what he’d said before about you reminding him of his sister. Your heart melts, and you relax into the hug for a few more seconds before pulling away.

“Congratulations,” 001 states genially, composed as ever, though with an honest smile on his face. “You did well.”

“I was the slowest on the team, but thank you,” you quip. As soon as the words leave your mouth you realise how true it was, how close you were to being the one culpable for four other deaths. You glance up at one of the digital timers to see how down the wire it had been, but they’ve already reset the dial back to five minutes.

“Players who have completed their race must return to the dormitory,” the cool voice of the PA instructs.

456’s friend lets out a disapproving sigh. “What is this lady’s problem? The staff here… no manners, really.”

You flatten your lips into a short smile. “I should go, I guess. It’d be pretty embarrassing to get shot down now.”

Daeho flinches at your words, sending a pang of regret through you, but he warmly sends you off with a squeeze on your shoulder. “We’ll see you soon,” he promises.

“Absolutely. Good luck, I’ll be rooting for you from in there.” You break into a half jog to return to your team impatiently loitering by the doorway, detouring to pick your jacket off of the dusty ground and slip back into it. “Sorry, let’s go.”

Thanos, not as bouncy as before but still visibly blissed out, rakes his eyes up and down you with a shake of his head. “Yo, Namsu, your dog can’t heel for shit.” He breaks into a self-satisfied cackle as you send him a venomous scowl. “Play dead,” he eggs on, disappointed when you refuse to engage further, pushing past him. You can still hear his nasty joking around slowly growing fainter. “Better hope the next game isn’t obedience, bro, or you’re fucked.”

“Ignore them,” Semi pitches in as her and Minsu approach. “They’re nothing more than playground bullies.”

But you’ve seen the rabid glee on Thanos’ face as he watched numerous people get gunned down in cold blood. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You’re antsy the whole way back through the empty corridors. The team is bracketed and herded by one guard ahead, and one behind. For a few moments, it’s enough to mindlessly follow the twists and turns that lead you back to the dormitory, but something niggles at the back of your mind.

You poke at it, glancing around you to try and work out what’s bothering you, and when it finally blinks into startling clarity, you come to a complete halt.

Minsu knocks right into you with a squeak, feinting back and apologising as if it’s his fault. The others in front haven’t noticed and so they continue onwards. When you speak, it comes out embarrassingly shaky. “Where’s the other team?” Even as you ask him, deep down you know the answer.

The boy gives a pained look, eyes darting around like he can’t quite commit to meeting yours. “They got eliminated.”

Hot shame floods through you. You didn’t even notice. “Right.” The silent threat of the guard behind you forces you to keep moving.

By the time you all make it to the dormitory entrance, you’re practically vibrating with the thought of returning, safe and sound, to those players that already mean so much to you. Namgyu and Thanos are talking animatedly, the latter having dragged Minsu up front so he can hype him up to the entire room as most of them cheer for your team. Unimpressed, Semi trails languidly off to the side to find a space to sit.

Craning your neck around the boys, you’re met with the heavenly sight of Geumja and Yongsik frantically waving you down, and Hyunju clasping her hands tightly together as she stands beside them.

You move to join them enthusiastically, but your jacket sleeve gets caught on something, stopping you in your tracks. Before confusion even settles in, the catch turns into a harsh yank and you stumble backwards, almost tripping over Namgyu’s feet as the force swivels you around.

Although you manage to right yourself before actually making full contact, he doesn’t let you step back any further, his iron grip switching from your sleeve cuff to your wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll give you three guesses,” you deadpan. Beside the two of you, Thanos is boisterously reenacting each station of the race for the whole hall to see, moving Minsu’s ragdoll arms for him in his parts.

Namgyu lets out a pained sigh through his nose like he’s scolding a child. “You should be celebrating with your own team. Who was it that saved your life? Who kicked a perfectly capable player out of their team to let your sorry ass in? Not them.” The venom in his voice begins to melt away as he slowly sways playfully, swinging your arms between you. “We’re the ones that took care of you. Isn’t that right, Thanos?”

“No doubt, my brother.” You stiffen as two heavy forearms rest on your shoulders. You hadn’t even seen the rapper get close, but a quick look to the side shows Minsu skittering across the hall to get to his friend. Thanos doesn’t linger, thankfully, just lazily pushes off of you again and strolls zig-zag like over to the beds.

On the other hand, Namgyu is still watching you with glittering eyes and a catlike smirk. “If you want to visit those… people,” he spits out like it pains him to even refer to them as such, “all you have to do is ask.”

Brows lifting, you can’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. “You expect me to ask for your permission to go talk to my friends?”

He raises your wrist up to chest level. “Or, if you like,” he watches with a hooded gaze as he slides his fingers up to interlock with yours. You can feel the steady uptick of his pulse against your palm. “If you like, you can go over and do whatever the fuck you want and I’ll never look at you again.” His fingers slacken, and your hand drops heavily to your side. “Three strikes, you’re out.”

It’s the decision you clearly should take. Cut ties, clean slate, and go back to the people that do genuinely care about you. You’re already stressed enough given your current situation, so why waste what may be your last days alive with somebody as toxic and tumultuous as him?

But his touch, his words, his gaze on you have a way of sparking heat low in your stomach that you haven’t experienced in far too long, and if you truly are to die soon, perhaps you can allow yourself to give into hedonism just this once.

You clear your throat. “Can I go over now?”

Chin lifted, Namgyu barely hides his glee behind a look of mock disappointment. “Say it properly,” he instructs.

“Please, Namgyu,” you hate the way your thighs clench together at how debasing it feels to beg him right in the middle of the hall, despite the fact that this probably looks like a normal conversation to anyone watching. His tongue swipes his lower lip, practically drinking it in. “Could I sit with my friends this afternoon?”

Visibly pleased, Namgyu lifts his hand to rub his lower abdomen just above his waistband. “Say hi to them for me,” he chimes with a mean grin, beginning to walk backwards away from you. This time, he raises his voice just loud enough to make you worry others might hear. “And don’t forget you lost our bet. You’ll be paying up tonight.”

You swallow a thick blend of embarrassment and arousal, finally turning to make your way across to Hyunju and her team. They’ve found a spot along the wall opposite to Thanos’ team (your team now, you suppose) where they can have some privacy. On one bed, Yongsik and Geumja have their feet tucked up as they discuss something intently. Hyunju stands, leaning demurely against the bed opposite them, with her friend tucked behind on the steps. The woman who had kicked you out, you notice with a shred of irritation, has holed away in her high roost several bunks down.

As you approach, Geumja breaks her conversation with her son to give you an uneasy look. “Everything okay? If that young man is bothering you, you tell us. I may look frail,” she reaches up to reveal a fine blade hidden within her hairpiece, “but I’m not afraid of them.”

Without looking, you can feel Hyunju watching you intently. You give what you hope is a casual shrug. “They take team spirit very seriously,” you joke. When none of the three are convinced - even the young girl behind them is sending you a dubious look - you sober up. “The other two, Minsu and Semi, they’re good people. Thanos and Namgyu took some uppers before the game to calm their nerves. That’s why they’re all… that.”

For a moment, the group of you silently watch over your shoulder as Thanos, eyes closed, dee-jays in the open air. Namgyu clambers around him like a monkey as he tries to get his attention.

Geumja huffs in disapproval. “Well, they’re on very thin ice as far as I’m concerned.”

“You said they took drugs?” the young girl curled up beside Hyunju asks. She’s sitting on one of the steps with her arms clasped tightly, looking up at you with worried eyes. “They took all of my belongings off of me when I came, even my earrings. How did they get drugs in here?”

You slip past the two bunks to sit down next to her, glad to be off of your feet. “I don’t know,” you admit truthfully. “Thanos - the purple-haired guy - has a stash of them hidden inside a crucifix necklace.”

Yongsik huffs in disapproval, slipping off his glasses to wipe the lenses with a clean section of his T-shirt. “Who knew the sick bastards that run this are so respectful of religion?”

Even as his mother thwacks him on the arm for cursing, you’re checking in with Hyunju, matching expressions of worry on your faces. “It’s gotta be intentional. With how thorough they are with everything else? No way that slipped through the cracks. It’s just like your hair piece, Geumja. They chose not to remove it.”

Hyunju nods slowly, eyes glancing briefly up at the ceiling. “We’ve discussed this,” she explains to the other three, “but there must be some kind of audience for this. The theatrics of it; the violence. How could something like this be financed otherwise?” She furrows her brow, arms crossed. “It makes sense they’d have a wild card in here somewhere. The real concern is-”

“How many other wild cards there are that we don’t know about yet?” the girl infers. Hyunju nods grimly in return. “That’s okay,” she offers up with a small smile to you all, “we’ll be leaving tonight anyway. After the vote.”

This succeeds in making Geumja perk up significantly, her face practically glowing as she looks down at you. “Ah, that’s right! Youngmi here is joining us for dinner. Only we don’t have a spare room… Let’s stop by a Daiso on the way home and pick you ladies out some bed rolls at least. The grocery store, too. My pantry isn’t as full as I’d like it to be.”

Unnoticed by his mother, Yongsik looks up at the dangling, mostly-empty golden pig above you all with a pensive expression on his face.

Past him, your eyes catch another two teams flooding in through the corridor. Most of them mingle together, sharing the victory, but you see a familiar face split away wordlessly. Thanos’ fanboy. Gyeongsu, you remember.

You have to bite down on the inside of your cheek to not smile at the visible irritation Namgyu shows at the young man. Thanos, however, greets him like he’s just come back from war. In many ways, he has.

Hearing your name, you blink back into reality. It’s Hyunju, sending you a brilliantly warm smile. “Were you as fast as Geumja with gonggi? It’s a shame we couldn’t have stayed to watch.”

“You can say that again,” the woman in question mutters. “Your Hyunju here was so nervous she just about bit her fingers off.” She reaches across to try and grab the girl’s hands to display her ragged nails. Flushed, Hyunju whips them behind her back.

“As if you weren’t a wreck yourself, ma.”

“Still no respect for your elders, boy!”

Your heart swells at the thought of them caring about you even a fraction as much as you already do for them. Clearly your theory of gathering friends to trauma-bond over is solid. “Actually, I didn’t do very well at gonggi at all. It’s a miracle we survived.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sure that’s not true.” Geumja proudly pats her chest. “Take it from me; it feels a lot longer when you’re doing it than it probably took.” The others nod in agreement.

You, on the other hand, are not convinced despite her reassuring tone. “I kept making stupid mistakes. I was so nervous before the race that I couldn’t even hold myself up, and by the time I was there and saw how much time we had left…” The ghostly memory of fingers tracing along your hip makes you shudder. “Actually, it was 124 over there that helped calm me down.”

In unison, they all turn to look at him without the slightest hint of subtlety.

Across the room, Namgyu senses the eyes on him, and meets your gaze. With the innocent smile of a boy-next-door type, he bends at the waist to give a deep, respectful bow.

Geumja rocks back in place, a thoughtful hum coming from the back of her throat as she seemingly reconsiders her opinion on the man.

As the others are all faced away from you, you mouth a bemused ‘fuck you’ to him. Without really thinking it through, you straighten up and clear your throat. “Actually, I better go back over there. I was so full of adrenaline that I never even thanked him or the rest of the team.”

You push yourself up off of the step to leave. Before you can slip past her, however, Hyunju is stepping slightly in front of you - not blocking your exit completely but making you pause in your tracks.

In front of her abdomen, her hands are wringing together absentmindedly, and you catch a glimpse of how chipped her dark nail polish has become. “Come back to sleep beside us tonight.” Her voice is low and assertive, but her soft eyes give away that she’s asking, not demanding.

Something in you sinks a little bit at her words. “I thought we were leaving after this vote.”

Hyunju’s face falls a little bit, an unconvincing smile springing up. “Of course, yes. Never mind.”

You scan her face, lip trapped between your teeth. Perhaps it was a Freudian slip, but you’re tempted to test the waters anyway. “But if we do happen to still be here,” you state carefully, “we’ll stick together overnight. That’s okay, too.”

The fine muscles around her eyes relax slightly. If you were still a betting woman, you’d put money on her voting to stay.

“I’ll see you later,” she assures warmly, and steps aside to let you continue past. Almost as a physical promise, you unzip your jacket and leave it on the bed beside her before leaving.

The thin echo of your canvas shoes slapping against the polished floor heralds your arrival to Thanos’ team. To Namgyu’s apparent surprise, you choose to sit right down beside him. He’s clearly come down from his high, eyes no longer blown out as he watches you intently. “Have fun on your playdate?” he singsongs.

“Thank you, master, for your generosity,” you return in the same mocking tone.

By the way Namgyu reacts, he must think you said that with complete sincerity. His chest puffs as he sends you a salacious grin. “Ready to settle your debt, little 123?”

In a semi-circle around you sit the other three members of the team as well as Gyeongsu. “What; in front of everybody?”

Namgyu rolls his eyes with a click of his tongue. “Well, if we wait until lights out, I won’t be able to see them, will I? Shit, maybe you are slow. It’s not like you’re taking your shirt off in front of the whole dorm.”

“Still,” you delay, trying to ignore the way your pulse betrays you by quickening at the thought of that, “we’re not the only ones on in this corner of the room.”

He works his jaw, grin stretching over his teeth. You’ve long since accepted that he gets off on making you uncomfortable, or at least flustered. But it’s a new level when he twists around on the spot, calling out to the rest of the team.

“Hey, freeloaders, you don’t mind if our 123 gets her tits out, do you?” Your jaw drops. Out of sight, Namgyu’s fingers find your waistband, the tips of them dipping under just enough to reach the top of your underwear.

Thanos is the only one that responds verbally with a casual, “no complaints here, Namsu.”

Semi and - a little surprisingly - Gyeongsu both screw their faces up in offense or disapproval, and Minsu’s head has shot up from between his knees to give you a panicked look.

“Don’t be a little pussy, Minsu,” Namgyu scolds at his deer-like reaction. Suddenly, your hip is left cold as he pulls away and crawls a few paces over, pausing halfway to the boy. “First time? You’ll love it. I’m pretty much doing you a favour, you know.”

“Leave it alone,” Semi interjects, “don’t be so childish.” Her eyes catch yours with a questioning look, but Namgyu is already rocking back on his heels with a huff.

“We had a deal, we both agreed on the conditions, and she lost. That’s not childish. Going back on your word-” he turns back on this to give you a dangerous look, “that would be childish.”

“If they’re not okay with it, I’m obviously not going to do it. That’s illegal, I’m pretty sure.” Namgyu raises his brows, unimpressed, and you realise the idiocy of your statement given where you are. You take a moment to ponder, changing tacts. “Let’s renegotiate. We can find a substitute that doesn’t involve public indecency.”

Unhappy, he crawls back over to you to give you a piece of his mind. Your core tightens instinctively at the sight, submissive yet predatory. Before you can think it through, you grab his wrist. “Like this.” Your shirt gets caught on his fingers at first, but then you slip past and the cool palm of his hand is pressing on your breast.

He goes ramrod still for a second, jaw dropped slightly as his eyes lock onto the outline of his knuckles under the green number 3 on your T-shirt. A thrill rushes through you at his reaction and you feel your nipples stiffen further. Unconsciously, his fingers twitch, and the delicate movement snaps him back to reality.

With a low laugh, he leans in further, palming you before running the pad of his thumb over the sensitive peak. You jump when that feather-light touch turns into a nasty pinch. “Oh, you slut,” he jeers.

“We’re even,” you state decisively. When you go to pull his hand back out again, he resists for a second before he lets go. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

As his eyes rake down you, you decide to let yourself sit in this arousal instead of looking around and seeing how many people might have seen that. Namgyu’s eyes come to a halt where your fingers are still wrapped around his wrist. It’s the first time you’ve been the one to initiate physical contact, and you wonder if that’s what he’s realising too.

After a moment, he reaches down with his other hand to carefully peel your fingers back one at a time until his wrist is freed. “Sorry,” he offers up callously at your confusion, “I never agreed to those terms. That head of yours is so empty, little 123.”

Heat rushes through you, only a small fraction of it in indignation. “It’ll have to wait, then. If we’re stuck here, I’m spending the night by the girls.”

Namgyu stays silent. Dark eyes glittering, his lips press together in clear expectation.

It doesn’t take long for your resolve to falter. Dropping your voice as low as you can get away with, you shuffle your legs under you on the mattress. “Will you please let me stay with them overnight, Namgyu?”

He takes his sweet time thinking it over like it’s a complex dilemma. “Mm, if you stay here with us until the vote, then yes.” His eyes fall onto something behind you, and you twist around in place to see Daeho’s team entering the hall. All of them look exhausted. A wave of relief fills you, but as you lift yourself up higher to see which area they’re heading to, you hear a mean snicker.

Swiveling back, you’re met with Namgyu, who has never looked as smug as he does in his moment. He’s leaning back on his hands, one leg bent, the other splayed wide like there’s no place he’d rather be. Semi and Minsu are chatting quietly, and Thanos is totally checked out as he vibes to music nobody else can hear. It’s just you and him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Daeho waving brightly to catch your attention. You tense your jaw and pretend like you haven’t seen him for now. “Are you willing to discuss terms?”

“No,” he counters easily. “After the stunt you just pulled?” He gives an unyielding laugh, eyes lifting to the ceiling before finding yours again. “I’m not a fucking idiot.”

The cogs in your brain turn fruitlessly as you try and find a path forward. Like he doesn’t care at all - and maybe he doesn’t - Namgyu turns back to Minsu, who is once again burrowing in on himself. “Hey, you. Hey.”

Minsu looks up, face twisted in unease.

Namgyu doesn’t bother waiting for acknowledgement. “How many are we at now, do you think?”

“Sorry?”

He raises his brows impatiently, speaking to the younger boy in his mocking baby-speak. “How many roaches do you think we have left in here?”

“Oh, uh…” Minsu’s eyes slowly gauge the room. “I’d say about two hundred?”

Condescendly, Namgyu makes his eyes bug out. “Wow, are you AI? How did you know that?” His teasing voice flattens out. “Go around and count ‘em up.”

Minsu shifts awkwardly. “You mean now? Oh, okay-”

Partly to get Minsu out of the situation, but mostly because you know it’ll piss Namgyu off, you pipe up sweetly. “I’ll go count.”

The satisfaction of watching Namgyu try and think of a reason you suddenly shouldn’t count the players is cut too short by Semi clicking her tongue. “Don’t be an idiot; why bother counting? The masked guys will come in and tell us soon, anyway.”

She raises a fair point, so you sink back down onto the mattress with a sigh, resigned to coming up with another reason to leave.

Still sulking, Namgyu snaps, “wasn’t fucking talking to you.”

“Stop it,” Thanos deigns in English, hands high like a king addressing his commoners. He clicks and points at Minsu. “Hey - what was your name again?”

Semi huffs in frustration at Thanos’ apparent goldfish memory as Minsu answers.

“And how old are you?”

Minsu blinks at this new line of questioning. “Uh, I’m 27.”

“You were born in 1997 then… Why take that shit from him? Don’t act like he’s your boss, you’re the same age. Right, Namsu? You’re ‘97 too, right?”

“Namgyu,” you correct in irritation, freezing when you realise you’ve spoken at the same time as the man himself.

Thanos breezes past, unflappable, but even as the conversation continues, you have to fight to ignore Namgyu’s heavy gaze on you. “Yeah, Namgyu. Weren’t you born in ‘97?” Reluctantly, he affirms. “Then you’re the same age,” Thanos repeats like it’s a grand revelation, “play nice, alright. We need our teamwork tight.”

His eyes fall on you. “123?”

“Mid-twenties, too,” you answer dismissively.

“What year?” he insists, pushing off the ladder to lean forward. “We should all know who’s oldest.”

“No,” Namgyu coos with a click of his tongue. He reaches over to yank at your shirt again. “123 is the baby of the group. Aren’t you? You just don’t want to admit I’m older than you.”

“Whatever.” Clearly disinterested in pursuing it further, Thanos moves on to Gyeongsu. “How old are you?”

“I was born in ‘98.”

Semi is questioned last. Born in 1996, she’s the oldest of them. This visibly annoys Namgyu, especially when Thanos insists on rubbing it in, so you snatch up your chance.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” you inform Minsu quietly, sneaking away. You would feel a little bad throwing him under the bus like that - you have a feeling Namgyu won’t appreciate your timing - but it’s worth it as you finally catch Daeho’s eye and jog over to the team.

You’re bewildered but grateful when, the second you’re within arms’ reach - Daeho scoops you up into a bear hug, your feet briefly leaving the ground.

“Woah,” 390 calls out, “don’t break the girl’s ribs now.”

With a bashful laugh, Daeho releases you and waves for you to come sit between 390 and 001. “Perfect timing,” he announces, standing back up to face the group. “I was thinking, we should really introduce ourselves properly. I don’t know what to call you.”

Beside you, 001 has gone still.

“I’ll start,” Daeho offers with an assertive pump of his fist. “Kang Daeho. ‘Dae’ like huge, ‘ho’ like tiger.”

“Big tiger!” you chime. “What a nickname.”

390 concurs, and takes up the mantle next. “Alright, well, my name is Park Jungbae. Means righteous and double. I guess it means I should be living twice as righteously.”

Across the room, Namgyu has found you. It was a fool’s errand to assume he wouldn’t notice until you were actually visiting the bathroom, but you had just been expecting to say a quick hello to Daeho, not be entrenched in a group bonding session. While you’re locking eyes with him, he raises his open hand, fingers splayed wide. Confused, you turn back to the others, who are waiting expectantly.

Though you’ve said it before, you share your name again. “My mum just picked it out of a book at random,” you quip. It’s been a long time since you’ve thought about her. For a beat, the group of you go a little quiet at the memory of the loved ones you all have on the outside.

“I’m Kim Junhee,” 222 states. “I don’t think I know what it actually stands for.”

001 leans in towards her. “Junhee, once we’re out of here, go straight to a hospital.”

He keeps talking, but your gaze has fallen across the room again. Namgyu is actively discussing something with Thanos, but soon glances over towards you himself. Without skipping a beat, he lifts his hand up again, this time the thumb tucked down across his palm.

“Youngil? That’s crazy! Your name’s the number you’ve been given.”

390 and 001 are speaking across from you as you half-pay attention. By the time you realise what he’s doing, Namgyu is no longer looking at you anymore. Five fingers. Four fingers. He’s counting down.

The thrill that shoots down between your legs is a honestly little concerning. You’re not sure whether you want to go back as soon as possible and hope his warning is just that, or whether it’s worth the risk of seeing what he’d do if you broke his rules yet again.

Indecision flickers as 456 finally introduces himself as Seong Gihun. Youngil’s quip on his surname literally meaning ‘surname’ falls flat, which gives you a petty sense of satisfaction.

Namgyu again. He gives you barely a second’s look, three middle fingers tapping against his mouth before he resumes his conversation.

In front of you, Daeho has started eagerly devising team names which only Jungbae seems particularly enthusiastic about. You’re antsy, unable to really listen as you wait for Namgyu to turn your way again. Like it has a way of doing for him, your resolve crumbles, and you’re excusing yourself to go to the bathroom.

The others pause to say goodbye but quickly rekindle their conversation.

You have two choices; go back to Namgyu with your tail between his legs, or even the playing field. The sight of him swiveling around in place, trying to work out where you went with a confused pout on his face makes you opt for the latter.

As much as he knows how to get a rise out of you, and you don’t half-mind it, he at least should work a little harder for it. Eventually he does catch sight of you standing by the door at the base of the stage that leads to the bathrooms.

With an indulgent grin, you hold up two fingers in a mock salute, then turn to head down the hallway. It causes you no small deal of satisfaction to see him immediately scramble to his feet and start following you like a puppy.

While you wait, you linger across from the two bathroom doors, trying to gauge how busy they are. Thankfully, not too many other people come and go in the time it takes for Namgyu to catch up.

He doesn’t take long, pushing past the guard at the door uncaringly as he finds you waiting for him. A mischievous smile arises on his face as he approaches. “Baby just couldn’t help herself,” he sings. It’s a far cry from the glowering he’d been giving you moments prior. “You must be crazy, pissing me off like this.”

“Maybe I just don’t think you’re that intimidating,” you counter. He steps in close, the toes of his shoes knocking yours, but doesn’t lay his hands on you. “I’m getting a little sick of all your barking.”

He hums. When he speaks, it’s with a delicate lilt. “Would you rather I bite?”

You walked right into that one, but it doesn’t make it any less lewd hearing him say it. “Well, not much seems to happen when I don’t follow your rules, does it? Maybe you don’t know how to actually take control. I guess I’ll have to demonstrate.”

Feeling bold, you reach your hand down to grab him over his sweatpants. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, and you close your fingers in just a little tighter, watching his face carefully. “Shit, this isn’t funny.” The way he looks down towards the entrance of the dorm contradicts how quickly he’s stiffening beneath you.

“I’m not laughing.” You smile placidly, trying to act like you’re not as stressed that one of your friends - god forbid, Geumja - could walk in at any second. “You’re going to stop bitching every time I want to talk to somebody that isn’t you.” He pants, writhing uncomfortably even as he makes no attempts at breaking your hold. “You understand, don’t you, Namgyu?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

“That wasn’t so hard,” you quip, laughing quietly at the irony as your hand flexes one more time, making a whine catch in the back of his throat. “Do you get it now? This is what control feels like.”

Namgyu is still putting on a face like he’s annoyed by the situation, but flinches when you let go and snap the band of his sweatpants against the base of his abdomen. When he goes to speak, a half-baked groan comes out instead.

There’s a buzzing, and you realise distantly it’s the doors in the dormitory opening, followed by the footsteps of guards. You’re running out of time by the looks of it; the pink suit at the entrance to the dormitory has noticed the two of you haven’t joined the announcement yet. But Namgyu hasn’t noticed him yet. “Do you want to fuck me?”

His mouth twists into a scowl, clearly feeling less pathetic without his dick in your hands. “Dumb fucking question, 123.”

“Then act like it.”

Your mouth has barely formed the final words before he’s leaning in so fast you instinctively reel back, knocking your head on the tiled wall behind you.

One hand latches into your T-shirt, balling the fabric in tight around your neck as the other wraps under your chin to hold you steady. From the sudden movement, you’re so certain he’s about to kiss you that you let your eyes close and mouth part slightly.

Instead, you feel the hand on your face flex; his index and middle fingers are pushing their way past your lips and hooking around your teeth. With insistent pressure, he tugs down harshly on your jaw.

Before you get the chance to open your eyes, you feel the tip of his nose brush yours. The slight tingle of breath on your face as he laughs, barely audible, then-

With an unmistakeable thwick, Namgyu spits right on your tongue.

The garbled whine from the back of your throat is smothered up by the heat of his lips on yours. Unforgiving, his fingers leave your mouth and slide wetly around the nape of your neck until you’re immobile beneath him.

The way he kisses you is just as restless as he is. Soft but bruising, his lips press against yours deep enough your own are pinched against your teeth. You’re taken off guard at just how quickly he’s moving; your mouths barely part a centimetre before he’s diving back in again. Initially determined to keep up beat-for-beat, it doesn’t take long for your mind to melt and your head to loll back against the wall.

While his lower hand is still holding tight on your collar, he grinds his knuckles into your sternum. A shudder runs down your spine, heat pooling between your legs. Despite only your upper body being caught between him, the intensity of his ministrations has you feeling completely pinned down. Your own lips work against his, but you’re hopeless to even think properly, let alone keep up with him.

You barely have the presence of mind to raise your own hands up as they find a hold in the crooks of his elbows. The grip anchors you further, but nothing can stop the dizziness you feel when Namgyu pulls back just enough to lick your lips in a lewd upward stroke before rejoining to dig it in past your parted teeth.

So caught up in his attack, it isn’t until he’s practically lapping your own tongue that you notice you’d never swallowed. Unable to close your jaw around him, your mixed saliva slips out the corners of your mouth. Namgyu gives an indulgent, guttural rumble. The pleasure-pain of his hand digging into your chest is replaced by the light, almost playful way his fingers trail up, dragging along your cheek and back down your neck again.

A desperate, open-mouthed whine leaves your harried mouth as you realise he’s fucking spreading it around. The tables have turned on you so quickly, unprepared for just how messy he is with you, that you don’t even notice you’re grinding your hips against him until he’s physically pulled off of you.

You blearily open your eyes just in time to watch the translucent strand that joins your mouths snap apart. The better sight is straight ahead.

Namgyu looks wrecked, eyes blacker than when he slipped one of Thanos’ pills. His own chin is glistening in the cold LED lights above - you hastily scrub at your face with the back of your forearm - and he’s breathing so heavily his body sways with it.

Between you, an impassive pink guard has rested his hands on the heavy black gun slung low. An obvious warning, he opts not to speak and instead holds his arm out to the entrance to the dormitory, where you hear the modulated voice of the leader discussing the results of the second game.

Your lips move to acknowledge the message while you try and will your legs to move, but you can’t form anything coherent. Namgyu, however, is the first one to cover. His open-mouthed panting turns into a filthy grin, which finally blooms into a full-blown cackle. Arms raised in mock-surrender to the guard, he lazily saunters his way back into the hall.

He doesn’t clear the spit off of his face before he does.

Trying to compose yourself and put some distance between the two of you, you stay in the hallway until the guard grows impatient and puts a firm hand on your shoulder. Knowing the pink suits aren’t exactly fond of you, you slip out of his grip and skitter towards the dormitory.

By the time you rejoin the crowd, you’re relieved to see nobody has noticed you. That is because, however, the vote has already begun. You have to slink behind the bunks to try and avoid drawing attention from what feels like a walk of shame. On the way, you pick your jacket back up off the bed you left it on, but you can’t see any of your friends in the huddle close by.

Trying to seek out a familiar face, you catch sight instead of Yongsik placing his vote at the podium. Not surprised when he elects to stay, your heart still breaks for his mother, desperate as she is to leave.

You’re yet to make your own decision. Like everyone is probably doing right now, you try and weigh the risk of staying with the mental image of what life would look like if you walked away now.

The share listed on the digital panel above is disheartening. Just over 78.8 million. More helpful than before, but what can you really do with it? Criminal defense lawyers aren’t cheap. Although it’s only been two days and one night of genuine human company and an actual bed, the thought of going back to live as a ghost is unfathomable. You’d be more likely to march yourself to the nearest police station and just give up.

Not for the first time, you wonder if Detective Hwang might be more willing to listen than you’ve given him credit for thus far. Back to zero-day, when you were a witness not a suspect, he’d been the only one of the officers on the scene to treat you with any semblance of kindness. He’d even given you his business card in case ‘you see anything strange. Anything at all.’ You smother a laugh at the thought of your van ride here being the only time you’ve ever used it. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen that woman in the games so far. Hopefully she’s not one of the dead bodies the pink suits have dragged down into the depths of his horrid place.

Your mind whirrs, but no single thought catches.

Instead, you watch blankly as the votes rack up, the blue side maintaining a narrow but steady lead. The numbers start to reach the 100s, so you move closer to the front. Predictably, Youngmi votes to leave. She waits in the red zone with a hung head.

A mere two votes later, Hyunju is called to make her choice.

Finally at the front of the slowly-waning group, you watch her as she pauses at the podium. A moment of silence passes as her expression is hid from view.

An contradictory mix of emotion floods your system. She’s choosing to put her life on the line - despair - you could get to spend another day with her - relief.

Apparently players 121 and 122 must be dead. Your number is called, and Hyunju is swiveling around to catch your eye as she joins the blue team. She looks stricken with guilt, and it doesn’t seem to perk her up at all when you give her a mildly optimistic wave.

Yet again, a room’s full attention prickles at you, and yet again, you have yet to completely make up your mind before you’re right in front of the two buttons.

You drum your nails on the podium. Ahead, the votes have levelled off, with Hyunju’s pushing the O count a single digit higher. Your own fingers begin trailing closer to the blue button.

Why not? You’ve made a decent amount of allies to help you going forward. You’re in this deep already, besides, so what would the difference be between two or three rounds of cold-blooded murder to ruin your sleep forever? 80 million won just isn’t enough for your second chance, at the end of the day. If you do leave, you can only run on fumes for so long.

Lifting your hand up, you slowly reach out for the blue. The second your fingers brush the cool plastic, however, an image flashes through your mind as quick and intense as lightning. You, collapsed on your knees, so frightened to play a children’s game that a junkie had to be the one to bolster you up.

You’re going to die, your nervous system hisses. You’ll freak out again, and it will get you killed.

The red button welcomes your touch.

“124.” Namgyu clearly wasn’t waiting for this announcement, as you jump at the feeling of his hands on your shoulders. He pushes you away from the podium wordlessly.

You turn to him, mouth opening even though you’re unsure what you should say, but he just clicks his finger and points to the red zone like you’re some sort of trained pet.

It’s hard not to let your jaw go slack at the silent command. You don’t want to openly do what he wants in front of the whole crowd, but you do have to go over there anyway. Still, your cheeks go hot from humiliation as you try and keep your chin up. By the time you’ve stolen a gap beside Youngmi, Namgyu has already voted and Minsu is in the hot seat.

Despite Minsu being in a constant petrified state, he seems to be more scared of Namgyu than his own potential demise. The latter lingers a few paces away, miming focusing a telescope on Minsu. Just like you, he needs no words to get his way. Minsu’s red patch is replaced by the blue.

A few more players come and go, and the votes to stay pull slightly ahead again. You see Gihun bodying his way through the crowd of those waiting, but before he can capture their attention, Youngil appears from behind you and calls out in a ringing, authoritative tone.

“Have you all lost your minds? All those people died in front of you, yet you still want to keep going? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game?” He pauses, bringing his volume back down now that the whole room is listening. “We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going. Come to your senses; just leave with that money. If you don’t survive, there won’t be a next chance.”

Man of the year Lim Jeongdae just has to steal the stage. “What do you think we can do with a mere 70 million?” he snaps viciously. “I don’t know about you, but for most people here, that doesn’t even cover 10% of their debt. Am I right?” With that, he opens his arms wide for several in the crowd to pipe up with their agreement. “That money won’t change anything!”

Pleased at those in the crowd sharing his sentiment, he puffs his chest up. “It was 25 million after the first game, and now it’s 78. After one game, the amount more than tripled! If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”

Shitty logic aside - no wonder his debt is so high - player 100 has no further chance to spit his vitriol, as helpless sobs come from right beside you.

Inconsolable, Youngmi cries out, voice thick with tears. “But I can’t do this anymore. Please…” She tries and fails to compose herself, racked with the effort of containing her misery. “Please let me out of here. I really- I really want to go home. I don’t want to die.”

You’re just beginning to feel like an awful friend for not knowing how to help when she tips to the side and leans into you, arms snaking under yours to latch onto your torso. Only a moment or two of shock pass before you’re returning the embrace in full force. Her stature is so small that your arms wrap right around her back.

In front of you, an older man steps forward to defend himself, voice shaking. “Young lady,” he addresses her, though his eyes catch yours as well, “you’re young, so you’d probably have another chance. But I don’t.”

You tighten your hold on Youngmi protectively as his words only serve to make her sob harder.

Still, the man continues, voice cracking. “My family and I have no future,” he laments. “My business failed, and now I owe over 500 million. I’ve got to make at least half of that here if I want a shot at a fresh start.”

Unmoved, Youngil intervenes. “But what if you die? If you die here, your family won’t even get your body.” He continues, but you’re no longer interested in listening to the circular spat that the two opposing sides could argue forever in.

Instead, you pull back from Youngmi slightly, heart breaking further at the way her fingers reflexively clutch tighter at you. “Hey, we’ve voted now. Let’s just go sit down while we wait.”

She lets you herd her towards the closest beds to you. Face still wet with tears, she occasionally hiccups a sob but otherwise tries to compose herself. After you’re sat, she goes slack like a puppet with cut strings. “Why did she vote to stay? How could she…”

Automatically, your head cranes to look across to the other side of the room. Once you catch sight of her, you’re surprised to see that Hyunju had already been watching the two of you with a stricken face. “I think you’d have to ask her that,” you offer up softly as you and Hyunju share a pained look. “I’m so sorry, Youngmi.”

The girl just hitches her feet up on the mattress and buries her face between her knees.

It makes you feel like an awful person, but you don’t quite know what to do with her. Close friends is a thing of the distant past for you, and even then you only met her this morning. You’re relieved when Geumja is finally called to vote, and beelines for the two of you before the vote to leave has even clicked over on the screen above.

“Oh, honey, I know,” she coos in a soothing, maternal voice. “I’m upset too. Scared as well, but don’t let anyone else hear it.” Youngmi’s tremoring body settles a little, but she still remains burrowed away. Nodding quietly to herself, Geumja joins you on the other side and reaches out to stroke slow circles on her back. “Cry if you need to, dear. Just let it out, now.”

It only takes until the players voting are in the 300s that you and Geumja share a silent grimace. It’s done. Too many people want to stay.

Strung out, Youngmi barely reacts when the leader steps up to confirm that the vote has gone towards continuing the games. Again, you seek out Hyunju to see how she’s reacted to it.

As the blue crowd celebrates and begins to dissipate around her, she’s unmoving. Her hands are twisted tightly together in front of her, and her chin is tilted up, eyes on the piggy bank. There’s no triumph in her gaze, however.

“Go on, get over there.”

You jerk your chin back to Geumja, who is using her free hand to wave at you. “Sorry?”

“We’re alright here,” she explains, “but she needs comforting too. Look at her.” The older woman lets out a slow sigh, brows knit together. “I can’t do it, I’m too angry still.”

Not one to say no to her, you get up off of the bed. Before you leave, you bend over to pull Geumja into a hug herself.

She goes lax for a few seconds, and you feel more than hear the way her breath gets choked up. But, tough as nails, she quickly composes herself. “Ah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me, dear.” Geumja remains in your embrace a moment longer before she pulls away.

Accepting her wishes, but also relieved yourself that you have a chance to go over to Hyunju, you track the girl down. She’s sitting down now, overlooked by everyone else as they begin forming lines for the dinner service which has quickly been set up.

Wading through the crowd like a river-crossing, you make it to her side and silently sit beside her.

Hyunju glances up at you with red-rimmed eyes. Her guilt practically radiates off of her; she’s perched on the steps between two bunks, curled in on herself almost as much as Youngmi was. She’s tense, too, head pulled slightly away from you, like she’s waiting for you to snap at her.

For a short while, you try fruitlessly to think of something eloquent and moving to say. Instead, you clear your throat, squinting across the hall to where Yongsik is ushering his mother and Youngmi into the queue. Hyunju’s eyes shoot up, watching you carefully. “Alright.” You pause a moment longer, then nod gravely. “Fuck, marry, kill. Geumja, Youngmi, Yongsik.”

You cut your gaze to her quickly to enjoy the slideshow of emotions plastered across her face. Confusion becomes shock becomes a bashful laugh, pretty and chiming.

“That’s awful,” she murmurs, covering her face. “I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Well, we could play spin the bottle instead, but that would be a very predictable game with just the two of us.” Your attempts at distraction aren’t quite enough to perk her up so you drop your voice a little lower. “I meant what I said, you know. It’s okay that we stayed.”

“But you voted to leave,” she points out, “twice now.”

“I had a couple reasons, but…” You let out a low sigh. “I just don’t think my life is going to get all that better whether I leave today or tomorrow.” It was only yesterday morning, you realise, that you’d felt the sun on your face and had let yourself genuinely believe you were a couple of games away from a complete clean slate. That version of you seems to have been caught in the cross-fire, because now it just seems naive. A fairy tale.

Hyunju’s eyes are on yours, weighing up your expression carefully. “You weren’t there at the time, but I spoke with the others after the pentathlon. We shared a little about why we came here. I just realised I haven’t told you yet.”

“You’re a child star who grew up and fell into sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and now you need just a little more money to get through rehab. Don’t worry, I already worked it out.”

She lets out another laugh half-muffled behind her hand. Even with her mouth covered, the dimples in her cheeks are clear as day. “You got me.” Though she sobers up, at least a little of the tension in her forehead is beginning to ease. “It’s for my transition. The surgeries are expensive enough as it is, but now that I’ve lost my job, I can’t even keep up with the regular treatments.” As she explains, her hand has come down absentmindedly to rub the outside of her thigh. “I just feel like I’m going backwards.”

Compared to you, hers is a very practical motivation for staying. “Have you been transitioning for a while, then?”

Hyunju shakes her head with a weak hum. “My anniversary’s next month.”

Even as your lips are quirking at the endearing sentiment, you’re sitting up in surprise. “Really? But you’re so pretty!” Your brain catches up a second too late. She’s pulled back slightly with an unreadable wide-eyed expression on her face. Stammering, you try and cover for yourself. “Just that- I mean- Not that you wouldn’t be before you, uh… I don’t know what I was trying to-” The only dignified choice that remains is to just double down and stick with it. “I think you’re really beautiful, Hyunju.”

Though you’re sure you must be even redder from getting so flustered, it feels like a precious reward to see the way Hyunju’s cheeks flush pink. She’s dropped your gaze; instead, her eyes dance around the room as she murmurs a shy thank you. “Anyway,” she tries to sidestep. “That’s why I chose to stay.”

“So you can feel good again?” Even as you ask her, you worry it’s a little too reductive.

She opens her mouth to elaborate, stills, and then lets out a small nod. “So I can feel good again.”

“No point wasting time here feeling bad, then,” you decide. Her head tilts, although she’s yet to turn back to you fully. “Think about it; this time tomorrow you could be booking a hospital appointment or a… Actually, I don’t really know where you have to go to get treatment.”

“There’s a clinic for it.” Her smile widens, and this time, she doesn’t cover it up. “So what about you?” While she’s facing you again, she must miss the way your expression goes stiff. “Let me guess: you were part of a heist team that robbed a bank but they double-crossed you after and took all the money.”

At any other time, your heart would’ve swelled at the way she’s cheered up enough to tease you back. But instead your heart is icy with dread. “We should go get dinner before they run out.”

Hyunju calls out to you as you stand up. You let her keep pace as the two of you find a spot in the dwindling line, but your gaze just tracks the floor. She says your name again softly, hovering a hand over your elbow like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to touch you. “What is it? I didn’t mean to upset you. You don’t have to tell me if it’s too private. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you croak out quickly. You know it was going to come up at some point, but after months and months of living life under the radar, you can barely articulate it to yourself. “I’ll tell you, I just… I have to work out how to say it so you don’t hate me.”

“I won’t hate you,” she reassures. You both reach the front of the line; she ushers you to go first. “It’s not like you’re some crazed-up serial killer.”

You try to laugh; it comes out high and chipped. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.” She falls into step beside you again. After doing a quick scan of the room, you see Geumja and Yongsik are still occupied with Youngmi for now. “Listen, I’m not- I don’t wanna tell anyone else.”

Sharp as always, Hyunju doesn’t need to follow your gaze to catch your drift. “Of course.” She tracks down a secluded area towards the back of the room, and the two of you sit down on the same mattress; you have half a mind to pull the blanket over your lap as you prop yourself up, cross-legged, against the back bars.

She waits patiently, and you could probably sit here for hours without really knowing how to explain yourself, so instead you just start and hope things fall into place on their own. “There was this laundromat I worked at. Technically in Seoul but barely. The clientele were weird, you know? The pay was good because the owners didn’t want you to ask questions. White baggies trading hands behind the dryers? None of my business. Blood stains on your shirt again? Hydrogen peroxide’s on the shelf.”

You think back to it. Despite how spooked you’d been for the first few months of working there, it had actually grown on you. Night shifts were relatively quiet, and it left your days free to roam around and decide what you really wanted to do with your life. “It’s hard when you’re not really supposed to question everything, but eventually you kinda work out the vibe. Who’s with who, you know?”

“Gangs?” So far, Hyunju looks unruffled, listening intently. “Or worse?”

“All of the above, I think. I tried to keep my nose out of it. Anway, some of them are actually nicer than you’d expect. There was this guy - big guy - named Dogtooth, don’t ask me why, who came in several times a week just to chat while he waited for the machine. I get the feeling he was pretty high up. He would give me warnings, sometimes. Heads-up on who’s chill and who to watch out for. But mostly we talked about normal life. What I did during the days, the places I wanted to see. Dogtooth gave me advice on haggling down rent prices at my new place.”

Hyunju’s face is sinking in dread just as much as yours probably. When she says your name, it’s so softened with empathy that you have to bite harshly on the inside of your cheek.

“I know,” you say dejectedly. “Pretty fucking stupid.”

“You didn’t know any better,” she ventures, and her hand tentatively reaches out to rest reassuringly on your knee.

You hum. “I think I did,” you admit. “I was just so lonely at that time that I just kept telling myself it was fine.” Taking a deep breath, you pause to recalibrate. “There was guy Dogtooth hated. Built like a rat and acted like one too. He ran with multiple crowds which is obviously a huge no-no. As far as he knew, I didn’t notice or care. But Dogtooth had me keep tabs on who he would meet up with.” Despite how much your life had soured from that point on, it somehow still brings a smile to your face. “Man, I felt so cool back then. Like a spy.”

A group of middle-aged women trail past, complaining loudly about how dry the bread is. Yours still sits beside you, untouched. You wait for them to be back out of earshot before continuing. “One day, I get a call. A detective has questions about a Gil Yeongjae. I say that name’s not familiar, but he shows me a picture.”

“The rat?”

You nod grimly. “The rat. Yeongjae was missing. I know it’s, like, bad form to snitch on dangerous people, but Detective Hwang was so lovely and earnest. I think he was a little shocked at how much I had to say about the dynamics I’d seen.”

Hyunju’s fallen completely still. At this point, you could probably stop talking completely and she would fill in the gaps herself, but it’s the first time you’re saying all of this out loud and it feels too late to stop. The comforting presence of her hand on your knee grounds you.

“That night, at work, Dogtooth already knew. Said he spoke to Hwang as well. He wasn’t even pushy, is the thing. He didn’t ask what I had told the detective or if I had any suspicions. He says, ‘girly, you’re looking a little stressed. There’s this lake I like to visit sometimes. Completely peaceful, always calms me down.’ Made it seem like it was my idea when I asked him to send me the address.” You give a bitter laugh. “To be fair, the lake was gorgeous. But when I get home, my place is flooded with cops and yellow tape. They’d found a bloody knife right on my kitchen counter.”

“Jesus,” Hyunju grimaces under her breath.

“I had no alibi,” you explain, “no motive in my mind, but both sides were all too happy for a mutual scapegoat. I ran away. And the stupidest fucking thing, you know, is that they did it again. Twice! Even though I didn’t work at the laundromat anymore, I had nothing to do with any of them, I’d catch my face on television beside a photo of some nasty-looking guy who’d been stabbed to death.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hyunju offers up, “I don’t even… That’s unthinkable.”

With a audible sigh, you expel all the soured air in your lungs. “For me, there’s not much difference between 70 and 200 mil. I don’t even know what I was thinking coming here. That’s my problem, though,” you quip flatly, “I don’t think.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she instructs warmly. “I’m sure at least seventy or eighty people in here actually are criminals.” Something occurs to her, and she perks up so quickly she almost knocks her head on the base of the bunk above. Her fingers press on your knee as she leans in. “You know, the special forces department has an excellent legal team. I’m sure you’d be in good hands with one of them.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. Without realising it, your hand has fallen on top of hers, and your heart quickens at the bare contact. “Because I have an old pal in the special forces who’s got their number,” you drawl wryly.

“You’re looking right at her,” Hyunju says simply. You blink. “Well,” she amends, “I don’t work there anymore, but one of them owes me a few favours.”

Still in disbelief, you stare at her blankly. Your mind, however, is running a mile a minute with an increasingly high-octane fantasies of her on secret missions and intense combat sequences. “Can-” You cut yourself off, deliberating. “Can I be honest with you?”

With her brows slightly lifted and a small smile on her face, she acquiesces. “Of course. I’m listening.”

Perhaps it’s the thought of potentially dying tomorrow that’s made you so forward, or perhaps the moment you and Namgyu shared - a quick snap of guilt runs through you, but you try and reassure yourself that that’s different, that it doesn’t count. “Hyunju,” you marvel breathlessly, “that’s really fucking hot.”

She tries to laugh it off, but it comes out strangled, barely audible. “I- That’s not-” She’s stopped from speaking further, however, as a familiar voice comes ringing through the metal forest.

“There you two are,” Geumja wheedles, her son and Youngmi in tone. “I’ve come to give you a piece of my mind, young lady. Why did you do it?”

Hyunju has her hands threaded nervously together on her knees, nail polish even more chipped. You hadn’t even noticed she’d slipped them away, but you mourn the absence nevertheless.

Further disrupting the moment, Geumja props herself up on the bed directly between the two of you. “I doubt you have gambling debts like this brat here. Your surgeries, is it because of those? Are… are they really that expensive?” You and Hyunju share a look over Geumja’s shoulder that she misses. Instead, the older woman sinks in on herself a little more. “If you don’t feel comfortable telling me, that’s okay too. I shouldn’t talk. I can’t even keep my own son in life, so what am I doing telling a grown woman how to live her life?” She scoffs at herself, trying to conceal how upset she is.

“I-” Hyunju lets out a slow breath to compose herself. “Everything was fine before I told everyone who I really was. Sure, some people thought I was a bit strange, but I never had any major issues. But then… As soon as I said I was living as a woman now, and started my transition, everything was different.”

The previous optimism the two of you had tentatively fostered has all but evaporated. Your heart aches at the grieving that’s written plain across her face. Something resonates for Geumja, too, as she lifts her head slowly to take in Hyunju’s words. Across from the three of you, Yongsik and Youngmi are equally silent.

“My mother was always crying. Dad completely cut off contact. I was fired, lost all my friends. Without a job, debt for the transition just kept growing. I finally felt like myself, you know, but life got… life got a whole lot harder.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Geumja croons. You can see the moment her human empathy overcomes any grudge she may have been trying to hold. “Well, what was the job? Before they let you go.”

Only you catch the hidden mirth in her gentle smile as she says simply, “I was in the army.”

“So what now? Once you get what you need and get out of here, is there a plan?”

Hyunju looks down at Geumja with a hesitant glimmer in her eye. “I think I’m going to move to Thailand.”

Your own smile slips. “Thailand?”

Maybe with her eyes focused elsewhere she doesn’t catch the dejection on your face. Hyunju nods, resolute. “I want to play just one more time, and if I win the money,” she pauses to sniffle quietly and clear her throat, “I’ll go there and finish my transition. Buy a nice small house, and start my whole life over.”

You feel like you’ve been doused in iced water. “That sounds great,” you say, though it comes out weak and flatter than you intended. It’s selfish of you to expect that you’d somehow all remain friends with perfectly-resolved lives but the reminder that you’re - at the end of the day - all just strangers is still jarring.

As Yongsik voices his approval at the idea, you avoid Hyunju’s gaze and try to quell the rising disappointment in your stomach. “Ah, Thailand,” Yongsik gushes, “I’ve actually been there once, you know? There are lots of people like Hyunju there, ma. I mean, tons! Seriously-” his voice passes you as he props himself up on the stairs closer to the other three, “the people I’m talking about are on another level. Gorgeous bodies, like, super hot. And they’re everywhere you look. Aren’t they?”

Hyunju must nod, but you can’t see from the way your eyes burn holes into the unopened carton of milk at your side. “I hear a lot of them are really beautiful.”

A quiet voice. “Hyunju, you’re beautiful too.”

Suddenly, you want to run and burrow away from them all. Or maybe you want everybody to just go back and leave the two of you alone again. The uncertainty curdles what little appetite you had to begin with, and so you step up to try and leave without being too disruptive.

“Is anyone still hungry?” you question with a dull voice. Your eyes flicker, dancing around eye contact that you don’t have the backbone to make. “Okay, I’m just going to…” You feel weirdly embarrassed, like you’re acting childish, and so you give up on coming up with an excuse.

Geumja speaks up in confusion, but when you just keep walking, you hear her turn back to address Hyunju instead.

It’s not until you’re halfway into the middle of the floor when you notice - not that you’re exactly in the mood to speak to either party anyway - both Namgyu’s crew and Daeho’s team are absent. And the whole lot of you, all however-many-hundred, are stuck in this box. There’s nowhere to go.

To avoid loitering, you find a relatively uninhabited section of the bunks and scale the ladder until you’re on the second from the top. At least here, you’re high up enough that all of the discussions below have been ground down into a rumbly murmur.

It’s the closest to alone you’re going to get. You successfully let the time slip by unbothered until the guards are collecting in the trash and you’re forced to climb down to hand in the uneaten food.

As you turn tail to climb back up into your nook, a familiar voice hooks you. “Where are you squirreling away to?” Semi raises her brows as you swivel around to face her. There’s no judgement on her face, but rather amusement. “Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t see a bouncer anywhere,” you try and jibe back, but she’s clearly not convinced of your good mood. “Come on, then.”

When the two of you settle on the bed, propped up in opposite corners, a thought strikes you. “Where’s Minsu?”

Semi scoffs, though there’s no hard edge to her tone. “I’m not going to escort him to go piss.” She waves a hand leisurely. “He’ll survive on his own for an hour or so.”

“They grow up so fast.”

But Semi is not interested in small talk. “Alright then, Miss Bachelorette, who’s put that frown on your face?”

You blink, unsure whether to be endeared or ashamed she noticed from across the room. “What?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” she jibes. “I know you and the weasel have a weird thing going on, and then I see you touching tips with 120 down there. Didn’t realise fighting to the death was so romantic. Kid you not, there was a chick getting mad head in the bathroom just before. Pretty confronting stuff.”

With a grimace at the mental image, you shrug. “It’s nothing either of them did. I just need to get my head out of the clouds.”

Semi sends you a rakish grin as she tips her chin up. “Well, then, you picked a strange place to go.” For a second, she toys with her lip ring, uncharacteristically silent. “Listen,” she states lowly, “as much as you’re an adult who can make her own decisions, I just-” A sigh. “Honestly feels a little creepy even saying this, but 124 and 230… They talk about you, you know? When you’re not there. The weasel always shuts up before I can listen in, but I’ve heard your name come up multiple times.”

“Oh.” Your brain can’t come up with anything more eloquent than that. The thought sends a thrum of energy around your body that you don’t know how to interpret. “Okay.”

Unsatisfied, Semi presses on. “God knows what the guards will have us doing tomorrow but if it’s not a team game, or if you’re on a different team, whatever, stay far away from them. Again, it’s none of my business, but,” her eyes dart around the crowd below as if they’re going to suddenly spring up in front of you. Suddenly, the full force of her sharp eyes is back on you. “Even a blind person can see 124 is obsessed with you, but when it comes down to it, his loyalty is always going to lie with the purple-haired fuck. You know that, right?”

“I know that,” you affirm, though the words are bitter on your tongue. You can only hope she believes them.

After a moment of assessing you, Semi nods with a grave look, and props herself up to hook a foot onto the ladder rung below. She descends a couple steps, before pausing again. “120 risked her life to save a stranger in that first game. He cheered when whole teams were gunned down in front of him. Think a little about your choices.”

She leaves quickly, but her voice lingers in your head. Feeling thoroughly chastised, you have to admit everything she said was completely accurate. And yet… When Namgyu leaves the bathroom, Thanos and Gyeongsu at his side, it’s like you instinctively knew exactly where to look. You don’t know if you trust yourself to stay away.

“Attention,” the female voice of the PA declares as a lullaby-like melody floods the room, “lights-out is in ten minutes. All players, please take this time to return to your beds for the night.”

Wanting to stick to your promise, you quickly scoot your way down the ladder back to the ground, eyes peeled for your friends. Even with the uneasy way you’d left them, there’s no group you’d feel more comfortable sleeping beside.

Passing the centre of the floor is Geumja, escorting Junhee. You’re surprised to see the two of them, but you rush up nonetheless to intercept. “Is it still okay if I stay with you tonight?” you ask the older lady.

She steps forward and braces your upper arms with a sweet croon. “Of course, dear, our Hyunju will be glad to have you back. You left us a little worried, you know.”

“I just needed some time alone to decompress,” you explain honestly.

Geumja seems to find this reasonable. She points out where the group is staying; only Youngmi and Yongsik are settling in. Hyunju has caught your eye, and is slowly making her way over. You’re not sure if you’re ready to get into a conversation, so when Geumja asks if you want to accompany them to the bathroom, you decline.

The pair haven’t noticed Hyunju and instead continue along to the closed-off corridor.

You cross paths with the woman herself, and the two of you slow to an uneasy stop.

She’s the first to speak up. “Are you okay?”

With a bracing smile, you not. “Sorry if I worried you. This is all… a lot, and so I wanted to take a breather.”

Hyunju accepts this with a small nod. Her lips part as she sucks in a small breath, before she closes them again like she’s changed her mind on what to say. “Thank you for coming back,” she says eventually, and leaves you alone.

A wave of exhaustion floods you, then, and you hastily join Yongsik and Youngmi to find a bed for the night. You can barely muster some pleasantries to share with them before you’re pressing your cheek into the thin pillow and willing away consciousness.

Despite the tangled mess of issues and worries in your mind, you’re out before you hear the girls return.

#namgyu fic #namgyu x reader #squid game fic #squid game x reader #hyunju fic #hyunju x reader #namgyu smut

102 notes · View notes