#to turning when he turns so I can return the favor

[deadhands69]

Hitching a Ride

League of Villains x Villain Reader  Eventually: [Tomura Shigaraki x Reader]  [Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader] 

“what are the odds of two serial killers in one car?” A quick intro, no real tws for this series other than crimes committed? Unofficially a Route 66 type AU: no locations explicitly mentioned and some references are elsewhere but that's kind of the vibe.

Money acquired, security evaded, and you need to get out of here. 

The unlocked Kia you had your eye on is gone. So much for a getaway car. 

You'll have to hitchhike. With any luck, you can steal the car from whoever picks you up and be off the grid in no time. 

One issue, the deserted road you ran down has almost no cars. The few that have passed are definitely not bold stupid enough to pick up someone dressed head to toe in black with a suspiciously bulky bag slung over their shoulder. Especially not when the windows to the nearby bank are shattered.

But you keep trying, thumb held as high in the air as you can manage. 

You're aware the sirens in the distance are searching for you and you're about to give up hope.

SKKKRRRREEEEETTTCHHHHH

A white van with the words “New Faith Church of God †” on the side swerves two lanes towards you and over the curb half a block down. 

A church van isn't what you expected, particularly one driven so recklessly, but you're not in a place to complain. 

You run to make up the distance. 

Expecting a van of grandmas, you're shocked when a heavily scarred man in his twenties dressed in all black steps out and gestures you in through the sliding door. His turquoise eyes follow as you hastily enter, sliding to an open seat by a white haired man with red eyes. You notice he also has quite a few scars.

“You're in middle,” his gruff voice mutters before he climbs in after you, taking the seat on your other side after slamming the door shut. 

The van lurches back onto the road and you're off. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you exclaim, still breathless from the sprint over. 

“Of course,” a blonde girl in the passenger seat answers, “We had to. Someone thought you were pretty.” She stares at one of the men next to you. He's... also attractive, you think to yourself. Cheeks beginning to flush. 

“Where are you headed, anyways?” asks the purple haired driver. He swerves slightly while gesturing back at you. 

“Anywhere, preferably far.”

“Well, you certainly got lucky today,” a man with a top hat and feather laughs behind you. His face completely covered by a mask. 

The silence becomes tense as they wait for you to recognize them. Unfortunately, you haven't had time (or a consistent location) to relax long enough to watch the news so you have no idea who these people are. But you do know one thing - 

“You're not really a church group, are you?”

The white haired man next to you mumbles “what gave you that idea?” Most of the others laugh. 

In the next hour, you learn a lot. Everyone introduces themselves. Their names are pretty easy to remember, you're certain most of them are made up. You debate on giving them your real name, instead going with the alias you typically use (which might as well be your actual name at this point, no one's called you anything else in years.)

You also get the feeling they're in the same boat as you: on the run in a vehicle that clearly doesn't belong to them after doing who knows what. They haven't asked you why you were in a rush to leave so you return the favor. 

At this point, they've realized you're not a threat (and definitely not about to call the heros on them) so they loosen up. You do too.

“Who wants to play a game?!” Toga asks. The two on either side of you groan but everyone else seems interested so she continues. 

“I spy with my little eye, somethinggg green!”

Turns out I spy is incredibly easy when all you can see are fields and distant mountains. After a few turns, you've tuned the game out. As have most of the others. Twice, Spinner, and Toga continue to play while everyone else begins to nap out of boredom. 

Everyone but one person. 

The gorgeous guy from earlier, who is the reason you’re here instead of a jail cell. 

He rests his hand on the seat between you, pinky brushing against your thigh. 

This will be an interesting ride.

m.list

The following chapters start the same then split into separate Shig/Dabi routes.

This will probably be fluff/eventually suggestive, very minimal angst. I just wanted to make something light, fun, and easy.

Maybe a few smut side quests that aren't plot/are skippable, but idk yet. Those aren't written and i have no explicit plans for them.

This one is particularly short but they should all be pretty quick reads. This won't be a long series. (says everyone before dropping 20 more chapters of 5k words.)

[samgirl98]

Connecting a Family 1/?

Next

Jason and his small family go to Gotham to reconnect with the Waynes during his birthday week

This was supposed to be a one-shot. It didn't turn out that way.

“A little to the left. There! Perfect!” Bruce exclaimed.

He turned and talked to the cleaning company manager he had hired.

“And everything is finished? Are the rooms done?”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne. Everything has been done to your and Mr. Pennyworth’s specifications. You are more than welcome to check.”

“Thank you. I'll check in a bit—oh, that banner needs to go over the doorway, not the window!”

Dick went up to the manager Bruce had been speaking to.

“I apologize for this. Bruce is a little nervous,” he said sheepishly.

“It is no problem, Mr. Grayson,” he said, not looking up from his iPad. “He’s not the worst I’ve had, and he's polite even in his demands.”

With that, the manager left.

Dick sighed and went to stop Bruce from harassing the decorators.

Bruce inspected the balloons on the balloon arc for any flaw he thought they might have. What flaws can balloons even have, Bruce?

Still, Dick understood Bruce’s nervousness.

Jason and his small family finally agreed to stay at the Manor for Jason and Alfred’s birthday week. It had been a surprise for the family in Gotham but a pleasant one.

And then Bruce went off the rails, trying to make sure everything was “perfect.”

Again, Dick understood. He wanted Jason and his family to have a great time in Gotham so they would be more inclined to return and visit, but Bruce was taking it to another level. The best Dick could do was follow Bruce around and try to rein him in. It wasn't working.

Maybe he should bring Mar’i to Bruce to see if she could calm him down. If Dick could figure out which of his siblings had his daughter.

“Bruce, can you help me look for Mar’i? It's time to give her lunch.”

Dick grabbed a hold of Bruce and dragged him away from the decorating manager. Bruce had harassed the poor employees long enough.

“Wait, I have to make sure they got the ballroom!”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Bruce, you hired them for a reason; they're the best. Let them do their jobs and help me find my daughter. Besides. I doubt Jason and his family will care if the balloon arc is three inches off center to the right.”

“I don’t know. Jason has always been a stickler for details,” Bruce tried to argue back.

“Not to this extent, Bruce. Chill.”

“Fine. Fine!” He took out his phone, “Maybe I can use this time to see if J’onn and Clark will still come. Oh, Kory is still invited. Make sure she shows up.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

Since Bruce learned that Danny liked space and aliens, he had been trying to bribe him with autographs, telescopes, and other space memorabilia. When Bruce found out that Jason was coming to Gotham with Danny, he called in a favor from his teammates to come over to meet Danny. Still, bothering his teammates will make them less inclined to come.

“Give me this,” Dick said as he took the phone out of Bruce’s hands, “Stop harassing people!”

Batman didn’t pout, but Bruce was close to doing so.

“What if Jason calls?”

“Then I’ll answer. Help me find my kid.”

They eventually found Mar’i in the kitchen eating a sandwich.

Alfred didn’t get frantic, but he was close when they entered. He mumbled to himself and checked over the food. All of which were Jason’s favorites.

“C’mon Alfie, not you, too.”

“I have no idea what you mean, Master Dick.”

“Alfie had been freaking out since this morning,” Mar’i said, “It’s funny.”

“Really, Miss Marie, it’s not funny at all to laugh at this old man’s distress.”

“Mar’i,” Dick said, “apologize.”

“Sorry, Alfie.”

“Apology accepted,” he said even as he read a recipe that Dick knew Alfred had memorized. Dick sighed—this family.

“Alfred, Jason is going to love whatever you make him.”

“Hmm, that may be true, but I’m trying to impress more than just Master Jason. After all, I’ve heard his son is a bit of a hard case to get to one’s side.”

Dick said nothing. Alfred wasn’t wrong. Danny could be a bit prickly. Dick still remembered Danny’s glowing green glare and tried to subdue a shudder. He didn’t think it worked.

“I’m sure Danny will love whatever you make, Alfie,” Dick tried to reassure the old butler. Besides, Dick needed Alfred on his side.

A chime made everyone jump. Dick pulled out Bruce’s phone and read the message.

“Their plane has landed.”

____

Jason took a deep breath, taking in the rancid, smoggy Gotham air. The clouds threatened rain.

It was home.

As much as he loved his little haunt, there was just something about Gotham that made him feel welcomed. It was almost like a mother opening her arms and welcoming him back home.

“Ugh, what is that smell,” Jazz asked while holding her nose.

“That’s Gotham,” Jason said proudly.

Ellie held her little hands over her nose while Jazz made retching noises. Jason laughed.

“C’mon, let’s go get that car. I’ll show you around later.”

“Does the rest of Gotham smell this way,” Jazz murmured. Jason ignored her.

They had opted to rent a car instead of allowing Alfred to drive them or use one of Bruce’s cars. It gave them a sense of freedom to know they could get up and leave in their own vehicle if things went south.

Jason hoped it didn’t. He wanted his two families to get along.

They got in their temporary car and took on Gotham’s traffic.

Jason pointed out landmarks and gargoyles he would hide in when he was Robin. He even pointed out his favorite one. He wondered how many times he had hidden by that gargoyle to get away from it all. It knew all of his secrets, fears, and hopes.  

Jazz and Ellie stared at everything with wide eyes while Danny stared out the window. He looked like he was contemplating something, and Jason hoped it wasn’t something bad, like how he would annoy the family…or scare them.

Because of Gotham traffic, it took them a little over an hour to get from the airport to Wayne Manor. They had seen a few accidents along the way. Gotham never changed, which was comforting in a way. Gotham would always be the same, no matter how long he was away.

They reached the manor and stopped in front of the gates decorated with balloons and lights. Jason smiled. He bet Bruce was going crazy trying to make everything perfect for his prodigal son's return.

Jason put in his codes and watched as the gates slowly opened.

Ellie and Jazz stared with huge eyes as they took in the estate and the manor. Danny was glaring at everything with glowing eyes.

“Behave, Danny,” Jason said in a warning tone.

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny retaliated back.

“Cool it with the spooky eyes, baby brother.”

Danny glared one last time. Then his eyes returned to his usual baby blues.

“Thanks, Danny. It means a lot to me,” Jason said.

Danny nodded once and looked out the window, his chin resting on his hand. He looked very unimpressed by the luxury surrounding him. They stopped in front of Wayne Manor, where the whole family stood waiting to greet them. Lights were decorating the doorway even though it was daytime. It was a bit intimidating, if Jason was being honest. After all, he hadn’t met most of them, and now they were standing before him to judge him and his family. He hoped they didn’t find them lacking. Not that his small family wasn’t anything but perfect…Well, for the most part.

Jazz got out first. Jason followed. Jazz took Ellie from her car seat while Jason opened the door for Danny.

“Behave,” he whispered at his son.

Danny rolled his eyes, “They better behave, too. They have only one chance to impress me.”

Jason sighed. Well, that’s the best he could do. Danny was a stubborn boy, after all. It was all up to the Wayne Family now. He wouldn’t help them if they wanted Danny’s trust and love.

Jason took Danny’s hand and went before the family. His palms sweated as he stood in front of them. Jazz stood by him, holding Ellie in her arms.

“Jason, Jazz, Danny, Ellie, welcome to Wayne Manor,” Bruce said. He walked up to Jason and put his arms around Jason. “Welcome back, son.”

Jason soaked in his father’s touch for a few extra seconds before he started squirming to be let go. After all, he was still holding Danny’s hand, and he felt how uncomfortable his son felt. Bruce let go and got down to Danny’s level.

“I have a surprise for you later.”

“Oh, now we’re trying to buy a kid’s love.”

“Danny,” Jason reprimanded sharply, “apologize.”

Bruce laughed, “It’s okay, Jay lad, I’m not offended.”

“He should be,” Danny whispered under his breath. Jason only caught it because of his super hearing. Even Jazz turned and gave Danny a look. His sweet son didn’t look cowed and jutted out his chin. Jason sighed. He’d have to talk to Danny later.

“Come, let’s greet the family.”

Danny dragged his feet as he walked up.

Alfred was the first one to introduce himself. He bowed to Danny.

“Welcome, Master Danny, to Wayne Manor. I am Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Family’s butler.”

Danny stared blankly at Alfred. Jason nudged Danny. Jason wanted this to go well but knew it was up to them. He could try to facilitate things but nothing else.

Danny sighed, “Hello, Mr. Pennyworth. Dad has talked great about you. I like the recipes you taught him.”

“Please, call me Alfred. I’m glad I could please you even while far away.”

“Heh, okay, Alfred,” Danny chuckled and then turned to look at the rest of the family. Everyone started squirming at Danny’s stare. His eyes weren’t glowing, but his stare was intense. Tim even hid behind Cassandra. Danny smirked at Tim’s actions. Duke Thomas walked up first. His stance was relaxed, and he had on an easy smile.

“Hey, I’m Duke,” the newest member said, shaking Jason and Danny’s hands. “I have powers, too. It’s nice to have more people who know what it’s like.”

“Hey, Duke, I’m Jason; this is my son, Danny, and my sister, Jazz, and niece, Ellie.”

“Nice to meet you! It’s fun to have more niblings!”

“I’m not your nephew, and you’re not my uncle,” Danny said quickly.

Duke’s smile didn’t fall.

“Of course, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I hope you see me as a family member in the future, even if you don’t see me as an uncle.”

Danny said nothing and looked at the rest of the family. Stephanie Brown introduced herself next, followed by Barbara and Cassandra.

“Call me Cass, though.”

“Cass,” Danny repeated as he studied her, “You’ve been touched by death.”

He doubted anyone else noticed; she didn’t flinch or react, really, but Jason knew, he could feel it in his core, that Cass was perturbed when Danny mentioned death.

“Danny, don’t mention death to other people,” he reprimanded his son. It was one thing to talk about death in their small family, but he doubted others would be comfortable talking about that subject.

“Sorry,” Danny said, sounding sincere.

“My name is Damian Al Ghul Wayne, heir to the Cowl and League.”

“Damian,” Bruce hissed at his youngest.

Danny blinked at Damian, “Okay. Nice to meet you, I guess; I’m Danny Nightingale. I’m not an heir to anything, though.”

“Tt, whatever.”

Damian said nothing, and everyone else introduced themselves. The last one to introduce herself was Mar’i.

“Hi, I’m Mar’i. I heard you can fly, too. That’s so cool! Maybe we can race.”

“Cool. I heard your mom is an alien princess. Have you ever been to space? Have you been to your mom’s planet? It’s so cool that you’re half-alien!”

“Yeah, my mom is from Tamaran. I’ve been there once with my parents. It’s nice. Why do you wanna go?”

“Yes,” Danny breathed out, his body vibrating with excitement.

“Before we plan to let you go on extraterrestrial travels, let’s settle here first, yeah, Danny lad?”

Danny walked with Mar’i, asking her questions. The little girl seemed to be enjoying all the attention. Jason and Bruce brought in the luggage, ignoring Alfred’s insistence that he could do it. The old butler wasn’t getting any younger, and Jason could carry his stuff.

Jason gave one last look toward Danny and watched as he listened to whatever Mar’i was telling him with rapt attention. Jason couldn’t help but smile. At least his son was enjoying himself with one family member. It was a start.

“I’ll go put our things in our rooms. Alfie, where are we going to stay?”

“In the family wing, of course. I have prepared rooms for you and put a crib where Miss Jazz will sleep in case she wants the little one with her.”

“Thanks, Alfie.”

“Come on, Danny. I’ll show you where we’re staying.”

Danny seemed reluctant to leave Mar’i behind. His little boy had gotten attached to his cousin quickly.

“Can’t you show me later?”

“I can show you,” Mar’i quickly interrupted, “You can tell me about yourself now.”

“Okay,” Danny said while following the little girl.

“I’m glad Mar’i and Danny are getting along,” Dick said.

“Me too.”

Dick smiled at Jason, “Welcome back, Little Wing, welcome back.

____

Bruce couldn’t help but hover over Jason.

It was a miracle to have his son back in the manor, and Bruce was enjoying it as much as he could. After all, Jason was only here for a finite time. He was also enchanted by Ellie’s sweet, mischievous smile and Danny’s curiosity about all things space. He couldn’t get a good read on Jazz, but Tim’s warning to stay away from her if they didn’t want to be psychoanalyzed by an intelligent and competent person.

He remembered the wary look his children and children adjacent had given at Tim’s words.

Bruce didn’t want to be psychoanalyzed by anyone, but for the sake of his son, he wouldn’t mind having his mind prodded. Jason loved Jazz like a sister, and he doubted Jason wouldn’t notice if people tried to ostracize her. Bruce would lead by example.

Jason had found happiness with his own family, and Bruce couldn’t help but feel pride and joy for his son. He could only hope he would be allowed to be a part of Jason’s family.

“The drawing room is ready. I have prepared refreshments for everyone to enjoy.”

“You’ll join us, Alfie, right,” Jason asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Master Jason.”

Danny stared at the drawing room with disdain while Ellie pointed at all the balloons and decorations.

“I think dad went a bit overboard, huh, Dick?”

Bruce flushed while still feeling a deep sense of joy deep in his heart. Jason called him dad. Bruce tried to keep the tears out of his eyes.

“I wanted everything to be perfect,” he said instead.

Jason rolled his eyes and turned toward his siblings.

“Let me guess. He harassed the workers in his quest to make things ‘perfect.’”

“Oh, you should’ve seen it, Jay; he couldn’t leave the poor suckers alone. I had to apologize for his behavior.”

“He was trying to find fault with the balloon arch,” Tim added, “What imperfections could balloons even have?”

“They could’ve been different sizes,” Bruce added mulishly, “I had to make sure they were all the right size.”

“How many arcs are there,” Jason asked, “’Cuz I’ve seen five already. Were you planning on inspecting them all, B?”

Bruce crossed his arms and raised his chin stubbornly.

All his children shook their heads, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.  

“I can show you videos later, Jay,” Barbara, the traitor, said.

“Yes, please.”

“Alright, why don’t we eat? I’m sure everyone is famished.”

“I don’t know, old man, I’m kind of enjoying poking fun at you,” Jason said.

Bruce ignored his miracle child and went for a cucumber sandwich.

Danny went up to the table and inspected everything. He finally decided on a blueberry scone and bit into it, his eyes widening at the taste.

“Daddy, they taste like yours!”

“More like mine taste like Alfred’s. He taught me everything I know about cooking and baking.”

Danny stuffed the rest of the scone into his mouth while looking at Alfred. Danny picked up a cookie and sandwich as he swallowed the scone.

“Danny, you’re going to choke.”

Danny smiled mischievously and stuffed the cookie into his mouth.  

“It’s not like it’ll kill me,” he said with his mouth full, “I’m already half-dead.”

The room got silent; everyone held their breath. Bruce could tell what everyone was thinking: Died? Danny had died? He’s half-dead?

Bruce knew a little about Danny and Jason and how they had gained powers, but he hadn’t told anyone else in the family, trying to protect Jason’s and his family’s privacy. Looking at the horrified looks on his children’s faces (except Tim’s), Bruce couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake in not giving his family a heads-up.

Danny looked around the room. Then his eyes widened in understanding.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that so casually. I’m so used to joking about my death and resurrection in my old life, and within our small family, I forget that not everyone would look at it as a joke.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce said, “Let’s not dwell on it and eat.”

Jason walked up to Danny and ruffled his hair. It was only then that Danny seemed to untense. Danny said something to Jason, and Jason smiled at Danny. He whispered something in the little boy’s ears and hugged his son.

Mar’i showed up to talk to Danny, and the two of them scampered off.

“Is he okay,” Bruce asked.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I know death is a taboo subject to most people, but Danny tends to cope with jokes. I do, too, to be honest.”

“I understand. I wish he didn’t have that trauma and had to cope, but we all find different ways.”

Jason nodded.

“So, what’s the surprise? ‘Cuz you already have the manor decked out from top to bottom, and the food is delicious. Don’t tell me you got him a rocket or something,” Bruce could tell Jason was only half joking.

“I’m not that out of touch, Jay lad.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked at the balloon arches and hanging banners.

Bruce sighed. Okay, maybe he went a bit overboard with the decorations.

“I asked Clark, J’onn, and Starfire to come. They’ll be here a little later.”

“Oh, Danny is going to freak. He loves Martian Manhunter. He says he’s his favorite superhero.”

Bruce almost pouted. Why did none of his children or grandchildren say Batman was their favorite? It was always someone else.

“Why’re pouting, old man? No one will say Batman is their favorite because we know you too well.”

Bruce actually pouted before smiling.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jay lad. I missed you.”

Jason tackled Bruce with a hug, “I missed you, too, dad.”

Happy New Year!

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part three//t.c.

“Are you all ready for the Palm Springs Awards tonight?” you asked Timmy when you arrived at work, his house, the next day.

“Yeah, I guess.” he said. He looked tired, he rubbed his eyes with his hands, “I think I will take your speech with me. It will be a good script to ground myself with when I accept the award.”

“Alright. So I guess it’s good enough for you to use if you win the Golden Globe, and then we can work on a new variation for the Oscars.”

“Yes, yes, but I doubt I will need it. Those awards always favor older actors. Not that I can blame them, I am not as experienced.”

“Timmy you should be proud of your work. The awards are just a bonus for some people. It’s not a necessity to know you’ve done a great job.”

“I am proud.” he smiled then shrugged, “Maybe one day I will stop caring so much about the awards. You’re a great writer by the way. I think I’ll have you do all of my speeches with me from now on.” he grinned softly at you.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad to help, boss.” you set your purse down on the counter, "Emails today?"

You heard his phone buzz, he looked at it, then answered you, "Yeah, it'll be a short day for you today. I'll be leaving this afternoon for the ceremony."

"Okay, um, do you need me to do anything for tonight? I could come with you, if need be."

He shook his head, "No, no, I don't think that will be necessary."

You nodded as he answered a text on his phone, "Is she going?"

"Who?" he responded without looking up, totally aloof.

You sighed, "Timmy, I'm not a reporter, you don't have to play dumb with me. You know who I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I think she is going." he grumbled.

"So, should I expect a drunken phone call at two in the morning this time?" you quipped.

He looked up, stared at you, like he was trying to communicate something, even if he didn't know what it was. "I've got a phone call." he said plainly, avoiding answering, before turning away and going into the other room.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling to him, but really to yourself, "I guess I will take that as a yes. Your phone wasn't even ringing."

..........

The workday went smoothly, but the closer it got to your early dismissal, the more Timmy become agitated. He grew grumpier throughout the day, not necessarily at you, just in general. You began to wonder if he was getting enough sleep, or maybe it was just stress, or maybe it was Miss Jenner.

"Are you sure you're okay? For tonight, I mean?" you were concerned about him on a personal level, but couldn't let it show too much, so you sheathed it with the mention of the awards ceremony.

“Yeah,” he spoke softly, walking you out of his home, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

It seemed to be a new routine for him to escort you out at the end of the work day. It was growing on you. It made you feel cared for.

“Okay, well, good luck. You’ll do great. I’ll see you tomorrow.” For some reason, you felt the urge to kiss him on the cheek, like returning the favor from the day before. But you held back, yeah it’s a good idea to hold back.

"Thank you. See you tomorrow." he gave you that signature Timmy grin.

As you headed home, you could not get the image of his face out of your mind. You didn't care for the mustache and short hair combination at first, but the look had really grown on you recently. His hair had become looser and tousled on top, and he had grown a goatee to go with the mustache, which you think brought the facial hair look together nicely. It began to suit him in a mature way, and there was something really cute and sweet about it.

But, you knew that you could not think of him like that for too long. He was your boss, and he belonged to someone else.

That evening, you wondered if you would hear from Timmy after the awards were over. You hoped that you wouldn't, and that he would be okay. Maybe he wouldn't drink, or maybe he would just have a couple and then go home. Maybe he wouldn't need you.

However, your phone rang in the middle of the night, waking you up. You peeled your eyelids open with a groan, grabbing your phone and seeing the time, 1:47 A.M. Sure enough, it was your boss calling.

Your cleared your throat as best and as quickly as you could, hitting the green answer button, "Yes, Timmy?"

"Hey, open your door would ya?"

"What?" you sat up instinctually, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Can you open your door?" he asked louder, with more emphasis on each word.

"Okay! Jeez, sorry. I'm coming." you threw your covers off, scooted your feet across the floor to find your slippers. "I was asleep you know." you sassed into the phone at him.

"Oh, shit. I guess it's early isn't it?" you could just picture him squinting at his phone, seeing what time it was.

"Try 'early,' goodbye." you said, ending the call and scampering out of your bedroom.

.........

You opened the front door of your apartment, and there he was, waiting.

"Timmy. What are you doing here?"

"Just stopping by." he shrugged nonchalantly.

"How did you know where I lived?"

"Your job application." he said in an obvious tone.

You blinked in disbelief, “I gave that to you more than a year ago."

"Yeah, well, I have my assistant's address memorized, okay? You never know when I might need you." he insisted.

You sighed, "I guess. Please tell me you didn't drive here." You leaned outside, peeking around to see if his car was there.

"No, I took an Uber from the event." he placed his hand on the door frame next to you.

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you go home with Kylie? Or just go to your place?” you asked.

He frowned, looking down at the ground, he shook his head at your interrogation. “I don’t know.” he looked up at you, standing straight up, he took a step forward.

The close proximity between you and him felt dangerous.

He was a bit taller than you, so he leaned down close, and softly, he said, “Why can’t I stay away from you?”

You felt weak, like you could fall right to the floor. But if you did, you didn’t know if Timmy was stable enough to help you back up.

Luckily, you didn’t have to respond in any way, because he said, “Do you have a couch or something I can crash on?”

January 10, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[araybiaaa]

sofia valdez is not amused by rafe cameron; not when she’s heard enough stories from her friends to know that he’s dangerous. what starts off as disdain towards him, in solidarity with her friends, slowly turns into her falling for the boy she promised to stay away from.

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pairing: rafe cameron x sofia

tags: enemies to lovers, pining, drinking, mentions of drugs.

notes: after what feels like an eternity i’ve finally updated this story lol. i revamped this chapter so much but i think i’m happy with how it turned out! this one is super long, so be aware!

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“Country Club!” Rafe smirks in amusement when he hears the familiar proclamation of Barry’s sing-songy greeting.

He wades his way through the crowd of people, feeling Nicole vehemently lug on his hand as she followed in tow behind him. He peers at her over his shoulder, seeing the upturned furrow of her nose as she clutched her purse securely against her chest. Rafe shakes his head, rolling his eyes at her pompous attitude.

“Rafe, are you sure it’s safe over here?” She whispers, releasing his hand so that she’s able to anchor herself against his arm instead.

When Barry invited him to his party, Rafe had every intention of attending the party alone, but as soon as Nicole learned that he was going out tonight she was adamant on accompanying him even when he told her that the party’s location was behind held on the other side of the island in The Cut. He was reluctant on bringing her, but she promised to keep thoughts and behavior in tact.

“Relax. Nothing’s gonna happen to you,”

Nicole seemed unconvinced at his attempted reassurance, pursing her lips in a deeper frown when a group of guys greeted Rafe in passing. “Ugh! How do you even know these people?” And when she sees Barry suddenly approaching them, she nearly cowers behind Rafe as she tightened her grip.

“Rafe Cameron!” Barry proffered his hand out to greet him in a dapped embrace. Rafe retracts himself from around Nicole’s vice grip so that he’s able to return the gesture. “Took you long enough, the party already started without you!”

Rafe chuckles, casually wandering his eyes around at the partygoers. Everyone here was either inebriated or on the precipice of it. Unlike the parties on figure eight that were lavish and were often thrown at mansions and had hundreds of occupants in attendance; this one was more lowkey which Rafe favored.

He liked that he had separated worlds with separate friends.

Sometimes, it was admittedly easier being around Barry than his other friends. Though years of friendship bonded them as more as brothers than friends, Rafe can admit that he’s found himself preferring Barry’s company as of late as opposed to Topper and Kelce’s. He knows that at least with Barry, he’ll get a night free of pogue-bashing and will actually get to enjoy himself rather than listen to another one of Topper’s drunken spiels.

“You and your lady friend go grab a cup and catch up! You can’t be the only sober motherfuckers here,” Barry insisted; clasping a hand on Rafe’s back before he’s sauntering away to talk to a group of his friends. Knowing that a few cups of beer would definitely be needed with a night with Nicole especially with how she’s acting, Rafe retreated to the keg.

“You want some?” He offers as he pulled the lever down and filled his cup with the frothy liquid until it’s pooled at the rim. She shakes her head in decline, tucking her arms across her chest as she looked around warily at her surroundings. “No one’s going to steal anything from you, Nicole. You’ve gotta lighten up.”

“You don’t know that!”

Rafe rolls his eyes, already past the point of exasperation at her prudish behavior. He’s looking around the party again, absentminded in the gesture, when he sees her. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her and he averts his eyes over to Nicole, desperately hoping that she hadn’t noticed his unabashed gawking.

He hasn’t seen her since the beach incident. He’d stopped by the club a few times to see if she would be there so he could apologize on behalf of his friends again. But she was either adamantly avoiding him or hadn’t returned to work recently, because every time he asked one of her coworkers for her whereabouts they’d say that she wasn’t there that day.

(And now that he thinks about it — they probably told him that because they were cautious of him; probably thinking he was stalking her or something. Upon this realization, he feels his cheeks pinken and warm in chagrin.)

He hides his blush behind his cup, taking another sip of his beer. His eyes never avert away from her even as she approached Barry. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him that they know each other but it does. Barry’s a good friend, but he was a bit rough hewn which was completely antithetical of Sofia’s quiet and more reserved personality.

But then Rafe remembered that she’s also friends with JJ Maybank who’s just as intrepid (probably more so) than Barry, so his initial surprise is dissuaded almost immediately. However, unlike JJ, there’s a certain familiarity that he notices between Sofia and Barry that has his curiosity piqued.

When she approaches him, Barry’s mouth stretched in a mirthful smile while hers mimicked a shy one. When he pulls her in for a hug, Rafe notices how long the embrace lasts and how Barry’s hand rests on the small of her back; comfortable in its perch. He turns his head and whispers something into her ear and whatever he says must be hilarious because he could hear Sofia’s laughter ricochet all the way through the kitchen to where he stood.

And it only takes a moment for the realization that they were flirting to dawn upon him. He feels a tightening pulling in his jaw and the skin between his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he narrowed his gaze. It was ridiculous for him to be harboring these feelings of jealousy over someone that wasn’t his (or didn’t even like him) but he couldn’t help the feeling of envy that arose the longer he stared at them.

His mind began to concoct torturous thoughts that did absolutely nothing to subside his jealousy — wondering how they met, why Barry didn’t tell him about her and why his hand hasn’t moved away from her back yet.

“I uh, I have to go talk to Barry about something. I’ll be right back,”

Nicole’s eyes widen in bewilderment as she gives him a perplexed look. “You’re leaving me here alone?” She asks incredulously, almost offended at the prospect.

Rafe sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead in contemplation. He didn’t want to walk over there with Nicole especially after everything that happened at the beach, but he knows he’ll never hear the end of her nagging if he left her side for even the slightest second.

“Okay, fine. But just don’t say anything when we get over there. Alright?” He didn’t want her taunting Sofia about Ruthie’s rude behavior.

“Okay, jeez.��� She murmurs, rolling her eyes as she huffed a petulant pout before trailing behind him in tow. Rafe squeezes his way through the crowd of people, beelining his way over to where Barry and Sofia stood.

They’re still deeply engaged in their conversation; too distracted — with him still leaned down talking in her ear and her eyes crinkling in mirth as her heartfelt laughter filled throughout the room — to notice Rafe’s sudden approach. He substitutes his glower in exchange for a genial smile as he clasped a hand over Barry’s shoulder.

Both Barry and Sofia are retracted from their conversation at Rafe’s sudden interjection. He blinks a look of surprise, but greets Rafe with the same amicability as before, unmoored by the interruption. “Wassup?” His hand abandons it perch on Sofia’s back but he still remains in close proximity of her to where he’s nearly shielding her from his view.

And Rafe wonders if it was intentional.

His eyes wander over Barry’s shoulder, peering down at Sofia. He’s surprised to see that she was already looking at him too with raised brows and an indiscernible expression marring her features. “I uh—” Shit. Rafe paused, inwardly muttering a chastising curse when he realized that he hadn’t fully thought of something to say on his way over here.

He was just so focused on interrupting their moment of intimacy that he didn’t think of a excuse for his interruption. Luckily, it’s Nicole who’s breaking the barrier of the awkward silence as she directed her question to Barry, “Where’s the bathroom?”

Barry looked questioningly over at Rafe before nudging his chin outwardly. “It’s through there. First door on the right,” Nicole murmurs a halfhearted thanks to him, before disappearing down the hallway.

When she’s gone, Barry shakes his head and emanates an amused chuckle. He shakes a finger at Rafe, proclaiming, “You’re my dog, so I can get a pass when I say this, but you’ve gotta get better taste in women. That dick of yours is gonna get you in trouble one of these days,” Barry’s attention averts at the sound of someone beckoning him from across the room. He alerts, narrowing his gaze on the person as recognition settles in.

He turns back to Sofia, “I gotta go handle somethin’ real quick. You cool standin’ here with Rafe til I come back?”

She looks at him warily, but nods at Barry. “I’ll be okay.” And Rafe doesn’t know if he should be offended at the insinuation that she wouldn’t be safe around him. It seemed as if the rumors about him and his past history of violence had caused her to be apprehensive of being alone with him.

After Barry’s left to tend to one of his customers, Rafe averts his attention back on Sofia who stood there hugging her arms around herself as she avoided his gaze. “I uh, I know that I said it before but I really am sorry about what happened,” Her eyes slowly meet his gaze; staring at him with profound intensity like she’s assessing him to determine if there’s any sincerity behind his apology.

After a moment, she shrugs, lowering her eyes as she looked away from him again. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Rafe nods, feeling grateful that he was at least absolved from that. “So, uh, how do you know Barry?” He attempted to appear causal in his inquiry, hoping that she didn’t decipher his ulterior motive behind the question.

She gives him a guarded look, “How do you know him?” She redirects, seemingly avoiding answering the question. “He doesn’t really seem like someone you’d be friends with,”

Rafe shrugged, “Maybe you don’t know me like you think you do,”

Their conversation is interrupted as two guys, stumbling in their inebriated stupor, make their way over to where they’re standing. One of the guys inadvertently loses his footing and nearly collides directly into Sofia. But she manages to evade out of his pathway, gasping softly when she collides against Rafe’s chest instead. He reacts almost instinctively, resting a hand on her waist to steady her.

“Shit. Are you okay?” Sofia nods, her eyes briefly hold his gaze as he stared down at her in concern. Her hand’s pressed against his chest, anchoring herself in place. And he hopes that she doesn’t feel how his heartbeat quickens at her touch — at how much just being in her proximity was affecting him.

At the realization of how close they were standing to each other, Sofia immediately recoils from the embrace as she takes a few steps away from him accruing to the space between them again. He doesn’t even have the opportunity to dwell over his disappointment because Nicole’s suddenly announcing her return. “This party is so lame. Why don’t we go to Topper’s at least he has a pool and coke,”

“Jesus, Nicole!” Rafe reproaches, grabbing ahold of her hand as he tugs her offside, keeping them sequestered from any eavesdropping. “If you didn’t want to be here you didn’t have to come. You’ve been complaining since we got here!”

She gives him a pointed look as she tugs her hand free from his grasp so that she’s able to perch them akimbo instead. “Excuse me for wanting to spend time with my boyfriend but you’ve done nothing but ignore me the entire night—”

Rafe careens, bewildered. “Boyfriend?” He wasn’t exactly certain how she came to this very false assumption about their relationship and the extremities of it; especially when he informed her beforehand that it would be strictly for both of their sexual gratifications and nothing more. But it seemed as if she concocted some idea about this being more than what he intended for it to be.

She furrowed a narrowed look like she’s unsure why he’s the one that confused. She nods, watching as Rafe suspired wryly, running a hand over his face. “Look, we hang out and we have sex but we aren’t dating. I told you what this was before we even started sleeping together.”

He’s trying to assuage his rejection as nicely as he can, cautious to not inadvertently say the wrong thing so that she doesn’t get offended and cause a scene but it appears as if his efforts are futile because he can see her expression altering at his words.

She scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“You’re a nice girl and you’re fun to hang out with,” When you aren’t being possessive and needy for my attention. “But—”

“Nice and fun to hang out with?!” She reiterates, chuckling in incredulous disbelief at his apparent trivialization. “We’ve been seeing each other for months! So you’re telling me that it was all meaningless sex to you is that it?” He wants to say yes, because she deserves the truth especially after this misconstrued situation but he knows that her reaction would be anything but civil if he were to do so.

So he doesn’t verbally respond, only rubs a hand over his neck as he lowered his eyes away from her unflinched gaze.

“Wow. You’re a fucking asshole.” He parts his mouth to offer a sheepish apology, but her hands are shoving at his chest as she continued her verbal onslaught towards him.

The commotion of everything caught the other partygoers attention. Their gazes thwart from their own conversations onto them, their interests piqued at the sudden entertainment. “You know what? Lose my number and don’t ever call me again!” She says, brushing past him with a nudge of her shoulder.

…

When he turns back around, Sofia’s looking at him with an amused expression lilting across her face. “Wow,” Rafe sighs, wiping off a bit of drink that inadvertently spilled onto his pants in the midst of Nicole’s collision. “Barry’s right, you do have interesting taste in women.”

He gives her a pointed look, admittedly annoyed at the fact that she keeps using Barry’s name in such a familiar context. “Wow, for a second there it almost sounds like you actually care about me and my interests,”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She avers, tucking her arms against her chest.

He sighs in defeat realizing that the brief moment that they shared earlier where she didn’t seem to despise his presence was merely fleeting and that her disdain for him had made an abrupt return. He didn’t understand her. She wouldn’t even give him the opportunity of salvaging his reputation that his sister tarnished.

He’s gotten accustomed to being the island’s social pariah — he’s heard all of the gossiping whispers and seen the judgmental stares, but none of that compared to withdrawn feeling of rejection that he carries knowing how she feels about him.

“Yo, Sof!” Barry’s voice pierces through the silence that lingered between them. He saunters over to where they’re standing, lugging his arm around Sofia’s shoulder again. “You want some?” He asks, outwardly proffering his cup of beer towards her in a questioning gesture.

Sofia shakes her head, declining his offer as she gently pushed the cup away. “I have to work tomorrow, I can’t show up babysitting a hangover.”

Barry laughs boisterously as he brings his cup up to his parted lips and takes a large swig of the drink. “I forgot how much of a lightweight you are,” He teases, much to her flushing chagrin as she rolls her eyes and playfully nudged at his shoulder.

Having grown tired of being an evidential third wheel to their playful banter, Rafe announces his leave.

“What? Nah. Bro, you just got here!” Barry accents, removing his arm from around Sofia so that he’s able to approach Rafe. “Look, there’s a whole party full of other women to help you get over…ah,” He snaps his fingers as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying (and failing) to remember Nicole’s name.

“Nicole,”

“Nicole!” Barry exclaims, nodding his head as he clasped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Go mingle and find someone else to help you forget about that stuck up bitch.”

He couldn’t tell him that the one person that he wanted to give his time and attention to, couldn’t care less about him. Rafe was jealous of Barry’s fortunate luck of being with someone like Sofia but he also felt guilt ridden for having these traitorous feelings. Barry was a good friend who’s seen and helped him get through some of the most darkest times in his life. What kind of friend was he to repay that kind of support by crushing on his girlfriend in return?

Barry was right about one thing though; he did need to forget about Nicole (and Sofia) and what better way to do that than self indulge in liquor and women to help distract him from his troubling thoughts?

…

When Barry invited her to his party, the last person she expected to see in attendance was kook king Rafe Cameron. Another thing she was completely unaware of? The fact that he and Barry were friends. Sofia’s brain couldn’t comprehend the reality of it even as she watched them interact. Barry despised kooks and everything they stood for and Rafe was the island’s biggest kook — with a father like Ward Cameron and them living in one of the biggest houses on the island to prove it.

It’s about twelve thirty when she decides to call it in for the night. She looks around the room, searching for Barry so she could bid her farewells before she left but he’d disappeared with a group of friends fifteen minutes ago and hadn’t returned since. She didn’t have time to go around to search for him, so she decided to send him a goodbye text instead.

As she’s walking from the front porch to the driveway, she could see Rafe slouched out in one of the chairs on the lawn. His eyes are glossy and as she approached closer to him, she could smell the strong stench of beer wafting off of him.

“Are you okay?” He looked visibly drunk — his head’s lolling to the side, barely able to remain upright and his expression’s languid.

He blinks, guffawing softly at her apropos. “I’m fine. But it’s not like you actually care anyway, right?” He rebuttals, a bit defensive in his response.

Sofia tucks her phone into her back pocket as she sighs, ignoring his abrasive tone. “Are you waiting on someone to pick you up? Or do you need a ride?” Her eyes lowered to his feet where she could see his car keys in the grass next to an empty red solo cup. “I can take you,” She offered, immediately intervening just in case he was thinking about driving himself home.

Rafe shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand at her. “I told you that I’m fine.”

She reaches forward and snatches his keys, tucking them inside her front pocket. “You’re drunk.” She says, perching her hands akimbo as she stared down at him.

“I’m not an idiot, Sofia,” He beseeches, fixing his blurry gaze on her. “Contrary to what you think about me I’m not stupid enough to drink and drive.”

While it relieves her to hear him reassure her of this, it still doesn’t dissuade the discomfort of leaving him alone in this drunken state. “Okay, good. But I’m still keeping your keys so since you don’t have a way home, I’ll take you.”

“I don’t need—I can walk by myself, you know.” He mutters, though contradicting himself a moment later when he inadvertently stumbles when he stands to his feet and has to rest a hand on her forearm to anchor himself.

Sofia wraps an arm around his waist, holding onto him securely as she schlepped him towards her car. The height difference between the two of them along his loss of cognition has Rafe leaning most of his body weight on her, to where she’s pressed up against his chest. He barred his arm around her shoulder, sluggish in his gait as she lead them forward.

Opening the passenger’s door, Rafe slides his arm off of her and murmurs a soft thanks as he brushes past her to climb inside. Her car is much smaller than he is so he has to maneuver around a bit to get comfortable, but despite his efforts his knees still end up being pressed against the dashboard.

“Here, put your address in.” She says, extending her phone outwardly towards him once she’s perched in the driver’s seat.

She turns the keys over as the ignition spurs on. She secures her seatbelt in place, setting the car in reverse as she pulls out of the driveway and descends down the street.

“Do you need water or anything?” She offers, peering over at him as he leaned his head against her window while his hand rubbed at his throbbing temples.

“Careful there Sofia, you’re starting to sound like you actually care about my well-being,” He remarks sarcastically, shifting his position in the seat with a soft grunt as he spreads his legs wider for room.

“You’re in my car. I don’t want you to throw up or pass out or anything,”

Rafe rolls his eyes, scoffing. “I’m fine. I know how to handle my liquor,” He murmurs, fluttering his eyes close as he mindlessly tapped his fingers against his thigh.

Sofia ends the conversation there, leaning forward to turn on the radio to drown out the car’s silence. She thinks he’s fallen asleep and that she’d have a peaceful drive for the rest of the way, but it’s not even five minutes later that he’s blinking his eyes open and turning his head to look at her.

“What?” She questions, suddenly feeling her face flush at the way he’s watching her. She averts her attention away from the road and peers over at him with a raised brow.

“Why do you hate me? I know you’re friends with my sister and she’s said some shit about me but that’s how she feels and it’s understandable. But why do you hate me?”

Sofia looks back at the road, biting on her lip as she tightened her grip around the wheel. She didn’t feel like this was the most appropriate time to talk about this especially while he was drunk, but if he wanted a truthful answer then she wouldn’t hesitate to give him one.

“I don’t hate you, Rafe. I don’t trust you. I might not know you like the rest of them do, but I know my friends and I know that the way they and other people on the island talk about you isn’t for no reason.”

His jaw clenched as he looks away, staring vacantly out of the window. “If you don’t trust me then you shouldn’t have given me a ride home. I don’t want to ruin your reputation by having you be seen with me,” He laments through offense that’s underlined with sarcasm.

“I told you, I couldn’t leave you sitting there.”

Rafe shakes his head at her rebuttal, falling silent for the remainder of the car ride as he kept his attention thwarted on the windows and scenery that they passed by.

When the gps announces their arrival and they pull into the driveway of his mansion, Rafe unlatches his seatbelt and mutters another halfhearted thanks before he’s making his haste exit. She unclicks her seatbelt, just to accompany him to the house to make sure he doesn’t accidentally keel over but he rejects her offer, assuring her that he’d make it inside unscathed. “Are you sure? Because you could barely walk by yourself the first time.”

“I’m good.” He asserts, giving her an indescribable look as he closes the door before walking off. Even with his reassurance, she remains sitting there waiting until he’s entered inside of the house before finally driving off.

…

“Dude, it is a Christmas movie!”

“No, it’s a movie set around Christmas time,” Pope rebuttals.

They all lounged around listening to Pope and John B’s debate on the validity of Die Hard’s categorization for the past ten minutes with Pope regarding the technicalities of why it wasn’t and John B arguing against it. Sofia was listening halfheartedly, laughing every so often at JJ’s interfering commentary though she mostly kept her attention on the strokes of her pencil as she drew in her sketchbook.

“There’s a distinct difference between the two. Christmas isn’t central to the movie’s plot; the heist is.” Pope accents, earning collective groans from both John B and JJ. “If it were more focused on that then maybe—”

“Well, if you’re using that argument that’s like saying Home Alone isn’t a Christmas movie either then,” Sarah ripostes, leaning against John B’s chest as he instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“What? No, that’s two different—” Pope’s rebuff falls halfheartedly off of his lips, forgotten in the void. At his abrupt silence, Sofia looks up from her sketchbook to see what was the cause of everyone’s sudden alert attention. Looking around, she gauges her friends’ reaction, seeing all of them wearing the same narrowed and defensive expressions.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” She hears JJ inquire as he clambered to his feet, maneuvering his way out of Kiara’s embrace.

Turning around in her chair, Sofia’s surprised to see that it’s Rafe standing there. He looks undaunted by JJ’s combative tone and disregards the wayward looks that the rest of the pogues give him. Instead, his eyes focus on Sofia as he looks down at her.

“I need my car keys,”

JJ’s face furrows in a confused expression. “What the fuck are you talking about, Cameron?”

Rafe rolls his eyes, “Nothing that you need to worry about. I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Sofia,”

JJ scoffs, moving from where he stood so that he was now standing in front of Sofia, blocking her from Rafe’s view. “Last time I remember you two talking, one of your friends threw a drink on her. So, nah, there isn’t about to be anymore talking going on between the two of you again.”

Sofia closed her sketchbook and stood to her feet, resting a hand on JJ’s arm. “It’s fine, JJ.” She attempts to placate, wanting to intervene before the situation had the opportunity to turn hostile. But both Rafe and JJ’s combative personalities made it challenging to assuage.

Rafe chuckles wryly, “You actually think that I’d hurt her?”

“Oh, please!” JJ scoffs, “Don’t act like you haven’t done anythin’ like it before you fuckin’ psycho!”

“J,” Kiara laments, reaching a hand out for his as she gave Rafe a wary look. “Look, just get what you need to get from her and leave all of us alone. Don’t come by here again.” She avers, gently tugging at JJ’s hand so that he’s seated next to her again instead of posted defensively in front of Sofia.

Sofia looks over at Rafe, gesturing a hand towards her car. “They’re in my purse,”

His jaw clenches as he nods, his footsteps recede as he follows Sofia from the house’s porch out to the front yard where her car was parked. She tugs the driver’s door open and grabs her purse, scouring around inside until she finds his keys that she’d kept tucked in there.

She extends the keys towards Rafe, biting on her bottom lip as she lowered her eyes. She doesn’t know why, but she suddenly felt sorry for the way her friends bombarded him like that. It was confusing; because she knows her friends were only protecting her from him (which greatly she appreciated) but there was still a part of her couldn’t help but feel guilt ridden at their verbal attack on him.

“Thanks again,” He turns away, beginning to walk back over towards the truck where she could see Topper in the driver’s seat drumming his fingers in a staccato against the wheel as he waited for him.

“Hey, Rafe?” Rafe pauses mid-gait at the sound of her beckon. He turns around, looking at her with a raised a brow. Sofia falters, swallowing down the concern and apology she was about to extend to him for JJ’s behavior. She shakes her head, waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing,” She laments, watching as the furrow deepened in his expression. She feels herself flushing underneath his unflinched scrutiny and has to hurriedly turn away from him and walk away to avoid his smothering gaze.

“What was that all about?” Sarah asks once Sofia returns to her seated position on the chair.

“Nothing,” She shrugs, “He just got really drunk the other day at a party so I gave him a ride home. But I forgot to give him his keys back.”

“Shit. He didn’t try or say anything did he?” Kiara questions, her face reflects that same worn look of concern that Sarah has upon learning that Sofia had been alone with Rafe. She shakes her reassuringly, easing their worries.

Their playful bickering resumes once they’ve all calmed down after Rafe’s departure. Sofia picks up her sketching pencil, attempting to continue her drawing.

But she found her mind wandering waywardly about something else —

about someone else.

Shit.

[kkrahe]

Unexpected - Chapter 1

George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Series Summary: You never expected to cross paths with George Weasley - your complete opposite. But as rivalry ignites between you two, so does something far more dangerous, an undeniable attraction that neither of you can ignore.

Chapter Summary: When Fred and George Weasley step into your family’s dark and mysterious shop in Knockturn Alley, the last thing you expect is a clash of wits. But as the brash twins push your patience to its limits, tensions rise.

CW: None :D

AN: This is my first fic please be gentle, I'm very open to suggestion or corrections. Sorry if formatting is weird/off I'm not sure how to work tumblr TT. Lmk if this is bad so I can just quit while I'm ahead :D

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The scent of old parchment and dust permeated the air throughout your family’s shop. It was familiar; you had worked there every summer since you turned 14. The shop was eclectic, with shelves littered with the ancient tomes, cursed artifacts, and hard-to-come-by ingredients that your family had collected over the years.

Located in the narrow dimly-lit Knockturn Alley, most of the shop's patrons were familiar faces. Pureblood wizards who favored darker magic and the occasional wanderer, looking for something more sinister or rare than the opposite Diagon Alley could provide.

You leaned against the dark hardwood countertop, flipping idly through a thick, leather-bound book. Savoring the last few weeks of pleasure reading before you returned to Hogwarts for your final year and would be too consumed in school to find time for hobbies.

You had spent most of your summer in the shop, not that you minded. The crowded maze of a building was like your second home, providing a much-needed haven from your families chaotic manor. Truthfully, you savored summers in the shop, unlike Hogwarts and your family home, here you were in charge. The shop ran by your schedule and your rules.

The chime of the doorbell cut through the quiet, typically you had a few visitors throughout the day. Many of them friends of your family or the occasional lost first-year. Your eyes flicked to the door, setting your book aside.

Two tall figures crossed the threshold, and your heart sank. Fred and George Weasley.

You recognized them immediately - their flaming red hair, boisterous laughter, and of course their tendency to cause chaos wherever they went. Hogwart’s notorious pranksters stood out like a pair of sore thumbs in your shop.

You feel yourself tense behind the counter, watching as they glanced around with curious stares. They didn’t belong here, you knew that much, and from the inquisitive yet hesitant expressions they wore, they did too. But Knockturn Alley had a way of attracting all kinds of customers - especially when they were searching for something they couldn’t find elsewhere. You had a feeling they were up to no good.

“Blimey, this place is cheerful huh Georgie?” Fred called out loudly, his brash voice echoing through the narrow aisles of shelves and cabinets. So clearly out of place in a shop such as your own. Looking at his brother as he brushed a hand over a shelf of dusty potion vials.

You stayed silent, spine rigid as you sent them an unimpressed glare. The twins however didn’t seem to notice, not even glancing your way as they gawked at the assortment of forbidden magical goods on display.

George, was already across the room, picking up an ancient cursed dagger from a shelf clearly labeled “do not touch” in a bold angry scrawl. His slender fingers brushed dangerously close to its blade.

Your eyes narrow, voice sharp as you call out, “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. Unless you fancy losing a hand, Weasley.”

George snatched his hand back, startled by your voice as he hadn’t noticed the presence of the shopkeeper. A flicker of acknowledgment and bashfulness in his eye as he set the dagger back into its stand.

His smile was boyish, charming even, but you didn’t waver. You weren’t amused, and you weren’t going to let them get away with their usual reckless antics here. Your family’s shop was dangerous - its contents were not for the careless or the foolish.

Fred, on the other hand, seemed intent on pushing the boundaries. Reaching for an ornate vase perched precariously on a pedestal near the counter, tipping it dangerously close to the edge.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you watched the vase teeter on the edge of the table. Snatching your wand from under the desk and catching the vase just before it hit the floor. The shining black ceramic just above the hardwood, frozen in place as you scowled at the twins.

“That’s worth more than your life,” you snapped, moving the vase to a different shelf out of reach from the twins. “Try not to break anything, Weasley. Unless you want to be in debt for the next three generations."

Fred held up his palms in mock surrender, grinning. “Easy there. No need to be so touchy.”

You ignored him, your patience wearing thin. The Weasleys were loud, obnoxious, and far too reckless to be in here. The sooner they left, the better. You had no interest in entertaining any sort of banter with the twins, surprised you could even find it within yourself to not kick them out of your shop that very second.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of them rummaging through your family’s carefully curated inventory, George placed a small vial of Ashwinder eggs on the counter. Not particularly nefarious or ancient, but certainly hard to come by, and quite expensive due to its rarity.

“That’ll be 50 Galleons,” you said flatly, not in the mood for negotiation.

Fred leaned against the counter, flashing a grin. “Fifty Galleons? How about we call it twenty-five? We are just some poor schoolboys trying to make an honest living after all.”

You don’t budge. “This isn’t a joke shop, and I don’t haggle. If you want cheap, I suggest looking elsewhere.” You looked the twins up and down, a scowl forming on your face. Your words cold and cutting. The look exchanged between the twins told you they weren’t used to being dismissed so easily.

You could see the flicker of irritation in George’s eyes as he stepped forward, “Right. Must be nice, being able to charge whatever you want. Us Weasleys wouldn’t know anything about that though, would we?” His tone, though light, carried a hint of bitterness that made your jaw tighten. You didn’t care for his attempts to belittle your family’s business, nor his declaration of what he thought your goods were worth.

The air between you thickened, but you held your ground, refusing to let their words affect you. “Fifty Galleons,” you repeated coolly.

Begrudgingly the twins paid, sliding a pile of gold coins across the counter in a messy heap. Their smiles gone, replaced with clear annoyance and tension that simmered beneath the surface.

As they left the shop, the bell chimed in their wake, Fred turning to shoot you one last look, “We’ll be seeing you around. Don’t miss us too much."

You watched them go, glaring down your nose as the shop door slammed shut, the quiet you longed for returning like a heavy cloak. You should have been relieved by their absence. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time Fred and George Weasley darkened your doorstep. And despite yourself, the thought unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

[aldisobey]

vibes, we can take turns driving towards the fucked up shit we see

These breakdowns are goddamn fuel. These are the things right here.

>>> You're taking away the only reprieve from his constant mental frenzy (sleep) from a man who already has a natural propensity to spiral into overthinking. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Sure, maybe with time he’d learn to manage it, flip a switch, regulate it somehow. But for now? For now, Emmrich lives in his goddamn head 24/7, dreaming up every scenario imaginable.

THIS. Emmrich is an anxious overthinker that struggles to remain living in the present. He’s a man of ritual and rigour. The changes of flesh to bone interrupt so many of those things? And he has so much time now? We’re assured he’s still fully possessed of himself, Solas mentions ‘what’s left anyway’ or whatever. But really. For his daily life, the things he loves and delights in, what he uses as distraction, to sate curiosity, hunger, lust, it’s all different. Gods I. I’m mad at the game for how easy they make it look.

>>> When he finally returns to wherever he and Rook call home, Rook’s standing there like, Hey, nice to see you again, it’s been four months.

And I’m so glad you mentioned this because exactly. He doesn’t have his flesh rigours anymore. He’s gonna fucking hyperfocus on a single thing to keep his mind from wandering to the less pleasant thoughts. And time has no meaning, he doesn't need to sleep. He’ll be managing panic or anxiety by studying that slip of the Fade and then he’s in it and chilling for a day, and exactly what you described. I don’t know if you’ve watched or read Frieren, but it’s a softer take on that, absolute love for that series so far.

>>> absolutely piss yourself waking up in the middle of the night to a skull on the pillow next to you.

Thank you thank you for writing this out before in that wip haha. Because YEAH FUCK THAT. And I know I’m an outlier, I’m demi or something, you got the hottest person at my door begging for favor and imma nope and go find some creature from the deep that understands me and yaps (and I’d still do a little AAA about a skelly in bed okay). And I know that’s not a norm lol. Quite possible to fall completely in love with the ‘being’ soul bit and not the ‘physical’, flesh is clothes for me, but you know what that doesn’t make it easier when you love and delight in someone’s style, their smile, the way the eyes light or that brow crooks.

You still love ‘them’ but that was part of them? It’s gone now and it’s okay to mourn while you learn the other. I mean I’m a lady that lives pretty cis and goes by Al and is fine with any pronouns. In a way we all make a glamours daily, and our bodies are part of it. But your partner is going to fall in love with all the dressing too, it’s the little things in life that we love about each other. It’d be horror to lose in a snap.

Emmrich becomes bones overnight. Rook still loves him completely but what is that going to look like. Gotta figure that out. And when Emmrich is putting on the old glamour it’s gonna make Rook think you’re regretting all this, AND it’s traumatizing because he LOVED those parts and they’re gone now. Is Emmrich trying to help him cope or holding onto before because the glamour is invoking pain because that’s not truly him anymore. Didn’t Emmrich give that up? Didn’t he want this instead? I don’t know I’m treading carefully in my writing with trans allegory as well because I know it can tie in close to this. And I do NOT think of Emmrich as a monster for wanting to change, he’s gonna be a monster because he’s not letting the one he loves change in the way they want (aging, dying all that jazz) because he fears losing them.

Well Rook already watched you die. Rook already has to learn to love the new you. The least Emmrich could do is go to lich therapy and learn to love the new aging Rook every day instead of forcing a dead glamour on ‘em. Life is chaos and change okay, death is stability and control, you need both in some balance to really thrive, but weigh too heavily in one and boop bones.

>>> Emmrich’s thoughts are the plague…. You learn to live with the scars.

Allow me to throw my pot in the park Diogenes style and be an unseemly mess spitting at rich folk because I need to think more about alllll of this as well. And yeah silly game silly characters look at me spending all this time writing and ‘philosophizing’ about it. BUT DAMn okay

Bless your write ups, still make my day every time I see ‘em and keep all the words tucked way to mull over later and say ‘hey yeah you can write, post that shit k being perceived ain’t that bad’. Ya got me in my thoughts going places.

First line page wip share thing

tagged by the ever prosely poetic @emmg go read hers now if you like dark lich stuff holy shit

I don’t know who’s been tagged but I’m nudging @thievinghippo (so you can check that above out. no pressure to share but goodness tag me if you do) but sincerely anyone share and tag me, I delight in creations.

This is a rough piece from current work I’m getting at. Not a first line but the bit I’ve got that seems best without further explanation lol it’s a rough cut okay I need to chew more but enjoy?

Emmrich was completely bare. No adornments. No glamor. Simple, plain, and yet dimly starting to glow.

The bones of his hand, all that remained, clung tight to chest. Clenched in, wrapped round rib. Held tight, quivering tips rattling soft beneath sheets. Whispers of green began a sound like so many wings of beetles. Wove hushed in the numerous moving parts of his wrist. Started to pulse as heart. The waves birthed within the pieces of him, a swarm spreading reverberations throughout his skeleton. Calmed the racing heat, pressed down rising panic with power that’d beget plague. All Rook might hear is hum. The Lich consumed, all encompassing as the gnashing millions choked on fear.

It passed. Suppressed in all those grinding maxillae.

The eternal flame slept beside him. His beloved. Forever finally his and there lurked flame before his sight. Flickering. Finite. Holding his being within it, love. Death.

Most nights, should Rook desire, he would wander Fade with him. Taking to pleasant scapes where they might enjoy whatever a master of the space might make of it. And yet…Emmrich could not control his appearance after all these months. His lich form might flicker, the mortal frame return, and Rook would immediately draw away. Glamour. He’d say. Nightmare. Don’t wear your dead face. Was it too painful? Was he trying that hard to love the other? Perhaps the memory was too fresh.

Rook woke, still asleep. Blinking. Eyes closed and moving as one might expect the dead. He didn’t speak during these movements. Would drift back to Fade soon. But he liked to wrap Emmrich’s hands, and his body kept memory of the exact time a mortal professor awoke.

[rosyadventurer]

I know it's not like. Uncommon to feel this way but it's always so hard to fall asleep by yourself after your lover leaves. Whether they're just going to work or you don't live together yet. When they aren't there there's like a palpable emptiness even if you move to what would be their side of the bed.

[luna0713hunter]

Sukuna doesnt show it,but he loves it when you play with his hair.

His hair isnt soft like your; its slightly spikey and rough to touch. But it always smells nice,and when you comb your fingers through his locks gently , you can feel his tense muscles relax slightly.

So, as loving as he is, Sukuna tries to return the favor.

And fails miserably.

"Ow- Ryo,what- OW!!"

You turn around and pout at your boyfriend; eyes slightly glistening with tears.

"what are you doing to my hair exactly?"

And for once, Sukuna looks upset. He stares down at his fingers,then your hair, not meeting your eyes with an adorable frown.

"doing the same shit you do to me whenever im stressed."

"i dont try to make you go bald!"

For a second there, you even see a slight shadow of a pout on Sukuna's lips.

The mere sight makes yout heart melt.

"honey," you coo, nuzzling your head in his neck, "were you trying to make me feel better?"

Sukuna huffs and tries to push your face away, "whatever."

"no no!!!i really liked it!" When he gives you a look,you soften and take his hand in yours. Then, you rest it gently on your hair, "but,maybe a bit gentler?"

And Sukuna doesnt move for a good few seconds, and when you're sure he wont ever caress your hair ever again, his fingers start to move once more.

Gently. Carefully.

With so much care, it has your heart squeezing in your chest.

Slowly, your shoulders start to relax and you melt under his touch. A pleased sound escapes from your lips and you turn your head toward his, and give his sharp jawline a soft kiss.

"thank you, darling."

And he doesnt reply. But from that day on, whenever you're stressed or tired, Sukuna knows how to cheer you up.

[galilea-naerie]

Galilea’s hands trembled faintly as she set the spoon back into her bowl of porridge, her appetite gone. The conversation outside the door was impossible to ignore; Mrs. Lindly’s cries carried through the thin walls like the wailing of a ghost. Galilea didn’t want to listen, but every word struck a nerve. October sat across from her, his spoon hovering over his bowl, as though he were too focused on the muffled shouting to continue eating. “He’s handling it,” October said, his tone trying for reassurance but missing the mark. Galilea nodded, though her heart wasn’t settled. Rhys had told them to wait, but that didn’t stop the unease that prickled along her skin. She was no stranger to the hostility of humans. She’d seen it before, countless times—grief turning to anger, anger turning to blame. But she hadn’t expected it here, not like this. When the door burst open and Mrs. Lindly stormed in, Galilea froze mid-breath. The older woman’s face was red and tear-streaked, her grief tangible and raw, and for a split second, Galilea could see the woman’s pain as clearly as if it were her own. But then the woman’s hand rose, and that fleeting moment of sympathy was swallowed by the shock of the threat. A slap. The intent wasn’t lost on Galilea, Mrs. Lindly’s outrage wasn’t just for the loss of her husband. It was for what Galilea was a magical being, a nymph, not human. An outsider. The thought stung more than the slap might have. Rhys’s hand shot out like lightning, intercepting Mrs. Lindly’s wrist before it could connect. Galilea’s eyes darted to him, wide with surprise. His voice was firm but calm as he addressed the grieving woman by name, the formality dropping like a cloak cast aside. Somehow, he managed to diffuse her rage, turning her ire into a collapse of sorrow against his chest. Galilea stood motionless, her heart pounding. She exchanged a glance with October, who raised his brows but said nothing. She wasn’t sure if the pounding in her chest was fear or relief. Maybe both. When Rhys guided Mrs. Lindly out, Galilea finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you,” she murmured to him before he stepped out, her voice quiet but genuine. “Be safe.” It wasn’t that he needed her concern. Humans were strong, far stronger than most gave them credit for. In many ways, their physical strength rivaled even the elves, the gods’ alleged favored ones. But strength wasn’t everything. Humans carried their strength like a double-edged sword, powerful but often reckless. But Rhys…Rhys carried so much more than physical strength. After the door closed, Galilea returned to her seat, though her porridge had long gone cold. She stared at the bowl, twirling the spoon idly. “Did you expect that?” October broke the silence, leaning back in his chair. “The slap? I didn’t.” She replied. “No,” she admitted softly. “Not exactly.” She paused, her fingers tightening slightly on the spoon. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? We’re not human. We are convenient scapegoats.” She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice, but it lingered at the edges like an unwelcome guest. “Convenient or not, Rhys didn’t seem like he was going to let them get away with it,” October pointed out. “I know.” And she did. Rhys’s words and actions had proven as much. Still, the lingering doubt wouldn’t fully settle. “But how long can he keep this up? His people are desperate, and desperation doesn’t always listen to reason.” October tilted his head, considering her words. Then he sighed. “We should find a cure soon. It feels like we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Galilea sighed as well, her shoulders slumping. “I agree.” She rubbed her temples. “I trust Rhys, but he already has enough to handle. If the soldiers patrolling are here for more than the illness. If they’re here because of whispers of a rebellion, then we might be making things worse just by being here.” The thought weighed heavily on her, but before she could dwell on it further, they spent the rest of the day, mixing and trying different potions on the remainder of the worms.

Rhys stepped inside, his presence filling the room. Despite herself, Galilea felt a small smile tug at her lips. Something was reassuring about him, even when he was weary and carrying the burdens of his people on his shoulders. Both nymphs listened intently to Rhys's words. Galilea inclined her head, her gratitude evident. “Thank you, Rhys,” she said softly. October echoed her sentiments with a nod, his usual humor absent in the serious moment. When Rhys asked about his blood, Galilea hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll prepare the table.” She moved with practiced ease, clearing the surface and then sanitizing it with tools October had brought from their kingdom. She held the items carefully, her movements methodical. Though healing nymphs didn’t use incantations, their tools often carried natural magic of their own, a blend of their craft and their connection to nature. Once the table was ready, Galilea turned to Rhys. “Come sit,” she said gently. Galilea pulled out a chair and rolled up his sleeve. Revealing more muscle than she cared to admit, she was sure even October was gawking. Refocusing herself Galilea tied an elastic string around his arm, securing it with care. “This will only take a moment,” she promised. Her hands were steady as she drew the blood, filling two tinctures with the crimson liquid. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Once she finished, she set the vials aside and looked up at him. “Your parents,” she began, her voice soft but thoughtful. “They must have done an incredible job raising you.” She smiled faintly. “Considering the lengths you’ve gone to for your sister, for your people. It’s admirable.” She paused for a moment, pensive. “It’s more than that,” Galilea broke the silence, her tone gentle. “Not everyone takes what they’re taught and turns it into action. Not everyone would go this far.” She rose to her feet, gathering the vials of blood. “You should rest,” she said again, her voice kind but insistent. “You’ll need to rest for a couple of hours and eat something,” she added. “I’ll make food for all of us. What’s your favorite meal?” Galilea figured it was the best she could repay him.

Rhys watched as Galilea spoke with Carina, getting down on her level and complemented the way Carina mispronounced her name. Something about the brief interaction moved something in Rhys, made him long for things he did not have for himself, that he only had vicariously through others. His feelings about Galilea, his attraction to her beauty, but also the tender and giving person underneath seemed to ache in his chest. An ache that told him they were feelings never to be acted on. The nature of what they were and the weight of his own duties would force them apart once the need for her help had come to its end. The desire for a life with her seemed to bloom as merely a fantasy, but he could picture it so clearly. He could see her in his life as more than just this helper in a dark time, but he needed to ground himself. There were heavier tasks at hand that more immediately demanded him than his own desires for Galilea. He sat across from her as she began to eat the porridge he set in front of her once Carina had scampered off. "You don't need to thank me." he said with with a chuckle, "You are doing a great deal for me. I can make you a meal." He said simply and smiled at her. Something about this could have felt domestic, but the topic soon shifted to how October had not returned. “He hasn’t-“ Rhys was about to voice some concern, but October walked through the door and his appearance made obvious how his night had been, “I was not as worried about him.” Rhys stated. He did not bear the close relationship with October, but an amused expression appeared on his face all the same for his friend Aimon. He chuckled when October called it an intellectually stimulating evening, “That’s what they’re calling it now?” But it was no question only continuing the teasing Galilea had started. And a pleasant reprieve it was from the heaviness of all other topics of conversation. At least some laughter could be found in dark times. He looked at the pomegranate juice October had placed in front of him and his eyes moved up to Galilea when October then mentioned it being her favorite, something Rhys would certainly commit to memory. "Good to know." He told October and sipped from the cup, "And thank you." He added and set the cup back down. The conversation shifted to matters about the disease and what they needed to do that day, but that was when there came a loud banging at the door and the angry voice of Mrs. Lindly. Her shouts would certainly draw attention and though she did not state that there were nymphs in the residence her words were enough to reveal that there were not humans. And Rhys did not need that attention. Rhys hated the fear and worry, sadness that crept into Galilea's features, the way she apologized repeatedly. It bothered him, nagged at him in a way that made him want to put an end to anyone that dare try to harm her. Especially when her sole purpose in this world was to heal, to help. "Do not apologize." He told her and rose to his feet, "I'll handle this." Rhys took the tinctures, “Both of you wait here.” He told them and tucked the bottles into his pockets and opened the door the woman was banging on and crowded himself out the door, shutting it behind himself. Her fists came down against his chest, her grief evident in his fear stained face, “Monsters!” She cried. Rhys grabbed her wrists tk stop her from continuing to beat his chest though her blows were weak it was doing no good in getting through to her to allow her to continue, “Mrs. Lindly, please.” He held her wrists firmly in his grip, looking down at the older woman who sobbed, “lower your voice!” He hissed at her, “Do you not trust me?” He asked her, his gaze confident as it bore into hers, “do you believe I would purposefully put your husband in danger? I believed you knew me better than that.”

He turned it around as a personal offense that she was at this door with this, but soon his voice took on a gentler tone, “I brought my friends here to help. I would not have done so to put you or yours in danger. You accepted our help.” He informed her once more that she had agreed, that she had wanted them to help her. “But he’s gone. He had been holding up until they came along.” She insisted, tears steamed down her face, her eyes and cheeks puffy and red, tear stained. The strength of her grief seemed to propel her forward and she threw open the door of Sandrina’s home, “you!” She exclaimed and took a few quick steps across the small kitchen toward Galilea and reeled her hand back. Rhys caught Mrs. Lindly by the wrist and pulled her back to face him, “Aerin,” he said Mrs. Lindly’s first name, dropping the formality he would normally regard her with. It seemed to stop her and she looked up at him, “You will not come into my sister’s home and harm my friends who have come from so far away to help you. I know the loss of your husband is devestating and untimely. I will help you through this however I can. But it is no fault of theirs that he is gone. If you are to truly take issue with anyone for it blame our king for allowing us all to suffer while he keeps himself away. They are the only ones helping us through this, them and ourselves.” He spoke calmly to her and the woman seemed to nearly crumple up. She fell agains this chest, her sobs only partially muffled by his body as hers shook with her grief. He rubbed her back reassuringly. “Take one of these.” He told her and reached into his pocket to take one of the tinctures Galilea had given him, “You are sick as well, but not as sick as he was. These should help keep you fairly healthy until a cure is made. You still have grandchildren who want you in their lives.” He told her. Mrs. Lindly took the tincture from him and drank from it. “Now come, I’ll walk you home. You can rest. And I will be by to check on you later in the evening.” He wrapped his arm around the woman’s shoulder and lead her out of the home, “I’ll be back soon.” He called back to Galilea and October. He walked Mrs. Lindly back to her home and got her settled with some tea. He left to fetch Aimon and have him pick up the body of Mr. Lindly. He knocked on the door of the shed-like home of Aimon who opened the door moments later looking disheveled, but pleased with himself, “Heard you had a good night.” Rhys said first and chuckled. Aimon beamed, proud of himself, “Looks like I have a wider net of appeal than you do, Rhys, shocking isn’t it?” Aimon teased and stepped aside for Rhys to enter the cramped space. Rhys stepped inside and crossed his arms, “whatever makes you feel better, friend.” He said and chuckled once more before he continued, “Mr. Lindly has passed. Please retrieve his body as soon as possible.” Rhys got straight to the point about his visit, but he wished to touch on the topic of Galilea and October more as well. “Also, please keep it quiet about what October and Galilea are. Mrs. Lindly accepted their help and then attempted to blame them for what they were when he husband died though he was already likely beyond help by the time they got there. We need to keep attitudes positive toward them. Though by nature of how they work I’m uncertain of how quiet we can keep it I then ask you to keep people viewing them as helping rather than harming should the topic come up." Rhys couldn't be the only one vouching for what they were doing. He needed others on his side as well and Aimon was as good a bet as any to have on his side first. "I think you should have no issue with that considering recent events." Rhys continued and quirked a brow at his friend. Aimon nodded, "Of course. I have a personal interest in this now anyway, don't I?" Aimon agreed.

The men conversed for awhile longer before Rhys left with Aimon to retrieve Mr. Lindly. He sat with the widow for awhile while Aimon removed the body and then Rhys returned home. He walked through the door and nodded at the two nymphs who had continued their work. "She is contented, comfortable, and resting." He explained and walked over to the table, "She has not stated anything else about you two. I spoke to Aimon and he will let me know if he hear's anyone voicing her sentiments from earlier. He also will help in quelling those sentiments as he can." Rhys worried that such outbursts would run them off. It was now another thing he needed to manage in order to retain their help until the issue was, hopefully, resolved. "I will do everything to keep you safe as I can. They are desperate and grief stricken and their king does not show his face to be blamed and your faces are new. But I will not allow you to fall into harms way." Rhys promised and it was a promise he felt confident he could keep. The soldiers were another issue, but from his own people? He felt confident he had their trust enough to keep them listening to him. He pulled his attention solely to Galilea now, "Do you wish to take my blood now?" he asked her and pulled the chair back from the table and sat down at it.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off��she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

[whateveriwant]

I just read your pregnant wife with 141 but that got me thinking. What about horny pregnant wife with 141

Feel free to ignore this if you feel uncomfortable writing it 

-🍱 (if it’s not taken)

I haven't written smut in ages so forgive me if I'm a little rusty. 18+ only pls and thx (vaginal sex, cunnilingus)

Soap

Hooo boy! Alrighty, here we go

So for starters, that man is PENT UP. Like seriously, he's so backed up, he thinks he can feel it all the way to his esophagus

Since you first got pregnant, it's been nothing but morning sickness, aches and pains, and a total and utter lack of desire on your part

Trust him, he's tried taking care of himself in the meantime, but it's never really gotten the job done since it wasn't with you

But once you enter your second trimester and the desire has come back, it takes everything in him not to ravage you the moment you give him the green light

Why? Well, truth be told, he's scared about potentially hurting you or the baby

You know how he can get in the sack. What if he dents the wee bairn’s poor head? He's knocking (more like pounding) right on the little one’s door after all

You have to assure him that he's not going to hurt you or the baby (and please, never refer to your cervix as a door again)

So he'll start slow and gentle at first, not wanting to be too harsh, but it won't take much to get him back to fucking you hard and rough like you're used to

He's got your knees up by your chest (or, as close as they can get) while he’s drilling into you from above, snarling like an animal

When he finally finishes, it's loudddd, slamming the headboard against the wall, and he pushes his hips as far forward as they'll go while he empties four months worth of cum inside you

Ghost

I'm so sorry to have to be the one to inform you, but you're not getting that man's cock while you're pregnant

It's not because he's overly rough when you make love normally; it's just that he's not willing to take any chances when you're in such a delicate state

However, the man is inherently a giver, so with just enough whining and begging and pleading from you, he'll oblige you to some degree

He'll stick mostly to his fingers or his mouth, maybe a toy or two if you're really needy, but he's generally going to rely solely on his own skill to get you where you want to be

He'll have you recline against a mountain of pillows while he settles himself between your legs, his arms looping around your hips to hold you still for him while he works

But he doesn't just dive right in, oh no siree. The man loves to tease you – kissing your thighs, the inside of your knee, the bottom of your belly first

He'll turn you into a pathetic little thing squirming desperately for his touch, before finally granting you mercy by giving you his tongue

He'll make you cum so hard with just his mouth alone that you'll temporarily lose all thought of that gorgeous dick of his

But afterwards, if you want to return the favor, you certainly won't hear him complaining about it

Oh but trust that the moment the doctor gives the okay after you’ve given birth, he's gonna be all over you, making sure you walk funny the next morning (and the following week after that)

Gaz

Like the other two, Gaz is concerned with potentially putting you and the baby in a dangerous position

But the man is a sucker for your puppy dog eyes, so it doesn't take much convincing to get him to take you to bed

But he still wants to be safe about it, so he researches the best positions for couples to have sex while pregnant

That's how you find yourself in his lap, naked back to his chest, as he sits in one of the chairs he dragged in from the dining room

You're bouncing on his dick, hands braced on his thighs, ass smacking off the hard plane of his lower stomach as you lift up and down

His hands on your hips are more of a placeholder than a guide as he lets you set the pace, just sitting back while you take what you need from him

It doesn't even matter if he cums or not, that's honestly the farthest thing from his mind. All he cares about is making sure you're satisfied in the end

Need him to snake his hand forward, tracing the curve of your belly down, until he's circling your clit in fast, tight motions? Gladly, love.

Your thighs may burn and your eyes may water, but there's something about this position that makes him hit so deep that it leaves you gasping for more

Ultimately, your orgasm will trigger his own (nothing gets him there faster than the sound of you cumming), and afterwards he'll help you into the bath where he'll clean and massage your aching muscles better

Price

Unlike the other three men, Price is eager to fuck you the moment you show even the smallest inkling of want

What's that? His poor baby needs him to fuck her right now? Say no more, sweetheart. Hubby's come to the rescue

That man is dicking you down anytime, anywhere he can

Just got done shopping? He'll find a deserted road to pull over on. Just stepped into the shower? Might as well kills two birds with one stone

Really, it becomes a challenge to find where in your house he hasn't had you in these last few months. The kitchen, the garage, the back porch. You name it, he's done it (multiple times, in fact)

But his favorite – oh boy, his favorite without a shadow of a doubt – is when he takes you in front of your bedroom’s full length mirror

He'll hold you up from behind, standing you both on your feet, and just watch as he fucks you nice and slow

Seeing it in profile is fun when he wants to watch his dick slide in and out of you, but he's especially fond of having you directly face the mirror

There's just something about getting to watch you – that pretty face, those juicy tits, that fucking delectable rounded belly – that makes him blow his load faster than a damn rocket launch

With the number of times he's had you like this, you swear, that man of yours is trying to knock you up a second time (But shhhh. Quiet now. Don't go giving him any bright ideas, sweetheart.)

[wqnsho]

crossroads | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

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

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

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

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

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

"Excuse me, can she join your group?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Victory at all costs!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A light shove jolted you back to reality.

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12

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

“We need two more!”

“Who has five?”

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

“Four,” Player 120 replied.

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

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

“Join us! We’re five!”

“No, come with us! We’re seven!”

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

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

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

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

The locks clicked as the timer hit zero.

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

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

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

“You are all alive thanks to me!”

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

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

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

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

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

Another round began.

4

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

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

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

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

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

"But—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey! I found someone! Let’s go!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3

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

“No. I’ll go. You stay with them.”

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

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

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

“Hey unnie! Come back!”

“[Name]nim!”

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

10 seconds.

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

8 seconds.

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

6 seconds.

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

4 seconds.

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

2 seconds.

The three of you rushed inside.

1 second.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

The timer rang. 0 seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s your son?”

“Sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6

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

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

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

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

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

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

2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12 seconds.

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

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

11 seconds.

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

10 seconds.

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

0 seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

“But—” he started, voice faltering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I counted twice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Player 185. X. Five more.

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

Player 125. X. Three.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

X.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lights out in 5 minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

Lights out in 10.

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

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

8.

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

6.

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

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

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

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

1.

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

It was quiet.

Then it was loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So instead, he said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, the world went silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me!”

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

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

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

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

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

His hand lowered.

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

Your heart stopped.

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

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

And yet... it was.

"...Young-il?"

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

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

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

This time, the decision was yours to make.

[starryjake]

Heyy girl I’m obsessed with your writing could you do like what would enhypen do if they were jealous? I feel like that would be sooo good! 🙋‍♀️🔥🔥

(a/n sorry this took me forever to post 😍😍)

heeseung: def the most nonchalant about it. like you couldn’t even tell he was jealous at the bar you guys were at with friends, so that’s why you were so shocked when you two got home and he was suddenly taking it all out on you.

fucks you rly rly hard and rough, gripping onto your hips hard enough to leave finger imprints. he’s def hitting it from behind because it’s the position where he can be roughest and manhandle you the easiest. he’s just spitting out the nastiest, dirtiest sentences to you. :(

“i don’t want another guy in your vicinity ever again,” he spat. “you fucking hear me?”

you sniffled, turning your head to the side. your entire body bounced from just how hard he was giving it to you.

“yes,” you whimpered out.

he grabbed you by the cheeks and forced your head to look at him.

“can’t hear you,” he nearly growled.

“yes, heeseung!” you repeated. “don’t even want any other men—fuckkk—near me.”

he slapped your ass harshly and continued pounding you. you were practically dripping wet so he just knew you were enjoying this.

“that’s what i thought, princess.”

would cum all over you to mark HIS territory!

jay: visibly pissed. it just makes him SEETHE seeing another man trying to flirt with HIS girl. and it makes him even more pissed that you’re so oblivious, not catching on at all that this guy clearly fucking wants you.

still, he’s a gentleman. once you walk back over to him, he forces a smile and tries his very best to not show that anything is wrong. he ushers you to the car, eager to get the hell home.

you’re barely through the door when his arms are wrapping around your waist and pulling you against his body.

“you know who you belong to, baby, don’t you?” he asks, dark eyes scanning your face.

“you, jay,” you say, slightly confused as to why he would even ask that. “you know that.”

“yeah,” he mutters. “do me a favor, yeah? go upstairs and get on the bed. i want you naked and i want your legs spread, hear me?”

how he could be so soft spoken yet stern at the same time was beyond you.

“jay, wha—”

“now, angel.”

you don’t argue. you’re quick to leap upstairs to your shared bedroom and strip out of your clothes and undergarments, laying spread on the bed just like he told you to.

five minutes later and jay is between your legs, giving you the most sloppy, toe-curling, delicious head of your life. he’s absolutely worshipping your pussy, making out with your clit and diving his tongue into your dripping hole.

“fuck, jay!” you cry out, shamelessly grinding your pussy against his face.

“my fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your folds. “no one will ever eat this pretty cunt like i do. all mine.”

his words send you flying over the edge, and you’re quick and eager to return the favor to him once you’re done.

jake: my pouty baby :( the type to get the saddest out of all of them, starting to feel insecure when he saw you talking to another guy and laughing so hard at what he was saying.

when you made your way back over to jake, he was quiet and out of it, so it was clear something was wrong. however, he said it was nothing, so you dropped it.

back at home, he’d be clingier than usual which gave you the impression that something was wrong, but you still didn’t know what.

it was only when you’d be getting ready for bed that jake would ask something like, “you only love me, right?”

and then by that sentence alone, you just knew he was jealous. to prove how much you loved him and only him, you showed it to him in the best way possible.

that was how you ended up kneeling between his legs with his cock all the way down your throat. he would be so much more sensitive than normal, feeling like electricity was flying through his body every time he thrusted into your mouth.

you felt so bad for making him think you could’ve ever been attracted to anyone else, so you let him fuck your mouth as long as he wanted, not even minding how much you were gagging and how much saliva was drooling out the sides of your mouth.

you swallowed all his cum because you’re his good girl after all <33

sunghoon: like heeseung, doesn’t really show that he’s jealous. he just gets super quiet and you literally have to PRY it out of him to find out what’s wrong.

“just don’t like how that guy was lookin’ at you,” he would mutter, avoiding eye contact at all costs since he’s so embarrassed. :(

you would feel so bad and you just want to make him feel better, so you do so in the way you know he’ll enjoy the most: riding him. <3

he watches with blown out eyes as you sink down onto his cock, both of you letting out a sigh of pleasure simultaneously. it never got old: that feeling of first being intertwined with each other.

you plant your hands on his abs for leverage and slowly raise yourself up before lowering back down, slowly milking his long cock.

within a few minutes, you’re bouncing rapidly up and down his length and his lips are attached to your nipples. he’s moaning around the hard bud and your fingers are tangled in his hair.

“i love you,” you tell him through heavy breaths. “just you, hoonie. fuck.”

he’d look up and attach his lips to yours, embracing you in a kiss before he dumps his load deep into your pussy and keeps his cock stuffed inside you for the rest of the night.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) ▪ HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. SORRY FOR THE TYPOS. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with the homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say it doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly every day during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for a reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who saved you

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

As book!Tom who grew up in an orphanage: he's secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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[maybanksprincess]

no nut november ❀

warnings: sort of smut, jj cumming with minimal touch, sexy lingerie, cursing, mature themes, pet names, cliffhanger (again) 🤗, sub jj.

summary: it had just turned november, and jj was trying to get through the whole month without cumming.

pairings: boyfriend!jj x girlfriend!reader

requested by this ask, sorry this is kinda shit. thank you for the request babydoll ᥫ᭡

when jj told you he was gonna get through the whole november without cumming or jerking off once, you almost laughed out loud at him.

"baby, what do you mean the whole month? you can't even last a week." you state bluntly, raising an eyebrow at him.

he crosses his arms and stares at you in disbelief, "what do you mean I can't last a week? I totally can." he huffs exaggeratedly

you roll your eyes, and then suddenly an idea popped into your head. you turn to your boyfriend and grin "okay, let's make a deal. If you can last a week in November without cumming, I'll let you do whatever you want to me for the whole month of December."

"pshh- deal." he says immediately, not even giving himself time to think about what you said.

-

not even a week into November, jj found himself starting to struggle. he finally realized just how much he jerked off a month. and it didn't help that you would walk around in the house with just underwear and a t-shirt on.

he would often come so close to cumming just based off the thought of you. its like he didnt even have to touch himself anymore.

you knew what you were doing, you were trying to make him crack. you purposely walked around in lacy underwear, and lingerie sets that you know would send jj into a frenzy.

november 3rd, 11:37 pm.

"mmph..baby please." jj whimpers out, as he's on the verge of tears. he was so painfully hard that his boner was starting to physically hurt.

"baby please touch me..." he moans, his cock standing almost on its own, begging for some sort of release as sticky precum leaks from his tip.

you hold back a fit of giggles from escaping, as your fingers graze his inner thighs, teasing him. "should i touch you baby? didn't you say you were gonna last all November?" you tease

he whines loudly at you denying his pleas, "sweetheart, please—i promise ill be good for you, jus' touch me."

you look down at him with lustful eyes, moving your face down to level with his girthy cock, licking a slow stripe up his vein on the side, eliciting a loud whimper, that is disguised as a groan from him.

you bring your head up, swirling your tongue around his pink tip a few times, feeling the soft texture on your tongue.

before you can pull away, you feel the sensation of thick white ropes of his sticky essence coat your tongue, "m-mama...feels s' good." he moans loudly

you greedily swallow the remaints of his cum, the warm sensation causing a pooling between your legs. "guess you have to tell john b you already lost, huh?" you add with a laugh

he chuckles weakly from his position on the bed, "they know how horny i am all the time, they wont be surprised."

you giggle and climb up onto his lap, straddling him, and dipping your head down to his neck, leaving butterfly kisses in their wake "wanna return the favor?"

a/n: im sorry babes, my work has been so shitty and short recently, i promise its gonna be better soon :) but enjoy this blurb!!